#last week I went tuesday- hell day there's never space but I managed to find a chair | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rintarouweb · 4 years

Text

promise.

paring: asahi x gn! reader

genre: fluff to angst, light angst, friends to roommates to lovers

warnings: light angst? mentions of cheating, unedited

word count: 3.4k+

notes: this turned out a lot longer than intended and took me too long to finish. the ending was rushed but i hope you like it !! this is also my first time writing for hq ヽ(^◇^*)/

azumane asahi had never been a stranger to feelings of love or, in many cases, feelings of infatuation. anyone who knew asahi was well aware of the fact that he was a romantic with a heart that was bigger than his body - something that says a lot given his tall and wide stature. throughout his three years of high school, asahi had found himself harboring feelings for a classmate or peer. a few times, they even went on to develop into a relationship. while he wasn’t extremely experienced in the area, the former ace wasn’t completely clueless when it came to love - or so he thought.

a boy by the name of hiroaki was asahi’s first ‘serious’ relationship. the two boys were classmates paired together for an english assignment once, then twice, and over time their feelings for one another had blossomed - like tulips in the spring. after hiroaki confessed his feelings for his seatmate, asahi was floating on air. everyone around him could see how much happier he seemed. a sparkle in his eyes, a skip in his step. asahi felt finally full being with him, but that quickly changed after the first month of their relationship.

the boy who was once kind, loving, and so supportive of his partner became anything but those things towards asahi. it started with hiro becoming more judgemental of the ace, especially when it came to the way asahi showed him affection. suddenly, asahi wanting to hold hands, be cuddled, or even a small peck on the lips was ‘annoying’ and ‘too much’ for hiro. asahi shrugged it off. things were fine and if not, then they’d figure themselves out eventually. he just needed to be better for hiro so they’d be happy, so hiroaki wouldn’t be so angry anymore. over time, hiroaki continued to pull himself away from asahi. ignoring the feeling in his gut and the advice of his older sister, he allowed himself to once again get caught up in love.

it wasn’t until his three month anniversary that asahi reached his breaking point. a picnic that his sister and mother helped him pack was tucked away in the woven basket. he sat on a large and soft picnic blanket that provided cushion against the hard ground underneath the zelkova tree. an hour passed, then another. it was beginning to reach the later hours of the afternoon when asahi let out a defeated sigh, feeling embarrassed as he sat alone in he and his boyfriend’s favorite spot in the park. he hadn’t heard from hiroaki for hours now. there was no call or text saying he was running late, that he couldn’t make it, or that he wanted to reschedule their date.

asahi’s vision quickly started to blur, the unshed tears threatening to fall a burning feeling settled in the back of his throat. he wiped them away with his sleeve, gathered his things, and began his journey home. the brown-haired boy wasn’t too far from his home when he saw the reason - or rather, the person why hiro hadn’t shown up for their date. hiroaki was busy with a guy, one he claimed to be just friends with. the lump in asahi’s throat had grown as he watched the scene before him unfold. a bright smile flashed on hiroaki’s face, one that asahi hadn’t seen for weeks, as the boy moved to give a kiss to his ‘friend’.

ignoring the aching in his heart and the overwhelming need to find the nearest private space and sob until his he was content, asahi swallowed the tears and ran home, flowers clutched in his hold. the second he stepped into his bedroom, his walls came crashing down. the dam had finally broke.

asahi’s emotional pain flowed out of his pores, anyone could smell the sadness pouring out of them. a loud, cracked, and nearly raw sob escaped past his lips. the stream of tears grew, becoming thicker as his body shook violently under his comforter. in the midst of his tears, asahi had failed to hear the person entering his room, or notice his mattress sinking next to him, and the hand that had started rubbing soothing circles onto his back.

“asahi?” your voice barely above a whisper, but loud enough for your friend to hear you. still, he remained facing away from you with his face squished on his pillow. “what happened, bub? i thought you were with hiro today.”

a cry left him at the mention of his boyfriend, or perhaps he was his ex now. with all the time he spent daydreaming about love, asahi never would’ve imagined this. he knew love could hurt, he had seen his sister go through heartbreak more times than he could count on one hand, but he never imagined it hurting like this. the weight on his chest was unbearable, making it hard for him to breathe or get a coherent word out.

“do you want to talk about it?” you asked as your hand scratched the hair at the nape of his neck. having his hair played with was something that always managed to comfort asahi, but seeing as it was still tied up into a bun, you didn’t want to just take his hair out without knowing if he wanted your comfort or not.

a sniffle came from asahi along with a nod. before you could move to respond, he was turning around to face you with swollen, bloodshot eyes and swollen cheeks. “can you play with my hair too?”

“of course. i’ll always be here for you, asahi.”

“promise?”

“i promise.”

intentionally or not, you kept the promise you made to asahi that day. you were always there for him through his lows and highs and he did the same for you in return. even though he was a mess himself, something he never denied or shied away from admitting, he did his best to comfort you, offer advice, or help in any way you might’ve needed or wanted.

it took a few months for asahi to completely get over hiroaki but once his heart was fully healed, he was ready to give love a chance again. much to his demise, the flames seemed to burn out quickly. he told himself it was because of volleyball and his studies, he was too focused, too busy for a significant other and that was why the relationships didn’t work. and if he wasn’t thinking that he was too busy, he was wondering if it was too much or sometimes too little for his partners. asahi had always struggled with his own insecurities and after being cheated on was a huge blow to the self confidence he spent so much time carefully building up. in his first year of college, he ended up in a relationship that only worsened those insecurities.

asahi found himself falling for a person in his fashion design class, yuna. looking back, he wonders if he truly loved her or if her being so, so different from hiroaki was what pulled him in.

yuna and asahi were both in their second year of college when they met in their fashion design class. outside of the one class they had together, the two rarely saw each other - aside from the few run ins here and there on campus grounds. most people who knew yuna, or at least of her, were aware of the fact she was considered to be a ‘loner.’ the thing was, yuna was relatively popular. the girl attended parties often and whenever she wasn’t alone, she was with a new group of people no one had seen her with before. so, when the news of yuna and asahi being in a relationship got around, people were surprised to say the least.

asahi was timid, especially for a big guy, and everyone knew that. on the other hand, yuna was a relatively short girl with the personality of a shaken up soda. yet somehow with their opposites, they made it work for quite a while. for asahi, it felt as if centuries had passed since his relationship with his first love hiroaki but sometimes old wounds reopened. yuna not only tried to be understanding of asahi’s insecurities, she supported him emotionally and gave him the reassurance he needed. from then, asahi felt as if he finally had found love again.

the couple was together for five (5) months when yuna expressed that she didn’t have a place to stay at the for the next term. asahi asked yuna to move in and from there, it seemed as if things would only keep going up. oh, but he couldn’t have been more wrong.

many people will agree that breakups that come out of nowhere are the most hurtful kind and after experiencing one for himself, asahi couldn’t help but agree. asahi and yuna were both wanting to pursue their fashion careers, looking for internships all over just to have the opportunity to work under a gifted designer. asahi landed a position in tokyo, which would’ve been great for their relationship if yuna hadn’t gotten an internship in an entirely different country. after several hour long conversations, the pair agreed that breaking up would be the best for them. they both knew it was coming at some point but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. the day yuna departed to the airport was a painful one to say the least. the last time asahi cried that hard was that day so many years ago when he saw his high school boyfriend cheating on him.

when asahi closed his apartment door behind him, there was no way to ignore or deny the silence that weighed down on him. yuna’s things had been slowly disappearing from the apartment for months but now, he was finally completely alone. for some, silence was a thing that brought comfort but for asahi, the silence was only more room for his thoughts to weigh down on him.

he could’ve found an internship in the states, then he would’ve been able to stay with yuna. why didn’t he bring up long distance? they could’ve made it work, so why didn’t he try?

his body sunk into the couch even deeper and a sigh escaped his lips. what the hell was he supposed to do now? it was nearly one in the morning, on a tuesday nonetheless, and just about everyone he knew was either asleep or involved in something he had no part in. your name flashed in his mind and a small smile graced his lips. you were usually awake at the most random hours of the night, or morning. asahi could call you, right? even if you didn’t answer by some chance, there’s no harming in trying. his fingers moved to unlock his phone, rushing to find your contact and letting out a sigh once the line started to ring.

“hello?”

“oh, uhm, hi,” asahi whispered.

“is something wrong? do you need me to come over?” the keyboard clicks he heard on the other line came to a stop as you waited for his answer. he assumed you were editing a video, or working on a new piece of writing. you always told him your mind worked better at night, the moon helped your ‘creative juices flow.’

he nodded but remembered you couldn’t see him and responded with a short “yes, please.”

asahi could only feel relieved at the fact you were awake at such an hour, let alone willing to come over and comfort him, or even just sit in silence for a few hours. unbeknownst to him, this was all part of the promise you made to yourself in high school. it was all part of being a good friend and being there for him the way he had been there for you countless times as well. about thirty minutes later, his apartment door opened and asahi was glad he gave you, daichi, and suga all your own emergency key so he wouldn’t have to leave his spot on the couch to let you in. you made yourself at home as soon as you came in. hanging up your coat and stepping out of your shoes, you sat down next to him and placed a bag of food on the coffee table in front of you.

“eat,” you pushed the bag towards him. a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth but it never fully rose.

no words were exchanged while the two of you ate. asahi’s attention was focused on the show he had put on and yours was focused on him. his long, dark hair was out of his usual bun he pulled it into and it fell a bit passed his shoulders. a pair of glasses rested on his nose, the glare from the light making it difficult to see just how red the whites of his eyes had become.

“you know, if you’re worried about getting lonely here, i could always move in.”

asahi’s head turned towards you, eyebrows furrowed. “why would you do that?”

“well,” you swallowed, “don’t like my current roommate. i can’t even exist in peace there. we’ve been friends for forever, you know all my habits, i know all yours. plus your apartment’s closer to my internship.”

“when can you move in?”

you were moved and settled into the apartment two weeks later. the room that was once yuna’s space for working on designs had been turned into your bedroom and asahi couldn’t be happier. well, he was as happy as he could be for someone who was recovering from a breakup.

without a doubt, asahi was the best roommate you had and vice versa. your monrings started off with him offering you a cup of coffee, tea, or whatever you had a taste for that morning before leaving for his morning run. breakfast dates, or any sort of platonic date for the two of you only became more common after becoming roommates. some days it was going into the city and grabbing breakfast before spending most of the day shopping. other days, that meant sitting in a quiet diner and catching up.

your roommate had been extremely busy recently, finally being given the chance to debut his own fashion line and you couldn’t have been happier for him. while you loved and definitely supported asahi in his dreams, things around the apartment had gotten a bit lonely. besides you there were numerous kinds of plants all over the shared space. asahi loved plants, he was a self proclaimed plant dad and living with him only made you grow fond of the green things he called your children. as much as you loved the plants now, they were no match against the nights you and asahi would spend sprawled out on either of your beds eating takeout and binge watching a show that took you both ages to agree on.

tonight was just another day where you both had agreed on hanging out once asahi got finished with his day. it was nothing extravagant or over the top, just ordering takeout and watching movies while camped out in his room. the food came a bit after asahi got home, he greeted you with a quick hug before excusing himself to the shower and you gave him a small nod and smile. things between you two had been changing recently, slowly but ever so surely. it wasn’t odd for asahi to be affectionate with you, or other of his close friends, but his touches went from quick hugs and occasional cuddles after a rough day to lingering touches, holding your hands in his, and a forehead kiss here and there. it wasn’t a bad change for either of you, actually. based off of the way your heart fluttered whenever his hand brushed yours or the way his chest felt warm and fuzzy whenever he saw you, it couldn’t have been a bad thing, right? definitely not.

while asahi was in the shower, you sat on his bed cuddled up with one of his favorite stuffed animals: a giant turtle he named melvin. asahi had a collection of stuffed animals, he treasured them no matter how big or small they were. the shelf above his desk was filled with small stuffies he received as gifts from his friends or family, a few from you, actually. once you started scrolling through titles on netflix, asahi entered the room and got settled next to you on his large, comfy bed.

his hair was tied up into it’s classic bun, a few lose strands fell and framed his face. the hoodie he wore somehow managed to make someone as large and broad as him look tiny. was this the kind of thing asahi did with people he was dating? were you two dating? no, you were both just friends and had been since you were teenagers. nothing more, nothing less. that was what you told yourself any time you found your heart skipping beats because of something asahi said or did, sometimes even just being around the boy was enough for the butterflies in your stomach to go crazy. you pushed those thoughts and unnamed feelings to the back burner. being his roommate was great, you couldn’t- you weren’t going to ruin that because of some feelings you weren’t even sure of.

by now, the takeout was discarded in the trash and the two of you snuggled up together under the covers. for warmth. it was cold, asahi was a human heater, so it only made sense that you wanted to be close to him. the movie binge had been going on for a few hours, you’d gotten through a few episodes of a show you wanted to watch and halfway through a movie that turned out to be garbage before deciding to watch disney’s tangled for the hundredth time.

asahi laid with his head on your stomach, giving you room to rake your fingers through your hair but still be comfortable. one of his arms was wrapped around your thigh, almost using it like a pillow, and the other held a small stuffed bear close to his chest. the movie was getting to the part where rapunzel was telling mother gothel about the floating lanterns when asahi decided to interrupt the comfortable silence that had fallen onto you.

"bubba,” he called, grabbing your attention. you let out a small hum, letting the boy know that you heard him. you could physically feel the way his body tensed under your touch before he turned around so he could face you. his arms held him up to avoid his body weight falling entirely on top of you. the color was drained from his face and you could tell from that and the way his eyes avoided your own that he was nervous, overthinking something.

“i’ve known you since... forever. i can’t imagine my life without you,” he started, “if it wasn’t for you, i’d be so lost right now.”

“why are you so sappy all the sudden?” you snorted. your attempt to lighten the atmosphere made asahi smile, his cheeks growing a bit pink at that too. you weren’t sure if he noticed the way your face was burning at his words, or the fact that your heart was ready to leap out of your chest and right into his arms. maybe, just maybe you were now sure of where your feelings for asahi stood. he shrugged and let out a large puff of air, his head falling back onto your stomach with a small grunt. your hands tangled in his hair once again as his attention went back to the movie. there were a few minutes of silence between the two of you before you pushed your anxiety aside and took a deep breath.

“asahi, i don’t know if we can be friends anymore.”

“wa- what? why not?”

“i don’t see you as just my friend, or my roommate, even. i haven’t seen you that way for a while, if i’m being honest. and i wasn’t going to say anything but you said that and i just-” you groaned and covered your face with your hands. “asahi, i’m in love with you.”

his throat was dry, his heart was beating so fast he was sure he’d end up dizzy in a few seconds but this chance was in front of him after waiting for so long, he wasn’t going to let it slip away from him.

“can i kiss you?”

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friendandphoe · 4 years

Text

okay the formatting on this is gonna be a lil weird bUT!! have this figuring it out/something to last revamp that’s been sitting in my brain for the last few weeks @ahbonjour @museumlad @creativeskull95

There’s no way in hell she’s ever looking Professor Keelson in the eye again. “I’m sorry,” she croaks for the thousandth time, and finds a tissue being pressed into her hand.

“Quite alright, my dear,” Professor Keelson says soothingly, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded over his round belly. “Wipe your face, now, there you go. I’m — well.” And he rubs the bridge of his nose, just under his round wire glasses. “I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this, unfortunately.”

She nods numbly, ice trickling down her spine.

You ruined everything.

“I’m sorry,” she tries again, because it’s all she can think to say, but the professor waves her off with a weathered hand and pushes himself to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane as he makes his way to the mini fridge he keeps under the bookshelves.

“Now, now,” he says, almost scolding, and pulls out a clementine, a bar of chocolate, and a bottle of water. “Don’t you start that with me, Ms. Ochoa. This is not the first time I’ve had students crying in my office, I daresay it won’t be the last.” And he sits heavily back down in his chair, setting the snacks in front of her. “Eat, drink. Now, I won’t press on what’s been troubling you, but you know, these tired old eyes of mine do still catch a few things here and there, and I have seen you — well. I don’t like to use the word struggling, but you know, perhaps it is a bit more apt than anything else I could think of.” And she knows he’s looking at her, knows those beady black eyes well, but just focuses on unwrapping the chocolate bar as quietly as she can.

What makes you think we want you around?

“You’ve had a rough time of it, this year.”

It’s not a question, but she still finds herself nodding confirmation. “I don’t know what happened.” She says hoarsely, and reaches for the water bottle.

Leave us alone.

“I’ve been wanting this for years, I worked so hard to get into this program, I just—” and she has to press her mouth shut to keep the lump in her throat from escaping.

Leave us alone!

“Some… stuff. Uh, came up, I guess.”

They sit in silence for a minute, then softly: “The human mind is a wonderful, confusing little thing.” Professor Keelson says. She dares a glance up at him, finds him — thank god — staring out his office window. “It tends to block out anything unpleasant we might not want to hear, and often that negativity will build and build and build until, one day, the weight becomes too much to bear.” He sighs and scrubs a hand through his short white beard, messing the hairs out of their orderly style. “And then we must face the unfortunate truth that sometimes what we thought we wanted is, in actuality, not at all the path we should be taking."

She drops her gaze back down to her bouncing knee. “Is it stupid?” She blurts out, watching her leg blur under her rising tears. “I just — this is a good school, a good program, and I’ll have so many job opportunities when I graduate—”

A weathered hand stretches out across the desk, just reaching to where her pinky would've been. “And yet,” Professor Keelson murmurs. “It won’t make you happy.” He sits back in his chair, looking every inch the benevolent Santa Claus his students know him to be. “And given how miserable you’ve been this year, Ms. Ochoa, I daresay your ultimate happiness is worth far more than any graduating job offers.” His smile drops for a half-second. “Though I can’t say I won’t be sorry to see you go. You’re already one of my best students, you know.”

You're an embarrassment to my name and reputation.

A wet little giggle chokes out of her throat, and she wipes down her face one more time. “Don’t tempt me, I’m half-considering staying,” she admits. “Even with all of this.”

“Ah, but if you do, what sort of state will you be in once you graduate?” Professor Keelson says, raising a bushy brow. “All you young folk are the same. You’re young, you have that wonderful, limitless energy, but you must learn to take care of yourselves now, while you have the space to do so. Won’t do you any good to drive yourselves into the ground every night when you’re my age, you know!” He looks at her appraisingly, then smiles wide. “And you know, my dear, there’s great strength in being able to admit you were wrong. I’ve always admired people who are strong enough to chase their dreams instead of following the easy path. Do you have an idea where you’re going, yet?”

Don’t ever come back here, you little—

“There’s a performing and visual arts conservatory,” she says hesitantly. “River Park, downstate. They’ve got really good photography and filmmaking programs, and, um.” She pauses, unsure how to explain how right it had all felt when she’d been reading about it online. “Well, I have an interview on Wednesday, so.”

Professor Keelson’s smile widens. “River Park! My partner studied illustration there, years ago when we were both young. You’ll do wonderfully.”

She can’t help but feel like his faith is ever-so-slightly misplaced —

I didn't want you.

— maybe it’s just the existential crisis talking, who knows —

Do you understand me?

— but she can’t quite bring herself to argue against the sparkling excitement in the professor’s eyes. She lets him press another chocolate bar and tissue combo into her hand as he shuffles her out of his office, with strict, cheerful instructions to come see him before she leaves for her interview.

You were a mistake.

Tuesday night comes in the blink of an eye; she’d barely dumped her meager wardrobe back into the suitcase she’d kept under her bed and her sticky notes are still haphazardly slapped to the wall above her desk. She’s not exactly sure where the time went — it’s not like she went to any classes. Or ate much. Or was sleeping, really. Granted she did try, but the third time in the same night she woke up sobbing because her blankets had twisted around her leg, trapping her in an all-too-familiar heat vortex—

window won't break it's too hot it hurts to breathe window won't break it's so fucking hot she can't think window won't break but it'll slide get out of this goddamn heat get out get out crunch fuck ow hurts hurts ow fuck hurts her toes shouldn't be ow fuck fuck fuck pointing that way hurts hurts fucking hurts can't feel her knee fuck fuck where's papá—

— she kind of gave up. She doesn't even bother pulling out her shitty, half-broken headphones to try and watch something on Netflix to try and pass the time, she just lays in bed and listens to Rebecca softly snoring five feet away. The ceiling is infinitely more interesting than anything else she could’ve been focusing on, anyway.

Except maybe her portfolio. Which. She hasn’t really. Looked at.

She’s so fucked.

Still, she drags herself out of bed nice and early at 7 am Wednesday morning, beating her alarm by the customary 4 minutes, and actually manages to gather the energy to sift through her remaining clothes to dig out something — well. She doesn’t really have anything “nice,” per say, but she does have an oversized sweater that’ll pass as a dress once she puts on some makeup and a belt and ties her hair up, and that’ll have to be good enough.

You show up to my door looking like that?

River Park is going to laugh her right out the door.

Everything she might need is already shoved unceremoniously into her backpack — wallet, keys, wrist brace, student ID, laptop, flash drive (in its place of honor in the tiny pocket), knee brace, fruit snacks, water bottle — but her eye catches on her DLSR just as she’s finished tying the laces on her most comfortable boot, and she hesitates. She hasn’t really looked at her portfolio much recently — she knows she’s got some old pictures from Manhattan, and maybe some from various campus events that might be good, but it’s been a little hard to go out and take nice shots when she’s been drowning in depression soup for the past four months. Four years. Whatever. Either way, she doesn’t have much to show for herself, and inspiration hasn’t really hit lately.

But River Park is — well, she has no idea, really, she hasn’t seen it in person yet, but the photos online are gorgeous, all glass-and-brick buildings framed by forests and gardens. Very much a college town, from what she can tell, the campus map isn’t really a map so much as a general directory pointing out which buildings were associated with the conservatory, but there was something that felt weirdly homey about seeing those pictures. Maybe it was the layout of the buildings, maybe it was the way they described their classes and professors, maybe it was just the simple fact that everyone in those pictures was genuinely smiling, but she’d gotten this weird, longing ache just below her collarbone that had made her close down all her other college-related tabs and email River Park’s photography and filmmaking department.

Something feels good about that campus. And maybe, if she gets there a little early, she can—

You don't get to come into my life and — and ruin everything I have here.

It’s only seven forty-two. Her interview’s not until one, and the train ride downstate should only take an hour. She’s got time.

Which is how she finds herself knocking on Professor Keelson’s office door, DLSR hanging around her neck, about two hours earlier than she’d been intending to be there, praying to who and whatever might be listening that he’s actually in and she didn’t just horribly fuck this up like she’s been fucking up, oh, who’s to say, just about everything she touches these past few months.

You’re not a part of this family. You never will be.

“Come in, come in!” She hears just beyond the door, and she cautiously peeks in to find the wizened old professor crouching over his printer, staring at it suspiciously as it slowly spits out some document. “Hello, dear. Wasn’t expecting you this early!”

I think you should leave.

“Sorry,” she manages, hovering in the doorway. “I just — change of plans.”

Professor Keelson nods, collects his papers, and creaks over to his desk. “Yes, very good.” he agrees, shuffling the papers into two piles. “Take a seat, I promise I won’t keep you very long. You look nice, by the way.”

She sits, already relaxing in the warm familiarity of Professor Keelson’s overstuffed office. Maybe this is why he’d wanted her to visit before she went, just to make sure she wouldn’t vomit on the interviewers. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome. Now,” he says, stuffing one pile of papers into a folder. “These are all your important documents: transcripts, transferable credits, disability accommodations, et cetera. Pardon my overstepping, but you did seem a little, ah, frazzled, shall we say? Last you came to speak with me and I was almost positive that you wouldn’t have thought of pulling the paperwork together.”

Which is absolutely true, she hadn’t, and she can’t even bring herself to feel insulted that he’d assumed she wouldn’t. “Thank you very much,” she says, trying desperately to seem calm and cool and collected and not crush her very expensive, very precious camera in her white-knuckle grip.

A mess. You're a mess.

Professor Keelson’s face crinkles into a smile. “You’re very welcome. You’ll be happy to know that, since you’ve already completed all your core classes and general requirements, all of those credits will easily transfer between the schools. There may be a class or two you’ll have to make up, but you should be able to jump right in with your major-specific classes. Now, this,” he says, folding the other papers into an envelope. “Is your letter of recommendation. I’ll put it in the folder with everything else, but I wanted you to know that you had it.”

Oh, fuck, she might start crying again. “Professor—” she starts, but he’s already slid the folder across the desk to her.

“Ms. Ochoa, if I may.” Her mouth snaps shut, and he continues: “Our time together has been short, yes, but you have been one of my favorite students to ever come through these doors. Barring your obvious intelligence, passion, and work ethic, you’re also relentlessly kind, despite everything you’ve gone through.” His gaze fixes on her cheek for the briefest of moments, tracing over the lumps and bumps of her scars, but his eyes are as soft as they’ve ever been. “I don’t presume to know your history, but I know bits of your present, and the person I’ve seen would make a valuable asset to any school she goes to. If you approach your new classes and projects with as much determination as you did mine, I’ve no doubt your new instructors will be as proud of you as I am. I let them know as much.”

...

She numbly takes the folder, desperately blinking back tears. “Th-thank you, sir.” She manages, thick in the back of her throat. “I-I’ll do my best.”

Professor Keelson takes up his customary position, hands laced neatly over his belly. “You will.” He agrees, smiling. “Now, you should be heading out soon. I’d hate to make you miss your train, especially if you want to get there early.”

“Yes — yes.” And she gets up on autopilot, sliding the folder into her backpack as carefully as she can manage. “Thank you. Thank you so much, professor, I can’t — I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

She’s halfway out the door when she hears him call: “Ms. Ochoa, one more thing?”

She turns.

The professor smiles benevolently at her from his chair. “Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started.”

And with that, she’s on her way.

Get out.

So, update: maybe deciding to take her portfolio pictures on her way to her college interview was a stupid idea, but to be fair, a lot of her stupid ideas have worked out pretty decently before, so. It’s fine.

Probably.

She definitely doesn’t almost miss the train by snapping shots of the mostly-empty station, but in her defense, the morning fog hadn't quite dissipated yet, and the spooky air of possibility that the tracks had been extending and disappearing into was just begging to be captured. And she absolutely doesn’t continually hop seats throughout the hour-long ride to get different angles of the seats, the blurry towns and roads whizzing past, or even a couple of self-portraits here and there. It’s not like there are people around for her to bother, anyway, so it’s fine. (Probably.) It’s a little hard getting a satisfyingly dramatic shot of her staring out the window, but she thinks the one where they’re passing through a tunnel and she’s locked eyes with her shadowy reflection might be a winner. She won’t really know until she opens them up on her computer, which will probably end up being just before the interview, with her luck, so. Who knows, she might just be wasting her time and battery life.

It’s the most fun she’s had in a while, though.

And. Fuck, maybe it makes no sense, but she's still got that feeling in her chest. It's creeping up to her ponytail, at this point, tugging on the ends of her curls, ordering her to pay attention.

Capture this.

It's important.

Last time she felt like that, she won an award, so. Y'know. Fuck her if she's going to ignore it.

She cuts herself off when there’s ten minutes left in the journey, just to be sure she’s not scrambling to put herself together as she’s pulling up to the station, but ten minutes, it turns out, is both much longer and much shorter than she thought it’d be. Just enough time to run down the list of all the possible ways this could (and would) go wrong, but not enough to steady her racing heart before the train’s slowing down.

You're delusional. This isn't one of your little fairy tales. This is — it's not going to happen.

Don’t give up on yourself before you’ve even gotten started, she remembers, taking one last breath to steel herself, and swings herself up onto her feet and out the doors.

The station is nice enough, but not terribly different from the one she’d started in besides being a little cleaner, so she shoulders her backpack and makes her way down the stairs and into the town proper.

Which.

Wow.

Maybe it’s just a seasonal thing, maybe not, but all the buildings she can see are draped with hanging lights, and even the curving street lights have extra strands hanging over the sidewalks. She almost wishes she’d scheduled her interview later in the day, just to be able to get a shot of those lights against the dark sky, but contents herself with snapping pictures of the incredibly aesthetic sidewalk and shops. She spots an art supply store with a cheerful blue door sandwiched between a movie theater and an apartment complex that frames up nicely, and there��s a coffee shop with swirling, festive winter-y designs painted on the window with pots of poinsettias framing the corners that’s a — no pun intended — picture-perfect paragon of coziness. She stops maybe a little too long to zoom in on the red leaves and flawless paint, making sure to keep the actual inside of the shop out of focus, because as cute as the beanbags and mismatched armchairs are, she doesn’t really feel like going in to ask if it’s alright for her to take pictures of the small handful of people both in front of and behind the counter.

One last shot of the poinsettias and she moves on, turning her lens to the last few, dying flowers in their garden beds, then to the display window of a bookstore that proudly announces its support of the LGBT community with various painted flags, then to the churning river that cuts through the town and the elegant bridge that arcs proudly above it.

There’s not a lot of people walking around right now, but she can definitely see kids around her age up the street, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as their breath puffs out in front of them. A cute dog bounces over to say hello before its owner tugs it away with a sheepish smile, and even without their leaves, the trees interspersed along the sidewalk stand tall, proud, and lovely.

She’s got that weird ache in her chest again — stronger this time — that indiscernible pull that draws her to stay, and she puts her camera down, puffing out a shaky breath.

What made you think we want you here?

“It doesn’t matter.” She tells herself sternly, leaning up on the sides of the bridge. “It doesn’t matter unless you get in.”

Speaking of. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, fully intending to double check the email she’d been sent with instructions on where to go, but her eye catches on the time.

Twelve forty-six.

So. Maybe not the best idea to go gallivanting around a campus she doesn’t know, especially when she has an extremely important interview to get to, but even as she’s scolding herself, she knows the pink flush in her cheeks isn’t just from the cold, and she’s got more energy now than she’s had in months, so.

Worth it.

Thank god E.A. Archer Hall is straightforward enough to find; Google Maps tells her it’s a seven minute walk in a mostly straight line from where she is on the bridge now, which she just about manages even though it’s cold and her stump is starting to ache. The building is emblazoned with the name right on the side, so it’s impossible to miss, but she needs a keycard to get in, and somehow she thinks her current school ID isn’t exactly going to fly here.

But someone, somewhere, is smiling on her, because she’s only just gotten to oh, shit before a tall woman with vitiligo and long box braids strides towards the door, pushing it open.

“Alejandra Ochoa?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she says as smoothly as she can behind her chattering teeth, and the woman smiles.

“You're right on time. Come on in, let's get started."

#I HAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABOUT HOW DIFFERENT FIO/STL WOULD GO NOW SO IM REWRITING IT #i dont wanna spoil things bc i am in fact working on the next bits but here are some minor thoughts:#1: alexa starts out as an architecture major then switches schools to go into photography/filmmaking spring semester 2nd year #((not to toot my own horn but the way her major reflects her emotional arc is actually very clever of me if i do say so myself))#2: alexa and jaimey are half siblings through their dad and there will in fact be more Jaimey/Juno development than ive ever done before #((i have a lot of thoughts about their relationship and how it would grow and develop over time so. lowkey Jaimey redemption arc))#3: alexa obviously nails this interview and she hangs out on campus for a lil while afterwards to take pictures #((3.5: she does end up going into the coffee shop and there is in fact a Very Cute Barista and she gets Nervous))#4: the little interjections are things that have been said to Alexa somewhat recently but not all by the same person #thats about it i think anything else would be spoiler-y #n e way i cant wait to loredump all my new thoughts on yall im so sorry in advance for all the notifications you're about to get #im workin on some AU stuff too but lately ive been wanting to write about Normal Kids doing Normal Kid Things so here we are #i hope you enjoyed #movie house #alejandra ochoa #alexa darmond #my writing #shut up phoenix

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tiny-slasher · 4 years

Text

Billy Lenz x Reader | Coffee Shop AU

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

“U already know who this is... Coffee shop au but there's a competing coffee shop that sells holiday themed drinks depending on the day of the week (B I L L Y L E N Z I D E M A N D H I M)” - anon

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Billy was pissed.

Stupid Coffee Shop with their stupid snowflakes- and who the hell painted that sorry excuse for a snowman on the front window?! It wasn't even December, and they already had decorations up and Holiday Specials advertised in big, bold lettering

Billy blew a stray strand of hair from his face, glaring out the window at the coffee shop across the street. Two years after they opened there, and he still couldn't believe they'd had the audacity to choose that location - maybe less that thirty feet away from the location of his shop. There he'd been, finally settled after years of therapy, content with the stability of his life, when they showed up.

Them and their hair...their clothes...their stupid face- stupid eyes-

They came and opened their shop, selling coffee a dollar cheaper than him and attracting half of his customers like moths to a flame. When Billy put up a sign advertising cookies, they advertised two-for-one deals. When he offered special holiday sales, they offered free cookies with any purchase on Tuesdays. When he advertised limited time coffee flavors, they advertised seasonal baked goods. Those with fewer tastebuds and lighter wallets began to switch to the other, lesser coffee shop within a couple of months, and Billy was left to suffer the consequences.

Granted, he still got good business, his coffee shop was unique, and obviously quite superior. Not only was he skilled in the art of coffee making, and served everything in ceramic cups unless otherwise specified, his shop was themed.

Each day was a different holiday, with different options for coffee. He had 'plain' options for those who just wanted a caffeine fix, but he had alternating holiday flavors for the more adventurous. And damn it, if someone wanted a Leprechaun Cappuccino on Thursday then too fucking bad! They’d have to show up on Monday like everyone else!

It had started off with just Christmas themed brews all year 'round, but he'd expanded after the first year. He hated having to explain the menu to new customers every single time they showed up, but he did enjoy messing around with different types of latte art. That is, if everyone stopped ordering the iced coffee...

Glancing back at his rival, he snarled.

Billy hated them. He hated their coffee shop, he hated their smile, he hated their dumb laugh-

He'd often see them through the window, putting a sign out front, or sweeping off the front step before they opened. They looked dumber and dumber each time he saw them. Sometimes they had the nerve to wave at him and yell out a greeting like they had no idea they were rivals, and Billy hated it. He wanted to get rid of them. He wanted to dump boiling coffee over their head. He wanted to rip out their intestines and-

Bad Billy! Bad for having bad thoughts again! Stupid, nasty Billy! Stupid-

Billy took in a long, deep breath, just like his therapist taught him to, focusing on the way his lungs filled with air and collapsed when he exhaled. He played with the hem of his sweater, worn from years of doing so, feeling the way the fibers ran across his fingertips. He sighed, wishing for just one day without intrusive thoughts, but knowing he'd never be granted that sort of reprieve. No, it wasn't something he'd ever be cured from...but it was something he was learning to manage better as the years went by.

He glanced around the shop, hoping none of the customers noticed his little episode. Thankfully, they all seemed absorbed in their activities and conversations.

Billy sighed, a bit relieved. He wiped off some glitter that had fallen onto the counter from the tinsel hanging above him, hoping none had gotten into his hair again, when the front door of the shop opened. Glancing up he saw a woman and a young boy walk in and make their way over to the counter. They were regulars, coming every single Tuesday for the Valentine's Day special.

"Welcome to ‘Fa-la-latte’, what can I get'cha?" Billy asked with a smile plastered on his face.

"I'd like a Sweetheart iced coffee," she gestured towards the boy. "And he just wants a strawberry muffin. To go, please."

Billy nodded and spun around to get to work, withholding the eye roll he nearly gave her. If he had one more customer order the iced coffee he was going to take it off the menu.

He didn't notice the bell on the door ring, too focused on his internal dialogue and making a damn good iced coffee (or, as good as iced coffee is going to get). Even if he had to make the same damn thing every Tuesday, he wasn't one to disappoint.

Shoving the lid of the coffee with one hand, he grabbed a muffin in the other, putting it in a bag and setting them both on the counter. The boy, like any child would, grabbed the muffin almost immediately, and Billy rang up the price on the cash register. While the woman pulled out her card, Billy saw the person behind them.

Billy's eye twitched and his pupils narrowed at the sight before him.

It was them.

The absolute nerve this person had was astonishing. They thought it'd be okay to just show up whenever they wanted? In his shop? The shop they were practically stealing money from by simply existing? With their little stupid, ugly smile, and their stupid-

"Thank you!" the woman's loud voice broke Billy out of his thoughts, taking her coffee and exiting the shop with the boy in tow.

Billy's knuckles were white as they walked up to him, a smile on their face. He saw through their facade. He wasn't falling for that sweet demeanor.

"Wow, they weren't kidding when they said you had a lot of options!" they said, eyes wide as they looked at the signs above Billy's head. "It must be exhausting having to have a different menu for each day!"

Billy's jaw began to hurt from clenching, eyes raking over their form as they rattled on about things he didn't care about.

"So, Tuesday is Valentine's Day, huh? What would you recommend for a newcomer?"

Billy blinked, "What?"

"I came to try it out myself! Everybody keeps raving about how good your stuff is, and I wanted firsthand experience!"

Oh. Oh this sneaky- They wanted to taste it so they could copy him! They wanted to steal his ideas and sell it for half price! He was so close to just leaning over the counter and grabbing them by the throat-

But, he couldn't just cause a scene in front of his loyal customers! This coffee shop was supposed to be their quiet space, where everyone could just relax and enjoy themselves. He wasn't about to ruin it for them, and risk losing business.

Gathering himself, Billy gave them a sickly sweet smile, "Well, everyone orders the Sweetheart Iced Coffee."

They shifted on their feet, "Is that what you would order?"

Oh they were good...

"No," Billy leaned on the counter. "I'd order the latte."

They glanced up to the sign, "Just a regular latte?"

"Yup."

Seemingly dumbfounded, they shrugged and said, "Alright. One medium latte, please!"

Sending them one last smile before he turned around, Billy scowled and got to work.

Who'd they fucking think they were? 'oNe MeDiUm LaTtE pLeAsE!' Like he was gonna make them one of his specialty drinks anyway! Still...if they were out for his recipe, they would've been more insistent to order a specialty drink, wouldn't they? He glanced back at them, watching the way they looked around the shop with an awed expression. Their acting skills were top notch, he'd give them that.

Billy shook his head, trying to stop himself from mumbling. A few phrases escaped his lips despite his efforts. He heard them laugh softly, and he nearly burst a blood vessel trying not to scream at them to get out. An image of stabbing them in the eyes with a candy cane abruptly took over his thoughts, and he couldn't help but muse over it with a satisfied hum. He'd watch as their blood warmed the candy in his hands, mixing into a sugary, sticky mess-

NO! Bad Billy! Bad, bad, BAD BILLY! Naughty, NASTY-

Billy closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the way the coffee machine hummed.

"You have her father's love, Demetrius. Let me have Hermia's. Do you marry him?" Billy muttered in a low voice, steaming some milk with an iron grip. "Scornful, Lysander! True, he hath my love-"

"Are you quoting Shakespeare?"

Billy pointedly ignored them, trying not to break the handle on his coffee machine as he turned the steamer off while he murmured to himself, a bit softer than before, "And what is mine my love shall render him. And she is mine, and all my right of her, I do estate unto Demetrius."

He poured the milk into the coffee, swirling it into a neat, but not overly exotic heart. It was Valentine's Day themed, after all, and he wasn't about to get ridiculed for a sloppy job. Turning to set it down in front of them, he was briefly stunned to find they'd moved to sit over at the bar near him. His fingers twitched as he inhaled sharply, plastering a smile back on his face as he shakily set the cup down in front of them.

Their eyes scanned him for a long moment before falling to the latte in front of them, sending him a small smile and a thanks. Billy gave them a sickening "You're welcome" before turning to clean up, ignoring the pleased hum they gave after their first sip. He was mumbling to himself again while he washed out some used cups when they spoke.

"So, are you in a play?"

Billy paused for a moment, confused, "What?"

"Oh, you were just reciting lines, so I thought maybe you were trying to keep them memorized," they shrugged, and then lifted their cup of coffee. "This is really good, by the way!"

"Were you expecting it to be bad?" he bit out, a bit more harshly than intended.

"No, no! I'm just used to coffee that's not so great," they shrugged.

"If you wanted bad coffee, you should've ordered the Americano," Billy mumbled.

The laugh he earned stunned him, his thoughts pausing for a moment to take in the sight of their smile. Despite his suspicions, the twinkle in their eyes seemed genuine enough... It would be so easy to put that light out...make their eyes as dull as his own can be. Turn the whites into a scarlet-stained-

A cup shattered in Billy's grasp, slicing the silence like a knife through butter. A curse escaped his lips before he thought better of it, echoing throughout the room. Some of the customers looked in his direction. Billy wanted to apologize, but his voice wouldn't cooperate. He lowered his head a bit, hiding his face behind a curtain of hair, and shakily gathered the broken ceramic from the sink. Thankfully, he hadn't cut himself.

You should have, stupid, stupid Billy! You deserve it! Bad Billy! Bad-

"Are you alright?"

Billy turned to them, eyes manic. He relished in the way they tried to hide their discomfort.

"I'm fine," he bit out.

Billy seized the opportunity for a bathroom break, escaping the hellscape that was his coffee shop. Standing in the middle of the small bathroom, he spent the next few minutes trying to even his breathing. In, and out. In, and out. The breathing technique left a lot to be desired, and didn't do much for his racing thoughts...but it was better than nothing. If anything, at least he could tell his therapist he'd put in the effort. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, unsurprised to see a murderous gaze looking back at him.

"If we shadows have offended, think but this and all is mended," Billy muttered, hands gripping the sink. "That you have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear. Heh! Dramatic."

Shaking himself off, Billy inhaled and exited the restroom.

They were still there, sipping their coffee and eyeing him as he walked back behind the counter. He sent them a smile, as though nothing had happened less than five minutes before. They blinked at him, confused, but Billy paid them no mind. Instead, he decided to make himself a latte. His hands were still quite shaky, and his heart had yet to really calm itself down. He fumbled with the steamer a bit, but managed to complete the drink with no mishaps.

"So...which holiday is your favorite?"

Billy stared at them as he sipped his latte.

"Mine is Halloween! I'm curious to know what the Death Brew tastes like," they smiled. "Is it bitter?"

Billy's eyes were glued to them as they patiently awaited his answer, and he took his time swallowing his coffee. They wanted to know what his brew tasted like, huh? They were definitely out to steal his recipe.

"It tastes like death," he replied. "Hints the name."

He jumped when they laughed out loud, apparently finding his sarcasm amusing. Billy hated the little butterfly that flew around in his tummy, and promptly squashed it with an eye roll and a huff.

Billy watched as they continued to look around at all the different decorations adorning the coffee shop, seemingly in admiration, but he couldn't be too sure. This person was crafty, and he had to be ready for anything. They were clearly looking for some way to ridicule him, or one-up him, and he would not allow it.

Still...the twinkle in their eyes...and the soft smile that settled on their lips...

"Christmas."

Their sparkling eyes turned back to Billy, "What?"

"My favorite holiday is Christmas," Billy said.

They smiled at him, "I should've known...there's a lot of tinsel hanging around in here."

Billy looked down at his latte, trying to sort through his racing thoughts. He hadn't felt this unsettled in a while, and it was a feeling he hadn't wished to relive.

"Your place is a lot calmer than mine," they said airily. "It's nice..."

Billy's eye twitched. He couldn't tell if that was a compliment, or a well-hidden insult. He just hummed in reply, trying not to appear as frazzled as he felt. However, he was sure the trembling in his hands was giving him away.

"Christmas is on Saturday, right?" they asked.

He nodded and they gave him a sweet smile.

"Well, I might have to come back in a few days, then," they replied, hopping off of the bar stool. "I'll see you around! Thanks for the coffee!"

Baffled, Billy watched them leave with his mouth hanging open. He stared until he saw them disappear behind the door of their own coffee shop.

Everything about that interaction had gone strangely, in his mind, and he wasn't sure if it was because it had been strange or if it was just him who found it odd. They'd seemed genuinely curious about everything, not with ill intentions in mind. However, they'd left so abruptly...almost like they did it on purpose.

They were probably scared of Billy. They probably heard him mumbling nasty things under his breath and ran away- T-they knew Billy is bad! They knew Billy has bad thoughts! Bad, bad thoughts! They- They...

They didn't fucking pay for their coffee.

Billy nearly saw red, glaring at the empty cup that sat on the counter. With shaking hands he grabbed it, doing his best not to toss it across the room in frustration. He froze, however, when he saw a small slip of paper flutter on the table where the cup had been sitting. Curiosity peaked, Billy set the cup in the sink and then picked the paper up between in fingers.

"Feel free to stop by my shop any time for a free coffee! We've got lattes ;)"

Billy didn't enjoy the way his face felt as it flushed, and he really didn't enjoy this new feeling of butterflies in his stomach. And yet, a grin split on his face, and a cackle escaped his lips, earning a few glances. He turned to see them staring at him through their own window. They grinned and waved at him, and he choked.

If they were so insistent on stealing his recipes, he'd just have to return the favor. He wanted to see what all those customers saw in their stupid coffee shop. They probably batted their stupid eyelashes at people, and smiled their stupid smile-

Their stupid, goofy smile... Made their eyes crinkle at the corners... He could think of many different ways they could use that mouth of theirs-

No! Bad, naughty Billy! Having naughty thoughts at work! Bad! Bad! BAD!

#billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #slasher #slashers #coffee shop au

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babybitchegg · 3 years

Text

Five Days In a Week

I really don't know what I'm doing, but I hope you enjoy this. I wrote it for fun...also, I didn't specify who this is about, originally I wrote it as a Kirishima fanfic, but a friend of mine said It seemed like a Bakugo fanfic. The choice is yours. This is the first fanfic I've written since I was a young child, so I hope it's not too cringe.

Extra note: Gender-neutral (no mention of gender), slight fluff

Warnings: Slight gore (Just the teensiest bit), general angst, character death, maybe bad grammar, and orbs

_____________________________________________________________

We were by each other five days of the week. You complained and begged for more, but I was resilient. While spending time with you lifted me from my hell, you needed time to yourself and others, even if you denied it. That’s the way it always was, from our days in elementary to now. Five days and nights by each other, two days and nights apart, it felt comfortable enough. A constant schedule, week by week, little to no change. At least, that’s how it was supposed to be, but, alas, even in comfort, there lies pain.

Monday: 5 Days

Five days ago we were studying. I forced you to. You complained about how we were wasting our precious time together doing menial tasks. I scoffed and retorted that studying wasn’t a death sentence; it was an investment towards the future. You pouted, smiled, then pulled out your materials. We sat in silence doing work. Every once in a while, asking each other for help and d clarifying the unknown. It ended when you put your pencil down at around 10 p.m, grabbed my waist, hoisted me up in the air, laughing maniacally as I screamed in surprise. You apologized and laid me down on your bed. I got up protesting as I still had work to do, but you gently grabbed my hand. I looked over at you, staring into your ruby orbs; it was a mistake I always make. I sighed and laid down with you, limbs interlocked, and the night ended.

Tuesday: 4 Days

Four days ago, we sat on my bed, choosing a movie. We have decided to watch The Titanic. A timeless film of sorrowful love. I laughed when Jack slipped; you sobbed; it was silent when the movie ended. You asked me how I could laugh at such a sad scene; I wondered how you could cry at such a hilarious scene. I received your blank stare; I sighed and said that if it made you feel any better, I would either die with you or sacrifice myself for your life. You gasped and said not, that you would protect me at all costs and no one would die. I smiled at that. I didn’t want to start an argument. We went to our rooms that night.

Wednesday: 3 Days

Chaos is an understatement of what happened that day. We decided to make some treats for the class, innocent fun, a time for bonding. Except it wasn’t. Everything was going well; we managed to mix the dry ingredients and the wet ingredients. Until we realized the batter was too wet. My mistake was ignoring the mischievous smile on your face when I asked you to get the flour. The next thing I knew, there was flour on the tip of my nose. That was your mistake. I sneezed, and flour got everywhere. We stood there in silence with shock until you let out a boisterous laugh that filled me with fear yet unbridle warmth. Laughs led to wars; wars led to giggling. Giggles led to Mr. Aizawa finding us covered in ingredients in a messy kitchen. That mess led to us getting scolded and a day of house arrest.

Thursday: 2 Days

Due to our antics of the previous day, we got house arrest. Nothing too significant happened as the class made sure we were busy. Only occasional smiles were thrown before we went to bed.

Friday: 1 Day

I felt anxious the entire day; I spaced out a lot more than I usually do in class. You immediately noticed something was off about me. You asked me, yet I couldn’t give an answer, how could I when even I didn’t know. All I could say was that something felt off. You reassured me, saying that you felt the same way. We decided to brush it off and went on with our day, yet it was so ever-present in the corners of my subconscious. Later that night, as we Laid in Your bed, sleep was difficult to come by. You felt it too. Instead of rest, we decided to go to the balcony. We stared deep into the stars, contemplating meaningless questions, pandering with the time we didn’t have. All through the night, the same dread didn’t go away,y but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. As the sun rose, we talked about the future. We saw each other. We saw our years go by. If only destiny saw the same.

Everything went wrong that day. Villains attacked as we were doing training lessons. We were separated. I tried my hardest to find you in a mess; I’m sure you did the same. When we did come to each other, you were struggling. The brilliant smile you wore was replaced with a grimace. You were trapped. The villain was trying to kill you, yet like a pillar, you stood firm. Yet you were cracked. I took a step forward; that step turned into five steps, four steps, two steps, one more...and then none. I heard you scream my name. I looked over and saw you as a child, crying holding your eye, to you as a middle schooler standing beside me as we watched a large villain antagonize those girls, to you when we walked into UA for the first time, to you when you asked me out, to you when we shared our first kiss, to the current you. Bloodied and battered, eyes rimmed with tears, screaming my name as you ran towards me.

You managed to catch me. I never realized how warm you indeed were. Or how cold I was. You begged me to stay, begged me to wait five days more, even just 5 minutes more. Yet, I couldn’t. I tried reassuring you as I had countless times,s yet all I could manage was a breath. I smiled. You frowned. The five days were up; you are now free to spend the weekend and the rest of the five days with others. I closed my eyes and listened to you sob; my heart slowly stopped, my senses slowly faded, the last thing I remembered was the five days spent watching the world turn, the way our hands interlocked, the comfort you brought. Then darkness.

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha kirishima #bnha #angst #bnha angst #my hero academia #one shot #gender netural #boku no hero academia #bnha fanfiction #I hope I tagged this sufficiently

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fickle-tiction · 4 years

Text

Death Spot/Holding It In

Prompt #11& 18 for Tickletober, requested (forcibly requested?) by @anasticklefics

It’s my personal headcannon that Jim really isn’t ticklish, which frustrates Bones to no end. That is, until you find that ooooooooooone spot, and then all hell breaks loose. I’ve either written a fic like this before, or I’ve read one like this?? But with different characters. I honestly can’t remember, so if I’m stealing anyone’s idea please tell me!

Also, this was not meant to be this long....oops...?

~~~

“I am----going to---kill you---one day!” Bones somehow manages to huff this out, between bouts of strangled laughter as Jim finally finally starts to let up, and slow his dancing fingers down. McCoy is red faced and laughing quietly as Jim finally leaves his ribs alone, in favor of laying on his stomach, chin propped up on a closed fist, as McCoy curls away from him on his small dorm bed.

How they managed to have these epic, and epically one-sided, tickle wars on these tiny beds without falling off and breaking several bones is a mystery, but it is almost a daily occurrence. Ever since Jim found out that his room mate, best friend, and all around grumpy asshole, was incredibly, adorably, ridiculously ticklish, Jim hadn’t left him alone. It’s been almost two weeks of nonstop pokes to McCoy’s ribs while he’s reading, or squeezing his sides while he’s reaching for the box of bran flakes on top of the fridge, or fingers wiggled inside of his ear (which doesn’t tickle, damn it Jim! It just...feels...weird!). Leonard doesn’t remember the last time he laughed this much (of course he doesn’t, he’s never laughed this much. He hasn’t had an hour of peace since Jim’s little discovery.)

It’s not as tragic as it sounds. For all that McCoy grumps and growls and yells out death threats, he’s never once asked Jim to stop; a fact that Jim has picked up on and has been waiting for the perfect opportunity to taunt him with. Jim’s pretty sure if he plays his cards right he can get his friend to blush, something he would not have thought possible two weeks ago. Judging by how alarmingly fast Bones’s face turns red when Jim is going to town on his ribs, he’s pretty sure the man has a blush hidden in there somewhere.

Naturally, Leonard’s tried to get Jim back. Several times. It’s never ended well for him.

“You are fucking dead!” Jim probably would have taken Bones more seriously if he had bothered to catch his breath before threatening his life. As it were, Bones’s voice with still huffy with the remnants of his laughter, hair tousled and sticking up in the back, dimples so deep they could probably hold a pencil.

“Oh, I’m so scared, Doctor Dimples.” Jim mocked, cocky smile in place as Bones dove for his sides. The good doctor squeezed up and down, wiggling his thumbs into the front of Jim’s stomach much like Jim had done to him moments ago. Jim just reclined back into the couch cushions, hands folded behind his head, as he whistled a song he heard in a holovid the other day.

“You almost done? I have class in fifteen.”

Bones growled in response, fingers moving faster even as they got no reaction from his infuriating best friend.

He missed the way Jim’s entire body tensed up when Bones’s long index fingers wiggled into the backs of his ribs. Thankfully, Bones gave up after another minute, but not before swearing his vengeance

Tuesday was the first day in a very long week that Jim hadn’t pounced on Bones, or surprised him while he was doing homework, ambushed him when he came out of the shower. Naturally, Leonard saw it as an opportunity to get some well-deserved revenge. Maybe, he figured, if he could sneak up on Jim first before Jim got it into his head to tickle him, he’d have the element of surprise on his side and he’d finally get a reaction out of his friend.

Bones was pretending to read a book at the small table in their small kitchen area, conveniently only a few feet from Jim’s bed. His patience paid off when Jim finally got up to use the bathroom, and once the door closed Bones casually readjusted his chair so it was angled facing Jim’s bed, without the table being directly in front of him. A minute later, Bones heard the sink running and then Jim emerged. Bones held his breath, stared at his book, counted to four, and then pounced, tackling Jim into his bed.

Leonard wasted no time, burying his wiggling fingers into Jim’s armpits, searching for a reaction. He heard a snort of laughter and his heart soared, before realizing Jim was laughing at him and not at the tickling sensation.

“Really Bones?” Jim asked, face squished into his mattress. “Ambushing a guy that just left the bathroom? Have you no shame?”

“You did that to me two days ago.” Bones pointed out, pressing into Jim’s back with his hands as he settled his weight onto the backs of Jim’s thighs. He didn’t notice Jim tensing under his fingers, nor did he catch the quiet huff of relief when Bones started lightly scratching up and down Jim’s ribs.

“Just so you know,” Jim started, craning his neck so he could at least see Bones out of the corner of his eye. “Whatever you do to me right now, I’m going to do to you in about, ohhhhh, two minutes.” He smirked as the smile dropped off Bones’s face, cataloguing every renewed attempt Bones made to get him to crack. The poor guy really brought that one on himself.

“Give me your feet.” Bones demanded, earning a curiously raised eyebrow from Jim.

“Uhm, why?” Jim asked, even as he shifted sideways on their couch and swung his legs up, feet landing softly in Bones’s lap.

“Because you’ve got to be ticklish somewhere, damn it.” The way Bones said it almost sounded like he was pleading with some unknown presence, and wow he really was getting desperate to get Jim back. (He still, however, hadn’t asked Jim to stop.)

Jim watched as Bones began scratching at the arch of his foot, wrinkling his nose at the feeling. It didn’t tickle so much as it itched. After a few seconds of that Bones grunted before dancing his fingers up to Jim’s toes, making sure to wiggle into the spaces just beneath them. He glanced up at Jim and scowled at the blonde’s smirk, renewing his efforts as he tickled around his ankle.

“So,” Bones could almost hear the shit-eating grin in Jim’s voice, and his head whipped up at the inflection. “Are these all spots that you’re ticklish?” Jim asked, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Before Bones could answer, Jim had yanked his feet back and the two began an epic wrestling match that ended on the floor of their small dorm, Leonard on his stomach, Jim on the back of his thighs and facing his feet. Jim held Bones’s right foot in a headlock with his left arm as he tickled his sole viciously with his right hand. Bones was begging him to stop after literally five seconds. Jim was quick to coo that that’s the first time Bones has ever asked him to stop.

Jim was right. Bones could blush.

~~~

“Oh, good. Are you going to give me more ideas?” Jim asked, grin wide as Bones finally caught his breath enough to muster up a real glare.

“There’s no way I’m more ticklish than an actual infant.” Bones growled before uncurling from his ball and pouncing.

“What’s with the theatrics?” Jim asked with a laugh, not doing anything to defend himself as Bones settled onto his back. “I am happy to let you explore, Bones. It’s very telling. You always go after what happens to be a great spot on you.”

Bones huffed and rolled his eyes, even though Jim couldn’t see it from his current facedown position. Bones thought about going for Jim’s neck, figuring there was no harm in that spot since Jim already knew about it. As expected, Jim just closed his eyes and relaxed onto the bed with a smile as Bones tried to take him apart, one wiggle at a time.

He thought about trying the backs of Jim’s knees, but he wasn’t sure he could take Jim getting revenge there just now. He was too exhausted.

Where else? Where else?

Bones idly tapped his fingers on Jim’s back as he weighed the pros and cons of tickling the backs of Jim’s thighs, which contained a multitude of very sensitive nerve endings. It took him a minute to realize Jim had gone stiff under him, and when Bones looked down he realized Jim not had his eyes squeezed tight, and was biting his lip. Bones stilled his fingers and was going to ask what was wrong when Jim let out a sigh of relief and went limp.

And then, it clicked.

“How are you not ticklish?!” Bones growled out, louder than he intended, but he was excited damn it. It was hard to contain himself. He waited until Jim smirked and craned his neck to look back at him before he went to town.

“I guess I ju--nahahaaha-Bo-hohohoh-bones! NO!” Jim cackled, burying his head into the mattress as Bones wiggled his fingers up and down the backs of Jim’s ribs. Jim tried to reach back and knock Bones’s hands away, but he wasn’t in a great position to do so and he merely left an opening for Bones to walk his fingers up into Jim’s armpits.

“Oh Ho! What’s this!?” Bones asked, gleefully digging into the sensitive hollows of Jim’s underarms. Jim snapped his arms down reflexively, bright bubbly laughter flowing from his mouth as Bones finally finally got his revenge.

“Bo-hohohohoho-ones!” Jim giggled, trying to squirm his way out from under Bones.

“Yeah Jimmy?” Bones asked, grinning wide as he eased up enough that Jim loosened his death grip and let him pull his hands out from under his arms. He wasted no time in reaching behind himself and digging his fingers into the tender flesh at the back of Jim’s thighs. Jim nearly bucked him off he jumped so hard, before dissolving into deep belly laughter.

“I ca-hahahahahaha-can’t!” Jim wheezed, eyes crinkling at the corners as he cackled.

“Sure ya can.” It was Bones’s turn to smirk and he walked his fingers down to the backs of Jim’s knees and lightly scratched at the thin skin there. “I just needed to find that one spot, and now the floodgates are opened.” When he said “one spot” Bones quickly went back to tickling the backs of Jim’s ribs, causing the younger man to shriek before breaking out into high pitched, slightly panicked laughter.

“Now let’s see,” Bones pretended to think as he danced his fingers lightly over the sides of Jim’s neck and ears. Jim scrunched his shoulder up, high pitched giggles falling from his mouth as Bone’s managed to tickle down onto his collarbone. “Where else have you tickled me in the past two weeks?” He asked, hands quickly darting behind himself to tickle at the backs of Jim’s thighs again and making him jump. He took the opportunity to raise up onto his knees and let Jim scramble onto his back. Bones came down hard on Jim’s thighs before he could get very far.

“Truce!” Jim shouted, smile stretched across his face as he pushed at Bones’s chest. Bones wasted no time in slipping his hands under Jim’s shirt and lightly scratching at every inch of skin he could reach. Jim once more dissolved into laughter, trying to squirm away and push at Bones’s chest. Neither was very effective, but Bones did enjoy alternating between tickling under Jim’s arms to get him to clamp them down, and then reaching back to squeeze the tops of his knees to get him to try to push Bones away again. It was a vicious circle, and Bones only let up when Jim’s face started turning pink.

“Now, what was that about more ideas?” Bones asked, grinning triumphantly as Jim collapsed onto the mattress, a tired smile on his face even as his hands hovered protectively in front of himself.

“I-” Jim huffed, gasping in more air. “-Am going-” He cracked his eyes open to watch Bones smile drop from his face at this next part. “-To wreck you.”

Jim pounced as Bones shrieked.

#idiots in love #mckirk #tickling #tickling fanfiction #Star Trek Fanfiction #ticklish!bones #ticklish!mccoy #ticklish!kirk #tickletober2020

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vanaera · 5 years

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The Heart Holiday | Act 1 | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing your PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader

AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives manager!yoongi x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat)

Wordcount: 11, 798

Warnings: Lots of curses from two emotionally-constipated characters (PG-15 Rating)

A/N | This fic is in part with FWL’s Valentine’s project, The Luv Library: Romance. I had this premise about a Valentine’s holiday for a while and finally, I got to use it for this fic.

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Ten seconds are enough to look at Min Yoongi. Two seconds to look at his unkempt, unprofessional, and stupid fringes that nonsensically cover his already small eyes. Three to look at his stupid, smug smile. Another two for his overly-confident stance—leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, hands clasping together—as if he’s better and of higher power than anyone else around the room when he’s just a measly representative of the day for the Creatives Team. And the last three seconds—they are enough to look at his mocking eyes, his jeering gaze, and the arrogant quirk of his brow.

This is the same look he gave to Y/N when he got promoted ahead of her. This is the same look he flashed to Y/N when he berated every word choice in her reports. And, this is the same look in his face when he ruined her presentation which could have been her ticket way out from this hellish job. Smug, arrogant, and proud, Min Yoongi is set to ruin Y/N’s life. And all Y/N could do now is glare at him and hope her eyes could set him on fire so it will be easy for hell to swallow him up and—

“Y/N?”

Y/N whips her head to her right, “S-sorry?”

Nancy Kim clicks her tongue, “Why are you just standing there, glaring at the windows? I told you to distribute the copies among the room.”

“R-right,” Y/N gulps and rushes forward. She hands the copies of last month’s Travel Loca issues among the representative of each department. Gracie from the Marketing Team sneaks her a small smile, which Y/N returns. However, that smile falls into a frown when she reaches the devil himself.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Min Yoongi greets, chin rested on his palm. When Y/N doesn’t greet back, Yoongi takes it upon himself to wink at her. With a huff, Y/N slams down the copy on the table in front of him, enough for the glossy, firm cover page to hit his pile of notes and cause some pages to fly off the table.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Nancy calls out, sighing. She waves away at Y/N and the latter takes it as a cue to sit back on her chair. Nancy leans back in her huge black chair, “Okay, let’s get the ball rolling. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

Y/N seats herself on the chair by the corner of the room, behind Nancy’s chair, far from the round meeting table. Every team representative starts to report their progress last month and their suggestions for the next, next month’s issue. Meanwhile, Min Yoongi is still busy picking up his notes on the floor. When he’s gathered them back, now in a sloppy stack, he looks from his crouched position and flashes Y/N his middle finger. She flashes back a finger at him, grinning. Y/N looks down at her small pocket notebook.

“Y/N – 1. Yoongi – 0.”

So far, this morning is really good.

Y/N hates Min Yoongi, and this is beyond an understatement. She hates him so much that the word “hate” started to become insufficient to describe her tantamount distaste for that man. Y/N blames his last name for that. “Min” should not be how his last name spelled. It should be M-E-A-N because that man is beyond mean.

When Y/N first met Yoongi, she knew there’s something off with him. He stands so arrogantly, so prideful as if he deserved every bit of the floor space of Travel Loca’s Main Office when he just got hired because there’s no other job-seeker that has actually applied. Yoongi looks at other people as if he’s any much greater than them. Lazy eyes, far-off gaze, indifferent façade—he just looks at you as if he’s listening when he’s actually just hearing so he can make some witty comeback. And Yoongi talks like a dictator know-it-all. He corrects every word people say here and there, like “Y/N, are you sure it’s ‘demonstrate,’ not ‘visualize’? We can’t physically see something if there’s nothing to see,” or “Y/N, you shouldn’t say ‘Xerox.’ It should be ‘photocopy.’ Xerox is just a brand, our junior high teacher told us so,” as if every word anyone says but him, will always be wrong. Yoongi talks as if no one but him will always be right and that everything around him does not deserve a bit of his attention unless they prove their worth to him.

And it frustrates Y/N to no end that no one seems to see his real form but her. Because apparently, Yoongi is “amazing.” Yoongi knows a lot of foreign places, having traveled to Malta, New Zealand, Hawaii, and yaddah yaddah, making his first-hand knowledge essential to the Writing Department. Yoongi has a lot of expertise in various editing apps, and he’s willing to teach the tricks and nicks to it to anybody. Anybody but Y/N. Because behind closed doors, Y/N knows his true face: Min Yoongi is a thick-skinned, double-faced bitch. That even if his name is on the tip of the tongue of anyone around the office every single morning, his quick promotion as manager of the Creatives Team a never-ending topic starter, Y/N knew the real story. Because Min Yoongi started out as Nancy’s Personal Assistant…just like Y/N.

Nancy Kim is the best photojournalist in the history of travel magazines. God-tier even, because when Nancy is just an intern in The Traveler’s Foot, she wrote the best articles Y/N has ever read. It didn’t matter if they were about a cliché tourist spot that has been featured over and over again or something bizarre that could make anyone wonder someone in their right mind would actually go there. Nancy is the goddess of travel journaling and Y/N obsessively consumed every article she wrote during her entire senior high and college life. So, to be able to get accepted in a company Nancy built, as Nancy’s personal assistant, is a sweet as fuck dream come true. Y/N didn’t care if she has to go home by 12 A.M. or 1 A.M. as Nancy said PA’s always have to leave the office after their bosses left. Nancy just shows the dedication to work one must have. Y/N didn’t find it tiresome when Nancy has to send her back-and-forth for errands both for work and personal life. She’s learning how to be resourceful while being good at time-management all at the same time. She’s learned a lot from Nancy. So, seeing Min Yoongi be so lax at work after getting hired frayed Y/N’s nerves to no end.

Yoongi doesn’t keep a tab on Nancy’s schedules just like Y/N does. He says there’s no reason for such rush to keep every event on track because Nancy will just cancel or push forward them anyway. It’s true, Nancy does sometimes mess up the week calendar Y/N arranged for her, but still, not tabbing anything on your work diary is still an evident proof Yoongi slacks of. He even takes a nap in between work hours for God’s sake. Yoongi also likes to talk behind Nancy’s back: of how inconveniencing, overbearing, and unnecessarily over-the line abuser she is as a boss. He tells this to Y/N day in and day out. Yoongi even mocked Y/N’s work ethic as a “willing subservience to work slavery.” He mercilessly reduced her dedication to work as blind obedience to an authority for the sake of monthly paychecks instead of hard, honest efforts to learn the essential skills in travel journalism.

And, it’s not a miracle no one finds out about this. Because when Yoongi is indeed caught, he finds one loophole in his and Y/N’s dynamic as co-PA’s for Nancy and implicitly, oh so subtly, turns it around against Y/N. Y/N remembers one time when Nancy berated them two for not inserting her friend Rosa’s son’s first birthday party into the 6 PM slot of one Monday in March. After her long sermon, Yoongi apologized for not encoding it into Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet. Y/N handles Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet, not Yoongi. Nancy knows this. So, after her 9-12 shift that same Tuesday, Nancy reminded Y/N of her replaceability in Travel Loca during one of the most tension-filled elevator rides in her life. She went home to her flatmate, Mina, in tears which did not permit her to get an ounce of sleep. Y/N turns up the next day at work, red eyes and red nose close to make Rudolph the reindeer run for his title, only to know from the call logs that Yoongi did not receive Rosa’s call because he was sleeping when Y/N outright told him to take over the phone because she needed a bathroom break.

Min Yoongi is mean and Y/N has seen the last straw of her respectful tolerance to people ticked off by this insufferable man one cursed Thursday night of September.

Thursdays are horrible. It is always assured to be the worst day Y/N will have in a week. Either an investor will change their mind about a deal with Travel Loca, or Nancy will lash out at her because of stress from stupid shenanigans of her rebellious teenage daughter—Thursdays always have it out for Y/N. Y/N can already tell this so when Nancy called for her at 10:30 P.M. to give her a run-down of her schedule for the weekends and the upcoming week. It is already an established routine that Nancy will have Y/N over to her office to give a schedule report at any time of the day. It’s just happened this day that Yoongi took a leave and Y/N shouldered every task to be done, easily wearing her out in the afternoon.

Y/N is close to crying right now because of exhaustion and it does not help that Nancy is wearing a sour face. She does not even look up at Y/N from her laptop when she said, “Tell me this week’s schedule.”

Y/N pulls up her notebook and traces her pen over her notes, “Tomorrow you have an 11 AM meeting with investors from VanTae Apparels. At 1 PM you will have an online meeting with our overseas partners, JM Restaurant Group. We also have to submit the Kim Yuna special feature by 2 PM and at 3 we have the Travel with RM to interview. And–”

“Push the Travel with RM to 2. We’re holding the Yuna feature ‘til next week because Jennie is writing as if she’s still in college.” Nancy presses a hand over her forehead and huffs, “The Writing Department has been consecutively disappointing me with boring, generic articles. Are fresh pieces non-existent nowadays?!”

Y/N looks up, eyes wide, hands sweaty.

Nancy turns back to her laptop, “What else is on my sched?”

“Um, O-on Saturday 4 PM, you are invited to your friend’s, Rica’s baby shower, and for 5, you are invited to Jungsoo’s son’s 1st birthday party. Then Sunday 2 PM is Hana’s sister’s daughter’s 1st birthday party. You are also invited to Nick and Ken’s wedding on Friday and–”

Nancy clicks her tongue, “Cancel them all. I have no time for these parties and meaningless chit-chats that always have these housewives bragging how great their husbands are or their children’s stupid what-nots.”

Y/N nods and slashes through her notes, “Okay.”

“So send them my apologies and give them a $300 gift instead.

“Okay, ma’am.”

Nancy turns her swivel chair to face her, “Did you get my daughter the unpublished sequel of The Swallowing?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles, recalling her last week’s adventure and success. Maybe Nancy’s mood will lighten up if she knew how she accomplished such an impossible task. “I got to grab a copy after weeks of talking with R. Lewis’ manager. Luckily, R. Lewis caught wind that it’s for your daughter. So he agreed to give me the copy. I actually have it right now, let me go back to my table –”

“You don’t have to. Suzie changed her mind. She doesn’t like The Swallowing anymore. Return the copy and get her the unpublished sequel instead of Bird and Foe.”

Y/N’s jaw nearly falls as she stammers, “S-sure, no problem.” Deep inside, Y/N cannot help but think to herself, “Yes, Nancy may be fickle-minded and forgetful of differences in company protocols that intervene with such transactions, but she cannot just disregard my hard work! All the money in my train tickets and brain cells have gone all in the drain for nothing—Okay, calm down, Y/N, this is Nancy. Nancy can help you to write the best articles in no time. This is just training for the real deal—

“Y/N, did you hear me?”

“S-sorry, what?”

“I said, where’s the USB I told you to get from my laptop at our home? I need the files for the JM Restaurant Group.”

Oh shit. The USB. Y/N told Yoongi to get it since he lived nearer to Nancy’s residence in West Street than her. And since, Yoongi’s on leave, the USB is—!

“And first thing in the morning, I want you to go to the Writing Department to get some fresh stories. I do not want to personally see them or else I will be able to fire one whole department in a day.”

At this, Y/N fiddles with her fingers. “Umm, I think I have a story.”

Nancy quirks her brow.

Y/N wrings her hands behind her back. “I-it’s not yet polished and I still have more to cover on–”

“So, you’re already telling me it’s bad before you even pitch a formal proposal –”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she rushes to Nancy. “No! I-it’s about the Write and Backpack Trip Club. The-they’re a club of unpublished writers, usually late 30s, who met on Facebook and decide to travel together to the countries or places their stories are supposed to take place.” Nancy tilts her head and Y/N picks up her tone. Her hands start to quiver with her voice as she says, “People think—people think it’s hopeless. Like, like, they’re wasting their lives on something so trivial instead of focusing on their jobs. But this club gave them a purpose to still reach for their dreams even when people tell them it’s already too late. And I just,” Y/N wipes a stray tear on her cheek–which she doesn’t know if it’s because of her attachment to the club, Nancy’s new orders, or her frustration at Yoongi for leaving all their responsibilities on her–but she sucks them up and breathes out, “I find it really inspiring to have the courage to seek out your purpose when everything in the world is against you.”

Nancy stares at her, brows furrowed. Another drop of tear falls from Y/N’s eyes. Nancy fixes her eyes back on her laptop. “The USB, Y/N, I need it now. A.S.A.P., capiche.”

Wiping her cheeks again, Y/N nods, “Ye-yeah, capiche.”

Y/N could not remember any time she’s rushed out the office as fast as now. Yoongi’s cell is out of reach and nothing is present in Y/N’s mind but to just run out of the building. She needs to clear her mind. She has to think of a solution. She can’t go back to Nancy empty-handed. Nancy’s already unimpressed of her sloppy work for this day, much more at her uncalled emotional breakdown in her office. She will definitely get fired for sure this time.

The cold dry wind hits Y/N’s face the moment she pushes past the large glass doors of the Rockfort Building. The night sky has blackened into dark indigo and the establishments that dot the neighboring grounds of the building have blurred into monotonous dim shops. With just their solar lights left on, the rest of the complex looked like a washed-out commercial center. The only thing that stands out has to be the small mango tree just a meter away from her—the center-piece and quite the only humanizing element of the harsh Rockfort Complex.

Okay, this is great. Y/N always tend to get the best ideas and solutions when she’s standing near this tree. She proved this twice. First, when Nancy demanded her to re-do all their presentations for VanTae Apparel. Y/N managed to slay it by getting inspired by the mangoes and editing the templates to look like nature’s rendition of Van Gogh’s starry night, which happened to be the favorite painting of VanTae’s CEO. And second, when Yoongi messed up Y/N’s schedules for Nancy’s personal events by misnaming each invitation, this mango tree provided her peace to quickly fix everything up before Nancy gets to the office.

Put your thinking cap on, Y/N. What should you do? Should you rush to Nancy’s house now? Oh no, maybe Yoongi already got the USB. Should you go then to Yoongi’s house? Shit, I don’t know his house address—

“Here’s $25, sir. Thank you!”

Y/N freezes. It can’t be.

Y/N turns to her right only for her eyes to land on a man with a familiar jet black mop of hair, standing about two meters before her, talking with a blue-vested delivery man.

No. No. No. NO. Min Yoongi cannot just swoop out of nowhere and sound so chirpy like that while I have to stress over a problem that I DID NOT create. I cannot get fired in a company I’ve spent my life on for two years just because of this man’s unreasonable incompetence!

Fueled by the purest form of aggravation, Y/N stomps ahead and brushes Yoongi’s shoulder, making him turn back to her.

“Oh, hi, Y/N.”

“‘Hi?!’ ‘Hi,’ yourself, Min Yoongi!—"

“Oh my God,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “she’s Adolf Hitler again.”

“Adolf Hitler?!” Y/N scoffs, “Say it for yourself, Min! You’re Hitler because you’re twisted enough to ruin my career because doing shit in yours is not enough. Where’s Nancy’s USB?!”

“If you’re going to talk about work again, I gotta leave. If you didn’t know, a ‘leave’ is a leave.” He emphasizes the last syllable as he starts to walk toward the street.

Letting common sense knock into her, Y/N momentarily disregards her pride and runs after him. When he rounds the corner of a clothing boutique, she slips by his side and places herself in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking him.

Unlike his usual work attire, Yoongi is clad in a black hoodie and denim ripped jeans, an ensemble that remarkably turned to look horrible in 0.5 seconds just because he’s wearing it. Y/N deduces it’s just Yoongi ruining fashion because he 24/7 looks like an asshole.

“What, are you just gonna stare at me?”

Yoongi’s voice brings Y/N back to her purpose. “No, I’m here to tell you, you forgot to do your job—Nancy wants her USB for JM Restaurant Group right now.”

“Well, I don’t have it, sweetheart. Work hours are already over so practically, I’m in no responsibility to do whatever the fuck Nancy wants,” the man quips back, smiling.

Y/N cannot help but snap. “Why are you even here in Rockfort, then? You didn’t turn up for work and now you’re just casually strolling in front of our building. You didn’t take home at least a quarter of our tasks and dumped everything on my shoulders like an irresponsible, signature free-loader high school groupmate. And now you think it’s okay to tell me ‘sorry, I don’t have the USB’ when I told you yesterday to bring it today?! I cannot believe what an asshole you can be, Yoongi.”

Yoongi raises a hand. “Okay, chill, tiger. To answer your question, I am here because my friends and I hung out at a bar near here. Not that you will understand, of course, considering your whole life revolves around work, work, and work. Ooh, and Nancy,” Yoongi grins. “How can I forget you idolize Nancy? Actually no, you worship her.”

Y/N’s face falls into an indignant scowl, “I do NOT worship Nancy! I respect her. Which you also should do because she employed you, not the other way around. Also, I have friends! Mina is my friend!”

“Correction, Mina is your only friend at work. And she happened to be your flatmate and college buddy first before you both had luck to also be co-workers. So no, your friendship with Mina is out of the equation.”

Y/N opens her mouth to tell him Mina cannot be out of the equation when Yoongi beats her, “And second, how could I be a free-loader? A leave is a leave. Our job description did not say we should also take work home. You are the only one who does that because you’re paranoid. So don’t impose your so-called work ethic, that is actually masked obsession, to me because I am a mentally healthy person. I don’t want to have a stick in my ass like you do.”

Y/N steps closer to Yoongi, making the latter cock a brow at her. “I’m not paranoid, Min. It’s you who is the problem. You don’t take this job seriously. You don’t take on responsibilities like a mature adult. You think you’re so great just because no one told you you suck at something when you were a kid. Well, let me tell you now. You suck at plain human decency, something that should be innate in every people. You’re so high up your ass you think you can just do anything and get away with it and you–”

“If you’re just going to insult me, can you do that tomorrow? My food is getting cold.”

Oh no. Nancy’s USB. Y/N closes her eyes and releases a long sigh. She thinks her eyes already did a 360 by the time she managed to fix her composure. She looks up at the man in front of her, currently giving her an amused look. Y/N’s voice cracks as she says, “Yoongi…This is the only time I will ask a favor from you. Please help me with Nancy’s USB. I just want to end this night and go home peacefully without her chewing my head off further more. So please, please, please, can you just help me for once?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi scratches his chin, “let me think about it first.”

“Yoongi, please!”

“Okay, fine,” Yoongi grimaces, “considering you practically begged to me for dear life, I, as a human with pure soul will help you out despite all the shits you said to me—”

“Just help me out!”

Yoongi slaps your reaching hands, “Stop, I’m not yet done with my speech. Anyway, considering this as a favor, not a request, I expect a return of favor, too.”

“Sure, fine, anything!”

“Okay, I think I may or may not have slipped in Nancy’s USB in my bag,” Yoongi breathes out as he reaches for his black satchel. “Oh yeah, I totally have it,” he says, flashing the orange 32 GB USB in front of you.

What the fuck. All this time-!

“Why didn’t you tell me you already have the USB?!”

Yoongi nearly guffaws, “Didn’t I tell you a “leave” is a leave? Wait, oh my god, you should see yourself, sweetheart. You’re about to pop a vein.”

“Min Yoongi, I fucking hate you!” Y/N snatches the USB from Yoongi’s hand and stomps back to the direction of the Rockfort Building. The man doesn’t seem to go on his own way though because Y/N hears him holler “Same sentiment too, Y/N!”

Y/N doesn’t turn back. She just raises a middle finger up that she’s sure Yoongi will not miss. And he did not, for the man’s faint chuckles only continued.

The travel back up to the 12th floor seems like the longest elevator ride Y/N has ever been on. Every additional second into the constricted metal box feels like a one-second deduction from her own lifetime. So when the elevator doors open to Travel Loca’s floor, the air is immediately knocked off Y/N lungs. But not because of relief. Nancy stands in front of her, bags in hand, and obviously upset.

Y/N quickly steps out of the lift. “Nancy, here! The USB!”

“You took too long. Just e-mail them to me. I have to cram-reading them in the morning anyway because a certain someone forgot to do their job.” Nancy brushes by her shoulder and steps into the elevator. “You know, Y/N, if I’m paying you to make my life easier for me and instead, you’re making it harder, your position in this company is useless.” Nancy presses the button for the parking lot. The doors close in front of Y/N, letting her see the disappointment on Nancy’s face for the last second of the night.

Y/N goes home twenty minutes later, worn out, and ready to sleep the second she reaches her floor. But when she opens the door, Mina’s smiling face greets her, and she immediately rushes to the sofa next to her bestfriend.

“Mina, oh my god, I have so much to tell you.”

“Me, too!” Mina giggles, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s arms, “Can I go first though?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Y/N smiles, fixing her seat.

“Well, remember last week when I told you I finally confessed to Mark?”

“Mark, as in, the café barista Mark Tuan?”

Mina jokingly hits Y/N’s arm, “Yes, what Mark would I be talking about?”

“Sorry, you know how I get so spaced out when I’m tired and groggy. Anyway, what happened?”

“Well, Mark finally said yes!” Mina bursts into a wide grin, arms outstretched in joy. “I finally get to date Mark!”

“Oh my god, I’m so happy for you, Nana,” Y/N engulfs Mina into an embrace, “I can’t believe you’re finally in a relationship! I mean, who would not want to date you? You’re smart, pretty, and funny. The boys have missed out on you for seven long years. And now, there’s finally someone who has eyes and can see what a gem you are. And damn right, Mark would see that. It’s not every day he can have a gorgeous girl court him for six months after getting rejected twice.”

“Oh my god, stop bringing that up!” Mina playfully slaps her back and Y/N chortles.

“Okay, okay, I’m just joking. What I really mean is: Mark is a lucky guy. I’m glad he finally realized what an idiot he will be if he rejects you again for the third time when you’ve been with him through all his problems. He won’t find another beautiful girl willing to ride his motorcycle with him in a huge-ass dress just to help him deliver orders in time. You’re the total package Mina and I’m so happy Mark has realized it.”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re making me blush,” Mina laughs. She sways the both of them in their hug, “Mark has an impossibly high standard to meet now because of you.”

“Mark doesn’t have to meet any standards,” Y/N snickers, “You already drool at his face the moment we enter The Daily Bean.”

Mina detaches herself from Y/N and dramatically places a hand over her chest. “How can you remember that so well and not who Mark is?”

Y/N shrugs, “Because I’m not staring at Mark and eye-fucking him 24/7.”

“Oh my god, I do not!” Mina giggles, making you laugh again as she hugs you tight once more. Mina’s fingers card through your hair as she murmurs “But you do know, Y/N, even if I’m in a relationship now, I’m not gonna leave you alone. Even if Mark will start to occupy the top priority in my life, it doesn’t mean you will lose your spot in the top-pest part of my list. You know you’re still and will forever be my number one, right?” Y/N hums at that, closing her eyes from the head massage Mina is currently giving her. She feels Mina nod, “Right, you should because you’re practically my baby.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are! Who would wash the red stain on your pants and underpants in the girl’s CR while you prance around the cubicle only in a top because you bled through your bottoms during your period, much more, on our Christmas Party, other than me?”

Y/N grimaces, “Oh god, you didn’t have to bring that up.”

“You hit right through me when you said I eye-fuck Mark so yeah, eye for an eye, bitch,” Mina cackles as she finally unlatches her arms around her friend. “Anyway, I’m finished with my story of the day. Your turn. What happened tonight?”

Y/N bites her lip, unconsciously easing an inch between her and her bestfriend. Mina is in a good mood today. Y/N doesn’t want to ruin it by ranting off about how horrible Yoongi is again. She knows Mina. She will listen to her rant about another bullshit done by her co-PA and she will also indulge in an insult-fest against the man. That’s just their dynamic: Y/N’s enemy is Mina’s enemy and vice versa. So as Y/N looks at Mina’s smile which doesn’t do much covering up her dark eyes, which have grown from staying up late to wait for her to come home for multiple nights on end, Y/N decides it’s enough negativity for the day.

“It’s nothing, Mina,” Y/N shakes her head, forcing a smile on her face, “just another tiring day from work.”

Mina tilts her head, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Y/N flashes her another smile as she heads for her room, “I’m totally fine. Just tired. Congratulations to you and Mark again.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Mina replies, but the look on her face tells Y/N she’s unconvinced of what she said. Seemingly aware that her friend needed space, Mina turns back the TV. Before Y/N closes her door, she hears Mina chuckle to a punch-line in the airing sitcom.

Y/N flops on her bed face down. If Yoongi didn’t put much of a fight and just handed her Nancy’s USB when he knew he already had it, then maybe this night won’t be so horrible. Y/N would have given Nancy her USB in time, and her boss could have acknowledged it as a peace offering to her unremarkable work performance that day. Y/N would have totally rejoiced with Mina with her full heart into it and not force a smile on her face when such an announcement deserves much more celebration.

Y/N releases a stifled scream into her pillow. Thursdays are really the worst and it’s all Min Yoongi’s fault.

However, what Y/N didn’t expect is that the following week will get much worse. The Writing Department is late in their deadline, causing the online publication of the September issue to be pushed in the first week of October, a big deal late to the releases of their magazine competitors. Thus, Nancy became more pissy and naggy, giving Y/N a cold shoulder for the longest streak in her work life. Nancy became more frigid when Y/N failed to get Nancy the copy of the unpublished sequel of Bird and Foe. Y/N tried her best, she really did. It’s just that the publishers of Russell Park refused to give another copy because they said they cannot give out two unpublished copies at the same time. Of course, this turned out as a lazy excuse to Nancy, making her dump additional workload on Y/N’s already staggering pile. But that was not what made Y/N’s last week of September the worst week she’s ever had. It was Min Yoongi getting promoted as a staff member to the Creatives Team after giving Nancy the unpublished Bird and Foe sequel.

Ringing phones, staff members running to- and fro- the beige faux wood office floor, and the occasional requests for coffee from the break room–Travel Loca is buzzing with life as usual. But not for long though, because the clock hands are currently on 12:49 P.M. At 12:57, it seems everyone on the floor have gone silent. Almost everyone taps their foot against the floor. All eyes were set on the digital wall clock. Some have even glanced on their own wristwatches to check if the wall clock was right. The hands start to move. Everyone gulps.

The hands hit one o’clock. Everyone scrambles off their swivel chairs. Some have bee-lined for the break room. Meanwhile, a huge mass had created a bottle-neck of office workers at Travel Loca’s main door. No one is left on the staff chairs, except for one: Mina Young.

The accountant slides her swivel chair to the left. Her hands meander through her large file cases and when she feels a cold, ribbed metal surface on her index, she smiles. Mina pushes the on-button and immediately, the then-silent office space has now become a replica of her own flat.

“Good morning everyone! Today seems an extra sweet day than yesterday because you know what? I can smell and see the sweet aroma of those dark, chewy chocolates and those pretty pink balloons surrounding our streets. That’s right folks, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner! Which also means–drumroll for me, Alexa–Holidays are about to sweep in! It’s just three weeks to go, folks, note that! So, for our dear, sweet listeners, I hope you already got your hotels booked and your plane tickets ready so you can finally have that amazing buffet, relaxing spa, or a fun tour around places you’ve never been with your very lovable significant others! I’m sure all of you will have that wonderful, exciting, and pleasurable rendezvous away from school, work, and any responsibilities. Just make sure to channel in on our station if you want the best playlist to get you in the mood for some steamy, passionate, and intimate time–”

“Mina, will you turn off that radio?”

The short-haired brunette frowns at her friend, whose also frowning at her. Mina pushes up her glasses on her nose, “Why? You know I always listen to this station during break time. Plus, Nancy is not here.”

“Still, it doesn’t excuse how irritating that DJ sounds.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plops herself on another swivel chair. “His voice sounds like there are two styrofoams gyrating each other in a sweaty club.”

Mina’s jaw drops as she turns off her portable mini-radio on her desk. She faces Y/N with a frown this time—actually a scowl now. “Kim Seokjin’s voice is like creamy velvet to the ears! Also,” she scrunches her nose in disgust, “you did not just sexualize non-living objects so casually as if you’re not aware that the mental image you’re painting is so disturbing.”

“First off,” Y/N turns to her, swivel chair squeaking in her abrupt movement, “you’re already seeing Mark Tuan for you to have any weird fantasies about Kim Seokjin and his voice or how cute his laugh is when it literally sounds like he’s an old man dying on a choked-out old joke. And second, sexualizing objects is not illegal by law and even if it so, I did NOT sexualize them. They are just the perfect representation of how Seokjin’s voice sounds.”

Mina purses her lips and props her elbow on her desk to cup her face. “Cut to the point, Y/N. Just tell me what is with you today. You barged in furious in here for no reason, threw a fit at the break room, and now you’re ruining lunch by insulting Seokjin for something so trivial.”

“Trivial?! His voice is fucking irritating! Just because he’s handsome does not mean his voice will also sound good on the radio. It’s like listening to a whale dying while making mating calls–”

“The point, Y/N?” Mina cuts you with an unamused look.

You deflate in your seat. “Fine, it’s Min Yoongi. He made it a point that he is more intelligent and capable than me in our 10 AM meeting with Nancy for this month’s spread. Said he knows more about weird facts and trivia about Sweden because I never got to travel outside this fucking country when I damn well know he only uses some advanced search engine to look for info like the computer whiz that he is! I went so many times on his Facebook to know he posts nothing in his wall but his work achievements—and his dog! Of course, if you went outside the country, you will post pictures in your wall, ‘cus social media sites are just platforms masked as an outlet for free expression when we damn well know it’s just a place where you can brag and be not called out for being arrogant. And damn hell, Min Yoongi does not have any out-of-the-country pictures posted there. What only comes close is his picture of that gumbo he said he made—yeah, quotation marks—because it looks too good to be made by his ugly crooked hands and even if it’s got this aesthetic background not expected to come from this fucking country, I still think he just photoshopped it.” Y/N crosses her arms, “Bet that gumbo did not even taste good.”

Mina scrunches her forehead, “Are you the only flawed person Min Yoongi sees? Why does he always have to nitpick every single bit of your work? He just criticized your last week’s report because of your ‘poor articulation.’”

“Right?!” Y/N leans back on her chair. She groans, “I still remember how he sabotaged my files for Nancy’s professional and personal events. Who in their right mind would change the contact names to mythical creatures? Rica’s 2nd baby shower was named ‘Merlin’s Demon Baby’s Party?’ It’s a baby event for God’s sake!” Y/N looks at her friend, “I swear Mina, one day I will get a brain hemorrhage because of Yoongi’s shits.”

Mina winces, “Please don’t. I don’t want to be the one to tell your mother you already died before you even managed to pay your housing loans.”

“Hey! Don’t attack me like that,” Y/N slaps the back of her friend’s chair. Mina, choking on her spit first, erupts into a fit of giggles.

Unfortunately, it seems lunch’s fun will be cut short as Y/N hears Nancy’s megaphone’s speaker start up, “Calling for Y/N to come into my office. A.S.A.P!”

Y/N scrambles from her seat as Mina sees her off with a sad wave. Pushing through Nancy’s glass door, Y/N could see the lines of ridges forming on Nancy’s forehead before the latter can even eye her.

“Y-yes, Ma’am? You called for me?”

Nancy pins her a look, “You’re asking me if I called you? Are you deaf? Did you not understand what I said?”

“Yes!—I-I mean on the understanding part, yes, not about being deaf or something hehe-“

“Y/N,” Nancy clasps her hands on her table, “I called you here because I have something important to tell you.”

Y/N nears her table, pulling up her notebook and pen.

“I need you to work in the Creatives Department for the next two weeks.”

Y/N’s fingers freeze. She looks up at Nancy with eyes as wide as a goldfish. And before she can brain-filter out her words, they’ve already escaped her mouth. “What do you mean I have to be in the Creatives next week? I’m your personal assistant, not Min Yoongi’s!”

“Y/N, I didn’t say you will work for Yoongi. He’s not the head of the Creatives. Steven Spielberg is,” Nancy gives the girl an unamused look, waving her off from her desk. Y/N bites her lip as she takes two steps backward. She didn’t know she’s rushed up too close to Nancy’s table just at the prospect of Yoongi and her working together came from her boss’ lips.

Nancy leans back on her chair, “I know you two have this petty children-in-the-playground fights ever since the start of October last year. I get that your differences are too great to be bridged anytime soon, thus the reason why I grew tired telling you to stop doing your cat and dog thing because I know you two wouldn’t listen anyway. You two just like to bang heads whenever you like—”

“But, it’s Yoongi’s fault-”

Nancy raises a finger, “But, Y/N, this is really important. I will be out-of-the-country for the next three weeks for both some business and family matters. Hence, why I cannot bring you with me as usual. And why I will need you to work under Steven for the meantime: to report to me about any of their progress. The Creatives’ current designs will have us late into this month’s deadline and I do not want this business going down anytime soon because of a weak holiday cover. So, as my PA, you will report everything about their progress to me, and you will report my feedback to them. At the same time, you will tame your childish fights with Yoongi to a minimum so Travel Loca will function as well as it can be while I’m not physically here. Understand?”

Y/N nods, “understand, Ma’am.” She doesn’t have a choice even if she wanted to object. Whatever Nancy dictated is already set in stone.

“Also,” Nancy looks at Y/N, “since I will be off the next three weeks, my schedules for the weeks in my absence will be pushed and packed on the following week. So, I expect you to still work on your station—and work even harder after I came back. Understand?”

More workload? Y/N internally groans. She doesn’t like work getting reduced early into the week then doubling into hell in the latter part of the month. She likes them evened out—everything is balanced, familiar, and predictable. Nevertheless, Y/N only nods, “yes.” “No” doesn’t exist in Nancy’s dictionary.

Nancy returns to her laptop and waves her off, “Okay. Then, capiche.”

“Yes, ma’am, capiche,” Y/N makes a quick bow and scampers out of her boss’ office.

When Y/N reaches her station, she sinks herself into the cushion of her seat. First, Min Yoongi belittles her researching ability in the morning meeting. Then now, she will work with him for the majority of three weeks. After that, another hell will start because of Nancy’s incoming packed schedules.

Y/N’s eyes land on her laptop and she immediately sees her calendar. January 16, 2020. Thursday. Y/N releases an inhumane groan. Of course, the goddamn Thursday curse. When will she ever live?

“When will I ever die?” Y/N sobs into Mina’s shirt. Her friend keeps her arms around her tight as she cards through her hair.

“Hey, don’t think so negative,” Mina coos, “Think of this as an opportunity to finally have Nancy off your back.”

“Yeah, as if working with Min Yoongi is better than that. He already ruins my life when we only physically encounter each other in meetings and breaks and lunches. Imagine working with him for a whole fucking day!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I take that back,” Mina hugs her friend tighter.

Y/N continues, “And after enduring all that, my workload will quadruple when Nancy comes back after three weeks! I already experienced this during her daughter’s debut last year. When Nancy said a pile of work will come, it fucking means four metal file cases of work. I spent the last two weeks of August plunging myself into an abyss of papers. I did not sleep for two weeks straight! And now— I will have three weeks-worth of hell work to come after spending three weeks working with the personification of Satan. Can the world just eat me up?!”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Mina pulls away to hold her bestfriend at arms-length, “What did you say will happen in three weeks?”

Y/N closes her eyes, “Another hell will come because a shit-pile of work is coming in three weeks! Mina, I’ve been telling you this since morning-”

“Y/N, after three weeks, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Y/N’s eyes immediately shoot open, “What?”

“Look,” Mina clicks on her phone and flashes Y/N her calendar app. “Today’s January 17. Exactly after three weeks is the Valentine’s week.”

Y/N’s jaw drops ajar, “Oh my god.”

“Yes, Y/N, oh my God. It’s the fucking Heart Holiday.”

“…The country’s long-time problem with their low birth rate has driven the government to build another department that will help its citizens build, manage, and maintain healthy relationships. The Department of Relationship Management was established in 2015, and ever since then, there have been impressive developments in our country’s birth rate. One of the best programs of DRM behind this wonderful growth is the Heart Holiday, the holiday held in the week of Valentine’s Day. It grants any person employed in a private sector one week of paid holiday vacation leave as long as they are currently in a relationship. Meanwhile, education establishments and students are given one week off their academic calendars without regard to their relationship status. Isn’t that sweet? The only downside to that, folks, is that government employees can only have two days of paid holiday leave on the 14th and 15th. But, still, a holiday is still a holiday! So for our lovely listeners, start planning your vacation trips and hangouts! Especially when Cloud 10 Airlines is there to make your holiday week even sweeter with their 70% discount on local trips! Just contact 675-9859 and 568-987—”

“Mina, can you turn off the radio?!”

“Again?!” Mina heaves, “What’s with your aggravation streak these days against Kim Seokjin’s voice?”

“It rattles me,” Y/N half-screams, plopping into the swivel chair next to her friend’s cubicle. “Yesterday, he already announced that goddamn timeline of the DRM and ‘all hailed’ importance of the Heart Holiday. Why does he have to repeat it again today? In that overly-enthusiastic voice, too, as if he’s never read of that script again and again?!”

“Y/N, it’s how broadcasting works. It’s one of the most awaited holidays in the year, so of course, they will nab as many advertisement deals as they can.”

“Well, I don’t like how they work!”

“You cannot just tell a radio company to stop working,” Mina turns in her chair to face her friend, “Also, stop venting your frustration on Seokjin. He doesn’t even know you hate his voice. Routinely doing this noise pollution doesn’t do anything at all. Just tell me what made you upset today.”

“It’s Yoongi!” Y/N scowls. “He won’t explain to me the technical editing terms on Steven’s report for Nancy! He said a five grader can even know what they are. I went through fifth grade, Mina, and I did not freaking know about any photoshop shit!”

“Well, that’s because you’re old.”

Mina looks up and sees Yoongi hovering her cubicle.

Y/N’s scowl deepens, as she turns her chair to the direction of the intruder. “As if you’re any much younger. From what I know, you’re four years older than me, dumbass.”

“Well, at least I know what Steven is talking about,” Yoongi props his chin on Mina’s cubicle.

Y/n rolls her eyes, “Because it’s your freaking line of work! Of course, you’ll know about it!”

“Well, you’re now working most of the time in the Creatives Team and you don’t know it. What does that make you, then? I’ll give you a hint: It’s what you called me three seconds ago. Starts with the letter ‘d’ and ends with the letter ‘s.’”

“What? You think you’re so smart now just because you know that vector-mask-thingy?! News flash, Yoongi, you did not graduate with any Latin honor. I did! So, who’s the real dumbass?!”

“You damn well know Latin honors doesn’t actually have any effect on real life. Practical knowledge has—especially knowledge about terminologies used in digital designing. Which you need because you won’t be able to report anything to your god Nancy. Because, well: You. Don’t. Know. Anything. Like. Always.”

“Min Yoongi, fuck you–”

“Guys, guys, guys, can you stop?”

Y/N gives Yoongi another glare before fixing herself back in her seat. Mina puffs, “Yoongi, can you leave us alone for a while? We’re talking here and you just invited yourself in our conversation.”

Yoongi chides, “Well, tell your friend that if she wants to shit-talk a person just a meter away from her without the said person barging in the conversation, she should keep her voice on the down-low. Not screaming around like a crazy ape.”

Y/N’s jaw drops open, “What crazy ape?! You’re the crazy ape! You look like a fucking gorilla who accidentally get dwarfed by a tooth fairy and-”

“Min Yoongi, just leave us alone,” Mina gives the man a pointed look.

Yoongi shrugs and detaches himself from her cubicle. He heads back to their office but he doesn’t completely leave the room without giving Y/N a middle finger.

Y/N’s mouth drops open in disbelief. She turns to Mina. “See? Isn’t it obvious he just wants to make me the bad man to Nancy again? What kind of person are you to not cooperate with your co-worker like a goddamn adult? I don’t get why no one sees this bitch’s true face but you and me! I just want to freaking tear off his face, make him wipe it in his ass, then place it back on his head since he’s such a literal ass—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mina clasps a hand over your shoulder, “don’t get too homicidal. What you just said, aside from disturbing, is very disgusting.”

Y/N slumps in her seat and crosses her arms.

Mina sighs. “Okay, yeah, I know, Min Yoongi is the worst. But I don’t want you to do anything stupid so let’s not talk about him for a while, ‘kay?” Y/N nods. Mina leans back in her seat with the nth sigh for the day. “Okay, I got some update from Jaehyun.”

Y/N leans forward. “What did he say?”

Mina gives you a sad smile, “He already has a fiancé.”

“So soon?” Y/N scoffs. “He was just courting me two months ago.”

“Yeah, well he’s getting married this week. Whatever,” Mina waves off, “I don’t like him for you anyway. He dresses like a college fuckboy.”

“Okay, what about Dahyun?”

“Already married.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “and she didn’t tell us?”

“Yeah, I already nagged her on the phone. She said it all kinda happened too fast–her and Sana. And the marriage was in New York. We’re too broke for out-of-the-country trips to attend anyway if we were informed.” Mina smiles, “She said she’s gonna invite us to the Christening of their baby.”

“Okay, I’m glad she still cared about us. Oh,” Y/N pipes up, “what did Jackson say over the phone?”

Mina gives you a tight smile. “Getting married, too. And guess what, the invitations were already in our mail box when I went to get our bills.”

“Momo?”

“Engaged. She and Heechul just broke out the news a week ago.”

“Sam?”

“Married. And 4 months pregnant.”

“Jongdae?”

“Engaged. Also has a baby in way.”

“Hana?”

“Engaged.”

“Changmin?”

“Engaged.”

“Jaebum?

“Engaaaaaged.”

Y/N throws her hands in the air, “Why is everyone getting married?!”

“Well, we’re in our late 20s. It’s the “marrying age” they say. It got more enphasized when DRM’s programs had succeeded in encouraging hundreds of people to marry in the recent year. Even my mom already expects Mark to propose by next month. We’re just dating for 6 months!” Mina cringes. She pulls Y/N’s chair closer to her to hold her hands. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. It kinda slipped my mind that we always apply together for the Heart Holiday every year. It’s just that Mark and I—”

“Hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. You’ve been pining after Mark for about two years and now look at you—together, stable, and in-love half into the year! I don’t want you to fret having a relationship with the boy you liked for so long.”

“Yeah, Y/N, I know,” Mina closes her eyes. “It’s just sad and unfortunate everyone we know are already in relationships.”

“Yeah…” Y/N nods and the two fall into silence. Why is everyone conveniently in a relationship just in time with the Heart Holiday? What, the whole world suddenly knew the loophole in DRM’s program? Y/N and Mina studied that for a whole year! This is unfair. Y/N cannot be the only single person out there who’ll miserably work in the office while everyone gets to have the time of their lives—wait.

Y/N grabs Mina’s hands. “Hey, Nana, I know we said co-workers are off-limits because Nancy will definitely know it’s a ruse. She’ll block my application form before it can even have the seal from the HR. Especially when she found out our lesbian “relationship” was fake after you and Mark updated your civil statuses.” Mina winces and opens her mouth to apologize again but Y/N cuts her with a finger to her mouth. “Nancy will definitely call me a liar and grill my head if she finds out what we’re planning to do now. But look, Nancy’s out of the country. Teddy is the general supervisor and she’s the next in the hierarchy. We damn well know her 45-year-old heart is soft for some nicely-woven romantic story. Even more, in an office setting—the bane of every middle-aged woman’s sappy romantic heart. So, what do you say?”

Mina lets out an exasperated breath, “That crossed my mind, too, you know. But, Y/N, the thing is—the whole Accounting Department is in a relationship. And the same goes for the Writing, Marketing, Logistics, and HR. All of them are either in a relationship, married, or getting married.”

“What?” Y/N’s eyebrows curve up high, “How come I didn’t know this?”

“Uh, because you’re busy working for Nancy day-in and day-out? Also, I just happen to be friends with Jisoo from HR. She’s in charge of the company’s relationship records. Sometimes, she slips in everyone’s stories while we listen to WWL Radio during break time.”

Y/N bites her lip. This can’t be happening to her. Not now. Not when the most un-objectifiable reason for a break from Nancy is about to slip through her fingers like fine sand.

Mina scratches her nape, “I…may have someone in mind though.”

Y/N’s eyes look straight into Mina’s. “Tell me.”

“Well, the entire Creatives Department is either married or engaged save for one.”

Y/N holds Mina’s hands tighter. “Who?”

“Min, Yoongi.”

Y/N must be going crazy. She thinks she must be growing a nest of vultures in her brain now, the mother routinely picking on her numerous dead brain cells to feed to her young. It doesn’t help that the bags under her eyes have started to droop like a waterfall, forming a sad saddle of grey on her cheeks. She cannot even remember the last time she had a decent meal. All she remembers is the finger foods Mina hands to her station every once in a while.

The universe is being unfair to her and it is all taking a toll on her body. They weren’t kidding when they said adjusting to a new environment is an entire whole work in itself. The Creatives Team runs a completely different routine. Large monitors crammed with multiple editing softwares Y/N cannot understand surround the studio-size office space. There are drafted papers and previous issues scattered in every possible corner, some even gathering dust by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Y/N is not even sure if anyone has re-arranged their desks in the last few months. The Creatives’ work ethic is loosely bound on schedules and everyone seems to be doing everyone else’s job. Except for Y/N, because Steven is the only one willing to share their team’s progress to her. But that alone is not enough for her daily report to Nancy because Steven is always busy in his computer. More unfortunately, everyone is wary of her. Y/N’s sure she even saw Kim Myungsoo clutch their design folders closer to his chest when her eyes glanced at his cubicle.

Sure, Y/N expected everyone will have their guards up on her. Who wouldn’t be when they know Nancy still has eyes on them even if she’s countries away? But still, it doesn’t lessen the pain on Y/N’s self-esteem and the stress on her back. If Y/N can’t get someone to talk to her, she won’t be able to provide a more substantial report to Nancy more than just reading Steven’s printed reports verbatim.

Y/N is desperate to find a workmate to discuss everything happening in the Creatives with her, but unluckily for her, she only has someone she wishes to not even breathe the same air with. Of course, no one in the Creatives wants to talk to her except for Min Yoongi. He’s an insufferable ass who doesn’t know when to shut up. He welcomes Y/N every single day with an annoying “Yo, Y/N” and an unneeded commentary about her outfit, like how yesterday he told her “I know retro is in but I didn’t know grandma blouses are deemed stylish again.” He blabbers about his unnecessarily extensive general knowledge about every South Asian country, even if Y/N countlessly told him she didn’t care. He brags about the cover designs and templates he did in the previous issues, flipping the pages too close in Y/N’s face while he speaks about colors and mixing like Y/N is an imbecile about basic color combinations high school students used in their PowerPoint presentations. Yet despite them all, Yoongi still refuses to explain to her the jargon in Steven’s reports.

Y/N tried her best to keep herself from bursting and giving Yoongi an earful of sense. Yes, everyone knows she does not like Yoongi but Y/N doesn’t want them to know to what extent she can go to express them, afraid of embarrassing herself. But in her defense, three days into the first week without Nancy, Yoongi has gone as far as to chip a small bit off Y/N’s mug in the break room. The mug with the “creative juices” in cursive printed around its body—Mina’s gift from college. Y/N’s patience meter was blasted off the roof. It will be safe to tell that at the end of the day, Y/N has screamed the hell out of Yoongi that everyone can be sure the latter’s ears may have fallen out of his head. Steven was close to reporting to Teddy what just happened. It was just Y/N’s remaining luck that helped her successfully and implicitly begged Steven not to do so by telling him calling Yoongi “a mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk who should eat his shit because people are what they eat and he is obviously the biggest shit in her life,” is just her “unique” way of expressing co-worker appreciation to the man.

Aside from putting up with Yoongi’s Satanic attitude, Y/N has to endure Nancy’s intermittent calls with her forever pissed voice coming in first thing in the morning until in the late, ungodly hours. And despite Teddy’s patient guidance over Y/N’s “transition” to the Creatives Team, Y/N’s still close to digging a six-feet deep hole in her station. No, not because of Teddy or Nancy. It’s because she poured her remaining effort dedicated for work by spending the entire week going through every staff member of Travel Loca. Y/N thought Mina must have overlooked a face. That it’s possible Jisoo skipped on a detail she told to her friend. But despite learning Lee Minyoung from the Writing Department is going to call it quits to her boyfriend just after Valentine’s, or how Michael Park from Marketing is about to pop the ring to his girlfriend just right on Valentine’s Day, the looming fact Y/N dreads presents itself on January 24, two weeks before Valentine’s: No one else in the office is single but her…and Min Yoongi.

Of course, it didn’t surprise Y/N, Yoongi must be single. With that know-it-all façade and condescending tone wearing you out like a 24/7 walking instruction manual no one even asked for, who would even like to date him? One week with him as a co-worker alone already makes Y/N want to throw herself into the flaming hot pit of the nearest volcano.

But it’s only two more weeks before Valentine’s and Y/N is desperate and desperate times call for desperate measures. Y/N did a last-minute check-up on her and Mina’s lists of contacts—phone, social media, e-mails, everything under the sun—only to come up with nothing. Mina’s “marrying age” theory must be true because everyone, every single one, of their acquaintances are already married or getting married. Y/N then changed up her game. She started to opt for resources she never thought she will ever use in her life: dating apps. Tinder, Bumble, The League, Grindr—name it, Y/N had made every account for every conceivable dating site. She even spent the most of her break time this week hiding her phone beneath her desk and swiping right. But even this last considerable option proved to be pointless as all the replies she received are either honest “sorry, not interested,” rude “you’re no fun,” or out-right salacious “suck my dick.”

This then left Y/N no choice but to consider the most unspeakably horrendously unfortunate option she didn’t even want to have. Min Yoongi is her only choice left. And for that, Y/N spent two days making an elaborate plan. She can’t afford any loose threads or plan-holes that can further make her at the mercy of the infuriating jerk. However, even if she made everything as seamless as it can be, Y/N knows it will be the worst decision she’ll ever make in her life. Mina also expressed the same concern, even apologized for planting that small information about Yoongi in her friend’s mind. But even her friend’s day-by-day discouragement to push through with her plan is not enough to deter Y/N.

Because even if just thinking about the plan makes Y/N feel the world is about to crumble and swallow her down in its unending, fathomless depths; even if it makes her want to set up an appointment with an exorcist, Y/N knew she won’t back out. It’s not viruses or bacteria, it’s a seeded idea that is the most contagious living entity that can take hold of any human being. And the moment Y/N realized there’s no other ticket way out of her dilemma but Yoongi, she knew this thought will haunt her for nights on end.

This is the reason why Y/N’s currently standing by the corner of the Creatives’ office when it’s already 6:46 P.M. while almost everyone has left the office. Almost, because Yoongi, apart from her, is the only one left in the office as Steven requested him to finish a color palette by tonight. Y/N gulps a thick blob of saliva. Sweat runs thick on her forehead. God, if Mina could see what Y/N’s about to do, she will be already by her side, yelling for her to just give up. Y/N shakes her head. This is Mina’s fault anyway. If she didn’t plant the idea in her head, she wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t be creeping behind a door like a disgusting stalker. She wouldn’t be profusely sweating in an air-conditioned room like a guilty murderer. She wouldn’t be-

“What the hell are you doing behind the door?”

Y/N shrieks and jumps a half-foot away from her spot.

“The hell—what’s gotten into you?!” Yoongi frowns, “And why are you even here?”

Y/N’s brows meet together in her forehead. But before she can speak, Yoongi’s snickers drown out the words in her throat.

“Wait, don’t tell me you’ve come as far as spying on my work. I didn’t know you’re going to be this petty,” Yoongi sighs and puts his hand on his waist, “Well, if you think going through my work laptop will get you to understand Steven’s report, I’m sorry to say you won’t get anything, little girl.”

Yes, it’s true. The words did die out in Y/N’s throat. It’s just flames of anger sweeping in the valleys of her mouth. Y/N surges forward, fists clenched tight, “‘Little girl’? I am not a fucking little girl!”

Yoongi grins, “Then what should I call someone who’s a foot smaller than me?”

“What fucking ‘foot’?! We’re just inches apart! Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror? You’re not even that tall!”

“Says the one who’s looking up at me just to level her eyes with mine,” Yoongi raises his brows, “and who’s now standing a little too close to me because apparently, standing a socially-decent foot away won’t enable her to see my face.”

Y/N’s eyes widen and she immediately takes a step back. She doesn’t get how easy it is for Yoongi to rile her up that she instantly forgets how to control her body. When she looks up at him, the man is smirking at her. Her mouth aches to tell him he actually looks stupid with that lopsided smile if he thought doing it will make him a tad bit inch sorry excuse of “sexy.” But then, Y/N remembers she has a purpose tonight. She didn’t just waste an hour waiting in the excruciating office space of the Creatives Team just to get nothing done.

Y/N closes her eyes and breathes out. When she opens them again, she looks at Yoongi in the eyes. “I’m not here to fight with you, Yoongi. I’m here to make an offer.”

Yoongi scoffs, “An offer? You? Are you hearing yourself right now? In case you weren’t informed, I don’t need anything from you. And I didn’t—”

“You’re single right?”

Yoongi gawks at her, “W-what?”

“Well, I’m single, too. And Valentine’s week is coming in two weeks.”

“So?”

Y/N tries not to grit her teeth, “So, that means the Heart Holiday is also coming. Nancy is bound to come back during that time, too, with an obvious incoming large workload to come for me. I can’t afford to hole myself up in this office while everyone gets to enjoy a paid holiday week. And since you have an affinity for disliking your job, I figured you also wouldn’t want to go to work during Valentine’s week.” Y/N crosses her arms, “So I’m here, Min Yoongi, to give you an offer: Fake date me for two weeks to make it to DRM’s PRS’ application deadline. When our application gets approved, we part ways and never speak about what happened in these two weeks. It’s a win-win situation. I don’t get to work during Valentine’s. You also don’t get to work, and we both will still get paid. So, what do you say?”

Yoongi just stares at her. Y/N could feel cold sweat running from her scalp and down to her back. Why is he looking at her like that? Why is he being so silent? Is he about to make fun of her and bring it up to work tomorrow? Oh God, Y/N shouldn’t have even gone through with this plan. This is a bad idea. A bad, bad, bad, idea that should have never been entertained and buried in a trunk of embarrassing memories, never to see the light again—

“I’m in.”

Y/N freezes, “W-what?”

Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N. He leans forward, closing the distance between their faces into mere six inches. Y/N doesn’t need to crane her head up anymore because this time, their eyes are finally leveled with each other.

Yoongi smiles, “I’m telling you, Y/N, I’m in in your plan.”

Y/N looks at him. She just looks at him. Five seconds have already passed. Yoongi should be laughing in her face right now. But the man did not, and takes a step back away from her. He fixes his satchel on his shoulder and closes the Creatives’ glass door behind him shut. When Yoongi looks back at Y/N, he gives her a shrug, “Hey, if you’re not going home, I am.” He heads for the main door, hands dug into his pockets. Y/N’s eyes just follow his figure. Before Yoongi completely gets out of the office, he hollers, a hand cupping over his mouth, “I said I’m already in in your plan. You can go now. See you tomorrow.” He sends Y/N one last smile.

It takes Y/N five more seconds before she breaks her frozen stance. What did just happen? Yoongi didn’t laugh at her. He didn’t put up a fight. He….agreed? Just like that? This is impossible. This cannot happen! Yoongi doesn’t agree, he argues! Always! And he just doesn’t bid her goodbye and “see you tomorrow.” Yoongi annoys her with one last hit of “goodbye, grandma.” And Yoongi doesn’t smile. He smirks. He just pulls up one side of his lips, squints his eyes, and snorts. Y/N must be going crazy. This is not Yoongi! A whole different man has suddenly appeared before her. This cannot be!

But despite all the things going back and forth in her head right now, there’s only one looming thought on top of them all that had Y/N release a staggered breath:

What the fuck did she just get herself into?

next | series masterlist

Disclaimer: This first chapter is based on Netflix’s Set It Up (2018), particularly Nancy’s briefing scene and the USB scene. Netflix’s Set It Up (2018) is the inspiration for this fic and so I based Ms. Nancy’s personality on Lucy Liu’s portrayal of Kirsten Stevens! Ms. Lucy Liu was fantastic in her performance! That being said, all scenes and references from the movie used in this story are the property of its respective owners. The rest belongs to the author. This work is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Anyways, if you wish to watch the movie, don’t worry about encountering any spoilers in this fic!

A/N pt. 2: Hi hons! I decided to cut this fic into parts as this will be very long (hello banter dialogues). Writing a 25+k wordcount (so far, this is my assumed final wordcount) may overwhelm a lot of readers and make them not want to read this anymore ☹ Anyway, the succeeding parts will be released soon as I already have a detailed storyboard and outline for this mini-series so you don’t have to wait that long. Thank you for giving this fic a chance, hons. Also, feedback is more than appreciated. Tell me what you guys think! ♡♡♡ \(> u

Taglist: @fangirls94 @ditttiii @chogiyeol-utopia

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sleepypeaky · 4 years

Text

now i’ve found you

finn shelby x male reader

request: male!reader, who is Tommy's assistant, is pretty sure he's straight. but he ends up falling for one of the shelby brothers (your choice!). insert gay crisis, and potentially tommy/aunt polly/ada being supportive?

w/c: 1,363

a/n: i love this headcannon so much thank you. i know i do finn for everything but i thought this would work the best and also i love him so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ note that john is alive because im in deep denial. i know i went for a heavier take on this than i could have, but i think it works. also yes i ripped that scene right out of the DA movie. i hope i did the mlm a good. #wlwmlmsolidarity

this is 1928 ish so finn is 20 and so is the reader

this is very obviously way more fully formed than any of my other fics but its tuesday and i have nothing to do so

Ada Thorne had always looked out for you. So when she managed to get you a job working for her brother, you knew you would be safe. Now you hurried up the steps and knocked on a large heavy wooden door, which opened presently to a sitting room where you awaited your new boss.

Ada held the phone to her ear.

“Listen,” she said. “I have a lad who needs a safe place to work. He’s smart and capable and before you say anything, no, he’s not a spy.”

Tommy silently acknowledged the last part with approval. “Ok, but protection from what?”

Ada looked over her shoulder, making sure none of the others in the house were about. She sighed, “I know this means little to you, but he -lets put it this way- doesn’t fancy the ladies. And life is hard enough for people like him without having to worry about being kicked out of work for something that’s no one’s goddamn business.”

“As you said, this lad’s private life is moot to me, but if you can vouch for his work ethic and loyalty, i’ll give him a try.”

“You must be (y/f/n), nice to meet you.” Tommy shook your hand and led you into his office.

“My sister talks very highly of you, and she is quite possibly the only honest person i know.” He offered you a chair and lit himself a cigarette.

“So, the job is simple enough. I need an assistant, the most recent of which, is my wife, who can’t very well be working for me anymore.”

You smiled and nodded.

“Well I have two years of university to my name so I hope I can be useful.”

Tommy chuckled, “Well you are more qualified than any other man here lad, and it’s probably smart to get some new young blood on the company.”

You smiled, “Thank you sir.”

He motioned you to follow him out of the room and into a smaller one just off it.

“This is your office, across the hall-” He motioned behind him through the door, where directly adjacent was another room, “-Is my cousin Michael’s office, he is the account handler so to speak.”

“Now,” He turned back to you, “There is the matter of this.”

He placed a pistol and a handful of ammunition onto the desk between you.

“You know how to shoot son?’

You looked concernedly at the weapon casually lying on the table,

“No sir.”

“Well, hopefully you wont ever need to use this but it seems to be company policy, never can be too careful. I’ll have someone teach you.”

You thanked him and placed the items in a desk drawer.

“If you’ll follow me, i’ll give you the rundown of the company,” he said. “I’ve got some time and I need to wrangle up some people.”

You followed him out the door and through a series of buildings where different operations took place. At one point, you walked into a sort of yard-warehouse area.

Beginning from a distance and gradually growing louder, you could hear ‘duck!’ ‘hit!’ ‘shift!’ etc..

All was explained when you and Tommy turned the corner.

In a roped off section of the cement yard were two very handsome young men. Both boxing and both, seemingly to vex you on your first day, shirtless.

“That’s Bonnie and Finn, don’t mind them.” Tommy commented off-hand.

He turned left and walked into another building, leaving you just enough time to glance back at the two shirtless men, before ducking in after him.

After Tommy had introduced you the Charlie and Curly, he led you back to the office and then said he had to run, and you could start filing the stack of papers on his desk.

You went right to work, and before long, had forgotten the time completely.

~~~~

You were in a filing induced trance when a noise took you out of it.

The noise turned out to be the door opening.

“Oh hi.. i didn’t know anyone was in here..” The boy stammered.

You looked up to see on of the boys from the boxing ring, taken slightly by surprise, you fumbled out from behind the desk to introduce yourself.

“Sorry to surprise you, hi i’m (y/n), Mr. Shelby’s new assistant.” You held out your hand and he shook it.

“I’m Finn,” he stumbled “Tommy’s brother.” he released your hand.

“Can I help you with anything?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Well I thought I’d find my brother here but i guess i’ll see him later.”

In a hasty fashion he held up a hand as a brief farewell, and scurried out of the room.

You sighed and cursed silently to yourself.

Out of all the people he could have been, why my boss’s brother.

~~~~

Like no time at all, the weeks and months seemingly flew past. You had become acquainted with everyone and felt like you had finally found your place. There were, of course, still some aspects with which you couldn’t fit in just the same as any other.

“Oi, you’re a good looking lad! Why don’t you come along with us tonight. Get some drink and find a girl, Birmingham’s best!” Arthur wheezed.

“That’s not saying much, but do come along mate!” John followed up. Giving you a friendly slap on the back.

You smiled,

“Thanks,” You gave john a man-pat on the shoulder, “But i got some work to finish here.”

“Suit yerself.” And they were gone.

You sighed with relief. You knew you’d have to go someday, but right now you couldn’t handle the idea of,,,that.

A few minutes later ,you heard a knock on the door and Finn entered, holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey.

“i heard you skipped goin’ to the Garrison with the others so i thought i’d bring some to you.”

He placed the things down on your desk and sat on the chair opposite you.

“You’re a life-saver! thank you.” you exclaimed.

Finn chuckled, pouring you a glass and handing it over,

“Yeah, it’s not really my scene either.”

You hummed, taking a sip and savoring it quickly in your mouth. You wondered, a stupid thing to do, if it wasn’t his scene for the same reasons as you. Though the more you got to know him. You suspected.

Suspicions are a dangerous thing. Especially ones that are led by the heart, and are ever so biased on your own happiness. Nevertheless, a week or so later from that night, you popped in to tell Finn, with perhaps too much certainty,

“You know, I think I know a place you might enjoy.”

~~~~

London always induced a joyous feeling inside you. Not that you had only fond memories from living there -far from it- but there was something about a city where the air wasn’t 80% coal soot.

You and Finn got off the train and made your way to Ada’s house. It was always a delight to be in her presence. Especially because you owed her so much, in fact, probably you owed her your life in so may ways.

After tea, and insisting that you had to make your way to a surprise spot, you and Finn made your way into the night.

Through a maze of mews and side-streets, down alleys and cracks you led him.

“I know i grew up in small heath,” He said at one point, when you were in a particularly funky alley. “but where the hell are you taking me?”

“Trust me.” you assured him.

You both came out of an alley and into a small courtyard-like space. You brushed off your clothes a little and knocked on a door in the dark brick wall.

A little notch opened up and you whispered the password. the door swung open.

“Hello Love!” The doorman said, “ ‘aven’t seen you ‘round here for a long time!”

You greeted the man back and made apologies. Presently, you went inside, leading Finn behind you.

Inside was an immaculate ballroom filled with people. Jazz music was pouring from the stage at the far end of the room. But as Finn looked around more, he started thinking that something was off.

When he realized he froze.

All the people dancing, all the paired up couples, were men. Some dressed lavishly and others in plain working clothes. some with curled mustaches and some with cheeks of rouge and powdered skin.

Finn couldn’t believe his eyes.

He saw for the first time, a pair of men dancing hand in hand with wild smiles on their faces. Laughing, singing along.

Finn couldn’t move, nor could he take his eyes off the sights around him.

He felt your presence next to him,

“Was i right to bring you here?” You asked.

He turned his head to face you, he was quivering. He looked you in the eyes, eyes that were lined with tears.

“I had no idea,” He whispered,

“I had no idea there were others.”

Your heart ached for him in a way that only those like them know. You knew what he felt, the wonder, the pain, the confused elation.

You took his hand,

“There are.”

You slowly pulled him to the dance floor.

The music had gotten slower, and the dancing changed to a sort of swaying four-step.

You took his other hand first, letting him go at his own pace, but soon you were as close as the others on the floor. both of you had a hand on the others waist.

Finn looked around again, at all the other people, eyes all closed and heads close. He turned back to you and moved even closer. He brought his lips up to your ear,

“Thank you.” He whispered. He kept his cheek at yours, you felt his hands on your back.

He moved his head slowly so he could look at you again, it was such that your foreheads touched. Your heart beat slow, but hard. You whispered

“Can i kiss you?”

His eyes flicked up to yours before looking down again and moving his lips to yours.

It was ever so soft, barely even there. But it was there, and that was beyond anything Finn had ever felt or imagined before. He closed his eyes and kissed harder this time, and from beneath his eyelids came small lines of tears. The release of an unseen, unknown burden that he had carried for so long.

All you felt was warmth. And the ballroom surrounding you disappeared. You were on a different plane of being, the jazz music still crooned, muffled.

All there was was him, and for him all there was was you.

~~~~

Epilogue

Finn stood outside the opaque glass of the door. And in the irony of psychology, he had never felt more confident about what he was going to do.

He opened the door to Tommy’s office.

“Hello Finn.” He said from behind the desk, cigarette smoking from his lip.

Finn went right up and took a seat across from his brother.

“I’m a homosexual.” He declared, his gaze unwavering despite the magnanimity of his previous statement.

Tommy took the cigarette from between his lips and put it out.

“Well then.” He reached over and grabbed a bottle of whiskey, pouring two glasses and sliding one over to Finn. He took a sip.

“Why are you telling me now?”

“Because I’m in love with (y/n).” He replied casually, taking himself a swig.

Tommy raised his brow, but made no other physical impression of surprise.

“Well then.” He said again.

Finn sat there in the silence of Tommy’s company. Surprised, and at the same time not, at his reaction.

Tommy got up from his seat and made his was around the desk. Finn stayed where he was. In an act so small, and yet untellingly powerful, tommy placed a hand of finns shoulder, and kept it there.

“How will the others find out?”

They found out at a family meeting a month later, when, a new agenda item was introduced.

For a while after, there was silence.

John, being john, broke it with,

“Falling for a secretary huh?” he chuckled, “that seems more like something i’d do.”

That lightened the tension. Amid the other items on the list, Finn leaned over to Ada, who sat on his right.

“Tell me,” He asked quietly to her, “did you know?”

She breathed a moment, finding the words to use.

“I knew you had more on your mind than we could ever know.”

Finn looked back ahead, letting her words sink into his mind. Her hand rested on his knee with quiet warmth and reassurance.

~~~~ You waited outside the meeting room until the rest of them filed out. Finn was the last, and when he appeared you gave him a quick peck on the lips, and held his hand, walking together out of the building.

#wow im so tired #finn shelby #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby x male!reader #male reader #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x male!reader #finn shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby #ada thorne #gay peaky blinders #mlm

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 3.2}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student (however no underage romance), blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The thing about making promises as someone who's inherently loyal is, unfortunately, that you leave yourself no choice but to keep them.

Seeing as Robin had assured Professor Snape that she wouldn't study in the hallways anymore, she found herself highly uncomfortable in the common room once again on Monday night. Her divination homework was spread out in front of her on the table, while simultaneously some other students used the same piece of furniture to store their disgustingly sticky sweets and some kind of soda. Of course it had to go wrong. How else would she be reminded of why she dreaded this place in the evenings. The disaster unfolded, the soda was knocked over and emptied its entire contents all over the table, and all over Robin's homework essay. At least she had been graced with fast reflexes, which allowed her to save her textbook and quill at least and jump out of the way before the inevitable wave of sparkling pink fluid with a swirling dash of black ink swept over the edge of the table. Her essay, however, was lost in the floods.

A small apology was all she got in return, along with a few confused whispers once Robin tried to undo the damage by using the spell she'd learned from Snape's book during the last winter break. It indeed turned the water into a fine mist at first, then dissolved it completely, but unfortunately it also dissolved the ink on Robin's parchment, and instead left behind all the sticky sweetness that hadn't dissolved with the water. Right… this just worked with natural substances.

"How did you do that?!" An astonished first year asked Robin with wide eyes directed at where the water had been sloshing around mere seconds ago. "Will I be learning that too?"

"Unlikely." Robin mumbled in annoyance, not at the kid, but the overall situation. Now that the three pages of her essay were basically blank parchment again, and she currently held everything else she'd brought neatly in her hands, she saw no reason in cleaning the rest of the mess up herself. With the intention to at least not make enemies in the grades below her as well, she turned to the kid once more. "Just be nice to your professors and they might show you something handy like that." Then, without another word, she made her way out of the common room and into her dorm. If she'd have to rewrite the entire goddamn essay tomorrow after classes in addition to her usual work, she seriously needed to get some sleep.

Tuesday turned out to be just the way Monday had ended. Robin overslept (which literally never happened), upon which she had to skip breakfast to make it to class, and then ran from one subject to the next for the entire day, only to spend all remaining time until the evening by trying to get as much minor homework done as she possibly could. By the time she walked into the great hall for dinner, she felt so on edge that her stomach protested even at the prospect of eating a single pea. But she'd already missed breakfast and then skipped lunch to finish up a chapter in her book before afternoon classes… She at least had to try to eat something, or she might just collapse like her carefully constructed composure had done hours ago.

"Hey jay, what's all that talk about that you used some bloody weird spell last night?" A boy in her grade, who was sitting a few spaces over at the Slytherin table, asked immediately once Robin took a seat in one of the only empty spots. Being fashionably late, even if by fortune rather than favor, came at the price of having no say about bench neighbors. "Did you make up something new to impress the teachers?" A few people chuckled at the boy's comment and turned to Robin expectantly for an answer.

"Shut up David." She snapped at him with a glare, while her stomach reminded her that it strictly refused to take any more stress tonight. Really, Robin already felt very much like just imploding and ceasing to exist at a moment's notice today. And out of all the times her classmates could have chosen to pick on her this week, of course it had to be today, the one day she really couldn't be bothered with any more annoyances.

Within the next fifteen minutes Robin got exactly one piece of bread down, before she simply gave up on dinner and its inherent company altogether. As subtly as she could, she rose to her feet and made for a quick exit to head back to her dorm way before dinner ended. That at least gave her a good twenty minutes all to herself, before at last the other girls returned to the shared bedroom and thus inevitably made it impossible for Robin to do her work in the same space. With a sigh that bordered between resignation and desperation, she stuffed her trusty leather backpack with all things needed for today's assignments, as well as a bar of Twirls for the unlikely case that her appetite should return at any point in the next couple hours.

Then she made her way back into the common room with the utmost determination to make it work tonight. And at first it seriously looked like it actually could. It was rather empty in comparison to other nights, more or less quiet as well, almost possible to focus… Then however dinner time was officially over, and people entered the room like a flash flood. Or rather… a flesh flood.

The book in Robin's lap shook with the nervous jittering of her right leg, and her mind went in and out of focus as her eyes lifted on their own account to scan each new person entering the room. She tried directly facing the wall to make herself stop after half an hour of her eyes skipping from the page to the door. That however led Robin to a rawly-anxious state of mind where every loud or sudden noise made her jump, and her fingers dig into the spine of her book until her knuckles turned white. The tension that coiled her muscles into knots every time she startled never quite left her body, and after a while she started to shift in her seat in restless discomfort. The frown that had long ago set on her face almost made her eyes water in its attempt to help her to focus by merely squeezing her eyebrows together, but it only served to give her a headache. Indeed, the more she had to focus on staying calm, the more she realized that her mission to make this work was failing. And just like that, slowly, the thudding of her heart and the adrenaline in her blood drove her painfully insane. Just breathe, bloody idiot! This is a complete overreaction… more than likely just some stupid puberty thing. Ridiculous…

She wanted to yell at everything and everyone to just shut up and stop overwhelming her senses like that. Wasn't that something people supposedly did when they were (almost) 14? Not that Robin would know… her parents used to joke how she'd just jumped from childhood straight to adulthood without the awkward teenage phase. Well, maybe this entire lack-of-basic-functioning was just teenage-hood finally catching up with her.

She managed another forty minutes of restless reading, until she reached the end of the chapter only to realize that she could not remember a single word her eyes had traveled over. What book was she even reading?! Oh god… she would never finish this essay! A sharp tug in her chest and a new wave of nauseous heat accompanied the thought. She would fail this essay, and then the entire class, and then she'd be expelled. Bloody hell, she will end up cast out of both the muggle and the wizarding world! No, she had to do something, anything, she needed to get out of here… now.

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room as Robin threw her book into her backpack and her backpack over her shoulders. She didn't care that she felt dizzy. She didn't care that people were watching her abrupt exit like she had gone mad. All she felt was the painful thudding in her chest, the shame, and the tears stinging in her eyes. Before she could fathom to stop or even just slow down for a moment, she was hurrying through the pitch black hallways as if she could simply get rid of the dreadful feeling by going into a blind run. Outrunning her emotions. Just a minute in the courtyard, a minute under the stars or in the darkness of the night and she would be fine, she could just-...

A surging whiplash of electricity hit her body as she blindly ran into a solid surface that made her trip over her own feet and land on her butt, startling her enough to lose control over her unshed tears at last. For a second she blinked up at the blurry figure she'd run into, before being forced back onto her feet by a new wave of adrenaline released into her veins and the still persisting urge to run.

"Not. So. Fast…" The all-too familiar voice of her favorite professor sent a shiver down Robin's spine, but she also couldn't help the impulsive decision to simply walk on. Her body currently held her rational mind hostage, just as she was held in place by a firm grip on both her shoulders before she could bolt.

No no no… he had to let her move on or she would explode into a wailing heap of tears and misery. Or worse, she might yell at him. He would hate her. Even more than he already did anyway. Everyone hated her. She didn't want him to hate her… But she couldn't tell him that, she couldn't even voice any of her thoughts as they remained in their painful ambivalence of tumbling over one another and yet staying completely absent. She just wanted to be left alone… to die already and be rid of this torture.

"Breathe, Robin…" The sound of calmness, of darkness. "Count to six while you breathe in and count to six while you breathe out. You will be alright."

As if her body was trained to obey his solemn command, to ultimately trust his every word, she complied and closed her eyes. One… two… three… four… five… six… She was drowning, literally drowning. Six… five… four… three… two… one… Breathing hurt. It was painful, but getting better. One… two… three… four… five… six… Why wasn't he mad at her?! He was Snape… he was always mad when she did something ridiculous. Six… five… four… three… two… one… He still had his hands placed on her shoulders. She found that she didn't mind. Not the least bit, actually. One… two… three… four… five… six… She felt like her body actually started obeying her mind once again. The painful tension was fading away, the ringing in her ears died down and only her heart was still beating too fast. She could deal with that. Six… five… four… three… two… one… Robin opened her eyes, and despite the thick darkness, she was met with almost black ones in return. Another shiver ran over her skin.

"I'm sorry…" She finally managed to speak in merely a whisper, and a second later an overwhelming wave of guilt closed up her throat altogether. This really was a whole new level of being a bother. He had to hate her now… Wait, had he really used her first name a minute ago? It was all a bit of a blur in her mind…

"Don't." Snape merely said, and let go of one of her shoulders at last to pull her along through the corridors and into the empty potions classroom. As the door closed behind them, he finally turned towards her once more with a mixed expression. "Care to explain?"

"I will, just… give me a moment, please." She brought out, then carefully dropped her backpack on the floor and slowly walked from one end of the classroom to the other, pacing back and forth while Snape sat down on the edge of his desk and watched her in silence. Finally she felt enough like herself once more to talk to him, even if she wasn't entirely sure what he expected to hear. So that's where she started. "I don't know what to say…"

"Is this a usual occurrence? You running through the hallways in blind panic?"

"No…" Robin finally stopped in her avoidant movements, but still looked everywhere other than at the potions professor. "I mean… yes. But no. Ever since the start of term, I… it's…" Robin sighed, then sat down in her usual seat in the second row and put her head in her hands for a moment to collect her thoughts, while Snape waited patiently for her to go on. Finally she took a breath and lifted her eyes to look up at him. "I really shouldn't have told you that I wouldn't study in the hallways anymore… it's the only place I can bear to be at certain times. Ever since the start of term I've had trouble being around people. Not generally, I mean, just… working there, in the common room. I can't focus on my work, no matter what I do, and it always ends with me feeling like I'm going to die. Then I run and hide in the hallway. It's just… what I do to-... to cope without bothering anyone." She shrugged, more so to herself than to him. "I know it's probably just some pathetic teenager thing. It's nothing, really, and I already feel embarrassed enough by how stupid that all sounds… And I should probably stop talking."

"You should have told me."

"What?" Robin blinked at him in irritation. This is not the response she had expected. Mocking, yes. Scolding, even more likely. But not… something that sounded an unlikely lot like understanding. Remorse even! Surely she was misinterpreting that.

"You should have told me on Sunday what you told me now, and matters would not have come this far." He replied reproachfully, which was already way more likely on the scale of his normal subtones, and moved away from his desk towards the door.

"Well, it's not something you simply tell people! At least not without a darn good reason…" Robin defended herself quietly while avoiding his eye once more. He already knew quite enough, he didn't need to see her blushing over it like a damn idiot as well. "And no offense, professor, but I doubt that there is much you can do about it anyway. It's probably just… nature, or… something." She cringed as the words left her lips, but she would only embarrass herself even more if she spoke on in an attempt to make it any better.

"You may have failed to notice that you are sitting at a desk in a decently lit classroom right now instead of cowering on the ground in a dark hallway."

"Actually I was quite aware of that." A small smile accompanied the frown on Robin's face now as she turned around to face him standing by the door. "But… you seem to be making a different point with that statement and I… don't get it."

"Would you like me to spell it out for you?!" He rolled his eyes, looking equally annoyed and uncomfortable. The kind of uncomfortable he always wore when he got caught doing something nice.

"I'd actually appreciate that a lot, sir." She replied with an insecure half smile, even though she knew that his comment had been mere sarcasm. "This… thing, in the common room, has left me a bit… slow, for the moment. Sorry… I guess I'm back to being a dunderhead for the moment."

"Do you remember the advanced spell to lock and unlock doors which I taught you in your first year?"

"Yes, of course."

"It is commonly used to lock the classrooms. All classrooms, to be exact, in the entire school. However I would prefer if you made use of that knowledge solely on the doors to my own classrooms, should you find yourself in need of a… suitable study space again." He gave her a pointed look, then disappeared out into the hallway without another word.

Robin stared at the now closed door for another moment, and listened to her own heartbeat and the silence it was filling. He trusted her enough to allow her to study here, and even come and go at will. That… wow. Robin felt honored, in a way, and definitely privileged. She'd felt proud to be allowed to break curfew, but this was a step further into what honestly started to look like trust. Severus Snape trusted her, even if only ever so slightly. Hadn't she been so emotionally exhausted from the events of today overall and tonight in particular, she would have smiled brighter than the sun. She felt like smiling brighter than the sun, actually… but all her body allowed for now was a small but grateful smile. Yeah, she'd happily write a thousand labels for him as a thank you for this… and a couple more as an apology for making him do something nice. For now however she still had an essay to write for divination, and she would make sure that it turned out even better than the first.

… … …

About an hour later, Professor Snape returned to the classroom in the same silence he had left with. Robin looked up from her work as her ears picked up on the movement, and she followed him with her eyes as he sat down behind his desk with a stack of paperwork. For a moment, he returned the gaze with the same calm expression he had worn in the lab two days ago, and Robin wondered what he might possibly be thinking. Then he focused on his own work, and Robin did the same.

For two more hours they sat in silence like this, each working on their respective tasks in the dim light of the few lit candles in the room. Robin hadn't been able to work this well for this long ever since the start of term, maybe even longer than that, and she couldn't quite believe just how lucky she was to have ended up here now. Lucky, and grateful. Just sitting in Snape's classroom with him, way past curfew and in comfortable silence, she felt like she was able to relax for the first time in over twenty four hours. In addition to that, her essay was turning out to be amazing. This might not beat last Sunday night, with all the amazing wonders the lab had to offer, but it was a pretty close second.

Once the essay was done and packed up to be handed in tomorrow, Robin made the pleasant discovery that the Twirl she had packed was still unharmed and not entirely smashed after how she'd thrown her book into the backpack earlier. Pleased with herself for packing the candy in the first place, she grabbed it out of her backpack along with the book she intended to read next.

"You brought chocolate to Hogwarts?" Snape raised an eyebrow at her in what almost looked like amusement, and Robin had to smile at the fact that this was what finally had led him to disrupt the silence. "Isn't the insufferable amount of sweets served here quite enough?"

"It's not nearly the same, actually." Robin replied neutrally, then took one of the chocolate bars out of the package to place it on her desk before looking back at Snape. "Do you… uh, would you like one? I mean… I'd be happy to share. Still haven't gotten used to having two chocolates in one package…"

"And what exactly would be the use of that for you?"

"Eating chocolate or sharing? Actually-... Well, I guess it doesn't matter, actually… both tend to be quite delightful." Robin shrugged as she rose to her feet and walked over to his desk to place the second piece of chocolate in front of him. Seeing as he still looked doubtful, Robin rolled her eyes even though she knew she shouldn't. "I'm not going to poison you! I'm… just trying to be nice. And hoping you won't yell at me."

While Snape continued to frown at her, then at the chocolate on his desk, Robin sat back down at her own desk with a sigh and went to enjoy her treat. Why couldn't he simply accept a kind gesture without being all weird about it? It made Robin feel weird in return… but she also refused to let that stop her from being nice to him. He probably didn't believe that anyone would be kind to him for the same reason he found it so hard to believe that Robin didn't mind, and even appreciated his company. Well, in case she or anyone on this planet hadn't noticed before now… her potions professor was different. Not different from anything in particular, just different. Yet she couldn't help wondering… had he ever tried muggle candy before? Chances were ridiculously high that he didn't even-...

"There indeed is nothing like Twirls in Hogwarts… I had no idea they sold them as twin bars these days though." He mused after a moment, then snatched the piece of chocolate off his desk to eat while resuming his work as if nothing had interrupted him in the first place.

Robin felt baffled for a moment… he actually knew that they hadn't always come packaged like this?! Most of the kids in her house didn't even know what a TV was… leave alone a random brand of sweets. How come he knew? But Robin knew that it wasn't her place to ask... She'd already stretched her luck quite enough by offering him chocolate in the first place. But in terms of being kind, it really was an improvement to having the house elves bringing him cake, just like her using his classrooms as a study space was an improvement in terms of trust. Somehow, Robin felt like they were making progress. But she didn't yet know which goal they were trying to reach.

… … …

After Tuesday night, Robin declared the potions classroom to be her personal sanctuary. Thus it was no surprise that on Wednesday night she was back in front of the door, only to find it locked. However seeing as Snape had been rather direct about her being allowed and expected to let herself in, she didn't hesitate to make good use of the spell she'd learned in her first year. From some time after dinner until way after midnight, Robin was alone in the classroom, working and reading and simply enjoying the fact that she was entirely on her own. Solitude was hard to come by around here… so she treasured every second she had to herself, before at last she made her way back to her dorm. She didn't run into a single person that night, and it was absolutely blissful.

On Thursday night Robin had to let herself into the room yet again, but after an hour of being alone, Professor Snape burst into the room like a black whirlwind or a thundercloud, which in return caused Robin to jump with a yelp. He stared at her in surprise for a second, frozen in his spot in the middle of the room now after the dramatic entrance, but then his entire demeanour slowly changed from threatening tension to calm neutrality and he moved on into his office, only to come back with a stack of notebooks a moment later. Still without saying a single word, he sat down at his desk in the front of the classroom and started to work. Whatever he had been upset about a moment ago, to Robin it seemed to have faded for now. Or he'd just gotten better at hiding it. However Robin had also gotten better at reading his barely-existent expressions and tiny tells, and thus it was more than likely that he felt calmer now for real. The thought made Robin smile as she turned back to her work. Perhaps this sanctuary wasn't only hers to escape to after all.

On Friday night, Robin found herself with a surprising lack of assignments for the next week, which left only her private studies to delve into. However due to exactly that reason, she decided to take a walk down to the lake after dinner, before curfew would limit her to the castle grounds alone. It was still surprisingly warm for the beginning of October, and thus she strolled along the shore until the time of night forced her to return to the castle. Once back inside, she made her direct way to the potions classroom without even bothering to return to her dorm first, seeing as she carried her backpack with her anyway, and thus all of the books she could possibly read. To her surprise, the door was unlocked already, but she stepped into the room to find it empty and in darkness. Well, the back of the room where Robin was currently situated was dark. The door leading to Snape's office however stood wide open, and the faint light radiating out of the office dimly illuminated the very front of the classroom.

Without wasting any more time standing in the dark like an idiot, Robin closed the door behind herself, lit the candles with a single word and then sat down in her usual spot. Somehow it only now appeared to her that up until this week, Snape had always been working in his office whenever she had seen him working in the evenings, and not once in the classroom. Had he started working here to keep an eye on her? No, she'd been alone here all of Wednesday, and multiple hours over the other two days. Huh… how curious. Robin then settled for the explanation that he also didn't mind some company at times. And the desk here in the classroom seemed a whole lot larger than the one in his office.

"Miss Mitchell…" His voice stopped her before she even had the chance to unpack any of her books from her backpack.

"Good evening, professor." She replied in a hint of surprise at actually being talked to after the enduring silence of the previous night, and meanwhile followed him with her eyes as he made his way out of the office with a book in his hands that might as well be older than the castle. "Is… is everything alright?"

"Indeed. However I… would like to ask for your assistance." His voice didn't let on anything at all once more, and Robin didn't know if she should feel nervous or excited. Her heartbeat sped up anyway.

"My-... My assistance?" She frowned a little, but snapped out of her insecurity in a second. This was her chance to help him another time, and she would take it no matter what. "I mean… of course, I'd be glad to. What is it you need my help with?"

He placed the book on his desk and motioned for Robin to come over as well, which she did while he explained. "I was in the fortunate position to acquire this unique piece of literature over the summer, but it appears to be missing one single page, which however I suspect to be of crucial importance to fully understanding everything else. Since the page was not simply torn out of the book, it also cannot simply be restored either."

Robin stood next to Snape at his desk and carefully inspected the heavy tome for a moment. It was bound in shabby but decently restored leather, with the barest hint of a gold inscription on the spine that however had long before rubbed off. Not much to go by… what kind of literature was this even? After a moment she looked up from the book to meet her professor's eyes. "How could I be of any help with that? I mean, I absolutely would help you if I could, but I very much doubt that there's anything I can do if even you didn't know a suitable spell. Maybe you could ask Professor Flitwick, or Professor McGonagall, or…"

"I asked for your assistance, did I not?"

Robin nodded, but the frown stayed on her face nonetheless. "Yes, sir… but I'm afraid I'll only disappoint you even if I tried. I have no idea how to restore the page as it is."

"I would not be so certain about that. You are in the possession of something that could very well be of vital assistance right now." He gave her a moment to think, and the gears in Robin's mind jumped into full action. Did she, really? But what-...

"The book about literature spells!" Her eyes widened at her own conclusion, and her lips remained agape with the realization. So that's why he had asked her! But how had he remembered that? It's been ages since she'd mentioned it…

"Is it still in your possession?"

"Of course!" The smile was on her face before she could help herself. In an instant she was back at her own desk and digging through her backpack with her right arm almost disappearing in the small bag up to her shoulder. Snape watched her with a risen eyebrow, and Robin felt the need to explain herself rising up with the heat on her cheeks. "Uh, I… carry a lot of books usually, so I used an extension charm I had previously researched for-… You know what, nevermind."

Snape looked so extremely unimpressed by her words that Robin had enough reason to assume that he actually was actually –at least partially– impressed by her spellwork. Really, it was another odd thing about him that she'd discovered recently, the nearly indistinguishable difference between unimpressed, and 'unimpressed but actually quite impressed'. She hid her smile in her bag for a moment, until she came to the conclusion that the book in question wasn't in there. Thus she dropped the bag on her desk as she rose to her feet, and then turned back to Snape.

"The book is in my dorm room, since I hardly ever use it these days… But I'll go get it right now, so, uh, I'll be right back." With that she made for the door and left without waiting for a reply. Ten minutes later she walked back into the classroom at the same pace she had left with, eyes already fixed on the book as she flipped through the pages. "I'm afraid I only ever really studied half of it, seeing as the second half was pretty much useless for me at the time, but-..."

"Jay?! What the hell are you doing here? Must've gotten yourself into detention as well, huh?" The snarling voice of David –who certainly had been a more than qualified replacement for Alexander in terms of bullying, ever since the duelling incident– made Robin look up from her book so fast and in so much surprise that she almost ran into the corner of a desk. In equal shock and incredulity she stared at David for a second, then at Professor Snape who had taken a seat behind his desk.

"You've got to be joking…"

______________________________

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ticklikeabomb · 5 years

Text

Grouch - Part 3

Pairing : Bucky x Plus Size Reader ; Avengers x Plus Size Reader

Warning : Language ; Bucky being an ass (again) ; Angst ; Mention of major death

Word Count : 1.5k

Disclaimer : I do not own the characters, nor the universe where they were created and interact in. This series/fiction is only for entertainment purposes.

A/N : I’m sorry it took so long but hope it was worth it :)

Steve woke up early. For several weeks now he was incapable to get some good night sleep. He blamed himself for not interfering between you and Bucky when he had the occasion, before it all went south. He blamed himself even more after discovering what Hydra did to you. Your legs and arms were replaced by Vibranium, your memories erased and your reflexes and fighting mode improved, meaning they transformed you as a Super Soldier. In appearance, you were no more but Steve was stubborn and he would not give up on you. He put some clean sweatpants and a tight white T-shirt and made himself ready for a run. After a quick stretch, he began his running routine.

“Did you sleep last night?”, asked Nat entering Tony’s lab. “What’s that?”, he responded ironically. A sad smile formed on her lips for a fraction before looking at him seriously. “You need to rest. We won’t find her if you’re not one hundred percent your best and right now, you look like a mess.” “Wow thanks love”, sarcastically replied the billionaire. “We all want her …” “Look I get it I do but you didn’t see her eyes. Her lifeless look. Her last words towards me.” Nat nodded in comprehension and patted his back. “I know it shook you up but if F.R.I.D.A.Y finds anything, the slight hitch, she’ll warn us. Go get some sleep Tony.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed after the Widow left the room. He decided to take her advice and informed the A.I to wake him up at any news. While the other Avengers were at their occupation, Bucky took refuge at the gym. His punches became more and more violent at each memory of you crossing his mind, especially the time he asked you on a date.

Flashback (4 years ago)

“What do you guys think about spicing this evening up?”, smirked Sam, a beer in his hand. Steve chuckled before taking a gulp of his own drink and letting his gaze wander across the dim lit club. Not getting the reaction he was looking for, Sam stubbornly continued. “Ah come on grandpas. When’s the last time you two got nasty in the sheets?” “Hmm Tuesday”, mumbled Bucky. The other two men looked at him dumbfounded. “You were on a mission on Tuesday”, said Steve. “Exactly”, smirked Bucky. “You did not? The target’s wife?”, choked Sam. Bucky’s grin was enough of a reply for both men to understand. “You could have compromised the whole operation”, commented Steve with a frown to which Bucky rolled his eyes at his friend’s strict policy. “What can I say, she practically jumped on me. I would have been a fool if I left a damsel on distress.” Steve took another gulp of his drink while shaking his head in disapproval.

“Alright, alright, let’s make some bets. Steve, I bet you don’t have the balls to go talk to that lady over there whose been eyeing you since we got here”, grinned Sam. “Ha ha ha very funny and she has not”, counterattacked Steve. Both of Sam and Bucky gave him a knowing look and Steve took a deep breath. “Ok, you’re lost Wilson”, said Steve and marched towards the woman in question and engaged conversation. The Falcon quickly checked his phone before turning towards Bucky with a smirk gracing his features. “I bet you to ask the next lady stepping foot in this club for a date.” “You’re sure you wanna play with me little bird?”, cockily answered Bucky. “Absolutely”, he immediately replied. “Fine”, exclaimed Bucky almost triumphantly. Both of them kept looking at the door until they saw you enter the club. Bucky’s smiled instantly faded away before mumbling through greeted teeth. “You got to be fucking kidding me!” “Seems like you gotta ask the new team member on a date Barnes”, chuckled Sam. “You said the next lady not that”, spat the former Winter Soldier. His friend frowned and turned his way, “What the hell is your problem man? Y/N is a good-looking woman, very nice, with a great sense of humor and sweet. I don’t understand why you’re being such an ass. You don’t even know her and a bet is a bet.”

“Why don’t you date her since you like her so much”, spat Bucky, his clenched fists beside him. “Because I don’t see her more as a friend and besides, I’m sure she’s interested in someone else”, he simply replied. “Who??”, immediately asked Bucky before regaining his composure. “Why? I thought you didn’t care?” “I don’t.” Sam hummed at Barnes’ non so convincing answer. Bucky looked at you up and down and clenched his jaw before drinking the rest of his drink and clear his throat.

You were finishing a line of shots with Wanda and Natasha when you felt a presence at your right. “Hello Barnes, having a good time?”, you asked without looking at him. He chuckled softly before replying, “How did you know it was me?” “I can smell your cologne from a mile away.” He took a deep breath before leaning in closer. “Always on duty I see.” You decided to face him and leaned on the counter, his eyes scanning your cleavage before he realized he was busted. “Danger is everywhere. Gotta stay sharp”, you simply replied. “Can I get you another drink?” You skeptically rose your eyebrow at his attitude. You didn’t know why he was acting that way towards you. Since you joined the team, his constant posture towards you was cold. You shook your shoulders and replied, “Sure, why not.” He kept small talking to you before he asked you on a date making you almost spit your drink out. “Excuse me?” “I figured that I came across as cold and was wondering if we could start over again over a diner?” You hummed in hesitation but eventually agreed. Who wouldn’t? The infamous Bucky Barnes charms didn’t leave you indifferent.

A few days later, after preparing yourself from head to toe, you arrived at the restaurant and were escorted to your table. Bucky wasn’t there yet. “Would you like something to drink Miss?” “No thank you, I’m waiting for someone.” The waiter nodded in comprehension and gave you some space. You checked around the crowded restaurant and it was even more disturbing since your table was in the middle of the room. Your patience began to ran thin when you realized that he was being 15min late. The other client’s looks weren’t helping and neither was the waiter who kept coming back to you. “I’m sorry Miss but it’s been over an hour and we have other clients waiting.” You nodded, fury consuming you. “I understand, I’m sorry.” The term walk of shame never sounded so correct. Shame, embarrassment and humiliation were the exact feelings would describe the state you were in.

As soon as you entered the compound’s elevator, you retrieved your high heels and took a deep breath, sadness taking over. Arriving at your floor, you heard some noises coming from the living room and cautiously, you decided to check on them. What you saw make your blood go cold. There he was, on the couch, a blond top model dry humping on his leg, his mouth on her neck. Feeling that they were being interrupted, the former Winter Soldier turned his face towards you and smiled, “Oh hey Y/N” “Are you fucking kidding me? I waited for you for an hour”, you spat. “You really believed I would go on a date with you? So naïve. It was all a bet with Sam.” He could as good as stabbed you right through the chest. You were seeing red and retrieved the hidden gun from your chest and pointed at his face, pulling the trigger. He managed to block the bullet with his metal arm at the last second. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”, he screamed while his date began screaming. “Next time I won’t miss”, you exclaimed deeply making him slightly shiver.

Present day

Natasha was the last one to join the team in the kitchen for some breakfast. Something wasn’t right. “Where’s Steve?”, she asked. “I don’t know, probably finishing his early jog”, replied Sam nonchalant. “That’s weird. He should be back by now”, she mumbled to herself. Across the table, Wanda was digging holes at Bucky’s head, who kept himself as quiet and small as he mastered. At that precise time, F.R.I.D.A.Y alerted the compound and turned the TV on. What they saw made them shiver. “No”, whispered Bucky. Hydra projected on all channels and media their last video in which we could see Steve strained on a chair and you, emotionless pointing a gun at him.

“My name is Madame Hydra and this is for the greater cause. Witness our power in action. The day has finally come for the universe to get the scum disappear for good. Isn’t it poetic, an ex-Avenger killing his comrade?” The next second, the sound of you pulling the trigger echoed and Steve’s head bursting backwards. The video ended and the news flash began, declaring Captain America’s death all over the world.

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Text

Like We Used To: 21

A/N: There are lyrics to 2 songs included in this chapter. I will link the songs in the story, but the names in the first song have been changed to fit the characters of the story.

I’m REALLY excited about this chapter and the ones coming up!

[Click Here For Previous Chapters]

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CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

After reading the article last night about her and Harry’s kiss, Elizabeth had a quick four-way phone call with Jeffrey, Harry, and Lisa who basically told her not to worry about it as there were no more interviews scheduled for Harry until around Christmas time. They could essentially ignore the headline and not have to comment on it, much like they always did whenever he was caught out with someone. But to be on the safe side, they decided that instead of going out to eat with everyone, Harry would just order pizza delivery to eat at the studio.

It almost felt like they were in an exclusive building when they arrived, as it had a gated entrance that needed a code to enter, and Jeffrey had to meet them outside to give them access into the building. That being said, the actual recording room itself was fairly small for the amount of people there. She noticed Harry behind the glass in the recording booth, the sound of his voice echoing over the speakers as they recorded him singing small random phrases, most likely backing vocals. Mitch was the first to notice them as he jumped up from the couch, tossing the pizza aside and awkwardly hugged Elizabeth, a bit nervous in front of Kate, Matt, and Lewis as he wasn’t familiar with them. He was the only one out of the band members there, probably because the others weren’t needed yet.

Elizabeth introduced her old friends to her new when Harry noticed them and smiled, pulling his headphones off and jogging out of the booth. He squeezed his way over, giving each of them a quick hug and introducing them to the producer and sound engineer. The four of them were offered plates of pizza and drinks as Harry was caught up on the happenings of Lewis and Kate’s honeymoon.

Eventually Lewis changed the subject, “So what was it, exactly, that you wanted us to listen to?”

Harry’s lip turned upward into a bashful smirk, “So, I wrote a song inspired by you guys, and I wanted you to hear it. We’re putting it on the album.”

Kate smiled widely, “About us? How exciting! Are you going to sing it?”

Harry shook his head, chuckling a bit, “It’s recorded,” he turned to the sound engineer, “Do you mind playing Old Friends, please?”

The sound engineer nodded and clicked a few buttons on his computer until the soft sounds of a piano and chimes echoed through the speakers. All the guys in the studio bobbed along to the songs, either humming or singing along as Harry’s voice began to sing, his old friends listening intently at the lyrics.

I can still find Lewis’ house

Riding on my bike with eyes closed

I could name every girl that he took out

And from my memory, dial his house phone

Can you take me back when we were just kids

Who weren't scared of getting older? (yeah, yeah)

'Cause no one knows you like they know you

And no one probably ever will

You can grow up, make new ones

But truth is there's nothing like old friends

'Cause you can't make old friends (mm, yeah)

I can still feel the windows down

Listening to Jimmy Eat World

Riding 3-wide on Matt’s bench seat (yeah)

My God, it's been ten years now

I would have his back tomorrow

And he'd still fight anyone who tried to touch me

Can you take me back when we were just kids

Who weren't scared of getting older? (yeah, yeah)

'Cause no one knows you like they know you

And no one probably ever will

You can grow up, make new ones

But truth is there's nothing like old friends

'Cause you can't make old friends

And I've got some good friends now

But I've never seen their parents' back porch

I wouldn't change how things turned out

But there's no one in this time zone

Who knows what inline skates that I wore

Can you take me back when we were just kids

Who weren't scared of getting older?

'Cause no one knows you like they know you

And no one probably ever will

You can grow up, make new ones

But the truth is

That we grow up, then wish we could go back then

There's nothing like old friends

'Cause you can't make old friends

The piano faded out and Elizabeth turned to her friends with tears in her eyes, sure that her heightened emotional state was half-due to the hormones from her period she got that morning, but the song was beautiful and everyone else seemed to agree. Kate’s hand clasped over her mouth, getting emotional too, as Lewis and Matt gave him those weird hug/back smacks that guys did.

“Mate, that was amazing!” Lewis exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

“I can’t believe my name is in a song,” Matt shook his head, “That’s cool as hell!”

Harry looked over at Elizabeth with a smile, seeing a tear roll down her cheek. He went over to her, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head, “Do you like it?” he whispered.

Elizabeth nodded, wiping the tears from her face and sniffling with a little laugh, “Yes, it was perfect.”

“Are we going to play Elizabeth’s song too?” Mitch asked, making Harry snap his head over to him, eyes wide.

“My song?” Elizabeth gasped, looking at Harry and all around the room.

“We can…” the sound guy turned to mess with the keys before Harry cut him off.

“No, it’s not finished yet.”

“I have a song?” Elizabeth asked him again.

“It’s…” Harry stuttered, nervously, “It’s not like a cheesy song, or anything. It’s fun. But it’s not ready yet.”

“You didn’t tell me you wrote a song about me,” she continued as everyone looked between them.

“There’s three songs about you,” Jeffrey smirked, earning a smack from Harry.

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped to the floor, “Three songs, and I haven’t even heard one?”

Harry groaned, throwing himself onto the couch as everyone laughed. Elizabeth decided to drop it, seeing how embarrassed Harry was by it as they decided to play ‘Old Friends’ a few more times. How the hell did he manage to write and record three songs about her in the course of two weeks? He barely had free time.

Elizabeth, Matt, Kate, and Lewis stayed for about two hours before they decided to leave so the rest of them could get back to work. Harry wanted to walk them out, but Jeffrey reminded him that it probably wasn’t the best idea to be seen out together the day after their kiss was publicized.

Instead, Harry walked them towards the front of the building, spinning her around before she went out the door and giving her a kiss. She hesitantly kissed him back before catching up with her friends, spinning around to look at his confused look once more.

The rest of the day was spent walking around the city as her friends gushed over Harry’s song, and contemplated what Elizabeth’s songs could possibly be about. She felt a bit flustered at the idea of someone writing a song about her, let alone three. What could she have possibly inspired to result in three songs? And who cares if they weren’t finished? If he couldn’t play her the songs, why couldn’t he have at least warned her? She felt slightly on edge since people found out who she was. It’s not like her recognition was now impacting her life in a negative way, at least not yet, but the idea that strangers knew who she was was a little unsettling. Luckily, most of Harry’s fans, from the brief investigative works that she and her friends had done last night, seemed to actually like her.

Eventually Matt had dropped her back off at home, and for the first time in practically two weeks she went to sleep in her empty house, on her own bed, alone. On Monday, Elizabeth stopped into her office building, holding a brief meeting with her employers, designating jobs and having video conferences with a few of her clients. She decided to work overtime so that she could free some space up for her visit to her sister later in the week and she didn’t get home until after 8 PM. Harry had tried calling and texting her a few times, and even though she wasn’t mad at him, she spent most of the day being unresponsive, using the time to focus on her work.

Tuesday she decided to work from home, busting through her assignments through Thursday. She was starting to feel bad for being so short in her conversations with Harry through text, knowing he didn’t have much planned for today. She didn’t want him to think that he was ignoring him, but she also wanted time to think. Her mind kept replaying the image of Kendall Jenner asking him ‘Do you really think she’ll be able to deal with your lifestyle? She looks so uncomfortable here’ over and over again. Elizabeth had dinner with Judy that night, who obviously asked about Harry and the trip. She confided in her everything that happened and what she was feeling before Judy laid into her.

“He’s a sexy man who wants nothing else but to be with you. Stop worrying about what any other tart and skank thinks or says about you or any relationship you decide to be in. All that matters is that you’re happy and getting good sex. Otherwise, fuck ‘em!”

As blunt and direct as it was, Judy was right. She didn’t want to sabotage herself anymore. Harry made her happy, and if she had to get out of her comfort zone a bit to feel genuine happiness, then she’d have to deal with that.

It was nearly 9 PM by the time she went back home, pouring herself a glass of wine and throwing herself onto her couch. She contemplated calling Harry, but realized he hadn’t messaged her in a few hours and decided he was probably asleep now, turning the television on instead. Just as it flicked on, her phone rang.

She never answered the phone so fast in her life, “Harry?”

“Hey, are you home?”

“Yeah, I just got in from Judy’s. Listen, I….”

“Ok, I’m down the street. Can I come in?”

Elizabeth muttered a ‘sure’, before hanging up and standing, straightening her hair and clothes out. She stepped onto the front porch and waited, seeing the headlights of Harry’s car rounding the street. He parked and jumped out, walking up the steps. The expression on his face seemed a bit troubled as she led him inside.

“Wine?” she offered, earning a nod from him as he took a seat on the couch.

She poured him a glass and joined him, sitting cross legged on the couch beside him. They both took a sip and awkwardly sat in silence before both of them started talking at the same time.

Elizabeth looked at him through her eyelashes, “I’m sorry,” she breathed, “I honestly wasn’t trying to ignore you.”

“Are you mad at me or something?” He asked.

“No, I was just...processing.”

“Processing what?” He asked, you could hear the hurt in his voice, “If you want to be with me or not?”

Elizabeth spoke more directly, “Harry, I’ve wanted to be with you since I was fourteen years old. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I’ve been through a lot. I was hurt. I was cheated on. And suddenly you come back into my life, treating me better than anyone I’ve ever been with. You’re everything I could have asked for, but this is all new territory for me. I’ve never been in any sort of spotlight before and the last thing I want is to fuck things up. I’m just worried that I just can’t be enough for you.”

Harry listened to her, shaking her head lightly as she spoke, “Lizzy, I’ve waited almost half of my life to be with you, and so far I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever felt. All I want is you. I don’t care about any of the baggage. I’m not scared about the press, or whatever headline comes out. All I care about is that I have you with me. We can worry about the rest later. Right now, I’m all in.”

Elizabeth nodded, starting to get emotional listening to him speak, “Okay,” she exhaled, wiping a tear that fell down her cheek, “Let’s do this.”

“Yeah?” He asked, taking a deep breath in and straightening up, “You’ll be my girlfriend?”

She laughed, sniffling, “Yeah, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

He beamed, lunging forward to smash his lips down on hers. She laughed into it, grabbing onto his face to deepen it. When he pulled away, his smile didn’t falter, “Finally.”

She gulped down the rest of her wine before saying, “It only took about twelve years.”

He looked at her for a moment before his smile started to fade and his expression grew more thoughtful, “Do you want to hear one of the songs I wrote about you?” he asked.

Her eyes widened, stuttering a ‘yes’. He excused himself to grab a guitar out of his car and came bustling back in, sitting next to her to tune the strings. Both of them obviously feeling slightly nervous.

“So, I wrote this song on the second day at the manor house, right after we took the inner tubes on the lake,” he explained. “We sat there talking just the two of us, and yeah, I wrote this song right after dinner, before we played Spill It. It’s called ‘There’s No Way’.”

He started strumming the guitar before his soft voice started singing.

You touch me and it's almost like we knew

That there will be history between us two

We knew someday that we would have regrets

But we just ignored them the night we met

We just dance backwards into each other

Trying to keep our feelings secretly covered

You touch me and it's almost like we knew

That there will be history

But there's no way that it's not going there

With the way that we're looking at each other

There's no way that it's not going there

Every second with you I want another

But maybe we can hold off one sec

So we can keep this tension in check

But there's no way that it's not going there

With the way that we're looking at each other

I wish I could make the time stop

So we could forget everything and everyone

I wish that the time would line up

So we could just give in to what we want

'Cause when I got somebody, you don't

And when you got somebody, I don't

I wish that the time would line up

So we could just give in

There's no way that it's not going there

With the way that we're looking at each other

There's no way that it's not going there

Every second with you I want another

But maybe we can hold off one sec

So we can keep this tension in check

But there's no way that it's not going there

With the way that we're looking at each other

We just dance backwards into each other

Trying to keep our feelings secretly covered

We just dance backwards into each other

Trying to keep our feelings secretly covered

You touched me and it's almost like we knew

That there would be history

But there's no way that it's not going there

With the way that we're looking at each other

There's no way that it's not going there

Every second with you I want another

But maybe we can hold off one sec

So we can keep this tension in check

But there's no way that it's not going there

With the way that we're looking at each other

Elizabeth’s eyes were full of tears, a smile plastered on her face. She didn’t need to say anything, Harry knew how she felt about it. He put the guitar aside and pulled her closer to him, adjusting her so that she rested her head in between his shoulder and chest, arms wrapped around her. They sat in a comfortable silence before Harry spoke up, sounding faintly apprehensive.

“So, I had a meeting with Jeffrey and Lisa today….” he started. Elizabeth mhmmed as he continued, “You know how I have that Fashion Show in LA coming up?” She muttered another mhmmm before he carried on, “How would you feel about being my date to it?”

Elizabeth shot up, “Would that not make it obvious that we’re dating?”

“Exactly,” Harry nodded, “It’ll be our first official outing as a couple.”

“Harry….” she said uncertainly, looking him in the eyes.

He grabbed her hands, “Listen, I know you’re scared, but I’ve never made any official public appearance with anyone I’ve dated before. That’s how serious I am about us. I want to do this. Together. And we have my team’s support. I just want to show you off and let everyone know you’re mine.”

She took a deep breath, a large part of her wanting to say no. But she couldn’t help to notice the passion in his eyes. He really wanted this. Against her inclinations, she nodded, urging her nerves away. This would be her first move in stepping out of her comfort zone. He explained to her that they would set up a time for his stylists to come over and size her for an outfit to wear to the event at some point this week before settling down and putting a movie on.

“Will you be spending the night?” she whispered, halfway into the movie.

“If that’s okay.”

“That’s fine, but I’m going to my sister’s tomorrow to visit. We’re going to a pumpkin patch. You can come if you want, I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

Harry grinned, tightening his hold on her, “I’d love to.”

KEEP READING

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theartofimaginaryfriends · 4 years

Text

Chapter 7 - Movie Night

Fic series: The Final Straw (HP/PJO Crossover Fic)

Premise: Weekly movie night is kicked off with a classic: Mean Girls.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ilvermornymascot, @lukecastellandeservedbetter, @eva-blog-p

word count: 1,343

A/N: We're back to posting at weird hours of the night! It's currently nearly 2AM and that's on having to rewatch Mean Girls for this and ALSO doing that at a weird hour. My staying up throuh the night thing is going to bite me in the ass on Tuesday where I'll likely sleep through the whole day and then deal with around 50 happy birthday facebook messages from family I never talk to. Which, by the way, I'm 20??? On Tuesday??? What??? On that note, I hope y'all enjoy the chapter XD

By Friday evening, the fighting had subsided enough that Nova wasn't meditating every five minutes, and she didn't feel as tired by the end of History of Magic. For once, she didn't feel the need to nap while the Professor droned on about the Salem Witch Trials. Besides, the amusement she got watching her Ilvermorny peers' jaws drop as Hermione raised her hand after every question was enough entertainment to keep the class interesting. She wasn't surprised to see her friend had done research on North American history.

The only thing on her mind at the moment was the movie night. Instead of the usual downtime spent in the Pukwudgie common room, she was in The Great Hall organizing the space and setting up the seating areas. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Lucas, for the millionth time this week, yes," Nova answered her friend, exasperated.

"If we can do this on a laptop, we can easily utilize the projector," Cree added, looking up from the muggle technology. "And no I'm still not going to tell you how we managed to get this here."

Lucas rolled his eyes and proceeded to help with the set up by moving the tables to the sides of the room. The three students fell silent as they did their tasks, and listened to the music playing on Cree's laptop through the aux cord. "This is looking great!"

"Thanks, Professor!" Nova smiled at the Headmaster as he admired their handy work.

"Have you picked out the movie, yet?"

"Mean Girls," Cree held up the DVD. "It's a classic."

"Ah, yes," Tahamente chuckled and made his way to the podium. "I hear students reference that film often."

Soon after the set-up was fully finished, the student body began to pile in. Percy, Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined Nova in the section she claimed. "Should we be concerned about monsters?"

"Annabeth didn't tell you?" Nova questioned. She explained how technology actually worked within both the wizard and demigod worlds. Her friends all looked at her like she was insane, especially Hermione who was insistent on arguing.

"But in Hogwarts: A History, it's stated that it goes haywire around magic!" She went off on a tangent about the experiments that wizards have done to test the theory.

"How often does this happen?" Percy leaned over and whispered to Harry and Ron.

"All the time," Ron answered. "It's hard to get her to stop."

"Almost impossible, really," Harry added.

Hermione ignored her friends and continued on the rant as students continued finding spots with their friends. Once everyone was settled, the Headmaster addressed the school. "As you may have seen on the bulletin boards in your common rooms, tonight will be a bit different than usual."

"A bit?" Nova heard from a student nearby.

"To help us all get used to each other's company, our Head Boy and Girl organized a no-Maj movie night," he explained. "In a moment, pizza and snacks will appear on the tables and everyone will be free to grab their dinner."

The student began to whisper amongst themselves, most sounding excited. Nova glanced over at Draco, who had a bewildered look on his face. "What the hell is a movie?"

"It's like the magical portraits, except there's a plot," Nova explained.

"What?"

"Draco, don't worry about it," Harry said, quickly. "You'll find out soon enough."

"Until then, I have an announcement to make." Nova's attention was brought away from Harry and Draco, and back to the Headmaster as he continued his speech. "Professor McGonagall, Professor Chiron, and I have decided to host a championship."

"If this is anything like-" Harry whispered to himself.

"It will be modelled after the legendary Triwizard Tournament," Tahamente hushed the crowd again as the students continued talking amongst each other. Harry and Nova shared looks of disdain. "We have decided to name it The Chimera Games. The rules are simple: twenty teams of two, and it must consist of one wizard and one demigod. There will be no age restriction for the competitors."

"Is that safe?" Hermione seemed worried.

"No, but neither is the life of a demigod," Annabeth said. "A tournament is nothing to us."

"To enter, you will write your name onto a slip of paper, and drop it into the Fountain of Fate." The murmurs started up again, much to the headmaster's dismay. "When it is time for the choosing ceremony, the fountain will reveal two names for each team. The fountain will be in the Entrance Hall tomorrow morning, and everyone will be free to enter until dinner on Sunday. Once the teams have been chosen, I will give out further information. For now, please enjoy tonight's festivities."

Nova attempted to mask her worry, not wanting to talk about what had happened in fourth year. Harry shifted so he sat next to her. "Did you know about this?"

"I had no idea," Nova shook her head. "Do you also have a bad feeling about this?"

"I have a feeling that if I don't willingly enter my own name, someone will do it for me," he scowled.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Harry gave his friend a small smile and squeezed her shoulder. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, now is not a good time."

"Okay," Nova agreed and smiled back. As worried as she was about the prospect of a tournament, Harry was right. The movie nights were meant to be fun. Dwelling on the news wouldn't benefit anyone.

"Are you okay, Nova?" Cree asked, taking a seat next to her.

"Yeah," she nodded, taking a plate he held out to her. "Just zoned out."

"You better not do that during the movie," he joked. "I'm not about to quote it on my own."

"I would never do that to you," Nova feigned offence. The movie began playing when everyone was settled back in their seats. The two tried to be as quiet as possible as they talked through it, failing at their favourite scenes.

The Head Girl was mostly entertained by Malfoy watching the movie, and Harry quietly explaining to him that shouting at it would do no good since they don't respond. "That makes no sense."

"A movie is pre-recorded," Harry couldn't contain his grin, clearly enjoying Draco be clueless for once. "Which means the characters on screen are played by actors, and they can't hear or talk to you."

"But, how?"

"We might want to save the full explanation for later, boys," Nova teased.

"Says the one saying almost every line," Harry shot back, good-naturedly.

"That's different!" Cree and Nova chorused.

"Do the two of you ever shut up?" One of Lou Ellen's friends, Macie, glared at them.

"No, they don't," Lou Ellen answered her friend and winked at her sister.

Over the course of the movie, the group teased Draco as he kept yelling at the screen and expected a response. Cree and Nova noticed other students quoting the movie as well, making the experience more fun. Movie Night seemed to work in bringing everyone together. Even the wizards that had just been introduced to a movie were enjoying themselves.

"All I'm saying is Cady giving out the crown is unrealistic!" Malfoy ranted as they walked to the campfire. "I mean, you can't just break it in half, that's not how royalty works!"

"How would you know?"

"Do you really think that breaking a crown into pieces and handing it to others is going to make them royalty?" He continued. "No! Because that wasn't accurate."

"Why do I have a feeling he's got his own throne at home?" Percy whispered to Nova.

"That wouldn't surprise me." Nova laughed.

When they arrived at the fire, Nova noticed the whole school was there. It was quite the change from the small groups they've had all week. The flames glowed a bright gold as the Apollo cabin led the activity. The witch enjoyed the moment while it lasted, knowing very well that the fighting would start again the next morning.

#harry potter #percy jackson #pjo #harry potter/percy jackson crossover fic #harry potter/percy jackson crossover

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freudensteins-monster · 4 years

Text

A Banner Reunion

A WinterShock follow up to A Banner Day. Set post Age of Ultron and Ragnarok, not really Civil War compliant, and there’s no Thanos or looming Infinity War. Also posted on AO3.

The first person Bucky Barnes met as he stepped off the last quinjet out of Wakanda was Darcy Lewis. She looked more uptight than her file photo would suggest (Bucky had read the files of all facility staff on the flight over, and Darcy’s maybe twice), and seemed to have taken Pepper Potts as her style icon. The wavy brown hair from her file photo was pulled back in a tight bun, and the colourful sweaters and jeans had been replaced by a sharp business suit and sharper heels.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes. I’m Darcy Lewis. I manage the upstate facility and act as the team’s PR manager. I’ll also be acting as a liaison between the facility, your legal team, and other interested parties. If you have any questions, day or night, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”

She handed him a crisp white business card. Bucky took it with his shiny new Wakandan arm, noting a complete lack of reaction from Miss Lewis.

“Science Wrangler?” he read aloud.

“I have new ones on order,” she replied with a long-suffering sigh.

“Thank you, Miss Lewis,” he smiled, tucking the business card into his jacket pocket. “But all I really want to know right now is which way to the mess hall?”

Miss Lewis smiled, but before she could respond Steve clapped him on the shoulder and led him away for a second breakfast.

Over the next couple of weeks he received dozens of updates via Miss Lewis from his legal team about their attempts to have him cleared of all charges relating to the crimes he committed as the Winter Soldier (and the few he committed after), but he never saw her outside of their meetings. Not in the mess hall, not at team movie nights, not even in passing. According to Steve she was drowning in work and pretty much lived in her office. She needed help but had refused to hire assistants, not trusting the vetting process with all the enemies the Avengers had accumulated.

Feeling guilty, and just a little too curious for his own good, Bucky went in search of her office. He heard her before he saw her. It sounded like she was having the argument of the century with a disgruntled voice that reminded him of his old drill instructor. He was going to leave her to it and try again later when he heard his name being thrown about. He crept closer, keeping out of sight of Darcy and the holograph she was arguing with.

“How can you stand there denying the dangers posed by enhanced individuals when you’re harbouring the fugitive James Buchanan Barnes, the most prolific assassin in living memory?”

Bucky winced but Darcy narrowed her eyes at the hologram and stood her ground.

“Sergeant Barnes’ location is not a secret, nor is he a fugitive. He surrendered himself to the Wakandan authorities and per the agreement his legal representation made with the US government - which you’re well aware of, I remember how much you bitched about it in the press - he is on house arrest at this facility until his trial commences, if it ends up going ahead at all. And if you think he’s going to give up what little freedom he has now and could have in the future and sign this joke of a document, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Her opponent sneered. “Last I checked, Miss Lewis, you weren’t a lawyer.”

“Not yet, anyway. But I did pass my Civics 101 class, and I watched a lot of SchoolHouse Rock! as a kid: This is not a bill, or a law, or an official policy of the US Government. Even if it gets ratified by the UN, you cannot enforce it as it goes against the Constitution and violates a US citizen’s 4th, 5th, 6th, and 8th Amendment rights.”

“Wanda Maximoff-“

“-is a dual Sokovian-US citizen; I made sure of it. And if you can somehow round up a bunch of asshole commandos willing to enforce this PR nightmare to appease your bruised ego, the governor of New York - who gifted this land to the Avengers - and all his friends on Capitol Hill are going to have something to say about it. Especially after the so-called World Security Council tried to nuke his hometown while the Avengers were risking their lives to save his constituents from aliens. So,” she continued, tossing the intimidated stack of paper aside and waiting for it to hit her desk with a satisfying thump before continuing, “until you can put together something less offensive than this pile of crap, we don’t have anything more to talk about.”

“Listen here you little-“

“Sorry Thad, you’re breaking up. I think your country club is going through a tunnel.”

Darcy disconnected the holographic video call with a wave of her hand and fell into the closest chair with a dramatic groan.

“Wow…” Bucky remarked, stepping into her office. “I take it we don’t like that guy.”

“We really don’t like that guy,” Darcy concurred, tossing her heels across the room in irritation.

“What’s his deal?”

“General Ross’ deal is that he wants all the power. And since superheroes have lots of power he wants them, preferably conscripted into service of the US government or locked up in a submersible military black site paid for with taxpayer dollars that he thinks I don’t know about. He’s been this way ever since Bruce’s accident.” At Bucky’s lack of recognition she continued, “Bruce was trying to replicate the supersoldier serum for the US Military, reporting to General Ross. Things went boom, Bruce turned into the Hulk, escaped Ross’ clutches and went on the run. Under the guise of bringing the Hulk in, Ross approved another human trial of the supersoldier serum. He ended up creating what the media dubbed as “the Abomination” – twice the rage of the Hulk, none of the ability to reconnect with his humanity. And while Bruce was forced to go back into hiding for the next five years for his part in destroying Harlem, General Ross didn’t even get knocked down a rank. The bastard shouldn’t be able to breathe in DC’s direction, let alone have a hand in policing “enhanced individuals,” so naturally he makes a perfect choice for Secretary of State,” she scoffed.

Bucky watched her for a moment before reaching out to help her up from her chair. “You look like you could use a drink. C’mon, I’m buying.”

“Dude, it’s like 10am,” Darcy argued, but took his hand regardless.

Two floors down and one building over in the facility cafeteria Bucky watched on with barely disguised amusement as Darcy made love to her Mocha Frappuccino.

“Oh, yeah, that’s the stuff.”

She’d put on some flats and discarded her jacket before leaving her office, and once they were seated and waiting for their drinks she set her glasses down on the table and took down her hair.

Bucky loved the way she smiled when she was able to let go of the stress of her job, even if it was only for a moment, so he did what he could to give her more of them. Tuesday morning coffee breaks became a regular occurrence, and if she missed dinner Bucky would check in on her to make sure she took a break and ate something. Eventually he asked her to schedule all their meetings and anything to do with his legal issues as her last tasks of the day, that way if she was snowed under and running late he had an excuse to invite her to join him for dinner afterwards. He was working up the nerve to ask her to dinner without the pretense of work when the Asgardians arrived.

Steve stood beside him, watching as the huge ship landed just beyond the facility's - and Bucky’s - boundaries.

“So it’s true?” Darcy asked, out of breath from the short run from the administration building. “He’s really back?”

“Yeah, Thor’s back. You were there when he crash landed the first time, right?” Steve asked.

“She tased him,” Bucky informed him with a smirk. “I read the report.”

“Yeah, I totally tased him. And introduced him to Pop-Tarts. But I also lost him in the breakup – it’s been, like, almost two years since I last saw him.”

It didn’t stop her waving like a lunatic the moment Thor ambled down the spaceship’s ramp, a small village worth of people following close behind him.

“Oh, this is going to be so much paperwork…” Darcy muttered as the god caught sight of them.

“My friends! Lady Darcy!!”

“Thor! What the hell happened to your eye?” she asked when he wrapped her up in one of his godly hugs.

“It’s a long story, lightning sister.”

“Did you bring all of Asgard with you?” Steve asked as he and Bucky watched the strangely dressed visitors make the most of the sunshine and soft grass.

“As many as we could save,” Thor admitted somberly. “I know that their arrival will cause some problems for your world’s governments but any aid you could provide my people in our time of need would be gratefully appreciated. A new homeland, perhaps?” he added, managing to do pretty decent puppy dog eyes even with only one good one.

“I’ll make some calls,” Darcy offered, flashing Thor an indulgent smile.

“Thank you, my lightning sister. And for your efforts, I have brought you a souvenir.”

“Space souvenir? Cool!”

“Aye, very cool,” he smirked, putting a hand around her shoulders and directing her gaze to where a man wearing psychedelic monk robes was trying to make his way through the crowd of Asgardians.

Darcy’s expression fell and Bucky almost rushed to her side.

“Bruce?”

At the sound of his name the man looked up and regarded Darcy sheepishly.

“Hey, bunny.”

“Bruce!!” Darcy was off like a shot, shoes abandoned in the grass as she all but threw herself on the new arrival. “What the hell happened to you? I hacked everyone trying to find you but not even Phil had eyes on you. Why didn’t you call me!” she cried, hugging him so tightly Bucky was worried the guy might not be able to breathe.

“I’m so sorry Darcy. I was stuck in Hulk mode up until a couple of days ago. He was like a gladiator on this trash planet in the outer reaches of the universe. It was crazy.”

“Not as crazy as these clothes, dude,” she teased with a sniffle, tugging on the gold vestments.

“Yeah, they’re a lot. But I had to Hulk out again on Asgard and these were the only spare clothes lying around on the spaceship. Oh, I gotta introduce you to some new friends,” he exclaimed excitedly, leading Darcy back towards the spaceship.

Bucky watched her go, his heart breaking at the sight of her reuniting with her fella. She’d mentioned Bruce a few times, but he hadn’t realised they had been an item. Maybe, since he’d apparently disappeared on her, it had been too painful for her to talk about. Bucky left Steve and Thor to organise the SHIELD agents that had descended to deal with the alien incursion, and left Darcy to her reunion.

In the weeks that followed Bucky hardly saw Darcy at all. She was spearheading talks with the Norwergian government to establish New Asgard within their borders and spent the rest of her time managing the needs of the refugees who had set up a temporary camp in the field where they landed. She was also fending off demands for the arrest of Thor’s brother, who apparently was more hated and feared than the Winter Soldier was.

In an effort to reduce her workload Bucky had offered to deal with his legal team directly, even though he hated how they talked down to him when giving him updates. But it made Darcy’s life easier so he took it on, often bringing Steve in on their conference calls to act as a buffer when he felt he was close to snapping at one of his condescending but very, very good lawyers.

Now that he had no reason to bother Darcy he saw her even less than when he first arrived, though he did hear that Bruce had dragged her out of her office once or twice for a late dinner. They never seemed as touchy feely as they had when they were first reunited and they hadn’t spent any time alone together behind closed doors (not that he’d checked security footage). Maybe they weren’t together any more - a lot can happen in two years, Bucky mused. Maybe Bruce had moved on - he was always gushing about that intimidating and frequently drunk Valkyrie woman. Or maybe, Bucky hoped against hope, Darcy had. The question was keeping him up at night, and since Darcy was too busy to be bothered with his insecurities he sought out the famous Dr Bruce Banner.

Bucky found him a few days later, after another postponed coffee date, in one of the facilities labs, looking over some holographic schematics.

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s nice to see you again. What can I do for you?” Bruce greeted with a smile.

“I’m not interrupting?” he asked, gesturing at the complicated calculations.

“Not at all. It’s just a project Tony wants a second opinion on. It’s his way of saying “I missed you too,” he jested.

Bucky bit the bullet. “It’s about Darcy.”

“What about her?”

“I just… I feel like a real shitheel asking, but I gotta know; are you and Darcy together?”

“Together like…”

“Dating. Are you dating?”

Bruce’s eyes almost bugged out of his skull. “Did Tony put you up to this?”

“Stark and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms,” Bucky admitted.

“And Darcy never mentioned me? She said you two had been hanging out a lot before she got sidetracked with all the Asgardian refugee drama.”

“She mentioned you plenty. She just never mentioned that two of you were an item.”

“And she also never mentioned that I’m her father, I take it,” Bruce replied with a smirk.

“...What?”

“I’m her biological father. I am not dating her,” Bruce reiterated. “But I take it you want to?” he teased.

“Uh… yes?” he winced after his brain came back online after processing this new information. “Did you not want me to? I would understand,” he murmured, gesturing vaguely at his shiny new arm as though his bloody history was written on the metal plates.

“I don’t get to have a say in the matter,” Bruce remarked, not unkindly, as he returned most of his attention back to the glowing calculations. “and I’m kind of the last guy who should be giving you grief over things you did when you weren’t in full control of yourself. Besides, you’ve probably known her longer than I have at this point.” He smiled sadly at Bucky’s confused expression. “The first time I met Darcy was when she and Jane moved into Tony’s tower. She told me I was her biological father about two weeks later. Before that moment, I hadn’t even known I had a daughter. We had maybe three months of getting to know each other, eating takeout in my lab once a week, and then Ultron happened. I quite literally disappeared off the face of the earth. I come back, and she’s all grown up and practically running the world,” he laughed. “She’s also crushing pretty hard on a certain supersoldier, in case you were wondering.”

“Yeah, well, Steve is pretty cute I guess,” Bucky mused, ducking his head to hide the blush in his cheeks behind his hair.

Bruce smiled. “Ask her out, Sergeant.”

Bucky delivered a Mocha Frappuccino to Darcy’s office that night and asked her to have dinner with him whenever she found the time. She blushed something fierce as she said yes, and Bucky committed the image to memory.

A month later they were officially a couple, but with Darcy’s crazy workload and his looming trial they were taking things slow. He’d only kissed her goodnight a couple of times but he’d stopped resisting the urge he had to wrap Darcy up in his arms the second she was off the clock.

He was indulging in said urge the night of the Asgardian farewell party - the Norwegian deal had gone through pretty quickly all things considered, and Thor and the last of the Asgardians were heading out to New Asgard in the morning - when Tony Stark made his trademarked grand entrance. He had barely taken two steps out of his latest Iron Man suit when he pointed a finger in their direction.

“What’s the murderbot doing with his murderarm around my niece?”

“I’m not your niece, Tony,” Darcy called over everyone else's scolding.

“What are you talking about? Bruce is your bio dad, I’m his science bro; you’re totally my science niece.”

Darcy giggled. “That’s not a thing, Tony. And to answer your totally offensive question; we’re dating.”

“No, I forbid it.”

“You don’t get to have an opinion.”

“Of course I do. Everyone loves hearing my opinions.”

“We really don’t,” Bucky heard Steve mutter into his beer.

“I don’t want to hear them, Tony. I’m a big girl and I make my own choices.”

“You make terrible choices,” Tony mumbled petulantly.

“I tell Pepper the same thing all the time,” she teased.

“How dare you!” Tony gasped, feigning offence. “Do I at least get to give the Russian menace the shovel talk?”

“No, no shovel talks. I don’t want you scaring him off.”

“If the Hulk didn’t scare me off, doll, nothing will.”

“Awww.”

“That’s not the way I remember it,” Bruce chimed in.

“Shut up,” Bucky retorted over Bruce’s chuckles. “Besides, I already got the shovel talk from Valkyrie. She takes her role as angry-mom very seriously.”

“Who’s Valkyrie? Wait, did you say mom?!” Tony squawked, turning to demand answers from Bruce.

“Hulk like angry girl,” Thor teased.

“Where is she? Is she here? I have to meet her.”

“Tony! Tony, stop. She went to New Asgard two days ago. No! Step away from the suit!”

As everyone one laughed at Bruce trying to keep Tony away from his suit Darcy leant in close, sending a shiver down Bucky’s spine as she whispered in his ear.

“How about I say goodbye to Thor and you walk me back to my room, Sergeant?”

Bucky smiled. “Whatever you want, doll.”

#a banner reunion #darcy lewis is bruce banner's daughter #not that bucky knows that #wintershock #darcy lewis/bucky barnes #darcy lewis #bucky barnes #bruce banner #thor #steve rogers #tony stark

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13-reasons-ideas · 4 years

Text

Finding Peace In Another Part 23

The whispering followed me for the rest of the day. On more than one occasion, I had strangers some up to me and tell me what a crappy choice I made or tell me that he was just waiting to get me into bed so he could break my heart. By the end of the day, I was so frustrated with people, I was on the verge of punching the next person who dared to talk to me. I see why Monty doesn’t like these people. I tried my best to beat Bryce to our lockers, but that wasn’t in store for me. He was leaning against his locker, looking in the direction I was walking. Almost as though he was waiting for me. If there is a God, I am begging you, please don’t make me talk to him. “Hey Becca.” He greeted me, with his most charming tone. I ignored him and opened my locker. “I hear you had one hell of a day. If you want to talk about anything, feel free to swing by. Whenever you want.”

“Uh huh. Sure, Bryce. I’ll keep that in mind.” I spoke into my locker. When I pulled back with my stuff, he quickly closed the door and stepped closer. I felt myself tense up.

“I just want to make sure you understand Rebecca.”

“Understand what Bryce?”

“That nothing happened. Which means you’re going to keep your mouth shut. And that you may be Monty’s flavour of the week, but he is my brother. So if you do decide to talk, he will take my side.” He threatened.

I just blinked at him. “If nothing happened, what would I tell him exactly?”

He smirked at me, “I’m glad we have an understanding. Would hate for there to be any misunderstandings between you two.” I shivered at his tone.

“Hey babe.” Monty said as he came up behind me and placed his hand in my back pocket. I flinched ever so slightly and hoped he didn’t notice or thought it was just a muscle spasm.

“Hey you.” I greeted, stepping on tip toes to kiss his cheek.

“What were you two chatting about?”

“Just some math stuff.” Bryce replied.

“Yup, Bryce just wanted to clarify a concept.” I added, my voice rising an octave or two. I hate lying to him. “Great. Did you grab my notebook this morning Bryce?”

“Yeah, here you go. I’m running late to meet Chloe so I’ll see you two lovebirds later.”

“Later Bryce.”

“Bye.” I said, softly.

“Ready to go?” Monty asked me, slinging his arm around my shoulders. I nodded. With any luck he didn’t notice the stiffness in my upper body and couldn’t feel my heart racing as we walked to the car.

“Is everything okay Becks? You seem kind of off.”

“Everything is good Monty, I just didn’t get a great sleep last night like I said. Bailey will be in the guest room tonight so hopefully it’ll be better.”

“Tonight? Where did he sleep last night?”

“On the couch, under me.” His grip on my thigh tightened slightly. “Before you say anything it’s really no big deal. Bailey and I have never had those kinds of feelings. He really is just my best friend. Besides, he likes redheads. Says they’re fiery or something.”

“Looked like more than friends yesterday but sure. Whatever you say.”

“If we flirt with each other it’s like me flirting with Scott. Minus the one sided crush. Harmless. It’s funny for us because we both know nothing would ever come of it so we can be as dumb or risqué as we want. Actually made a game of it at one point.”

“A game?”

“Yeah, who could get away with the most risqué comments without getting in trouble with a teacher or having our friends telling us to just fuck already if we are going to flirt like that. It was fun.”

“Huh. Interesting.” He said, am impressed smirk plastered on his face.

“What?” I asked, giggling.

“Nothing. Just never pegged you for the sex jokes with friends type is all.”

“Well I never pegged you for the cranberry muffin type. Didn’t you know it’s the quiet ones you need to look out for?”

“I like what I like. They taste like Christmas. Don’t judge.”

“Not judging, just saying.” I said, raising my hands in surrender. When we got to my house I leaned over and kissed him quickly. “Bailey and I are going to a movie tonight. I’ll text you later.” I said as I opened the door and hopped out.

“Alright, have a fun night then.” He said, taken aback by my abrupt exit.

“See you in the morning.”

“See you.”

When I was at my door and looked back at him, he was staring out at me. I couldn’t tell if I had upset him or if he was just confused.

Bailey was lounging on the couch flipping through channels. “Hey.” I muttered as I walked in the living room and dropped down beside him.

“Hey. How was it?”

“Telling my friends was fine. Alex took it about exactly as I expected but after I told him about Jake, he said he would be civil. That was all I could hope for.”

“So why do you look like someone pissed in your corn flakes?”

“It was everyone else that was the problem. And you snore like a truck so I was tired all day.”

“People can learn to mind their own business. That is news to you how?”

“Not here they can’t. It’s not. I just forgot how nice it was to sleep in the quiet is all.”

“Yeah well, I forgot what it was like to sleep without someone’s feet touching me and waking me up.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Bite me.”

“I could if you wanted. Come here.” He joked, leaning in to bite my shoulder.

“Don’t you dare.”

“You like it.”

“I know. But the only person who is allowed to bite me anymore is Monty.”

“Ugh fine. I guess I can share you.”

“How ever will you manage?”

“Well, I am your backup plan so I guess I’ll just hold out hope that you’re single when we’re thirty.”

“Thirty is a long way away Bear.”

“I know but still. I can dream.”

“Me too. Did you decide on a movie to see yet?”

“Dolittle looks good.”

“Dolittle it is. I’m just going to go fix my hair, I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here. You have good snacks.”

I chuckled and run up to my room to comb my hair out. As I pulled off Monty’s shirt, I caught sight of the bruise on my arm. It had started to turn purple in the middle by now. Another week or two and it will be gone. Then I won’t have to be reminded of it every time I change. I pulled my hair into an effortlessly messy ‘I woke up like this’ bun and touched up my makeup before grabbing Jake’s jacket and running back downstairs.

After the movie and a stop for coffee, we hung out on the couch. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothing. It’s just been a long day is all.”

“Right. Hey, you never did tell me how Monty came about.”

“Ugh, not you too.”

“What? What did I say?”

“You want to know too?”

“I think I have every right to know Becca. I’m your best friend. Hell, there was a time you called me your other brother.”

“That was before Bailey. Things have changed.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about Jake, you know I am. Doesn’t mean you need to be a bitch about it. I just asked a question.”

I looked at him like he had slapped me. We sat in silence for a while after his outburst. “I’m sorry. I’ve just dealt with people telling me how bad an ides this is all day. I didn’t mean to snap at you. You are my brother.”

Bailey shrugged, accepting my apology, “it’s okay, I get it. I miss him too. But I really am interested to know how you decided you were ready. And how you ended up with a jock of all people. I don’t know the guy so I can’t give you an opinion.”

It’s not just Jake. “As dumb and cliché as it sounds, I really do think that it just sort of happened. It’s not my place to elaborate too much but things aren’t great for him at home. I gave him a place to crash sometimes and I guess somewhere along the line, things changed. Somewhere in between our awkward first aid sessions in the bathroom and staying up late talking to each other. It went from being a good friend, to feeling a flutter when he was close to me, to realizing that maybe a relationship wasn’t such a bad idea. And that falling asleep in his arms was really nice.”

“You’re right. That is cliché.” He joked. I shoved him playfully.

“After everything he made me feel… safe. Being around him is like being home.” I paused for a minute, reflecting on what I had admitted. He is home. “As for how I ended up with a jock, well. Your guess is as good as mine.” I laughed.

“He isn’t bad on the eyes either.”

“No, he really isn’t, is he? Oh, and if you are interested in going to the game, I already agreed to take one of my friends. His name is Cyrus. You will like each other.”

“No problem. It’s a school night so you better get to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you in the morning. Night Bear.”

“Night Becky.” I rolled my eyes as we parted ways at the top of the stairs.

Friday passed much the same as Thursday. The whispers followed the two of us wherever we went. I heard girls whispering as I would pass them in the halls or in the bathroom. Keeping to their word, my friends were civil and supportive. Zach put a stop to some particularly nasty whispers on our way to Peer Communications. I was appalled at what some people thought. There were supportive people too though. I had some people I had never met come up and offer me congratulations and other kind words. Those comments were the ones I chose to listen to. I kept quiet at lunch with Monty, partially trying to appear the strong, supportive girlfriend and partially as a defense to deal with sitting in the same breathing space as Bryce. If anyone noticed, no one said anything. Bailey and I ordered pizza for dinner and enjoyed being in each other’s company again after so long apart. He told me he was leaving Tuesday morning from San Francisco International, so we had a few days left to hang out.

Saturday morning was a lazy, stay in pyjamas day for us. He tried to “help” me make waffles. Only problem was his idea of helping, was making an even bigger mess than was necessary. Monty had agreed to come for breakfast because Bailey wanted to get to know his “competition” better before entrusting me to him more fully. When I gave him crap for it, he amended his words. “Fine, I want to make sure Jake’s job is done. You know he would have probably scared him off by now Becca.”

“I know. Would have been kind of funny to watch honestly. Jake chasing the poor guy up the street with a hockey stick.”

“Now that I would have paid to watch. In all seriousness though, Jake would have liked him. Might have taken him a while, but eventually.”

“He would have, wouldn’t he?” I sighed and leaned against my friend for a moment. My pensive moment was interrupted by Bailey sticking his finger in the batter and lopping a glob on my nose. “Oh, you did not just do that.”

“I think I did.”

“Well in that case,” I paused for dramatic effect, before swiping batter on his cheek. That set off a game of chase we hadn’t done since we were kids. Just as he caught me, Monty knocked on the front door.

“It’s open.” I called. He walked in and did a double take at my kitchen and Bailey and I. Bailey was frozen in a move to sprinkle flour over my hair and I stood wide eyed, staring at Montgomery. What is he going to do? What does he think this is? To my surprise, he only took off his flannel and shoes, before walking in.

“Cute pjs Becks.” He said. He shared a look with Bailey and smirked playfully. Oh no. Monty walked up to me and hugged me, leaning back slightly. No, he is not about to help. No. Just as I finished my thought, I felt flour sprinkling over my face.

“Traitor.” I muttered to my boyfriend.

“You like me.”

“I suppose you could come to that conclusion.”

“You suppose, hmmm?” He smirked again.

“Yes.” I replied, before suddenly turning from him and swiping the Nutella beside me, across his cheek. He feigned an affronted look before once again, sharing a look with Bailey. My smile dropped immediately. Shit.

Both boys took off after me, running around the island. “No fair. It’s two against one.”

“It is too fair Becca.” Bailey countered. I rolled my eyes and our fight continued for a bit longer.

“Okay, that’s enough. I promised you boys waffles and if this keeps up any longer, I’ll need to shower before I can make them.”

“I could cook them.” Bailey offered.

“That’s not happening. I don’t feel like calling the fire department today thank you very much.”

Monty laughed heartily, “she doesn’t let you actually cook anything either?”

“Nope. My job is measuring. Doesn’t even let me chop things.”

“She delegates me to re-organizing her cupboards. Does let me help chop stuff though.”

“That was one time.”

He stuck his tongue out at me instead of responding. Can he be any cuter?

The rest of the morning went by without any further incident. Bailey asked basic questions, which was considerably less than I expected. After we had cleaned up most of the mess and said our goodbyes, Bailey and I finished cleaning. “I stand corrected.” Bailey said, as we loaded the last of the dishes into the dishwasher.

“What?”

“Jake would have liked him right away.”

“How do you know?”

“What I watched this morning. You have him wrapped around your little finger. He loves you Rebecca.”

“No he doesn’t. What makes you think he does?”

“Yes. He does. I can tell. He looked at you all morning like his world begins and ends with you. And the other day, when I met him, the way his eyes lit up when I gave you your sweater and you got all excited. He loves you. And don’t even try and say you don’t love him. Because you do. Maybe it’s time you let someone love you again.”

#finding peace in another #monty imagine #monty x reader #montgomery de la cruz x oc #montgomery de la cruz #monty de la cruz #monty x oc #montgomery de la cruz imagine #montgomery de la cruz x reader

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forgottenpasta · 6 years

Text

Wednesday

Summary: Each day of the week was reserved for one member: Jimin on Mondays, Namjoon on Tuesdays, Hoseok on Wednesdays, Seokjin on Thursdays, Taehyung on Fridays, Jeongguk on Saturdays and Yoongi on Sundays. Juggling a relationship with seven boys was difficult on its own. Add to that your insecurities, your mother’s disapproval and Hoseok forgetting your anniversary and you had the makings of the worst Wednesday ever. (...Or the best Wednesday ever?)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader, Ot7 x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Unprotected Sex, Oral (female receiving), Rimming, Creampie Rough Sex, Public Sex, Fingering, Orgasm Denial

Word Count: 12.2k

A/N: Enjoy! :)

“Where is it?”, you muttered, throwing open your closet to scan the contents of your scarf drawer. After a short second you slammed it close with a curse.

Your favourite green scarf with pretty red lace tulips sewn in on the edges was nowhere to be found. You’d checked the laundry and every inch of your living space with no luck. Pouting at the thought of losing the precious gift Jimin had given you after returning from the European leg of their tour, you slumped on your bed. Snatching your phone from where it had been charging on the bedside table, you dialled Hoseok’s number, not giving a mind to the loud clack as the charger’s adapter pulled free of the socket and fell on the floor, the wire still connected to the phone at your ear.

There were two reasons for your foul mood this lovely Wednesday morning. One was the scarf, and the other…

Hoseok hadn’t called like he did every Wednesday morning to confirm he wasn’t busy and that he’d be spending the night with you. But that wasn’t all. Today was special for the two of you. Just the two of you. And despite your myriad hints leading up to this day, Hoseok hadn’t shown even the slightest proof that he remembered.

He hadn’t called you and now he wasn’t picking up his phone.

With a frustrated sigh, you dialled Jin instead. He answered on the third ring.

“Babygirl.”

A content smile flitted on your face at the eldest’s soft endearment of a greeting, temporarily easing the unknown frustration you’d been feeling the last few days.

“Good morning Jin.” His name was a sigh on your lips, and you knew he’d be able to pick up on your current temperament from just that. Out of all of them, Jin was the most attuned to your emotions, often the one you sought out when you were feeling down or moody or if you just needed someone to cuddle away all your worries. No wonder he was the one you’d automatically called.

Sure enough, he sounded more alert when he asked, “What’s wrong, __?”

“I can’t find my favourite green scarf.”, you whined. You sounded like a petulant three year old complaining to her mother, but you knew Jin would never make fun of you.

An amused snicker sounded down the line. “Aww, did babygirl lose her blankie?”

You scowled at your iPhone, then slapped it back against your ear. “Seokjin, you traitor. You’ve been hanging out with Taehyung too much.”

“What can I say,” You heard the sound of a door closing, likely Jin coming out of his room. “He’s been unusually generous lately. Been paying for all our food, insists on it even.”

“He’s upto something.”, you said without a second thought.

“Oh I’m sure. Likely wants in on the rap line now that he’s secured a spot on the dance one. That boy won’t rest till he’s had a cypher of his own.” Jin yawned and you heard the distinct sound of the fridge opening. “Just last week I saw him disappear into Yoongi’s studio for hours. Just to come out with an intense look of determination on his face. Like he was about to go to war. I was scared.”

You chuckled, a sudden urge came over you to kiss Taehyung breathless, till he could no longer conjure up all kinds of schemes in that adorable head of his. More and more often, similar surges of emotion regarding the guys would pop up in your brain when you were away from them.

If a sweet love song played at the cafe you worked at, you started craving Jeongguk’s soft, whispered singing in your ear. If you read a particularly interesting book, you immediately wanted to discuss it with Namjoon. You shivered every time you passed a sex shop on the streets, remembering Jimin’s expert hands binding you with his silken ropes till you quivered with anticipation. Jin’s affectionate gestures were always at the back of your mind when you saw a couple on the streets or a lifetime movie with too much romance and not enough plot. And even the most random things reminded you of Yoongi. A cat cuddled into a ball outside your window, an oversized black hoodie on someone, the smell of brewed chocolate (his favourite drink ever since you’d rendered all his recording equipment unusable by pouring a cup of it over them).

And Hoseok. He was the start of it all, the member you had met even before you knew seven boys were going to crash into your boring, monotonous life and turn it upside down. The first person you had fell in love with. The one who had introduced you to the rest of them.

The one who was supposed to be your one and only boyfriend.

Till you’d come to the horrifying realisation that you felt more than just platonic affection for the six other boys who’d come attached with him like a buy one get six free package deal.

Jin’s voice snipped that train of thought in the bud. “I can tell you’re not listening to me, babygirl. I’d feel offended but thankfully the size of my ego is directly proportionate to my handsomeness.”

You rolled your eyes, too used to his boasting. “Can you ask Namjoon if he saw the scarf? He was here last night when I was wearing it.”

Jin huffed and you heard him moving through the dorm again. “You only call me when you need something, __. I’m sure I don’t like it.”

You grinned. “What happened to your invincible ego? Besides, I distinctly recall you getting off to my moans when I called you last Thursday, just for you to turn it into phone sex—”

“I was 587 miles away from you, woman! We had a show the next day, I couldn’t just book a flight from Narita to Incheon just to spend a few hours with you like last time.” Jin groaned. “I needed you so bad and my hand was a piss poor replacement.”

Your heart was melting into a sympathetic puddle. But before you could reply to his impassioned declaration Jin started laughing.

“Yo, what the fuck!”, he managed in between guffaws.

Perking up , you asked, “What is it?”

“What did you do to poor Namjoon last night?” You heard a little shuffling, then a groggy voice groaned in the background. “He’s out cold on the couch, muttering in his sleep. Here listen.”

“…mmhfh y/n-ah, juft one mor paghe n weh cann fuk…hmf…”

“Oh my god!” You giggled, not being able to understand the sounds coming out of his mouth anymore. Jin must have brought the phone close to his mouth.

“What did you do to him?!”

In between suppressed laughter, you managed to explain, “He wanted to have sex so bad last night but I had a ton of classwork, so he helped me complete it, hoping it would get done faster and he’ll get some. But he fell asleep on my desk writing an essay on Turko-Mongol war strategy and weaponry.”

“You and your essays on dead people.”, Jin teased, still chuckling. The boys were well aware of your love for history and literature, even indulged your interests by buying you all kinds of first editions of rare books and published articles. During your Medieval era European poets phase, Yoongi had bought you some early 16th century illustrations of Dante’s Divine Comedy. They were so priceless that you’d cried at the sight of them. When you’d haltingly asked where and how he got them when even reputed museums had difficulty finding early Dante illustrations, Yoongi had evaded your question like the plague. To this day you suspected he had some very high connections in the black market.

“Oh and by the way”, Jin said offhandedly. “I think he’s drooling on your scarf.”

Mirth disappeared and your eyes went round. “What?!” Then you remembered you’d wrapped it around his neck early this morning while you were still half asleep, hoping he wouldn’t catch a cold on his way to the dorm. “Aagh, get it away from him!”

The doorbell went off just then, surprising you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

“Umm Jin, I’ll call you later,” you told him, getting up from your bed. “Save my scarf please. That’s the only gift I have from Jimin that isn’t a sex toy. And also, ask Hoseok to call me please.”

“Sure.”, he reassured. “Are you coming to our photoshoot today? I know you don’t have any classes scheduled.”

“Miss a chance of seeing you guys all dolled up and posing sexily? Hell no.”

Jin laughed. “I love you, you pervert. Bye.”

“Mmhm, I love me too.” You hung up, knowing full well that Jin would be rolling his eyes at your antics.

“I’m coming!”, you shouted as the bell went off again, striding out of your bedroom and towards the front door. The smiling face of your mother was the last thing you were expecting to see when you opened it.

“Mom!” You hugged her automatically. “What are you doing here?”

She patted your back, dropping a kiss on the side of your head. Her ever youthful face coming into your view as she pulled back. “I was in Seoul to attend a soiree some of my friends were hosting. I couldn’t leave without meeting you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”, you said cheerfully, ushering her in and closing the door. “Let’s talk in the kitchen. I’ll make some tea for you.”

She followed you into the kitchen, seating herself on one of the breakfast barstools as you set about making her a hot cup of her preferred beverage. “Thank you, dear. I really appreciate that you keep tea in your kitchen for when I visit, even though you don’t drink it.”

“Oh, umm, it’s nothing mom.” You stared at the water filling the kettle intently, not having the heart to tell her that you also kept it for when Taehyung stayed over. He didn’t like the taste of coffee.

Your mother knew about your relationship with the seven boys. Your father didn’t. After those first few weeks of being with them, you’d taken the risk of telling her because you had no one to talk about such a big change happening in your life. You couldn’t tell any of your college friends because technically Bangtan were not supposed to be dating anyone, let alone all seven of them dating one, lest their fangirls (and boys) get mad. You couldn’t risk outing them. The only one you hundred percent trusted to keep a secret was your mom. So you had told her. And as expected she’d kept your secret even from your father.

But that did not mean she approved or supported seven men being with her one daughter.

“Hows college going, sweetheart?”, she asked, watching you put in a tablespoon of sugar in her tea, just as she liked.

“It’s going good.” You paused. That was a lie. “Actually I barely get time to complete my class projects. It’s kinda hectic.”

“__, please tell me you finally broke it off with those boys.”, she blurted out as soon as you poured her a cup.

There it was. Of course she would assume you didn’t get time because your boyfriends took up all of it.

Rubbing sluggishly at your eyes, you sighed. Your mother was never one to beat around the bush.

“Mom, I love them.” You looked up into her eyes so she could see how sincere you were. “I’m not going to end it with them.”

She took a cautious sip from her cup, a contemplative expression coming over her face. You braced yourself. When your mother got thoughtful, it meant she was about to drop some serious truth bombs and painful facts that you were likely not going to like or want to hear.

“So, are you waiting for them to end it with you?” She raised a brow, phrasing her question like she was genuinely curious. You knew better.

“ You’re a very intelligent girl, dear. Do you seriously see such an arrangement lasting?” Her mouth twisted at the word “arrangement”, like it tasted foul.

Gazing at the ceiling, you prayed for her understanding, even though a part of you understood her reservations and that she was only looking after you.

“You don’t know them like I do, mom. They love me too. Very much so.” Your voice came out strained, ruining the conviction you’d wanted to infuse it with.

“I don’t doubt that. Look at me, __.”, she ordered softly.

You did and she offered you a tentative smile. “I don’t doubt that at all. You deserve all the love in the world and more. But a little pragmatism goes a long way, __. How is it possible that seven men keep themselves limited to one girl only?”

She took your hand that was fisted on top of the counter, slowly prying the tensed muscles open till you gave her your palm and she kissed the middle of it. “I don’t want you to get hurt, y/n. And you’re only setting yourself up for a seven times bigger fallout if you keep this thing up. Men are notoriously possessive creatures, if they don’t seek out other women, they’ll likely fight amongst themselves for you.”

Shaking your head, you took your hand out of her grasp. “No, mom. They’re very close, like brothers. They do get jealous when other men hit on me but never each other.”

Your mother sighed, frustration creeping up on her face. Her tone hardened as she said, “Then they would not hesitate to kick you to the curb if you threaten their unity even the slightest bit. I did not want to do this but you have to stop being so naïve, __. Haven’t you thought about why they agreed to this thing with you so easily?”

You almost said because they liked you so much, but you knew that wasn’t the answer your mother had in mind. “I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me.”

She leaned forward with a scowl. “Because it’s convenient. They’re insanely popular right now. Everywhere they go they’ve got eyes on them. Even your recluse of a father, who only concerns himself with politics and sports knows their songs. It’s easier for them to keep and share one woman then deal with seven.”

The kitchen was deathly silent save for the blood rushing in your ears. You did not want to hear this. You did not want some half baked ideas your mom had raise doubts in your mind about the boys.

Forcing back the tears that threatened, you softly murmured, “Mom, please.”

But she wasn’t done. “You drop everything to go to them. You keep yourself available 24/7. At their beck and call seven days a week.”

“It’s not like that.”, you exclaimed. “They support me just as much, if not more. They never ask for more than I’m comfortable giving.”

“That’s the problem, y/n.”, your mother snapped. “You’re willing to give too much of yourself. Better reel yourself in before you find yourself utterly vulnerable and exposed, with no one to lean on.”

“What does that mean?”, you asked, just as harshly.

“It means…”, she paused, as if debating wether to continue or not, before shaking her head. “I’m telling you to be ready for the time when they find partners of their own.”

Aggravated at her continued belabouring, you threw up your hands. “I’ve told you they aren’t interested in other girls—”

“Yet.” She cut you off. “Or maybe who knows, they might just be keeping company of others behind your back. Though you’re smart you’ve never been very observant.”

“Mom!”, you almost shouted, horrified at what she was insinuating. Even the thought of them going behind your back like that was unbearably painful. But you trusted them, so this whole conversation was unnecessary. “You’re just saying that because you haven’t met them. Once you’ll get to know what kind of people they really are, you wouldn’t say such things.”

She sneered, clearly put off by even the idea of meeting them. Then she delivered the final blow. “That’s not gonna happen, Y/n. The day you bring home seven men at once, your father will have a heart attack. And I’m not ever going to be interested in meeting the men who treat my daughter like a communal shower.”

“Mom.”, you breathed, pinching the bridge of your nose for patience and to quell the tears that were waiting to burst free. You couldn’t believe she actually said that. “I think you should leave.”

“I think so too.” You heard her get up from the barstool, opening your eyes to gaze unseeingly at her half empty cup on the counter.

The sound of her retreating footsteps stopped at the entryway. “I’m your mother, __. I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you. Remember that.”

And with that parting reminder, she left. As soon as the door closed behind her, your tears fell like a dam burst free, crumbling all your emotional defences along with it. Slowly, and not-so-gracefully you crumbled to the kitchen floor yourself, your butt hitting the cool tiles as you buried your face in your knees, wrapping your arms around them to make a rolled up, human ball of woe.

When initially you’d told your mother about the boys almost half an year ago she’d been disbelieving at first. Later, when she’d finally accepted you were not joking, she’d told you that you would get tired of “this new polyamory fad” soon, not being able to handle dealing with so many people in your love life at once. You guessed that after almost a year of you dating Bangtan, she’d finally come around to the fact that this wasn’t just a phase in her daughter’s life. Today was the first time she’d gotten so vocal about her disapproval though. Usually it was just snide remarks, invasive questions or straight up ignoring that you were even dating someone. You knew that keeping such a big thing from your dad because of the promise you’d extracted from her also weighed on her conscience.

The chill seeped from the cold tiles to your whole body and you shivered as you wiped your tears, frowning when more rushed to replace them. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t asked all those questions your mother had raised yourself. Trepidation had racked you when you’d first ventured into such a daring commitment with them. Will you alone be able to satisfy them? How would you divide your time amongst seven men? What if they got bored with you, or worse, jealous of each other? Would they seek out someone else?

But slowly and surely, the boys had shown you that trust and loyalty, though hard earned, were bonds that survived the treacherous potholes of navigating a polyamorous relationship. You trusted them, you were loyal to them. They trusted you, they were loyal to you.

Or were they?

Shaking your head, you got up off the floor with a huff, stalking to your bedroom with an irritated gait. This is why you did not want to talk to your mother. You were only human. The seeds of doubt once sown, germinated into assumptions and suspicion you absolutely loathed. Mainly, because you were self aware enough to realise that they had no real substance to them, they only reflected your own secret fears back at you. But again, you were only human and no matter how much you tried to shake off the encounter with your mom, your mood soured further when your overactive imagination supplied images of the boys with other women.

And your age old enemy, insecurity, reared its ugly head. Taehyung was an ass man, maybe he’d like to be with someone with a bigger butt. Were you even intelligent enough for Namjoon? Jin would suit a more wholesome woman who knew how to cook something other than ramen. Yoongi liked breasts, maybe someone with a perkier pair. You could not sing to save your life, so why did Jeongguk like you when all his female celebrity crushes had killer pipes? Jimin used to train submissives before you came into his life, did he think about those happier times?

Did Hoseok resent having to share you with his members when you’d pledged to love him and only him?

You were angrily yanking open your closet to look for something to wear to their photoshoot when your phone flashed from where you’d thrown it on the bed before your mom had officially ruined your day.

Peeking a look at it, you wondered if you should have read your horoscope. Because the day was far from over.

Hobi: Few high school friends invited me for drinks tonight. Rain check?

~.~.~

Exactly one year ago ~

The bookstore became eerily quite after 10 pm. Only a few last minute stragglers sometimes showed up to look for some obscure book they obviously couldn’t find anywhere else.

You loved being with your lonesome self behind the cash register. Usually with a book in your hands, reading up on all kinds of historical fiction, medieval fantasies, long forgotten poems of equally unknown poets and of course the occasional bodice ripper.

Which was what you were doing when the bell above the entrance chimed, indicating someone was indeed, on the prowl for some late night book hunting. You didn’t look up from the raunchy text in your lap as a dark figure passed by, clearly no more interested in exchanging pleasantries than you were. With a shrug you went back to focus on the guilty pleasure of a novel you’d picked for yourself tonight. A courtesan heroine during renaissance Italy who entertained patrons from not only the newly emerging Humanist circles but also the corrupt members of the clergy? Oh yes please.

But when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw the newcomer heading for the comic book section you grew intrigued. Late night hunting for…comic books?

Close proximity to the Seoul National University meant that the bookstore you worked at housed mostly academic readings. And as such the people who came here were also mostly students who wished to buy a copy of the expensive publishings they could otherwise also find in a library. That alone meant that the bookstore was never buzzing with customers. Let alone ones who were looking for some flashy illustrations and superhero escapism. The comic books you had on offer usually just collected dust.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you abandoned your heroine in midst of a wanton tryst with a nobleman to observe the anomaly currently browsing the comics on display.

He had on a long black trench coat, leather pants encasing the muscular legs below and Dr. Martens on his feet. His hair was covered with a black cap and from what you could see, a mask of the same colour stretched across his face. It wasn’t unusual to see people with their face fully covered, so you didn’t think much of his all black ensemble. Though he would blend in perfectly outside at night, under the store’s bright lights he stuck out like a bat during the day.

Maybe he’s a fan of batman.

When he’d chosen his pick he turned around, making you duck your head down quickly. The light chuckle that reached your ears meant that you weren’t fast enough and he’d caught you checking him out. You flushed red.

“Can I get these gift wrapped please?”

Two comic books landed on the counter in front of you, the sound accompanying the husky lilt of the man’s voice.

Left with no choice but to interact with him, you softly replied, “Of course.” Strangely, your heart beat spiked as you reached forward to pick the thin, glossy books up. He’d placed his hands on the wood counter, palms down, his sleeves pushed up a little. For a second you stared at his long fingers, a ridged vein stretching from the knuckles to the back of his right hand, forking out on his bare forearm before disappearing under his clothing like a purplish blue tattoo.

As if on cue, he started drumming his fingers, snapping you into action as you quickly scanned his purchase.

“That’ll be 15,430 won.” Opening a cabinet to pull out a selection of wrapping papers, you deliberately took your time to avoid meeting his eyes. What was going on with you? You couldn’t even see his face properly but you were acting like a teenager with her first crush. You decided it was time to stop reading romantic fantasies.

Clearing your throat you presented the options to him with a flourish, this time looking him straight in the eyes. “Which one would you like?”

He gave a cursory glance to the colourful sheets before glancing back at you with a quirked brow. Was he laughing at your flustered form? You couldn’t tell what with the mask, but there was definitely mirth dancing in his eyes.

A shrug. “Whichever. I really don’t care.”

“Fine”, you huffed, really not appreciating being the source of his amusement. You chose a blue paper with green stripes, placing the comics in the middle.

“I like that one.”, he commented graciously. And you were just about to reply when he continued cheekily, “I also like your choice in books.”

Your hands froze, eyes darting to the unfinished

novel you’d placed face up on the table. The salacious cover showed a woman in medieval garb, her mouth half open in a silent moan as a blonde man wearing a billowy white shirt kissed her bare shoulder, the open neck of her gown threatening to expose her breasts.

In a flash you flipped the book, cover side down, opening a drawer to hastily throw it inside. Slamming it closed, you glared at the man who was now outright laughing at you.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”, he cajoled in a tone that suggested you should, in fact, be embarrassed. “Everyone’s gotta live vicariously somehow.”

Was he suggesting you read erotic books because you didn’t get laid in real life?

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that why you’re reading children’s books?” You indicated the My Little Pony picture book and the Superman comic he’d picked up. “I must say you’ve got varied tastes.”

“Hey now.” He held up his hands. “Those are for my niece and nephew. They’re twins and it’s their birthday today.”

“Maybe that’s what you say whenever you’ve got to stock up on the latest My Little Pony issue. Have them gift wrapped so no one suspects.” Now you were just pushing it, but the burn of embarrassment still irked.

He was grinning behind his mask. “No that one’s for my nephew. He likes ponies.”

You gaped at him. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

You held up the Superman issue. “And I’m guessing your niece likes superheroes?”

“Only the ones who can fly.” He shrugged. “According to her Batman is an imposter with no real powers.”

“Radical.”, you said in amazement.

“Look I didn’t mean to upset you.” His hand on the counter moved to cover yours. A shock of awareness jolted through your spine, making you sit up straighter. By the way he swallowed, he wasn’t unaffected either. But he didn’t let go of your hand, clutched it tighter actually. “I’m sorry if I was rude.”

“I, umm.”, you stuttered, not being able to look away from his sincere gaze. What were you upset about again? Yeah, the living vicariously comment. “It’s alright. Though I’ll have you know, I get plenty of action.”

No you didn’t get plenty of action. And you did not just say that.

At least you’d managed to shock him out of his sauve demeanour. “I’m…sure you do.” He cleared his throat, squeezing your hand. “I wasn’t insinuating anything. I read smut too, you know.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “You don’t.”

“I don’t.” He grinned again. “Just trying to make you feel better.”

“Hey!” You snatched back your hand, scowling at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”, he breathed in between laughter. “You’re just too easy to rile up.”

“Ha ha.”, you mocked. “Are you living vicariously through me then? Not enough comedy in your life, huh?”

He straightened then, his amusement disappearing. “Maybe.”

Reaching for the hand you’d pulled out of his grip, he brought it closer to him. Wrapping both his hands around yours, he made sure you were looking into his eyes when he said, “Maybe you’re exactly what I need in my life.”

Your breath hitched at that. “I don’t even know your name.”

His eyes crinkled at that. He was smiling behind his mask again. At that moment, you wanted to see his face more than anything in the world.

One hand let go of yours to point at the large S on Superman’s chest on the comic’s cover.

You frowned in confusion. “Your name is…S?”

“No silly. That’s not an S, that’s the Kryptonian symbol for hope.”

~.~.~

Present Day~

Your tears had dried by the time you left your house to head for the Bighit building. The occasional sniffle still persisted though, and you hoped you looked put together enough for the boys to not suspect anything.

The talk with your mother was not entirely responsible for your persisting melancholy. You’d been reminiscing your first meeting with Hoseok ever since his text came in. Something about it being the first anniversary of when he’d come into your quaint little bookshop, all masked up in disguise and asked you out, after thoroughly embarrassing you that is. You hadn’t gotten to see his face on the first date either, or the second or the third. When he’d asked you why you still went on multiple dates with him when he didn’t allow you to see his face (which also meant he didn’t kiss you), you’d joked about having a taste for wanted fugitives.

But the truth was that you’d fallen in love with him even before you really knew who he was. He made you laugh, made your heart flutter when he’d wrap you up in his arms, he wasn’t afraid to push your boundaries when it came to getting to know you. By the time the fifth date had rolled around he knew everything about you and you still knew nothing about him, except for the fact that he had some sinful moves, which you’d gotten to know when he’d gave you a fully clothed lap dance on your birthday. You’d fallen for his mannerisms. He’d pull out your chair, open doors for you, give you his jacket. He was different than all the guys you’d previously dated, he never once tried to get into your pants, the most you’d gotten was a quick brush of his lips across your forehead before he’d quickly slide his mask back in place.

You were the one who’d grown frustrated at him taking it so slow. He’d only chuckle lightly and divert your hand to safety whenever you tried to grope him, all your amateur attempts at seduction thwarted when he’d cage you in his arms instead or pull your attention elsewhere.

The day you’d gotten to see his face was also the day he introduced you to the rest of the boys. When he’d invited you over to his place for the first time you were ecstatic. Finally having his trust was a big deal to you. By now you’d realised he must be someone important (or dangerous) for him to hide his identity for so long, but you’d never pushed him to reveal himself. You’d thought he’d finally realised how serious you were about him.

Oh, he’d realised it alright. When he’d opened the dorm door for you, the first thing he’d done was kiss your mouth senseless, even before you’d registered who it was you were looking at. When he’d pulled back after ravishing your mouth, you’d gaped at him in shock, both at his hungry mauling and the fact that you were looking at, well, him. A world famous artist. Who’d just kissed you like his life depended on it.

His words then were still etched into your brain. He’d smiled wide and you remember thinking it was the most beautiful sight ever. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dying to kiss you, __.”

You clutched your coat around you tighter as you took the familiar route to your boyfriends’ workplace. A wistful smile graced your lips when you remembered how the rest of the boys had embraced you into their group seamlessly, like you were always meant to be right by their side. Your friendship with them had started out innocent enough, but they had always been very handsy when it came to you. You hadn’t minded and neither did Hoseok, when one of them asked you for a massage or laid their head in your lap or if the competitive younger ones tickled you ceaselessly when you’d beat them at a game. You’d developed a rapport with Namjoon and Yoongi, you enjoyed listening to them whenever they had something to say and you were flattered when they took your opinions and suggestions seriously.

Slowly and surely they’d trusted you with all their secrets, allowing you into their private life as you and Hoseok’s relationship had deepened. So it really came as shock to you when one day you’d snapped at Namjoon when he’d come to you asking advice regarding the girl he’d been dating. It hadn’t been your finest moment and for a while it had mired your bond with the boys in confusion and uncertainty. Especially when Namjoon had broken up with the girl the very next day.

The real shocker came when Jeongguk kissed you full on the mouth in the presence of Hoseok. And your boyfriend did not seem to mind at all! Gradually the boys’ handsiness had grown into full-blown PDA. They kissed you, pulled you into their lap during movie nights, back hugs became commonplace. Taehyung even loved to warm his hands against your bare waist, sneaking them inside your shirts whenever he could. Before your moral compass went haywire with guilt you had sat all of them down and talked about the nature of your relationship.

Communication was always key. Hoseok had initially been unsure of the mere idea of sharing you but you’d assured him that you would never go ahead with it if he wasn’t onboard. But the fact was, you’d fallen in love with the rest of the boys too. And he could see that as well.

You still wonder sometimes, if he’d said yes only because he risked losing you otherwise. You wouldn’t have been able to handle secretly pining for the other boys if he’d said no.

As you displayed your id to the guard at front, you wondered if he’d really forgotten that today was your anniversary. It seemed like it. Why would he accept an invitation to go out tonight of all nights if he didn’t? Should you remind him? Or maybe it just wasn’t as big of a deal as you were making it out to be.

You didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that today was a shit day. And with that thought, you entered the spacious conference room converted into a studio for the photoshoot. Namjoon had told you that it was for this years season’s greetings.

From the soft mood lightings against the panel of wall to wall windows spanning one side of the room and the light coloured casual clothing that hung from the racks pushed to the corners, you deduced that they were going for a soft, boyfriend look this time.

You snorted. How ironic they’d sell such a concept to their fans when all seven of them were taken at the same time. By the same person.

The familiar faces of the co-ordis greeted you as you moved in, and you murmured a soft good morning to them. “Where are they?”, you asked, looking around.

Solji, one of the older stylists, answered you with a smile. “You’re a little early. They’ll be here soon.”

“Great. I’ll set up somewhere out of your way then.” You returned her smile, she was your favourite out of all the staff, always friendly and understanding.

Speaking of the staff, your eyes caught a new face flitting among the familiar ones when you scanned the room for a place to sit. You nudged Solji. “Is she new?”, you asked, flicking your chin towards the blonde girl assisting the hairstylist in pulling out all kinds of products from a bag.

Solji nodded. “Miso. She’s a temp. We fell short on hands when Hyoyeon took her maternity leave. Most likely will become permanent if she’s good.”

You frowned. “Does she know about me?”

The staff were well informed about your relationship with Bangtan, the Non Disclosure Agreement they signed when they were hired prevented them from going to the media with any kind of private details about the boys, lest they be sued for their weight in gold. But it always caused you anxiety when a new staff member got to know about you. More so when they got to know you were dating all of them.

“Yes. I informed her myself. She was surprised, to say the least.”

“Everyone is.” Your mom’s sneer came to mind suddenly, but you pushed it away. Patting Solji’s arm, you said, “Time for me to catch up on my studies I guess.”

Spying a small love seat in one corner of the big room you headed towards it. Picking up the empty make up containers strewn over it, you placed them carefully on the carpeted floor instead. Perching yourself on the seat, you pulled open your handbag, pulling out your laptop and the textbook you and Namjoon had been pouring over last night.

This is what you did when they asked you over on a photoshoot, or vocal practice or dress fittings. Watching them from a corner while trying to get some work done. But mostly just gazing at them go about their way from your front row perch, hearts in your eyes.

You’d only just begun reading when the sound of their laughter reached your ears. Looking up eagerly, you promptly forgot your work. Yoongi was already headed towards you, looking downright sinful in a white Supreme hoodie, jeans and converse. Did he even need to change? This was boyfriend look right here.

“My little bird’s already hard at work I see.” He bent to give you a heart stopping kiss, his hand cupping your nape in a proprietary gesture. “How am I gonna focus on the shoot with you looking so gorgeous today, hmm? Maybe we can convince the photographer to take your pictures instead.”

Oh, flirty Yoongi was in the house today.

“I don’t think your fans would like that.” You bit his lip, not even trying to resist the temptation right before your eyes.

Another deep kiss. “Their loss.”

“Hyung, Solji noona is calling you.”, a cheerful Taehyung said from behind Yoongi.

The elder straightened up with a scowl. “Really? You’ll get a knuckle sandwich if you’re lying.”

“I’m not.”, he exclaimed, jerking a thumb behind him. “Go ask her yourself.”

As Yoongi left while muttering something under his breath, Taehyung sprawled himself on the love seat beside you. “I lied.”

You nodded. “Of course you did.”

The shout of “Tae you motherfucker!” could be heard as the subject of the loud curse brushed some stray hair behind your ears, an unbothered boxy smile directed at you as he asked, “So __, I heard Hobi hyung won’t be spending the night with you. This must come as a shock because I’m a busy man,” he polished his nails on the lapels of the Gucci coat he had on, before inspecting them like they were the singular most interesting thing, “but did you know I’m completely free tonight?”

You smiled at his attempt at nonchalance but your heart ached at the reminder. Looking towards Hoseok, you found him and the boys surrounded by the styling team. When Hoseok caught you looking, he grinned wide, moving to make his way to you.

A small hand on his shoulder stopped him in his path. The new temp Miso held up a shirt to his torso, looking up at him with a smile as she said something you couldn’t quite hear. You saw Hoseok nod and reply to her, all plans of coming to you forgotten.

“Is there trouble in paradise?”, Taehyung guessed, looking at his hyung then at you then back to his hyung like a ping pong ball.

Halting his swivelling head by placing a palm on his cheek, you pouted, “Tae, do you know what today is?”

A scared look came over his face. “Oh shit, did I forget your birthday or something?”

You scowled. “No. It’s me and Hoseok’s one year anniversary. It’s the day I first met him. And he doesn’t remember.”

“Oh.” Then a strange look came over his face, somewhere between constipation and indigestion. He was hiding something. “Oh.”

“What are you ohing about?”, you asked curtly, your curiosity growing. “And why are you making that face?”

“What face?”, he squeaked, getting up from the chair in a flash. “Oh looky there, Solji noona is calling me.”

“Wait!” But he was already hightailing it out of there. “Tae you motherf—ugh!”

For the next hour you watched them from your corner seat as they went through multiple outfit changes and all different kinds of poses against the strategically placed props near the windows. The soft sunlight filtering in provided a natural lighting and their beautiful features seemed to glow from within because of the luminescent makeup they wore. All in all it was a mesmerising affair, they looked like angels.

And throughout it all instead of focusing on getting some work done your gaze slipped to Hoseok again and again. All of the boys had come to sit beside you at one point or the other, except him. But it wasn’t for lack of trying.

The pencil in your grip almost snapped to half when you saw the new hire, Miso, bend down to whisper something in his ear as she messed with his already perfect hair. One of her hands landed on his shoulder and you could swear she was caressing him.

For his part, he rested his head on the back of the chair, eyes closed and barely giving her one word answers. But that did nothing to quell the embers of jealousy burning inside you. Solji had said that the new girl knew about you. You did not want to interfere in their work but if she continued feeling up your boyfriend...

You almost catapulted out of your chair when you saw her brush her ample chest against his arm whilst pretending to pick something up from the floor.

But luckily Namjoon made his way to you at the same time, saving you from smacking a bitch into next week.

“I’m sorry about your scarf, doll. I put it in the laundry for you.” He smiled, cheeks dimpling deeply, as if he expected a pat on the back for managing such a feat.

Reluctantly you looked away from Hoseok and the snake coiling herself around him, giving Joon a half hearted smile. “Thank you, baby.”

The dimples disappeared. “Is something wrong?”

The sincere worry in his eyes was all it took for your composure to shatter. The past few days, your mother’s visit, Hoseok’s forgetfulness, your own insecurities and now the bitch a few feet away from you.

With a pathetic whine you launched yourself into the leader’s lap, situating yourself between his thighs and wrapping your arms around him. Your face fit perfectly in the space between his shoulder and neck. You didn’t care if you were ruining his carefully put together outfit or the fact that you were in a room full of people.

Thankfully Namjoon didn’t care either, he immediately pulled you close, bending down to kiss your nose affectionately.

“Doll?”, was all he said in his soft, deep, ever understanding voice and everything you’d been bottling up came hurtling out in a hiccupy word vomit. By the time you were finished tears were running down your face and you turned to hide into his chest so nobody else could see you breaking down.

“Aah your mother is wrong, so so wrong. You’re our centre, the best thing that ever happened to us.” Sighing, he rubbed your back. “But I understand where she’s coming from. If it were my daughter I’d be sceptical too. We’ll just have to convince her that we love you more than anything in the world.”

“She doesn’t want to meet you guys.”, you murmured against his chest, wiping your nose on his expensive designer shirt.

He didn’t seem to mind, brushing away your tears with his shirt sleeve himself. Solji was going to kill you both.

“I’m sure we can change her mind.” Namjoon nudged your chin up till he was gazing into your eyes. “As for Hoseok, don’t you dare doubt his love for you. He worships the ground you walk on.”

“Is that why he forgot our anniversary?”

Namjoon evaded your eyes. “Doll...”

“And why isn’t he pushing away that new temp?”

“Huh?” Confused, he looked up in the direction of the man in question.

“Forget it. Do I even have any right to be jealous when it comes to you guys?”, you questioned softly to yourself. Something you’d been wondering about for a while. “I mean there’s one of me and seven of you. You don’t get jealous when I’m with Jimin or Yoongi. Why should I be jealous if you guys show interest in other girls, right?”

That snapped his attention back to you, and what you saw in his eyes made you shrink in on yourself. He was angry, furious even. He grabbed your jaw, made sure your eyes didn’t stray from him.

“Of the most ridiculous nonsense you could come up with, I never imagined you’d be questioning our loyalty to you.”, he said through his teeth. “Firstly, we have no fucking interest in dating another girl, get that through your thick head. Second, we don’t get jealous of each other but you very well know we can’t stand anyone else putting their hands on you. Thirdly,” he paused, taking a deep breath. “I can’t say for other guys but I love it when you get jealous.”

“What?”, you breathed.

Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you remember when I came to you asking for dating advice before you’d agreed to be with all of us? When you were only Hoseok’s girlfriend.”

“I do.” You were just reminiscing about your early days with the boys a few hours ago.

“I didn’t really want your advice, I suspected you liked me too and I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

You stared at him. “Is that why you broke up with the girl the next day?”

“Hehe.”, he laughed nervously. “I wasn’t dating anybody in the first place. I only wanted to be with you.”

Your jaw dropped.

Solji’s voice cut through your intimate bubble then. “Namjoon, you’re up.”

“Time to get scolded for ruining my shirt.” He picked you up and set you on the cushions like you weighed nothing.

“I’m sorry about that.” Glancing at the wetness that covered his front from your tears and snot, you winced.

“I drooled on your scarf, you cried on my shirt. We’re a match made in heaven, babe.”, he said, a shit eating grin on his face.

“You’re so cheesy.” You threw a cushion at his face.

He flicked it away with a swat. “You’ve been sitting here for hours, you should stretch your legs. I have that SourPunk string candy you like so much in the drawer beneath my computer. Go get some.”

“Really?!” You jumped up at once. “It’s my favourite.”

“I know.” He left after giving you an indulgent smile, though you heard him mutter under his breath “it tastes like satan’s ass” before he was out of earshot.

Ignoring him, you happily made your way out of the huge room, heading straight for Namjoon’s studio on the third floor. There was a spring in your step. Not surprisingly talking to the leader had put some sense back into you, he’d Expecto Petronumed your insecurities like they were dementors. For now at least, you were sure they’d rear their ugly head again in the future like a chronic disease.

Striding down the hallway cheerfully, you did not expect a hand to shoot out of a door. You shrieked like a banshee when the hand clutched your arm, hauling you inside before slamming the door close.

“What the—“, your shout was cut off by Hoseok’s hand over your mouth.

“It’s me, __. Don’t scream.”

Narrowing your eyes, you licked his palm.

“Aah!” He snatched it back, face scrunching. “What was that for?”

“For ignoring me all day. And scaring me just now.”

“Ignoring you?” He scoffed. “Fuck no. I don’t do childish stuff like that. I’m not Yoongi hyung.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

Hoseok’s glare turned into a confused frown when he saw your face clearly, the dim lighting not helping his vision. “Were you crying?”

Flinching, you spoke sharply, “No.”

The frown didn’t abate. “__, I swear I wasn’t ignoring you.”

“That’s not why I was crying.”

“So you were crying.” He raised his brows, daring you to deny it. His eyes softened when you looked away instead.

“Hey baby, I’m sorry.”, he murmured in your ear, his hands finding purchase on your waist. He nudged your face toward his, nuzzling you softly. “Whatever I did I’m so sorry.”

Melting in his arms, you allowed him to pull you close. “You don’t even know what you’re apologising for.”

Placing a hand on the side of your neck, a thumb at your chin pulled your mouth open. “It doesn’t matter. I hate seeing you upset.”

He kissed your open mouth, his tongue immediately finding yours. The taste of him made you moan, coffee and the sugar coated lemon drops he loved so much. It was a strange but delectable combination.

As you sucked on his tongue, his hands dropped to work on the buttons of your blouse. You pulled away for a second to ask, “We’re really doing this here? Right now?”

“Not we.” Pushing your blouse and bra out of the way, he freed one breast for his hungry mouth.

“I just want to make you feel good.”, he breathed against your nipple before taking the cold, hardened bud between his warm lips.

Head thumping back against the door, you clutched him to your chest. “Hobi, oh my god!”

Taking your sensitive nipple between his teeth, he pulled, making a jolt of arousal go straight to your core. He chuckled as a moan tore from you. “I haven’t even started and you’re already invoking god. You won’t be able to keep quiet, would you? Do you want everyone to know your boyfriend’s worshipping you?”

Pulling him up for another messy kiss, you confessed against his lips. “Yes. I want everyone to know that you belong to me.”

Something primal and unrestrained entered his eyes, and you almost regretted your words for a second. With a swiftness that defied gravity, he picked you up and strode to a nearby table. After clearing the surface with a sweep of his hand, he placed you gingerly on top. The clink and clatter of jewellery and other accessories hitting the floor echoed in the room, but you only had eyes and ears for Hoseok.

“Be careful what you ask for, __.”

What had you unleashed?

He made swift work of your jeans till you were clad only in your blouse and soaking wet panties.

“Look at that, you’ve already made a mess.” Cupping your crotch, he stroked your clothed labia slowly, smirking when you swivelled your hips for more. “How badly do you want me to eat you out, __? Tell me and I might let you have my tongue.”

You wanted him too much to care about how desperate you sounded. “So bad. Please! I want your tongue on my pussy.”

“What my baby wants, she gets.” He dropped to his knees between your spread legs, pushing at the back of your thighs to expose your genitals in the most lewd way possible. Pushing aside your soaked panties, he dove in with fervour like he was about to devour the most scrumptious meal ever.

The first flick of his tongue on your clit had you gnashing your teeth and fisting his thick, soft hair. From previous experience you knew that receiving oral sex from him meant that he was going to put all your vibrators to shame.

And sure enough, the speed of his tongue on your clit blew your mind, as did the currents of pleasure coursing through you. How he was able to move his tongue so fast, you had no fucking clue. Pausing in his expert assault, he took the already quivering bundle in his mouth to suck, simultaneously thrusting two fingers deep in your slick channel.

“Hobi! Fuck! Umfh..” That was all you could manage till he found the soft spongy spot on your inner walls, pressing on it in tandem with his licks on your clit. Most of the sounds that came out of your mouth were incoherent shouts and half pleas.

Hoseok’s eyes met yours over the expanse of your tummy and you could tell he was internally laughing as you dissolved into a mindless being intent on reaching your climax. “Hobi please make me cum!”

The bastard pulled his sinful mouth away from your cunt instead. “What was that?”

“Aagh!”, you yelled in frustration. “Put that tongue back on my fucking clit!”

He pouted, his cheeks glistening from your juices. “Is that any way to speak to your boyfriend?”

“Hobi.”, you cried, about to burst into frustrated tears literally. “Please!”

Grinning, he dove back down. “Now was that so hard?”

This time he pulled his fingers out of your entrance to rub slick circles on your nub instead. His mouth tasted a path down your inner labia before tonguing your clenching, empty hole.

“Hoseok, don’t tease me.”, you begged.

Taking mercy on you, he thrust his tongue deep inside. The fingers playing your clit like a fiddle doubled their strokes.

“Fuck yes!”, you screamed.

His tongue inside your pussy mimicked his dick thrusting in and out, your pussy trying to grip the muscle everytime he pulled it back out. You could come just from him tongue fucking you.

“Hoseok don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”

He stopped. Pulling away once again.

“What?!”, you shrieaked, your orgasm slipping away from your grasp. Frustrated tears did, in fact, make their way down your cheeks this time.

“Your pussy tastes like fucking ambrosia, __.”, he groaned, licking his lips. “But I wanna have a taste of something else too.”

Frowning, you half sobbed, half moaned, “What?”

He smirked. “Let’s see if you can come from having your ass eaten.”

The shudder that went through you at his words was overshadowed by pleasure when he licked down your pussy, giving a fluttering peck to your neglected entrance before venturing further south. Your perineum received a wet, open mouthed kiss and a nuzzle.

“Hold your legs for me, baby.”, he commanded softly, his breath tingling both your holes.

Snaking your arms around the back of your thighs, you pulled your legs up and away. You were nervous but excited, none of the other boys had rimmed you before. “Hobi, please hurry.”

A nip on your buttcheek made you yelp. “Don’t rush me. I’m going to enjoy this.”

Kneading your buttocks in his palms, he pulled them apart, a butterfly kiss to your asshole followed. Then he laved the puckered hole, making you gasp at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Oh.”, you breathed. “That feels so good.”

You felt him smile. Another light kiss on your rim, then his tongue explored. Circling your asshole and probing at your forbidden entrance till you clenched at the foreign feeling with a groan.

He tsked, clearly disapproving. “Don’t tense up, baby. Open up to me. I love this cute little hole.”

At his urging you relaxed and he began eating your hole with the same enthusiasm as he had your pussy. When his hand slid up to tease your clit once again, your arms gave from beneath you and you thumped on the table, arching your back from the insurmountable pleasure he was giving you.

He was right. You could cum from having your asshole stimulated. The release that had slipped away earlier came hurtling back like a train wreck, with double the force.

Stiffening his tongue, he pushed it up your anus as far as it would go.

“Fuck!”, you cursed at the intrusion.

In your endorphin hazed brain, you registered a noise outside the door that sounded like Hoseok’s name. You ignored it at first, the dancer between your legs making you feel too good to care about anyone barging in.

But then the hesitant voice grew louder. “Hoseok-ssi. It’s Miso, are you in there?”

At first sheer fury coursed through you. And then you smirked.

“Hobi!” Your voice was so loud the man in question paused in his ministrations for a second. “Don’t stop! You eat my ass so good!”

With a shrug, he happily continued, circling your clit with his fingers just the way you liked it.

“Oh fuck yes!” Though your volume was exaggerated, you could feel yourself get closer and closer to the precipice.

This time you didn’t hear the squeak and the rush of footsteps disappearing outside, the blood rushing in your ears drowning out everything else.

“Baby I’m so close.”

“Cum then. Let me see your pretty pussy cum.”, he growled, increasing the torture on the bundle of nerves he was assaulting with his fingers.

When you came, everything went white for a second. The scream of his name was so loud, you were sure the whole building heard you climaxing. The seizure like shudders that racked you had you closing your legs and pulling away his hands because of oversensitivity.

Panting on the table, you flopped on your side to calm down. Hoseok bent over you to caress your hair.

“Are you alright, baby? Did I overdo it?”

Shaking your head, you got up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No. You are amazing. Your mouth is amazing.”

You tried to pull him down for a kiss but he turned his face away at the last second. “I just had my tongue up your ass, babe. Do you really wanna kiss me?”

“Shut up.” You gave him a deep, sloppy kiss.

~.~.~

The crew and staff were packing up when you got back to the room after cleaning yourself up in the bathroom. So you headed straight to get your things as well.

You found Jimin seated at the love seat, idly going through your textbook.

You smiled at the adorable furrow of concentration between his brows. “You into history now, Chim?”

Jimin hummed, flipping the book shut before looking up at you. “No, but I heard you’re into rimming.”

Cheeks going tomato red, you stuttered, “D-did you—”

“Yeah. You were very loud.”

Groaning you buried your face in your hands. What felt like a good idea at the time, made you shrivel up in mortification now.

Jimin got up to pull your hands away, giving you an eye smile of reassurance. “Don’t. I loved that you were so loud. I got to know that assplay is not a hard limit for you.”

You gulped. “Jimin.”

He gave you that predatory look, the one he used only in the bedroom, making you shiver. In fear or anticipation, you didn’t know. “Make sure you’re free next Monday.”

Before you could reply, he picked up your bag, placing your book and laptop inside. “Now. Let’s get you home.”

Glancing around, you found the room almost empty. “Where’s everybody?”

Jimin took your hand, interlacing your fingers. “They’re already in the car. Let’s go.”

The driver held open the door of the Escalade when you two arrived outside. You slid in first, immediately snuggling up against Jeongguk who was seated near the other window. Jimin got in behind you.

Yoongi was up front, with Namjoon, Jin and Taehyung making up the back.

“Where’s Hoseok?”, you asked as the car pulled away from the curb.

Jin answered you. “He was invited over for drinks remember.”

“Oh.” You remembered. But you’d forgotten to remind him of the anniversary, too preoccupied with his tempting mouth.

“What’s the matter, __?” Came Taehyung’s sly voice. You glanced at the rearview mirror to see him grinning. When his eyes met yours, the grin vanished in a flash.

You narrowed your eyes, Taehyung’s earlier werid behaviour coming to mind. “Nothing.”

The rest of the ride passed by in relative quiet. Only Jeongguk’s voice telling you about his recent trip back to Busan filled the car. You listened with your head on his shoulder, though your mind was adrift.

You did not fancy the idea of sleeping alone in a cold bed, one of the boys’ constant warmth against you throughout your nights had spoiled you. You were just about to take Taehyung up on his earlier offer to spend the night with him when the car stopped suddenly.

Confused, you sat up straight. It usually took twenty minutes to get to the boys’ dorm, thirty minutes to get to your apartment. It had barely been ten. “What is it? Why did we stop?”

Yoongi turned from his seat to look at you with a fond smile. “Your stop’s here, __.”

“What?” You frowned when Jimin got out of the car, holding out his hand for you to take.

“Just trust us.”, Jeongguk whispered next to you.

With a deep breath you took Jimin’s proffered hand, getting out of the car in the middle of the street.

“What if someone sees us?”, you asked, scared someone might click pictures of you two together. “Where are we?”

Jimin shook his head, turning you toward the footpath on the side of the road. “You know where we are.”

When your eyes left his to glance around, your breath caught. Because you did know where you were.

The lights inside the old bookstore you worked at illuminated your surroundings. Taking a step forward in amazement, you peered up at the two story building, the grey stucco walls of the exterior filling you with nostalgia. After you’d moved into your new apartment almost a year ago, the bookstore became too far out of your way for you commute to daily. You’d also gotten a better paying job working at a cafe. But you’d always missed the quiet of this store, the hundreds of books at your disposal that you had loved to explore. The cafe was too loud, boisterous and hectic in comparison.

A throat cleared behind you and you turned to find Hoseok gazing at you from above the mask he had donned. The car and the rest of the boys were gone.

“Did you really think I’d forget, baby?”

Elation surged through you and you barely restrained the sappy tears that threatened to overflow. He held out his arms and you launched yourself at him, making him laugh.

“So that text was a lie?”

“Hmm.”, he hummed against your hair, pecking your forehead. “They did invite me to hang out but I had to politely reject.”

Hoseok wrapped an arm around your waist. “We should go in. Someone might recognise me out here even with the mask.”

Frowning, you let him lead you towards the front entrance. “Umm, are you sure? Do you wanna pick up a book or something? The lady who owns this building won’t like us having a date in her bookstore.”

Hoseok opened the door, ushering you in. The store was unsurprisingly empty, but you frowned when you saw nobody manning the cash register.

“The lady who owns this store loves me. So I think we’re good.”

Your head snapped back to him. “Who?”

He pursed his lips, clearly suppressing his amusement. Fishing for something in his pocket, he held your hand out, palm side up.

“You.” Two keys on a Superman keyring dropped on your palm.

For a minute you stared at it dumbfounded, not comprehending him. But he spoke before you could bombard him with questions.

“I bought this whole building in your name. It’s yours.” He closed your fingers around the keys.

Blinking up at him, you swallowed at the resurgence of emotion within you. “I-umm”, you looked away. “Hoseok I don’t know what to say. It must have cost a fortune. I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can.”, he replied breezily, pulling your chin to make you look at him again. “I know you don’t like working at the cafe. They pay you peanuts there anyway. Now you don’t have to. The earnings from this store will be more than enough for your rent, tuition, bills and everything else.”

“I-I don’t know.” The part of you that wanted to earn everything you received rebelled at taking such an expensive gift.

“I knew you would be stubborn.”, Hoseok sighed as if pained he was having to say this. “If you want, you can pay me back on your own time, okay.”

Cracking a smile, you gave him a knowing look. “You and I both know you’re not gonna accept a penny from me.”

He gave you a “duh” look. “ See, you’re smart. Now be a good girl and just tell me you love me.”

You laughed. “Fine. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Cupping your cheeks, he kissed you like he meant it. “Now shall we christen this place?”

“Hobi!”

“What?”, he whined. “The first time we met I wanted to bend you over that table and fuck all the sass out of you.”

Glancing behind you at the old desk and chair you used to spend most of your shift at, you smirked.

Sliding out of his arms, you made your way to the table, swinging your hips just right. When you reached it you placed your elbows on the surface, bending at the waist to wiggle your butt.

“Come get me, Superman.”

Hoseok groaned, stalking toward you like a tiger on the hunt.

A “whooo” escaped you when he gripped your jeans and panties to slide them down in one fell swoop, the garments tangled at your knees.

“I’ve been hard ever since I got the first taste of your pussy. I need it rough and fast this time baby.”, he growled, stroking your pussy before sliding two fingers inside. They slid in without any resistance. “Shit you’re so fucking wet.”

“You ate me out so good, I’m still dripping.”, you moaned as he wedged another finger inside your slick entrance. “Use me, Hobi.”

“Fuck.” You heard the clank of his belt and his zipper going down. He gripped his rock hard length to rub the engorged cock head up and down your slit, spreading his pre-cum and your juices everywhere.

“Put it in.”, you moaned, still oversensitive from earlier. Your battered clit pulsed like a mini heartbeat and from the way Hoseok’s grip tightened on your buttocks, his nails digging in, you knew you were going to be sore after he was done with you.

Positioning his cock at your hole, he buried himself to the hilt inside you with one hard thrust of his dancer hips. The force jerked you up the table, your hands flailing for purchase.

“Oh.” You felt full, so deliciously and utterly stuffed. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Hoseok paused, letting you adjust and bringing his instincts under control. He did not want to hurt you. “You always take me so well. So fucking tight and warm.”

“Move, Hobi.”, you moaned after a second. “I’m ready.”

He set a punishing pace from the start. Clutching your hips in his hands he slammed you down on his dick as his hips surged upward in thrust after thrust. The slapping sound of skin against skin resounded throughout the store. You still had a hard time believing you were fucking in your old bookstore.

Oh, how far you’d come. From reading smut on this very table to fucking your boyfriend over it.

“I want to hear you, __. Don’t hold back.”, he hissed through his teeth, his hand snaking down to abuse your already sensitive clit some more.

“Shit shit! Oh my god.” Too much sensation assaulted you.

“Fuck, your pussy is squeezing my dick so good.” Hoseok adjusted his position, his length penetrating even deeper inside you. The speed of his pistoning hips doubled, if that was even possible. The table beneath you inched forward against the floor with his every harsh thrust.

Your eyes rolled back in your head. This was the definition of a quick, rough fuck. The semi public nature of it shooting a thrill down your spine. The sign at the front said open, anybody could walk in any moment. Moreover though the desk of the cashier was placed sideways, if one wanted to peer inside the windows, they would definitely get an eyeful.

The idea that someone could be watching you get your brains fucked out, made you even more wanton. Meeting Hoseok thrust for thrust, you reached back to pull his head down to your mouth, the difficult position and the hard slams of his dick inside you meant that you kissed not just his mouth but also his chin, nose and cheeks.

Hoseok laughed. “You’re so cute when you’re desperate, baby.”

“Don’t call me desperate.”, you whined, biting his chin. “Also please make me cum.”

“Whatever you say.”

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, so you clenched your pelvic muscles till your pussy gripped his cock so tight.

His thrusts faltered. “Shit baby.”, he groaned. “Of course you’re not desperate. I’m the one who’s desperate.”

“Better.”

At that Hoseok hauled you up by your arms, circling his hands around your torso to hold you up. The upright position against the table forced him even deeper. He angled his hips just right, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot every time he drove inside you, coiling that impeding pressure in your belly more and more.

“Are you close?”, he panted against your ear, his finger returning to circle your clit.

“So close.” Gasping, you tilted your head when he bit the crook of your neck. “Just keep fucking me like that.”

The lewd noises of your love making echoed throughout the room, the rough slaps of skin, the incoherent moans, the table shaking beneath you. His thrusts didn’t relent one bit, battering your pussy till you felt that tingle in your spine building and building.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He cursed a storm, his nails digging crescents into your hips. Your walls clenched around his thick length desperately, the friction of him moving in and out too much for you.

“I’m cumming, Hobi! Shit, I’m cumming!”, you screamed, just as he circled your clit roughly one last time, pushing you over the edge.

“Oh my god!” Your second orgasm of the day was just as powerful as the first one, leaving you a barely conscious mess as tsunami waves of pleasure spread like currents through your every nerve ending.

With you reaching your end, Hoseok fucked you like you were a blowup doll, with the sole purpose of reaching his own climax. He used your poor pussy, thrusting inside with supersonic speed. You clenched around him to help him along.

“Shit __!” With a shout of your name he buried himself deep inside you, thick jets of his warm cum painting your inner walls white. After you’d milked him of everything he had to give, he dropped down over you like a sack of potatoes.

“That was amazing.”, you breathed beneath him.

“Yeah.”, he panted. Apparently that was all he was capable of enunciating. Both of you caught your breathing, your thundering hearts slowing to a gallop. Hoseok nuzzled your neck like he wanted to burrow himself within you. You chuckled at his neediness.

Once you’d both calmed down, he got up, taking you with him. After turning you around, he knelt before you. For a second he just watched his cum dribbling down the inside of your thigh, before placing a feather light kiss on your mound, as if apologising to your sore vagina. He pulled up your panties and jeans, fastening the fly.

Eyes softening, you stroked his hair back from his face, gazing down at him with a smitten look on your face. “I love you.”

He was whipped for you as well. Taking your hand he placed a kiss on the inside of your palm. “I love you too.”

Frowning, you looked out the window. “What if someone saw us having sex?”

Chuckling, he got up off the floor. “Then I hope they enjoyed the show.”

#bts fic #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fluff #Hoseok smut #bts angst #wednesday #7 days a week series #part 2

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