#originally thought of this as fluff but maybe it should be comfort with implications of hurt if you think about it too long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

got-svt · 4 years ago

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signs

order up ! large americano at 75% sweetness, a slice of strawberry shortcake, and a slice of cherry pie with mingyu for anon <3 order notes : mingyu x reader, angst, fluff, a first date, brief mentions of other members, cameo from eunwoo bec i watched true beauty and was in need of another 97 liner, and a very nervous mingyu, he just wants everything to go well smh look, something’s written on your cup... hi ! for transparency’s sake this is an edited version of something that i posted a while back that i deleted. so if you are the anon who requested this but couldn’t find it, here it is now !

summary : all mingyu wanted was to go on one nice date with you, was that too much to ask? well, according to the universe, it was.

word count : ~2.8k

The first sign was he woke up a little too late, technically it wasn’t even a sign, considering that it was entirely his fault anyway. Mingyu had spent all of the previous night preparing for your date with him — making little sandwiches, cutting up some fruit, baking cookies to be put in little plastic containers. After hearing that you hadn’t been to the park in quite a while, never really having a reason to go, he decided that a picnic wasn’t too bad of an idea for a first date.

Mingyu had wanted to ask you out for the longest time, being friends with him ever since both of you knew how to talk. It was easy, your friendship with him. Neither of you ever felt like you had to put up some sort of front, or have walls up incredibly high. He asked you out in the most casual of ways too, like it wasn’t that big of a deal. You couldn’t tell but on the inside, he was freaking out — that came with not knowing how you’d react and the possibility of rejection.

“Are you free tomorrow?” Mingyu asked, unable to meet your eyes.

You nodded, slightly confused at his inability to match your gaze.

“Okay, I was thinking we can go to the park tomorrow since you told me you haven’t been there in a while. Maybe we could go on a picnic?” He spoke as if he didn’t start preparing for this days ago, looking up fun things to do while on a picnic or a park — picking wildflowers together was high up on the list of things he wanted to do with you.

“Oh, sure! I’ll text Wonwoo and the others to see if they want to join us—”

“No!” Mingyu exclaimed, a little too loud and a little too quickly, a hand in front of you like he was about to physically stop you from doing something. “I was thinking that it could be just the two of us, you know?”

He hoped you would pick up on it, the implication from the nervous tone in his voice, how when he finally gazed up at you with softness in his yes. He was asking you out, on a date. Mingyu wished that you could tell. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t.

You shrugged your shoulders before giving him a smile, “Sure! We’ll meet there at around 10?”

And he couldn’t tell that you didn’t pick up on it either.

Mingyu woke up groggy that morning, his phone on the bedside table, calling out to him with the sound of a text notification.

[Y/N]: where are you? I’m already here >:(

His eyes widened, falling off his bed in shock once he realized it was already five minutes past 10 am. Mingyu took a shower, put on his clothes, grabbed everything he needed, and sped past the door in twenty minutes. This was not how he planned it out in his head. Mingyu was supposed to surprise you at your place, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. No matter, he still had the rest of the day to sweep you off your feet and ask you to be his.

The sun shone brightly that morning, but it was neither hot nor humid. It was actually the perfect to be outside, with multiple white clouds littering the pale blue sky, a soft breeze blowing through the blades of grass, children running around playing tag — their laughter filling the air. Mingyu smiled, determined that today was going to be perfect

His eyes scanned around the are for any sight of your familiar figure, eyes lighting up when he finally spots you. Mingyu makes his way over, the nervousness that slowly started to creep up on him becoming amplified once he realizes that you were talking to someone else.

The first thing he noticed was how big your smile was as you talked to this person, stretching across your face and crinkling your eyes. Did you ever smile this much around him? You stood a few feet away from the man, but you were very clearly comfortable around him — lightly pushing his shoulder as you laughed, peering up at him through your eye lashes. You finally notice him walking to you, waving your hand and beckoning him to move quicker.

“Hey Gyu!” You grinned, greeting him like you always did, a quick one armed side-hug.

“Hi, Yn.” Mingyu attempted a smile, but it felt a little restrained, gesturing to the person you were just talking to, “Who’s this?”

“Oh! This is Eunwoo, we dated a while ago but it never really worked out.” You shrugged, waving it off like it wasn’t that big of a deal. “You were taking so long and I happened to run into him so we were just catching up a bit.”

“I see..” He trailed off, holding a hand out for Eunwoo to shake. He had known you for years now, and yet he had never heard you mention an Eunwoo to him before. “Nice to meet you, man.”

“Likewise.” Eunwoo replied, shaking Mingyu’s hand before turning to face you. “I won’t keep you too long. My number’s still the same, we should meet up for coffee sometime.”

Mingyu couldn’t help but furrow his brows at the sight of you enthusiastically accepting Eunwoo’s invitation. The little tug on his heartstrings was hard to ignore as he watched you give a quick hug goodbye to your ex-boyfriend — a very attractive ex-boyfriend for that matter. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, why did he have to wake up so late? If he had been there on time, you wouldn’t have been able to catch up with him for as long as you did. If he had stuck to his original plan of picking you up, you probably wouldn’t have seen him at all.

Kim Mingyu wasn’t the jealous type, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but feel exactly that. Especially when he had been pining after for you for so long now, he didn’t want it to come crashing down just because of one person.

“You’re pouting.” You commented, quickly noticing how uncharacteristically quiet he had become. The two of you walked side by side, hands ever so slightly brushing against one another. You hoped that the warm weather would be enough of an excuse for the red flush that made its way to your cheeks.

Mingyu shook his head, he didn’t mean to have you worrying for him. “Don’t worry about it.”

His reply made you even more skeptical, should there be something you’re meant to be worrying about? But you decided to drop the question, maybe it truly wasn’t that big of a deal.

You and Mingyu found a spot in a less crowded area of the park, you no longer the heard the sound of children screaming or their exhausted parents calling out over them. Instead the melodious sounds of birds tweeting up at the sky filled your ears, a delicate wind blew between the two of you, and the sun’s glare becoming much softer as it finally became covered by the clouds.

He takes out a blue picnic blanket and lays it flat on the ground, smoothing out imaginary creases in the process. You hold a hand out to him, wordlessly letting him know that you’d like to set the picnic up with him. Mingyu hands you the picnic basket, and you spent the next couple of minutes in silence as you tried to make everything look almost picture perfect. The silence was far from uncomfortable, manifested by the small smiles and the growing blushes on both of your faces. There was something rather domestic about the activity, handing him different containers of food, deciding together where everything should be placed.

“Did you make these yourself?” You asked once both of you finally settled down, gesturing to the wide array of food that lay in front of you.

Mingyu smiled, a hand on the back of his neck as he suddenly became ever so slightly bashful, “Yeah. I hope you like it.”

You take a bite of one of the chocolate chip cookies, something in you decided to tease him a little, making a face of slight disgust as you swallowed. His heart sank, a look of disappointment clearly covering his face. He spent all night making those, weren’t they up to your standard?

Panic washes over you as you saw a frown overtake his once smiling face, “I’m kidding! They’re good.”

Mingyu lets out a breath, the disappointment slowly disappearing as the two of you settled into an easy conversation, though that was never really difficult for the two of you. You and him have been friends for about a few years now, but he didn’t really know when exactly he started to see you as something more. He just knew that he did. This much was clear to him when he catches himself staring at you for a little too long, definitely longer than what would be considered normal. There was just something about you that enchanted him, whether it was you laughing over some silly joke he made, frowning as you become disappointed in the latest episode of a show you were watching, face illuminated by the light of a tv screen. You could be reading him your grocery list and he’d still think it was the most interesting thing in the world.

The extent of his feelings terrified him the first time he realized they were there in the first place. Mingyu wasn’t meant to feel that way for you, one of his closest friends. But he did, and the thought of you possibly not feeling the same way terrified him even more.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, head tilted to the side, “Do I have something on my face?”

Mingyu shook his head quickly, he didn’t mean to stare again.

You felt a sharp sting on your ankle, wincing as you immediately yelped from the pain, “Ouch!”

“What’s wrong?” Mingyu asked, eyes alight with concern.

You shook your head in response, thinking it was just a lone ant deciding to inconvenience you. That thought was quickly dismissed when you felt another equally sharp sting near that same area.

“Oh no…” You trailed off, looking a few meters to the side of your picnic blanket, “Mingyu…”

“Oh!” He exclaimed, following your gaze to the trail of ants that were quickly making their way to the two of you. Great, was nature against him too?

The both of you immediately got up, covering containers, placing them in the basket, and folding up the picnic blanket before the rest of the ants could step their tiny little feet onto the blanket and into the food. As you walked to find a new spot to continue the rest of your date, Mingyu couldn’t help but feel a little bit discouraged. Three things had gone wrong in the span of a few hours, was this just the universe warning him that the two of you will never work out? Maybe telling him to back off early before he gets his heart broken.

In the distance, a low rumble breaks through what would’ve been the perfect day out, followed by a sharp crackle piercing through the air. The sky once a brilliant blue was suddenly covered in heavy, stormy clouds. The park that once basked in the sun’s golden glow became shrouded in gray, people seemed to know what was about to happen as they hurriedly packed their things and go home.

It started out a small droplets, like little kisses on your skin that almost felt like nothing. They were small, and they fell ever so slowly. For a brief moment, Mingyu thought that this was going to be over quick. Then suddenly, the sky weeped, loud and heavy as it drenched the entirety of the park in rain.

Okay, nature was definitely against him now.

Mingyu stopped walking, was there even a point to moving forward? Everything was ruined. The food should be inedible at this point, you and him were soaked and freezing, and it’s not like you could have a picnic on muddy park soil. At this point, the universe had sent him so many signs, he’d feel like a fool if he didn’t listen now. But still, he wished things had happened the way it did in his head. He let out a frustrated groan, tears nearly pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Are you okay?” You asked, a gentle hand on his shoulder. Mingyu was very clearly distressed, but you failed to see why. It’s nature, it’s not something you or him could control. Things like this happen and you should be spending your energy trying to find a place to shelter yourselves from the rain. You grab onto his arm, trying to pull him away, “Come on, let’s find a place that can cover us.”

“No! I’m not okay, Yn…” He trailed off, agitation seeping into each and every one of his words. He shrugs off his arm, much to your surprise. Usually, he’d let you cling onto him for as long as you liked. “I just wanted today to be perfect.”

You furrowed your brows, slightly confused at his irritation, “Why does it matter if today is perfect or not?”

Mingyu sighed, he was getting cold now. He wanted nothing more to be wrapped up in a blanket and have you in his arms. But he knew the chances of the happening now are essentially slim to none. The day was already ruined, and there’s nothing he could do to even remotely salvage it. “I just…”

You gestured for him to continue, waiting patiently as he tried to find the words to say.

“I wanted to give you the perfect date…” He spoke, looking down at his feet.

“Wait, this was a date?” You didn’t mean to sound surprised, you just genuinely were. Voice raising octaves and eyebrows shot up, talking too quickly to catch most of the words, “Like a date-date? I thought we were just hanging out! All you asked me yesterday was whether or not I was free!”

Mingyu’s shoulder’s slumped. He didn’t have to ask you to repeat himself, he heard you clearly despite how hard the rain currently came down, the beating of his own heart deafening him. In a way, he was thankful for the rain; at least you wouldn’t be able to tell if a few tears escaped his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just thought…yeah, no. I should have expected this.”

Guilt immediately flooded your senses, he must’ve read your shock as a rejection of his feelings. You didn’t mean to sound so startled at him thinking the entire day as a date, you just couldn’t believe the possibility that he felt the same way you did for him. “Mingyu.”

You were sure if he had heard you, his gaze still on the ground. You called out to him again, this time your voice much louder and sterner, hoping that it would get his attention. “Gyu.”

“What is it, Yn?” He looked up to find you making your way towards him, a small pout forming on your lips. Mingyu sighed, “You don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine.”

“I like you.” You spoke, just as you were about a few feet away from him, looking into his eyes to make sure he knew that you meant it — that you were being completely serious.

His world stopped. Suddenly, it seemed like the earlier events of the day never happened. He never woke up late, you hadn’t gotten the chance to catch-up with your ex-boyfriend, ants never tried to show up uninvited to your picnic, rain never poured down on the two of you. All these things he thought were signs from the universe, never occurred. There was only you and him, and you liked him back.

“Oooooh you wanna kiss me so bad.” You teased, attempting to snap him out of his trance.

Mingyu didn’t mean to stare at you again, speechless. He just couldn’t believe that this was real just yet. But your words, how you looked at him with a smile — expectant, like you were challenging him to do something, to make a move — finally made him realize just how real this was. “And what if I do?”

You blinked back, not expecting that bold of a response. Still, you took a single step forward, further closing the already small distance between the two of you. “I’d let you.”

Without another word, he moves a hand to your chin, gently tilting your face up so his lips could meet yours in a kiss.

— thank you for visiting cafe amore ! feel like ordering something else? check the menu here.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen oneshot #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu fanfic #mingyu oneshot #ca completed order

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holidaywishes · 4 years ago

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Ravage Me

Requested: 👍

Summary/Request: Ahh you’re the best! So basically I was thinking a super angsty fic where the reader is friends with Auston, like around his age, has tattoos, dresses on the edgier side, and Freddie has a massive crush on her but doesn’t think he can compete with Auston because he’s not as interesting?? I adore you 💕

Warning: angst as requested, little bit of fluff, language (but that’s par for the course -- I have a tiny bit of a sailor’s mouth), maybe a hint of smut near the end?

Author’s Note: I love this request so much. It’s not super angsty but I hope it’s angsty enough for ya! I’m sorry that I’m just getting to it now, I had planned on doing it last week but just couldn’t, anyway, I’m writing it now and I think I like the way it came out. I tried to make this character the cool alter ego I wish I had -- instead my alter ego is a Southern Belle named Daisy. I had fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it! Stay Golden, loves! <3

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Freddie’s P.O.V

The first time you met her, you were a bit taken aback by her boldness. For only being 23, she was incredibly sure of herself and she was one of the only people you knew that knew who they were; it didn’t take long for you to fall for her.

“So, Fred!” Auston yelled over the loud music in the bar as (Y/N) hung off his shoulder, “what do you want to drink?” You looked between the two of them and scoffed before heading to the bar yourself to get a beer, “or you know.. do that.”

“Can I get anything for either of you?” you asked, looking back to your friend and the girl you were falling for

“I’ll grab a beer” Auston laughed as (Y/N) walked toward you

“Get him the worst beer they have,” she joked, “I’ll just have a tequila soda.” You smiled at her response, ordering the drinks and following behind the two as they found a table to sit at. (Y/N) and Auston sat across from you, laughing about something that you weren’t in on and you just sat there drinking your beer trying not to look too awkward. When she got up, you found your eyes wandering across her body, finding new tattoos hidden beneath her ripped and tattered clothing.

“Dude,” Auston said, bringing your attention back to him, “stop staring!”

“Sorry,” you replied, shaking your head, “how many tattoos does she have?”

“She’s going on like 11 or 12?” he smiled, “I keep telling her she should just get a sleeve but she likes having them in ‘secret spots’ she says”

“I wouldn’t exactly call her wrist or her neck a ‘secret spot’” you smirked

“That’s only two, Fred,” he chirped, “think about where the other places could be...” Before you could respond, (Y/N) sat down and, as if it were planned, Auston stood up, leaving you alone with his friend. She shifted in her seat, her long hair cascading over her shoulder, forcing your eyes to wander to examine her outfit; her faded plaid shirt had small tears in it lending the perfect peekaboo for the black lace underneath while her shorts only covered half of her thigh, exposing a sun and moon tattoo. You realized neither of you had spoken when she changed seats to sit in front of you before taking off her unbuttoned plaid shirt and tying it around her waist

“So Fred...” she started, forcing you to look up at her and smile awkwardly, “why are you friends with Auston?”

“What do you mean?” you scoffed

“I don’t know,” she chuckled, “you guys are just so... I think it’s the age difference for me”

“Because he’s younger?”

“Yeah” she laughed

“He’s a good kid, he needs a little guidance,” you joked, “and I guess I need to get out of my comfort zone a little”

“Oh yeah?” she smiled and you felt your face flood with heat, “how exactly has he helped you do that?”

“You two talkin’ about me?” Auston asked as he sat back down, his hand creeping around (Y/N)’s waist, pulling her close to him

“Don’t be so vain” she joked

“We were just talking about (Y/N)’s tattoos” you countered

“Is that right?” Auston smirked

“Yeah...” you hesitated, trying to figure out what to say

“Yeah, he was just asking me about the sun and moon on my thigh,” she replied, “what it meant...” You were surprised that she was going along with your fib but you weren’t complaining

“She was just about to tell me when you interrupted us”

“Well then... don’t let me stop you” he said, taking a sip of the beer he’d left on the table and gesturing to (Y/N)

“It’s for me and my brother. My parents used to always say we were like night and day but that we complimented each other,” she answered, “he was this bright ball of energy that seemed to light up every room and I was... a little on the darker side. He was really important to me, so, when he passed away last year, I wanted to have something to remind me of him...”

“I’m so sorry,” you sighed, “I didn’t mean to ma--”

“Don’t be sorry,” she smiled, “it’s okay. I’m okay. It’s good for me to talk about him.”

“Why don’t you tell him about this tattoo on your spine” Auston interjected, tracing his finger down her back

“and miles to go before I sleep...” she said softly, “it’s from a Robert Frost poem. I wouldn’t say it’s my favourite poem but this line, the last line, always kind of stuck with me. Like, there’s so much life to live before we all ‘sleep.’“ She smiled as she air quoted the word sleep

“What about this one on your arm?” you asked as you pointed to the back of her bicep, near her elbow

“It’s a lotus flower,” she smirked, “it was my first one actually. I thought I was being so original but then I saw literally everyone getting a lotus flower tattoo and suddenly, I just felt... Do you have any tattoos Freddie?” she suddenly asked

“Me?” you questioned, “no, none”

“Yeah, tattoos aren’t really Big Red’s thing”

“I’m sure they could be..” (Y/N) said, “if he tried. We should take him to get one, just a small one. Like.. a piece of LEGO or something.” You chuckled at her suggestion, preparing yourself to say something, “I can always use another tattoo...”

“I don’t know..” you faltered

“I can hold your hand if you’re scared” she teased

“Oh yeah, definitely. We’ll both hold your hand” Auston added before rolling his eyes and you scoffed

“I’ll think about it” you joked just as (Y/N) stood up

“I love this song,” she yelled, “let’s go dance!” You and Auston looked at each other before she eventually dragged you both out to the dance floor with her, standing in between the two of you as the music compelled her hips to sway. As Auston wrapped his hands around her waist, (Y/N) brought her hands up to your shoulders to pull you close to her; you felt your breath stop in your chest as her eyes met yours and the music continued to pump through your body. Before long, you noticed Auston move his lips closer to (Y/N)’s neck and you couldn’t handle it anymore

“I.. I have to go...” you stammered before taking off

“Freddie!” (Y/N) called out

“FRED!” Auston shouted but you just continued walking, tearing your coat off the back of the chair where you sat until Auston finally met up with you, “What’s going on?” he asked

“I can’t... this isn’t what..” you growled as you tried to find the words to say that you didn’t want to watch the two of them make out with each other all night, “I need to go”

“Why?” he asked again

“Because of you, that’s why!” you finally blurted out, forcing your way through the crowd to dart out of the bar

“What are you talking about? What did I do?!” he exclaimed, forcing a scoff from you

“You know that I...” you tried, unconsciously gesturing to the girl inside, “and you are just...”

“Freddie, nothing is happening. We were dancing,” he sighed, “I was trying to be your wing man!”

“That was you trying to be a wing man?” you huffed

“I don’t get what your problem is. You could’ve made a move, you didn’t. She’s not going to wait around all night for you to inch closer to her”

“So what?!” you yelled, “you decided you would? Because you’ve had her before and you wanted her again?”

“What?” he sneered and you noticed (Y/N) rush out of the door, finding the two of you fighting on the sidewalk and as much as you didn’t want to say it, you needed to, at the very least, see Auston’s reaction

“How would you know where all her ‘secret spots’ are? Where all her tattoos are if you haven’t been with her already?” His look told you everything you needed to but when you looked back at (Y/N), you felt a little ashamed of yourself for acting the way you were

“Freddie...” Auston said quietly

“It’s... whatever,” you sighed, “I’ll talk to you later.” You called for a cab but before you could close the door, she snuck in.

The look on Freddie’s face nearly broke your heart but you weren’t sure why he was so upset. He had spent time with you before, you knew him, you liked each other but he had never really had a conversation with you. You couldn’t deny that when you saw him that night, you kept imagining his hands on you, but this... was not what you were expecting to come from the night.

“SO WHAT?!” Freddie yelled at Auston outside of the bar and you furrowed your brow at the interaction, “you decided you would? Because you’ve had her before and you wanted her again?”

“What?” Auston replied and you took one step forward to hear Freddie’s response, expecting it to be a whisper

“How would you know where all her ‘secret spots’ are?” Freddie asked and you blushed at the implication, “where all her tattoos are if you haven’t been with her already?” You caught Freddie’s stare for a second before your gaze dropped to the concrete, hearing Auston try to ease the tension but Freddie wasn’t having it. When you heard the cab pull up, you knew you had to jump in so that at least one of you could help the situation, “(Y/N).. what are you doing?” he asked and you sat beside him in silence while the driver waited for an address

“I don’t know what happened...” you started quietly, “but I didn’t want you to storm off upset”

“I’m fine” he snapped

“Clearly, you’re not” you replied

“I’m fine” he repeated

“You’re upset...” you sighed, “I don’t want you to be upset”

“Why does it matter?” he asked

“What?” you replied as the car came to a stop and you quickly followed Freddie out of the cab to his door

“Why does it matter if I’m upset or not?” he asked again as he called the elevator and the two of you waited

“Because,” you returned, turning your body toward him, “despite what you might think, I care about you.” Just then, the telltale ding of the elevator rang and you two stepped in. You waited for him to say something but when he didn’t, you bit your lip and thought about what he said to Auston back at the bar, ‘if you haven’t been with her before?’ There was almost disdain on the words, causing your forehead to crease as you thought about them, “do you really think so little of me?”

“What?” he replied, turning his head to you and furrowing his brow

“That I would just sleep with Auston?” you questioned

“He just... kept talking about your tattoos..” he stammered

“Sure,” you countered, “he was with me when I got most of them.”

“Well...” he hesitated again, “you two were hanging all over each other...”

“We were dancing,” you argued, “all of us!”

“So you’ve never slept with him?” he asked

“No” you answered as the elevator door opened. You followed Freddie to his door, still not sure what he was feeling

“You can go home. I’m fine”

“I don’t get why you’re so upset over this?”

“It doesn’t matter”

“It does. I wanna know!” you shouted

“He clearly wants to fuck you” he bit

“Fuck you!” you snapped back

“AM I WRONG?”

“YES!”

“OH COME ON”

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!”

“IT DOESN’T MATTER!” he shouted before you noticed that the two of you had become so close that your chests rose and fell in sync

“Why do you care so much?” you said quietly, “if it doesn’t matter what are you so... bent out of shape?” His eyes moved slowly across your face before landing on your mouth, leading your eyes to do the same

“I’m... not like him” he whispered

“What do you mean?“ you replied

“I like you, (Y/N),” he admitted, gently placing his hands on your hips, “but I’m not like Auston...”

“What? American?” you scoffed, “a bit of a narcissist? An overly competitive self-assured mama’s boy? Good.”

“No... I’m not 23, I don’t have tattoos, I d--”

“Good.” You repeated simply, “Why would you want to be him?”

“Because he’s a better fit for you” he sighed, walking to his couch and slumping down, dropping his head to his hands and you were left standing in the middle of the room, flustered and confused.

“I’ve known Auston for... so much of my life,” you replied, “you think he’s a better fit for me because we’re the same age and we both have tattoos? I don’t want someone who’s a different version of me...”

“Even if it makes sense?” he grumbled, earning a head shake from you before your feet decided to move toward him until you were standing in front of him, waiting for him to look up at you from where he sat, “what are you doing?” he asked, his elbows resting on his knees as a smirk crept across your lips.

“Not everything needs to make sense...” you replied, “not if it feels right.”

“What do you mean?” he stammered, seeming almost afraid of you all of a sudden

“I’ve seen you looking at me,” you smiled, moving his arms down so you could straddle his lap, “staring at my tattoos, my hair, my clothes...”

“I..I--”

“I don’t mind,” you interrupted, moving your hands around his shoulders, “I like when you look at me.”

“You do?” he countered and you nodded, beginning to move your hands down his body before moving your lips close to his

“I know that I have to look my best when you’re around...” you whispered, lips caressing his without touching them, “I want to look good for you”

“You always look good,” he hummed as his hands found your waist and his eyes trained themselves on your chest. “God I want you...” he growled, digging his nails into your skin before looking up at you, only to find you smiling down at him

“So take me...” you breathed, pushing your chest against his as your fingers hooked onto the loose fabric of his shirt when he stopped you, pushing you off so he could stand up, “Freddie, what the hell?!” You whined

“You only want me because you can’t have him!”

“Are you fucking kidding me with this?!” You shouted, marching to where the tall, Danish goaltender stood, “if I wanted him, I’d have him. If I wanted to be with him, I wouldn’t be here with you. But I don’t, I’m not. When I know what I want, I’m pretty damn good at getting it. I want you, Freddie. And I know you want me too.” You let your angry breaths fill the space as Freddie stared at you hesitantly; if he wasn’t going to do anything, you weren’t going to waste your time. You turned and began walking to the door, intent on storming out and never speaking to Freddie again, when he grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving. He waited until you looked at him, so you could see the intensity of his stare, before he pulled you into him, fumbling into a nearby wall, kissing your lips harshly before he moved down to your neck and further to your chest. Standing back up to kiss you softly before removing your shirt, letting his hands glide back to your bare skin once the fabric had disappeared

“Are you sure?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours as your arms circled his neck

“I’m yours, baby.” You smirked, kissing him quickly before jumping up and wrapping your legs around his hips, “take me, kiss me, ravage me...” you giggled at your own words and Freddie smiled in response, quickly carrying you over to the couch, only so he could set you down and tear of the remainder of your clothes. As he picked you up once more and his lips discovered new spots on your neck that garnered sounds you’d never heard yourself make, you dug your nails into his back, scratching a trail down his sides.

“You’re not as intimidating as I thought you were” he chirped, throwing you onto his king sized bed and you were forced to smile before shrugging in response

“And you’re not as safe as you seem.” You returned before biting your fingertip, waiting for him to remove his clothes

“Let me show you what I can do...” You raised your eyebrows at his words, knowing that you were in for a long, glorious night.

#Freddie Andersen #Frederik Andersen #Frederik Andersen fic #Frederik Andersen imagine #Freddie Andersen fic #Freddie Andersen imagine #masterlist #the other masterlist #nhl #hockey #tml

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crystaljins · 4 years ago

Text

River lead me home | 06

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis: Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: This is like the third or fourth time I’ve forgotten to post the chapter LOL!! Anyway, we’re fast approaching the end and I’m so tempted to draw it out because I’m not ready to say goodbye T.T but i’m also reaching the point where i can’t even remember what happens in each chapter LOL I read the cute messages you guys send and I have to go back and re-read to know what youre talking about ahaha

Also I feel like there hasn’t been enough asks about Jungkook’s role in this story and hopefully that will change after this chapter LOL

Tags: @blue1928 @veeparkersstuff

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

As the three of you prepare to depart the next morning, Ayla catches Jin as he’s packing up the supplies provided to him. The Psittanurans had been generous in their rewards and you all have abundant supplies to last you through until you reach the human realm once more.

“I apologise for offending Jungkook,” Ayla announces, as she helps Jin sort through the various medical supplies the Psittanurans had gifted to him. He’s not entirely sure on the function of each object, and so Ayla had offered to talk him through everything.

Jin pauses in his examination of a bottle of sharp-smelling liquid to glance at Ayla in surprise.

“Don’t mind him.” Jin says dismissively with a warm smile. “He has the manners of a sewer rat. In fact, if you want to execute him for his disrespect, feel free to.”

Ayla’s eyes go wide, her bright yellow iris peering at Jin in absolute horror.

“I would never do such a thing!” She cries. “Do you not care at all about your wish?”

“My wish?” Jin echoes in confusion. He can’t say he has a specific wish- mostly for peace and quiet, but the timing for Ayla to bring up a wish seems strange. She tilts her head curiously to the side.

“Is it not your wish he must fulfill? Is he (Y/N)’s pixie, then?” She wonders aloud. Jin stares, completely confused.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say he belongs to either of us- he’s just kind of there. Like a toe fungus- hard to get rid of and painful to look at.” He snorts.

“That’s strange. Usually pixies stay with the creature who made the wish, but it doesn’t sound like either of you have made a wish.” Ayla observes. Jin pauses as he packs away the last of his medical kit- the niggling feeling he had felt last night about Jungkook returns.

“Wish?” He tests the word aloud. It does sound vaguely familiar- if he reflects on his schooling from before the war, he does vaguely recall something about pixies and wishes. But he can’t think what it is, and his memory is frustratingly blank.

“Do you not know the origin of pixies? I would have thought an ancient species like a guardian would know everything there is to know about the species that inhabit this realm.” Ayla observes. Jin frowns. Perhaps, if his people had not been driven heartlessly from the realm they spent generations protecting, he would have the extensive knowledge that Ayla seems to expect of him.

“Refresh my memory.” He says slowly.

“A pixie is born of a desperate wish.” She explains. “And their goal and purpose in life is to see that wish come to fruition.”

Jin blinks. Jungkook, in all the years Jin has known him, has never mentioned anything with regards to a goal or purpose. All he’s ever done is get into trouble alongside you and antagonise small, fluffy dogs.

“So, you think Jungkook has a wish he has to fulfill?” Jin questions. Ayla nods.

“He must. He could not exist otherwise. Although, it is strange that neither of you seem to know about that. Can you not think of a wish he must fulfil?” She asks curiously. Jin frowns as he recalls the night before. Jungkook had been frustratingly vague when discussing why you had to see the river. And casting a spell to force you to see it had been oddly out of character for him. Could his strange behaviour have to do with whatever the wish is? What even is the wish? Is it yours? Why have you never mentioned it before?

“I can’t.” Jin finally admits. “This is the first time I’m hearing about how pixies are born. So then, what happens when they fulfil that wish?” He wonders. Ayla shakes her head.

“I’m afraid that knowledge has been lost to time. No one has even seen a pixie in a very long time- they aren’t exactly common.” She admits. “The last one was probably the Saishta Queen’s pixie; it managed to convince two guardians to steal the young dragon prince. So, they have a bit of a bad reputation.” She admits.

Jin is silent. Taehyung had been involved with the dragon prince incident, he knows, and his new girlfriend had gotten dragged into the fray too. But as far as he knew, Taehyung had never met any pixie. And Jungkook, as annoying and pesky as he is, would never do something as awful as that. Not to mention it’s been thirteen years since Jin met the little pixie. If he’d had bad intentions, he could have acted far sooner. It’s far more likely that you made a wish and you didn’t realise you’d created Jungkook.

Still, he can’t help but wonder. If a pixie is born of a desperate wish, what was the wish that led to Jungkook’s birth? And what could Jungkook’s goal be in leading you to this realm, and to the river?

Ayla takes her leave then, bidding Jin a warm farewell and wishing him well on the rest of his journey. She leaves Jin alone in the little hut he had taken residence in for the night.

“It’s not anything bad.” Jin starts at the sudden voice and turns to find Jungkook sitting comfortably on the little cabinet at Jin’s bedside. Neither he nor Ayla had registered the little pixie’s presence, which is disconcerting to say the least.

“What?” Jin snaps, irritated by the way he was so startled. Jungkook stretches and gets to his feet.

“The wish. It’s not for anything bad. So, you don’t have to worry.” He tells Jin with a yawn.

“How come you never mentioned it before?” Jin asks curiously. Jungkook shrugs.

“Well, I can’t. We can’t speak of the wish or the owner of the wish aloud.” He explains. “And as for why I waited so long... I guess I was afraid. I don’t know what will happen to me when I grant the wish.” He confesses.

Jin stares at Jungkook for a long time, and for the first time since he’s known the little pixie, Jin realises that Jungkook is very good at hiding behind a smile. He can’t imagine what it must be like, having only a handful of people and some moths to talk to for thirteen years. Watching them grow up without you- not being able to share in the bonds and friendships they formed.��

“Will... will something happen to you?” Jin questions hesitantly. Jungkook shrugs and shoots him a grin, but there’s a tired quality to it.

“I certainly hope not.” He answers, but the implication is clear: something might. Jin feels a tremor of unease at the thought.

“Are you guys done? We really should be heading off?” You call, popping your head in through the doorway of Jin’s little hut. You’re already sporting your hello kitty backpack and you’ve changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Jin wasn’t afforded the luxury of fresh clothes, but luckily the Psittanurans had some travel garments they could lend him. It fits a little strangely given their unusual body shapes, but their tendency to make loose-fitting, free flowing clothes has worked in Jin’s favour.

“Almost.” Jin says quickly. Jungkook flutters up to land cross-legged on Jin’s shoulder. Your gaze catches the exchange, and you arch an eyebrow. Obviously, it’s strange to see Jin and Jungkook getting along. But you brush it aside and offer Jin a smile instead.

“Great! Because apparently the river is only a few days away! Isn’t that great?” You ask cheerfully. Jin struggle to keep a straight face as he recalls Ayla’s words from last night.

“Hey,” Jin says slowly because he doesn’t think it’s right to keep such knowledge from you. “About the river-“

“Let’s get going!” Jungkook interrupts, leaping across the distance from Jin’s shoulder to your own like he’s an Olympic athlete. He stabilises himself against your neck and glares at Jin over his shoulder. The meaning of the look is clear enough- don’t say anything. Jin bites his lip- he’s not sure it’s right to keep it secret.

But something stops him. He doesn’t know why. Something about the tone of Jungkook’s voice when he confessed that he didn’t know what would happen to him... it lingers in Jin’s mind.

With a sigh, Jin shakes his head and steps so that he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

“Have you said goodbye to everyone?” Jin asks, because he knows you’d somehow made a whole bunch of friends during the festivities last night. It was surprising, to say the least. You’d never been the social kind or the type to win the attention of people you’d just met.

Or maybe you’d just never been in the right situation to do so. Jin feels an uncomfortable pang in his chest at the thought.

“Yup! So, there’s nothing left to do now except see the river.” You respond. You glance sidewards at Jin. “What were you and Jungkook talking about?”

“About your embarrassing crush on him.” Jungkook drawls.

Your eyes go wide, and Jin feels his heart drop into his stomach. He can’t believe Jungkook would blatantly throw him under the bus like that- actually, no. He can believe that.

“I... I...” you stutter, and your cheeks glow red and if the darn pixie didn’t have such quick reactions, Jin would be taking great pleasure in flinging him through the air at the nearest tree. Your mouth trembles and you look like you’re about to cry and if the revelation of your feelings didn’t already have Jin feeling like the scum of the earth, then this most certainly does.

“(Y/N),” Jin calls hastily, already desperately trying to plan how to placate you. But then you swallow and stare at him with hardened eyes.

“I don’t have a crush on you.” You assert firmly.

The words die on Jin’s tongue. He doesn’t know why, but they do. It’s like you’ve just slapped him and he’s still reeling from the shock. He opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out- he just flounders uselessly like a goldfish that had foolishly leapt out of the safety of its tank.

And it’s stupid. It’s positively idiotic. But he can’t help but think… you didn’t have to deny it so aggressively. It’s not like... it’s not like your feelings are a secret! And when you deny them like that... it just sounds so convincing! Wouldn’t a simple “huh I don’t know what you’re talking about?” suffice?

You take the opportunity of Jin’s speechlessness to get a head start, huffily storming off towards the eastern exit of the village. Jin shoots Jungkook a glare.

“Very nice.” Jin snaps. Jungkook shrugs.

“It was me or you, man. And sorry, but I choose me.” He says simply.

Not for the first time, Jin restrains the urge to give Jungkook the solid flick he deserves.

Luckily, though you have a multitude of irritating personality traits, holding grudges is not one of them. It does not take long for the wonders of the next leg of the journey to catch your eye and before long you are chattering Jin’s ear off like there’s no tomorrow, about the wildlife you’ve spotted or about the weird plants. It makes him smile, because this trip is finally being enjoyed in the way you intended it to be.

For the first time since starting on this wretched journey, Jin realises he is enjoying himself. The sunlight streams warmly through the trees and gradually the metallic flora native to the Golden Plains starts to infiltrate the surrounding shrubbery. With your detour to the marshlands, you had essentially skipped the starlit wonder of Mountains of Delaria, but you will still get to see the magnificent Golden Plains as they are the only way to access the river after leaving the swamplands.

It’s so rare to see you smiling and cheerful. Usually you’re hunched and awkward, like a puppy that’s just been scolded for urinating on the carpet. But here, you’re bright- he’s even go so far as to say that you’re radiant, in the afternoon sunlight, surrounded by the mystically glinting metallic plants. You’re in your element in a way you’ve never really been before.

It makes a warm, fond feeling bloom in the centre of his chest. This is the (Y/N) that everyone has been trying to get back for so long. The girl with sunshine in her smile and bright, eager eyes. He had almost forgotten that girl existed but seeing her now- seeing you now- has him smiling like a dope.

“What will you do when you go back?” It takes him a moment to even realise he’s asked the question. You stare at him, a bit surprised, while Jungkook shoots him a look like he’s gone crazy. Jin almost curses his big mouth, but then you smile at him.

“I don’t know.” You confess. You turn your gaze to where a low hanging flower dips into your path. Its petals glint a wonderful metallic purple and when you run your fingers over them, they are stiff like sheets of metal.

Jin prides himself on being a bit of a smooth talker- no one can be as popular with women as he as without a bit of a silver tongue, so to speak. So, no one is more surprised than himself at the tactless words he blurts out next.

“Would you ever stay here?” He regrets the words as soon as he says them. What if he’s giving you ideas? His mum would kill him- your mum would kill him. And he’d never be able to visit- he’d wait a week and two years would have passed for you. Within a year, 120 years would have passed in this realm. You’d be long dead from old age by that stage. And yet... the question has been weighing on his mind without him even realising it. You’re so happy and at ease here- if you can’t ever settle in the other realm, does that mean the only place you’d ever be happy is here? His heart leaps into his throat in anticipation of your answer. Jungkook simply stares in confusion.

“No.” You say, and the firmness in your voice stills the panicked racing of his heart. “There’s nothing here for me, now.” You shoot him a furtive, shy glance. “Our family is in the other realm.” You remind him. “This was only ever supposed to be a short trip.”

For some reason, his slow, stupid brain lingers on the way that you say “our family”. Not “your family”. Or “my family”. But “our family”. Like the two of you are family. That strangely fond feeling from earlier returns, but with a vengeance, carried on the wings of the thousands of butterflies that decide to take residence in his stomach. Jungkook’s incredulous expression morphs, and it irritates the way he looks strangely smug at Jin’s sudden floundering. Jin suddenly finds himself missing the time he had with you earlier, without Jungkook there to eavesdrop and pass judgement.

“You seem really happy here, is all.” Is all Jin can manage.

You turn to face Jin fully and your answering smile is annoyingly bright.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years! Of course I’d be happy.” You remind him. “But me being happy here doesn’t suddenly make it my home. It stopped being my home the day that...” you trail away for a second, and your smile falters. “Anyway, it hasn’t been my home for a long time.” You say dismissively.

“So, what did you think this trip would achieve, then?” Jin asks curiously. “And why now, right after a fight with your mother? You know she must be worried sick about you.”

You grimace, staring straight ahead. The trees are starting to thin out, and in the gaps between the foliage, an endless expanse of blue peeks through.

“Are you trying to scold me again?” You joke. “I get that it was irresponsible. And selfish too. But Jin,” your expression as you gaze at him is so serious and sincere that for a moment, Jin doesn’t know who you are. It’s like an entirely different person gazes you at him. “I really, truly want to be happy for my mother. I love her more than anything. I want to be celebrating her marriage. I do. But I can’t... I can’t just forget about him. I can’t just move on.” Tears well in your eyes as you come clean. It’s been a very long time since you’ve been vulnerable and open with Jin like this and it surprises him to realise that he missed this. He’s missed having your trust and affection. He doesn’t know how he lost it, but he’s strangely relieved to know that he’s slowly gaining it back. “I’ve tried so damn hard. But I won’t be able to smile at her wedding or celebrate with her until I’ve said goodbye.” You confess. “That’s what this trip was. It’s a chance to say goodbye. So yeah, I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to be seeing the things he wanted me to see. But no, this isn’t my home- home is where you guys are.”

In that moment, Jin realises something. He doesn’t know how he hadn’t realised it sooner, with it staring him right in the face all this time. But never has it been clearer to him than in this moment- you’ve grown up. Somewhere, somehow along the line, you stopped being that little girl who needed him to hold her hand or stand up to her bullies in school. That’s why you’ve stopped looking like the girl he’s known all his life. It’s because you’ve stopped being that girl. And yet, at the same time, you haven’t. The person who stands before him is the young woman he’s cared for most of his life... but also a young woman he doesn’t know. Someone who can defeat Forest Spirits with her mind and infiltrate enemy encampments with nothing but her wits to save her friends. Someone who was brave enough to take the steps to recover after losing everything. And yeah, maybe you took a few bum steps along the way. Maybe you didn’t settle in as easily as he did. But you’re so much better than what he thought you could be- what anyone thought you could be.

And he’s so incredibly proud of y-

“Look out!” You’re shoving him to the ground before he can even finish the thought. He winces as he hits the ground.

“(Y/N)!” Jungkook cries, and Jin’s never heard that tone of absolute terror in the pixie’s voice before.

“Jin.” You gasp, standing where he had been a mere moment prior. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, until he gazes over your shoulder and he spots it. The arrow, sprouting from your left shoulder, right through the hot pink strap of your backpack. The blood, pouring from the fresh wound. The agony in your expression.

And he’s a doctor- he’s seen much worse in the ED but for the first time in his life the sight of blood makes him dizzy enough that he may pass out. You’re bleeding- you’ve been shot. Worse- you were shot instead of him. That arrow’s trajectory should have lodged itself directly where his heart had been moments ago, but instead you took the hit.

You took an arrow for him. He should be dead... but you... but you...

Time seems to slow as the colour drains from your face. You crumple, and Jin scrambles forward, barely managing to catch you before you hit the ground. He cradles you, his expression manic.

“You idiot!” He all but snarls. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m sorry!” You gasp, clinging desperately to the loose material of his shirt. “My body... moved on its own.”

Jin has never really experienced heartbreak before. For a guy who spends a lot of time dating around, he’s always seemed to escape with his heart intact.

But the weak, confused tone to your voice might just do it. If he’d known that it hurt this much to get your heart broken, he might never have risked it before. Nothing can prepare him for the sheer agony of realising you’d thoughtlessly throw away your life in exchange for his own. That the reflex is so deeply ingrained in you that you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself in the path of an arrow for him.

“Jin!” Jungkook cries. “Jin, they’ve found us! We have to go!”

Jin doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrabbles to his feet, pausing to hoist your prone form over his shoulder in a fireman carry and then legging it as fast as he can, just as the sound of a Saishta hunting horn erupts in the shrubbery behind you.

There is no living creature in this realm that can catch up to a guardian that has decided to flee. Even a guardian like Jin. Especially a guardian like Jin, who has desperation and panic fuelling his desperate sprint. You scrabble at his shirt, trying to stabilise yourself, and he ignores the way he can feel blood soaking into his shirt from where you grab at him.

He doesn’t know how long he sprints mindlessly, desperately across the glittering fields of the Golden Plains, but right at the point where his lungs burn and he thinks he may collapse, he feels you tugging at his shirt.

“Over there!” You gasp, and he turns his head to follow where you point with your good arm. It’s a slightly raised hill, with some sort of abandoned burrow. There are various megafauna that inhabit the Golden Plains and live below ground- this must be one of those.

Jin quickly decides he’d much rather take on an angry giant rabbit than a troupe of highly trained Saishtas.

The burrow entrance is small, and he’s glad you have sharp eyes, for anyone else would have missed it. But after crawling through, although you have significantly more trouble with a blood arrow sprouting from your shoulder blade (Jin just ends up snapping the protruding shaft so that you can drag yourself through) it widens into an earthen alcove that’s just the right size for two guardians and a pixie to conceal themselves.

You collapse weakly on the earthen floor, pale and gasping for breath.

“Let me see.” Jin demands, when he’s gained his composure enough to examine the wound. He’s still embarrassingly out of breath, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get his breath back. He helps you into a sitting position so that your back is to him.

You offer no protest to him blatantly ripping the damaged strap off your backpack so that he can tug it over your other arm and toss it aside. It’s probably a testament to how much pain you’re in- that backpack had been a gift from Taehyung, and you treasured it like he’d bought you a diamond or something.

The arrowhead doesn’t go deep, thankfully. The backpack strap provided enough padding to reduce the damage, and your shoulder blade prevented the arrowhead from piercing through into your thoracic cavity. But there’s significant muscle damage and if you were a human, you’d probably have lost all use of the arm. Blood streams from the wound and the material of your shirt is completely soaked. But the bleeding has mostly stopped, though your back is sticky with congealed blood.

You aren’t going to die. Though you are weak and crumpled and pale from blood loss, you’ll survive. Especially with the enhanced healing your guardian nature lends you- if Jin can remove the arrow and stop infection from setting in, you’ll be fine.

He feels the strength drain out of him at that thought. All that’s been keeping him going since the arrow hit him has been sheer terror. Now, with the space to breathe, he feels he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up.

He drops his head against your uninjured shoulder, and he feels you stiffen but you don’t crumble under his weight.

“You’re such an idiot.” He says, but there’s no real malice in his voice- just a broken, exhausted tone he didn’t know he was capable of.

A sharp jabbing pain in his temple startles him into sitting back up. Jungkook has kicked him.

“Maybe you can save the exhausted lover boy act for after you’ve stopped her from bleeding out.” Jungkook points out drily, his arms folded across his tiny chest.

“It’s... not that bad.” You grit, turning to face Jin. You’re pale and sweat pools at your temple and forehead. The pained expression on your face is enough to kick Jin into gear. Jungkook’s right. He doesn’t have time to break down now. The Saishtas are hot on your heels and you need first aid. And it’s nothing but open plains out there and golden, waist high grass. There will be nowhere to hide or escape once you set out for the river. If the Saishtas come across you, it’s outrun them, or defeat them. Jin doubts the three of you could do either in your current states.

Jin swallows and reaches for the satchel with the medical kit the Psittanurans had gifted him with. He’s just blindly trusting that the substances they gave him actually do what they claim and aren’t just hopeful voodoo, but it’s not like he has a bag of IV fluids and a sterile surgical kit handy to stitch you up.

“I’m going to have to pull the arrow out.” He warns you, reaching for your torn bag strap. He balls it up in his hand and holds it up to your face.

“As much as it hurts, bite into this.” He tells you. “I don’t have any local and so this is going to hurt like hell.”

You look slightly uneasy, but nod your head, leaning forward to take the balled-up strap between your teeth.

Jin pulls out a small, dark vial which Ayla had told him was a coagulating liquid. Muscles bleed like hell and if the arrow has hit any vessels, you may pass out from blood loss. He swallows and braces himself. He can do this. He’s a doctor. He reaches deep into him and recalls the guy who worked in the ED and didn’t bat an eye at knife injuries or chainsaw accidents or that one drug addict with a prolapsed rectum.

“Ok, I’m going to do it now.” He warns you. He then plants one hand flat on your uninjured shoulder and grips the broken arrow shaft in the other.

“On the count of three.” He tells you, and you nod. Your fingers dig into the ground in anticipation.

“Three.” He says, and then he yanks the arrow.

Your answering scream is muffled by the bag strap, and you spit it out quickly as he empties the bottle of coagulant over the open wound, which is now filling up with fresh blood.

“That wasn’t on the count of three!” You shriek. Jin nods sheepishly.

“Ok. Well. There’s no use crying over the past.” He offers helpfully. He shoots a look at Jungkook. “Turn around. I’m taking her shirt off.”

Both you and Jungkook splutter.

“Why?” The two of you cry in eerie unison. You even turn fully to face Jin for good measure. He merely arches an eyebrow at you.

“I know you don’t have a degree in medicine or anything... but generally bandages don’t include your tattered shirt edges sticking to the wound.” Jin explains patiently. “(Y/N), it’s fine. I’m literally a doctor. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

It’s interesting that despite the blood loss, you can turn that particular shade of red.

“That doesn’t make it any better.” You mumble, even as you turn away and obediently unbutton your drenched shirt.

“It doesn’t have to be the whole shirt.” He murmurs comfortingly, pulling out a strip of material from the medical kit. Ayla had told him that it’s hard to get bandaging material to stay in place for silky Psittanuran feathers, so they often enchant materials with a special adhesive. “Just enough that your shirt isn’t sticking to it. I need to clean it up because the last thing we need is you getting an infection.”

You nod and drop your shirt enough to expose the left half of your upper back. Jin clears his throat awkwardly as he slides the thick strap of your sports bra out of the way and notes that it’s awfully warm in this little burrow.

“I didn’t know they made hello kitty sports bras.” Jungkook observes from where he’s hovering off to the side. You whip your head around to glare at him.

“Get OUT!” You snap. He holds his hands up.

“But you need me! What if Jin starts enjoying himself? You know how he feels about hello kitty-“ the empty coagulant vial being launched at him by your good arm is the only prompting Jungkook needs to go keep watch outside.

Which leaves you and Jin alone. The air feels thick and sluggish in the burrow as Jin works cleaning off the wound and applying the bandage. You’ve gone quiet- whether from exhaustion or pain, it’s hard to tell, but Jin has to help you tug your shirt back into place when he finally finishes.

He crawls over to your hello kitty bag and pulls out your water bottle.

“Why’d you do it?” He asks quietly as you take a long drink from your bottle. You don’t answer for a long time, but finally you drop the bottle.

“I told you. My body moved on its own.” You offer.

“Exactly. Why?” He asks, and he doesn’t mean for so much anger to leech into his tone. It’s just, he feels like the stress and fear and agony of the past week catching up to him and he doesn’t know how to deal with it other than being angry. Angry at you, for deciding to go on this journey in the first place. Angry at this realm for taking your father’s life. Angry at himself, for being pathetic enough to have to constantly be protected and saved by you.

But most of all, angry that your first instinct in danger is to disregard your own life in exchange for his own. He doesn’t even know what answer he’s looking for- that you love him? That it’s just instinct to save people? Neither answer would be particularly comforting.

“I don’t know.” You retort, and your tone is defensive in response to his barely concealed anger. “What do you want me to say, Jin? I heard the arrow coming and I didn’t exactly have time to think.”

“Exactly! That’s your problem!” He cries. “You never think! You only ever act! What would I have done, if your wound had been more serious? Have you ever once stopped to think about how that sort of thing affects me? How it feels to know you’re constantly doing things like fighting armed robbers and getting into fights and treating your life like it’s a piece of garbage to be thrown away without a thought?”

“That’s not what I-“ you protest, but Jin cuts you off.

“What if you had died? What if I had lost you? What would I be supposed to do?” He cries, and he surprises himself when his voice catches.

You go silent. Your words have been lost.

It actually reminds you of when Jin first caught you sneaking over to this realm. That fight seems like a lifetime ago, and he had scolded you for similar recklessness then. But strangely, it feels different. The look in Jin’s eyes is different. He’s... He’s not angry, you realise. He’s scared.

He flinches when the hand of your uninjured arm lands on his forearm. You watch him curiously, your movements cautious as though you are approaching a scared animal. He certainly feels like one.

Slowly, you slide your hand up his arm until you can hook your arm around the back of his neck and pull him into an awkward hug. It’s a little weird- you kind of have to awkwardly straddle him to properly hug him in the limited space, and he is still an unmoving like a wooden board.

“It’s the same for me.” You answer softly. “I can’t lose you. I’m sorry- I didn’t have time to stop and think but I’ll never stop and think when your life is in danger.” You pull away to meet his gaze. “I’ll always just act. You’ll just have to get used to that.”

Jin is silent, as he stares up at you. A weird feeling overcomes him, at your proximity. It’s warm and overwhelming. And, if he’s being honest, it scares him a little with the intensity of it. Like, if he were to pull you downwards and hold you tight, nothing would ever go wrong again. It’s not entirely unfamiliar, but at the same time he’s certain he’s never felt like this in his entire life.

“See I told you! It’s the hello kitty! He can’t resist!” Jin startles at the sound of Jungkook’s voice and you scramble off him like he’s burned you. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he instantly misses the warmth of your body. Suddenly the burrow feels too cold.

Jungkook tuts and shakes his head.

“See, good thing I came in here. Who knows what kind of stunt lover boy would have pulled?” He scolds. “Anyway, I think you’ve had enough time to recover. I guarantee you the Saishta’s are hunting for us as we speak and so we better get a move on.”

You nod, adjusting your clothes awkwardly and gathering your things.

Jin follows suit, almost robotically. He can’t shake the feeling that something huge just happened, but he doesn’t know what.

But his stomach churns because there’s one thing he knows for sure: He can’t lose you. He’s so, so afraid.

#jin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #castlebangtan #thebtswritersclub #seokjin x reader #writing

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kayr0ss · 4 years ago

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A Tactical Approach

[Diakko Week 2020, Day 2: Hand Holding / Cuddles, Fluff] AO3

Happy to participate in Diakko week 2020! @dianakko-week

---

Akko had never considered herself a strategic person but sometimes life led a girl into situations that felt like war.

And this was a battle she was determined to win.

She assessed the setting—it was important to know your surroundings and use them to your advantage after all. What could she possibly do to make the most out of this situation? What was the ideal picture of a victory in her mind?

Victory was sweet. Like plums.

It would also be warm and absolute, full of conviction and with no space for hesitation.

And hopefully victory wasn’t sweaty. Oh by Jennifer—please—she hoped victory wasn’t sweaty!

Why were her hands sweaty now of all times? She sighed, wiping her palms along the fabric of her skirt in an attempt to alleviate the problem. Satisfied, she returned to assessing the terrain of her battle. She was in Diana’s dormitory, sitting on Hannah’s stolen study chair so that she and Diana shared a desk, huddling themselves shoulder-to-shoulder. It was eight fifty-seven in the evening and she had been waging this war for all of seventeen minutes by now.

Yes, she was counting since eight forty.

The opposing party of this skirmish just so happened to be the object of her affections. What were her motivations? What would her next move be? Akko squinted at her foe, watching as she flipped another page of the Ancient Runes textbook she was examining. She brushed back blonde and green tresses behind her ear, the candlelight of the lamp on her desk flickered playfully across her features and oh my god she has it bad, doesn’t she?

Akko exhaled, releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Diana looked up, blue eyes softer than usual, and tilted her head in inquiry.

“Is everything alright, Akko?”

Ah. She really had it bad.

“Yeah.” Akko said in a quiet voice. It was so unlike her that Diana’s brow quirked upward. The movement was subtle, but they were near enough to each other for Akko to notice.

“Book.” The blonde chided, pointing downwards to the (very much ignored) Divination textbook lying in front of Akko. “You’re getting distracted again.”

Akko simply huffed. “Like it’s my fault!”

That won a small chuckle out of Diana, who turned a little pink if Akko wasn’t seeing things. This meant the implication didn’t go over her head—and that was all and well. Akko didn’t want it to go over her head. She knew that Diana knew that she… felt things.

Many, difficult to describe things that she frankly didn’t have the vocabulary for, so she’d much rather express it in actions. Diana leaned in a little, bumping their shoulders playfully. Akko giggled, looking back towards the pages of her book with no intention of reading. She felt her face heat up but she still smiled, appreciative of what was such a small yet meaningful gesture of affection from the normally aloof Diana.

She bumped her shoulder back. They were both smiling into their books now.

These little interactions had brought her back to the essence of her battle—of the mission she was on, and the victory she aimed to secure.

Now wasn’t the time to get distracted! The setting was perfect: quiet, candle-lit, with the rest of the room glowing softly in yellow and without Hannah and Barbara in sight. The curtains were pulled open and, despite it being a little cloudy, the view was just as wonderful as a clear night sky.

Akko examined her artillery options. She already used the 'shoulder bump'. Was it a good time to…

To maybe… lean her head on her shoulder?

She huffed while shaking her head and pretended it was because of the book. That wouldn’t work. She’d have a hard time reading and would probably fall asleep. She didn’t want to put Diana in a situation where she’d have to support her weight too much.

Displaying affection was such a difficult war to wage.

Her most distal appendages might work though—she had a whole two hands with fingers and thumbs! Right. She should use those. Maybe. But they were sweaty! Gods, did this have to be so hard!

But she was Akko Kagari and so far just doing it had worked wonderfully for her! And so she threw caution to the wind, and… placed her hand on the desk.

It was a strategic move. If Diana picked up on her cue, she should place her hand within pinky-reaching distance, right? Right? Akko swallowed, trying her best to look disinterested in where Diana’s hand would fall next.

The blonde had finished the words on her page, and motioned to flip to the next. Akko watched in her peripheral vision, almost in slow motion, as Diana’s hand fell back lower, lower and finally—yes!

She put it on the desk. Beside Akko’s hand.

Akko picked up an extra quill and flipped open her notebook, keeping her left hand obviously still and available, hoping that Diana hadn’t started learning Japanese because she decided to write her notes in her native language to ‘aid with recall.’

Never mind the fact that she was nervously scribbling ‘please hold my hand, please hold my hand, please hold my han—” over and over again.

Ah, but Diana seemed engrossed, and Akko took it up on herself to take initiative. Again.

It was time to deploy stealth tactics.

Slowly, and with no small amount of nervousness, she inched her pinky finger a whole centimeter to the left. That was progress! Diana hadn’t noticed. Perfect. Emboldened by her success, she went and moved in closer.

Shit. Diana pulled her hand to scratch an itch along her chin and—that was illegal, it was so cute! To Akko’s relief, her hand returned to its original position except this time it was… closer?

Was Diana picking up on her stealth tactics?

Suddenly losing her nerve, Akko ceased her slow advance. But then why would she? Reciprocation was a good thing, right?

She took a chance, looking towards her notebook to scribble a little more nonsense, and then brushed their pinky fingers together.

Surely such a small action should not have such a profound effect on her—felt from the tips of her ears, down to the pit of her stomach. There was fluttering, fluttering everywhere and this slow exchange felt like it was going to drive her insane!

Wasn’t Diana supposed to be the overthink-y one?!

Then she noticed that Diana had gone remarkably pink. Her eyes were still on the book, but there were details that Akko finally picked up once she let herself stare for just a minute.

Diana’s eyes weren’t moving. They were intense and boring a hole into what must have been the same passage on that very same page[3] for the past two minutes. Her eyes fluttered prettily, and Akko swooned a little.

She hooked their pinky fingers together—Diana had obliged willingly.

It was fascinating to watch the way she tried to steel her expression, but the way the column of her throat moved as she gulped was something Akko didn’t miss.

Oh, this was going to be the death of her. She pulled her own red eyes back towards her textbook.

Was Diana nervous too? Looked like it, at least a bit. The thought of it made the fluttering grow stronger than it ever did before, and Akko figured she was probably a raging shade of red by now.

But she loved every minute of it.

Diana—god damn it—pulled on the cuff of Akko’s sleeve to bring her hand closer, and pried her palm open, facing upwards.

And then she began to gently brush her fingertips along the inside of her palm, still feigning interest for her textbook, and Akko wanted to set herself on fire.

Akko never wanted this to end. Her heartbeat was going into overdrive, and she was pretty sure her palms were starting to sweat again but it was too late to care about that now, wasn’t it? Diana’s breathing seemed shallower, and that was a sentiment she could relate with. Somehow, it was comforting to see that she wasn’t the only one so nervous about this whole ordeal.

Praying to each and every one of her Asian ancestors, Akko steeled her nerves.

She’s going to do it.

She’s going to move in for the winning blow.

She splayed out her hands, gently, doing her best to caress every inch of skin Diana had in contact with her, before catching the spaces in between Diana’s fingers to fit her own hand snugly into a hold.

Diana was done pretending to care about the book. She had gasped, softly, and looked downwards towards their hands. She was blushing wonderfully, eyes wide, and the small smile that grew on her lips was an image Akko wanted to remember forever.

“Shall we take a break?” Diana finally broke their silence. She looked up towards Akko and—by the nine the look she was receiving was so tender it felt almost unreal.

“That’d be nice.” Akko giggled, dropping any pretense of disinterest as well.

Diana looked a little shy and hesitant, and Akko was about to ask why but then Diana leaned forward, snuggling close as she settled her forehead on Akko’s shoulder. She was trying to hide a grin. How sly!

“I can see the smile on your face, you know.” Akko’s giggles didn’t end, and she rarely spoke so softly.

“Can you blame me?” Diana’s speech was muffled against her shoulder, smile evident in the sound of her voice.

“Gotta admit, I can’t.” Akko’s grin was just as wide.

“I could get used to this.” Diana admitted, running her thumb against the back of Akko’s.

Now that they’d finally gotten to holding hands, they might have some trouble learning how to let go. Diana definitely showed no intention of doing so anytime soon.

Akko’s chest bloomed with warmth, affection, and something more.

Victory was sweet.

It was also a little sweaty and involved a lot of nerves and—

(Akko watched as Diana pulled herself upright again, bringing Akko’s hand closer towards her)

—it felt like a kiss to the back of her hand.

---

fin

---

A/N: Thank you to Tototops, who did a wonderful job beta reading and correcting all the little errors I made in this chapter! I appreciate you so much, you did so good!

Also yes hand holding is a BIG DEAL guys

#Diakko #Dianakko #Diakko Week 2020 #Dianakko Week 2020 #Diakko Week #Day 2: Hand Holding #Haha #Fluff #LWA #Diana Cavendish #Akko kagari #i love them sorry #our babies

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lettersfromn0where · 4 years ago

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ZFAW: Self-Love Saturday

For the last day of @zkfanworkweek!

It’s no secret that I love writing more than almost anything in existence, or that I’m somewhat absurdly passionate about my work. I’m well aware that a handful of people probably think this is annoying (how many people who have had the misfortune to be in any kind of chat with me never want to hear the name “Hina Oyama” again? Probably most of them), and I was hesitant to do this at all because I know I can be self-centered and I’m trying to work on that. But I realized that I’m not doing this for feedback or because I want people to read my work - if I were to talk about my fic like this, it would be coming from a place of excitement about sharing something I love with others, not about finding new readers. (Have I done a little too much networking of that kind? Yes. Am I proud of it? Not at all. That’s why I had to make sure that that wasn’t why I was doing this.)

So I’m going to go for it, and give you guys the background behind a few of my favorite things I’ve written. Stories below the cut.

Story #1: The One That Taught Me That It’s Okay to Fail As a Writer

and I'll write you a tragedy (June 2020)

I wrote this back in June, when I was first getting into AtLA - I think it was my third or fourth published Zutara fanfic. I didn’t have many friends yet; most of the ones I talked to at the time, I've since lost touch with. So my participation in the fandom was largely isolated. I’d just write things and yeet them into the void without a care in the world - that’s what I did with “And I’ll Write You a Tragedy.” I had this grand idea that it would be ~the angstiest thing ever written~ and I was SO excited to get home (I was at the beach when I got the idea) so I could work on it...

Only to find that I simply wasn’t ready for the story I was trying to tell.

Oh, I wrote it, and it was...decently well-reviewed for something that caused me so much existential angst. But it fell so short of the concept that I had for it that, the moment I hit “post,” I was so frustrated that burst into tears. (Like a kindergartner. One can never say I deserve to be called an adult.) I wanted to establish myself in this new fandom so badly that anything I perceived as substandard was a crushing failure. And it was the process of talking myself through that frustration that taught me something I’ve tried to hold close ever since: every writer writes a dud every once in a while. No one is at the top of their game 100% of the time; those who appear to be probably don’t post the duds. Should I have posted this, then? Well, the jury is out on that. I still hate it. But it deserves a spot here just for the lesson it taught me.

Story #2: the One That Broke the Angst Ceiling

who lives, who dies, who tells your story (July 2020)

I have no idea how this took my angst from the coltish awkwardness of “sort of sad, but not very well-done” to genuinely depressing, but it did. Maybe I should blame quarantine and all of the difficulties that brought with it, or just the additional writing experience I had gained by that time. Whatever the reason, I remember this - even though it never got very popular - as an absolute triumph for me as a writer, because this is when I FINALLY learned how to write effective angst. For *years* I had thought I was simply incapable of writing anything sad, but this showed me that I wasn’t. I’ll never understood what flipped the switch (maybe it was @hiniwalay, whose help in forming this idea was invaluable...I love and miss you so much <3), but it’s a very important part of my writing journey even so.

Story #3: The One That Got Inexplicably Popular

Tethered (Zutara Week - written in June 2020, posted in late July 2020)

Zutara Week 2020 was sort of the point at which I established myself in this fandom and I have super fond memories of the warm reception I received at the time. It was such a positive, encouraging experience - and perhaps the one and only time that people have actually wanted to indulge my somewhat ridiculous obsession with fluff. And this was sort of the peak of my entrance into the ZK fandom.

And I am...not sure how I feel about that.

Soulmate AUs are obviously super popular, so I knew that “Tethered” was going to be one of my better-recieved ZKW fics if I did it even marginally well. What I did NOT expect was that, by the time of this post, it would be exactly tied with The Waiting Game for my most kudos’d work. It’s almost insane to me that that is a thing, because, while I don’t hate how “Tethered” came out, I definitely don’t feel like it deserved the hype it got. It’s...just another soulmate AU, but seeing that I was capable of writing something that people would gobble up did wonders for my confidence - and, I think, for my reputation in the fandom as well. It was definitely a mile-marker on my journey, even if I would rather it have been a different ZKW oneshot (this one was my favorite).

Story #4: The Twitter Favorite

Four Days and Three Nights (written August 2020)

I will never, ever forget the day I posted this.

I joined a Zutara group chat on Twitter just before Zutara Week 2020 began, and I quickly became...a little bit desperate for their attention. “The Waiting Game” (much more on that later) sprung from that desperation, but this was the one that actually did something about it. Which is funny, because it was actually a complete accident! 4D3N, as it is affectionately called on Twitter, was the result of my dumb butt reading “Five,” thinking “I want to write something that depressing!”, and just...going for it. I told myself not to overthink things as I desperately banged out the 3166 words of this story in two hours (because I needed to go for a run before it got dark and didn’t start writing until 3), and that is probably the one and only time in my entire life that telling myself something like that actually worked. Writing 4D3N was just sort of this rush that I barely even had time to recognize while I was caught up in it and the result was something I genuinely felt that I could be proud of - that’s pretty rare. My Twitter friends went slightly insane, half of them wanted to stab me (in a good way), and I finally felt like I actually belonged in this fandom - like I had done something to earn a place there. [Caveat: fandom is for everyone and you never need to “earn the right” to be in one, but my brain latched onto the idea that I didn’t deserve to be creating things for a fandom that didn’t want me and would not let it go. Figures.] Lately, I’ve been struggling with this one a little bit because it’s getting a lot of comparisons to “Five” in which it never fares favorably, for obvious reasons, and it was never actually my favorite fic to begin with, but it still means a lot to me. This is the one I recommend to people who are curious about my work and probably always will be.

Story #5: The Sleeper Favorite

Lean On (written August 2020)

I have no earthly idea why I like this one so much, but it has to be my favorite oneshot I have up. It’s hurt-comfort and dives into the implications of the Agni Kai for Zuko’s health, both physical and mental - maybe it’s the uniqueness of that premise that endeared it to me, or maybe the personal-ness...is that a word?...of the narrative. The bare-bones summary: Zuko’s health is declining a year after the Agni Kai, Katara shows up to do something about that, and what follows is a year of Pain and Heartache for both of them as they try to navigate their conflicting feelings for each other. But really, it’s a story about healing: physically, yes, but also mentally and emotionally. I certainly relate a lot to Katara in “Lean On,” as I’ve been the friend caught in the crossfire of others’ battles with their mental health many times and I wanted to try to write from both sides of that conflict. But I think I probably wrote more of myself into Zuko than I originally anticipated, as well. Quarantine has not been good for my mental health...at all...and I’ve found myself lashing out at my family far more than I should without even knowing why, isolating myself and growing thorns so that no one would come near me. I hate seeing myself like that, and I hate that I can't seem to make myself do anything about it. So really, I was hashing out my own feelings both past and present, and what I ended up with, whatever you might think of its quality, came from the heart. I also, for whatever reason, really liked my writing here, so I have a special place in my heart for “Lean On.”

Story #6: The Fluff I Didn’t Hate

Waffleosophy (written September 2020)

Look, there's not a lot to say about this, but it’s definitely my favorite fluff that I’ve ever written. I felt like I finally managed to hit the right note with this so that it came off as sweet without being saccharine, and it feels...I don’t know, wittier than what I usually write? I write a lot of fluff but something about “Waffleosophy” made it feel more polished and coherent than most of my other fluff. This was one that, as ridiculous as its premise was, I felt like I could truly be proud of; since I’m often a bit ashamed of how much of my work is fluff (it feels like “cheating” sometimes, as if I write this way because I lack the skill for real emotional beats), that’s saying a lot.

Story #7: the Insanely Niche AU

Once In a Lifetime (ongoing)

This one gets updated at the speed of snail, but. ZK ice dance AU. It just makes me so HAPPY.

Story #8: The One That Actually Did What It Was Meant To Do

Hanabi (written October/November 2020)

This heading is ironic because this was originally supposed to be an angsty slow-burn about surviving on an uninhabited island. Instead, it became as unerringly Sarah S---- as any fic ever has. Oops.

Hanabi sprung from a desire to write something incredibly soft and wholesome. Seriously. That’s it. I had just finished writing a story that got a lot more violent and dark than I had expected it to, and I wasn’t comfortable with that; I wanted to return to my roots, if you will, and write something ~soft~. I wanted to write about good people, doing good things, being good to each other, with as much tender pining as I could cram in on the side. I wanted unique worldbuilding and a relationship that had to be built rather than handed over under the guise of Soulmateism (because this was the period in which I hated The Waiting Game and everything it stood for, aka...that. It was a weird time). And I actually? Did all of that? There’s this F. Scott Fitzgerald quote about how writers have to “sell their hearts” that I think about often, and I did that here. This has as much of my heart in it as anything ever will, I think, and if I had to pick a favorite thing that I have ever written, it would be “Hanabi.” I love it a lot.

Story #9: The One You Knew Was Coming

The Waiting Game series (written July-October 2020)

I have so many feelings about this that I can’t even really articulate them all. Where would I even start?

There was the fact that the first installment was written in two weeks (thirteen days, 94,832 words) to try to get the attention of a Twitter chat. There was the matter of Hina Oyama, my blog’s namesake, an OC who took on an absolutely massive life of her own to the point where she was quite literally my coping mechanism over the summer and I annoy everyone I know by constantly banging on pots and pans and screaming about her. There was the way this universe spiraled outwards from its original installment and now has three generations, two sequels, and a prequel in progress (Hina’s origin story, which I am writing for a friend but will most likely never post). There were the friends I made because of this series and all of the inside jokes and headcanons we’ve developed while discussing it. There were all of the existential crises I had (over negative comments, over whether or not this career-defining series is even decent, over the moral implications of writing about people getting stabbed in the sequel...please don’t ask). There is the fact that everyone I come into contact with now knows what Haang is, and that by a close-reading of any passage about Hina or Kya, you could probably learn a lot about me.

But all I can say, in the end, is that I don’t know if I’ve ever written something that I fell in love with so quickly as I did “The Waiting Game,” or that had as much lasting impact upon me. (It has been five months, and I’m STILL writing in this universe, still talking about it constantly.) I know my TWG obsession is a little annoying, and I know that this universe isn’t really anything special - but it’s special to me, and it always will be. Will I shut up? Abso-freaking-lutely not. Do I care if no one knows what my username means because it refers to an OC in a fic not a lot of people actually like? Not in the slightest! I won’t pretend that TWG is a perfect story, or even that it deserves to be thought of as particularly good, but I will absolutely defy anyone who tells me that I need to “get over it.” (No one has, but my brain likes to tell me that everyone is thinking it.)

I will never be over stories that move me, especially not ones I created.

And especially not Yangchen Oyama.

~finis~

#zfaw #self love saturday #oh yeah. I went OFF #man #I have so so so many feelings #zkfanworkweek #zutara fanworks appreciation week

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scriptaed · 5 years ago

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his side, her side | 7:00 P.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; (bold = genre for this particular drabble)

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 2.9k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 4;

her side;

Even if it pains you to admit, you knew that this—whatever it is between you and Jungkook—was more than just something… or at least to you, that is; because to part ways after an ephemeral five minute small talk right outside the company’s doors only to long for next week when your opportunity to relive what most would consider an insignificant five minutes of your seven days has to mean something.

That unequivocal something, however, would forever be a crush mislabeled as boredom.

“So how far do you live from work?”

Oh, shoot. Does that question seem too invasive? Peeping around at your chattering colleagues of whom gradually fade into the distance behind you two, you figure the coast is clear. The last thing you would want is to assume the new subject of your coworkers’ morning gossip rumors. You can just imagine it. Your stalkerish tendencies and your supposed obsession with the partner of your most recent project, Jungkook… they would call you a lonesome girl with fleeting emotions, willing to fall for any boy who gives her the slightest of attention.

That image, in itself, has been a nightmare you’ve grudgingly albeit successfully steered clear of.

It seems that your coworkers should not be the subject of your concerns, however, because even the shadow that befalls his profile that blocks the lamp post’s white-blue glow is not enough to blind you from Jungkook’s sneer. Your partner peers down at you and speaks his seldom words of the night, “wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Wh—” you’re at a loss for words, not exactly because of his remark but rather over his rare choice to speak in exchange for an opportunity to tease you… something he hasn’t done in the past month of your blossoming relations “—what? I was just wondering how far you lived because you mentioned driving to work before.”

“Yeah,” he simply answers without further elaboration over his sudden tease. “I live with my brother. About five minutes away. Not too far.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah,” he pauses, “you have any siblings?”

“What do you think? Do I look like I have any?”

You lean back, as if to allow him to have a gander over your appearance that supposedly dictates your compatibility for a sibling. To your surprise, the boy who’s usually much less easily entertained turns his head as an acceptance to your challenge. The thought of his absolute attention focused on you, eyes scanning you up and down, is enough to have you slightly regretting your question. You’ve never been the type to feel self conscious; but moments like these, when you fidget with your hands and hastily tuck a lock of your hair behind the ears, you’re left wondering why he, of all people, is an exception.

The spur of the moment skews your balance and you rock back and forth, subtly albeit unsuccessfully avoiding further attention from the boy before you; because as your right foot slips back only to counter the sway by pushing forward, your dumb self unintentionally pushes your left arm firmly against him.

Your arm doesn’t just touch—no, it wasn’t a graze and it surely wouldn’t seem like a mere accident by the standards of people with a normal sense of balance, but it’s more of an assertive lean to the point that you’re sharing his warmth and molding into his well-toned biceps that you’ve covertly ogled at for the past weeks until his firm stature becomes the reason you’re not stumbling forward like a goofball.

Even the most dense of them all would have picked up on it; but Jungkook isn’t just any boy, because whether for the better or worse, he chooses not to mention the small mishap.

“You seem like the older sister type,” he mentions, averting his attention ahead to the dimly lit sidewalk.

“Oh,” you can only mumble as your arm dwells over the wake of his touch.

Wait, what does he mean by that? Do you seem reliable? Or does he see you as a know-it-all? Does he think you’re the girly type? The responsible type? And was it supposed to be a compliment?

One too many seconds had passed by for you to inquire for further elaboration. Instead, the occasional silence between you two has you scrambling for a new topic after the death of its promising albeit lackluster precedent.

“What about you? You live near here?”

Alas, you can internally sigh in relief because at least the struggle to rekindle the conversation is a mutual one. Maybe he doesn’t think you’re too boring, after all.

“I live across the bridge and a few blocks down, so I just walk to work.”

“Across the bridge?” he articulates with much more vigor than you’re used to. Ultimately, your surprise is short-lived when a cocked grin replaces his temporary gawk. “Try not to get mugged.”

“Wooow. Considering the sun sets before we’re out of work and crossing that bridge when it’s dark is a legitimate fear I have,” you give him the worst stank eye possible, “thank you for your concern.”

The damn boy only grins, “no problem.”

As oddly comforting your usual, silence-filled conversations with Jungkook have been in the past, you don’t think you would be too disinclined to fiddle with your partner’s snarky attitude once in a while. Maybe you’re overanalyzing or maybe you’re excessively shrewd, but the organic flow between the two of you is starting to awfully resemble that of two close friends.

But are you friends or are you merely colleagues coerced into working overtime?

“Boy, I swear I will—”

“—oh shit,” Jungkook beats you to the curses, like usual, “I forgot to bring my card.”

“So?” you quirk a brow at the distraught boy. “Just go home and make some food. Our cafeteria sucks anyways.”

The boy turns to look at you, profusely serious and not a glint of shame present in his eyes. Then, he deadpans, “but I’m hungry.”

“So... you want me to spot you.”

“Hey,” he finally chortles with a slightly embarrassed grin akin to that of a child caught red-handed, “I skipped dinner after gym so that I could make it to work on time!”

“No one told you to skip dinner!”

His already ear-to-ear grin widens, if that was even possible, “I did it so you wouldn’t be alone!”

Spotting your friends has never been a predicament for you; this, however, you’re not too keen on lending money to a boy whose relations are only based upon work, mutual friends, and endless inevitable crossovers between his path and yours—in fact, too many to be under the hands of mere happenstance.

Surely, the two of you have grown much more acquainted than ever in the last month, but it’s not like you two never interacted before. On the rare occasion that Jungkook actually greeted you, a plea for help regarding work would always follow shortly after. To you, he only saw you as a reliable source. He never saw you as a friend and you never saw him more than a mere colleague. Even now, after all the sparks between you two, it’s difficult for you not to suspect his ulterior motives.

You will not be taken advantage of. Just because he’s slightly—okay, maybe profusely—above average in looks, you will not make a fool of yourself. What happens next, however, takes you and your adamant determination by surprise.

“Okay, fine...” you grumble. “But you owe me boba!”

“Boba?” his eyes pop as he chuckles. “Alright, sure.”

“Yeah, in fact, you owe me three boba,” you add. “I like roasted oolong milk tea with egg pudding. Write it down.”

“Three?” he gawks. “Wait, roasted oolong and what…?”

He had asked a question, yet you can’t help but simply smile at him from ear to ear. Was this really happening? Was he serious or was this another one of your playful bickers?

Shrugging and stifling the laugh that threatens to slip from your lips, you decide to let fate override your usual level-headed reasoning, “take me and I’ll let you know.”

In that fleeting moment, the flutters in your stomach and the adrenaline that coursed through your veins were worth it all; and it wouldn’t be until months later that you discover your last leap of faith was not one worth taking.

his side;

“So how far do you live from work?”

Her question finally ceases the dreadful standstill. The internal sigh after a prolonged bated breath and the realization of the unknown implications of such relief strikes Jungkook as an oddity. Clearly a quiet, standoffish man who strays from the center of attention, Jungkook had always preferred to observe rather than participate. To him, the state of nothing is where he belongs and silence is his safe haven—and yet, around Y/N, he can’t help but chant words of panic: shit, what do I say next?

As thankful as Jungkook was for his partner’s break of silence, he, himself, isn’t aware enough of his once stone cold pond of a state, now disturbed by ripples of which its origins are unknown. Instead, the moment of anomaly is mistranslated into the only expression he’s developed a knack for. A sneer.

Well, that wasn’t exactly what he wanted… but he figured he was close enough with Y/N to joke around with her by now, right?

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Wh—” Jungkook peers down at her baffled response “—what? I was just wondering how far you lived because you mentioned driving to work before.”

It would be a lie to deny how the look of bewilderment that plasters her face doesn’t egg him and his teasing streak onwards. Despite being a man of few words and little thoughts, the rare sense of amusement brought upon by her short-lived distraught catalyzed by himself, truly, has Jungkook scratching his head. The tinge of guilt intermixed with worry that perhaps he had gone too far only furthers the confusion.

“Yeah,” Jungkook returns to his usual collected albeit monotonous composure, “I live with my brother. About five minutes away. Not too far.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah—” what should he say now “—you have any siblings?”

“What do you think? Do I look like I have any?”

Oh? He’s a bit hesitant to hurl a curse at his partner, but how the hell is he supposed to know?

When she leans back to open her profile to the boy, something Jungkook has realized is a rarity for the usually closed-off, shifty girl, the boy has no choice but to play along with her antics… either that or he lacks the energy to deny her politely. The boy turns, scanning his partner up and down with little haste and no specific game-plan. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s supposed to be looking for, but what he finds is much more than what he was expecting.

For someone who speaks with such wisdom, who performs so well in every criteria, who seems to know the answer to all his questions, the way she fidgets with her hands and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear at this very moment as he watches her conflicted with the confident impression he once only knew. He had taken note of her occasional avoidance of his eyes—something which he had amusedly combated with an even more intense, to which she never challenged—but her wavering gaze that flickers on whatever was on the ground is especially prevalent today.

Funny.

Then she begins to lose her balance. How? Jungkook had no fucking clue; but before he knew it, she was swaying back and forth until her left arm finally stabilizes the rather skittish gal… through the use of his right arm.

The sudden contact catches Jungkook off guard. No, it isn’t enough of a surprise to have him jolting back—although nothing really could elicit such a reaction from a boy like Jungkook—but he does notice the firm, close contact between her and him. The closest he’s ever been to her was visually through the eyes and the closest he’s ever touched her was tactually through the occasional graze of his fingertips against the back of her hand. Sure, his bare skin could only feel the cotton of her sweater and the moment of contact lasted for an ephemeral two seconds, but even that is enough to leave an imprint on that night.

There’s no doubt in Jungkook’s mind that it was all accidental. Y/N isn’t the type to mess around with boys like him… but did she notice?

Turning his head to the sidewalk brightly illuminated by white and gulping whatever was in his throat, he decides to fill the awkward silence, “you seem like the older sister type.”

“Oh.”

Shit, why does she sound so disappointed? She doesn’t think it’s an insult, does she? Well, it really isn’t his fault if he struck a nerve, Jungkook internally shrugs, he was just answering a question. He had to admit, though, her unpredictable sway of emotions was entertaining to say the least. If she really wanted an elaboration, she could always ask and he could easily clear up his intentions.

But what’s the fun in a conversation without speculation?

And so, Jungkook figures he’d leave her at that.

“What about you? You live near here?”

“I live across the bridge and a few blocks down, so I just walk to work.”

“Across the bridge?” Jungkook gapes, although he’s unsure of why his expression is much more of an exaggerated version of how he really feels. Something about the drama of it all fueled the conversation further. Grinning, he remarks, “try not to get mugged.”

“Wooow. Considering the sun sets before we’re out of work and crossing that bridge when it’s dark is a legitimate fear I have—” damn, that was a long sentence and her stank eye doesn’t help any bit “—thank you for your concern.”

Her anger only spurs him and his unexplained satisfaction forward, “no problem.”

Jungkook had always kept his circle of friends close and tight. It isn’t like he preferred it that way, but the world of simplicity and permanency gravitated toward him. Unlike the other countless guys who liked to spend their nights surrounded by girls whose names they didn’t know nor cared to know, his closed lifestyle kept him grounded. If someone were to tell him years ago at orientation that this girl would eventually be holding a conversation closely resembling that of two close friends, he never would have believed them; but now that he’s here, he could definitely see it.

“Boy, I swear I will—”

“—oh shit,” a wave of terror overtakes the boy as he rummages through the pockets of his shorts “—I forgot to bring my card.”

“So?” his partner quirks a brow at him and he almost narrows his eyes at her preposterous advice that follows. “Just go home and make some food. Our cafeteria sucks anyways.”

A ravenous growl rumbles across his abdomen. The regret for having skipped his usual granola bar in exchange for making it to work on time after gym returns with vengeance. The two things Jungkook had no shame in taking seriously were: one, gym, and two, food. As cautious as he has been around his seemingly delicate partner, he had no shame in turning to look straight at her. Next, he deadpans, “but I’m hungry.”

“So…” the girl mulls, each second egging on the emptiness of his stomach. “You want me to spot you.”

“Hey—” well, that isn’t exactly what he wanted and now he just seems like a leech but prolonging the swift conversation that had developed as well as filling the hole in his stomach doesn’t sound too bad “—I skipped dinner after gym so that I could make it to work on time!”

“No one told you to skip dinner!”

He can’t help it when his grin widens, “I did it so you wouldn’t be alone!”

Truthfully, her advice would have been much less of a bother to Jungkook. One, he wouldn’t have to spend all this time and effort convincing her. Two, he probably would’ve been home by now and enjoying his masterfully cooked instant noodles. Most importantly, he wouldn’t seem like he was trying to take advantage of his partner because severing their professional relationship and borderline friendship was not in his plans.

As little of a crap he gave about the impression he gave others, he wasn’t that shitty of a person to willingly be the bad guy… and certainly not to Y/N.

“Okay, fine...” she finally grumbles to his relief. “But you owe me boba!”

“Boba?” he can’t help but chuckle in disbelief. “Alright, sure.”

“Yeah, in fact, you owe me three boba,” she asserts. “I like roasted oolong milk tea with egg pudding. Write it down.”

“Three?” Jungkook gasps; and this time, he really means it. “Wait, roasted oolong and what…?”

How the hell is he supposed to remember that? And does she want it delivered to her house or work or what?

Her next remark, however, answers his question. “Take me and I’ll let you know.”

Food might be all that he sees at the moment, but if obliging to her request could induce further conversations and get him to the light at the end of the tunnel? Then to Jungkook, that’s a win-win. Someday, he’ll take her when they’re truly friends and not mere coworkers with coerced interactions.

Maybe not now, not later, but certainly in the near future.

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #scriptaed

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francoiserenaldt · 4 years ago

Text

then comes the touch (then comes the rush)

or five times desirée thinks about giving the boy with the stars in his eyes her heart and the one time she realizes that he’s had it the whole time. Takes place during the second semester of senior year. Inspired by @/yoonsgiggle’s ways to show affection. for day 3 of @it-lives-week.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: a pinch of angst toward the end because it was getting a bit sweet for my liking, too much pining for an established relationship, they’re both idiots but in different ways, toxic amount of fluff

Snow litters the school grounds as she trudges through it. The school’s obsession with having no less than 5 pep rallies a quarter has her out of her bed and at school at 7 in the morning to oversee the preparations.

Luckily, she wouldn’t need to endure the torture alone. Everyone in cheer, band, swim, wrestling, and basketball all had to be there for a completely unnecessary rehearsal that only served to tire the performers and wear on everyone else’s patience.

There was one benefit to today’s assembly: Andy would be there this time.

This would be his first day back since homecoming. The first day they’d be back in school since they’d kissed in the gymnasium and the first day they’d get a chance to be together since everything went wrong.

It had felt so weird to go from seeing him every day and getting close to him being holed up in a sterile room for most of the day. The days seemed to get emptier without him; even texts couldn’t fill the void his presence left.

Misattribution of arousal, her therapist had called it.

While the implication that Desirée had confused herself was...offensive to say the least, it had at least made some sense. No way could she have been feeling low just because of some boy that she was talking to, right?

There was only one way to find out.

“Desirée!”

“Hey stranger. I’d ask how life’s treating you but…”

He barks out a laugh, gesturing to his crutches. “Yeah, I’ve been better. And you? How have things been?”

“You know, I…” She trails off.

Before she can even think about finishing her sentence, his hand is on her arm. The touch sends a rush of warmth through her body and she thanks the Lord that she opted for multiple layers today.

He’s been back all of two hours, which means she should chill, right?

Her heart doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

It’s a complete lie, of course, and definitely not what he asked. She couldn’t be further from okay when his totally normal and platonic comforting gesture is awakening things she thought she’d buried and telling her that it’s very likely that she hadn’t misattributed a damn thing, which would be great except for the fact that she’s not sure if he can say the same.

(And despite the rational part of her brain yelling at her, she wants him to say the same.)

(She’s so screwed.)

A few weeks pass after the encounter in the hallway and they find themselves back in the town square after school. They walk, or rather she walks and he limps, into the town park and find a park bench.

She quickly learns that practice had been a complete disaster; apparently being benched and injured still didn’t save Andy from microaggressions. It was interesting that they chose to focus on him when their attitudes weren’t saving them from an abysmal win-loss record, even after the strong start of the season.

In any case, he was unhappy and that couldn’t stand.

When they finally located a park bench, Andy raised an eyebrow when she didn’t sit next to him. “What are you doing?”

“Lean back.”

There’s an unmistakable déjà vu that overcomes her when her hands find their way to his shoulders.

(“Your…very toned shoulders look tense.”)

(“My very toned shoulders would love a shoulder rub.”)

His head tilts back after a minute or so–she must be doing it right this time–and...now they’re looking at each other.

A sharp chill crawls up her spine and she nearly shudders under the intensity of it. It shouldn’t be this hard to look away

There’s no telling how long it’s been or if her hands are even moving anymore.

Right. Shoulder rub.

She tears her gaze from his and puts her all into obliterating the tension in his shoulders. She vaguely notes his head going back to its original position.

“Hey.”

She nearly swallows her tongue with the force she uses to gulp any nervousness down. “Hey.”

“You good?”

“That’s my line,” she smiles gently. This is much better, the banter and the mutual flirting she’s used to. She doesn’t bother lingering on the concern in his voice. “I’m supposed to be helping you right now.”

“We can help each other,” he counters smoothly. “And you were going a little hard there.”

“Oh, sorry–”

“Don’t be. Felt good.” He tilts his head back again and grins when he finds her eyes again. “Just wanted to see where your head’s at.”

“My head is doing great, thanks. Spectacularly, in fact.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“So are you all good or…”

He clears his throat. “Yeah, I’m set. Thanks.”

Her heartbeat still thunders a mile a minute in her ears as she breathes out, “Any time.”

She reluctantly slides her hands off of his shoulders and moves –a little too quickly– to sit next to him. His arm finds its way onto her shoulders and she relaxes instantly, resting her cheek on top of his head, and she briefly imagines being able to fall asleep like this: with his arms around her shoulders, or even her waist, and his warm cheek resting on the column of her neck.

She erases the thought immediately and glances at him, finding him deep in thought as well.

A light nudge brings him back to her and she pops the question: “Where did you go?”

He chuckles, his warm breath hitting her neck and rendering her breathless yet again. This getting flustered business is the worst. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about the beginning?”

The comment only yields her a huff. “You’re so mean to me, you know that?”

“Yeah, right. Unfortunately for you, there’s no pool nearby to push me into this time.”

“Fountain’s gotta be close enough, right?” His arms move faster than lightning, sliding under her knees and around her waist before she could catch her breath.

“Andy Kang, don’t you dare!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The good news, she finds, is that she did not get soaked in gross fountain water and there’s no way he’s not into her. A net win, you would think.

The tradeoff for that -she can never just have nice things- is that she was into him in September. Knew she liked him in October. Now that it’s February, she maybe even l-

Oh no.

It’s not a big deal when it happens.

She’s just left a student council meeting and, if memory serves, she has a two minute window to leave the premises before one of her teachers needs help or Lucas suggests another membership drive proposal for next month’s meeting.

She’s flying down the second set of stairs –she’s down to a minute now– when she sees him.

He’s freshly showered –practice must have ran late again– and changed, his damp black hair pushed back from his face. He’s hauling ass too for some reason, barely even looking up from his phone. Maybe he won’t even see her if she runs fast enough and she can text him later–

Sure enough, he glances up and grins brilliantly when he sees her. It’s only natural that she returns it.

She closes the few feet separating them and he’s still got that sappy grin on his face when she stands next to him.

“How was practice?”

“Boring as always. Student council?”

She gives him a look. Why they even bother with words anymore is beyond her.

“Heh, heard ya loud and clear. Wanna get out of here?” He extends his hand in her direction. She feels the tip of his middle finger brush against her knuckles and her heart starts beating ridiculously fast.

She takes it in hers, a little too eagerly in hindsight, and threads her manicured fingers into his. “Gladly.”

She’ll overthink it for hours after the fact, but in the moment she just enjoys walking out of school with the boy she really, really likes.

(If she more than likes him, then he doesn’t need to know that.)

The school is weirdly energized today; students rush about, talking about weekend plans and that ridiculously hard test and other things that should not be repeated. (High school boys are gross.) Deadlines, extracurriculars, and the general dumpster fire that is life had all but killed the fight of the senior class, but not today.

Today, of course, is the first day of spring break.

The sky seems to know it’s spring break too; the near constant drizzle of rain has let up for the day and the sun tentatively peeks its head out from a slowly widening gap of clouds, adding some long overdue warmth to the afternoon air.

It doesn’t compare to the smile on his face when their eyes meet.

“Desirée!” He calls out, jogging to envelope her in a hug.

Hugging definitely isn’t a new thing for them–hell, she’s easily hugged everyone in the group at least three times by now–but the way his head makes a home in the space between her neck and shoulder feels…intimate. Cozy, even. It’s far too comforting considering that she just saw him yesterday and they’re in the middle of the hallway (she’s definitely going to hear about this later) but she can’t bring herself to pull away. Not yet.

He ends up being the one to break it, pulling away just enough to look up at her. “Hi.”

“Hi. Good day so far?”

“Better now.” He loops an arm in hers. “Wanna get lunch?”

“As long as you’re paying.”

“Take a break.”

They’re in her living room -her parents decided to come home for once and no amount of brownie points gets you ‘boys in the bedroom’ privileges- on the couch. She’s supposed to be studying for her government test, a task that Andy seems adamant on impeding her from.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I asked you to.” The statement only produces a snort from her, and he nudges her lightly on the shoulder. “Pleeeeease? I’m bored.”

“Apologies, your Majesty King Kang, but I’m afraid I’ve misplaced my jester hat today.” She pouts in mock guilt before scoffing. “In the meantime, my government test isn’t going to ace itself.”

“Please, you could probably do this in your sleep.”

“And until I can definitely do this in my sleep, I have to keep going.”

She turns her body fully away from him for a few minutes and she finds her rhythm fairly quickly. As her brush pen draws the title of the next card, she allows herself a peek and Jesus Christ, is he pouting?

It’s childish.

It’s completely immature.

It’s...working?

Ughhhhhhhhhhh.

She shoves her flashcards into their corresponding case and slides them under the coffee table, huffing. “You are a terrible influence.”

“Yeah, but I’m a terrible influence that has your full and undivided attention.” He pecks her on the nose and grins at her unamused glare, “Now, what do you say we do something fun?”

It’s the final day of high school.

Today should be a happy day; after all, staying goodbye to early morning classes and popularity contests is what she’s been dreaming of since the day she got there.

There was just one problem: Andy wouldn’t be coming with her.

Despite the numerous hours of studying and makeup tests, there wasn’t enough time left in the school year to make up for his absences due to the medical leave he’d taken. Unless he somehow managed to pay the school for the amount of money he’d lost, he would have to sit for senior year all over again.

He’d assured her that it wouldn’t be all bad; repeating the year gives him a chance to go out for basketball captain and Tom would be there with him, but there was no amount of silver linings that could change the fact that she’d been accepted into Cornell University and would be attending in the fall.

Without him.

It’s not lost on her that she sounds absolutely pathetic. Most people could only dream of getting into an Ivy League university, let alone Cornell, and she’s considering giving all six years of relentless hard work and sleepless nights away for some boy just because she thinks she loves him.

(They both know she won’t do it. She’s lost too much and has come too far.)

They’d put this off for too long as it is.

“We’ve been apart before, right? We can do it again.”

“I just got you back, Andy. How am I supposed to be okay with losing you?”

“You won’t lose me.”

“How do you know that?”

“You won’t lose me because I love you, Desirée,” he reaches up to take her face into his hands, “That’s how.”

Her eyebrows furrow, as if she’s confused. The idea breaks his heart. “You love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’m such an idiot.” She pulls away, shutting her eyes and shaking her head. “This whole time I’ve been trying to pace myself and…I really screwed things up, didn’t I?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I love you, too. I didn’t want you to know until I knew you felt the same.”

“Why?”

“I’ve lost too many people as it is. If I lost you, I…” She purses her lips and looks away. “I couldn’t handle it.”

There’s no escaping the way that his lips feel on hers or the shiver that travels up her spine and honestly? She doesn’t want to.

When he speaks again, their foreheads are pressed together–she’s practically bent over at this point and can’t bring herself to care–and his hands are still holding her face as if he thinks she’ll slip away. “You will never lose me, you hear me? There is nothing that you could do that’ll change that.”

She wants to believe him, wants to believe that he’s not making a promise that he can’t keep, so she does.

She knows she’ll kick herself for waiting this long when she gets home, but at that moment she enjoys walking out of her high school for the last time with the boy she loves.

(If he knows it too, that’s even better.)

#day 3 #ship: desiree x andy #ILAweek #ilitw #mc: desiree ashton #li: andy kang #andy x mc #i hope you have a better time reading this than i had writing it jwshdbj #oh and for more angst this is in the something gained universe jdfhbrjn #also someone PLEASE take dashes and parentheses away from me #i feel like i should mention that devon isn't mentioned in this bc he's **** jndk

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thatmultifandomhoe · 5 years ago

Text

One on One

Word Count: 3,190

Pairing: Jungkook and Reader

Genre: College AU - Sports AU - Boxing AU - Fluff

Warning/Rating: A swear of two is thrown around. PG13

August AU & Quote: Sports AU and “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Master List

A/N: Hey y’all, I know this drabble wasn’t originally listed to be posted with the other drabbles I’ve been talking about, but this one is for the August prompt contest that is being hosted by BTS Boulangerie! They are a wonderful group of people and please don’t forget to check out my fellow sweet Bakers and their stories!

Also, just a reminder that I had changed my name from @/abangtanfangirl to my current username, I’m just too lazy to remake the banner I originally made.

©thatmultifandomhoe 2019. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

The gym reeked of sweat, grunts and groans and the loud smacking of fists hitting punching bags echoed in the large space, making it easy to find despite it being your first time here.

Glancing at your phone, you double checked that you had the right place, wondering if Jungkook had sent you on a wild goose chase instead. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he did. But as you entered the gym, he was standing in the left corner of the boxing ring, waiting for the person across from him to finish getting his gloves on.

Jungkook stole a look over his shoulder, grinning when he saw you but he quickly turned back around to face his coach.

His reaction left you smiling like a helpless fool, but you didn’t care. There weren’t that many people in the gym, maybe a handful at the most if even that. Even then, no one spared you another glance as you reached the ring, watching as Jungkook and his opponent met in the middle as the coaches stayed in the corners.

You weren’t entirely sure why Jungkook asked you to meet him here, or why he wanted to meet up with you in the first place. The two of you had been paired to work on project for a class you shared, and while you got along with him, the assignment had been presented and emailed in to the professor earlier that week.

Which is why when you walked out of your last class with plans to pass out in your dorm for a well-deserved nap, you were surprised to receive a text from Jungkook, asking you to come to this place to meet up.

A whistle blew and neither of them wasted a second, Jungkook quickly ducking to avoid a punch before delivering a few to the other guy’s side. After being paired up, Jungkook had told you that he did boxing in the afternoon and with a competition coming up, he was practicing longer at the gym. While you had appreciated the heads up, you had been skeptical as to how the project was going to go. You were understanding, but the last thing you wanted was to end up doing the entire project yourself.

Despite your initial thoughts, Jungkook was there each time you both agreed to meet up to work on the project, sent texts if he was going to be late, and did the work he promised to do. Hell, he even helped you with some of your work because he tended to finish his early.

So, it hadn’t been too shocking when one night while you were texting Jungkook, your roommate teased you every time you rushed to reach for your phone when it dinged, grinning in delight with every reply he sent. You tried to play it off as nothing, but it was useless. You were crushing on Jungkook.

It wasn’t just because of his incredible work ethic that a majority of the male population on your college campus seemed to lack, but he was also extremely kind and sweet. On multiple occasions while working on the project together, conversation flowed easily between you two and you found yourself telling him about the things that bothered you; how you weren’t doing too good in a math class, and how it felt like with all the papers and assignments you needed to do felt like quicksand sucking you down, he always managed to reassure you and boost your confidence.

“Don’t worry about all of it,” Jungkook told you. “If you just focus on what can get done right now, you won’t be so stressed. Besides, I know you can do it, and if you need any help, just send me a text and I’ll be there.”

Three little words did you in.

It was those three words, ‘I’ll be there,’ that sent your heart racing and when he gave you that smile – the one where his eyes crinkled in the corners and reminded you of a bunny – you knew that your feelings were starting to become something more than a simple crush.

Then a week later he arrived late to meeting up with you at your dorm. He hadn’t sent a text which was unlike him, and it worried you. By the time there was a knock at your door, it had been two hours since the original meet up time. During then, you almost created a worn-out path in the carpet from pacing, had sent a text asking if he was alright, and processed every worst-case scenario in your mind.

“Jungkook it’s been two – oh my god!” You gasped, staring at him.

He was leaning against the door frame, an eyebrow raised in question to your reaction, as if he didn’t care about the large purple bruise on his cheek or the cut on his lip. Instead, he started to smile but stopped, wincing as the movement caused his bottom lip to bleed. “Sorry.”

Without a second thought you quickly ushered him into your room, ignoring the loud slam of your door as you had him sit in your desk chair while you fished out your first aid kit. “What happened?”

Jungkook shrugged, watching you in curiosity as you rifled through the container. “I was at practice. One of the guys has a competition soon and asked me to get in the ring with him for practice. I ended up winning and he was pissed.”

You raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more than what he was telling you. “And?” Ripping open an alcohol wipe, you stood in front of him and began to clean up the cuts on his face. In addition to the one on his lip, he had a few next to the bruise that thankfully, weren’t bleeding.

He hissed at the sudden pressure, leaning away from your touch. “That hurts.”

“Not as much as it had to when the guy punched the crap out of you,” you retorted, waiting for him to come back so you could continue.

The corner of his lip twitched at you comment, but he let you continue once again. “This is nothing, you should see him.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the Neosporin and dabbed a little of your finger, silencing Jungkook as you applied it to his lip. “I’m good. Seeing you hurt worries me enough,” you murmured, not realizing the implications of your words until afterwards. Even then, you sharply inhaled, internally cursing yourself at the slip up.

Jungkook was silent as he gazed up at you, leaning back against the desk chair. He had been surprised to see you react like this to his appearance. Normally people wouldn’t even think to offer a band aid yet here you were, fixing it up like it was something you were used to doing. He wanted to smile and tease you some more, maybe even pull you closer, but he was afraid it might send you into a heart attack, so he stayed put and allowed his body to relax at your gentle touches.

When you were finished with the cuts on his face, you stepped backwards, clearing your throat as you looked anywhere but his eyes. “Anywhere else?”

It took him a brief second to understand what you asked. His torso was bruised up pretty good and there were probably a few cuts there, but he didn’t think you’d be comfortable with him half naked in your room.

"Um…” glancing at his hands, he held them up for you. His knuckles were bruised, and like with his cheek, there were a few open cuts as well.

Sighing, you wagged your finger at Jungkook, grabbing the gauze that came with the kit. “What am I going to do with you?” You teased, taking one of his hands in yours to clean it first.

He lightly shrugged as he casually squeezed your fingers, playing it off as if the wipe had stung. “Kiss it and make it better?” Jungkook joked, smiling as your giggles filled the room, not at all caring that he might have opened the cut on his lips again. He liked the sound of your laughter, to him it was a melody that he wanted to hear again and again, and he knew it was something that he’d never get tired of listening to.

That was when you realized, that your crush, was not so simple.

When you had realized his torso was in a similar state, you convinced him to take off his shirt so that you could treat his side. You had to swallow the lump in your throat when he stood half naked in your room as you sat in the chair this time to reach the cuts easily. You figured that he was in shape from the workouts and boxing, but you never realized how muscular he was.

It was afterwards when you had him lay on your bed with an icepack on his side and another on his cheek, that you sat on his uninjured side so the two of you could watch a movie on Netflix. It was when he tugged one of your blankets of the two of you during it and again when you woke up the next morning, curled into his still naked side and his left arm wrapped around your waist that you figured out how you felt about him.

You were an absolute goner for Jeon Jungkook.

“Were you even watching?”

Blinking, you smiled up at Jungkook as he leaned against the ring post, a teasing grin on his face.

“Of course,” you called back up to him, ignoring the shake of his head. “You always win.”

A scoff was heard from behind Jungkook, capturing both yours and his attention. “Even your girlfriend has the same mindset as you Kook.”

Your cheeks blushed but Jungkook simply laughed. Straightening up, he ducked underneath the rope, jumping down to the floor next to you. Sweat dripped down the side of his neck, his bangs clinging to his forehead as he pulled off one of his gloves.

“She just knows a champion when she sees one.”

That time you laughed, noticing that he hadn’t corrected his coach.

Turning towards you, he gestured towards the other side of the wall. “Come on, I just need to take a quick shower then we can head out.”

“Where are we going?”

His brown eyes glinted as he looked at you, not even stopping his walk as you followed him. “It’s a surprise. Wait here for me, okay?”

You rolled your eyes, but as you approached a bench across from the locker room, you nodded in agreement. This was after all, his territory. Jungkook knew this place better than you and you weren’t too keen on getting lost and needing him to find you. It would feed his ego too much.

When he disappeared in the locker room, you took out your phone to play on an app that you’ve been interested in these last few days. It had been advertising on Snapchat like crazy and finally after deleting a bunch of useless stuff to make room, you downloaded the game and you were addicted.

However, with only one key given every seven hours, you quickly went through the two you had and found yourself unable to continue further. You tried checking Instagram and Twitter, but nothing had been updated and you already watched everyone’s stories.

A quick check at the time told you that Jungkook had only been in there for five minutes. Bored, you stretched in your seat, taking a chance to look around. The gym was emptied out by now and on the other side of the room there were punching bags hanging from the ceiling.

You didn’t think twice when you made your way over to the first punching bag. Staring up at it, you lightly pushed at it, slightly surprised at how heavy it was. Jungkook was still in the shower, so you stopped it from moving and set your purse down. Creating a fist, you hit the bag, frowning when it didn’t move.

You hit it again. And again. And again.

“Keep doing it like that and you’ll break your thumb.”

Shouting in surprise, you covered your mouth as you turned to see Jungkook standing behind you. He was wearing jeans and a white sleeveless shirt, his gym bag thrown on one shoulder and a hair towel on the other.

Chuckling, he pointed at your hand that was still clenched up from hitting the punching bag. “Your thumb shouldn’t be underneath your other fingers.” He set down his belongings and made his way over, gently taking your hand and repositioning it so it made a fist. “You want it this way. Otherwise, if you got into an actual fight or something, you would have broken your thumb and trust me, broken bones suck ass.”

Stepping backwards, he nodded towards the bag. “Go ahead, try again.”

“I…I was just messing around,” you ran a hand through your hair, shyly smiling as you tried to back away from the bag.

Jungkook grinned however, blocking you from exiting. “Uh uh. Try again. We’re not leaving until I know you can punch properly.”

“You’re a pain,” you teased.

“Just do it.”

Smiling, you stepped in front of the bag once again, this time well aware of the fact that Jungkook was watching you, his arms crossed in front of his chest. You took a moment to make sure you positioned your fist the way he showed you, cheeks lightly heating up when you heard a hum of approval come from him. Pulling your arm back, you punched it once more and this time, it moved a little bit.

“Better,” Jungkook commented. His voice traveled as he moved to your right side, standing next to you. “But a little on the weaker side.”

“Hey!”

He shook his head, once again taking your arm and this time, moving behind you so your back was against his chest. “I’m not saying you’re weak, you’re just not doing it correctly. You weren’t bringing your arm all the way back which is why the bag didn’t move that much. Without enough force, it won’t go far.”

As he spoke, he slowly moved your arm, showing you how far to extend your arm back and how hard you needed to hit the bag. All the while, you were hyper aware of the fact that your body was pressed against his. The two of you hadn’t been this close since you woke up in his embrace. Butterflies were racing in your stomach and despite how tense you felt, your body relaxed the longer you were in his arms. It felt…right.

“Let me show you once, and then you can try again.”

Nodding, you forced yourself to step away and give Jungkook the room he needed. You had no trouble focusing on him, happily watching the muscles in his arms flex as he punched the bag, making it swing further than you had.

He was smiling when he looked back at you, stopping the bag so that it was still for you to try again.

Knowing he wouldn’t let you leave until you did so, you switched places with him and did as he showed you, this time making it move further than you had last time, but no where near as much as did.

“Much better,” Jungkook complimented, stopping the punching bag once more. When it was still, he bent to grab his belongings, stuffing the towel in his bag while handing you your purse. “With more practice, one day you could hit like me.”

His comment made you snort in amusement, accepting your bag. “You offering me one on one practice with you?”

Licking his lips, Jungkook settled his arm over your shoulders and began leading you out of the gym. “If you want, yeah.”

“And how many times have you offered girls that before?”

The comment was out of your mouth before you could stop it. Your words hung in the air as Jungkook came to a halt, and since his arm was around you, you stopped walking as well. Closing your eyes, you tried to think of some way to apologize and take back what you said, but nothing came to mind.

He was quiet, and during that, you were scared. Scared because you were worried that you just wrecked a wonderful friendship with your idiot comment.

His arm tightened around your shoulders briefly before sliding down your back, his palm resting on your hip. The sensation of his hand moving like that against your body had you opening your eyes, and it was then that he slightly turned you so you were facing him. With his other hand, he cupped your chin to gently tilt your head up, allowing you to see his soft smile.

“You’re the first.”

Your mouth dried up like the desert at his confession, trying to decipher what he was implying. But luckily, you didn’t have to do that for long.

“I don’t invite people to come here,” Jungkook explained, all the while gently running his thumb against your jaw. “This is kinda…my way to destress from school, idiots, life in general. And I don’t just go around offering to show girls how to punch. I like you, I have for a while actually, which is why I asked you to come here.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement. A part of you felt like this was a dream and nothing more, but as Jungkook sweetly gazed down at you, nervously biting his lip the longer you didn’t say anything, his arm flexing around you in-case you wanted to leave, you realized this wasn’t a fantasy.

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Smiling, you briefly glanced down, your fingers loosely curling around the front of his shirt. “The whole showing me how to punch and the speech.” You clarified, meeting his eyes once more.

He grinned at your response, drawing you closer until both his arms hugged you to him. “Took some planning. Telling the girl you like isn’t that easy. Plus, you really would have broken your thumb if I let you keep punching like that.”

His words had your smile blooming until it felt like your face was going to split in half, but you loved it. Even if he still managed to find a way to tease you. “So where are you planning on taking me then?”

“Since it’s almost dinner time, I was thinking about this diner that I go to. Family owned, fifties themed, amazing food.” His voice softened as he leaned his forehead against yours, his hands rubbing your back in soothing circular motions.

“Is this our first date?” You teased, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Jungkook chuckled, kissing your forehead and making the butterflies go wild. “If you say yes, then it will be.”

It was right then and there that you realized, your heart belonged to the sweet, boxer who was gazing at you like you were the one who made the world spin ‘round.

“Yes.”

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psycho-slytherin · 5 years ago

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Bonus chapter: Truth or Dare

Thanks to @minprismpowermakeup for the idea~ <3

Context: This takes place around Strangers ch. 33, after y/n and Yoongi have begun filming Moon Over the Sea. This content is not relevant to the main Strangers plot.

WC: 1.8k love it when a bonus chapter is longer than some actual content

|mlist|

A/N: Namjoon really wrecked me during the awards stages ok I’m not projecting I’m just projecting

“Okay, y/n, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you yawn, making yourself comfortable. You’re sleepy, it’s past two in the morning, and you don’t wanna get up.

“Anyone got a good one for the token ARMY?” Hoseok asks, looking around at the other members sprawled on various pieces of furniture and carpet. You stick your tongue out at Hoseok on hearing your title.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” Seokjin asks from below you, tipping a mostly-empty beer bottle at you.

“I already answered that, and no.” You swat the eldest member, who’s laying on the couch with his head in your lap. “Bitch, I just ended a relationship and webcomics continue to convince me that men are trash. Besides, I barely get to sleep– when am I gonna have time to catch feelings?”

“Blehhh, boring.”

“I can drink if y’all can’t think of anything,” you say, already reaching for the bottle to refill your wine glass. Hey, you were feeling classy tonight.

“No, wait, wait, I have one!” Jungkook leans forward eagerly. “Have you ever written... fanfiction?”

Ah, shit.

You press your lips together to keep a straight face. Lately it seems you’ve been using more of your acting skills when you spend time with the boys than you do for school and work combined. “Have I ever, at any point, written fanfiction for any fandom? Yes.”

“Was it…” Jungkook leans even closer, his long hair almost hitting you in the face. “BTS fanfiction?”

You smile, choosing your words carefully. “Unfortunately, Kookie dearest, I already answered my truth.”

“She’s avoiding the question!” Jungkook hollers, far too loudly for the time of night. “You guys know what that means~”

It’s as though all signs of sleepiness have vanished– every member sits up, and with Jin’s weight off, you realize your legs have fallen asleep.

“C’mon, guys…” you’re met with seven pairs of eager eyes, focusing on your favorite. “Et tu, Yoongs?”

A corner of Yoongi’s mouth turns upward in that oh-so-familiar smirk. “What can I say– I’ve got a cat’s curiosity.”

“Don’t let Holly hear that,” you reply, tossing a pillow at him. He snatches it out of the air without moving from his curled-up position in his favorite armchair. You’re reminded again of how he’s so adorable when he looks that small.

“So?” Jimin asks eagerly. “Have you ever written fanfiction about us?”

You could lie. God knows it would be easy. But the far more fun option wouldn’t be lying… it would simply be not telling the truth.

“I would love to answer that, but unfortunately it’s not my turn anymore,” you reply airily, delighting in the boys’ groans. “So, Joon, truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Namjoon replies, his eyes confident. He really could bring anyone to their knees with just a glance. As your first bias, Namjoon has always had a special effect on you.

“I dare you to let Kookie and Tae tickle you.”

“Wait, what?”

You check your watch. “For, say, one minute.”

Namjoon backs away nervously from the predatory advance of the maknaes, all signs of bravado gone. “C’mon… ah, y/n, this is too cruel…”

“Who was it that dared me to drink a shot of soy sauce?” You ask smugly. “And who dared me to catcall Jin?” Your plan is to distract the boys, and luckily you have plenty of material to work with. Namjoon especially always seems perfectly sadistic when assigning dares.

“As if you weren’t thinking that stuff anyways,” Seokjin says dismissively.

You roll your eyes, focusing on the leader’s imminent torture. “One minute, starting… now!”

At your signal, Taehyung and Jungkook leap like feral dogs upon Namjoon, who falls to the floor with a thump, laughing uncontrollably: “Ah! Guys! S-sto-ah!”

You sit back in satisfaction as the clock winds down, figuring you’ve suitably distracted your friends from their original prey.

Your hopes are dashed soon enough. Namjoon gets back up, fire in his eyes. “Y/n.”

Dammit. “Yes, Namjoon?”

“Truth or dare?”

Well, what does he think? “Dare.” Obviously. You’d die before letting them read the stories that you, in your lust-addled fangirl’s mind, wrote so long ago.

“I dare you to give Yoongi hyung a hickey.”

Wait, what? “Yo, Joon, that’s not cool–” Yoongi is quick to complain, but Namjoon silences him with a raised hand. Meanwhile you’re frozen to your seat, feeling as though all your blood has simultaneously rushed into your face and fled your body entirely. Sure, you guys have toed the line of what’s proper during these late-night games, and as the only woman you’ve tended to get the brunt of it, but to give Yoongi a hickey? To press your lips, your tongue, your teeth to his smooth skin?

Now that you think about it, you’re pretty sure you’ve written that into a fanfic at some point anyways.

“Dude. No.” You say, at last finding your voice. “C’mon, that’s ridiculous.” You spare a glance at Yoongi, who you can tell is trying to keep a straight face. Still his clenched jaw and rapid blinking give away his anxiety, and– no. You couldn’t do something like that to Yoongi, who so clearly would hate it.

Namjoon raises a brow, his expression void of mercy. “You could always choose truth.”

You laugh nervously. You didn’t anticipate this, and now… “Can I take a drink instead?”

The leader shakes his head. When he speaks, it’s as though his voice is made of steel. When did he become so intense? “Nope. Truth or dare. Pick one.”

You inhale deeply. Dammit, Yoongs, you owe me one. “Truth.”

Immediately all tension melts from Namjoon’s gaze, and he breaks into the dorky grin you’re so familiar with. “Yes! Quick, guys, before she changes her mind!”

Your eyes widen. “No, wait–”

Hoseok pounces. “Have you ever written BTS fanfiction, and if so, what was it about?”

Fucking hell. You’ll get Joon back for this.

“Uh…” Should you lie? Every instinct is telling you to steer the boys as far from the truth as possible. Still, you’re buzzed, and it’s late, and–

“Yes. I have.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, his nose scrunched as he slaps the couch. “I knew it!” The others celebrate in similar fashions:

“Ten bucks says it’s a ship fic!”

“Reader insert, it has to be.”

“Have you guys even heard Emo Y/n? I bet it’s super sad.”

You snatch Jungkook’s drink out of his hand and take a swig. You’re starting to realize you’re gonna need something stronger than wine if you want to survive the night. “How do you guys even know those terms? Who’s been corrupting you with Tumblish?”

“Twitter,” Taehyung replies, shuffling over and draping himself over the back of the couch, his head resting on your shoulder. “ARMYs kept tagging us, they thought we never saw.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Yoongi staring at the ground, smiling softly, his fingers laced together. Huh.

In the meantime, the remaining members have continued with their buzzword arguments. You begin petting Tae’s soft hair absentmindedly while waiting for the others to calm down and hopefully forget this entire conversation by morning.

“It’s probably crack.”

“No, fluff!”

“Angst, I told you!”

Jimin suddenly pipes up, his voice sleepy and soft. “What if it’s… smut?”

A hush falls over the room, and your breath catches in your throat. You don’t remember writing anything explicit, most romance scenes were mainly innocent, full of vague implications of other goings-on…

Wait. Your eyes widen. You did write that one scene, on a dare from Lisa… fuck. You rack your brain– what was it? You wrote it almost four years ago, you can hardly remember. It was about Namjoon, right? He was your bias around that time.

“Y/n, would you ever write smut?”

“Ha, maybe if someone paid me!”

“Ooh! Is that a promise?”

It was all a joke, but you did end up posting it on your Tumblr at some point or another, classifying it as dumb and crackheaded. Regardless, that means it’s online. And that means…

They could find it.

“Y/n-ie?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your eyes and you jump, nearly colliding with him. “You zoned out for a bit~”

“S-Sorry.” You notice the boys are all still looking at you. “What?”

“Your truth. What was your fanfiction about?”

You sieze on the vague question. “Well, funny you should ask, I think I wrote one about Hobi here going to space, which was–”

“The hell? Did I die?” Hoseok whines. “Y/n, you traitor–”

“Wait, so you’ve written more than one?” Yoongi interrupts.

“I mean…” that’s safe to say, right? “Yes.”

Namjoon taps your shoulder. “Have you ever written smut?”

Jeez, what was with his confidence tonight? “I–”

“If you tell us the truth, we’ll make Joon hyung rap Expensive Girl,” Hoseok sings, swinging a shoe in his hand. Wait, is that your-

“Huh? Hold up, hold up, that wasn’t part of the deal!” Namjoon’s facade quickly fades in liu of genuine terror.

Yoongi slowly rises for the first time that night, his grin nothing short of malicious. “You wanna play sadistic games? If Y/n completes her truth, you have to do that dare.”

“Y/n, I changed my mind, don’t tell us,” Namjoon begs, turning to you.

Oh. Oh, the power coursing through your veins. Either way, you win. You could keep your dark secret, or torture Namjoon just a little bit more. What a glorious choice to have.

“You know what?” You drain your wine glass, the alcohol lending you courage. Namjoon wanted to make you give Yoongi a hickey, he deserves this. And you were younger, a simple fangirl– besides, it’s not like they’re going to ask you to read it. “Yes. I did write a smut fic once. And you know what, Joon? It was about you.”

You giggle and sit back as the members do the “OHHHHH!” thing that boys never seem to grow out of.

Instead of going red like you expected he would, a shit-eating grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. He seems more… well, pleased than anything.

“What was it about?” he asks.

“Joon,” Yoongi warns, his voice a note deeper than usual. You shoot Yoongi a grateful smile– how does he know you so well? As for the fic, you genuinely don’t remember, but knowing it was smut, and knowing it was about Namjoon…

“I dunno, dude, probably some daddy kink shit.”

Namjoon cocks his head. “Daddy… kink?”

You jaw drops, and in your bordering-on-drunk state, you can’t help but blurt out: “You don’t know what a daddy kink is? I thought you had one!”

The leader scratches his head. “What?”

You can’t help but laugh, the drinks finally hitting you hard. “Oh my god. C’mon, gather round, my students.” You reach out, clasping Jimin’s and Jin’s shoulders. “let’s teach you guys about fanfiction.”

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sweetbyte · 7 years ago

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I’m sorry @reblogyosheit ! You’re Secret Santa me, and I’m such procrastinating disappointment! Lol. I know you asked for “fluffiest of fluff fam” but your girl let you down. Regardless, I do wish you a very merry Christmas!

Lonely Hearts

The common room is tranquil and empty, her tea is still warm, and her favorite read is on her lap; it’s the ideal setting for Momo. Yet, her mood is sullen and she’s been on the same page for almost 40 minutes.

All of her classmates have gone home to spend the holidays with their families and she’s here at school, alone. Granted, she did have the option to go home herself, but what would be the use in moving from one empty building to another for a week? At least at UA, she has the company of some teachers who either are also too lonely to stay home, or have no care about festivities. Maybe they’ll have pity on her and entertain her with training or something of the sort.

Her fingers start to drum over the pages of the book as she watches the snow fall outside in a trance. It’s beautiful, peaceful, and captivating but it does little to ease the loneliness she’s feeling. She knows she should be used to it though, it’s not the first Christmas she’s spent alone.

Momo is not sure how long she’s been staring off into space with her thoughts, but she’s brought back to the present when she hears faint footsteps in the hallway. She lets out a gentle sigh and looks down at her dejected book deciding to give it one last try before heading back to her little cozy dorm room.

“Oh, Yaoyorozu…”

Momo jumps a bit at in surprise from the sound of her name and she blinks before turning to face the person who called her, the same person who she can’t help but notice makes her skin flush.

“Todoroki-kun!”

The young Todoroki stands at the entrance of the room, hands in his pockets, with his typical aloof expression.

Momo could have sworn she saw him depart earlier with the rest of the students and wonders what he’s doing back so she decides to ask him.

“Did you forget something, Todoroki-kun?” Shouto blinks at the question, but shakes his head no. It’s quiet again and Momo doesn’t know what to do. She feels awkward and almost uncomfortable, all the questions she wants to ask he would either surely take the wrong way or it would leave her open to counter questions, questions she doesn’t want to answer herself.

To distract herself, Momo goes to take a sip of her tea she’s left on the side and frowns when she finds it to be cold. She didn’t think she was in here for so long. She looks back up again at the boy still standing at the door way and finds him staring off as she was doing earlier and can’t help but to admire his features. He’s stunning, every part of him, but she can see the same sadness she feels in his eyes and it clicks to her that maybe he’s lonely too.

“Are you going to be staying the winter here as well?” Momo hopes the question isn’t too intruding as she closes her book and sets it on the table next to her cold tea.

“I’m..not sure yet” Shouto answers honestly after directing his gaze to her. “Why are you not with your family, Yaoyorozu?”

She knows the curiosity in his voice is genuine but the question is still blunt and it makes her throat tighten. Her fingers fiddle with one another in her lap as she tries to find the best way to answer his question.

“We don’t really celebrate the holidays…” Her response comes soft and quiet and Shouto nods in understanding. “Neither do we….” His subtle empathy makes her smile if only a little.

“Is that why you’re back?” Shouto raises an eyebrow, silently asking her to elaborate and she continues. “I saw you leave earlier. I had assumed you left for the holidays, I didn’t expect for you to return.”

Again, he blinks as if he’s processing the question and waits a moment before replying. “ I went to visit my mother, and then my sister.” Momo notices a couple of things. His mother and his sister must live separately and that there’s no mention of Endeavor, but she decides not to comment on it. It’s not her place.

“I’m sorry if my questions might come off intruding. It’s not my intent.” Momo decides to clarify. The last thing she wants to do is make him uncomfortable.

“It’s alright. If I didn’t want to answer you, I wouldn’t. “ Shouto assures her, and it gives her the courage to pat the seat next to her in an invitation. Truthfully, while it gave her the courage, she didn’t expect him to take up on her offer. She had expected him to decline and return to his quarters since he’s a rather detached boy so she’s shocked when he’s plopping down in the seat next to her.

His posture is both one of relaxation and exhaustion, arms stretched out over the couch and eyes closed as his head is rested, facing the ceiling.

“May I ask why you a question, Yaoyorozu?” She’s taken aback a second time, but quickly replies with an “Of course.”

“Was there a time you celebrated during the holidays?” He opens his eyes, head still facing up as he continues. “I can’t remember a time we did, and quite frankly I don’t understand them.”

“There was a time, when I was younger.” She remembers being in the arms of her mother laughing, her father watching them with a smile of his own. “I think what makes any holiday special, is spending them with family, and people you care about.”

“I see..” Shouto closes his eyes and silence falls upon them again. Its different than before, it’s almost a comforting stillness and Momo thinks that maybe Shouto has dozed off. Not that she would mind, in fact the steady pattern of his breathing is beginning to lull her into a slumber of her own.

“I think, I’m going back.” Shouto announces after a while, noticing the stop to the snowfall. Momo resists the urge to frown, and instead is glad that he will be spending time with his family. She reverts her attention to her fiddling fingers.

“That’s great! You should spend time with your loved ones!”

“And people you care about…” Momo looks up at his voice and catches his eyes. He’s staring at her with something she can’t pin, but the implication of what he said is ringing in her ears.

“What…?”

“We’ll stay with my sister.” Shouto starts as he gets up from the couch. “I didn’t want to stay with her originally because I didn’t want to ruin her mood. We’ve never been festive so when she tries I don’t know how to react.” He finishes with a hand outstretched in her direction.

She takes it and he helps her off the couch. “ But, but, Todoroki-kun I can’t”

“Please Yaoyorozu, are you really gonna spend you’re winter alone?” It’s then that she realizes what he’s doing for her and she resists the urge to cry.

“I can’t show up empty handed! How’s your sister? What does she like?” The corner of Shouto’s lip inches up in amusement.

“She’ll like that I’m going back, so let’s go before it gets darker. Besides most of the stores are closed by now…”

“Wait!” He stops and watches as she rolls up her sleeves and closes her eyes in determination. There’s a light blue glow of her quirk on her arm as she begins to pull her creation out of her flesh there. When she’s done her eyes pop back open with excitement as she examines what she’s made. “What do you think?!”

She’s made a snow globe and it’s beautiful, he knows Fuyumi will love it. He’s left in awe and it’s not because of what she made, but her being in general.

“I think you’re messing with the economy…” He jokes remembering what she had said during their little covert mission when Bakugou was captured a while back.

Momo takes this as a good sign and winks. “It’s Christmas, Todoroki-kun!”

They were both right. His sister did love the gift, but she was also completely smitten with Momo. And Momo was right, it’s not really the holiday, but he could see how spending it with certain people made a difference. Shouto thinks that maybe they should visit his mother again as well, and Momo starts to plan for the next year. There’s traditions to be made and no one has complains.

#so sorry #;A;#todomomo #secret santa #jots #they do have traditions after this tho ok #also implied that momos parents arent there ok #sorry #i wanted to angst #mha

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seouldsoul2kpop · 7 years ago

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Earned It

7 Days of Christmas: Day 7- Taehyung

Day 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Warning(s): Smut

A/N: The Final day of 7 Days of Christmas is here!! This has been really fun, and thank you to everyone who took the time to read each story; I truly appreciate it! I hope you enjoy Taehyung’s first fanfic, and of course, please let me know what you think! Merry Christmas!!!!

You stared at the blinking cursor on your computer, wondering how long it would take you before you actually typed a decent sentence. You’d originally strove for a couple paragraphs, heck, you even strove for the whole article, but as the minutes ticked away in the recesses of your mind, your ambition had dwindled into an acceptance of one sentence at a time, and you were on the verge of at least accepting a word. You sighed, feeling the weight of the world caving in on you as you leaned forward on your desk, covering your face, rubbing away at the tiredness in your eyes.

How many times would you have to write this article? How many times would you have to reword the same details before it would become an acceptable piece of work? You’d slaved over the original piece, dedicated a solid month to getting the facts right, and for what? A slap on the wrist, a scolding on the principles of journalism, a dismissal on the hours you’d spent working your way to where you were now? You had established that you weren’t good enough, that you’d never be good enough to work your way up to editor because of him…he would always be better than you.

You lowered your hands, timidly turning your head to look over your shoulder at his empty desk, his light still on, but his presence nowhere to be found. You peered at his computer, sitting idly on his desk, flipping through an array of pictures of the adventures he’d gone on for the paper, and the friends he’d made—the coworkers who shared an uncanny admiration for the journalist who could do no wrong. You clenched your fists on your desk, quickly turning your gaze away from him, staring a hole into the dull gray of your desk.

Your nails were digging into your skin, reminding you how fragile you were, and it only made you dislike him even more. What did he have that you didn’t? What could he do that you couldn’t? Why was he perfect while you were nothing more than a shadow of someone who could have been him, but truly wasn’t? You did everything, you did the research, you went to all the meetings, met with all the right people to conduct all the right interviews; you worked yourself to the bone, begging for the chance to write the story of your dreams, but all he had to do was ask, give an innocent smile, whisper an innocent joke, be the person you weren’t, and he’d get all the chances of a lifetime. And you worked just as long as him, studied even harder than him, but it was all so natural to him. You hated that you hated him, but you couldn’t help it.

You took in a deep, shaky breath as your eyes began to sting, and you tilted your head back, pushing back the unfairness. Reality sucked, but you didn’t want to cry about it because your pride didn’t want someone like him to win when you worked the hardest; you spent grueling hours after your shift was over in the same chair, at the same boring desk, soaking in the same stuffy heat. You didn’t get paid enough for this, or get enough recompense for the hours of mental labor you quietly endured. How much longer would you have to remain nice, hold your tongue, accept fluff pieces you didn’t care for, brew coffee for the first comers, and be the full-time assistant, secretary and journalist?

You swallowed back the bitterness tickling your throat, and in turn, you stared up at the browning water stain above your desk. It’d been there since you got there, part of you blamed it for all your misfortune as if it marked you as the scapegoat, or clouded all that you achieved with a simple glance. Maybe it was an omen silently telling you you’d be nothing more than this desk, this position, a punching bag for all the burdened souls that were also condemned to similar misfortunes as you. You closed your eyes, unable to stop a couple of tears from escaping. You wanted to sit there, to accept you were utterly defeated, but a pair of soft footsteps echoed through the empty office, forcing you to sit back up. Taking in a deep breath, you leaned forward, quickly wiping away at your face with the sleeves of your oversized sweater as the person came to a standstill somewhere close behind you.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

You nodded your head, acknowledging the office cleaning lady, a woman you had become close with as a result of your need to work overtime every day of the week. You could hear the uncertainty in her silence, feel her eyes peering at you from behind for a long while; she didn’t believe you were alright, and you didn’t blame her because nothing was alright about the years you’d spent ignoring your youth for a job that could care less if you quit. You turned to her, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, nodding once more, giving her a small smile, and the best attempt at being the cheerful person you were whenever you spoke with her. She was staring at you, her wrinkles deepening the longer she silently pondered if you were truly as okay as you told her you were.

After a long moment, she nodded, sighing into the quiet, humid air of the office after hours, and she smiled brightly for you; you could tell she was trying to lift your spirits.

“You should go home. You work yourself too hard, Y/N. You’ll have a clearer head in the morning with a good night’s rest, and a nice cup of tea, or whatever you kids drink to calm your nerves these days. I, myself, prefer a good bottle of soju,” she paused, hesitating a little, an innocent twinkle in her eyes, “Or maybe some company?”

You let out a soft, somewhat nervous chuckle, seeing the obvious implications of her words, but the small weight lifted from her presence quickly dissipated as her words rung in your ears, the sullen truth sinking in before you could stop it. You shook your head, silently coming to terms with the facts.

“I think I’ll stay for a bit longer…maybe something will come to me.”

She nodded, a look of sadness, potentially sympathy in her eyes.

“Okay, but don’t stay too late, alright?”

“Mmm,” you hummed.

You got to your feet, bowing to her, waving her off as she was lucky enough to retreat to the streets, breathing the cool winter air of the night, and finding her way home where she was free to relax and unwind from the stresses of her unforgiving day job. You sighed as soon as she was out of your sights, once more rubbing your eyes as you plopped down into your desk chair again, the force making you knock the wheels against your cubicle.

You were relieved to finally be alone, to finally have the kind of quiet that helps the greatest writers achieve a piece of work they can be totally proud of. You reached forward, gripping the edge of your desk as you pulled yourself closer, crossing your legs comfortably in a pretzel in the confines of your small chair, and you exhaled, deciding in your mind to crack down, and write the way you were meant to, not the way you wanted to.

Your fingers hovered over your keyboard as you swallowed, fully prepared to achieve the sentence you imagined you’d write a few hours ago, but your mind was a blank space, as empty as the open word document on your laptop, and as barren as the rows of currently unoccupied desks. You slowly clenched your fists against your keyboard, your mind coaxing you to give up, and write words that meant nothing to you, while your heart told you to try one more time—maybe this time your editor would like it…maybe this time you wouldn’t have to pretend you’d spent less time on the article than you actually had…maybe this time his story wouldn’t make the front cover over yours.

You couldn’t get over how much you hated yourself for being jealous of him, for despising his purity, and his ease of charm. You hated being one of those people, the outsider who hates the star of the show because you believe you see that person’s true colors while everyone else is living in the lie. But the truth was obvious, he was undeniably good, and you were undeniably desperate to feel what it was like to be rewarded for your efforts, to be praised when you’ve done your very best. Was that too much to ask?

You were adrift in your thoughts, dazed by the cursor blinking at a steady rhythm, silently hypnotizing you into a deeper, darker hole that grew with every breath, every tick, every calculated moment you went without writing a word, a sentence, an article to be skipped over in the papers latest edition. You were so far gone, too far gone to remind yourself that you weren’t truly alone as the sound of calm footsteps weaved their way through the entire office to the desk adjacent to you, the very desk you despised even when he wasn’t there to occupy it.

His eyes drifted over your body, watching as you stared into the depths of your computer screen, a screen that was filled with nothing but white, and a taunting cursor that should have been directing the course of your words, but instead, it was haunting your very existence. He could see the desperation in your eyes even as your mind was somewhere else. He couldn’t help himself from wondering why you worked so hard, why you tried to produce perfect articles at every chance you got, why you stared at him like he was the root cause of your torment when you thought he wouldn’t notice.

He could tell you hadn’t noticed him walk in, or else you would have moved, or done something to get out of having a conversation with him. He didn’t know if he should make a noise, or say something to you to console the dark thoughts so clearly drowning you. He hesitated, staring at your back, scanning the deep burgundy of your oversized sweater as it did little to hide the tension coveting your body. He opened his mouth to say something, his whole body telling him different things—his mind whispering to be rational, leave things as they are, his heart wanting to console you, and everything you continuously endured. However, a part of him he didn’t want to admit to stirred with intentions he’d never had the chance to voice out loud.

He wanted to do the right thing, but he couldn’t do that if you wouldn’t let him. He cautiously stepped forward, still keeping a comfortable distance from you as he cleared his throat. You flinched slightly, quickly turning in your chair to see the person you’d somehow forgotten, to acknowledge everything you’d been avoiding up until this point. You swallowed hard, the silent resentment keeping you from speaking as you looked him over, fitted in a white button up you could tell was a higher caliber than most of the people who worked in the office, and black designer dress pants that were equally above your pay grade. It took everything you had not to scoff, or roll your eyes at the sheer irony of your worlds—how different they could be.

He was silently watching you watch him, picking away at everything wrong with him in your silence. You lifted your gaze, finally looking him in the eyes, and you almost hated him more seeing the way he was looking at you, his chocolate brown eyes swirling with warm undertones that managed to calm you even though that was the opposite of what you wanted. You tried to ignore the strange feelings bubbling to the surface, the envy that made everything about him flawless, from his tan skin, soft, and glowing against the fluorescent bulbs from both of your desks to his caramel brown strands falling effortlessly, and messily, over his eyelashes.

Just one look, and you could see why everyone fell head over heels for him. In truth, no matter how many times you stole glances in his direction, he always looked different, always saw a new reason why he was so appealing, and as petty as it was, he annoyed you for being so easily charming and good looking. You felt as though every good thing had been handed to him, and somehow there was no room for the flaws that vexed your every whim.

He paused for a moment, taking in the reality of his relationship with you, but just as he was about to say something, you turned away, silently fiddling with the papers piling up on your desk.

“Working late again?” he managed to speak.

“Mhmm,” you hummed.

He stared at your back, watching as you continued to search for papers you didn’t need, and maybe didn’t even have. He suddenly felt something he’d never felt for you before—a bitterness? A form of contempt he wasn’t used to? He couldn’t explain it, but he couldn’t understand why you insisted on hating him. It wasn’t his fault, he knew that, but why didn’t you know that? He wanted to make it better, he wanted to make it up to you somehow, and that foreign part of him he kept tucked away, it suddenly spoke to him louder than the rest, possessing him to do something he wouldn’t have thought to be in his character; but he suddenly didn’t care, not if it would make you feel better, not if it would make him feel better, not if it changed the way you looked at him.

“She’s right, you know,” he whispered, his voice deep, low as if something had taken over him.

You kept pretending to search through your pile of papers to distract yourself, but your curiosity got the better of you as you stopped fumbling with imaginary files. He grinned as he got your attention.

“You work too hard.”

You turned around, offended by his obvious eavesdropping, but you were taken aback as his eyes shifted from being that calming brown, to a deeper, almost black hue.

“As opposed to you?” you spoke without thinking.

He was serious, more serious than you were used to him being, and the realization made you uncomfortable, enough to make you turn away. Getting to your feet, you began to pick up the papers, trying to find a way to distract yourself from the feeling of his eyes picking away at you. He was catching you off guard to the point you couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t see what was going on right before your very eyes, not until it was too late. He was quiet, quick on his feet as he came to stand behind you, his soft lips just as quick to find the curve of your ear as they teasingly brushed along your skin, his warm breath reaching within you, and stealing your breath away. You froze, clenching your jaw, gripping onto the stack of papers as he let out a soft chuckle in your ear.

“Is that what you think?” he whispered, his long fingers taking hold of your cheeks, gently turning your gaze to face his.

Your heart sputtered in your chest, the mere sight of the way he was looking at you making something turn in your stomach, making your body tingle in a way that was so foreign to you. He bit his lip slowly, taking in your parted lips, finding rise in the way your eyes watched his tongue flick over his rosy flesh. You took in a silent breath, lifting your gaze to find his staring at you, watching you with a secret intent, speaking to you in ways words couldn’t, but he didn’t need to speak for you to feel what he felt. You barred your teeth, slightly pulling away from his grip, but finding yourself locked into his touch.

“Let go of me, Taehyung.”

“Is that what you really want?”

His eyes searched yours, his hand slowly slipping from your cheeks, trailing along your skin as he allowed his hand to fall at his side.

“Is that what you want?” you probed.

He gave you a warm smile, full of innocence, contrasting greatly with the hungry desperation in his eyes. For a second, you forgot how much you hated him, seeing the way he glowed up so close; you started to see why everyone swooned as soon as he walked in the room. He paused, his eyes giving little away about his intentions before he pressed his lips to yours, stealing a kiss for himself. You stood there in shock, his body heat burning you to the core, your nerves spiked to a whole new level as you tried to make sense of his actions. He pulled away, his eyes greeting yours with that unwavering look of desire, and you couldn’t find the words to speak, to protest, to question his intentions.

“What are you doing?” you finally choked out.

He smirked, his silence more of an answer than you realized as his fingers traced your thigh, caressing your warm flesh, climbing their way higher, and hiking your skirt around your waist. Your breathing grew shakier, your body begging him to keep going despite the mental battle wreaking havoc in your mind. He leaned closer, catching your ragged breaths, getting a closer look at the torment in your eyes, and his smirk grew more taunting as his fingers traced the band above your hips. He reached forward, taking hold of your cheeks yet again with his other hand, gently pulling your lips closer to his, your flesh grazing his gingerly.

“Don’t you think you’ve earned it?”

He moaned, and his eyes darted to your lips as they took in the sweet taste of his pleasure. His words alone made you think back on all your hard work, the failed attempts at being the writer you imagined yourself to be flashing in your mind, and it was all his fault. You felt a seed of hatred spread inside you, mingling with a want to finally be recognized for all your efforts, and it suddenly didn’t matter who was holding the key to your acceptance, not when he was so close, his lips tasting your breath, his eyes breathing how badly he wanted to make you feel good. You had earned what it was like to be rewarded by the prize jewel himself.

“Yes,” you gasped, the words slipping out of your mouth before you had time to rethink your desires.

All he wanted was to hear you say it, to hear you admit you wanted him as badly as he wanted you. He plunged his fingers beneath your underwear, his fingers quick to feel the bud of your excitement, two fingers pressing inside of you to prove just how much you earned it. You gasped, your nails scrapping along your metal desk as his lips took advantage of their opening, his tongue eager to waltz with yours. He moaned, gasping into every kiss as his fingers worked wonders inside you, flicking, curling inside of you until you were squirming against him for more.

His fingers were so warm, enticing you as they pumped inside of you, hitting you deep until you were moaning for more. You never thought you’d find yourself in a position like this with Taehyung of all people, couldn’t imagine it even as his fingers grew slick with your juices, fluttering inside you as if that was exactly where they belonged. You moaned, pressing yourself into him, feeling just how much he wanted to make you feel good, and he moaned back, his urge to be inside of you driving him over the edge.

He could feel you wouldn’t make it much longer if he kept going the way he was, your walls pulsing against his fingers as he steadily pushed them inside you. You were so warm in every sense of the word, your moans, your tongue, your lips, your skin, your slick walls squeezing onto his flesh. His breathing grew unsteady as he thought of your lips wrapped around him, and the thought of your flesh pressed tenderly against his. He’d have been lying to himself if he thought he could have kept in control. He was supposed to be angry with you for hating him, for treating him as if he was worthless when all he wanted was for you to know his worth, but he couldn’t remember so clearly with you wrapped around his fingers.

He moaned, pumping faster as his mind took him places, making him grow harder with your back pressed against him. You moaned, feeling a spark ignite inside of you, growing more intense the longer his fingers worked wonders. He let out a low moan, pulling his lips away from yours for the first time, but they ghosted over yours as he tried to contain his lust, his fingers slowing down as his eyes flickered open, locking with yours as they were trapped in a haze of desire.

“This doesn’t change anything,” you whispered.

He grinned, “We’ll see about that."

He pulled his fingers out, graceful, methodical as he pushed your underwear from your hips, pulling your leg up as soon as the garment hit the floor. You braced yourself on your desk, feeling the cold grasp your leg, feeling the wetness dripping from your center as you listened to him unbutton his pants, the anticipation making your mind go fuzzy. He gasped, closing his eyes briefly as his member broke from the constraints of his pants, red, throbbing in his hand, dripping with all his built-up pleasure. He needed to feel your warmth against his member, wanted it more than anything he could ever imagine. He aligned himself with your entrance, a moan leaving his lips as he pressed his member inside of you, and another as he watched you gradually take him all him.

You let out ragged breaths, moaning, leaning your head back against his shoulder as you felt all of him so clearly, filling your emptiness. He was more than you expected, in every way, making you hate him that much more for being everything you weren’t. You let your eyes drift towards the ceiling, carefully eyeing that same old stain, feeling its judgement as it watched both of your sins unfold; you, the editor’s biggest nightmare, and him, everyone’s favorite trophy reporter, entangled in one another’s body. You could see the headlines now. You felt his lips curl into a smile against your ear, feel his hot breath as he let out a softer moan, his hand finding refuge against your breasts beneath your sweater as he waited for you to adjust to his girth.

He didn’t want to wait, but he found himself wanting to memorize every curve of your body before he was too far gone to remember to do so. He was enveloped in your warmth, coated in you, and it was almost enough, but as he felt your walls twitching against him, something hungry awoke in him, unable to be sated by a simple touch. The feeling made him flick his hips, drawing out a lethargic moan from your lips, and another as he flicked his hips again. He swallowed hard, going crazy by your beautifully sinful noises.

He couldn’t contain himself as he pushed your body forward, your hands flying to the metal of your desk, and the stacks of meaningless papers on it. His thrusts were rough, both soothing and savage in their own way, pulling moan after moan from both of your lips until you were lost in your own cloud of lust. He felt more than good, as perfect as the articles he’d write for the front cover, his member pulsing against your walls in perfect harmony, his hips carrying your rational mind somewhere far away.

You had a complete hold on him, his member ceaselessly throbbing inside of you, begging for more even as your walls clung to him. He felt all his anger, and want, flooding to the surface, making him thrust inside of you harder, faster, losing all sense of the word control. He moaned for you, grabbing hold of your breast tighter as his other hand flew to your hair, pulling your head back, his lips catching any moans you had to offer. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair as your kisses deepened, your tongues running sloppily against the others, tasting the sweet elixir of one another’s pleasure.

You could already feel that spark from earlier, igniting a succession of fires in the pit of your stomach. He felt it too, his hips slowing down, focusing on drilling you hard, forcing you to feel all of him reaching inside you, hitting that marvelous spot so perfectly. He moaned, his hand still squeezing onto your chest, his hips still begging for more. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer, but he knew you wouldn’t be able to either.

“Y/N,” he moaned, his eyes meeting yours as his hips drew out another moan.

You felt your moans in your throat, could feel your mind objecting to the idea of letting him see just how much he’d gotten to you, but your walls were straining against him, clutching to his warmth, and it was in that moment, on the edge of your release, you forgot what it was like to hate him; all you wanted was to feel every stroke of his hips, and every touch of his lips, his hands, his body. When you accepted that simple fact, you felt your body set off against his, the feeling of his member, the taste of his lips, his touch, it all made you cry out his name, a drawn-out moan escaping your lips.

He caught your moan, his hips temporarily losing their rhythm as you came around him, but he forced himself to keep going, seeking out the same release, his eyes taking in the sight of you unguarded, basking in the euphoric feeling he’d given you. He felt his member pulsing, everything in him falling apart just at the sight of you. He couldn’t hold back anymore as he thrusted inside you a few more times, his hand gripping onto your flesh even tighter as the other flew to your desk, his nails scrapping along the same papers as he came inside you, a chorus of moans leaving his lips in the process.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, both of you letting out labored breaths as you rode out your orgasms. He moaned, tucking his head in the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin. You imagined you could have stayed like that, with him, for the rest of the night, finding a sort of calm in the sound of his breaths, growing steadier with every passing second; but you didn’t want to fall privy to the same admiration everyone else had.

Sensing a change in the air, he lifted his head, his lips trailing along your cheek, and a satisfied moan left his lips as his eyes peered at your blank computer screen. He smirked, planting a wet kiss on your cheek. He removed his hand from beneath your sweater, his fingers guiding your gaze towards his, the amusement prevalent in his eyes as they searched your face, settling on your lips before stealing a few more kisses, each one reigniting a spark as his tongue danced along yours.

You took in a deep breath, meeting his gaze once more as he sunk his teeth in his lip, an innocent smile on his face before he carefully pulled out, helping you find your balance as he guided your leg back to the ground. You stood there, still feeling him inside you, the warmth of his breath leaving you as he fixed his pants. After a moment, you felt his lips hovering by your ear, a smug grin gracing his lips.

“How do you expect to beat me without an article, Y/N?”

He chuckled, backing away from you, but you couldn’t look at him as you listened to him grabbing the last of his things, clicking his light out, and confidently walking out of the office as if he’d bested you yet again. You waited for the sound of the door closing before you fell back in your chair, your core already sore from him. You leaned your head against your chair, sinking into its comfort as you waited for the hatred to build back up, the need to beat him finding its way back to the surface, battling the blissful sound of his moans and the tall tale of his final taunt. You couldn’t let him win.

You’d worked all night, your fingers gliding over the keyboard with and effortless ease as the words came pouring out of you. You didn’t expect to be rewarded, didn’t expect anyone to like the words flowing from your thoughts, that was, until you were called into your editor’s office later that morning, his eyes glued to the finished product of the article you’d put everything you had into, Taehyung’s already read, hovering in the corner as if it was already shaming you. You couldn’t believe it as the words left his mouth.

Front cover. You’d finally written a front cover story, and you were finally all anyone could talk about in the office. You bowed, taking every compliment, accepting your hard work had finally paid off, but you could feel his eyes watching you the entire time. You stole glances from your position at the head of the office, a smile on his face as he leaned back in his desk chair, his arms crossed over his chest. You wondered if anyone else saw the dark look in his eyes, the innocent guy they all knew, and loved, retreating to the darkest recesses of his mind. You tried to ignore it, slipping back to your desk as quietly as possible, and pretending to prepare for an article you had yet to be handed; your fingers flipped through your folders in search of a distraction, but nothing distracted you more than the feeling of his warm breath crawling up your neck, his lips running over your flesh until they settled by your ear.

“Front cover,” he whispered, “Sounds like you’ve earned a reward, wouldn’t you think?”

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midnightghostwriter · 7 years ago

Text

netflix and no chill

↬ summary: when lost in translation goes just a little too far to the wayside.

↬ genre: fluff

↬ pairing: chase/chacha malone x reader

↬ word count: 2.9k

a/n: another repost of an older work i did. istg i write stuff besides fluff, it's just all in the works rn. xP

It was well past time for the sun to be shining down on the harried faces of pedestrians shoving past each other on their way to any number of destinations. But the sun seemed much too tired to show her face, choosing instead to hide behind the silver-grey skirts of the clouds dotting the sky. The dim color had absolutely no bearing on the small spot of warmth blooming in you as you wove through the crowds to the AOMG office. It could begin pouring rain and you would probably still be smiling brightly to yourself.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had set foot in the place, though it certainly felt like longer than just a few weeks. Of course you understood that life for your musically-talented friends was beyond busy, and the last thing you expected was endless hours to spend with them. Their careers came before almost anything else, and standing in the way of something each and every one of them had been so long reaching for - you would never dream of it. Even so, you could only go so long without seeing them before something had to be done.

So here you were, pushing past the glass doors and waving to a few of the people scattered about the lobby. Rather than wait for the elevator, you slipped into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time to the studio floor. The faint sounds of music drifted into the hall from one of the rooms, and you followed it to a door sitting slightly ajar.

Inside you discovered Jay and Loco sprawled on the couch, lazily scanning their phones, though they had the presence of mind to look up as you snuck in. Gray stood at the mic, firing out lines too fast for you too follow, especially with the window between you and the booth blocking most of them. Most importantly, though, was Chacha seated before the impressive array of mixing equipment. Ignoring the knowing looks on the other boys’ faces and the way your heart thumped in your chest, you plopped down into the vacant seat next to him.

You had yet to say it out loud to anyone but Hoody, but you had developed something of a crush on him. What had begun as mildly enthusiastic fangirling over his talent, had unexpectedly grown into more, and now you were hopelessly infatuated. The two of you had bonded further over your shared origins outside Korea, though you had the advantage of a mother from Gwangju. Even so, the two of you had hit it off much to your delight, and it had become a common sight to see you either at his side or running off to join him.

Which was probably why even though the pair of you didn't say anything as you watched Seonghwa finish his verse, he still handed you a can of coffee that had been perched happily beside his own. You accepted gratefully, shooting him a beaming smile before popping the tab and silently chugging most of its contents. It wasn't nearly as involved as theirs, but your own work had been wearing you down as well, and you were happy for the pick-me-up.

As soon as the door opened and the booth’s former occupant took up residence with Jay and Hyukwoo on the couch, Chase turned to you, smiling so genuinely your stomach flopped.

“Hey, long time no see!”

“Jeez, you say it like we haven't spoken in years or something!” You laughed. He shrugged.

“Feels like it. You haven't been by the studio in ages.” It was your turn to let your shoulders rise and fall as you tried to play it cool.

“I know you've all been busy. I didn't want to get in the way.”

“That's a lame ass excuse,” Jay declared. “Y’know you're welcome here anytime.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm busy too.”

“Busy avoiding how deep in denial you are,” Gray chimed in. It took your brain a second to process the sudden switch he'd made to Korean, but when you had you sent him your darkest glare.

“Yah!” The other guys chuckled, though Chase just looked confused. For once you were grateful for his lack of knowledge with the language, as it saved you the immense embarrassment of explaining yourself. The others relentlessly teasing you was more than par for the course, but it didn't make you want to crawl down a hole any less. What came out of Jay’s mouth next didn't help in the least.

“Well I think that's everything for now. We’re gonna go get lunch.” Before you could open your mouth, the three of them fled the room, leaving you and Chacha alone.

“They could have at least invited us too,” you muttered. He watched the way you pouted and chuckled.

“Who needs them, let's go get lunch ourselves.” You looked at him, the implication of his proposition making your stomach do somersaults.

“Don't you wanna go catch up to them or something?” He scoffed and stood, holding a hand out to help you out of your chair. You accepted, letting him tug you to your feet.

“Nah, I see enough of them here during the day. Let's go.” As he began leading the way out of the office, his phone buzzed. Checking the screen, he rolled his eyes at Jay’s message.

You owe me.

A second later, it was followed up with,

Don't fuck it up.

Despite your initial hesitation to spend any extended time with Chase, lest you become a mess of butterflies and nerves, you made it through lunch without any problems. In fact, it was the most fun you'd had in a long while, and when you caught him grimacing at his phone your heart dropped.

“Sorry but I should probably get back.” Knew it. But you smiled in understanding and started gathering the remains of your meal.

“Those tracks won't mix themselves!” You declared cheerfully. When you looked up from tossing your collective trash, a look of hesitance had overtaken him. “What?”

“Do you wanna come over later?

“What?” You repeated, this time with an added edge of disbelief. His gaze slid away from yours and you realized you'd never seen him, the Chacha Malone, so obviously nervous.

“Well it's been awhile since we hung out, so I was thinking when I'm done at the studio you could come by... There's some new stuff out, so we could watch that and just, y’know, chill.” If your desire to not look like a ridiculous beached fish hadn’t won out, you were fairly certain you would’ve been gaping at him. Instead you swallowed and raised your eyebrows at him.

“Chase did you…. Did you just ask me to Netflix and chill?” Realization dawned in his eyes, before they melted back to his familiar dark brown, lighted with amusement.

“I guess I did,” he laughed. “Are you saying no?” This time it was you who hesitated, weighing the offer in your mind. After all, it didn’t have to mean what you thought it did, right? And even if it did, were you really going to turn that down?

“I’ll see you tonight,” you managed eventually, and the two of you went your separate ways out the door.

By the time you showed up at his apartment door, with what felt like an eternity left before the time he’d texted you earlier, you were a mess. A nervous, excited, and maybe even a little queasy, mess. You’d made an effort to wear more than just your typical couch surfing gear of sweats and a comfy tee, and even refreshed your makeup rather than removing it like you usually would have. None of it made you feel any better about anything.

The universe took pity, though, only giving you a few minutes to worry yourself senseless before the door swung open after you’d finally raised the courage to knock. You could see the weariness of the week catching up to him; not only in the faintly visible bags under his eyes, but also the fact that he was in a well-worn hoodie and jeans that made you feel supremely overdressed.

“Hey.” He moved aside, letting you slip past into the hall. “Did you come from somewhere?”

“Huh?” You looked up from taking off your shoes, meeting his eyes with your confused ones.

“You seem more dressed up than you were earlier.” Shit. Forcing a quick smile onto your face and willing your cheeks to stop heating up, you nodded.

“Oh y-yeah, I met one of my friends at the mall earlier.” Before he could ask any more questions, you moved past him into the lounge, making yourself comfortable on the couch and he followed suit a moment later.

Picking something to watch wasn’t difficult as you both shared similar tastes in shows and movies. It was getting through the episodes that was proving to be difficult. You were so high strung you had forgotten what was happening at this point, and you couldn’t be bothered to focus enough to find out. What you were focused on, rather than whatever pickle the main character found themselves in, was how close you two were seated, how you could just feel his body heat seeping into your skin despite his sweatshirt, how if you moved a smidge to the left, you’d be basically leaning on him. None of these thing seemed to bother Chase, and that just made you all the more frustrated with yourself. You were beginning to think you had read way too far into his offer earlier that day, and he had meant exactly what he said - Netflix and chill the fuck out.

Then, it happened. What many considered to be the universal signal that things were stepping up a notch. When you had turned your head back to the television in an effort to actually pay attention, he shifted beside you, and suddenly you realized his shoulder you’d been carefully seated away from had moved. Oh.

Your companion showed absolutely no sign that he picked up on how your heart began to race or how you had frozen to the spot. Uncertainty ran like ice through your veins, a thousand questions spinning through your mind. Namely, however, was what the fuck were you supposed to do now?

After several elongated second of deliberation, you settled for playing it cool, trying to act as if nothing had happened. Yup, you had noticed absolutely nothing except how very interesting the show before you was. And so you continued to tell yourself, a mantra that lasted enough episodes that you actually felt yourself loosening up, your earlier tension dissipating.

But fate had other plans apparently, and all your hard work was undone a second later.

You had finally settled into a comfortable position, letting yourself lean into him just enough to be supported in your lounging; everything was right with the universe. But just as another episode ended, you felt eyes on you and turned to find Chase staring at you.

“Wh-what?” You asked, suddenly and inexplicably nervous. The racing thump of your heart in your chest went unnoticed as he leaned a tiny bit closer, still silent. As if on some kind of pre-programmed instinct, your eyes slipped shut and you held your breath. Warmth brushed your cheek and you felt heat lick its way up your neck to your face.

When nothing else happened after a few seconds, you finally opened your eyes, and Chase was still staring at you, this time looking bemused. Oh no.

“You had an eyelash stuck to your cheek.” You nodded at the simple explanation, shame and humiliation in equal part flooding your system.

“Thanks,” you muttered, almost inaudible, as you looked anywhere but him.

The second your eyes dropped from his and red flooded his cheeks, Chase knew he had fucked up. And fucked up hard. You looked positively mortified, and it was abundantly clear you had expected something more, something he was all too willing but too apparently oblivious to give.

Fuck.

He had always known he liked you. From the moment the two of you had met and you had been able to not only match wits with Jay but share the group’s appreciation for music and art, he knew. But getting up the courage to say anything was impossible, even with all the time the two of you spent together, or perhaps because of it. After all, what was the appropriate time to tell your best friend you were more or less in love with them?

It could have been then and now, a moment of utter perfection handed down by the universe through Jay’s attempts at matchmaking, but it had passed. Fled the scene in the wake of his blunder, its disappearance obvious in how you situated yourself as far from him as possible and tried to hide your embarrassed tears with your hair.

Uncertainty and panic of a nature he had never known swept through him at the sight. What if he had messed up everything? What if you stopped coming by the studio on late nights to remind them to sleep? What if your gestures of comfort when all of them became too frustrated to think ceased?

What if he lost you as a friend, all because he had been too dumb to read the signs?

The crashing wave of possibilities was intimidating, almost keeping him frozen as the tension rose. What would happen, he had no clue, but he did know that if something wasn't done, he'd probably lose it. Even if it destroyed everything, he had to try something because seeing you like this was killing him.

As if you were a small creature not to be disturbed, he reached over and swept up the remote. He watched you jolt as the press of a button made the screen go black and the room fall incredibly silent. Acting completely independently of the coherent thought that had been washed from his mind, his hand found your shoulder, turning you back to face him. Your startled eyes met his, wide and unsure, and surprised at the faint light of determination in his.

“Ch-Chase…?” His name as it passed your lips was barely a whisper, too hesitant to be much more than that. The tension crawled molasses slow along your skin, wrapping you in a tight and nearly suffocating embrace. It felt like an eternity with your gazes locked on one another’s, the feeling of drowning in his stare beginning to consume you when he finally leaned in and this time when you closed your eyes, you got exactly what you’d wanted.

What kissing Chacha Malone was like you couldn’t have hoped to guess. It was something you never thought you would get to experience. Yet as his mouth found yours, molding together in a way that was almost too perfect, you were struck with the notion that it was something you would give anything to do again. Your head tilted back in response, following the light touch of his hand cupping your neck to deepen the kiss. Restless fingers found the neck of his hoodie and tugged him even closer, wanting to get everything out of the kiss that you could.

The need for oxygen that had your lungs screaming in your chest was the only thing that kept you from pressing into him further, or begging with fingers cascading through his hair for something beyond the sensation of his lips against yours. Taking a moment to collect yourself and enough oxygen to think past your spiralling emotions, your eyes remained closed, missing the way his expression shifted into something along the lines of stunned or star-struck. He studied you silently as you finally opened your eyes again, meeting his gaze with pupils blown wide and lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss and, in short, perfect. A few moments later those lips split into a shy smile and you let out a soft laugh that made his heart warmer just hearing it.

“Well,” you started, slightly breathless even still, “that was… That was something.”

“Uh yeah,” he muttered. Now that the moment had passed, he found himself incredibly embarrassed that he had done something so rash. He supposed he was lucky you hadn’t utterly rejected him. That would have been infinitely worse.

“So…” Embarrassment was making the rounds now to you, and it brought with it a healthy dose of uncertainty. Where did this leave you? “I’ll be straight. I like you, and I’d really like it if you liked me too. But if this was just a one time thing tell me now so I don’t humiliate myself later.” His eyes widened for a moment before he shook his head.

“No, definitely not a one time thing. At least, I’d like it not to be. If, uh, that’s what you want too. Because I kind of, maybe, like you too.” A sly grin crossed your lips.

“‘Maybe’? That’s not good enough, Chase,” you teased, watching with utter amusement as panic set in, and he hurried to elaborate.

“Wait wait wait, I like you too! For real.” Another giggle escaped you and, feeling bold now, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek.

“I’m glad,” you told him, softer now, a matching smile replacing your earlier one. He returned it with a genuine grin of his own and slid an arm around your waist.

“So about that whole ‘Netflix and chill’ thing.”

“Don’t push your luck, slick.”

Wearing matching idiotic grins, the two of you settled back on the couch, much more comfortably entwined than before. As you engrossed yourself in the next episode, Chase slid his phone from his pocket and sent a quick text.

To: Simon I believe you and Loco owe Jay ten bucks. Just saying.

#aomg scenario #khh scenario #chacha malone scenario #chase malone scenario #aomg fluff #khh fluff #chacha malone fluff #chase malone fluff #; bc chase needs more love and appreciation #; he's such a good guy honestly I wish I was actually friends with him lol #no rating

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jasperrollswrites · 7 years ago

Text

The Baritone and the Critic

More commissions. This is a bit of a silly one but I feel it’s important, because it features yours truly. Done for AgentofEmpathy on FA. There was going to be an original song but it would’ve made the story too long.

———————

In comparison to the sweltering heat outside, the main theater of the auditorium was enjoyably cool. It had to be, since the stage lights would be heat enough on the actors, and if anyone in the audience ended up passing out, it'd probably be pretty embarrassing. There wasn't a full audience in there right now, of course. They'd come later. Right now, the wide open room, filled to the brim with art deco style architecture, had only two occupants.

They were sitting in one of the front seats on the balcony. One was in fairly okay shape. He wore a red shirt, with a brown jacket over it. His dark brown hair was short, with a slight flick at the ends. He looked pretty young, no real blemishes or anything on his face. The other was slightly chubby, wearing a tight dark blue hoodie. His dark brown hair was quite long in comparison, reaching down towards the small of his back, but it didn't look like he took particularly good care of it - it was washed at least, but clearly hadn't been combed.

"What is it, tonight?" the long-haired one asked, turning towards his companion.

"Uhh...some opera. The Magic Flute." they replied.

"Oh, I actually know that one."

"You know an opera, Jasper?" the one in the brown jacket responded, laughing a little.

"Yes," Jasper replied, indignantly. "I am slightly cultured, Spencer. I bet you didn't know it."

"Fair enough." Spencer admitted. "How do you know so much, though?"

"I had a children's book version of it when I was a kid." Jasper said, reminiscing. "Well...I mean it looked like a children's book, but all the dialog was straight from the story, so it was kind of confusing for an 8-year old."

"What's it about?"

"Uh...it's kind of weird." Jasper began. "There's this prince from another country, and the queen of that country tells him that if he saves her beautiful daughter from some...evil guy, she'll let him marry her. But then it turns out that the guy who kidnapped the queen's daughter might not be evil after all...he has to go through some trials...there's a lot of stuff about being in the Masons, I think, 'cause Mozart was a Mason or something like that."

"And what about the flute?" Spencer asked.

"Oh, yeah, that like...barely comes up I think. Like, the prince gets given it about halfway through by some servant boys, and it gets used like once for some deus ex machina near the end, I guess. I'm probably remembering it wrong."

Spencer stood up, stretching his legs a bit. "Man, why are they keeping us around here?" He asked. "It's not like there's anything left to do. Cleaning's all done. People won't be coming for like...3 hours."

"To check nothing else gets messed up I guess?" Jasper replied, still sitting as he pulled out his phone. "I mean, I don't mind getting paid to sit around for 3 hours."

"Yeah, guess so." Spencer said. "I'm gonna go look around." Jasper made a noncommittal humming noise, evidently more interested in his phone. Spencer looked down as the phone's speaker began making music. Looked liked he was playing air hockey or something. Spencer turned away, making his way to the back of the balcony, before heading through the doors that lead outside.

As Spencer closed the door back to the auditorium and entered into the corridors wrapping around it, he was struck by how silent it was. The light red wallpaper was brightly lit, and there were no windows. It felt like it was completely divorced from the rest of the world - that there was nothing beyond the walls of these corridors. He walked down the plush red carpet on the stairs, towards the lower floor of the auditorium. Opening one of the wide doors, he walked back in. He could barely hear the hiss of Jasper's game up above. The lights were low, except on the stage, where a single spotlight was pointed at the centre. Spencer walked along the rows of seats, all red and slightly plump with comfortable fluff. It was a pretty classy place, with the pillars a stark alabaster white, with lines of gold curving around in intricate patterns. They didn't seem to have done anything special for the play, however. Spencer guess it might be a pared back production, for whatever reason. Maybe they didn't have a big budget

He walked silently around the orchestra pit, then began climbing the hard steps to the stage. As he did, he was surprised by the sound of his footsteps - they'd been silent on the carpet of the audience area, now they were much louder. He turned towards the balcony, in time to see Jasper look up from his phone. He looked quite small from where Spencer was standing.

"Are you going to sing for me?!" Jasper yelled, feigning delight.

"Very funny!" Spencer yelled back.

As he stepped up onto the stage, however, Spencer felt a bit funny. He wasn't much of a singer. Everyone sung to themselves in their room, or in the shower, or something, but Spencer hadn't really done in front of audience. Jasper's comment had made him feel a bit indignant. Maybe he should sing. He might be really good at it. You never knew.

He looked around the stage, looking behind the curtain and into the wings. There were a few props lying around, stuff he assumed was needed for the opera tonight. A gramophone was set out, although it looked pretty dusty, the metal of the...speaker looking dirty and unpolished. A handkerchief with a red edge had been laid on the part where the record was placed. He picked the handkerchief up, using it to dust the gramophone a little.

"No respect, really." He muttered to himself. He felt himself a little stung by Jasper's remark, the more he thought about it. It had been kind of a mean thing to say...well, okay, maybe not, but the implication was rude. He looked back towards the centre of the stage, where the spotlight was shining. If he sung, that would shut Jasper up. And if it didn't, well...who else would know? He walked towards the spotlight, handkerchief still in hand. Now that he was in the centre of it, it was hard to see the audience. He looked up to where he thought Jasper was. He could just barely see him, his feet up on the ledge of the balcony, still messing around with his phone. Spencer scratched his upper lip a little, feeling it itch a bit. As he pulled his hand away, a few hairs pushed through the skin, growing faster than normal.

What should he sing? It was an opera tonight. Something classical would fit. Canon in D. Everyone knew that one. He felt a little nervous, but closed his eyes. There was no-one there except Jasper. There was nothing to be afraid of.

He began to hum the opening notes, holding the handkerchief tightly in his right hand. First a B, then an F, then G after that, followed by a D...as he carried along with the song, he tried to be a bit louder, letting his voice project a little. Didn't they say something about speaking from the diaphragm in drama lessons at school? It was a little tough to do, so he might as well just keep singing from the throat.

As he sung, the hairs on his lip were pushing out more now, gaining in thickness. A mustache was forming across his upper lip, although it didn't look like much at the moment. As he moved on to the next measure of the song, he raised his voice further, trying to reach Jasper's ears now. He put his left hand on his stomach, and as he did, it bloated outward slightly. He began to sing the song's main melody, a series of sonorous "la"-s bouncing around the room. It wasn't bad, he thought. But maybe it wasn't loud enough...

As he thought that, Jasper spoke up. "Can't hear yooouuu! Speak up!" He said, kind of mockingly. Spencer stopped abruptly and frowned up at Jasper. His voice sounded strange, like he hadn't cleared his throat. It was hard to see through the glaring spotlight but...yes. He was still wrapped up in his phone. Now that felt really unfair. Of course he couldn't hear Spencer if he was more concerned with his stupid game! Lazy, fat idiot. He looked a bit bigger than before. But the spotlight wasn't on him, now, was it? It was on Spencer.

A game...maybe a song from a game would be more his speed. But what song? They weren't really known for anything particularly operatic...except. Spencer grinned to himself. He knew the perfect song. He took a breath in, his belly swelling a little bit more as he did. He could almost hear the organ playing.

"Bwah. Hum. Ah-hem." He gave out a few test notes, trying to sing from his diaphragm. This was a lower song than Canon in D, so he'd need to be going for...what was it? They had names for this kind of thing. A low and bassy voice. Baritone, his mind offered. Probably. He did a bit more vocal testing. "Bwaaah, bwa-bwaaahhh..." the more he did it, the easier it felt, and the more he did it...the more he grew.

The hair on his upper lip was now pushing into a proper mustache, and as it reached its full length, it curled round a little at the ends. He coughed a bit, and without really thinking about how he didn't have a mustache a minute earlier, stroked it. Hair was now pushing out over his skin now, but this wasn't the dark hair of the mustache that now adorned his face...this hair was white. His belly swelled further, becoming impossible to miss, causing his shirt to ride up. He smirked, feeling ready to let his real voice come out. He opened his mouth, and out came the baritone he was looking for.

"Who's done me a thousand wrongs, ever since Donkey Kooooong..." he held the last note, his voice quivering. He closed his eyes, put his left hand to his chest, while raising his right into the air dramatically, the handkerchief flipping over in his hand. The white hair was pushing out all over now, in his arms and hands, across his belly and chest...on his face. He felt a little itchy, but he couldn't let it stop him from performing.

"Slithering down every pipe, despite his plumb-shaped body type..." his voice was beginning to change, not just now he was singing in baritone. He was rolling his Rs, his words gaining a slight Mediterranean tone. His belly kept on pushing outwards with every note he held, the hairs across it thickening...he wasn't just looking a bit hirsute. This was becoming proper fur adorning his belly. He cracked open an eye, to get a look at Jasper...it was hard to see, but his "friend" seemed to be paying attention...although he looked a bit bigger than before.

"Who's gonna run in fear, while screaming 'Mamma-miaaaaaaa'?" He was really enjoying those long notes. With every single one, his belly swelled - it was getting beyond just chubby, or fat, this was becoming obese. It was starting to sag down, but Spencer didn't feel impaired at all. As his shirt and jacket rode up, however, they too began to change. His shirt remained red, but the material it was made of was becoming more comfortable...a little more plush. Little buttons bloomed out, as a split formed down the middle, the shirt becoming a little waistcoat, with a spiralling design being drawn into it.

Meanwhile, his jacket was changing a lot more. The brown colour was deepening, turning towards purple, before rolling back, into a ocean blue colour, that stood out in the light of the spotlight. The back of the jacket began to push down, over his swelling buttocks, into the coattails of a much smarter blazer. The sleeves of the jacket folded back, as cufflinks set themselves into the softening material. The collar rose up around his cheeks, which were beginning to get plump with fat, and fluffy with white fur. His pants were being stretched to the limit, by his oversized body, but he was far more focused on the performance.

"Who leaves me gray and grim? Oh, what does Peach see in him?" As the white fur pushed out over his face, his hair began to change too. The curl in the dark brown hair got more intense, quite literally curling up into little rolls of hair, and as they did, they began to lose colour, turning grey, before reaching a white tone closer to that of the fur he was growing. His nose was sinking into his face, the fur covering it up. He took a deep breath, pleased with his first verse, his open mouth revealing a set of blunt buck teeth. He was about to launch into the second, when a cruel, gravelly voice interrupted him.

"Oh, goodness me. You call this opera?" It was Jasper, it could only be Jasper, but...he sounded wrong. It was hard to see him past the spotlight. "I've heard elementary school choirs that sang better than this!"

Spencer felt the anger rising up in him. What was this guy's deal? To be so rude, for no reason, especially to someone like him...

"Do you know exactly who you're talking to?" he said, trying to resist singing it out.

"A hack?" came the response from the darkness of the auditorium.

"Get some lights on this man!" Spencer yelled, and at his will, a set of lights swivelled towards the audience and turned on, pointed at where Jasper was sitting.

Jasper recoiled from the light, but it was clearly a changed Jasper. He too, had bloated in size tremendously, much fatter and larger than he had ever been before. Gone was the blue hoodie and jeans - now what adorned him was a brown tuxedo, with a bow tie tightly tied around his fattened neck. His skin was now a light purple, his hands fat and stubby. His hair was still long, but it was beginning to brighten, into a fiery orange.

He raised a hand to protect himself from the light. His wide mouth opened slightly, revealing two rows of yellowed, cavity filled teeth - too many sweets, nowhere near enough brushing. "Listen, pal," he growled out. "I don't know who you think you are, but you should definitely know me, well enough."

"Can't say I've ever heard of a tub of lard like yourself." Spencer retorted.

"Tub of lard!! Take a look at a mirror, buddy!" Jasper fired back. Spencer was thrown off by his comment. What was he talking about...he looked down, and finally noticed his own, bloated body.

"Where did...that..." Spencer murmured, his head getting fuzzy. He was sure he hadn't been this fat earlier...had he...? He looked down at his hands...fur was all over them, they were getting so fuzzy he couldn't see the definition between his fingers any more. He turned them over to see a paw pad on the palm of his hand - his hands had blurred together - it looked like he was wearing mitts, but they were definitely his hands. He could feel them. They were his hands.

"See, the difference is," Jasper began, "Unlike you, I'm good at being fat. Look at you! You can barely recognize yourself! Honestly, is this the kind of quality we're supposed to look forward to now? Where's the manager? I have a complaint to file."

The blobby, furry fellow on the stage shook his head, clearing the fuzziness. "Listen, you! I am the Phantom! I'm the master of this stage, and small-minded critics like you have no place in this theater!" As he announced his own name, a set of furry, floppy ears popped out of the top of his head, pushing through the flat, white head of hair that he now owned.

The monstrous purple creature giggled, doubling over a little, before breaking out into a cruel, mocking laughter that reverberated around the auditorium. As he laughed, his belly swelled further, his size overall inflating, becoming bigger than any human, his blazer being pulled to its limit.

"You? YOU!?? YOU'RE the Phantom?!?" He exclaimed incredulously. "Oh, that's the funniest thing I've heard in weeks! You! The Phantom! You should go into comedy, you'd make a killing!" He wiped his eyes.

"And, what, exactly, is so funny about my name?" Phantom replied.

"Oh...oh, you dear, naive, thing. You really don't know me, do you?"

"I think I have made it clear I don't have the time to remember the names of whiny small-time critics such as yourself."

The purple creature extended his arms outwards, displaying his hands theatrically, revelling in the spotlight that had been thrust upon him. "Small-time? My child, nothing could be further from the truth! My name is Jasper Rolls! Esteemed critic, part-time writer of Broadway-worthy plays..." Jasper leant forward, gripping the edge of the balcony with zeal. "...full-time monster, to puny little opera singers like you. My word can make or break you...and with the indignance you've shown to me, I'm heavily favouring break!"

"Well, then, Mr. Rolls." Phantom replied, smirking. "Maybe I can change your opinion."

"Oh," Jasper Rolls replied, with a drawl. "I rrreally doubt that."

"You do? Well, just watch!" And with that, Phantom leapt up, with a surprising amount of athleticism, and flipped back, almost floating across the stage, before landing with a heavy thump on the gramophone. There was a moment of strange noises, and then, Phantom's belly turned transparent, revealing a couple of things - his legs had phased away, leaving him with a ghost-like tail, and the gramophone was stored inside his monstrous belly.

Jasper raised his bushy, fiery orange eyebrows, as his hair curled upwards, into a devils-horns hairstyle. He might have been a bit quick on this one, he thought to himself. He sat back, reaching out to the side, where a box of popcorn that wasn't there before had placed itself, and began to stuff his face, ready for the real show.

His belly dragged down by the gramophone in his ghostly body, Phantom floated towards the centre of the stage. He was going to show this critic a thing or two. This time, the music wasn't just in his head - the sound of a loud organ blared. The lyrics were coming into his head - he'd always been good at improvising on the spot. He sang out, a few test notes, his voice reverberating around the auditorium. The lights turned on by themselves, props began to move onto the stage. This was where it really started.

"I do hope you enjoy this one, Mr. Rolls!" Phantom remarked. "It's been written especially for you."

---

The pair were back atop the balcony, taking up several more seats than they had before. It had been easy for Phantom to get back up there, given that he could float around as he pleased. The gramophone still rested in his translucent belly. Whatever had happened in the intervening minutes, the result had been that the two seemed to have warmed to each other amicably.

"Oh, people think of me some sort of parasite, never happy with what I see on the stage." Jasper was saying. "They just don't get it! I appreciate good, quality theater! That's all I want. It just so happens that 99% of what these idiots put out is pure garbage."

"I would have to agree," Phantom replied, resting his hands on his stomach. "But, I hope you don't mind me saying, you are perhaps too quick to judge. I mean, I barely got through my first verse, and you were already chewing me out."

"Oh, well, if you've led my life...snap judgements are easy to make," Jasper said. "I spent the longest, most abominable time trying sort out this troupe of kid actors...ugh, it was torture. They never listened. I only just got out of it, so I was a bit on edge. But..." He held his hands up in admission, then set one around his companion's ghostly shoulder, smiling perhaps the most warmly he had in awhile. "I'm perfectly willing to admit when I'm wrong, my friend."

Phantom returned the gesture, smiling as well. "I will admit my own shortcomings on judging you, as well." The pair looked at each other, feeling a little strange about gaining a friendship, after both of them spending so long alone...but it seemed like one that would last for a good while. Phantom couldn't wait to see where it would lead them.

#writing #transformation #mario + rabbids kingdom battle #phantom #psychonauts #jasper rolls

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theclaravoyant · 7 years ago

Photo

AN ~ for @agentcalliope, part II of her 3 part gift for the @aosficnet2 exchange. It’s angst/hurt/comfort (my favourite genre) but after this other Fitz-related angst fest I had to sprinkle a liiiittle fluff in there too. Also inspired by the song Oh Mother by Christina Aguilera. Enjoy!

Rshps: Fitz, FitzSimmons, & Fitz’s Mother. set post-FW.

TW: references to domestic violence & associated trauma (after the fact; no actual depiction of physical, verbal or emotional abuse). Rated T.

Read on AO3 (~3300wd)

Part II - A Man Called Alistair

Real

I wear ties & dress shoes on a regular basis

I built a potato clock for the 7th grade science fair

I went to Shield Academy

Not Real

I like black coffee

I speak Latin

Aida went to Shield Academy

Real

I broke my arm in second grade

I broke my arm when I was six

I broke my arm. - ?

Fitz blinked down at the words, puzzled. He read them over again, and frowned. Memories of two separate lives clamoured for his attention, and his head hurt. He pinched his nose.

Jemma nudged him then, knocking him from his thoughts a little.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

It took everything in her not to look down at his page. These were his private thoughts – the path he had to walk to recovery inside his own mind – so she had to let him keep them to himself. But she couldn’t bare to let him walk alone.

“It’s dad,” Fitz explained, and sighed. “I keep getting stuck. I can’t figure out if he’s real or not real.”

“Of course he’s real,” Jemma promised. “You still have a dad, even if he is…”

“What?”

Fitz’s tone was sharp all of a sudden; demanding. Jemma felt like swallowing her tongue. Fitz glared for a minute, but the satisfaction of the trap she’d walked into was soiled by its implications. What did being a dad really mean? he had intended to challenge her – but it was a cheap shot, because what did he know about it anyway? Fitz lowered his eyes apologetically and then, so did Jemma. She took his hand and began to play with his fingers, reassuring him with her touch despite the heavy conversation.

“Fitz…” she began, “do you think – the things your father did to you in there, do you think some of it… might be real?”

“I don’t know,” Fitz replied. “That’s what I was thinking about just now. Like… remember how I told you I broke my arm?”

“In second grade,” Jemma finished.

“Yeah, but how? How’d I do it?”

Jemma blinked. Nothing came to mind, not even the slightest whisper of an idea. It was as if her memory had been wiped.

“I don’t – remember,” she confessed reluctantly. “Perhaps you fell? I’d guess always just assumed you’d got into trouble with some experiment or other and blown yourself up.”

Fitz snorted. “Who in their right mind is going to give a six-year-old explosives?”

“Well how did it happen then?” Jemma retorted.

“That’s the thing,” Fitz agreed. “I don’t remember either. And then, with all this, it’s got me thinking that, you know, maybe…”

He choked up, and his eyes were a little tearful when Jemma finally looked up into them. She tilted her head, flooded with pity.

“Oh, Fitz.”

He took a deep breath, blinking the tears away, and offered her what smile he could.

“I think it’s time for a visit home,” he said. “It’s the only way to get to the bottom of this.”

“Okay,” Jemma agreed, and squeezed his hand for good measure. “I’ll do the leave slips tomorrow.”

Once the decision was made, its morbid origins slipped to the sidelines as Fitz began to think about other things from home. He wondered what his old, miserable schoolyard would look like now; he recalled the computer store in town where he’d got his first job; he promised Jemma a bite of the best blueberry muffins in the world from the bakery around the corner from his house. He lamented the neighbours’ old dog, Fergus, who was long gone by now, and how it was a shame Hunter couldn’t come to watch the football with him. He longed for parts of his home life he could only remember in parts. Warmth. Patchwork quilts. The taste of mint leaf jube lollies.

“Did you ever have one of those tins?” Jemma wondered one evening. “You know, the biscuit tin that somehow never had any biscuits in it?”

“Yes!” Fitz cried. “Bloody sewing supplies. My Nan had one. Must be a nan thing. Honestly, I thought shortbread was a hoax for a while there.”

Jemma laughed, and hugged Fitz as she leaned in over his shoulder. He was sitting on the side of the bed, holding the picture of himself and his mother, out by the washing line of an old brick house, smiling. And this time, he was smiling too. Jemma kissed his cheek.

“Do you have any photos of your Nan?”

“Not in here,” Fitz said. “But Mum’ll have loads. She probably still has all Nan’s photo albums. They had a great wedding, Nan and Grandpa Henry. At least, I think they did. If I remember right…” He frowned, deep in thought, and thumbed the edge of the photograph in his hand. “Hey, Jemma, are you allergic to horses?”

Jemma frowned. “No, why?”

“… No reason.”

In Jemma’s opinion, she did quite a good job at hiding the extra distance her smile wanted to run in that moment. She had a flash of a vision of a fairytale wedding, being pulled up to the aisle in a magnificent carriage drawn by snow-white horses, in a ceremony drowned in grand romantic gestures. She would have gone with something a little smaller scale, but she was not going to begrudge Fitz arrangements of roses the likes of which their paychecks could never afford. Not in her fantasies, anyway. And especially not at a time like this, when Fitz was climbing out of a dark place by finding stable ground in his past, and already looking toward his future. Perhaps they were stronger than she’d thought.

Well, she’d known deep down all along, really, that they were stronger than all of this, but fear and trauma did a lot to make one doubt that. Fitz recounting his true memories though, piece by piece as they came to him? Itchy suits at Sunday school. Hiding out in the top of the climber at recess. The first time his mother had given him that picture of space he loved so dearly. That never failed to make her feel better.

And Fitz – well, Fitz surprised himself with how well he was feeling. He still had to manage his guilt and catastrophic thoughts, but looking back over his life – his real life – gave him a stability he had not quite realised he was missing. He had not often thought about why he was the way that he was, and this had not been the easiest of lessons, but differentiating between the real and the not-real forced him to reflect on his choices, on his feelings, on everything. From his love and respect for the wonderful women in his life, to his cherishing of small indulgences like food in a world that sometimes offered little else, his life rewrote itself down the tracks of his memories and he settled into the knowledge that this, truly, was who he was. Not that other man, whose life had been computer generated, but this one. This man, this life that he had built, and that had been shaped by the people that loved him at least as much as by those who didn’t.

By the time Fitz set food on the plane home – an average passenger jet, for economy and appearances’ sake – he had an indescribable sense of ownership over his identity that even the thought of eight hours in a chair too small for his legs and a meal too small for his stomach could not quell. The feeling was not as ecstatically empowering as he’d hoped, as his life had not been full of as much sunshine and rainbows as he might have liked, but all through the flight, he scribbled real’s and not-real’s into his notebook with vigour. Occasionally, though pretending to read, Jemma snuck a glance in his direction, and smiled.

(Only one question went left unanswered – almost forgotten – even as they took a cab to a hotel room and Fitz called his mother and she cried. So did he.)

“You can come back in now,” Fitz invited. Jemma had made herself scarce for a while so that he and his mother could talk, but she had an insatiable curiosity which, when combined with her protectiveness, meant that she was never far away. In fact, it was only a few seconds after he’d called, that Jemma came back through the door to the bedroom and climbed over the covers to embrace him. Fitz had barely finished wiping his eyes, and he relished the comfort of her arms around him.

“How was it?” she asked.

“I didn’t forget how to speak, at least,” Fitz evaluated. He sighed. “There’s just so much she doesn’t know. It’s so hard to talk to her… but I’m really glad I did. I am. She- she invited us over first thing tomorrow. Probably the only reason she didn’t insist we come over right away is so she can spend the whole bloody night cleaning.”

Fitz laughed breathily and Jemma massaged some of the tension out of his shoulders. He hadn’t so much as spoken to his mother in years – after the Pod, there’d been too much to say and no way to say it, and everything had just snowballed since then. It felt like his whole life hung from a string that could snap at any second. He was getting used to feeling like this, but he wasn’t keen to drag his mother into the rollercoaster-like instability he seemed to attract. At least now he had Jemma, who was getting better at just listening, just trying to understand – not that he didn’t love how she was always willing to charge to the rescue; it was just that sometimes, all he needed was a hand to hold.

Jemma smiled.

“That’s sweet,” she said. “We should bring something with us. Wine? Chocolates? Perhaps make some biscuits?”

“Now?” Fitz raised an eyebrow at her. “You want to make biscuits now?”

“Well, why not? There’s a corner store just downstairs. It’s the polite thing to do.”

So they made biscuits, and some of the sickening uncertainty was indeed driven back by obscene amounts of butter and sugar. The pair of them woke up the next morning in a floury heap, and scrambled to get ready. Today was the day – and it started well. Tears stayed behind their walls this time, albeit only barely. Praise was heaped on Jemma from both sides and Evelyn struggled to keep her hands off her son’s face; the face of a “proper young man” and “so grown up” and if the events that had forced him to grow up so fast and so hard had not been permanently engrained into his psyche he might have left them behind in favour of her contentedness and pride. Jemma stoked the fire too, giving his mother just enough heroic details and leaving out the more horrific parts – and of course promising that throughout their courtship, he had been a perfect gentleman.

“Quite right, too,” Evelyn agreed, puffing her chest and jutting her chin out like… well, like a proud mother hen. Like the very spit of one, and not unlike her son showing off an achievement of his own. Fitz smirked to himself, and caught Jemma softly biting her own lip too, trying not to smile. It was all humour and innocence; glad they had come, with their difficulties merely shadows on the horizon. Of course, Evelyn caught the both of them grinning at what seemed to be nothing, and smiled devilishly too.

“Don’t think your old ma can’t see you two lovebirds making eyes at each other,” she warned, and nodded at Jemma with a glint of mischief in her eye. “Not that it bothers me, mind – just see to it that he’s a gentleman in that area too, right?”

“Jesus, Mum,” Fitz hissed, blushing. Jemma near cackled with laughter as he tried to cover his face with just one hand.

“You have a lot to be proud of, is all I mean by it, Mrs Fitz,” Jemma clarified. Evelyn waved Jemma off with a sigh.

“Truth is, the boy practically raised himself,” she confessed. “Couldn’t for the life of me get him to play with the other boys his age and his mind – my goodness, I’m just thankful he’s finally found somebody who can keep up with him!”

Fitz smiled as Jemma modestly accepted the compliment. Usually, he’d take this opportunity to heap yet more praise upon her, but today, such a direct path to the topic of his upbringing could not be wasted. Or could it?

“Speaking – speaking of that,” he began – and paused. Did he really need to know about that after all? He’d been doing quite well these last few days, patching together more of his true past than he had anticipated. Maybe he could just let it go. Maybe it would be best not to know.

But then Jemma shifted in her chair, her eyebrows furrowed a little in concern. She opened her mouth, prepared to speak for him if his words failed, and Fitz remembered with a sudden lurch of bitterness, all those horrible feelings. The inescapable fear of failure. The need to prove himself, so intense that he felt like committing violence when he stumbled over a sentence. How worthless he felt. And why. Why had he felt like that? Why so intense?

“I – I was thinking I might get a peek at Fitz’s baby photos,” Jemma suggested, pulling Evelyn’s attention back to her with a winning smile while Fitz put his head in his hands, and pulled at his hair, in silent agony.

“He’s only been able to show me a few,” Jemma continued good-naturedly, pretending she hadn’t noticed, “and I’d love to get a look at his mysterious childhood. So secretive that one.”

“Oh, yes, he’s always been quite easily embarrassed, the poor dear,” Evelyn noted, smiling fondly as she obligingly dug out the requested album from under the coffee table. Jemma checked on Fitz while Evelyn was distracted, and nodded her head at the kitchen, suggesting he take a time out. Fitz all but fell over himself, feeling hot all of a sudden as he enthusiastically agreed. He stood, and tried to voice the word ‘tea?’ a few times, but in the end, just went for a fresh pot anyway. He needed the time and space to pull himself together.

In the kitchen, Fitz splashed his face with water, and stretched his neck. His thoughts were all in a knot by now and if he tried to go back into the other room, he’d just make an even worse knot of himself. Curse his tongue. And curse the crippling anxiety that tripled down on every stumbled sentence. Had it always had the voice of his father?

While the kettle boiled, Fitz paced the kitchen, massaging his bad hand. Now that, he remembered. He took a deep breath.

Do it. I have to do it. Just do it. Or you never will.

But on the other hand; What difference is it going to make? You are who you are because of whatever happened, or didn’t happen. Don’t bring the mood down. They’re having fun in there.

But I wasn’t. Not in the Framework, not staring at that page, not thinking about kids with Jemma (kids with Jemma! How is that not fun?), not spending the evening at Nan’s on short notice because Dad was

All of a sudden, Fitz felt very sick. All of a sudden, he remembered why the smell of mint leaf jube lollies had stuck in his mind – and why he hadn’t touched one in a good fifteen, twenty years.

“Leo?” Evelyn leaned back to check on him through the kitchen doorway. Her eyeline was quite obstructed, but Fitz couldn’t form words fast enough to stop her getting up. “Are you alright in there, love? Tea’s just above the stove.”

Jemma paused in her perusal of the photo album, and the smile slowly dropped from her face. It was too quiet. Then -

“Right, Mum. Yeah,” came Fitz’s weak reply. It had been a while since the kettle had boiled, and it was a few seconds more before the half-hearted clinking of cutlery and crockery resumed. Then, a little stronger, Fitz added: “Hey, Mum, can I talk to you for two seconds?”

Evelyn frowned back at Jemma, who almost leapt out of her seat despite knowing that she could not give Fitz the answers he was after. Instead, she dug her fingers into the photo album as subtly as she could and nodded for Evelyn to check on her son. Then, because it seemed proper, Evelyn gathered up their empty cups to be refilled and took them to the sink where Fitz was waiting, and grasping at the bench, trying to build up the courage. He rocked on his feet.

“Hey- it’s- um,” he began, and then figured it was best to be out with it before his lungs exploded with anticipation and he blurted: “did Dad ever – hit – you?”

Evelyn snorted, and the dishes clattered into the sink. “Don’t be silly, Leo, where did you get that idea from?”

He couldn’t help but notice her blustering tone, overconfident, and the way that she avoided his eyes, looking out the window and down at the faucet and the teacups instead. Fitz bit his lip, suddenly feeling bad not only on his own behalf, but for what he’d brought up. But he’d started something now; in for a penny, in for a pound.

“I’ve been thinking about my past a lot, is all,” he said, wanting to bite his tongue at his own necessary ambiguity. “Me and Jemma have… been through some things lately, that got me thinking. I – I remember some things, but not others, and I…”

Fitz trailed off. His mother was shaking – with anger or fear or sorrow he couldn’t tell. Tears shone on her face. It no longer mattered why he’d asked. He had. And he had his answer, and even though he’d been expecting it, it still broke his heart.

“Mum?” he repeated, a little softer this time. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His mother shook her head, and clenched a fist, but it didn’t do much good. She sighed, and confessed;

“You were just a wee boy, Leo. You loved your da.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping to quell the memories of helplessness and pain, anger and frustration, like she had a thousand times before, but when Fitz put a hand on her shoulder she couldn’t resist it anymore. She tried – of course she still tried – but what else could she do but cry, when her son wrapped his arms around her as if he could protect her from a danger nearly twenty years past? What else could she do, when the boy she had rescued, and loved, and broken over – more times than he would ever know - whispered his thanks in her ear?

“Thank you.” He held her as tightly as if he could infuse his love into the very fibre of her being. “Thank you so much. For everything. It means – it means more to me than I can say. You saved me, you know? You made me who I am. Don’t ever doubt that. I love you, Mum.”

He buried his face in her neck and she could tell, he was crying too, so Evelyn let go of the instinct to brush off her own pain. What good was it now anyway? It was not as if she could straighten their collars and walk back into the next room; if nothing else, the lovely Jemma girl was far too perceptive for that. And Fitz, poor dear Fitz, felt as tense as a bowstring. Evelyn stroked her fingers through his curls.

“I love you too, Leo,” she assured him. “I love you too.”

#leo fitz #thefitzsimmonsnetwork #fsfic #aospositivitynet #engineering vs biochem #team engineering #fitzsimmons #more fitz backstory 2k17 #fitz's mum #long post #domestic violence mention

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