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bakugohoex · 4 years ago

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part one: “you want to sleep on the floor”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: university student y/n, implicit nsfw, fluff and language

word count: 3400+

a/n: this is dedicated to the one anon who was super sweet to me yesterday, all of your support means the world to me and i hope you guys enjoyed this

summary: in which you’re neighbours with pro hero katsuki bakugo, one night your roommate and her boyfriend get a bit too loud, with no where else to turn you end up in the apartment of bakugo’s, sleeping beside him you both realise the hidden feelings between one another

part two

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

The bed squeaked and headboard banging against the wall, moans filled the apartment and the sound of ongoing thrusts erupted out of one single room. You hadn’t slept in hours, the sound from your roommates room vibrating against the whole apartment.

What was even worse, was not just having both your rooms side by side, meaning every time the man thrusted back and forth inside of her you could hear her bed hit the wall, no it wasn’t just that, it was the fact this had been going on for hours now.

You saw the digital clock indicate three am, how could one couple go at it for two hours straight, better yet who gets horny at one am and thinks lets having a fuck session whilst their roommate is next door.

Well your friend clearly did, it wasn’t like you wanted to interrupt them, they hadn’t seen each other in a while and deserved something. But at the expense of your sleep, it was a lot more than you had expected. You had prayed they would stop but the moans of his name continued, and it seemed like they would never stop anytime soon.

You swung your legs off your bed, yawning as the stars filled the sky, you would go to the balcony, probably try and fall asleep outside if it was summer, but it wasn’t. It was fucking winter and you could see the snow form on top of the window ledge. There was always the sofa, you put a hoodie on your body, covering the short shirt and bottoms you wore, dragging your duvet to the sofa.

Staring up at the ceiling, trying to gain some sleep, you hoped the noise of their maniac sex would calm down. But to your luck, the noise seemed to get even more louder, as if they had left the door open. You really did not need to hear the consistent grunting and moaning coming from your friend and her boyfriend. You knew tomorrow morning you wouldn’t be able to face them after the night they were having.

You were cynical, the last time you had sex being months ago. You were touch deprived and even worse the crush on your pro hero neighbour made it worse, when you’d go in the early mornings to the balcony or get your mail, you’d see the man.

He’s be sweaty from some sort of training, his black vest always clinged onto his body perfectly. He was like a renaissance art piece, he deserved to be in a museum. You tried to think about him, to get rid of the sound of your roommate, you had had an encounter with him in the morning. He had come back from an early morning run and you had gone to get the mail. Flicking through it Bakugo called your name to make sure the elevator didn’t go without him.

The pro hero was drenched in sweat and his long-sleeved running shirt clung to all his muscles, the shorts and leggings he wore underneath sticking to his thigh muscles. It was a sight for sore eyes, and you tried to not stare. “Hey Bakugo.”

You spoke politely, he looked down at you flicking through the mail, mainly magazines and other shit. “Y/n.” He spoke coldly, how could you had a crush on such a cold man.

“I saw on the news about the villains you captured, it was cool.” You tried to converse; he raised an eyebrow crossing his arms.

“It was more than cool, I did it single handily, stupid extras didn’t even help.” He smirked as if he was reminiscing in the past nights action.

You looked up at him, his jaw clenched. “Oh well you didn’t need their help in the first place, did you?” You teased a grin on your face.

He saw you step out of the elevator about to answer but instead keeping quiet, you wish you had stopped walking waiting for an answer but your boldness at teasing had made you too flustered to wait. He often was cold to both you and your roommate, mainly your roommate who found the pro hero an irritant. You often saw his friends come back and forth out of his apartment; you were shocked at how his friends were a foil of the man.

He was angry and frustrated and red riot who you assumed was his best friend frequently visited. Your roommate hated the boy due to her theory that he looked down on commoners, you were studying to go into (any career) and you had been working hard. Was she right? Were you really nothing more than commoners needing to be saved.

Your thoughts turned to your roommate and you got out of your daze of the pro hero, you really couldn’t sleep with the grunts. Your best option was to find somewhere else to sleep for the rest of the night, you were glad it was Sunday the next day so you could have a lie in.

You thought of who you could text to ask if you could spend the night, most of your friends being their own university students with their own problems. Your finger lingered over Bakugo’s number before you decided to just straight up ask him if you could sleep on his sofa.

Leaving your duvet in your room, you unlocked the door of your apartment, quickly slipping out. You finally had some peace without having to hear any more vigorous thrusts, did he want to split her in half or something. You rested your head against the door, before pacing outside Bakugo’s door, the number nine on the side. You hesitated knocking, maybe you should’ve texted before knocking at his door at half three in the morning.

It was only by accident and your nerves that you quickly knocked on the door. Maybe he wouldn’t even hear it, it was early morning, and he could be sleeping. About to leave the door, you were met by the man, he was shirtless, only wearing some grey joggers. You were almost about to admire his body, but as he raised his eyebrow a ‘what’ coming from his mouth you started to spew out your thoughts.

“…so yeah, my roommate and her boyfriend have been fucking for nearly three hours now, and I need my sleep so can I like sleep on your sofa or floor” He raised an eyebrow, his arm was leaning against the top of the door, his height making it easy for him to reach. “It’s fine, if you’ve got no room, I can just go back and h…”

“Shut up and get inside.” You were shocked but quickly obliged, walking into his apartment.

It was not what you had expected, the same layout even with two bedrooms. “My spare room has my hero stuff in it, you want to sleep on the floor”

He was grinning at the idea of you sleeping on the floor, “I can sleep anywhere just not in a sex ridden apartment.”

“My bedrooms free.” He spoke, your face reddening.

“Umm…aren’t you s…sleeping there?” You asked not meeting his gaze.

He crossed his arms, his blond hair less spiky from sleeping. “We’re adults Y/n, we can sleep in the same bed.”

You nodded, not speaking out of fear you’d say something wrong. He walked towards the room as you followed in suit, “stay on your side and we should be fine.”

You nodded again, he went on his side, lying down bare in front of you. It was a sight, his room was boiling, you took your hoodie off he looked at you, trying to not see how your shirt rid to show your exposed stomach. He looked away just as your head popped out of the hoodie. You laid on your side, Bakugo’s broad shoulders made your own touch his as he was partially on your side.

“You have a nice apartment.” You complimented knowing the two of you were still awake facing the ceiling.

He huffed, side eyeing you, he watched as your brought the covers around your shoulders. “It’s exactly like yours, minus the horny roommate.”

You laughed at the comment, turning to face his body. You didn’t care if you both weren’t classed as friends, you were going to try and somehow become friends of sorts. “Who wouldn’t love a horny roommate?”

“Me, I need my space and defiantly cant handle being around sex noises, you should’ve shot them with your quirk or something.”

You hadn’t even told him what your quirk was, it was simple and useless in most situations. “I don’t think its possible for me to do that with my quirk.”

He raised an eyebrow still facing the ceiling, his arm had moved behind his back , you could see his arm muscles all on show, “oh yeah what is it then?”

“Guess.” You teased, stretching the word out. Bakugo finally faced you, he saw how your hair framed your face, your eyes looked tired, but you seemed more awake than you had when you had knocked on his door.

“Just tell me, shitty woman.” You pouted at the man.

“You’re no fun, I can create sparks from my fingertips, I know it’s lame, it’s why I’m at university.” Bakugo looked at you, you expected laughing to come from him, you had heard him call most people extras and those without quirks had been mocked by many people. You expected the same at your lame quirk.

“Can you show me?” He wasn’t acting the same, you ignored his calmness, putting your hand from under the cover. You rubbed your fingers together, a spark coming from each finger, it was like a firework sparkler and was painful to touch. But the application of it was never pro hero material.

His hand moved closer to it, “I would…” He did anyway, his finger touching the top, he quickly moved it away after feeling it for less than a second.

“Oww, Y/n what the fuck? It stings.” You laugh, making the sparks go away, grabbing his hand your breath cool air on it. He hadn’t expected this action, feeling your breath on his fingertips, made his ears go red.

“It’s okay now.” He pulled away, not looking at you.

You didn’t say anything, nobody said anything, you could hear the clock tick away, the minutes going past. Maybe Bakugo had gone to sleep, but as you turned back, he had been fixated on the ceiling. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He spoke with frustration on his tongue.

“Oh, I don’t know you seemed out of it.” You spoke turning away from him, you could feel his legs move closer to your own, you didn’t dare think of the actions you wanted him to do to you. Inside trying to think of other stuff.

Bakugo instead broke the silence, “your quirk is decent.” It was some sort of compliment and you would take it.

“Really?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You laugh at the boy, his own mouth twitched upwards. “At UA, there was a kid who made purple balls from his head, so you’re already one hundred times better than him.”

You supress a laugh at someone having a more useless quirk than you, “was he at least hero type.”

“He was just some extra, but he was below four foot and a pussy.” You couldn’t suppress it any longer, a laugh wavering through the room. “And a perv, he loved looking up girls skirts.”

“For some extra, you did pay attention to him.”

“When you have friends that I have, you hear too much unnecessary information.” You smile turning to face him again.

You thought of the heroes who he worked with, who came intro his apartment, they seemed like nice people to be friends with. “So what you don’t pay attention to your friends?”

“I pay attention to important people.” He turned back to face you, both of you under the covers but Bakugo’s hand had moved on top of the duvet, right on top of your body. You didn’t question the action instead questioning him.

“And who’s important to the great Katsuki Bakugo.” You gave a gleeful look waiting for a response.

He thought it out, before finding the confidence to speak, “you.”

You were dumbfounded, your eyes widening waiting for more context, “me?”

“You study (subject area), you and your roommate go to yoga every Friday night, you babysit who I assume is your nephew once a month, you like drinking coffee on the balcony and you always seem to have cooking magazines in your hand.” You were shocked at how much he had remembered and seen from you.

“You noticed.” You were calm on the outside but freaking the fuck out at how much he acknowledged about you, you had spoke about your studies, and what you normally did when you passed by him, but you never expected him to remember.

“How could I forgot your interests.” You smiled looking down before he spoke again, “oh yeah, and you have a massive crush on me.”

Your cheeks reddened, were you that obvious, “w…what?”

“Y/n, I know when girls have crushes on me, I’m surprised in the months I’ve know you; you have brought back one guy and he was the polar opposite of me.” You remembered the guy you had brought back to have sex with, he was the opposite of Bakugo, from his appearance to personality. “Was he able to fuck you good at least?”

A cocky smirk was placed on the blond’s face, his red eyes were filled with a knowing look, you shook your head feeling his hand press harder on the covers, feeling how his hand rubbed back and forth on your leg from on top. “That’s what I thought, I bet you didn’t even cum.”

“I didn’t.” You blurted out.

“You’re lucky you’re better than the other extra’s, you actually have a chance of getting with me.” You looked at him, his other hand moving towards your face.

“Just getting with you?” You hesitantly spoke, your hand meeting his to stop him.

He realised how he had phrased it and quickly rephrased it, “not just to fuck Y/n, I’m not a man whore who does one-night stands.”

“So you’d want to go on a d…date?” You question, pulling his hand towards your cheek.

“Your words not mine.” He spoke defensively, you smirked wanting to close the gap but being scared to make the first move.

He noticed your eyes move down towards his mouth before he closed the gap. The fast pace of the kiss made you more turned on for him, his hands on your cheeks bringing your closer to his face. You had never been kissed like this before, never felt this thrill inside of you and you craved more. His hand moved to your thighs, making you move on top of him, before you sat on top of his exposed chest, your lips still attached to him.

His hands on your sides bringing you closer under the covers as your hands went to his face, making the kiss’ pace fasten. You moaned his name, an instant turn on at the sound of hearing his first name, he had often seen you reading outside on the balcony, he admired how peaceful you got.

But every day when he saw how calm you looked, he fell more and more in love with his neighbour. He watched how you went through the motions every time you read a new book, it was like you were in your own fantasy and he loved it.

His grip on your sides moved to your ass, he squeezed it, making you moan again, this time allowing his tongue access inside your mouth. You loved the feeling, loved his tongue with your own, he loved how you sat on his perfectly, the way one of your hands had moved to his bare chest, glossing over each muscle. As you both parted, he bit at your bottom lip, tugging to make one last moan come from your mouth.

The sound making his ears tingle in enjoyment before he flipped you over. He craved you but was always going to ask before he moved onto other things. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.” He spoke his mouth on your stomach moving upwards, he was a predator and you his prey and he wanted to devour you.

“I want to wait.” You spoke breathlessly.

He nodded, “I can still kiss you right?” He stopped kissing right underneath your bra, his hand having lifted your shirt up.

“Yes Bakugo.” You smiled feeling his mouth latch upwards, past your bra and onto your neck. Sucking the spot, his hand on your side as he continued to nibble and bite on your collar.

“It’s Katsuki, baby girl.” The single word sent your insides into to turmoil. A purple bruise formed on your neck, before he captured your lips his own. Your legs wrapped around his back, as you brought your arms round his neck, wanting to limit the gap between the two of you.

“Baby…” You trailed off speaking through the kiss, it was too much excitement as his kiss left you a sloppy mess, you felt like putty in his hands. He let go letting you breath, before lying on his back.

“Come ‘ere.” He grabbed your waist, bringing you closer to his body. “We can finish this after our date tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise.” You smiled boldly, his face going into the crook of your now bare back, his arms around your exposed stomach and lips kissing your shoulder.

He went to your ear, licking the back of your ear before nibbling at the earlobe, “I’ll show you what you’ve been missing out on, and we’ll make your roommate hear it all.”

You smiled in agreement; his arms wrapped around your body. You had not expected this to happen, you had thought you were doomed to be alone, but in the angry boys defence, you never even thought he acknowledged you. But as you laid hearing his soft snores in your ear, you gleamed at how you had got something you had been craving for months now.

bonus scene

You woke up the sound of Bakugo in his kitchen, finding his discarded shirt, you wore it, it was a lot bigger than you, but you hoped Bakugo liked it. You walked into the kitchen, a plate of pancakes on the table. “I mad…” He turned around seeing your cute little face in his shirt. “You really want me to bend you over right now.”

You giggled walking up to him, he grabbed your waist planting a soft kiss on you mouth. It was a lot calmer than last nights, but still had the same love in it. You heard his front door open, but Bakugo’s grasp on your was still tight, you squealed not wanting to be seen, instead Bakugo flipped you around, his body pressed onto your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Oi Bakugo, did you forget we were meeting at the…” He trailed off seeing both of you. “Isn’t that your attractive neighbour.”

Your face reddened, “I said you could use my spare key in emergencies.” The door was still wide open, and you knew Bakugo’s shouting would raise some attention.

“I thought you died.” Kirishima spoke. “I’m Eijiro Kirishima, you’re the neighbour, we’ve all had to hear so much about.”

You smiled at the fact Bakugo spoke about you, it melted your heart. “I’m Y/n Y/l/n.” You smiled, Bakugo’s grip loosening as you went to shake Kirishima’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.” He smiled out.

“What the fuck is all the noise.” You saw the door of your apartment open, you looked at your roommate who looked tired and her hair dishevelled. “Y/n what the fuck are you doing in there?” she looked between Bakugo and you, the way his arm was placed around your waist.

“You didn’t, even after everything I said.” She spoke a loud. “Tell me everything.”

She grabbed your hand, dragging you out. “I’ll see you tonight.” You shouted at Bakugo who watched you walk away.

“Ooo pancakes.” You heard Kirishima gleam out, Bakugo watched you get dragged away. A smile at the fact he had finally gotten what he wanted.

proceed to part two here

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ian-lythe · 3 years ago

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Christmas Special

This is a little confession scene. Or rather two idiots who fall in love with each other and realise it at the same time. CW for implied drinking and mentions of alcohol. The streets of Cascadia were buried in snow, Christmas eve was fast approaching and the cold winter night chill set in. Down in the streets below, the door to a restaurant opens. Raucous laughter and music blast through the air as two figures walkout.

Eric and Pierce walk side by side in silence. It was an amicable silence, with each man enjoying the company of the other. The snow under their shoes crunched as they walked on by.

Eric's cheeks were splotched red, though whether it was from the drinks he had or the cold weather was up for debate. Pierce had asked him to walk him home as a precaution. He had "a bit too much to drink" as Pierce put it.

Pierce smiled lazily, the buzz from the party still coursing through him. Though he was far from inebriated. For a shitty department Christmas party, Eric made it worthwhile. He couldn't quite place just what about his partner made him feel that way. Maybe it was how he managed to keep Pierce interested throughout a relatively dull dinner with conversation. Or maybe it was the way their hands brushed against one another during dinner. Pierce noticed Eric's face as he took the basket of bread from him, the quickest crack in his stoic facade. A flash of a blush, barely beginning before his skin turned to a normal shade.

Pierce looked down at Eric's hand. The same one that he touched during dinner. It wasn't shaking now, just swinging slightly as Eric walked along.

Slowly but surely Pierce began piecing it all together. The furtive glances that Eric gave him from time to time. The way Eric always brought him coffee on office days and late-night missions. The way that Eric seemed to relax around him, his shoulders loosening. Through a slightly hazy mind, Pierce came to a startling confusion. Though he hesitated to prove it. What if he was wrong? What if he was reading too deep into it? What if Pierce had misinterpreted Eric's friendliness for something more? What if Pierce had imagined it all?

All these questions and more swam around his head. Eric didn't notice Pierce stopping in his tracks until a few seconds later when he spoke."Eric, can I ask you something?" Eric turned around, and upon realising what his partner said, his heart began racing.

"Sure"

Pierce closed the distance between them quickly. His voice was barely a whisper, Pierce could feel his heart stop as he let the words from his heart loose. "I... I think I know what you think of me."

"As a friend," Eric replied far too quickly, anyone listening would have called bull on his statement. Pierce was one such person.

"You're a pretty bad liar you know," Pierce said as he pushed his finger into Eric's chest. "I'm not lying," Eric managed through gritted teeth and a heart that started drumming even faster than before. Pierce responded in the only way he knew Eric would understand. Actions speak louder than words, Pierce recalled his partner saying as he kissed said partner.

It was a quick kiss and they soon broke apart. Both of their faces flushed scarlet as it dawned on the other what had just happened. "I'm sorry, I should've asked you before-", Pierce started to say before Eric kissed him back.

This one lasted longer and when they broke apart again, they were acutely aware of the other's warm breath misting in the cold night. "How long did you wait to do that?" Pierce asked, the skin on his hand prickling as he brushed it against Eric's face.

"Too long," came the reply. Pierce let out in a huff in mock annoyance,"You could've told me sooner."

"Shut up, I didn't know you liked me back," Eric replied, his wits coming back to him. Pierce took Eric's hand in his own, his fingers entwining with the man’s slightly bigger digits. "Communication is a very important aspect of our job Agent Cruz." Eric laughed, the sound echoing in the street and reverberating in Pierce's ears.

Eric's face caught the light of a nearby street lamp, his eyes curled in on themselves as he smiled at Pierce.

God, he's beautiful.

Fin.

#tmd #idiots (affectionate)#they are idiots #Eric #pierce #Uncles

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2dmenenthusiast · 4 years ago

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Warmth - a Bakugou x Reader Christmas special

its finally done hhhhhh I love how I was just like “Oh yeah I’ll do a short little fic for Christmas” and then I ended up typing this long ass fic. I mean, its not that long but it took me days to write cuz I lack motivation always so it feels long lmao. Anyways, haven’t wrote for my explodey boy bakugou yet so here it is! Let me know if I gave the reader any specific pronouns or features by accident and I’ll fix it right away! I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to reblog if you wanna give my fic more exposure, I'd really appreciate it 😚

Summary: You get caught in the middle of a snowstorm, and when you get home, you’re desperately craving the warmth of your exploding, ragey boyfriend.

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings/other info: swearing, itty bitty reference to sexy times, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, just a lot of fluff (you guys are so mean to each other tho lmao)

You hated winter. Actually, scratch that. Let’s rephrase. You hate snow. No, you had nothing against the actual season. Winter brought you cute Christmas movies and catchy songs, as well as the gift-giving holiday itself. However, snow was a demon, and it could fuck right off. Especially when it was blowing directly into your face like it was now, your snow-covered boots trudging through the thick snow as you held grocery bags in each of your gloved hands. Even though you were wearing a thick winter coat and hat, and had your scarf covering half of your face, you felt like you were about to shiver out of your own skin and god you could barely fucking see with all of this snow going directly into your eyes.

“‘It’s right down the street, y/n, just walk there.’ What am I, fucking stupid?” you muttered.

You had figured it would be better to just walk to the store rather than using up gas or spending money on transportation, and fuck were you dumb for making that decision. Bakugou had warned you too, taking one look outside and telling you it would be better to just go get groceries tomorrow. But noooo, you just had to get it done today. And honestly, it looked like the roads were gonna be shitty for the next few days, so better now than later. Speaking of the roads, there were barely any cars driving on them, which was expected. The plow didn’t look like it had come through yet. However, a vehicle slowly came towards you, going under the speed limit to avoid sliding on the road, and you could hear The Christmas Song playing loudly from inside as it passed. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Yeah, the only thing going to be roasting on an open fire was your ass the second you walked through the door. And by an open fire, you meant the heater, which Bakugou better have on full fucking blast, or else you swore you were going to wring his neck.

As your apartment building became closer in view, you doubled your efforts and tried to speed up your pace, but the snow made it almost impossible when it was almost past your shins. Still, you grit your teeth and pushed through, letting out a relieved groan when you walked through the front door of your building and felt heat blast you in the face. Releasing a sigh, your grip tightening on the grocery bags as you traversed up the stairs to your apartment, and when you jammed your keys in the lock and pushed through the door, it was just as you suspected. Too fucking cold.

“He’s dead. He’s a dead man. He knew I was going out in the fucking arctic tundra that is the city right now, but he chose to keep the thermostat at fucking 70 degrees?!” you thought, grumbling to yourself as you set the bags down in the kitchen and marched over to the thermostat.

“Hey, take your fucking boots off, will you? You’re tracking snow.”

You raised your middle finger in the direction the voice came from, not even looking back

at your boyfriend as you turned the dial of the thermostat and watched the numbers go up until you were satisfied. Turning to look at Bakugou with a glare, you said something that he could tell was filled with frustration and anger, but he could barely hear you when you were talking through your scarf, raising an eyebrow as if to silently say, “what the fuck are you saying?” Rolling your eyes, you toed off your boots and hung up your coat, taking off your gloves and hat next before unwrapping your scarf from around your face and neck.

“I said you’re a fucking maniac. How are you not freezing?” you asked, hurrying past Bakugou to your shared bedroom so that you could change into something warmer.

Bakugou just scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you change. “You remember what my quirk is, right?”

Slipping one of Bakugou’s large hoodies over your head, you let out a sigh. “Oh right, I forgot that along with the ability to blow shit up, you’re also a walking heat box,” you said, throwing the hood over your head as you turned to your boyfriend with a small pout.

He just looked at you with an amused smirk, a single eyebrow quirked as he looked you up and down. He had to admit, he’d never get tired of seeing you in his clothes. Though he quickly became worried when a mischievous grin appeared on your face, and he had no time to react when you were running forward and slipping your hands underneath his shirt, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

“Gah! Shit, you’re fucking freezing!” he yelled, trying to push you off of him, but you just tightened your hold as you buried your face in his chest. “Hey! Don’t you get comfy, get the hell off of me.”

“But you’re so waaarm,” you whined, looking up at him with cute puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying, he was very warm, and you’d be damned if you pulled away from him anytime soon.

Letting out a growl through clenched teeth, Bakugou gripped your thighs in his hands and suddenly lifted you, and you let out a noise of surprise, not expecting your feet to come off the ground as your legs automatically wrapped around him so that you wouldn’t fall. Carrying you back into the living room, he threw you on the couch and pinned you with a glare when you tried to move, not walking away until he was certain you wouldn’t get up from that couch. Once he turned his back to you, you sat up on your knees and looked over the back of the couch as Bakugou walked into the kitchen, bending over the reach into one of the bags, and holy fuck his ass in those sweatpants was downright fucking sinful. As the cool kids would say, he was, “double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon.”

“It’s Saturday, and stop staring at my ass, you damn perv,” Bakugou grumbled without looking back at you, and you pursed your lips as you raised your hands in surrender.

“Not my fault you’re so dummy thicc.”

“For the love of god, stop watching TikTok.”

You just laughed and stood from the couch, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter as you watched your boyfriend put the groceries away. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can put them away.”

“Nonsense. You were just out freezing your ass off in the snow. Now get back on that couch before I throw you on it again,” he said.

You smiled at the kind gesture. While Bakugou was often rude and uncouth, not making an effort to hide his frustration or disdain for certain people or things, there was a soft spot deep down in there, and you were lucky enough to be one of the few people he showed it too. Of course, it was hardly willingly. You were persistent as hell, getting under his skin the moment you started going to UA with him. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like your persistence.

Letting out a small hum to yourself, you leaned over and pressed your lips against his cheek, his skin warming up under your touch. “You’re cute.”

A light pink dusted his cheeks as you walked back to the couch and plopped down onto the soft cushions, grabbing the fluffy blanket hanging over the back and draping it around your shoulders. No, if anyone in this relationship was cute, it was you. With the way you stole his clothes and just seemed to always make them look better, or made him his bento lunch with cute little notes inside that he secretly kept in his desk and would look at whenever he needed a little pick-me-up. You probably didn’t realize how much he noticed every little thing you did, but he did, and it made him fall more in love with you every day. Of course, he wasn’t very eloquent and it was hard for him to express how he felt with words, but he was a believer in how actions spoke louder.

“Hey, dipstick! You almost done? I’m about to freeze my ass off over here and I need my cuddle buddy,” you yelled from the living room, and Bakugou’s eyebrow twitched as he scoffed, running a hand over his face. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?

“Yeah, yeah, wait a sec, would you? Not my fault your body can’t regulate temperature like a normal fucking human being.”

Your head popped up, looking over the couch at your boyfriend with an incredulous look on your face. “‘Normal?!’ What about you is normal, Mr. I-get-unnecessarily-ragey-and-blow-shit-up? Hm?”

“Oh and you think you’re so normal when you bought fucking ice cream in the middle of goddamn winter,” he said, holding up the tub of ice cream you recently bought on your trip to the store.

“Ice cream is good for any time of the year! And you have no room to judge me. It could be a hundred degrees out and you’ll be scarfing down a bowl of spicy ramen like it’s your last meal.”

“You don’t hear me complaining about it though, do you?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted. “Jerk. you know, I hope your quirk just one day combusts and you blow up your own face.”

“Fuckface.”

“Asshole.”

“Dumbass.”

“Mama’s boy.”

Eyes widening, he dropped the last grocery bag on the floor and stomped over to the couch. If you were any normal person, you probably would’ve been cowering in fear just from the pro-heroes intense stair. But you had been with Bakugou for a while now, and what “normal” person would date someone whose first draft of their hero name was Lord Explosion Murder anyway? He placed his hands on the top of the couch, looking down at you as you stared up at him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Oh, I think you heard me.”

“Take it back or I’m blowing up all of your Deku shirts.”

You gasped dramatically, placing both of your hands over your heart as you gaped at your boyfriend before narrowing your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t say anything, simply raising an eyebrow at your challenge before walking towards your shared bedroom without another word. Oh. Oh, he was being serious. Scrambling off the couch, you ran after him.

“No! Nononono, wait. Ugh, All right!”

He turned to look at you, one of your shirts of the Pro hero Deku held tight in his fist and a smirk on his face that meant trouble. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at the nearby wall, not wanting to see that stupid little grin on his stupid face.

“You… You’re- not a mama’s boy,” you muttered under your breath, coughing to make the words more unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I feel my hand warming up a bit.”

“Ugh, fine! You’re not a mama’s boy. Happy?”

Grin widening, he dropped the shirt and walked over to you in long strides, closing the distance quickly and placing his hands on your waist. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Absolutely teeth-pulling,” you said, dropping your head on his chest as he chuckled, bringing a hand up to gently pat your head. Of course, there wasn’t a lot about you two that was so different from each other. You both had a mutual hatred for backing down. He then looked over at the bed where the green-haired hero’s smiling face stared back at him, and he scowled.

“Why do you have so many shirts of that damn nerd anyway?”

“I don’t have that many, Katsu.”

“You have like ten. You don’t have any merch of me.” His grip on you tightened possessively, and if he wasn’t aware of it, you certainly were, smiling against his chest before lifting your head.

“Why would I need merch when I have the real life thing right here?” you asked, poking at his abs. “Besides, it’s not like I bought them. They were gifts whenever he had new designs come out.”

“And you couldn’t just refuse?”

“Even if you have some weird tension with him, that doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him, dummy.” You lightly flicked his forehead and slipped out of his grasp as you walked back out to the living room, and he followed close behind with furrowed brows.

“Weird tension? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You just looked at him with raised eyebrows and shrugged, dropping down onto the couch before pulling out your phone. It took him a second to understand what you were getting at, and when he did, he wanted to vomit up his lunch.

“Oh, you’re sick.”

You threw your hands up. “I’m not saying I ship it! Your Twitter followers certainly do, though.”

“Yeah well, they’re all weirdos anyway,” he said, sitting down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you immediately relaxed into him, content with the warmth he seemed to produce 24/7. “The only person I wanna be…” he grimaced, shaking his head, “shipped with is you.”

You smiled, looking up at Bakugou as you placed your hand on his chest. “I think people would if we didn’t constantly insult each other while we’re out in public. And you know, if you were actually affectionate with me.”

“I’m affectionate!” he yelled, arm tightening around you. “Those damn extras don’t need to see that shit anyway. Not like it’s any of their business.”

You chuckled and moved to straddle Bakugou’s thighs, hands taking their time as you dragged them up his muscular torso and splayed your fingers over his chest. You admired the man below you with a small smile on your face, his hands moving so that they rested on your thighs, giving them a small squeeze, and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip as he seemed to look at you with that same red-eyed intense stare that he always did. Leaning down, you placed a slow kiss against his lips but pulled away before he could deepen it, and he chased your lips with a quiet growl as you let out an amused huff.

“Would you…” You could tell he was hesitant, never knowing how to properly express what he wanted to say, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. You placed your lips against his cheek, gently holding his face in your hands to try and reassure him. “Would you like me to be more affectionate in public? Would that… make you happy?”

Brows furrowing, your lips formed into a frown as you sat back, hands slipping into his. “Katsu… we’ve been together since our high school days. If I had any complaints, wouldn’t I have voiced them by now?” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond, grabbing his face again. “Listen to me for a second. Despite what people think about your rough edges and your unpleasant attitude-”

“Watch it.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. Your random outbursts, your sailor mouth, your shitty nicknames for all of our friends. Those things are what make you Bakugou Katsuki. Not some shitty tabloid with that stupid headline that’s like “Ten things to know about Pro Hero Dynamight!” or whatever. They’re all bullshit. No one sees the side of you that I get to. No one sees the big softie that you really are.” You lightly poked Bakugou’s chest with a giggle, and he swatted at your hand.

“Hey, I’m not soft, you dumbass,” he grumbled, and you just laughed as you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You heard him sigh and felt his arms wrap around you, happy in his strong embrace. There was nowhere you felt safer than in Bakugou’s arms. They were always there to hold you at night, or to pull you into a hug when you were feeling upset. You loved his arms, but you loved him in general. Everything about him always had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. When he would gaze at you like you were the only other person in the world, or when he’d come home after a particularly rough day, and you’d offer to help him relieve some stress, but he’d insist that the only thing on his mind at the moment was you underneath him while he memorized and tasted every inch of you. Yeah, you were a love-struck idiot, but so was he. Maybe even more so.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the lights started to flicker before going out, and you waited a few seconds for them to come back on, but they never did. Are you fucking kidding me?

“Um… Katsuki?”

“Hm.”

“Please tell me our power didn’t just go out.”

“Our power didn’t go out.”

You smacked his chest. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then don’t say stupid shit.”

You let out a groan before whining out his name, and he sighed as he lifted you off of him and walked into the kitchen to grab his phone. It was like you could already feel the cold seeping back into the apartment through the cracks in the doors and windows, and you shivered as you grabbed the blanket from before and wrapped it around your body. Bakugou then came back into the living room, letting out a sigh and tossing his phone onto the couch.

“Some idiot driving in this shit-storm hit a pole and took down a transformer. Power won’t be back until the morning.”

Great. Just magnificent. Who the fuck decides to drive in a snowstorm? Letting out a huff, you stood and went to the kitchen to find a lighter before lighting every candle you two had, hoping they would provide enough light for the night. After making sure at least one candle was in every room, you went back to find Bakugou gathering all the blankets he could and raised an eyebrow.

“What? We both know our comforter won’t be enough to warm your shivering ass.”

“But I have you, don’t I? My personal heater,” you said, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you smiled.

Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, can’t wait for you to suck all the heat out of me.”

“Oh piss off. You love my cuddles.”

Before he could give you another snarky remark, you turned on your heel and walked to your bedroom, pulling back the covers and immediately tucking yourself underneath them. But of course, it wasn’t warm enough. When Bakugou walked into the room, you stuck a hand out from under the blanket and made a grabbing motion, and he just chuckled at you before throwing an extra blanket on top of you and climbing underneath the covers to lay next to you. You immediately sought him out, desperate for his warmth as you wrapped yourself around him and nuzzled into his chest, and his arms looped around you as he tangled your legs together.

“Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” he grumbled.

“Shut up and hold me tighter,” you said voice muffled as you spoke into his chest, and he did as you asked, his arms tightening around you as you let out a content sigh.

Relaxing in the silence, you felt yourself begin to grow more tired with each second that passed, and your boyfriend seemed to relax as well, which was rare for him. You both were perfectly content, dozing off in each other’s embrace.

“... So should I get a mistletoe for the apartment?”

“Dear god, shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

#bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha imagine #bnha imagine #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou #dynamight #bakugou fluff #mha christmas #mha fanfic #bakugo x reader

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rouiyan · 4 years ago

Text

𝘗𝘜𝘓𝘓 𝘔𝘌 𝘜𝘕𝘋𝘌𝘙 [ 𝘯.𝘫𝘮 ]

⧏ jaemin’s installment of the undone at twenty-one collective ⧐

synopsis: one estranged at the hands of love and the other tethered to his reputation. it's no wonder they find solace within each other.

✧ bartender!na jaemin x (fem.) reader (ft. ex!mark) ✧ college au, almost fwb au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slight comedy ✧ word count : 15.5k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, alcohol consumption, insecurities, anxiety attacks, mentions of sex (no explicit smut, as per usual)

✧ author’s note — i'm so sorry to do this to you guys on a weekly, i swear, dropping double digit k fics is not normal and has definitely fucked with my sleep schedule ++ i hit 127 followers on thursday! for a total of four minutes but it was cool while it lasted! thank you!

maybe it all started when na jaemin got the job at the bar. it certainly didn't suit him, not the sweet boy he was, keyword on 'was.' he'd taken a course on bartending over the summer between senior year high school and his first year of college, just for fun until he realized he could actually use his license to get a job that paid slightly above minimum wage. maybe, it all started when he'd seen a classmate at the bar, a pretty girl at that, who'd smiled in a way that could only be classified as flirtatiously. maybe that's what had jaemin winking back, for the first time in his life. maybe that's what got him laid later that night. and maybe that's how he started to identify as more of a fuckboy than a heartthrob. it was a far out though new feeling, he thought. high school jaemin could never, he thought.

but maybe it all started to come to an end when you walked into the bar for the fourth time that week, eyes rimmed red and breath already tinged with alcohol. you ordered a draft beer from him, something light to keep you slightly buzzed but not completely knocked out. the hands of the clock were nearing two in the morning and the bar, especially the area of the counter he was tending, was beginning to empty out. jaemin struck conversation once you were the only one left and seven minutes before his shift ended.

he realizes, again, that you have zero recollection of him though he'd also struck conversation for the three nights before.

"how was your day, miss?"

you look up, head propped on your right hand, hand propped up with your elbow. "me?" slightly wary, you sit upright in front of the guy behind the counter. his smile never falters when he nods. you blink twice before remembering to respond, "i- no, i mean, today was okay," you slouch back into yourself, "a little less than okay, actually." the bartender's eyes widen in consideration, remembering that you had stopped at just 'okay' for the past days he'd asked you. he takes from this to offer politely, "do you mind if i ask what happened?"

your eyes are focused on the sink behind him, distractedly. almost forgetting to reply, you gather your thoughts by clearing your throat and pondering for a few moments before beginning to speak, hesitantly, "well it's like when you just know something bad's gonna happen, and you know for awhile. then it does happen and you don't get to be surprised or shocked because you already knew. so all you're left to feel is just," you heave a sigh, "sadness, or maybe even regret."

the metal nametag pinned to his chest glints in the lights above as he moves forward to place his elbows on the counter, leaning casually. you notice it to spell out 'jaemin' and a part of your subconsciousness is trying to make you remember that you know this guy. you know him from school, from rumors, from your gossiping friends, you know him from the bar even. but all you're able to process is that he is one hell of a good-looking specimen.

jaemin's eyes glint in the light as well when he poorly guesses, "did bad on a test? late homework assignment?" laughing and completely missing the fact that this 'stranger' had correctly assumed you to be a college student, you shake your head, "if it were either of those, i'd be awfully dramatic for coming to a bar and drinking my days away instead of studying." he's laughing as well and you can't help but think that his smile, straight pearly whites and all, is probably the most welcoming sight your eyes have laid upon the whole day. picking the conversation back up, you decide that it probably wouldn't do much harm to indulge jaemin in the latest and breaking news of your life. "actually, i was dumped today."

he sucks in a long breath in understanding, licking his lips, "so, a bad breakup. those aren't too fun." agreeing, you shake your head. the atmosphere is good-natured when you quip, "would it be worse to say that it was the eighth time too?" jaemin's brows shoot up in surprise and he pushes himself off his elbows, shifting his weight onto his hands. "eighth? as in eighth breakup or eighth time you've been dumped?" a chuckle escapes your complexion, giving way to how vulnerable you were feeling, vulnerable to a laughable extent. your eyes are cast downward when you respond, "the second."

jaemin pries in a way that doesn't seem like prying, you wonder how he does so. "care to share?" it's possible his range of bartender-ly duties extends to the likes of a therapist, "i mean, i don't see why not." you quirk your lips, the only thought coursing through your mind consisting of how the bridge of his nose was so carefully structured and how oversharing with this man didn't seem so much of a bad idea. you were, after all, far too caught up in your drunken stupor to think anything otherwise.

"let's see, i was ghosted by my first boyfriend in ninth grade, cheated on by my second, figured out that my third was only dating me for a bet, fourth just straight up stopped liking me, fifth lied to me about his age, objectified by my sixth, thought i was dating my seventh but turns out he forgot he asked me out, and my eighth...well, that one's a bit different."

he's back on his elbows, in intriguement and also due to the new song that began to play from the speakers above, louder than the last, "how so?" you're afraid the feelings are going to pour back within your forefront thoughts so you keep your answer short, "we dated for two years."

"and?"

you're quiet for a few moments. those moments are taken to mull over the exact reasonings behind your shitty day, almost as if you had forgotten. blinking slowly, the dryness of your contact lenses becoming apparent, you respond hesitantly, "and, he said he didn't see a future with me. that i could only ever be his first love."

jaemin seems to mull over this as well, "and did you see a future with him?"

you haven't looked up at him in a while, instead, focusing your sights on the way you've let your acrylics grow out far too long, how the skin around your nails is peeling, and how your palms are also creased with dry lines. using the same hand to lift the bottle from its handle, you toss the rest of its contents down your throat, swallowing in one motion. setting it back down, tongue grazing over your lips to catch the spilt extras, you look jaemin in the eye.

"yeah," you move to collect your things, "i guess i did." you pay. you take your leave.

he sees you again the following day, for the fifth time in that single week and he's led to wonder if there is a reason you seem frequent this one bar. the atmosphere possibly, the customer service maybe, or even him, though he's doubtful.

this time you're accompanied by two friends, one he knows to be jeno's best friend, eunmi, and the other, the crush of that same friend, jaein. jaemin's known eunmi for as long as jeno has, since the beginning of high school. jaemin also knows that eunmi, as of the late, doesn't like himself all that much. he figures it has something to do with the bit of a reputation his name now carries.

jaemin thinks the girls are by your side for emotional support. perhaps, today proved even shittier than yesterday, but he's thwarted a few moments after when the three of you seem to be lost in the depths of interesting conversation, light-hearted laughter, and glasses that can't seem to fill themselves as fast as they empty into your stomachs, except for jaein, that is, but especially for you.

it's 12:48 in the morning when he's thrown off guard for the first time that night, in the midst of whipping up a whiskey for the grumpy man down the counter, eunmi falls asleep, literal in the sense that she really does fall and would've completely sagged into the ground if the table had not been in gravity's way. jaemin watches as jaein lifts the poor girl's head off the surface, revealing an angry red splotch, and transfers eunmi's weight onto her lap.

he's thrown off guard for a second time at 1:22, watching you stand straight from your seat, swaying a tad bit, but brows creased in strong will and determination. you're walking towards him, steps that would be quick if only you were even mildly aware of sidestepping the paths of others. you pant as you reach the table, head feeling a little too hot and too heavy to aid in clear thinking. squinting at him, though you were but a few feet away, "your name. what's your name again?"

jaemin repeats the actions you'd done yesterday, slightly wary in expression and checking his posture, "me?" you don't reply but continue to scrutinize the way he looks. he supposes that's just as much of an answer, "it's jaemin, i believe we talked yesterday." your mouth parts in recognition and moves as if to form a word or two in response. jaemin watches as it opens and closes again and, even after much deliberation, the only thing you can find to say is, "well, you're fucking hot."

"oh-"

"shit, didn't mean to say that aloud." your lips smack in embarrassment, shifting your weight to your left foot. your mind is yelling at you to sober up, to save your face.

a smile adorns the man's features as he bemusedly remarks, "i'm sure you didn't." there's a silence that hangs between the two of you, and you're on the cusp of excusing yourself from further embarrassment when jaemin blurts out, "if it helps, i think you're fucking hot too." it might just be the alcohol in your system that's making the heat rise in your countenance but you swear you blush, and you never blush!

fingering the lobe of your right ear, you fumble with your thoughts until settling on a quiet, "thanks." jaemin busies himself with swiping a rag across the counter, unaware of the awkwardness on your end. looking up, he offers, "would you like a drink?" nodding, you take a seat at the bar in front of him, eyes slipping back to the girls for a split second, only to see jaein on her phone and eunmi still asleep. returning your sights, you're met with a slight humor traced in jaemin's expression, "what?"

he lets out the smallest of chuckles, mouth moving but lacking words, sentences starting but never ending, until he finally makes himself clear. "you- would you mind ordering a drink then?" your hand comes up, as if you had a point to make, but returns into your lap as you realize you'd never elaborated. "oh," your hand resurfaces to massage your temples, "same as yesterday then."

jaemin doubts you even remembered what you'd gotten yesterday but goes on to fill a bottle of beer from the kegs behind him. you're staring at his back in wonderment at how lackluster in...social interactions you'd become, how lackluster in flirting you were. you guess two years of being cuffed would render anyone a little rusty. hell, it wasn't as if you were keen on flirting with every hot guy you saw but jaemin, not that you remember much, gave off the right feeling after a wrong relationship. that was surely a green light, right?

"here," he slides it across the counter with a wink, entirely out of habit. you wince at that, "ew no, don't do that around me, i'm not one of your fuckbuddies." retying his black waist apron, he replies with a, "right, you're not." he pulls a neat bow in place and sets his hands back on the counter, there's a lilt to his voice when he speaks, "but, if you ever feel like you need-"

you wave him off, "i'm good, thanks for the offer though."

he watches you chug the draft beer. nodding, he replies under his breath, more to himself than anything, "i see." you finish the bottle in no time but it looks as if you were to vomit, or pass out, or maybe even black out, or all three at once. jaemin really does not mean to spur your flirtatious gene as much as his own but seeing you like this he offers, "it's on the house." you're definitely surprised for a good half of a second but in the other half, you drunkenly lean across the table, so far so that jaemin's nose is but a few inches away from yours.

something in jaemin stirs. the stench of your breath, your hardened eyes, the delicate lines of your lips. jaemin finds that it isn't lust that rumbles beneath his carefully built expression. and though it might as well be some form of pity, he doesn't hesitate to take your phone from you when you ask, "can i have your number?" he doesn't mind the smile that graces your face as you take your phone back, as you turn around to head back with your friends, not even in the right mind to say a goodbye, and even as you exclaim, rather loudly, to jaein, "i got his number," a smile of his own is quick to light up his face. but na jaemin hides his silly smile and even himself a little later when jeno appears to drive the three of you home. he even goes so far as to hide the smile and the meanings behind the smile from himself, afraid that he'd uncover something that was very un-bartender-ly of him to feel for a customer. at least, that's what happens before he ends his shift.

when you first wake up, it's at the sound of the door of your room clicking shut. jaein, you suppose, you'll thank her later. the ceiling is oddly comforting after a week that just didn’t start well, go well, end well. love isn’t your forte, loving yourself, loving others, anything to do with love. you supposed that getting dumped the seventh time would have made that quite obvious but you just had to throw yourself out there again, just to make sure. you fall once again to sleep that night with nothing on your mind other than the thought that you might as well be single for the rest of your life.

but you wake up in the love, not of a lover per se, but of a best friend. the post-it note on your bedside reads, text me when you wake up!, and the smile that lifts your face is instantaneous. jaein has never failed to care for you, despite being almost a year younger, and in that way and many others, you feel indebted to her.

you fail to recall any of the events of the night prior, though if anything horrendous happened you knew jaein would be more delighted to share. you stumble across your phone somewhere in the sheets after searching aimlessly and you decide that making a call would perhaps be more thoughtful than a measly text. but as you scroll through the names in your phone, upset that you didn't have jaein's contact pinned in your favorites, you stop, well, your heart stops because right below her contact is listed na jaemin.

you are two thoughts away from crossing over to tap the shoulder of the girl a little ways in front of you, her silhouette a great deal similar to jaein's, when a hand is placed on your own shoulder. you don't have a chance to turn and see who it is because that hand has traveled a little ways across your front, latching from one shoulder to another and bringing your body flush with his. you tilt your head to get a glance, only to find jaemin smiling down at you, the strobe lights glaring a brief red across his features. "been avoiding me?"

yeah no shit you've been avoiding him, suddenly nowhere to be found at the bar you used to appear at every single day of the week. and though the two of you attended the same college, you made extra sure to-

"jeno told me eunmi asked him for my lecture schedule for you, wonder why." a smirk grazes his lips, playfully. he’s grinding on your ass now, slow compared to the music blasting from overhead. taking your shoulder in his hands, he spins you to face him, "why are you avoiding me? tell me." jaemin places a hand on the curve of your neck, brings you closer to him, either so that he could hear your response better or because of whatever lust was running through his eyes. somehow, even with the minuscule amount of alcohol in your system, you can’t bring yourself to mind that he’s looking at you like some starved animal.

"what do you want, jaemin?" he doesn't hesitate to show you, a lazy kissed pressed to your lips before leaning in towards your ear, "i want you in my bed."

no objections are made when the arm around your shoulder tightens its hold, so as not to loose you in such a crowd. nothing is said in opposition when he ushers you towards the stairwell, brushing past people left and right. no sign of reluctance is apparent when you cross the threshold of his room, shutting the door behind you. and not a trace of hesitance is found as you find a spot beside the man who's already placing a strand of wide kisses onto your neck.

"what'd you say about not being one of my fuckbuddies the other day?"

"well," you hastily move to straddle him, allowing him to a wider expanse of your chest, "i was drunk, fuck whatever i said." you lean back for the slightest of seconds to catch his expression, lust lined his eyes. certainly, you felt like one of his fuckbuddies now but maybe this is what you need, a distraction. just one thing in your life, one time, one moment in time where it wasn't so frustratingly shoved up in your face that your world, your one love, hadn't been torn down right before your eyes. maybe kissing jaemin with such raw desire would finally give you the reigns over your goddamned emotions. his lips on your collarbone, tracing down slower and slower onto your breasts, his hands guiding you lower and lower into his bed, it felt exhilarating. in that one second, when his fingers moved to the hem of your dress, eyes shifting to meet yours in question, you nod fervently because really, you want to let him in, you feel safe letting him in.

but it only lasts for that one second because the door is burst open in the next, and a tipsy man and a wasted woman are storming on inside, eyes raking the place until they land on you and yours land on theirs, on his. mark lee. it's mark lee's eyes and as you take in the sight of the rest of him, the familiar him, and the girl by his side, suddenly nothing has ever felt more wrong. jaemin's lips, his hard on pressing against your core, nothing has ever felt more wrong when mark lee is staring right at you. why is it that you feel like you've cheated on him?

he leaves, pulling the woman behind him.

the party is alive, it's at its height, it's roaring and it's ravaging fun. the party is in full swing yet, for once, you're not partaking in it. "are you okay? do you need some water?" you lick your lips and decide, "some water would be nice, thank you." jaemin leaves the room, door clicking shut behind him and signaling your immediate breakdown.

a shudder passes your lips, reverberates down your spine, curls your toes. you draw into yourself, bringing with you jaemin's blankets on which you were sat. there is nothing more that leaks from your countenance than bouts of undisturbed anxiety that you let wrack your walls of understanding and awareness. you don't bother to fight back with distractions, no alcohol this time, no quick fucks, nothing to ease the weight that settles in your gut, presses down your heart and blurs the visions of jaemin's room.

he returns in seven minutes, promptly enough, for you're just about to wither in the confines of loneliness. the blankets are pulled taut around your figure and your head is in between your knees, mind flitting between images of mark and images of the darkness that threatens to envelop you whole. jaemin places the cup of warm water on the nightstand and dips the bed to your right though you barely register his presence until his hand begins kneading lines down your back.

the feeling returns. the one you know all too well by now. the one where the skin on your forehead feels too tight from being scrunched in frustration for too long, when your brain feels like it doesn't belong in your skull, when you feel ruptures in your heart, aches in your soul, as if you were to combust if you so much as moved in the slightest. your ragged breaths echo in your head, over and over, as if to remind you that you aren't okay, that nothing is real, that the only thing keeping you alive are your breaths, the only thing between life and death.

your breaths are also what grounds you, focusing on the in and out, the way the air fills your lungs, the way it exits. your hands begin to mellow their shake and you begin to gain some semblance of your being. you feel that jaemin is all around you. he's everything you smell, his breaths are all you hear, his lean body and arms are all you feel, and though you can't see him, you know he's there.

he's there when you turn in his embrace, looking up at him with eyes that tell age-long tales of hurt from delivering too much passion whilst receiving near to none. he's there when you wrap your arms around him, head tucking into his chest. he's there when your breaths even and he's there when you tell him you can't fall asleep.

jaemin hands you a set of his clothes, a light shirt and sweatpants, and ushers you gently into the bathroom. you change without looking in the mirror, afraid of what you'll see. he tugs you by the hand, once you're out, to the car. you only question him thirty minutes into the ride, "where are we going?"

he doesn't quite answer you, "if i'm right, we should be just in time." scrunching your nose in the darkness, "just in time for…?"

it's then that he turns into a dim parking lot and suddenly everything becomes clear when the wide screen comes into view, "jaemin...you 50's romanticist." the time is almost four in the morning, you didn't know the local drive-in theater had screenings that early and you're surprised that the man in the driver's seat knows. he offers you a hand and you take it, absentmindedly.

the movie is interesting enough to keep your begrudging thoughts away until an hour or so passes and you're beginning to teeter from exhaustion. before you have a chance to pass out, jaemin gives your fingers a little squeeze, alerting you, and then slowly tugging you over the middle console of his car and into his lap while lowering his seat. again, you comply absentmindedly, you're in no mindset to be complaining.

straddling him for the second time that night, you sigh into his chest. your eyes are fluttering closed when you begin to trace back the moments that brought you to this mess in the first place, the events that led to you in na jaemin's lap, the boy renowned in bed. you're a conscious thought away from voicing aloud your hatred of love. fucking love.

the prospect of love is addicting to you, like a drug in many more ways than one. you want to get lost in someone's eyes, you want to swim in the embrace of your other half, you want to be able to romanticize every aspect of your life, to be able to attribute your everything to one single person who would do the exact same for you. you can't part with the thought that love isn't for you.

and you know that there really are people who live just fine being single, people who don't feel the need to share their every joy and letdown with a special someone, people who feel enough just being in their own company. you know that yet, you're fully convinced you just aren't one of those people. because no matter how hard you want to say that getting left in the dust for the eighth time became the turning point in this endless chase, you can't see yourself ever stopping. there is not a single part of you that wishes to stop.

your breaths are shallow and brimmed with sobs as you drift into rest. above all that's been said, the least you can admit is that love is only a feeling. just like any other.

✧ ONE (01) YEAR AGO

"mark, what the fuck, we never go on actual dates." you complain, though you really don't mind all that much. the car pulls into a parking spot in front of the library, "and who's to say study dates aren't actual dates?" he opens the door for you and you roll your eyes graciously.

the two of you take your usual spots, the two at the end of the long row in the central area. it's halfway secluded, one side shoved against the wall, but still enough in the open to keep you guys from entirely ditching school work and talking until shushed by a librarian.

he's about to say something when a librarian appears just around the corner, pushing a cart of books. so instead, mark takes a piece of lined paper from his notebook, gently ripping it at the edge, taking his pen out and writing a line and passing the note to you. i'll take you somewhere nice next time. sorry babe, i just happened to have a lot of work today.

you press your lips together, eyeing the man that was eyeing you back, okay, my love. you pass it back, shooting him the most playful of smiles. he writes quickly and when he slides the paper back to you, you read his words quickly. sure thing, my world.

you giggle, the sound eliciting a glare from the stressed schoolmate beside you. quickly you jot down the words you've been wanting to say to him. fine by me, my future. you shuffle the paper towards the man across from you, unwilling to hide yet another smile that spreads across your face. you watch as mark takes the paper in his hands, skims the words you've carefully penned and then, he puts it away, tucks it into the front of his backpack. you smile fondly at him for safekeeping the paper, thinking he'd want to keep it as a little memento, a token of your love for him.

perhaps you should've thought a little more about it, the action, because in that moment it never occurred to you that he only put it away because he didn't want to respond, he had nothing in his heart that he could say to top that, and he most certainly did not see you as anything more, much less his future.

that lined piece of paper has long been discarded by now, in the most literal and figurative sense. mark could chalk it up to the possibility that it was just the right person at the wrong time but he knows there's absolutely nothing wrong with the time. college was going to zip by quickly for the two of you, you guys could move in together maybe, tell each other about your new jobs, every pay raise you got, and when you guys begin to settle down, a house would be bought and a ring would be proposed, and kids and old age would follow. somehow, mark can't help but acknowledge the fact that it simply was the wrong person at the right time. deep down, he knows it's always been that way for him. not for you. and he could only hope to turn back time and tell you a little sooner, maybe lessen the pain he knew he was to eventually inflict upon you. two years was two years too long. mark’s a nice guy and the weight of being your eighth breakup had a tough hold on him, it really did.

✧ PRESENT

you lift your feet up onto the other side of the booth, back against the window and your arrangement of your textbooks and computer to your left. jaein, studious as ever, looks up at you for a brief moment, "break? already?"

it's only been thirty minutes since the two of you arrived with the set intentions to study. "yup, already." you sigh, with everything going on, it's hard to pay attention to just one thing. especially something that seems so insignificant in the whole scheme of things. "y/n, are you getting enough sleep these days?"

you look over at her, her hair swept into a small ponytail, eyes holding the stars. jaein had her own fair share of problems, especially when it came to boys, but she never halted to care for herself. you wish you could be like her. "enough, yeah i'm getting enough." she puts down her pen, wrinkling her nose, "well then, make sure to get more than enough, yeah?" you only nod in response.

jaein's eyes rome until they settle upon a girl a few tables down, also studying. she cocks her head in inquisition, "hey, isn't that minyoung?" you wait for jaein to look away before you take a peek behind you, not wanting to seem conspicuous. you know her, you share some of your professors with her, you see her almost everyday, but you've never been riled up by just her presence being in the same room as yours. you look back at jaein, "yeah, that's minyoung."

"minyoung as in the girl that jaemin's datin-"

"they're not dating," you intercept. sighing in distaste, you follow up to cover your evident aversion of the girl, "just fucking around." jaein only nods, eyes wide in worry.

a few minutes pass and you're already sinking back into your workload when she speaks, "does it bother you? that they- they're fucking around?" now, you're sinking into yourself because you really have no idea what you're supposed to be feeling, how you're supposed to be feeling, or even if you're supposed to be feeling anything for this boy who you know little to nothing about.

but you guess it's because of what you do know about him that throws you off. na jaemin, the campus fuckboy, heart throb, and whatever other name that makes his image sound as vile as it is enticing. in some other universe, you're sure to have already let him eat you out over the course of the few weeks you've known him but somehow, you're glad that you reside in the universe where your head seems to be more securely fastened above your heart. you lick your lips in consideration but nothing comes to mind.

it's frustrating because as much as you hate to admit it, na jaemin makes you feel something. he stirs up something within you, something that hasn't been there in a long time. maybe not since your first crush or when mark first asked you out or even in the heights of your relationship with him when you felt like you could feel nothing more than love for the wretched boy.

you tell her, "it bothers me. it shouldn't, but it does." because though you don't know why. why you're feeling so strongly, or feeling at all, for a man so far from what you need after the end of a long-winded and committed relationship. you don't know why you even care, if anything, him fucking around with a handful of girls served even more as a sign for you to just stay away. getting invested in his small, thoughtful actions and his intense, loving stares is just asking for a ninth breakup. you don't know why but the idea of him being in bed with another girl, bothers you. it shouldn't, but it does.

jaemin isn't ever invited to these types of outings. usually, on a weeks basis, he's invited to quite the number of houses instead. houses of girls and houses that housed parties. never a restaurant, and never in the middle of the day. jeno had let that he was invited because eunmi had some 'investigation' to do, so naturally, he'd expect you to be there as well. turns out this investigation was set up for himself only, seeing as he was now sitting at the far edge of the table, to the left of renjun, whom he had never personally met, and across eunmi, who seems to spend most the time scrutinizing him instead of eating.

the purpose of his presence is made clear as eunmi sits up straight, gaze still fixed on him, and asks straight to the point, "what do you want with y/n?"

jaemin places his fork down calmly but his voice is anything but that, surprised, "i- what do i- what do you mean?" his hands are folded in his lap now, he wonders if this was the reason you didn't come, he wonders if eunmi asked him to come just to interrogate him in front of all your friends. she's still staring at him and though he's taller, he feels a great deal smaller when everyone's eyes are turned to him. hell, even jeno stopped ogling at jaein to give his attention to the scene on the other side of him.

he clears his throat and reiterates, now with a sense of the atmosphere, "what do you mean?" jaemin blinks rapidly as eunmi heaves a sigh, placing two folded hands on the table and pushing her point to light, "why are you messing with her? you wanna fuck her? you know she's off limits for you." jaemin asks the two question he knows he'll end up regretting, he can't help the spite that curls at the edge of his mind for the girl who so fervently despises him, "why is she off limits for me, huh? got something against me?"

"yeah, yeah i do. you go around sleeping with every other girl you see, you, jaemin, you are the last thing she needs right now."

"who are you to decide what she needs-"

"i'm just looking out for her, okay? and, shit, i know she has every right to, i don't know, fuck around with you too, but i can't sit here and watch as she falls for someone that doesn't give two shits about how she feels."

jaemin finds that he has nothing to say. the words echo around in his head, fall for someone, fall for him. he stares down at his food, takes a sip of his water, wipes his clammy hands on a napkin. when he looks up again, eunmi's expression is a tenfold softer than it was before.

"i'm sorry, jaem. it's just- i don't trust you anymore. you've changed a lot since, since…high school." jaemin only nods.

revolutions are held within him as he drives home that day. jaemin notes that the feelings are nothing new, he thinks it has something to do with the little churns in his stomach on the fifth night of your week of 'get drunk, get wasted.' he doesn't bother to suppress the feelings this time, it's been too long, he thinks.

it's been too long since he's liked someone for who they really are instead of just their pussy, he thinks. he, and his loving self, welcomes the feeling with open arms. it's been years since the giddy persona of a lovesick jaemin resurfaced. he's glad it's because of you.

"jaemin, hey, do you need anything?" you remove your eyes from your computer screen for the first time in a few hours, you barely register the strain when his voice is quick to respond from the other end of the line, "can you come down? i'm outside, got a lil something for you." eyes almost ejecting out of their sockets, you quickly mutter a, "sure, i'll be down in two," before hanging up, slamming your computer shut, throwing on a hoodie over your lazy study-day outfit, and grabbing your keys after almost forgetting them entirely.

straightening down the stray strands of your hair as you tread down the steps of the stairwell, you take a minute to breathe, a minute to yourself, before exiting the building. the sky is dark, the time being a little after dinner, but the lamplight that falls onto the man's face makes your heart swoon at the sight. dangerous territory.

"hey," you voice as he meets you in the middle. "what are you-"

"here," he holds out a teddy bear, medium in size, brown and fuzzy. you take it from him graciously and he tucks his hands into his jeans pocket, "i was just-i just thought that you'd...yeah." chuckling, you notice the hues of warmth rise in his cheeks. "wow, didn't think you were one to blush." he's laughing as well, from the embarrassment, hand coming up to cover his cheeks, to cover his smile, his stupid smile.

his smile never falters when he asks, "may i ask you something?" you nod, unassumingly.

"can i take you out on a date? next week maybe?"

breathless and eyes sparkling, you look up at him as if he were the one who put the sparkles in your eyes. he really was. now, it's you that blushes, hands coming up to cover your own cheeks, "yeah, i'd- i would like that." you almost want to coo at him when you see the relief that washes over his expression.

"you would?"

"yes, jaemin," you give a breathy laugh, "i'd like that very much."

fucking love. that one stupid feeling that could get you so emotionally intoxicated in ways no substance ever could. the kind of love that made you want to scream into the void, to exclaim your sheer and utter elatedness to the world. fucking love that you could never not chase, especially if it was jaemin.

mark never took pictures of you. not that you expected him to by default, he just never did. jaemin, however, shows up right outside your dorms, a camera hanging down from his neck. you can't say it doesn't charm your heart.

"what's that for?" you eye the camera as you slip into the passenger seat. you already know, you just love it when he says, "for you, of course." his hand holds yours as he drives and it stays that way until the two of you arrive.

the botanical gardens are, for the most part, empty on the weekdays, working wonderfully in your favor as jaemin leads you, also by the hand, through the forests of greenery, the air so crisp that it fills your mind with clarity after a week of muddled studying. jaemin compares you to the likes of several flowers, all of which he implores for you to pose next to for a picture. he especially finds the daphne odora, the winter flowering of daphnes, to hold the highest esteem in regards to you. you have not the slightest idea why.

the two of you are strolling under the glass-covered conservatory when light conversation turns heavy. confusion lines your face as you look over at him, "jaem?"

"yes?" he takes an extra step or two to match your pace. you stare at his feet as you speak, "what's...what's different about me?"

"what do you mean by that?" hesitance sits in your every word, "you don't treat me like...one of them, like one of you're fuckbuddies."

"because you're not," he replies simply. in all honesty, there's something you're looking for, something you just need to know, though you are lost in how to phrase it. shaking your head a bit, to wrack the insides for an answer, you end up regurgitating the same question, "yeah but, what makes me different?"

jaemin doesn't seem to mind and answers to his best ability, "well, for one, we're not fucking. and then there's the fact that i- that…" he trails off, the words are right there at the tip of his tongue, waiting to jump out at you, to allow you to revel in his love. he doesn't dare voice them aloud, the threat of rejection is stemming and rooting itself in his bloodstream. unaware, you urge him on, "that…"

your date is lost in thought, eyes seeming to be particularly interested in a bloom of camellias. you suppose they're plenty interesting but you wonder how he'd lost the interest in speaking with you so quickly. was it something that you said? maybe asking him so upfront like that wasn't the best choice. jaemin, meanwhile, is panicking. sure, the camellias look beautiful but the millions of thoughts that course through his mind are each occupying too much space for his mouth to actually form a string of words that make coherent sense.

jaemin finally, finally settles on something to say, just as the two of you are rounding upon the exit. he subtly wishes he'd gotten a picture of you by the camellias. turning his sights back in your direction, he verbalizes, "are you going home for winter break?"

lips pursed, you shake your head, "no, i was just planning on staying at school-"

"do you wanna come with me? back home?"

you stop in your tracks. jaemin walks on until the hand that's carrying yours is tugged to a stop. he looks back at you and sees the way you gulp, the way you refuse to return his gaze. he makes his way back to you, closing the distance he's created. jaemin is a few seconds, a few thoughts, away from recollecting his propositions with a 'nevermind' and a quick brush of a hand but you beat him to it, voice small, but instead of hesitance, it's laced in full conviction.

"yeah okay, i can do that."

it isn't until you're back in your dorms later that night, going over a couple of review sheets for your upcoming exam, that you think to do a little research. a new tab is opened, a few words are typed, and you're floored with what you're met with.

the daphne odora (winter daphne), where 'odora' is latin for fragrant, is most noted, though not often, to be a symbol of doting love, as if to say 'i would not have you otherwise." it flowers in the winter and is primarily prone to wilting in hard soil and low sunlight…

✧ SIX (06) MONTHS AGO

mark's parents give you a once-over before letting you in. just the way they look at you speaks volumes. you can only hope they don't treat you any different. for some reason, his house feels cold, unpleasant, unwelcoming. and though you thought any homemade meal should bring about a sense of warmth, dinner is passed in tight-lipped smiles and the worst type of small talk, small talk about the weather.

retreating into his room after dinner, you decide to bring to light your worries, "mark, i don't think they really-" evident, he's already two steps ahead of you, "it's fine, y/n, they just haven't seen me date someone in awhile."

treading carefully over to his bed and placing a knee upon the sheets, you offer, "so...overly critical?"

he gives you a look, one that opposes your quavering brows and reverts your worries, "exactly."

"right," you huff a sigh of relief, as far as you know, you're convinced but the underlying layer of disbelief still holds true, "i'm gonna go get changed, okay?" you hear a mumbled, "okay" in response as you reopen the door, sights already on the bathroom at the end of the hall. it's when you're at the top of the stairwell, just before your destination, that you hear the conversation from down below, his parents you suppose.

"i'm just saying we shouldn't take this too seriously," by the pitch, you tell it's mark's mom. you move for the bathroom, uninterested, until his dad speaks up as well, "i know, especially with how she looks, exactly like her don't you think?"

"it's the eyes, they have the same eyes," your hand, just above the doorknob, is held in place. your face, expressions of the shock and concern that comes with the revelation, is unmoved. and your breath is no longer coursing air through your lungs.

"mark must still be really hung up on her if he's stuck with that replacement for so long," your hands being to shake and you're afraid that whimpers will arise in their wake, you make haste into the room, closing the door after enduring one last sentence. his mom chuckles, "poor soul, i hope he tells her soon."

you can't find the light switch but you're trembling fingers are quick to latch onto what you assume to be the shower dial, turning on the water to mask your loud sobs. you lock the door behind you, sliding down the back of it while letting out the briniest of tears. the rubber bathroom mat underneath you squeaks and your feet hit the vanity across from you. hands in your hair you can only pull at the strands, the strings of curse words and pain that emit from your figure more mental than physical.

you've never wondered what it would be like to be filed under 'replacement,' or to have a spot in someone's life as merely a disposable placeholder, someone whose presence was dictated solely by how well you satisfied the other's needs for closure, or lack thereof. now you're wondering if that is really all there is to love, satisfying each other's self-serving desires. you wonder if mark served some sort of purpose to you. but you could not, for the life of you, think of one. never in your life as now have you wanted so badly to see the good in a person you swore to love for perhaps the rest of your life.

you want to look him in the eye and tell him that you can't take it anymore, the disrespect, the mistreatment. maybe you could be dramatic and throw a hand across his face, a cup of water to douse his senses. you'd think that a man so kind would be the epitome of committed lover, never one to be agenda-oriented, not that the mark you now pictured was some scheming wretch, but you had to keep in mind that even going as far back as when he first laid his eyes on you, the interest you saw in them was in reality just familiarity. somewhere in you, something about you, maybe not even your looks, resonated with the memory of someone that was already held close to his heart, long before you came along. you were just there so he could relive his past, relish in his memories, prolong the inevitable.

but more than everything, you despise yourself. it's because of who you are, your willingness to be unfalteringly loyal even in the face of something so wrong, that makes it so you are always the backup plan, the last resort, the dumped and not the dumper. it's who you are that keeps you silent till the very moment he ends the whole damned relationship, till the very moment when there's no point in speaking out anymore, so that all that's left to do is to cry out.

✧ PRESENT

the sky is vast out in the countryside. the wind pays no mind to ruffling the leaves on the trees, branches already bare in the wake of autumn. you wished it could snow, just a little, though you doubt the early december rains would be so willing to fall into harsh winter so soon. jaemin ushers you to close the window your finger are flitting out of, he keeps ushering you, but you give him a shake of your head each time, you like the cool air. as he exits the highway, you finally slip them back in, tips of your fingers numbed raw, and jaemin looks at you in an 'i told you so' fashion before rolling the window up to keep the heated air within.

as so many times before, he takes your hand in his while he drives. fussing, his own fingers now encasing and rubbing yours to build the warmth back up. you perk up as the surroundings start to speak more 'countryside' than 'middle of nowhere.' a gas station, diner, couple of shopping plaza are passed, "how much longer?" jaemin pulls to a stop at a red light, "four, maybe five." eyes sparkling, you turn towards him, bringing your legs up on the seat and pulling his hand in yours to your lap, "ooh, so we're close. really close."

the light turns green and jaemin waits for the car in front of him to move, "why? you nervous?" you squirm in your spot, under his gaze, "i mean, n- no," rubbing the back of your neck, "yeah, a little i guess."

"and why is that?"

your hand is still on the back of your neck, fumbling with your words, "well, i mean, your parents. and we're not even- yeah, i don't know."

you say you don't know, yet, both of you know exactly what you're trying to say.

jaemin's childhood home is quaint, with a big front and backyard, and the only house on his street that has offwhite siding paint and soft blue shutters. you'd never pegged him to be a countryside kind of boy.

you've only known jaemin for the better part of two months, yet, the first thing his mom does is hold you in her warm, welcoming embrace. "y/n, dear! such a pleasure to have you here, you're all jaemin talks about over the phone." you blush at that, pulling away from her to give your most sincere smile. you wonder since when blushing was your thing.

his mother does her absolute best to learn your whole life story over the course of one single meal and his father is gruff but fails to hide a smile at your small attempts at anecdotes while jaemin full on chortles on his food. you're glad that not once do they bring up the questionings of your and jaemin's relationship because frankly, you have no idea what the whole deal with it is yourself.

even after dinner, his mother is quick to pull you into the living room, tightly bound photo albums stacked high in her hands. as the two of you coo over two-year-old jaemin taking a bath, four-year-old jaemin at his first piano recital, seven-year-old jaemin's face smushed in his birthday cake, the actual jaemin finishes up washing the dishes and makes his way to his packed bags, unveiling a pack of...you're not sure.

he sits to your right, setting the paper envelope on the table. you pick it up just as he puts it down. peering in, you pull out a bundle of photos strapped together with a measly rubber band. slipping it off, your eyes soften when you realize that almost two thirds of the stack is just you, and then a flower or two, and then some more of you.

jaemin and his mother are hovering over your shoulders on both sides when you reveal the last picture, one of you and jaemin that he had so kindly asked another visitor to take, the daphnes in the back. he had said something funny, you wish you remembered what it was, and in the moment you were looking up at him with your face scrunched in amusement, but it was too late, the picture had been taken. the man on your right takes the laminated photo from you, "i think," he starts, hands navigating the photo albums to find the most recent one. flipping it open, he slides it into the slot underneath a picture of him at his high school graduation, "i think it goes here."

jaemin gives his mother a look, unbeknownst to you, and she dismisses the two of you hurriedly to go off to bed, to get some rest after a long car ride. jaemin doesn't think much of that, apparent in how he does urge you to shower, unpack, and get comfy in his bed but also keeps you up, talking into the depths of the night.

he explains to you, later after you had asked, why his albums only went up until the end of his high school days. his head is propped up on the pillow, body strewn on the thin mattress of his bedroom floor, but both upturned to you perched on his bed. his room is a showcase of his younger years, far before you knew him, and even farther before you heard rumors of him. the walls are littered with certificates of merit, ribbons of academic excellence and his shelves, instead of books, have been cleared out for an abundance of trophies, for innumerable instruments, for perfect attendance, for anything and everything a person under eighteen could be awarded for. you'd never pegged jaemin to be a countryside boy, and added on to that, you'd never have pegged him to be the goody-two-shoes his childhood home so plainly made him out to be.

he tells you, himself, how college had changed him, how freedom had changed him, how being admitted into the fraternity changed him, how parties, underage drinking, sex, how it all rewrote the person he used to be. he looks you in the eye and tells you how much he loved the thrill, the adrenaline, the popularity, the sheer magnitude of people he had swooning over him, at his feet, on their knees. he tells you he loved it and that he's not so sure if he loves it now.

"why the sudden change?"

jaemin could tell you that he doesn't know, really, that maybe he just grew up a little and saw his time wasted, that perhaps he realized all the fights he had with his parents were simply not worth it. or, he could tell you the truth.

"because of you."

"what do you mean?"

"i mean," he's scrambling to sit up straight now, so he can look you in the eyes. if he's going to do this, he's going to do it properly. his eyes level with yours, lips freshly licked, he dives in the deep end. "i think i just- i met you at your worst. and we talked, and we, i don't know, flirted, and everything was supposed to just pan out how it usually does. you know, in bed. but it didn't." you've sat up as well, feet hanging over the edge of his bed and barely scraping the floor. you reach to hold both his hands in yours, though you have not the slightest clue where he is going with this tangent. "it didn't, but even then, i- i never-" it seems that even he doesn't know.

jaemin's hands start to clam in yours but there's an underlying determination that still holds strong, he's nowhere near done. "i never stopped going after you, and not at all for the sex. i- it was really just for you."

your jaw unhinges itself, hand not bothering to cover, thoughts elsewhere. what you thought might've been his life-changing, inspirational, heart-spurring tale, is turning out to be something you were inexplicably unprepared for. your newly sprouted tears are at the brink of overflowing as you try to make sense of the mess your mind has already made for itself. the questions are almost pushed over the precipice of your tongue before jaemin clears the air with finality and a handful, of in-the-moment confidence.

"y/n," jaemin's fingers glide over your knuckles in half the rhythm of your heartbeat, "i met you at your worst and i think that somehow it made me realize that i was also at my worst. and i don't know what people have to say about two sad people falling in love, all i really know is that i like you. i really fucking like you."

as if on cue, you start crying right then. "fuck, jaem," you pull your hands from him to swipe at your face and he's moving onto the bed as he speaks, dumbfounded, "why are you crying, y/n? is this like a 'i like you back and i'm happy' or 'i don't like you back' kinda cry?" you throw your head back in unprecedented laughter as he takes you in his embrace. your head rocks back and rests on his shoulders, arms coming up to encase them. "it's a 'relieved that i'm not the only one' cry."

he draws back, hands still holding you at the waist, "so, i'm taking that to mean you like me back?" you lick your lips, "maybe...possibly, you'll have to find out on your own." jaemin shakes his head, the back of his right hand coming up to caress the apples of your cheek. chuckling he retorts, "you're saying that like i don't already know. eunmi kinda let it slip a few weeks ago."

"she what?!"

"well, she kinda said that you were falling for me or something like that."

"well," you stop, in confoundment of being left in utter betrayal, "well, she's wrong. tell her that i said she's wrong."

"but you-"

"no, fuck what i just said, she's wrong."

"i- okay," jaemin watches you fall back onto your back with a huff, he follows shortly. the ceiling the both of you stare at and beyond is rightfully comforting after a week that just happened to start well, go well, end well. maybe love is your forte, after all, loving yourself after all that's happened, loving others despite all that might go wrong, anything to do with love. you suppose the getting dumped the eighth time would have made that quite obvious but you just had to throw yourself out there again, just to make sure. and boy were you glad you did just that.

jaemin is cutting fruit when it first begins to snow. apples are especially delectable in the winter, he knows he's bound to love them even more after this one winter. you're on the couch when it begins to snow, just shy of beating your long-withstanding high score on some game you were admittedly terrible at. jaemin joins you on the couch with the plate of apples, moments after it beings to snow.

"jaem," your lay a hand on his thigh, your sights elsewhere, "look, it's snowing."

you're scrambling to get a scarf around your neck, your boots zipped, the turtleneck underneath your coat pulled to your chin. the sky is almost dark, sunset not entirely visible under the veil of clouds. jaemin can't decide what is more enlightening, the snow or you and the ear-splitting grin that takes up half your expression. he decides that it's you.

you aren't even allotted the time to make snow angels before his lips are on yours. it's not the first time the two of you have kissed but neither of you will deny how different it feels. jaemin guesses it's because the way his lips move against your is fueled by untainted adoration and he suspects the same from you. he molds them steadily, wanting to take delight in the feeling for as long as hig lungs would permit. specks of snow dust the crests of your cheeks and the tail ends of his eyelashes. they heat in contact with your skin and begin their descent, deliquescing as they stray down the curves of your cheeks, meeting at your mouth that so fervently moving again jaemin's. it's where the cold melts of snow meet the warm mix of salivation.

you wield all the experience you will ever need, yet, it feels like it's your very first kiss, butterflies stirring down in your tummy and all. it never ends, it really doesn't. not when he first parts for air, or when you part the time after that, or even when you notice his mom, hands on her hips, from the window, or when the snow begins to clot at your feet.

you think you love him.

despite all the thoughts that tell you it's cheesy, it's boring, it's lame and conventional, you tell him on valentine's day.

the party is alive, it's at its height, it's roaring and it's ravaging fun. the party is in full swing and as what is now considered usual, neither you nor jaemin are eager in partaking in it, opting to simply hang out in his room, above the loud music and the moans from the opposite ends of all four walls. the door is locked this time and instead of joining the crowd in the main event of fucking each other senseless, the two of you have a small setup on his bed, littered with textbooks, previous exam papers, a fancy charcuterie board, courtesy of the dedicated chef, jaemin himself. you're on your back, feet hitched upon the headboard and laptop positioned at a ninety degree angle on your ninety degree angled legs. jaemin is on the floor rather, using the bed as a makeshift table even though he has an actual table not two feet away.

"i wish we could go to your dorms, it's loud as fuck." in response, you heave a sigh, mind now sidetracked from your work, "a pity i live on the fifth floor, we have no chance in sneaking you in." a thought dawns on him and he wonders why neither of you thought of it before, "let's go to the car."

it's quite the sight and you're sure anyone who's actively paying attention would laugh. jaemin's arms are locked straight up, supporting yours, his computer, and three textbooks, as he navigates the swarm of people to the exit. you're, following in tow, arms held up in similar fashion but instead of a stack of books, you're hoisting the charcuterie board, still abundant with cheese and grapes and a dip of honey. the threat of everything toppling over is very much apparent.

he'd driven a little ways down his street so that the buzz of the party could be left fully behind. the only thing aiding your studying is now the low-grade yellow lights that come with the fold down mirrors. "holy shit, jaem," your mouth waters even as it anticipates its next bite. "what?" he glances over at you. the charcuterie board is hiked on your knees that are drawn to your chest, makeshift tables are all too common today it seems. all the cheese on the board have an identical bite on them, a result of your taste testing but it seems that only one has drawn your liking so much so that you have eaten most the portion provided. "this- the- what's this one?"

"petite jalapeño, why?"

you cover your mouth as you chew hurriedly, "it's so fucking good, babe, with the honey. oh my god, i love you." you've finished chewing but you don't notice what's left your mouth, definitely not food.

"you what?"

you're thoughtlessly thrown into his trap, "i love- fuck."

"you love fuck."

"wait no."

you put the plate on the dashboard, dusting off your hands while your cheeks dust rose under the dingy lights. "i- wait, yeah i," you shift a leg under you, turning to your boyfriend but refusing to look him in the eye. you speak to the outlines of the house two down from his, "i guess i do love you."

"y/n, look at me."

you shy away from him, embarrassed yet overcome with the sudden wash of feelings. you knew this, you do love him, so why is it so hard to voice aloud? he brings his hand to your chin, leans it towards him until you have no choice but to gaze into his loving stare. truth be told, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"i love you too."

your fingers play with your bottom lip, thrusting it up and down, left and right as you mull over which picture to post. "bummer, i look great in this one but you're blinking. ugh." swiping to the next one, you find that it's the last. "here," jaemin unlocks his phone with one hand, holds it out for you, "i think i have some that jaein took, she's better at taking pictures than jeno anyways." taking the device from him, you click into his photos and find the last two hundred or so to be just of you and the lavender fields, he hasn't changed a bit.

jaein does have a lot more sense, "wow my legs look so long in this one," and "geez, that hair flip was entirely unintentional, i must be a natural." jaemin rolls his eyes at that, one hand of his on the wheel while the other makes its way over to your thigh, rubbing a soft, distracted massage.

the first red flag that draws your attention. you're airdropping a cumulative 54 photos to your own phone when you see a name that you had long forgotten in his top three message chats, minyoung. you ignore it. you post the picture. you edit the caption seven times, each time becoming more indecisive than the last while jaemin gives you the incredulest of looks.

you decide to stay at his place for the night, not that it's an inconvenience to drive the extra two minutes back to your place, but just because he wants to spend the night with you. there's no objections, why would there be?

the second red flag that draws your attention. jaemin's showing you something on his phone, a video of a dog maybe, you've forgotten. the text that drops down while the two of you huddle over the screen holds your interest far longer. it's minyoung and she's telling him to come over. you're slightly alarmed, you're boyfriend even more so. he draws his phone back instantly, to your dismay, and you almost want to snatch it from him, to delve into the depths of the chat. you really almost do.

"jaem, what did i just see?"

"y/n, it's not what you think," it irks you that he's so quick to defend. you keep your head on cool for now, "okay, then what was it about?" his eyes shift from yours to the wall behind you, you're surprised they're lined with annoyance. he shakes his head, "nothing."

you're thinking it's all the more reasonable for you to be the one who's annoyed. you bit down harsh on your lip, refusing to give way to any of your many impulses, "if it's nothing then why can't you tell me?"

jaemin glances over at you, fleetingly, "i- it's not something you should be worried about. just, trust me, will you?" rubbing your hands down the fabric of your- his sweatpants, you utter a sigh, not sure of how much longer, how many more times you have to be left in the dark, for you to snap at him. you hope it isn't soon. "jaem, i trust you, i do. but that doesn't mean i'll believe everything you say blindly." you note that, for whatever reason, his pupils are shaking. "at least, not after what i just saw."

"then i don't know what to say. you have to trust me on this."

na jaemin has never been stubborn, or, he's never had a reason to be. everything goes accordingly to the way he wants to, that's how it's always been. maybe it's because of his endearing charms that teachers can never fail him, that compliments are always showered upon him. perhaps it's the way he flatters that makes him so likeable, befriending people is as easy as reciting the alphabet when you've frequented too many parties and met too many people. he knows that when he kisses up, people will bow down, he's never been rejected. it's definitely because of his good looks that girls always spilt their legs open for him, they never say no.

na jaemin gets what he wants, except when he doesn't.

"no."

you leave because you have trust issues, sure, who doesn't, who cares. who cares if there are tears streaming down your face for seemingly stupid reasons? it isn't the first time, it's nowhere near the first time. it's the same feeling you had when you realized your first boyfriend wasn't going to reply back, there's still a read seven years ago below your text. the same feeling when you saw your second kissing your 'best friend.' still all those years ago, when you were two steps away to the lunch table when you heard your third whisper to his friends, "just a stupid bet with a stupid girl." when your fourth told you he lost feelings for you when you were still madly in love with him and when you had to found out from your oldest sister that your fifth was her classmate, in grad school, while you were still in your last year of high school, not even old enough to vote. your sixth trying to strip you of your virginity right after you agreed to be his girlfriend and your seventh basically forgetting you existed. you were getting the same fucking feeling all those months ago when you finally realized your rightful position as 'replacement,' as 'number 2,' as 'poor soul.' maybe distrust is simply inbred in you and though you know the prospects of yours and jaemin's relationship are far from over, you can't deny the gut feeling that your bad luck in men is coming back to haunt you, that it's never left in the first place.

na jaemin forgets that he has a past he can't erase, just like you. the girls he's fucked over the past three years have hearts and they have reasons they began to fuck him in the first place. he couldn't heal their hearts, nor his, but sex did a great deal, made a great deal of people jealous, gave him all he needed at the time. he never expected them to simply go away when he decided to settle down but it seems that his reputation holds so much worth that it's proving hard to overcome it himself. jaemin hates that you date the campus fuckboy, he hates that people still whisper in your ear that he's fucking so-and-so in the dead of night. he hates that he can't get rid of the stigma around his name, even though you know, through and through, that he can't nearly live up to it anymore. you know yet, you leave because of it. his reputation. na jaemin, certified eye candy and delectable dick, wishes he was anyone but himself.

her bare feet shuffling down the hall is the only thing she hears. she wishes they let people wear shoes on the second floor so she could've busted her heels out and clacked her way to his room. she needs the rush of empowerment right now. she needs it.

the next thing she hears is the sound of raised voices right as she is about to shove the door open, the door fifth on the left of the hall to the right of the stairwell, exactly where you'd told her he'd be, albeit reluctantly.

eunmi is taken aback now that she recognizes one of the voices behind the door. minyoung. gritting her teeth, she presses her ear to the wood, careful to keep quiet.

"so you're fucking her now? is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"minyoung, i'm not fucking her. we're dating, it's been that way for awhile," he sounds exasperated, maybe, eunmi can almost see the crease in his brows.

"why didn't you bother to ask me if i was fine with it? we had a thing going, you can't just bail on me like that."

"the only thing we had going was quick fucks every thursday. i'm sorry, but i don't think that's much of a relationship."

her voice is growing impatient, in desperation like she's grasping at loose strings, hanging on to whatever she can find, "this little bitch- does she even know? how much of a dick you are? are you just going to leave her like you did me?"

"stop, minyoung, please,"

but eunmi guesses her point is valid nonetheless, she herself doesn't think very highly of him. "how would she feel if i told her that? that leaving is your specialty? you can fuck me, and all my friends and leave, thinking that we'd never know, but we know, okay? and if you- if you ever think that you'll be satisfied with settling down for this chick, think again jaemin."

eunmi backs into the restroom across the door, for good measure and good sense because minyoung is storming out the second after, unaware of her eavesdropper. a minute and a glimpse later, she knows that jaemin is crouched by the foot of his bed, though she's unsure why.

she braves herself because she's here for answers. reappearing at his door, she calls softly as if raising a white flag, "hey there." jaemin's head snaps up instantaneously in surprise. "oh, hi, what're you doing here?" he lowers himself to sit on the floor and eunmi takes the spot in front of him, wariness in her movements.

"well, i came here for y/n, obviously, but um, i just happened to hear-" she's cut off when jaemin lets out a low groan into his hands. eunmi makes her stance a little clearer now that she has a better feel of the situation, "i'm not here to break up with you for her or anything. she didn't really want me to come, but i guess, i guess i came because we've also had our fair share of...disagreements that i think we should set straight," she pauses, hands fiddling with her thumbs in her lap, "i'm sorry if this is too much after, all that."

he looks relieved at that, "no, it's fine. i- i'm glad you want to, i don't know, make up. i haven't really been all that great of a friend these past years anyway."

eunmi lets a smile slip at that, what an interesting turn of events, "so...friends?"

"friends."

"and just to set the record straight, you're not still fucking minyoung right?"

jaemin rolls his eyes, shakes his head, gesticulates with his hands, "no, i got y/n. she's all i really need." eunmi nods to fill the awkward silence that follows. she's reminded of another inquiry, "so why didn't you just tell her that?"

"i guess i just didn't want her to worry or like- or get involved with my past, stuff like that. i kinda hated how it's dredged up all the time, especially now that i've, i don't know, settled down, committed."

"should've just told her," eunmi deadpans.

"i really should've," jaemin agrees.

"need me to drive you?" jaemin's extra careful with his words today, post-arguments can be fickle, particularly if they're only halfway resolved. your voice is muffled on the other end, "no, i'll walk." jaemin's wishes he'd insisted it instead of simply offering, late spring rains weren't all that uncommon, and even more so when the skies are darkening as they are on this specific day. "it might rain though," he tries again. you decline again, "i'll manage, thank you."

he sees you in ten, fifteen minutes or so, and sure enough, you're drenched head to toe, staring up at him with eyes that bear in mind the tension that hangs in between you and also border the bounds of laughter at how you're dripping wet with no one to blame but yourself. jaemin bites back the 'i told you so' and hurries to get you dried off with a towel, changed, and under the sheets. by then, the tension has subsided considerably.

"you wanna talk about it?"

you're tired, though it hasn't even struck five on the clock, "i thought that's what i'm here for."

"so, i'm not fucking her-"

"nice to know-"

"-just had some loose ends to tie up-"

"-and did you?" jaemin supposes you're far too tired to be emitting the same, resolute aggressions as a few days prior seeing as you're keeping your voice to a minimum and the words that come out are straight to the point, blunt. he does his best to reflect the same straightforwardness.

"i did, she's...off my back, our back...our backs."

you give him a look, scrunch your nose, and tug him by the arms into you. there's a blanket separating you two but he fits exactly against you anyways. you wonder how anyone could ever get in between the two of you if you so perfectly mold alongside him. the bridge of his nose nuzzles down your neck and you're laughing because it doesn't get any better than this, really.

he shuts the light on the bedside table off with an inattentive hand, the blankets are drawn back and he's pulled flush into you. his body heat is welcome on a frigid night and the blanket that falls back on top of him seals the both of you within the confines of his bed for the hours to come. you're starting to think that coming here was more just to cuddle than it was to make up with him.

"i can't get enough of you," his face is in your neck.

"and why is that?"

"because- because everything about you- i feel like i'd be missing out if i never tried to start something with you," he buries himself further in your scent, "it's like i emptied my heart out just so you could fill it back up."

your chin rests on the crown of his head, it tickles him when you speak, now in half wakefulness, "could say the same for you."

jaemin whispers into your ear, breath fanning down onto your neck, words that will only ever be for you, "i would not have you otherwise."

jaemin spent your spring break at your hometown, to meet your parents, both of which loved him dearly. he wouldn't dare voice it aloud but he thinks it's the sweetest that your mother holds you, her youngest daughter, in such high-esteem after bringing home who she thinks to be the 'most gorgeous man alive,' an utterance he was sure was not meant for him to hear.

he likes being the 'most gorgeous man alive,' especially if you were the one who thought so, but as he watches you stare intently at the flynn rider's jawline, his own jaw clenches. tangled is playing as the pre-movie for movie night, the movie that plays before people actually start to arrive since, donghyuck and eunmi are always destined to be at least an hour late. but it's not that that gets him the most riled up that night, riled up isn't even the right word. maybe agitation, at whoever thought it was a good idea to invite mark lee. mark fucking lee, the grad student. the whoever turns out to be chenle and although jaemin does not have it in him to beat the kid up, he is sure as hell watching over the dude from the moment he walks in to the moment he leaves.

more than that, he also keeps his eyes on you as well, tracing your expression with every word his goddamned senior ought to speak. "hey, y/n, how have you been?" jaemin glares. as far as his detective senses go, he figures that marks target for the night isn't you, but rather eunmi. he hopes he can get over this as quickly and neatly as possible. your face twitches into a smile, uncomfortable, he thinks. "fine, i've been fine. you?" jaemin wants to draw you back and tell you that you had no obligation to be so polite, that the 'fine' would have done its job splendidly on its own.

"pretty good myself, looks like things have been happening around here, huh," jaemin hates the way he wriggles his eyebrows, "hyuck and eunmi, you and him." jaemin hates how he just referred to him as 'him,' surely, there was a lot more due respect than that. "yeah, and jeno and jaein but that's-"

"oh psh, old news," the two of you laugh, you laugh with him, with him. jaemin is just about ready to throw hands when mark excuses himself to get a seat on the floor, serves him right, he thinks. you look comparatively calm next to the raging boy. why is he the only one bothered by this?

"you good there? didn't even say a word to him."

he gulps, "yeah, i'm great. just didn't feel like talking."

you're staring at him like you can see right through him, that's exactly the case, "i'm over him, you know?" jaemin scratches at his neck, "yeah, i know." head on his shoulder as the first official movie of the night plays, you sigh, "no need to get all worked up, i'm all yours."

the twentieth century fox theme plays in the background of the romance novel you live in. na jaemin makes you feel that way, unfailingly, every single day. it's written in the ways he kisses you, lovemarks blooming under your skin. it's written in the way he stares at you, with nothing else except pure, unadulterated love. it's written in between the lines, his actions, his thoughts, everything that amounts to so much more than the past years of deprivation you've had to endure. it's written in the stars, out in the countryside where jaemin could never fake a smile, not in the presence of you. with you by his side, not in a million years.

it's here. summer fucking break is finally here. and if there's anything to prove that, it's the way you're currently sitting in a car with all your friends. taking a short little road trip out to the beach. now, mind you, these are the same friends that were there on your drunkest nights, slumped over bar counters and blatantly asking for any hot guy's number. the same friends that accompanied you on your most sober nights, holed up in your single-person dorm room, trying to study for an exam for a class you could never wake up in time for. and among those friends is one who has an added prefix, your boyfriend, na jaemin, who's in the driver's seat per your request since your carsickness prevented you from any other seats and you really wanted him by your side. jaemin didn't seem to mind driving, after all, he was next to you.

the sun is setting too fast and eunmi, sitting in the seat in the far back, complains that they'd have to set up the bonfire right away instead of getting to play in the warm water while it's warm. donghyuck, beside her, is complaining too, but not about the bonfire or even the trip in general, but about eunmi and her legs which are hoisted on his lap, something about how his dingaling needs to breath. jaein, in the seat right behind you is musing on about how she thinks it'll be funny when they arrive and see yeseul and renjun's car torn up in two, neither of them could ever get along. jeno, to her left, is fussing with rubbing sunblock on her, getting angry at how her hair could never stay out of his way.

you glance over at jaemin who has this smile on his face. this smile that makes it seem like he's in adoration of the whole scene panning out in the rearview mirror. he takes a glance over at you too and, if even possible, his smile beams wider, straight pearly whites and all. his hand finds yours.

it's already dark when the eight of you arrive but eunmi isn't complaining anymore since the boys make quick work in getting the bonfire set up while letting the girls play in the water. the ocean water licks at your feet as you watch eunmi and yeseul duel in how much water they could spray at each other, jaein sitting on the shore off to the side, watching as well. you're pondering going over to accompany her when eunmi's hand latches on your left arm and tugs the whole of you into the water with her. it's warm and wouldn't have been entirely unwelcoming had you gotten a notice in advance.

you make fun in chasing them around, kicking up water in eunmi's face one too many times that she begins to choke on the saltiness. yeseul is now on the shore yelling at renjun. and jaein is doing her best with a tent. eunmi, who's back you were currently rubbing, is almost through with her fit and you think the mischievous face she's pulling means another round but she brings up a question instead, "how's he in bed?"

she's right if she assumed you'd chuck another armful of water in her face.

you sigh in annoyance as jaemin tosses the towel over your head once again, unsatisfied with how the tips of your hair were still wet. his fingers are ruffling fast and making quick work to dry the strands but you're upset. "jaemin, babe, we've been standing here for ten minutes, can i go now?" your head resurfaces as he gives the towel one more tug, smiling, "just making sure you don't get sick." he follows as you duck into your shared tent to get ready for the bonfire. "shit, jaem. i didn't bring an extra top," you frown but he only smiles wider and grabs his hoodie from the ground beside the sleeping bags. "lucky for you, then," he tugs the article of clothing over your head, only speaking again once your eyes peek out, "because i love seeing you wear my clothes."

you give him a nose scrunch in return but every word of his, every single word that comes from his mouth is enough to get you swooning. you follow him out the tent.

"so," donghyuck's eyes are playful in the light of the fire, "what game are we playing today?" jeno groans, "do we always have to play some sort of game? why can't we just like…" even he's unsure of what to do. the eight of you are situated around the blazing fire that's, not quite large enough to be a bonfire, but does its job in keeping you warm. jaein perks up after much deliberation, "how about...we go around and each make a wish?"

donghyuck huffs, "fine by me." it starts with jeno, and though you truly value each and every one of your friends' wishes, there's only one that you really remember for the rest of the night, the day, the week, the month, and the years to come. jaemin clears his throat, the rest of the group watching him including you, the you he turns to. you're huddled over on the log beside him, wrapped up in his hoodie and hair an absolute mess. your eyes are heavy and he already knows that once everyone decides to call it a night, you will be the first to leave. you're looking at him in tired anticipation and mild interest, he hopes what he has to say tells you all he needs you to know.

"i already have you, so there's nothing left to wish for."

the rest of the group breaks off into 'oohs' and 'ewws' but you swear that you and jaemin, jaemin and you are stuck in your own little world. his gaze is incredibly soft and endearing, you scoot closer and place a head on his shoulder, his hand coming around your frame in automatic response. leaning into his warmth, you feel closest to home than you ever have before.

jaemin carries you to sleep later that night. and even later that night, or rather early in the morning, when you rustle awake, he's aroused by you as well. the two of you sit on a towel atop the dry sand, right before where the tides ride up the shore. basked in the moonlight, jaemin's skin beams a pale sheen and his eyes are cast over darkly, ethereally, divinely. your head is still on his shoulder and you feel the words vibrate through you when he speaks, "did you have fun today?"

you tuck a lip under your front teeth and nod for him to feel. he asks another question, "how are you feeling?" this time, you aren't able to part with just a shake of your head so you sit up, eyes never leaving the push and pull of the sunless ocean, "i feel...happy."

he looks over at you, not in surprise but in interest, "happy? why do you feel happy?" you shrug almost, musing off whatever comes to mind first, "i don't know, school just ended, this trip, summer break. i have a lot of reasons to be happy." jaemin isn't sulky at that but he does his best to pull his name from you, "and what about me?"

you dare a glance over at the man next to you, his eyes already boring into yours, "well, you too, of course." looking away as quickly as you'd looked over, you mumble quietly, "actually, more because of you than anything." in your peripheries, you see him give you a look that speak 'that's what i thought' and you clip down your smile in favor of a shake of your head.

moving from your spot, you surprise jaemin when you block his view of the seaside. he settles you down into his lap with familiar control, arms cradling you tight to his chest. hand on his neck, you trace it up to his cheek and guide his head down to face yours. jaemin leans in for a soft kiss, lips suckling at your bottom as your teeth tug on his top, slow but sensual, tired but sweet. you pull away for a breath but it's as if he doesn't need to breathe anymore because he chases after your lips almost instinctively. soft kiss after soft kiss is all that's needed for you to pluck up your courage and look him in the eyes, lips detached, and speak the truth your heart has been singing in your ears all along. "jaem," his eyes are hazy as they find yours in the dim light. somewhere in the back, the sun is peeking over the horizon in all its glory but neither of you pay it any mind. "yes, love?" he brushes the hairs from your face, fingers gliding across your cheeks and then fumbling with your bottom lip with his thumb. you blink and you speak.

"i've been waiting for you all my life."

you think back over the past seven months, a little over half a year, that you've had this man in your life, five months of which he was your boyfriend. you wonder how you could've fallen so fast in such a short amount of time. then again, love is rarely ever about how short or how long. it's more about the timing in which everything falls into place, the intensity by which each person loves, their pasts and how willing they are to erase it. falling in love is not about getting it right the first time, to find someone to be your first and last. for you particularly, jaemin is your ninth, and though the prospects of him being your last are still far from true, you know in your heart and in your mind and in every part of your living being that with each coming second, he's a second closer to becoming your last.

✧ end note — if my ex ever sees this, though i truly doubt he will, he gon know i stole one of his lines for jaemin. the wish one. yeah...he always had his way with words, that's about all he had though. but hey, it makes a hell of a good line in this story. i hope you had a good time reading this piece, it was such a pleasure to write. i will see you guys when i wake up for class in three hours hehe. with all the love in the world, rouiyan

#nct jaemin #jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #neo-constellations #neothestars #nct scenarios #nct fics #nct jaemin fluff #jaemin fics #jaemin angst #na jaemin #nct jaemin fics #maxed the shit out of that 15k #very lightly proofread #will go over later #enjoy for now #<3 #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

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sunsinrinn · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets Part 9.

Bakugo x reader, Bakugo x Uraraka, Kirishima x Reader

Fluff- ish, language, angst

Word Count: 1,487

Idea: Y/n has a secret to share with bakugo not expecting a secret from him. She leaves heart broken and attempts to move on. But how will she move on if her secret can no longer be hidden? She fakes a relationship hoping its enough to not expose the true origin of the secret. (This is a terrible summary but I cant say much without spoiling future parts. 🙃)

‘It’s my child...’ he kept thinking after he rushes to his room. He was a dad! He was quick to be happy but it disappears when he remembers you hid it from him for almost eight fucking months. Honestly how no one else but him was suspicious about you being bigger than what a normal 5 month pregnant woman looks like.

“Can’t fucking believe she lied for that long” he says out loud to himself.

You and kiri are finished talking and walk to your room. Before you go to your room you knock softly on Bakugo’s door and wait for his response.

He freezes when he hears the knock and stays quiet still pissed at you. You don’t hear a response so you say loud enough, “Good night Bakugo...” You look at the door a bit sadly but walk away to find kirishima waiting for you in bed smiling softly at you.

“Come on baby, lets go to bed so you and my baby can rest.” He says and you smile.

“Alright kiri-babe” You walk over to him.

“Kiri...”

He shifts to face you once your in bed.

“Yes?”

“Do you think I should tell Bakugo he is the baby’s real dad?”

Kiri stays quiet thinking about it for a while before finally answering,

“I don’t know babe, the answer is honestly up to you because after all you are the one carrying the baby.”

You chew you lip thinking about it. “I just- just don’t want that to change anything between us.”

“It won’t baby, we will just have to adjust to having Bakugo as a part of our family we are creating. I won’t rob him from being a father. No, I can be a second dad” he looks at you and gives you the most loving smile you’ve ever seen.

You look at him and smile. “I am so lucky to have you Kiri.”

Bakugo lays there in the dark unable to sleep. How will he fucking confirm that the baby you are carrying is his? Why did you lie? Then he remembers the day you caught him with the girl we shall not name, he remembers seeing a gift bag that was white but had blue and pink tissue.. No- you were going to tell him then! He cannot believe he did that on that day. The day was supposed to be special to you, but he ruined it with his infidelity. Without realizing it hot and angry tears spill.

The next morning he avoids the both of you by leaving early to work.

As you finish making breakfast you ask Kirishima to wake Bakugo up so he goes but returns a while after empty handed.

“Where’s Bakugo?” You ask him

“He wasn’t in the room. I think he may have gone early to work.” He says unsure so he texts him just in case.

Both of you sit down and eat when Kirishima finally gets a short answer back

‘At work. Left early.’

You frown and finish your food, “Do you think he will get hungry?”

Kirishima nods, “Yeah... he will probably forget to eat.”

And as if it were a silent agreement, a couple of hours after breakfast you both begin to pack him a bento box for lunch and find yourself heading to his agency.

None of you speak about what you do and it seems like a natural thing to do. You confuse yourself because, ‘Why DF are you packing his lunch and walking over to his agency like a wife and why the hell is your boyfriend helping you.’

You stop thinking to much into it, because honestly? You were afraid of the answer.

When you find yourself at the entrance of Bakugo’s agency you stop along with Kirishima and both take a breath in before entering. It had been a really long time since you last went in there. You look around and tighten your grip on Bakugo’s bento and kirishima’s hand when the secretary asks you in a cheery voice,

“Hi! How can I Help you today?”

Kirishima speaks up since you are unable to speak,

“Hey, we are looking for Ground Zero?”

“Ah yes! He is currently in his office doing some paper work. Would you like me to tell him to come down?”

“No, we can walk up there” He smiles at her and leads you to the elevator.

“You okay y/n?”

You nod, “Y-yeah, its been a while since I was last here.”

He nods, “I understand”

As the elevator makes it to Bakugo’s floor you both get out and walk to his door. Kirishima and you knock at the same time and wait for his response.

“WHAT DO YOU EXTRAS WANT?”

“Um. Its Y/N and I” Kirishima answers.

You hear shuffling and step back when the door flies open.

“What are you both doing here?” He asks suspiciously.

You raise the bento box up and say,

“We brought you a bento, we were afraid you might not eat so we made one for you” You smile shyly. ‘WHY DF are you acting shy’ you think

Bakugo looks taken aback but grabs the box mumbling, “Thank you”

“What was that?” Kirishima asks with a grin on his face

“I said thank you shitty hair!” He says louder and annoyed

Kirishima just laughs and pushes past Bakugo to lounge on his couch he has in his office.

You blush at Kirishima’s actions and quickly say,

“I’m so sorry about Kirishima... Kirishima! Get up-“

“No, no its fine... Do you want to come in as well?” Bakugo says looking at the floor blushing.

You stammer, “Y-yeah, sure.” You walk inside as Bakugo moves out the way and stand there awkwardly. Bakugo walks back to his desk and sees you standing.

“Kirishima- move out the way and let Y/N sit you dumbass!” Kirishima looks at you and instantly sits up so you can sit and pats on the empty space.

“Come on baby, sit down”

You continue to blush and quietly shuffle to Kirishima.

Bakugo is about to eat when he notices neither of you have food.

“You guys didn’t bring any for yourselves?” He asks startling you.

“UH- no we didn’t...”

He grunts before pushing it towards both of you.

“Bakugo, we brought the food for you!” Kirishima says

“No, you guys will share with me then.”

“Bakugo, seriously we made it for you. So you wouldn’t get hungry, not to share.”

“Y/N.” He says in a stern voice, “You’re pregnant. You have to eat.”

You gulp and lie, “Kirishima and I already ate,”

“No we-“ you interrupt kirishima by pinching his side, “No, we really did eat before we came here” he rubs his side and glares at you and you glare back.

“You’re both lying.” He says and puches the box further.

You sigh and grab a small bite and push it towards Kirishima. He also eats a small bite and pushes it to Bakugo.

After swallowing the food you speak up, “There we ate. Now you eat.”

“Fine.” He grumbles, “But next time you guys come bring food for yourselves too.”

Kirishima has a big grin when Bakugo says next time and you just blush.

Deep down you begin to feel your heart flutter at his words and freeze. No no no no no. Oh god please no...

Kirishima looks at you and notices you look conflicted, “Is everything okay, babe?”

You jump and nod, “yeah, yeah” oh no. You can’t be falling for Bakugo.... No you love Kirishima! There is no way you like both.

Bakugo looks at the interaction you both have and frowns slightly. The two people he loves are together and he should be happy they are happy with each other but he isn’t.

‘Well shit, look at you in love with two people who don’t love you, just pity you.’ He thinks to himself as he remembers you lying about the baby and looks at his bento box while eating it in order to avoid anymore of your interactions.

After Bakugo finishes his lunch, you and kirishima say good bye to him and head out. You Both are silent on the way home knowing there was something you both needed to talk about. Once you get home you grab something small to eat and sit down in the living room. Kirishima sits beside you in an uncomfortable silence. That lunch with Bakugo really changed something.

You stay in silence before taking a deep breath

“We should talk” you both say in unison.

You look at each other and chuckle nervously.

“You go first” you both say again.

You take a deep breath.

“We should talk about this Bakugo situation... and I have something to say about that...”

“I was going to say the same thing. You tell me first.” He says shakily.

You look sad and take another deep breath.

“I think I still love Bakugo.”

SERIES MASTERLIST — Part 10

A/N- sorry I didn’t post yesterday lol, I was busy procrastinating on tiktok avoiding my college work. Hehe. Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this new chapter and tell me what you think.

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts or future works dont hesitate to dm, ask, or comment! I hope you guys had a lovely day today! Also if you asked to be tagged and I didnt tag you send me a dm so I can fix it :)

Secrets taglist- @hero-ink-pillar , @silentw-lkr , @ushiwakatrash , @purple-rabanito , @chaelysian , @puppycat714 , @fake-id-69 , @adaydreaminganon , @jessie9008 , @sam-i-am-1025 , @purple--nebula , @curiouslilbeast , @httpswwwtbhkcom , @setup-the-ace , @kit-kat428 , @thatonefangirl722 , @fxirylightsx , @katsuki-bakubae , @sakurakatsuki

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x uraraka #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijirou #bnha x reader #bnha #mha x reader #mha #bakugo x reader x kirishima #katsuki x reader x eijiro

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themattgirl · 5 years ago

Note

Hi Jasmine💖 I really like your writing you're amazing 💖💖 Sooo can you write sth where Y/N has asthma and she had an attack infront of Harry for the first time and he comforts her and does some cute shit coz I have asthma and I always fantasize about this

Thank you so much, I’m glad you like it. I love you🥺💘 Sorry for this late reply, my cousin came over unexpectedly and is now sleeping next to me while I’m trying to write this for you in the best way possible. Let me know if you like it and feel free to send more requests.🦋

Breathless

“Why did you do it even though I told you not to? Why can’t you just listen to me, huh?” Y/N asks Harry angrily.

They are in the middle of their fifth fight of the week, and it’s only Wednesday. They’ve both been very caught up into work and haven’t spent much time with each other lately. The lack of communication caused a lot of drama in this house the past few days. Y/N and Harry used to talk about anything and everything, but since Y/N is in the middle of the exam season of her last semester in college and Harry is currently struggling with finishing up his album, it’s hard to find the time. It might be necessary to say how much of a perfectionist he is. Plus, it’s the first album since the band went on hiatus and he really wants this to work.

“I just thought you’d like to be her friend again. I thought you’d listen to what she has to say.” Harry tries to explain why he invited Y/N’s ex-best-friend - or the traitor - to her birthday party even though she made clear that she doesn’t want to see her ever again.

“Listen to what she has to say? Are you kidding? She’s already said enough, don’t you think?” Y/N’s voice becomes louder by every second in which Harry doesn’t get what he did wrong.

Y/N has been ignoring her old best friend for weeks now and she’s not planning on stopping it. She is way too disappointed. Who wouldn’t be if their so-called best friend spreads rumours around the whole campus about them giving free blowjobs even though they have a boyfriend? And that only because said boyfriend is Harry Styles and the traitor has been crushing on him ever since she’s heard about him. But hasn’t everyone? Everybody loves Harry and Y/N happens to be lucky enough to be the one he loves back. A real best friend would be happy for you, right?

“Baby, I’m sure she did it out of anger. She loves you and wants to be your friend again. Give her a chance.” Harry’s voice is still very calm which is only adding to Y/N’s fury because it means he’s convinced that he’s right and he’s not seeing his mistake.

“Stop fucking defending that bitch! I don’t care if she did it because she was angry or jealous or whatever. I’m not giving her a fucking chance or any shit. She can go to hell and if you think what she did is forgivable then you might as well stuff her mouth with your dick and join her.”

This is it. Harry realises how angry Y/N really is. She never swears. He has never heard a curse word leaving her mouth, nor anything like ‘dick’ - not even while they have sex. Only now he notices that her eyes are filled with hurt, her face turned red, her nostrils are flaring, fists clenched while she’s glaring at him. Her breathing is heavy.

“Okay, but is it really that bad? I mean, the unknown calls have stopped, right? And you’ll be out of college very soon, anyway. It’s not that big of a deal. And most importantly, we both know that the only person you’re giving head is me.”

He certainly will not have that privilege anymore after what he just said.

“I’m already on the edge, Harry. Don’t make me lose my shit completely. Why do you even care so much about it? Isn’t it my choice who I want to be friends with?”

“It is, but you don’t have any other friends.” He speaks the truth, “I just don’t want you to be all alone when I’m not around.”

Before Y/N can respond her phone starts ringing. She pulls it out of her back pocket and checks who itis. Unknown. Those calls haven’t actually stopped, Y/N just stopped telling Harry about them. She has to pick up, though. For some strange reason, her father always calls with a hidden ID. So she slides her finger from the left to the right on the display and holds her phone to her ear. Not greeting the person on the other side of the line she waits for someone to speak.

“Hey, uhm... I was told you give head for free. Is-“ Y/N cuts him off immediately with a simple “no” and takes a deep breath to collect herself even though breathing gets harder and harder.

“Oh, is this not Y/N?” The man asks confused.

“It is, but I don’t do that. Whoever told you that was lying. I have a boyfriend who I really love and would never cheat on. Tell everyone, thank you, bye!” Y/N clarifies and ends the phone call.

She doesn’t even have time to put it back in her pocket when it starts ringing again. Unknown, again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispers to herself before picking up.

“I’m picking you up in half an hour, ‘key?” The voice on the other end asks.

Y/N hangs up on him without saying anything. It’s so overwhelming, all of this. To get it all in her head she explains the whole situation out loud, hoping it’ll make her know what to do about it.

“So, my best friend told everyone I give BJs for free because she’s jealous and now my phone won’t stop ringing. I’m the whore of the campus, no, I’m not even a whore, apparently I don’t do it for money. That’s my reputation now. And as if this isn’t enough, my boyfriend - the one that I’m accused of cheating on - decided to be on her side and against me. So basically, I’m fucked.” Y/N is looking down at her feet, she is quiet but loud enough for Harry to hear her. With every word her breathing becomes heavier.

What might be important to mention is that Y/N has asthma. Well, she had. It stopped being so bad a while ago and she could live her life without an attack for more than a year. What she didn’t tell Harry is that she started to be out of breath very quickly in the past two weeks. She tried to ignore it but taking deep breaths doesn’t seem to work this time. Her airways become too narrow for her to breathe properly. She starts coughing and wheezing. Since there is nothing beside her that she can sit down on she is forced to let herself down on the floor. Harry reacts immediately by crouching down in front of his girlfriend and straightening her back.

“Baby, look at me,” Harry places a finger under her chin to make her look up at him, “It’s gonna be okay, just breathe with me, yeah?”

He inhales deeply twice, waiting for her to follow his example but when she doesn’t he gets up, tells Y/N to wait and that he’ll be right back and runs into the bedroom to get her inhaler that he knows is always in the drawer next to the bed. He grabs it and rushes back. What he doesn’t know, though, is that this one is not full anymore. He has to find that out when he holds it on her mouth and presses the button on the top of it so she can breathe in what comes out. Only this time, nothing comes out. She’s been waking up at night, troubling with her breathing almost every night lately. Harry can’t help but freak out a little, but for the sake of Y/N he has to keep it together.

“Do you have another one?” he has to ask her twice because she doesn’t respond the first time but nods the second.

“Where?” he wants to know and receives a gesticulation as an answer. At first he doesn’t know what she means but when she repeats it he understands what she’s trying to say. He goes back to the bedroom and empties her bag on the bed until a blue little tool falls out. He tries to be as fast as he possibly can.

When he’s with her again he repeats his action from the first time, this time it works. Luckily, Harry knows exactly what to do. He had asthma as a kid himself.

He lets Y/N take a puff of the inhaler every thirty seconds, whispering little encouragements like “you’re doing good, baby, keep going” every now and again. By the 13th time she is back to breathing on her own.

“Are you all right, sweetheart?” he asks her and hesitates to put the inhaler down already. But Y/N nods and pulls him in for a hug.

“You did great, baby girl, I’m proud of you. You’re a strong woman, you know that? My strong woman,” he tells her while stroking her back and hair.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N apologises quietly and pulls away.

“What’re you apologising for? Don’t be silly, love. I’m sorry for stressing you out to the point where you couldn’t breathe anymore. I’m so stupid. Who the hell does that? I’m a shitty boyfriend, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not. You just saved my life!”

Not wanting to argue with her right now he says “Okay” and pulls her into his arms again.

“You were right. You shouldn’t be her friend, she doesn’t deserve you. We’re gonna get you a new number and we’ll find a way to get those stupid rumours out of the world, I promise. Just don’t leave me, please!” Harry begs her to not make his worst fear reality.

“I’m not leaving you, what’re you talking about? I know you’re stupid sometimes but that’s not enough to make me even think of it. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.” Y/N assures him.

“I most certainly do like it,” he smiles, “I really love you, Y/N!”

Before she can say it back the sound of a car honking interrupts her. Oh no, she thinks.

“Who’s that?” Harry asks when he notices the look on her face.

“A client,” she jokes and they both break into laughter.

“C’mon, let’s beat him up together, yeah?” Harry can’t help it but laugh when he sees how her face lights up at those words and she nods happily.

“Oh God, how I love you!” he gushes before he locks his lips with hers, feeling the butterflies in his stomach go crazy when she smiles into the kiss.

#fluff prompts #fluff writing #harry chats #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles drabble #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles filth #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles request #harry styles imagines #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut

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raysofcrosby · 5 years ago

Text

LITTLE DO YOU KNOW PT. 9

"𝘐 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦." ━ 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫

gif credit (x)

series masterlist

requested: yes | no

warnings: cussing and angst, but nothing else tbh.

word count: 5,294 [of un-proofread material lol sorry]

authors note: HI EVERYONE!!! First off, I just want to wish you all a Happy Holiday season! I honestly didn’t think i was going to get anything out, but work has been extremely stressful and i needed to write and voila, part 9 lmfao. there’s only three more parts of the series left and i can’t believe it’s almost over! thank you to anyone who’s reblogged, liked, sent in a message, written in their tags or even took the time to read any part of this series– i love you all. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all! I hope you all have an amazing day and enjoy part 9!

Avoiding Jamie and Tyler after the shitshow that took place in Tyler's house Friday night, was your number one priority. Thankfully, the Stars were out of town in Nashville and weren't due to come back to Dallas until early Sunday morning. You weren't sure if Tyler still wanted you to watch the dogs, so the next morning after everything happened, you took an uber to his place. When you walked inside to feed the dogs and take them on their walk, they were nowhere to be found. You walked around the house, whistling and even going as far as to squeaking Gerry's favorite toy– but no sound of paws against the floor or the jingling of their collars. When you went to leave, the front door opened and John walked in, holding onto the three dogs' leashes. He looked surprised to see you and the moment the two of you made eye contact, you realized that he knew.

And it was obvious that your dog sitting services were no longer needed, so you rushed back to campus and practically locked yourself in a library study room, throwing yourself into studying for your last final.

If you thought back on it hard enough, you weren't sure if that was the final straw that jutted the metaphorical knife deeper into your stomach or what happened Sunday night when Big Rig came over. You had once again, spent the entire day throwing yourself into studying for your finals and by the time you returned back to your dorm room, Kennedy was ordering dinner in for her and Big Rig.

You hadn't meant to completely shut her out, but you honestly felt a little embarrassed at how everything came crumbling down. Tyler had yet to reach out, he pretty much fired you from taking care of the dogs, you're pretty sure that your brother pretty much disowned you...and Kennedy, though not as straight-forward, had warned you of it all. The last thing you wanted to do was feel worse than you did now...though that logic isn't working, because well, you were feeling pretty shitty.

Kennedy was your best friend for a reason and she knew better than anyone that when you were ready to talk about it all, you would. So, unfortunately for her, but lucky for you, she was dealing with your sadness with grace– aka by not complaining when you had your playlist blasting through your headphones or not commenting on how you were watching the notebook one too many a time.

By the time Big Rig had arrived at your dorm, you had shut off your computer for the night, buried yourself beneath the covers, rolled yourself towards the wall and had been trying to fall asleep for almost an hour. You thought that you'd be able to eventually fall asleep, maybe while they were just going to watch Criminal Minds and eat some dinner, but the moment that their hushed whispers grew a little louder, there was no hope.

"How is she doing?" He asked, talking softly as he kicked his shoes off onto the floor and hopped onto her bed, his tall and heavy frame causing it to buckle beneath him.

"Honestly? Not so good. " Kennedy sighed and you could feel her gaze lingering on your back. "Neither Jamie or Tyler have talked to her. She's been either spending all her time studying, blasting sad breakup songs, skimming through The Notebook or sleeping."

"Oh shit...The Notebook?"

Kennedy was silent but climbed onto her bed as Big Rig shifted and unloaded the delivery bag. "I even called her mom earlier, just to give her a heads up before she came home for Christmas in case she notices that two of her kids aren't talking. And then right after, Jordie reached out to me because Y/N wasn't answering him and neither was Jamie. So, I filled him in too."

You couldn't even be angry at her for the fact that she told both your mom and Jordie about what had happened. Firstly, the two of them already had some sort of clue as to what was going on between you and Tyler. Secondly, once again, she was just being your best friend and looking out for your best interest– plus now you didn't have to have that awkward conversation once you went home.

"Yeah, Jamie's uh..." Big Rig cleared his throat and you could tell that he was either trying to avoid talking about something or just trying to figure out how to say it.

"Was it bad yesterday?"

"Horrible," he sighed and shifted on the bed again, probably lying back. "Everyone knows."

"Everyone knows?" She asked, the confusion in her voice evident. "As in...they know about Y/N and Tyler?"

"They know everything."

"Jesus Christ! Is Jamie that fucking petty and pissed that he went and blabbered about it to the whole team?" She caught her voice elevating and stopped, placing their food off to the side. "I'm going to kill him. What an asshole and to do that to his own–"

"It wasn't Jamie."

"Then who–"

"Well, I mean, Bish was with Jamie when he...walked in on the two of them, so Jamie told Bish– but he already kind of had a feeling because Jamie said something about it." Big Rig cleared his throat again. "But no, it was some fan account on Instagram for wags, I guess?"

"Explain, now."

You heard him sigh and you contemplated making it known that you were wide awake, but you had to admit to yourself that you were a little bit interested.

"So it some small fan account for wags of the team, I guess. Anyway, so they make a post and they have pictures of Y/N and Tyler from nights we all went to the bar, to pictures of him picking her up from A.B.C. and even his Halloween party. It was like... spam of almost 10 pictures and you can see how close they are and it's not hard to guess that they have something going on."

"Okay, and how does this tie into the whole team finding out?"

"Everyone got tagged in it. Players, girlfriends, wives, I think even Tyler's family and Y/N too. By the time the plane took off, it was kind of common knowledge."

Your heart was racing against your chest and it felt like it could explode at any minute. Everyone on the team and their significant others knew, which meant the coaches and training staff probably knew. How the hell were you supposed to show your face in the locker room tomorrow without wanting to just disappear into thin air?

"Shit, this is pretty much Worst-case scenario. How is she supposed to walk into a room and treat them all for their weak bones when they all know about her and Tyler?" Kennedy sighed her gaze on you.

"I mean...I don't think anyone judges her for it, because she's still Y/N to them, you know?"

"It doesn't matter, J. Even if she's still just Y/N, they'll still probably look at her and think– 'oh wow, she's been boning our teammate. there's another notch on the belt.' And I know they're your friends, but with Tyler's reputation and all males sharing the same brain– you can't tell me that it's not true."

Big Rig was silent for a few moments before deciding to speak again. "The game was even worse. He and Tyler are barely speaking, the tension between them on the ice was obvious as hell. Add in the confusion with Montgomery being fired and the Instagram was the cherry on top of a Sunday that nobody wants."

"Was it that bad? The two of them?"

"A few of the guys and I were talking on the plane ride back and we're all afraid that something is going to happen at practice or in the middle of a game or something and the tension between them with just make the two of them implode."

"And that would be another worst-case scenario come true," Kennedy sighed again. "God, this is such a mess."

That was all you were able to stand before you sat yourself up and turned towards the two of them. You took in their shocked appearances and you knew that they had thought you were asleep and that if you weren't they wouldn't have had this entire conversation with you in the room.

"I'm sorry," you said, your bottom lip starting to tremble no matter how hard you tried to fight it. "It's all my fault that everything is so messed up because I'm just some stupid little girl with a stupid crush and I ruined a friendship and your team chemistry."

Kennedy looked at Big Rig and got up off of her bed and walked over to your bed. "This is in no way, shape or form your fault, Y/N. I want you to get that through your head right now. " She grabbed one of your hands and tugged on it, causing you to look at her. "Tyler is a big boy, he knew what he was doing and he knew the consequences of his actions. So you are not going to put the full blame on yourself."

"She's right," Big Rig spoke up, sitting up in her bed. "Besides, I don't think that they hate each other. I just think that Jamie is probably a little bit embarrassed because he feels like everyone knew what was going on and he didn't. Especially since Jordie and Bish both had their suspicions about it."

"See?" Kennedy smiled, squeezing your hand again. "Your big brother is just letting his itty bitty man pride get in the way of his common sense."

"He probably also thinks that Tyler was taking advantage of you," he cleared his throat, and his cheeks turned a hint of pink at his insinuation of yours and Tyler's relationship. "Especially since he's older and that Jamie trusted him to be like a brother to you whenever he wasn't around."

As comforting as they tried to make their words, they did nothing but only make you feel worse and that you were responsible for everything that had happened. You sniffled and shook your head, looking at the two of them. "I don't think I can finish the internship, not when everybody knows."

Kennedy was about to say something, only to be cut off by the sound of Big Rig's feet thumping against the floor. He had hopped off of the bed and nudged Kennedy to the side, standing in front of you. He tilted your chin up and made you look at him, seriousness written all over his face. "Absolutely fucking not. You are not going to let some tatted doofus make you quit, okay? This is your dream and as your second best friend, I'll be damned if I let you quit, got it?"

"Got it." You smiled and nodded as Kennedy reached in and wiped a tear from your cheek.

Big Rig smiled and patted the side of your cheek. "Good, now come eat some of this food with us."

❒❒❒❒

It turns out that your little bonding night with Big Rig and Kennedy was exactly what you needed. It wasn't a magical cure to fix everything, but it made you fall asleep a little easier that night. And when you woke up the next morning, you were ready to take on your last final just before you'd head off to the arena for the game. When you sat down to take your final, you felt confident in yourself and slightly more relaxed and at ease than you had been the last two days. However, that all changed the moment your Physiology and Anatomy final was placed in front of you and the time to take your test began. It was smooth sailing up until halfway through when you came upon a question that brought out a memory from your many study sessions with Tyler.

For this particular question, you had to identify and label abdominopelvic quadrants, then their divisions, as well as the planes of the body. And the moment you stared at the outlined body and the lines waiting to be filled and identified, your eyes brimmed with tears at the memory of Tyler.

How when you walked into his house that afternoon and ready to study, he was already making the two of you lunch– 'brain food for my brainiac!' And when it came time to label the quadrants and planes, you realized you had forgotten the sheet your professor had given you, at your dorm. Tyler, being as brazen as he was, stood up off of the couch, took off his shirt, held out his arms to his sides, looked at you with a crooked, goofy grin and said, 'go ahead, paint on me like one of your french boys.' And when you corrected him on what the actual movie quote was supposed to be, he just stuck his tongue out at you and said, 'turn me into a masterpiece.' And it took every bit of self-restraint that you had in your body to refrain from telling him that he already was.

When you wrapped up your final and started to make your way to your dorm room to meet Big Rig so the two of you could head to the arena, your next big dilemma crossed your mind: all of the dorms were closing in two days and you had nowhere to stay. You were originally supposed to stay with Jamie and Katie at his place until the two of you were going to fly home together, but you doubt that's an option anymore. But that was another problem for another day and you weren't going to worry about it until later because your only important issue today, would be how you would carry on in the training room today.

When it came time to enter the training room, Big Rig offered to walk in with you, but you told him that if you were going to do this, you would do it yourself and then you ushered him off towards the locker room. You expected your feet to move towards the door and open it before walking inside, but the longer you stared at it, the more frozen you were. You could hear the muffled voices mingling together on the other side of the door, which only made your heart race and the knot in your stomach tangle and tightens. The locker room door opened behind you and you froze, hoping that it wasn't Jamie or Tyler.

"You're still standing here?"

You turned to look at Big Rig, who was now dressed down from his suit and wearing some shorts and a shirt. "You act like I've been standing here for ten minutes."

"Try five, Y/N." He sighed and walked ahead of you, pushing the door halfway open and turning to you, nodding his head towards the door. "Come on, if there's one person who's one-hundred percent on your side, it's me."

You wanted to run into him and hug him tight, but you settled with thanking the Universe for sending Jamie Oleksiak your way before you followed him into the training room. As expected, the immediate conversation stalls, but only for a short second before it picks back up again. And if you weren't so focused on noticing any kind of difference, you might not have noticed that it paused at all. One thing that was extremely obvious though, was the way that all of the boys were looking at you. Sure, they were friendly, that's their character– but you could still see it in every pair of eyes, the fact that they knew about you and Tyler.

And you couldn't help but feel like they were judging you for it.

Klinger was the first one to come up to you while you were preparing Big Rig for his stretches, and you just had an overwhelming urge to hug the swede, but you resisted. "How did your final go, Y/N?" He asked, stopping by and leaning against the table Big Rig was sitting on.

It felt like things might ease back into normality, just based on his normal question and the conversations going on around you– it was like a weight off of your shoulders. "I bet that you aced it," Big Rig said, poking at you with his foot. "You're the genius Benn after all. You and Jenny must have the brains because I don't know what Jordie and Jamie got."

Right, when you went to reply, the door opened and on instinct, you turned to see who walked in. When you saw it was Jamie, it was as if every eye in the room was focused on the two of you. Jamie didn't bother to look your way, making his way over to the cabinet to grab some ibuprofen. "How did your final go?" He asked, his back turned to you and his voice void of any emotion.

"I think I did pretty good," you replied, feeling awkward as he kept his back to you before turning away and walking over towards another table, not even bothering to reply. You turned your attention to Klinger and gave him a small smile. "Thank you for asking, Klinger." You spoke softly.

He gave you a nod and patted your shoulder before going off back into the locker room. Everything felt fine and the awkward tension eased slightly as you went on helping Big Rig with his stretches. Sure, because of Jamie's presence, there was still a slight stir on tension as if everyone was expecting the two of you to implode right then and there– but it wasn't anything that couldn't be easily ignored. However, when the door opened again, this time Tyler walked through and it was like the air was sucked out of the room.

You felt yourself freeze as you went to adjust the band around Big Rig's foot and he tapped his foot against your hand, causing you to look at him. He took a deep breath and then breathed out slowly before nodding his head. You nodded back, still feeling everyone's eyes switching between focusing on you and focusing on Tyler. After you adjusted the band, you went over to your desk, instinctively picking up athletic tape before sitting down in your chair, waiting for someone else to ask for help.

"Hey, John, how long do you think you'll be?" Tyler asked, barely brushing by Jamie to grab a heating pad before pacing it onto his shoulder.

"What do you want done?" John replied, looking up from a separate cabinet.

"My ankles?"

"Give me two and I can help."

Tyler nodded, adjusting the heating pad before walking right back out of the locker room, not even bothering to look in your direction. You were crushed and fighting like hell not to have it show on your face as you sat in your chair, gripping the athletic tape tightly. Soon, tapping your foot against the floor became another way to prevent yourself from giving in to your emotions and before you knew it, Bishop was calling for your attention at Big Rig's table as he hopped off. "Yeah?"

"Can you come over for a second? I need you to help me tape my thumb for me real quick." You walked over, your supplies already in hand and stood in front of the goalie. "How are you doing?"

"Good, especially now that classes are done," you smiled, exhaling lightly. "Now I get to relax...sort of."

"No, Y/N," he said, looking around the room before leaning in closer. "How are you really doing?" The way he raised an eyebrow slightly, gave you a hint as to what he was asking.

You were slightly embarrassed that he was asking you, but at least he wasn't being so blunt and loud about it. "Embarrassed, sad," your eyes lingered away from taping his thumb and over to your brother, who had a focused and zoned in look on his face. "Is disowned too dramatic?"

He laughs lightly, but his lack of answer lets you know that your feelings are completely valid. "I'm sorry by the way," you apologized, cutting the athletic tape. "For making things awkward around here."

"They're grown men, they'll figure it out," he shrugged, watching as you finished taping his thumb. "Don't worry about that, worry about you."

"Do you think I made a mistake?" You asked as he hopped off of the table.

He looks like he wants to say yes, or maybe you're just overthinking it. He shrugs his shoulders and gives you a half-smile. "Is it a mistake if it makes you happy?"

His reply lingered in your mind as you watched him leave the room before returning to your chair. You placed your supplies onto the desk and spun yourself around to face the wall, thinking about what he said and for once, not feeling all too guilty about your decision.

❒❒❒❒

You've never been happier at the fact that you had to stay in the training room during a game. You took solace in the quiet as the muffled music, announcements and cheers were on the other side of the door. Normally, you'd spend this time studying, but since you were done with all of your finals...you had nothing to do but play on your phone, make sure that the training room was clean and of course help any player who came in with something John sent them back to you for.

The game wasn't going so well the second period was almost over and Dallas was down 2-0. Kennedy was sitting with Katie and sending you updates on how Big Rig was doing, but other than that, you were too busy watching random videos on youtube. You're watching one of those astrological card reading videos when you hear the announcers muffled voices yelling about a hit, a fight and then bickering. By the time you were fully able to focus and take out the one headphone, they were done announcing it and the crowd was roaring– a mix of boos and cheers, you couldn't tell. Right when you went to go back to your video, a text message from Kennedy popped up.

"j took a high stick to the face, ty went to go fight the guy who kept trying to go back after j."

"j and ty arguing...it looks ugly."

You clicked on the message, ready to reply and ask for a more specific update when the locker room door swings open violently and Tyler walks in with a pissed look all over his face and blood on his jersey. You weren't sure if it was trainer mode, friend mode or that your feelings were coming into play, but you left your phone on your desk and ran over to him. "Holy shit, Tyler are you okay?"

He looked as if he was mumbling to himself, the anger still evident on his face as he ignored your question. "I'm just going to take your helmet off for you," you said, reaching up to grab his helmet. "Just to make sure the blood isn't coming from–"

As if he snapped back into focus, he stumbled back, looking at you. "Don't touch me!"

You were startled at how loud and angry he sounded. You've never seen him this angry outside of a hockey game, so seeing it first hand right now, was terrifying. But you needed to do your job, so you weren't backing down. "No, I need to check to make sure that your head isn’t bleeding, Tyler. So just let me–"

"Just�� don't!" He said, this time glaring at you, the anger on his face still there, but the look in his eyes softening the moment they took in the slight fear on your face. "God, you're acting like...like," he waved his hand in the air as if the words he was looking for were there to catch. "Like some obsessed hook up!"

Your jaw dropped and as if he just understood the words that left his mouth, the anger started to fade off of his face and for a moment, he looked like he might apologize.

The door swung open again, this time Jamie walking in and stopping just a little into the room. His eyes took in just how close the two of you were standing together and he scoffed. "Of fucking course."

Tyler spun around and pointed at Jamie. "Oh shut the fuck up, Jamie. I stood up for your ass just now."

"You think fighting Draisaitl is sticking up for me when you're the reason why he made that fucking comment?" Jamie yelled, his voice getting deeper, something that always happened whenever he got angry. "You wouldn't have to 'stand up for me' if you were focused and knew where to pass the damn puck instead of daydreaming about getting laid!"

"Guys, stop!" You said, trying to move past Tyler to get in between the two grown men, a huge sense of deja vu washing over you. "Jamie, are you okay?"

"Oh, now you seem to care what I think? Where was this before you started sleeping with my best friend?" And there it was, the aggression pointing towards you– the real reason why he was probably upset anyway.

"I asked if you were okay, not for your fucking opinion column, Jamie." You sniped, reaching up and taking off his helmet before tossing it onto a table and going towards where the suture kit was kept so you could pull it out for whoever was coming in to stitch him up. "You have a cut on your forehead.”

"I am focused on this game, so fuck you, Jamie!"

"Really?" Jamie scoffed, shaking his head. "So you're not focused on the fact that you're gonna go home with Maisy and probably get laid tonight?"

You froze, just as you turned back with the suture kit and glue in hand– that one name sending you into a small panic. You looked to Tyler before looking at Jamie, who was just shaking his head. "Oh Y/N, you didn't know? Maisy's here. You know who Maisy is, you remember?"

Tyler shook his head. "What are you–"

"Don't even play coy, Seguin. Katie texted me before the game and said she bumped into Maisy, who coincidentally is sitting in the same seats that you got her last year."

At this point, you felt like you were going to be sick. You had asked Tyler about Maisy and he told you everything. How yeah, she was one of his main hook-ups last season, that he cut it off completely in the summer, it was never super serious and that they haven't talked since.

But Maisy was here in the same seats Tyler gave her last season and Tyler wasn't arguing back...so maybe he didn't tell you everything.

"Why is that, Tyler?" Jamie asked, raising his eyebrows. "Why is Maisy here? Did you get what you wanted from my little sister so you went back to–"

Tyler lunged at Jamie just as Craig walked into the room. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell is going on?" He asked, looking at you as the two fuming hockey players stood apart from one another.

Jamie and Tyler say nothing, only moving onto opposite tables as Craig points Jamie to sit down. "Y/N, can you help Tyler with gluing that cut? It shouldn't be too much."

It felt like your entire body was throbbing as you stood there, still trying to take in the information that Jamie just shared. You looked at Jamie who was fuming and glaring at Tyler. And when you looked at Tyler, his anger was written all over his face, but there was something else mixed in that you couldn't quite pinpoint. When you finally looked at Craig, you shook your head. "I think I'm going to be sick."

You pushed the kit into his chest before running out of the training room and down the hallway, finding the nearest restroom. When you locked yourself inside of a stall, you hunched over the toilet, the tears falling from your eyes and into the toilet bowl as the sobs wrecked you. Everything seemed like it would be okay, but what had just happened in the game tonight and in the training room– proved otherwise. There's no way you'd be able to complete this internship in one piece. You went to reach for your phone to text Kennedy, but only then did you realize that it was sitting on your desk.

There's no way you'd be able to go back into that room with Jamie and Tyler being there together– you wouldn't survive. And it turns out, bathrooms make pretty good hiding spots.

By the time you had deemed the coast to be clear, you made your way back into the training room once the third period started and you knew no one would be in it. When you walked into the empty room, you sent Kennedy a text, asking her to meet you in the hall after the game and then you spent the rest of your time wishing that the game would just end.

The Stars lost 2-1 and Tyler scored a goal in the third. Once upon a time, not too long ago, Tyler would've joked that he scored that goal for you– 'his number one fan beside his mom'– but now you couldn't help but let your mind wander over into if he ever told Maisy the same.

As promised, Kennedy met you in the hallway with Katie by her side. Katie was explaining all of last season of the Maisy and Tyler saga to you and Kennedy, but you wanted no part of it, so you zoned yourself out, staring at the end of the tunnel, wondering if you'd see her walk down this way. By the time both Jamie and Big Rig came out of the locker room, there was still no sign of Maisy and you couldn't help but wonder if she was waiting out there for Tyler or even if at all.

"Y/N, are you coming home with us?" Katie asked, giving you a friendly smile and ignoring the glare in her direction that was coming from your brother.

You weren't ignoring it though and though it was there, you knew how to read your brother and beneath that glare were hints of sadness. But you didn't care, you were still angry at him for the stunt he pulled in the training room and sad at the fact that up until today, he hadn't bothered to talk to you– and even then, it was aggressive. You looked at Big Rig and nodded your head in his direction. "No, they're just going to drop me off before they go to his place."

Your walk from the hallway and through security and parking to Big Rig's car felt like a blur as Kennedy and Big Rig were focused on their conversation. As you got into the back of the car, you leaned forward between the passenger and driver's seats. "I sent my mentor an email during the game tonight and I have a meeting with her on Thursday to talk about the required hours of my internship and see if I've met them yet."

Kennedy turned back to face you so fast, you were sure she was going to have whiplash. Big Rig, as clueless as ever, looked between you and Kennedy. "What does that mean?"

Kennedy kept looking at you, raising an eyebrow and you just nodded. She sighed and turned to Big Rig. "It means she's done being your trainer."

#tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin oneshot #tyler seguin writing #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey writing #tyler seguin one shot #hockey one shot #nhl one shot #ldyk fic #my writing

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soft-ris · 4 years ago

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Ofc!! And omg my first request IM SO EXCITED AND HAPPY UWUWUWU But I hope you’re doing well, anon 🥺 I also hope you enjoy reading this and that it’ll melt away the troubles you have (even if it’s only temporarily)♥︎ this is kinda based off of past experience but I tried to make it general too, so I hope nothing comes off too...shitty?

PS. Thank you uwu touch starved ris/reader said let there be soft hours and who am I to argue 😤

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Comfort - Risotto x Chubby!Reader

Note - Gender neutral reader.

Genre - Angsty & Fluff!

———————————————————————

Just a few more steps and you’ll be at the front door of your shared home. You can finally go back to your Risotto, who would no doubt welcome you with a warm hello and an affectionate kiss, and you’ll be able to leave behind the crappy day you had with everyone staring, judging, and whispering about your body.

Maybe they actually weren’t, but today was not a good day and all you could feel was anything but sunshine and rainbows. Every corner you turned, every move you made, every posture you took — it felt like everyone’s eyes and mouths were scrutinising every inch of your figure.

As if you weren’t conscious about how your outfit framed your physique already. As if you weren’t aware of which parts of your skin was covered and which parts wasn’t already. As if you weren’t in the know of how much chubbier you were in the areas where others tell you ‘you shouldn’t be’ already.

You knew all this...

...but it shouldn’t be like this.

Every body is beautiful. There’s no one definitive type of build that’s hailed as perfect, or at least, there shouldn’t be. You tell yourself that no one is perfect, no body is ‘the only acceptable body’, and that you shouldn’t be feeling this way...but you couldn’t help but think maybe the people walking past you earlier, snickering and sneering, they were doing it with you in mind.

Before you knew it, Risotto was standing in front of you, but instead of serving up his usual affections, he noticed how downcast you looked. He voiced his concern, asking you what was wrong because you were clearly exuding exhaustion and cheerlessness. It worried him even more when you wordlessly pulled him into a hug, but seeing you slowly relax in his arms, he knew to save the questions for later and to focus on comforting you right now.

Risotto returns your touch by wrapping his arms around you, reciprocating your hug twice-fold. He loved the feeling of you against him and in his arms, and so did you. Being encased in his strong hold never failed to make you feel safe and comfortable and loved. It was as if his touch, always so loving and homely, was slowly melting away everything negative about today.

“I had a bad day...”. Your voice was muffled against his shirt, but he caught on nonetheless and planted a kiss onto the crown of your head. A kiss that had the corners of your lips lifting just a little.

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck when he picked you up in his arms. Your grip tightened on his shoulders and your insecurities were seeping in again, thinking maybe it’s best he put you down since you knew you weren’t ‘the lightest’.

“These muscles aren’t just for show, amore. I can lift a steel beam if I wanted to.”, Risotto proclaims as he places you in between his thighs on the couch, his hands snug on your waist and hip. You chuckled a little, finding humour in how he chose to reply you.

He wasn’t exactly lying though because he honestly could lift a steel beam if he felt like it, but he was never someone who was the best with his words, and especially not when it comes to reassurance. Risotto tries his best for you and you’re appreciative of that because you know his actions always spoke louder than his words, and right now it’s speaking in volumes.

You wrap yourself further into him with an arm hugging his waist and the other’s palm laying flat on his chest, feeling his rhythmic heartbeat drowning out your thoughts. He plants kisses on you occasionally, reminding you of how in his eyes, you’ll always be beautiful, and you feel yourself smiling because you know he’d never lie to you about things like these.

You didn’t really want to speak on the matter anymore, at least not right now, not in his arms. For now, you just want to stay embraced in his sturdy hold, feeling safe and loved and beautiful.

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captain-mcdavid · 5 years ago

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word count: 2.5k

smut: yes | no (it doesn’t last very long)

warnings: smut, drinking, swearing, angst, fighting, angry josh, cocky josh, mean josh, shitty writing (i’m sorry that this is short and not very well done, i just wanted to put someone out for you guys cause i know you’ve been waiting for so long)

Surprisingly, the night was turning out to be more fun then you expected

The mood of the table shifts in seconds flat, everyone’s eyes falling behind you with grave expressions, and even though they haven’t said anything, you know exactly who walked in.

It’d been almost a week since you ran into him at the thai place, and you weren’t ready to see him again, not yet.

“Emma, I told you.” You say, hating the way your voice shakes. You haven’t even seen him and you’re already unstable. “I told you he’d be here,”

Emma smiles apologetically as she scoots over in the booth, linking her arm with yours, “I was really hoping that you were gonna be wrong.” The words are mumbled out to herself more than you, but you remain rigid in your seat. “I’m sorry.” She whispers, squeezing your arm, but you don’t respond, eyes trained on the table in front of you, refusing to let your gaze wonder. “I’ll go get you a drink, that’ll make it better,”

But it won’t. You’re not sure what’s making you feel more sick, the thought of drinking or the thought of turning around and seeing Josh. Honestly the only thing keeping you here now is the fact that you brought backup.

Emma is trotting back to the table, two drinks in hand and a bright smile on her face when she stops in her tracks. Judging from the glare you’re getting, your backup is here.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She asks, and you just shrug, tossing your hands up in an innocent manner. “I don’t feel bad anymore, both of these are for me now.” She mutters, holding the drinks up before she turns and walks away.

“Hey,” Blake shoots you a quick nod, his eyes wondering the room aimlessly.

“Thanks for coming,” You say quietly, and he just gives you a half smile before tilting his head in the direction of the bar.

“Want anything?” He asks, and you nod, getting up to accompany him. Resting your hip against a bar stool, you turn your head the slightest bit, and your gaze catches on icy blue eyes looking right at you.

Blake notices and taps you, and you try to hide the look of sheer terror, but you don’t think you’re doing very well.

“Do you know him?” Blake asks, nodding in Josh’s direction.

You nod quickly, excusing yourself to the restroom before you have a meltdown in front of him. You’re rushing down the hall when you hear his voice.

“Y/N,” He says, but you can pretend that you didn’t hear that, so you keep walking, picking up your pace. “So what, are you like following me now?” He speaks louder this time and you stop in your tracks, unfortunately you can’t pretend you didn’t hear that one.

Time to toughen up, you tell yourself, sighing while you gather as much courage as possible so that you don’t burst into tears in the middle of this.

With a noticeable eye roll you spin on your heel, “Get over yourself,” You spit, “I’m not following you.” He shrugs but continues to walk closer.

“Kinda seems like you are.”

“Well I’m not.” You shrug, hating the way you feel like cowering back with each step he takes.

“Who are you here with?” He asks, and he’s two feet in front of you now, and you’re taking steps back like a wimp until you’re almost against the wall.

His arm extends and rests against the barrier behind you, and you try to take another step back but you’re flush to the cold brick now. You meet Josh’s eyes, and then his gaze flicks down to your chest, and you can almost tell what’s going through his mind. He recognizes the bodysuit, and he’s thinking about what he did to you when you wore it last. He raises his other hand to trace the fabric but you push his hand away, which queues a gentle laugh from Josh. “I saw you with that guy,” He mumbles, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Okay?” You say, trying to seem uninterested

“What are you doing here with that clown, hm?” He whispers, gaze flicking up to meet yours. You hate the way his eyes are able to pull you in so effortlessly.

“Blake is-”

“Your boyfriend?” You shake your head firmly and you notice the way the corner of Josh’s mouth tugs up for just a second. “So what is he to you then?”

You don’t miss a beat when you comeback, “Same thing you were?”

“You and your games,” Josh chuckles, “How is he?”

You’re not expecting the question, it seems innocent, but it’s loaded, and you’re not about to tell him the truth so you fire back, “Better than you.”

“I don’t believe that,” He says, moving so that his other hand presses into the wall, effectively trapping you. “I think you’ve just forgotten what good feels like.”

You scoff, avoiding his eyes. You’re thinking of something smart to say back, but coming up empty, so Josh fills the silence. “He doesn’t know you like I do.”

“You’re-” You start to say, intending to finish with delusional, but Josh cuts in again.

“Right. I’m right.” He leans down a little to catch your gaze, and you hate how the second you look into those damn baby blues your knees weaken.

“Come back to my place.”

The suggestion is surprising, and honestly kind of disgusting. It’s offensive that he thinks you have that little resolve, that you’ll just go home with him after everything that’s happened. “You’re fucking insane, Josh.” You spit, swiping one of his arms of the wall so you can move away, but he sidesteps and follows you, cornering you in once again.

“You know you want to,” He presses, the smirk infuriating.

“No, I don’t.” You insist, “Go ask some other girl, I’m sure in your mind they’re all just dying to sleep with you.”

“I would, but no.” He says honestly, “Even though I kind of hate you, none of these girls would be nearly as good.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting when he said he hated you, so you choose to ignore that and focus on the compliment, turning to the side in disgust because you can’t believe that you’re actually considering this.

“Five minutes in one of these disgusting bathrooms with me would be better than an entire night with him,” Josh whispers, and just like that you’ve made your decision. Honestly it was over the second he cornered you in this hallway, and you both knew that, but hell if you weren’t gonna make him work for it.

You’re just about to invalidate him in some way before saying yes, when Blake turns the corner. You straighten up automatically but Josh stays still, raising his eyebrows at Blake like he’s questioning why he’s still here. It’s a look you recognize all too well. He feels threatened, jealous. It’s been months but the spark that lights his eyes is unforgettable, and it makes you wonder if maybe there isn’t just bitter feelings here.

Blake draws closer and narrows his eyes at you, “Are you okay?” Before you can respond he’s talking again, only this time it’s not directed at you. “I think maybe you should back off man,”

Josh snickers, “I think maybe you should let her answer for herself, man.” He pauses, and you can see the way he tenses in front of you. It’s just like the time that he dragged you out of that party. With a clenched jaw he turns back to you, and the way his gaze softens makes your chest clench. “You okay?”

Without hesitation you nod, putting a hand just over his hipbone in hopes that it will calm him down. The last thing you want is to break up a fight, so you turn to Blake, “I’m fine, seriously.”

He nods, but doesn’t make a move to leave, and you swear you can see steam coming out of Josh’s ears at this point. If Blake doesn’t go soon, there’s no way he’s walking out of this bar without help. You clench Josh’s shirt in your fist, and he looks down at you with fire in his eyes, communicated through actions only, you tug at his shirt lightly, trying anything to distract him, but Blake just has to open his mouth again.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks, and this receives a bitter laugh from Josh.

“God, this guy is clueless.” Josh shakes his head, and you sigh deeply when Blake perks up, taking a step forward, while he puffs out his chest.

“What’d you just say?” Blake raises his voice, and you start to step in but Josh straightens up, and the way Blake shrinks back into his figure is almost comical. Even from five feet apart the size difference is intimidating. Blake looks like a thirteen year old boy compared to Josh, and for some reason it’s turning you on.

“I said you’re clueless. Your girlfriend is coming home with me tonight. Sorry bro.”

Blake looks in between you and Josh like he’s debating something, and you pray for safety reasons that he’ll just let this go. “Blake, seriously.” You start, “I’m fine, you can go.”

His jaw clenches, and then he shakes his head and walks away. You almost feel bad, but you’re not his girlfriend, and he’s kind of a dick so... But then again, so is Josh.

“God, you’re cocky.” You grunt, rolling your eyes.

“Only cause I’m right.” He mumbles, waiting for an answer, and when he doesn’t receive one he shakes his head. “Are you gonna make me beg?” He asks, and you can’t help the little smile that tugs up the corners of your mouth.

“I should.” You tell him, “After what you did.”

“Oh please.” He grumbles, “You did the exact same thing that I did.”

“Shut up,” You growl, “Nothing happened and you know that.”

“I don’t know anything,” He replies, “You have a habit of lying to me, so I don’t know what to believe.”

“I’m not the only one who lied, stop acting like it’s only me in the wrong.” His jaw clenches while he looks down the hall, and you know his temper is flaring again.

“Whatever,” He mutters, hands falling to your hips where he tugs you closer. “I don’t really wanna scream at each other in the middle of a bar, I’ve been half hard since I walked in and saw you so can we just leave and get to it?”

“I’m not leaving with you, Josh.” You say firmly, although it takes all your willpower. Every part of your body is reacting to him. His hands on you, his deep voice, everything is driving you crazy. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything like this and you have a feeling that Josh knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Five minutes in the bathroom it is then,”

He side steps and pushes open the door to the staff bathroom, backing you in with a menacing look. You press yourself against the sink, watching with wide eyes while he locks the door.

Your eyes meet for approximately one second before you’re pushing yourself off the sink and practically pouncing on him. All of the sudden you’re like a dog in heat. You feel like you’ve been deprived for so long, and even though this is extremely unhealthy, you can’t resist. He catches you, despite there being little warning, pressing his lips to your feverishly. He steps forwards, setting you down on the counter with a grunt. He pulls away, eyes tracing his hand while he trails it up from your waist to your stomach and breasts.

“Make it quick, big boy.” You say, despite your desperate need for his dick, you’re still mad and you don’t want to drag this out longer than you have to.

He chuckles and then pulls at your knees to get you off the counter. Your reaction is almost automatic, turning around for him while you bend yourself over the edge. Your pants go down fast, the bodysuit being practically torn off of your while Josh gets to his knees. His tongue is on you just long enough to make you squirm, and then he’s standing up to pull his cock out.

He fucks you hard while you’re bent over the counter, one hand pulling your hair the other around your waist rubbing at your clit. Between the stretch and his thumb flicking back and forth over your nub you can’t see yourself lasting long. There’s pornographic moans falling from your mouth, a stream of curses coming from behind you, and it isn’t til Josh leans forward and bites into your bare shoulder that you come undone completely.

You head is foggy, your vision just barely clearing while Josh dresses himself and you. “Remember that time when you said you didn’t wanna have sex cause I was only gonna last two minutes?”

You gasp and lean over to punch his arm, and the first thought that crosses your mind is how good it feels when things are light hearted.

“It’s been a while, okay?” You try and defend yourself with a lie, but you know Josh see’s right through it.

“No, your boyfriend just doesn’t know what you like,”

You don’t really know how to deny that, so you just stay silent, brushing your fingers through your hair to diminish the mess.

“If you’re ever in the mood for some hate sex, you know who to call.” He grins.

You laugh for a second, but it’s the word hate that sticks to you, and before you know it you’re spewing out words that are gonna derail this whole thing, but part of you is hoping that you’ll get something out of him that you wouldn’t otherwise, “You know what I find funny?”

He looks at you and raises his eyebrows, “You keep insisting that you don’t care, yet you get jealous when I talk to other guys. You punched Seth in the face, and you were about two seconds from knocking the lights out of Blake.”

Josh opens his mouth to respond but you hold up a hand, if you don’t say this now you probably never will, “I don’t get it. Why are you so mad at me for playing you, why are you so mad at Seth if you don’t care?”

You’re able to catch the slightest bit of emotion on his face before it’s gone again, completely untraceable. The cocky, arrogant look you’ve seen so many times is back and you feel sick to your stomach cause you know you’re about to get hurt. “You know what I find funny? You trying to spin this whichever way to make it look like I have feelings when I don’t. You’re projecting, Y/N, and it’s pathetic.”

The tears fall before you’re able to stumble out of the bathroom, and for the second time, you see just the tiniest bit of emotion, remorse, but you can’t stick around to watch it disappear.

#gpp fic #liv writes #j.anderson #search tags:#josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #columbus blue jackets #columbus blue jackets imagine #blue jackets #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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technoplaguearchive · 6 years ago

Note

Sensory prompts!! #47 :DDD

Sensory Prompt #47: Singing badly as Loud As You CanSo I chose Shiro/Keith for the pairing, because I’ve never worked with them before and they’re my current obsession. I hope that’s okay!

*What in the actual fuck is that god awful noise?* is Keith’s first thought upon waking up with what he would classify as a five-star hangover. *What unholy abomination has come to disrupt me sleeping this shit off?* is the immediate second thought.

The noise in question is just loud enough to be a nuisance, but not so loud that he feels like his roommates are going to wake up. Keith, despite hangovers or illness, is a notoriously light sleeper. The slightest disruption to his usual at-home sleeping arrangement is enough to either wake him up or cause a horrible fitful sleep that usually ended with a headache. His roommates liked to say he was just a finicky sleeper, Keith knew he had always been this way.

When the noise continues, much to his displeasure, he decides staring at the ceiling trying to figure out what it was isn’t going to solve anything. He was honestly going to pinch whoever had left the music on- Oh, which, might have been him if his fuzzy memories were serving correctly.

He had been the one in charge of the music last night for the party. One of his roommates, Lance, had begged him to be the “DJ” since Keith was so music obsessed and Lance didn’t know reggae from rock. An exaggeration, but Lance’s music taste was dreadful and Keith was not going to spend an entire party grimacing and fielding complaints from friends that someone needed to do something. Not again. Especially since Shiro was supposed to be coming (if Pidge was right, and she usually was), and maybe subconsciously Keith was hoping to impress him with his music taste. He had no clue what Shiro was into, but he hoped it matched up with his own tastes. So Keith had agreed and had set up a playlist on Lance’s laptop. They weren’t all danceable songs, but most of the crowd coming just wanted to drink and play games so he hadn’t been too worried about it.

How to explain Shiro, though? His reaction when he showed up (Keith owed Pidge ten bucks for being right) upon hearing the rather odd music choice had been shock, and then a grimace, but then his chiseled features had softened. It had been too late, though, as Keith had seen the myriad of emotions on the older, taller man’s face and his heart had sunk. The scar across the bridge of Shiro’s nose had wrinkled adorably but Keith hadn’t had it in him to swoon over it tonight, not when Shiro’s distaste was a reaction to Keith’s own choices. Keith has spent the remainder of the night brooding and taking every shot that was offered and hiding in the corner by the ridiculous palm tree that inhabited the living room (who the hell bought that thing? He certainly didn’t remember purchasing it.)

But now morning was here, and Keith was now certain he had left the playlist going. He can feel his mood souring as he struggles to get out of bed to turn the blasted thing off. He is once again mad at himself for his own music tastes and he can’t tell if the nausea is due to being hungover or because Shiro’s disgusted face flashed through his mind. The heart-squishing feeling in his throat is definitely because he now knows Shiro will never like him, they’re fundamentally incompatible if Shiro doesn’t like his music. Music is everything to Keith, it’s what keeps him going and helps him get out of bed every morning.

“Fuck, okay, let’s get this shit off,” he grumbles to himself as he swings his long legs from under the covers, feet planting into the plush rug beside his bed. His toes curl into it momentarily in his usual morning wake-up ritual and he stretches his arms up, spine cracking along with one shoulder. Ugh, he’d slept wrong. He was going to pay for it with more than a hangover later. He casts his violet gaze to the clothes in the corner of the room and disregards them quickly; no use getting dressed just to turn a laptop off then crawl back into bed. So off he goes to the living room, in his Voltron boxer-briefs; they had been a joke gift from Lance since Voltron was Keith’s favorite band, but joke was on Lance because Keith wore them all the time and ‘offended Lance’s delicate sensibilities’ by walking around the apartment in them.

Once he exits his room the music is louder but still not too much. He doubts anyone else will be disturbed by it but it’s enough to keep him up and he should deal with it now so Lance doesn’t complain later. But his hungover/not-quite-awake mind doesn’t register that the music isn’t coming from the living room- where Lance’s laptop is closed and tucked away in the TV stand. So, where the fuck is it coming from? Keith stands there with his head cocked, eyes squinting at the offending laptop like it’s somehow lying to him by being shit down. It had to be that, where else would it be coming from? And who else would play Voltron but him?

The music suddenly gets louder and Keith can now tell it’s terribly off key the more he wakes up as he tries to puzzle out the morning mystery. Okay, so someone was awake and signing. That had to be it. He was going to kill Lance for butchering his favorite band’s music, it was a cardinal sin in this house and everyone knew it.

With a growl, and a wince because now his head pounds from the self-inflicted stress of someone butchering the music, he turns to the kitchen to confront the heathen that would dare defile the greatest pop-punk band in existence. The awful excuse for music just gets louder as he enters the kitchen, and he knows he’s found the culprit.

The culprit, however, is not his gangly Cuban roommate like he had assumed. The culprit is, shockingly, a tall Japanese man with shoulders as wide as a house and a back so sculpted Keith can already feel his mouth watering. And said man is dancing, as terribly as his singing, around the kitchen as he hunts down plates and pops bread into the shitty Star Wars toaster (it didn’t toast for shit but Keith is enamored with it because it looks like the Death Star). Any argument Keith has to the noise dies in his throat as he watches Shiro move around the kitchen singing the song he had walked in on last night. The song Keith has swore he hated because of the face. But a song that Shiro seemed to know the words to.

Shell-shocked and still not awake enough to be convinced he isn’t dreaming, he stands and watches the taller man move around the kitchen making breakfast. Multiple breakfasts, if the two plates were anything to judge by. Keith didn’t even know Shiro knew his way around their kitchen, but he shouldn’t have been surprised since Pidge was so close with the man. Shiro butters the toast and plates eggs with ease, oblivious to Keith’s presence and still singing horribly off-key. He’s onto a different Voltron song now and Keith isn’t sure he can take much more of this, dream or not. It’s cruel in several ways, one of which being he’s watching his crush dance around his kitchen in sweats singing his favorite band badly and Keith isn’t sure who that breakfast is for and why had Shiro stayed the night and how hadn’t Keith known this? Oh, yeah- he’d been pouting all night.

But by the end of Shiro’s third song-butchering, Keith has decided he actually, positively, can’t deal with any of this nonsense this early in the morning. So he does the only thing his awkward mind can come up with, and that’s start singing with Shiro but way more in-tune and with accurate lyrics. And Shiro, apparently as awkward as Keith, drops the butter knife to the floor and spins to face the intruder. Both men stare at each other, music dying off as they take in the situation.

Shiro breaks first, his eyes flitting down Keith’s torso to take in his undressed appearance then his face turning as red as the kitchen walls. Keith, now aware he’s nearly naked in front of the man he’s pretty sure he’s in love with, makes a most undignified squeak and makes a break for his bedroom, completely ignoring Shiro’s distressed cry of his name.

He slams the door harder than necessary and dives for the pile of clothes in his room, coming up with an oversized NASA shirt and pants he’s sure would qualify as leggings if a girl wore them (screw whoever thought tight jeans with his long legs looked bad, he liked them). Quickly, he pulls it all on and is managing to tug his head through the shirt as his door opens. He lets out another squeak and yanks the shirt down, staring wide-eyed at Shiro who looks like he’s seen heaven. His cheeks are flushed an adorable pink and the scar across his nose stands out in contrast. Those gray eyes are wide and starry, pools Keith can get lost in if he doesn’t look away. Shiro’s eyes have always drawn Keith in and he can’t get distracted right now. So he clears his throat to break the tension…or add to it, knowing his awful luck.

Shiro seems to snap out of his daze and meets Keith’s eyes, cheeks darkening before he shakes his head and starts looking anywhere else.

“You’re in my room,” Keith blurts, unhelpfully. *Duh, Kogane. He knows he’s in your room.*

Shiro, however, must not realize this. His eyes widen a fraction before he jumps backwards, putting distance between himself and the doorway. Keith snickers at the action and, clothed and feeling marginally less embarrassed, steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. The hallway is tight, tighter now with Shiro’s inhuman bulk taking up half of it, and he ends up pressed almost chest to chest with the man. He looks up as Shiro looks down, and both look away quickly. Keith slides past back to the living room, hearing the soft patter of Shiro’s bare feet on the wood behind him signifying he was following him. When he feels he’s in an open enough area, he turns to see Shiro standing far enough away that they can both breathe.

Keith chooses to speak first, breaking the awkward silence. “Didn’t know you spent the night.”

Shiro grimaces and rubs his neck, the flex making his skin move deliciously across his chest and arm. Keith steadfastly keeps his eyes locked on Shiro’s forehead so he doesn’t start drooling. “Yeah, uh… Pidge recommended I stay cause I guess I drank more than she was comfortable with?” His voice is a little rough, but still sweet. He looks up to meet Keith’s stare then looks away. “I hope that’s okay?” He sounds so unsure if his presence is welcome, and why wouldn’t it be? Pidge can have whoever she wants over.

Keith voices as much and Shiro squints at him, trying to decipher the waver at the end of Keith’s sentence. “It seems like it bothers you that I’m here.”

Keith’s head snaps away and he does his best not to pout as he crosses his arms over his chest. Deciding he’s being a child, he glances back to Shiro but keeps his face turned away to hide his expression. Maybe it would help his nerves if he didn’t look directly at the man before him. “Nope. Doesn’t bother me one bit.” A snort from the taller man has Keith openly glaring directly at him now. “What the fuck does that mean, Shirogane?”

Shiro’s eyes widen a fraction before he breaks into a loud laugh, doubling over and mirth predominantly displayed. “You look like an angry cat right now! And you cursed! I know Pidge has a swear jar around here for you, you owe a dollar!”

Keith visibly bristles and stalks forward, shoving at Shiro’s shoulder as he keeps laughing. “Fuck you! You’re laughing at me,” he yells. There’s a hint of frustration in his voice that Shiro seems to catch, and the man composes himself. Keith watches him stand up straight, fingers flexing on his hands as he seems to fight with something internally. So Keith steps back to give him space.

Something flashes quickly across Shiro’s face but it’s gone before Keith can place it. “I wasn’t trying to laugh at you, I’m sorry.” He stuffs his fidgety hands into the pockets of his sweats, and then takes them out just as quickly, rubbing at his arms. Keith wonders where the pants came from, but it’s not a big concern. Shiro probably kept gym clothes in his car with as much as he worked out… not that Keith knew how much Shiro worked out. Not at all. “I really wasn’t, Keith. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he looks towards the kitchen then back at Keith with a large smile. “I made you breakfast? I figured you weren’t feeling well so I wanted to make you something to help you get the day started.”

The breakfast… was for Keith? No. Shiro must have made it for Pidge but because he’d made Keith feel bad he was offering it to him as a peace offering. Keith snorts and rolls his eyes, smirking internally at the shock on Shiro’s face at the gesture. “I don’t want to take Pidge’s breakfast. She’ll eat me in retaliation. No thanks.”

Shiro schools his features into normalcy and pegs Keith with a sincere stare. “I didn’t make it for Pidge, though? I made it for you.” He sounds both sure and I sure, as if he can’t fathom why Keith doesn’t believe him but desperately wants him to.

It’s Keith’s turn to look shocked. “Why?” *What the fuck, Keith? Use real words!*

“I uh… I wanted to apologize? Pidge said I made a weird face when I came in last night and that Voltron is your favorite band and she said you saw and that you got, and I quote, pouty about it.” He’s rambling, and it’s cute. Keith isn’t even mad that Pidge spilled the beans. Shiro’s embarrassed rambling is too adorable for Keith to even process anything else. “So yeah, I knew you were probably hungover and I wanted to make breakfast and apologize and then-“ he stutters to a stop and his cheeks flame up again, Keith’s heating as well because he knows he’s staring at Shiro but can’t help it. Shiro clears his throat. “I wanted to ask you on a date today?”

Keith’s brain screeches to a halt then starts up again, jumbling all his thoughts together like a deadly train crash. Date? With Shiro? Was he dreaming again? But Shiro’s open expression tells him he isn’t, and fuck this is everything he wanted. But there’s just one thing… “Okay, yeah.” Shiro’s eyes light up. “I’ll go out with you. Not like I haven’t wanted to for months now.” He smirks when Shiro chokes and decides to twist the knife in a little. “On one condition.”

Shiro nods eagerly, already bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited child. “Anything! Of course! Oh! But breakfast is getting cold, we should-“

Keith holds a hand up and Shiro stops, staring at him expectantly. “You’re not allowed to butcher any more Voltron songs. I can’t fucking take it. I can’t date a guy who is going to destroy every song from my favorite band. And how do you even know the fucking lyrics? Your face last night was like you hated them!” Keith is rambling now.

Shiro grins at this. “Oh, no I don’t hate them! I was just surprised someone else likes them! I wouldn’t have guessed badass Keith Kogane was into a pop-punk band, so I was kind of beating myself up about making a bad assumption about you? I always thought you wouldn’t like me because I liked them.”

The silence afterward stretches then snaps as both men laugh at the absurdity. Shiro smiles that 100-watt grin and Keith is lost to it. “But no deal, I’m not gonna stop singing Voltron songs. So you either date the most time-deaf guy around or you don’t like me as much as you imply you do.” He has the audacity to wink and Keith knows he’s lost. He can’t give up on Shiro just because he can’t sing.

“Fine,” Keith huffs. “But I’m gonna teach you the right lyrics and hopefully teach you to sing at least slightly less off key. I honestly thought someone was dying in my kitchen this morning.”

#shieth #voltron #v:ld #fanfic #sensory prompts

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bye-hadfun · 6 years ago

Text

under the neon lights

Chapter One: December 1st, 2012

Trigger Warnings: slight homophobia

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: despite everything, they’re still together, and that’s what matters to Dan.

Or, alternatively, two times dnp visit nyc to see the ball drop

Written for the @phandomreversebang , inspired by @catzoomies beautiful art, and beta’d by the lovely and supportive @ty-ly-bby / @literally-just-fandoms

i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

Ao3 link

‘Fuck off.’

‘Excuse me? I’ve been nothing but patient Dan. What more do you want from me-’

‘I said fuck off.’ Dan slammed his door with a sort of finalty, a short breath escaping from his throat. He doesn’t mean to hurt Phil, ever, but these days the sky seems a bit duller than usual, and words are too much for Dan. He’ll apologize later and Phil will accept, and they will eat dinner and pretend that nothing’s wrong with Dan, with their relationship, with their life. That’s just how they work.

He can hear Phil in the lounge, talking on his phone, voice distant yet still decipherable. He know he shouldn’t, yet Dan still puts his ear to the wall, desperate to hear even a sliver of Phil’s normal voice. It’s been ages since they’ve had a calm conversation. Not that they ever talk much at all these days.

‘I just don't know what to do. Everything is so messy, you know? Sometimes I regret even moving in with him.’

There was silence on the other end and Dan assumed it was just Kath speaking. Hopefully.

‘I do love him, but love can only do so much. If this keeps up- what am I even going to do? Break up with him?”

Dan let out an involuntary gasp at that one. Even at the worst points in their relationship, he never assumed either of them would consider breaking up. It was Phil and Dan, Dan and Phil, the inseparable duo. Whatever he said in the videos, it was just a defense mechanism, and Phil knew that, right?

“I know, mum, but what would you do? I doubt you and Dad had these problems- and even if you did, this is the internet. You’ve never known anything like this, Mum. It’s terrifying.” Phil stifled a sob. “They’re everywhere, prying and spreading hate. We just want to live, and they won’t let us. Why does everything have to be about our relationship? Even if they found out, what would they do with the information? Can’t they just enjoy our content and shut up?”

Phil has his own way with words. Whilst Dan had emotional blow ups, Phil had, what could best be described as his word clusterfuck breakdown moments. He spoke less, compared to Dan, but that boy could talk his way out of a murder if he so wished. That, combined with his Eenglish degree, Dan sometimes thoughtthink that he would’ve been a better lawyer than Dan if he wasn’t so damn empathetic.

But that empathy is basically the only thing holding their relationship together at the moment, so he should be thankful.

Should he?

Sometimes, late at night under the covers, when they had had an argument and tears were threatening to spill, Dan wished that he never met Phil. Sure, he’d be miserable at law school and forced to be a lawyer for the rest of his life, but he wouldn’t harbour this immense sense of loss and heartbreak.

He never meant to hurt Phil- god,he hated seeing Phil sad. He would do anything just to put a smile on that boy’s face, and whatever Phil wanted, Dan would provide. Once upon a time, before the dreaded video leak, he was sure that Phil would too. Now? He’s not so sure.

Dan is slowly retreating back into his mind now, bringing back bad memories of The Day, and losing focus of the phone call in the living room. Hazily, he thinks it might be his brain’s shitty way of trying to protect him from what he might overhear, but it was too late. The memories were already returning, flooding his senses and drowning out the world. It was just him, his brain, and- Phil. Being tagged in every one of Dan’s mentions, their twitters, social media, and messages blowing up, and Phil crying on their kitchen floor, because of course the video leaked whilst they were making breakfast. Their most peaceful and normal routine, broken by the irregular and madness of the internet. Every tweet was about the same, and that ought to balance out the stress, but it didn’t. They kept pouring in, tens and thousands of the same message with different varieties, and every one of them just added fuel to Phil’s tears.

They had dealt with this once before. They could do it again.

Dan remembered it clear as day: Him, calmly picking up Phil’s phone and going onto YouTube to private the video again, tweeting out their response ‘It was just a joke we made!’, answering the texts from their family and friends, soothing those who knew and deflecting those who didn’t. Turning and hugging Phil from time to time when his sobs grew louder, when he saw in the corner of his eyes that he was shrinking into himself. He smoothed down his hair and comforted him, reassuring him that it was all ok. Gentle whispers of ‘I love you, it’s going to be ok’ murmured against skin.

Phil, after four hours and one cup of hot chocolate, ceased crying and started to help Dan fix things. He remembered Phil smiling sadly and saying, “Isn’t it sad, Bear, that all this is just a PR nightmare for someone else? Yet it’s hell for us.”

Dan whipped his head over to look at Phil, to try to comfort him somehow, but Phil only shaked his head slightly and started to reply to some of Marianne’s emails. It was for the best. Dan wasn’t even sure what he could say- ‘It’s not like that?’ ‘Don’t you dare talk about our relationship like that?’ Every word he said would just make the situation worse.

So he kept his mouth shut, and they plundered through their phones for the rest of the day, until the emails ceased, their text messages was cleared, and Twitter calmed down. (Or at least some of them had enough sense to stop tagging them). They went to Phil’s room, closed all the blinds, and burrowed under the bedsheets, whispering their sorrows and apologies.

Dan had finally let himself cry, and Phil had held him, his own tears dropping on Dan’s hair, and for the first time, Dan had doubted their relationship. Whether it was a good idea, two teenagers meeting on the Internet and working on a job online, where everything is exposed to the public?

But then Phil kissed him on the forehead and snuggled in closer to Dan’s neck, and Dan is grateful. No matter what happens, YouTube brought them together, and he’ll forever be grateful for that. Even if shit like this happens.

As he drifted off to sleep, he was vaguely aware of Phil’s tears on his neck, faint sniffling coming from his side. Frowning, he reached out for Phil’s face, wanting to wipe the tears tracks off his face, but Phil just gently pushed him away with a wet chuckle, and so he let sleep drag him into consciousness.

He still doesn’t know why Phil cried. He just know that, the next day when he woke up, Phil was back to his normal self again, all traces of sadness gone, a sharp glint of anger to his eyes. That was the same day they sent a harshly-worded letter to YouTube, informing them of their slip-up in the system. They received not a response, but an entire update ensuring ‘more privacy for creators’. Phil had smiled coldly at that.

It scared Dan sometimes, when Phil’s coldness shows. He’s truly different when he’s angry, and Dan would never like to be at the other side of his wrath. Dan had only seen it in action, once, when Dan was called a slur on a train ride. Phil had gone still, so still that Dan’s brain couldn’t register when he saw Phil’s fist connecting with the guy’s face. One moment to the next, and Phil was pummeling the living lights out of the dude. By the time Dan could react, the guy was already backing up, holding his hands up in surrender. Tugging Phil gently away from the scene, hoping not to trigger anything else, they made it back to the apartment. They never talked about it.

Dan was brought out from his reverie by Phil’s gentle knocking on the door.

“Dan? I don’t know if you’re still angry, but i made pasta. I’ll leave a plate for you in the fridge if you don’t come out in thirty.” There was a little pause on the other side of the door, almost like Phil was hesitating, before he continued to speak. “You know i love you, right? I really wish I could help you with your problems, but I can’t always do that when you’re stuck in your head.”

As Phil walked away, immense panic washed over Dan. What if this was it? They’re going to break up, and Dan’s going to get his heart broken, move back in with his parents, and his YouTube dream might as well die. Most importantly, he’ll lose Phil. Phil, who’s so patient with him every time he has a breakdown. Phil, who loves him so much that he’s willing to put up with his ‘scared of the dark’ bullshit, closing the lights after Dan’s been securely tucked up in bed, soft fairy lights illuminating the room whilst waiting for him. Phil, the person who got him through some of his darkest days.

He has to try, for Phil.

Dan’s looking around the room, searching for ideas to make it up to Phil, when it hit him. Phil’s been talking about going to NYC for years now, since they first started Skyping. The man had a weird affinity for touristy places, and Dan could never understand why. But it was Phil, and wherever Phil went, he would go.

Quickly typing in the Google search bar, he found what he wanted and smiled. A genuine one, a rare sight these days. He winced a bit at the price - but it was worth it. Hopefully. Dan scanned their schedule briefly, just to make sure they were completely free. He didn’t want to receive an angry phone call or email from their nice (also hot-tempered, but you didn’t hear that from Dan) manager, Marianne, scolding them because they missed a potentially important meeting. It still amazed Dan that YouTubers actually had meetings to attend, brand deals to accept, deadlines to meet. There wasn’t the pressure of an office job, but it was still jarring, how YouTube was an actual job. It made him feel like a celebrity. But of course, he thought to himself, amused, we’re not actually stars that can attend important events.

Focusing back on the monitor, Dan entered his credit card number, and confirmed the transaction. Sure, it was a noticeable dent in his bank account, but they had the Radio 1 gig later on anyways. It couldn’t hurt that much to have a nice week long holiday with his boyfriend.

Especially if it meant saving their crumbling relationship.

Humming softly under his breath, Dan unlocked his door and practically skipped out to the lounge. He’ll try his best to keep his temper in check. He was in an exceptionally good mood, and suspected that Phil would be too, once he got the news. It was no Japan, but New York City couldn’t be that far off.

“Phil?” Dan yelled down the stairs. This was new to him, having to shout to alert the other. In the Manchester apartment, the space was so small, so cramped, sometimes Dan wondered if Phil could hear him through the wall singing songs whilst he edited. His suspicions were confirmed one day when he broke off in the middle of the Llama song and Phil picked it up. He nearly choked on his drink. The Manchester apartment was filled with fond memories. He hoped that this one would be too.

“Yeah?” Phil was answering in a struggling voice, which meant either a) he was holding something heavy, or b) he was taking out his contacts and was trying not to poke himself in the eye. Dan was secretly pleased he knew Phil well enough to know this.

“Have you had dinner yet? I wanna watch a show with you while we eat, if that’s fine?” Dan said this with some preparation of disappointment. Given that he had just yelled in his face, Dan was sure that Phil would be salty, even if he had cooked dinner.

There was a slight pause, and then Phil replied, “Yeah sure, just let me finish taking off my contacts first!”

Dan did a little fist pump in the air for getting scenario b right, then turned back to the kitchen to get the pasta Phil had promised. Taking care to close all the cupboard doors first so he wouldn’t get a weirdly shaped bruise on his face for the next week and drop their pasta in the process, he managed to safely get the pasta on two plates and make it out to the lounge.

Phil was there already, looking a bit anxious with his glasses on, seated on the sofa changing the channels mindlessly. It was immensely cute. Dan smiled for a bit, stalling in the hallway before walking over to the couch, promptly plopping himself next to Phil. Depositing one of the plates on Phil’s lap, he blurted out what he had been meaning to say for the past half hour.

“I’m sorry.”

Phil, originally planning on devouring the plate of pasta, paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. “What?” He stared at Dan disbelievingly, almost as if he couldn’t believe- oh.

He never did apologize to Phil, huh. He’d always just assume that the unspoken apology was enough, that Phil understood him. It was a shitty move.

“I’m sorry. For yelling at you this afternoon. It was unprecedented and you didn’t deserve it, and you even made pasta for me.” Staring down at his plate, Dan collected himself before speaking again. “I’m just scared, you know? I don’t want us to fall apart because of some mean comments on the internet. But they’re under my skin constantly, talking about things they have absolutely no business meddling in.”

“Is it really so hard for us to be just- us? Dan and Phil? Sometimes, i swear, it feels like it's the whole world against us. The turmoil, the battles, the accusations, they're overwhelming.”

Phil smiled a bit. “Dan and Phil Versus the world, huh.”

Dan broke into a grin, and replied, “Dan and Phil Versus the world.”

And so for the first time in what seemed like months, Dan fell asleep peacefully, with Phil by his side, all of their problems thrown out the window.

The ticket can wait, Dan decided. He'll wait till it's right.

Until then, he'll just let himself be held by Phil, feeling safe and warm in their own little world.

#danielhowell #amazingphil #dan and phil #phandom #phanfic #my fics #prb

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voightsgirl · 7 years ago

Text

crossfire: volume i - chapter 14

a/n i think this is the chapter you’ve all been waiting for....hope you enjoy!!! & previous chapters can be found here

☆ you’ll be safe ☆

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” Jay called when he got through the door.

“We’re in here!” came the reply, and Jay shook his head, chuckling softly to himself at the drastic change in his girlfriend’s voice since he left her. He was always amazed at the power of women and their ability to rally together. It almost made him jealous, that he could never quite match that level of intimacy that is only possible between women.

They were all snuggled on the couch together, heads leaning against each other’s shoulders, and they had a huge blanket draped across them, a Spanish telenovela playing softly on the TV screen. Gabby was explaining to everyone how she thought that actually this certain character was behind it – whatever it was – and how all the viewers were screwed over because this character should have ended up with that one, but the writers were “so shitty that they cheated us out of a proper ending. Can you believe it?!”

Jay gasped in horror. “How dare they!”

Erin shot him a ‘don’t-encourage-her’ glance, shaking her head. Jay grinned back.

“Did you and Will have a good time?”

“Yeah, actually. What about you?”

Erin smiled. “Yeah. We did. Thanks for this.”

He crouched behind the sofa and rested his head on her shoulder. “Don’t thank me,” he said into her hair, and kissed the side of her face. “Well, I’m turning in for the night. I’ll see you in bed.”

“Okay,” Erin whispered, and squeezed his hand. “Night.”

“Do you want us to leave?” Burgess asked.

Erin shrugged. “You’re welcome for as long as you want.”

“It’s about time I made my way home,” Natalie said. “I don’t want to leave Will with Owen for too long. He’s had so many babysitters these past few days he probably doesn’t remember what I look like!” she joked. “Speaking of which,” she cocked her head to the side and gave Erin a narrow-eyed stare. “My son had some very interesting questions for me the other night. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Erin opened her mouth to respond. “Uh…” was the only the thing that came out. “Nope?” she tried.

Natalie laughed. “It’s okay. It could be worse. He could’ve asked where babies come from.”

“Oh, God. Yet another reason not to have kids, I guess,” Erin joked.

She didn’t realize that Jay could hear her from the other room. And that her words detonated the bomb attached to his heart, and with that small sentence, it shattered against his ribcage.

☆

Jay woke up when he felt Erin climb into bed next to him and slip her arms around his bare torso, burying her face in his shoulder and breathing in the faint smell of cologne and spearmint that was so familiar to her; he wanted to be angry at her, he wanted to be upset that she had dismissed having children so blatantly in front of all of her friends – in front of him – but how could he when she kissed the nape of his neck so gently, and when he turned to face her, the sight of her lying next to him was enough to make his heart swell and the rest of the world to melt away into nothing as if he was living his life through the lens of a camera, and Erin was the only thing in focus.

They snuggled closer together in the darkness, their foreheads touching and their breaths mingling, and their eyes closed against each other. They didn’t need to say anything – this was becoming quite the trend really, letting their small actions and body language speak louder than their words ever could – but Jay couldn’t help himself.

“Are you happy?” he whispered into the dark. They were so close together that he could hear her breath hitch slightly, and he could feel her forehead start to crease in that adorable little frown that she gave whenever she was thinking intently about something, and he could almost see her eyelids flutter slightly despite the darkness that lay all around them.

“I don’t know,” came the reply.

“Are you sad?”

“No. Not anymore.”

“Good.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

More silence. Jay opened his eyes. Her breathing had stilled slightly and he thought she might be asleep, but he still had more to tell her. His evening with Will and Owen had just made him even more sure of the fact that he felt that he had something missing from his life, something that he had only just now come to realized was fatherhood, and watching Erin sleeping so silently and peacefully and – God damn it, beautifully – he became more and more certain with every breath she took, that he wanted to have a family with her.

“Erin?” he whispered. He was propped up on one arm now, his blue eyes gazing down at the single strand of highlighted hair that had fallen across her face and the gentle smudges of makeup on her eyelids that hadn’t quite made it off with the makeup wipe; the AC/DC t-shirt that she was sleeping in, a few sizes too big, that she’d bought a few years ago when he complained about her always stealing his shirts – she’d bought it several sizes too big on purpose, so that it was baggy enough to wear without shorts underneath (his size, to be exact), but she had forced him to wear it around for a while, even though he hated AC/DC, because she wanted it to smell like him – and the subtle rising and falling of her chest that he couldn’t help but cherish since their recent struggles. She was here, and she was alive, and those tiny movements were enough that sometimes he had to pinch himself to remind himself that this was real.

“Mmm?” she mumbled, and moved her head slightly to show him that she was awake, still, even if fatigue had made her eyelids too heavy for her to open them again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

Just then, Erin’s phone buzzed from the dresser. Of course, thought Jay bitterly. The universe is out to get me, I swear.

“I’ve got it,” he whispered, and kissed her on the nose when she made to get up.

“Thanks, babe,” she mumbled, and buried her face in the pillow.

He grabbed her cellphone from the bedside table and squinted at the light of the screen, trying to make out the caller ID. Blocked. He frowned. “Erin’s phone?” he asked down the line cautiously.

“Detective Halstead?” came a sob from the other end. “Please, I need your help. It’s Avery. I made a m-mistake. P-please. I don’t know – I don’t know what to do. I – I c-c-can’t…”

She was sobbing and shivering so forcibly that she could barely get the words out. “Avery, slow down,” Jay spoke down the phone. At the sound of Avery’s name, Erin sat straight up in the bed. “Where are you, honey?” he asked.

“In an alleyway off Wicker Park,” she managed to stutter out.

Erin had thrown herself out of bed and was searching through the clothes she had discarded on the floor for a pair of jeans, which she was stuffing her legs into hastily.

“We’re gonna come and get you, okay? Just sit tight. Try to keep warm. We’re on our –”

The line went dead.

They looked at each other and took a deep breath. Grabbing jackets – a spare for Avery – and keys and Jay’s shirt, they almost fell out of the front door and down the elevator until they reached the parking lot. The call had come from a phone box, otherwise they would have kept her on the line, but instead all they had to go on was “an alleyway off Wicker Park”.

☆

Each second dragged. It felt like an eternity to reach Wicker Park, an eternity in which she was painfully aware of what was at stake: each second was made up of a thousand milliseconds, and each millisecond was made up of a thousand microseconds, and each microsecond was made up of a thousand nanoseconds, and Erin was able to count each one as if it were dancing in front of her in slow motion. She kept slapping the dashboard in frustration – she had been drinking, and Jay wouldn’t let her drive – until she saw the familiar roads and buildings that brought her ever closer to Avery.

Jay parked the car and they got out, shivering at the icy bite of Chicago’s harsh November, and he reached out to her, hugging her in close. “We’ll find her,” he said, and she nodded.

On the way over, she’d googled all the phone boxes in the area, so at least they weren’t working completely blind. She hadn’t wanted to bother whoever was on shift at the district at this time of night, especially as Jay said the chances of them finding Avery high were probably greater than the chances of him beating her at target practice – a futile attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, but Erin appreciated it nonetheless. She even played along, batting away his hands and assuring him that, by his logic, Avery would be completely sober.

They found her at the third phone box. Shivering, shaking, crying, freezing.

Bruised.

Her eyebrow was cut and her eyes were blackened, her cheek swollen.

“Avery,” Erin whispered, her voice sounding as fragile as Avery looked. “What happened?”

She shrugged, but the tear tracks down her cheeks and the utter terror in her eyes was more than enough to counteract any sense of nonchalance that she tried to express. “I got in a fight,” she stuttered back, her breath catching in her throat.

Erin reached down to her. She felt as though she were approaching an unfamiliar dog; everything felt weak, the air brittle and the calm as though it might snap in two. She bent down to her knees, quickly grabbing the spare jacket from Jay and wrapping it around the girl’s frail, shuddering shoulders and then tilting Avery’s face up by taking her chin between her fingers. Laying a gentle hand on Avery’s brow, the girl winced, and Erin clenched her jaw. If she ever found out who did this to her…

Jay held back. He felt the tension in the air as much as Erin had – everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, and his heart lurched when he saw Avery finally crumple into Erin’s arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, her fists tightening around the hood of Erin’s jacket so tightly that the muscles in her arms began to spasm ever so slightly.

“Shhh,” Erin whispered, looking up at Jay over Avery’s shoulders. “It’s okay. Everything is gonna be okay.”

She rocked Avery backwards and forwards slowly, stroking the dark hair that lay splayed underneath her fingertips.

“You’re safe now, I promise.”

After a few minutes, they rose to their feet. Jay took Avery’s arm and Erin took the other, and they led her to the car.

Erin and Avery sat in the backseat, and the detective kept her arms firmly wrapped around the teenager the whole journey. Whenever Jay looked in the rear view mirror and saw them back there, his heart seemed to swing inside his chest.

He couldn’t help but think of what he had wanted to talk to Erin about earlier, and although he was sad that this turn of events meant that he would have to put off the conversation about the possibility of starting a family for even longer – at least until Avery was gone – what hurt him more was how distant he suddenly felt from his girlfriend. The space between the front seat and the back of his car had never felt greater than that drive home, and he had never felt so far away from everything he once thought he was a part of.

And he couldn’t help but wonder if Erin felt it too, or if having Avery curled up to her on the leather seats was enough for her not to feel the same loneliness.

☆ ☆ ☆

thank you for reading!! if you’d like to be notified when it’s updated either head over to my ff.net account or message me and i’ll tag you at the end of the post :)

@allenting @sophiaxjesse @writteninthestarsandthesky @riverdaleangels @chillmydude @halsteadpd

#chicago pd #linstead #erin lindsay #jay halstead #linstead fics #erin and jay #mine #myfics #crossfire

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jen-kellen · 7 years ago

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This is. a mess. and over the top and entirely unlikely. BUT I PROMISED AND I WILL DELIVER. TW homophobia

Bradford finds her pacing in mission control along her path. It’s not an unusual sight, but the skyranger is not on its way back full of wounded soldiers, there is no vital research about to be announced for them to be debriefed on, and as far as he is aware, there is no reason for the council to call.

He steps in her path and forces her to come to a halt. “You need to relax, Commander. Everything is running smoothly, at the moment,” he assures.

She regards him for a moment, then starts fiddling with her cuffs. “I know it is, Central. You run a good operation,” she says. “I expect you to continue to do so no matter what.”

“Sir?” Her words are unlike her and he gets a sinking feeling in his gut.

“The Spokesman sent me a message this morning, warning me to expect a council meeting later. They aren’t happy with me.”

“Why would they be? We’ve been hitting back at the aliens hard. If anything, they should be commending us for a job well done,” he says incredulously.

She sighs and shakes her head. “They’re not happy with me, specifically.” She rubs her hands over her face and suddenly looks as tired. “Remember two days ago, when I dismissed one of the soldiers?”

“Yes. That’s what you were hired for, though. The troops are your responsibility, you’ve every right to dismiss them as you see fit.”

“I didn’t intend to dismiss him I was only going to reprimand him for harassment, remind him that XCOM does not discriminate, but then he had to turn on me and accuse me of being - being a fag,” she spits the word out with more hate than he’d ever seen her with, “and I snapped. He got word to his council representative, and apparently most of the council was not aware of what I am.”

His jaw drops. “So what? Are they just going to yell at you for lying? It’s not as though you had control of what was on your personnel file.”

“Best case scenario, those that are angry shut up and deal with it. There’s no time to appoint a new Commander and keep things running smoothly. If enough of the council wishes it, though, I could be replaced.” She hesitates for a moment before continuing. “I will willingly offer to step down before it gets to the worst case scenario, though.”

“Worst case is..?” He doesn’t want to know, but he needs to be prepared for the worst.

“Approximately half the council withdrawing their support from the project.”

He wants to vomit just thinking about it. “There’d be no point in keeping the project going if they did. We’re succeeding, but barely, surely they know that?” He pauses for a moment, trying to think of what he knows about each council nation. “Is it really half the council?”

“Never underestimate how deeply some peoples’ hate can run,” the Commander says. There’s a bitterness to her voice that points to her having experienced more than her fair share. “And yes. Egypt, Nigeria, China, India, and Russia all certainly want to see me gone. Japan, Australia, Brazil, and Mexico it depends on the individual representative. As a member of the US Army, I have every legal right to hold this position, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good. Politics, and all.”

He frowns, the weight in his stomach only growing heavier. “And you’re not good at politics.”

She smiles sadly at him, but before either of them could say anything more she brings a hand to her comms device, clearly being summoned. She sighs and pulls a little pink, blue, and purple flag pin out of her pocket and sticks it onto her lapel.

“Is that really a good idea?” he asks, pointedly glancing at the pin.

She rolls her eyes as she straightens out her uniform. “I spent twenty years in the closet to keep from being discharged. I’m not hiding any longer,” she snaps, sounding much more like the person he was used to seeing command. “Do I look presentable enough?”

He looks over her uniform and adjusts her shirt collar so it lays flat. “You do now. Try not to yell too much,” he says.

“Of all the things I haven’t promised you, I can’t promise you that most of all,” she says, almost amused. “Well, it’s time. Do or die.” She waves as she turns on her heel and marches into the situation room.

There’s an odd sort of finality as the door snaps shut behind her that he tries not to think too much about.

More than an hour and a half later, the rest of the senior staff is summoned to the situation room. Neither Vahlen nor Shen have any idea of what they’re about to walk into, but they know well enough that if the council themselves have summoned them it can’t be good. They enter to find the shadowy figures of each of the council members staring down at them as they take their places just behind their Commander.

The Commander stands at rest in the center of the room, staring up at the figures. Just looking at her makes Bradford tense. Her hands are clenched into fists behind her back, knuckles bone white, her shoulders are tight and drawn back, her jaw is clenched so hard he thinks it might break, and in the glow of the monitor he thinks he sees her shaking in frustration.

“Doctor Shen, Doctor Vahlen, Officer Bradford. The Council is at an impasse, so it is up to you to decide what course of action shall be taken,” the Spokesman says. “We cannot agree if Commander Mercier shall be removed from her post.”

“Is there good reason for her to be removed?” Shen asks. “She has done nothing short of excellent work.”

“She’s a fag,” one of the other shadowy figures snaps. The Commander rolls forward onto the balls of her feet and tilts her head back, clearly conveying her displeasure.

“Commander,” the Spokesman growls, not unlike how one might threaten a dog about to bark. She rolls back flat onto her feet without saying a word.

“It has recently come out to us that Commander Mercier is an admitted homosexual, and has engaged in relations with both men and women in the past,” another one of the figures says. He can see the Commander’s shoulders rise at some of the wording used, but once again she does not say anything. From the corner of his eye, he can see both Shen and Valhen look at her with shocked expressions. “Were any of you three aware of her sexual preference?”

Both Shen and Valhen shake their heads, and he nods minutely. If any of the council questions how he knew, they fortunately don’t ask.

“If any of you are uncomfortable having a homosexual -”

“A faggot, a diseased deviant, a rap-”

“Councilman,” the first representative interrupts. It lacks the same bite as the warning given to the Commander. “Be civil.”

“I just want them to know just what they’re allowing to fester in their midst. She is hiding something, otherwise she would have shared a list, or at least a number of partners.” A few of the other council members murmur their agreements.

He wonders why none of the council members that supposedly support her don’t speak up to defend her, why she won’t defend herself. He glances at her again and realizes that she’d likely been threatened into silence, hence why she was about to break her jaw grinding her teeth. The trembling isn’t from frustration, he also realizes, but anger and betrayal.

“If any of you are uncomfortable having a homosexual in command, you should speak now. If it is a problem, she will be removed and replaced with an equally capable candidate,” the first council member says again.

“The Commander’s orientation has no bearing on her ability to lead. I see no reason for her to step down,” Bradford says quickly. He sees a sliver of tension leave her shoulders.

“She has been nothing but professional, in my experience,” Shen says. “And I believe trying to insert a new Commander at this stage of our operation would just cause more issues than not.”

Vahlen nods in agreement. “I have no issues with the Commander’s sexuality either. She does a fine effort leading, and that will not change due to her being out,” she says.

Though they can’t see the faces of the council members, he can feel their gazes bearing down upon them.

“It’s settled, then. Commander Mercier shall retain her position,” the first council member says. “Doctors, Officer, you are dismissed.”

He tries to catch the Commander’s eye as they march out, but she continues to keep her gaze locked on the screen before her. Just before the door closes behind them as they leave, he can hear the hateful council member start to spit their vitriol once more.

The senior staff doesn’t say anything between themselves, instead electing to scatter back to their respective departments. They’re all acutely aware that they have just skirted potential disaster.

Nearly half an hour later, the Commander finally emerges from the situation room. She keeps her head down as she scurries across mission control to her quarters, so as much as he’d like to stop her and comfort her he lets her go.

He doesn’t see her for the rest of the day, not even at supper where the senior staff usually gathers to discuss their current plan of action. Against his better judgement, he knocks on her door in the brief amount of free time they’re allowed. There is no answer but the muffled sounds of music played over the stereo. He knocks again, louder, but once again receives no answer.

It’s a bad idea, he knows, but the council meeting earlier still didn’t sit right with him so he opens the door regardless. The sound of the door closing behind him seems to finally get her attention as a hand appears over the edge of the sofa, remote in hand. The catchy pop song ends, and the first words of the next song starts playing before she finally pauses it.

“Queen?” he asks as he walks around the sofa, almost completely distracted by her choice in music.

“It’s my gay playlist, for when I need to not feel so shitty,” she explains, sitting up.

He flicks his gaze over her appearance. Her uniform coat is off, tossed over the back of the chair at her terminal, and the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up, and a red tinged bandage covers her knuckles on her right hand. There’s a dead look in her eye that shakes him to his core.

“It doesn’t look like it’s helped much.”

She shakes her head. She takes a deep breath to center herself and clenches her hands. He can’t help but notice that she’s still shaking, even hours later. “I’ve heard all sorts of shit over the years, both in general and directed at me. I can handle being called a fag, a homo, whatever, I thought I’d survived the worst of it once Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was repealed. But - But god damn I’ve never been insulted with such hate, such vitriol that made me wish I were dead-”

She chokes up and covers her face with her hands. Without thinking, he slides into the seat beside her and pulls her into his chest. In the back of his mind he can hear the more rational side of him screaming that this is too close, too unprofessional and that he should step back, but he doesn’t want to.

“I thought the Spokesman was on my side, too. The- The bastard agreed that I needed to shut up and let the council insult me-” She chokes up again.

“Try to focus on the positive,” he says. He’s never had to comfort someone who’s been hurt, betrayed so deeply, so he can only hope it’s helpful. “You’re still in charge, and the council is still funding us.”

“For now,” she says. “I basically can’t ignore anything that happens throughout Asia and Africa to keep them happy. We’re already stretched so thin, I’m sure that the next report will have more than a couple countries withdraw.”

“We’ll figure it out. You said yourself they appointed you for your strategic genius, you’ll come up with something.”

She sighs and slumps against him. After a moment, she adjusts so she can rest her chin on his shoulder. “I hope so,” she says quietly.

He lets the hug linger a bit longer, then carefully extracts himself to calm the part of his brain screaming about workplace relationships and professionalism. “At least you know you’ve got your entire senior staff on your side. I haven’t heard any ill rumors being spread around, either. So there’s that,” he says.

“Thanks for that, by the way. Being quick to support me. Honestly, I could kiss all three of you for the support, but given the situation…” she trails off, amused.

He hesitates for a heartbeat, expecting Shen or Vahlen to call, or the council to berate them some more, or the alarm indicating an attack, or even just one of their men to have done something incredibly stupid to be scolded for. Blissfully, there is quiet, save for the screaming in the back of his head.

“I can’t speak for the Doctors, but you’re more than welcome to kiss me,” he offers.

She regards him for a split second, the dead look in her eyes finally replaced with surprise and relief and something that says fucking finally. She grabs his tie and pulls him into a kiss, short but by no means dispassionate.

She pulls back and licks her lips, finally looking more like her normal self. “So much for being a professional. Must’ve been hard for you,” she teases. “Thank you, though.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted to do that for a while,” he admits. “Whenever there was a chance, something usually came up.”

She laughs, a delightful sound compared to the beaten silence from earlier. “We’ve still some time now, if you want to make up for all the time lost,” she suggests, leaning in slightly.

He doesn’t need prompting twice, so he brings a hand to her jaw and pulls her into another kiss, and then another. At some point he ends up on his back with the Commander on top of him, hands tangled in each other’s hair and slipping under shirts. It feels so right, even though he knows logically it’s wrong.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says quietly, pulling away from another kiss.

“I was wondering how long it’d take for the boy scout to return,” she sighs. Neither of them make a move to untangle themselves from each other, though. “It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve kept a relationship secret. I’m practically an expert.”

“There’s not a whole lot of privacy here, though.”

“There wasn’t a whole lot in the desert, either, but I made do.”

He laughs. “With all respect, Commander, the Anthill is more like a ship than a collection of tents. We’re not supposed to leave the base, in case you forgot in all your escape attempts.”

“First of all, no commander or sir in my quarters. Tatiana or Taňa, please,” she says, pressing another short kiss to his lips. “Second, I know I’m not supposed to leave, but the council just had to build a secret underground base. Third, I had people trying to blackmail me for years, there is no privacy like that. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m a tactile person, you know. I like touching my partners.”

“And you can do so while we’re in our quarters. On the bridge nothing can change. Are you capable of that, at least?”

“Yes, si-” he cuts himself off. “I’ve managed so far, haven’t I? No one’s seen me do more than lay a hand on your shoulder.”

“Then we’ll be fine. If the men don’t see, the council can’t know, and we’ll be fine,” she says in that same self-assured tone as when she knows a mission is about to be wrapped up successfully.

They continue laying there for a few more minutes in blissful silence. “I should go back to my quarters,” he says at last. He still doesn’t make to get up, though.

Tatiana looks at a clock and then presses her face into his neck. “It’s still free time, someone might see,” she says. It’s a poor excuse, but it convinces him to stay.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” she asks while he’s absently feeling the bandages over her knuckles. “I know you said before that my orientation doesn’t matter, but I’ve had so many people say that, then get insecure because I’ve slept with women, or men.”

“I promise you, it doesn’t bother me. Whoever you’ve been with doesn’t change who you are now.”

She hesitates for a moment. “For the record, I didn’t give the council a list or a number not because I… you know, but because I just don’t know how many I’ve been with. I always kept up on my health, though. In that sense, I’m a good girl.”

“Tanya,” he says, moving his hand to her cheek again. “It’s fine. I never doubted that you were anything but responsible.” He presses a kiss to her lips.

She’s quiet after they part again. “It’s Taňa,” she says. “Not Tanya.”

He furrows his brow. “Tanya,” he repeats.

“Not -nya, -ňa.”

He’s forced to repeat the ň sound until she determines that he’s gotten close enough to it, though he still can’t quite tell the difference. It’s important to her, though, so he will learn. She deserves to have her beauty retained even in name.

After a while of talking more, she glances at her clock again. “It’s nearly midnight,” she says. “It’s probably safe to sneak back to your quarters.” She doesn’t move for a moment, then woefully pushes herself up.

He feels too cold, too light as he sits up as well. He leans over and steals another kiss, pressing her into the back of the sofa. “With my luck, we won’t get a moment of peace for at least a week,” he muses.

“I’ll make sure we find some. And I’ll sneak into your quarters so you can pretend to still be a professional,” she teases.

“I appreciate it.” Against his better judgement, he kisses her again before standing, straightening out his appearance, and leaving.

He sees her on the bridge in the morning, light of the hologlobe illuminating her face as she gives out orders. The blue glow makes it harder to see, but the bi flag pin is still worn proudly on her lapel.

“Commander,” he says, catching her attention. A smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and he smiles in turn. “What do you need today, sir?”

#my writing

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