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dalamjisung · 4 years ago

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play date ❁ choi youngjae

word count: 2197

genre: slice of life, fluff, dog dad!youngjae

member: youngjae x reader

description: there’s nothing to worry about, really– even though not much changed with the immediate transition to Sublime, Youngjae still made a point of making time for you and you guys’ daughter, Coco. And obviously, her uncles. He always makes time for the whole family.

“Y/N!”

Popping your head out of the shower, you frown, unsure if you actually heard your boyfriend or if you simply had a brain fart moment. Just as your shampoo starts to drip from your hair into your eyes, you hear it again.

“Y/N! Babe!”

“In the shower!” You call back, doing your best to stop the shampoo dripping down your face from getting into your eyes. You are too slow, though, and the sting has you yelping as you move to get yourself under the warm water, but once your feet falters and slips, there is nothing you can do.

Youngjae finds you in the bathroom naked and wet, hand caressing your behind as you wince in pain from the fall. You open the one eye that doesn’t hurt to see him hiding his laughter behind his hand, snorting slightly as he composes himself.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Sure,” You say, irony dripping from your voice. Grabbing your towel, Youngjae holds it open, embracing you with it once you are back on your feet. “Just peachy.”

His hands pat you down, drying your skin with all the care in the world. It’s been a while, since you two been able to be intimate– and you don’t mean sex, no; you mean emotional intimacy, the kind that shines brightest when it’s just you two, laying in bed, talking about your day while your hands draw shapes on each other; the kind that is so strong it can be suffocating for anyone else to witness as you two whisper to each other in the middle of movies, giggling and just feeling. With the GOT7 contract ending and the immediate transition into Sublime, Youngjae has barely had time to come home and shower, much less to sit with you and relax. So this– this moment of vulnerability and connection– even though it cost you an eye and a possibly broken hip… this is all you want.

“Are you okay?” You feel his lips moving on top of your hair and his fluttering kisses, on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, you mouth. “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You sigh, smiling. “I’m all better now.”

“Really?” He asks, and something about the low voices and murmuring conversation creates a sensation of home, in his arms, in your bathroom.

“Yeah…” You lay your head on his chest. “Just being here with you is–“

“Great!” And just like that, the mood is gone. “Get ready!”

A bit thrown off, you blink, trying to place yourself again. Chuckling, you follow him to your room, catching the clothes he throws at you.

“And where are we going, my love?” You ask softly, slowly getting dressed as you watch your boyfriend excitedly look at the door, almost as if he is expecting something.

And you hear the small pitter patter of her paws on the wooden floor before you see Coco coming in, looking her for loyal companion. Laughter bubbles up as you see her small frame covered by an even smaller red tutu dress.

“Why is Coco so dressed up?” You laugh, pulling a sweatshirt over your head. “She looks better than I do…”

“You both are beautiful in your own way,” Youngjae rolls his eyes, kissing your cheek as you pat your hair dry with the towel. “Are you almost ready?”

“I mean, sure,” You shrug, brushing your hair. “I still don’t know where we’re going, but I hope looking like a wet mess is not a problem.”

“Correction, you look like a hot mess,” He kisses you quickly, bending down to grab Coco and let her give you a few licks on the face. “And no, it is never a problem to look like a hot mess. Now, let’s go or else we’ll be late.”

“Late?” You mutter to yourself. “We have an appointment somewhere?”

“Not us,” Youngjae wiggles his brows, giving you the dog as he runs around grabbing jackets and phones. “Coco.”

“Coco?” You snuggle her closer to you, petting her head slowly. “Are we taking her to the vet? I remember her last visit, it wasn’t that long ago and–“

“She has a date,” He explains, opening the door to you. “On that one park next to the coffee shop you like.”

“And where did you find this date?” You chuckle. Youngjae’s devotion to Coco has always amused you; it is adorable how much he cares for the pet, and you are not embarrassed to admit that it is one of the many reasons you fell in love with him– his devotion to the those and what he loves.

“Secret,” He holds your hand, giving you a squeeze, before pulling you down the street.

“You hear that, Coco?” You tell the overly excited dog, much like your boyfriend. “Daddy is pimping you away.”

“Yah!” Youngjae’s eyes go wide, and incredulous laughter escaping his mouth. “Y/N, don’t say that!”

“But it’s okay, baby,” You continue, putting her down on the ground, leash secured. “Mommy would never let bad doggies get to you. It has to be a special doggie, one that will treat you well.”

“Babe,” Yugyeom whines, stomping his feet and you giggle at his adorable pout. You two are almost there, Coco guiding the way she knows oh too well by now. Whenever he had time away from work, Youngjae would make sure to walk Coco to the park every morning, stoping to get you coffee from your favorite shop. Then, once he’s back home, he’d wake you up with kisses and breakfast, and together, your small little family of three, would enjoy the morning as it passes by.

It still amazes you that you and Youngjae are able to discuss mundane things; the way his eyes sparkle when you tell him a new office gossip, or the way he tells you some previously forgotten secret that Jinyoung told him and promised not to tell anyone.

“Everyone knows,” He says, pulling you through the park’s gate and to the fountain. “That if I know, you know. It’s just how it works.”

“Definitely,” Your eyes glint in adoration as you watching him look around, standing on his tippy-toes as if the extra inch would make a difference. “Who are we–“

“Hyung!”

Yugyeom waves wildly from the other side of the fountain, and when you approach him, you finally notice the small dog with a tuxedo by his feet.

“What the hell are you two doing?” You sigh, snorting as Dalkyum waddles, still unfamiliar and uncomfortable with the outfit.

“What?” Yugyeom laughs as Coco moves to playfully bite his dog, both barking and running around once you let them free from their leashes.

The three of you sit on the grass, and you can’t help but observe Yugyeom as he moves around, shoulders relaxed and a small smile practically glued to his face.

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” The youngest jokes, giggling as Youngjae wraps an arm around you to pull you to him.

“Don’t get smart with me, kiddo,” You flick his forehead. “You just seem different.”

“Different how?”

“Like you are finally your age.”

There is agreement in his silence, and you see the way his smile widens; he is happy. He is young and he finally can be young. After a while, he starts talking about a new dance routine he’s rehearsing.

“It’s really cool, noona, you’ll love it, seri–“

“Oh my god, Dalkyum no!”

Youngjae practically pushes you to the side when he notices Yugyeom’s dog mounting his precious Coco, running to pull her away. You can briefly hear him lecturing them both before coming back.

“You said this was a date!” You gasp, grabbing Coco away from him. “Let them date!”

“Date? Da– Y/N, they were having sex!” Youngjae cries out. “This is just their first date!”

“So?!” You laugh, letting Coco go back to Dalkyum. “We had sex on our first date and I don’t remember you complaining about it.”

“She’s got you, hyung,” Yugyeom whispers, holding his laughter in.

“That is our daughter!” Your boyfriend ignores the maknae and continues frowning. “I can’t–“

“Be free, Coco! Run to the love of your life and be happy,” Yugyeom screams, making both of you jump. You look back to see both your dogs running away and you can’t help but laugh at the indignant cry Yugyeom lets out.

“My baby!” His hands is stretched out, dramatically reaching out for his dog. “Y/N, how could you betray me like that?”

“I’m on Coco’s team,” You pat his hair as he lays his head on your shoulder. “Us women have to stick together.”

“Is that your way of telling us all to go fuck off?”

You look at Bambam, whom you’ve bee expecting for a while, since him and the other youngster could never last long when they’re apart. He is wearing Jackson’s new collection and, behind him, you can see the one and only sneaking some pictures of his friend. Jinyoung is not that far behind, pulling Mark and Jaebeom pas the ice cream cart; you chuckle as you hear the two grumbling in the background.

“Why is everyone here?” You ask Youngjae, eyeing his suspiciously.

“We heard Coco and Dalkyum were getting married,” Jackson snorts, showing you the pictures sent to the groups chat. “We’ve been intimated to come and congratulate the new couple.”

“Married?” Yugyeom echoes, shock in his voice. “Yah, hyung, this is just their first date… marriage is a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Your dog was humping my baby not even ten minutes ago,” Youngjae seethes. “He better take responsibility now. Who knows if she’s pregnant?”

“Babe, that’s not how it works at–“

“What do you mean?!” Yugyeom shouts back, sitting up from where he was laying. “Coco gave him consent! It takes two to tango!”

“Guys, really, that’s not–“

“Yah, Kim Yugyeom!” Youngjae points at his dongsaeng.

You barely hear the end of that conversation, following Jinyoung as he pulls you aside.

“Ignore them,” He sighed, and even though he might try to look uninterested and bored, you always recognize the amused smile Jinyoung constantly displays. “They can go one forever.”

“Poor Coco,” You say, poking him with your elbow. “She just wants true love.”

“And she chooses Dalkyum?” Jinyoug snorts, rolling his eyes. “That dog is worse then his owner.”

“Excuse me?!”

You two look at Youngjae and Yugyeom, both staring at you with wide eyes.

“Dalkyum is not a bad boy!” Yugyeom insists, coming over to you.

“He’s is a dog!” Jackson tries to interfere.

“No he’s not, he is a gentleman!” Bambam says, hopefully helping his best friend.

“Coco deserves better,” Mark says, coming to stand next to Youngjae.

“She is a princess and she is to be treated like such!” Your boyfriend agreed. “Right babe?!”

“W-what?”

“Our daughter!” Youngjae practically slaps his face. “This is about her future, will you pay attention?”

“Yeah, Y/N,” Jinyoung scolds you, moving to stand with the boys. “This is important.”

“Will it be like this when we have kids?” Youngjae muses and that is enough to shut everyone up, eyes wide and mouths hanging open, pretty much like you are right now. “I mean, I don’t mind going to the PTA meetings, but I don’t think I can handle being the serious one in the family, love. Seriously, I’d be terrib–“

“Oh my god, don’t ruin this.”

Grabbing his face, you pull him down for a kiss, shutting him up with pure passion. You can hear the boys screaming and whistling in the back, but right now all you can think is about the fact that Youngjae has got you covered. For a long, long time you’ve known that he is it; there is no going up from Choi Youngjae– he is your happy ending. And you believe he just told you, you are his, too.

“When we have kids,” You tell him, a bit breathless. “We can worry about this; for now, we can both be overprotective parents and take Coco home. I think Dalkyum might be a bad influence on her.”

“What? Why?” Yugyeom whines, frowning.

“Because I haven’t seen any of them for about fifteen minutes and I’m starting to worry.”

That sets them all in panic. Jackson is the first one to run, screaming for the dogs, while the rest follow suit. You walk hand in hand with Youngjae, and he is not as worried as you thought he’d be– mainly because he knows Coco would never stray to far away from either of you– but also because he can see her next to some children a bit far ahead. None of you say a word, though, watching the guys running around each other, and you wonder when did a search party for your dog turned into a game of tag.

“What are you smiling about?” Youngjae asks, leaning down to pick Coco up. In turn, you pick up Dalkyum, afraid that he’d wonder again.

“Just happy,” You kiss him on the cheek. “Happy you’re happy.”

“The whole family is here,” He laughs, and you smile; there is just something about Youngjae’s laughter that feels contagious. “What’s not to be happy about?”

“You’re right,” You hug Dalkyum closer, chuckling when Yugyeom calls you over. “They’re all here.”

—————————————

Am I the only one that thinks Youngjae is absolutely a chaotic good vibe?? He is so adorable, and his laugh is so contagious I could just burst every time I hear it 😚 What do you think of this one? Let me know! If you liked this story, please please please share, comment, like, or anything you feel comfortable doing ❤️ thank you for your endless support, lovelies💕

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mylittlerambledmusings · 4 years ago

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The Road-Trip Part Five

Part Four | Masterlist | Part Six

Rating: T +

Pairing: Frankie Catfish Morales x Reader

Notes: First off, Merry Christmas if you celebrate it, Happy Holidays if you celebrate something else, or just Happy Friday if you don’t! I never really expected this to go on for this long, if I’m being honest. I’m thinking maybe one more part and an epilogue if all goes as planned. Thank you again for all of your support, comments, and reblogs. They’re better than presents under the tree! ❤

Warnings: Mentions of death (briefly), cursing, and a bit (okay, still a quite a bit) of fluff, excessive drinking, throwing up, and a very comforting Frankie.

Summary: This was an idea from another prompt. The list is “Whump Prompts which are close to my heart. (If this is from your list, please let me know, it didn’t have a username to go with it.)

Prompt: Hey, hey, hey. I’ve got you, I’ve got you

The following morning you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you sat on the counter watching Frankie make breakfast as you drank your coffee. Marvin was leaning against his leg whenever he stopped moving for more than thirty seconds and Flex was letting you use him as footstool. You chuckled into your cup when Marvin tripped up Frankie for the tenth time this morning. He never got mad about it, just huffed a little and stepped around the big dog and then narrowed his eyes at you. “Something funny, hermosa?”

You bit your lip in an attempt to hold back your smile and shook your head. “Nope,” you responded, stealing a piece of bacon and taking a bite all while holding his eyes.

He grabbed up a piece and broke it in two, then threw them to the floor, using the distraction to slip between your legs. He pressed a kiss to your lips and then turned his head to steal a bite of your bacon with a smirk. You held out your cup to him and he took a sip and then narrowed his eyes again. “Are you trying to distract me from the fact you were laughing at me?” he asked, placing the cup he’d taken from you off to the side on the counter.

“I would nev-” you cut yourself off with a laugh as Frankie pressed his face into the crook of your neck nipping at the bare skin, his mustache tickling you as his fingers did the same to your sides. “Okay. Okay! Yes.”

“Yes what?” Frankie asked, nipping once more, chuckling against your neck when you jumped.

“I was laughing at you!”

“Was that so hard, hermosa?” He lifted his head and before you could react, he stole the rest of your bacon with his teeth, winked and backed away. You made a face at him and threw your leg out trying to kick him, which he dodged expertly, laughing as he went back to the stove. "Is this what I have to look forward to every morning?” You asked, grabbing another piece of bacon.

“You telling me you’re only moving in for the food?”

You laughed and reached out, grabbed his arm and pulled him back to you. You pressed your lips to his, gently running your nose along his when you broke off the kiss. “The food is just a bonus.” Your voice was quiet and more serious than either of you had expected. He leaned back a bit so he could see your face, the worry in his eyes fading away when he took in the look on your face. You licked your lips as your eyes dropped to his chest, a sudden shyness you hadn’t felt since the beginning of your relationship coming over you.

Frankie tilted your chin up with two fingers and smiled softly at you. He slipped that hand from under your chin, to cup the back of your neck, his eyes bouncing back and forth between yours. “Whatever you want, hermosa, it’s yours. You know that, right?”

You dropped the uneaten piece of bacon onto the counter and cupped Frankie’s cheeks, pulling him back to you. Your lips pressing together in a kiss that deepened the moment he opened his mouth. His grip on you tightened and he pulled you to the edge of the counter as your kiss got more and more heated. That was until there was a knock at the door, and then another, and another.

You broke apart like you were high schoolers that had just been caught by your parents, you stared at each other for a moment before you both started laughing. The serious moment broken by Benny who was now yelling and banging on the door.

Frankie moved back in for another kiss, this one sweeter, less frantic than before, only breaking it when his smile got too big. When he met your eyes he winked, straightened, and yelled something out in Spanish as he went to answer the door.

You took that moment to compose yourself and quiet down the dogs who had started barking while Frankie let in the guys. You slid down off the counter, meeting Pope for a hug as you took in the four of them. They all looked a little bruised but seemed to be moving as smoothly as Frankie had been, considering what had happened the night before.

You made everyone coffee and the five of you moved to the back porch with Benny sitting on the floor, forgoing a chair so he could play with Flex. Frankie pulled you down to sit on his lap as the others sat in the deck chairs, Marvin sitting beside him and leaned against his leg. The conversation flowed just as easily as the day before, this time the questions were directed at you and Frankie. How the two of you met -which only Pope had heard- how long you’d been together, and of course when were you two tying the knot, as Benny put it.

Frankie had huffed, tossing the tennis ball at the other man as he said. “Damn, Benjamin, don’t scare her away, I just got her to agree to move in with me.”

You’d smiled down at him and him at you, which, of course, had started the mixture of jabs and obligatory congratulations. Pope had gotten up, pulling you and then Frankie into a hug, telling the man it was ‘about damn time’.

The morning continued on this way until Pope spoke up and said that he and the guys had talked about it and they’d decided they’d rather spend the evening here. They’d go to town and buy up everything they’d need for a cookout and then they’d bring it back and set up the fire pit and grill. His reasoning was that it was easier and less of a chance of someone getting arrested tonight.

You’d all gotten a good laugh at that, but you knew that none of them regretted one moment of last night. They’d done it to protect someone and honestly, you were glad they had. It just proved that they were the men that Frankie had told you they were.

~*~

Frankie had taken the dogs and went with everyone else to town to get ready for the night ahead, which had left you blissfully and completely alone. You’d taken your time in the shower, gotten dressed in your most comfortable jeans, and had even let your hair in the messy bun you’d been sporting that morning.

By the time you’d come out of the bathroom the guys were back and setting everything up outside. You went out and asked if there was anything you could do to help, which resulted with you and Frankie in the kitchen, while the other three tried to figure out how the grill worked.

The two of you worked side by side, seasoning the steaks and burgers that the men had picked up and placed them on trays to make it easier to carry outside. You could feel his eyes on you and instead of asking what he was staring at, you just hip checked him as you took one of the finished trays to the fridge. The moment you’d set the tray down he reached out, caught you around the waist, and pulled you back to him. You gave a surprised yelp but went willingly. He pulled your hair back so he could press a kiss to your neck and then your cheek. “Thanks for being alright with us staying here tonight,” he said softly.

“Hey,” you whispered and turned in his arms. “You know I don’t mind… Plus, I like them. And you’re not going to hear me complain when I get to spend more time with you.”

“Let’s see if you’re still saying that three months from now once you’re stuck with me all the time.”

You shook your head as you pinched his side. “It’s not going to be all the time,” you pointed out. “We’ve still got our jobs. We’ll just be able to come home to each other and I really like the sound of that.” He smiled down at you and pressed your lips together. You broke off the kiss almost as soon as it started and frowned up at him. “But who’s to say you won’t get tired of me after three months?”

He scoffed and shook his head and instead of verbally answering he just kissed you again.

You’d just started to melt into his arms when you thought you heard the door open, but you weren’t really paying any attention to it until you heard Benny say, “If you two lovebirds are done in here, we might need some help with that grill.”

~*~

With the four of them, they’d finally got the grill to work and Will had started cooking, filling the grill up with more food than you thought they could possibly eat. Frankie and Pope had gone to collect some wood for the fire pit while you watched Benny throw the tennis ball for Flex. Marvin on the other hand, was leaning into your legs as you rubbed his head. You figured he still wasn’t sure about the younger Miller brother, and that was why he was sticking to you and Frankie like glue until he was.

Frankie and Pope got back just in time to get the firepit started before it started getting dark and after they’d got that going, the five of you sat around it just eating and sharing stories. You’d gotten to hear about Tom, their old captain and friend that they’d lost on the last trip that they’d taken together. When the mood got to be more than a little melancholy, you changed the subject to lighter things and in no time the men were back to themselves and laughing and joking with each other. Frankie had held you a little tighter, whispering a thank you in your ear as he pressed a kiss to your temple while the other men were distracted.

It went on like that for a little while longer until Benny pulled a deck of cards out of his back pocket. You couldn’t have known that that meant trouble, but when he’d suggested you all play the game Kings none of you all had any better ideas and it had seemed innocent enough, so you all had agreed. He had laid out his phone with the rules and placed the deck face down on the middle of the table set up outside. It had started off simple, Pope drew a six, which meant all the girls -you- drank. You drew a five, which meant all the guys drank. Each card stood for something like questions or tasks and it felt like every time a card was flipped you were having to drink for some reason or another. Before long the majority of the bottle Pope had brought was over halfway gone and you were more than a little tipsy.

While you didn’t want to be the first to drop out of the game, even your normally competitive side was waving a white flag of defeat. You were sitting on Frankie’s lap when you announced you were done, which was quickly followed by Will, Frankie, and Pope. It was more than you’d drank in a long time and you were definitely feeling it. That wasn’t exactly a good thing either.

Frankie rubbed your back as he leaned forward to look at you. “You good, hermosa?” he asked and you could almost swear you heard concern in his tone.

You nodded, which was a mistake because all that did was make the space around you start to spin. You closed your eyes, fighting off the nausea, your hand going to Frankie’s shoulder for balance. When you’d finally got yourself under what you considered control, you slid your hand up from his shoulder to pat his cheek. “Yeah, baby, I j-just need some water.” After taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes and gave him a lazy smile.

It took you a few tries but you finally stood, swaying slightly until Frankie’s hands gripped your sides. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, standing up behind you, his firm grip keeping you vertical. “I think it might be time for bed. You guys are more than welcome to crash here.” You heard some sounds of agreement but before you could chime in, letting them know you were good with it too, Frankie was steering you towards the house.

About five steps away from the door was where your stomach revolted with the amount of alcohol you’d consumed and you doubled over, emptying the contents of your stomach on the ground. Your knees had almost given out but a pair of strong arms wrapped around you and held you up.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Frankie said, comforting you as you threw up everything you’d eaten for the past twenty-four hours. You hadn’t gotten this drunk since college and now you were kind of remembering why.

The rest of the night was pretty much a blur, only a few things sticking out that you actually remembered. Frankie holding your hair back as you threw up again in the bathroom -at least making it to the toilet this time-, Frankie carrying you back to bed and helping you change into one of his t-shirts, and then Frankie telling you if you felt sick all you had to do was lean over the side of the bed because the trashcan was right there. You vaguely remembered apologizing for ruining the night but couldn’t remember what he’d said in return, only that he’d gotten you to drink a little bit of water before you passed out completely.

~*~

You woke with a groan, on your stomach facing away from the warm body behind you. The bed shifted slightly as Frankie tucked your hair behind your ear then ran the backs of his fingers down your cheek. You didn’t dare try to move yet, you already felt like death and you’d barely opened your eyes. “Oh, God…”

“Are you alright, love?” Frankie asked, gently rubbing your back.

Instead of using your words, you just groaned again and risked turning your face toward him, then pressed your face into his hip effectively blocking out the sun that had started coming through the windows. He huffed a short laugh as he ran his fingers through your hair. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Did you sleep?” you rasped after a blissful ten minutes of silence. He didn’t answer you but you knew he was awake because he was still rubbing your back. You chanced leaning back just enough to crack an eye open to look at him.

When he just gave you a sheepish look, you made a noise of and pressed your face back against his warm hip. “Frankie…”

“I’d apologize, but we’d both know I was lying.” Your eyes weren’t even open but you could hear the shrug in his voice. You lifted your hand to pat his chest and smiled against his hip when he threaded your fingers together. “I didn’t want to risk you rolling on to your back or me getting trapped in a…”

He trailed off when you squeezed his fingers and nodded against him. “I know, baby.”

“I’ll sleep tonight, hell, maybe I’ll even take a nap today.”

“Nap sounds good,” you agreed, smiling when he chuckled, until it started shaking the bed and you groaned.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry,” he said, quickly getting himself under control.

~*~

When you woke again, the bed was empty and you were feeling marginally better than roadkill. You cracked an eye open just in time to see a shirtless Frankie walk through the bedroom door.

“Alright, hermosa, time to get up,” he said, carefully sitting on the bed. You blinked up at him and frowned, but he was there and helping you up before you could even object.

With his help he led you to the bathroom where you saw the clawfoot tub over halfway full of steaming water. You turned your head to raise a questioning eyebrow at him and he smiled...No, smirked at you.

“The guys are gone.” His hands turned you again towards the sink where your toothbrush and toothpaste were waiting for you. The man was an absolute godsend, because your mouth? Yeah, you weren’t going to think about that. “And I just want to take care of you. So a bath, then maybe some toast, water, ibuprofen, and then you’re going to relax until you feel better.” He gathered your hair so he could place a gentle kiss right where your jaw met your neck. You shuddered as you watched him in the mirror and smiled when all he did was meet your eyes in the mirror and winked.

Once your teeth were brushed and you’d stripped down, you tested the water with your fingers and then climbed inside the tub. You couldn’t help the moan as you lowered yourself to sit. The water was hot and relaxing as hell. How had you managed to get so lucky finding the man in front of you? You couldn’t answer that, but you sure as hell weren’t going to take it for granted either.

You reached out to run your wet fingers down Frankie’s stubbled cheek as he kneeled beside the tub and smiled when he pressed a kiss to your palm. He took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you, Frankie,” you said softly.

“I told you, mi sol, anything for you.”

Tag List: @cxnnxrmar

#Triple Frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #The Road-Trip #Frankie Morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie catfish morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x you #pope garcia #santiago pope garcia #benny miller #ben miller #will miller #william miller #drinking #fluff

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magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics · 4 years ago

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Pulled - Sherlock One-Shot

Requested by anon: May I please have a one-shot for Sherlock where he proposes? Really fluffy and sweet Word Count: 1,211 Pairing: Sherlock x reader Warnings: Bit OOC Sherlock, just for the fun of it. A/N: My first fic in a while. I did it this way because I’m OBSESSED over that song ever since I started dating my boyfriend (because I’m the live representation of Wednesday Addams, thank you very much) and I just had to let it out somehow. Tags are under the cut.

Enjoy!

“Aw, Sherlock’s a softie,” Moriarty mocked. He was tied to a wall, for there was no ceiling in that part of the building.

“I’m not,” Sherlock insisted. They had been going on about that for a couple hours, as they waited for Scotland Yard to arrive.

“No, I’m not.”

“Soft kitty, warm kitty…” Moriarty started singing.

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you so eager to leave?” Moriarty pouted, “To leave me for her… To go on a date.”

“It’s not a date,” Sherlock replied.

“I think it is.” His nemesis insisted, “It is a special date because you even rehearsed it.”

“No, I didn’t,” he lied.

“I saw the piece of paper that fell off your coat when we were chasing after each other.”

“We weren’t chasing each other, I was catching you.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.”

Suddenly, a couple steps were heard. “Finally!” Sherlock smirked and got up from his seat on the wet floor.

It wasn’t Scotland Yard, it was (Y/N), Sherlock’s girlfriend.

“Sherlock, what am I doing here?” She inquired. The place was empty, and it smelled like rotten mice and filthy water. She didn’t know exactly where they were. “I thought we’d meet at the bridge to see the fireworks.”

“This is also a great view of the fireworks, my dear,” Moriarty spoke.

“What is she doing here?” Sherlock asked Moriarty, who gave him a childish smile.

“I might have taken your phone…”

“What am I doing here?!” (Y/N) asked again.

“He’s got something to say, right Sher?”

“I’ve got something to say,” he answered, not looking at her. “But I will say it once I’ve finished with him.”

“Oh, no, please” Moriarty cried, “I love a good story, please proceed. I won’t move, pinkie promise.”

“I won’t,” Sherlock stated.

“You know about the fireworks,” Moriarty said, changing his childish tone to a darker one, “Do it or else…”

“I’m not scared of you,” Sherlock frowned.

“Entertain me, Sherlock,” Moriarty continued, “or you’ll be scared for her.”

“Are you two high? You look high,” she took a step forward and Sherlock stopped her.

“Don’t, don’t try to get inside my mind like that.”

“I’ve set my conditions, I want the show,” Moriarty finished.

She took a step back and remained quiet for a couple minutes as Sherlock wandered in circles around her, rubbing his hands and licking his lips. He was attempting to mutter something but didn’t seem to find the proper words.

“I…” He cleared his throat, “I will start from the beginning.”

“You don’t have to do as he says, he’s the one tied up.”

Sherlock stared at her angrily. She apologised in a whisper and shut her mouth once more.

“Come on! This is getting boring!” The villain yelled. “Don’t forget your lines.”

“I-I don’t have a ‘sunny’ disposition,” he started in a rather sarcastic manner, “I’m n-not known for being too amused. My demeanour is locked in one position.”

“See his face? He’s enthused.” Moriarty interrupted and Sherlock fumed at him. “Sorry, please continue.”

“Suddenly, however, I’ve been puzzled.” He took a deep breath and stared back at Moriarty, who encouraged him to continue, “Bunny rabbits make me want to cry. All my inhibitions have been muzzled…”

“And why is that, Sher?” Moriarty asked.

“I’m… Being ‘pulled’ in a new direction.”

“And how does that feel, big boy?”

“I think I like it…” He whispered, “I think I like it.”

“Sher…” She started.

“Don’t interrupt!” Moriarty commanded, and (Y/N) got quiet again.

“Through my painful pursuit, somehow birdies took root. All the things I detested impossibly cute…”

“GOD!” Moriarty moaned.

“Mother always said ‘be kind to strangers, Sherly’ but…”

“Didn’t she know what they destroy?” Moriarty asked from the back.

“I can feel the clear and present danger, for my public image, when she learns that you have got me pulled in a new direction… And that I like it.” Sherlock continued, pulling a button that made Moriarty’s ties tighter.

“That was good! Do it again!” Moriarty groaned.

“This feeling, I know, is impossible. So I’ll confide that I’ve tried but I can’t let it go. It’s disgustingly true…”

“Pulled, pulled, pulled!” Moriarty squealed and Sherlock pressed the button again.

“I’m not understanding, in which direction, Sherlock?” (Y/N) asked.

“You know… Puppy dogs with droopy faces, unicorns with dancing mice, sunrise in wide-open spaces, Disney World…” Sherlock enlisted.

“I go there twice, every year” Moriarty commented.

“Butterflies and picnic lunches, bunches of chrysanthemums, lollipops and pillow fights, Christmas eve…”

“SUGARPLUMS!” Moriarty roared.

“String quartets and Chia pets, and afternoon banana splits, angels watching as I sleep…”

“And Liberace’s greatest hits!” Moriarty interrupted.

Sherlock looked back at him. “Would you mind?”

“Sorry, I got excited. Continue,” Moriarty said. Sherlock exhaled the last of his breath and looked at (Y/N) straight into her eyes.

“If you keep insisting, I’ll stop resisting,” he stuttered, “I know I should stay in the dark, not obey every spark… But, you’ve got a bite far better than your bark… And you bet I’ll bite too and… Do what’s really ‘taboo’ for me…”

“Sherlock,” she mumbled, as he kneeled down and took a box out of his coat.

“I wanted to do this at the Bridge, right before the fireworks started but this cock changed the fireworks for dangerous explosives,” Sherlock said.

“You’re welcome!”

“(Y/N), would you make me the honour to marry me?” Sherlock whispered as his eyes sparkled with a brand new glimpse of hope.

“YES!”

“It’s showtime.” Suddenly, the sky exploded with tons of fireworks.

“What the…?” Sherlock, who was hugging his bride-to-be, exclaimed.

“I had to put them somewhere!” Moriarty explained, “Guess where the button that activates them is!”

“NO!” Sherlock yelled, but deep inside he was laughing. He looked down to (Y/N), who hadn’t taken her eyes away from him, and kissed her softly yet passionately as the fireworks continued to explode on top of them.

As if that wasn’t enough, a couple of claps could be heard out of a sudden. Sherlock and (Y/N) stopped their kiss to look at the opposite end of the room, where Lestrade and John Watson clapped as the rest of Scotland Yard pointed their guns at Moriarty.

“Nice time to arrive!” Sherlock growled.

“We’ve been here for a while now,” Lestrade explained, satisfied with himself.

“Nice proposal, Sherlock,” Watson added, “I always knew you had a soft spot.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and lifted his coat’s collar, as a failed attempt to look mysterious. The officers walked past him, mumbling congratulations, and took Moriarty down to handcuff him and send him to trial.

“Before I go,” Moriarty said, “don’t ever say I’m a bad friend, Sherry. I’m letting Scotland Yard take me just because I was here to support you,” he pouted, “don’t forget that.”

They took him away.

“What a lunatic,” Sherlock whispered and (Y/N) giggled.

“Now that was a proposal,” John said as he approached the couple.

“Sod off, John.” Sherlock fumed, but they knew he was joyful.

“Very original,” John whispered to (Y/N), and the three of them walked back home as the fireworks continued to burst.

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luviisabella · 4 years ago

Text

Anon: Bakugo,Sero,Hawks, + Mirio react to accidental confession

SideNote: This is my first ask!! Thank you thank you thank you!! And I would love to do this!! Hopefully it’s good for your liking!!💓

➽──────────────❥

-Accidental Confessions-

HeadCannon

➽──────────────❥

Warnings: Fluff!! Angst, Fem’Reader!! Aged Up(18+)

Characters: Bakugo, Sero, Hawks, Mirio

Code Words: Y/N=Your Name, E/C=Eye Color, S/C=Skin Color, etc.

➽──────────────❥

Bakugo Katsuki

As harsh as he seems he’d be frozen. Just standing there like “🧍🏼”

Oh that’s when that shit eating grin pops up/You just boosted his ego by A LOT

So now he’s gonna get back at you or such an “abrupt” confession

He secretly liked you too anyway-

The only thing snapping him into reality was you ready to dash off

It started with You, Mina, and Asui

You were outside in the common room Friday evening talking to Mina and Asui while laying on the couch. “So you do like someone huh?” Mina started teasing..”Ribbit, it’s obviously someone from our school~”Tsu adding on. “Yeah..maybe-“ you looked away trying to think of a way to change the subject when Denki had walked into his dorm. Mina and Tsu looked at each other before looking back at you, “DENKI!?” They shout in unison, the howl making you whip your head back around with a confused look, “What about him?” You ask innocently, “You like Denki-“ Mina whispered, your face began to heat up. “N..no, not even close.” The stammering didn’t help jus ugh your case...”Oooooh Denki!!” They shout out to him, enjoying your reaction. Bakugo was walking down the hallway into the common room, turns out he forgot an assignment on his way out of your dorm while you two studied. “UGH I DONT LIKE DENKI I LIKE BAKUGO!!” Everyone froze, dead quiet..crickets. Bakugo frozen, Mina and Tsu just paralyzed. “Run that by me again?” You hear a voice behind you making you jump. You roll your eyes thinking it was someone messing with you. “I said I like Ba-“ words cut off. You were in absolute shock. Every nerve you held onto just exploded. You immediately turn back around and got up..”Kill me now-“ you mumble under your breath. Looking down and speed walking towards your dorm. A warm hand stopping you as it pulls you in from your waist. “You said my name? Now I’m here. What is it y/n?” Bakugou’s voice neutral for the first time, you pause sucking in the last bit of courage you have left and letting it all out. “I like you..a lot. I have for a while.” You bite your lip afraid of what was next to come when suddenly your body was lifted up in the air. “Well why didn’t you just say so earlier, I’ve been wanting to take you on since we first met” Bakugou’s words soft against your ears as his hands met your thighs holding you tight. “Katsuki-“ you mumble, “She’ll be right back guys, that’s if she can still walk” you shot your head up your body getting goosebumps from the thought of his words.”Katsuki!!” You scream down the hall, Mina and Tsu looking at each other. “It was obvious she liked him, I just wanted to hear her admit it” their laughs fill up the room and the night falls over..💛

Sero Hanta

Unlike Bakugo he’s more..mm shy about it that’s until he sees how embarrassed you are.

Mans saw you stand up and run off had him activate his quirk real quick

Now you were face-to-face with your crush

And no way was he gonna let that get past him

All started when he borrowed your number to meet up for a group party after school. You had it at the bottom of your contacts, assuming you wouldn’t ever need it but hey..it’s your crush why not keep it. To be fair many people were unsaved numbers, so one day your walking down the hallway during lunch ready to meet up with Momo and Toru, you were texting them on the way. “What!? You like someone!?” The ding from the notif sending vibrations to your phone seeing it from Toru in the group chat. “Since when!? And who!!” Momo follows, “Omg we must know him right?”..more texts snd texts follow as your phone dings repeatedly. Texts from others too, you got sick of it and just decided to confess..only to the wrong person-You clicked Sero’s name cause he texted you for an assignment and his was at the top you open it not even paying kind to the text and quickly going “I like Sero!! I have since school started!! Happy now!?” The aggressive text sent, you sigh hoping that would end the notifications only to here one more. “What now?” You scoff, you nearly dropped your phone when you read the text-“Damn that’s one way to confess, usually it ends with a kiss” your hearty DROPPED. Fear ran through you, how could you have been so stupid you quickly turned around trying to make a run for it when you turned around and rammed into Sero. Him off all people why now? You got up apologizing before turning back the other way when he grabbed you with his quirk and had you inches away from his face. “You like me?” He asks, subtle. You walking died right then and there..”Yeah.” The shakiness in your voice from one word unbearable to hear..you were so ready to end it all before he said..”Then I’ll make it worth your while mi amor~” followed by a kiss on the cheek and him holding your hand. Your phone dinging again, “Where are you?!!” Momo asks but you left the chat open forgetting your worries and following along with Sero, a smile piercing your face...🖤

Keigo Takami (Hawks)

You two worked at the same agency so it was bound to happen

But sheesh his reaction was worth the way you confessed

You were talking to yourself (which doesn’t even help the situation chile-😭)

Man...The expectation vs reality never ever gets old especially with Hawks

It was 7am Wednesday morning when you decided to get to work early. Usually your the only person there but you never mind having the place to yourself. You always made everyone coffee and made a special one for Hawks, not that he minded. It was sweet and cute if you to do for him, even if it wasn’t intentional. So as usual you made his coffee and went to go set it down in his workspace. You walk in as you normal but this time you notice a big pile of papers, “Um what the fu-“ you let out a loud sigh placing the coffee on his window sill before gathering up all the papers. “This is so unexpected of him..” you say aloud, “Usually his workspace is so tidy and spotless, what do I see in him sometimes?” That’s when you were met with a dark room, you thought the lights went out when you turn over only to see your winged lover next to the window. “See in who birdie?” He coos, you dropped the paper you were holding ready to shut the window before he quickly got in. Oh shit..A million and one thought cross your mind. “What are you stalking me for?!” Your only reply since you had nowhere to flee too, “I don’t know, why are you in my office?” He asks, inching closer and closer your heart threatening to pop out of your chest before he placed a hand to your waist and the other grabbing your wrist pulling you in. Leaning down he whispers to you “If you like me so much, come stop by my place around 8pm.” That’s when his door opened to one of your co-worker. “O..oh sorry I’ll go-“ he murmurs out of embarrassment, “Ah no it’s okay kid, come on in what did you need?” Hawks quickly replies, “It was about those files you wanted?” The co-worker responded. “Yes yes, thank you..I owe you one I’ll get right with you once I’m done with my baby bird here” his voice cocky. My. The word imprinted in your mind, you scoff a slight smile covering your face. “You are really a mystery, Keigo.” 🧡

Mirio Togata

Oh if you felt shy already be prepared

He would totally tease you about it at first

Don’t get me wrong he’s shy too but he loves seeing you try and hide from him it’s cute

I guess you didn’t learn the first time from Bakugo but you shouted it out with your friends

Oh man oh man, what great timing since he appeared right through the wall nearly giving you a heart attack

You and your friends were on top of the school roof during lunch break. (One could teleport, although theres a door that leads up there) “What’s new with you guys?” One of your friends asks. “Not much, I just got a job” your other friend replies and you both congratulate her. “How about you y/n?”..”Me? Same not much I just have a crush on someone” there food dropped. “A CRUSH!?? WHO!!?” They shout in unison. “Uh—I would rather not say” the butterflies in your stomach cause you to set your food down on the plate. “Aww come on!! Can I guess?” Your friend perks up, “Definitely not!! You’re the worst with guessing.” You bark back. “Fine then tell us” they both tease you. “I like Mirio.” Jaws dropped. “Repeat that y/n?” “I LIKE MIRIOOOOO!!” You shout sick of their child play and that’s only the beginning of your issues. “Y/n?” A soft spoken voice behind you. “Oh shit-“ you groan looking over to see Mirio. “That’s our cue-“ your friend says before grabbing the other one and getting away. Now it was just you and Mirio..and the thought of his name being screamed at on the top of a building. It lasted about 5 seconds before you tried to make your way off the building ready to just sacrifice yourself-.”Hey wait!!” You pause turning around and meeting his intense gaze. “I like you too.” His voice is so delicate it makes your stomach flip, he walks over to you and takes you off the ledge. “You do?” You ask him..”Of course, who wouldn’t fall in love with someone so gorgeous.” You smile, eyes lit up with joy..”But next time..try not screaming that from a building but maybe in my room.” You slap the back of his head playfully before grunting at his statement. “I’m kidding!! Sort of-“ as you two walked back downstairs..he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Cute”💛

Hope you enjoyed love!! Thanks again so much for requesting I hope it’s what you were looking for!!🥺💜💜

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evening-starlight · 3 years ago

Text

Chances {Chapter 3}

I have a problem and his name is Tom Hiddleston... midnight BABY

Master List

Edited in Grammarly

Not A Bot

Word Count: 1180

This is the chapter you've all been waiting for, Tom FUCKING Hiddleston asking me out on a date through Instagram. If you follow me on any social platform, you know I bring this up a lot. It's my favorite love story of all time. I might be a little biased because it is my love story, but you all seem to enjoy it.

Tom has also asked me to stop calling him Tom FUCKING Hiddleston in my book, so we all know that's the only name he will be known as now when I narrate.

A couple of weeks had passed since I bumped into Tom on the streets. Maybe a month or two? We were making significant progress on our album, the single we were stuck on was in production, and we were all high spirits in the studio the day it happened.

I laid with my feet in Naomi’s lap, head propped up on the arm of the couch we had in the studio, scrolling through Instagram mindlessly as Robbie recorded the melody to our third album song. We finished four songs, two of which are singles, off of our eight-track album. The last couple of weeks have been a blessing to us after our severe three-month block, and we had a lot of recording to do to make up for the time we lost.

A notification pops up on my phone that some Tom Hiddleston fan account had followed me and was now requesting a message. I chuckle lightly. These Instagram bots were fast; I liked a photo of Tom maybe three pictures ago. Naomi taps my legs and gives me the questioning eyes she's known to do. "Nothing really, just an Instagram bot saying they're Tom Hiddleston."

"Didn't you meet him like, last week?" Heather asks from her laying position on the floor.

"That was longer than last week, Socks." She rolls her eyes at me. "I'll bet you they're saying they're using their 'other account' and need my money to fly me out to meet him," I say sarcastically. I open it up anyway, just for a good laugh.

I can feel my entire body freeze at the message. It was not, in fact, a bot. I squeal, launching my phone across the studio floor, causing both girls to look at me in confusion. I can't bring myself to say anything. Instead, I stare at the phone on the floor.

Robbie comes out of the booth, looks at my phone, and picks it up. "I swear to god if this is another dick pic, I'm submerging your phone in acid." He jokes, cautiously looking down at the screen. I can see his eyes go over the words again and again. Just like I did. "No. Fucking. Way." Both girls sit up quickly, looking at Robbie to tell them what has me in a silent panic.

"Well, what is it, Dick Head? Stella won't tell us." Heather asks, getting irritated no one is talking to her. Instead of answering her directly, Robbie reads the text aloud.

"'Hi Stella, I know this may be a tab bit crazy, but I haven't been able to keep you off my mind for more than a few hours, at most. I feel horrendous that I spilled your coffee and would love to make it up to you. Much Love, Thomas.'"

The studio falls silent. Deafeningly quiet. Heather is the first to speak, "At least it's not a bot asking for your bank account information." She jokes. Naomi chuckles, slowly building into a full-blown belly laugh.

"What?" I snap. She holds her hands up in defense, knowing I'm not truly angry, just overwhelmed with the thought that Tom Hiddleston wanted to go on a date with me.

"Stella, you have to take this chance. It's not every day a god of a man asks you out on a date. It's Tom Fucking Hiddleston, for God's sake. That's not even once in a lifetime type stuff, that's," She pauses. "Once in a hundred lifetimes, type stuff." Robbie returns my phone to me. I stare at the message and the blue tick next to his name as Heather pipes up.

"I think it would be good for you. Obviously, you made an impact on Tom when he spilled your coffee. So he's asking you out." I shake my head.

"No, he's probably just being polite; that's who he is. It's not a date," I try to convince myself. Heather steals my phone, dashing into the booth with it before I can get my bearings.

"Only one way to find out," She yells, typing furiously on my phone. I leap off the couch to chase after her when I understand what she's doing.

"Heather, don't you fucking dare," I yell, yanking open the booth door. "You can't text for me, you use too many emojis, and he'll think it's weird." She giggles maniacally as she sidesteps me.

"Too late," She singsongs, handing me the phone. I look over the message. 'Like a date?' followed by numerous pleading eye emojis. I go to delete it before he sees it but get the dreaded 'seen' at the bottom.

"I'm going to murder you, Heather Long. Swear to God." I hiss, staring her down. She giggles and walks off, laying back in her position on the floor. She knows I'm all bark and no bite. But that doesn't mean she won't wake up with a dick on her forehead in permanent ink soon. My phone dings, telling me he replied. Everyone looks up when I gasp. Robbie chants, 'what did he say,' trying to get me to tell them what he said. "He said, 'that's exactly what I was hoping for, yes.'" The band cheers around me, Robbie shaking my shoulders in congratulations.

"Say yes," Naomi cheers. "Say yes for me, Please." Robbie looks over his shoulder at her, faking a hurt expression.

"Am I not enough for you, Naomi Bear?" He sniffles, making Naomi rolls her eyes.

"You're more than enough, Pudding Cup. But, it's Tom Hiddleston. Even you said you were a little gay for him." Robbie shrugs his shoulders with a head nod. Of course, we've all heard his drunken tangents about how hot the entire Marvel cast is.

My fingers shake as I type out the answer, taking my chance with this once in a hundred lifetimes type of guy.

And that's the end. I'm kidding; no, that's not even close to the end. We're just getting started. Heather did wake up with the permanent dick the following week after she slept over at my apartment. I will never feel sorry for that part. But I have thanked her numerous times for helping me take that step with Tom that I needed.

We still have lots of drama and toxic exes to talk about, so don't put the book down just yet. Unless it's past your bedtime, then go ahead. Or you're tired. Take care of you, Boo. But we have lots of pot-stirring coming up. And Tea piping hot from the kettle.

#Chances #tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfic #jared leto #Jared Leto imagine #jared leto fanfic #love #romance #fanfic #fanfiction #Original content #original character #tom hiddleston fanfiction #jared leto fanfiction #i got 99 problems and tom hiddleston could fix everyone of them

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jeogiyall · 4 years ago

Text

To The Beat; P.SH

Word count; 12.1k (i have absolutely no self control)

Genre; Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Seonghwa x Reader, Marching Band! AU

Additional; Featured Ateez, Entirely Self Indulgent, Flute Player! Reader

Warnings; Mentioned Sex, Swearing, Suggestive

A/N; so this is one of the more embarrassing things i’ve written,,, we’re just not gonna talk about the fact that i’m both a band kid and a kpop stan!! i’d also like to say that it is based entirely off of my experience with band! yes, we are poor, yes the kids are actually this mean, and yes they are this horny! the bus incident actually happened at my school y’all! band kids r a mess bye- also if u want to know more about marching band please ask me! i love to talk about it!

There were few things that you wanted more than this. Maybe a boyfriend in middle school, or first chair, but looking back even those pale in comparison. The want of those is pathetic compared to how badly you wanted to be woodwind captain your senior year. After being section leader for the flutes you were sure that it would end up how it was meant to, but sometimes even things that aren’t supposed to happen do. Like freshman year when the pit captain got his mallets stuck in the bell of a tuba, or when your newly appointed drum major (Kim Hongjoong, best friend since freshman year and previous woodwind captain/saxophone section leader,) cried on the field after stepping on a moth. Some things just end up wrong.

But here you are, sitting in the cafeteria of your school surrounded by the people you decided to spend all of high school with and feeling as full as ever. Your director's voice boomed, “(Y/n) (L/n,) woodwind captain,’ and you thought that no four words had ever sounded so perfect together. You stood quickly, legs carrying you to the front of the crowded space. People were clapping, as they do every year, but this time it was for you. For your hard work, and dedication, and everything that you’ve put into this program for the past three years. You cast a smile to your band director, heart soaring incredibly high that you don’t think it’ll ever come down.

“Congratulations.” She whispers while giving you a firm handshake. You murmur thank you before taking your place beside Hongjoong.

“We made it.” He slings an arm around your shoulder, using his free hand to pinch your bicep. You smile even wider, something that probably shouldn’t be possible, and open your mouth to respond.

“Park Seonghwa, brass captain.” The words coming from your band directors mouth erases any thoughts from your head. He stands from his seat in the back of the cafeteria, face taking on a smug smile. You want to kick him. Instead you stand taller, spine pulled so straight that it could crack.

People clap still, but instead of responding gratefully he smirks (Seonghwa is always smirking or grimacing. You’re not sure which you hate more.) Hongjoong turns to you wearing an expression of annoyance. Normally, you would comfort the boy and tell him that it’s whatever. Tell him ‘Who cares about Seonghwa? We’re going to be so good at our jobs that he won’t even exist.’ But he will exist. He will exist, and you care.

“Looking forward you working with you.” He says lowly while extending a hand to you. If it weren’t for your band director watching you would’ve spit on him.

“Likewise.” You respond coldly, taking his hand into yours. The skin is obnoxiously soft, no doubt from his habit of never doing anything.

After a long winded speech from your director, you and Hongjoong return to the table where your friends are. Everyone wears a grimace.

“Does he have to be brass captain?” San complains before pouting his lower lip. If he weren’t obnoxiously drumming his fingers on the table you’d find it cute.

“Why does it matter to you? You're the drumline captain, you don't have to interact with him!” He pouts even more, shoulders shrugging into his ears.

“I’m just like... Sorry for you and Hongjoong.” You sigh at the words while relaxing against your chair. It’s easier said than done, seeing as the chair is far too small and made of cheap plastic.

“Me too, but I’m trying to not count him out. No one succeeds when everyone thinks that they’ll fail, even self righteous assholes.” San snorts, then returns to exchanging banter with Yeosang. You, however, are not as lucky.

Brass and woodwind captains are the people in band who have to work together the most, everyone knows that. Everyone also knows that you and Seonghwa do not get along, a fact that was solidified when he made you take four props to the field by yourself during a competition. He dropped your flute on the way to the field, and caused you to arrive on the field almost two minutes late by refusing to help. You earned a nice time penalty and got yelled at by the director, ever since you and the boy have fought like it was a war.

But maybe this season would be okay. He said he was looking forward to working with you, and he’s not a liar. He might be rude, arrogant, and full of himself. But he’s not a liar, if Seonghwa says something he means it. And sticks to it.

So maybe this won’t be so terrible.

Being wrong was hands down your least favorite thing. It was something so rare that you didn’t really have to worry about, but this marching band season seemed to be all about being wrong. Well all about being wrong, and Seonghwa.

The first day of band camp he scolded Jongho, your only flute freshman, for not bringing water. The poor boy looked like he was about to pass out and all Seonghwa could do was tell him to bring some tomorrow. You took him out during lunch break and apologized for your fellow leaders tone deaf behavior.

But the second week of band camp was when he really started to get under your skin. It was the groups first time marching while playing, and fifth time running a lap for the night. As everyone settled back into place and brought up their instruments Seonghwa mumbled under his breath ‘Maybe if the woodwinds knew their damn music,’ then cut you a painfully pointed glare. No matter how much your brain tried to write the comment off as tired frustration, there was no denying that you wanted to punch him in the jaw. It would probably break him, you’re not sure that you cared..

And of course, there’s now. Band camp is over, and now you’re two weeks out from the first competition. Around this time last year was when Hongjoong started up woodwinds sectionals, so you figured you’d do the same. Why try to fix something that isn’t broken and all of that. Unfortunately Seonghwa had the same idea, seeing as he’s standing in front of you and clapping his hands harshly while the block messily executes a visual from your opener.

“Reset,” He barks, hands wiping sweat away from his forehead, “that was messy. We don’t do messy. Let’s go again.” It’s almost scary how regimented he is. Like for a minute you forget that he’s Park Seonghwa of your graduating class, and instead he’s the person that decides whether or not you’re allowed to breathe.

“Seonghwa!” You chirp, trying desperately to keep annoyance from seeping into the lines of your voice, “When will you guys be done? Just wondering, it’ our first sectional today so-”

“First? This is our fourth.” His voice is painstakingly polite, but there’s a smirk spreading across his face and you want to hit him until it hurts. Your teeth bite on the inside of your cheek, which is still pushed up into a smile.

“Yea, first. I just wanted to gauge everyone’s skill set-” you don’t owe him an explanation, you don’t owe him an explanation, “When will you be done?” One of his perfectly shaped brows raises, pink tongue darting to the corner of his mouth. His eyes quickly flick to his block, who are standing still as statues, then back to you.

“We’re staying until rehearsal tonight, you guys can have the gym.” The tone of his voice is back to normal, more commonly known as cold and infuriating. Hatred boils in your gut as you uphold a smile.

“But the gym doesn’t have yard lines. We need yard lines to practice marching, and since you guys seem to be just doing visuals you don’t really need them. I’m sure it would make everyone else happy too.” If looks could kill you’d be dead. Or whatever’s worse than dead, because he’s looking at you as though you’ve spent the last ten minutes trying to strangle him.

“Let me get one thing clear, I do not fucking care what would make everyone else happy. I care about doing my job properly, as you should. If you wanted the field then you should’ve started sectionals earlier, so go to the gym or cancel your sectional. I don’t care, just get off.” You’re left fuming and ready to burst at the seams as he returns the block of brass.

Later that day you talk to your band director about implementing a sectionals schedule. Something that would be made at the beginning of every week by captains and section leaders then posted in the instrument room. Something that would prevent today from ever happening again, but of course you don’t tell her that.

“That’s a wonderful idea, (y/n!) No one has ever suggested something like that before, nice job!” She smiles approvingly over her desk, hands typing fervently on her keyboard. You thank her, then duck out of the room. It feels wrong to accept her praise when the only reason for it is to piss off Seonghwa.

He’s here. It’s your scheduled time to have the field, 3:00 pm on Tuesday, and Seonghwa is here. Seonghwa is here, standing on the front sideline and looking at your group as though you interrupted him.

“What are you doing?” You demand while stomping up to where he’s leading stretches, “You know I scheduled my sectional for today, you’re in the group chat.” He pulls his right arm across his chest, definitely flexing on purpose.

“We’ve been having sectionals at this time for three weeks now, I’m not planning on changing it.” If it weren’t for four years of constant arguing you’d think he’s being polite. Everything from the relaxed facial features to his calm voice, but you know that this is always how it starts. A polite tone, quickly turned into sneers and words that taste like poison.

“Well plan on it.” You spit, stepping closer to the boy. He’s surprised by your boldness, so much so that he drops the stretch, “You’re not above the rules, adhere to the schedule and stop being an ass.” His shocked eyes morph into slants, like a tiger about to pounce on its prey.

“I may not be above the rules, but that doesn’t mean that you are the rules.” And there it is, the devilish quirk of his lips. It’s so blood boiling that you think he could be struck down by lightning and you would celebrate

“Oh you piece of-”

“Hey!” He shouts towards the bleachers, where the entire winds section is gathered. The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn’t even notice them leaving, “Did I say that you could leave block?” A bead of sweat rolls down the hollow of his throat, which is definitely not what you focus on as the brass scramble back into place.

“Seonghwa, I’m using the entire field. I’m the person scheduled, so you either have to stay on the front sideline or you have to leave.” He chuckles lowly, then turns to face you. His tongue smooths over the corner of his mouth again, you want to scream.

“I don’t take orders from you-”

“How about we just do the sectional together?” The low brass section leader, Mingi, offers quietly from his corner spot at the back of the block. He’s leaning one elbow on his contra, which is on the ground bell first, and trying desperately to hide his face behind his own hand. All that he manages to hide is his right eye, but it’s certainly an a for effort.

“No.” Seonghwa answers as soon as you sigh, ‘fine.’ His eyes shoot up to meet yours, finally filled with something other than anger or disgust, “Really?” An eyebrow quirks up so hard that it might as well grow into his hairline.

“Well if you’re not going to leave! I have things to get done and you’ve now cut into my sectionals time twice! So if sharing the field is what I have to do to get shit done then fine.” He stares at you in a way that makes you feel small, then shrugs.

“Fine, get into a block on the back hash.” You’re about to tell the woodwinds to stretch, but when you face the dented bleachers they’re all sitting in a circle with outstretched legs, exchanging laughter and smiles. Whatever Seonghwa took hold of in your stomach releases as your heart swells with pride.

“Woodies!” You call, smile spreading as everyone's eyes shoot up to meet yours, “Join the block!”

They shout back, “Yes mam!” Which makes you feel painfully old, and painfully happy.

The sectional went fine. Well, as fine as it could seeing as two people who nearly killed each other twenty minutes prior lead it.

“You were bad ass, (y/n!)” Resident bari sax, Yeosang laughs, “I really thought that fire was about to shoot out of your eyes.”

“I thought fire was about to shoot out of his eyes!” Yunho, the clarinet section leader, adds, “And you just stood there like ‘yea asshole, set me on fire! I can take it!’ No guys, I’m being serious-” All of the previous laughter from your boys halts as Seonghwa enters the room, steely eyes settling on your cluster of woodwinds. His eyes stay there, though you can’t blame him. If two sweaty teenage boys were staring at you like they’d been caught doing something wrong, you would stare back too.

“What?” He asks, the word so sharp that it could cut. Yeosang shakes his head while Yunho finishes putting his instrument away. The latter mumbles something about waiting for you in his car, to which you nod curtly.

“Okay, well... I’m gonna go.” Yeosang drawls, leaving the instrument room with the bari sax around his neck. You laugh to yourself at the sight of him waddling away, then return to what you’re supposed to be doing.

“You know, whoever holds a sectional is supposed to sweep the instrument room afterwards.” You exhale while moving to retrieve the broom from it’s corner.

“Oh, like you were just now?” He quips, hands moving deftly against his metal padlock. He doesn’t even need a padlock, the band director locks the instrument room door after everyone leaves. It’s just something else that he has to be annoying.

“Maybe it would go faster if you would help me, seeing as you held a sectional too.” They’re normal words, but your throat physically chokes on each syllable. The boy drops his lock, eyes narrowing as they come in contact with you.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t take orders from you?” He takes a step closer, until his crossed arms are brushing against your knuckles. His skin is soft, almost like he waxes. It makes your head pound.

“I guess until I stop asking you to do your job, and not just the part of it that gets you praised.” You continue sweeping, trying desperately to get away from the boy. But of course he picks up on it and follows you.

“I do my job perfectly fine, thank you very much.” You scoff loudly, chin tilting up so that you’re eye to eye with the boy. He smirks.

“Clearly, you don’t.” The tip of his nose brushes yours, then his lips are crashing into you. His lips are crashing into you, and you kind of like it.

It’s an aggressive motion, filled with him gripping onto the collar of your workout shirt and you dropping the broom. The part of you with a brain thinks that you shouldn’t kiss him back, seeing as you hate him and what not, but then he bites your bottom lip and there’s no hope. Anyone would melt at that sensation.

And melt you do, body going limp as he pushes you against the closest wall. You bring up a hand to trace the hollow of his throat, copying the trail of his sweat from earlier. His moan vibrates against your palm and it’s all that you can do to not die right then and there. Pressed against the instrument room wall, in the arms of the boy that you hate.

“What were you saying?” He growls into your ear while pulling you in by the waist. If you were anyone else you’d moan something incoherent and let him keep kissing you with lips that feel like pillows. But you are not anyone else, you are (Y/n.) (Y/n) who is stubborn to a fault.

“That you’re an asshole, who sucks at your job.” He smiles down at you, eyes filled with a certain kind of thunder. A hand wraps around the back of your neck, then slams your mouth onto his. Hot breath hits your cheek as kisses you senseless. As you let him kiss you senseless. He tastes like coconut lip balm.

“Wrong answer.” The boy exhales before attaching his lips to your jaw. You’re about to argue with him, because you just don’t know what’s good for you, but then your phone starts ringing. Probably Yunho telling you that he needs to get home. You need to as well, but it’s impossible to think about that when Seonghwa is devouring every part of you as if he’s been paid to do so.

“Seonghwa,” You start, but it sounds far too much like a moan so you have to clear your throat before continuing, “Seonghwa! I have to go.” He doesn’t let up, tongue running against the spot where your jaw pokes out.

“I’ll take you home.” His voice comes out rough, like if your hands ran over it they’d come back scraped. It’s almost enough to make you stay, but then there’s the idea of having to tell Yunho that Park Seonghwa is taking you home. That you were making out with Park Seonghwa, and it was so good that you didn’t want to leave so he offered to take you home. The thought of your friends reaction is enough to turn you off.

“No, Seonghwa, I have to go.” You pull his head off of your neck, running one hand through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. It’s sweaty, but doesn’t smell bad which is just infuriating, “Um... Do this again?” He smiles, but this time is a little different. His lips are still in a wicked curve, but his dark eyes have sparkles now. You almost think that he’s going to say something nice.

“You wish.” You want to tell him that he’s right, you do wish. Instead you sigh, push his body away, collect your bag, and leave with his gaze hot on your trail.

Seonghwa is still the thought that keeps you up at night with boiling blood. Everything from his evil smirk to the way his eyes always look unbelievably disapproving of everything. He’s infuriating in a way that evades words.

But there’s also other things to keep you up. Like the thought of his soft honey skin touching yours, or the way his throat feels vibrating against your palm. There’s him pushing you against the instrument room wall, but there’s also him yelling at you in front of the entire winds section. The line is slowly starting to blur and you’re not sure whether or not you like it. You are sure of two things, though. You’re sure that when you fall asleep all you can dream about is Seonghwas coconut flavored lips on your skin, softly whispering affirmations of hatred.

And that sometimes, things that aren’t supposed to happen do.

Before this season there were few things that you loved more than marching band. Maybe cookie dough ice cream, or speeding through downtown in the passenger seat of Yunhos mom van while Hongjoong and San yelled song lyrics from the backseat. Those were both good things, and the only things that even came close.

But then there’s now. There’s you and Seonghwa getting drunk off of each other while crammed into your school's equipment closet. There’s his soft hands pushing you onto the counter, his sweet lips growling crude words into your ear. There’s him kissing you, and then there’s something else that comes close to marching band.

Ever since freshman year your favorite feeling has been the one that you get after rehearsal. The feeling when your instrument comes off your face and pride swells all the way up to your cheeks. When San breaks from his final set next to you and offers up a childish grin, always accompanied by a high five and the words ‘Nice run, captain.’

Tonight doesn’t feel like that, tonight feels like your stomach is in the throat. Like the world is tilting and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Nice run captain!” San shouts, yet the words sound so far away. You nod slowly, high-fiving his outstretched hand while your free hand wraps around your own waist, “(Y/n?) Are you okay.” It’s all you can do to flash a thumbs up before falling to the pavement. Everything goes black for three minutes, but when yours eyes slowly open you can hear San curse. That, and also the entire band crowding around you.

You can still hear snippets of what they’re saying, but the thought of responding or comprehending is so exhausting that it could make you pass out all over again. Someone yells to give you space, a small part of you hopes that it’s Seonghwa.

For the record, it is Seonghwa. Seonghwa with furrowed eyebrows and frowning lips. His next words are to San, “Why didn’t you catch her?”

“I have a drum strapped to my body!” The taller boy shakes his head, setting down his freshly polished instrument and crouching next to your limp body. If you were more coherent you would’ve moved away. Or loved it. You would’ve moved away or loved it.

“(Y/n,) can you hear-”

“Hongjoong, (Y/n) died!” Wooyoung shrieks from across the field, causing actually everyone to flock to you.

“She didn’t die idiot, just passed out.” Yeosang responds while rushing to help Hongjoong off of his podium. The boy tries to jump the last three steps, which ends just as well as one could imagine. Everyone’s too busy staring at you to even notice.

“I told her that she should’ve eaten lunch!” Your drum major chides, “(Y/n!) (Y/n,) can you hear me?” He’s kneeling down next to you, sandy blonde hair tickling the tip of Seonghwas nose. You don’t even know why Seonghwa is still here, but a small part of you likes that he is. Almost like you two are more than boiling hatred and stolen kisses.

You hold a thumbs up to your friend, it takes every single ounce of your strength. Of all the reactions that you get, Seonghwa sighing in relief is the most satisfying.

“Told you she’s not dead.” Yeosang mutters from where he’s standing over you. Wooyoung sticks his tongue out to the boy, you almost want to laugh at their antics.

“Okay, Yunho is taking care of your field mics and prop. Do you think that you can walk by yourself?” You frown while turning your thumbs up into a hard thumbs down, eliciting a chuckle from your sweet friend. Seonghwa doesn’t laugh though, eyebrows still harshly furrowed while he stares down at your frail body.

“I’ll help her down to the band room.” He offers, causing Honjoongs eyes to go as wide as quarters. Along with Yeosangs, Wooyoungs, Junghos- pretty much anyone who knows anything about either of you, “I-I just don’t have a field job, and I can get Mingi to take my stuff down for me. She needs to get off the field soon, it’s slowing down the clean up.” Hongjoongs eyebrows clench slightly, but he eventually shrugs. You don't know whether to be grateful or to fight him.

But none of those thoughts are in your head as the tall boy scoops you up in his arms bridal style. His usually soft skin is tacky with sweat, yet he smells like fresh pine and spices. You think that it’s not fair that he smells good after a three hour rehearsal.

The last thing that you hear before dozing off against his chest is “You’re an idiot.” It’s whispered into your ear in a tone that almost makes you think that he’s being sweet.

The next time that your eyes open Seonghwa is propping your body up on the counter in the equipment closet. Something in your chest burns bright red at the memory of what the two of you were doing here after last rehearsal. It consisted of your hair in between his fingers, and bright purple hickeys blossoming on his neck. Now he’s forcing a huge water bottle into your face while trying desperately to hold you up by your shoulder. Considerably less sexy, to say the least.

“Drink.” He says curtly while handing the see through bottle to you. You accept with a shaky nod, then drink the water like you’ve been in the desert for the past fifteen years. It takes a minute before he manages to pry it away, “Hey! Not too fast you’ll get sick, and stop chewing on my straw!” A dry laugh escapes your lips, head tilting back ever so slightly. You don’t see the way that Seonghwas eyes trail on the hollow of your throat with a gaze so intense that it threatens to burn.

“Why’d you offer to bring me up?” You croak while reaching for his water bottle once again. He relents with a sigh, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“No reason, just didn’t want you blocking up the clean up. Everyone was so focused on you that nothing was getting done.” His voice is flat, holding no traces of emotion, but you know that there’s something more. There was a reason that he was the first person to fall to his knees next to you. A reason that he scolded San for not catching you, “Don’t overthink things, (Y/n.) And stop chewing on my straw!” He snatched the water bottle away from you once again, causing both of you to laugh softly.

“Sorry.” You sigh, body relaxing as his soft hand comes to rest against your jaw. It’s a gentle touch, something so foreign in this relationship that you’ve created with your fellow captain, “About your straw, not the overthinking. Not that I was overthinking.” He exhales a short laugh at your witty remark, a signature smirk tugging gently at his lips, “Come on Hwa, just admit that you like me.” He leans in closely to you, hot breath fanning against the place where your neck and jaw meet.

“Okay,” He exhales, mouth dangerously wet and sweet, “I like you.” The words ricochet against the shell of your ear, teeth tugging against the skin where they’ve imprinted. It feels so good that you could collapse. He pulls away slightly and presses a tender kiss to your temple. You think that while you like when he throws you against a wall and kisses your lips numb, he’s good like this too, “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still hate you.”

And then he leaves you in the musty equipment closet, with nothing except for his water bottle and your burning hot cheeks for company.

It happens like this; forty minutes after everyone’s finished clearing off the field. You were putting your flute away into your assigned locker when Seonghwa barged in grumbling about something that you couldn’t understand, then pushed you harshly against the lockers.

“Hwa, wait! I still have my flute, I can’t drop it!” He bounced back at your exclamation, head hanging cutely as he let you finish.

“My bad.” He muttered while reaching into his pants pocket to apply coconut chapstick. The part of you that hated him wanted to gag, but the part of you that kind-of-sort-of-maybe liked him was excited to kiss the taste off. You shut the locker door with a loud slam, then turned on your heel once again to face the tall boy, “Okay?” He questioned with a quirked eyebrow. You nodded eagerly, hands screwing into the collar of his cotton t-shirt.

“Okay.” Then his lips were crashing harshly into yours, hands touching your body with a fever that can’t be measured. You all but collapsed beneath the sensations, “Your diagonal at the end is shit.” He whispers against your needy lips. Instead of responding, you tightly pull on his hair. It’s as if to say ‘Fuck you just follow the form.’ His low groan is a simple answer, ‘Absolutely not.’

He’s just starting to do that thing that you really like, the thing where he pulls you as close as humanly possible by your waist and the nape of your neck, when a high pitched scream erupts from the instrument room door. Even though it sounds like one of the freshman girls, you both know that it’s Wooyoung without even having to look.

“Shit!” Seonghwa curses, hands detaching from you so fast that your back collides with the lockers, “Oh gosh, (Y/n) are you-”

“Can’t talk, gotta run see you tomorrow!” You rush in one breath, dashing out of the door and into the band room. Wooyoung is about to walk out of the exit and into the parking lot, the parking lot where Yunho and Yeosang are waiting for you, “Woo, wait up!” You pant, stopping him right at the exit ramp.

“Do you guys do that after every rehearsal?” He questions, eyes blown wide as saucers, “Oh no, is that why we all leave so late? Ew, gosh, gross, gross, gross! That was so gross, like actually the grossest making out I’ve ever seen! It was so weird and hateful, a-and... And weird! I would’ve rather walked in on you guys fucking- nope take that back, I would not have liked to walk in on that. Wait, have you guys-”

“No!” You shout, hands coming to clamp on the frantic boys shoulders. Your eyes check the room while you lower your voice before continuing, “We’ve never done that, it’s just kissing. Weird, hateful, kissing.” He nods, face still twisted up in disgust.

“Why would you do that to yourself? Like, he’s kind of a dick to you.” You sigh heavily and bring up a hand to wipe the lines off of your forehead.

“Yea, but he’s also sweet sometimes. Not to mention like, really good at kissing-” Wooyoung gags dramatically at your answer, you think that if you weren’t so panicked that it would be funny, “Look, just please don’t tell anyone. Especially not my friends, I think that this is supposed to be like... A secret thing? I just want it to stay a thing, and I just know that they’d lose their shit...” You trail off, words turning into nothing but indecipherable noises and flailing hands.

“Why does he want to keep it secret?” Wooyoung asks with an uncharacteristically soft voice. It’s a question that’s been nagging in the back of your mind since last week in the equipment closet, when he softly whispered the affirmation against your sweaty skin, “You’re obviously into each other, so why?” You don’t answer, opting instead to bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you think it might start to bleed, “Maybe ask him about that before you worry about your friends.”

It’s late after your thursday rehearsal. You’re pressed flush against the door to the equipment closet, Seonghwas plush lips hot on your throat, when silent tears start to fall down your cheeks. For a moment they remain silent, mixing in perfectly with the whimpers you were letting out just moments ago. But then it hurts too bad to hold in, and you let out a loud sob.

“Jeez, it can’t feel that good.” The boy teases, face falling harshly when he sees tears mixing with your post-rehearsal sweat, “Oh no, oh gosh, was I too mean? I didn’t mean it, you’re really good at marching! Like-” You wave him away, not wanting to be doted on. While you and Seonghwa have definitely gotten... Closer over the past two weeks, this is certainly overstepping. More than that, it’s like barreling past the line and leaving everything around it crushed.

“It’s not that,” You respond, hands releasing from the fabric of his shirt (a black tank top that perfectly highlights his toned arms.) He wants to tell you that they could stay there, that they could stay wherever you want. So long as it makes you stop crying, “It’s... I don’t know what it is.” The words are flat, clearly a lie. You don’t want to tell him why you’re actually crying, that you think some part of you has actually started to like him. But not just like him as a friend, as someone that you wouldn’t mind spending a day with. More like, someone that you fall asleep to. Someone that could kiss you for days and it would never bore you.

“I, uh, I don’t know-” He doesn’t know what to do, which is painfully clear. You don’t particularly mind that he doesn’t know, just that he’s here. Here for you to hold if you need to. Until he also starts crying, that is, “why are you-”

“Shut up. I just, I cry whenever other people cry!” You cast him a questioning gaze, mind jumping to all the cases where he did not do that.

“That’s so not true, Mingi literally cried two days ago and you laughed at him!” You wipe at your cheeks fervently, hoping that he wouldn’t say anything about the red that was definitely painting your face.

“He cried over DCI! That doesn’t count, I cry for things that matter...” You want to ask what he’s about to say, to tell him that there’s no real reason for you to be crying either. But you don’t, because he’s crying. Sad, crystal tears that paint his sun kissed cheeks, and his arms are open for you, “Can I hug you? I feel weird not doing anything.”

You don’t say anything, just fall into the open space and inhale sharply. He smells sweet, and feels warm. Not the gross kind of warm that touches every part of you, but the comforting kind. The kind that feels like wearing fuzzy socks and sipping on hot chocolate.

“Don’t feel weird.” You mumble, lips moving softly against the fabric of his tank top, “I-I have to go soon.” He shushes you, hands softly rubbing the line of your shoulder blade.

“Just five more minutes.” It’s almost like a plea, like he needs it too, “You can’t go out crying, they’re gonna think that I did something.” He didn’t... But in a way he did. In a way, he made you fall for him by having lips that taste painfully like coconut. He made you fall for him by kissing like he’s made of fire. He made you fall for him by always smelling like a fall candle.

“You didn’t do anything.” You whisper, but it’s a lie. Because he did do something, something that he doesn’t even know about.

He made you fall for him, which is something that definitely wasn’t supposed to happen.

In your freshman year there was an... Incident on the bus (one that consisted of a girl, her boyfriend, and very loud sex) which unfortunately resulted in separate boy-girl buses. Which meant no more sitting with Yunho, no more sharing snacks back and forth with Yeosang, no more geeking out over music with Hongjoong and San, and no more ignoring Seonghwa for hours at a time (a task that you found very satisfying as a meek little freshman. It was clearly before you learned how to argue.)

But then Junior year rolled around, and there were too many girls and not enough boys. Your director said that it would be fine for some girls to switch over, which equated to being back with your friends. The first time that you climbed onto the bus all of your friends cheered, to which you responded with bowing down jokingly.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes harshly, then muttered something that you couldn’t hear. What you could hear, however, was Wooyoung laughing and telling his friend to lighten up. He’d always been so sweet, up until two weeks ago you didn’t understand why he’d be friends with someone like Park Seonghwa. You’re starting to get it now.

“(Y/n!)” San cheers from the back, eyes crinkling into an excited smile. Someone starts clapping, the same way that they always do, and you laugh. Seonghwa claps as well, to which Yeosang shoots him a look that reads ‘what the fuck.’

“I’m sorry, the only seat left is next to-” Seonghwa. The only seat left is the aisle chair next to Seonghwa. Yunho’s eyes look apologetic as he tells you, but then there’s Mingi curled up next to him with hot cheetos and a gallon jug of water and you can’t even be mad at him. Even if you still despised Seonghwa, you wouldn’t be mad.

“It’s fine.” You respond quickly, one hand coming up to pinch the boys cheek. He smiles brightly, “Since when have you been friends with Mingi?”

“I guess as long as you’ve been friends with Seonghwa.” The comment is quick, painless. Almost like you could tell him everything and he wouldn’t mind.

“Fair.” You slide down comfortably into the seat with Seonghwa, pulling a pack of dried apple slices and sour gummy worms from the stuffed book bag around your shoulders, “Hey.” The word is tiny, almost a whisper.

“Hi, love the snack selection...” He opens up the bag of apple slices, popping one into his mouth before offering them back to you, “Good to see you.” It feels like there’s more that he wants to say, but instead of pushing you giggle and accept an apple.

“You saw me two days ago, dummy!” He smiles softly, heart going limp at the (now friendly) teasing. You turn away before he can keep talking, jumping immediately into banter with your friends, “Hey, Wooyoung! Can you call Jongho back?” The boy in question glances at the empty seat beside him then moves things for a second before cupping his mouth to shout to the front.

“Jongho!” Your freshman looks up with wide eyes, “Sit with me!” He grins widely, throwing back a thumbs up before gathering all of his things. You mouth ‘thank you’ to Wooyoung before turning back to Seonghwa.

“Do you know who has the speaker?” Seonghwas eyebrows furrow, making it painfully clear that he was not paying attention when the boys decided this.

“Yeosang, I think. Him or Hongjoong, somewhere in that seat.” You know immediately that it’s Joong, Yeosang never takes his speaker out of the house, “You better not play that shitty playlist-”

“My playlist is fire, thank you very much!” You slap his bicep with one hand while the other clutches your chest.

“No it is not, half of it is Hannah Montana!” His laugh is sweet, with a slight edge seeping through. Like there’s a dash of liquor in your coffee, “Joong, I have the playlist!” Your friend smiles affectionately and cheers, accepting your phone with a radiant smile.

“Everyone say thank you, (Y/n)” He teases, which unfortunately results in the entire back half of the bus chorusing back ‘Thank you, (Y/n.)’ You giggle softly, a sound that ricochets through Seonghwas head.

“Thank you, (Y/n.)” He whispers into your ear. If you two were alone in the instrument room he would’ve nipped at the skin there, the loss of that touch makes your body shudder. Seonghwa smiles at the way you roll your neck back, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“You’re welcome!” You respond to everyone else. Right as you turn back to Seonghwa, Britney Spears floods the entire bus, “You’re welcome, Seonghwa.” He smiles, you almost think that he’s going to kiss you.

But then the bus starts moving, and everyone is cheering ‘First comp! First comp!’ You join in with a smile, Seonghwa rolling his eyes at everyones antics. Like he’s much too cool to have fun. Two weeks ago it would’ve been obnoxious, but now you think that it’s painfully endearing.

That seems to be the nature of things with Seonghwa. Everything that used to be the worst part of your day now brightens up any situation. You think that you hate it. Yet it’s also painfully okay.

Right as the band is done warming up for the competition your band director tells everyone to find a buddy to zip their jackets. You’ve always been able to do it by yourself, but before you can maneuver your hands to the space in between your shoulders Seonghwa is there.

“You’re gonna rip the jacket,” He grumbles, fingers making quick work of the zipper (there are definitely not sparks flying down your spine as his fingertips brush against your show shirt.) He pats it once after finishing, “good luck out there.” You turn around, hands dusting off the orange and black jacket. It hasn’t been worn in months, yet it’s like putting on your favorite dress. Comforting, empowering... Almost normal, yet if you were to wear this to a school or a grocery store you’d feel entirely insane.

“Let me get your-” He waves the question away right as you notice that Wooyoung is already taking care of it while chattering excitedly, “Oh... Good luck to you too!” Something about the lights of the warm up lot on his tan skin mixed with his uniform that elongates his legs and broadens his shoulders makes your stomach fill with butterflies, “You look good.” He grins in a way that’s shy.

“Thanks, you too.” In that moment you know that he must like you, because there’s sweat on your brow and a light slump to your shoulders. Every ounce of hair is plopped to the top of your head so it’ll fit in the shako, but Seonghwa said that you look good. He said that you look good, and he never lies. Not even to you.

“Mingi!” Wooyoung screeches, barreling towards the taller boy (who’s conversing excitedly with the drumline captain,) “Can I have an Oreo pleaseeee-” Mingi’s face twists a little bit, but eventually shifts with a wide smile.

“I don’t know, they’re Yunho’s so-” The boy in question shifts ever so slightly in his spot next to you. He flashes an apologetic smile to you before running up to take his boat of fried Oreos. He pinches one between his fingers and drops it into Wooyoungs mouth, who catches of the air like an excited puppy, and then offers one to Mingi, “Okay I guess it’s fine.” The contra player answers through a full smile.

“They’re so cute.” Yeosang coos while slinging his arm around your shoulders, taking Yunho’s spot. You smile and grab onto the boy's hand where it hangs down, “Before you ask, Joong is getting food with Jongho. Now, how was your run?”

“Fine, good. Always room to improve, y’know?” You both nod, knowing the exact feeling that you’re talking about, “But it was good.”

“And Seonghwa?” The question comes out so calmly that you almost miss it, but when the words finally settle in you’re left sputtering and confused.

“W-what?!” He looks confused, but you feel panicked. Down to the core of your body, you are panicked.

“Well you guys are friends, right? Like you seem to be friends now and... It’s okay to be friends with him. You don’t have to pretend like he’s not your friend, and it seems good too. For him, he’s nicer lately.” Warmth blossoms in your chest, rising all the way up into your ears as your eyes involuntarily move over to where the boy sits on the bleachers. Where he sits alone, “Go ask him to join us.”

“Really?” Yeosang nods, hand releasing from yours as hope rises along with your blush. A small giggle slips past your lips, “Okay. Yea, okay! I-I’ll be back, um... Yea.”

When you settle down next to Seonghwa he greets you with nothing more than a curt nod. It’s strange, to say the least, but you brush it off. He’s probably just pissed about something, because he’s Seonghwa and always pissed.

“Hey,” You exhale, “h-how was your run?” He shrugs, shoulders tensing violently.

“It was good.” He’s supposed to ask how you did, and you’re supposed to say what you always do. But he doesn’t ask, so you don’t answer.

“U-um... So I was just wondering if... L-like if you wanted to have- not have, if you wanted to-” He looks you square in the face with a glare that could cut, “I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with us.” One of his perfectly sculpted eyebrows quirks, tongue darting to the inside of his cheek.

“If you want to make out you can just say so.” Something clenches around your vocal chords, throat closing up so hard that you think you could choke, “You don’t have to make up some bullshit excuse about wanting to be friends.” It’s not quite clear what tips you over the edge, maybe the biting tone of what he says. The hatred in his eyes that you were so sure you had moved past. The flicker of excitement that dies in your chest, but prickly tears start to gather in your eyes.

“What?” You squeak, swallowing hard, “I-I just wanted to-”

“To make out like we always do.” Those are certainly the words that come out, but they can’t be right. He can’t be actually saying that, because it’s not what you always do. Just two days ago this boy held you so tenderly that you could’ve broken, and now he’s looking at you like he doesn’t even know your name.

“Oh, um...” There’s a part of you that could cry. But then there’s also the part that could bite back, the same way that you would at the start of this season, “Just, fuck off.”

You barrel out of the stadium like a train that’s on fire, mind focused on nothing other than sinking down into your seat and crying. Or screaming. Or doing anything to get something out of your body. You’re halfway there too, weaving in and out of the rival schools buses with ease, until somebody's hand grips your wrist tightly.

“(Y/n) stop!” Seonghwa. His pink lips are parted and panting. You pull your hand away and cradle it into your chest, fire forming on the tip of your tongue.

“Do not touch me.” The words are spat out like venom, causing him to physically recoil. It’s strange honestly, how less than a month ago this was your normal form of communication and now it’s something that hurts, “Don’t touch me, or talk to me, or even fucking look at me.” His eyebrows crinkle, the soft skin there folding ever so softly.

“I-I just thought that-”

“Thought what? That you could make out with me, and comfort me while I’m crying, and fucking carry me to the band room, and that I wouldn’t care about you? That’s what you thought?!” Earlier this season, back at the second woodwind sectional, Yeosang said that he thought fire was going to shoot out of your eyes. You didn’t get at the time, but now you do. Now, with anger pulsing through every last vein in your body, you understand. Because you want to slap that stupid confused expression off of his face, you want to make him cry the way that you’re going to cry, “Fucking answer me, Seonghwa!”

“I... I definitely didn’t think that you would care about me?” He knows it’s the absolute wrong thing to say as soon as your jaw solidifies into a harsh line. It’s one of your tell tale signs, along with steely eyes that pierce straight through his chest. It seems that pissing you off for three years had some benefits, “Nope, no. Definitely not that, I-”

“Fuck off.” You bite harshly before turning on your heels and storming off towards the bus. He’s about to follow you, but something about your clenched fists and shoulders that are raised so high that they could mold into your ears tells him to stay behind. You’re not sure whether to be grateful or pissed. Maybe both.

When your back finally slides against the cheap leather of your seat, it’s clear. Definitely both. Grateful because there are fat, snotty tears falling down your cheeks with reckless abandon. Because your sobs are so loud that the people on the next bus can probably hear you. Because you’re crying in a way that you never have before.

But pissed, because no one has ever held you as tightly Seonghwa did just two days ago. Pissed, because the person who you were supposed to hate more than anything just broke your heart. Pissed because something that wasn’t supposed to happen did.

After hours (or minutes. Maybe seconds, you don’t really know) of crying you sit up and assume the natural post competitions pose. Knees hugged to your chest, fingers touching knuckle to knuckle, and head resting softly on the sweating window pane. When your eyes close Seonghwa is the first thing that you see, followed by dark sleep.

An hour later all of the boys crowd onto the bus, filling the space immediately with loud dialogue and banter. Hongjoong leads the group, holding a trophy nearly as tall as his torso and wearing a smile brighter than the sun. You quickly scan down the line for Seonghwa but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“Hey! Where were you, we got fir-” Hongjoong halts at the sight of your tear stained cheeks, jaw falling slack at the sight of your wrecked appearance, “What happened?” Seonghwa ducks onto the crowded bus just as your mouth opens. You don’t know whether you should let it all out or pretend like everything is fine and go back to sleep.

“It’s nothing, just tired.” You don’t believe yourself, and the drum major's tight lipped smile let’s you know that he doesn’t either. With an exhale and a soft ruffle of your hair, he moves back to his shared seat with Yeosang. Making just enough room for Seonghwa to slide in next to you.

“(Y/n,) I-” You twist to the seat behind you and drop the half eaten bag of gummy worms into the drumline captains lap. San looks up with a thank you already on his lips.

“Wake me up when we’re twenty minutes from the school?” He nods with a smile, hands already ripping into the bag of candy as if he’s starving. You poke the tip of his nose softly before falling back into the seat, where Seonghwas legs are touching nearly every part of you (really only your thighs, but it feels like he could sit farther away. Like he should sit farther away,) “I’m going to sleep, San’s going to wake me up so don’t bother with it.” His eyes look sad in a way that makes you want to scream.

“(Y/n-)”

“Goodnight, Seonghwa.” You manage through the fresh lump forming in your throat.

Though your head hits the glass immediately, you can’t fall asleep for almost twenty minutes. Chattering boys and Mingis terrible playlist isn’t exactly the best backdrop for sweet dreams. But they settle down, cheers turning into yawns and a bluetooth speaker into Mingi and Yunho sharing earbuds. You do fall asleep eventually, but it’s not the booming bass of Mingis meme rap.

When you fall asleep, it’s to the beat of a rattling windowpane that won’t fully close and Park Seonghwa breathing deeply next to you.

There’s always a trend of depleting motivation after the first win of marching band season. Like freshman year after the regional competition, the following rehearsal was absolute torture. Color guard flags colliding with brow bones, entire passages of music forgotten, and too many dropped drumsticks to count. Then there was junior year (which painfully mirrored the season prior,) in which everyone was sentenced to laps until the sun went down. Each year you’d huff dramatically while complaining about the lazy members, to which Hongjoong would listen with a heaving chest.

Needless to say, that’s changed for the worst (just like everything else this season.) You spent the first lunchtime rehearsal moping drastically while refusing to make eye contact with Seonghwa. All of your friends asked you what was wrong, to which you made up a lie about having an empty stomach. Yeosang saw right through the lie, seeing as he watched you wolf down a chicken biscuit, but he didn’t say anything. In all honesty he probably knew what was wrong but was too conscious to bring it up, an act of kindness that you couldn’t thank him enough for.

Then there’s now, Tuesday after school. Four hours before rehearsal, more commonly known as sectional time. Even more commonly known as designated argue with Seonghwa time, which you don’t want to do today. A small part of you wants to make Yeosang fight him, but the other part knows that it has to be you. It’s not as though you have any other way to get out your anger with Seonghwa (there’s messy makeouts in the instrument room, of course, but you’d rather cut off your own lips than kiss him. Or you’d give the world to kiss him again. Somewhere in between the two.)

You take the final step onto your practice field, fully prepared to see a block of brass being run ragged by Park Seonghwa. But he’s not there. No one is except for your group and Wooyoung, who’s at the front of the field busying himself with tangled field mic cables. You glance around wildly before bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. It’s genuinely infuriating how upset you are that Seonghwa isn't here, but there’s no time to think about that now.

“Um... Yunho and Yeosang, can you guys lead stretches over by the trailer?” The trailer which is parked on the exact opposite side of the field from where Wooyoung is, “Jongho too, just... Go through the basics, please.” They nod dutifully before leading the group away, Jongho doing so with an earth shattering smile. You wait until they’re all seated and chattering before moving over to Wooyoung, who’s adorning sad eyes and hair that’s too long tied back into a ponytail.

“Hey, (y/n.)” He greets quietly while placing the mic cable into its case. Your stomach churns tightly at the conversation that’s about to happen.

“Hey... Where’s Seonghwa?” The words feel like slow acting poison, the kind that’s threatening to eat you from the inside out and leave you for dead.

“He’s having sectional in the gym, said that you’d probably need the field.” That’s when it kicks in, burning a gaping hole into the center of your chest. You want to scream, or cry, or for Seonghwa to hold you so tightly that it hurts. Instead you stare blankly at the space next to Wooyoungs head, eyes glazing over and body going numb.

“... Oh, h-he was right.” Wooyoung nods before moving on to the next mic cable. It’s so silent and awkward that you almost think that you should leave, even with poison burning in your chest. Even with sadness eating at your skin.

“He told me what happened, and like... The stuff that he said. He doesn’t want to miss you.” Your band director always says that silence is the most impactful thing in music. You never got it until now, because there’s Wooyoung saying these things. Saying all of the right things that you want to hear, a call that waits for your response. Then there’s your response, that leaves a gaping hole in the score of this conversation, “He seems sorry.” You mull it over, words ringing sweet in your skull like an isolated harmony.

With a soft nod you respond, “Me too” before rushing away to where the woodwinds are assembled already in a block. The poison leaves you as sectional bleeds into rehearsal, but for a brief moment your eyes meet Seonghwas and you’re made painfully aware of the hole that it’s left where your heart should be.

The last moments in the warm up lot are spent with you trying to zip up your own jacket, and then Seonghwa swooping in to do it for you. His fingers brush the space between your shoulder blades, sending a shock through the core of your being. Goosebumps raise on your neck as his warm breath hits the skin there.

“You’re gonna rip it.” The words come out so much softer than the last time he said them, completely void of any teasing. If anything there’s tenderness, akin to the night that he had to carry you into the equipment room. Caring, gentle, loving. Everything that you’ve learned about Seonghwa in the past two weeks shining through in four words.

“Yea.” You swallow harshly, gloved hands moving to adjust the front of your jacket. It’s already pristine, but you need to do something with your hands or else your body will explode, “Good luck.”

The director calls everyone into show lines before he gets a chance to say “You too.”

It’s always a struggle to get dressed on the bus after a performance. For starters, your band has to get the cheapest buses possible so there are a grand total of three lights which flicker in and out of commission. You’re also one of the only girls, which just makes things weird, but your seatmates are usually pretty good at helping you hide..

Like now, with San holding up your oversized cardigan while you rumble through your book bag in search for clothes. The space is filled with rambunctious chatter, including Mingi, Yunho, and Wooyoung arguing over who’s going to buy the fried oreos (Yunho suggests three way rock paper scissors, which ends just as poorly as anticipated.) For a brief moment Seonghwa is speaking too, laughing with Jongho about a field judge that they accidentally knocked over, which is the only thing that your brain hears for the next five minutes.

“(Y/n,) are you almost done? My arms are getting tired.” Even without seeing the drumline captain you just know that he’s pouting. It’s basically laced into his voice, causing guilt to pang in your chest.

“Yea,” You exhale while pulling out the more comfortable clothing (a dark green crew neck sweatshirt with fuzzy black sweatpants. You’ve been dreaming of the moment that you get to change since waking up,) “I just can’t see!” The boy chuckles with a nod that shakes the cardigan barrier.

“Hongjoong and Yeosang want me to tell you that they’re leaving and they hate you-”

“San that’s not what I said!”

“Hongjoong is saying to never speak to him or his family ever again.” The drum major sighs dramatically before slapping the side of Sans head, causing the boy to cry out like a child. A laugh bubbles out of your throat as the sweatpants come to a halt on the curve of your waist.

“I’ll text you where we’re sitting!” Yeosang calls from the front of the bus, which is now entirely void of people, “Joong I’m leaving you!”

“They’re a mess.” You grumble while pulling the sweatshirt over your head, “You can go San, I have to repack my bag and stuff.” He drapes the sweater over your head and tosses a packet of fruit snacks into your bag.

“Alright, I’ll probably be with the three amigos.” He’s already halfway out of the bus before you fully process the words, resulting in a giggle.

“Is that what we’re calling Mingi, Yunho, and Wooyoung?” He smiles the smile that makes his eyes crinkle and flashes a thumbs up before ducking out of the bus, leaving you to hum quietly to yourself. There’s something special about seeing an empty space when it was bursting with energy less than two minutes ago. Clothes are thrown around everywhere, uniforms hanging from cracked windows that let in an autumn breeze, bags thrown haphazardly into seats. Like a mist of peace has been pumped into this broken down bus, and you’re the only person lucky enough to see.

The only person until Seonghwa walks onto the bus, that is. You scramble to hide underneath your seat, praying to every being above that you managed to remain unseen. That you wouldn’t have to endure the painfully awkward conversation that’s about to come.

“(Y/n?)” He calls. While it sounds sweet, he’s biting back a laugh from the loud ‘thud’ that you made by rolling out of your seat, “Can you get off of the floor?” There’s a small bite in his tone. Where it should make you angry, it just makes you want to cry.

“No.” You answer, body curling in on itself. A small part of you is genuinely considering staying on the floor, but there’s something sticky about two feet from your hand Seonghwa moving back to where you sit. While the thought of facing him is embarrassing, the thought of him seeing you sitting on this disgusting floor is much worse, “You don’t get to talk to me like that anymore.” His nose is almost touching yours when you stand up, sparking a flame in your stomach (you so badly want it to be anger. Red, hot anger. But he’s looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows, warm light flickering against the plane of his face, and you want to kiss him more than you want to breathe.)

“I’m sorry.” He swallows heavily, pink tongue smoothing over puffy lips. You try to shove past him, but you’re halted by a hand on your shoulder, “Can we just talk? Please?” Sparkles form in his eyes, twinkling at you like stars. It hurts your stomach.

“No.” The word is hoarse, definite as you harshly push past the boy and storm towards the front of the bus. He’s trailing behind, hands still trying to grab at your own.

“(Y/n!)” The boy pleads, which does nothing to help your growing frustration. If anything it makes the tight coil of anger in your stomach snap, covering your body in nothing but fire.

“Seonghwa!” You bite harshly, turning around so quickly that your foreheads nearly bump together, “Leave. Me. Alone! It’s insanely rude to make someone like you, to kiss someone like the world is ending, to convince them that you care all for some weird sense of validations and then demand that they hear you out. I don’t owe that to you, so stop acting like I do!” Despite the firm words, your feet stay planted in place. As if leaving means that this is over forever.

“I know you don’t owe me that, I just... I want to explain myself, please just let me do that.” The light starts to flicker again, allowing you to see the sharp lines that compose his face. You’re supposed to say no, to leave and sit down in between your favorite people and make fun of other bands horn angles. Every part of you is screaming to go do that.

“You have ten minutes.” Clearly, you aren’t doing what you’re supposed to.

“Okay, well um... I’m a dick? Like, just a huge dick and it’s just now setting in that I can change. S-some part of you showed me that.” When the light flashes across your bodies you can see that his eyes are brimming with tears. They’re different tears from last time; more timid and less silly. You want to dab at the one that spills down his soft cheek, “And I’m sorry. For tripping you in rehearsal freshman year, when your elbow got scraped?” You nod, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. There’s still scar tissue travelling up your shoulder from that night, “And for telling you that your solo at regional auditions sounded bad. It actually sounded really really good, which you probably already knew... Oh, a-and um for blaming the woodwinds for not knowing their parts, because honestly we didn’t either I was just being... A dick.” You inhale deeply, trying to push down the hope bubbling in your chest. While the words are promising, you know all too well that apologies are meaningless without action.

“Why?” The hope is quickly replaced with tension that’s definitely trying to make you cry.

“Why am I sorry, or why am I a dick?” In any other context it would sound funny, but now it’s just a question. A genuine, innocent question that Seonghwa is asking you with a face twisted into sweet confusion. You shrug with a deep exhale, trying desperately to stall your erratic breathing.

“Either... Both. I just want to know why.” Seonghwa sucks in a breath, then runs his hands through his ink black hair before releasing the air. It’s embarrassing how you follow his movements as if they’re the tip of a conductor's baton.

“Um... Well, I think I was a dick because I thought that having people didn’t matter if you were good. That if I worked hard enough that it wouldn’t even matter that I was lonely, but you have both. Good and loved, not to mention kind. Always so kind.” The light has stopped flickering, leaving the two of you in complete darkness. It doesn’t matter, because his voice wavers slightly at unspoken memories and you know that he’s smiling, “Which is why I’m sorry too, I guess. Because you never did anything to me other than show me that I didn’t have to be like... This.” The next words are so quiet that you barely hear them, “And for making you think that I don’t care about you.”

“Don’t say things if you don’t mean them.” Your eyes find his through the darkness, locking together like it’s the only thing happening in all of the world.

“I mean it.” It’s a deceleration scribbled into the space between his body and yours, signed by the weight of his hands cupping your jaw, “I care about you.” Goosebumps rise on your forearms as they wrap around the boys slim waist.

“Seonghwa-” There’s probably a right way to do this. A right way to fall for the bane of your existence turned friend. It’s out there somewhere, written up in perfect cookie cutter steps that are easier to follow than words on a page. They definitely don’t include him whispering the affirmation, ‘I care about you,’ against the skin beneath your ear while covering the space in wet kisses.

The boy wraps a hand around the back of your neck before pulling back. You can see him clearer now, all pleading eyes and taunting lips, “Can I kiss you?” It sounds like the climax point of a piece, the part where a chord rings out as the tempo slows just enough to make it itch. You nod while snaking a hand around his jaw.

Seonghwa moves in as if you’ve never kissed before, noses bumping softly. There’s a soft giggle, the rattling of uniform hangers against window panes, and then Seonghwas lips touching yours as if you’re going to break. So much is the same, like how his lips taste like coconut or the spicy scent that floods your nostrils, but it’s different too. Different in the way that he moves against you, in the way that his teeth don’t bite at your lower lip, in the way that his hands cradle every part of you that they touch. He feels like a caricature and more like a person, like a person who’s kissing you softer than you’ve ever been kissed.

“I like you a lot.” He whispers while moving to kiss the corner of your mouth. Old Seonghwa would tease you for the whine growing in the base of your throat while trying desperately to hide the way that you’re affecting him, “Cute.” He exhales, becoming putty in your hands.

“Please stop talking and kiss me.” It’s clear that he tries to smirk, but the moment is too soft for it. Too gentle for the fire that his quirked lips elicits in you; instead he gives off a perfectly soft smile. Gentle and caring, more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” His thumb runs across your cheekbone, then to the crease of your nose, and finally all the way down to the set of your jaw. It feels like he’s setting you on fire, “Okay.” His lips brush yours softly with the movement, followed by him leaning in so terribly slowly. You think to yourself that you’re going to love him.

In the moment before his lips touch yours there are two things; two hearts beating faster than is safe, and his phone ringing loudly. Your eyes shoot open right as the boy mouths ‘fuck!’ with a dramatic eye roll. You offer him a quiet laugh along with a quick kiss to the tip of his nose, “It’s okay, answer it.”

“No, I don’t need to. Just Wooyoung telling me to bring him his wallet.” You nod silently, nearly crying at the way that his hands untangle from you, “I’m really sorry, I wish i could stay but-” You silence him with a quick peck to the lips, he thinks that he’s going to love you back.

“It’s okay.” You whisper, “We can pick this up later.” He really does smirk now, the familiar look tempting you to stay and kiss him until your lips fall off, “Go get his stuff, I want to see the bands!”

After ten minutes of Seonghwa fumbling through Wooyoung's bag in the dark, the two of you finally leave hand in hand. It feels strange, yet at the same time like what’s meant to be.

“Seonghwa, wait!” you call as your boyfriend pulls you into the shared bus seat by your book bag straps. He was only trying to be sweet, but unfortunately failed to think about how pulling you would probably result in falling. There’s a yelp, and you tumbling into him, then of course a loud groan as your palm collides with his collarbone.

“Oh my, oh gosh, I’m an idiot. Ow.” Mingi is laughing at you two, and it’s only a matter of seconds before your so called friends start throwing things, “Let me help you up, also did I mention ow?!” You laugh brightly and press a kiss to his temple before pushing yourself up into a sitting position.

“I think so.” You swat his hand away from your arms and pull out a box of tissues (packed in preparation for the last competition tears that were almost a guarantee,) “I need to check on Joong, okay?” He smiles gently with a nod.

Hongjoong is in the very back seat laughing his ass off while crying violently. It would be weird if he hadn’t done it three times before, each time at the last competition of the season. Sophomore year you asked why he was crying, to which he responded that it makes the crying less awkward. And that it makes everyone else laugh.

“Has anyone told him a joke yet?” You ask while ducking into the huddle of your friends. San is sitting next to the drum major and passing him candy, Yeosang dabbing at his cheeks with tissues that are quickly depleting. He accepts your fresh box with a silent nod.

“Not yet.” Yunho answers while throwing a sealed water bottle to Mingi, who also has tears rolling down his face.

“Okay um... What do you call a cow with no legs?” The boy looks at you with wide puppy dog eyes and a gummy worm hanging from his mouth, “Pork chop! Oh no, that’s not right wait-” The boy starts to laugh even harder as you shout ‘Ground beef! Stop laughing I meant ground beef please-’

“Did she just say pork chop?” Wooyoung asks through a screeching laugh while breaking his way into the circle. You nod as your sides clench, stinging tears burning in the corners of your eyes. Seonghwa eventually comes back too with Jongho, taking purchase in the seat across from the slowly dispersing huddle. Somehow you fall to the floor of the aisle and settle between your boyfriends legs. He plays with your hair in a manner so relaxing that Mingi’s meme rap is barely audible (still audible though, sadly.)

Similarly to the first competition, you fall asleep. Only this time it’s to the drum of your friends shouting excitedly and Seonghwas heart beating in perfect time with yours.

#ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #ateez #seonghwa ff #writekpop #admin reid #if u enjoy pls like or leave something nice!#sorry if it's hard to understand

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naturaldisasterfanfiction · 4 years ago

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34. Part 3

I snorted laughing at Dennis, he’s a funny guy but Robyn is staring at me that I’m playing about “you look like a single father, Robyn’ refusal to actively be in the pictures” Dennis came over to me with the camera in hand, getting up from my position to see “looks like it’s the Chris and Zeus show, the dog looks so smitten with Fenty” looking at the pictures “that looks like those cringy fucking People magazine pictures, I think the picture we want is Robyn being with me. How about your hand just in the picture, just let Fenty hold your finger. Just do something” Robyn rubbed her forehead, annoyed I asked “ok, do that. But I think we need you topless Chris, and Fenty out of that dress and just in a diaper. I just want it to be bare all. Holding her up to you, your nose just nuzzling the side of her face, just her cheek. Position you carefully and have Fenty looking at me in the camera. If we can angle it we can have Fenty holding your finger and also Robyn, we can figure it out. Just strip” nodding my head “we going to have to strip you baby” waking towards Robyn but Mel rushed over “let me hold her” nodding my head carefully letting Mel take Fenty “oh my god, look at her. I am crying again. Hi you beautiful soul, oh god. Hey baby. I’m crying guys! Again” Mel is so emotional “I am so happy for Rih, she’s waited on this moment and she’s got it. Praise to the most high. She’s precious, congratulations to the both of you. Wow, I’m staring at baby Rihanna, no offence Chris” I laughed “non taken, I wanted that” people don’t understand that I wanted that, she’s my mini Robyn, probably fiery like her too “I wanted this, I wanted to have a mini Robyn, so what she looks like my wife. That doesn’t offend me, who wants to be me anyways” I laughed, I’m crazy as fuck too so nobody wants that.

Robyn refused to even have her hand in the shoot because her nails weren’t done, she is just doing things beyond me now “Chris, look at me” Dennis said, I keep glaring at Robyn, I feel annoyed that she won’t even have her hand in the shoot, she is being so silly “uh yeah” looking at Dennis “hold Fenty up to you, kiss her cheek” I am just so annoyed “I can’t do this, I feel like you are being unreasonable right now, are you being real with this!? Like seriously, your nails are fine. How are you doing this to your daughter, she deserves better. You know what, I am deciding, I don’t want my daughter on the internet. I know you; I know what you wanted, you wanted to not do this like you’re acting erratic, now you’re doing things because of Ronald! Fuck him” Fenty whimpered in my arms, I may have shouted a little too loudly now, maybe too loudly “I am sorry” I apologised “he has the pictures of my daughter, he is using them Chris. I need to do it before he does it! Before he posts it, don’t you get it, just listen to me. I am not having it, this my news to tell! Fine, we stop the newspaper posting it but he has the picture and how the hell would I stop that!? He can still post it, you promised you would listen to me” I sighed out “I fucking did but you’re not playing ball, you read that article and now acting like this” walking over to Robyn “the depressed bitch I am, yes you’re right, just fucking listen to me because if my dad post it first and you stood there wasting time I will not fucking forgive you!” she pointed in my face “guys, come on now. Fenty, she looks sad, my sis is not happy. Let me just say my piece and then you both can continue to argue. I think Chris, that you should let her do it now, Ronald has the images and the information, Robyn. You look fine, I am looking at you now, you look good. Fuck your dad, he is a horrible man, how dare he say that about his own daughter, sickening, he literally dragged you. He did what the world wants to see, that you’re depressed and married also, now lets just do this. Robyn is right but we need to just gather together and make this a nice a little family event, come on Chris. I want some pictures with you too, I will be Rihanna” Jah is stupid, I try and not laugh at his stupid ass.

Robyn went off to feed Fenty, she is so moody and is just not happy and I understand “can I post this picture once Robyn does the whole reveal?” Jah asked “of course, I think we make a good couple” Jah hit my arm laughing “I am the top” he pointed walking off “ayo, Mel. I need to ask you, like I didn’t want Robyn to see the article because I honestly found it horrible, it made me sick to my stomach but like now what do I do. She is just shut down, she is stone face, you know?” Mel sighed out “I know, I didn’t want her to see it either but Chris, not going to lie. You know what to do, I am not going to tell you what to do. Just give her some loving, yes Robyn has now shut down. She is hurting, she is now on the war path. I think just give her a moment. Let her do it, and then you just love her Chris. You can do it; she may be mean. She may be rude, but she will break, her heart is hurt right now, and I don’t blame her. He stole her joy; her joy is her little family. She got it and he took it and ran with it. It’s so unforgiveable so I want you to just ride it out, listen to her. Let her do it, support her. She needs it right now, we know Robyn. When she shuts down she can be destructive but not as bad as she would be, she has a daughter now. Just that this is all new to us, to me. She is a mother so her bite will be different, she is angered. Like I haven’t seen her in a while and she looks great, she looks like a new mother. I don’t get what they want, they want the old Robyn back and that is not it. She is a woman, she is not fake and hasn’t done anything to her body, so they need to fuck off, my poor sis” nodding my head “thanks for being here, we were so happy earlier. She is there telling me we need to spend time together and the whole nine and now she has just shut down” I need to do what Mel said, support her.

I thought I would go and see what Robyn is up too, she is upstairs now being all quiet. I am just so fucking angry; I was about to go in the bedroom, but I turned back around. It just hit me, I have his number and I am just angry. Getting my phone out from my pocket, unlocking my phone and scrolling down. Someone needs to beat his fucking ass; I want to fucking beat that fucking ass I am so fucking done. Placing my phone against my ear, I just want to find something out and see how this plays out “hey” Rajad picked up the phone “was your dumbass big brother involved in that?” I said straight up “hell no, never. He was not involved in that and I can put my life on it, we just found out now from Robyn, she was crying on the phone and I can promise you, Rorrey is here he didn’t do that” Rajad didn’t waste no time in playing around “give me that” I heard Rorrey say “if I was going to sell any type of story it would be about you and how I dislike you, you think I would belittle my sister like that. I mean I do shit but to you, and that is it. That is all my dad, I can promise you that” Rorrey barked on, he has a point he would “and I wouldn’t stoop that low to sell my neice’ photo that way” I really want to beat Ronald’ ass “what y’all gonna do about it, sit there and take what he did?” I am trying to get them to do what I should be doing “he’s not at the home, I went to see him, and he has also turned his phone off. He does this when he has done something bad, I am not involved int hat. Don’t even think it” that clears that “you better find your dad before I do, he came in this home and took pictures of us in this family setting celebrating a moment, the more y’all pay the more you’re pushing Robyn away, trust” disconnecting the call, that is the most civil call Rorrey and I have had, I think he didn’t want to eb involved in that shit.

I am sure Rajad said Robyn was crying, maybe I heard wrong because she is hard faced right now “so what you are going to do, get your Instagram back up. I need you to” Robyn’ voice broke as she clasped her hands together breathing out “don’t, so yes. You need to bring back your Instagram and I need you to just post something nice about me” Robyn is so emotional, tears filling her eyes, how can she let that get to her “why are you asking me to do that” Robyn moved back from me “no, don’t just please. Stay away and do it, just please post something that you are happy or whatever, everything is just falling apart around me. Things were supposed to be quiet and slowly released, not this. Jen said that they accept but I don’t trust them. It hurts me to know they have my daughter’ picture, like how can I let that happen just do it and I am coming down” how can a woman beautiful like Robyn think that I don’t get it and I am confused. She is letting that article get to her “why are you taking in what that article said? You are so beautiful Robyn, when did that ever get to you?” I asked “it came from my dad, it hits differently” Robyn walked off, I really need to get her alone tonight after this.

I have missed Royalty’ Instagram posts, oh my god she is funny “why is my daughter hilarious” I said laughing “Roro, what she do?” Jah asked “this little girl is posting Rihanna pictures, her latest post is Fenty lipgloss day” turning my phone “awww, look at her Mel. She is Rihanna’ biggest fan, oh my god. I can’t wait to see her again, she is hilarious” I chuckled, my daughter is the funniest person alive, commented on her post ‘I miss you beautiful!’ posting the comment, as soon as I pressed send my phone started to ring, it’s Royalty “what’s up?” answering the call “you’re back dad!” she shouted “I am, I love all your posts. I really do, I can’t wait to see you though. I am back for a while” Robyn is here finally “Royalty, I need to go. I will call you back, I need to talk to Robyn. Love you, bye” disconnecting the call “so I have been looking through the picture with Dennis, and I like this one” she turned her phone to me, it’s the one where I am holding Fenty against my chest, she is facing the camera and staring at the camera “I thought, they know it’s your from your tattooed hand and your body tattoos but it shows your wedding band and Fenty is serving face too, I have been looking at these picture so hard to pick out an imperfection the world would do to her, and this is it and I am right now so angry I am doing this” nodding my head “it’s perfect” I agreed “so I wrote, To be releasing this out of spite hurts me, the people I love selling my daughter’ pictures for a quick buck. My daughter is not a pawn, but before this comes out I am the one to post this first. Fenty Clara Brown, a true blessing. God’s blessing, the peace I needed when I was feeling low. She will be loved; she will know love and her first love will be her father. Her immaculate features, her little smirk which exposes her dimple, when she stares with such love in her eyes. Perfection, perfection we created @chrisbrownofficial. So I am going to post this and then another one on our wedding day, let me get that open” nodding my head but I am too busy staring at Robyn in sadness, I just feel for her so much.

Robyn turned her phone to me “before the world found out, look at my smile” looking at picture, smiling at the picture “happier when the world is shut out” I said smiling “yeah so I wrote, this happened. I married my best friend, and I don’t regret a single thing, I married my best friend in Mexico alongside my best friends, sorry if you weren’t invited but if you are a friend to me then you will understand why. This alongside the birth of my daughter is the most special date for me, happiest when I am in his arms. The most misunderstood man with the sweetest soul and the most love to give, I am not going to say this was all easy because it wasn’t, we are human, we are not perfect. When I found out I was pregnant I expected him to be a baby father, that was all. That night in Barbados he turned to me and told me he wanted to make me an honest woman out of me, I thought to myself me, an honest woman nobody wants me to make me that. But he meant it, and he meant every word in our vows. He is with me now, looking at me in sadness knowing that my own family member is doing this to me. Some may disagree but it doesn’t matter, I married my one true love, and I am proud of him, proud to be his wife. Just call me Robyn Brown from now on” Robyn looked up at me, she got choked up “awww Chrissy is emotional, you baby” Jah patted my leg, she got me for real choked up here, I think it is a lot going on right now.

#Chrianna #Chrianna FF #Chrianna Fanfiction #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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the-headbop-wraith · 4 years ago

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2_27 What Matters Most

There was never anything good on the motel channels. They had HBO, if you could decode static; Animal Channel (Mystery snorted in disgust?); shopping networks and cheap crap; news, news, and yes, more news stations – he didn’t want to watch the news.

He left the channel on the Infomercials. The lady in her finely manicured nails was showing off the stupid floor cleaner and mop, with whatever ugly green lacy head they were trying to push off on people like his step-mom. It was background sound, he absorbed the vibrations but not the words, not the message. He could’ve made it out to be something metaphorical, the mop brush and the techniques to utilize it by, all presented by a ditzy red head with too bright red lipstick. Like his old mom, so straight and narrow and always aimed in the wrong direction, getting mad at the wrong people; only good when she listened, but she never listened enough.

He looked over at the clock for what must have been the eightieth time in two minutes; he was getting restless and hungry.

“Where are they?” Dimitri asked aloud. The dog near the pillows on the bed raised his head and looked at him. After a moment, Mystery put his head back down between his paws and gave a long dog sigh. “You miss them too?” Mystery twitched one ear in response and flattened them back. After a while, Mystery gave his bandaged paw some attention, pulling the loose bandage back over the rich chocolaty fur of his toes. Dimitri lay down on the bed and reached out to the dogs neck, and that seemed to ease the mutt. “I know they wouldn’t leave without you,” he said.

Mystery closed his eyes and relaxed for a bit longer.

Two hours later, Dimitri was hurriedly shutting the motels door behind him. He checked to make sure he had the card key in his pocket, and nudged Mystery away with his leg. Mystery had followed him out, but the dogs sole purpose seemed to be to get in his way. “C’mon, I just wanna take a look around. It’ll be all right.” Truth was, Dimitri was worried. Despite Mystery’s company, he was afraid the Mystery Skulls had left.

Like always, when they dropped him off the day before they left him with a walkie-talkie in case he needed to get in touch with them. The batteries were dead, and that only fueled his paranoia that maybe they knew or sabotaged the communicator on purpose. Before they left he was assured they were only going to run a few ‘errands,’ and not be long about it. By errands, Dimitri presumed they were going to snoop around the town. That was fine by him, he didn’t want to be a part of that.

Well, now it was late-late in the afternoon, the time difficult to discern exactly even if you were from this region. The sky was bright but the clouds remained thick and gray, the air had a brisk glow within the air. His breath misted and hung around his flushed cheeks as he exhaled. The thin layer of frost from the night before remained preserved in thin patches along the sidewalk beside the rooms, and the road had greasy gray streaks from earlier traffic.

Mystery followed Dimitri, tugging at his calf and nipping at his ankles. It was obnoxious, and a few times the dogs sharp snipped at his skin.

“Cut it out Mystery!” Dimitri hissed, and stamped his foot. Mystery stepped back and pulled his head high, the expression behind his spectacles was quizzical and annoyed? “I mean it. A few seconds, then back to the room.” Of course, Dimitri was lying. If Mystery Skulls did take off, then he was gone too. Where he would go was a good question, but he’d figure it out soon enough.

Mystery was dodging around his legs, trying to cut him off as he moved out of the sheltered corridor that separated the two sides of the motel. A small patch of ice had formed from a puddle of water that refroze in the shadows, and salt was scattered around in a thin layer. Mystery separated from Dimitri to give the mess a sniff, and kept trotting beyond the corner.

A sudden truck swooped by through the parking lot, startling Dimitri. He fell to his knees grabbing Mystery and tugged him close in case the dog decided to lunge out. That was all he needed, to get their dog run over by some jerk head. When the truck was long gone, out on the highway with the other airheads, Dimitri released Mystery and moved to his feet. Mystery was still insistent to slow him down, but Dimitri was steadfast and determined to make rounds of the area.

He found the van parked at the back of the motel, where a tall row of trees grew on the edge of some wild lot full of weeds and rubbish. Frost dusted along the sides of the gray bark of the trees branches and the side of the trunks, a crystalline white glittered in sparse coat over the dry grass. It was kind of fitting, he thought. He realized he was smiling at the van, and attributed it to his relief that the group had not abandoned him and the dog. What would he do with a dog anyway? He couldn’t keep Mystery.

An eerie stillness hung over the van as he moved closer. Mystery was religious now in his efforts to haul Dimitri away from the inert and silent beast of a vehicle, but Dimitri was more persistent. He did fear though that the dogs rough play would rip his jeans.

“I swear, Mystery,” he snarled at the dog, and pushed him away. Mystery took a few steps sideways, aware of Dimitri’s agitation. “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want food? Food, Mystery. Food?” The dog just stares at him. It was kind of creepy. Sighing, Dimitri returned to his scrutiny of the van. He couldn’t place that sensation. The vehicle, with its big ugly scrap on its sides, the logo, the odd skull.

That old creepy house at the end of that street. The one he and his friends (used to) dare each other to sneak into. The home sat abandoned for years, since the beginning of time. The lawn overgrown, creatures thrived in the tall grass and beneath the broken, warped steps that clung to the porch, shattered windows boarded up. They’d go there at night and stare at the front, and swear they could hear voices from inside, people shrieking, chainsaw murders perpetually conducted behind the faded wood walls. All stories of course. They’d dare each other to go up to the porch and touch the steps. Sometimes, one of them was bold enough to dash up to the door and slap it, then race back to the others out of breath and laughing; congratulations were had over the brief spark of insanity. None of them ever spent more than thirty seconds in the shadow of that home, not even in broad daylight. The place was creepy.

He got the same vibe from the van.

Suddenly Dimitri was frightened to approach it. What if… what if they were dead? What if during the night, someone had happened upon them and brutally murdered them all, blood everywhere, body parts… No. Don’t think like that! That’s morbid. They didn’t deserve that.

He swallowed and moved closer to the imposing vehicle. The air seemed much colder in the shadows of the tall woods; icy, sharp, a physical veil tightening over his throat. He took a breath and coughed at the harsh bite. “Hey,” he said, and knocked on the back door, timidly. He knocks echoed in a dreary, hollow way through the metal. “Hello? You guys all right in there?”

Silence. Impenetrable, terrible, cruel silence.

“Guys?” He jerked back when a loud creak came from within, and a door was flung open. His blood ran cold, and he took a step back.

“Dim’tri?” Vivi said, through a yawn. She fumbled to put her glasses on as she slipped out to sit on the vans bumper. For the icy weather her attire had been adjusted appropriately, her skirt now draped over dark blue puffy pants. That couldn’t have been the only difference, but Vivi liked the cold. “What’re doin’ up?” Before he has the chance to speak, Vivi’s face contorts and she springs off the bumper and slams the door shut behind her. “What’re you doing here?” she asked again, her voice edged with alarm.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he began. “It was getting late, and I was getting hungry. I mean worried…. Okay, I was hungry, really.”

Vivi brought a hand up to her face and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m so sorry. What time is it?”

“Late?” Dimitri perks when he hears a noisy snore. “S’that Lewis?”

Vivi shook her head, and something in her expression felt pained. Dimitri could feel it, and it unsettled him. “Maybe you should head back to your room,” she said. “It’s cold and damp and… we’ll pick you up some food. What d’you feel like eating?”

Dimitri watched as Mystery pads by the blue clad girl and sniffed around the sides of the van, the bumper. “A big burger sounds good, and fries and…. We’re you out all night? You look awful.”

“Thank you,” Vivi said, with a smile. “We found some new data we’re going to check on, it shouldn’t take long.” She turned and examined over the back door a bit, shook her head, then climbed onto the back bumper. “Arthur. Art!” A horse yelp came from the roof of the van, and Dimitri winced when a loud thud came.

“Viv-vi! You gave me a heart attack!” Arthur’s voice cut off, and Dimitri could hear Vivi mutter something to him. After the small discussion, Vivi slipped off the back from the bumper and walked around the side of the van. “Morn’,” Arthur said, as he scooted forward and faced the parking area. He dragged folds of blankets and a sleeping bag after him, all color coordinated. Arthur stretched as he slipped his vest on over his arms. “You’re up early.”

“It’s like, really late,” Dimitri called up. He tightened his arms around his sides and shivered. Arthur just stared at him, probably not all there yet. “You feeling okay?”

Arthur put his hands to the back of his neck. “Slept like crap.” He lowered himself down onto the bumper, and spun around in order to roll up the bedding. “Are you sure its late?”

Dimitri grumbled to himself as he stepped up behind Arthur. “Yes! How late were you out? Did you get caught up in the blackout?” At the last inquiry, Arthur locks up and he drops sideways off the bumper. Mystery was just walking around the vans side, when Arthur fell on top of the oblivious hound. Dimitri threw his hands up and caught his hair in handfuls. “Vi! Art just killed Mystery!” He had never seen Vivi move so fast before.

The sleeping bag and blankets had just fallen off the back, onto the blonde and dog, as Vivi rushed over. “Geez, they’re okay,” Vivi mumbled. “Anything broken, Art?”

Mystery yipped.

“Ditto,” Arthur groaned. Vivi pulled the bright blue blanket off his face. “I’ll survive.” As Arthur pulled himself up, Vivi bundled up the remainder of the blankets and stepped away, but hesitated from returning to the open passenger side of the van. “We had a very stressful night, lil dude. But we did get some new facts. Did you get a chance to tell him, Vi?” She shook her head. Arthur coughed, and helped Mystery up onto his four legs. “Did you manage to stay warm?”

Dimitri tilts his head. “It wasn’t too bad. What about you? You were sleeping on the roof.” When Arthur didn’t immediately answer, Dimitri glanced around. Mystery had followed Vivi to take the bedding to the open door, he saw no one else aside from some families unloading baggage for the evening stay.

“Maybe you’re ready to go home,” Arthur suggested. He flexed his metal arm, clenching his fingers and winced at the small whine of the gears within. “Heh. Maybe your father would let us—”

“Yeah.” Arthur stuttered, and jerked his arms down to Dimitri’s curt affirmation. The boy nodded and looked aside. “I think… it feels like I should go home,” he murmured.

“Are you….” Arthur shook his head. “Right, um…. He’s ready to go home?” he said, once Vivi returned. She didn’t smile or give an enthusiastic hoot, her lips only curled up at their corners and she turned to Dimitri. But her smile faltered.

“You’re positive?” Vivi asked.

Dimitri nodded. “I don’t know if I’m ready, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I have to eventually, right?”

“You‘re right,” Vivi agreed. “But it’s up to you, if you are ready.” Dimitri keeps his eyes on hers as he nods. “Okay.” Vivi stepped up to Dimitri and spun him around by his shoulder. “We’ll go get your things together. Uh, Art. Could you and Mystery get the van in order?” She makes a gesture with her arm, and slants her mouth.

Arthur, purses his lips together and motions frantically with his arms. Near his feet sat Mystery, eyeing the random exchange as he usually did. The last of Vivi’s hand movements were sharp and quick, then she spun around and jogged with Dimitri around the side of the motels nearest wall. Arthur’s breath misted in a thick puff as he moaned to himself.

“I feel like the rest of this days gonna be a total bust,” Arthur mumbled. “I hate the winter.” To that Mystery only huffed. The dog turned tail and trotted back to the open door of the van.

It wasn’t long before Vivi and Dimitri returned, Dimitri carrying his bag and Vivi his escort. The bright hood of the van was up, and the man from the office was at the curb with jumper cords dangling over the grill, leading out to the spare battery of the road. Arthur sat in the vans cab toggling the gas pedal, until the van roared to undisputed life. Mist fumed from the back exhaust pipe and the chassis rattled, falling into the tender purr once the gears were turning.

“Got it,” Arthur called out of the open window. He left the van in park and rounded the front of the vehicles trembling grill. “Thanks. Do I owe you anything?”

“No,” the office manager said, as he packed up the stiff cables. “Just drive safe.” He shook hands with Arthur and gave Vivi with Dimitr a cheerful wave, then tottered off with the weighted car battery.

While Arthur busied himself with the final diagnostics – checking the clamps on the vans battery, noted the lack of corrosion and the sturdiness of the cables – Dimitri shoved his bag into the van with Mystery and climbed onto the front seat. Dimitri spun in place on the middle seat to check the vans interior. “I hope that’s the only jump we need today,” Arthur said. Satisfied by the inspection, the mechanic slammed the hood down. Vivi stood by, wiping her glasses with her scarf end. “I don’t want to spend money on two new batteries.” He raised his thick eyebrows and cringed. Just the sentence itself was painful.

Vivi replaced her glasses and watched Dimitri through the open door. The boy flopped back into the middle seat and hugged the duffle bag to his chest, clear confusion etched onto his face. “I do have some books I can send off to the Tome Tomb.”

Arthur leaned over to the passenger side door and plucked up the 99, along with the stained buff rag there. He paused and blinked, before he went ahead to squirt some of the gel onto the rag. “No Vi, don’t. I can call in, ask for an advance on some job—”

“Where’s Lewis?” Dimitri called. He leaned out of the passenger door, as Vivi began helping Arthur clean off his good hand. Dimitri recoiled from the pale faces that wretched to him, eyes troubled and lip corners turned down. “Am…I allowed to ask?”

Traffic was terrible. Tourists were on the roads and didn’t know how to drive – they stopped suddenly when they made turns, struggled to climb up roads on bridges that hadn’t been salted. Amazingly there were no major wrecks, at least they never came upon any. It was still daylight and the road wasn’t too icy since the sun had been out, except in choice areas where the rising slopes of bridges were pummeled by the faint breeze.

“Take the exit here,” Dimitri says. He raises his hand from the top of his duffle bag and indicates a sign, and the road cutting through the grassy knolls and trees. “That’s my school there. Or, was.” The school was typical. Large fields for sports and play, the entire main campus with its classrooms entirely enclosed, the line of windows along the outer walls revealed long corridors filled with dark blues and purples. “I don’t know if we’re on winter break.”

Vivi wanted to ask, but she feared reminding him. If he wanted to talk about it he’d come to them, but it wouldn’t be right to ask. “It looks perfectly average.” She rubbed at Mystery’s shoulders, from where he lay curled mostly on her lap. Occasionally, Mystery would lean far over to Dimitri and set his cheek on the boys elbow, and Dimitri would rub his soft ears. They passed rows of small family style lawns, each paired to a home of wood or stone, shingle panel walls. Most the homes looked alike, with one or three windows per front facing the street.

Dimitri shivered when Mystery leaned away. “You turn right, and go down the next road. Um…. stick to Cleft Street, it goes all the way down.” Upon first glance Dimitri knew his neighborhood had changed drastically; it felt smaller, if he was to judge. Not long ago the streets had seemed huge, vast, perfect for endless exploration at any ungodly hour of the day. “My house will be the one with the big stupid palm tree, with a sheet wrapped around it.”

A shallow laugh jumped out of Arthur. “A palm? In this climate?”

“My dad had it planted.” Truthfully, it had been Dimitri’s hidden agenda to demolish the thing. “This is the place.”

The yards were nice, gravel and edged with green shrubbery scape, other lawns retained their fresh grass cleanly cut, a few retained the thin powder from the previous night. Most trees that sprouted in the lawns were bare of leaves, save for the resistant oaks that refused to drop a single leaf. Storm gutters along the roads remained cluttered with leaves from the Fall, and only a scarce rebel yard had not finished picking up the litter of brown and yellow lumps.

“We’re gonna turn around, and park across the street,” Arthur said. “In case, I dunno. Do you still have a house key?”

Dimitri nods. “My dad should be home,” he added. “I’m pretty sure.”

Further down the road was one of the C driveways that cut through the front yard, and Arthur used that to make the return trip to Dimitri’s bronze wood panel home. “No palm?” Arthur posed. He pulled the van to a halt a few yards across from the house, and eyed the bare woodchips where undoubtedly in a long ago time, something stood tall and proud.

“Imagine that,” Dimitri scoffed. He gripped his bag to his chest, as Arthur shut down the engine and climbed out from the driver side. Arthur took the bag as Dimitri bullied it out, and handed it when Dimitri was settled himself on the road. They stood staring at the other, gauging what to say and how to speak it. “You think this is goodbye?” Dimitri asked first.

“Uh…no,” Arthur murmured. “No. We’re still, we’re trying to find your brother. What?” Arthur placed his fists to his hips, and tries to pose. “You’re not in doubt, are you?”

Dimitri raised his shoulders. “I dunno. Is he still out there? Or—” He jerked in place when Arthur knelt, and set his hands on Dimitri’s shoulders. Arthur looked the boy straight in the eye.

“We’re still looking,” he said. “We’ll find something. We’ll do what—” He stopped, and took a breath. “You should go in a check with your dad. Maybe he found something. Maybe… you running off snapped him out of it.”

“Yeah.” Dimitri nodded. He dropped his bag and stepped forward. Arthur let his arms sag at his sides, when Dimitri wrapped his arms around his neck. “Thanks for believing in me.” Then in a blink, Dimitri had snatched up his duffle bag and raced away, across the road. Arthur remained on his knees staring, asphalt digging into his skins, as the boy raced across the road to the bronze home. He heard Vivi shuffled over in her seat and lay down to look at him.

“Well….”

“Well…..” Vivi answered. “I want to find an unoccupied home, to charge up the laptop. But I don’t want to leave the van unguarded right now.”

Arthur stood, and reached over to Mystery perched on Vivi’s back. “That would be kind of illegal, if you care.” Mystery gurgled as Arthur scratched his chin. Arthur raised his eyes from the dog, and shifts his gaze onto to the makeshift curtain attached from the ceiling of the van. He frowned, and whispered, “Vi. You do hear that, don’t you? That, is it a thumping?”

“The echo,” she hummed. Arthur opened his mouth, but clamped his jaw shut and nodded. Vivi brought her palms up to her chin, and leaned her elbows onto the soft seat. “Yeah. It’s just Lewis.”

Leaves from the neighbor’s tree still lay scattered inside the alcove that arched over the thin porch. Dimitri pulled himself up short when he caught his reflection in the crystal clear window of the front door. Everything felt smaller, the walls of his home crowded at his shoulders, the leaves crackle under foot as he made the last few steps. Slowly. He wasn’t in any hurry. He doubted the Mystery Skulls would wait for him to go inside and learn what he already knew. The truth frightened him, facing it was his worst fear. And what he would learn.

But he could be wrong. He could have exaggerated, he could misremember. He was what, nine? Nine was too young to be so certain of the world.

The doorbell gave its soft warble when he jammed the little button with his thumb. Dimitri stood back and tightened his arms around his bag. What would his father say? How would he react? Anger was his least concern. Something about being forgotten while still alive to appreciate the value of irony. Dimitri didn’t credit much irony and its theatrical values, he was too young, but he could understand the motions of loss. Especially if he was to be the one left behind, given up on.

For a long time nothing happened, and Dimitri rang the bell again. He was about to try a third time when sounds lifted from within. Footsteps, a voice.

Dimitri had a sudden rush of doubt. He took a short step back, fearful of what may be beyond the door. Who would it be and what would they say? The past month was gone, a blur in his mind. He couldn’t remember where he was or where he had come from. A sudden lightness buzzed in his head. Until the door opened, and a face, a foreign strange face stared at him. Then smiled.

“Son!” The face was muffled behind the glass. He fumbled with the latch of the glass panel, until the handle was unlocked and the door pushed open. “Where have you been? I was worried about you.”

Dimitri’s eyes drooped as he stared up at his father. The same eyes, the same glasses, the same short trimmed mustache. “You were?” he gulped, throat dry. He hesitated from the arm that beckoned him into the home. The sweet scent of Hawaii scent plugins lingered in the warm air of his heated home. So warm, almost scorching to his chilled skin. He looked up at the man as he waited, infinite patience. “How long have I been missing?”

His father shifts his footing and propped a leg beside the door. “What? That doesn’t matter. You’re home now. Come in.”

Dimitri was still hesitant, but the heated air and the fresh familiar smells of home were encouraging. He stepped past the man, and stepped through the tiny cluttered hall of the small foyer.

It was just as he remembered. Pictures hung on the walls, a mirror for a vanity desk stood in an alcove to one side of the hall. At the halls end, to the right was a living room, beyond that a formal dining room and the sliding doors to his backyard. To his left near where he stood was the staircase leading to the upper floors, the steps divided leading to two different sides of the second floor. Below the divided steps, an archway led into the kitchen, and from there the smells of food came. Dishes home cooked, prepared with love. Lies. Deceit.

The door snapped shut at his back, and Dimitri winced as his father strolled by. “I’ll tell your mom you just got in. She has been worried sick.”

Dimitri glared the way his father went. He didn’t feel at home, didn’t feel welcomed. He was a cuckoo child, invading some nest that belonged to some happy, stupid boy with all his friends, all his family, in proper order.

“I’ll… be upstairs,” he managed to say, without puking.

“Come get some food,” his father called, from somewhere in the house. It didn’t sound like the kitchen, but Dimitri wasn’t paying attention. He had already set his hand on the polished wood railing and ascended to the second floor. One side was the bathroom, a guest room, the other….

He dropped his bag at the threshold of his door. It was still open, same as he left it that day. He didn’t touch the door, but stepped along the upper floors rail to the other room.

The door was shut, like he always left it. The doorknob swiveled loose in his grip, nearly broken. Unlocked. He pushed the door open. The stale scent of the room crept out, cool on his skin despite the overworked furnace of the home. A tomb. The door swung away, creaking in its arid hinges, and Dimitri stood in the doorway looking over a room sun splashed in the last rays of the day, but dismissed by times passage.

Figurines of monsters and action toys cluttered the Chester drawers. A comic book here and there left scattered on the floor, a few items and clothing articles stuffed under the bed. The sheets half thrown from the mattress top. Dimitri, not him but the toy, his kid brothers favorite stuffed toy beasty was missing. He had never been able to find it.

If there was a token of memorabilia that he was to take from the room, it would have been that.

Soft tunes crackling through the radio helped. The sound was distracting if not enjoyable; he could listen and sing along in his head to some of the oldies on the obscure stations. Station hoping was tricky business when long distance travel was the highlight of the job.

Another hour gone by, the sun would be setting by five.

“He’s been in there awhile,” Arthur muttered. The radio hummed on, but not a word was uttered for a long time. “You think he’s okay?”

Vivi gave her head a light shake. “He hasn’t come charging out, the natives chasing, spears flying. That’s a plus.” Mystery took a deep breath and sighed. He lay between Arthur and Vivi, and Vivi rubbed at his neck. Arthur just sat scrunched up in the driver’s seat staring out onto the long shadows hiking over the gray slush and asphalt.

“I suppose,” Arthur replies. He tugs at the wrist band on his metal arm, rotating it around one way then the other and rubs at the rough seams underneath. He gets tired of that and leans his head back onto the headrest. “I shouldn’t have said those things to him,” he mumbled. “Why would I do that? I should have known better.”

Mystery leans across Vivi’s lap and takes the door handle in his teeth. He pulls the latch back, and Vivi pushes the door open. “Watch yourself.” Mystery gives a low grumble of reply and he hops from the open door. Vivi left the door open and listened to the cold air whistling through the bare branches of the trees above. She tries whistling along with them, and shut her eyes as she listened.

“He knows you were trying to help,” Vivi says. She stops whistling and turns to Arthur. “He just got really attached to Lewis, and… I don’t know. He needs someone that could help him forget.”

“I know,” Arthur groused. “I’m seventy-three point six hundredths of a downer. Bad vibes leak off me.” He slumped to his side as he rolled the window down and adjusted his position by sticking his legs out the window and lay his head back, enabling him to stretch out in the limited space. Vivi scooted over so his head would rest on her lap. Arthur glanced up at her curiously, but she only smoothed his hair down. “Spirits can taste it. I can’t help that my life’s a long series of fuck ups. Who wants that noise—” His voice was muffled by Vivi snapping a hand over his mouth.

“Shut up,” she hissed. “You’re not a fuck up.”

Arthur pushed her hand away. “Say what you want. It doesn’t change a thing.”

“It’s your attitude. That’s what gets you into trouble, usually.” Vivi set her arm across his forehead, and drapes her other arm up along the back of the seat. “You have that raincloud hovering over your head, bad things will take shelter in it.”

Arthur raised his arms up. “And I’m supposed to fix that somehow?” he muttered, and let his arms fall. He crossed his arms over his chest and focused on his knees, at the rim of the window. Vivi moved her arm off his forehead and began stroking his hair. “I told you from the start. This case was bad. We made promises we couldn’t keep, to a hurt kid still in grade school. We might as well have told him we could bring his puppy back from the dead.”

Vivi adjusted the little dark hairs on his forehead. “With our equipment, I’m sure we could’ve made some kind of arrangement.”

“That’s sick, Vi.” Arthur shut his eyes and tried not to imagine Dimitri’s face. Did he look the same way, all those years ago? No. “We find his brother. What then? I’m fearing the worse. Dimitri, he has no faith in us, it’s a ruse. He can’t help it, and I know where that’s coming from.” He sighed, breath fading in a thin haze as he opened his eyes. Vivi just watched him with her somewhat sad, gentle expression that smelt of pity and understanding. That same expression she had when he first opened his eyes. “Can’t you… accept that not all stories have happy endings?”

“I thought you would’ve known me better by now.” Vivi leaned over and hissed his forehead. “Not all stories have happy endings. But all stories should have closure.”

The bed was a frigid, solemn thing awaiting the return of its occupant, its charge; whom had walked off into the night. Dimitri sat on the edge flipping through one of the old Steven Universe comic books his brother had picked out. Dimitri had read through this one dozens of times, back when he couldn’t think of any other activity for the infinite amount of time lagging after him. There were a few other comics on the floor, but this was the last one he read his brother. It seemed kind of girly, and he was surprised his dad had bought it for him. His dad did a lot of things for his brother.

Of course, his brother was the baby, still was and always would be. Always.

A knock came from the doorway and Dimitri winced, but didn’t look up. He continued flipping the pages of the comic, as if reading each dialogue box for the first time. It had been awhile.

“Your foods getting cold.”

How did he make everything sound so ordinary? How dare he resume life, as if nothing had ever happened. Dimitri flipped a page.

The man entered the room and sat on the bed beside him. He was a solid man, and Dimitri felt himself slip sideways in his seat. “How long are you going to sulk up here?” asked the man. Dimitri didn’t answer. “We’ve done everything we could.”

“He’s still gone,” Dimitri mumbled. “Not everything was done.”

“The woods go on for miles and miles,” his father reasoned. He set an arm around Dimitri’s thin shoulders. Dimitri froze. “A search goes out every night.”

“Did you look for me?” The man says nothing. “Did you even notice?” Dimitri turns his eyes up to his father’s bemused stare. “How long?”

His father shakes his head slowly and squint his eyes. “Ethan. You’ve never been gone. Where would you—”

“What’s for dinner?” Dimitri says, quickly. “It smells good. Did she cook something for desert?” He stood up and moved towards the door. The comic Dimitri carried was set on the tall drawers beside the doorway. “Did you already eat?”

“No,” his father said, and raised himself to follow. The springs in the bed whine when his weight is removed. “We were waiting for you. Let’s hurry then.” He set his hands on Dimitri’s shoulders and patted them as he walked by, out into the hall. Dimitri followed at a distance, until they had reached the downstairs. “We’re here, finally!” The voice praised into the kitchen.

Dimitri stepped back, away from the arch and the sounds a clinking dishware. He zipped up his coat and went to the front door. The hinges groaned in the cold air as he carefully moved the door shut it behind him. He paused, waiting for his father to pursue him out onto the porch, ask him pointless questions and drag him back inside. It was impossible to guess how this would go, or what would happen now. He half hoped his father would open the door and scold him like always. That didn’t happen.

He half expected the van to be gone, long gone into the sunset. But the bright amber box of a vehicle was there, that same ugly scratch up its side, a thin line of sunbeam glinting along its upmost edge. Dimitri crossed the street and slowed his pace, when he saw who was standing outside beside the vans walls. At first the smoke doesn’t surprise him, until he gets closer and can smell the sharp scent. It reminded him of the teens that hung around behind the high school, always climbing onto the roof to get away from the teachers.

“Hey,” Arthur hums, as Dimitri gets closer. “How’d it go?” Arthur glanced at the white stick in his fingers and took another puff.

Dimitri shrugged as he slowed his stride, and moves to stand beside Arthur. “Not much’s changed. It’s like I never left.” Dimitri peers up at Arthur, as he leans his back onto the cold metal siding of the wall. Faint music vibrates through, instrumentals and synthesized voices. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Hhn?” Arthur raised one eyebrow. The blonde muttered something Dimitri didn’t catch, about intangible vapors and medicinal effects. “I’m trying to quit.” He took a breath from the stick and held it for a moment.

“Oh,” Dimitri answered, with a nod. “How’s that going?” Arthur coughed as he exhaled, and it sounded like the other had tried not to laugh, or was laughing and failed to get the act of it right.

Eventually Arthur collected himself, he sniffled and rubbed at his eyes. “I’m just trying to clear my head.” He left the cigarette between his lips and sunk his back more into the van, his head hung as he stared at his shoes. Tunes continued to drift within the interior of the tin can, and Dimitri waited for some further sign but none came, or maybe he missed the signals. Birds twitter in the trees, and a car chugs through one of the roads in a nearby neighborhood.

Quietly, the boy asks, “Were you crying?”

Another sound comes out of Arthur, a little whine. “It sometimes helps,” he muttered. He reaches over to pull at the wristband on his metal arm, and Dimitri watches him tug at the dark material. Arthur murmurs something else, but Dimitri catches none of it. It might’ve been an apology.

He has to look away. Arthur is too pathetic to look at, but Dimitri can sympathize with him easily. It’s what he liked best about the scrawny blonde. Dimitri thought that probably when he got older, if he got older, he’d be something like Arthur. It unnerved him but he couldn’t reason that he wouldn’t. He wondered if Arthur had lost someone close to him when he was young, a younger sibling.

“My dad says, boys don’t cry.” Dimitri reached up and rubbed at his eyes.

Arthur sniggered in his throat, and coughed. “What does your dad know, anyway?”

The comment makes the tears come to Dimitri’s eyes, but he laughs. “He doesn’t get it.” His voice trembles, and he can hardly bring the words together. “I think my grandpa taught him, and now he wants to teach me. But y’know, he’s going to fail.” The boy takes a breath and lets it warm in his chest before he exhales, at the same time Arthur lets out a thick white fog.

The sun was beginning its slow creep beyond the tree tops and distant horizon of gray mounds, hillsides that only existed as fictional lands to the bold explorer. Drab tones glitter with frost on the ground, light seeping its last fragments of vitality into solidified moisture, before it fades completely like a memory. Arthur is still smoking, warmed only by the company and the inhospitable air.

“You’re a bright kid,” says the mechanic. “Maybe too bright for your own good.”

Dimitri takes in the scent of the cigarette that Arthur consumed through huff and puff. “My dad’s working on that.”

#msa #mystery skulls fanfic #msa fanfic #mystery skulls animated #msa ghost #msa lewis #msa mystery #msa vivi #msa arthur #mystery skulls fanfiction #msa fanfiction

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elopez7228 · 5 years ago

Text

Scenic Route 8/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

***

After finishing her cheese burger, (No, please, no more refills) Rey called Jessica. She had to lie about the details of her setbacks and the circumstances that had led her to haul a dog on a 3,500 kilometer road trip. She explained that she had loaned a car and was improvising from there. Yes, she was doing better. Yes, morale was high for now. No, she hadn’t run into any guns or cowboys (yet), but she had seen buffalos (from afar) and the scenery was absolutely beautiful. Alright, she would send pictures.

Placing the phone in front of her, she smiled as innocently as possible at the front camera and hit “send” on the photo.

Everything was fine on Betterton Street according to Jessica. Finn and Poe had been talking the talk, they apparently spent an entire afternoon discussing Rey-drunk-in-the-street and Ben-the-tall-dark-mystery-man. They unanimously wanted to know: who was this guy and what was the nature of their relationship ?

Rey rolled her eyes. He wasn’t anyone in particular. He was a random fellow from Denver who was both attractive and repulsive, but in his defense they had started off on the wrong foot, that’s all.

“No, Jess, I didn’t sleep with him. But if you think it’s hilarious that Finn believes I did, go ahead and have fun with it. You can tell him that I spent a night of passion with Ben Solo, rockstar and lead singer of KYLO & THE KNIGHTS OF REN. That way he’ll realize that I don’t miss him and that I’m doing just fine without him. And if he gets jealous—even better. Ask him how he thought I felt when I imagined him in bed with Poe.”

She ended the call there.

She finished her fries, covering the top of her glass with her palm to stop the waitress from refilling it again (had they gone mad here?) as she scrolled through her phone lazily. She was feeling nice and comfy in this 50s style greasy spoon—with its abundance of zinc, black and white tiled floors and red and pink neon signs. There was WiFi and air conditioning, and she balked at the idea of returning to her oven of a car.

Her finger traced over the selfie she had just taken. Her cheeks were rosy and her eye bags less prominent, how many days had she managed without crying? In the background sat a tall blonde woman in a buzz cut, looking straight in her direction.

Photobomb, Rey thought glumly. But the woman’s piercing blue gaze was locked onto the camera, as if by design. As if they were both looking at the same thing. Rey turned around to see if she was still there. She wasn’t.

A family of four were helping themselves to a small basket of nuggets. At the counter, a lone diner in jeans and a tank top sipped on a drink.

Shrugging, she pocketed her phone and tapped her palms against her thighs to get BB8’s attention. BB was also taking advantage of the air conditioning as she layed stretched out underneath the table. She got up clumsily once Rey gently tugged on her collar.

It was time to hit the road again, they could manage a few hundred kilometers by nightfall. The vast land sprawled in front of Rey’s eyes once more, set to the particular rock rhythm of Kylo & the Knights. Little by little, their surroundings transformed into the desert. Yellow earth littered with spiny shrubs and cacti.

She passed Rock Springs at 2:30 PM, taken by the frankly apocalyptic view.

Columns of smoke billowed overhead, likely from mines or factories. Rusted trucks rolled by. It was a sprawling urban hellscape straight out of Mad Max. The empty mountain side inspired a certain sort of fantasy—it gave new meaning to “the hills have eyes”.

A few more kilometers to the west and she would have hit Utah. But Rey deviated to the north. As she approached the crest of the hill, she was stupefied. She had stumbled upon Eden Valley, surrounded by forest and freshwater rivers. Rey was slack-jawed. She hadn’t seen this much green since she left England. The feeling was almost spiritual and she could feel her eyes watering.

A few hours later, after two bathroom breaks for the dog and a mini-walk, they crossed city limits into Jackson Hole. It was a ski resort town. Nestled at the foot of the green slopes, the town was the perfect summertime spot for hiking tours, hunters, and weary Yellowstone travelers. The hotels were pricey and the food was mediocre at best but it didn’t seem to matter.

She obtained a camping spot just outside the city at Curtis Canyon Campground. BB8 wandered as Rey set up the tent and her mattress for the night. Having unloaded the bulk of her belongings from the car, she was finally able to notice an inscription on the mat lining the boot: “MILLENIUM FALCON”. She smiled. Didn’t all pilots give their baby a name? This old hunk of junk had just won her over.

And so Rey piloted the re-baptized Millennium Falcon into the city in search of dinner. She parked the car in the heart of town, taking a selfie in front of a massive wooden archway decorated solely with deer antlers, then made her way into a noisy yet poorly-lit bar.

Seated at the counter, she ordered a light beer and a Caesar salad while she texted Jessica. She attached the selfie she snapped in the adjoining room.

And then she saw the shadow. What the hell?

She zoomed in on her screen, heart pounding. A blurry silhouette stood a few meters behind her—the same woman with cropped blonde hair.

No way, I must be seeing things.

Rey looked up from her phone and scanned her surroundings. Any second now, she would see the mysterious woman in the room. But she didn’t.

I must be imagining all this.

But the doubt crept in. She did her best to bottle the anxiety, to think of something else. But the question remained—who was this woman? Was this just a coincidence? After all, she had followed the typical route from Denver to Yellowstone and Penny’s Diner had been pretty much exactly in the middle of the way...other travelers could have stopped there for lunch too, it was totally plausible.

She scarfed down her salad, still deep in though. A woman offered to buy her a drink but she politely declined.

Afterwards, she placed some cash on the bar-top and thanked the bartender. Her heart was pounding again as she went out onto the street, there was a gut feeling she just couldn’t shake. She turned the corner to get to the car and—

“Hey! What are you doing?!”

A tall woman, the same one with the short blonde hair, was leaning over her car door and tugging at the handle. She jumped at Rey’s tone, scrambling away.

Rey felt icy beads of sweat slide down her spine. She hadn’t been imagining anything, she knew something was off. So much for coincidence. Furious, she marched over to the woman and raised her voice even more:

"Are you trying to break into my car? I'm going to call the police!"

The woman held her hands up in the universal gesture of innocence. "Well excuse me, I just thought it was mine. There's no need to make a big deal," she said simply.

" Really ? You also happen to have a dingy 1977 Oldsmobile with handpainted brown paneling on the front? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Screaming like a fury helped Rey cover up her insecurity. Why was this woman following her? What was she up to?

BB8 was barking furiously at the woman too, and Rey noted to congratulate her later. She had caught on very quickly.

The woman rolled her eyes and turned on her heels, turning the corner and disappearing into the street. Rey followed her, red-faced, before deciding to let her go.

She reconsidered calling the police as she held her phone once more. Who would believe her story? Some girl from Britain being chased by a mystery woman for 800 kilometers, a futile attempt to steal a car that didn't leave a scratch? They would surely laugh at her. She was wasting time. She had to move on by herself.

All those who bore witness to this altercation in the town square quickly turned away. They avoided the seething girl with the English accent and hastily took their leave.

Rey, heart racing and temples pulsing, bent down to pet BB8 in praise. BB was still in attack mode--growling and baring her teeth.

"Bravo, BB8. You did it, you protected me, good girl. That's a good girl,"

BB yelped and licked her nose.

"Come on, let's go. But first, I'll have to buy you a treat."

Google indicated there was an Albertson's grocery store that closed at midnight on Buffalo Way. There, she bought fried chicken bites for BB8 and cookies for herself. For breakfast...and dessert. Okay, she bought two packets of them. It was high time for some comfort food.

Something on the bulletin board just outside the store (boasting public service announcements and local yard sales) caught Rey's eye. It was a flyer that she read twice to make sure she wasn't mistaken.

KYLO & THE KNIGHTS OF REN

WEST TOUR

A sticker on the flyer displayed upcoming show dates at Jackson Hole.

The Mangy Moose, July 5th

She grimaced. She was driving around randomly in an area that was roughly 10 million kilometers squared, populated by about 325 million people. But she kept running into the same man in one small town or another. It was infuriating.

It was the third of July. She decided not to linger around Jackson Hole, she wanted to put as much distance as possible between herself and the blonde madwoman. Too bad for the concert.

It's not like she wanted to go anyway, she didn't want to run into Ben Solo again at all. Nor did she want to see the look on his face when he saw her out in public again.

Who are you trying to convince?

She waved away the pesky whispering voice in her head. It was time to go to bed.

On the way back to camp, she fed BB the fried chicken bites. She took down her tent and instead set up her sleeping gear in the back of the car. She didn't have as much legroom, but at least no one would be able to get away with breaking in unannounced.

Her phone was at eight percent battery. She had to recharge immediately. There was no way she would spend the night alone in a camp with no phone. She wouldn't live to see the day.

She slipped into her jacket and left BB8 to guard mothership-Millenium-Falcon while she headed to the camp entrance. Everything was closed, with the exception of an ill-lit vending machine. She found an outlet and sat on the floor to wait for her phone to finish charging. She was there for at least half an hour.

She couldn't stop thinking about why anyone would want that car. What was so special about it?

Her fingers trembled as she dialed Leia Skywalker--if anyone would know it would be her.

970-571-3350

There was no dial tone. Just a robotic voice informing her that the phone number you have dialed is not available . Rey was immediately taken aback. What the hell? She had certainly dialed this number before.

She tried again. Same number, same error message.

Her hands became unsteady. Unavailable? She had called that number barely a couple days ago. She had met Leia Skywalker in the flesh--ate with her and slept at her house. What did this mean? Was Leia using a burner phone to keep in touch with Rose, was this deliberate? But to what end?

The long-term implications of such machinations were beyond Rey, who was already battling anxious thoughts. What was it, what did they want?

Suddenly, she remembered the existence of Luke Skywalker. She had his number too, it was literally engraved into the dog's collar tag.

She dialed it shakily.

909-667-5721

The phone number you have dialed is not available.

Rey let out a scream and threw her phone down. It clattered against the damp floor.

She got up, heart racing and head pounding. Her breath was short and her hands were freezing.

Who could she talk to? Jessica?

Apart from worrying the living daylights out of her, there was nothing to be done. Rey had Leia's physical address since she had texted it to Jessica, but what was she going to do with it? Call the police to report the car? Tell them about the cute dog and the impressive change of number? It was ridiculous. No one would be able to help.

What were her other options?

She had to take the dog to the address in San Francisco, an address she hoped still existed, because the corresponding telephone number was clearly garbage.

Could she back out? She still had to get to San Francisco by the 15th. How was she supposed to change plans if she didn't have plans in the first place? She had mentioned Yellowstone to Leia but not much else.

Abandon the dog? No, the poor animal had no way to fend for herself. Abandon the car? She could hardly continue on foot. She looked down.

Her phone case had been partially damaged due to the fall.

She bent down gingerly to pick it up. Examining it to make sure that the phone itself was intact, she noticed a slip of paper sticking out between the case and the phone itself. Her eyes widened as she pulled it out with her fingertips. She turned it over to read the back:

Ben

970-663-8876

#reylo #fanfiction #scenic route #modern AU

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heyyyharry · 6 years ago

Note

Layla suggesting a boy x y/n x harry threesome and y/n teases him like ‘that’s a good idea, never tried that before’ and harry gets all grumpy and upset ‘stop it! I’m the only man who gets to touch you like that’

SAY NO MORE!

“I’ve done it before.”

“With Niall?”

“No! I’m faithful to Niall, we don’t do that shit.” Layla scoffed, making Harry‘s jaw go slack. He tightened his arms around Y/N, pressing her closer to his chest as if somebody could just jump into their living room and snatch her away from him.

“Then why are you suggesting this to us?” He glared at their friend. “No wait, why are you always suggesting us to do crazy shit that you don’t even do?!”

“Well, you’ve done threesomes before, Y/N hasn’t. I was even surprised she wasn’t a virgin. No offense, Y/N.”

“You can’t just offend people and say no offense, Layla!”

Layla ignored her best friend as she shrugged, raising an eyebrow. “I mean, you guys will clearly stick together for the rest of your life and die holding hands, or one of you dies first, and instead of moving on, the other would rather tie balloons to their house and go on an adventure with a fat kid and a talking dog—“

“I’m pretty sure that’s from UP,” Harry said but she ignored him too.

“My point is that she will never get to have a threesome if your possessive ass won’t let her.”

Pouting, Harry turned to his girlfriend who was trying not to laugh at Layla’s suggestion.

“Uhm...it does sound like a good idea,” she said, causing Harry’s eyes to grow.

“You want that?” He asked, his eyebrows knitted together. Y/N know he was too upset to realize her comment was only sarcastic. And so she decided to go along with that joke.

“Yeah.” She nodded her head. “I mean...I am curious…”

“You should be.”

“Shut up, Layla!” Harry barked at the girl who quickly raised her hands and went back to texting her boyfriend. Turning back to Y/N, he lowered his voice, pouting as he asked again, “you really want to?”

“That’d be so hot, don’t you think?” She teased, stroking the hair at the back of his head. Normally, he would enjoy it, but not right now.

“There’s nothing hot about watching another man touch you.”

“He doesn’t have to have sex with me.”

“But still!”

His reaction made it impossible for her to act serious. She tried to hold back a smile and pretended to look upset. “You’ve done it with two girls before.”

“That was before I met you. It doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it does!”

“Hold on,” he grumbled when his phone buzzed. Y/N watched her boyfriend curse under his breath as he read the text. She was going to ask, but instantly he turned to Layla. “Did you just tell Niall?”

“Why? Did he congratulate you?” Layla snorted, exchanging funny looks with Y/N.

“There will be no threesome, okay? Not in a million years.” He huffed and turned to point a finger at his girlfriend. “You could ask for the moon and I would make sure you have that shit, but never a threesome.”

“Aww, baby, I was only joking.” Her response turned his expression from angry to confused in a split second. He raised his eyebrow and smirked at the girl he loved. “You think it’s funny?”

She bit her lip, nodding fast. Just waiting for that, Harry released a playful growl as he flipped them over to pin her down. He started biting her neck, making her squirming and laughing uncontrollably. Layla wasted no time to rise up and shook her head at them.

“It went from ‘Should we hold hands while Layla is here?’ to ‘Who the fuck is Layla? Let’s fuck on this couch.’” The girl rolled her eyes, grabbing her coat as Y/N fell right off the couch and begged Harry to stop tickling her. She didn’t think they even noticed her heading out.

“See you horny rabbits tomorrow!” Layla shouted before she shut the door. It was then that Y/N pushed her boyfriend right off.

“I think we scared Layla away,” she blurted, giggling softly, but Harry couldn’t care less. He got on the couch and pulled her back on his lap, quickly hiking up her skirt. His voice was almost as rough as his hands that were kneading her ass. “Stop taking her advice, you understand me?”

Y/N could only nod. Her eyes fell shut while he was breathing into her neck and peeling off her clothes. If her taking Layla’s advice made him like this, why would she ever want to stop?

#harry styles smut #flatmate!harry #flatmate blurbs #flatmate talk #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb

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angst-king · 4 years ago

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Buko no witch Academia

(this is my BNHA witch AU, I do not own any of the characters in this fict so don’t come for me^^)

Ever since the normies have been getting more aggressive, Inko has been very nervous about allowing her son to attend UA Academy. That was until her husband came home with great news, sitting on the couch Inko was folding the laundry with Izuku when Yagi came in with a wide smile on his face. "I am home!" He cheers "with great news!" heads turned to the blue eyed blond, Inko smiles. "what is it dear, you seem like its big news." Yagi took off his magic canceling bracelets and took out a letter. Clearing his throat while he unfolds it he prepares to read the information to them. "Due to all the recent normie attacks against Magic users and the hesitance of parents allowing students to attend UA. We are implementing a dormitory to keep them safe. They are still able to leave the dormitory campus to go into town or on the weekends to see family. This is to diminish the chances of your child from being out of our reach. We also as staff will share some what of a joint custody of your child. If something were to happen or if they needed a legal guardian to provide protection or sign for a document we are able to step in. Believe us when we say we will put their lives before our own if anything were to happen. We hope to have your child attending UA. Sincerely the joint staff of UA." When Yagi finished both Izuku and Yagi then look to Inko, "So mom can I go?" the healing witch bites her lip contemplating herself but. "Come on honey I'll be there too ya know, and you know that I will not let anything happen to Izuku and it will allow him to finally get into depth with his magic. He may even be able to awaken it." Yagi persuaded "please mom, this is a once in a life time chance" Both males were begging her and this time she couldn't bare it any more. She sighed and looked Izuku in the eyes. "Please please promise me you'll do your best to be careful." She pleaded Izuku hugs her tightly, "I promise mom" hugging back she kisses his forehead happily. Yagi joined in pulling them both into him, the family of three now having a group hug in congratulations. It was everyone's first day and Izuku was honestly pretty excited he couldn't wait to meet more magic users. Hugging his crying mother good bye, she wished him well and let him go. Arriving at the school Izuku had his luggage bag of his clothes rolling while his book bag was on his shoulder. Spacing out over the excitement of now being able to attend UA. Izuku's clumsiness caused himself to trip over his own shoe. As he was falling he suddenly felt a sudden surge of magical energy and then boom! He wasn't falling anymore but hadn't collided with the side walk's pavement? He felt himself becoming weightless, and with a look around it was real. He was floating in a bubble!? He freaked out a little, he hadn't activated a floating or a bubble spell. He frantically looked around until he heard a "Oh gosh sorry if I scared you!" A young brunette haired girl hurried to him, looking up at Izuku who chuckles. "Its alright, at least I didn't face plant" Being inside the bubble was a bit overwhelming and confusing, besides he needed to get out to meet her and thank the girl properly. "Uhm could you let me out of the bubble please?" Blushing heavily the girl nods apologizing once again before lowering the bubble which allowed it to pop freeing the small Midoriya boy. "I'm so sorry I shouldn't have just did a spell like that to you" Izuku smiles and makes sure he has all his stuff on him. "Its alright I mean you kept me from face planting, that was a cool spell by the way." He then stuck out his hand "I'm Midoriya Izuku" taking the hand sweetly shaking it the girl introduces herself. "I'm Uraraka Ochako nice to meet you, we should get going though." Uraraka says which earned a nod from Midoriya, so the two walk up to the dorms. The giant double doors were already open, strolling inside the place was huge and filled with students! Looking around Izuku immediately notices a certain red eyed blond. Sure they were childhood friends but, Izuku knew it was one sided and grew apart from Katsuki Bakugou who tormented him. The only common ground they shared was that they both had the same type of magical energy. Katsuki's main magic was earth magic, he could grow flowers, vegetables, studied crystals and such in other words, Katsuki is a green witch. Izuku's magic was energy magic, he could sense almost taste other's magical energy around them and could guess the type of magic that they use or main. Energy magic was also called generalized magic, it meant you don't exactly have a main like Inko's healing medicinal magic. Though energy magic users main use is to energize or enchant something like weapons, or to weaponize an object with their magical energy. They can also share magic with another magic user like Uraraka. Izuku would be able to link into her magic and use her abilities on his own but the original holder still is able to use the magic. the only draw back is that Izuku's magic is like a life source, the more he uses it the weaker he is, it is a stamina based magic. Trying to avoid Katsuki wasn't working when he hears a "Oi what the hell is Deku doing here?!", Uraraka looks to an annoyed and slightly anxious Midoriya who rolled his eyes. "do you know him Midoriya?" Midoriya sighed "sadly yes i do-" "oi lil normie fucker don't ignore me!" Barked the blond who stomped over and grabbed Midoriya by the collar. "What the hell are you doing here Deku, you weren't supposed to get in with your weak ass magic!" "Looks like you haven't changed a bit have ya Kaachan?" Rolling his emeralds eyes at the scarlet eyes glaring down at him. "What'd ya say ya lil normie, I'll shove a vine up your ass!" "Kaachan do you have to do this on our first day? I haven't even put my stuff away yet." Grumbled Midoriya who used his magic to lightly burn Bakugou on the wrist for him to let go. "the hell was that Deku!?!" Regaining his footing Midoriya just adjusted his book bag and huffed, thankfully Midoriya was able to pull out his slip of paper that had his dorm room number on it before Bakugou could try anything else. He scattered over to the elevator to go and find his room. Up in his room, Izuku was setting it up. Izuku uses his magic to arrange his room the way he wanted which made the process a whole lot quicker. Right now he was finishing up and prepared to go and maybe meet some new people. Maybe he'll see Uraraka again, he'll probably ask for her number so they can always be able to talk to each other maybe share social medias too. Walking out of his dorm he's already greeted by a much taller male with blue hair and glasses, standing next to him was Uraraka. He seemed to be carrying some things for her, which Midoriya found sweet of him. "Oh hey Midoriya, did you finish setting up your room?" "yeah, have you?" "No I've been struggling to get my stuff up here but thankfully I met Iida and he wanted to help me." Midoriya looks up to Iida with a smile "hello Iida, I'm Midoriya Izuku." "Hello Midoriya, sorry I can't shake your hand at the moment but once my hands are free I will greet you properly." Midoriya then looks to Uraraka "Need any help setting up, I can help you guys?" "that would be great Midoriya would you mind carrying this?" She hands him a medium sized box with a smaller one on top, which he willing takes. Uraraka goes to the front and leads the boys to her room. Opening the door to the empty room, the boxes are set down. "Now lets get started, should get the bed and dresser together. and in place first." Suggested Izuku "yeah lets do that" Uraraka got out the contence to make her bed it was quite the mess with all the pieces and was pretty overwhelming. "u-um s-so like we need the instructions right?" Iida pardoned himself towards the scattered parts, arms out Izuku knew what the other was going to do. He could feel Iida's magic energy powering up to be used. With a flash the pieces and parts were floating and Iida was putting them together, constructing the bed with a vision in his head. Both Izuku and Ochako watched in amazement, Izuku could sense that Iida was a tech witch just by his focus on the task at hand. It was done in ten minutes and now while Uraraka was putting her bed spreads and decors on the bed, Iida moved on to her dressers. When the dressers where done, Izuku decided to help put together the bookshelf which wasn't too hard, the instructions were simple. When the room was done the trio looked proud of themselves, Izuku noticed Uraraka's collection of space themed books and the over all decor of the room. "Uraraka, are you a celestial witch?" "yup I am" She says proudly Iida huffed and stretched his arms before going to shake Izuku's hand "Now we can properly greet each other, I'm Iida Tenya." Midoriya shakes the male's hand "nice to meet you Tenya, you must be a tech witch." Iida chuckles and nods while Uraraka is confused as to how Midoriya guesses so easily. "I can sense your guys's magic energy, also I'm very observant." Explains Midoriya, "oh that's so cool!" compliments Uraraka who's blush appears in strange form, it was a soft galaxy look constellation like freckles twinkle gently. "wow that's so beautiful." Iida blurts out then ended up turning red in the face and apologizing. "S-sorry if that was inappropriate Uraraka!" The girl only giggles, Iida is still blushing about it. "Its alright Iida, and thank you glad you like it. Also thank you both for your help in setting up my room." "You're welcome Uraraka, hey why not trade numbers we can text each other if we ever wanna hang out or something?" Offered Midoriya who had his phone in his pocket anyway, "Oh yeah that'd be great, hey Iida wanna trade numbers?" Iida didn't decline and got out his phone, the three were now giving each other's numbers.

#celestial witch Uraraka #green witch Bakugou #Generalized witch Midoriya #tech witch Iida #healer witch Inko #bnha witch AU

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madpanda75 · 6 years ago

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Hi so after reading through all your stuff I thought of a request if that’s okay with you. Do you think you could do a Barba x reader story where the reader has a big dog (like a retriever or something) that she’s really close to - sleeps in the bed with her, goes to dog parks, that sort of thing - and Barba has to win him over too? I feel like mister designer suits dealing with a carefree big dog would be a sight to see lol. Thanks! :)

I’m so sorry it took me FOREVER to fill this request. I loved this idea and had an absolute blast writing it! I hope you like it! ☺️

A HUGE shout out to @sass-and-suspenders! I honestly can’t take credit for this entire story, she gave me so many AMAZING ideas for this fic. She proofread it and encouraged me to write when I wanted to procrastinate and binge watch Netflix ❤️

Warning: Smut (NSFW below the cut), lots of fluff, and chaotic canines

“Man’s Best Friend”

You gripped tightly onto a rail on the headboard as it smacked into the wall repeatedly. Arching your back, your eyes fluttered, a loud moan leaving your lips, escaping from the depths of your stomach where a coil was being wound tighter and tighter about to spring loose. Rafael thrust into you with abandon, grunting with every snap of his hips. Beads of sweat from his continued efforts dropping onto your chest.

“Oh Rafael! Yes! Don’t stop,” you whimpered, clawing at his back with your free hand.

Rafael let out a hard shaky breath, feeling your walls begin their tell-tale dance around his cock. He bit his bottom lip, holding off his own release as he pushed you towards yours when he felt a pair of eyes on him. Turning his head, he saw your yellow Labrador, Mac, staring at you both in flagrante delicto. Rafael screamed in surprise, rolling off of you and falling onto the floor. Mac followed suit, jumping off the bed and onto the naked ADA, barking and growling as the poor man tried to cover himself lest the dog mistake his cock for a sausage snack.

“Rafael?!” You gasped. “Are you ok?! What happened?!” You pulled Mac away and kneeled down next to your boyfriend.

Rafael winced in pain, his backside having hit the floor hard. “I’m ok. I just wasn’t expecting to see the dog on the bed…watching us.” He eyed the dog from over your shoulder. Mac cocked his head to the side, a look of pure innocence on his face.

“I don’t know how he got in. I thought I made sure the door was shut before jumping your bones,” you replied, helping him up before taking the Labrador out of the bedroom. “I’m sorry about Mac. He’s not used to sharing the bed with another man.” You cringed at your words. “That sounded a lot better in my head.”

Your boyfriend laughed. “I know what you meant, cariño.”

You giggled and pounced on top of him, playfully nipping at his jawline as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Well, we’re all alone now. Want to pick up where we left off?”

“What do you think?” He purred, flipping you both over, his tongue parting your lips as his cock stirred back to life, hardening against your thigh. You moaned and wrapped your legs around his waist, melting under his touch. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss when he saw Mac back on the bed. Rafael’s lips stopped moving against your own. You opened your eyes and followed his gaze, seeing your faithful canine companion staring him down.

“Mac! Stop being a cock blocker. Get out,” you whined. Mac yawned and rested his head on his front paws, giving you sad puppy dog eyes.

Rafael sighed, dropping his head in defeat. It was obvious Mac didn’t consider his owner’s sex life a priority and the ADA did not necessarily want an audience while he fucked you senseless. “Maybe we should call it a night? I have to get up early for court tomorrow anyways.”

“Ok,” you mumbled. Rafael rolled off you, the two of you laid on the bed in silence, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry about ruining your night,” you said after a moment.

Rafael turned his head to face you. “You didn’t ruin my night.”

You softly smiled. “Really?”

“Not at all,” he cooed and pulled you towards him, running his fingers through your hair. “I’m perfectly happy just laying here with you in my arms,” he whispered. Leaning forward, Rafael was about to kiss you when Mac jumped in between you two. His lips were met by fur and a wet snout. “Ugh! Coño! Carajo!” He exclaimed, making a mad dash to the bathroom to gargle mouthwash. Mac was just as upset to have ADA germs, coughing and pawing at his snout.

You snorted a laugh. “Babe, don’t you think you’re being a tad overdramatic?”

He spit out the bright blue minty antiseptic to answer, “Y/N, do you know that there are over 600 different types of bacteria in a dog’s mouth?!” He shuddered at the thought, gargling more mouthwash.

“Well humans have between 400 and 500 different strains. But I still kiss you,” you retorted. Rafael poked his head out of the bathroom, playfully narrowing his eyes at you.

As soon as he got back into bed, you kissed his lips before dropping a kiss on the top of Mac’s head. “Good night, guys.” While you quickly fell asleep, Rafael laid awake, warily eyeing the dog lying next to you. Mac looked over at him, letting out a huff and rolling over to snuggle closer to you. Rafael sighed and flopped his head back on the pillow, never in his wildest dreams would he have expected to be third wheel to a dog.

***

Morning light peaked through the bedroom curtains, the sun shining brightly in Rafael’s face, effectively blinding him. He groaned in protest at having been woken, rolling over to reach out for you, but was instead greeted by a slip of paper. Furrowing his eyebrows, he reached for his glasses on the nightstand, slipping them on to read the note you had left for him.

Good Morning Handsome! Woke up early to take Mac for a walk. There are bagels and coffee in the kitchen. Make sure to carb up before your trial today. Be back soon!

Rafael smiled, gently fingering the kiss mark you left in bright red lipstick on the paper as your signature. You had met Rafael through your close friend, Sonny Carisi. The detective was determined to play cupid. Relentless in his mission, he insisted on setting you up with the handsome ADA, knowing that you and Rafael would be the perfect match. Finally, you both broke down and agreed to meet on a blind date and the rest was history. Rafael was hooked from the moment you entered the room and smiled at him. Likewise, as soon as you looked up into his mesmerizing green eyes, you were a goner. Although it had only been a month, your relationship was quickly becoming serious, neither of you having ever felt this way about anyone before.

After a hot shower and getting dressed in his favorite charcoal gray suit and purple tie, Rafael stood in your kitchen, reading a few emails on his phone between bites of his bagel. Just as he was checking his watch, wondering what was taking you so long, he heard the door opened. He turned around, expecting to see you, but was instead greeted by a muddy wet Labrador. What happened next was all a blur. Before Rafael could even react, Mac jumped on him, covering his $3000 suit in muddy paw prints and slobber. Upon hearing the commotion, you ran into the kitchen, but it was too late, the damage had already been done.

***

Rafael walked into the courthouse, ignoring the stares he received from people. He could only imagine how he must have looked, covered in mud, two big paw prints right on his chest. All the spare clothes he had in his office were at the cleaners and there was no time to go back to his place to change. He walked into the bathroom, wetting some paper towels to try and clean himself up as best he could when Sonny came in.

“Woah! What happened to you?” The detective smirked, eyeing the evidence left on Rafael’s body. “Looks like you had a run in with Macaroni.”

“Who?” Rafael asked, furiously scrubbing his suit.

“Macaroni…ya’ know Mac, Y/N’s dog,” Sonny replied. “Did she ever tell ya’ I picked the name Macaroni? I have a way with names. I tell ya’ it’s a gift.”

“Congratulations. That’s quite an accomplishment, detective,” the ADA scowled.

Sonny held up his hands in defense. “Sorry. I’ll let ya’ get back to your suit.”

“This is never going to work. I have opening statements in 10 minutes,” Rafael grumbled. The efforts he made to clean his suit jacket actually spread the mud around more, making an even bigger mess. He looked up and saw Sonny checking his hair in the mirror. The ADA cocked his head to the side, gauging the size of the detective’s suit jacket and shirt, the cogs in his brain working overtime to come up with a solution to his dilemma. “Carisi!” He called out as Sonny was about to walk away. “I need a favor.”

Several minutes later, Rafael and Sonny walked into the courtroom, each man wearing the other’s suit jacket, shirt, and tie. The two made quite a pair. Sonny covered in crusted mud, wearing a jacket too big for his frame with sleeves too short for his arms, the cuffs stopping right before his wrists.

On the other hand, the fabric of Rafael’s suit was far too tight, stretching and straining over his frame; the shirt barely buttoned, resting taut over his belly, while the sleeves were far too long. He felt like a soda bottle that had been shaken up, ready to explode at any sudden movement.

Sonny joined the rest of the squad in the gallery. “Don’t even ask,” he muttered to Amanda, whose jaw had all but dropped to the floor when she took in the state of her partner. Meanwhile, Fin’s shoulders shook, trying to keep himself from laughing out loud as he looked over at the ADA. “What’s up with Barba? He looks like the Hulk about to rip out of his shirt.”

“All rise,” the bailiff announced. Judge Barth entered the courtroom, doing a double take when her eyes landed on Rafael, her eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Mr. Barba, not in one of your usual suits, I see,” she said.

Rafael turned beet red, adjusting his tie a bit, “It’s a long story, your Honor.”

“I’m sure it is.” Judge Barth coughed, trying to mask her chuckle before becoming serious. “You may be seated.”

As soon as Rafael sat down, he heard a popping noise, a button burst off his shirt, rolling to the ground and landing next to Rita’s feet at the defense’s table.

Rita glanced between the button and him, arching a brow. “Looks like someone is taking a page from Buchanan’s book.”

The ADA pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine setting in. “This is going to be a long day,” he thought to himself.

***

“Are you sure you don’t mind watching him?” You asked for the umpteenth time as you placed your pajamas in your suitcase before zipping it up. You were unexpectedly asked by your boss to attend a week long conference in Miami and although you had offered to take Mac to a boarding kennel, Rafael insisted on taking care of the rambunctious furball.

“Of course not, hermosa. Besides, this will give us a chance to bond.” Rafael laid on the bed, reaching over to pet Mac. The dog moved out of his grasp, running up to you instead.

You nodded your head while scratching Mac’s belly. “Ok, but if you need me or if he’s driving you crazy, remember I’m just a phone call away.” A knock at the door pulled your attention away from your sweet ball of fluff. “That must be Sonny.” Mac instantly perked up when he heard you say the detective’s name. “You wanna see Uncle Sonny, Mac!?” The dog barked and wagged his tail following you out of the bedroom. Rafael rolled his eyes when he heard Sonny, slowly getting up off the bed, bringing your suitcase with him.

“Hey Barba! Hey Y/N!” Sonny waved before crouching down to pet your dog. “Hey Macaroni! The Macster! Mac n’ Cheese! Who’s a good boy?! Who’s a good boy!? You are! You’re a good boy!” Sonny exclaimed in a baby voice. Mac barked, jumping up and down in excitement, reveling in all the attention he was getting. As Rafael watched Sonny’s interaction with your dog, he couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Despite the fact that you spent everyday together, Mac still hadn’t warmed up to him.

Sonny stood up and took your suitcase. “We better get going. I’m double parked and traffic to JFK is murder this time of day. I’ll meet ya’ downstairs.”

“I’ll be right down,” you said before turning and leaping into Rafael’s arms, hugging him tightly.

He chuckled, holding you close. “Y/N, it’s only a week. You’re not being shipped off to war.”

You sniffled, fighting back the sting of tears. “I know. I’ll just miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He nuzzled his nose against yours, kissing you deeply which was difficult to do with Mac pushing in between you both.

You kneeled down and hugged your dog, resting your head on top of his. “Bye, my sweet Macaroni. Be good for Rafi, ok?”

“Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.” Rafael blew you one last kiss before shutting the door. Mac cried and walked up to the door, pawing at it. Rafael turned towards him and smiled. “Hey buddy, it’s ok. She’ll be back soon. In the meantime, looks like it’s just us for a few days.” The dog let out a huff and walked to the living room, gazing forlornly out the window.

***

The week was long and grueling for the ADA. In the battle between man and beast, it was obvious who the triumphant victor was. Mac made it abundantly clear that there was room for only one man in your life. Whether it was chewing on his $1400 Italian leather shoes or tearing through the trash, there always seemed to be a disaster waiting for Rafael when he came home. Everyday he would cringe, slowly opening the door, wondering what he would find on the other side.

One night Rafael was on the phone with Jack McCoy updating him on SVU’s latest case when Mac decided that it was the perfect time to play with a squeaky rubber pork chop. Each time Rafael tried to speak, he was interrupted by a loud squeak. After the seventh squeaky interruption, he took the toy away from the dog only to be cut off yet again by another loud squeak. Glancing down, he realized the dog didn’t just have one toy, but a collection of toys: various squeaky rubber bones, chickens, and balls each one louder than the next. Mac stared at Rafael as if he was daring him to take another toy away.

By the time Friday rolled around, Rafael was counting down the hours until you came home. He took Mac for a walk in the park that the two of you would often frequent, hoping the fresh air would do some good. They had just started their stroll when Rafael heard his phone buzz in his pocket. He stopped for a second under a tree, pulling his phone out to answer. Mac tugged on the leash, tired of waiting for the ADA. “Hold on a sec,” Rafael mumbled, answering an important text from Liv.

Mac whined, spying a squirrel off in the distance, and started running full force towards it. Rafael stumbled forward, the leash sliding out of his hand. “Mac! Mac!” He yelled, chasing after the yellow Lab. “MACARONI! MACARONI! HEEL!” Mac was faster than a speeding bullet. The dog must have been a greyhound from Planet Krypton in a past life. A turn around the corner and he was gone.

Rafael ran as fast as his legs could carry him, shouting for Mac to come back. Parkgoers couldn’t help but stare, it wasn’t an everyday occurence when a top Manhattan ADA was seen running around the park like a madman shouting “Macaroni!” at the top of his lungs. Out of context, it was a funny scenario.

An hour later, Rafael collapsed on a bench, panting and wheezing, his lungs felt like they were on fire and his clothes were saturated in sweat. It was hopeless. Macaroni was gone and he lost him. You would never forgive him for losing your dog. “Dear God. What have I done?” He mumbled, resting his head in his hands, thinking of how he was going to break the news to you. “The one good thing in my life and I ruined it.” Just as he was contemplating calling Liv and asking if she could put a BOLO out on a yellow Labrador, he felt a paw on his knee. Glancing up, he saw Rita Calhoun standing in front of him with two dogs, one of which was Mac.

“Mac! There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Rafael kneeled on the ground, hugging the dog. A wave of relief washed over him. He was so thrilled to see Mac that he had yet to acknowledge Rita’s presence.

“I spotted him by the fountain and then I remembered seeing you run around the park like a raving lunatic and figured he was yours,” she said.

“Thanks Rita,” he replied. “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re a lifesaver.” Mac barked, his tail wagging a mile a minute, hopping up and down and licking Rafael’s cheeks. “Hey! Not the face,” he chuckled, petting the dog.

“Ugh, get a room.” Rita rolled her eyes before looking down at the other dog standing next to her, a tiny Chihuahua. “Come on, Woof Bader Ginsburg. Let’s finish our walk,” she cooed in a high-pitched voice.

“I didn’t think Rita liked living things,” Rafael said to himself, watching the defense attorney walk away with the Chihuahua, which looked more like a wind-up toy than an actual dog. He stood up and grabbed Mac’s leash. “Come on. Let’s go home.” Mac barked in agreement, happily following Rafael back to your apartment.

Later on that evening, Rafael relaxed on the couch, freshly showered and munching on popcorn. While he was flipping through the channels, Mac came and sat next to him on the couch. He turned and looked at the dog, arching a brow. “So have I passed the hazing? Do you think we could call a truce now?” Mac wagged his tail and laid his head on Rafael’s lap.The ADA softly smiled, scratching behind the Labrador’s ears, the dog leaning into his touch. “See, I’m not so bad. What do you say we watch some TV before bed?” Mac barked and licked his hand. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

***

You opened the door to your apartment, setting your suitcase down and entering the living room when you came across the sickeningly sweet sight of your boyfriend and your dog snuggled against each other, fast asleep on the couch. You tiptoed over, moving to sit next to your two guys.

Mac woke up first, jumping onto your lap, his tail swishing in Rafael’s face, waking him up as well. “Hey, you’re home early,” Rafael said with a sleepy smile, stretching a bit.

“I took the red-eye flight. I wanted to surprise you.” You leaned forward to give him a sweet kiss. “How did this week go? Looks like you two are getting along.”

Rafael smirked, patting Mac on the head. “This week was…..interesting. But I think Mac and I are finally seeing eye to eye.”

You sighed in relief. “It took you guys long enough.” You cuddled closer to him, burying your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the smell of his body wash before looking at the television, the movie Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey playing on the screen. “Enjoying the movie?” You teased.

He blushed a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mac wanted to watch it.”

Mac perked his head up at Rafael as if to say,“Who me?”

“That’s a pretty lame excuse, Counselor.” You giggled, leaning forward and resting your forehead against his.

“I can’t get anything past you, can I?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes boring into yours like you were a figment of his imagination about to disappear into thin air. “I missed you so much,” he softly said.

“I missed you too.” You kissed the tip of his nose before dropping a kiss on his lips. Resting your head on his shoulder, you snuggled closer to Rafael, with Mac nestled in between you, the three of you falling asleep quickly. As your eyes slipped closed, a smile tugged at your lips, it felt good to be home.

@sass-and-suspenders @southern-magnolia @eclecticminded @obfuscateyummy @sweetcannolicarisi @thatesparzacrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @glimmerglittergirl @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @livxrafa @delia26

#rafael barba #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fic #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #barba #barba imagine #barba fic #law and order svu fic #law and order svu imagine

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httpjeon · 6 years ago

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❝somethings not right❞ pjm ― m.

― summary:

you and jimin work to rid jungkook of the demon that possessed his body.

jimin/reader | possession!au, reader-interactive | angst, smut, fluff, humor | 5.4k ↬ content warnings: minor injuries, blood, comparisons to bad horror movies, hospitals, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), pet names, lots of kissing, unprotected sex

a/n: congratulations! you guys got the good end! several of you guessed right with a completely correct theory! it was really cool! i hope everyone enjoyed this little halloween special!

→ blog masterlist → pt1

Staring at Jungkook for a moment, you watched the way his shoulders heaved in his anger. He wasn’t looking at you, only glaring at Jimin with his teeth clenched.

“J-Jimin, what do we do?” Your words caused Jungkook to bark out a laugh, making you flinch.

When did he become so aggressive?

“You’re taking his side, huh?” Jungkook snarled, clenching his fists by his sides. “So what’re you gonna do? You gonna take me down? Please, I could crush the both of you with one foot,”

“L-Let’s just run,” Jimin whispered to you while Jungkook continued to mutter and curse the both of you under his breath.

Ever so slowly, Jimin slipped his hand into yours and paused for 1...2...3 seconds before he squeezed.

That was the cue.

Taking Jungkook by surprise, the both of you took off to the door. He didn’t have time to react but by the time you and Jimin reached the stairs, the younger was thundering behind, fast on your heels.

“Go, go, go!” Jimin cried, almost tripping down the stairs in his panic if not for your tight grip on his hand.

“You can’t leave!” Jungkook screamed, practically causing the windows to shake at the volume.

You wrenched the door open, letting Jimin out first before taking off behind him. When you reached the end of the driveway, you both turned around to see Jungkook standing in the doorway, seemingly refusing to cross the threshold to the outside.

“W-What now?” You wheezed out, voice weak from panting, feeling your heart painfully pound in your chest as the adrenaline disappeared.

“I don’t know, actually, I’m fresh out of ideas…” Jimin panted, eyes on the house as Jungkook slipped back inside and shut the door. “Check back in 3-5 business days for the restock,”

“Now’s not the time to make jokes,” You whined, frowning at your friend who shrugged sheepishly in response.

“I joke when I’m nervous, you know this,” Jimin whispered, now standing up straight and breathing evened out.

“We can go see Father Yoongi,” You offered.

“Or call Taehyung,” Jimin countered.

The both of you paused, staring at each other as you thought both options through.

“Both?” You said in unison, nodding in agreement before pulling out your phone.

“What if he’s not awake? It is...pretty late...or early?” Jimin asked, taking a glance up at the sky to see the moon was still high in the air and you realized you didn’t know how late it was.

“It’s...3:32 in the morning,” You muttered, shocked by the time. Through all the havoc, you really hadn’t realized it was so late.

“Why don’t we crash at Taehyung’s until the morning?” Jimin advised, to which you agreed.

Taehyung was relatively well-versed in the occult. You didn’t know how much he knew about demons but Jimin did say he had been in contact with the witch-lover through this ordeal.

Perhaps Taehyung could be useful.

Taehyung blinked blearily at the two of you as you sat on his living room floor around his glass coffee table. He had a blanket wrapped around him and yawns kept coming from his lips, infecting you and Jimin as well.

“How…” Taehyung started, voice still thick with sleep. “In the fuck...did you summon a demon?!”

“...A-Are you seriously asking how?” Jimin squeaked, looking terribly small beneath Taehyung’s heated stare.

“Of all the years I’ve been doing this, I have seriously never even come close to summoning a fucking demon!” Taehyung continued, ignoring Jimin’s question. “I’ve had bad spirits, sure, but a demon?!”

“It’s name was O-”

“DON’T!” Taehyung slapped a hand over Jimin’s mouth so hard it made an audible slap, making even you flinch. That probably hurt. “Never...say a demon’s name.”

“Yeah...about that…” You caught both Taehyung and Jimin’s attention, breaking their heated glaring contest. “Father Yoongi said it would attach to whoever spoke the name but...if I remember correctly...Jimin spoke it but...Jungkook go possessed?”

“Hmm,” Taehyung looked pensive for a moment, biting his lip before speaking. “It could be that Jungkook was in a more fragile state of mind or somehow was more open to the possession than either of you.”

“I mean...we summoned it in his room,” Jimin mused, making Taehyung slap his hand on the table causing the both of you to jump.

“That’s it!” He cried, looking at the both of you with wide eyes. “It invaded his space! It probably started to affect him mentally as time went on until his psyche was too weak to fight off the possession!”

“Well that’s unsettling,” Jimin muttered while you felt a shiver crawl down your back from the idea.

“Can Father Yoongi help?” You asked, looking desperately to Taehyung who, once again, looked thoughtful.

“It’s possible,” He whispered. “I believe he has experience in exorcisms but I can’t promise you he will help even if he can,”

The three of you fell silent as you all thought about Taehyung’s words.

There was a possibility Father Yoongi could help. There was also a chance he could refuse to exorcise a demon.

Only one thing was certain; he was your only option to see at the moment.

The sun was just beginning to rise in the sky, peeking past the horizon and the three of you were up, sitting on the couch. You held your cellphone to your ear, listening to the ringing and praying that Father Yoongi was up and available.

“Hello?” The deep voice of the Father came through the speaker. You breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hell Father, this is _____, you came and blessed our house the other day,” You explained, hoping he remembered you.

“Of course,” His voice sounded lighter now, as if he were smiling. “Is something troubling you?”

“T-This might sound crazy,” You began, listening to him hum over the phone, waiting for you to explain. “We think Jungkook is possessed.”

“I figured it was something like that,” He responded easily, followed by shuffling sounds. “Where are you now? We can speak, I’ll come to you.”

“We’re at Kim Taehyung’s house,” Hearing the location, the priest agreed immediately and told you he was on his way as he spoke.

The next 15 minutes waiting for Yoongi to arrive were the most anxiety-filled minutes of your short life.

In the course of a couple weeks, your life had become that of a shitty B-rated horror movie. Your best friend possessed by a fucking demon and having to contact a Priest to help you out. What a joke.

The doorbell echoing across the house brought you to your feet and you raced to the door, feeling overwhelming relief flood your system at the sight of the priest.

“Good morning,” He smiled softly, bowing his head as he entered the house.

“Can I get you something to drink, Father?” Taehyung asked as he stood up the greet the older man.

“No, no thank you,” He declined, instead choosing to take a seat beside Jimin on the couch. “I’d like to get to the issue, if you don’t mind,”

“Not at all,” You responded, sitting on the floor opposite of the two men. “I guess you already know we had the night with the board and the strange happenings,”

“And then you contacted me for the blessing,” Yoongi finished, nodding at you to continue. “What happened when I left?”

“Things were pretty normal for a while, about a week but…” You thought back to that time as you spoke, searching for words to convey exactly what happened. “Everything came back but...it was 100 times worse. I swear I woke up a few times to someone standing over me, it was terrifying. And then Jimin was...chanting…”

“I got it from Taehyung,” Jimin explained, immediately knowing what you were referring to. “I told him about what was going on and he said I could try a purifying ritual. I think it just made...it angry.”

“That’s around the time that I was woken up by them fighting,”

“Jungkook was furious I was doing the ritual, he wanted to destroy the book so I couldn’t complete it,” Jimin continued to explain, making eye contact with the priest beside him. “I was so scare _____ wouldn’t believe me when I told her I wasn’t the one possessed,”

“Why did you get so angry when I came into the room during the ritual, Jimin?” You suddenly asked, seeming to surprise him.

“To be honest…” He shrugged. “I didn’t know if you were possessed or not. All I knew is that i wasn’t. But when Jungkook came in angry like that...I knew it was him.”

As the two of you fell silent, Yoongi hummed. Watching him, you could see him thinking it over, the wheels in his head turning.

“You know the name of the demon, don’t you?” His question seemed to surprise the both of you.

“It’s…” Jimin looked at you and Taehyung before spelling out the name to Yoonig. “O-Z-A,”

“I see,” Yoongi sighed, standing up. “That is the name of a demon who falls under the category of Ouija Demons. They’re demons who are summed by Ouija Boards and can attach themselves to the space they’re brought to. They don’t typically possess humans but it’s obviously not impossible.”

“So, w-what do we do about it?” Jimin asked, standing up along with you and Taehyung, all of you now huddled in a circle around the coffee table.

“Well, I’d like to go to your house...make sure it really is a demonic possession we’re dealing with and if so...an exorcism will be the best bet,”

Steeling your nerves, the four of you stood in front of the house. Although, the sun was in the sky now -- the house still had a dark feel to it, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Hmm,” Yoongi hummed, being the first one to actually approach the house. You and Jimin shared a look, scared of what you would find of your beloved friend behind the doors. “There is definitely dark energy here.”

“The door is locked,” Jimin muttered, pulling his keys out of his pocket, jogging forward to catch up to Yoongi, who was waiting by the door calmly.

When the door opened, it emitted a loud creak, making all of your cringe.

“Thanks, cliche horror door,” Taehyung muttered under his breath, nearly making you chuckle.

However, the light humor you found was quickly wiped clean when you saw the state of your house inside. The catchall table had been tipped over, scattering knicknacks and loose change across the floor. The pictures hung up on the wall were on the floor -- the glass having shattered and also decorated the floor. It crunched soundly beneath your shoes as you stepped on it. Taehyung closed to door behind you, casting you all in darkness which made you realize all the curtains were drawn closed.

“This place isn’t spooky at all,” Taehyung mumbled sarcastically, although much louder than his previous comment.

Before any of you could respond, there was a thundering boom from upstairs, as if something big and heavy was knocked over. You could feel the walls vibrate at the force and you barely held in a shocked squeal of fright.

“Let’s play rock, paper, scissors to see who has to go up,” Taehyung whispered, though he was joking, you could tell he was nervous if his trembling hands were anything to go by.

With Yoongi in the lead, you all followed the holy man upstairs to investigate the noise.

Just as you all reached the top of the stairs, every door in the hallway slammed open, making you and Taehyung shriek at the loud noise. Yoongi appeared unfazed and Jimin was frozen in place.

It took you a second to realize he was staring at Jungkook, who had emerged from his bedroom.

“How...bold of you to bring a priest into the devil’s home,” He spoke, although his voice held absolutely none of the warmth Jungkook’s did.

“You’re not the devil, don’t be absurd,” Yoongi’s voice was suddenly just as sinister as Jungkook’s. It was quite unsettling.

There was a flourish of movement followed by a blood-curdling shriek escaping from Jungkook’s pale lips. He stumbled back, clawing at his skin desperately, as if trying to get something off. You then noticed the steam rising from skin, little blisters arising from something.

“Holy water,” Yoongi said, nodding as he watched Jungkook. “Definitely a demonic possession. Taehyung,”

“Yes?” The boy answered immediately, although he still clung onto you.

“We’re going to perform an exorcism. Do you remember what to do?” Yoongi asked, not taking his eyes off the still-scrambling possessed Jungkook.

“Well, yes but…” Taehyung took a glance at both you and Jungkook. “Couldn’t it hurt him? What if It gets angry when we try to remove it. It could kill Jungkook!”

“What?!” Jimin cried, turning around to glare at the priest. “Absolutely not, you can’t do that!”

“Either we give it a try or the demon will kill him anyway!” Yoongi snapped, clearly becoming more on edge the longer he stood face-to-face with Oza.

“P-Please…” A soft, broken voice begged.

All three of you snapped your heads to where Jungkook was curled up on the floor, looking at you through his messy, sweat-matted bangs. Tears brimmed his puppy-eyes, making your heart ache. As you stepped forward to comfort your friend, a hand shot out to grip your arm, keeping you in place.

“Don’t,” Taehyung whispered, looking sadly between you and Jungkook. “It could overtake again in a second,”

“Please, help me,” Jungkook begged from the floor, whimpered as if in pain. “Get it out of me, please, it hurts!”

“Okay, Jungkook,” Jimin softly agreed, sniffling as he felt hopeless while his best friend was in pain. “We’ll do it,”

Jungkook cracked a smile, closing his eyes -- he seemed exhausted. It made you wonder what was going on inside him, was he awake? Did he have to watch as the demon destroyed everything and threatened to hurt his friends? Perhaps that’s why he was tired, he was mentally fighting the intrusion every step of the way. Or maybe he was asleep, his conscious drifting away to leave It to play on its own.

Then, as quickly as he came; Jungkook was gone and Oza was back -- a sickening grin sliding onto his face, nothing like the real Jungkook. It made you sick. He looked like Jungkook, sounded like Jungkook, but it was something invading his body and using him and hurting his host -- your best friend. You felt tears prick at your eyes.

“Stay strong,” Yoongi cooed, placing a calming hand on your shoulder. “Don’t show it any weakness or it will exploit it for it’s own gain. We’ll save Jungkook, I give you my word.”

You gave him a nod and dried up your tears, resolving to stay strong and defeat this evil. You would get Jungkook back and everything would go back to the way it was.

“Let’s begin,” Yoongi pulled out a small book, one that had fit into his pocket. When you got a glance at the pages, you realized you had no idea what it said -- it was in a completely different language.

“Jimin,” Taehyung said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “You two need to get somewhere safe, alright?”

“What about you?” Jimin asked, looking desperately at his friend.

“Unfortunately, this is more a two person job. Father Yoongi can’t do this on his own and unless you can pull some sick exorcism tricks out of your ass, then you’re going to be no help,”

“But--”

“Look, if you stay here you could get hurt. You and _____, do you want that?” Taehyung snapped, squaring up to Jimin with a heavy glare.

“No,” Jimin answered softly, reaching behind him to grasp your hand in his. You could feel his hand trembling in your grip and you gave it a soft squeeze, fighting a smile when he gave one back. “Alright, let’s go,”

“Where do we go?” You asked, causing Taehyung to furrow his brows.

“It’d be best if you left the house, but I’m going to assume you’ll say no to that,”

“You assume right,”

“Then...the basement would be the safest bet,” Taehyung shrugged.

“Oh yeah,” Jimin rolled his eyes. “Because the basement always works out in horror movies. I swear, this is becoming more like a bad B movie by the second,” Still, Jimin began to lead you down the staircase.

When you both reached the first floor, you could hear Yoongi begin to speak; most likely something from the book, as you couldn’t understand a single word. You could also hear a dark chuckle coming from Jungkook that sent shivers down your spine. The two of you doubled your pace, rushing to the door that led to the basement.

“How long do you think this’ll take?” You whispered, taking a seat on the cold concrete floor. Thankfully the basement at least had lights installing. It was mostly used for storage, although you three briefly thought of making it a game room. Maybe if--when Jungkook got better, you could do it as a fun project together.

“I wish I knew,” Jimin replied, shuffling closer to you, still keeping a strong grip on your hand.

You looked at him, his skin glowing from the orange lighting.

There was a loud slam from upstairs, the sound of glass crashing and you flinched as you remembered the big antique mirror that hung at the end of the hallway. Jungkook always used it to check out his outfit, acting as if the hall was a runway, striking a pose when he reached the mirror. He always made you and Jimin laugh.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around Jimin’s middle; hugging him to you. Jimin cupped the back of your head, stroking your hair to comfort you.

“It’ll be okay,” He whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, making you look up at him. “Jungkook will be alright. And you have me, too,”

“I know,” You whispered, meeting his eyes.

“I never thanked you,” He said, making you furrow your brows, shaking your head in confusion.

“What for?”

“For believing me,” He reached up, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “For trusting me, I don’t know what would have happened if you had believed Jungkook. You could have gotten hurt,”

“Jimin…” As you said his name, he began to lean forward -- your lips almost touching before the sound of the door opening stopped you.

“The ambulance is coming,” Taehyung called down the stairs, panting. “It worked.”

You and Jimin jumped to your feet, running to the foot of the stairs, looking up at Taehyung. He looked a mess, holding his side, which was seeping blood onto his shirt.

“What happened to you?!” You cried, thundering up the stairs with Jimin hot on your feet. “Where’s Father Yoongi?”

“Ah, bastard cut me with a piece of glass. It’s just superficial, might need stitches,” Taehyung explained, wincing as he took a step back to let you and Jimin out of the basement. “Father is with Jungkook upstairs, don’t worry,”

“Is he alive? Is he okay?” Jimin hounded, desperately grabbing onto Taehyung’s arm.

“He’s okay,” Taehyung quelled, patting Jimin’s hand on his arm comfortingly. “He should fully recover,”

“Thank god,” You and Jimin breathed at the same time.

“You got that right…” Taehyung joked, grinning; albeit painfully.

“Jungkook, you are such a diva,” You snapped, flicking him on the forehead, making him whine. “You scared the hell out of us, your punishment is to eat the horrible hospital food,”

“You’re evil,” Jungkook whimpered, flopping back dramatically on the bed. “Letting your poor hospitalized friend eat this gunk,”

“When you get home, we’ll cook you a nice big meal,” Jimin promised, grinning from where he sat on one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs.

“Visiting hours are almost over, you have 15 minutes,” A nurse told you, smiling softly from where she peaked in through the doorway. You and Jimin nodded, making Jungkook whine again.

“Stop being a baby,” You teased, patting him softly on the shoulder. “We’ll be back tomorrow, you know,”

“Yeah,” Jungkook heaved a big sigh. “Oh, how is Taehyung?”

“He’s alright, he went home yesterday,” Jimin answered, smiling when Jungkook whined again. “He just needed some stitches.”

“Why can he go home but I can’t!” Jungkook cried petulantly, poking out his bottom lip like a child. You rolled your eyes, he could be such a child.

“Because unlike you, Taehyung wasn’t malnourished and dehydrated. You have to stay here to get fluids and your strength back,”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook waved his hand with a roll of his eyes.

“We gotta go,” Jimin stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. “We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,”

“Can you bring Tae?” Jungkook asked, sitting up again and this time, pulling his dinner closer to him to begin eating.

“We’ll see,” You responded, leaning down and giving your best friend a hug, which to weakly returned. He still wasn’t 100%, but he was getting there!

The walk home was quiet and comfortable, Jimin’s fingers laced with yours. The two of you hadn’t discussed how you had almost kissed that night but, things between you definitely changed. You weren’t complaining, you enjoyed the feeling of having him so close to you.

If you were honest, you had never seen Jimin as just a friend like you had with Jungkook. There were always underlying feelings for him which you never dwelled on or thought too much about.

But now, you were thinking about it.

A lot in fact.

“Hey Jimin,” You whispered, not wanting to raise your voice and ruin the calm atmosphere around the two of you. He hummed in reply, looking at you with a small smile on his lips. He looked, dare you say, fond. “Do you want to watch a movie when we get home? I don’t really feel like going to bed,”

“Only if we can watch Mulan,” Jimin bargained, pulling out his keys to unlock your front door.

The two of you had cleaned up, having to replace the picture frames and the cute ceramic bowl that served as your catchall on the table in the entryway but otherwise things were cleaned up and looking quite nice.

“Deal, I’ll go make popcorn,” You said, kicking your shoes off and rushing through the house to the kitchen, sliding on the tiled floor in your socks.

You could hear Jimin shuffling around in the living room, setting up the DVD player. You and he had argued that you could just watch it on Netflix or Hulu but Jungkook was always adamant on watching things on DVD -- it made him feel younger, like when he was a kid.

The smell of fresh, buttery popcorn wafted through the air as you sat it on the table. Jimin had unfolded your favorite fluffy blanket and set up a little space for you beside him.

As the movie played, Jimin munched on the popcorn beside you. Before long, you were humming along to I’ll Make a Man Out of You, the song and theatrics of the scene drawing all your attention so that you didn’t notice Jimin’s hand sliding beneath the blanket to find your hand, where you had tucked them under to keep them warm. The house was cold as none of you wanted to admit defeat and turn the heater on yet. Thinking on it, though, you should probably turn it on for when Jungkook comes home.

As the song ended, you felt eyes on you; turning to see Jimin smiling at you.

“What is it?” You asked, unable to fight your own smile.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were shocked. He was so straightforward. You blinked repeatedly before nodding dumbly, making him grin again.

His lips were soft; though that was no shock because the man had 15 different lip scrubs in the bathroom and a handful of chapsticks that he used religiously. As your lips worked against his, you could faintly taste the salty butter from the popcorn he had been munching on.

The hand that wasn’t beneath your blanket cupped your jaw, easing you into tilting your head so he could deepen the kiss, tongue beginning to lick into your mouth.

You sighed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers into his hair.

He smelled so good and he felt so nice beneath your touch, you could feel the muscles in his back flex as you gripped his shirt, wanting to feel him closer to you. Although you were no longer holding his hand, it was still beneath the blanket holding your thigh. Just having him touch you like that was setting a fire in your veins and it almost seemed like he read your mind as his digits began to lightly caress your inner thigh through your leggings.

“_____?” He whispered, barely breaking the kiss, your lips still touching as he spoke. “Can I touch you?”

Your only reply was a breathless ‘please’ before he gently helped you lay on your back, hovering beneath your body as Mulan continued to play on the television.

His hands became busy with pushing your sweater up to reveal the sports bra you wore; you were dressed for comfort not getting laid. He didn’t seem to mind as he leaned back down to tie your lips into another kiss, fingers trailing along your skin to make goosebumps rise on your skin. You held in a giggle as he brushed your ribs, making you feel ticklish.

The feeling left you as his fingers dipped beneath your bra, just barely brushing your breast before you couldn’t take it anymore and you pulled your sweater off in a hurry. Jimin leaned up, chuckling softly as you also pulled your bra off and dropped it on the floor. Jimin seemed to follow you and pulled his own shirt off, letting it fall off the side of the couch.

Truth be told, you hadn’t really expected to have your first time with Park Jimin on a couch, but hey, you couldn’t afford to be picky now when his lips were wrapping around one pert nipple and his cock was hard and pressing against you through his jeans.

You couldn’t seem to feel the cold air around you anymore, your whole being centered around the warmth of the beautiful man on top of you now. While he tongue and lips worked one of your nipples, his fingers began to pluck at the other one, making you whimper. Your hands weren’t idle either as you pulled at his hand and lightly dragged your nails up his back, which made him groan against your bud.

“Jimin, please,” You whimpered, pulling at his hair to break his lips away from you.

“What do you need, babygirl?” You shivered at the pet name and whimpered, making him smirk. “You like that? You like bein’ called babygirl?”

“Yes, god,” You whined, grabbing his wrist to pull his hand away from your breast, leading him to the waistband of your leggings.

You were wet and quite frankly, you were sure you wouldn’t need much foreplay but you also wanted to feel his fingers inside you...just a little taste of it. Jimin groaned, immediately giving in to what you wanted as he dove his hand into your leggings. However, he froze the second he brushed against your soaked slit.

“No panties?” He scoffed, making you blush as you realized you had, in fact, decided to forgo panties today. “Dirty girl, going to see poor Kookie when you’re not even wearing panties,”

Before you could even think of a rebuttal, his fingers were spreading your folds so his middle finger could circle your clit in firm circles. Your hips arched into the feeling, a low groan escaping your lips as Jimin’s dark eyes watched every single one of your movements.

“A...A finger, please, Jimin,”

He didn’t respond, merely sliding his finger inside you, crooking it the second it was bottomed out to find your g-spot. He took a couple seconds on searching, before he hit the little spot and made you cry out. When he slid a second finger inside you, your eyes rolled back and you realized that you would be hitting an orgasm embarrassingly fast if he kept it up. So, you grudgingly pulled his hand out of your leggings -- promptly popping his fingers, coated in your juices, into your mouth. Jimin’s mouth dropped open as he watched and felt the way your tongue licked up every drop of yourself.

You both seemed to be on the same page as he gripped the band of your leggings, pulling them down your legs. You helped him, pulling your feet from the material. Once you were free, you sat up and flicked the button of his jeans open, beginning to pull them down his thighs until he had to stand up to pull them off the rest of the way.

He stood before you in his boxer-briefs, which did nothing to hide the fact that he was rock hard and that his precum was staining the dark material.

Biting your lip, you hooked your finger into the band, pulling them down until his cock slapped his stomach, the tip an almost purple-red from being neglected. As much as you wanted to feel him inside you, you were overcome with the desire to have him in your mouth.

Keeping your eyes on his, you carefully took the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip to gather as much of his precum as you could, whimpering at his taste. Jimin hissed, clenching his teeth as he gripped your hair. You could feel his hand trembling against you, and you internally smirked.

However, you didn’t have a long time to enjoy the heaviness of him on your tongue because he was pulling himself out of your mouth and kicked his boxers the rest of the way down.

With the both of you completely naked, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Jimin kneeled between your spread legs sliding the head of his cock between your folds, getting himself soaked with your juices.

“You ready?” You nodded, arching your hips for him so he could sink in.

The both of you froze when he bottomed, his cock pulsing inside of you and your walls throbbing as you accommodated him.

He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours. The angle, however, caused the tip of him to brush your g-spot. When you whimpered against his kiss, he pulled back and ground his hips to make you cry out.

“Fuck,” He cursed, cupping your breasts before he began to fuck you in earnest.

The sound of skin slapping together fills the room, mingling with the wet noises of your cunt and your moans. Your nails scratched at his back, no doubt leaving trails of red in their wake. However, it only seemed to spur him on as he moved his hips even faster.

“Fuck, I’m close,” He panted, resting his head on your shoulder, kissing your neck. “Play with your clit for me, babygirl, make yourself cum on me,”

You didn’t need to even think about it before your fingers found your hard clit, sensitive and neglected and aching to be touched. Jimin felt the way you clenched around him at the added stimulation, making him whimper against your skin.

Right as you both started to cum, he pressed his lips against yours. You trembled beneath him, cumming hard as his cum filled you up. Part of your brain was reminding you that a cum stain would never come out of the couch but quite honestly, the rest of your brain couldn’t give less of a fuck.

Jimin held himself above you, panting and smiling down at you.

You all sighed as Jungkook finally took a seat on the couch. All of you were so happy for him to be home — Taehyung had even stopped by to give a gift basket. However, he couldn’t stay; his stitches were still healing and it ached every time he moved.

“You know,” Jungkook sighed, grinning goofily at the two of you. “Don’t you think it’s kind of cliche that the two of you got together after all this shit? Fuckin’ B-rated horror movie shit, I tell you!”

“I swear someone’s said that before…” You mumbled, squinting as Jimin chuckled.

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