#it's like 6k in so far and going smoothly

[pinewoodpipit]

I'm still alive and writing I've just been handling irl stuff and also playing a lot of elden ring

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Homecoming

Title: Homecoming

Part 8 of Scribe of the Gods Series: Epilogue Pt. 1

Pairing: Steven grant x gn reader (platonic), Marc spector x gn reader (platonic)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 6k

Description: Many months after the attack of Cairo, Marc and Steven have done their best to return to normalcy. While doing so, they await for the return of the Scribe, who had been away during this time to help the Ennead return to its former state. Finally, the scribe is able to return home, with much to discuss.

A/N: .... HI.

It has been... far too long. This was long overdue, and I want to say thank you to those who have been patient. It means so much to me that you all were so willing to wait while I was away, a lot has happened but I genuinely did not want to leave this unfinished. I felt like I had to finish the story. Originally, I wanted to have one single chapter for the epilogue, but I decided that I should split it up as a thank you to those who were patient. I hope you all enjoy, I'm incredibly rusty and i didn't go back to edit this because i just wanted this out so you guys know what i've had collecting dust for the last few months. 100000 percent promise that i plan to and will most likely go back and edit this, but I really couldn't wait to throw this out there. Love you all. RAHHHHHH

London library has felt more empty in the last six months now that it has one less presence. Taking the weekly trips to the library just wasn’t what it used to be for Steven, who often took the trip to rotate his book cycles for his nightly readings. Now that y/n had gone off to all ends of the earth on behalf of the Ennead, there was no one to carry the same conversations the unlikely duo had prior. Steven didn’t blame y/n or feel any ill towards them leaving him and Marc and the life they had in London. In fact all he had was pride for them. They had a big job to accomplish, judging from everything they’d told him with all of the letters they’d sent to his and Marc’s flat. Writings on postcards that served as a reminder that the scribe thought of them, that they were still around in his life.

Despite their loud absence, Steven still kept the habit of visiting the library, but not under the same urgency as before now that he was no longer as afraid of wandering about under the night sky as he was before. His relationship with Marc had finally found balance. The man no longer stayed awake at night , fearful of ending up in obscure places. Marc promised Steven that now that they were no longer serving Khonshu there was no more reason for him to leave the apartment during the night to go on missions. Steven was relieved to find this out, as it meant that he was able to put himself to ease during the night, and now he got to read for his own pleasure rather than a desperate attempt to remain awake. 

Not only that, but Steven managed to get a job at the museum- thanks to Marc’s help- as a tour guide. He needed to refresh his knowledge of Egyptology and the library had a large selection of books for him to choose from. 

Steven thanked the librarian, a rather stern sort of woman who liked to drone on and on about herbs, picking up his books with a little polite nod, and made his way out towards the exit. He paused a few steps in, looking back at the desk once more with memories of the conversations he and y/n had floating in his head.

He gave a sigh. Thank goodness they were coming back soon.

He couldn’t wait.

One last look and he made his way out of the door and into the London streets.

—----

It’s been too long since y/n stepped foot in the London Library. Six months. Give or take. They’d stopped bothering to keep track after the numerous tasks they’d completed on behalf of the Ennead. For whatever it’s worth, the six months were filled to the brim with ensuring the gods’ work in the mortal realm ran smoothly. 

The first few weeks were the worst of it. When the temple had just fallen and all the avatars had died there was nothing short of utter chaos. All of the gods were adamant for y/n’s help, insecure that they no longer had a human vessel to be able to oversee their work; they insisted that they were the first to receive the young thing’s assistance. Y/n did what they could to assist the individual gods, trying to tend to their needs in a matter of urgency rather than agreeing to any given moment.

They had to be firm about their servitude, Osiris told them after a meeting gone poorly- one of the gods had complained over y/n’s unavailability to help their request. But Osiris vouched for y/n and reprimanded the god for expecting y/n to waiting for a job to simply be handed to them, they were a human child, Horus. Where are your children now that we are all scrambling to get back on our feet?- they need to be mindful that the gods can forget themselves in their place of power. The god told the human scribe that as they continued their service and aid the gods, they had to prioritize what work needed to be accomplished. If a god came to them with a mundane task that could wait, y/n was allowed, even encouraged, to tell the god that the job will be done later. 

“If they have a problem with it, tell them that they can come discuss it with me.” Osiris would tell them this time and time again. He wanted to make certain that the scribe didn’t overwork themselves or felt the need to always say yes. And y/n took this advice, and had to use it many times, but they were grateful to have a god look out for them the way Osiris did.  

While the gods were generous enough to allow y/n an opportunity to work outside of the library, the only issue that came from this  was that y/n had no reliable place to stay. On normal accounts, before the collapse of the Ennead and their temple due to the demise of Ammit, they were able to rest between councils within the chambers of the temple. They’d find a little corner far enough where no one could disturb them and catch up on sleep while the avatars drank and caught each other up in their lives outside of ceremonial duties. 

Such was not the case anymore. All that resides in the chambers now are the ghosts of the avatars and the destruction of Ammit. Neither suitable company for the scribe to stay as they worked for the gods.

Despite all the time that'd passed, the chambers still suffered from Ammit’s destruction. Not as badly as before as every now and then y/n would lift random debris out of the way as a way to pass time, but even they didn’t have the technical skills to completely reform the chambers to what it once was. 

But six months had passed since the events of Cairo. Why was it that the pyramids and the realm of the ennead was yet to be restored? One day, amidst the gods after completing several tasks for them, the scribe inquired about this as they sat on a loose stone. Horus, in all his questionable glory, answered to the scribe. Without proper avatars, the gods had no ability to fix the destruction as they lacked a physical form. They needed humans.

Y/n thought that was bullshit, if they were being honest. They were literal gods. Why did they need an avatar’s body to be able to fix the chambers? Couldn’t a simple snap make it all better?

Whatever. It was not their place to question the gods, despite their obscurities and lack of explanations. Eventually, the chambers’ reconstruction finally started. It took longer than it should have when very few followers came for the call of Horus to aid in reconstruction, but progress was still being made. 

So, with construction happening at the temple it meant that y/n was unable to reside in the rubble of the chambers anymore. Instead, they spent their off hours in between hotel rooms and air bnbs. They didn’t mind it though, they finally had a proper bed and had a decent meal that consisted of something other than the Molokhia the gods had given them for the last six months. But really, to y/n, anywhere was better compared to staying in the london library. 

There was no point renting an apartment space when the gods started to send them to the ends of the earth for all sorts of missions. Whether it be recruiting a potential candidate for one of the gods, or scavenging artifacts stolen from the temple, the scribe had more on their plate than they’d anticipated and had no time to settle in one place for very long. They didn’t complain. The gods gave them the means to pay for living arrangements and for meals, and the pay was better than the one they received from working for the library. 

Six months. Six months was a long time, now that they thought about it. 

Thank the gods they were finally able to go home now. 

—-----

Now that they thought about it, the first time y/n had been to Steven and Marc’s apartment they weren’t even invited in. Should they knock? 

They stood in front of the door, but weren't sure how Steven and Marc would react to them suddenly showing up the day before they were supposed to. The two men were expecting y/n to show up the next day. They’d even insisted on picking them up at the airport and going out for lunch. Well, that was the original plan. Until the gods had decided to let y/n leave earlier out of gratitude and granted them a portal to anywhere they desired, it was only natural that they decided to end up at the front steps of the system’s apartment. A little surprise visit doesn’t hurt anyone, right? 

The scribe straightened up, realizing they’d spent too long standing idle at the door and needed to make a move. They raised their fist and rapped on the door several times. And when no one answered they waited a few more moments before knocking once more. 

Hm. No one was home. y/n uncomfortable shifted in place, waiting a little longer to make sure that no one was actually home before they began deciding their next move. Should they stay in place and wait for the men to come home? Would that be too awkward? Having the men walk into their apartment floor and find the young adult sitting on the space next to their door? Would it just be better to leave altogether and try to come back later? What if they miss the men again? They could always go, but the question is where? It’s not like they have a place to stay nor anywhere that seemed decent enough to crash, and-

“y/n?”

The voice from across the hall snapped y/n out of their thoughts almost immediately. Steven, in all his glory, stood at the space of the elevator that’d just opened. He stared at the scribe as though he’d unable to perceive that they were actually there. 

y/n faltered a moment, unexpected at the sight of the man faster than they were anticipating, and gave Steven a small smile, a little embarrassed that at the end of it they did just loiter in steven’s space like they didn’t want to.

“Hey, Steven.” They greeted him warmly. 

The gift-shopist turned tour-guide seemed to stumble in his words as an incoherent string of words fell numb to y/n’s ears. They tried to give him an encouraging smile, walking to steven’s space in the elevator as he remained frozen in place. Too frozen, in fact, as the door of the elevator began to shut with him still inside. 

“Uh, the door-” y/n jumped in their place, arm outstretched for the door though the gift shopist stuck their arm through in time to alert the motion detector. The doors stretched open as did Steven’s arms as he took y/n in for a big hug, which they happily reciprocated. It was the kind of hug where they teetered in place very slowly, taking in each other’s presence after months of being apart, 

“What’re you doing here so early?” Steven asked between breathy chuckles, slowly  pulling y/n away from him, they took a good look at the man and realized he’d sported a light stubble. “Ain’t we’s supposed to pick you up tomorrow?”

The scribe gave them a warm smile. “The Ennead let me go early!”

“Hmm. Are you sure it was ‘cause they couldn’t wait to get rid of you.” y/n didn’t miss the sly smirk steven sported.

“Shut up.” They retorted, lightly pushed Steven’s shoulders. “Just be happy I wanted to come back.”

The gift shopist grabbed at his shoulder and glanced at the doorstop, “Is that all you’ve brought with ye? Let me help you.” He of course was referring to the two duffel bags of y/n’s personal belongings that sat at his doorstep. For six months they’d lived off of everything in the bags and it was painfully obvious from the wear and tear of the bags themselves. Before they could insist that they could carry the items Steven already had his hands on the bags and was looking through his keys for his front door. 

The door flew right open in a matter of moments and Steven stepped to the side, grinning at the scribe as he gestured for them to go ahead. 

“Right, come on in. Make yourself at home”

—------

No matter how many times they’d reassured Steven that really, they didn’t mind, Steven profusely apologized for the state of his apartment. He droned for a few moments stating that with his new job he’d not had the time to tidy up nor did Marc want to clean after Steven, (“He says I’m in charge of cleaning up my own mess. The nerve of ‘him, talkin’ to me like I’m a child!”) all the while y/n paid little mind and allowed their eyes to wander. Yes, they’d been in the apartment once, but that was many months ago. And it wasn’t like they had the time to take it in back then. Back then, when they were observing Marc and Steven from afar under the orders of a concerned Djehuty. They hummed to themselves, remembering the late nights sitting atop of Marc’s rooftop while listening for any sign of disturbances that could happen to the men. 

Y/n sighed deeply, eyes wandering to the window they used to sit by. It wasn’t that long ago. Look how things have changed. 

From where they sat nestled in a quaint green armchair, y/n felt like they were back in the London Library. Nestled amongst an alarming number of books, manuscripts, a tombstone of forests and papetry. Every nook and cranny of the apartment was filled with paper. All that was missing from the library was the occasional bun-wearing, shushing librarians and underpaid security guards. 

“Did you read all of these?” y/n picked up a loose book resting close to them, lifting the cover to their sight.

Steven responded from his kitchenette, fiddling with three assorted mugs as he kept himself busy making something to drink for the two. “Yeah, more or less.” 

“Huh,” y/n lowered the book, smoothing their fingers across the cover as they glanced again at the books around them. “With all of these books there’s not much use going to the library. You have your own here.”

Steven walked over to the scribe and offered out their drink to them. “ I make a habit of buying books I like after reading them borrowed ones. Keep ‘em here like little trophies, yknow.”

“Oh, you’re one of those people.”

“Yes, I’m one of those people, but at least we’re a reason why you have a job at the library.”

They didn’t miss the amusing smirk that Steven shot their way as he plopped himself into his seat at the armchair opposite of theirs, not before settingy/n’s designated cup on the table in front of them. He took a swing from his own and a silence fell between the two. Doing their best to ignore it, y/n took another moment to discern the gift shopist’s apartment.

Steven must’ve noticed them observing the fish tank that stood loudly in the middle of the apartment, as he shifted in his seat and gestured to the papers that decorated the glass pane. All held up by magnets and were numerous by the numbers. y/n had barely noticed them with their admiration of the two fishes that swam inside. “We kept all your letters. Marc thought putting them up close to the water was a bad idea but I’s quite like them there.”

“Oh,” y/n let out a small smile at this, struck with warmth that the system liked the letters enough to put them up. Like drawings on a fridge. “I didn’t think you’d do that.”

“Of course we would. Marc wanted to know what you were up to, and liked to keep note of where you’s been since you had to be secretive about it.” Steven beamed proudly, standing up to approach the fishtank. 

“It was a necessary sacrifice,” y/n spoke, leaning over to grab their drink that Steven had prepared for them. “This was the best way I could keep in touch.”

During their time in the ennead, y/n was unable to communicate to marc and steven very often. Communication through modern devices were limited due to risks of tracing and exposing their location from those with malintentions. To help their friends know that they were still alive and well, the young avatar developed a habit of sending postcards to the system from locations they were sent to during a mission. Most of them were written with the generic, “I’m having fun’s” and “Wish you were here’s” to maintain obscurity, but y/n never missed a chance to send them so that Marc and Steven could figure out their last whereabouts from where the postcard originated from, and be relieved by the very fact that they were still alive and well. 

 “Wells,” Steven hummed to himself, turning to give the avatar a small smile as he returned to his seat. He had collected several postcards from the fishtank and waved them in the air before dropping them onto the table. Y/n watches the postcards splatter across the table, recognizing the images on the postcards from places they went to during their trip. “You have to tell us about your trips.” 

And so the scribe told Steven about their life the last six months. Giving an explanation to why they were so absent outside of handwritten letters. As they spoke Steven gave them all of his attention, sitting at the edge of his seat, forearms rested on his knees as he leaned in to every word they spoke. They made sure to speak in great detail as they continued, knowing that the gift shopist had waited a long time to be able to hear their experience firsthand. Marc finally made an appearance to make his own comments. Immediately y/n was ecstatic to hear from the marine and they began to catch up amongst themselves like they did with Steven minutes prior. By the time they were finished their mugs were empty and the sun had set.

“They had me go out and find the avatars,” y/n continued telling their story to Marc, pulling out a map from one of their bags and displaying it onto the coffee table. Marc leaned over, eying the jumbled scribbles written all over the world, marked with locations and field notes from your travels. “The gods, they chose their patrons from different parts of the world, Marc. I-I mean, I had to go to the most obscure places, finding these people, I even ended up in Jersey City, of all places looking out for this one girl-”

Marc closed the front door as he watched y/n run to their bag for the map, carrying takeout from a Vietnamese restaurant down the road. At some point during their conversation he proposed that they went to get some food. He chuckled at y/n’s demeanor now that they finally got to take out the map that they said they wanted to show him, gushing over their trips. 

“The Jackals are from Jersey,” Marc sat himself back in the chair, opening up the bag and placing their food onto the table. He lifted up a box, opening it up to make sure that he didn’t get the food switched, “My old man took me to one of their games back when I was a kid.”

He frowned at his food, eyeing the noodles. Steven began looking around the table before reaching his hand back into the bag, shuffling through napkins. “Bollocks, I think they’ve forgot my peppers.” 

“They’re here,” y/n took a small container of peppers from their side of the table and handed it over to Steven, eyes still trained on the marked locations of the map. He gave them an appreciative smile, humming as he opened up the container and poured its contents over the steaming bun bo hue he’d ordered.

He took a large bite of his food as he leaned over to take in the map displayed before him, trying to make sense of the scribbles. “Did you find all of them?”

Y/n nodded, finally reaching to grab their food. They couldn’t help but smile in content at the food when they flipped the box open. “I did. Finding them was the easy part. A lot of them were still distraught and panicked over the fact that the gods were real. One guy was so convinced that someone snuck him drugs and he was having a really bad trip. Other people took the whole thing really well, but a majority of them needed as much help as they could get from assimilating to the concept that an Egyptian god chose them as their patron.”

Marc nodded knowingly at them, “Not everybody is okay with the whole ‘gods are real’ schtick.” 

The scribe stopped looking over their map to gaze at Marc. They hesitated for a moment. It had been a really long time since they’d seen Marc, they realized now that they really had no idea of how he’s been since the attack on Cairo, whether the attack had left him with any mental troubles or injury now that Khonshu’s power was no longer there to speed up his body’s natural healing process. On the topic, y/n was greatly concerned on how Marc and Steven had been handling themselves now that they were no longer indebted to Khonshu. 

Y/n hesitated a moment as they observed Marc, who was keeping himself occupied with his meal now that there was a bit of silence to dwell in. 

Finally, they spoke. They were sure that Marc could be able to hear the hesitence in their voice, but it was too late to stop now. 

“So, how have you been? Like, with Khonshu and everything.” 

Marc said nothing for a moment. Finally, he deeply sighed. He kept his eyes trained on his soup, picking at the noodles with his utensils as he slowly spoke. “I feel much better, I would say”

“Yeah?” Y/n responded. They reached for a napkin laying on the table. 

Marc nodded. He shifted himself to lean forward more on his knees. “Like, you know how we were pretty much forced to serve Khonshu? Well, now that that’s over with, I feel like I can do whatever I want now,” He let out a sort of dry chuckle, seemingly pondering over his own words. “Like, I never understood how limited our life actually was… it feels really… open now, do you understand that?”

He continued, not waiting for the scribe’s response, a look of content written on his face. “Honestly, I feel good about it.”

Marc didn’t sound like he had any doubt about his decision to end the system’s relationship with Khonshu. When he spoke, he sounded so sure of himself and where he was currently, trying to return to normalcy after Cairo. Well, as normal as it can get for people like them, y/n reminded themselves. There was no way that either of their lives would ever be the same. They were forever thrusted into the world of the gods, and even though Marc and Steven had chosen to retire that life, y/n knew very well that they were still a pawn waiting to be used in the eyes of the gods. They just hoped that that would never be the case. For Marc and Steven’s sake, they deserved to have their retirement be undisturbed. 

“That’s,” y/n began, trying to find the courage to speak after realizing they’d remained silent a little too long. They blinked several times. “That’s great. That’s really great. I’m happy for you two.”

Steven beamed at them, shifting in his seat after putting his meal back on the table. “Ye, it is really. I’s been real nice not havin’ any more trouble at work because of that nasty old crow.”

“He caused you both more harm than good,” The scribe nodded knowingly at Steven’s words. 

Steven swallowed another portion of his soup, rubbing off the droplets that trailed from his lips. He cleared his throat, but y/n’s attention was fixated on the napkin he’d dropped on the table. He didn’t wait for the scribe to acknowledge him, but they were able to hear the way he was trying to tread lightly as he spoke.

“Speakin’ of the gods,” He began slowly, waiting a moment to make sure that y/n had nothing to say before he continued, “now that you’re done workin’ for the Ennead, have you put any thought to what you’re going to do with Djehuty?”

It was obvious that this question came to y/n as a surprise when they jolted at the mention of the god. Steven hummed anxiously and raised his hands toward the scribe, profusely apologizing for bringing up the god in question.

“No, no it’s fine,” y/n raised a hand to reassure Steven. “It’s just, it’s the last thing I want to think about right now. Djehuty hasn’t approached me since I first started working for the Ennead, and everyday since then it’s been this waiting game of when he’ll actually show up again. I’m a little on edge, I guess.”

“You still don’t want to see him?” Marc stood up. He stretched his arms into the air briefly before throwing them down again, observing the contents on the table. By this time, all of their food had been finished save for the spring rolls they’d decided to split together. There was one left that sat there for a lot longer than it should have, neither y/n nor marc wanted to be the person to take it out of courtesy. 

“No,” y/n glanced up at Marc. He stood over the scribe with the spring roll offered out to them, they gave him a brief monotonous look before accepting the spring roll from him. They inspected it before taking a small bite. They hummed, scanning the table for peanut butter sauce while Marc began clearing the plates away. 

“Why is it you don’t want to see Djehuty, again?” The utensils clinked in Marc’s hands as he gathered up what he could, swiping his finger into the peanut butter sauce as y/n grabbed the container. He raised it to his mouth to taste and made his way to the kitchenette to dispose the takeout boxes. 

“ ‘cause most likely he’s going to ask me to be his avatar again,” y/n states after swallowing from their bite. The scribe took another bite of the roll, gathering their own mess of napkins and peanut butter sauce and making their way to where Marc was in the kitchen. They spared him a glance as they approached. He had this look on his face that told them that he was choosing his next words carefully. 

They opened Steven’s fridge, eying for a spot before placing the peanut butter sauce somewhere for Steven to taste later. Marc reached for his drink from the countertop, “And what would your response be?”

There’s a pause. And Marc is observing y/n with a look on his face that made them feel like they were being read like an open book. 

y/n straightened themselves up, slowly closing the fridge door to look at Marc with skepticism in their eyes. They had yet to say anything to the ex-marine, but they didn’t have to when the look that they gave him told him that he was pushing a nerve with them. But 

“You’re talking to a guy who’s well-versed in this whole avatar schtick,” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight against the kitchen counter. The man gazed at y/n with a look, “I know coping mechanisms when I see one. Instead of facing Djehuty head-on, you decided to play it safe and hide behind Ennead, but now that you’ve ditched that strategy, you’re still avoiding Djehuty even though you’re technically still his avatar. I just want to know why exactly it is you’re doing that, that’s all.”

y/n turned away from Marc, uncomfortable at the pressing question he’d asked them. They tapped their fingers against their upper thighs in an attempt to dispel the anxiety growing inside of them.

“Its just that,” they began slowly, articulating the feelings they had kept to themselves for so long into words as they spoke. They hadn’t thought that they would share this with anyone this soon, let alone the System. “if I wasn’t his avatar… then what would I even be? I can’t even imagine what I would become. It’s all I've ever known. It’s the reason I’m alive.”

“Well, yeah, its why you were alive the first time.” Marc countered plainly, a resting his face onto his open palm as he had his weight on his knees.  He didn’t miss the glare that y/n had shot him. They didn’t like to be reminded of the whole situation they’d had with Djehuty in the Duat. Although Marc did his best to respect it there were times where he wasn’t shy to tell them how it was. It struck a nerve with them every time he did so. 

“Yeah, cause who wouldn’t want their entire existence defined by being a puppet for an ancient deity. At least I wasn’t dumb enough to be manipulated into it.” 

Marc blinked at y/n’s words. He leaned back slightly, eyes fixated on the scribe as they snapped at him with a hostile air to them. He was unable to see their face as they had turned their head away from him, but he knew deep down that their outburst at him was simply a defense mechanism, a way of protecting themselves from the blunt remarks and sudden pressure to answer questions he’d put them under without warning. Marc didn’t blame them for lashing out in such a way, he probably would have done the same too if he was in their position. 

Slowly, Marc sighed from behind y/n. They could hear the slow movements he made behind him as he made his way to refill his water from the sink. They sighed, pushing their hands to their face and wiping it across their eyes. They’d forgotten themselves in that moment, and felt guilty at how they responded to Marc’s questions, he was kind enough to invite them to food and there was too much time that had passed between the two to snap at him, even if it was through a joking manner. 

“Look, Marc-”

“No, I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. I’m sorry for pushing your buttons.” Marc stood by the scribe, clamping a firm hand onto their shoulder. He had faced them now, carrying a water in his hand as he offered them a small nod, acknowledging his words. He extended the glass in his hands towards them, waiting for them to take the cup from his hands before patting his open palms onto the pockets of his pants. He seemed to be looking for something as his eyes searched the room. 

“You know what? It’s been a long day, I’m sure you’re tired after all that traveling.”

“I literally went through a portal,” Y/n couldn’t help but smile at the marine with an incredulous look on their face. 

“Well you’re still in Egypt, aren’t you?” Steven mused, raising his eyebrows at the young thing. y/n rolled their eyes at Steven's whit. “It’s a whole two hours difference. What is it… it’s midnight for you, right, let’s get you ready.” y/n groaned at the statement. They weren’t tired at all from their journey. Steven was only using that as an excuse to go to bed early. They knew that he and Marc, despite being in their late 30s, were really just old men who slept for more than they should. 

“You can take the bed tonight, y/n. I’ll set up the couch for myself-ah.” Marc raised a hand to them with a firm voice telling them that there was no room for arguing. “You’re taking the bed. Tomorrow we can regroup and have more time to figure out what we’ll do now that you’re here.”

Marc left their side with one more pat before he approached a cabinet on the far side of the room. He opened it and pulled out a few blankets and a pillow before making his way to the couch. y/n observed the marine from their place in the kitchen, not daring to move until they were certain that the man was not at all disturbed by their presence. They kept watch as he made a hmph, releasing the noise while plopping himself across the couch with a blanket over him and a book in his hands.

The scribe, still unwilling to move from their place, observed the marine for a little bit longe, hoping to find reassurance that he held no grudge against them for their earlier attitude. They watched closely, but neither Marc nor Steven showed any visible signs of resentment. Instead, Steven gave them one last look, offering a genuine "goodnight" before settling down with his book.

Filled with a mix of relief and lingering guilt over their behavior, y/n glanced between the man in the couch and the bed they'd offered to him. They looked back at Steven, and after a few moments realized that they were fully staring at the man who had clearly told them goodnight. Slowly, they walked past the couch and took a peek into Steven and Marc's designated sleeping spot in their open apartment. Not to the scribe's surprise, their bed was surrounded by mountains of books that Steven had collected. Despite the overwhelming number of books it all seemed to be a sort of organized mess that only Steven could understand.

The scribe took their bags from the floor beside the couch where Steven read their book and took out some pajamas and bathroom bag. They made sure to stay quiet while they went to change and prepare for bed, scared that if they made too much noise, they would bother Steven. In the bathroom, they pulled out a shirt that read "I survived my trip to NYC," a memento they bought from a subway giftshop during a recon mission on behalf of Horus. Slipping the shirt over their head, y/n caught their reflection in the mirror.

Staring at themselves, they recognized their own face staring back at them, but a nagging sense of detachment washed over the scribe. The conversation Marc tried to have with them minutes before was fresh on their mind. They stared at themselves in the mirror, eyes flickering between one another as they tried to discern what exactly it was, they were feeling.

y/n raised their hands to grab onto the fabric of their shirt, looking down at the words as they rubbed their fingers across the fabric. Suddenly, the shirt's message seemed to mock them. The only reason they were able to get this shirt was because of their work for the Egyptian deities. In this life that they'd lived, they'd accomplished so much. They'd made a name for themselves amongst the gods and had earned their respect, but even that didn't outweigh the dangers and mental exhaustion that came with being an avatar.

But it was all that they'd ever known. This life. The life of servitude for the Egyptian gods. y/n had confidence that if they were to continue their involvement in the affairs of the gods, including Djehuty, the scribe had no doubt that they would thrive.

But was that really what they wanted? y/n slowly let go of their grip on their t-shirt, raising their hands to their face as they observed themselves in the mirror.

This was something that the scribe had contemplated since the first day they began working on behalf of the ennead. They agreed to help the gods reform the Ennead so that when it came down to it, they could go to the gods and ask them to return the favor out of the kindness that they may be able to show to an avatar that dedicated so much time to them.

The scribe had enough of staring at themselves in the mirror, hoping to pick up their toothbrush and toothpaste. They poured a dollop of paste to their brush, raising the toothbrush to their mouth, leaning over the sink to brush their teeth.

On the other hand, they pondered while brushing, there was the very big resentment towards Djehuty that held them back from being so willing to work for him again. Djehuty, who had betrayed their trust long ago by revealing that he'd stolen their soul without disclosure. They found it extremely difficult to fully trust that old bird, fearful of being deceived again.

But... despite their reservations, y/n grappled with the uncertainty of letting go. Being an avatar and serving the gods had become their identity, their purpose. It was all they had ever known, and the thought of severing that connection to become a normal human filled them with uncertainty of what their human life would hold in store for them.

Could they even do it?

If they were being honest, y/n was very jealous of Marc and Steven. The men seemed to have severed their connection with Khonshu so easily. They barely even hesitated. Now the men were building a life of their own, getting jobs, healing.

The young avatar spat out into the sink, cleaning any paste that covered their mouth before finally leaving the bathroom. They entered into the dimly lit apartment, slowly making their way to Marc and Steven's bed, not without sparing a glance to the couch where the system was settled in. Probably still reading their book. They made a mental note to themselves to ask about the book at a later time, when they'd find a good opportunity.

As they settled into the bed, y/n covered themselves with the blankets Marc had laid out for them. It felt peculiar to sleep in the bed of another man. The scribe felt like they were completely violating the system's personal space, despite Marc insisting on the arrangement, assuring them that it was completely fine.

They stared up at the ceiling, unsure if they were quite ready to sleep yet. The scribe hummed, turning to their side after some time, They listened to the water filter of Gus the Second's fish tank hum amidst the stillness of the night and the occasional turning of page as Steven flipped through his book. In the moments before sleep finally took over the young thing, y/n laid in bed and observed Gus the second swimming around in his little home. They could see him clearly, swimming and exploring in his own little world, and they couldn't help but wonder if Gus ever caught glimpses of Steven and themselves about the apartment and dreamt of leaving his home in the fish tank to explore Steven's apartment.

-----------

@astrobuzzsstuff

@blustalker

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[vampyboys]

Sonder (Ch 1-3)

Miguel O'Hara x Trans-Masc Reader (Boss & Employee Relationship)

__________________________________________

MASTERLIST🌿

Tags: Fluff, Slow-Burn (Maybe), Eventual Smut, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Soft Miguel, Boss/Employee Relationship, 2nd person POV

Word Count: 6k

Summary: You’ve been working at the Spider-Society for a year now as a Scientist to conduct technological improvements, experiments, and paperwork. Despite the high pay you’ve basically thrown your life away and work 72 hours a week.

Recently a small incident caused you to get closer to your boss, Miguel O’Hara whom you hate. Despite your feelings for him, you find that you’re oddly similar, both major workaholics who are attached to their work. Wanting to regain some of your life back you’ve decided to help each other and maybe fall in love with the process.

Aka,

Two Overworked Idiots who hate each other become friends with benefits then lovers at some point. *evil chipmunk laugh*

__________________________________________

CHAPTER 1

You've been working at the Spider Society for about a year now. Helping Spider people from different dimensions to fix these so-called anomalies which are fractures in some random universe fucking up its environment. You’re still shocked to this day wondering how you managed to even land this job. Constantly being surrounded by people who are far more knowledgeable about tech than you and they’re superhuman beings on top of that. Despite how cool that is, you are heavily overworked constantly working long hours past your shift. Spending countless hours revisioning experiments, devices, and oh god the endless paperwork on hundreds of anomalies that pass through each day. There are many days you want to quit but in this economy, living in Nueva York and with your degree this was the only thing offered to you that paid well. The realization of why it had a high pay started to dawn on you as you typed away the last remaining paragraphs of your report of a recent anomaly that landed this place. 

Finally, pressing the remaining letters you’ve finished your report, stretching your arms letting out a relieved yawn celebrating being free from your paperwork. You open up a new window going to your email and send it to your boss, he’d reply with a quick email on revisions you need to make but lately, it’s been dead silent. You’re starting to wonder if he’s even getting your emails, there has to be some sort of malfunction on your end or his. The last thing you wanted was to hear constant complaints from your boss, so you needed to visit his office to make sure everything was going smoothly; realizing that made you click your tongue in annoyance. You were in such a good mood too, the thought of talking with your boss filled your body with dread, and streams of memories started pouring through your mind of the times he’d talk down to you.

Before your departure, you stretch once more before heading to his laboratory aka his office, if you could even call it that. Each time you visited him he always had some sort of new tech or experiment scattered around and keep in mind his lab was MASSIVE, almost the same size as a theater. To have a room filled to the brim with your creation is incredibly impressive but also concerning at the same time. You were immediately pulled out of your thoughts as some Spider-People would swing by greeting you with a quick hello dashing away to go do their missions.

Navigating the Spider-Society was a bit tough for someone without powers, unlike the rest of your co-workers. At times they’d offer to swing you to your destination but you stubbornly refused wanting to somehow find a way to get there by yourself, most of them were pretty successful attempts but there were certain days where you’d nearly fall to your death. Luckily, being constantly surrounded by superheroes of every dimension has its perks so death hasn’t happened yet... 

After what seems like an eternity of a never-ending hallway with caged villains of a random dimension threatening to skin you, you’ve made it to his lab. Metal doors open as you get closer to it revealing Miguel O’Hara standing engrossed in his work with some videos playing on the side; assuming it’s footage from other universes keeping a constant eye on them. One in particular caught your eye, a video of him playing soccer with a girl who has similar features as he does. He immediately flicks the video away once he takes notice of your arrival and opens up a command to lower the platform he is standing on.

Miguel O’Hara was your universe’s Spider-Man and also your boss. You’ve only ever seen him in his mask until working here, he was surprisingly very handsome. His broad shoulders, tall figure, and if you were fortunate enough he’d turn to look at you with his dark brown eyes that would glow a reddish hue depending on his mood. Miguel had very sharp angular features, a strong jaw, high cheekbones, plush lips, and heavy eyebags from work. Yet, you hated him with every fiber of your being. At first, you admired him, duh, he’s Spider-Man for fucks sake! But the moment he opened his mouth, oh lord. He’d critique you on the smallest things, and yell at you for the littlest mistake, he was a hard man to please. Aside from that, he’s the person who assigns you piles of work having to constantly work overtime just to finish it promptly. Every moment with him was a battle not to strangle your boss to death even though he’d probably pin you down the moment you set your hands on him. Oh, and that stupid platform of his that he puts so unreasonably high up in the air taking years just for him to get down. Your co-workers would joke about how ‘it’s his way to look intimidating because he’s the big mean boss man’ and you’d giggle. When the platform got down to your level he hopped down looking down at you with a heated stare and his arms crossed.

“What do you want?” He asked, lifting his brows and tilting his head in curiosity.

“You haven’t been replying to my emails. I came here to check if you’ve received them.”

You chewed the insides of your cheek awaiting his response. Talking to this man was like Russian Roulette. On some days he’d reply in small nods, gestures, and a simple yes or no which was rare. On other days he argues with you yapping on about how you’re wasting his time and the state of the multiverse is at stake. But today, he goes to his holographic monitor to check his emails before turning to you,

“They’re here, I guess I’ve been too busy to check them.” He pauses, “Thanks for letting me know.” 

“Of course,” you nodded, walking back to the entrance with the doors closing behind you. That was surprisingly the most nicest conversation you’ve had! You even pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t in some sort of lucid dream or one of the villains somehow polluted the air with some sort of hallucinogen on your way here. But it was all very much real! You hopped around throwing your fists up in the air grateful that your boss didn’t tear your entire ego to shreds.

Walking back to your office, you had a certain glow about you that made your co-workers turn. Normally you’d walk around like you’ve experienced all 7 layers of hell with a coffee in hand that’s probably your 5th cup of the day. It’s gotten so bad that people would often ask you if everything is okay, other than the endless work you’d have to deal with on a daily basis; genuinely deep down you were fine. But, your face conveyed the complete opposite looking like your childhood dog was killed in a tragic accident. So imagine their shock seeing you strut the walkways wearing the biggest grin they’ve ever seen in their life. They didn’t think it was possible, and neither did you. Of course, you still have some work to finish nevertheless a glimmer of hope twinkled in your chest that you might leave your shift on time.

____________

Shutting off your holographic computer you peeked at the clock hovering above the corner of your office showcasing the time, it was 9:03 PM! Not exactly at 9 PM like you wanted, but it’s still astonishing how you’ve managed to finish earlier than you normally would. With work finally behind you, it was time to celebrate for not only such a productive day but for finishing your work (almost) on time. A lightbulb goes off as you’re wondering of ways to celebrate, nothing hits better than going to a bar after a long day. It’s been a while since you last drank alcohol; it was perfect; exactly what you needed after everything. You quickly clean up your office, turn off the lights, and lock the door skipping out of the building to meet with a car awaiting your arrival to take you to your favorite bar. 

Adalhard’s Hideaway was a bar hidden in an alleyway somewhere in Nueva York, it was a pretty small place where people like you would drown their sorrows away after a long day of being holed up at their job or just hanging out with friends. It was a pretty calm atmosphere, and that’s what you loved about it. Not only that the place had a vintage, industrial look about it. There were random animals and photographs of the owner all framed and dotted around the place with thick bronze pipes that allowed some sort of ventilation. It offered comfy couches, tables holding napkins, potted plants, and high seats.

You always opted to go hang around the bar not because it was easier to get drinks but because there was a small jukebox near it that would play relaxing jazz as you’d drink your margarita. This was truly the first time you’ve felt peace in a long time, you inhale and exhale the scent of strawberry exuding from your drink as you take another sip. As time went by, you tried as many fruity drinks as they could conjure until the bartender had to intervene telling you they couldn’t serve you any more drinks. The bartender takes the empty glass from your hands and goes to attend to the person sitting next to you. Everything was starting to get blurry, despite being disappointed you couldn’t indulge in any more sweet booze they were right; it was probably for the best anyway.

You lay your head against the bar top desperately needing something to rest your head against something, you happen to glance over to the person next to you who is quietly sipping their drink. They wore a simple grey sweater that covered his neck and the palms of his hands, you felt a little creepy adjusting your glasses that were close to falling off your nose just to have a closer look at this stranger. Even though your vision was a bit hazy from drinking a lot you recognized those swept-back brown waves anywhere, although it was a bit messier with strands of hair peeking out of his forehead the last time you saw him. You drunkenly lift your hand and point an accusing finger at him,

“Y-You! Why are you here?!” Miguel side-eyes you for a moment then goes back to drinking his tequila acting like he doesn’t know you. 

“Hey! Miguel!” You continue to call out to him but nothing works. Some people start staring in your direction while Miguel looks at them like ‘Who is this crazy guy?’.

“Hey, I know you can hear me..” You furrowed at him starting to get annoyed. Frustrated, you began to stand up but the moment you did, you felt your stomach churn spewing all those drinks you had to the floor. It was an ugly sight leaving many people gasping and screaming in disgust. Before you can apologize for such an embarrassing scene, and for throwing up all over their carpet your vision starts to fade away. You couldn’t see or feel anything but all you could hear was muffled voices along with a loud ringing in your right ear that soon fades away.

____________

Suddenly light leaks through your eyelids, the sunlight kissing your cheek and urging you to wake up. You jerk awake doused in sweat with your heart palpitating out of your chest, while you scan your surroundings. This was not your apartment, it was a bit more modern and chic compared to yours which was filled with random objects you’ve taken a liking to, hanging lights, and plants galore.

“Have I been kidnapped?” You whispered to yourself, slowly breaking into a panic. Scanning around the area, you were placed in a king-sized bed covered with a grey soft blanket and wearing nothing but an oversized black shirt with your boxers. Everything that happened last night was a blur, you tried to recall everything but it was hard to focus with a throbbing headache that was wrenching your brain.

You thought of the only thing with the evidence laid out in front of you, gasping in the process. “Did I sleep with someone?!” Just as you say that, the bathroom door flies open, and through the steam is a shirtless Miguel O’Hara with grey sweatpants. The feeling of horror washes over you, now you REALLY fucked up! You begin throwing pillows at him as if he were the problem, knowing you were the one who decided to drink irresponsibly that night.

“Why are you throwing things at me?!” He asked confused, hiding behind the bathroom door shielding himself from the things being thrown at him.

“You pervert! How dare you!”

“Wait– it’s not what you think!” As much as you wanted to keep throwing objects at him, you ran out of things to launch at him.

He sighs sitting down across the other side of the bed, you lean back keeping your distance away from him. He sees that, and you watch his brows and lips twitch in response.

“I don’t know if you remember but after your little scene, you fainted.” Miguel stands up walking over to his closet pulling out a shirt and putting it on. Your eyes were glued onto him, as he went to get dressed you couldn’t help but gaze at the way his muscles flexed along with his movements, your face warmed up at the sight of it, you immediately shrugged off the feeling and then returned your focus to his face.

“Not only did you throw up everywhere, but I had to pay the bartender extra for YOUR behavior and clean up your shocking mess mind you.” You lean back against the headboard with your arms crossed avoiding eye contact with him as much as you can while Miguel does the complete opposite keeping his glowing red stare on you.

“I was kind enough to let you stay at my apartment and let you borrow MY clothes. What do I get in return?” Regret started to swallow your heart hole piecing together the events that happened last night. 

“You throw MY things and completely trash MY room!”  Miguel was pacing around with his hands around his waist trying to calm himself, watching him move back and forth. You felt like you needed to do something to repay for not only taking care of you but to apologize for your actions.

“Is there anything I can do to make up for it? I-I can clean the mess I’ve made.”

You get up from the bed quickly organizing all the things you’ve thrown at him and Miguel watches you frantically trying to clean up his room.

He rubs the creases between his brows, “Ay, dios mío, just.. Clean up your mess and get to work on time.”

You smile nodding your head in a fast pace not wanting to piss him off anymore, he leaves the room as his Spider-Suit started to form back in place.

Before departing he looks back at you, “I’ve left some painkillers and water on the counter. Don’t forget to take it before you leave.”

You watch him glide out of the balcony swinging back to the Spider-Society.

CHAPTER 2

That was the last time you’re ever drinking again, memories of last night would come pouring down replaying every single excruciating detail. The facial expression on Miguel’s face as you puked your guts out, the cartoonish gasp that would echo across the bar. You face plant into the your table with a loud thud, hoping these thoughts would somehow magically pop out of your head. Even the floral fumes radiating from your coat reminded you that he took the time to wash your clothes which were covered in puke. Imagining Miguel squeezing a bile soaked fabric makes your body curl in shame wanting to move to a far-away state, maybe Oregon? Fuck it, how about just moving to a whole different country.

You sigh, bringing your coffee cup to your lips taking a quick sip. Having to apologize to Miguel was your only option, besides you owe him after that shitshow in Adalhard’s Hideaway. As you scanned the cafe looking for something else to focus on, you spot a chalkboard in bold letters decorated with little stars on the side and a smile drawn at the bottom as if it were a sign from God himself. 

“NOW SELLING CREPES!” The plan of gaining Miguel’s forgiveness and your pride back was starting to develop. Inspired, you start packing your things strutting up to the cashier in the front.

“Hi! Is there anything else I can do for you?” They greet you with a big smile, fiddling with the screen to prepare your order.

“Hi yes! What are the popular ones? For Crepes please?”

__________

The taste of eggs, avocado, garlic, and salmon coats your mouth, the perfect combination of a nostalgic flavor taking you back to mornings when you used to cook. One thing you loved was making something similar to what you have. A whole wheat bagel combined with eggs and garlic powder on top, adding some tomatoes or salmon if you’re feeling fancy. Now with what little time you have in the mornings, cafe visits are frequent, or whatever food you can get hold of; a single piece of bread, a banana, maybe an apple?

You glance over at the last 2 remaining crepes stored neatly in a brown paper bag for Miguel. One was a banana crepe glazed with Nutella and whipped cream, the other was the same one you ordered. Choosing something Miguel would like was hard. He seems like a guy who would prefer savory foods but who knows? He might have a weakness for sweets too. A thought pops up in your head, what is Miguel O’Hara like? Based on what you’ve gathered from purely visiting his lab from time to time. There’s very little you know about him within the span of knowing each other for a year. He’s very reserved, usually holed up in the office all day. The only time you’ve ever seen him out of his lab was when he was done with a mission or one of the Spider-People would create a mess in the halls. Seeing him at the bar yesterday made you wonder if there’s more to that brooding face of his.

Your brain starts brewing many clones of Miguel each depicting a different personality. Looking over at the crepes once again as you take a final bite of your food. Is he a tough guy who secretly has a soft side? Well, that part you cannot deny; he did recruit a cat and a Lego to the team after all. Images of him saving a small kitty stuck up a tree, or helping an elderly person cross the street pop up in your mind, making your heart flutter at the thought. That feeling instantly dissipates, reminding yourself that this is Miguel O’Hara we are talking about. He has to be a simple guy, enjoying the simple things in life, sitting down to read a novel sipping a cup of coffee watching the sunrise, and long walks on the beach. You don’t know why but it made your face scrunch up, cringing at the entire concept.

__________

The Spider Society building stands tall and proud looking over the city, it’s one of the tallest buildings here in Nueva York. Its metallic pristine exterior illuminates the sun giving it an elegant, powerful feel. Along with the advanced tech flying around the building with portals of Spider-People from many dimensions popping up around the entrance swinging around or chatting with their co-workers. You sit on one of the benches near a fountain located in the front to check the time. Sighing in relief you were right on schedule. Just as you were about to head to the building, a man about the same height, dirty blonde hair with some white streaks on the side, brown eyes, and recently shaved stubble. He wore a pink fluffy coat with his spider-suit underneath and a red-haired baby? You giggle, stretching your arms to greet them.

“Peter!” You squealed wrapping both the child and man in a warm embrace. The Red-Headed baby uses this opportunity to latch onto your chest returning the hug as well.

“And Mayday! How are both of you?” Peter B. Parker is one of your co-workers who you’re pretty close to mainly because of Mayday. Whenever Peter had to do one of his missions, he’d send Mayday your way to babysit since you’re one of the only people in this workplace who could take care of her. He’s tried asking other people but either they were too busy or ended up losing her in the process which his wife wasn’t happy of.

“Oh, we are doing great! Mayday here just wanted to come over and say Hi.” You look over to her whose hair is bundled up in a Spider-Man beanie, glimmering at you with a gap-toothed smile. Your heart melts, hugging her once more making the baby throw a fit of giggles.

“I’m more worried about you!” He says surveying around you in a circle pointing at your bloodshot eyes, and the whisps of hair ready to fly off.

“Jeez, you look like you’ve been run over by a bus on your way here.” You roll your eyes at him giving him a light swat at his hand.

“Ow! Okay, okay, I deserved that. That was very rude of me.” He chuckled nervously rubbing the stinging pain over the area where you smacked him.

“Why don’t we sit down for a moment.” Peter yawns, stretching on-top of the benches. He looks over, giving you a sly look urging to take a seat right next to him.

“Do.. you wanna talk about it?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“Yes! What’s wrong with venting out your feelings? Everyone needs it at times!”

“You know what, fine.” You groaned, defeated sliding over to a spot next to Peter. Mayday was still perched on your lap. This conversation probably isn’t the best to tell around a child. So, you cupped her ears as tight as you could. Making your hands as some sort of barrier to prevent her from hearing what you’re about to say.

“I might have had a little too much to drink last night..” Peter nods, letting out a simple mhm indicating that he’s listening.

“It happens to the best of us. Trust me, I’ve been there.” “I’m not finished.” You snap, focusing his attention back to you. “Miguel was there and he might’ve been involved.” He juts his head back, eyes widening.

Your brain flashes images of the horrific events last night. Every word that comes out of your mouth feels like you’re being repeatedly stabbed in the chest. Your face starts to feel warm, heat rising on your neck, cheeks then ears attempting to pry the words out of your mouth. After sometime, you were able to blur it out in one quick sentence, “I threw up on him!” Saying it out loud made your heart explode, if it were possible you’d turn into liquid seeping through the benches, turning into a small puddle that would evaporate the moment it touched the ground. In the mists of questioning your life choices, there were felt tiny tugs on your lab coat. Removing your hands shielding your face, you’d spot Mayday with a concerned look. Of course, not wanting to worry her, you scruffle her hair gesturing that you’ll be okay.

“Oh wow! That’s-uh.. Something.”

“I know!” You paused, making sure to cup the small child’s ears before you talk, “I really screwed up, bad.”

“Well, did Miguel say anything about it?” He asked with his back hunched over, interested in what you’re about to say.

“Of course, he scolded me for it, but only because I threw his stuff at him–”

“You THREW stuff at him?!

“Only because I thought we hooked up!”

“YOU WHAT?!” Peter adds his hands on top of yours, as an extra measure to make sure Mayday wasn’t hearing any of this. Meanwhile, the baby just eyed them having no clue what was going on.

“Hold on, pause. Pause! Tell me everything..” And you did, every detail from you trying to consume as many fruity drinks as you can to how Miguel took care of you after puking in his face. All that could come out of his mouth is,

“Wow, just wow!” He sits there in silence trying to process the information you just told him.

“Well, are you planning on talking to him about it?

“Yes, actually, and, I bought these crepes for him on the way here.” You opened up your bag showing him a brown bag of a cafe’s logo.

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Peter doesn’t reply immediately, his lips turn moving side to side trying to evaluate the proper words to say.

“Hmm, knowing Miguel. Yeah, I think he would.” Your jaw drops upon hearing that, stuttering in shock.

“There’s no way he would, come on Peter!”

He laughs slinging a hand over your shoulder, “Trust me, he may be rough around the edges but he’s not cruel! Sometimes..”

You lay your head back letting out an annoyed groan while Peter pats you on the back, “I assure you, he’s uh- forgiving guy.”

All you could do was stare at him with a blank face and he’d respond to you with an awkward smile. “Fine, I trust you. But if I get torn to shreds-”

“You won’t, Y/N.” He looks at you with a determined look, confident that everything will work out.

You feel somewhat conflicted about the whole thing but that talk felt surprisingly helpful. Your shift was starting soon, it’s best to call it here.

“Well then, I better get going y’know, get this whole thing over with.” Before heading off to work, Peter stops you in your tracks gently pushing you back down on the bench.

“Wait, let me take a photo of you and Mayday. She looks so adorable here!” Mayday lets out an infectious laughter, making you giggle in return. Peter whips out his phone stepping a couple of steps back to capture the moment with the camera flashing at the two of you. He flips the phone showing you the picture with a big, happy, dad grin. It was a beautiful photo of you looking up at Mayday sitting on your shoulder beaming a bright smile at you.

“Aw, that’s so cute. Can you send that to me?”

__________

After your talk with Peter, you’ve somewhat gained some confidence about your plan. But, anxiety would eat away at every positive thought telling you that everything will all backfire and you’ll leave the building unemployed. You can imagine it now, Miguel's voice would echo across the building making mountains split, the world shake,

“YOU’RE FIRED!” He’d yell on the top of his lungs, hurling an empty box at you to pack your things. Then it’d cut to a scene of an elderly version of you with a beard reaching your toes begging for a scrap of bread. You dust away the thoughts shaking your hands, telling them to go away.

Finally you’ve made it. The metal doors loom over you upon its menacing presence. This was the moment that would make or break your future. You prepare yourself to take a couple of deep breaths before charging to the door ready to finally face Miguel! 

Until your body subconsciously turns the other way.

“Yup, I think that’s it. That was a clear sign that you shouldn't be doing this.” As you were about to leave like the coward you are. The doors open slowly revealing Miguel standing on the platform with light leaking in his direction, as if the spotlight is on him telling you to go speak to him NOW. Oh, right automatic doors.

You have no other option but to face him. Shuffling your way closer to Miguel straightening your posture and glasses. Luckily his platform was already lowered to your level if you had to wait for that stupid thing to go down. You’d probably flee halfway down to its descent. 

“Uh, hey.” You were inside the dragon’s layer, every part of your body wanted to scream, run, hide under a table. OH GOD, YOU’RE DEAD!

He turns around only letting half of his face show, “Hm?”

“I- Uh, I wanted to..” There was a moment of silence before continuing to talk,

“I bought you some Crepes.” You flashed him a plastic smile wiggling your fingers showcasing the bag hoping he’d just take the damn thing. He nods, tapping the only open spot at his desk amongst the empty coffee cups which probably are new and some are a couple days old. You waddle over gently placing it next to him.

“Thanks,” he says before returning to work expecting you to leave. You couldn’t, at least not yet. You clutched onto the fabrics of your lab coat holding a stare at the back of his head,

“I also wanted to properly apologize.” He didn’t show it but you felt like his ears started to perk up in response. “You helped me when I needed it the most and I appreciate it, I do. But I clearly didn’t express it correctly. So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for throwing your things at you and belittling your kindness, that was such a wrong thing for me to do.”

”Did you take the painkillers before you left?” Miguel doesn’t face you, he even pauses whatever he’s doing awaiting your reply.

”Um.. yes, I did. Thanks.” He hums in approval continuing back to his work.

Oh-kay, is he not gonna acknowledge what you said earlier? You awkwardly stand there awaiting his response, but nothing. He was just tapping away at his holographic screen. The silence was so loud you even started to hear crickets around the corner of the room. Panic starts to flow through you, then anger, sadness, and regret all at once. Though you accepted his answer nevertheless nodding in understanding with his final answer laid out to you. Turning to leave, he tilts his head glancing over to you.

“I forgive you. You owe me a drink though.” 

The unsettling silence between you two was like hours of torture awaiting for something, ANYTHING! But with him finally replying at the last minute, just when you were about to leave feeling humiliated. It did not give you any sense of relief however it did make you furious! Was this some type of joke you weren’t in on for you to treat you like this? To play with your feelings like food on a platter?

You puffed your chest out at him rolling your eyes, “Fine, tomorrow then.”

Stomping out of the building, something glimmered at the corner of your eye you see the bastard smirk! 

“God, I’d do anything for a chance to strangle him.” Mumbling under your breath as the doors close behind you.

CHAPTER 3

Here you are sitting in the corner of the room quietly listening to music as you enjoy your drinks. At least one of us is enjoying it. You glance over at Miguel, who is sipping on the whiskey you paid for, with his arms slinging across the booth. The tips of his fingertips hover over your left shoulder. He wasn’t exactly touching you, but with his finger levitating above your clavicle, it felt like the shadow was prickling your skin. You slowly scoot away, shooting a hot stare in his direction. Miguel was in his own world, watching the people around chatting and reading old albums ranging from 2000s to 2050s sprayed across the walls of the pub.

This time you chose to go to Venandi Coven, a well-known pub around Nueva York that’s close to your apartment.  It had a similar vibe to Adalhard’s Hideaway, a calm, relaxing place. Unlike Adalhard’s more people were hanging about in the bar and booths. You eyed the group of young adults that Miguel was looking over, chatting about how stressful exams are, and would sometimes spill some gossip that you were also shamelessly interested in. Looking at them would bring back the old days when you’d laugh, chat, and drink with your friends being up to no good. Maybe Miguel is feeling that way too.

You hate to admit it, but you share a lot of similarities with Miguel. From being extreme workaholics, being perfectionists, and not socializing with a lot of people. Did he crave the affection of other people like you do? Do you want a place to just relax without your work interfering with your life? A place to get away from it all. 

Swirling your glass, watching the liquid move in circular motions, admiring how the candlelight on your table would reflect with the ice. After you promised Miguel that you’d buy him a drink, you couldn’t help but play out scenarios of what to do. This could be an opportunity to woo your boss, get a raise, or a promotion. Having fun, and just relaxing was also an option too. But with the atmosphere so thick, barely even allowing you to breathe, these goals seem impossible. Maybe some liquid courage should help? You throw your head back, taking a swig of tequila and slamming your glass onto the table, catching Miguel’s attention.

“Maybe you should hold off on alcohol for today,” eyeing you through his glass.

“Oh, shut up.” Okay, maybe adding alcohol to the mix wasn’t a great idea. 

Your face reddens, realizing the harsh tone in your words.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

He sets his tequila down, leaning back with his arms folded.

“I know it might not seem like it, but, I’m looking out for you.”

“Hm, are you now? How so?”

“Every scolding, every lecture, it’s for your own good. It’s for you to improve, get better, y’know? The state of the multi—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” You lowered your pitch matching Miguel’s voice, “The state of the multiverse is at stake, and we need to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible."

Throwing him a quick smirk. "But yelling at a simple mistake isn’t exactly helping, boss.”

He leans forward, observing the way you’re fiddling with your hands. It’s a habit he’s picked up on whenever you’re nervous or anxious. 

“I know my temper can be… a lot. But my reasoning is still justified.”

“Uh-huh, like that silent treatment you gave me yesterday.”

“Oh, come on. You deserved it.”

“So you admit you did it on purpose?”

He chuckles. You admit it was a little strange seeing Miguel break out of his usual pokerface. But it wasn’t an unwelcome sight.

“You. Threw. My. Stuff. At. Me.”

He said each word with a tone that was a bit playful. 

“I already apologized for it, what more do you want from me…” You huffed, slinging your leg over the other.

“Anyway, what I’m trying to say is… Our work in the Spider-Society isn’t exactly easy, especially for someone who isn’t like us.”

Miguel hovers his hands over yours as if he wants to comfort you, but he quickly pulls back, placing his hand next to you.

“It’s imperative we make sure you are in tip-top shape.” You laugh at the irony of it all.

“Miguel, one thing we have in common is that we are burrowed in our work. We practically live at the Spider-Society at this point.”

“I know but, I’m the leader—“

“Are you listening to yourself? How about this, we both need to learn how to take care of ourselves.”

He grumbles, averting his eyes away from you. There’s the Miguel O’Hara you know.

“If we both want to approve our work life. Let’s do it together. It’s nice to have someone with the same struggles as you, right?”

He nods, and you smile in return, coming into some sort of agreement.

“Let’s exchange numbers, if that’s okay with you. Let me grab my phone—“

“Wait, I got this. Don’t worry.” A holographic screen appears through the Gizmo, you watch him press a couple of buttons before your phone vibrates showing a notification to add a number on the screen.

Clicking the green accept button gives you a bubble saying the number has successfully been added.

“There you go.”

“You Spiders and your fancy tech.”

Miguel goes on a rant about how important technology is in his work, missions, and other personal stuff. Even though you were rolling your eyes the whole time, it was the first time you didn’t have the urge to rip his head out.

You’d talk about the crazy things you experienced, complaining about the grueling tasks he’d give you. Instead of his daily scolding, Miguel would listen. Returning the same energy complaining about how many Peters he has to deal with every day and the mess your co-workers would make. You were starting to understand why he’s so grumpy all the time. By the end of the night, you thought.

Maybe Miguel is alright.

End Notes:

I hope you all enjoy the story! I'm unsure if I'll continue this but we'll see. I'm open to any sort of criticism as long as you're nice and respectful. 💞

[delphiealmond]

Chaos By A Rose Bush

Pairing ᯓ★ Lee Jeno x Park Jisung / Johnny Suh x Na Jaemin / Mark Lee x Na Jaemin / Johnny Suh x Xiaojun / Wong Yukhei x Wu Yifan / Kim Jungwoo x Lee Taemin / Ten Lee x Lee Taeyong

Synopsis ᯓ★ Ten Lee is a simple guy who moved to Korea to fulfill his dream job as a doctor. Lee Taeyong is trying to keep everyone safe as much as he can. Wong Yukhei is trying to take over the world. Neozone is well known for keeping the streets of Seoul, South Korea safe. though the people think otherwise. Neozone creates deals with other mafia groups that try to fight against them, and Neozone is known to take down other mafia groups that try to cross their path. Except for one. Lumidome is China's most wanted Mafia group. They are the most dangerous, with members who are strong, smart, independent and dangerous. They want Korean territory. Will Neozone be able to protect their home from invaders?

Warnings ᯓ★ 18+, Swearing, guns, shooting, interrogation, torture

MASTER LIST : Previous | Next

CHAPTER THREE (6k)

Just as Taemin had stated, Unit 127 arrived home soon after the sun rose. They returned from Lotto City, a part of town that wasn’t touched by law. A place where most gangs created a truce among each other and parted their ways with their choices. This place was just so notorious for their gang activities, the government stopped trying to tame them.

Last night, however, wasn’t as simple as the usual gang meetups are. Things didn’t go as smoothly.

Flashback

Sitting on a long velvet couch as if it were his throne was Byun Baekhyun, sat the owner of the most famous strip clubs in Lotto City. Some would say he was a prince due to his looks, while others would call him a queen. He spent most of his time in his own club, earning money faster than any other part of Lotto City.

He was a queen in fact, with no king at his side…

As the night began to calm down, the alcoholics picking up to leave back to their regular lives and back to their families, the illuminated neon lights shadowed the movements of sinister men and women alike with activities far beyond innocent minds reach. 

It was usual to see the man staying away from the alcohol throughout the building. With the looks from Jaehyun and Chanyeol, he knew he had made the right choice of that night.

“You know Channie, you look like you need to relax. Maybe pick your choosing from my crew?” Baekhyun announced, crossing his leg over his knee as he snapped his fingers. A barely clothed woman and man stepped over to the owner and sat on either side of him.

“Damn it Baekhyun! We aren’t here to fool around with some of the whores you have hiding around here!”

Jaehyun’s typically warm and gentle demeanor was replaced with a harsh, cold one that Baekhyun had learned to strongly dislike. It always seemed that some of the most soft-hearted people don’t stay the same once they enter Lotto City.

Sure, understandably Jaehyun was one of Taeyong’s second hand men, but it didn’t stop the fact that Baekhyun ran his own business and was able to act himself around a setting that usually set an uneasy stomach to others.

In some words, Baekhyun was the queen of his own world.

“I truly understand your expressions and words. But might I remind you, that right now you’re sitting in my territory, and as a matter of fact I won’t take that type of talk about my crew here.”

“And must I remind you that you are under the orders of Taeyong, who is our boss and right now we have a job to do. So, you can shoo your ‘crew’ away and we can keep doing our work.” It wasn’t Jaehyun who spoke this time, but Chanyeol who was usually distracted by the dancing strippers on the small pole stages.

“Oh hey, you do actually pay attention to these conversations.” Baekhyun waved his hand, as the two crew members left his sides, leaving him in the room with just Jaehyun and Chanyeol.

Park Chanyeol, Neozone’s 127 number two in command. He was usually one to mess around during work, cracking jokes around every corner with sarcasm tracing his lips every turn. It was no joke though that he could become a cold-hearted bastard when it came to over professional work. Or even the innocent.

There was a thick rumor around the gang world that Park Chanyeol was the leader of Neozone instead of Taeyong. And sometimes, Baekhyun believed it. There were times when even with his chipper attitude, where he could crack open a skull with a hammer without even trying too hard. He seemed like a sweetheart, tall and goofy but never one to tease too harshly.

The story of how Chanyeol even became so hazardous was a secret that he planned to take to his grave, a secret that not even his closest people would know.

Each and every member that sat inside that building, understood their mission so no personnel needed to mention it. The longer they waited in silence, the thicker the air felt. As if it could be simply cut with a sharp knife blade.

And that knife blade was Ozaki Shotaro.

The sound of the front door slamming startled all three members to their feet. In the doorway stood Shotaro, the youngest member of Baekhyun’s gang of the city. He panted, a gun in one hand as the other rested against his forehead.

“Hey, hi. It’s me, um, I hate to disturb the conversation, but um,” He stole a quick glance out the door window. “We’re under attack?” he questioned, unsure of the entire situation.

With one glance to Jaehyun, they knew that this was the call.

“They’re here.”

Those words triggered the two others to grab their guns and started to load them as gunshots were heard outside the door. People’s screams echoed throughout the city’s roads as dancers quickly scurried off their stages and into the closest hiding spot they could find.

Baekhyun’s partner in crime, Kim Junmyeon, otherwise known as Suho, kept the gang hidden at a base building and tried their darndest to keep the rivals from pushing forward. But once Baekhyun arrived in the front room with the other two members, he was met with utter chaos all over his streets.

Fires had started along the roads and in trash cans as people raced in all directions in pure panic. Windows were smashed as cars were crashed into huge blockings in the middle of the road. Whoever decided to do this to Baekhyun’s Lotto City, became an enemy to every single gang in Korea.

Jaehyun, Chanyeol and Shotaro’s gang stood ground in front line groups, searching for any other allies that were able to lend a hand no matter what.

In the sheer destruction of the roads outside of the building, Chanyeol caught a glimpse of one of his fellow members in need of help, struggling to hide from the danger of the rival’s attacks. One of them sat on the ground, back pressed against a car as he shot.

Without a second thought, Chanyeol loaded his gun and burst through the door, ignoring any instructions from Jaehyun.

“Chen! I’m here! I’m here!” He dropped the gun and swung an arm under the members arm and pulled him up. Blood seeped out from the gunshot wound on his thigh, his hand pressed firm against it to try to stop the bleeding. But before Chanyeol could pull the member fully out of the rival’s harm, he stopped in his tracks.

“Johnny!”

When Chanyeol turned around, it was as if the entire world was in slow motion but himself. He watched as Johnny was being dragged away by one of the rival’s members.

“Rose! He-“

But before Rose could lunge forward, arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back.

“What are you doing?!” She screeched, scratching at the arms around her waist.

“no! We both know Johnny is capable of dealing with them himself! But staying here we’re risking all of our lives! We need to get out of here, right now.” Yuta bellowed. His words were true, and no one could fight against that.

Chanyeol would have also run over to help Johnny, but the weight of Chen’s body next to him snapped him back to reality.

“he’s right, we need to get out of here.”

As the four members made their way back to the shattered doors of the club, the other gangs’ members were getting into their black, shiny cars.

“Hey Xiumin?? What about us?!”

“Sorry man, but gotta stay loyal to the gang!” The door slammed shut as the cars sped off as fast as they could away from the chaos.

Neozone had many allies, but now they were forced into a game of truth or dare.

“God damn it! Baekhyun, get your ass out of here! Our van is in the back alley, go!” Yuta snapped as he turned to walk the other direction.

Jaehyun was able to grab his wrist before he was able to make a step any further.

“And where the hell do you think you're going?!” He shouted, anger heard in the rumble of his voice.

“Let go of me Jaehyun.”

“Answer my question.”

“that doesn’t concern you,” Yuta pulled his wrist away from the other member. “I’ll be right behind you.” And with that as his final statement, he gave a glare to the subunits leader before disappearing into the crowd of chaos, smoke, and flames.

Jaehyun’s hands formed fists before he turned and started in the direction of the van. Chanyeol wrapped his arm around Chen to keep the older stable.

“Fuck it. Let's go. If he’s not with us in 10 minutes, we’re leaving without him.”

It was obvious that Jaehyun was fuming. No one spoke a word, no one needed to. All the group did was follow the man back to the car. Baekhyun even knew not to make a comment, he understood how his friend could just snap at the sound of any word from anyone’s mouth.

And he most definitely didn’t want that.

End of flashback

~~

After the strange morning with Taeyong, Ten made it to class just about a minute before the class started. Though the exhaustion from the night before was forcing him into a state of sleep. He struggled to keep his attention on his class and his professor’s words. He mindlessly copied the notes off the board onto his notepad. He knew he had to pay attention to what the professor was saying, but the infatuation with the man in his apartment was all he could think about.

Maybe it was because of the lack of interaction with people, or maybe it was just because Taeyong was trying to be nice, but Ten’s first instinct was to believe he was catching feelings. He sure as hell knew though, the chances of seeing the fiery red head again was very slime, but he could still hope and dream.

Afterall, he’s been living in a fantasy instead of the reality around him. It was one of the best escapes from the harsh words of the world.

It was a sudden bang that pulled his attention away from his dreamy thoughts. The large doors of the lecture theatre were slammed open and footsteps marched down the steps. As Ten turned his head to look at all the commotion, he regretted it.

“Mr. Leechiayapornkul, you are under arrest for associating with Korea’s most dangerous gang, NCT and the escapement of their leader, Lee Taeyong. You have rights to a lawyer, if you can’t afford a lawyer, the state will provide one for you. Whatever you say or do will and can be held against you in the state of law.”

At the words of ‘under arrest’ Ten felt every inch of his being drained from his body. His heart sank into his stomach as anxiety started to creep into his throat. Before he was even able to register what just happened, he was pulled out from his chair and handcuffed. His eyes scanned the entire theater as students watched in shock, fear and even disgust. The eyes of his teacher gave a sympathetic message as one of his top students was being pulled out of his classroom.

He was dragged out of the room without being told of the evidence they gathered on him. For all he knew, there wasn’t any.

No.

No, was the word that raced through his head as his eyes felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. He was so close to finishing the course and moving on in his life. He was not getting arrested. He could already hear the disappointment from his mother, the shame he would receive from his sisters. It was all just a stab in the heart as he shut his eyes, trying to suppress the tears.

Fortunately, Ten had no reason to fight against the police as they escorted him out of the building. Although the handcuffs were a little too much, the walk of shame to a police car was enough to understand if any student in the university would disregard him as a person. This would change how everyone in the school would see him. Now as an outcast.

~~

“Through late hours of the night, the infamous gang known as NeoZone was suspected to be the cause of the shootings at 3am. This shootout occurred close to the University campus and as we speak, police are conducting an investigation at the scene and questioning anyone who forth brings any suspicion. The scene is being searched-“

“What? Hey. I was watching that.”

Taemin looked up only to be met with his leader's deep brown eyes. Suddenly, all of the anxiety vanished from his chest. He felt whole again, happy to see Taeyong well and standing. Ever since Taemin left Taeyong at Ten’s, his anxiety was swirling around like a hurricane. He worried about him, but he also worried about Ten. He felt utterly guilty about leaving Taeyong with him without a proper explanation.

The wait though, to see the younger with them again reassured him that everything panned out well. Deep down, Taemin understood that Taeyong would never leave him or the family.

Taemin jumped to his feet and hugged the younger into a tight embrace, his worries crumbling away, feeling the warmth of the younger hug him back.

“Careful, Hyung… I got stabbed.”

“Oh! Sorry!!” Taemin took a step back and scanned over Taeyong. He looked well, strong for a man who did just get stabbed the previous night.

  “Where are the others?”

“The Dreamies are resting except for Sehun. From what I know, Kai is sparring with Rose while Mark is tending to Chen’s wounds. I know Jaehyun and Baekhyun went back to Lotto City while Yuta is… being distant in his own way.”

“And what are you doing?”

“I…” Taemin glanced back to the tv. “I was waiting for you to return home.” A smile appeared on the younger's face.

“Aw, did you miss me that much?”

“What else?” Taemin turned his attention to the younger. “You know what you mean to me… I couldn’t lose you so I’m glad your back…”

This time, Taeyong gave a gentle smile as he pulled Taemin into a softer embrace. Taemin could tell that Taeyong understood his worry as he hugged the younger back.

“Just don’t do that again…”

“no promises…”

“I hate to ruin this sickly-sweet moment, but boss I need to talk to you. Alone.” A demanding voice forced the two of them to part and look towards the figure. Taeyong’s eyes were met with Yuta’s cold ones. It was no surprise that Yuta knew that their leader had returned.

His eyes were almost always glued to the security cameras that surrounded the entire warehouse. He had the mind of a genius, someone who would be able to hack into any system and learn about absolutely anything if he wanted to.

But the look in his eyes was a lot colder than his usual gaze. Taeyong knew something was up and he knew that it was urgent.

Taeyong turned to Taemin who gave him a gentle smile.

“Get some rest, Taemin. You’ve worked hard.” He squeezed the olders arm before following Yuta.

The walk down to the high-tech security office was silent and tense. Neither of them had to say a word to understand that things weren’t as pleasant as what Yuta would usually find on the cameras.

The room was dimly lit, only the LED lights from the many screens lit up the room.

“What is it you need to talk to me about?”

“The rival gang. I bought myself some time last night and was able to fit some of the pieces together and learn more about them which I think you’ll want to know.”

Raising his eyebrow, Taeyong waved his hand, encouraging Yuta to continue. The younger sat and started to type away as soon as his fingers touched the keyboard. Tabs of familiar faces and pages of document writing disappeared behind the taskbar.

Oh, how deeply important of a member Yuta was. He was like the walking encyclopedia of Neozone. Knowing almost everything about each individual member.

“They call themselves ‘Lumidome’. A Chinese group that consists of 27 members in total. Highly dangerous but has a lot of good connections around the world with smaller groups. This is probably due to the fact that everyone who they associate with will either end up dead or in jail. They aren’t a friendly bunch, that’s for sure.”

Taeyong leaned forward and started to skim through the profiles that Yuta found over hours and hours of searching. He took in every possible detail that could help with their next encounter, which was bound to happen.

If it weren’t because of Taeyong’s cold and stern expression, he would even admit that the man was one of the most attractive men he’s seen.

“And their leader? Why isn’t there anything under his file?”

“Ah…. Wong Yukhei. Not much is actually circling the internet about him. Anyone who lived his presence were so shaken up. Apparently from what I learned, he’s quiet. Maybe a little too quiet, as his right-hand man does all of the talking. He seems to be manipulative and definitely not one to cross paths with. And from what I’ve seen last night in Lotto City, something's got his attention and crossed his path, and I think we’re the attention that crossed his path.”

Taeyong’s silence only made the space between the two of them even more tense. His eyes scanned over the perfect face of their leader. He was good at hiding his own concern, he had too many people to take care of, and he couldn’t let them see his worries.

Neozone was no fool to warn off strangers. They’d always have a fight if they tried to mess with them. But this group that grew faster than any other, grew uneasy in the pit of Taeyong’s stomach. Not only was he almost killed at one of the hands of the Main’s of Lumidome, but this group also had their hands over any security system in the world, letting them be able to do whatever they pleased with little to no consequences.

“It’s understandable that our security is shit, not as good as it should be due to the fact that we’ve been robbed. But… Boss, it’s not safe here anymore. Our allies are wearing thin due to what I’ve seen last night. We’ve been exposed and hell, we’re missing a member. People are getting more selfish these days and Lumidome seems like they’re gonna try to use that against us. We need to start coming up with a plan and quickly before they pull their first move.”

Taeyong’s demeanor didn’t change as he struggled to hide back his rage. He loved Yuta and he knew he could trust him, but the words from his mouth were too true to be heard. They needed a plan, and now.

As the older turned to leave the room, Yuta felt a familiar discomfort in his chest. He was keeping something silent from an important person who deserved to know. A secret that he wishes he didn’t get to witness.

“Taeyong,”

“Yes?” Taeyong stopped in his tracks and looked back to the blond.

“It’s about Johnny.”

Yuta must’ve jumped when Taeyong took a step forward towards the seat. Taemin never mentioned Johnny, or when he got home. His whereabouts were a complete mystery to him.

“What about him?” 

~~

All Johnny could remember was a grip so tight that it bruised his arms. The streets of Lotto City; a complete and utter mess of fire, garbage and crashed car parts. The smell of burning rubber and iron as he was fighting for his life to get out of the grasp of the one holding him. He forced his eyes open, unable to fully comprehend where he was or what was going on. But to be pulled to his senses, his vision was blocked by something. His breathing was slightly restricted.

He struggled to pull himself up, but the lock of rope behind the chair stopped him from moving. His ankles tied to the chair as he struggled to get up once more.

The sudden impact of freezing cold water washed over his entire body as he sat still. The potato sack over his head, forcing him to struggle even further to breathe, as he began to choke. The bright light impact on his eyes made him involuntarily shut them. He choked on the remaining water and shuddered. Finally adjusting, he opened his eyes and slowly scanned the area around him.

From what he could tell, it was an old warehouse, but most definitely not Neozone’s. Lurking in the darkness, Johnny could see torn apart ships and engines. He was in the old harbour. He pulled again on the rope that kept him restrained until he heard the solid footsteps from behind. His entire body froze as his heart sank to his stomach. He swallowed dryly and took a slow deep breath, gathering his thoughts.

He listened until he was able to view the one walking. His back was faced to him, but Johnny could tell he was someone well taken care of. With the shine of the leather pants he wore, to the tailored jacket with silver chains on it. Johnny grimaced as his eyes watched the man turn around.

The man sat in a chair, not too far from where Johnny was positioned, but it was as if he had his own throne just sitting there. Another man came up beside him, emerging from the darkness. He was blond and tall. Dressed just as nicely as the seated one.

The brunette gave a nod, which confused Johnny until he felt the ice-cold water rush over his body all over again. He coughed in response, shutting his eyes tight as the sting of water entering his eyes pained through his entire head.

“I assume you know why you’re here, Johnny Suh.” A deep voice hummed, clear as day. Forcing his eyes open, he looked at the two men. At first glance, he believed the two of them were brothers, but with the clearly different facial features, and postures, he could tell that they were nothing alike.

“You’re the damn rivals.”

“Hey now, you don’t need to use such language with us. We just want to get to know you.” The brunette crossed his knee over his leg as his hands began to fiddle with the rings aligned on his fingers.

“You won’t get an answer out of me. You’ll have to beat me up senseless before you can get a word from me.” Johnny threatened. The blond shook his head with a low hum.

“Now that’s not the response we wanted.” His eyes felt as if they pierced through Johnny’s soul and devoured it. He was shivering from the cold and already feeling woozy from the water. The brunette gave another nod, looking to Johnny’s right side. But before he was able to glance to his side, his face was pummeled with a fist, sending what felt like needles through his entire jaw.

Blood started to swell in his mouth as he spat it out on the floor in front of him.

“Now. You play nice with us, and we’ll play nice with you.” The blond stepped forward, kneeling down in front of the tied-up Korean. His hand gripping his chin, so he could get a good view of him. “Sound like a fair deal?”

Johnny’s eyes glazed over as he shot a fierce glare at him.

“Fuck you.” He muttered, his mouth tasting of blood. The blond’s expression fell. His face became cold and his eyes distant. He walked back to the one in the chair before pausing.

“It’s a shame… You have such a pretty face too.” The brunette stood, fixing his jacket. He looked directly into Johnny’s eyes. His own brown ones reflecting Johnny’s position in a cold gaze. He gave another nod, before his figure started to disappear into the darkness alongside the blond.

Johnny’s heart started to race as he pulled harder on the rope binding him.

“Shit!!” He roared looking at his surroundings. There was no way out of this position. Next thing he knew, there was a face in front of his own. What looked like just black eyes stared at him as the man in front of him gave an evil smile.

He fisted a handful of Johnny’s hair and pulled his head up, bringing forward a yell from the seated one. He pulled his head to the side as his eyes examined Johnny’s jugular. He tried to fight off the hand, but nothing of his motions would get the man off him.

The white haired gave a pleasing hum before he let go of the black locks in his hand. Johnny’s eyes gave off a heat of hatred to the other as all he received in return was a sinister smile.

“He was right, you did have a nice face.” He hummed, before all Johnny can remember seeing was a fist aiming straight at his eyes. 

~~

Sitting in the quiet space of an all grey room, Ten was seated with his hands handcuffed to the center of the table. His fingers ran along the details in the palms of his hands as he awaited for the officers to return to the room.

He hadn’t been interrogated before, but he understood what comes with it due to watching all of the tv shows with his sisters when he was a child. A silent swirl of anxiety was trapped inside his chest. Like butterflies stuck under a net with the struggle to escape. The smallest sound outside of the metal door sent a shiver down Ten’s spine. He was surrounded by a world of law he knew was different from the laws in Thailand.

The words of what the officer said to him repeated in his mind, Being taken into custody for questioning about your interactions with the gang Neozone, and their leader Lee Taeyong. He was genuinely curious about what Taemin got himself into. He began to wonder if Taemin knew of the situation, wondered if Taemin knew he was the leader of Korea’s most dangerous Mafia gang.

But then again, with all of the drama in his apartment the previous night, he wouldn’t second guess if Taemin was somehow involved. He gave a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. He remembered seeing Taemin’s eyes that night. They reflected exactly what he felt the day he left Thailand for Korea.

He didn’t tell his mother about his leaving, nor his sisters. Just a note on the kitchen table, telling them he’ll be gone for a while. Taemin’s eyes reflected exactly what he hid behind an emotionless face the day he got on a plane. Imagining the scared, shaken up Taemin at his door with a bleeding forehead and a limp body by his side began to make more sense.

He was just beginning to put the pieces together when the metal door opened, bringing Ten’s attention to the two people who entered the room. One was dressed in a police uniform as he sat across from him, while the other was dressed in a nicely pressed suit and stood by Ten’s side.

“May I have a minute with my client?” His features were soft as his eyes looked at the officer. Though he just sat down, he gave a simple nod before leaving the room to the two.

The man looked around the room before he set down his briefcase on the table. He sat across from Ten as his fingers linked with each other. He had gentle eyes, a light brown. Ten always believed that a person’s eyes can tell you a lot about who they are. And as he looked at this man’s eyes, he felt safe and calm in his presence.

“I’m Cha Eunwoo. I’ll be your lawyer. Don’t worry, I’m going to make sure that the conversation is driven in the right direction and not intended to cause any other stress you may already be feeling.” Ten let out a soft sigh as he nodded.

“I’m Ten. I'm honestly glad that you’re here, I haven’t lived here for long and yet I’m sitting in an interrogation room.” He chuckled nervously, his hands now fiddling with the chain connected to the handcuffs.

Eunwoo gave a gentle nod.

“I can understand. Now, I want you to know you don’t have to answer something if you don’t feel comfortable answering it. I can understand the pressure you must be feeling right now, but as soon as the officers can get their answers, you will be able to leave this place.” Eunwoo assured.

With another small nod, Eunwoo faced the mirrored window and gave a nod. He pulled out the seat next to Ten and sat down. The officer returned to the room, forcing Ten’s anxiety to go spinning out of control all over again. He still couldn’t believe that he was seated in handcuffs, but all of it was happening. It wasn’t a fantasy.

“Now, Mr. Leechiayapornkul,” The officer turned on a recording device. “This device will just document our conversation. There’s nothing to worry about.” The older man linked his fingers and leaned forward against the table.

“What were you doing last night around midnight?” Ten’s mind was racing. He tried to remember what he was doing by midnight, and what he could remember was a simple answer away.

“Getting ready for bed, so I would be able to get up at a reasonable time this morning.” In the corner of his eyes, Eunwoo crossed his leg over his knee and placed his hands in his lap.

“And were you woken up at all during the night?” Ten’s hands fiddled with the chain. He didn’t quite know how to answer that, and that’s when his lawyer stepped up.

“You don’t have to answer that.” He hummed in response. Ten looked at him with pure confusion before he looked back to the officer sitting opposite from them.

“I was.”

“Do you recall what time?” The officer pressed. Ten swallowed dryly. From how his lawyer looked at him, he found himself creating a lie behind his truths.

“Um, I think it was around 4 or something like that?” He said, struggling to keep his composure of just lying to an official government officer.

“What woke you up?”

“My best friend. When I opened the door,” Ten paused but kept his eye contact with the officer. “He was drunk, so I took him in.” Ten felt Eunwoo’s eyes on him as his body began to feel warmer. He hoped to high hell that it wasn’t noticeable.

“He was drunk? How drunk?”

“Enough to not speak proper words to me. He slurred everything. This morning,” He shot a glance to Eunwoo. “before I left for school, he was on the couch and explained to me that my place was closer than his own and decided to walk to mine so he didn’t have to drive.”

“A very responsible friend you have there.” Ten gave a small nod before he bowed his head.

“Thank you.”

Eunwoo suddenly made a movement and sat forward. He placed his hands on the table and looked at the officer.

“May I ask how this has any connection to the involvement of my client in the shooting from last night?” His voice was firm and steady, professional. The officer was taken aback by Eunwoo and cleared his throat from how sincere the lawyer was.

“The shootings from last night were suspected to be the shootings of the gang Neozone. Any persons who were awake during the time zone of 2am to 3am is under questioning.”

“If my client was in bed from 2am to 3am, what are you implying?”

��Sir, I’m just doing my job and making sure that no one from the Neozone gang wandered into someone’s house to hide from the police until everything calmed down. Now we have suspicions that Mr. Leechiayapornkul was involved due to the conversations one of his neighbours heard outside in the hallway.” Ten’s entire body tensed at those words. Was the conversation with Taemin so loud that it brought his neighbours attention to it? Worry started to eat him from the inside out.

“What did they hear?” He asked, the words slipping past him before he could stop himself. Eunwoo then lifted a hand, as if to silence the handcuffed one.

“Did that conversation have anything to do with Neozone or Lee Taeyong at all?”

“Well…” The officer hesitated. “We have it written down that his next-door neighbour heard the commotion and was about to knock on the door when she heard someone heading to the door. But that’s all the information I can disclose as of right now.”

“So, due to my client’s friendship, there is a sneaking suspicion that he is possibly involved with gang activities?”

“We don’t know if the man that went to Mr. Leechiayapornkul’s apartment had any connections to the gang.” The officer admitted.

Eunwoo stayed silent for a second. This exchanged silence gave Ten a moment to breathe. He didn’t realize, but he was holding his breath almost the entire time Eunwoo was interrogating the officer. The interrogation changed, his lawyer was now working on getting answers from the officer instead of the officer getting answers from Ten. Secretly, deep in Ten’s core, he was glad he wasn’t in the spotlight at the moment.

“I believe firmly in my client’s words that he was woken up at 4am due to a drunken friend’s arrival because his place was closer.”

The officer simply gave a nod before he turned his attention back to Ten.

“Do me a favour, what is your friend's name?” Ten’s throat closed up on himself. He didn’t know whether to actually say his name or create a fake name to go along with the fake truth. He went to put a hand through his hair, but his wrist was stopped not even halfway there. He took a steady deep breath before he looked at the officer.

“his name is Kim Taemin.”

The officer looked into Ten’s eyes before he turned off the recorder. He stood and grabbed the keys to the handcuffs and set it down on the table.

“You’re free to go. But we will give you a call if anything comes up or if you need to be brought back in for more questioning.” And with that, the officer left the room. Ten’s entire body was shivering but not because he was cold. He had gotten away with lying to a police officer, with a lawyer who knew the rights and freedoms better than anyone else in the room.

Eunwoo unlocked Ten from the handcuffs before he grabbed his briefcase.

“Come with me.” Ten rubbed his wrists as he stood from the table. He finally was able to run his hands through his hair, his stress levels were increasing the more he had to lie through his teeth. He spent a moment just standing there with his eyes closed and his hands in his hair. Today most definitely wasn’t as good of a day as he hoped it would be.

He walked out of the building next to Eunwoo. There wasn’t much to talk about between the two of them, but Ten already felt guilty about lying to the officer. But deep down, he knew that if he had told the truth, it wouldn’t be an easy trial. He was now wrapped up into something way beyond his control and he was scared.

He didn’t even know if he could trust Eunwoo, his own lawyer. And yet again, he was right.

A large black escalade pulled up as the back door swung open. Another man was in the van with a girl with long brown hair. Both members wore masks, as they reached out and grabbed Ten by the wrists. Eunwoo pushed him in before he hopped in as well, slamming the door shut as the tires of the van screeched against the pavement. 

[onekisstotakewithme]

2023 Fic Masterlist

Happy New Year! It was my first full year of writing "The West Wing" fanfic and I loved every minute of it. Aaron Sorkin's work has me by the throat... so behold: the fic round-up for the year.

Works in Progress (WIPs)

An Idea, Whose Time has Come (3/20 chapters posted) - "Could always run for President." It’s been twenty years since CJ Cregg joined Jed Bartlet’s campaign, and with another election looming, Danny makes a suggestion: CJ should run for President. So she does. And on the campaign trail, along with a new staff, a hostile incumbent, and a familiar rival candidate, CJ also has to grapple with the legacy and impact of her twenty years in public service – good, bad, and ugly – while preparing for the most important election of her career. CJ/Danny, presidential campaign shenanigans. also side Josh/Donna, Will/Kate, lots of original characters. Some smut. 14k so far. (A present for my dear friend miabicicletta 💜)

CJ/Danny

None of Us are More Than Caretakers (12 chapters) - “The president’s dead.” Three weeks before Inauguration, things appear to be running smoothly. Transition is going (mostly) well, Kazakhstan is (mostly) stable, and CJ is (mostly) happy with how things are going with Danny. Everything is taken care of. And then former president Gerald Ford dies. Set between "The Last Hurrah" and "Institutional Memory". 66k.

Off the Record (22 chapters) - “And this… thing… would be…?” “Off the record.” (Or, one missing scene per episode). Season 1 missing scenes. 31k.

A Night to Watch - “So how does it feel, watching yourself become unemployed in real time?” Tag to Election Day Parts I & II. 6k.

Fallout - It’s only been a few hours, but already the dinner with Danny feels like it was an entire lifetime ago. Tag to "Duck and Cover." 3.1k.

our secret moments (in a crowded room) - Secret Dating. Tag to "Drought Conditions". Written for the twwpress Wheel of Destiny 500 word Drabble Challenge. 500 words.

The Fall - “What do you want, Danny?” “Saw you on C-SPAN this morning, Sundance. Wanted to see how you were handling the rise to power.” “You mean you wanted to see if the fall killed me.” Tag to "Liftoff." Butch & Sundance Part II. 2.6k

You're Gonna Die Bloody (and All You Can Do is Choose Where) - The hearings will turn over every rock in her life, every email, every phone call – and of course they’ll see Danny’s name – but she can’t drag him down any further. Tag to "The Ticket", "The Mommy Problem", "Mr. Frost"/"Here Today". Butch & Sundance Part III. 2.7k

Fight or Give - Glory days are over. Nothing left but the ending – nothing left but the fall. Tag to "Internal Displacement", "Requiem", "Institutional Memory". Butch & Sundance Part IV. 2k.

The Goal for Which We Long - And then she notices the note left in the middle of her desk. Not a note, really, but one of the dignitary bingo cards she’d passed out – the one she’d given Josh by the looks of it – with the middle row filled in. She wonders why Josh would leave it there, before noticing the handwriting along the top. Tag to "The Wedding". 5k.

Other/Gen

The Day on Which They Shall Give Their Votes - Election Day, 1998. As the votes come in, the staff of Bartlet for America waits with one question in mind: Who will be the next President? Pre-Canon. Gen. 3.3k.

When it Rains, it Pours - Or, what happens in the motel after they get out of the rain? Well, wet clothing mostly. Josh/Donna. Tag to "20 Hours in America" Parts I and II. Written for the "Woulda Coulda Shoulda: a Fest to Get Josh and Donna Together" challenge. 2.6k.

Two for the Road - “It was a tough race.” “They’re all tough races.” Or, doing the same thing multiple time and expecting different results (1992-2018). CJ & Toby friendship fic. Gen. 5.3k.

[kaizarnike]

The Monthly Post - September 2023 - Look at the time fly

What did I do this week, of this month, of this year? I attended a talk on Neural Networks and democratizing the system so to speak. It was attended by individuals from the school I'm now attending as well as researchers from Oxford. The voices in the room wary of AI were few, maybe 3 out of 22. I was mostly there out of interest in meeting the lab's manager, and to ask about applications in gaming. In summation: little was answered here, but it was a stepping stone for me.

SO go ahead, get a view of the time flying by.

The burden of progress falls on us. As long as smart people are willing to do dumb things for money there will be new problems to deal with. The problem I see most often is that there is little for us to do but get upset about it and then forget. I often only remember things in context, I may have trouble writing a program without a keyboard in front of me, and paper and pencil are right out. Speaking of things I don't forget, however:

I put this on my website, but things on the frontpage there are temporary, stored only in the git blob. Let's discuss trauma. Most games are about physical trauma, one I played recently, Taylor McCue's "He Fucked the Girl Out of Me" is a dirty example. The game mixes the reality of a transperson as a sexworker with people's disgusting needs. According to a recent article:

So many people are put in unsafe situations, I find myself very lucky that I've gotten free of most of the worst of the world, but second to third hand experience still weighs on the mind and soul. I've had trouble coming to accept myself and my needs.

...

Music of the Month:

Breakcore is a weird genre on Youtube. Defined as drums and bass (DnB), many videos on breakcore have comments stating that other breakcore creators are making for the wrong genre. I personally have trouble understanding why most things defined by humans are the way that they are, beyond the fact it just is. For example math makes sense when you have fingers to learn base 10 off of, but still perfectly acceptable are just thoughts like: "I have none." "I see one." "I should be wary, there are many." Not to diss human thought, as it has gotten us this far, but the aliens/floating objects in our skies likely will have no basis to talk with, but that's a whole mess right now.

So far my favorite track of the list is Pretty CVnt. For sampling the OP or ED to Watamote, the stunning deep vocalizations, and general feel.

Game of the Month:

There are indie crews like Spiderweb Software that have been running for 20 years or more, but the Adams brothers' Slaves to Armok 2 is a delight. If only I knew how to create value better, my shrine needs 6k dwarf points to count as a temple. On most other accounts my Kobold Kamp is running smoothly. Food is mostly stable right now and animals keep breeding without needing grazing land. Happiness is mixed, likely from being in the rain. Yet I've found ores of iron and silver on the surface, eat that aquifer! Breaching that sucker will be a gamechanger, I brought a screw pump corkscrew for the job, but its a little daunting.

Worst News of the Month in The Gamedev World:

Unity...

Internet Denizen and Maker of the Month:

I remember the days of twitter. At times I had to unfollow this creator just to clean my feed, they posted so vicariously. You could follow them too, or not, your pick.

My Work of the Month:

This had been sitting in my head for awhile after learning about Per-Pixel Transparency. Turned out pretty good in my opinion.

Wrapup:

I've been taking school rather well, hope that continues. Oh by the way...

Here's something to leave it off on, enjoy! If you can...

[bubble-tea-blossom]

Slip Up

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Rating / Warnings: E for Explicit sex so 18+ Only. PIV. Oral sex. Slightly rough sex. Use of “good girl.” Violence at the beginning (killing Infected)

WC: 6k

Summary: Despite agreeing to keep your thing a secret, Joel can’t help but slip up when he almost looses you. 

Part One

A/N: Cross posted to my AO3

“There he is, finally.” Tommy grumbles besides you, and you turn to see Joel walking towards the stables, “He hate’s being late, the hell was he doing?”

Me. You think. Instead you distract Tommy with a new subject.

“So where were you thinking on bringing the new recruits?” You ask, giving your horse a cheek scratch.

Tommy watches Joel disappear into the stables before turning to you.

“Was thinking since we’re a big group today, split into three groups, one senior member per newbie. Go as one group to the first check point then meet up at the last before heading home.”

You look over your horse’s neck to watch the slightly nervous new recruits wait on their horses.

“What do you think?” Tommy asks.

There’s 3 of them, Kiera, Tiff, and Jaime, and apparently they’ve all been good so far on the group patrols, so by splitting up Tommy is wanting to test them how they work in pairs. Smartly since they would partnered with someone Tommy trusts, which is himself, Joel and you.

You look over at them, quickly scanning them as you think about Tommy’s plan. The two women look quite comfortable and even a little bored as you all wait for Joel.

The young man seems a little unnerved being on the horse. He keeps tensing up like he’s trying not to shit himself when the horse swishes it’s mane or shifts it’s weight.

You make a mental note to check in with him and see to get him some riding lessons. ASAP too if just sitting on one is making him nervous.

The plan seems like a smart one, a general progression to see how they do in just pairs.

Since you can’t think of a good reason why not, you say, “Works for me.”

Joel’s finally walking through the doors, reins in hand as he leads his seal brown gelding, Old Beardy.

You notice the top of his cheeks just a little above his beard line, are a little red still.

“Good of you to join us.” Tommy says with that sarcastic tone of glee that only a younger sibling gets when picking on the faults of their elder.

“Sorry folks.” Joel says to the group as he swings Old Beardy’s reins over his head before mounting up.

Tommy takes the lead out the gates talking with the new recruits, Joel following quickly and you bringing up the rear on your mare.

As Tommy fills in the newbies on the plan, you catch up to walk side by side with Joel.

“So Joel, had something exciting going on at home or something?” You say with a casual tone, keeping any trace of a hidden meaning out of your voice.

Joel looks over with a squint only to receive your flash of a smile. His squint turns mischievous as he replies, “Yeah, I think some little beaver was having away with my wood.”

Your jaw drops a little at his blatantly ill-hidden innuendo spoken just a few feet behind everyone. You recover quickly and instead hum in understanding as if that sentence makes perfect sense.

Once the group reaches the first checkpoint, everyone was aware of the plan. But before you could reach the building the echos of infected can be heard from a grocery store a street down.

The horses are dismounted and weapons drawn as it is decided that you all go in as a group to deal with this first.

Good thing too because there’s at least 10 infected in there.

Tommy takes the lead, sending people in certain direction, everyone moving silently. It seems like they’re all Runners as well, to make things a little more complicated.

Things seem to be going smoothly as you and Kiera take down two runners stumbling in the same direction down the ice cream isle. You’re hunting knives slicing through the Runner’s throats before they can let out a scream.

You round the corner just in time to see Jaime step in front of a runner facing him. It lets out a scream as it makes towards him. This sends every single infected remaining into a frenzy, and gunshots ring freely in instant reply.

Kiera’s a quick shot and pings the Runner through the head before it can get too close to Jaime.

You shoot the next to Runner that run into view with your Winchester. You slam the lever back up to pop the next bullet into place, and take aim at the next Infected.

None to quickly and yet not quick enough, silence falls on the abandoned grocery store. You run up to the registers in a few long steps and jump up onto the conveyor belt.

With a quick scan you see most of the rest of the group. And no signs of any remaining Infected.

“All here?” you call out and everyone roll calls nice and quick.

You jump down next to Tommy as everyone makes their way to you at the front of the store.

“Jaime.” you hear Joel say intensely, and you snap your head over.

“Remember, if there’s no fungus on the head they can still see.” Joel says, his tone short.

Jaime looks as if he’s about to fall over, and he nods out a quick “Yes, sir.”

You don’t blame Joel, but you still felt a little bad for Jaime who looks deeply embarrassed.

“Everyone good?” Tommy asks, and a sigh of relief is felt pass around the room when everyone reports all safe and sound.

Tommy turns to with you with a look as you share an exhale, making your way to the exit back to the horses. Everyone mounts back up and Tommy leads the way to the doctor’s office, where the first checkpoint is.

It’s a short ride, only one street down, and Tommy and the new recruits jump down so he can show them where the log book is and the route map.

You stay outside, across from Joel, both seated on your respective horses.

Neither of you say anything, looking at each other with a soft smile on both of your faces. Sometimes one of you tips your face up toward the breaking sun. Feeling it bring warmth to the air as the sunrise fades in.

Once they’re done, Tommy and the other three join you and Joel back outside.

“I think Kiera should go with Joel,” you say quickly before Tommy can announce the partners. Kiera is a great shot and handled everything extremely well today, she’ll be the least likely to piss Joel off.

“And I’ll take Jaime. Tiff you can go with Tommy.” you finish, waiting for Tommy to say anything in disagreement.

Tommy shrugs his shoulders, “Seems good to me.” he announces and people part with their respect partners, quick words of good luck passing around.

“Lead the way Jaime.” you tell him encouragingly. He looks up at you with an embarrassed appreciation for your effort.

As he pulls ahead, you cast a quick glance behind you. There you see Joel doing the same, the both of you looking backwards on your horses so you can share a last secret goodbye.

With an effort, you pull your gaze back in front, focusing on Jaime.

You make your way down the trail with Jaime in relative silence. One check point is passed and no Infected in sight. The trail seems quiet so you strike up casual conversation.

The next checkpoint comes with two more Infected in a little trinket store. A Runner and a Clicker this time. You dispatch the Runner, and Jaime takes down the Clicker well on his own.

You give him a nod of acknowledgement as you remount your horses.

The third checkpoint comes half an hour later and is all quiet as well. You rendezvous at the last checkpoint and wait for the others to join up. They all come good and clean, with various excited reports between Kiera and Tiff.

“There’s a fuck ton of ‘em in the school, we’re gonna need to all go clear them out.” Tommy announces to the group and you all take a quick rest to water and check amo.

You set off all again, Tommy in the lead and you and Joel bringing up the rear.

“Pretty morning.” you say amicably. Joel gives you a knowing look.

You keep quiet the rest of the way there. You know how seriously Joel takes things like this. And you don’t blame him, and it actually makes you feel safer with him around.

But you also know how intimidating Joel can be to those who don’t know him. He’s big, and doesn’t hold himself to make himself smaller, he stands tall and faces you directly when he speaks to you with intense eyes that don’t miss anything, usually with a frown on his face.

And yet, your first interaction from way back, you remember doing a double take when you saw him, feeling drawn to him.

Your thoughts of Joel’s intimidation score are flicked out of your head when you hear the shrieks from outside the school. Tommy was right, there’s a fuck ton of them. And they all click.

You all dismount like cats jumping down from the counter. Quick and silently.

Tommy opens one of the four main doors. He flags everyone through, you first this time. Jaime hot on your heels to keep up with you still.

Tommy directs you down an aisle and you take it in confident silent steps. Your first target is shambling in somewhat erratic directions, making it quite risky for a stealth kill, but it’s necessary with so many Infected in this confined space.

This particular Clicker is agitated, it sways back and forth a lot more aggressively than most Clickers do while at ease.

You spend an extremely respectful amount of time waiting for your moment with how twitchy it already is. The problem is choosing a time to strike. Every time you brace to leap onto it’s back it moves again. You know you’re taking too long trying to find the right moment. Hopefully the others have taken down more than you have.

The slightest too heavy of a step sounds behind you and you whip your head around to see Jaime right behind you. You usher him back quickly as the Clicker starts it’s way toward you.

You luckily don’t have to make a run for it because it startles at something in the other direction. You stand still with Jaime, catching your breath, heart pounding a little faster than it already was.

You look around and see another Clicker a little bit away, standing still, hunched in on itself. The only movement it makes is the occasional twitch of it’s head accompanied by a croak.

An easy kill, and not too far away so you can help if you need to. You touch Jaime lightly on the shoulder and gesture for him to go take care of that one.

He looks frazzled, wide eyes and nervous as he nods. You give him a soft pat in encouragement as he steps around you. Maybe you shouldn’t send him out, just tell him to leave while you and the others deal with things. But then it’s too late and he’s already a step too far. Well, if he’s going to be on patrol he needs to be able to handle this.

You turn back to your own current target, refocusing on it. You take more slow steps, as it stumbles squarely in front of you, back turned to you.

Perfect.

You take a few quick light steps, just one more and you can finally tackled it safely from behind.

You’re halted in your steps when an ear-splitting bang cracks through the room from behind you. Close enough you know it’s Jaime shooting.

The Clicker one step away whirls around with a scream and stumbles right into you. You let you a scream accidentally as you brace your arms against the clawing Clicker. It slams it’s weight full force against your palms, sending you to the ground.

You fall on your back hard with the weight of the thrashing monster. Your elbows are locked as you yell with effort to keep the thing from tearing your throat out. It’s fingers come within a millimeter of your nose, it’s teeth snapping together with audible clicks. You don’t know how much longer you can restrain it.

A deafening bang rings close over head and the Clicker falls to dead weight, still being held upright by your straining arms for a split second. You quickly fling it aside, scrambling upright.

Joel is there with his smoking revolver, one hand lowering it while he bends to grab you around your waist to help you up.

You lean your weight into his hands in comfort for a split second before the two of you separate. There’s no time for greetings with the size of this group of Infected howling their way closer, so you leave each other to reach for your guns instead.

Everyone has opened fire and all hell has broken loose.

You stay by Joel’s side the entire time, the two of you moving around each other as smooth as water rolling over a stone.

Finally silence falls after what seems like at least 5 minutes of shooting.

You come to stand still, quickly counting people in your view.

“Everyone here?” Tommy calls out and everyone again shakily call back.

“Jaime!” Joel rounds on him, leaving your side to approach the young man. Jaime’s reaction airs similar to Simba seeing the stampede of water buffalo.

“What the hell was that? Why did you shoot? You almost got her killed along with everyone else.” Joel barks out, reprimanding him harshly. It’s a little much, and too soon. Jaime looks like he’s about to cry.

“It turned around,” Jaime starts to explain before Joel cuts him off,

“They were Clickers. Clickers can’t see-“ “Joel.” Your one word halts his verbal lashing in it’s tracks.

The room falls silent as you share a quick look with him. And even as you make heated eye contact, you notice in the back of your head how the warm sunrise makes his tan face glow.

Joel holds your gaze for a moment before looking away, walking back to the horses.

Tommy clears his throat and everyone shifts on their feet to relieve the tension.

“Alright everyone, let’s head back.”

—

Tommy quickly looks back and forth between you and Joel as everyone follows him outside.

There was something off about that millisecond interaction you had with Joel.

Joel was serious about this stuff, but he’s not usually so intense and harsh. He didn’t sound like he was just worried about another Jacksonite. He was terrified.

Tommy had heard Joel sounded like that about Ellie’s safety plenty, and even about his own safety. But Joel loved both Tommy and Ellie, and was therefore extremely protective over them both.

That’s when Tommy’s steps falter a little bit.

He snaps his eyes to you casting a slightly mournful look at Joel’s back and it all clicks.

Holy shit.

—

You aren’t being very careful when you go over to Joel’s midday.

The ride back was tense and quiet. Joel and you going separate ways home without many words in parting.

Yet at home you were too restless to rest. So, snatching your sweater off your chair, you leave your home. You can’t wait until the cover of night. You need to see him now.

You take the time to sneak to Joel’s back door. You can see your reflection in the glass as you wait for him after your knocks. Joel slides it open quickly, after seeing it’s you.

You step in without waiting for an invitation. Brushing past him into the warm glow of his house, stepping into his space. You notice his comforting smell, he must have showered when he got home. It’s a scent you’re becoming more and more acquainted with.

“Hey.” you greet, looking up at him. He’s frowning again. He used to do that so much when you first met him.

But when he meets eye contact, the frown melts off his face.

“C’mon, let’s go sit.” You speak up, taking him by the hand, leading him to the couch that’s facing the back door.

You sit him down and sit right next to him, taking both of his hands in yours. You bow your head and he mirrors you, resting forehead to forehead as you exhale.

You sit like that for a little bit, breathing with each other, hands clasped. You break the contact to look at him. You reach up and tilt his face down so you can press a kiss to his forehead.

You gently pepper kisses down his face. Over his eyelids, his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. Before finding their way to his lips.

His lips part for you quickly, as he kisses you back.

It’s not a long kiss, short but sweet as you pull back a little bit.

Joel's terrified. You can see it in his eyes. He thought he lost you. He doesn't want to let you go.

You can tell from the way he runs his hands up and down your arms. The slightly frantic look in his eye. He wants to dig his hands in and not let go. Good thing you want that too.

This time when you lean forward he rushes to meet you. Almost smacking each other, you recover just in time and begin to kiss him passionately.

Never stopping your kisses, you swing a leg over his hip and climb onto his lap.

"I'm here." You tell him through breaks in your furious kisses.

"I'm here for you." You reiterate which makes him slow his kisses to a gradual stop.

You look him square in the eye as you take his hands from your face, and slide them down yourself, before setting them on your hips. Then you wrap one arm around his torso while the other arm goes to thread through his thick his hair. Interlocking lips again and you dig your nails in harder than you've ever before, then rolling your hips down hard, feeling the relief rush through you with the weight of his hardness press against you even through your clothes.

He responds a few kisses later, fingers digging into your hips bones as he drags you against himself this time. You answer with an excited moan.

He gets the message.

He literally flips you over to your back, Judo style, one hand grabbing your knee to bring up over his hip. It's gentle, he cushions your fall to the couch, eyes expectant over you as he reads your reaction. When a pretty smile splits your face, he continues with a press of his soft lips against yours, hands drifting lower to cup your sex directly.

You hum in your chest as your knees instinctively fall to the side, opening up t o him. He closes that space as he grinds his palm right on your clit. It sends a stake of electricity up your body.

You break apart with a "fuck" and grip his hair tighter. He's rubbing strongly with the perfect amount of pressure to be intense without crushing.

Over and over, he strokes you steadily as you dig your fingers into the muscles of his back. He’s pushing you closer and closer to the edge surprisingly fast. Maybe your blood is still hot from the fight. You drag your fingertips down his broad back, feeling the space between the two of you heat up.

Quicker than you expected, you feel your insides flutter, and you gasp out a surprised moan as you fall over the edge. Once you've finish switching, you blink your eyes open, a bit confused and a touch embarrassed by how fast he made you come.

Yet Joel looks nothing but pleased. Big, warm, eager hands going to your zipper, while you quickly half sit up so you can do the same to his.

He lets out a satisfied grunt when his fingers part your lips and feel how wet you are. Rucking your jeans and underwear down your legs to your knees, he slips two fingers deep inside. Finding your cunt warm and greedy, the narrow angle of your hips from your jeans half off making you tighter in this position.

You ruck his jeans and boxers down his hips, just enough to pull his dick free. You immediately grasp a hold and he grows harder quickly in your hand as you begin stroking him.

You were already wet before he started touching you and you’ve only gotten wetter post your orgasm so Joel is quickly coaxing a third finger past your entrance. It brings a slight burn from the cramped position, but any sting is rubbed away with Joel’s massaging finger tips, rubbing you everywhere you need. You hum through your chest your appreciation, your forehead resting against his as he braces himself over you with his other hand, pressing against the cushions by your head.

Joel's big, so you don't like to skip foreplay, but right now with him three fingers deep, your fist wrapped around his length only a few inches away from your plugged hole, your want for him to sink inside you becomes unbearable.

It's what you need after this afternoon, to press as close as possible, as you recover from the close call.

Joel seems to agree because close he's removing his fingers and instead pressing his hips to yours, guiding his tip to your hole. He rubs himself against you, dipping his cock in your wetness before running himself up, splitting your lips as he rubs at your clit.

You jolt and go to beg him to just fuck you already, but he's already sinking inside. His cock splits you open slowly, nestling deep inside as you feel your whole body spark with pleasure.

Your mouth falls open a little as he pushes in with your inhale, a rumble of pure pleasure sounding from his chest. The sound is deep and gravely, making your pleasure spark higher, hearing it.

It’s a good thing he’s been fucking you so often, your pussy’s grown accustomed to him spreading you apart, but you remember the first time he fucked you, this process had taken much longer.

Joel holds there, deep inside, your walls gripping him tightly but adjusting quickly. You tilt your chip up to look at his face. The expression on his face, his jaw loose, eyes glosses over with pleasure you feel mirrored on your own.

He’s still waiting for your go ahead, either as a self-assurance or a tease, he always waits for you. So you give it to him.

“C’mon Joel, fuck me.” you plead, your voice throaty as you grip his shoulder tighter.

You see something change in his eyes, something you haven’t seen before. He finally responds with a strong roll of his hips into yours, and your eyes roll back as he finally starts to give you what you want. You like keeping your hands on his back, moving a little lower to feel his muscles working to pump his hips against yours, fucking himself within you.

You can only imagine what it must look like from the outside, his broad form covering yours, your knees framing his hips with your jeans and underwear bunched up around them. The image of Joel fucking you into the couch makes muscle clench, shutting your eyes, pussy suctioning onto the thick cock inside it and your hands turning into claws dragging down his side.

Before you can feel bad for the scratches, Joel’s moaning against your cheek.

You feel gentle fingers tip your chin up in contrast with the relentless thrusts against your lower half.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” Joel whispers, somehow his voice is tender while he simultaneously pounds you so hard you slide up and down on the couch. You know your hair is going to be a fucking disaster after this. Gravity only pulls you further onto his cock when you come back down as he thrust up, making your eyes clench shut harder.

“I want to see your pretty eyes.” he asks, and you give him what he so beautifully asked for.

Blinking your eyes open, you meet his. His pupils are so dilated they look almost black, the green nearly swallowed up.

Joel rewards you with some more kisses, the touch of his tongue against your lips makes them tingle as if he shocked you somehow. But in a good way, a really good way.

One of the many nice side effects of Joel being a guitar player is he knows how to create a rhythm, combine that with accurate fingers as he reaches down to stroke your clit and thrust into you at the same time. You can sense his desperation for you, he needs you to come, now.

Well at this rate he’s going to get his wish pretty soon. He’s driving you relentlessly towards the edge.

You’re so close, you can almost taste it, your entire body seizing up as it prepares to fall over that cliff. You feel your heart jolt in absolute terror at the sound of heavy knocks on Joel’s front door.

Now your body has clenched up in a bad way, and you and Joel wait there, silent and still.

The couch you’re on is in the living room which is viewable from the front door if the person should walk in. There’s no way you and Joel could detached yourselves from each other and straighten out your pulled down clothing in time.

“Joel, I know you’re in there. You can’t just ignore me.” Tommy’s voices flows from the other side of the heavy wooden door followed by more rapid, agitated sounding knocks.

You feel shock and let out a quiet gasp before you can snap your mouth shut when Joel starts grinding against you again.

“It’s just my brother, he’ll go away.” he mouths, barely audible.

When Tommy knocks again, you know you should stop and get dressed, it’s too risky. But you’re so desperate for Joel, that even with him still fully seating inside you, his inaction is making you ache with the orgasm that had been within finger reach mere moments before.

You do your absolute best to breathe as silently as you can when you start grinding back down onto Joel, and you feel him pick his pace back up.

He was right, you hear Tommy groan out a curse and stomp down the steps not even a minute later.

By that time you’re near your peak again. Your body tensing all over so hard it’s starting to shake. Joel’s fingers rubbing you perfectly on the outside and his cock rubbing against you perfectly on the inside, driving you higher and higher.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” Joel rasps near your ear. His lips going to lick and suck under your jaw. You thrust your chin up to give him more access, and gasp out a “Yes” as clearly as you can with your irregular breathing.

The sparks of pleasure from his mouth against the sensitive nerves along your your throat is enough to throw you off the edge.

“Oh, good fucking girl.” He moans, feeling your grip shudder around him. He slows the rolling movement of his hips down so he can focus on the sensation of you coming on his cock. But he never stops completely, purposefully rubbing at that one spot in particular to prolong your orgasm.

Finally, your body shudders one last time, and you realize your eyes are screwed shut. You blink them back open, your heart slowly coming down, before a gasp is being ripped out of your throat at the force of Joel’s sudden thrust.

“I’m not done with you.” Is all he says as he picks his pace back up, fucking you long and hard, his breathing hard in between growled groans.

If you thought you were wet before, after coming a second time, you’re like a slip-n-slide.

Your wetness spread around your inner thighs by his thrust and coating his length completely, so when he pulls out of you completely you see his cock shines with it.

“Turn around.” he growls. You do your best to follow his orders, but your heart is still beating so hard moving is difficult and your brain feels drunk with endorphins.

You must not be moving fast enough, because Joel takes hold of you under the shoulders to pull you upright and then flip you over in one move. He scoots you a little further so your face isn’t being crushed against the arm of the couch and so you’re instead resting over it.

With your front on the arm and your ass in the air, your wet, well-fucked, exposed pussy in the air on display.

You don’t have to wait long before Joel’s sliding within you again.

“Fuck yes.” you groan out, the ache he brings 100% welcome.

He hits much deeper in this position, and you feel the head of him nudge against the end of you. Pushing your limits to get as deep as he can, the sensation strange in a wonderful way. You’ve never felt this full, it feels like he’s at your bellybutton.

Your orgasm comes as a surprise to Joel but mostly to you. You had about a split second warning before you were coming again, gasps and grunts being ripped from your chest before you collapse back onto the couch arm.

As you lay there, huffing and puffing, Joel grabs a handful of your ass and bounces you up and down on his cock.

It feels good, but it’s also a little too much so soon after your second orgasm of the night. Your nerves feel plucked raw, exposed like a live wire.

Joel’s other hand takes a hold of your other cheek, fingertips massaging your muscle briefing before they’re spreading you apart, and you know he’s taking pleasure watching his cock sink inside you before slowly sliding back out. Over and over.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” he groans. His movements speeding up again. When his hand reaches under you to rub at your clit you whimper.

“It’s too much, Joel.” you hate to say it, but you don’t think you can come again, you’re too sensitive.

“You can take it. I know you can.” he responds. He trusts you to tell him when he needs to stop, but he can feel your body preparing for another orgasm.

You never want to let him down, so you calm your breathing, and relax into the rocking of his hips. Not long after, his rubbing of your clit crosses the threshold from ‘too much’ to ‘not enough.’

Soon you’re whining, and throwing your hips back, spearing yourself harder onto his cock and his ministrations speed up.

In tandem with his movements, you hear him behind you grunt out curses and you can tell by the sound of his voice, he’s close as well.

Impossibly, he seems to grow harder inside you, and you come for a fourth time, the feeling of your walls throbbing while being spread so far apart is toe curling, and an embarrassingly guttural groan comes from you.

Good thing you’re too blissed out to care.

Besides you have Joel behind you cooing praise at you, “So pretty. Feels so good sweetheart.That’s a good girl. Fuck you’re so soft and wet.” His jumbled sentences another marker that he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m gonna come.” he groans out and you slap your hand behind you against his arm and he gets the message and pulls out.

As quick as your shaking legs can, you jump off the couch and kneel in front of him while he follows your movements and sits back down on the couch.

You take him in one hand around the base of his cock and seal your lips over his head. 


Joel throws his head back with a groan, and you start licking his tip, rubbing with your tongue along the underside while sucking with your mouth and pumping his base rapidly.

Joel’s hand tangles in your hair, grunted out curses filling the air before he’s pulling you a little deeper. You let him and his hips arch off the couch to push further into your mouth as he finally comes.

You don’t stop licking or stroking, meaning some cum you don’t swallow in time smears across your lips.

At Joel’s gentle double tug at your scalp, you release him. With a feather light touch you lick off any mess on him you left behind, looking up at him to make sure he’s watching you clean his cock.

When you’re done, you sit back on your heels, doing your best to scrape off any cum from around your mouth and suck it clean. You’ll need to go wash your face, but this will do for now.

Joel helps scoop you back onto the couch and the both of you slowly shuffled clothes back into place.

Once you’re finished, you turn to look at him.

He looks calmer now, a pleasant look on his face, his eyes soft as he looks back at you, his hair a mess, cheeks red. He looks well fucked.

“Can I stay the night?” your voice is a little sticky.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

“Good, cause I don’t think I can walk.”

—

Tommy scales to steps to his brother’s house two at a time. His mind is racing, and he needs to talk with Joel.

Two years of Tommy trying to set him up with various people, and Joel always coming up with an excuse of why not.

At first Tommy had thought it was trauma. He knew things were hard after Sarah’s mom left, and then loosing Sarah like that, would make thinking of a family of any kind too terrifying.

But Tommy had made it clear it didn’t need to be family, Joel didn’t need to find someone to marry like Tommy had found Maria.

But Joel didn’t even seem interested in a casual fling, or even a one-night stand.

Because of you.

Tommy couldn’t help but chuckle, you were sweet, and kind, and protective, and good with a gun. Now that he’s thinking of it, he’s not that surprised Joel feel for your charms.

No, the question was how the hell did Joel manage to make you fall for his, seeing as in Tommy’s opinion, Joel had no game whatsoever.

He was an ornery, grumpy, old and closed-off bastard. Who never talked to anyone, and never seemed to show any interest in anyone.

Apparently not.

Now that Tommy is thinking of it, his pain-in-the-ass brother has been in an uncharacteristically good mood recently.

How long have you been a thing then?

Tommy needs answers. So he pounds on Joel’s door even when there’s no answer the first time.

“Joel, I know you’re in there. You can’t just ignore me.” Tommy calls through the door.

Joel never goes anywhere, he always just stays home, playing guitar or carving. Tommy is the one who has to drag him for any social interaction so Tommy knows 100% that Joel is in there and ignoring him.

Fine. If Joel’s going to be rude, Tommy’s not going to worry about being rude either. He jogs down the stairs again, and turns around the side of his house.

Tommy knows where Joel keeps the extra key to the back door, under the doormat (very secure) so he’ll just sneak in through the back and then Joel really can’t ignore him.

Only, when Tommy gets to the back porch, and rounds the corner and bends down to move the door mat, he sees something that takes his brain half a second to catch up before he can duck out of view again. There on the side of the sliding door, out of sight, Tommy stands squeezes his eyes shut as hard as he can as if that can seal out the memory burned into his eyelids of his brother obviously having sex with someone on the couch.

He couldn’t see who it was underneath his brother, but given one guess, Tommy has a pretty strong suspicion.

He feels a shudder go down his back at the familiar feeling he remembers feeling when he was 10, and Joel was 16.

Little Tommy had wanted to talk with his older brother as well, the Atari wasn’t working. And so naive Tommy had walked straight into Joel’s room while he had his girlfriend over “studying.”

Present-day Tommy rushes down the steps of the porch, blinking hard each time, hating feeling like a 10 year old again.

Tommy knows he can’t tell anyone, but right now he just needs the comfort of Maria to forget what just happened.

He’ll never sit on that couch again.

A/N: Sorry Tommy lmao, but I feel like as a younger sibling, it is your destiny to walk in on your older sibling at least once.

[masterofmunson]

look after you (1)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, grief, angst, major pining

Word Count: 6k+ 

Author’s Note: Here she is!! I’m really excited to see what you guys think! This is my first Bucky fic in AGES! I decided to make this into a mini series since this fic is so long haha. Please let me know what you think. Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky in several weeks. You were still adjusting to life post-blip. It had been a long five years for you and just seconds for them. You were no longer the bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit. You’d grown into your position amongst the established and experienced Avengers. Now, it meant nothing. 

Tony’s gone. Steve’s dead, Natasha too. The Avengers had officially disbanded. You felt lost and confused, still blinded by your grief over losing them. You had nowhere to go, so you just floated from place to place as needed. 

You were laying low and a shell of the person you once were. You had no one to look towards anymore. Bucky went his separate ways and got some sort of footing in New York City with the pardon he was given by the government since his return to the states. You checked in every now and then with him, but you didn’t want to slow down his progress so you distanced yourself from him. 

You know he feels some sort of responsibility towards you. Steve did too, and you suppose now that he’s gone, Bucky feels the need to take his place. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer the naive 23 year old he met in Berlin all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that there was something lingering between the two of you before he turned to ash. You’re a grown woman now and war and politics has hardened your soul. 

He needs to move on from you. The version he has of you in his head is gone, dead. He wants a fresh start, and you can’t give it to him. 

Sam checks in with you once in a while. He asks you how you’re doing and you respond the same each time. “Same shit, different day,” you laughed lightly. 

He knows better than to ask you to join him on his missions with the military. You’re not in the right headspace to return to the field, least of all if it meant that you were representing the US government wherever the fight was. 

Now that John Walker has the shield and has been branded the new Captain America, it gives you all the more reason to stay away. If he had so much as just breathed in your direction, you’d kill him and rip the shield from his grasp and return it to Sam. 

You ignored all emails and phone calls that had to do with John Walker. He wanted your blessing on live television, as if that meant anything. Yes, you were close with Steve, but you’re not an original Avenger. You just caught his eye during training one day and he took you under his wing. John Walker just wanted to create a bridge between the two of you since Sam and Bucky were obviously out of the question. 

You were the first person Sam called when he told you he was giving up the shield. You didn’t ask why. You knew he had his reasons and you respected him to accept that whatever the reasons were, they were good enough. 

So, when Sam called in the middle of the night, you picked up the phone without a second thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and fumble for the light on the nightstand beside you. 

“Sam? You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?” you asked, yawning into your phone. 

Sam curses in your ear and apologizes quietly. “Sorry. You would think with all this traveling, I’d remember time zones are a thing,” he laughed softly. 

“What is it, Sam?” 

“We’re in a bit of a tight spot. We could use your help.”

Your brows pinch together. “Who’s we, Sam?”

“Me and Barnes.”

Your heart jumps inside your throat. How the hell did Sam manage to rope Bucky into whatever he’s doing? The last you heard, Bucky wasn’t allowed to go on government missions until his therapist thought he made enough progress to do so. You know he’s nowhere near the progress he wants to be, so how is he with Sam? 

“Jesus, Sam. You know he’s not in the right headspace to go on missions!” There’s a heavy pause between the two of you before you relent. “Where am I meeting you?”

“Latvia. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

You hang up quickly and hurry out of bed. After so many years of getting up at odd hours for emergency missions and the like, you’re not surprised that Sam asked you to meet him in the middle of the night. You grab your duffle bag and stuff all your belongings back inside. You travel lightly, and now it definitely seemed to work out in your favor. 

You’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a small town just outside of Helena, Montana. It’s nice and quiet and you’ve really taken the time to reflect on your life since things started going back to normal post-blip. The locals are nice and hospitable, and no one asks you about Steve, Tony, or what you thought of John Walker. You hope it had something to do with the fact that they didn’t know who you were. You certainly hoped that was the case. You’ve kept your head down and tried your best to blend in. 

You go hiking quite frequently and take drives through the mountains. It’s nice and relaxing, a far cry from what you’re used to. You’ll definitely miss it, and you have second thoughts about meeting up with Sam, but you push them away. Steve abandoned you both, and you wouldn’t do that to him. 

It takes you several hours to get to the closest international airport and by the time you arrive, the sun begins to rise in the distance. You hurry through the airport security and send Sam a quick update that you’re about to board your flight before you settle in your seat and fall back asleep.

....

You sleep through the entire flight. You blame it on your ability to sleep anywhere due to the number of missions you have under your belt. You’re wide awake when the plane lands and you’re quick to pull out your phone and send a message to Sam that you’ve made it safe and sound to Latvia. 

Your legs are stiff and sore when you stand up for the first time when it’s time to leave. You pull your duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slowly make your way to the front. It takes you nearly an hour to get through customs and now you’re just anxiously waiting to see Sam. 

When you see him waiting for you at the baggage claim area, you grin as your eyes meet. You hurry over to him and drop your duffle bag to the floor as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s warm and tight and it’s exactly what you need. Sam pulls away first and reaches for your bag, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walk out of the airport to his car. 

You stop walking when you notice two figures near a very fancy yellow car as you and Sam near them. Sam keeps walking and you take slow, tentative steps. You know one of the figures has to be Bucky, but Sam never mentioned a third person. 

“Sam, I thought you said that it was just you and Bucky,” you said cautiously. 

Sam stops in his tracks and lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. It makes your heart race and you swallow the lump in your throat as they begin to come into focus as they near the two of you. “Y/n, before you get angry, I just need you to know that this wasn’t my idea. Believe me when I tell you that he is the last person we would ask for help,” Sam replied as his eyes went from you to the two people approaching.

“Who is he?” you asked through gritted teeth. 

“Ah! Y/n, good to know that your flight went rather smoothly. It is good to see you again.”

No. There’s no way. You must be dreaming. Hemlut Zemo is not standing right in front of you. He is in prison. He is behind bars for the crimes he committed. The two men that you're closest to wouldn’t jailbreak someone as atrocious as Zemo. There has to be an explanation. It doesn’t make sense. 

“What the fuck is Zemo doing out of prison?!” you hissed, looking between Bucky and Sam, demanding an explanation. 

“Y/n, honey, I can explain, just please get in the car,” Bucky pleaded, reaching out to touch your hand. 

You glare at him and take a step back. “Are you out of your mind, Bucky? You break him out of jail because you need him, is that it? Do you remember what he did to you, because I certainly do!”

Bucky frowns and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. He looks over at Sam. “Did you fill her in at all?”

“No!” you shouted. “I can speak for myself, James! Someone better start talking and tell me what the hell is going on!”

“We don’t really have time for this right now,” Zemo interrupts, “we really must be going. I’m sure Sam and James can fill you in in the car.”

You glare at the Sokovian terrorist and snap at him. “Shut your mouth, Zemo.”

He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. Bucky towers over you and this time you let him take your hand. He squeezes it gently and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You’re tense and fuming as he holds you. 

His mouth finds the shell of your ear and despite the wave of anger flowing through your body, it sends a shiver down your spine. Bucky whispers, “I hate to say it, but Zemo’s right. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.”

You huff childishly and turn your head away from him as he kisses your temple. “Fine. If he steps out of line, I’ll kill him.”

Bucky laughs and takes your hand and walks you to the car. “Get in line, honey. Sam and I have first dibs.”

You resist the urge to smile and Bucky opens the door for you as Sam tosses your bag in the trunk and climbs into the front seat. Bucky slides in beside you and he tells you everything.

He tells you about their first encounter with the Flag Smashers. He tells you about how the leader and a few of her followers have taken a newer version of the serum that runs through his veins. He tells you that she plans on giving the serum to more people to build an army and that you have to stop her. 

It makes your heart stop. You hadn’t really been keeping tabs on the Flag Smashers. Now, looking back, you probably should have. There’s still a lot of unknown variables to account for and it looks like the boys are taking it one step at a time, and apparently it starts with a trip to Madripoor. Zemo chimes in every now and then as he drives and it makes your blood boil that you’re forced to listen to what he has to say. You hate that he has the upper hand and is keeping valuable information hostage. You want to strangle him. 

After a while, Zemo pulls into a private airport. Bucky helps you out of the car and grabs your bag from the trunk as the four of you walk towards the jet just off the runway. You had no idea just how rich Zemo was. Now that he’s out of prison, for now at least, his arrogance returned back in full force in addition to his pompous attitude. 

You board the plane in silence, ignoring every word coming out of the Baron’s mouth. You settle in the back of the plane and ignore Bucky’s stares as you look out the window. You’re too angry to engage in conversation. You don’t care that Zemo insults Steve’s legacy. He’s gone, dead, what do you care? Yes, you wanted Steve to be happy, but he abandoned you. He abandoned Sam and Bucky. 

Zemo rambles on and on. “People like Steve become symbols, icons. Then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” he turns to address Bucky directly. “You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

Silence fills the space and for a moment, you feel a reprieve. That was until Zemo mentioned the Winter Soldier. 

 “We can’t go into Madripoor as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You immediately stand up and protest, storming to the front of the plane. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t let you use Bucky, not again. There has to be another way.”

Zemo clicks his tongue at you and shakes his head. A smug graces his features and you lung at him, wrapping your hands around his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bucky leaps to his feet and tears you off of Zemo, dragging you to the back of the plane behind the curtains to give the two of you an illusion of privacy. Your shoulders shake with rage and Bucky’s hands caress your face. 

“You can’t be him. He’s not you anymore. You don’t have to do this, Bucky. Please,” you begged, clinging to his hands. “I can’t let Zemo control you again.”

Bucky’s touched with how protective you are over him. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly against him. Your fingers grip the back of his shirt and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head. 

“Honey,” he whispered. “I have to. I have to do this so we can stop the Flag Smashers from getting the serum. It’s for the mission.”

You huffed against his chest. Now you’re really regretting your decision to help Sam. You would’ve said no if you had known that it meant watching Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier again, even if it wasn’t real. 

You don’t know what to say. He won’t change his mind. Bucky’s just as stubborn as you are and he’ll do anything for the success of the mission, just like Steve did. 

You pull away and return back to your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare into the back of Zemo’s plush leather seat. Bucky trails behind you and squeezes your shoulder. You shrug off his touch as he takes the empty seat next to yours. 

“And, I’m afraid that where we’re going doesn’t take too kindly to women who are…. how do I put this…. strong willed,” Zemo said. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky barked, jumping to your defense just moments after you did the same for him.

“Selby will see Y/n as competition. We can’t have that happen. She’ll have to stay behind.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to just sit here and do nothing,” you snapped. “I’m coming with. I don’t care if I have to pretend to be meek.”

Zemo turns to look at you. He’s challenging you. You both know it. He’s pushing your buttons and it’s working. He smirks and leans against the armchair. His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Even if it means pretending to be a prostitute?”

Your gaze doesn’t falter and you ignore both Sam’s and Bucky’s protests. It falls on deaf ears. You don’t care, as long as you’re with Sam and Bucky and they’re safe. “Yes,” you answered without a second thought. You’ve done worse things than pretend to be a sex worker. It would be a piece of cake. 

Zemo grins, letting out a soft laugh. “It looks like you’ll be joining us after all then, Y/n.”

You scoff at him and look out the window. Bucky drags you from your seat once more and pulls you behind the curtain. You look away from him and he reaches to squeeze your hand. 

“You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove,” he whispered, brushing the top of your palm with his warm and calloused fingers. 

“You don’t either,” you mumbled back. 

He smiles softly at your retort and pulls you into his arms. He holds you gently and cards his fingers through your hair. You hum quietly as he holds you. 

“Touché, honey.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before you lean back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes pierce through yours and it makes your heart race. You pull away and rub your palms against your thighs. 

You disappear behind the curtain once more, leaving Bucky behind. 

…

When you arrive in Madripoor, you’re dressed in an outfit that leaves little to the imagination. The dress has a plunging neckline that settles just below your naval. Your chest is barely covered and your boobs threaten to slip over the fabric. You’re dressed for the part, that’s for sure. 

Zemo is the first one to look at you when you return from behind the curtain. He whistles at you and it makes your skin crawl. 

Bucky shoves Zemo harshly and grips his chest tightly, snarling in his face. “Watch your mouth,” Bucky hissed, shoving him into one of the chairs. 

He turns to look at you and you reach to squeeze his hand. You pull him away from Zemo and whisper softly, “It’s alright, Buck. Take a deep breath.”

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, and does what you ask. “I’ll kill him. If he does that again, I’ll kill him.”

You laugh softly and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I don’t doubt you will, Buck.”

The two of you trail behind Sam and Zemo as you leave the plane. A sleek black car is waiting just off the runway and you follow behind to the vehicle. When you settle into your spot in between Buck and Sam in the back, Zemo turns to look at the three of you. 

“It’s imperative that we don’t break character, no matter what. If you do, we’re good as dead, understand?” 

You scoff and roll your eyes as he looks towards you. “Crystal,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He turns to face the front of the vehicle and silence fills the car. 

Suddenly, a number of motorcycles surround the car as you drive into Low Town. you make sure to keep your eyes forward and Bucky reaches for the hand on your knee. He squeezes it tightly and you do the same. 

Reality is now just setting in for you. This is the first mission that you’ve been on since Steve went back to the 40s, and since Tony died. It had been three long months since Tony saved the world and brought everyone back that was taken five years earlier. You know that three months isn’t long, but it still makes you nervous. You haven’t been training to keep things from going rusty. You had no desire to. 

Bucky leans into you, his mouth near the shell of your ear. “You okay?” 

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just a bit nervous. I’m a little out of practice. This is my first mission since Steve left,” you mumbled back, squeezing his hand again to keep you grounded. He does the same in return. 

“It’s alright. I have your back. I’ll protect you, promise.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face and you shake your head at him. “You know better than anyone else than to promise something like that before a mission, Buck. It’s bad luck,” you teased. 

He laughs too and the car stops in what you guess is the downtown area of Low Town. You take a deep breath and Bucky does the same. You squeeze his hand one last time before his hand falls from your grasp. He opens the door and climbs out. You follow close behind and find your spot next to Sam. He gingerly wraps his arm around your waist as you walk into the Princess Bar. 

Electronic music blasts through the speakers and the bass vibrates through your chest. You press against Sam as you push through people to get to the bar. The smell of drugs and alcohol is suffocating as you walk and ignore the stares sent your way. They’re not staring at you, but Bucky, who walks just a step behind you like a looming shadow. 

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asked Bucky in Russian. 

It makes your blood boil and Sam squeezes your waist tightly, a reminder that you must not break character. You hate it. You hate that Bucky has to pretend to be the person he’s worked so hard to distance himself from. Bucky is not him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. That part of him is gone, dead. You only hope that Bucky reminds himself that the Winter Soldier isn’t him anymore as he pretends just feet behind you.

You stand in front of the bar counter as the bartender approaches. You keep your mouth shut as Zemo exchanges words with the man, briefly bringing Sam, the Smiling Tiger, into the conversation. Your eyes find Bucky’s and your heart jumps inside your throat. His eyes are cold and void of any emotion. He’s stoic and brooding. He’s fallen into character perfectly and it scares you to think that all the progress he’s made over the years has been destroyed in this moment. For his sake, you hope not.

You tear your eyes away from Bucky at the feeling of Sam’s hand on the curve of your ass. You watch him carefully as he takes a shot. The bartender moves on and you let out a careful breath. 

A man grasps at Zemo’s shoulder and sneers at him. He looks over at Bucky as Zemo asks to see Selby before he walks away. Another man approaches Zemo from behind and he speaks in Russian once more. “Winter Soldier, attack.” 

You hold your breath in anticipation as the unsuspecting man rests his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You want to reach out and touch Bucky, tell him that he doesn’t have to, that the two of you still have time to make a run for it, but you don’t. You can’t. Zemo would probably try and kill you if you interfere and it’s the last thing you need. 

Bucky stalks over to him with two long strides, and rips the man’s hand from Zemo’s shoulder. He twists his wrist back and throws him to the ground. Another man swings at Bucky and he stops it with ease. He punches his back and kicks him against another crowny. As another man attempts to punch and kick at Bucky. He uses his metal arm and momentum to take each of them out.

“It doesn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo smirked, leaning over to look at you and Sam. 

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed between your teeth as you watched Bucky. 

Bucky grabs one of the men by the throat and slams him into the counter. Guns cock all around you as you look around the room. Your heart is inside your throat and there’s ringing in your ears. You reach to grab Bucky’s arm, but Sam beats you to it.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo whispered. “Well done, soldier.”

Sam lets go of his arm and takes a step back, pulling you with him. He squeezes your hip tightly as you watch Bucky’s grip fall from the man’s throat.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said.

Zemo moves to follow him and you resist the urge to reach out and touch Bucky. Sam pulls you along and you walk in silence down a number of hallways. The music fades into the background and you’re squeezing Sam’s hand like your life depends on it. 

A number of men on Selby’s security detail whistle as you walk by. You bite your tongue and resist the urge to snap their necks. The four of you wait at the door at the end of the hall for several seconds before it opens. You walk inside and Zemo takes you from Sam’s side. Your jaw ticks as he guides you to the empty sofa. His hand settles on your thigh and you tense under his touch.

Zemo and Selby negotiate for information. All you need to know is who created the serum and where they are. That’s it. Zemo needs to stick to the plan. 

Zemo stands up from his spot next to you. “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him…. along with the code words to control him,” Zemo stands behind Bucky, his hand resting on his shoulder. He’s silent and obedient, the perfect encapsulation of who he had been for the last 80 years. 

There wasn’t a discussion over what the offer would be when you were on the plane from Latvia. You just assumed Zemo would figure a way out of it, he was clever enough to do it before. You hadn’t thought that he would actually use the Winter Soldier to his benefit outside of protection. How naive of you. 

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he stares straight ahead as Zemo caresses his chin. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s playing the Winter Soldier perfectly and you hate every second. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you start to taste blood. 

“He will do anything you want.”

Selby grins, leaning back in her spot on the couch opposite of you. She tells him what you need to know. She nears Sam and then the worst happens, his phone begins to ring. 

She tells him to answer it and your fingers squeeze into the leather couch. Your heart races and for the first time since you walked into the bar, Bucky’s eyes find yours. You know he can see your panic. 

Things are fine momentarily. Sam’s trying his best to stay in character and you know it’s not working as well as he’d like. You hold your breath and your panic settles in at the mention of Sam’s name coming from Sarah. 

“Kill them—” 

Your eyes widen in horror as a bullet pierces through the glass window in front of you and lodges into Selby’s throat, killing her instantly. The act is over. 

You leap to your feet and pull the tactical knife that you hid in your dress out from underneath you. You slice the knife across your attacker’s arm. Bucky kicks him into the wall and grabs you by the arm. 

You run as fast as you can out the bar and through the streets of Madripoor. You dodge bullets and fight off others that attack you with knives. 

You do well, all things considered with what you’re dressed in. You dig your heel into the boot of your attacker, throwing them off balance. You kick their leg out from underneath them and Sam knocks them unconscious. 

Bucky, of course, is doing just fine on his own. You run over to help. You disarm the man closer to you and use the butt of the gun to knock him out. 

You barely have time to register the man creeping up behind Bucky. His arm is outstretched with a gun in his hand. Bucky has no clue. 

“Bucky!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, running as fast as you can towards him. 

He turns to look at you as you use your whole body to shove him aside as the gun goes off. 

Time stands still. 

You fall to the ground in a daze as the bullet rips through your shoulder. Your eyes stare up into the night sky as it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just been shot. 

You try to sit up and get back on your feet. You don’t have time to worry about your wound. You need to get the hell out of Low Town. 

Bucky nearly drags you off the ground and you run. You run as fast as you can despite the bullet in your shoulder. 

“We need to get out of here!” Bucky shouted, inspecting your wound. 

A shadowy figure approaches and Bucky blocks you from view. The hood drops and you peer over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t have time to be surprised that Sharon is the one standing in front of you. 

“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sam asked. 

“We don’t have time for that!” Bucky snapped. “Sharon, please. You gotta help us. Y/n’s been shot.”

She nods and motions for you to follow her. She stops in front of a beautiful blue car and Bucky guides you into the car, pressing his metal hand against your shoulder to stop the bleeding. You ignore Sam and Bucky’s bickering as they yell at you for getting shot. You don’t have the energy to respond. 

Sharon races across town and pulls up to a very fancy building. Sharon jumps out and opens the door for Bucky. His arm holds your torso and your uninjured arm is thrown over his shoulder as you walk inside. You gather into the elevator as it takes you to the top floor. 

Your entire body goes numb and Bucky guides you to the kitchen counter. Sharon briefly disappears before returning with a heavy duty first aid kit. 

“Do you have tequila?” you asked her as Bucky rummaged through the bag for the correct supplies. Sharon laughs softly before grabbing a bottle of tequila from her liquor cabinet. You take a generous sip and the liquid burns your throat. 

Bucky inspects the bullet wound carefully. Thankfully it was a through and through. He doesn’t have to fish the bullet out. He works quickly and you grit your teeth as he stitches the wound close on both sides of your shoulder. 

The pain lessened to a dull throb now that he’s finished. He cleans the excess blood off your skin before gently placing your arm in a sling. 

“Why did you do that, Y/n?” Bucky chastised you, shaking his head in disappointment. “I could’ve taken care of him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass? You were vulnerable, I did the right thing.”

He sighs and you look away. Your eyes find Sharon’s. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She nods and disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Silence fills the room and Sam takes his turn to reprimand you. You ignore him entirely and take another large swig of tequila. 

Sharon returns moments later with a pair of clean clothes. You thank her quietly and she points you in the direction of one of the guest bedrooms. You hop off the counter and ignore Bucky’s protests and calls of your name. 

You huffed in frustration as you limped towards one of Sharon’s guest bedrooms. You had enough of Sam and Bucky yelling at you for your recklessness, especially Bucky. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep. 

You did what you thought was right. You did what Steve would’ve done. You had Bucky’s back. Isn’t that what mattered? Sure, you got shot in the shoulder, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. You have the scars to prove it. 

“Stop running away from me! We’re not done talking about this!” Bucky yelled after you, hot on your heels into the bedroom. “What were you thinking?”

You’re sick of Bucky questioning you. You’re not a child and you’re not the bright eyed recruit he thinks you still are. You did what was right in the heat of the moment. You don’t regret it. You’d do it all over again if it meant that he was safe. 

“Stop treating me like a child, James! I’m not Steve’s recruit anymore! I’m a grown woman,” you shouted back at him. Your shoulders shake and you glare at him. “I know you still think I’m that naive 25 year old, but that’s not me anymore. The last five years may have been five seconds to you, but they weren’t to me. Accept the fact that I did what I thought was right.”

“It was reckless!”

“Steve would’ve done it!” you bit back. 

“This isn’t about Steve!” he argued. 

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see what you see. You know he sees you as his responsibility now that Steve’s gone. He feels an obligation to look after you because Steve did. You have a part of Steve with you. Bucky’s clinging to any last remains of Steve, and that includes you. 

“Isn’t it though? You feel like you have a responsibility to protect me, to look after me. Why? It’s because Steve did and now that he’s gone, you feel like you have to replace him!”

The silence that fills the room suffocates you. Your heart races with anger. You want Bucky to leave you alone. You didn’t ask for this. Sam needed your help, and when you provided it, you got yelled at for it. Now you just want to go home. 

You turn your back to Bucky and pull the pants that Sharon gave you up your legs before discarding the dress in the corner of the room. You don’t care if Bucky sees all the scars that litter your backside. Maybe then he would understand that you’ve always done what’s best for the mission, even if that meant getting hurt. You throw the sweatshirt over your head and turn to look at Bucky again. 

“Do you have anything else to say to me? Are you going to try and deny it?”

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re one of the only people I have left that have a connection to Steve.”

Another bitter laugh escapes your mouth. He doesn’t understand. “He abandoned me, James! He abandoned us. Steve’s gone. You can’t hold on to him anymore. You don’t have to do anything Steve did. You have nothing to prove to me, I promise. I don’t need you to replace Steve. I need you, Buck. You’re the one that’s here with me, not Steve.”

Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and you look away from him. The silence is deafening and Bucky moves to take you in his arms. He holds you against his chest and cards his fingers through your hair. You cry against his chest and cling to his henley. He gently guides you to the bed and sits down with you in his lap.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re right. It just scared me. I don’t think I can handle losing you too. I’m sorry.”

You pull away to look at him with your tear stained cheeks and he carefully wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You blink away the remaining tears and lean into his touch. “It’s okay, Buck. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You rest your forehead against his and breathe him in. His metal hand rubs circles against your back and it sends shivers down your spine. He holds you carefully and no words are exchanged. Your eyes flicker to his lips and your heart thunders against your chest. 

There’s a soft knock at the door and you pull your body off of Bucky’s. You sit beside him as Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between the two of you. 

You look over at Bucky and then back to Sam. You smile and nod slowly. “Everything’s perfect, Sam.”

[bratkook]

tied up. (m) jjk.

pairing. biker!jk x reader genre. smut, pwp, fluff, established relationship word count. 6k of just filth <3 warnings. light bondage, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, light overstimulation, spanking, begging, sweet dirty talk, cum play/stuffing, oc tries to be in control hehe summary. jungkook would do absolutely anything you asked. which is how he found himself on his back, arms tied up above his head, with you perched on his lap and a look on your face that meant trouble. note. little valentine’s day special for deep six!couple (it’s a pwp so no need to read the original story) i hope you enjoy it, lmk what you think ❣️

Never in a million years did Jungkook expect to be in this position. He’s a tough man, always clad in leather and thick rings, covered in dark tattoos, riding around on a loud bike with his club patch adorning his back. 

Yet here he was, laying on his back with his arms above his head, while your cute self sat perched on his hips, eyes sparkling and a giddy smile on your red coated lips. All because he was so inexplicably weak for you. 

“This is what you want?” Jungkook questions for the first time in the span of ten minutes. 

When he arrived home earlier, hands holding a giant plush teddy bear with a bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath between it’s paws, his attention was momentarily on the two dogs at his feet yapping for him to acknowledge. Jungkook had been too focused on petting the tiny furballs to notice you weren’t in the room, but when the usual feeling of your hands sliding around him in greeting was missing, he stood back up with a look of confusion. 

It wasn’t until he wandered further into the house, following a small trail of rose petals that lead from the front door all the way to the bedroom, that he finally spotted you. Sitting on the center of the bed in the dimly lit room, a few candles scattered on the dresser and nightstands, flames dancing and illuminating the scene in a warm glow, casting your form in a golden hue that left you looking unreal.

A silk ribbon lingerie set that matched your lipstick hugged your curves, tied up bows covering your nipples, completed by a matching garter belt hugging your waist with gold detailed chains dangling down to your thighs. It was as if you had taken a screenshot of Jungkook’s deepest desires and brought them to life, placed right in front of him, positioned perfectly in order to pull him in.

“Happy Valentine’s day,” you had murmured so sweetly, hands placed delicately over your thighs with your legs tucked under your butt, slowly beckoning him over when he had stood in a state of shock at the door. 

It didn’t take much to get Jungkook wired when it came to you, but seeing you covered in silk ribbons, looking like the perfect present he wanted to unwrap, made his mind blank. It’s that same horndog dazed look on his face that you knew so well, roping him in with your tender kisses and roaming hands, marking his skin in shades of red in a trail from his neck to his ear. This is not entirely how he thought the night would go, his earlier plans blanking from his mind, the teddy bear he held now placed on the nightstand while you lured him in.

“I wanna try something,” you had suggested, soft breath tickling his skin and turning him into a puddle at your feet. 

“Anything.” Jungkook meant it, always willing to do whatever you wanted with unmatched enthusiasm. So when you brought out a jute rope and used your sultry voice to ease him onto his back, slowly undressing him until his top half was bare, he could feel his heart thumping erratically in his chest. 

The question he had asked minutes prior continues to hang in the air as you loop the rope under a final time and pull the bight through, pulling tight to lock the knot in and tugging gently to double check that it wasn’t pinching his skin. The red rope compliments his skin, the double-column tie keeping his hands snug against the bed frame in the perfect position. 

“This is what I want,” you confirm, fingers trailing from his bound wrists, down the veins that covered his arms, and the black ink that painted his skin. Jungkook felt a trail of fire that followed your touch, burning his skin with molten pleasure while you continued down onto his chest, fingertips feeling the bumps of the golden chain he always wore with your initial on it. You admire it for a brief moment, loving the way it glimmers on his chest before your hands continue their path, sliding down until you reach his sides, hands cupped over his ribs and feeling the racing of his heart. 

“Nervous?” you tease, teeth biting down onto your lower lip, your thumb gently soothing his skin. You had half the mind to be a brat and tickle him, knowing he had no way to swat you away like he always did now that his hands were tied to the bed frame, but you could see the small shivers racking his body from being in this position. Jungkook was horny, and a little intimidated by you. 

“You make me nervous. Always look so pretty,” he trails off softly, eyes glazed over as he observes you. There would never be a time where Jungkook wouldn’t stare at you like you were the reason the sun came up every morning, your scattered kisses mimicking the constellations you swore he placed in the sky. Everything on this earth reminded him of you and he wouldn’t want it any other way. 

“Yeah, you like this?” you wonder, hands coming up to trace along the straps of your lingerie with a knowing smile. He takes another minute to admire the silk fabric, eyes focused on the caged bralette hugging your boobs, ends of the ribbon covering your nipples and bouncing when you lean back to give him a better view. The matching underwear with a tiny heart cut out of the front was the cherry on top, silky material felt along his skin from your position. “I bought it just for you.”

A small groan escapes him, tongue coming out to swipe at his piercing before he’s biting down on the soft flesh. Jungkook loved you in absolutely anything you wore, but knowing you had gone out of your way to pick this out had him wondering just how many other options you had hidden away. He’d definitely be bringing that up once he wasn’t focused on the sweet sound of your voice.

“That makes me feel special.” His hands move to touch you, so accustomed to gripping your hips whenever you’re on top of him, he forgets he’s currently restrained until the bed frame rattles and a small burn is felt around his wrists. A wince reaches your ear before he’s relaxing once more, briefly looking up to remind himself that he was tied up before looking back at you with those doe eyes that always swoon you, just now understanding what a compromising position he’s in.

“Nuh uh,” you tsk, wagging a finger at him playfully. “You can’t use your hands today.”

Jungkook honestly didn’t think this through before accepting, not realizing just how much he loved to grope and hold on to you at all times. “What's your plan? Tie me up and use me until you’re satisfied? Because that sounds like one of my fantasies.”

A sly smirk curls your lips, eyes clouding with lust, and it makes his stomach flip. He knew you meant trouble whenever you had that look on your face, and the current situation leaves him a little wary—and excited—for what you have planned. 

“Should I blind fold you too then?”

His eyes narrow as he stares at you, a small frown turning down his lips, clearly displeased with the suggestion. “Alright, that's taking it too far. You know I love staring at you, baby.” 

Jungkook slowly ruts his hips up, cool belt buckle felt along your clothed core, pushing against you when he repeats the motion once more. It makes you shiver while you lean forward, resting more of your weight against him and seeing the teasing grin on his face. Tie him up all you want, he’d even let you contort him into a pretzel if that's what you were into, but blindfolding him and preventing him from seeing the pretty faces you make as you moan over his cock? That was sick torture. 

Thankfully you weren’t totally cynical, agreeing that Jungkook bound to the bed frame with his muscular arms held up was more than enough. “I’m just teasing, Guk. You look good like this though.”

Wiggling a perfectly shaped brow at you, he already feels his cock hardening underneath you, the small ruts of your hips joining his only spurring him on further until he’s aching in his jeans. “C’mon, do whatever you want to me baby.”

Jungkook holds his breath when you lift your hand up, slowly reaching across to tuck a strand of his long hair behind his ear, thumb gently tracing the tiny scar marking his skin with a smile on your face. 

“I will,” you whisper with mischief in your eyes as you shuffle off his lap, nimble fingers undoing his belt clasp with ease, enjoying the way his stomach tenses with anticipation while you unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. His impatience shows when he lifts his hips, eager to have you yanking the denim from his thick thighs, not satisfied until you’re tossing the material aside, landing in a heap right beside his leather jacket on the floor. 

The black briefs he has on do a good job showcasing his growing bulge, slowly tenting the fabric when you gently trace your finger along his thighs, following the bold lines of ink on his skin. Almost like a ritual, you place a soft kiss to the double-headed wolf shaded in black before your fingertips dip beneath the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down his hips smoothly. 

Jungkook audibly groans at being released, hard cock bobbing in the air slightly with small beads of precum collecting at his tip, already hard and heavy just from looking at you. The prettiest veins line the underneath of it, guiding your eyes all the way up until you reach the pink mushroom head, just waiting to find its way into your mouth. 

“Fuck, I love your cock,” you marvel, pulling his underwear down all the way and letting it join his pile of clothes on the floor. He lay completely naked now, chiseled body out in the open for you to drool over, and he’s not opposed to it. The fiery look in your eyes while you trailed your gaze over every inch of him only made him squirm, desperate for you to touch him, to show him just why you wanted to have him tied up. 

“Show me how much you love it,” he rasps, teeth sinking down on his lip when you stare up at him, slowly lowering yourself until he could feel your breath hitting his skin. Your eyes are trained to detect any of his movements, from the bob in his throat when he swallows as you wrap your hands around his cock, to the tensing of his thighs when you place a teasing kiss to his swollen tip, taking note of his reactions to your touch.

A shuddering breath escapes him at the contact, once again forgetting about his limited range of motion when he goes to touch you and the headboard shakes behind him. It makes his wrists sting as the rope rubs against his skin in the same spot from before, but he couldn’t help it. The way you’re kneeling between his legs, back arched while you lean forward with your ass jutting into the air, he just wants to reach forward and give it a good smack like he always does.  

You know Jungkook inside and out, so as much as he was trying to act like he was okay with not being in control, you can tell he’s edging closer to becoming a desperate, frustrated mess underneath you. The small whine he releases when he settles his arms back into place shows you that much, and another glance up at him allows you to see the tiny grimace painting his features now, brows pinched together while you continue to tease him. 

“Wanna hear you beg for it,” you sigh, loosely pumping him in your hand, hovering your mouth above him when you stick your tongue out and let a thick trail of spit drip onto his cock. Jungkook hisses slightly at the visual, eyes focused on the way your spit mixes with his precum as you swipe your thumb along his slit. 

“Baby,” he whines, rutting his hips up and frowning when you inch back to prevent his cock from nudging your lips. The wicked smile on your cherry coated lips sends his mind spinning, fingers clenching in his palm when you tilt your head at him innocently. 

“Beg Jungkook. Wanna hear you.”

Your hands tighten around him, making his thighs tense as his hips rut up once more. “Fuck,” he cries out, raspy and desperate. “Please baby, make me feel good. Ah, just wanna feel your mouth please—“

His rambling gets stuck in his throat when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, gently flicking your tongue against him and having the salty taste of his precum fill your senses. Jungkook’s chest heaves when you hum around him, red lips circling his length as you slowly sink down, the warm wetness of your mouth making his blood simmer. 

The weight of his cock on your tongue has you mewling, eyes fluttering shut when you take him an inch further, gently hollowing your cheeks to suck in time with your hand. Jungkook can’t form a coherent thought now, focusing on the messy way you suck his cock, leaving it nice and shiny each time you pull back. Strings of spit drip down his length and gather around your palm, the wet thump of your hand coming down mixing in with the obscene slurps of your mouth.

“I like you like this,” you breathe as you pop off his dick, hands gliding across his length with the help of your saliva. It’s a torturous rhythm you have going, knowing exactly what to do to make Jungkook writhe around, applying just the right pressure, focusing on all the parts that you know would drive him crazy. 

“Yeah?” he manages to speak, arms flexing in their restraints when you lick a stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around his pink tip with a smile on your lips. 

“Mhm, you sound pretty when you beg.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re lucky I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you hum, the familiar warmth filling your chest at his confession just as strongly as it did when he first said it. Although he’s being playful you know how deep his words go, you can tell by the look in his eye, and if that wasn’t enough then the mere fact that he was allowing you to tie him up said it all. 

“How much more do I have to beg to get you to sink onto my cock?” The muscles in his neck tense when he throws his head back, gasping as you take him back into your mouth, sliding further down than before. His stomach hiccups once his cock nudges the back of your throat, muscle tightening around his length when you gag slightly at the feeling. Jungkook’s lungs forget how to function at the sight, your red lips pulled taut around his girth as you slurp back up only to repeat the motion again and again until he’s tensing underneath you, stomach caving in each time he hits the back of your throat. 

The breathy whine that spills past his lips has your underwear dampening with arousal, thighs rubbing together when you lift off of him once more, feeling the lust growing inside of you with each moan he releases. Very rarely did you ever get to see Jungkook like this, pleading for you to make him feel good, nights like that typically reserved for the days where he was exhausted from the club, easily becoming a needy mess in search of a stress reliever. But this version of him was new, and you wanted to savor it a little longer.

“Beg a little more for me, yeah?” Your eyes sparkle while you speak, sitting back up between his legs. His cock is left alone when you bring your fingers to the sides of your underwear, gently tugging at the knotted silk on each side to undo the garment, allowing you to slip them off while keeping the golden garter chain attached. 

Once Jungkook gets the view of your glistening folds, he doesn’t need you to ask twice. Instantly, he’s pleading to feel the warmth of your pussy around him, begging to see the look on your face once you sunk onto him, needing to hear the wet sound of his cock slipping into you. “P-please, wanna see my pretty baby use me. Wanna—fuck—wanna feel you cum around me.”

The soft skin of your thighs rub against his when you reposition yourself, straddling his lap with your pussy hovering a few inches above his length, and Jungkook can’t look away once you slowly lower yourself onto him. His lips press together at the sensation, the wetness coating your folds helping you grind against his cock, lower lips parting around it as you rock forward. It’s a teasing motion that tortures the both of you, the head of his cock just barely nudging against your clit each time, but it’s enough to have him groaning.

“Baby,” he whines again, jaw dropping open, brows furrowed together as his eyes move from the spot between your thighs, looking directly at you and seeing the sinfully evil smile you have on. The weight of you on him, keeping his cock pressed against his stomach while you grind against him, has a pool of precum gathering below his belly button, leaving a sticky mess on his warm skin.

“You wanna feel me?” you tease, letting your hands rest on his chest, tracing the skulls marking his skin and gasping when he ruts up in time with you. Your nails lightly dig into him when his cock rubs against your swollen clit with precision, biting down on your lip to prevent a moan from escaping.

“Please, let me feel you,” he whispers breathlessly, mind hazy with lust, skin tingling with each roll of your hips. You let his pleading go unanswered for a minute, enjoying the way his abs clench in time with your hips, smiling when his arms yank at the restraints in his dazed state, small moans leaving his swollen lips while he stares at you.

“Because you asked so nicely,” you smirk, bending forward to place a tender kiss to the edge of his lips, pulling back for a second as he chases your mouth before appeasing him and allowing your lips to meet in a heated kiss. Jungkook gasps into your mouth when your tongue slips past the seam of his lips, tangling with his while you reach between your bodies and grab his cock.

A slight raise from your hips allows you to lead him to your entrance, bulbous head prodding the tight ring of muscles, slowly breaching through in a familiar stretch. It didn’t matter how often Jungkook felt the warmth of your walls, his reaction was the same every time, moaning unabashedly into your mouth, the glide of your walls against his cock leaving him breathless. He’s patient as you ease onto him, continuing to kiss you, swallowing each other’s moans and pants until he bottoms out once you’re fully settled on top of him.

The full feeling of Jungkook’s cock would never fail to make you weak, curving just right inside of you, nudging the perfect spots like it was meant to be there. Your palms on his chest let you feel each rise and fall of his lungs, skin slightly sweaty to the touch, heart racing even faster than before. The wet smack of your lips separating fills the brief silence, faces inches from each other and the half lidded gaze Jungkook gives you makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

“You always feel so good,” you keen, lifting up slightly before sinking back down, becoming more fluid as you get used to his size. His body trembles slightly underneath you, rugged pants felt against your face when he groans at the feeling of your velvety walls wrapping around him beautifully. 

“Don’t tease me,” he sighs, arms flexing and mind going foggy from the slow pace. The pretty pout on his lips when he whines makes it all worth it though, lets you relish in the small sense of control he’s given you. 

You give in to him though, knowing just how bad he wanted this, allowing you to do what you pleased to him, and the least you could do was give him what he wanted too. With a soft smile, you’re bending forward and placing a kiss to the golden chain, not feeling the way his heart skips a beat as he stares at you, the warm light of the room casting you in an angelic glow that only made him fall for you further. 

“Sorry,” you giggle, grabbing his chin before you kiss him, sweet and tender as if you didn’t have him bound to the bed frame. Jungkook can’t even make light of it all, a choked moan of your name reaching your ears when you pick up the pace of your hips, skin slapping together each time you come back down. 

His hooded gaze meets yours, locked onto your every move: the bounce of your breasts while you ride him, still caged behind that bralette he couldn’t rip off with his hands, thighs tensing with the rise and fall of your hips, pussy sucking him in each time, arousal dripping down his length and staining the sheets below you.

“Fuck baby, just like that.” The husky drawl to his voice ignites a small fire within you, hot desire building inside you. The euphoric feeling spreads to every limb on your body, the thickness of his cock spreading you apart deliciously, taking over your rational thinking the way it always did, leaving you drunk off his cock as you succumb to the feeling of it all. 

He smirks lightly when you quiver above him, core tightening each time the head of his cock nudges deep inside you, rubbing along the sweet bundle of nerves he knew all too well. Your hips continue to lead you back to that same spot, cursing each time the jolt of pleasure courses through you. A trembling moan blends in with the sounds around you, walls tightening around his cock when you lift up, resting more weight on his chest when you lean forward for leverage. The angled position has your clit brushing against his pelvis, delicious friction that makes your orgasm creep up on you. 

“Fuck Guk,” you whimper above him with your eyes fluttering closed, missing the awed look he gives you, how his eyes trace the arch of your brows when you pull them together, following the curve of your mouth pushed into a pout with lips coated in a sheen of your saliva—something he desperately wants to feel against his own lips. Jungkook doesn’t fail to see how the table has turned, how easily you’ve become the whiny mess you were so determined to have him be. He loves it like this though, loves to see you shuddering with ecstasy, all because of him. 

“You gonna cum?” he wonders, voice thick and dripping with want. No longer passive, his thighs tense as he starts to fuck up into you, chuckling when you lean fully over him, allowing him to do more of the work once you start to lose momentum. A strained moan is your only response, cheek pressing into his chest as he pistons his hips into you, the lewd sound of your skin slapping together louder than before. Jungkook smiles down at you, seeing the way your body rocks in time with his thrusts, mouth dropping open while you drool over his cock. 

“C-close,” you cry, nails digging into his skin, half moon indents blending in with his chest piece while you try to find your bearings. With a bit of struggle, you lift your head once more, eyes glazed over with lust and you frown at him. “This was s-supposed to be about you.”

His hips speed up now, fingers itching to reach forward and cup your jaw, wanting to bring you closer to kiss the frown from your face. “This is about me. Love seeing you like this.” Jungkook groans as you get impossibly tighter around him. “Cum for me baby, please.”

His begging is what pushes you over the edge, wet gasp sticking to your throat once your climax washes over, incoherent mumbles of his name sounding like music to his ears. Your body trembles above him as your juices soak his cock, slurred curses spoken into the air while another gush of wetness escapes you, leaving his thighs wet with remnants of your orgasm. 

“My pretty baby,” he coos, continuing to rut into you as you whimper, sensitive walls pulsing around him, sending light sparks of overstimulation through you. “Let my arms go angel, wanna make you feel special too.”

Still drunk off your high and vision spotty, you weakly nod, fingers slowly undoing the knot you made until his hands are finally free.

In a flash, he’s pushing you back onto the bed, messy cock slipping out of you in the process. Once his large hands are gripping your skin, everything feels right with the world, soft flesh between his fingers when he grabs your ass as he flips you over, exactly where they belonged. 

Jungkook takes his time, allowing his palms to roam your skin, acting as if he hadn’t been in this exact position last night. He traces over the golden chains along your thighs, admiring them like you had admired the chain on his chest, following them to your waist, up your back until he’s unclasping your bra and finally discarding it to the side. 

The sudden movement has you dazed, not even realizing when he had pushed you onto your knees with your hands holding you steady. The soft material of the sheets is felt beneath you, fingers gripping them while you whimper in anticipation.  

“You had your fun baby,” he sighs, fisting his cock and leading it back towards your drenched entrance. “Let me have mine.”

“Jungkook,” you mewl, arching your back further for him. His palm soothes your skin once he gently sinks back into you with a wet squelch, both hands now gripping your hips when he starts the quick pace you were both accustomed to. Your thighs spread further apart for him, keening when he sinks deeper into you, fisting the sheets as he filled you up. 

Jungkook is focused on the view of his cock stretching you open, how you’re creaming it each time he pulls back out, more of your arousal coating your thighs in a sinful mess. “Love this view,” he groans, one of his hands rearing back to deliver a rough smack against your ass, smirking when the flesh jiggles from the force. The sting spreads to your core, makes you squeal in surprise as your skin smarts and tingles, warmth intensifying when he swiftly delivers two more smacks to the same spot. “Love you.”

The sweet confession makes your walls tighten, a small cry released into his sheets as you rut back into him, meeting his thrusts in time with your own in a messy rhythm. “Love you too, so much—fuck.”

“Do you?” he jests, leaning over your body until his golden chain dangles against your shoulder, free hand clasping over yours and digging into the mattress. “Is that why you wanted to tie me up?”

A playful laugh escapes you, turning into a filthy gasp when he speeds up his thrusts, thighs smacking against yours, bed creaking under the movement. “Yes,” is all you can choke out, shivering at the ticklish feeling of his chain rocking along your skin. 

“You gonna let me tie you up next time and do whatever I want to you?”

“God, yes. Whatever you want Jungkook.” He huffs out a laugh, knowing you mean it, knowing you would indulge every one of his desires with no questions asked. You were his match made in heaven, aligning perfectly with every one of his wants and needs, and he’d forever wonder how he got lucky enough to have you enter his life. 

His right hand reaches for your face, cupping your jaw and turning you to face him, lips meeting yours in a frenzy. His fingers dig into your cheek, tongue slipping into your mouth with a shared moan, hips never losing their momentum. It leaves you in a haze, sighing into the kiss when his tongue tickles the roof of your mouth. 

“Wanna fill you up,” he whispers between smacks of your lips, letting his tongue trail against the seam of your lips before kissing you again. “Leave you nice and messy.”

“Please,” you pant, jaw slack when he angles his hips, cock hitting your gspot with precision, your sensitive walls spasming around him. “H-harder.”

“Whatever you want baby,” he murmurs, giving you another kiss before straightening up, both hands tightly gripping your hips while he gives you the rough pace you asked for. Your upper body gives out on you, face burying into the sheets as your senses overflow with him, body jostling forward with each snap of his hips, nipples grazing the sheet beneath you and making you mewl.

The sweet moans of your name he lets out, fingers burning your skin as he holds on to you, cock filling you up perfectly, it's all you can think about. And when he sneaks a hand around your body, fingers meeting your sensitive clit, you nearly shriek at the stimulation. 

Jungkook feels his own climax creeping up his spine, giving your ass another slap and groaning when you tighten around him. Your thighs tremble against his, hands yanking the sheets while you melt into his touch, moans getting breathier with each flick of his fingers. The pressure builds in your core, whole body tensing up when your second orgasm of the night makes itself known. 

“Guk.” It’s a guttural moan, needy and drawn-out, your hand mindlessly reaching behind you in search for his. He grabs it instantly, lacing your fingers together and anchoring you to him as your mind starts to float, continuing to circle along your clit with his hips never slowing down their intoxicating pace. 

With a final flick against your bundle of nerves, you’re pushed over the edge once more, falling head first into your orgasm so fast it shocks you. Your eyes slip shut, flashes of light displayed against your lids, goosebumps flaring across your skin while the white-hot pleasure consumes you. 

Jungkook curses at your walls sucking him in, attempting to milk his orgasm out of him as he continued to fuck you through it. Your hand grips his tightly, soft mewls filling the air while your body twitches and shudders, breath hiccuping as you come down, knees barely able to hold yourself up. His strong hold keeps you steady, golden chains around your messy thighs swinging from the force of his thrusts. 

“Shit baby,” he grunts, thrusting into you in quick bursts, desperate to feel his release. Your thumb gently rubs along his palm, quiet pleas begging him to fill you up, wanting to feel his cum drip out of you the way you loved. Jungkook’s hips lose their rhythm, fucking you with urgency, jaw clenched tightly when the familiar feeling overtakes him. With a few shallow thrusts and another quiet proclamation of love, he’s pushing deeper into you as he cums, warm bursts of white painting your walls, filling you up until it drips out of you around his length. 

The harsh breaths of both of you fill the now silent room, the thrumming of your heart felt in your ears as everything settles around you. Your limbs feel sore already, ass aching from where he delivered the harsh slaps, but the dopey smile on your face shows no complaints. 

You’re the first to move, gently prying your hands apart and allowing him to slide out of you. The slight gush of his cum escaping only makes you squirm, more so when his fingers stuff it back into you with a chuckle. He can’t look away though, focused on the thick globs of cum coating your folds, disappearing once more as he fills you up again. When you whine in protest he slips his fingers back out, smiling sweetly before he peppers kisses onto your back.

“I’m just trying to prevent the sheets from staining.” 

“Yeah right,” you snort, flipping over onto your back and smiling up at him. These sheets were as good as ruined, they typically were whenever you two decided to roll around and make a mess. “You’re trying to knock me up aren’t you?”

He only rolls his eyes while he crawls over you, long hair framing his face while he gives you his boyish smile. “Maybe,” he shrugs, placing a tender kiss to your lips before kissing the tip of your nose. 

When he pulls back, you let your hands cup his face, taking a good moment to admire your boyfriend, tracing every one of his features that you had memorize, your favorite being the slope of his nose leading to the curve of his lips, second favorite being the tiny mole below his mouth that you loved to kiss. Jungkook always let you take as long as you wanted, staring down at you with glimmering eyes and a sweet smile, taking his own moment to admire you as well. 

“Did you even notice the gift I brought you?” he questions lightly, eyes looking over to the teddy bear and bouquet of flowers. Your head cranes back to see what he was talking about, letting out a delighted gasp when you spot it. He snickers when you twist around on the bed, scrambling over to grab the cute gift in your hands, sniffing the flowers once you do. 

“I love them,” you beam, fondly staring down at the plush toy with the sewn on heart, both your initials embroidered onto it. “Sorry I ambushed you earlier.”

Jungkook grabs a pair of his sweats from his drawers, slipping them on before handing you one of his shirts once he stands beside you. He didn’t mind his own plans for the night being slightly derailed if it lead to this. “Ambush me all you want,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Just remember, you told me I could do whatever I want next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” His playful laugh fills the air when your elbow digs into his side, making him squirm, arms refusing to let go of you despite your attack. He only loosens his grip when you turn around, hands falling around your waist as your own hands settle around his shoulders. 

“Happy Valentine’s day. I love you.” His smile is wide as he looks down at you, cheeks pushing out in a way that keeps his innocence and makes you want to pinch them until they’re pink and he’s giggling for you to stop.

“I love you more,” you breathe out with a matching smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. He sighs into it, letting himself melt into the slow motion, hands bringing you closer to him as he deepens it. But before it could go any further, a yap and a few scratches to the door pull you apart. 

“You sure you want kids?” you joke when he walks over to open the door, the two dogs rushing into the room for attention, stretching out their legs onto you as their tails wag. 

Jungkook settles onto the floor, allowing the youngest dog to climb onto his lap, standing up to lick at his jaw. “If it's with you, I want twelve.”

You can’t hold back the loud laugh you let out and he joins in, turning to stare at you when you playfully nudge his shoulder with your foot. “Keep dreaming Six. You know you’re not ready to give up your bike just yet.”

He knew this, perfectly content with the two dogs you currently had, only enjoying teasing you with the ridiculous number of kids and dogs he suggested. But Jungkook also knew that when the time was right, things would fall into place. And as he stares at the room, seeing an abundance of photographs of the two of you, newer photos showing the puppies you had adopted, there's only one thing he’s certain about: as long as he's with you, nothing else matters.

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!yeosang (part 5)

word count: 6k

angst, fluff (tw: postpartum depression)

(part 4) (miniseries masterlist)

kang jang-mi was born at seven pounds, four ounces on what felt like the hottest day in june. 

your friends sat anxiously in the waiting room, the last remaining quarrels about if it’s a boy or a girl quietly spoken and much more positive. mingi and yunho could only sit there sharing side-eyes and smirks, your slip up in the coffee shop filling them with excitement. 

“i still think it’s a boy,” jongho says, “i’m confident.”

“i already bought the it’s a girl balloon so it better be.”

“well i bought the it’s a boy balloon so...”

yeosang walking into the waiting room stops the conversation immediately, a smirk crossing his face at the two different types of balloons. the boys are up and out of their seats immediately, rushing over to the new father with a flurry of questions and comments. 

but the man is used to this type of chaos from his friends, silencing them with a single finger before attempting to get to all of their questions - or at least some of them. 

“y/n and the baby are okay. she can only see two people at a time and she personally requested mingi and yunho first.” 

disappointed sighs and groans leave the other boys as mingi and yunho shoot up from their seats, scurrying over to yeosang who shares a knowing smile with the couple. 

“wait, wait, wait,” jongho says when the three men turn to leave, yeosang looking him over questioningly. 

he watches with a growing smirk as his youngest friend grabs a blue balloon before snatching away san’s ‘it’s a girl’, offering them both to him expectantly. 

“which one?”

multiple heads of innocent bystanders and smirking staffs snap to the big group of men, surprised gasps leaving all of them when yeosang wordlessly takes the pink balloon and pushes mingi and yunho toward your room.

chaos erupts from the other group of boys being left in the waiting room, other bystanders and nurses watching along with wide-eyed expressions. 

“i told you, you silly fuck!”

“they got it wrong. i was- i was so sure.”

“did she really ask for us or did you feel bad that we were stuck with them?” yunho chuckles out, yeosang sharing a smirk with the boy as they walk down the hall.

“a little bit of both,” he says, stopping in front of the door and peeking inside. 

he can see through the window that your eyes are shut, the sweat once dripping down your face gone as you lay completely still and relaxed. 

the labor had been hard but you’d gotten through it well, to no one’s surprise. 

you squeezed his hand while you screamed and cried, swearing you were never gonna do this again and will only trust in condoms from here on out. you blamed him for his “kink for elevators” and only didn’t burst out laughing because he knew you were in pain. 

but now as lay still and healthy, your baby in the newborn unit adjusting to the new world, he feels a different type of content. all the fear and anxiety about the unknowns settled with the simple fact that you’re okay and the baby’s okay. 

“they’re both doing really good, though. y/n’s not mad at me anymore for getting her pregnant so that’s a good sign,” yeosang chuckles, his eyes looking toward you lovingly before meeting yunho and mingi’s gaze again.

“we got to talk and we wanted to ask you two something,” the boy says, his eyes moving from yunho to mingi before hardening slightly. 

“i wanted yunho as the god parent but y/n insisted that you have to be as well,” he says, underneath the mock look of disdain and irritation an intense happiness and warmth everyone can clearly see. 

“i don’t know want you thinking this was my idea. so... what do you guys say? wanna be godparents?” yeosang smiles, the overwhelming look in yunho and mingi’s eyes making him chuckle; they both look ready to cry and scream in joy. 

“maybe try to not let my daughter now you’ve tried to kill me on multiple occasions,” he adds to mingi, the boy rolling his eyes despite the way he reaches out and pats his shoulder. 

the movement’s a little awkward and unfamiliar but neither of the boys say anything, an unspoken respect and liking for each other that’s come about within the past years.

both of them know the other would never do anything to hurt you purposely and they know the same will be said for jang-mi. 

“of course, are you kidding me!” yunho chuckles out, pulling yeosang’s smaller boy into his. “thank you, yeosang. that’s so... this is gonna be so cool.” 

yeosang smiles and nods his head, looking back at you to see you’re now sitting up awake and stretching your arms up.

the three boys bursting through the door cause you to look over and smile lazily, a quiet, “hi,” before you’re promptly pulled into a hug. 

“be careful,” yeosang growls at mingi, the taller boy ignoring him completely; of course he was being careful, you just pushed out a baby a few hours ago. 

“how you feeling?” yunho asks before his smile widens. “i’m asking as, you know, the godparent...”

“you... asked them without me?!” you whined softly at yeosang, smacking him in the stomach as he throws his arms up defensively. 

“you were sleeping, baby, you said it was okay,” he whines back, bending down to peck a kiss on your head. 

“i know but i still wanted to-” 

the nurse knocking on the door rips your attention away, eyes wide and alert as you think she’s about to tell you something is wrong; but then she’s there smiling softly, holding a pink blanket with your baby wrapped up in it that causes mingi and yunho to gasp quietly. 

“oh, my god.... she’s so small,” mingi whispers, yunho snorting next to him as he throws his arm around his shoulder. 

“what’d you expect? she’s a baby,” he responds, watching as you so naturally take the baby in your arms. 

you’d always been a little scared of just how delicate newborn babies are, feeling awkward or nervous to take them or hold them in the wrong way. 

but it’s like the eight and a half month journey had made everything easier and more natural, the simple inclination you have even just to hold her properly something you couldn’t have ever imagined.

“come here,” you mumble softly, yunho and mingi moving closer to the bed to get a good look at her.

and as far as babies go, though they think they might be a little biased, they have to imagine she’s the prettiest one they’d ever seen. a head full of hair already and eyes gazing up at them curiously, alert and calm and making them coo quietly at her. 

“are we allowed to hold her?” yunho asks.

but before he gets the chance, five bodies barreling through the door with the nurse’s “wait, two at a time please!” distract all of you, the rest of the boys rushing through to get a look at you and the baby. 

“let us see, let us see!”

“i can’t believe it’s a girl.”

“wait.... don’t tell me they’re the godparents.”

if you thought the bickering that went on after the boys found out about who you chose as god parents was bad, you weren’t nearly prepared enough for your first month as a mother. 

your once peaceful and quiet apartment had quickly turned into chaos. it was the 7th night in a row you were awoken by your little girl’s screams and you weren’t sure if you could take much more of it. 

the first week was strangely blissful, you and yeosang taking shifts to feed her or check on her in the middle of the night. 

“mom, i’m telling you, everything is strangely.... really good?” you said on the phone foolishly, going on and on about how easy your baby was. 

how feeding her always went smoothly, how she basically slept through the night unless one small cry echoed through the baby monitor.

how you and yeosang loved just sitting around the house and watching her sleep or look up at you two curiously. 

how you couldn’t believe you’d gotten so lucky to have, both, an understanding boyfriend and well-behaved infant. 

but that all quickly changed one night, a summer thunderstorm you’re almost positively traumatized your daughter to the point of tarnishing her near-perfect sleep schedule. 

now she cried on the hour to just be held, feeding her at the normal times but then screaming her head off when you tried to place her back down. you’d fallen asleep in the chair holding her one too many times to count, tired and drained and just wanting to relieve your heavy eyes. 

yeosang admired your composure and helped along side the way, waking with you and kneeling down watching you hum softly or rest your eyes; but then you cracked the 7th night and, similar to your pregnancy outbursts, it seemed almost out of nowhere. 

it’d been his turn to get up and feed her, the wailing and screaming that’s kept you up for nights silencing just a few moments after it started. 

whether it be your own curiosity or your new mother’s protectiveness kicking in, you peeked inside the nursery to see yeosang staring down at your daughter. both of them are completely calm and relaxed in the darkness, only the sound of her soft breathing and yeosang’s gentle hums. 

as you lean against the door and watch them, you feel a strange mix of warmth and sadness.

you knew you were right in your assumption that yeosang was gonna be a great dad. he was kind and nurturing and sweet, you saw it in the way he took care of you and the other people in your lives.

and jang-mi from the moment she was in the world loved him, looked to him and was easily soothed by him - you could just tell they were gonna have a great relationship.

but you.

you felt as if you were failing. 

the nights you woke to feed her, she typically screamed and cried for what felt like hours. she’d only settle down in your arms when you’d start to hum the same tune as yeosang right now, something you both did during your months of pregnancy. 

it felt as if at nights, that with her new fears and rocky sleeping pattern, that in times of crisis, she wanted yeosang. 

and a part of you loved that but another part of you couldn’t help but feel powerless. that even after a month of bonding with your baby, smiling and laughing and holding her, after months of carrying her and helping her grow, she didn’t seem to like you. 

yeosang caught your gaze and you smiled at him softly, giving him a tired thumbs up before trekking back to bed. 

you tried to push down your feelings and felt bad for feeling this way, a knot in your stomach and pain in your chest; it wasn’t about jang-mi and yeosang or you and him as parents as much as it was about you feeling completely incompetent. 

you couldn’t even get your own baby to stop crying faster than yeosang; everyone says a mother has a natural tendency to do that so why does it feel like you don’t? 

the tears in your eyes are unaware to you until you push your face into your pillow and feel the wetness seeping through. you can only stay there buried in shame and defeat and embarrassment, knowing that while you’re in here crying, your baby is doing fine without you.

yeosang comes in a few moments later, only small whines from his daughter as he placed her body in her crib. she looked up at him and he smiled softly, reaching out to pat the peach fuzz on her head until she fell fast asleep.

the past month has been tiring but worth it, crawling in beside you and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

“hopefully she’s good for the night,” he mumbled in your ear, his lips pressing against your head chastely. you only hum in response and at first he thinks it’s just because you’re tired but then he feels how tense you are.

how your shoulders are tight and your face is buried and it causes him to call your name gently. 

you’re not surprised that he’s able to tell something’s wrong, rolling over wordlessly and allowing him to see your tear-stained face. it immediately makes his heart sink, lips turning into a frown as he reaches out to dab at the wetness. 

“hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he asks lowly, voice sweet and tone deep and it only makes you break more. 

“you’re... you’re so good with her, yeosang,” you whimper out, his eyebrows pulling together as he wipes at your tears and pulls you closer. “you’re so good with her and she barely cries when you go in there... but when i go in there... i feel like i’m doing a terrible job.”

“what?” yeosang asks, genuine confusion in his voice as he pulls your face to meet his. there’s anxiety and sadness and defeat in your eyes, his hold on you tightening as he shakes his head. 

“no, no, baby. you’re doing so good and she loves you,” he reassures gently. 

“no i’m not,” you cry out, shaking your head as you feel all the stress and fear and anxiety from this pat month hit you. “i don’t know what the hell i’m doing.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says, a pout on his lips as he looks over your teary face. “we both still don’t know what we’re doing but it’s going well, no? i love you and she loves you.”

“no, it’s not,” you whimper out, burying your face in his shirt and feeling him sigh against you. “and she hates me. she only wants you at night and screams when i go in there. why else would she do that?”

your words are wet and muffled but he’s still able to make each one out, his heart breaking as he gently runs his fingers through your hair. 

“every day and night has been different, my love. some days she’s been good and others she’s been cranky. we’re all still adjusting and that’s okay,” he says quietly, reminding himself these exact words in his own fits of panic.

because of course he’s panicking half the time too but he tries to be strong for you. be a rock for you in a way you’ve always been for him. 

“you’re doing so good, baby, i promise. she wants you every morning, have you noticed that? i can go in there and pick her up but she cries. she only stops when she sees you walk through.”

“that’s only because she’s hungry,” you mutter, a humorless chuckle leaving yeosang’s mouth as he shakes his head. 

“no. because i feed her, too. she just wants to see you in the morning, baby,” he mumbles, holding himself above you so his eyes can roam your face. he presses a kiss on your cheek, then the other, until he’s pressing them all over you and you’re pushing him away playfully. 

“you’re doing great, love. we both are and she actually likes us, i think,” he says, flopping back down before pulling you on his chest. similiar to his movements from just moments ago in the nursery, his hand runs through your hair gently and you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.

and sure enough, when you wake up, you hear cries coming from the nursery that have you springing up and out of your bedroom. yeosang’s holding jang-mi and he smiles knowingly at you, pressing a kiss to your head he passes her to you and her wails stop.

the next few months, you both became a little more confident in your parenting abilities. 

changing diapers was easier and waking up for nightly feedings was like clockwork, falling into a steady routine that consisted of yeosang taking online classes and going to work three times a week. 

on the days he was out, one of the five boys would come over and keep you both company - yeosang’s demand that one of them keep his girls busy and happy while he’s out. 

jang-mi was a little over six months now, laying on the floor with mingi while you cooked for the three of you. your days were the same at this point but you loved each and every one, cooped up in the apartment as you watched your baby grow and meet all her milestones. 

you’d been there for all of them and you prided yourself on that. the first time she smiled at you, the first time she reached out for the toy san had gotten her, the first time she-

“y/n!” 

you ran from the stove to the living room at mingi’s loud voice, rushing inside to see your best friend looking down at your child like she’d grown 3 heads. 

“what? what happened?” you ask frantically, rushing over to get a good look at her; she’s not crying and you don’t see any blood, those are already two reassuring signs.

“she just said my name!” 

and it’s at that you start giggling into your hand, covering your face and shaking your head because “mingi, she just turned six months. she can’t talk yet.”

“but she did! she just did! i swear she said-”

there’s a pounding on your front door before seonghwa, san and wooyoung enter, the three boys not even acknowledging you as they rush over to the baby on the floor. 

“hi to you guys too,” you huff, watching the boys crowd around the jang-mi with shouts of “hey, y/n!” a giggle leaves your mouth before you ditch the meal and order pizza instead, calling yeosang to see if he’ll be home soon.

“hey, baby. how it’s going?”

“the boys showed up so i just ordered pizza,” you tell him, watching as jang-mi giggles at san and wooyoung making funny faces at her. “are you gonna be home soon?”

“what, you miss me or something?” 

because after all this time you spend together now, more often than not during the week, leaving each other proves to be more difficult. you’d think you two would want a break from each other but him leaving is by far the worst part of your days on monday through wednesday. 

“yes,” you admit softly, his deep chuckle causing you to giggle softly. 

“i’ll be home soon. probably 30 minutes, just finishing up some stuff. will you be able to last that long?”

you roll your eyes and let out a scoff as you make your way into the living room, insisting to your boyfriend you’ll do just fine before your eyes catch mingi and jang-mi smiling at one another.

“oh. and you’ll be happy to hear that mingi thinks jang-mi’s first word was his name.”

“oh, bullshit,” yeosang snaps, a loud chuckle leaving your mouth that grabs said man’s attention. 

“it was! i heard her say it!” 

“she doesn’t even like you!” yeosang says loudly through the phone, the image of him screaming in his office making you giggle. you hang up before the two can start to bicker more, sliding your phone onto the table before sinking down onto the couch.

you’re still tired these days but the boys coming over helps, allowing you to relax while also watching jang-mi play and have fun. 

you don’t know when or how you doze off with the chaos, you just know that one moment you’re watching seonghwa tickle jang-mi and the next, you’re waking up to yeosang placing a kiss on your lips. 

“hey, love,” he mumbles, kneeling down to meet your gaze on the couch. you smile tiredly as you bury yourself into the cushions, pulling him closer to you and mumbling that you missed him.

“i know, baby, i missed you too,” he hums. 

because if there’s one thing he noticed throughout parenthood, it’s that, somehow, your relationship has only gotten stronger. 

you both have the same fears but also have the same things that make you happy - and that’s each other, your baby, and the headache inducing friends currently talking shit to your child. 

“they’re so gross, you’re gonna have a brother soon, mark my words, miss jang-mi.”

“nah, it’ll be another girl, i know it for sure now,” wooyoung says, dabbing at her face full of applesauce. “you’ll be an older sister, little lady.”

“he thought you were a chicken, mi, you really can’t take his word for anything.”

you and yeosang share an amused look before he pulls you to your feet, guiding you over to the table before quickly pecking your cheek. he takes jang-mi for a diaper change as you talk and laugh with the boys, everything about your life right now far too perfect.

it was a rough start but they all made it a little easier.

you were lucky to have a great support system, albeit a little insane, that made this transition easy. 

there was nothing but love and admiration between all of you, their eyes lighting up every time jang-mi giggles or concern flashing when she stumbles down clumsily. 

like when yeosang comes back into the main room without jang-mi fifteen minutes later, they all jump up and demand to know where she is. 

“you idiots tired her out, she fell asleep in the middle of a diaper change.”

and with the baby sleeping and the rest of the night to yourselves, you and yeosang are quick to all but kick everyone out of the apartment. there’s loud protests and mock hurt from the boys but they know deep down, you two rarely get a minute to yourselves these days. 

mingi gives you a parting wink and you roll your eyes, waving goodbye to the boy before yeosang closes the door. he turns to see you cleaning up the table and quickly stops you, tugging you by the waist before promptly throwing you down on the couch.

you land with a giggle as his body covers yours, lips meeting yours in a kiss that quickly has your legs wrapping around his waist. 

it’s been a while since you two were able to do something as simple as make out, feel him under you as you straddle his lap or suppress your moans as his kisses down your neck. 

but right now, something as silly as kissing and giggling and roaming hands on the couch feels exciting. it feels the same way it did in the pool house all those years ago, fresh and fun and exciting. 

full of a passion that you hoped even then would never burn out. 

and not even now with a baby has it. not even with a real ‘adult’ life have you two ever felt as if that connection was gone.

“i love you, you know that?” he mumbles into your skin, your cheeks warming and stomach fluttering as you look up at him. there’s a soft pink glow to them that makes him smile fondly, his hand cupping your cheek gently. 

you can only nod shyly, your own softly spoken “i love you, too,” mumbled into the living room. 

the sky is an array of pink and orange, the sun just about to set before darkness paints the windows of your apartment. 

it’ll be a night for movies, snacks and resting your head on his lap, his hands playing with your before one of two things happens: jang-mi wakes up and you bring her out or you fall asleep and yeosang carries you into bed for the night. 

the latter had seemed to happen a few hours later because one minute, your head’s resting on yeosang under a blanket and the next, you’re placed down on your soft, cold bed. 

you let out a tired whine and yeosang smiles down at you, mumbling that you fell asleep before quickly joining you; it’s wednesday which means yeosang’s home for the next four days, your smile widening at that reminder before you move yourself closer to him. 

his days off now don’t mean you can sleep in but instead, wake together. make breakfast for each other while watching your child giggle and smile in her high chair. 

you used to go to the park on the days it wasn’t too cold but now with winter approaching, you’re usually cozied up in your house with the fire place burning and a cartoon on. 

switching between giving attention to each other and jang-mi, who promptly wakes you both up at 5:30 in the morning. 

you insist that yeosang sleeps in more, pushing him back down numerous times before he pins you to the bed and demands for you to go back to bed; a pout covers your lips as you shake your head but it’s like your tired eyes don’t get the memo.

“you worked for the past three days, you need to rest,” you whine tiredly, his eyes rolling because he’s positive sitting behind a desk and talking with his coworkers is a lot easier than taking care of a baby.

“i’m well rested, thank you, love,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek before pulling back. “mi will have to settle for her dad today.”

the two and a half hours of sleep were great but when you woke up and saw pancakes ready for you and yeosang and jang-mi laying together on the couch, you could’ve burst into tears on the spot.

he was talking softly to her, singing her name in a little tune before you heard his deep chuckle.

“what’s so funny?” you ask, both, his and jang-mi’s smiles brightening at the sound of your voice. she immediately opens her arms up for you and you take her happily, pressing a kiss to her head before looking at your boyfriend. 

the scent of pancakes is more prominent in the living room, looking over to see a plate of pancakes sitting atop the stove.

“thank you for breakfast,” you say softly, the smell filling the apartment making your stomach growl. 

“thank you for finally listening to me and sleeping in.” 

you roll your eyes before bringing your food over to the table, sitting on the floor as you watch jang-mi babble and play with her toys next to you.

she’s been babbling for the past few weeks now so when you hear her quiet, little “gigigi,” you don’t think much of it; but then when yeosang bursts out laughing again, you have to look to him with your mouth stuffed full of pancakes.

“what?”

“do you think that’s why mingi thought she was saying his name?”

a loud laugh bubbles out of your mouth causing jang-mi to jump before joining along, her own giggles and your reaction causing yeosang to snort into his hand. 

he’s quick to whip out his phone and record her, her smile and giggles quickly shifting when she rolls on her back and starts to play with her toes. 

and when mingi watches the video yeosang sends him a few moments later, he can’t help but gleefully send back that not only does his own child like him more, he said his name first.

it was a nosy, crotchety old woman at the food store that sparked the conversation of marriage between you and yeosang. 

you two were shopping for jang-mi’s first birthday tomorrow, her smiley and giggling form in the front of the cart, when an older woman commented on how beautiful she was. 

“thank you,” you smiled politely, you and yeosang sharing that same, warm look any time someone compliments your child. 

“you must’ve been a young bride, dear, you look like a baby too,” she chuckled, a smirk on yeosang’s lips as you let out a forced, almost strangled laugh. 

and it’s then the woman’s eyes move down your body to your ringless left hand, a look of judgment crossing her face quicker than you can believe. 

“oh... or not a bride, that’s....”

“none of your business, now is it lady?” yeosang says, his tone just as deceptively kind as hers even with the bite in it. 

she walks off with a huff and dirty look thrown your way, a smirk on your face before you push him down the cereal aisle. 

it bothered you a little bit when you first found about jang-mi, getting pregnant and not being married, but those feelings quickly went away when you thought about how silly that was. 

marriage is something that’s different for everyone and for you and yeosang, even with a baby, it’s not something you inherently need. you already live together and live your life as a married couple - all that’s left to do is blow money on the ceremony and go away to a tropical island. 

yeosang can’t help but be a little bothered by the woman’s words throughout the day, though probably because they were directed toward you, but he noticed you weren’t upset at all about it. 

you carried on in the store and at the house like normal, setting up decorations and planning the meals while he put jang-mi to bed by wrapping her in her birthday onesie. 

“hey, baby,” you hear him say, turning from your spot at the stove. 

he presses your back against it and you smile into the kiss, tilting your head coyly when you pull away. your eyes roam his face because you could tell that woman’s comment irritated him, you just weren’t sure why. 

“are you okay?” 

“mhm,” he hums lowly, his hands reaching up to run through your hair. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“i don’t know...” you mumble quietly, a smirk pulling at your lips before you bring your hand next to your face to wiggle your fingers. “maybe because we’re sinners who aren’t married.”

a snort leaves yeosang’s mouth as he shakes his head, pulling you by the waist in typical fashion to bring you over to the couch. you two plop down as you get comfy on him, resting your head on his shoulder and basking in his comfort and warmth. 

you’re not sure how long you sit in a comfortable silence for, you just know that everything is calm and quiet and it’s such a contrast to this time last year. when things were chaotic and you felt like you wouldn’t be able to handle motherhood.

when you weren’t sure how you and yeosang would be, if the dynamic and household was gonna be so different that it ended up breaking you guys down as a couple. 

and while things changed, it seemed to be for the better. it only made you two more happy and more secure, wedding band and your official last name as kang aside. 

“i don’t mind not being married,” you assure him quietly, because you know that’s the elephant in the room right now. 

“i don’t... want us to get married because we had a kid. i want us to get married when the time feels right. maybe when we’re both actually out of school or something,” you chuckle out, remembering when that was your original plan for popping out a kid. 

yeosang feels a weight lift off his shoulder as he looks over at you, unsurprised in the slightest that you not only knew what was wrong, but that you were able to calm him down.

assure him in a way that made him know you guys always seem to be on the same page when you effectively communicate about things. 

“i feel the same way,” he says to you, tightening his hold on you before pressing a kiss to your head. “even though if you wanted... i’d go out and-”

“buy a ring right now,” you tease, shimming over until you’re sitting on his lap. you twirl your fingers through his hair. “i think you’re just eager to buy the wedding ring.”

“duh, it’s gonna be flashy as fuck.”

your face pulls into one of disgust and he can’t help but laugh, knowing on more than one occasion he’s thought about what kind of wedding ring you’d want.

“i’d kill you,” you mumble, the last of your sentence getting cut off when he slams his lips on yours. 

“shut up,” he mumbles back, you giggling against his mouth before you move your hips over his teasingly. 

your clothes become littered on the living room floor before your naked body runs into the bedroom to grab a condom, the promise that you screamed through labor every bit true as you roll the latex over yeosang. 

“are you ever gonna trust birth control again? i miss feeling your warm, tight pus-”

you sink down on him and chuckle when he lets out a moan, rolling your eyes and riding him on the couch with the reassurance that, a month later, you won’t be needing to get another pregnancy test just yet. 

“no, no! say wooo-young!” 

“gi....gi.”

“woooo-young.”

“gi.....gi.”

“wooyoung.”

“gigi.”

everyone around the table snorts at the look jang-mi throws her uncle, her sweet little voice just as stern and face just as dumbfounded. 

“i told you guys, i’m her favorite,” mingi boasts, taking jang-mi from her seat and smiling when she clings on to him.

her first birthday consisted of cake, bickering and pink decorations placed throughout the apartment. her pile of toys in the living room and nursery doubled from the amount of gifts today alone, a giant dollhouse taking up a good portion of her room now.

it’s where she’s currently dragging mingi and, begrudgingly, wooyoung off to, showing them all her dolls and cars that they’ve gifted her throughout the first year of her life. 

you and yeosang watch her walk off, the two boys crouched and awkwardly walking like crabs so they’re down to her level. you both share a smile before yeosang pecks your cheek, cleaning up the leftover cake and plates while you share a smile with yunho. 

“can you guys adopt a baby?” 

you’ve never seen yunho’s face turn a brighter shade of red in your life, his hand reaching out to smack your arm lightly. 

“are you crazy?”

“oh c’mon,” you whine, a playful smile on your face as you poke his stomach with both pointer fingers. “isn’t it sweet watching mingi with a baby? he’s barely grouchy anymore.”

“maybe around her,” he scoffs, your eyes rolling because you know mingi isn’t as happy and pleasant around anyone as much as he is his fiancé - though next month, you’ll be able to say husband. 

it was quickly planned but the two decided to have a summer wedding, july 21st with none other than jang-mi as the flower girl. her dress is yellow and has been hung on her door for weeks, excitement rushing through her every time she sees it. 

“okay well then after the wedding, of course,” you wink, his eyes rolling; but you also don’t miss the shy smile and warm blush on his cheeks, knowing very well those two would create the best home for a child. 

yunho thinks maybe they would too, watching how quickly and naturally mingi surprisingly is with children. 

yeosang plops down next to guys and chastises you for bringing it up again, knowing from the look on yunho’s face you were probably begging him to adopt a cousin for jang-mi.

“oh c’mon, but wouldn’t it be cute?” you say, smiling up at yeosang in a way that causes him to tap your nose lightly. 

“it would be,” he mumbles, before pulling you closer to him. his lips ghost over your ear and it’s probably far too intimate a move with all your friends here but he does it anyway, having no regard or care in the world.

“or she could just... get another sibling.”

you narrow your eyes and smack his arm lightly, reminding yourself to stack up on more condoms when you go to the store tomorrow. 

“yeah, right. not for another year, yeosang, i’m serious.”

a smirk crosses his face as he nods his head, pecking your lips lightly before watching your daughter run clumsily to him. 

he scoops her up as her giggle rings through the air, his lips smacking loud kisses on her cheeks as she squeals loudly; and it’s upon seeing that you don’t think you’d mind having another baby again.

because planned or not, confident in your parenting abilities or not, you know you and your little family are always gonna be okay. 

jang-mi reaches out for you and you immediately rise to your feet, fixing the tiny ponytail atop her head right before her and yeosang place simultaneous pecks on your cheeks.

“cuteeee!” wooyoung squeals, looking over at you before squeezing past and poking jang-mi in the arm lightly. “now tell me, little lady, who’s your favorite? mommy or daddy?” 

she narrows her eyes at the man like he asked her something unholy, looking between you and yeosang before throwing her arms around both of you. you share a small giggle and place a peck on her head, your eyes catching yeosang’s just as he smiles back at you. 

“both. i love mommy and daddy,” she says, her squeaky little voice causing your smile to widen. 

“and gigi,” she quickly adds, a laugh bubbling out of you when everyone, including yeosang, let out groans and smack the favorite uncle in the arm. 

complete

tag list: @mirror-juliet​ @toffee-hwa​ @valhoez​ @miatsubaki23​ @mydaintydaisy​ @treasurehwa​ @markleeyeosang​

[is-it-madness]

Pastries and Pain

A/N: This is for @fanfictionaries​ Classic Tropes Writing Challenge. Congrats on the 300 darling!!! 🥳🎉🥳 The prompt I chose was Fake Dating!AU with the charming Loki. And thank you to my darling beta @wowjeena​ I LOVE YOU 💜💜💜

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: Mentions of abusive relationship, abuse, sexual innuendos

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: Nat and Wanda keep setting you up for dates. You need to figure out how to avoid them.

~~~

“You did what?!” You glare angrily at Natasha and Wanda. 

They don’t even bother hiding their looks of amusement. 

“We set you up on a blind date,” Nat tells you with a smirk.

“You said you wouldn’t do that anymore!” Last year, after they discovered you hadn't been on a date since you broke up with your abusive ex a few years ago, they felt obligated to find you a suitable boyfriend. Blind date after blind date. The dates were all just okay. Nat and Wanda made sure not to let you go out with anyone creepy, which helped, but none of the dates sparked your interest. After a few weeks of repeated fails, you asked—no begged them to stop. They only agreed when you swore you would find your own partner.

“Honey,” Nat begins, “did you ever end up finding a date for yourself?”

You glare at her in response.

“You promised us you would! You didn’t and it’s been months,” Wanda scolds you.

“I’m just too busy to be emotionally invested in someone right now, okay?” At least that was true. What with helping out on missions and working in the lab, you were always exhausted by the end of the day. You never saw anyone anymore, besides your team, and sometimes you would even go days without seeing them. You would be holed up in the lab or out in the field—you just didn’t have time to throw your emotions into the mix.

“Well not tonight,” Nat says triumphantly.

“Tonight?!” you squeak.

They both give you a wicked smile and drag you back to Nat’s room to get you ready for the evening. 

You argue with your so-called friends about the date. You plead with them.

“I’ll find my own date, you guys! Just please don’t make me do this!”

Wanda laughs and shakes her head while Nat reprimands you.

“Are you seriously gonna stand him up? That is so not like you.”

You sigh. Nat is right. Of course. So you begrudgingly slip into the soft, dark green dress they laid out for you. The halter neck and deep V decolletage lead to the cinched waist showcasing your figure and the skirt reaching just above your knees. You put on some light makeup and pull your hair back into two cute buns with a few pieces framing your face. Nat and Wanda sit fussing over you, before they finally let you out of the room.

They walk you past the living room to the elevator, but you stop in your tracks when Tony calls your name. You turn to see the rest of the team lounging around. This is the first Friday in weeks where everyone’s at the Tower, not having to rush off to missions or save the world.

“Where are you guys going?” Tony asks. He gives you a double-take. “What’s with the dress?”

When he asks that, the rest of the team turns to look at you. You immediately feel the heat rising to your face.

“Nat and Wanda thought it would be a good idea if I went out for a bit,” you mumble.

“Did you two set her up for another date?” Steve questions them knowingly.

Nat smirks and Wanda nods happily.

“Well, you look wonderful,” Thor beams at you and you return the smile. “Would you not say so, brother?”

The God of Mischief sitting next to Thor gave you a once over.

He gives a single shoulder shrug and says, “Unsightly.”

You smile sweetly at him. “Oh, thank goodness! I was worried you were going to say I look as grotesque as you.”

“Alright boys, you can give your fashion critique later,” Nat says, putting a hand on your shoulder. “We have a date to get to.”

~~~

His name is Michael. He was very sweet, albeit nervous when the two of you sat down for dinner. You learn he works in the IT department for Stark Industries, he runs a hand through his short, brown hair when he’s nervous, and his deep blue eyes sparkle when he tells you about his interests.

“So, you’re part of the Avengers, right?” he asks, carding a hand through his locks.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you tell him with a laugh.

“What made you decide to start dating again?”

You shake your head in amusement. “My friends are very convincing.”

The rest of the night goes along smoothly with the conversation stuttering only a few times. 

When he walks you to your car, he runs a hand through his hair before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. He tells you good night and hurries back to his car.

You sigh, slightly exasperated, before sliding into your car.

~~~

“So, how’d it go?”

You release your hair from its hold and it cascades around you. “It wasn’t bad. He was nice.”

Nat smiles. “So are you gonna see him again?”

You contemplate her question. Were you going to see him again? Sure he was nice and not bad looking, but just like all your previously failed dates, there was… nothing. You didn’t feel a connection when you spoke, the both of you kept the conversation basic. You didn’t feel a spark when he kissed you. It was no different than the friendly kisses Thor would give you as greetings.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m sorry, Nat.” 

“Don’t worry about it, babe. Wanda and I will just keep looking for you.”

“It’s okay, Nat. You really don’t have to do this.”

She waves you off. “What kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t help you?”

“That’s just it, Nat! You don’t have to help me. It’s not a big deal.”

But she isn’t listening.

~~~

A week goes by and so do five other dates. You had to cut the last one short because you were just too exhausted. You couldn’t keep doing this. It was too much. But you knew Nat and Wanda were relentless. Nothing would make them stop until you had a boyfriend.

You pace around your room, coming up with excuse after excuse to try to skip the impending date they have planned for you. You come to the conclusion that the only way they would leave you alone is if you were in a relationship. You abruptly stop pacing. Maybe if you had someone fill the position. Maybe… maybe someone could pretend to be your boyfriend—at least for a short time. Just to get the girls off your back. You start formulating a plan. But for this plan to work, you needed someone cunning, someone who could keep a secret, someone who was stealthy, and preferably, someone already on the team.

A name comes to you and you immediately head to the library with a smirk on your face, but the whole time your mind is screaming that THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!

You find the God in his usual seat, his legs spread wide, and a book in hand. He sits in the far corner of the library, which also happened to be your spot too. 

“Loki! I need you.”

He smirks and looks up from his book, “In your bed or mine?”

“I don’t have time for your smart mouth right now! This is serious!”

He quirks a brow.

“I need you to go on a ‘date’ with me,” you say, putting up air quotes.

He stares at you for a good thirty seconds before he gives you an eloquent response. 

“What?”

You feel yourself turn bright pink. “Please, Loki! I can’t take Nat and Wanda setting me up on blind dates anymore, it’s just too much. Please? If I find my own date, they’ll leave me alone,” you explain to him, internally begging him to agree to your plan.

“I’m not sure I follow,” he tells you slowly. “You wish for me to court you, but not as a real courtship?”

You nod hastily. “Exactly.”

He squints at you. “No.”

You’re shocked. “What? Why not?”

He smirks at you. “Firstly, your team will not take lightly to the matter of us courting. Secondly, there is not a chance they would believe you have fallen for me, even with my good looks and charm,” he continues to tick off. “Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, how long would you allow this to drag out? One week? A month? A year? So no, I do not think I wish to partake in your foolish endeavor.”

“But you wouldn’t need to worry about any of that!” You continue adamantly. “I’ve already thought it out!”

He gives you an amused look. “Alright, I’ll listen to your hairbrained scheme.”

You glower at him. Maybe you should’ve picked someone else for this, but it’s too late now. He already knows what you’re planning.

“One, I won’t tell the team who I’m seeing, we can just meet up somewhere outside the building. And if I act like I’m in love with someone, and we stay… y’know, mean to each other, they won’t get suspicious. Your second point is irrelevant, because they won’t know it’s you that I’m ‘dating.’” His nostrils flare and his jaw ticks but you plow ahead. “And lastly, we won’t have to keep this charade up for long. I’ll just say you ‘broke up with me’ and I’ll be too ‘heartbroken’ to consider dating for a while.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs deeply. “Out of the goodness of my own heart, and the desire to only create mischief… fine.”

Your eyes widen, “You’ll do it?”

“I suppose I have nothing more exciting to attend to. And besides,” he looks up to give you a smirk. “I am eager to see this come crashing down around you.”

~~~

“I was thinking for your next date, you should go to the park,” Nat tells you a few days later.

You smile at her. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

She glares at you. “You’re not getting out of this. How many times do I have to tell you? I’m going to keep finding you dates until we find the right one.”

You shake your head and laugh. “It’s not necessary because I found my own date.”

Her spoon falls with a clatter into her bowl of cereal. “I’m sorry, I thought I heard you say you found your own date?!”

“I don’t understand why that’s so unbelievable, Nat.” You place a hand on your heart. “I’m hurt.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” she apologizes with a laugh, but her eyes sparkle with glee. “So what’s his name?”

“It’s a secret.”

“What?! You can’t not tell me!”

“Well, this is our first date. So what’s the point of putting a name to a face if I’m not sure if this’ll work out?”

“Okay fine,” she pauses. “Well, where’d you two meet?”

“Oh, you know,” you say with a small smile and a shrug. “Around.”

She folds her arms. “I need info so I can run tests on him,” she chides. “Need to make sure he’s not a threat.”

“Don’t worry, he’s no threat.”

She sighs and throws her hands in the air. “Fine, I get it. You don’t want to talk about him yet. But if anything sketchy happens, you need to tell me immediately.”

“I promise.” 

She takes her bowl to the sink and starts washing her dishes. 

“And no stalking us!”

She sends you a smirk over her shoulder. 

~~~

Early afternoon, the next day, you wait for Loki at a nearby cafe for your ‘date,’ but he’s nowhere to be seen. Sure, the two of you didn’t exactly get along, with his snark and your sarcasm, you would usually wage verbal wars against each other. But you didn’t think he would just leave you, he said he wanted to see your plan fail, so you thought for sure he would be waiting for you. Your smile falters a bit, but you shake your head. You don’t need him. You’ll just do this on your own. You decide to leave and head to the park instead, since it’s a pretty day out. 

“Considering this was your plan, I did not assume you would leave without me,” you hear a silky voice behind you say.

You turn around to see Loki walking behind you with a smirk.

You huff. “For your information, I thought you left without me.”

“Why would I do that?”

You fold your arms. “Well, you weren’t down here. I figured you agreed to this just to make me look like a fool.”

His smirk only grows. “I would not do that, especially not when you are so desperate.”

“Are you sure you didn’t show up late just for kicks and giggles?”

“If you must know, since you’re so adamant on believing that I would just leave you, I went to purchase these for you.” He conjures a bouquet of flowers and hands them to you. You thank him sheepishly. 

He nods. “I felt like it would seem strange if you returned home without a gift, as you usually returned carrying a gift from your possible suitors.”

“That’s... thoughtful of you.”

He gives you another curt nod.

“Well, let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“So, what do you wanna do?” you ask him. “You’ve never had a chance to explore when you came back from Asgard, we could see whatever you want.”

“I could not care less where we venture to, as long as we hurry up. I have reading to get back to.”

You roll your eyes. Just when you thought he was starting to be friendly, he goes and says something like that.

“Well, if you really don’t want to be here, I'll just go on a walk on my own. You’ve done your part.” You gesture to the flowers. “And you gave me evidence, so I guess I’ll see you later.”

He stares at you, emotionless. 

“Enjoy your book.” You clutch your flowers, trying to reel your emotions back in and start walking in the direction towards the park. 

He catches up to you and releases an audible sigh. “I suppose I could spend some time out of that helhole. It has become rather monotonous. Perhaps you would be suitable entertainment.”

You just shrug, not trusting yourself to not retort back with a scathing comment.

“So, where are we headed?”

“Preferably somewhere I won’t have to pay attention to your existence,” you snap.

His green eyes flash dangerously and he grabs you by the arm, forcing you to face him. “Listen here, mortal,” he seethes. “It may have slipped your notice, but I have done not one, but two favors for you.”

Your cool demeanor snaps in a fiery explosion. “Oh really? Is the favor you being rude to me? Or is it the fact that you can’t find it in yourself to say one, just one, polite thing to me. Oh, I know! It’s probably your side remarks that you love to make, or the fact that you say the most hurtful things to me, because apparently, you seem to think I don’t have emotions. Have you ever considered the weight of your words, even once?!” Tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of him, you refuse to give him something else to hold against you. “Have you ever thought twice about calling me ugly, or useless, or slow, or weak. Well, guess what.”

He releases his hold on you and takes a step back.

“I get it, okay?! I get it! I’m ugly? Great! You’re not the first person to tell me that! I’m useless? People who were close to me, would tell me that constantly. That’s old news to me! I’m slow? At least I stay alive during our missions! I’m weak? Okay then! I don’t know what else to tell ya buddy! I’m sorry I’m no super soldier!” Your chest is heaving from your outburst and Loki opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. “You know what?” You begin quietly. “I’m absolutely not as strong as the rest of the team, but I’ve been through stuff that’s made me a stronger person. I’ve learned things the hard way, and I’ve learned that I don’t need hurtful people like you in my life.”

Loki stares at you, mouth slightly agape. You spin around and toss the flowers in the trash. “Have fun reading.” You don’t look back as you continue to walk through the streets.  

~~~

You return to the Tower later that evening. After your temper, you spend the most of the day in the park. You wander through the city and stumble upon a quaint little bookstore, sandwiched between a diner and a clothing store. You buy several books before heading home.

The elevator gets closer to the common floor and you take a deep breath. The elevator dings and you force a smile on your face.

“Hey beautiful!” Nat calls to you from the couch. 

The entire team, sprawled around, looks up.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks you.

You internally breathe a sigh of relief. So Lo—so he didn’t blow your story. Good. The man in question was currently paying no attention to you.

“It was great!” you fib. “We went to the park, and we found a cute bookstore not far from here,” you say with a nod to the stack of books in your arms.

Wanda’s face splits into a grin. “Will you be seeing him again?” she asks eagerly. 

You see Thor’s brother, in your peripheral vision, subtly turn to look at you, but you refuse to acknowledge him. 

“Yeah I am! I’ll be going out for breakfast tomorrow, at the cafe. ”

“The one with the chocolate pastries?” Nat asks you.

“Yup. And no following me, Nat! I know what you’re thinking!”

She huffs and crosses her arms.

“Well, I’ve had a long day and I’m exhausted. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?”

The team bids you good night and you head down the hall to your room. You can feel the God of Mischief watching you.

~~~

Early the next morning you drag yourself out of bed and start getting ready. The reward? Pastries. You shower then hop, wiggle, and shimmie into some jeans and pull on a dark blue blouse before making your way to the elevator.

You make it outside without running into anyone. You walk a few blocks to the cafe with your favorite chocolate sweets. You discovered it a while back and later introduced it to the team. As soon as you step in, you inhale the heavenly goodness of coffee roasting, bread baking, and chocolate melting. The little old lady behind the counter recognizes you and prepares your order for you before you have a chance to say anything. You thank her and pay before you find a table in the corner of the store to sit at. You watch the world pass by through the large glass windows. It was still quiet out—or at least quiet for New York—and you close your eyes, relishing in the peace that was sorely lacking while you were in the Tower.

“You do realize it is rude to leave your date behind, yes?” Someone asks you.

You snap your eyes open to see the raven-haired god sitting across from you, the smirk as present as always.

You glare at him. “Why the hell are you here? I don’t recall inviting you.”

He conjures a dagger and splits your pastry in two. He takes a piece and sinks his teeth into it. His eyes flutter close, lashing splaying out across his sharp cheekbones and he moans slightly at the warm confection. You feel a heat rise to your cheeks and your stomach flips. This is the first time you’ve heard him make such an obscene sound. You didn’t expect it to make you press your thighs together.      

“On the contrary, you did invite me.” He pauses to open his eyes, only to be met with your flushed face. He gives you a smirk. “Is something the matter?”

“No,” you scowl at him, quickly composing yourself. “And like I said, I don’t remember inviting you.”

 “Oh dear, have you forgotten about your own scheme?”

“No, I haven’t,” you bristle. “But that doesn’t mean you have to be here.”

He chuckles. “Yes I do. I am fulfilling my promise I made you.”

“How gentlemanly of you,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “You made it quite clear you didn’t want to do this.”

He leans forward and folds his hands. “Listen, in light of recent events, I have taken into consideration our previous conversation. And although we do not have the, ah, best attitude towards one another, I agreed to assist you in your time of need. And I will see to it that your plan continues along accordingly.”

“Well, you’re wasting your time, ‘cause I don’t need you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “At least allow me to attempt to be your faux suitor. To make up for my ghastly behavior towards you.”

You continue to glare at him with your arms crossed. You wait to see a glint of mischief in his emerald eyes, or the tell-tale sign of a smirk, but his face remains solemn.

You let out a sigh of defeat. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep this guise up for long if you did it alone. 

“Fine,” you agree reluctantly.

He sits up straight and snatches the second half of your pastry. “Excellent.”

“Hey!”

“What?” he asks innocently, already biting into your breakfast. “I am absolutely famished.”

You just grumble as he licks his fingers clean. Again, your stomach decides to flutter, without your permission.

“Hello, dear.” You look up to see the older lady has approached you and Loki. “Can I get anything else for you?”

You smile back at her. “No thank you.”

She gives a questioning look to Loki. “And who is this? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, young man.” 

Loki flashes her a charming smile. “Greetings madame.” He stands, gently takes her hand and places a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“This... is my boyfriend,” you tell her through clenched teeth.

She turns to look at you. You detect the slightest tinge of pink to her cheeks. 

“Well, you certainly are lucky to have such a gentleman.”

You barely restrain rolling your eyes, while Loki chuckles and gives a slight shake of his head.

“I hate to contradict madame, but it is I who is the lucky one.” He sits back down and takes your hands in his. He looks at you softly. You look back at him, confused. 

“The first moment I set eyes on her, my heart nearly stopped. And her smile… her smile sent me straight to Valhalla. I never believed the Fates would allow me to meet someone so kind, so gentle, so beautiful. I am grateful to have the honor to call her my beloved. She means more to me than any riches imaginable.”

You blush as the old lady places a hand to her heart and sighs.

“He’s a keeper,” she tells you. “Much better than the last one. This one won’t lay a hand on you.”

You feel Loki staring hard at you, his grip on your hands tighten ever so slightly.

You stand abruptly, Loki still refusing to let go. “Well, we really should be going. We have a few plans today.”

“Yes, of course,” Loki says.

Both of you thank the old lady. You can’t get out of there fast enough. 

The sunlight hits your face as you step outside, but you can’t help the shiver that courses through you. Your past hits you in flashes. Bruised and bloodied skin. Hands raised, only to be brought down against your body with rage. Long sleeves and concealer were a must if you went out. Nights spent huddled in bed, silently crying from pain.

You dimly realize someone is shaking you by your shoulders, calling your name.

You look up to see Loki watching you intently, his brow furrowed.

“What did she mean?” he asks you, his voice a deadly calm.

“It’s nothing,” you brush him off. “It’s not like you’d care anyways,” you mumble under your breath.

Whether he heard you or not, he didn’t show.

He gives you a hard stare for another second before dropping his hands.  

“What would you like to do?”

“Huh?” 

He sighs. “For our outing. Where would you wish to go?”

“Oh. Yeah, right. Um. Maybe we could go to the bookstore I found?”

“Done.” He holds out his arm for you and you tentatively slip your hand in. “Lead the way.”

A smile pulls at your lips and you tug him in the direction of the bookstore.

After you both buy several books, you spend the rest of your day taking Loki to your favorite spots around the city. You take him to a garden in Central Park and he tells you about his mother’s garden. He buys you ice cream because ‘I suppose you deserve it after I took your breakfast.’

~~~

The next few weeks, you and Loki alternate taking the other places. Loki takes you for lunch, you take him to the movies. He takes you to a museum and you take him to dinner. The two of you begin bonding and slowly the animosity begins to fade. After the second month, you realize that you actually like being in his company. You made each other laugh and were able to discuss things to great lengths that you couldn’t do with anyone else on the team. The two of you would always be careful, leaving the Tower separately, coming home separately. You both also agreed to continue your banter at home, lest anyone become suspicious. But there were days when Nat would have to snap you out of your daydreams—er thoughts, and she would give you a little smirk. She never asked what you were thinking about, but the pink staining your cheeks would give her the answer she needed.

The nights you spend tossing and turning in bed become more frequent.

I’ll tell him tomorrow.

Tomorrow’s the day.

I’ll end this tomorrow.

You kept postponing the termination of this… relationship you had with Loki. Sure it would’ve been easier to do after the first week you put your plan in motion, but that would have only spurred Nat further. You didn’t need that. So you simply kept putting it off and chose to ignore it as days became weeks. Surprisingly enough, you found a kindred spirit in Loki. He wasn’t as bad as you had originally believed. He made you laugh and think critically and roll your eyes at his dramatic flair and antics. You can’t help but feel as though you and Loki connected. You can’t help but feel as though you’re falling for him. With his sparkling eyes, mischievous smile, and surprisingly, his kind heart. It shocked you at first. You always saw him as Thor’s maniacal and evil younger brother. But now that you’ve spent more time with him, you discover that it was just a facade that he put up. He didn’t want people to get close to him, he knew what they thought of him, so that’s what he showed them. It broke your heart when you found out how hurt and abused he was. Just because he never told you outright, doesn’t mean you didn’t see it. You felt awful though, for only barely realizing this. You should have paid more attention to the way he sometimes flinched or the way his eyes would slightly widen with fear at the mention of fire, or when someone on the team would mention abuse. 

If only he knew about your past relationship. You never brought it up after the slip in the bakery and Loki didn’t pry, which you were extremely grateful for. You weren’t sure you could discuss it, it was too harrowing and you wanted to leave your past there. In the past. But you should have known it would rear its ugly head one of these days.

~~~

You had promised Loki you’d take him back to the little slice of Valhalla that he so fondly nicknamed the bakery.

“Please!” he practically begs you as the two of you walk down the street, hand in hand. “How else do you expect me to survive in your company? I require payment!”

“Payment?!” you repeat incredulously. “Payment for what?”

He sighs dramatically. “For having to endure your nonsense.”

You laugh. “I should be the one getting paid for having to put up with you!” 

He gives you a smirk. “Come now darling, you know you love me.”

Your heart gets caught in your throat at those words. You give Loki a shaky laugh, hoping he doesn’t realize how close to the truth he was.

“Fine,” you sigh exasperatedly. “We’re heading in that direction anyways.”

He gives you another smirk and your heart flutters again. You really need to get your emotions under control. You didn’t have it in you to deal with a heartbreak, it was obvious Loki hadn’t fallen for you. 

“How about you wait out here, darling?” he asks when you two reach the bakery. “I’ll be just a few moments.”

You nod and he gives you a small smile before making his way inside.

You groan slightly and rub your temple. You are not supposed to be falling for him! This shouldn’t be happening. You need to get your emotions in check, otherwise… well, you didn’t want to think about what would happen if you didn’t.

You’re lost in thought when you hear your name being called. Before you have a chance to turn around, arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you into a hug from behind.

Your heart drops. You knew that voice, that hug that used to give you butterflies, but now made you nauseous. When he releases you, you hurriedly take a few steps away and turn to face your ex.

“Chase.”

“Hey, baby!” he said with a cheerful grin. “How ya been?”

“Fine,” you say, even though you’re feeling far from it.

His eyes rake over you, and you physically had to hold down your vomit. “Well, you look good, baby.”

“Please don't call me that.”

“Listen,” he says solemnly. “I’m sorry for everything that happened between us, but I miss you. I need you back. C’mon, baby. We can be together again, don’t you want that?” he places his hands on your waist, making you tense.

You try taking a steadying breath. “No, Chase. I already told you before. I don’t want to be with you.”

His grip on your waist tightens and bites into you, and he gives you a look you were all too familiar with.

“C’mon, babe,” he says, a slight growl in his voice. “I know you’re not stupid. You already broke my heart once. Don’t do this to me again.”

Tears begin to well up. “I-I already told you. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”

He glares down at you and you feel yourself shaking despite the warm day.

“You really don’t have a choice, do you?” he grabs a hold of your wrist and yanks you, not hard enough to fall, but a reminder of what he was capable of doing.

“Chase, let me go!” you try to free yourself, but he yanks you again, making you stumble.

“Don’t make a scene,” he hisses. “I know we both remember how that turned out for you last time.”

You flinch. That day… that was one of the more violent days. He pulls you along with him.

“Chase stop!” you sob desperately.

That’s when he decides to backhand you. You fall to your knees, cheek stinging fiercely as hot tears stream down your face. A rough hand is placed on your shoulder, but it’s quickly pulled back. You cradle your head between your hands, trying to protect yourself. You hear Chase yelling behind you, which is soon replaced by moans, and then the sound of someone running unsteadily across the pavement.

A gentler hand is placed on your shoulder, but you can’t help but wince away. They retreat their hand and crouch in front of you. You hear a familiar, more soothing voice, calling your name softly. You release your grasp on your face and slowly look up. It was Loki. He was watching you with such sorrow and concern, his lips tight and his brows creasing.

“That’s what she meant, wasn’t it?” he asks quietly.

You nod minutely. He offers his hands out to you and you shakily take them. He helps you to your feet, his worried face never faltering. He pulls you into a tight embrace and that’s when you completely lose it. You fist his shirt as sobs wrack through you. He doesn’t say anything to you, he just lets you release your tears.

~~~

Loki walks you back to the Tower with a protective arm around your shoulder. Miraculously you don’t run into anyone. He leads you to your room. You don’t even think to question how he knows where your room is. The burning in your cheek receded, but there’s still an intense stinging.

“Wait here, darling,” Loki says, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

You sit on your bed, eyes downcast, as he heads to your bathroom. You hear the faucet running and then shut off as he returns and sits next to you. He places a finger under your chin, tilting your face up, making you look at him. He starts tending to your abused cheek, wiping it with a cool washcloth.

He growls. “That halfwit left marks on your face.”

You try for a watery smile. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He stops his task to look in your eyes. “I swear this will be the last.” He looks down for a moment before looking at you again, his eyes holding something different. “I… I would never hurt you.”

He looks at you so softly you nearly start crying again. You’ve never had anyone look at you with such a heartfelt gaze; it takes your breath away.

He clears his throat. “Listen darling… I realize that your plan was to keep you from having to court anyone, but… I fear I have fallen for you.” 

Your eyes widen at his confession and he quickly looks away.

“I understand if you do not feel the same… no one can love a monster.”

You take his face in your hands and force him to look at you.

“Do you mean it?” you whisper, not daring to believe it.

He stares at you long and hard. You nearly drop your hands because the silence is too overwhelming. 

“I do.”

A smile splits across your face and you crash your lips to his, taking in the feel of his soft lips, his steady arms, his comforting scent of lavender and bergamot. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap, holding you close.

You pull away to rest your forehead against his. “Well I guess that’s a good thing because I’ve fallen for you, too.”

His eyes sparkle before pulling you into another, more passionate kiss.

~~~

Later that evening, during dinner, Nat and Tony nearly lose their minds at the bruise on your face.

“WHO THE HELL DID THAT?!”

“ARE THOSE FINGERPRINTS?!”

You tell them what happened. You explain what your ex did, which only caused the rest of the team to blow up too.

“It’s okay!” You reassure them. “My boyfriend took care of him.”

Your eyes flicker to Loki, and even though he’s paying close attention to his food, you don’t miss the slight smirk on his face.

That seems to calm them down.

“At least he seems like he’s a good guy,” Wanda says thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he’s great,” you say with a small smile.

An idea occurs to you. You stand and walk around the table to Loki. You take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs across his jaw. He looks at you, mouth slightly open in shock, unsure of what was happening.

“He’s amazing,” you whisper, before capturing his lips with yours.

The team collectively blew up for the third time tonight. 

~~~

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[ruthiswriting]

heart line

mp100 | serirei, reigen arataka, serizawa katsuya, kageyama ‘mob’ shigeo, AU, 6k | on ao3

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his. 

(or: Reigen starts offering palm readings as a service, leading to Serizawa having to confront his feelings for his boss.)

this is pretty fluffy, only real tw is some self deprecating depression thoughts from seri.

-

One day, when he comes into work, Serizawa sees Reigen industriously spreading a new poster on the wall, next to the monthly specials.

“Oi, Serizawa,” Reigen says, head half turning, first in acknowledgment, then in focused interest. “Come help me finish putting up this poster— I can’t get the last corner. Or well, I could,” he allows, stepping away from the wall as Serizawa approaches, “but I don’t want to get the step ladder out of the storage closet, it’s always such a damn pain to dig it out. You had really good timing, you know…”

Serizawa comes in at the same time every day, so he hardly thinks it counts as good timing, but he doesn’t say anything. Reigen passes over a thumbtack that he’s been holding between his teeth— a terrible habit, one that always makes Serizawa’s stomach start doing awful twists when he sees him doing it— and Serizawa takes it, stepping to the wall.

The poster’s half up already, it’s really just this one corner that’s a bit awkward to get to behind one of Reigen’s potted plants. He smooths the corner out, hesitant, and carefully pushes the tack in.

“A little up,” Reigen directs from behind him, and even though Serizawa can’t see him he can feel the way Reigen’s head tilts to look under Serizawa’s stretched arm. “It needs to be straightened out— ah, the other side’s falling out, can you get that too? Serizawa! The bookshelf, watch it.”

After a few more tweaks, Serizawa finally manages to pin it to the wall in a way that satisfies Reigen. Serizawa runs two fingers over the slightly wrinkled corner— he can’t remember if it was already slightly bent, and he swallows nervously. But if Reigen notices, he doesn’t say anything, humming appreciatively. “Right. This’ll be good, people will walk in and see it with the monthly specials.” He stops, hands drumming on his hips. “Unless it should go on the far wall, while they’re sitting during the consultation? It works well as an add on, so maybe if they see it there it’ll drive more sales…”

Serizawa’s slowly processing the actual contents of the poster as Reigen hems and haws to himself. The center of the poster’s occupied with a giant stock photo hand, with arrows helpfully pointing to different creases and hills in the flat palm. A nauseating array of colors pinwheel around it, making it difficult to look away from once your gaze has drifted to it. PALM READINGS, the banner across the top screams out. LEARN ABOUT YOUR LIFE, LOVE, AND FORTUNE. Then, explosions of price points decorate the bottom.

Belatedly, he realizes he saw Reigen working on the poster yesterday during a slow hour in the office— slowly dragging together clip art in a way that he found appealing. Serizawa had avoided asking questions, since Reigen would then want his opinion on the poster, and Serizawa didn’t have the slightest clue about anything to do with design. Now, he could actually understand the poster for what it was.

“No, better to leave it here,” Reigen decides, bringing Serizawa out of his reverie. “Now, I’ve just got to add it to the website.” He sighs, scratching his cheek. “Damn builder’s always so tedious to fiddle with.”

“I didn’t know you could read palms, Reigen-san,” Serizawa says, still staring at the poster.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I read a couple articles about it over the weekend,” Reigen says, starting back to his desk. Then he half turns back, adding, “when you get to my level, it’s easy to pick up this kind of stuff, you know— it’s good to buff out your skills, too. Sort of…” He spins a hand in the air as he thinks. “Expanding your resume.”

Serizawa nods. This makes sense to him. To Serizawa, Reigen’s never had much of a recognizable aura— or really, he thinks privately, any recognizable ability at all. But he has a very long list of clients, successful exorcisms, and the attention of the most powerful psychic that Serizawa knows, besides maybe the president. Not to mention the entirety of CLAW’s former 7th Division’s admiration and respect. All of those people can’t be wrong, Serizawa reasons, so it must just be something that he’s missing. Serizawa misses a lot of things. And as Reigen’s repeatedly told him, his powers are just more spiritual, so him picking up a new ability with some light reading seems perfectly reasonable. “One of my classmates talk about learning coding a lot, since that’s good to have on a resume,” he says. “So it’s kind of like that, maybe.”

“Well,” Reigen pulls a face as he drops into his desk chair. “That’s a different kind of resume.” He swivels to his computer. “While I’m updating the website, Serizawa, can you look at the client list for the day?”

Serizawa hastens to look at the digital calendar that Reigen’s set up on his phone. “There’s a consultation in the morning, at ten,” he says. “Two massages in the afternoon… An exorcism at four.” Serizawa will be gone by then. Kageyama will be assisting with that exorcism— Reigen’s marked that on the calendar too, although Serizawa’s not sure Mob’s once looked at the calendar Reigen constantly refers to.

Reigen’s practically rattling the keyboard with the force of his typing. “Plenty of down time today, then,” he said. “I’ll be able to get this set up no problem.”

“Reigen-san,” Serizawa begins, awkward. “Should I…” Reigen’s stopped his punitive typing to stare at him, which always makes Serizawa’s words begin to stutter. He clears his throat and tries again. “To better assist the clients. Should I learn about palmistry, too?”

He doesn’t know why he asks. Most of the questions he asks feel pointless as soon as he says them, and this one’s ridiculousness is heightened by the way Reigen frowns. “If you want to,” he says, tone implying he’s not sure why Serizawa would. “I was planning on handling it, since it’s mostly interfacing with the clients, and you’re still getting comfortable there, but I wouldn’t stop you.”

Serizawa can’t stop the way his shoulders sink, and hurriedly, Reigen adds, “you’re doing fine, Serizawa— I’m glad you’ve got the initiative to ask about it. But I know you’re busy with your studies, so I didn’t want to take up your time unnecessarily. You’re already a great asset to the business.”

Again, Serizawa wants to protest, to say that really he should be doing so much more for Reigen than brewing tea and exorcising stray ghosts. But he shouldn’t argue with his boss, so he just nods, swallowing all of his words.

It only takes a few days for someone to take Reigen up on new special— a jittery looking college student with spectacles twice the size of her eyes. She comes about a necklace that she inherited from her recently deceased grandmother. Serizawa can’t see anything on it, and Reigen smoothly steps in to handle it. As he shreds rock salt over it and kept up a stream of gentle questions about her grandmother, the girl’s eyes roams over the wall, and she asks about the palm reading. Within seconds, Reigen has the lights dimmed, incense candles in Serizawa’s hands that are apparently his responsibility to light.

Reigen sits on the edge of his seat, face serious as he looks down into her upturned palm. She watches him with wide eyes. “It’s not so much that your palms determine your fate,” he explains to her, voice taking on a knowing, mystic quality. “It’s more that they’re a microcosm of reality… The big’s encapsulated in the small.” He draws one of his fingers along a crease in her fingers, barely a ghosting pressure.

As Serizawa struggles with the candles, the match in his hand finally catches, and the light blooms across her face. The beginning of a blush is striping across her nose.

“This is your head line,” Reigen says. Then his finger moves across another web. “Your heart line. Your fate line. And your life line.” For this last designation, his finger curves across the base of her thumb and comes to rest against her wrist.

“The life line,” she says, eyes wide. “I heard once that if you have a short life line, that means that you’ll die young.”

Discreetly, Serizawa peeks at his own palm, but he can’t track what any of the mess of creases are supposed to be when transposed onto his own hand. “Not necessarily,” Reigen says, shaking his head. “Your life line has more to do with your vitality. If it’s short or shallow, that’s not necessarily bad, but it might mean you need to make a change.” Reigen’s mouth draws into a frown. “…Have you been feeling disconnected from the people around you?”

“That’s exactly it,” she says, voice a relieved rush. “It’s been so hard, ever my grandmother died…”

The conversation streams on past Serizawa. He watches as Reigen gives her advice, her hand still resting comfortably between Reigen’s long fingers.

The palm readings only happen occasionally, but Reigen seems satisfied enough with their performance— like he said, it’s a nice add on. But on days when someone asks for one, they cling to Serizawa’s mind the entire train ride to his night classes.

Regardless of Serizawa’s perception of Reigen’s aura, he proves himself as a natural when he sits down with a client for a palm reading. No matter what he says, they always gasp in shock at how accurately Reigen’s pinned down their life with just a few sentences. Then, he’s immediately pinwheeling into advice on how best to fix their relationships, their jobs, their life.

He doesn’t like it. The idea that, just by looking at his hands, someone can accurately judge everything inside of him. Reigen never says anything bad about the clients, of course, but he’s sure that he has to see it. All of Serizawa’s mistakes are surely reflected in the creases of his hand— and he’s made a lot of mistakes.

Serizawa spends a lot of time staring at his hands on the train. They’re square in shape, with short, blocked off fingers, and a tangled mess of lines and mounds— what Reigen calls the bumps of flesh on the client’s hands. He doesn’t know what any of it means. He doesn’t think it could be anything good.

It doesn’t really matter, he reminds himself. He’s making a change, just like all of Reigen’s clients. What’s on his hands isn’t set in stone. He just has to make sure Reigen doesn’t see it— even if it might feel nice to have that steady attention, Reigen’s hands that are so much nicer than Serizawa’s folding around his.

The train rumbles under his feet, and hurriedly Serizawa tucks his free hand under his armpit. Like if it hand is out of his sight, the obsessive thought might be too. It doesn’t stop his eyes from ghosting over everyone else’s hands, that all surely say much better things about them than Serizawa’s.

He’s not doing a good job of not thinking about the hands.

Mainly, he keeps thinking about Reigen’s, which doesn’t bode well for Serizawa’s attempts at professionalism.

Serizawa realized fairly early on that his feelings for Reigen exceeded the typical respect one should have for an employer. It even went past the gratitude that one should have for someone who saved Serizawa’s life— because genuinely, Serizawa thinks that Reigen saved his life by giving him this job, when Serizawa didn’t even have a high school education or any practical experience beyond being a reformed terrorist. Even if Serizawa’s managed to stop referring to every manual of business practice as inarguable law, enough of them reiterated the extreme inappropriateness of workplace relationships that Serizawa figured it was a rule he should stick with. Their cautions at power imbalances, lack of professionalism, and the inevitability of messy breakups bang around in Serizawa’s mind every time he looks at Reigen.

Of course, it’s not like Reigen would want anything to do with Serizawa even without these restrictions. Reigen’s a good, helpful person, and he saw that Serizawa was in a bad spot, and wanted to do something about it. That was all. So, it’s up to Serizawa to draw a professional boundary. If he maintains a distance, that’s better for both of them— Reigen won’t have to deal with Serizawa’s messy, inappropriate feelings, and Serizawa won’t get hurt.

But the palm readings make that so much harder than necessary.

Reigen has nice hands, and he takes full advantage of them in every moment. They accent every word that Reigen ever speaks, making his case for him before he’s even begun a sentence. And when Reigen’s hands are making an energetic arc across the room, Serizawa keeps finding his mind going back to the dim office— the candles flickering in the dark, the sweet heady scent of incense. Reigen’s hands comfortably enveloping his hands.

Not his hands, really. It’s only Serizawa’s hands in his flushed, distracted imagination. He wishes, very desperately, that Reigen wasn’t so dedicated to the atmosphere of his services, but if he’s being honest with himself, Serizawa probably would have the same problem if Reigen conducted palmistry under the boring office lights.

It’s just Serizawa’s embarrassing personal problem. It’s something he has to deal with on his own. Another misguided crush on his employer— except he’s so sure that Reigen would let him down gently it burns.

It’s a slow day in the office when Reigen says, tone casual, “Serizawa, let me read your palm.”

Serizawa’s pen jags across the paper. He’s doing homework, which he always feels guilty for, even though Reigen’s repeatedly told him it’s fine, even offering to help him with any assignments he’s having trouble with. Now, he’s punished for slacking on the job by way of an unfortunate ink splatter obscuring a section of his notes. Serizawa feels a static charge draw up around his ears, and he takes a deep breath as he settles the pen against the page. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Serizawa says.

“Why not?” Reigen’s half out of his chair before he’s distracted by a loose set of papers about to escape his desk. He pins them down with a half full mug of tea, then continues his circuit around the desk. “We don’t have a client until later this afternoon, and it’ll be fun— enlightening, even. It’s a good team building exercise.”

He’s pretty sure Reigen just wants to put off the paperwork that he’s been complaining about the whole morning. It’s given him too much time to let his eyes drift across the room and watch Serizawa, probably monitoring any possible mistakes in his work. The palmistry poster’s right behind Serizawa’s head at his desk, so maybe that’s what made him think of it. Regardless, Serizawa does not want Reigen to be enlightened by anything about Serizawa. He clenches his hands into fists and sticks them under the desk, like maybe Reigen will forget about it if he can’t see them.

All the excuses collecting in his brain don’t make it to his mouth in time, and Reigen’s leaning against Serizawa’s desk. “Come on, Serizawa,” he entreats him, voice wheedling. “Don’t you ever unwind? It’s not bad to have a little fun when it’s slow.”

Serizawa can’t think of something less fun than his crush learning all of his secret and not-so-secret inadequacies while holding his hand. Plus, he’s sure that there’s something better both of them could be doing— that’s another thing the self help books harp on, that you can always find something to do to improve your workplace. But he’s not good at telling Reigen no. And so, in a matter of seconds, Reigen’s setting up the office as Serizawa watches, arms locked at his side.

“You don’t have to waste the incense candles,” Serizawa mumbles as Reigen energetically lights a match.

“It’s not a waste,” Reigen says firmly. “Anyway, I do my best readings when there’s a proper atmosphere.”

Since there’s no way to get out of this, besides maybe running straight out of the office and never coming back, Serizawa sits down at the table where Reigen always ushers their clients and waits. Reigen draws the blinds shut and then sits across from him, wiggling forward in his chair.

Reigen’s thighs sandwich the low table between them, pressing close enough for their knees to touch. Even though he’d dreaded the low lighting before, Serizawa’s abruptly grateful for the fact that Reigen can’t see the way his face heats in the dark.

And then, Reigen’s hands are taking his.

His hands are cool, maybe even a little clammy. They rest calmly against Serizawa’s over-hot skin, and Serizawa’s sure Reigen can feel the way that his pulse is rampaging in his wrist. Even before the palm reading’s begun, Serizawa’s hands apparently have the ability to betray him. He tries to swallow his nerves, again, force it all down. He can control himself, even if he’s feeling scared and lovesick. He’s not the person that he used to be.

Serizawa’s reminding himself of all of this, when Reigen says, very seriously, voice a low murmur, “you’ve got nice hands, you know.”

“What?” Serizawa blurts. “No, I don’t.” And then he flinches, immediately berating himself for contradicting Reigen.

Reigen’s eyebrows rise up, vanishing under his bangs. “Sure you do,” he says, insistent. And then, he turns Serizawa’s palm flat, running one electric finger around the circumference. “Square palm— short fingers. You’ve got earth hands. Means you’re reliable, Serizawa.”

Even though his brain is buzzing with this much prolonged contact— Serizawa’s not exactly had a lot of people spend extended time touching his hands, much less Reigen touching his hands— this sentence manages to drag him a little closer to reality again. Reigen just meant that comment in the context of palmistry, of course. He’s probably said similar things to his clients, even if Serizawa can’t exactly remember him saying them in this moment. He breathes.

After waiting long enough to realize that Serizawa’s not going to say anything in response, Reigen returns to tracing the lines of his hands. “Look here,” he murmurs, moving one finger down the center of his palm. “You’ve got a pretty pronounced fate line.”

And Serizawa knows, immediately, that that can’t be right. He’s heard enough of Reigen’s explanations to his clients to have learned that a deep fate line means you have control over your life— that outside actors don’t control your fate. Serizawa can’t think of something less likely to be applied to him. He feels his face sink, watching Reigen’s hand move, back and forth, over his own.

Reigen’s lying to him. He probably doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He probably wants to boost Serizawa’s abysmal self image, because Reigen’s good hearted like that. But it stings that he’d tell Serizawa falsehoods just to make him feel better, against something that demonstrably isn’t true. It calls into question every other good thing Reigen’s said about him.

“Aren’t you going to ask what that means?” Reigen’s eyes move up to look at Serizawa, burning holes in him.

Serizawa sucks in a breath that ghosts over his teeth. “Reigen-san…” He swallows, throat clicking. Every noise he makes suddenly feels so loud and over important when they sitting this close, without even the hum of fluorescent lights to drown it out. “I don’t really know if that makes sense, from what I’ve heard you say to the clients.”

Reigen’s eyebrows work together. “Your fate line can change over the course of your life, you know,” he says slowly. “Just like how you can change. It’s just a reflection of you.”

Serizawa lets his hand drop— it’s only Reigen’s interlaced fingers against the back of his hand that keeps his hand from knocking against the table. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I don’t know, if I’ve changed enough to justify that.”

“You’ve made a lot of changes,” Reigen says, still insistently not letting go of his hand. His fingers interlace into a cradle, and Serizawa can feel the press of Reigen’s index finger on one knuckle. “You’re taking classes. You chose to leave a harmful situation, when it would’ve been easier to stay. You’re working here. Serizawa, you’re the one that’s taking charge of your life now.”

But even that’s a falsehood. Serizawa knows, deep in his bones, that he never would have left CLAW on his own. He never would have been able to see past the circumference of his umbrella and his own starry infatuation. The only reason he was able to leave at all was because of Kageyama, forcing him out of the fantasy he was living in, and Reigen, offering him a lifeline when Serizawa was sitting in the absolute rubble of his fake life.

“Serizawa.” Reigen’s voice is suddenly sharp. “Are you really going to doubt an expert spiritualist such as myself?”

“N— no, I didn’t mean—“

“Then accept it. You’re the only one in charge of your life. Let’s look at something else more interesting,” Reigen says, immediately shifting gears and ending the conversational thread. “Your heart line, it looks like it’s pretty—“

And this is something that Serizawa absolutely cannot handle. He yanks his hand out of Reigen’s before he can stop himself. “Reigen-san,” he said, voice climbing an octave. “I don’t know if that’s— appropriate.”

“Eh?” Reigen’s blinking at him.

“I mean,” he pulls his arms back, keeping whatever incriminating information is inscribed on his hands safely hidden. “Isn’t it bad to discuss… Relationships, in the workplace?”

Reigen tilts his head like Serizawa’s said something foreign. “It’s perfectly normal,” he says. “I help Mob with his relationships all the time.”

That’s obviously completely different, Serizawa wants to say, but the words won’t come. Suddenly, he’s seized with the idea— Reigen already knows exactly what he’s thinking and feeling. There’s probably a specific triangle of flesh on Serizawa’s hand that communicates, this person is in love with their superior, and Reigen’s seen it and knows. Serizawa feels the redness climbing all over his face. He can’t stop himself from looking down, palm turning up as he tries to find whatever betrayed him.

And immediately, Reigen’s grabbed his hand again. Serizawa feels his brain misfiring as Reigen yanks it closer. “Look,” Reigen says, eager. “Yours begins below your index finger, from the edge of your palm.” He indicates it, and Serizawa desperately wishes his heart would stop jackhammering in response. His pulse is loud enough to hurt his head, so surely Reigen can feel it pounding in his grip. “Means you’ve got a giving heart, Serizawa. It’s pretty short, so you’re introverted… But deep, so relationships are definitely important to you.”

“Aren’t they important to everyone?” Serizawa asks, floundering for any type of purchase in this conversation.

“Not necessarily,” Reigen says. “I mean, think about it— you’ve definitely met people who’ve put more work into relationships than others, haven’t you? But you value the people around you, so your hands reflect that. Maybe even…” His hand traces a crease, and he wiggles an eyebrow at Serizawa. “Value of a specific person? Someone you have in mind?”

Bone deep shame makes itself known from within Serizawa’s marrow. His fingers automatically curl inward, in an attempt to hide, and suddenly, without realizing, he’s holding the tips of Reigen’s fingers under his.

He expects Reigen to pull back, automatic, but Reigen doesn’t move at all. All Reigen does is go still, not meeting Serizawa’s eyes all of the sudden. His nose dips forward to look down at their hands, hovering above the table. It’s like he’s shy. Reigen is never shy.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” he says. “You’d be a good partner.”

He’s staring down at their hands, resting against the table, still not moving to pull his fingers away, or even to spread open Serizawa’s hand to continue his relentless assault of kind words. It’s like he’s perfectly content to rest there, long fingers trapped in Serizawa’s grip, which is probably too tight and not at all pleasant. Serizawa keeps waiting and waiting for Reigen to pull away, but he doesn’t.

Then, suddenly, the door to the office buzzes, signifying a walk in client. Reigen pinwheels away so dramatically he almost falls off his chair. A little pop of psychic energy spreads out from Serizawa’s feet, lifting everything in the office just an inch off the ground before it drops again. Serizawa stands, frantic, looking for something to do as Reigen hurriedly draws open the blinds.

It’s too late, though. The unexpected customer’s standing in the entrance, staring at both of them. “Um,” he begins, phone held lamely up. “I saw the sign outside, and I was wondering if I could ask about getting some spirit tags…”

Reigen recovers admirably, immediately pivoting into welcoming the customer and acting like it’s perfectly normal for both of them to sit around in the dark with only candles to see by. Serizawa guesses it’s not totally unreasonable— it is a psychic business, after all. You’d only know it was strange if you were a regular customer, and this man isn’t.

The only thing that betrays it as odd is the red blush that’s spread all over Reigen’s face, even staining his ears. It couldn’t be because of Serizawa, of course— it’s just that a customer caught him off guard. It has to be that.

Serizawa stares at the back of Reigen’s flushed neck, and wonders.

The rest of the day is tense.

It’s not exactly like Serizawa and Reigen sit side by side all day, but Reigen normally will get up and come see what Serizawa’s doing. He’ll hang over him as he supervises his work, or offer suggestions on whatever homework assignment he’s working on. In general, Reigen seems to dislike sitting still for long hours. He tends to pace about as he verbally puzzles through work problems to Serizawa, or Mob, or, probably, to an empty room. But after the palm reading, Reigen stays firmly confined to his desk, not saying anything at all as he still fidgets. Even when a client comes for an exorcism and he has to get up, Reigen maintains an exaggeratedly respectful distance between him and Serizawa.

The palm reading plays on repeat in Serizawa’s head, offering new mistakes for Serizawa to fixate on each time. The more they sit in silence, the more Serizawa’s completely sure that Reigen knows exactly how he feels. Why else would he suddenly become so shy? He wishes, fervently, that he’d just managed to keep it to act normally. Maybe if he hadn’t made such a fuss about the whole thing he wouldn’t have made Reigen uncomfortable. Now it’s even more obvious to Reigen where his feelings lie. It must disgust him, to have to deal with Serizawa’s sad, misaimed emotions— pathetically clinging to any basic kindness shown to him.

The whole afternoon, Reigen’s ears stay red as he works at his computer, only stealing glances at Serizawa when he thinks Serizawa can’t see.

He has to say something. He has to to apologize to Reigen for making everything so awkward. Maybe if he promises that he can control his feelings, that it won’t get in the way, things could go back to normal. Serizawa wishes the earth would swallow him whole. But it won’t— not without Serizawa splitting the earth open himself, at least. But if Serizawa wants to have any chance of reintegrating into normal society he has to deal with his feelings in an adult way.

Of course, Reigen beats him to bringing it up, as Serizawa’s dragging up the nerve to say something at the end of the day. He’s just stood, closing his laptop as he says, “Serizawa,” and pauses immediately, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, when you mentioned inappropriate workplace relationships—“

“I promise it won’t get in the way of anything,” Serizawa says in an explosive rush. “Please don’t fire me.”

Reigen stares at him, one hand still resting on the back of his neck. This is a look that Serizawa’s unfortunately gotten to know quite well. It’s the look that Reigen gives him when he’s said something unexpected. Serizawa’s begun to mentally mark it as a sign as conversational failure. “Pardon?”

Serizawa was really desperately hoping that Reigen wouldn’t make him actually say it, but that was looking less and less likely. “When you read my palm,” he stammers out, clutching onto the edge of his desk for dear life. “I know maybe not everything you saw was— appropriate, or maybe it showed something it shouldn’t, but I promise I won’t let it get in the way of working here. I can maintain professional boundaries, and… And…”

His voice trails as he dares to look back into Reigen’s face. It’s completely red again, naked surprise totally dominating his features. His hand’s gripping the back of his chair, like it’s stuck there. Reigen very rarely holds still, but in this moment, he’s completely frozen in place. By shock.

Abruptly, Serizawa realizes he was wrong. Reigen hadn’t seen his feelings in the surface of his fingers. But if he didn’t know about it before, he definitely, definitely knows about it now.

For a split second, Serizawa’s certain the office will collapse around them— his powers going rampant one last time to spare him this complete embarrassment. But all that happens is the furniture trembles, once. Serizawa supposes, under the part of his brain that’s screaming for death, that it shows he’s made good progress on controlling his powers.

He stands robotically. “I should go,” he says.

“No— no,” Reigen suddenly blurts, and he unsticks himself from behind the desk, racing across the office after Serizawa. “Serizawa, wait—”

Serizawa trips over his chair in his rush to leave, which gives Reigen the time to grab his arm before he reaches the door. It would be very easy to pull free and continue his frantic path onto the street and into the horizon, but the feeling of Reigen’s fingers digging into the side of his arm totally arrests Serizawa. He freezes, staring down into Reigen’s still beet-red face.

Reigen’s face is twitching in some kind of worrisome motion— he really looks like he’s about to have some kind of seizure, especially when his complexion is still so totally red. But finally, he manages to speak. “Our heart lines might not be so different, you know,” he says, voice wobbling just a little from— nerves? That can’t be right. Unless Reigen’s so totally disgusted by him that he’s nervous to be around him, now. But he’s holding on so tightly. Like he doesn’t want Serizawa to go.

Serizawa’s eyes slide away, not wanting to look at Reigen dead on, but then Reigen tugs his arm, insistent, trying to get his attention again. “Obviously, the qualities that we have, and the ways that we love— hypothetically— are very different,” Reigen says, voice gaining volume. “But, maybe similar things are revealed if you look closely. Just… A little closer.”

And then he doesn’t say anything, staring wide eyed at Serizawa. He’s clearly waiting for something, as Serizawa’s brain shudders to put the pieces together past every instinct that’s screaming at him to escape. Serizawa can’t conceive of a person being more different from him than Reigen. Any kind of similarity seems like too much to imagine. A similarity of the heart line? Maybe, Reigen has some of the good qualities he’s superimposed onto Serizawa, and that’s what he means. Or maybe— maybe—

Before he can stop himself, Serizawa’s hand slides up to grab the one that Reigen’s got on his arms. This time Reigen’s hand is damp with sweat. So is Serizawa’s, and he can’t imagine that it’s a pleasant experience for Reigen. Still, Reigen spreads his fingers, interlacing Serizawa’s fingers with his as they fall to the side.

“Just a little closer,” Reigen says again, voice almost a whisper as he steps into Serizawa’s personal space. The gap between their bodies narrows, and then vanishes, Reigen’s torso pressing against Serizawa’s.

It seems, impossibly, to be what Reigen wants. So before he can stop himself, Serizawa dips his head and kisses Reigen.

Reigen’s body leans up and into Serizawa, his free hand reaching up to touch his face. Underneath the fireworks happening behind Serizawa’s eyelids, there’s a moment of terror at Reigen touching his face— like he’ll find some patchy place where Serizawa missed shaving, or the pockmarked memory of an acne scar, and abruptly snap out of whatever insanity’s fallen over him. But Reigen touches his cheek gently, so, so, gently, and the fingers encircling Serizawa’s only tighten.

He’s sure, from any objective standpoint, it’s not a very good kiss— Serizawa’s never kissed anyone before, so his skills are probably awful. But it also means it’s the best he’s ever had. He never wants to come up for air.

Eventually, though, their faces break apart. Reigen’s face is still twitching a little, but now it’s up into an almost manic smile. Serizawa’s starting to wonder if the blush across Reigen’s face will ever subside. “This is,” Reigen begins, and then stops.

Reigen’s words rarely stop, and the silence stretches on for a few uninterrupted seconds until Serizawa realizes that genuinely, Reigen’s lost for words. A laugh threatens to break loose from Serizawa’s chest, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s laughing at Reigen. He only wants to express that whatever Reigen’s feeling, Serizawa understands. Completely and totally. It’s something he feels confident of when typically, Serizawa feels confident of nothing. So he just smiles, hoping that maybe, Reigen will understand too.

“I should have gotten into palmistry earlier,” Reigen says finally, and at that Serizawa can’t suppress his laugh. “Clearly I should screw around reading articles on the weekend more.”

“This wasn’t the reason you learned about palmistry,” Serizawa says, laugh still making his voice shake.

“Hell no,” Reigen snorts. “I just wanted to find another way to make a quick buck.” Then, immediately, he adds, “and also help our clients find out important truths about themselves, and the universe, of course—”

“While making a quick buck,” Serizawa says. It feels too joking, too disrespectful, but then, Serizawa’s just kissed Reigen. Reigen’s kissed him back. Worrying about professionalism seems suddenly pointless.

Reigen raises an eyebrow at him. “Sassy. Just don’t say that to the clients, Serizawa.”

His hand’s still clinging to Serizawa, gently swinging between them. Impulsively, Serizawa brings the hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles. Reigen’s breath pulls in, and Serizawa feels his face heat. He suddenly realizes that really, he has no idea what Reigen expects from this. They could be on completely different pages, Serizawa could be moving too fast, he could be doing everything all wrong.

But Reigen’s smiling at him. It’s a smile that he hasn’t seen before— totally unlike the dazzling grins that he gives his clients, and everyone he’s trying to convince to believe him. It feels different. The other smiles, Serizawa realizes, are something that Reigen puts on, in the same way that he puts on his tie in the morning. This one is real. This one is for Serizawa.

There’s a part of his stomach that’s still telling him this whole thing is a bad idea. Every chapter on workplace relationships he’s taken careful notes on is flashing on the back of his eyelids when he blinks. But, more and more, Serizawa’s realized that Spirits and Such is far from a typical office environment. Serizawa’s not a typical employee, and Reigen— wonderful, strange, perfect, Reigen— is not a typical boss.

When they walk out of the office, Reigen’s still holding his hand. Serizawa hopes, impossibly, that he never stops.

[soulwillower]

boyfriend stuff • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)      

requested: PLEASE FAKE DATING TO LOVERS WITH RICHIE PLEASE A WHOLE FIC PLEASE MORE

warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions of sex, a bit of drinking, family members, richie has a little sis!! and i believe that is it but as always its unedited

[losers + reader are in college]

sorry i haven’t been posting much but i have this fic for u guys, hope u like it!

6k words yowza

♡

"you said what?!" you hiss, your stomach swirling, jaw dropped as the wind whips your hair around. richie's grinning, but it's not his usual up-to-something grin. much more of an i'm-sorry-i-ran-my-mouth-again  kind of smile, but it's still richie's, so it's impossible to stay annoyed.  

"well shit, doll. you know how i am! and it was my grandma, i couldn't let her down. she is crazy." he says with a shrug, his hand pushing back his wild curls as you glare up at him in his stupid striped shirt and awful, annoying, angelic face.

you scoff, crossing your arms as your eyes flick to behind richie, taking in the law library and some kids playing hackey-sack on the quad. birds chirp in the distance. "c'mon, toots. you can play my girlfriend for a few days, right?" he asks gently, making you look back to him, gazing into his hopeful expression.

you're silent as a warm breeze flutters around you and you weigh your options - honestly, what could go wrong by going to your friend's grandma's house and pretending to be his girlfriend for a bit?

"how far is the drive?" you ask sharply.

"yes, baby! i knew i could count on you." he yelps, scooping you in his arms and making you yelp, rolling your eyes. "i didn't actually commit to fake-dating you yet, richie. unless you pay me."

"100 bucks, kid." he says, holding your shoulders. you gape at him, "what? do you seriously need to convince your grandma and the rest of your family that you're dating someone that much?" you ask, eyes wide and a smile curling onto your lips.

this boy was ridiculous.

he launches into a story about how his grandma is super weird - nice, but oddly suspicious; like (as he puts it) red-scare mccarthy type suspicious, which doesn't do much to help his case with you.

he then lists on his fingers the reasons he needed a girlfriend and continued to insist, "y/n/n, look at me. nobody's going to believe that i'm single. i'm way too gorgeous." you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. 

"-plus, you're the only friend i have that is hot enough and tolerant enough to pass as my girl for a whole weekend. i would ask stan the man, but i already mentioned that it was specifically a lady-lover of mine, and i can't put stan through a weekend of bra stuffing on top of faking' it with me."

you scoff at his absurdity, following him as he walks towards his dorm and weighing your options. "we have to stay with your batshit grandma, tozier? and you're really gonna do all that boyfriend stuff?"

he just laughs, tilting his head up so the sun glints on his forehead and you have to tear your eyes away before you get too attached to the sight of him.

"oh, of course i am toots. i can't wait to treat you like you deserve, babe. plus, it's a small house. we'll be sharing a room, though." he mutters, slinging a heavy arm around you and giving you icy butterflies that thrash in your ribcage. you groan, "come on, richie. i'm only doing this out of the goodness of my heart." you mutter, shaking your head as he sweeps the door to his building open and wiggles his brows. "and i have to share a bed with you?"

"you can curse my momma for bein' so liberal."  he says with a shake of his head, "you'll love her, though. she's excited to meet my girlfriend."

you fake a gag.

x

somehow, a week later, you're pulling yourself out of richie's beat up cherokee and sighing at the heat outside, watching as richie unfolds his body to his full height and sweeps an arm towards the quaint house across the street.  you walk to his side of the car and shake your head, trying not to think of the pressure of acting like a good girlfriend for the next two and a half days.

the drive back to richie's hometown was just as you'd expected a road trip with richie would be - cherry cola, loud music, a/c on blast as the summer warmth whips around his car on the outside, and a briefly awkward lay out of rules for the two of you to follow.

"well what about, like, rules?" you ask, feet balanced on the dashboard. he looks over to you, smirking as he hums along to the radio as it plays quietly. "well, like, what about them?" he asks, smacking his mouth and fake twirling his hair like a valley girl. you hide a giggle behind a glare.

"i'm serious, rich." but your smile gives way to your playful manner as you toss a chip at him. it hits his shoulder and he smirks - you're distracted, then, by how the faint morning glow hits his eyelashes, how his side-profile is sharp and angular but somehow also soft and subdued.

his hair is scruffy and placed perfectly as if he'd just rolled out of bed - though you know it took him a few minutes to make it look that way. he's wearing his stupid black corduroy pants and a long sleeve shirt that looks so soft you might melt and his lips are quirked into a wry smile.

richie's eyes are bright and teasing as ever, even on this early morning, and his teeth toy with his pink lips as he grins. you smile to yourself as you stare, because richie tozier is an artwork.

"y/n/n?" he asks softly, shooting you a soft look that really makes your fingertips tingle as you reach for your coffee. had he been speaking to you? you clear your throat, "richie, eyes on the road."

he chuckles but obeys, turning to look forwards, and you feel your heartbeat relax slightly. "okay. what about touching?" you reiterate as he keeps glancing at you, making you flush and your stomach thrash in tickle.

"you know i'm all for it." he wiggles his eyebrows and you scoff, shaking your head and pressing your lips together to keep down a smile. he's too much."-for real, though. what are you comfortable with? i can do any of that boyfriend stuff." he says, mimicking your words from the week before when you'd agreed to come, and you turn red again for nearly no reason.

you shrug. "well, touching is fine...but don't you think.... er- i mean, maybe kissing is just... a little weird? i don’t know." you ask, your stomach fluttering. you're not totally sure why, or you just don't want to address it, but you think that kissing richie might make things... different for you.

you ignore the feeling as richie nods. "yeah, i mean it’s not like my parents are gonna try and make us lock lips in front of them anyways." he mutters, making you roll your eyes, smiling out the window as the countryside flashes by in splashes of green and yellow.

"right, kid. you ready?" richie's voice calls you to look at him with a smile. "guess so." you shrug, your breath mixing with the warm afternoon air. the front door of the house creaks open from across the yard and richie turns to you, smiling devilishly and holding your bag in his hand.

"quick, they're coming. kiss me." he says with a lopsided grin. your stomach dips and you huff, "ew, no!"

he looks at you with a grin as you continue, "-you just had funyuns! that's so gross." you say, shoving his face as he tries to lean closer to you, making kissy faces. you can't help yourself from giggling as he smiles, "do it! c'mon, toots. plant one on me." "no, rich!" you squeal with another laugh, shoving him as he beams down at you. slowly, he pulls you into his chest and you lay your head, wrapping your arms around him. the proximity of your bodies takes your breath away as you breathe in the faint scent of mint, strawberry and cigarettes. it makes you relax almost completely and you're unsure when these feelings with richie started, but you're suddenly hyperaware of them and you think you might be in some real trouble.

"let's do this, y/n/n."

x

you'd expected meeting richie's family to be the most stressful part of your day, but it went so smoothly you were almost concerned.

his mom was taller than you but still shorter than him, and when he lifted her up in greeting it made your heart swell. next was his grandma, who was quite short and had curly gray hair. she hugged you and kissed your cheek and you immediately felt welcome as you met them.

then not shortly after, a fiery bullet with a black dress and light - up sneakers came barreling full speed at richie, making you blink as he yelled, "munch!" and lifted the girl up.

you met his little sister, who he insisted you call "munch," through a shy wave and a grin as she had her arms looped and face buried in his neck.

and then you smiled and pretended not to feel anything as you watched him tickle her and kiss her forehead.

throughout the day, it is physically painful for you to watch richie with his family. really, it is.

you know richie tozier. the boy who falls asleep at the library and drools on his textbook, the boy who ties people's shoelaces together at parties when he's just entered that drunken stage of "pranky richie." he's the dumbass who fell out the window of bill's dorm and into the bushes, the kid who was a huge nerd yet incessantly boasted about his 'very high' body count (which, by the way, you did not believe). he was the loud person at every party, the kind who drew people in out of admiration, fascination or loathing, he was the boy who got the highest gpa and also the highest amount of parking violations and speeding tickets.

but here, at home...

god, richie was incredible. he had a whole other side to him that fit in perfectly, like a missing piece to a puzzle that you didn't even know was incomplete. he spent as much time with his sister, munch, as he could - singing to her, brushing and braiding her hair, teasing her relentlessly, and making snacks for the three of you.

he even wore a tiara and a tutu when munch insisted you have a tea party - and he steeped real tea (which tasted like shit because he did not know how to steep tea), even getting out his grandma's fancy cups.

the way he treated munch was honestly the nail in the coffin for you, because the one thing you expected richie to be bad at was interacting with young kids. like, he swears like a sailor, is always bouncing around, rarely goes a day without a cigarette, and just all around seems like he'd prefer the company of an average-aged joe. but he is full of surprises, as you've learned.

x

it took almost six hours of driving to get to his grandma's house, none of which richie allowed you to drive, despite your insistence. so after a quick catnap, you'd spent the entire day exploring the house, playing games, and getting to know munch and the rest of his family. and so now, before bed, richie was upstairs showering while you were sitting downstairs at the kitchen table with his grandma and his sister.

you were left to your own wits with his family, which wasn't too bad, but you're nervous you're going to slip up.

"you are just such a lovely young woman, aren't you?" his grandma asks, sipping on her bailey's. you laugh, shrugging your shoulders. "you're too kind, really. you guys are just easy to be around." you say with a smile.

"now i just wonder, what made you settle with richie?" she asks, lifting a brow. you choke on the last gulp of your own bailey's, the warmth going straight to your stomach and the alcohol right to the head. you decide to go the joke route.

"i have no idea, i mean. have you seen those awful shirts?" you say with a snort. his grandma laughs sweetly, sipping again and seemingly forgetting the problem so you pull at your collar, willing for richie to come rescue you.

speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"-hey, you can't judge my life choices, y/n/n, because you are one of them." he says with a grin, drawing you into the crook of his shoulder. "the best one, might i add."

you flush but just roll your eyes, knowing that it's just for show, but secretly yearning for that to be true.

he groans."can you at least pretend you think i'm charming?" richie whines,  "that costs extra." you say, then suddenly your eyes snap to richie's as you realize what you've said.

"costs?" his grandma asks, looking confused. you clear your throat, "o-oh, i..."

"she owes me gas money." "he owes me money for food."

you stare at each other - fuck. that's kind of awkward. richie's grandma hums in suspicion and your mouth feels dry.

richie suddenly guffaws loudly, shaking your shoulders as he nods. "well aren't we the cutest, y/n/n? okay, let's get you off to bed now." he rushes, shitty excuse doing nothing to fix the situation as he tugs your arm so you rise from the stool, then places your empty mug in the sink. he kisses his grandma on the cheek and hurries you upstairs, towards the guest bedroom where you're both staying.

x

the next day was when you really realized that richie tozier never stopped fidgeting. he was an anxious person inherently, so you understood this mixed with his adhd led him to tapping fingers, humming and bouncing his legs.

earlier, he'd had his arm secured around your waist (a foreign yet welcoming sensation) as you'd eaten dinner with his family. he was shaking his leg so aggressively that the table was vibrating and you loved it - you loved the uncomfortable but understanding looks on everyone's faces. you loved that they loved richie just as you did, you loved that they accepted him and teased him and hugged him and joked with him and listened to him like you did.

"what're you thinking' about?" he'd asked into your ear, loud enough that the others had definitely heard. his grin was nearly audible and you smile, looking into his warm eyes, "just you." you'd said simply, with a shrug. and as the words left your mouth, you realized you weren't even putting on a show, or ‘faking it' for his family.

you just really, really liked richie.

shit.

so now, it was well after richie's sister had gone to sleep and the rest of the family was up drinking, listening to music and telling stories. you really were enjoying all the embarrassing stories that fell from maggie's lips, her brain and body being well into a bottle of chardonnay and being more and more humiliating as the clock ticked on.

"-and he was- what was he, dear, seven?" she asks, hand falling onto wentworth's thigh. richie groans, "mom, stop. this isn't even funny."

you nudge him, "speak for yourself."

richie scowls then, leaning back against the awful floral pattern of the couch and pulling you into his side. you smile as you nuzzle into his chest, listening to his wild heartbeat as maggie laughs, "oh, rich. we're just teasing you because we love you."

you nod and giggle as he sticks his tongue out at her. his grandma speaks up, "how did you two kids meet?"

she sounds almost angry, and you're not sure why, so you laugh a little into your sleeve as richie leans up a bit as if preparing for a bullshit speech.

"well y/n was friends with bill first, you know. bill, mike, and her had a class together, and i always heard about y/n this, oh y/n that." richie starts. you smile as you watch him talk, recognizing that it really is the way you met. you'd figured he would just make something up.

"-but anyways, this one time, she came into the dorm because she thought bill would be there. it was just me, though. i was working on some homework or something, and she-she just looked amazing. seriously, i sounded like bill when i introduced myself because i stuttered so much." maggie shakes her head at that, but richie plows through, "and god, ma, she's so smart, she was so sweet i swear i almost got cavities just from talkin' to her for ten minutes. i have never been more star struck in my life, dad. i swear." he says, shaking his head. "later, after y/n left, bill told me he did it intentionally. the little wingman he is, tried to get us to hang out because he knew i'd fall head over heels in love. who couldn't?" he ends, smiling gently at you and brushing his hand on your cheek.

oh.

you feel yourself flush and then you smile at the carpet, your hand rising to grab richie's and lace them together.  you didn't know how damn thick tozier could lay it on - boy did he know how to woo a girl. even if it's all fake.

"meant to be, huh?" wentworth says, and you look from him to richie's grandma, then to richie. "guess so." you say quietly, leaning up to quickly peck richie's cheek and then telling yourself it's just for show in front of his family. it isn't.

it was only 15 minutes later that richie decided it was time to retire to the bed, insisting you come with him - but you know it’s because he’s getting very embarrassed. it was cute to see him flustered for a change. 

"goodnight!" you call, waving to maggie and went as they raise their glasses at the two of you, maggie with a knowing glint in her eye.

you both walk in content silence until you get into your bedroom. 

the music still plays downstairs, a melody of piano and guitar and maybe a quartet wafting up through the vents and creating an eerily romantic ambiance. slowly and wordlessly, richie puts his hands on your waist and hums nonsense as he sways the two of you.

without thinking, you melt into his touch and smile.

you wind your arms around his neck as you move with him, his meaningless humming setting your heart into overdrive - or, perhaps, it's because of the proximity to the boy in front of you.

"rich, nobody's here to see us." it's whispered, because you really don't want to pull away or to have him realize that this isn't what friends do, because you like it. a lot. 

"i know." he says it so softly, you barely hear it. but it's there, the words are out in the open, and you like the way they fall over the air in the room like they're meant to be there. the soft light of the single lamp, the ugly floral wallpaper, the smell of richie.

"isn't it nice, though?" he adds, almost like an afterthought. you grin down at the carpet below you, your eyes taking in his striped socks, his feet absolutely dwarfing yours as you move back and forth gently.

"yeah, it really is." you whisper back, lifting your head up to watch his owl-eyes as they stare back at you, his chewed lips parted as small puffs of breath fall out, his nose splattered with freckles that you can make out from the proximity. he smells like chocolate and that damn mint smell again

"richie..." you start, your eyes trained on his lips as you slowly feel yourself leaning closer to him. he looks frozen, his eyes now changing from wide to almost hooded as he stares down at you. 

you wonder if he's afraid to move, because he's stopped swaying you and now his thumbs are rubbing circles into your side, slipping under your top and yeah, that's definitely new but it's amazing and you wonder if it's such a bad thing for you to want all this stuff with richie.

and to want more.

"yeah babe?" he asks and your brain marvels at how natural and unceremoniously the pet word falls from his lips, as if that really was your name.

but then - be it fear, shame, or anxiety - you mumble out the words, shaking your head. "did bill really try to set us up? l-like, was that all true?" you say with an awkward smile. you just clear your throat, eyes not focusing on richie as if you're looking for something, anything to occupy your mind because you can physically feel the tension and it's suffocating you.

"yeah." he says simply after a couple moments, arms still wrapped around you. you're now too nervous to look at him because he'll see how pleased you are, how happy it makes you that people want you and richie to be together. "all of it was real." he says and his voice sounds so honest, so genuine and so raw that you smile bashfully, looking at him shyly.

"oh, cool." you mutter quietly, fingers playing with the fabric on his chest. he chuckles and his chest shakes with the noise as he pulls you even closer to him. his fingers rise softly to cup your chin and he tilts your head so you're looking in to each other's eyes.

richie is staring at you with a sincerity that you swear you've never seen before; his gaze on yours makes you hear a soft guitar melody, makes you feel weightless and completely full at the same time, makes you taste adventure and strawberries. 

his lips are parting and if he were to speak to you right now, you're completely confident that you would not comprehend a single one of his words because you're too caught up in him. he's making you see pale pinks and blues and lilac and you swear you want to stay the subject of his gaze forever and ever, just you and him and the world outside this room. 

"cool, hm? cool is all i get, baby?" he asks softly, and the only reason you hear it at all is because you feel his breath on your lips and even though you said 'no kissing,' that was a lie - you think you might want to feel his lips on yours forever. your eyes fall shut as you grip his shirt collar, smelling his stupid strawberry 3-in-1 wash as you lean in closer.

and his lips brush yours so faintly that you swear it's like a kiss from a fairy; there and gone so quickly you aren't sure if it ever happened in the first place-

"-jesus, munch!" richie suddenly yelps, scaring you and himself as he jumps slightly, leaning away from you.

you look down, eyes opening to see richie's sleepy sister staring up at you two with wide eyes, her hand clutching richie's leg. "why are you up, kid?" he asks softly, kneeling to her height, hands leaving you. your heart pounds wildly in your chest and you try to catch your breathing, your fingers brushing your lips as you watch richie. did that just happen?

munch whispers into richie's ear, looking to the floor afterwards and you smile, loving how different the siblings are in personality and how sweetly richie treats her. 

richie looks to you with a bashful grin of his own, his cheeks glowing pink and making your heart flutter because at least he felt slightly the same way you felt right now.

"munch wants you to read her a story." he says, shrugging lightly, "you don't have to if you don't want to." he adds, his hand rubbing her head as she hugs his leg. you smile, "n-no, i'd love to."

richie rubs munch's cheek, "lead the way, kiddo." richie loops his arm around your waist softly as you follow her to her room, and you are pretty damn sure it's not just for show.

it took about ten minutes for her to fall back asleep, nestled in a mound of stuffed animals, blankets, and an old shirt of richie's that he'd left behind when he went to school. 

your own eyes droop as you lean your head onto richie's shoulder from where the two of you rest against the wall, stretched on the edge of her bed, and the last thing you remember is smiling at munch's sleeping figure before it's all blank.

you wake up again with a start as you hear a thudding noise - your eyes are bleary and dry, your back and neck kinked in the worst way and you groan a bit as you stir and lift your head. you look around and richie is standing in front of you, arm outstretched. wordlessly, you grab his hand and pull yourself to your wobbly legs as you look at his sister's sleeping body.

you're so exhausted and thrown off that you just follow richie wordlessly into your room and pull off your jeans, putting on shorts before flopping onto the bed next to richie in the dark. 

"g'night." he mumbles sleepily as he wraps a heavy arm around your waist, pulling you closer so he can reach over you to put his glasses on the nightstand. he falls back onto the pillow with a tired huff and you're already half asleep but you can't help your heart from picking up speed as a pair of lips press softly to your hairline.

you fall asleep this time feeling warm and comfortable, the feeling of his lips burning on your forehead sweetly. 

x

when you wake the next day richie’s already gone, the space next to you cold and empty.

 after getting ready, you pad down to the main floor to find everyone outside, munch and richie splashing around in the pool in the backyard. you're excited to see they've set up a lunch outside in the shade under the tree and you decide to go put on your swimsuit just as richie walks in.

"mornin' sugar." he grins, walking over to the kitchen sink. you snort, looking at the clock on the oven: 11:18.

"hey, sorry i slept so late." you mumble, your stomach filling with butterflies as he smiles genuinely at you. your eyes trail over his bare chest, dripping with water droplets as he breathes slowly. your mind flashes back to last night, and you shake your head, jabbing your thumb behind you. "um, i should go put on my suit." you feel awkward. 

he hums, pushing off the counter, "i'll walk with you."

you frown as he does, nervous about being alone with him again. you're being a fucking dumbass, sure, but he makes you nervous in the most delicious way and you can't help but picture his lips fully on yours. it's a terrifying thought, honestly.

"my grandma is being weird today, i think she's onto it because she said we were just really good frien-" richie mutters as you walk the hall and you cut him off, frustrated with his paranoia for no reason.

"rich, why does it even matter if she suspects us? it's not like she knows for sure." you try to reason, your hands falling on to his arms to halt his stride.

he’d just mentioned his grandma’s offhand comment about how close of friends you seem to be. maybe it was nothing, or maybe she didn't believe you. why did it even matter?

he shakes his head, eyes wide. "because that's fucking embarrassing for me! i have feelings, you know." he defends.  

you roll your eyes - you knew damn well richie had feelings. this was getting to be so stupid, this whole thing was pointless - because you know that you've just fallen in love with richie for real and made things ten times harder for the two of you.

"of course you do, rich, but we-"

the noise of footfall in the hallway to your left sends you both into a panic for no entirely good reason, so you tug him closer towards you with wide eyes. his hands catch himself on the wall on either side of you, his breath fanning on your face.

why are you so panicky and jumpy? "did they hear us?" richie whispers frantically, head turning to look and see who was coming towards you.

so instead of responding, for some reason your brain insists you act like a fool and draw his lips to yours. your hands cup his jaw as you press your lips to his, the feeling sending your stomach through loops and your brain fuzzy.

holy shit, this was exactly what you told yourself not to do. shit.

just as you pull back slightly, intending only for the kiss to be a chaste peck, richie's hands are on your body and he's pressing you against the wall, deepening the kiss as he tilts your head to deepen it. 

you're caught off guard, eyes wide as you throw your hands around his neck, kissing him fervently. your eyes close and his tongue prods your lip, taking your fucking breath away.

he tastes like sugary lemonade and you think you're melting, spiraling and falling deeper as you open your mouth. you almost moan out at the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, sliding your tongue against him just as a throat clears.  

you both pull back, alarmed even though you knew this was going to happen - but you're more alarmed at what the fuck richie just did than at his grandma staring at you. 

yeah, his grandma catching you kissing was sort of a huge victory in the 'selling the fake relationship' department, but it’s also a huge bummer for your 'pride and self-confidence' department.

“shouldn't you two be outside?” she says, a small smile on her lips. you let out a quick breath, unable to fucking speak after what just happened. you faintly think you can hear richie saying something to her and then she’s shaking her head with a smile and walking towards the backyard. you blink,  your fingers still hovering over your tingling lips. then, you snap out of it and turn to richie.  as you shove him up the stairs, you yelp, "if you ever kiss me like that again-"

"oh, shut up, you liked it!" he fights back as he turns toward the room you're sharing and lifts a brow, "you opened your mouth for tongue-" he starts but you screech, rushing through the doorframe and shutting the door a little to loudly, "i did not!" you hiss, shoving his shoulders and hiding your smile.  

he stares at you, a grin on his face and eyes teasing. "-then why'd you lick mine when i stuck it in your mouth?" he’s shrugging. you want to punch him in embarrassment because holy shit, is this not a big deal to him?

your eyes widen and you scrunch your face, "god, you're disgusting, just-" you sigh, shaking your head.

your heart is thumping wildly in your chest and you have to physically hold your hands down by your sides so you don't reach up and tug at the stray curl on richie's forehead.

"doll, all i'm sayin' is that was a good practice kiss." he shrugs again.

right. it was for practice.

he speaks up again and you swear he’s giving you a headache. "hey, i mean...since we're here, should we practice sleeping together too?" you turn bright at his words. "richard!" he giggles as you slap his shoulders and he mutters, "-yeah, no, i was kidding, sugar. damn, baby." he mutters, shaking his head with a grin so bright you can't help but share it. “i mean, technically we already did, last night and the night before. but that’s not the kind of sleepin’ i was talking about-“

you cut him off with a stern look and an elbow to the gut and he has the audacity to fucking giggle. 

your stomach tosses and flips itself sick inside of you at the sound and you sigh, giving him a look as he grins. you hope he doesn't notice the absolute heart-eyes you have for him at every given moment.

"cross my heart, sugar. totally kidding." he says, eyes closing as his fingers lazily trace an 'x' over his chest. "i'll wait out here for ya, toots." he says as he walks out of the room, leaving you to change into your suit quickly.

when you open the door back up for him, he whistles. "damn, y/n/n, you look fuckin' sexy."

you stare at him with a blank expression. "richie i'm wearing the same clothes as earlier." you deadpan, gesturing to yourself, having put your clothes back on top of your suit. he grins cheekily as he walks down the stairs, flashing you a wink, "i know that."

he rocks back on his heels. 

"so what can i do to show my love for you since i can't kiss you?" he asks, smirking. you roll your eyes, "shut up, richie. we're by ourselves right now, you don't have to do anything." you insist, pulling your hair back from your face. he sighs, groaning as if in pain. "but what if i just want to?"

you freeze, looking to him with wide eyes as your stomach drops. "do you really just want to?" you ask, mostly joking as your heart beat picks up. he takes a few steps towards you, shirt now on as his curls drip slightly. you watch a drop roll down his jaw and you swallow.

"yeah, i really do." he says simply, shrugging. "i’ve realized that i really do want to do all the boyfriend stuff for you."

you let out a shaky laugh, a smile falling onto your face as you raise your eyebrows. "for show?" you ask, and he shakes his head with a small laugh. "no." he says and you stare at him, unmoving. 

"so you’re gonna make me say it, huh?" he says with a smile that gives you full-blown butterflies as he pulls you to him. you smile back at him, heart melting into mush at the thought of richie being your real boyfriend.

"i think you should, just to be safe." you say with a grin. he smiles brightly, hand coming up to your cheek. his thumb rubs over your face.

"i love you, y/n." he says softly, looking into your eyes. "i want to be your boyfriend, and i want you to be my girl and i want to do stupid shit with you and have tea parties with munch, and for you to listen to my parent's embarrass me, and to spend all my time with you. i want all the boyfriend stuff, y/n."

you shake your head, "we already do that, rich. i've been yours this whole time." his cheeks turn pink and you love the way he looks so you add, "i love you too, richie. i really do. please be my boyfriend."

he kisses you, then.

it's soft, his lips like rose petals and his kiss like honey and it's quite different from your other kiss - both incredible, but this one with much more intention and love. it melts you completely as richie pulls you closer to him, his lips parting from yours slowly, a smile falling onto his face.

"what do you say then, want to go for a swim?" he asks softly, sending you a smile that is blushy and beautiful. you smile, pecking his lips. "sure, rich."

"c'mon, girlfriend." he says happily, tugging you down the stairs and making you grin stupidly, knowing this time for sure that it's not just for show.

//tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @toziershmozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby​ @daughter-of-the-stars11  @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman​ @diorbubs @kait-tozier​ @upamongthestarss​ @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @baby-yoda-a \\

[anisaanisa]

Hi, how are you handling nano? I am trying, but its been hard to stay motivated with work and school. thank you!

Hello, NaNoWriMo buddy! 🖋

I'm no longer in school, but I do have a day job, so I have some semblance of knowing how you're feeling right now. I can't speak for the time you don't have free to yourself, but for the time that you do, I have actually figured out what works for me when it comes to Nano.

For Nano, the aim of the game is word count, not poetry.

Some parts I've written so far are good as gold, others, not so much. The idea here is to write the thing first, worry about if it's good after. And it's been going okay, though I will admit I have oopsed into editing on more than one occasion. But that's okay! Cause we're learning here.

A few things I've done to stay on track:

Prep - I did write a chonky outline for Counterfeit in preparation for Nano, knowing that speed was the key. Things have changed throughout, because sometimes characters just want to do their own thing, but that's kinda cool! We're still aiming for word count overall.

Practice - Leading up to Nano, I got a lot of words in. Writing was increasing steadily over a couple months leading up to it, so I had already started the process of increasing daily totals. As is the case with all artforms, practice makes progress. I can't lend you my time machine, but there's nothing to stop you starting now, and planning your own Nano for a few month's time.

Discipline - This can come in any form, but for me it's writing without stopping to fix mistakes. I am terrible for wanting to go back and edit, so sprinting, dutifully ignoring previous words and barreling through it (even if what I'm writing is objectively bad) is a huge part of how I've stayed on track. We're still aiming for word count, not poetry.

Friends - Having a group of people to write with and cheer you on can really get a gal going. When there's a common goal you're all trying to reach, there's camaraderie in that. I've got a few sweet beans that will sprint with me, listen to me ramble, but especially, talk me through it when I'm not feeling at my best, and I love them all for it.

Support - Something that isn't mentioned that often when it comes to writing motivation is having those around you in your real life be supportive of what it is you're trying to do. I'm fortunate that my husband knows the score, cheers me on even though he has no idea what's happening, and doesn't take offence when I shush him if I'm right in the middle of pounding some words out. Otherwise, things might not have gone so smoothly. Surround yourself in understanding.

Back-up Writing - Sometimes I just cannot get into the headspace for my fic of choice for Nano, so I have no qualms taking some time away from it and writing something else. Nano burnout is real, and having other outlets to pour some creativity into is so, so important for me, otherwise I may have already thrown my toys out the pram.

No Guilt, No Shame - If you need to take a day or ten off, don't feel guilty about that. There are a few days this month I didn't write, and that's okay. I didn't want to, so I didn't, and I'll forgive myself for that readily, because there's nothing to apologise for. Sometimes life gets in the way. Sometimes you have other things you'd like to do. Sometimes you're just not feeling it. The only person you have to answer to is you, so cut yourself some slack.

Each of these points I hit on are just as important as the last, and I wouldn't have gotten this far if a single one of them weren't there:

Don't let the total fool you: these words aren't all for the same fic. I have a seperate project open to count all the words for the month of November, because seeing that I've nearly hit 50K across the board is partly what's driving me to the finish line for my main project. 15K of these words are for another fic I wrote on a whim. 4K of these words are a fic I wrote that is pure self-indulgence that I will never share. 6K of these words were written in one day.

That being said, don't let others progress become a reflection upon your own. Someone might look at how I've split these up and would never dream of straying from the path for their Nano experience. But that doesn't matter, you are the only one that can write like you.

My DMs are always open if you want to talk it out. Thank you for the ask! I'm sorry it was so long-winded, but I hope this helped, even a little 💓💓💓

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 10: Stay, I Need To Be Myself]

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fluffy times while they lasted. 😉

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Where Were You When The Sky Opened Up” by The Dangerous Summer.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual references (not graphic), angstttttttttt.

Word Count: 6k. 

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​​​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​​​​​ @maggieroseevans​​​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​​​ @escabell​​​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​​​​ @queenlover05​​​​ @someforeigntragedy​​​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​​​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​​​​ @deacyblues​​​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​​ @brianssixpence​​​​ @some-major-ishues​​​ @haileymorelikestupid​​​ @youngpastafanmug​​​ @simonedk​

Uninvited

“Hey, it’s our song!” Joe turned up the radio as he steered his Subaru down the Lees’ cobblestone driveway and into a parking spot facing the woods. We’d been back from Chicago for a full week now, and—with the notable exceptions of classes and the early morning hours when Joe soundlessly crept out of my bedroom window—were very rarely apart.

“And I would do anything for love

I’d run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I’d never lie to you and that's a fact.”

“Uh, this is not our song,” I objected, the soles of my shoes propped against the dashboard. “I was not consulted. A couple’s official song cannot be a unilateral decision.”

“But I'll never forget the way you feel right now

Oh no, no way

And I would do anything for love

Oh I would do anything for love

I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that

No, I won’t do that.”

“Oh okay, what are you, the relationship police? Alright, Chief Baby Swan, let’s hear your brilliant suggestion. Wait, let me guess. Something by The Killers. Vampire Weekend. My Bloody Valentine. Is there a band called Chipotle Veggie Bowl?”

“Never Gonna Give You Up?” I suggested.

He laughed, dragging me over the center console and into his lap. “Oh, you are the worst!”

I straddled him in the driver’s seat, cupped his face in my palms, giggled as I touched my lips to his, soft and cool and lithe and inviting. When I broke the kiss, Joe pulled me back in, knotting his fingers through my hair. The way my thighs fit perfectly around him; that sharp, instinctual, now so familiar ache of longing. “I want you,” I breathed.

He pretended to be scandalized. “Right now? At this exact moment? In my parents’ driveway?”

“Yeah,” I confessed.

He grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Okay.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. I’ve lost all sense of decency. I’m an animal. You’ve absolutely ruined me.” His hands travelled beneath my U Chicago sweatshirt and tore it over my head. Yes, he had converted me to Chicago apparel. It was very embarrassing. Let’s move on.

“I’m sorry,” I moaned softly. I lied. I wasn’t sorry at all.  

“I think we might need to get our own place.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the way you ruin me. And I want you to do it...” He went on, kissing me after each word: “All. The. Fucking. Time.”

I yanked off his Cubs t-shirt in one vicious tug. “We’re okay out here?” I didn’t really care; I should have, I was aware of that. But I didn’t. The Lees, most likely, would not call my dad to report us for public indecency. I could imagine Scarlett’s voice in my head, warm with approval: Get it, girl.

“Totally. And we’re far enough away from the house, Rami shouldn’t be able to hear us.” Joe nipped lightly down the side of my neck: carefully, always so carefully.

“He’d only get your side of things anyway.”

“Well yeah, that’s what I’m worried about! Your thoughts wouldn’t be so intrusive. I don’t care if he knows I’m a fantastic lay.”

“Oh, are you?” I teased, grinding my hips against him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Joe smiled as he unbuttoned my jeans, deliciously slowly. “Well let me...just...refresh your...memory...”

I kissed him, roughly and deeply, arching into him, biting his lower lip. Yes, yes, yes...

Joe pulled away, still smiling but blinking and dazed. “Wow, all the sudden I feel...like...really calm.”

“Thanks...?” A week of almost constant sex might do that to a person. Sure, maybe, what did I know? My lips found his again. My hand skated down his bare stomach and into the waistband of his boxers. Joe began to help me peel off my jeans; then he stopped.

“Wait wait wait, I know this feeling.” Joe lifted me off of him and pushed me back into the passenger’s seat, gently but stubbornly. I tried not to be offended.

“What—?”

“Shhh.” He grabbed the headrest of my seat and twisted around to peer out of the rear windshield. I followed his gaze. There was a new car in the driveway, parked up by the front porch: an anonymous black Honda Civic. The plate said California. It was probably a rental. “Oh fuck,” Joe whispered. His eyes were enormous, glassy, horrified.

“What is it?”

“Stay here.” He threw on his Cubs t-shirt, zipped his pants, fastened his belt. “Stay down, stay quiet. And no matter what happens do not get out of this car, do you understand me?”

“Joe, why—?”

“Do you understand me?” His voice was low but severe, so incredibly unlike him; his dark eyes were flinty. Just like that night with the apples in Mercy’s kitchen, that night when Ben almost...

“I understand,” I heard myself reply.  

“Good.” Joe climbed out of the Subaru—smoothing his shirt and then his tousled hair—and rushed over to intercept the unsolicited guest. I peeked around my headrest to watch, my right palm braced against the center console, that feverish lust that had been rushing through my bloodstream gradually weakening, perishing, vanishing like seawater baked from the sand under a rising sun.  

The stranger stepped out of the Honda Civic, and although I knew his face, it took me a moment to place him. It was like—I could only imagine, having never been myself—a child stumbling into their movie heroines and beloved stuffed animals come to life during their first trip to Disneyland, amazed and yet somehow gut-twistingly uneasy as they gawked up at that grotesquely inflated cartoon face, that mask of lipstick and rouge that didn’t quite match their recollections, that dreamlike mirage plucked from pages or screens and impelled into a physical form that suddenly swallowed up space and gravity and oxygen. I had seen this stranger before in the massive painting that adorned Gwilym Lee’s upstairs office.

Cato.

He was very tall and very beautiful, classically beautiful, Ben-level beautiful. Joe often jokingly referred to him as Idris Elba within the Lee household, and a mid-thirties version of Idris Elba was just about right. He wore an immaculately tailored grey suit and aviator sunglasses, which he removed to greet Joe, folding and then sliding them smoothly into the front pocket of his suit jacket. His face was solemn and observant; he had a closely-trimmed beard without a fleck of silver. He extended a hand, which Joe shook.

“Hey, Cato!” I heard Joe say, muffled through the walls of the Subaru. I couldn’t make out Cato’s replies; his voice sounded deep, rumbling, extremely level. “So nice of you to stop by! I didn’t know you were in town. Yeah, everyone’s doing great. Even Ben. Hahaha, yeah, you know how he is. You know exactly how he is. But it’s all good. Well look, I’m just gonna go run a friend home and then I’ll be back in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes and we can all chat. Okay? Awesome. Feel free to head inside, I’m sure Mercy would be thrilled to play hostess. There’s sweet tea in the fridge and a hummingbird cake on the counter and...oh, something else too...some weird type of cookies she baked this morning. Help yourself. I’ll be back before you can say ‘tyrannical vampire murder cult.’”

“Tyrannical vampire murder cult,” it looked like Cato replied without a hint of a smile. But he wasn’t paying attention to Joe anymore. His eyes had found the Subaru, and then me; he was staring with that intense, seeking bewilderment that reminded me of Rami and Lucy and Ben when I’d first met them, when they were still trying to puzzle out why my mind (and my mind alone) was a night-draped, silent ocean of the unknown.

He's trying to read me, I realized. He’s trying to read me and he can’t.

Joe was jogging back to the Subaru now. At last, Cato turned away from me and headed into the house. The carved pumpkins from Weber’s Farm still lined the front porch: Scarlett’s Thunderbird, Archer’s Vantage, Rami’s swooping bat, Lucy’s moon and stars, Joe’s moustached jack-o-lantern, my (but actually Gwil’s) snapshot under the sea, Ben’s miniature Lee residence complete with the winding cobblestone driveway. Joe swept into the driver’s seat, adjusted his rearview mirror, and spun out of the parking spot.

“Goddammit,” he hissed as we barreled down the driveway.

“Why is Cato here?”

“I have no idea.” Joe looked straight ahead as he drove, preoccupied, consumed with possibilities. His fingers drummed the steering wheel. “We have to pay dues to them, all the covens do. Gwil cuts a check. But that’s not until around the New Year. That’s almost always when Cato stops by. Collects the payment, interrogates us in a way that masquerades as conversation, hangs around town for a few days, reports back whatever we’re up to...which usually isn’t much. Holidays with the extended family, gotta love it. I don’t know why he would be here now.” Joe shook his head. “Maybe something to do with Ben. It would have to be Ben. There’s no other reason.”

“And you don’t want him to know about me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But...Cato isn’t all that dangerous,” I said, not understanding. “Is he?”

“Not alone, no. But the people he works for are.” Joe sighed, glancing over at me as he drove, serious and sorry and sad. “There’s a lot of violence in my world. A lot of darkness. I’ve tried to protect you from that as much as possible. And maybe I’ve done too good a job, maybe it’s too easy for you to forget what we really are. Most vampires aren’t like Gwil’s coven. They’re not like me. They kill easily and unrepentantly. And I don’t want any of them knowing that you exist, that you’re a weakness of ours. I want them to know as little about you as physically possible.”

“A weakness,” I repeated. I didn’t like that.

He smiled faintly. “It’s a compliment to be somebody’s weakness, Baby Swan.”

“I guess so.” The towering pine trees whipped by in a verdant blur. The sky above was thick and grey and churning. “You’ll be okay, right? Ben will be okay?”

Joe seemed to find that amusing, ridiculous even. “You don’t need to worry about us.”

“But I still do.”

“We’ll work it out, whatever it is. Cato is a reasonable guy. And Ben is definitely capable of...well. Advocating for himself.”

Capable of unparalleled carnage, he means. The memory of the first day I’d met Ben hit me like a hurled stone, illuminated my mind like a pulsing neon sign: the coiled tension in his muscles, that mindless, animalistic hatred in his eyes. Yes, he must be quite the monster when he wants to be. But he didn’t want to be anymore. I knew that completely, unquestioningly.

Joe pulled into Charlie’s driveway. The police car was gone; my 1999 Honda Accord and Charlie’s Toyota Corolla rested idly side by side. My dad would be working late tonight, until eight or nine at least. A pang of loneliness struck in my gut, just beneath the ribs; I had grown so accustomed to the absence of solitude, of quiet. The silence suddenly felt so loud.

“Don’t let it ruin your night,” Joe said as I got out of the Subaru. His words were affectionate; but his voice was still distracted, distant. “Don’t let it bother you. Everything will be fine, I promise. And as soon as Cato’s gone, everything will go back to the way it should be.”

“Okay,” I replied, not feeling very comforted at all. I don’t like the way he pushed me off him when he saw the car. The way he’s barely looked at me since. The way he called me a weakness.

Joe was already checking his mirrors, preparing to leave.

“Hey. Mob guy.” I leaned into the rolled-down window. ���I love you.”

And the grin lit up Joe’s face like the sun. He crawled across the passenger’s seat, drew me into him by the collar of my brand new U Chicago hoodie, kissed me until that wild, interrupted desire was flaring up again in my arteries and nerve endings and everywhere else. The thunderous clouds in my skull split open. Everything’s still okay. It really is. “I love you to death. And then back again.” He retreated and shifted the Subaru into reverse. “I’ll see you soon. But maybe not too soon, I might be tied up with this family thing for a while. Don’t wait up tonight.”

“No problem. I’ll just call one of my other monster boyfriends to keep me company. The werewolf should be free. It’s not a full moon, is it?”

“No bestiality,” Joe retorted sternly. “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

I smiled and waved as the Subaru swerved out of the driveway and disappeared. Everything’s okay, I told myself, standing in the front yard under darkening skies. Everything will be okay.

And I kept telling myself that, again and again like Hail Marys, until I was dozing off in my bed alone six hours later.

Hit It And Quit It

I dreamed of the beach at La Push—my toes wriggling beneath the cold sand, the ricocheting cries of seagulls, the primordial growl of the frothing waves—and woke up with the ghost of saltwater in my sinuses. I grabbed my iPhone off the nightstand. Two new texts: one from Archer—Hey would it be distasteful or hilarious to dress up as Dracula for the Lee Halloween party? Asking for a friend.—and one from Jessica asking if she could copy my Marine Botany homework. Absolutely nothing from Joe.

When was the last time I didn’t have a text from Joe waiting for me in the morning? I struggled to remember, my mind still foggy with snippets of dreams. A week? Two weeks? A month? It felt like forever.

I tapped out a text to Joe with my clumsy, just-waking-up thumbs: I am resolved. No more nights with my werewolf boyfriend. Dude scratched the hell out of me and then barked at the mailman. Had to drop him off at the SPCA for neutering. See you soon! xxxx

I tried not to obsessively check my phone as I showered, got dressed, gathered my textbooks and notepads and pens. And yet still, I noticed: Joe didn’t text me back.

The rain poured from a grey sky all through my drive to Calawah University, Marine Botany class with Jessica, our frantic dash across campus beneath her hot pink umbrella to Forks And Spoons. My human friends had custody of me during lunchtime today. Angela was studying for a Computer Science quiz, Eric working on an article for the Calawah Chatterbox, Mike histrionically lamenting a sprained ankle coming just on the cusp of basketball season. Jessica bought me a chocolate chip muffin as thanks for texting her a picture of our Marine Botany homework this morning. Ah, the sweet taste of academic dishonesty.

I was relieved—more than I would have liked to admit—that all five Lees were at their usual lunch table, looking worn and tired but normal enough. Ben was hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and his black U Chicago hoodie that Joe and I had bought for him last weekend, sipping steaming tea out of a mug that he gripped with both hands. Scarlett flipped moodily through an astrophysics textbook. Rami repeatedly tapped the tabletop with a pen while Lucy knitted a lavender sweater, never raising her eyes from the jumble of yarn in her lap. They all murmured to each other in low, furtive voices, their mouths barely moving. Joe gave me a wave and a drawn smile; but only after I waved first.

Angela was now scolding Jessica for her lack of moral integrity.

Jess rolled her eyes, gnawing on a chicken finger that was burned black around the edges. “I’m here ostensibly to become an anthropologist and in actuality to find a hot rich husband, not to learn how to identify like sixty different types of algae.”

“Then why even take Marine Botany?” Angela asked, confounded.

“Calawah University forces every student to take at least two science classes, even if you’re a humanities major. Because they’re fucking fascists.”

“Oh, fascists, a big word for you!” I congratulated Jessica, patting her shoulder before returning my attention to my homemade veggie quesadilla and leftover slice of Mercy’s hummingbird cake. I was getting so good at this eating respectable meals thing. Joe would be proud.

Angela chuckled. “How’s that finding a husband thing going, by the way?”

“Awfully,” Jessica sighed. “I had this really promising flirtationship going with a frat boy in my Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin, gorgeous blue eyes, blond man bun, his dad is a partner at a corporate law firm in Los Angeles. That’s the stuff dreams are made of. But I’m pretty sure he dropped out because I haven’t seen him in a few days. Also he would bring Absolut vodka to class in an Aquafina bottle.”

“You can probably do better,” I said.

“Well we can’t all end up with Lee boys, now can we?” Jess snapped irritably.

When it was time to depart for our afternoon classes, I met Joe in the doorway of Forks And Spoons, linked my fingers around the back of his neck, tugged at his dark, auburn-tinted hair.

“You okay, mob guy? You seem a little...” Exhausted? Edgy? Sad? “...Distracted.”

“I’m good. I’m great.” He kissed me briefly, fleetingly. No big deal; after all, we were in public. Right? “Are you cool to hang out later?”

“Absolutely. Can we go to La Push if it stops raining? I know it’ll be cold, but I woke up with the beach on my mind and haven’t been able get it out all day.”

“You got it. Can I meet you there? I have to take care of a few things first. Have to, uh, hunt.”

I stared up at him, feeling my stomach drop, feeling rapidly and jarringly off-kilter. Joe rarely mentioned hunting around me...not in a serious way, at least. It was one of those things that knocked me out of the fantasy of how compatible we were, how possible. It was a reminder of all those interminable differences that lived in the hushed space between us. “Okay.”

“I’ll...I’ll explain everything then. At La Push.”

“Okay,” I said again, very uncleverly. What’s going on here? What exactly did Cato say?

Joe smirked; finally a flash of playfulness, that contagious light he was built of. He smoothed my hair with one feather-light stroke of his hand, touched his lips to my forehead. “Don’t be late to Chemistry. I can’t have you failing out.”

“Of course not. How would I be able to get my Marine Biology PhD from U Chicago?”

But Joe didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile; he just left.

Ben was hunched over our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom, his arms encircling his notebook, the pen in his hand scribbling frenziedly. The window was wide open; the rain outside had weakened to a docile drizzle. He was still wearing his sunglasses. He didn’t acknowledge me at all.

“Rough night?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I definitely do not.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. Ben glanced up, his thick eyebrows raised; they peaked just above the rims of his opaque sunglasses. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

For a long time, Ben just looked at me; maybe wanting to say something, maybe just feeling that decorum necessitated it. “You shouldn’t be,” he replied at last. And he spent the rest of class paying no attention whatsoever to Professor Belvin’s lecture on the Pauli exclusion principle and instead scrawling untidy Welsh phrases into the formerly pristine pages of his notebook.

It was just after 5 p.m. when I arrived at La Push, the tires of my 1999 Honda Accord crunching over the gravel of the small parking area, the wind whipping ferociously. Joe had gotten there first; he was sitting on a rock down by the water with his back to me, peering out over the Pacific Ocean, tossing pebbles and shells into the waves. We had an hour of daylight left. The sky was obscure, grey, dim. Fine droplets of rain like mist sailed through the biting autumn air and clung to my skin.

When Joe spotted me, he leapt off the rock and watched me approach with his hands in the pockets of his North Face jacket. He wasn’t wearing anything Chicago-related today, which was highly unusual. I waited for him to touch me, to hold me, to tell me that everything was okay and always would be...at least for the next ten to fifteen years. He didn’t. “Hey,” he said instead.

“Hi.”

Joe nodded down the beach. “Let’s walk.”

I have never been especially good at mundane, monotonous rambling. That’s a Scorpio thing. And yet monotonous rambling is exactly what I did: I prattled on about my classes, Charlie’s bowling league, Renee’s new life in Florida with Paul, the ocean, the weather, anything to fill that space between us that all at once felt so enormously significant. I was vaguely aware that I was afraid to stop talking; I didn’t want Joe to have the chance to say whatever was on his mind.

Finally, Joe stopped walking. He took my hand, ran his thumb over the faint scar from when I accidentally cut myself in Mercy’s kitchen. His shoes sank into the wet sand, left imprints there like fingerprints. He turned to face me, pained, grave, and oh god, far worse: guilty.

“What?” I asked, terror swelling in my lungs, my bones, some inborn warning of impending ruin.

Joe gazed out over the crashing sea, then came back to me, like a dislocated joint popping back into place. “I am so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I...” He spoke slowly, haltingly. “I thought that this was something that was doable. But I was wrong.”

“What...?” And then a possibility occurred to me, a glorious possibility. Of course. A grin erupted across my face. “This is a joke, right? You’re joking, you’re always joking, this is just—”

He shook his head. He wasn’t joking. I wrenched my hand out of his and stared up at him in furious disbelief.

“It’s not fair to you,” Joe said. “This thing, being with someone like me. I can’t give you a future. I can’t give you an uncomplicated existence. I mean, come on, you have to worry about getting murdered around my own family—”

“Do you have fucking amnesia?” I demanded, incredulous. “Joe, we just talked about this. We just made plans to move to Chicago after graduation, we agreed that it was what we both wanted. I don’t want a normal human boyfriend. I don’t want normal human in-laws. I want you, Joe, and Ben, and Mercy and Gwil, and Rami and Lucy and Scarlett, I want the whole ridiculous Lee family package and there’s nothing you could say to make me decide that this isn’t worth it.”

“Look—”

“No, something happened, right? Something happened with Cato, or Ben, or someone, something happened and now you think that you have to do this but I’m telling you that whatever it is we can figure it out, we can figure it out together, isn’t that what you promised me?” He said he wouldn’t leave. He promised me he wouldn’t leave. All those things...all those things he said...

“Listen.” And now his eyes were stony. He didn’t call me Baby Swan. Oh, this is bad. This is so bad. “It’s not fair to me either.”

“And that’s what this is really about,” I realized. My voice was abruptly fierce, caustic. All those other women; those beautiful, graceful, immortal women. How did I ever think I could compare?

“It’s not personal.”

“It’s the most personal thing there is, Joe, it’s pasts and futures and love—”

“It’s not though.” He smiled, just barely. “Maybe we thought it was, but it’s not.”

It hit me like a brick, like a bullet; I couldn’t catch my breath. I was drowning in thin air, like a sawfish, like a shark. “Well I’m glad you figured that out on your own fucking schedule.”

“This was my fault,” he said. “All of it. And I am so profoundly sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, and I take full responsibility for it. I hope you’re able to move on knowing that there’s nothing you could have done differently. These are just the realities of my world. You’re better off in your own. And you’re going to make someone very happy someday.”

It's all so empty, so excruciatingly generic. “You’re a monster,” I seethed at him, tears stinging in my eyes.

“Yes,” Joe agreed softly.

“I hate you.” I wasn’t sure if I meant that, but I still said it. Maybe I could will it into being true, like how people find God after a particularly grim diagnosis; there’s no harm in trying to make it real. There’s nothing left to lose.

“That would be more than fair, given the circumstances,” he said. “I won’t bother you again. I’ll ask you to do the same for me.”

“Sure.” Tears were streaming down my cheeks now; my breaths were ragged, hitching. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him.

A shadow of concern crossed his face, the first one I had noticed since yesterday afternoon. “If you need someone to drive you home, I’d be happy to—”

“I’d literally rather die.” And I left Joseph Francis Mazzello standing on the beach with the twilight wind in his hair and the sun setting behind him like time slipping through an hourglass.

I fled to my Honda, turned the keys in the ignition, covered my face with my hands and wept in raw, heaving shudders as Hungry Like The Wolf played from the mixtape that Joe had left in my cassette player. I ejected the mixtape, rolled down my window, tossed it out onto the rain-slick gravel. I couldn’t stand the thought of going home. Charlie would be at work until late tonight; Joe would never set foot in the house again.

I have to go somewhere. I can’t just sit in that goddamn bedroom. I can’t be alone.

I wheeled my car onto the main road and drove until I came to an unceremonious mechanic’s garage with a fractured concrete floor and cracks like spider legs across the windows. When I stepped out of my Honda, Archer raced over to meet me, beaming and wiping his hands clean with an oil rag.

“Hey, you know you’re not allowed to come here unless you bring Taco Bell with you...” Then he saw me, he really saw me. “Whoa, what—?”

And Archer caught me as I collapsed into his arms, sobs ripping through my throat like fangs.

Benjamin, 24 Hours Earlier

It was bad. Whatever this was, it was bad.

I knew because Rami could read Cato, and I could read Rami; the hazy wisps of color that unfurled from him were a hectic, wrestling electric blue: distress, grief, anxiety, denial. Cato’s own aura had always been rather unforthcoming—he tended towards deep, mellow greens and purples of congruence and contemplation—and forever tinted with an opalescent quality that spread like wildfire to the people around him, the people who were under his influence, that intangible calming and harmonizing effect, that irrational sense of wellbeing. Everyone in the room had that faint opalescence shimmering around them now, even Rami, whose unspoken turmoil remained a roiling rather than a storm. And I thought—not for the first time—that if Larkin was a spade that hollowed you out, scraped along the jagged snags of your split bones to empty you of any ambitions and loyalties that had come before, then Cato was the anesthetic that made the mangling go down smoother, the promise that you would someday still catch glimpses of innocence. Larkin was a purger, a purifier; Cato made you believe again.

There were pitchers of sweet tea and a heaping tray of butter pecan cookies on the living room coffee table. Cato sat on the neat white sofa, one leg crossed over the other, stoic, waiting. Rami stared vacantly from the loveseat; Lucy was beside him, her delicate bare feet tucked beneath her and her fingers laced through Rami’s, her brow knit into grooves of worry. Scarlett was next to me on the largest couch, her boots propped up on the edge of the coffee table, her hair in a long French braid, periodically cracking her knuckles. It was nearly the only sound. Mercy bustled around the room gifting everyone tall chilled glasses of sweet tea; Gwil stood by the virtual fireplace on the big-screen tv, his hands in his pockets, his lips pressed into a rigid line.

The front door opened, and Joe stepped inside, his car keys rattling in his fist. For as long as I’d known him, his color had so often been a bright and buttery yellow, his aura more visible and constant than anyone else’s. Lately, he was increasingly cloaked in the rosy pinks of love or the vivid, shifting, crimson reds of lust; and Rami and I bonded over our shared efforts to politely ignore that particular variety of thoughts.

Joe pointed to Cato. “What’s going on?”  

“How long?” Cato asked him.

Joe feigned cluelessness. “Huh? What do you mean? Oh, car chick?! That’s nothing. She’s just a friend.”

Cato blinked. “Do you really think I just arrived in Forks today?”

It rolled through Joe like a wave: surrender, apprehension, dread. The realization that Cato had been watching us for days, weeks even, meticulously keeping just enough distance to stay out of Rami’s range of hearing. Joe’s now-opalescent aura dipped from cerise to an agitated mahogany. “Two months.”

“And she’s talented.” Cato’s voice was impatient, incredulous; How could you be this stupid? that voice said.

“No,” Joe flared, like shards of wood cracking in a fire. “No, she’s got nothing to do with you, with us. With our world. She’s got nothing to do with it.”

Cato circled the fingerprint of his index finger around the rim of his misted glass of sweet tea, meditative. “In one hundred and seventy years, I have never met someone who I couldn’t find if I wanted to. And yet the second I turned my back on that girl, she was gone. Vanished. The world was a blank map. How is that possible?”

No one said anything. Finally, Cato looked to Rami.

“You can’t hear her thoughts, can you?”

“No,” Rami admitted.

“And how many times has that happened in...how old are you now, the same as Ben? How many times in the past century have you met someone who made you feel normal, weak even? Who made you feel human again?”

“Never,” Rami conceded.

“You too, right?” Cato asked me. “You can’t see what she’s feeling. She’s nothing but white noise.”

I nodded reluctantly.

“She’s talented,” Cato said again, decisive.

“Oh god,” I choked out, burying my face in my hands. Now I knew what Rami had heard. I knew everything.

Joe shook his head almost violently. “No, that’s not fair. There’s no way of knowing if that would translate to life as a vampire or how it would manifest. There’s no way of knowing if she would survive the transition at all. And none of us are ever going to find out because she has nothing to do with our world.”

“She does,” Cato insisted. “Because you brought her into it.”

Scarlett shivered beside me, crossed her arms over her chest, clutched her leather jacket tighter. “You can’t be serious, Cato. You’re not a monster, you know she might not survive—”

“And that would stop Gwil. It would stop me, sure. When has it ever stopped Larkin?” Cato gestured to me. “With him? With me? With Akari or Araminta or Liesl or Rigel or all the ones who didn’t make it, who died screaming as they scorched from the inside out? It has never stopped him because he doesn’t care. He finds talented people. He covets them, covets them jealously, like jewels or money or lovers. And they either become one of his possessions or they become nothing at all.”

“No,” Joe whispered. “No, no, no...”

Rami was shrinking into the loveseat, overwhelmed by the emotions in the room that were dragging his aura into whirling greys, those desperate and dark thoughts; not even Cato could mute them entirely. Lucy tried to soothe him, laid the back of her fine-boned hand against his cheek. Mercy covered her gaping mouth. Gwil studied the floor, thunderstruck, absorbing it all.

“This is a courtesy that I’m doing you right now,” Cato told Joe, his large palms clasped together, his voice sorrowful and yet unyielding, almost pleading. “This is a warning. If he finds out about her, about what she can do...he’s going to want her. And he gets everything he wants.”

“He can’t find out,” Gwil said hoarsely.

“No,” I agreed. Death or a hundred-year sentence. Either way, a part of you dies. Either way, a part of you ends up in a box six feet underground and clawing for the sun.

“What can we do?” Scarlett asked Cato. “I mean...is there anything we can do?”

“You have to get rid of her. That’s her only chance. Get her out of your orbit, away from our world, away from where Larkin or anyone who serves him would ever cross her path. I won’t tell him about the girl. I’ll try to deflect his attention. If she’s already been spotted, I’ll tell him that she’s useless, just another one of Joe’s litany of casual liaisons. And that’s a risk I’ll take, I’ll do it out of respect for your coven, Dr. Lee, and for Ben. But there is absolutely nothing I can do for you if Larkin finds out for himself. I don’t think I’m the only one he has watching you.”

“Of course not,” I said bitterly. “I’m sure he has all sorts of eyes on me. The white whale. The one that got away.” This is my fault. It’s all my fucking fault.

“It’s not,” Rami murmured; and nobody else heard my side of it, but I think they understood.

Joe’s aura was now murky, sunless, almost black. It was a color I hadn’t thought he was capable of. His eyes were slick and bleary.

“Son?” Gwil prompted. Mercy was sobbing into a handkerchief patterned with roses. Mom, I ached instinctively, before pushing the thought away.

“I won’t do it,” Joe said. “You’re asking me to break her heart and I won’t do it.”

I begged: “Joe, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand what this will do to her, what it’s going to do to her for the weeks and months and years that come after, she might never forget—”

“Do you want her to end up dead or in a hundred-year contract?” Cato shot back. “Do you want to see how much of that girl you care about so much is left after a century with Larkin?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on me. I could feel them, full of pity and horror. I’m what’s left. Someone gutted of everything but rage and bloodlust.

“No, of course not,” Joe said. Thanks a lot, brother.

Cato smirked without any humor at all. He had known. “Then the choice is easy.”

“Son,” Gwil said again.

Joe gazed back at him with huge, agonized eyes. His words were brittle, raspy, hollow. “Dad, I love her.”

“I know,” Gwil replied. His aura was a blue like cobalt: profound sympathy, compassion, mourning. “And that’s why you’ll do the right thing.”

Twenty minutes later, I was puffing on my vape pen as I paced back and forth across the wrap-around porch like a caged bear, watching the sun disappear behind the western hemlock trees that raked the clouds. Gwil, Rami, Lucy, and Scarlett were with Joe; Mercy was trying to convince Cato to stay the night in one of the guest bedrooms. I could hear her ludicrously gracious protestations through the walls. “We know it’s not your fault, dear, this...this...situation. We know you’re just the messenger. And you’ve been so important to Ben all these years, so kind. It’s really no trouble at all...here, let me at least wrap up some cake for you to take...”

The front door opened and closed. Scarlett appeared beside me, resting her forearms on the porch railing. She sighed, closed her eyes, said nothing.

“This is going to destroy him,” I told her.

Scarlett nodded, her face bathed in silvery moonlight, marvelous and yet forlorn. The aura that surrounded her was a deep, despondent indigo. It matched the sky. “Yeah.”

“And to think...” I exhaled heavily, nicotine-tinged vapor vanishing into the damp night air. Rain was coming; I could feel it in my bones. “I was just beginning to like it here.”

[yuta-nakamots]

Groove - k.ji

Pairing - Idol!Jongin x Choreographer!Reader

Genre - Fluff

Warnings - None

Summary - You are a choreographer chosen to work with Jongin for his upcoming solo album. He’s an idol and you’re not, it’s as simple as that until you find yourselves dancing between the lines of business and something more intimate.

Word Count - 6k

A/N - This is the reworked version of ‘a dance to remember’ which I wrote when I was about 15 years old. That piece itself is based on a dream I had about EXO. This essentially is a fic written about a fic written about a dream so I’m sorry if it seems kinda disjointed.

When you were younger, you had discovered that you had an immense passion for dance and you had begged your parents to let you join the small dance studio near your school. Even if it was just an average dance school it wasn’t uncommon for the bigger entertainment companies to recruit backup dancers or choreographers from studios like yours, which is how you had met a handful of idols before. Each month, you had to go in and perform a short piece that you created in order to keep track of your progress. Normally, the room these progress videos were shot in are empty aside from you, the company director, and a couple of cameras set up to catch multiple angles.

However, this time around, there was a man standing next to your director. As you entered, you quickly greeted and bowed to your director and did the same to the guest. He was wearing a chocolate brown hoodie and light blue jeans along with a pair of rounded glasses and a face mask. He was quite tall and looked almost intimidating until you met his eyes that were warm and inviting but awfully familiar. Not wanting to be weird, you quickly turned around and made your way to the stereo equipment to plug in your phone and start the music. You finish your recording quickly and respectfully thank your director before leaving the studio to head home, your thoughts still preoccupied with the stranger who you were confident you had met somewhere before.

A week later, you received an email from the director: Good evening Y/n, From your video we recorded earlier this week, you’ve been recruited to work with EXO member Kai as a choreographer for his upcoming solo album. Congratulations on this achievement! We are looking forward to what you will create this time around. I will give you more details on this after your regularly scheduled class today.

The warm brown eyes that were all too familiar flashed inside your mind as you thought about all of his performances that you had watched before, wanting to learn from him and his style. The eyes of the stranger that had stood next to your director the day you recorded your video. No, it couldn’t have been him, you thought to yourself, there’s no way an idol would come to our dance studio. You shook your head to break yourself out of your imagination as you got ready to head over to the studio and teach your class.

You were going through your text message as you entered the room your class was in and walked right into your director. You immediately back up and profusely apologize, freezing once you recognize the person he was previously talking to. “Oh, y/n, this is Kai from EXO! I was just telling him how he should stay to watch you teach this class so he can get a taste of what your style is like.”

Kai looked from your director to you, offering you one of his signature smiles that have been known to melt hearts. “I’d love to” was all he had to say to make your stomach drop to the floor and your hands start sweating.

As you taught your class, you felt an intense stare on you the entire time, glancing over at Kai only a few times, finding him looking right back at you, causing you to suddenly jerk your head away only to hear Kai let out a quiet giggle from the corner he was sitting in. Eventually, you learn to ignore his presence and you continue teaching your class and wrapping up as you normally would. As your students begin filing out the door, Kai eagerly gets up and strides over to you. “Hey, y/n, I really liked the energy of that class and the genre of the piece you taught, I’m looking forward to working with you!” he said, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he smiled at you, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to get your number so we can talk more about the album” and he offered you his phone, already open to a blank contact page.

You quickly wipe your hands on your shirt before grabbing his phone, entering your number and handing it back to him with a shy “thank you, I look forward to working with you too”.

Later that night, you got a text from an unknown number.

Unknown > y/n 10:15pm: hi y/n, this is Jongin! ^^

You type a simple greeting back to him as you add him to your contact list and slip into bed. He immediately responds and starts asking questions about you, which you brushed off as him just being friendly. Your conversation continues for another half hour, consisting of mostly him asking about you and your interests accompanied by various cute emoticons until you finally grow tired of it.

y/n > EXO Kai 10:49pm: Why do you keep asking about me? What if I want to hear more about you?

EXO Kai > y/n 10:51pm: because I want to get to know you better （⌒_⌒）

10:51pm: I like to have a connection with the people I’m working with. even more so now, since this solo album is something new and special to me

10:52pm: besides, you can hear about me all the time from the fansites and media 

His response makes you pause and set your phone down for a bit as you realize that there’s more depth to Kai and his personality than you thought. Wow, not only is he an amazing performer, he has a kind heart and values his relationships, even if they’re only for work purposes. You were shocked, to say the least. From your experience working with idols, yes, you did get to know each other but they didn’t ask you about your hobbies or favorite foods like how Kai did. This just added to your list of reasons why this man is out of your league. No, he is not out of my league. We are not even in the same sport. He is an idol, he will not date you, stop it, you thought as you reprimanded yourself. However, you picked up your phone to message him back and continue your conversation, even though you dozed off not even five minutes later, failing to see the new texts you received from Kai.

EXO Kai > y/n 11:03pm: y/nnnnnn 

11:03pm: where did you gooooo >.<

11:04pm: ah, you must have fallen asleep

11:04pm: rest well y/n, goodnight (￣ε￣)

The rest of your week passes by uneventfully with you going to university and teaching your classes as usual. The only new addition to your schedule was a sort of ‘date’ with Kai on Thursday afternoon, your free day during the week, and also the day you were scheduled to meet with the other staff working on his album to get a sense of what kind of image they wanted. He had texted you asking if he could treat you to lunch at the SM Cafe after your meeting which you agreed to.

By the time Thursday comes around, you’re already feeling worn out from school, barely even able to put together an outfit and settling for a simple black t-shirt and jeans. You took the bus to the company building since you didn’t know where to park and you figured it would save gas anyways. The meeting was a nice refresher, as you were interested in the ideas the staff was putting out and you left the meeting feeling reenergized with tons of ideas flying through your head. You met Kai at the cafe as you had promised, finding him easily due to his large frame.  “You look nice, y/n” he commented, as you sat down opposite to him. You said a shy ‘thank you’ back while turning and looking out the window, hoping he didn’t notice the blush that had begun to show up on your cheeks. 

Lunch goes smoothly as he allows you to ask him questions this time around and he tells you about his hobby of playing with legos and putting elaborate things together to give to his nieces and nephews or how he has given up learning how to bake. You don’t miss the way his hands brush yours when you pass him a napkin after some of the coffee he was drinking spills out the side of this mouth or when both of you reach for your phone before it falls off the table. Maybe it’s because of all the times you’ve daydreamed about him after learning one of the dances he’s done, but to you, this ‘casual lunch’ is beginning to feel more and more like a date. Luckily, you two finish eating quickly and he asks if you’d be willing to show him some of the ideas you have so far. You eagerly told him yes along with a few details from the meeting and how you’re really excited to further refine them. 

Once both of you are in a practice room upstairs, you and Kai decide to sit in the middle of the room and talk about possible concepts and stories that could be portrayed, however, the conversation quickly strays off-topic due to Kai and his seemingly never-ending curiosity when it comes to you. “What do you do besides dancing and teaching your own classes?” he asks, looking more like a troublesome toddler than the idol you were supposed to be working with. 

You push that thought aside before responding, “I’m currently in university, majoring in business since I’m set to take over the dance school from the director.”

Kai keeps his eyes glued to you while you speak, the only movement coming from his fidgeting hands. After you finish speaking, he looks down in his lap before shyly speaking, “sometimes I like to think about what I’d be doing if I wasn’t an idol, you know? Would I have joined a dance studio like yours? Would I be in college right now? Would I have a girlfriend? Would I maybe even have a child?” He paused for a bit and ran a hand through his hair while moving to lie down. “I genuinely think that if I weren’t an idol, I’d still be in school. Being with animals and kids gives me so much joy, I’ve often thought about being a veterinarian or an elementary school teacher. Though they are drastically different, I find both of them to be so appealing” he said, letting out a sigh at the end of his sentence.

“Do you ever think that you’d be happier doing those things rather than where you are now?”

Kai looked over at you, not noticing you had laid down next to him as if both of you were outside looking at clouds. “Maybe...however, I’m still satisfied with the path my life took. Yes, there are drawbacks to being a public figure but I’m happy with all the experiences it has given me.” Sensing how the mood has become a little too serious for his liking, Kai decides to ask you another question. “Who’s your favorite member in my group?”

You let out a laugh, dumbfounded by his sudden question. “I’m not saying this just because you’re here, but it’s you and has been for a while now” you said sheepishly, keeping your eyes locked on the ceiling to keep yourself from looking at Kai and showing him your now pink-tinted cheeks.

“For a while now?” he asked, quoting your words. “How long have you been a fan of us?”

“Since your debut,” you said, throwing your hands on your face to hide your embarrassment before exclaiming, “ah, this is so awkward, I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” Fortunately, your embarrassment didn’t last long thanks to your roommate who had just sent you a text. You gladly moved away from Kai to check your phone, inwardly thanking your roommate for saving you from what could have become a shameful memory. Oh shit it’s already past 10? you thought to yourself, shocked at how quickly time passed while you were with Kai. “My roommate was just asking where I was since it’s getting kinda late,” you told him, “normally I don’t stay out this late since I have class tomorrow morning so I should probably get going now, especially since I have to catch the last bus which comes in a bit, I think.”

You stood up, but before you could so much as take a step towards the door, Kai stopped you. “I can drive you home” he offered, to which you vehemently refused, “you’re my choreographer and I’d hate for anything to happen to you when you haven’t even taught me the dance to my own song yet” he said, giving you the puppy eyes you’ve seen countless times through videos of him.

You can tell that he’s being sincere so eventually you accept his offer, but something about his words doesn’t sit quite right. You had told each other so much about yourselves and shown such an embarrassing side of yourself to him, yet he only regarded you as his choreographer. Because that’s what I am, you thought, trying to shove those thoughts out of your head, I’m nothing more than just his choreographer, a work acquaintance. This is simply a relationship based on our work together. He is an idol and I am his choreographer. Nothing more, nothing less. You internally slapped yourself for getting riled up over his words when he was only trying to be nice.

Once you were in his car, you told him your address as you put your seatbelt on. The ride home is mostly silent aside from little side comments made between the two of you, like when he tells you about how he and the members once went to the samgyeopsal restaurant you passed earlier and how Chanyeol proceeded to get absolutely wasted to the point where the members played rock paper scissors to decide who would be taking care of him for the night.

Time, again, seemed to pass a little faster than normal when you were talking to Kai and laughing with him. When he pulled up in front of your apartment building, you unbuckle your seatbelt and began to thank him, “Kai-”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Calling you what?”

“Kai.”

“...Because it’s your name?” At this point, you were beyond confused as to what Kai was getting at.

“It’s one of my names, but it’s not MY name. My name is Jongin. Yes, Kai is my name as well but that’s who I am on stage...please, just call me Jongin from now on” he let out, sitting further back into his seat once he realized how aggressive he sounded.

“O-oh, okay. Goodnight Jongin.” Though you were used to saying that name while talking to your friends about his dancing or when they showed you pictures of him, this time it sounded foreign. Almost even forced, as if you shouldn’t be saying it.

Once you unlock the door and walk into your apartment, you receive a text from him.

EXO Kai > y/n 10:36pm: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that, it’s just that being called Kai all the time makes me feel disconnected from people, you know? It’s like people see me only as Kai the idol and not Jongin, a regular person.

10:37pm: Kai is the side the fans and the media see and want while Jongin is just the sad guy behind the mask

10:37pm: Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that either. I’m just making this worse aren’t I?

You see the bubble pop up again, showing you that he was typing but before he can send you another message, you text him back.

y/n > EXO Kai 10:38pm: Jongin, it’s fine. I may not be an idol but I get what you mean

10:39pm: I didn’t know that even something like your stage name could have such a restraining feeling for you, and I’m sorry about that. But thank you for opening up to me

You see that he read your message but you don’t see him typing a response so you lock your phone and start your night routine, eventually forgetting to check your phone.

When you woke up the next morning, you saw that Kai, no, Jongin, you reminded yourself, texted you around midnight but you didn’t open his message until lunch when you were done with most of your classes for the day.

Jongin > y/n 12:16am: Goodnight y/n. I’m sorry I’m not the idol you always looked up to, but thank you for listening to me and respecting me as a person. Thank you, see you next week. I can’t wait to see what you have choreographed for me (⌒ω⌒)

And there it was again, the way he speaks so fondly towards you yet he still brings it back to work. You had to remind yourself that the relationship between the two of you is only because of work and that no matter what, you cannot develop feelings for him. It’s not like he’d have time for me anyways, I’m nothing special compared to those other girls he’s dated, you thought to yourself.

You spend the rest of the week doing your usual activities along with choreographing for the title track of Jongin’s album. Though the company sent you just the demo of the track, you could already tell that this sort of song was definitely his style. Sexy yet sweet. Hot but undeniably cool.

A month had passed since Jongin first confided in you about his idol dilemma. After teaching Jongin and the rest of the dancers the choreo you made for the title track, you were no longer needed quite as often in the practice room, which resulted in you seeing Jongin less as his preparations started to stack up in his schedule. He still made it a point to take you out for lunch or dinner, which surprised you since he didn’t necessarily need to keep up a relationship with you now that your part in the album production was over. It was at those times when you were reminded of the instance when he was dropping you off, that he’s human and has friends he hangs out with, you just might have gotten lucky and become one of them.

Your text message chat with him went back and forth between you two talking about the choreo and the comeback to deep late-night conversations like how Sehun saw a cockroach in the shower one night and ran out butt-naked, screaming. Just like your chat, your relationship with Jongin became more confusing as the line between business and friendship blurred even further. Jongin texts you late on a Wednesday night to come to the ‘cloud’ room, which you had mistakenly called it once after watching one too many of the old SM dance practice videos, tomorrow around noon. Similar to when the incident with his name occurred, his message didn’t have the cute emoticons you were used to him sending. You wondered if something in the choreo needed to be changed last minute and sent him a simple thumbs up to let him know you’d be there.

You spent the rest of your Wednesday night reanalyzing the choreo you made, trying to find any flaws that would have resulted in Jongin texting you so seriously and asking you to come in person instead of sending a video along with his questions as usual. By Thursday afternoon, you had a few things in mind that you could easily smooth over and your mind was flooded with different combos and formations to use as you walked through the building to the practice room you told Jongin you’d meet him at.

You entered without knocking since usually the whole team is at work and you don’t want to disrupt whatever they’re working on, so you quietly stepped in and closed the door but you yelped when you heard a loud bang from the area near the sound equipment. Glancing over, you spot Jongin with his balled-up fists on the table and realized the rest of the team wasn’t here. It was just you and him, which led to you being even more confused as to why he had asked you to come in. After hearing the noise you made, Jongin’s head perked up and found you, “oh, y/n, you came.” His tense features immediately relaxing into a loose half-smile where you could see just how tired he was. “I need help on the main part of the chorus. No matter how many times I do it, there just isn’t the right feeling with it and I don’t get it” he said, almost whining.

You sat against the mirror, watching him do it a few times until you got up and stood next to him, facing the mirror. “Jongin you’re treating it way too strictly. This is the chorus, not a dance break, just groove with it, have fun with it, you know?” You danced the part to further show your point.

“Groove with it? What do you mean ‘groove with it?’” He asked, confusion clearly evident on his face and in his voice.

“Relax and think about the song itself. Think about the meaning, the style of it, not the choreography” you responded. He did as you showed him and looked at you for approval. “Good, but keep that same intensity in your eyes from earlier.” He did it again, staring straight into your eyes through your reflection in the mirror, almost sending shivers down your body. You smiled to acknowledge that you liked it and Jongin’s face lit up, seeing as he finally perfected what he deemed to be the ‘killing point’ of the dance, as he had said when you first showed it to him.

After another hour, you and Jongin had gone over the entire dance and worked out any remaining questions he had for you. Just as the two of you were getting ready to leave and head over to the cafe, Jongin called out your name, coming to stand next to where you were packing up your bag.

“Hey Y/N...I-uh-wanted to tell you that I-um-I think-” he began, before you interrupted him, not wanting to hear him stuttering anymore.

“Jongin, do you want to go over something again? Is that what’s bothering you?”

“N-no, it’s just that I think, uh, I think I really like you...r dance...yeah...I really like your dance, the one you made for me in my album, uh haha yeah thank you.” His cheeks and ears started turning pink as he quickly turned around to go gather his things.

Did he just say what I thought he said, you asked yourself, no, he couldn’t have. There’s no way he’d say that. All it would do is hurt his career anyway, he wouldn’t do that. You silenced your thoughts and left the practice room with him to get dinner.

You ate with him at the cafe but your conversation didn’t seem to flow as naturally as it normally did. He kept looking at you like he wanted to say something but never did. The normal playful touches you usually shared weren’t there either and you hated yourself for noticing these things. This was probably just his way of nicely ending our relationship since he probably won’t be working with me again in the future.

As you both made your way down to your cars in the parking lot, Jongin stepped in front of you right after exiting the elevator, looking down at his feet like a little kid would when they’re being scolded.

“Y/N I’d like to thank you for working with me for my solo debut, it really means a lot to me,” this is where you think he’s going to just thank you and say goodnight, but he doesn’t, “I’d like to ask you if you’d come to the first broadcast next week Monday. I know you have class but I won’t be going on until later. You don’t have to if you don’t want to because I know you’re really busy being a student and all but-”

“Jongin, please, I would love to.” You said, saving the both of you from his endless ramblings.

When he finally meets your eyes he gives you a look full of cuteness and adoration be exclaiming, “Really?!”

“Yes, really.”

“Promise?!”

“Yes, Jongin. I promise I will be there.” He hugged you so tight you thought you were going to suffocate but before you could, he released you and skipped off in the direction of his car while happily giggling to himself, “goodnight y/n” he yelled, “see you on Monday.”

You slapped yourself for blushing at his cute outburst. He’s an idol, you’re not supposed to feel this warmth in your heart that yearned for him to hug you again, yet your mind constantly wandered to him during your whole drive back to your apartment.

As you were lying in bed, just about falling asleep, you got a text from Jongin.

Jongin > y/n 9:08pm: SHE SAID YES! (＠＾◡＾)

9:08pm: oh shit

9:08pm: sorry, that was meant for Baekhyun hyung

9:09pm: we were talking about a special girl (＃＞＜)

Your heart immediately dropped. It’s probably another girl he’s dating, seeing as how he’s dated other girl idols before. You knew that you shouldn’t be upset but you just were. It was at that moment that you realized your feelings towards Jongin. You quickly sent a simple ‘haha okay’ back, but his message left you wondering about the lucky girl he was talking about, hurt that you didn’t know who it was. He has no obligation to tell me anything, I’m only his choreographer, you told yourself, probably for the millionth time now.

Ever since that night, you hadn’t initiated a conversation with him though he still texted you occasionally. Sometimes it would be a goodnight message, other times it was just his late-night thoughts about how dogs would wear pants or what kind of sounds a koala makes. You didn’t want to admit it but that one text bothered you for the rest of the week, and as it got closer and closer to his first performance, the more you didn’t want to go. Almost as if Jongin was reading your mind, you received a text message from him.

Jongin > y/n 7:45pm: y/nnnnnn I can’t wait to see you tomorrow -\\3\\-

You were going to send another thumbs up again, but opted for a more cheerful ‘good luck!’ since you knew how much this meant to him and how hard he worked for this and you didn’t want to let your own feelings get in the way of his achievements. It’s not like you were going to be involved in his work much longer once his promotions ended. Maybe it was for the best if you just kept your feelings to yourself so he could go back to being just Kai, the idol, to you, and not the sweet and playful Jongin you had gotten to know and the one you had, unfortunately, fell for. Going to sleep that night was a huge struggle for you, constantly asking yourself if you were going to see him tomorrow or not. Eventually, you fell asleep before reaching a clear answer but knowing you’d have to decide tomorrow anyways

The next morning, you woke up to the sight of sunlight already filling your room, which was not a good sing. You quickly checked your phone and saw that you were already half an hour late to your first class along with noticing Jongin had sent you another message around 6AM though you didn’t read it since your first priority was to get to school. You turned your phone to Do Not Disturb mode and rushed through your morning routine, getting to school just as your second class was starting. After running in five minutes late and profusely apologizing to your professor, you took your normal seat in the back of the room, letting out a sigh of exhaustion.

Your lecture ended faster than you expected and as you waited in the line at the cafeteria you finally pulled out your phone to go through your notifications and saw that Jongin had sent you two more messages.

Jongin > y/n 6:13am: I’m so excited, i could barely even sleep! Good morning y/n, today’s the day! ＼(≧▽≦)／

Jongin > y/n 10:20am: We’re in the cafe ordering sandwiches to eat at the recording studio later. What do you want to drink? I can’t remember if it was the honey lemon tea or the honeydew milk tea (>_<)  

10:25am: y/nnnnn please answer meeeeee (╥_╥)

You couldn’t resist his cuteness and texted him back.

y/n > Jongin 10:27am: honey lemon :)

As soon as you hit send, you froze, realizing you had dug yourself into a hole, ultimately forcing yourself into going to the studio he would be performing at later. You were brought out of your dazed state when the person in the back of you cleared their throat loudly and you noticed it was your turn to order.

After you had ordered and received your food, you sat down and ate your lunch quickly, wanting to go to class and get your mind off of Jongin who was walking around up there as if he owned it.

The rest of your day went by quickly and as you got into your car, you let out a long sigh, not wanting to believe that you’d be going to the recording studio to support the man who not only held your heart in his hands but also unknowingly crushed it.

Once inside the studio, it was quite easy to find Jongin’s room, seeing all the staff rushing around with their SM lanyards on, similar to the one you had on. You walked into his room, expecting to be greeted by a loud Jongin, but instead, you were met with the blank stares of his fellow members, Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Sehun. Baekhyun was the only one who acknowledged you while the other two simply looked back down at their phones, thinking you were another staff member. “Ah, so you must be the wonderful y/n that our Jonginnie is always talking about! That idiot is always telling us about you, we were just wondering when we’d be able to meet him. He may fall in love quickly but he does have good judgment if you know what I mean.”

Both of the other members immediately perked up upon realizing who you were as your cheeks turned a bright shade of pink after hearing Baekhyun’s words. “J-Jongin talks about me?”

Baekhyun let out one of his big laughs before responding, “All the time! I can’t believe it took him this long to ask you out.”

If it was even humanly possible, you swear you turned even more pink. “Oh, we’re not dating. I think you’ve got me confused with another girl.” Your mind flew back to the text Jongin had accidentally sent you and all your emotions were about to come flooding back to you.

At that moment, Jongin entered the room and walked right into you. Baekhyun caught you, preventing you from what would’ve been an embarrassing fall, however, he only took it as an opportunity to push you right back into Jongin’s arms while yelling, “Ya! Kim Jongin, you idiot! I didn’t raise you to be such a coward, just ask her out already!” He then proceeded to bulldoze both of you out of the room and close the door while Chanyeol and Sehun only laughed while recording the whole thing, probably to send in their group chat later for the others to see.

Once both of you processed what just happened, you and Jongin looked at each other and he immediately released you from his hold and looked at the ground. You took this moment to appreciate his stylists for doing such a good job. He was wearing a full navy blue suit, similar to the legendary red one he wore in the Love Shot music video, further accentuating the light brown contacts he had in his eyes. He brought his hands to your shoulders before taking a deep breath and meeting your eyes.

“Y/n-”

“Jongin-” you both said, at the same time.

“Oh, sorry, you go first.” You blurted out, your heart already racing.  

He lightly squeezed your shoulders before saying, “I don’t know how much they told you in there but I suppose you probably already know that I...like you.”

The look on your face told him otherwise. “Weren’t you texting Baekhyun about another girl? A ‘special girl?’ That text you accidentally sent me instead of Baekhyun...” You trailed off at the end, thinking about how stupid you must look.

Jongin dropped his hands to your waist as he threw his head back in laughter before looking back at you. “No, you silly, we were talking about you. You told me you’d come to my first performance, remember?” Everything began to come together for you and you couldn’t believe that Jongin, the perfect man in front of you, had been talking about you to his members and that he likes you. Jongin saved you from further embarrassment when his hands trailed off your waist to find your own hands as he intertwined your fingers and pulled you closer “I’ve tried so many times to do this but I was always too scared of what would happen.” Your eyes locked with his gorgeous hazel masked ones that made it even harder to look away. “I really like you but I didn’t know if you liked me back which is why I never had the strength to ask you out. I was afraid of rejection, but at this point, I don’t think I have much else to lose with what Baekhyun hyung just did. It’s okay if you don’t like me back, I just want-”

As usual, you had to stop his endless rambling, but this time you did it with a quick kiss on his cheek. “I like you too, Jongin.”

Your eyes briefly met his before he enveloped you in a bone-crushing hug. His lips next to your ear, whispering the words he never thought he’d be able to say to you. “Will you be mine?”

“Only if you’ll be my boyfriend.”

He let you go only briefly so he could cup your cheeks and land a light kiss on your lips, both of your eyes fluttering closed, only to reopen suddenly at the sound of the other three members cheering from the doorway, all of them holding their phones up and recording the scene in front of them. You tried to pull away from Jongin but he only grabbed your waist and pulled you even closer.

“Jongin what are you-” you began, already having experienced enough embarrassment for a whole lifetime.

“Shhhh, just follow my lead,” he muttered before kissing you again “come on, just ‘groove’ with it” he said, between kisses, imitating your own words, igniting a fire in you as you remember teasing him with it during one of your most intimate practicing sessions together and you started kissing him back, moving your lips with his, much to the members’ disgust.

“Ewww” Sehun whined, right before Baekhyun and Chanyeol made simultaneous coughing and gagging sounds.

Hearing their reactions, Jongin’s lips finally left yours, a playful smile on his face before pulling you into another hug, this one full of warmth and affection. “Thank you y/n, thank you for giving me this chance. I’ll make you happy, I promise.”

You pulled back to face him, “thank you too, Jongin. Maybe it’s just our thing to ‘groove’ together” you said, bringing a finger up and playfully booping his nose.

He rolled his eyes at you before pushing your head back into his shoulder and letting you both enjoy the feeling of each other’s embrace, momentarily forgetting about the other three men standing in the doorway until they started making repulsive noises again.

A/N - This is the reworked version of ‘a dance to remember’ which I wrote when I was about 15 years old. That piece itself is based on a dream I had about EXO. This essentially is a fic written about a fic written about a dream so I’m sorry if it seems kinda disjointed. Any feedback at all is welcomed :)