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bosbas · 1 year ago

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Chapter 12: did you wish you'd put up more of a fight?

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 4.1k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining, physical altercation (nothing serious but a few mentions of blood), mentions of sex if you squint, benedict being so so stupid

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: guys idk anything about physical fights sorry if this is super unrealistic LMAO

August 12, 1814 - But, dear reader, I cannot fail to mention the upcoming gathering hosted by the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall. Those lucky enough to receive an invitation are surely busy preparing for the eventful trip ahead. Every year, the Bridgerton country party proves to be an excellent hunting ground for ambitious mamas with daughters of marriageable age. Will this year's party bring forth new proposals? Whispers around the ton indicate that a certain Bridgerton brother might propose to Miss Y/N Beaumont, and that would certainly be the news of the season. Fear not, for this author shall keep the ton abreast of any and all developments.

"I beg your pardon?" he spoke, tone low and venomous as he breathed heavily. "What the bloody hell did you just say?"

Benedict saw you exchange a nervous glance with his older brother and his blood boiled at the sight. It was him you should be exchanging glances with. Not Anthony, of all people. He could hardly believe it. In fact, he didn't believe it at all. This had to be some sick joke, some cruel prank that you and his brothers and perhaps even your brothers had all been in on to rag on him for disappearing to the countryside for a month and a half. He desperately wanted you to burst out laughing and start making fun of him for believing that you and Anthony were to get married. But as the seconds ticked by, it became more and more unlikely that this was the case.

Interrupting your prolonged eye contact with Anthony, you looked down at your hands anxiously. This was not how it was supposed to go. There was no nature walk, no time alone with Ben, just an angry Benedict standing at the door to Anthony's study, waves of fury rolling off of him. A small part of you had hoped he would be angry, yes, but now that you were seeing him, unmoving, you wanted nothing more than to disappear from the room. You wished Ben had come ten minutes earlier, where you would have greeted him with a hug instead, feeling his strong arms make themselves at home as they wrapped around you. Benedict was not often angry, especially not at you, but when he was, he usually voiced his displeasure quite loudly to anyone who would listen. However, knowing he was standing there, stock-still and seething, you weren't quite sure how he was going to react.

"How much of that did you hear, exactly?" you asked meekly, trying to gauge how much damage control you would have to do. You kept your gaze firmly on your hands, unable to meet his eyes and slightly fearful of his silent anger.

"Enough to know that my brother is the man you're marrying," Benedict responded, sounding angrier than he was when he first walked in, if that was possible. "I see it's been quite a productive season," he added in a clipped tone.

Your head snapped up at his last comment. You felt Anthony tense beside you as he felt your anger rising, but you didn't care. How dare Benedict blame you for finding a husband after he so unceremoniously walked away from you? Meeting Ben's intense gaze and flinching as you practically felt the daggers shooting from his eyes, you yelled back, "What did you expect, Benedict? You walked away from me and I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I found a husband. I don't know what more you want from me."

Try as you might to keep your voice strong, a wobble at the end had betrayed your true feelings. You had sounded more pleading than anything, but you were beyond caring. You were absolutely crushed, and you could see that Benedict was hurting as well. After years of looking into his eyes, you could recognize that he, too, was hiding sorrow behind his anger. Trying to remain composed, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt Anthony reach over and place a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"I didn't–" started Benedict, unable to continue once he saw Anthony's hand on you. It was true, then. The courtship. Or the proposal. Or whatever else you two had been doing while he was in the countryside five seconds away from tearing his hair out in desperation because he loved you so much. Suddenly, it was difficult to remember why exactly he hadn't wanted to marry you. Marrying you couldn't have been worse than what he was feeling right now, the devastating realization of having truly lost you. Surely nothing could be worse than this.

Carrying the unspeakable grief that came with losing one's best friend and soulmate all in one evening, Benedict turned around to walk out of Anthony's office. He couldn't bear to be there any longer, watching the woman he loved be caressed by his brother. Without a second glance at the two of you, he closed the door behind him and made his way to his own room. He would have been better off going there in the first place, he thought. Then he could've had a few more moments of peace before he found out what you and Anthony had been up to in his absence.

Looking at the closed door, Anthony's hand dropped from your shoulder as he stood in shock at what had just happened. "Are you alright?" he asked you, knowing the answer but needing to reassure you anyway.

You shook your head, holding in tears that were threatening to spill. "Someone should go after him," you said pressing your fingers to the corner of your eyes. What you really meant was, you should go after him, Anthony, but you wanted to give him a chance to say no. To decide he wasn't going to clean up yet another mess you had made because of your stupid feelings for his brother.

But Anthony, ever the eldest child, nodded in agreement. "Just stay put for a bit while I get him into his room. I don't think it would be the best idea to have the two of you talk right now."

Aubrey Hall had already seen too much chaos today without what he expected was going to be a shouting match between you and Benedict. If only the shouting match could lead to the two of you realizing that you did, in fact, love each other very much and that you would, in fact, be very happily married. He gave you one last squeeze on the shoulder and took off determinedly to find his brother.

Benedict saw Anthony catching up to him out of the corner of his eye but didn't stop or slow down. He couldn't bear to stop now, he needed to get to his room. Or really anywhere that was stripped of every trace of you. Benedict could barely think, the moment when Anthony placed his hand on your shoulder replaying relentlessly through his mind and preventing him from thinking about anything else.

Feeling Anthony stop right behind him, Benedict turned around to face him. The two brothers stood, staring at each other, for several moments. Anthony trying to think of what to say and Benedict getting angrier by the second.

"If you had–" started Anthony, only to be cut off by Benedict immediately.

"How could you do this?" Ben shouted, voice raw from holding back the string of curses he wanted to direct at Anthony right now. Anthony bit his lip, grimacing. He knew Benedict would be mad, but he had been unprepared for the magnitude of his fury. In a way, he felt bad for Ben. Anthony could tell that you were the love of Benedict's life—it was ridiculously obvious—and it couldn't have been easy to see you with someone else. But enough was enough, and Anthony had seen you heartbroken for long enough to know that Ben had only brought this upon himself.

"Might I remind you that you left, Benedict? After she asked you to marry her, no less," shot back Anthony, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He could see Ben waver at his words, face blanching slightly at the realization that you had told Anthony about your quasi-proposal.

"And you think you're better than me? Anyone with half a brain knows you don't want to marry for love. Did that change in the last four weeks? Are you now suddenly unequivocally in love with her? Is that what happened?" asked Benedict, an unfathomable bitterness on his tongue. His words were mocking, but deep down he did want answers. Did you and Anthony really fall for each other while he was gone? Had he been that foolish, to ever imagine the possibility of having something beyond friendship with you when his older brother was right there?

Anthony rolled his eyes, "Come off it, Benedict. You can't play the victim every time. She's aware that I don't want to marry for love. After some very negative experiences with the men of the ton, you included, she's decided she is perfectly fine not marrying for love either." Seeing Benedict's brow furrow in protest, Anthony continued, "Honestly, I promise I didn't force her into anything, I only gave her the option. She decided all by herself that this was what she wanted. And if you'd stop being a prick for about two seconds you'd realize this is what's best for her, anyway. That I'm what's best for her." And sure, Anthony knew he had probably gone too far with his last comment, but Benedict was being incredibly frustrating at the minute that Anthony didn't care.

However, Benedict didn't want to stop being a prick for two seconds. Especially because you were about to get engaged to his brother, who was being a massive dick right now. So instead, he chose to give into his anger, pushing against Anthony's shoulders so he was knocked against the wall.

"That you're what's best for her?" he scoffed. "I've been best friends with her for two decades but suddenly you're the one who knows exactly what she needs? Seems quite logical," finished Ben, pure poison dripping from his voice.

Undeterred, Anthony pushed Benedict back. "What is so wrong about our courtship? You left her so she could find a husband and that's exactly. What. She. Did," he yelled, accentuating every word with a shove at Ben's shoulders, who responded by swatting his hands away.

"She was off limits, Anthony. You knew that! You never should've done that," cried Benedict, grabbing his brother by the collar, and growing more frustrated by the second. However, whether he was angrier at Anthony or himself was unclear.

Exasperated, the elder Bridgerton reached over to slap the side of Benedict's head. "Off limits? Why would she be off limits? She seemed pretty on limits when you said you couldn't marry her and fucked off to the countryside for half the season," came his response.

"Because she is my best friend," Benedict roared back. Hearing Anthony's mocking laugh brought out a level of anger Ben did not know existed within himself, and he found his fist flying to make contact with Anthony's mouth. Ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue, Anthony responded by kneeing Benedict in the groin until he doubled over and slammed the fist that had just hit him into the wall.

Ben cradled his hand against his side, wincing as he saw his grazed knuckles, but he was unrelenting. It was like all of the pent-up emotions of frustration and uselessness he had been feeling in the countryside were finally bubbling over now that he had someone to direct his anger toward. "Because she is my best friend and you know that I'm in love with her. I know you know, Anthony, you cannot pretend otherwise," he said, desperation evident in his voice.

Fairly done with the conversation and itching to go sort out his busted lip, Anthony tried to straighten out his collar as he spoke to Benedict, "Well, even if you are, it doesn't do her much good if you have no intention of marrying her, does it?"

Benedict was stunned to silence. Anthony was right, of course, but Ben couldn't find it in himself to concede to the man who was going to take away Benedict's best friend and the love of his life all in one go. So he just stared at his brother, breathing heavily and searching for words that would not give away just how destroyed he truly felt.

"I am proposing to her in a week. You have until then to fix this, otherwise, you will truly have lost her forever." And with that, Anthony walked off without a second glance, leaving Benedict to grapple with his thoughts.

Walking upstairs in search of something to stop the bleeding at his lip, Anthony couldn't believe that Benedict had admitted his feelings for you. The intensity of the argument between the two brothers had most likely been the catalyst for the confession, but Anthony hoped that this might be what allowed Ben to finally see right by you and love you the way he so obviously wanted to. Regardless, Anthony couldn't help the protective instinct that surged within him. He cared about you, and he was acutely aware of the heartbreak that awaited you if his brother didn't come to his senses.

Too caught up in his thoughts, Anthony missed your presence entirely as he made his way past your room. "Anthony, your lip!" you exclaimed as you closed your bedroom door behind you, bringing him out of his musings. He touched his hand to his injury, hissing in pain slightly as he was reminded of the blood coming out of his cut lip.

He waved his hand dismissively, "It's alright, just a scrape," he assured you.

You seemed doubtful but nodded anyway. "I was going to ask how your talk with him went but I think I have a very clear idea," you said, earning you a short laugh from Anthony.

He cleared his throat, looking at you up and down with a mix of concern and determination. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, charged with the aftermath of the confrontation with Benedict.

"Look, I gave you my word, and a gentleman's word is his bond. I fully intend to honor our agreement," Anthony began, his tone steady and resolute. "But, I also think it's crucial for both you and Benedict to have a conversation, to sort out feelings on both sides."

You looked at him nervously, not ready to confront your feelings for Benedict, let alone any that Benedict might have for you.

He gave you an encouraging smile. "If you decide you still want to marry me afterward, that's perfectly alright, and I'd be delighted to do so. But I think it's only fair that you both have a chance to speak your minds before we move forward." He met your eyes, sincerity evident in his gaze. "Talk to Benedict. I think he went to his studio. I'll give you both the time you need."

You knew he was right, unfortunately. So you nodded, giving him a grateful hug before he excused himself to go clean up his injury and you headed down the stairs to go look for Benedict.

---

In the solitude of his studio, Benedict wrestled with a storm of emotions he was feeling as he paced the room. He couldn't believe that he was going to lose you to his brother. Even if you and Anthony were not in love with each other now, it was only a matter of time, he reasoned. You were, at the very least, the most extraordinary woman he had ever encountered, and surely Anthony would see it that way eventually. Especially if the two of you had children. His heart dropped at the thought of you and Anthony in bed together, but he pushed the image away once he heard a knock on his studio door.

Seeing your face poke into the room, he couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in his stomach, even despite his tumultuous thoughts. "Well, hello," he greeted you curtly, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair nervously, knowing a difficult conversation awaited him.

But you gasped before you could respond, immediately distracted by his bloodied knuckles. "Benedict, what on earth...?" you trailed off as you rushed to grab his injured hand in both of yours.

Benedict's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hands on his. The tenderness with which you turned over his hand made a previously dormant warmth rise in his chest, and he bit his lip to keep from shivering. You looked so beautiful, face pinched in focus as you ran your finger over his injury, and he inhaled sharply as your finger traced over his open wound.

"So this is what you and Anthony were doing instead of talking, then?" you scolded, looking into his eyes but not letting go of his hand. It didn't matter that you were still furious with him, it felt too good to have the heavy weight of his fingers half-intertwined with yours after so long of having him away.

"It's nothing," Benedict responded, shaking his head. Then, remembering why his knuckles were grazed in the first place, he added bitterly, "Why don't you go check on Anthony instead?"

Your face fell immediately and you dropped his hand. He hadn't meant to upset you, and he certainly hadn't meant to make you let go of his hand, but it seemed like his anger and jealousy had taken the reins today. But even when you were angry with him and looked about three seconds away from hitting his other hand, he couldn't help but marvel at you. He was completely enamored, looking from your furrowed brow to your narrowed eyes to your full lips. And his eyes stayed on your lips because it seemed that no matter how angry you were he couldn't ignore the ever-growing urge to kiss you right then and there, consequences be damned.

You rolled your eyes, anger bubbling up inside of you once again. "Benedict, I simply don't understand why you're so upset. If anything, marrying Anthony is a better option than marrying anyone else. Our families will remain close and you and I can still see each other fairly often. And once you're married–"

"I'll never marry," he interrupted, voice clipped. He was appalled that you would even suggest that, although he reasoned that you had no reason to believe that he wouldn't marry.

You look at him, confusion written all over your face. "I– What? What do you mean you will never marry? Benedict–"

"I love you," Ben blurted out. "I love you in a way that even words cannot express. I would rather remain unmarried than be with someone who isn't you," he added, needing to make sure that you understood that he loved you beyond what the boundaries of your friendship allowed. He had thought that you might fall in love with some other man, and he would be fated to watch you be besotted with someone else. However, now that he knew that you intended to marry Anthony, who you were most definitely not in love with, he needed you to know that he was the one who had loved you for years now. And he hoped that you might love him, too.

But you did not swoon like he expected. And you did not rush into his arms to kiss him or confess your undying love for him. You didn't even smile. "Are you joking?" you said angrily.

Benedict's eyes widened, shocked by your response. "I'm not– Why would I be joking?" he stumbled over his words.

"First you tell me you won't marry me, which is fine by the way, and then you leave so I can find a husband, which is also fine. Except," you let out a disbelieving laugh, "once you find out that your older brother is the man I'm going to marry, you are suddenly in love with me." You're still staring at him, daring him to challenge you. "It's a little too convenient, don't you think?"

He was panicking, horrified that you thought his confession was merely a way to get back at you for going after his brother. Guilt was coursing through his stomach in an entirely unpleasant manner, and he was struggling to find the words to convey his love for you in a way that you deserved to hear.

"It's not like that! I do love you. I want you and I don't want anyone else," he said desperately, reaching for your hand so he could reassure you.

But you were having none of it. After all this time, you couldn't believe he had the nerve to show up at Aubrey Hall, get into a fight with your future husband, and then confess his supposedly undying love for you. Feeling his hand clutching yours, a feeling so familiar, brought tears to your eyes. You ripped your hand away from his, not able to parse the gentleness with which he held your hand with his careless words.

"Stop it! Having you leave after I asked you to marry me was painful, but this might be the cruelest thing you've ever done, Benedict," you said, tears blurring your vision. "You can't just march in here after weeks of being away and demand that I stop my plans so that you can get back at your brother."

Benedict's eyes welled with tears, reflecting the pain that echoed in your own. He couldn't believe you still wanted to marry Anthony after all this. You were his one big love. There was no one else. And it was all too much to think that you didn't feel the same way.

So he pressed, "Is my love not enough? I have been falling apart on my own from the magnitude of my love for you. Should that not be enough? To know that I love you with every fiber of my being, more fiercely than I've ever done anything in my entire life?"

Tears were running unobstructed down your face now and you choked back a sob. If Benedict had told you this about six weeks ago, you would have dropped everything to be with him. But it was too late now.

"It's not enough when I had been feeling the exact same way and you still walked away from me," you responded, clutching his hand for comfort even though he was the one who had caused you pain.

He pulled you in fully, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back comfortingly. Benedict put his chin on your head as you buried your face in his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent that never failed to make you feel at home.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry," he murmured, hugging you tighter when he heard you sob. "I suppose being in love with you feels so natural I didn't quite realize what it was until recently." He kept rubbing your back, tracing patterns on your skin.

"And– And I thought I was ruining our friendship. When I wanted you, I kept thinking I shouldn't have been," Ben added, cringing as he realized the gravity of his misunderstanding.

You were overwhelmed by his confession, barely believing that he actually reciprocated the feelings you had struggled to keep hidden for so long. You couldn't help the steady stream of tears running down your face, and you burrowed deeper into Benedict, needing to be closer still. You felt one of his hands lifting your face to look up at him and the other keeping you pressed firmly against him. Your tear-stained eyes met his as you sniffled, struggling to breathe normally.

You watched, almost in slow motion, as Benedict's eyes fluttered shut and leaned down, lips slightly parted as he leaned down toward you. This was everything you wanted, wasn't it? In the rose garden, you had wanted him to kiss you more than you had wanted to keep breathing. You had probably spent hours looking at his lips, wondering what it would be like to taste them. To have them on your lips and enjoy the feel of them as they moved against yours. To know what it felt like to have Benedict be truly yours.

But that was then, and you wanted different things now. So you broke free of his grasp and pushed him away, breathing heavily as he opened his eyes in shock and looked to you for an explanation.

"You can't just do that, Ben! We haven't resolved anything, and it certainly won't be resolved by you kissing me," you exclaimed, playing up your anger to hide your pain.

So you turned on your heel, exiting his studio as quietly as you had entered, and he was left, for the second time that day, speechless as someone walked away from him.

—

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Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!):

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mygnolia · 9 months ago

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[TEASER! ] it's cupid, stupid! | lhs

synopsis -› To hell with Lee Heeseung, you couldn't find someone you hated more than the boy who's by your side no matter what. You figured that maybe the summer before university would be the best way to finally let go of him, and to leave the hate you have in your childhood- but no. What do you mean you have to spend ALL summer with him?

pair -› golden boy!heeseung x fem-pres!reader

release date -› IT'S HERE!!!

genre -› fluff, mutual pining, hurt/angst, slow burn i fear, bakery au, summer au, post highschool au

trope -› (slightly one sided) enemies to lovers

wc -› currently 6.7k! probably will be 10-15k

cw -› food mentions, a self indulgent characterization of my grandmother but she’s also everyone else’s in this fic, cursing, oh the miscommunication trope...sorry not sorry.

a/n -› even though i tried keeping food descriptions vague, i used the experience i had with my own grandma and her cooking to influence the way y/n grandmother cooks and the way it’s described so it might not be accurate for everyone! i understand not all cultures include baked goods with starches (since I mention a lot of flouring surfaces) so pls be kind to me :( ALSO!! i haven't written in MONTHS don't hate the writing pls we are all just in this fanfic hell tgt

Lee Heeseung might only have eleven characters to his name, but they spelt trouble in forty different ways.

It starts with the same old Lee Heeseung spilling his applesauce on you in the first grade, with his cup of mushy lukewarm grossness splattered across your new pants with glittery stars on them. You shriek when it happens, frantically wiping off the mess and yelling at his Lightning McQueen lunchbox with all of the bottled up rage a seven year old can have. His eyes are wide, but all his friends laugh and say girls are so angry all the time, so he stops himself from apologizing. Which, you think his friends were being a little rude to all girls alike, but what mattered was that Lee Heeseung never ended up saying sorry.

But that’s just one way of saying it. He hit you in the face with a ball, ran into you when your knee was scraped and you almost were bursting into tears, and tripped you in the lunch line.

Did the universe hate you, or did he?

You figured it was the latter.

Heeseung’s been stuck to you your entire life with some extra strong adhesive that you can’t seem to get off. You wish you could get some of the same glue that stuck you two to the hip and attach his tongue to the nearest streetlight, but things almost never worked in your favor. If you could catch him, just once, like one of the dumb boys who lick frozen poles in winter, you’d be satisfied.

The blackmail would trump any sort of Heeseung related adversity your elementary grade self had to deal with.

Unfortunately, the years have rendered you no protection against him, and in the small victories you find yourself in, you also see Heeseung right next to you. The exam you aced was topped by Heeseung with a 98%, just a bit higher than your 96%, and it couldn’t even feel good to talk about it because you knew all your friends talked about was how he did better.

There was no accomplishment anymore when Heeseung was around.

Heeseung was perfect in everyone’s eyes, a golden boy in their praises and a role model for their parents. If people didn’t want to be with Lee Heeseung, people wanted to be Lee Heeseung. That? That was something you hated. How could people want to be someone who you couldn’t stand?

“Have you seen the scissors?” Heeseung asks out of nowhere, startling you from the doorway.

Reaching for the ones you used to cut the parchment paper with, you hand the pair to him and with a mumbled ‘thank you’ he leaves.

In an odd way, you’re stunned by the silence that follows. A “you suck, _____!” would be more in character for villainous Lee Heeseung than whatever just happened. But you’re way too occupied with the bakery, and go back to cutting squares in the matcha cake.

It’s the same for the next hour until the rush ends and you get a bit more time to yourselves between orders. Heeseung agrees to wash the dishes and you clean the tables to the sound of your playlist from the speakers.

“You have good music taste.” Is the first thing that comes out of his mouth when he emerges. He wipes his hand on a white towel and you stare at him, utterly puzzled. Where’s the malice? Where’s his snarky comments?

“I’m waiting for you to tell me it’s not as good as yours, or something along those lines.” You deadpan.

Heeseung rolls his eyes. “I’m not that mean, I can give a compliment or two when I feel like it.”

“Oh, poor Lee Heeseung only has so much room in his heart to compliment people. How thankful should I be that you spend your daily supply of niceness on me?” You quip, cleaning off the tables. Your chest feels light and you don’t feel as angry as you did this morning.

Blame it on the lack of sleep.

“I think you should be bowing down to me and only talking when I tell you to.” He jokes, and when you glance up, there’s a semblance of a smile on his face. “Anyways, when are you leaving?”

“Whenever you leave.” You tell him, shrugging.

“Well, I stopped my your grandma’s house earlier.” Ah, so that’s where he went. “She said she didn’t want you to stay too late but she also wanted me to take you home, and I think she’d throw a fit if you didn’t.”

“I’d die before getting into a car with you, Lee Heeseung.”

“If I had to get into a car with you, that’s how I’d personally die.” He responds lightly. You furrow your eyebrows and rack your brain for some sort of retort that hurts Heeseung’s pride, but nothing comes up.

“My driving skills are very good, I’ll have you know.”

He jabs, “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

—

there is no taglist i'm lazy and i might not write for a while if u likey pls reblog or save into ur mental archive hehe ty- ren

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beenoeila · 11 months ago

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A list of underrated fics I adore.

▪️this don’t feel anything like sinking by

@dontcallmebree

A little over six weeks and his knee heals only for his breathing to act up. It may have been a handful of decades—coming up on a century, even—but he never did forget how it felt to wheeze through the night.

Steve sees it coming when Dr. Youssef tells him his lungs are taking a turn.

The year 2032 brings about the Summer Olympics, the coldest winter of the decade, and an end to Project Rebirth.

🔹 Learning to want by @luna-rainbow

Bucky is still trying to piece together his memories, but at least he now had Steve with him.

When Steve asks him if he wanted to meet with his sister, Becca, his response was, "I don't know about wants...I'll start with the shoulds."

Steve and Bucky goes for lunch with Becca. Steve and Bucky dealing with memory loss. Steve and Bucky being mutually pining idiots.

▪️better to speak or die by emilywithoutY (@between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place)

Summers in C. are as endless and hazy as when they were kids. All James wants is to play his part well enough that his mother stops looking at him with that twist of regret in her smile.

The only thing to break the sun-soaked monotony is the arrival of the new summer intern. While the rest of the household—and half the village—fawn over Steve Roger’s movie star looks and understated charm, James finds him aloof and his polite interest near unbearable.

But as they collide in vulnerable moments, the sparks of frustration ignite something neither has the power to stop.

Do you think Jonathan understood what happened that day David first stepped into his father’s court?

🔹The weapon remembers by pushdragon

The Winter Soldier finds old fantasies of Steve in his memory, and takes them for reality.

He's got two days to sort out all his mixed-up history, before he puts himself back in cryo freeze. Harder still, he's got to convince Steve to let him do it.

▪️Preberseeschießen by Ginny_Potter (@hipsterdiva)

Bucky takes his time, ignoring his comrades’ cheering and Gaiswinkler and Mariandl’s teasing. From his position, Steve only has an oblique view of Bucky’s face, which is mostly in the dark anyway – the strong line of his jaw, a smudge of grease on his cheekbone, a sweaty lock of hair curling on his forehead, his mouth pouting in concentration. Steve itches to draw him, to take out his battered sketchbook and reproduce that instant of perfect imperfection. Steve itches to touch him, push back his unruly curls, wipe away the smudge on his cheekbone, cup his face in his hands and…

Bucky breathes out and shoots. The bullet hits water… and there it is, the zapping sound of paper tearing.

The light turns on and off three times. Third circle. Just a lick out of bullseye.

The Howlies explode in cheers.

Or, the Howling Commandos play a shooting game with the Austrian Resistance and Steve has lots of unresolved feelings about himself, his new body, and his changing relationship with Bucky. In other words, comrades are comrades, angst looms, and Steve feels.

🔹Till there were no more wolves in the West

by @dharmasharks

“I’m afraid of a lot of things, Steve,” Bucky says softly.

“But this thing sticking in my heart—the part of me that’s yours? It is the best part of me. Maybe the only good part.” His rueful smile wavers. He makes a pained expression.

“What if it’s the only good part?” he asks.

Two Brooklyn boys find themselves aboard an orphan train headed west in 1854. Across farmland, war, and the lawless frontier, a childhood promise helps them find each other again.

(A Western SteveBucky retelling.)

▪️Hiraeth by ixalit

Hiraeth

noun /ˈhɪraɨ̯θ/

[Welsh] A homesickness or nostalgia, an earnest longing or desire, or a sense of regret. The feeling of longing for a home that never was.

🔹Undone by justanotherStonyfan

You’d think, given everything, that if one of them were going to regress, that if one of them were going to break down, it would be Bucky.

(Set mostly after Endgame - canon deaths remain but Steve doesn't leave)

▪️But You Can Hold Me (Only 'Cause It's a Cold Night in Brooklyn) by Voylitscope_speed (@voylitscope)

This should just be two friends getting off after the burlesque show. This should just be two pals both thinking about the girl. That would probably be okay, Bucky thinks.

But then he ruins it all when he says,

"Come here," and puts a hand out to tug on Steve's shoulder.

(Or: Sometimes, Bucky and Steve lend each other a hand, literally. Bucky tries not to be weird about it, but he's always been bad at controlling his thoughts about Steve.)

🔹Midlife Crisis by profoundalpacakitten

Steve isn’t expecting much of anything from life, he’s content to coast by, letting life flow past. Get up, get dressed, get to work, get home, get to sleep, rinse and repeat.

▪️ The Magic Touch by @broodybuck

The soldier is finally free but he has one big problem, he can't finish. Until he meets a man called Steve who apparently has the magic touch.

#stucky #stevebucky #fic recs #stucky fic

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mxltifxnd0m · 2 months ago

Text

dazzling starlet, bardot reincarnate ⟢ s. winchester

summary: unrequited love is a bitch; inspired/based on the song lacy by olivia rodrigo

pairings: stanford era! sam winchester x gn! reader (unrequited), sam winchester x afab! reader, sam winchester x jessica moore

word count: 2.3K

warnings: canon compliant, angst, lot of angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex/masturbation, some cursing, no happy ending, kinda edited

a/n: i had written this around this time last year and then finished it in the summer but i hated how it turned out so i finally was able to rewrite and it think it turned out much better. also i'd recommend giving the song a listen before reading!

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You didn’t know if you hated Jessica or hated the fact that she was everything you weren’t. You couldn’t help but feel like something was punching at your ribs anytime you saw her. Jessica was the epitome of beauty; she was tall, had curly blonde hair that never seemed to get frizzy, big blue eyes that were always wide with kindness, and a sickly sweet smile that never failed to make you feel like your teeth could rot at the sight of it.

Not only was she beautiful on the outside, but it was like she didn’t have a bad bone in her body. Jessica was caring, intelligent, witty, strong-willed, and generous. You knew she had a big heart after meeting her a few times. She was practically an angel.

You knew it from the moment Sam introduced you to her as his girlfriend that you had lost him.

You tugged at the sleeves of your form-fitting black shirt at your wrists as you lingered outside of the apartment where Sam told you to meet him. Some of your mutual friends were hosting a small get-together before you guys went on fall break.

Just go in, mingle for a little, meet Sam’s girlfriend while you feel your heartbreak, and then leave. You think back to the plan that you made while you were getting ready.

You take a deep breath and let it out before knocking on the door.

When the door swings open, you’re met with a tipsy Brady.

“Jinx! You’re fin-finally here!” Brady’s words are slurred as he welcomes you into the apartment.

You gave him a tight smile in response. “Yeah, I’m here, Brady. I got held up with some homework.” You never really understood why Brady started to call you Jinx, but he’s called you that nickname so many times. Now you’re stuck with it, and now everyone in his circle (barring Sam) calls you by it.

You tolerated it, but you’ve always gotten weird vibes from Brady when Sam introduced the two of you.

Brady swung an arm around your shoulders, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned down to speak to you.

“You ready to meet Sam’s girl?” Brady asked you slyly.

You raised an eyebrow at him. How did he know that you were meeting her for the first time?

“Oh, wipe that look off of your face, Jinxy. Sam told me before this that he was introducing his best friend to Jessica.”

“Did he tell you before or after you consumed an entire liquor cabinet?” You quipped, trying to hide the inner turmoil you were feeling.

Brady straightened up like he hadn’t been tipsy the entire time. “For your information, it was before, plus I’ve only had a couple of drinks. Besides, who do you think introduced him to Jess in the first place.” He had an all-knowing smirk on his face like he knew something that you didn’t before it turned into a sly grin.

Brady tapped your nose once before letting you go and stalking off into the living room, where you could hear everyone laughing and chatting. You huffed as you slipped off your sneakers and left them in the doorway. You wiped your hands on the back of the jeans you were wearing and decided to head to the kitchen for a drink. Being stone-cold sober while meeting Sam’s new girlfriend was not on your to-do list.

As you strolled into the kitchen, the counters covered with various bottles of liquor and red solo cups, you froze as you saw Sam leaning on one of the counters and talking animatedly with a blonde who was almost his height and was standing right in front of him.

From the entryway of the kitchen, you saw the adoration for this girl in his eyes as he spoke. Suddenly, his hazel eyes were torn away from the woman standing in front of him as he glanced around the kitchen before they landed on your form. Sam brightened, the dimples on his face becoming more prominent as he called out your name and gestured for you to come closer.

As you made your way over to the pair, the blonde turned around to face you, and you faltered in your steps as your eyes studied her.

God, she was stunning. You thought as you approached the two of them.

Sam had stopped leaning on the counter by the time you made it to him and wrapped you up in a big bear hug. You stumbled from its sudden force, but you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace as you chuckled at his antics.

“You’ve had a few already, haven’t you?” You asked as you pulled back to see the tell-tale signs of Sam being tipsy. His cheeks were flushed as his bangs kept falling in his eyes, but a big silly smile was on his face as he nodded.

You pulled away from him entirely as he pulled Jessica into his side.

“Jess, this is my best friend.” He gave her your name. “And this is Jessica, my girlfriend,” Sam said with a toothy smile and shot Jessica a loving look.

“It’s so nice to meet you! Sam’s told me so much about you, but he forgot to mention how pretty you were!”

You were taken aback by the sudden compliment from Jessica. “It’s nice to meet you too.” You said it with a kind smile, though it felt like you were pulling teeth as the words fell from your mouth.

The three of you fell into a comfortable conversation as you went and grabbed a drink for yourself. But, as the night went on and the three of you eventually moved into the living room, you got separated from the two of them.

As you were talking to some of your friends there, your eyes always looked at Sam and Jessica. You can see why Sam had fallen for Jess as you saw them interact with each other. You hated it so much. You quickly excused yourself as you saw them cozy up to one another and sharing stolen glances and touches.

You managed to escape to the bathroom, which was empty (thankfully), and you locked yourself in the small space to try and compose yourself. A lump formed in your throat as you stared at yourself in the mirror, feeling like the world was closing in on itself.

When did they meet? It’s not fair; I have known him longer than she has. I’ve loved him longer. Why did he choose her? Why couldn’t he have chosen me? Your mind was spiraling, and all you wanted to do was scream.

Jessica had everything you wanted.

Without realizing it, hot tears started to stream down your face. You quickly wiped away your tears and made sure you looked like you hadn’t been crying. You made your way out of the bathroom and almost bumped into Jess in the process.

Excellent, the one person I didn’t want to see. You thought bitterly to yourself.

“Sorry.” You muttered as you kept your head down and made room for Jess to go into the bathroom.

“Hey, wait!” Jess called out to you before you could take another step down the hallway. You grit your teeth before plastering on a small smile and turning around.

“Yeah?” You ask.

“Are you okay?” She questioned kindly as she stood in the doorway of the bathroom. The warm lighting simulated the glow of a halo that surrounded her.

Not trusting my voice, I nodded at her in response.

“You sure? I don’t mean to pry-” Then don’t. “But your eyes are a little red.” Jess gestured to her own eyes as an example.

You waved her concern off. “I’m fine, my allergies are acting up right now.”

Jess didn’t look convinced, but she let it go. “Oh, before I forget, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out with me sometime?”

Not really. “Yeah, I would love to.” I gave her a tight smile.

Jess smiled brightly before gesturing she was heading into the bathroom and closing the door. My smile fell as I sighed deeply. I ran my hand down my face tiredly as I stalked down the dim hallway and back into the living room, where everyone was hanging out. I saw Sam throw his head back in laughter, making me smile, and my heart beat a little faster before my smile faltered.

The image of Jessica's blinding smile when she looked at Sam and his loving gaze on his blonde bombshell of a girlfriend slithered into my mind and started to poison it. So before anyone could spot me, I quickly made my way to the doorway, put on my shoes, and left.

Ever since that night, Jessica managed to worm her way into your life and yours into hers. She managed to get your number and texted you if you wanted to meet up and hang out. At first, you tried to say no to her outright, but Jess managed to break through your defenses, and you found yourself hanging out with her after class.

You despised the fact that you grew to enjoy her company, but Jess made it hard to hate her, and it seemed that she genuinely liked you and considered you a good friend. You hated when she gave you compliments, whether it was on your quick wit or looks.

You hated the warm feeling that would bloom in your chest, and she made it a point to do it often, making it feel like bullets raining down on your skin every time she did.

Phantom blood ran down from your imaginary wounds as you responded to her compliments with a tight smile and a 'thank you' being forced from your lips as you tried to swallow the lump at the back of your throat.

She’d confide in you, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to do the same.

“You know, I was worried that you weren’t going to like me at first,” Jess expressed to you when you were hanging out at her and Sam’s apartment.

You looked up from the book you were reading. “What do you mean?” You felt your stomach twist and knot up at her admission.

Jess stopped crocheting the scarf she was planning to give to Sam for Christmas. “I heard so much about you from Sam.” She paused, biting her bottom lip before continuing. “I guess I was just worried that I wouldn’t make a good impression.”

“Oh.” You were surprised that she had to worry about her impressing you. “If it makes you feel any better I felt the same way when we first met.” You sent her a reassuring smile, but you weren’t sure if it came off genuine, trying to conceal your own inner conflict, but considering how Jess’s eyes brightened and sent a dazzling smile at your admission, it was.

From then on, the three of you became as close as the three musketeers, hanging out often and sticking by each other’s sides. Sam and Jess never tried to make you feel like a third wheel.

Still, you would catch the loving looks they would send each other or catch them sharing a soft kiss whenever they thought you weren’t paying attention when you guys would have movie nights at their apartment.

Those nights would be the worst, having Sam and Jess insist that you sleep over at their apartment when it was too late to go back to your dorm that was on campus. You could hear the low groans and high-pitched whines coming from their shared room, trying to be quiet, thinking that you were dead asleep.

So you had to pretend that you were sound asleep and not clutching the blanket that they gave you close to your chest, trying to ignore the sounds spilling out from their room and into your ears. The ugly monster that emerged ever since you met Jess tried to claw its way out from your chest. You had to pretend that you didn’t slip your hand in between your legs and get off at the sound of them, coming at the same time Jess did and imagined that you were either Sam or Jess (sometimes you thought about being in between them).

You tried distancing yourself from them for your own sanity and salvaging the pieces of your heart that had broken a long time ago. But Jess, she was insistent, and you couldn’t ignore the beacon of light she emitted. You didn’t know if you wanted to be her or be Sam more.

Sam wasn’t yours, you knew that. Jess had him the second Brady introduced them, and it fucking sucked. Sam only saw you as his best friend, one of the first ones he made when he came to Stanford all of those years ago. The monster that lived inside of you only grew the longer you saw Sam and Jess together. It morphed into something that you could never imagine could grow inside of you. You managed to mask it and push it down, but it always loomed over you like a storm cloud threatening to strike you down at any moment.

You felt like some higher power was mocking you and rubbing it in your face that Sam and Jess were the perfect couple. Both of them were gorgeous, incredibly smart, empathetic, and kind. They were incredible human beings, and it was practically a match made in heaven, especially the way that they were together.

But there was always some part of you, more specifically the monster, who wanted them to break up, hoping that Jess was secretly a terrible person so you’d be the person to pick up the pieces for Sam. But your hopes were dashed, and your heart splintered even more, the monster, roaring, screaming, clawing at your throat, trying to escape the confines of your body when Sam asked you to come along to pick out engagement rings.

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

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todofics · 6 months ago

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Off The Market | 2/6 | Todoroki Shoto x Reader

♡ Summary: The Todoroki name had always borne a heavyweight amongst even society’s finest. When the family’s youngest son, and heir to the title, is forced into the marriage market, it’s no surprise that he quickly becomes the season’s most eligible bachelor—hoping to avoid marriage for at least one more season, who better than to circumvent the ton other than his long-time friend, you?

♡ Content: regency au, fake-dating trope, aged-up characters, age gap (4 years), mutual pining, fem reader, fem pronouns, mature content in future chapters

♡ Author notes: Would anyone be interested in a tag list? I’ve never written on Tumblr before, so everything is new to me! Please let me know if you are, and I can start one for the next chapter :)

♡ 2.4k words/est. 15k words (chapter 2/6)ˋ°•*⁀➷ Main Masterlist ♡ MHA Masterlist ♡ Story Masterlist ♡ Previous ♡ Next

Your breath caught in your throat as Shoto’s unexpected proposal hung in the air, your ears tauntingly ringing from the stress of the uncertainty. Had you heard him correctly?

“(Y/n)?” the dual-colored man asked, a hauntingly beautiful frown painted across his face as he waited for your answer. God, he was so unfair.

“Allow you to court me?” you parroted, face warm again despite the cool summer breeze. Your eyes glanced down to where his strong hands held your own, unable to make eye contact with him; you feared you’d quickly give into his qualms if you did. His handsome looks could drive just about anyone to obey.

Shoto coughed, clearing his throat as he steeled his resolve. “Yes, allow me to court you,” he repeated, shutting down any doubts you had about mishearing the man.

“My lord, and I ask this with the utmost respect, have you lost your mind?!” you managed to choke out, tone hushed as you were afraid that anyone inside could hear the ridiculous conversation. He continued to hold your hands, unwilling to let go. He knew that if he did, you’d simply run away from the conversation - a fate the future Duke would not allow.

“I have given it long thought,” Shoto informed you, his tone steady and calm now. He had already made up his mind, his intentions resolute. “Allow me to court you - at least for the season.” Although the sentence was phrased as a question, the burning look in his eyes told you it was not. You looked away once again, mind reeling with apprehension.

“My lord, I’m afraid you confuse me - for the season?” you ask, your heart pounding rapidly. It was as if the man didn’t know of the effects he had on women - yourself included. The man nodded, his eyes never leaving your face as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Yes, only for the season,” the man reassured as if his plan was apparent. Shoto was never the best at explaining his inner musings, always leaving you guessing. “For the season, I will act as your intended - and you as mine. You know I do not wish to marry,” he explained as your expression shifted, your furrowed brows keying him into the workings of your own mind.

You drew in a shaky breath, taking a moment to comprehend his words' meaning. “I know you have no prospects,” he pointed out bluntly - oh, what a way with words he had. You shot him a look but didn’t take the words to heart. Shoto had never been one to mince words. His honesty, while sometimes cutting, was one of the things you admired most about the man.

“It’ll draw the attention of suitors for you and keep mine away.” It seemed he had given the arrangement thought; it made perfect sense. You had never dreamed of being a spinster, and Shoto knew that despite the lack of conversation surrounding your prospects. In your first season out, you had bashfully given your earnest attention to all potential suitors, dreaming of a future filled with private affections and little feet toddling around. Even if those men had all been chased away from intimidation surrounding your companionship with the half-and-half man, it was clear you weren’t uninterested in the thought of marriage.

“I- Shoto,” you cut yourself off, still not used to formally addressing the man. “My lord, it’s just that…”

This time, the man interrupted your speech. He knew of your tendencies to overthink things - especially ones that were quite simple. “You will break off the engagement at the end of the season - it’ll prevent scandal toward you.” Your expression softened as the thumping of your heart slowed. His plan seemed to offer a solution to all the potential problems. If you were the one to break off the engagement, it’d leave the question of what was possibly wrong with him rather than you. It’d give you both exactly what you wanted.

Still, the idea of the plan worried you, an unsettling feeling sinking into your stomach. As your lips parted to give the man an answer, the balcony door swung open.

“Shoto, mama is looking for you!” Your eyes shot over to the voice, then back to your still-connected hands. Unchaperoned and in close contact - two things that would surely lead to scandal.

A gasp left the woman’s lips, a gloved hand moving up to cover her dropped jaw. Shoto finally released your hands, moving back a respectable distance as he cleared his throat and adjusted his cravat before turning to face the owner of the voice. “Fuyumi, I’ll be over in just a minute,” he told her, the woman’s shocked expression transitioning into delight. Being close to Shoto often led to you interacting with the girl, and your time spent together, while usually short, was pleasant. She had always enjoyed your company. On the other hand, you were left wide-eyed at being caught in such a compromising position, the panic beginning to set in.

Shoto turned his attention back to you, your expression still not composed. A coy smile played on Fuyumi’s face as if she knew something you didn’t. You hoped she’d spare you the decency to leave this scandal unspoken. “We will continue this conversation tomorrow,” Shoto told you before following his sister, leaving you alone under the twinkling starlight. It seemed the world had made its decision for you.

The following day, you were rudely awakened by a loud knocking on your chambers. “My lady, my lady!” your maid chirped as she rapped on your doors, voice full of panic. You groaned, rolling over in bed, your eyes still heavy with sleep. What could drive your maid to wake you up with such alarm? The sun beamed through the curtains, its warmth pleasant against your bare skin. Sleep was simply calling your name. “My lady, you must rise! You have a caller waiting!”

Your eyes shot wide open, suddenly recalling your conversation with Shoto the night before. You didn’t think he’d really show up at your house! You threw off your fluffy blankets in a flurry, quickly throwing on a chemise. Hearing the commotion of your rise, your maid promptly let herself in, helping you lace your corset as you grabbed a simple pale muslin gown. You felt no need to impress the man despite his newly declared intentions.

Arranging your hair in a delicate bun, you took one last look in the mirror, deciding it’d have to do for now. “My lady, is that outfit really alright?” your maid asked, eyeing you up and down - it had been so long since you had last received a caller (especially one of Shoto’s caliber). Your staff, aware of your long history with the Todoroki son, had long been rooting for your official pairing. You shot her a soft smile, appreciative of the apparent worry on her face. “I assure you, this is more than sufficient.”

The maid clicked her tongue in disapproval, shaking her head as she rummaged through a nearby jewelry box. Taking out one of your finest pastes, she nodded in approval before holding the piece to your skin. “At least wear this,” she reasoned.

Sighing, you raised your hands in submission, “if you really see it as necessary.” there was no point in this effort - after all, his courtship was only a falsehood. After putting on the jewels, your maid rushed you out the door and into the sitting room.

As you entered the room, Shoto was already engaged in light conversation with your mama, the two snacking on pastries and tea. “(Y/n),” he rose, noticing your presence. Your mother shot you a scolding look, obviously disappointed at your long arrival time. Seasons without a caller or any prospects, and this is how you received him? She’d surely bring it up later, the thought of the conversation making you groan internally.

“My lord,” you replied in kind, giving him a slight nod as you approached the table. By now, your mama had evacuated the area, sitting on the opposite side of the room. Her careful gaze analyzed the interaction, making you feel more self-conscious. Although you two typically had some sort of chaperone to protect your reputation, this time felt… different. The undertone of romantic intentions made your head swirl. Sure, his courtship was for a more beneficial resolution, but it was still a courtship nonetheless.

“You’ve kept me waiting,” Shoto said, the start of a grin gracing his face, hinting towards a more teasing manner.

You brush a delicately placed curl from your face, rolling your eyes at his playful words. Your friendship with the man had always been far more casual than typically allowed by your different standings, and his intentions to ‘court’ you did little to change that attitude despite your nerves. It would be best to attempt to maintain some normalcy, lest you draw suspicion towards the sudden change of nature between you two. In your eyes, portraying the courtship as a regular ”friends who simply grew too close” story would call for the least amount of scandal.

“You’ve arrived rather early, my lord,” you jested, pointing out his irregular calling time. It was only 10 AM, an hour earlier than most typical morning calls started. He hadn’t even written, the only warning of his arrival being his parting words the night before. “I was eager to see my future intended,” Shoto replied smoothly. His intended. Despite being unspoken before by the man, the words seemed to roll off his tongue as if they were natural. You knew he wasn’t seriously going to propose, but the words still stirred something within you, causing you to shift nervously in your seat.

His lips upturned slyly, seemingly noting your nerves at the words. He couldn’t explain why, but a sense of satisfaction washed over the man. “I don’t recall agreeing to this arrangement,” you pointed out, voice wavering. You knew you had little choice in the matter - Fuyumi had already witnessed you alone, unchaperoned, and intimately close. Doing nothing else but portraying your situation as a courtship would surely lead to the leaking of scathing rumors. Fuyumi was kind, but some status still had to be upheld.

“I don’t recall any disagreement either,” Shoto pointed out, hopeful you’d accept the proposal. Without you, he’d be forced into a loveless marriage - a fate he’d rather not succumb to. With a sigh, you readjusted your position, drinking a sip of tea as if in deep thought. He looked at you expectantly, eyes gazing into the depths of your soul as he waited for your answer.

“I… I will do it,” you mustered out, your hands wavering as you set down the cup. If you were caught faking this, your reputation would be ruined, and you actually would be doomed to life as a spinster.

Shoto frowned at the hesitation in your voice as he gently took your hand, his touch reminding you of the events from the night prior. “I do not mean to force your hand in the matter.”

As much as Shoto despised the idea of his fate, he valued you far too much to force this upon you. Your heart swelled at the genuine care in his voice, your anxiety settling just a bit. Again, the thought of the unfairness of the situation flashed in your head. If Shoto wasn’t so obtuse, perhaps you actually could fall in love with him one day.

You shook your head, erasing that thought - it’d never be possible. To Shoto, this action looked as if you were denying his worries. “I assure you, you aren’t forcing my hand in this matter - I am mature enough to make my own decisions.” If gossip were to besmirch your name - so be it.

He let out a sigh, clearly relieved by your answer. This truly was to both of your benefits. “Not so fast,” you told him, still not entirely satisfied with the resolution of his proposal. “If we are to do this, there will be conditions.”

He raised an eyebrow curiously, waiting for you to finish the thought. “What kind of conditions?” You shot him an awkward smile, having thought it over the night before. Even if you hesitated, you mulled over everything before accepting Shoto’s offer.

“Well,” you started, clearing your throat. “Behind closed doors, I want everything to be normal,” you told him. Even if your family would now be more meticulous about ensuring a chaperone, the idea of acting romantically in front of so few people failed to delight you. If this was simply an act, you wanted to maintain as much distance as possible from the man, protecting your heart. Besides, your families wouldn’t push the matter too much. Your mama, delighted with the mere idea of you finally having prospects, wouldn’t question the lack of intimacy. Perhaps you could play it off as fleeting shyness towards a first love.

You continued with the terms, your face warming at the memory of last night as you looked down at his hands that grasped yours, “No need to grab me or anything like that either. We will act as if this is a proper courtship,” you scolded. The idea of being caught again caused a shiver to roll down your spine.

He retracted his touch, putting his arms up defensively before laughing at your embarrassed expression. “I’m sorry,” he apologized half-heartedly, realizing you referenced the night before. “I promise I will act as if this is a proper courtship.” This promise brought a smile to your face - at least now, the relationship would be mostly without scandal. Rumors were sure to spread, but the attention on you would hopefully be positive.

“Then I suppose we can close this deal out,” you told him, your intentions now steeled. Nothing could go wrong if he could follow through with these boundaries. Your heart would be safe from his charms, and he would be safe from the constant pursuance of desperate debutantes. Everything, in the end, would safely return to normal, with everyone being none the wiser.

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 years ago

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR SEVEN

in which you come to a few realizations while remembering the very first night you'd met eddie. a phone call with steve leaves you with more questions than answers.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, heavier angst this chapter but all will be well soon, two uses of y/n, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ word count: 4.4k+

→ a/n: shorter chapter today but the focus here is the memory! finally making some progress haha. also trying out something new with formatting/the summary situation. if i hate it, i'll probably change it. <3 also, italicized portion is a memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

7:00 ────ㅇ────────────── 24:00

DINGUS: [image attachment]

DINGUS: y/n just texted me this. we’re not getting an update this hour.

BIRDIE: what the hell happened?

DINGUS: she hasn’t said yet, as you can see in the photo, robs.

ARGYLE 😎: what do we THINK happened?

BIRDIE: my best bet is fighting?

ARGYLE 😎: lover’s quarrel? Makes sense.

BIRDIE: i’m adding nance back into the chat

BIRDIE added NANCE to the groupchat.

BIRDIE: @NANCE explain what you meant earlier please. we’re having a code red. the bad kind.

DINGUS: there’s a good kind of code red?

NANCE: Oh God, what happened?

DINGUS: y/n texted me saying she fucked up, and we’re assuming either she’s finally murdered eddie, or they’re fighting again.

NANCE: I can call Eddie, if you guys want?

JOHNNY: So does this mean we’re all $500 richer?

BIRDIE: @JOHNNY if you still think this is about the money, you’re a fucking idiot

—

HOUR SEVEN - 10:00 PM

There had been a time in your life where you believed you didn’t hold a single mean bone in your body. A time where you were soft-spoken, a time where you overflowed with kindness and dotted out compliments to random strangers. There was once a version of you in this lifetime that worked so fervently to be the type of person people liked and enjoyed the company of. You always swore to always treat others with the same grace as you would prefer to receive as well.

A year ago, that version of you had been sidetracked.

You stare at the wooden frame of Eddie’s door with blank eyes. He wasn’t going to open it any time soon. You’d tried knocking multiple times, calling out to him in a soft voice, begging and pleading and begging and pleading. His response continued to be silence.

“All I’ve ever done is hurt you.”

With the haze clearing, in the midst of the aftermath and sour clarity, you wish you would have corrected him. Eddie and you had surely hurt each other countless times, but it is not all he’s ever done.

You can remember the better moments clearly now. The time you’d tripped walking up the steps of one of the bars on Main Street, and Eddie had been the only person in your friend group to stop completely, reflectively reaching out to catch you from embarrassing yourself. The night of your birthday, in which he hadn’t come to the party due to “work” as Steve had explained, but had sent a card along with your friends that contained a gift card to your favorite coffee shop. You hadn’t even realized he knew your favorite coffee shop, and you’d come to find out that he didn’t even ask a single one of your mutual friends for it. You’d brushed it off as a lucky guess. And there was the time you’d forgotten your wallet during a brunch with the group, and he hadn’t hesitated to pick up your bill with his own. He didn’t even give Robin the chance to argue; he’d simply snatched your bill from across the table when you’d paled as you dug through your bag, and didn’t say a word about you paying him back.

Small moments. Glimpses of kindness, bandages on wounds that you’d been ignoring to keep up a war between the two of you that you’d always assumed he’d started.

Eddie Munson wasn’t the enemy, and the first night you two met was never a red herring; it was a glimpse into who he actually was. A clear look past the armor he hadn’t formed yet when it came to you.

—

A YEAR AGO

“They’re going to love you!” Robin insists as she continues to shove you from behind through the entrance of the bar. Steve is ahead of you, guiding you through the rough crowd to the table the rest of the group had already snagged.

You turn your head over your shoulder, reaching up and grabbing the hand that Robin rested on you, “You don't know that. What if they hate me? What if they think I’m the worst person they’ve ever met?”

Even as you wore a smile, there was a truth to the fear in your words. You were petrified that these strangers, strangers who meant so much to your only friends on campus, would turn their noses to you. There was nothing Robin or Steve could do to extinguish the fear. It was already a terrible knot in the pit of your stomach, tying and untying itself like a nuisance as Steve started to wave at a brunette who had been scanning the bar as if waiting for someone.

She’s pretty. Wavy hair barely brushing her shoulders, sharp features accentuated in the shadows of the busy location. The moment her blue eyes locked on Steve, all the concentration on her face faded to be replaced with an excited smile.

She returns the wave, and the boys surrounding her at the table all glance in your direction.

You’re still half-hidden behind Steve as the three of you approach the group. Robin bounds out from behind you, scooping the woman you assumed was the famous Nancy into a barrelling hug. Your eyes flickered to the boy sat to Nancy’s right, shaggy hair flopping against his forehead and smile creases exposed as he nods to Steve and holds up his drink in greeting. Beside him, another man sits, long and shiny hair flowing over an outrageous Hawaiian print shirt and topped off with a baseball cap that looked to be the merchandise of a pizza shop. His smile is welcoming – something comforting in the relaxation of it.

You’re almost completely captivated by the warmth that bled from the group when Steve and Robin are suddenly taking their seats. Robin sits beside Nancy, while Steve takes the seat across from the man with long hair.

The only seat left open was between Steve and a man who’s back was turned to you.

His hair is in a loose bun, unraveling against the nape of his neck. You could see each and every defined curl. His broad shoulders stiffen beneath a leather jacket and denim vest, and his ring-clad hand cradles a short glass of something dark, something fizzy.

“Alright, everyone!” Steve announces, turning and beckoning you to take this seat. Your stomach twists again, realizing you’d be sitting beside a stranger. One who had yet to even spare you a glance, “This is Y/N.”

There’s rounds of greetings and introductions as you brush shoulders with the stranger to take your seat, and try as you might to keep up, all you can focus on is not looking at him.

You’re guess was correct – the pretty girl that Robin had hugged was Nancy. The boy with floppy hair at her side was Jonathan, and the man with long hair told you his name is Argyle. His tone of casualty matches the comfort of his smile as he holds a hand out to you across the table, both your elbow and his brushing against empty baskets once filled with bar food as you shake.

Finally, you turn to look at the stranger beside you, Steve reaching around to clasp his shoulder.

“And mister oh-so-welcoming here is Eddie.”

Eddie. He finally turns to look at you, with doleful eyes and a tight-lipped grin, and you almost forget how to breathe.

He was intimidating. All broodish glances and stand-offish energy. But then Argyle cracks a joke, and suddenly, it all fades. The air in the room crackles frantically as you watch him chuckle slowly at first, until he finally descends into cackles with Steve and Jonathan alike.

That’s when the first vine sprouts.

The second one does when the conversation becomes overwhelming, and you find yourself lost amongst the sea of new friends. They’re nothing but friendly, trying to learn more about you but easily falling into well-established inside jokes at times. When you descend into silence as you watch them recount a story of a time that Argyle snuck them into his job after hours, you suddenly feel Eddie lean in closer to you.

“I think they tell this story every time they get drunk,” he whispers, tilting his head so that the words only reach your ears, “I’ve probably heard it a hundred times by now.”

You bite back a smile, “Just tonight, or the entire time you’ve known them?”

“Both.”

You have to fight hard to swallow down giggles, Eddie hiding his with a sip of his drink. A waiter who had taken your order nearly ten minutes ago arrives with your own drink. An amaretto sour.

“I’m Eddie, by the way,” he says as you taste the drink. Its citrus bursts across your tongue and you nod.

“So Steve mentioned.”

“Yeah, but I felt bad for not introducing myself,” he shrugs. You were facing him fully now, no longer trying to stick vehemently to Steve’s side. “I didn’t want to seem like a dick, just… had a long week.”

You knew all about long weeks.

“I get it,” you assure him, “Are you in school, too?”

“Night classes,” he supplies with a wave of his hand, “Midterms are a bitch, especially after working all day.”

“Tell me about it. I think I’m about ten seconds away from getting fired at my current gig,” you joke, and Eddie laughs. It occurs to you that you’d probably do just about anything to hear his laugh more, and already begin to conjure up terrible jokes to pull that sound from him once more. It’s even more comforting than Argyle’s friendly cadence, than Steve’s elbow knocking yours to remind you he’s still there.

“Why would you think that?” Eddie’s nose scrunches, more curls falling against his cheek. Your drink is immediately forgotten.

“He caught me talking shit,” another laugh falls from Eddie’s lips at your deadpan, more reserved than the previous but just as melodic, “I give it a week. He was already looking for a reason to send me to the chopping block. Says I talk too much to customers.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Apparently.”

For a moment, in the smoky bar, it’s just you and Eddie. All knotting nerves have been replaced by the weight of the vines that surge higher and higher in your chest, growing at impossible rates. They don’t strangle you like your fears of the night had; their weight is a comforting hold, something solid to reach out for in the unfamiliar territory of new socialization. Without the mask of intimidation, Eddie feels like an old friend.

You assume that everyone else is distracted by their own conversation, but Robin catches the way you lean into him as the two of you joke. She nudges Nancy subtly, and they both share a look when Eddie blushes at you being impressed as he tells you that his battle vest is hand-sewn.

Your vines are not as hidden as you assume they are, certainly not when the first bud of hopefulness begins to grow.

“So how long have you known Steve?” you ask him quietly, still under the guise of the two of you having created your own small bubble of a moment.

Eddie downs the last of his Jack & Coke, something you caught onto by smelling it on his breath when he had gotten particularly close to you during conversation, “Too long. We all met in high school, actually.”

“Oh, don’t tell me that,” you groan, and your forehead dramatically falls into his shoulder without second-thought. He stiffens beneath the connection, “I’m infiltrating a friend group that’s stood the test of times? I’m doomed.”

You nearly lift your head from his still stiff shoulder, afraid to make him uncomfortable, when he brings a hesitant hand to pat your back jokingly, “There, there. I think you’re fitting in fine.”

“Just fine? Ouch,” you finally lift your head as you had planned to, just as Eddie had begun to relax into your touch. His hand doesn’t fall too far from your back, resting on the back of your chair. His shy grin is impossibly charming, “You could have just said I’m crashing and burning, you know?”

The night carries on like that, you and Eddie lost in private conversations only to be occasionally dragged back in on whatever debate the group is having. It’s a spring reaction; once one or both of you have given your two cents, you return to one another, finding solitude in joking and Eddie updating you on the group’s ‘lore’, as he puts it. Steve shoots several glances in your direction, always prepared to offer comfort in what should be an overwhelming situation, but he never has to. Every time he glances at you, Eddie is already taking the lead of entertaining you, qualming all your anxieties into non-existence.

Your vines decorate with buds of hope. Every laugh you pull from Eddie, every fleeting touch that passes between the two of you, every new inside joke he decides to make with you rather than indulging in ones set in stone already with old friends - they all whisper of new friendship. They whisper in potential, in new beginnings and coming home after long weeks.

By the time Nancy announces she has to go to the restroom and invites you and Robin, you’re in full bloom. You’re convinced that Eddie is a friend. And you can see it in his eyes – he’s convinced of it too, looking nervous when you stand and agree to go with Nancy. He looks like a child about to lose their social crutch, and it has potential to be devastating.

It’s almost enough to make you ignore your bladder, but you need to pee, and you need to socialize with more than just Eddie tonight.

You’re not sure what happens at the table during your trip to the bathroom. But something surely does happen as you giggle with the girls under the humming lights of the restroom, as you all stand in the mirror side by side and fiddle with your hair and makeup and Robin makes a comment about how terribly cliche the moment is. Nancy slaps her on the arm, mutters something about the importance of girls bonding, and when you return to the table, you see it immediately – Eddie’s mask of indifference has returned.

His cheeks are flushed, and all the boys are sharing nervous glances between one another as you all sit down again.

There’s no more fleeting touches. You sip on your now watered down drink, and you try and pull Eddie out from wherever he’s ventured in your absence, but it’s no use. A conversation was had while you girls had been in the restroom, and it left Eddie in his head, out of reach. The buds of hopefulness quiver on their vines, and you try to reassure yourself that it’s nothing personal. It’s nothing personal when he clearly holds back any laughs at your jokes you lean into his space to whisper to only him, it’s nothing personal when his arm never rests on the back of your chair again, it’s nothing personal when he won’t meet your eyes the rest of the night.

It’s nothing personal, but it’s sorely disappointing.

You end the night, everyone splitting up, Eddie heading off towards his motorcycle. He hadn’t even mentioned driving a motorcycle during the night, and you curse the way you watch him straddle the seat as he secures his helmet over his tied-back hair. You desperately wish to know what was said while you were in the bathroom, what had happened to make him retreat so far from you after spending the entirety of the night tending to the greenery that had grown attached to your ribcage.

“You like him, don’t you?” Robin teases at your side, bumping shoulders.

Something aches in you. The thrill of meeting someone new, of getting along, of finding them cute and endearing, is beyond your grasp.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

“I did,” you whisper softly. A reverberation of past-tense, an exhale of worry.

You did. But he didn’t even say goodbye.

—

Eddie still hasn’t opened the door. But to his defense, you haven’t tried knocking again.

That ache from that night, the feeling of a delicate rush of possibility taunting you from a distance, still remains. Even amongst now rotted vines, even as petals fall from your hopeful buds. It never really went away. With each group hangout that followed, it echoed louder and louder, demanding to be heard and demanding to be felt as Eddie grew colder. You were an idiot the first few times; you’d still gravitated to him, falling right into his orbit and begging for his attention. You’d still seek him out in every room, craving to find the warmth that had once sparked in his eyes only to find them averted from you entirely. And when you couldn’t take the hint, when you wouldn’t leave him alone when Steve and Robin left you to your own devices at the hangouts, he became mean.

You took it as a joke at first, but six months ago, something inside of you finally wisened up – it wasn’t a joke. Eddie Munson hated you. Somehow, he hated you, and yet he also swore to protect you. He hated you, and yet he would still pay for you without you asking him to. He hated you, and yet he still remembered your birthday. He hated you, and yet, he still knew your favorite coffee shop.

He hated you and yet.

You stand, unable to take your racing thoughts anymore, moving to pound on the door again, “Eddie. Open the door.”

You’re not asking anymore.

You don’t care for answers any more. In this moment, you truly believe you could let it all be water under the bridge. Right this second, if you looked into honey brown eyes and goddamn dimples, you’d forgive him.

“Eddie,” your voice cracks, and you scorn yourself.

All I ever do is hurt you.

Even in locking himself away, he’s hurting you. Putting that distance, choosing to not work this out like adults, is hurting you.

“Can you- I don’t know, at least let me know that… that…” you trail off, huffing in frustration and finally smacking a flat palm against wood, watching the door shake on its hinges from your force, “Just let me know you’re alive, Jesus Christ, Eddie. We still have to take the stupid fucking photo for this hour, and we-”

Mid-tirade, the door swings open to reveal Eddie. He doesn’t look irritated, he doesn’t look mad. He looks tired.

The war between you two has weighed heavy on him, too. He doesn’t look like the same person you met a year ago. The battles raged, the fights lost, the victories celebrated through bloody teeth – they all show on the shadows of his face, a clear mirror image to your own.

“Take the photo,” he says in monotone, hardly leaving the door cracked enough to catch a proper glimpse of him.

“What?”

“The photo. Take it. For the chat, so you can get your money when it’s all over.”

You’re stunned for a second. The money hadn’t even crossed your mind; you had just been rambling, hoping to find the right thing to say to get him to unlock the barrier between you two.

Who the fuck even cares about the money anymore?

You do. You’re supposed to. And so is he.

You sigh and pull your phone from your back pocket, and turn your back to him before lifting the camera to capture the two of you. The door creaks open an inch more.

There’s no fun pose. There’s no smiles. There’s nothing. It’s even more lifeless than the first photo taken. You can’t stand to look at it longer than necessary as you send it off to the group.

Just as you turn around to face him again, to try and talk to him, the door shuts again. You can hear the soft click of a lock. The ache is heard, the ache is felt, as you refuse to look back at the wood that still separates you physically, at the emotions that separate you mentally.

You don’t really know why you do it. But you walk out to the living room, deciding against sitting outside the door any longer and continuing to make yourself miserable. Your feet carry you straight to the sliding door of his balcony, and you press outside into the cooler night air, shutting the door behind you.

What happened when I was in the bathroom that night?

The thought haunts you, a new ghost that had been lingering and gathering dust since that night. You never asked anyone, certainly not Eddie, and refuse to overthink it until now. But after tonight, after practically reliving your first encounter with Eddie all over again, the deja vu and the curiosity are winning over.

You dial Steve’s number.

“Hell-”

“Why do me and Eddie hate each other?” you blurt out, cutting off Steve’s greeting.

“I- What?” Steve’s confused, understandably so, “How should I know? I don’t keep a list of every time you rant about him to me.”

“What about him?”

“Okay, you know I love you, but I’m not a mind-read-”

“What about a list of every time he rants about me?”

Silence buzzes through the line, and you glance up at the night sky. It’s a cloudy black. The city pollution hides most of the stars, and from Eddie’s balcony, you can’t locate the moon.

“I also don’t have one of those.”

“Why not? Because, Jesus Christ, Harrington, I have questions-”

“Because he doesn’t rant about you. Especially not to me, but Nancy says he never talks about you usually either,” Steve explains in an even tone, still not sure how his answer should be helping you. You are the one, afterall, with Eddie right now.

Even if he is locked away in his room right now, refusing to speak to you.

“That makes no sense,” you sigh, exasperation creeping its way into your bones, “I rant about him all the time. I’ve bitched to you and Robin more times than I can count about him. He should be doing the same.”

Steve says your name softly, “Why are you asking me this?”

You laugh humorlessly and shake your head, even knowing Steve can’t see you, “It’s stupid. Forget it,” It’s not stupid to you, and you can’t forget it, but this doesn’t concern Steve, “Can I ask you one last question, though?”

“Shoot, babydoll,” you can’t help but grin at that nickname. Steve pulls it out at random, every time he’s trying to make you feel bad. He knows that neither of you can take it seriously.

“Um, that night you introduced me to everyone,” you begin, stepping up to wrap your free hand around the iron railing of Eddie’s balcony, letting the cold seep into your palm, “At the bar, you know?”

“Right…” he encourages, “What about it?”

“Me and Eddie got along,” you spit it out, letting it tear from your chest and score your throat on its way out, “We… we were getting along at first, and then I went to the bathroom, and when I came back, he…. He…”

He was gone. The Eddie I’d first met had vanished. Where’d he go? Why’d he go?

“Shit, your memory is way better than mine,” Steve chuckles, sounding nervous, “But, I mean, I kind of remember that. You two getting along, at least. Guess that’s why we all were really confused when you started hating each other. But I’m still not understanding the question - are you asking if I remember the night? Or if he’s ever talked about it? I was a jock, you’re gonna have to spell it out for my pea brain.”

“Stop insinuating you’re stupid,” you scold on instinct, scowl settling along your features as you lean onto the railing and glance down. It’s only two stories, but the ground feels impossibly far as you ask, “What happened when all us girls went to the bathroom? When we came back, he acted differently. Did he mention hating me that night? Did I leave a bad first impression? Was it all just a joke to hi-”

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. One question, remember?” you’re sure Steve can hear the panting in your breath over the line, the way your chest heaves in the memory, “I’ve gotta be honest - I don’t remember. I know that’s probably not the answer you’re looking for, and I don’t know what’s going on with you two right now, but I was already well on my way to drunk. I think Jonathan and Argyle poked some fun at Eddie, maybe teased him about something, but I really can’t recall what it was about. Maybe his hair? Who knows?”

The answer isn’t helpful. It’s only more confusing, more hurtful.

He stopped joking with you because someone made fun of his hair? You lost access to the warmth buried beneath his surface because his friends teased him?

“Okay,” you sound defeated. You feel defeated – defeated by the weight of still feeling like an outsider, defeated by the barrier of some measly wooden door, defeated by the hurt in Eddie’s eyes as you admitted that he only ever hurts you, “Okay, thanks, Steve.”

You hang up before either of you say goodbye. When you pull your phone down from your cheek and ear, you see your phone still open to the photo of Eddie and you that you’d sent to the group.

You were wrong. There wasn’t only nothing. Your face may have been void of all emotions, but now looking at it, you can see Eddie’s isn’t.

He’s looking at you and not the camera during the shot, face crestfallen, eyes nearly teary as the corners of his mouth tucked downward.

He’s looking at you with regret, with sadness. He’s looking at you as if he can see the vines he’d planted in you, all rotted and dusting away, and he’s mourning them just as you had.

It’s bullshit, or your imagination, or your innate need for Eddie to bleed the same way as you have over your entire situation with each other. You lock your phone and don’t bother to look at the photo again as you enter the living room, as you toss your phone onto the loveseat, as you curl up on the couch and don’t even bother to go to ask for a pillow or blanket. He probably wouldn’t answer the door, anyway.

You don’t say goodnight to Eddie, just as he never said goodbye to you the first night, and wonder if he notices the absence of your salutation.

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#eddie munson #twenty four hours #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #feels so short of a chapter haha #angsty babes

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chimcess · 7 months ago

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Waterlog || pjm (5)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 10.8k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: ANGST, crying, mental health issues, talking about mental health, I'm so soft for them it's actually wild, angst, trauma, panic attacks, talks of panic attacks, talks of sex, k*ssing, I love them so much, jimin still the best boyfriend, small argument, insecurities, strong language, one bed trope, healthy relationship conversations, boundary setting, friends being friends, character has cancer, talks of character death (brief), dry humping, moaning, things are picking up A/N: I know I'm late again, but I have a lot of personal stuff going on in my life at the moment that had made writing challenging. First a breakup, then finding a new apartment, moving, and then waiting for my internet to get turned on. It's been hectic for me! But we are back. This was very lightly edited so I apologize in advance for any issues there might be. I will go through and edit this eventually, I just wanted to get it out for you guys!

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The drive to Jimin’s house was quick, the traffic not fully registering in my mind as I lost myself in thought. I had only ever been in love once before, and that had been a very different time in my life. I was no longer that same person, and the anxiety these new feelings were bringing up made me nauseous. I was not ready to say anything was certain, but I knew for a fact that I was falling hard and fast.

The small suburb was nice with large homes. A few new modern builds stuck out like a sore thumb, but the area had still kept much of its original blue-American-suburban charm. Coming from Colorado, I was not used to seeing large front lawns or children’s toys left out after dark. Jimin was just ahead of me and I slowed down when his tail lights came on.

The house was definitely brand new. I had never liked modern buildings, the architecture lacking the charm and personality I sought out when buying my own place in the Springs, but it suited the swimmer. It was difficult to make out much color, but I could tell it was mostly white with black accents on the front. Large windows took up a majority of the walls and a small balcony was above the front door. It was smaller than the other homes, but the yard was bigger than the rest, and a tall fence enclosed the back of the property.

Taking a second to prepare myself for the rest of the night, I watched Jimin get out of Fiona and open up the two door garage at the front. He seemed to be in a rush, casting a few quick glances at my car as he paced back to the truck to pull it inside. I do not think he could see me looking back.

Picking up my phone, I called Hoseok.

“Everything okay?” He picked up, out of breath.

I smiled, “I’m okay. Promise.”

He had been extra worried about tonight. Out of everyone, Hoseok knew how huge this was for me. At one of our many late night parties I had told him that I could never love again, and that I never wanted to know that feeling again. If it wasn’t Namjoon then it could not be anybody. At the time he had reassured me, but as the years went on he had truly believed that I had completely closed off that part of my heart. To be so excited about someone had him cautious- even if he did poke fun at me most of the time.

“Why are you calling me then?” He asked.

“Just needed a bit of a pep talk,” I admitted, eyes still locked on Jimin’s truck. “I’m at his house. Feeling a little nervous.”

He hummed, “He seems like a good guy. Don’t think there’s anything you need to worry about. Just enjoy yourself.”

I sighed, watching the garage door close, knowing I would have to get out of the car soon. “I think I’m going insane.”

“Talk to me about it.”

Jimin stood by the garage door, looking at my car. I rolled the window down and waved, gestured to the phone, and managed a pathetic smile. He nodded, still watching me with a strange look on his face.

“I think I love him,” I mumbled, unable to look away from him.

Hoseok laughed, “You just figured that out? Baby, anyone with eyes and ears can see how you feel about the kid.”

“It’s been two seconds, Hobi. We barely know each other.”

“You don’t have to tell him anything,” My friend reasoned, voice nothing but friendly. “You’re all over the place right now, and you need to really think about how you feel. No one wants to hear someone ‘thinks’ they love them. Breathe. Relax. Enjoy yourself.”

As I steadied my breathing, I noticed Jimin’s face becoming concerned. He always knew when something was wrong, and it did not surprise me when he started walking across the front yard towards my car.

“I have to go,” I choked out, panic bubbling in my chest with each step he took. “I don’t want him hearing us.”

“Otter-”

I hung up the phone and smoothed down my hair. My heart was running at a million miles an hour and my hands were shaking. I hated how worked up I got over nothing. Disgusted and discouraged, I forced a smile on my face and opened the car door. My phone vibrated, the sensation tickling my hand, but I chose to ignore it. Fake it till you make it, I told myself. The curve of Jimin’s mouth told me I was not fooling anyone.

“Everything okay?” He asked, coming to stand in front of me.

“Yeah,” I breathed, nodding frantically. In my panic, I did not see the curb and tripped. Jimin reached out to help steady me before I could fall. I shuttered. “Everything is fine. Hoseok just called to check in with me. Didn’t realize we were out together.”

The lie felt heavy on my tongue and Jimin’s eyebrows came together in confusion. He knew I was lying and it made the sinking in my gut all the more unbearable. Knowing I needed to get a grip, I stepped out of his arms and gestured to the house.

“Nice place,” I sounded like I had just run a marathon. “It’s very you.”

Jimin was quiet. Still trying to avoid talking about my odd behavior, I began rambling on and on about how much I liked the landscaping. The large bushes that surrounded the small front porch were a nice pop of color for the otherwise neutral paint job.

“Is that a gnome wearing a swimming ring?” I asked, squinting trying to make out the little figure in the darkness. “That’s so cute. Did your mom buy you that? I-”

“Y/N.”

My mouth clamped shut.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, reaching out to caress my shoulder. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

I sighed, finally done hiding my very apparent discomfort. “Just really nervous about how I’m feeling.”

“Tell me about it?”

I looked at him and nodded, “Can we go inside? It’s really cold.”

“Of course, angel.”

The pet name made me short circuit long enough to get inside without saying another word. Were we on that level now? Would it be okay for me to start calling him sweet little names like that? Would he want me to? What would I even call the guy? Nothing seemed good enough. No words could ever be good enough to express everything that he was becoming to me.

“I can take your coat,” Jimin murmured in my ears, hands already helping me shrug out of the dark wool coat. “Shoes go on that little shelf over there.”

“Thank you,” I absentmindedly replied, still dazed.

What about babe? No, too conventional. Sweetheart? No, that was Joon’s thing. Honey? We are definitely not beating the old woman allegations with that one. That also rules out darling and sweetie. He’d never let me live that down.

“Feeling a bit better now?” He asked, hand on the small of my back as he led me further into the house. “You’re not shaking anymore.”

I had not realized how off course my thoughts had gotten. I got so swept up in him that everything else just faded away. Pleased, I smiled and nodded.

He chuckled, “Where did your mind go this time, angel girl?”

I giggled, giddy that we were keeping up the terms of endearment.

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” I leaned into his touch, melting in his arms as we walked. He finally wrapped me up completely, pressing me into his side with his hand on my hip. “I like it when you call me that.”

Jimin hummed, “What? Angel?”

I nodded, putting my head on his shoulder. It was a bit awkward but I dealt with the discomfort. I enjoyed being this close to him. Knowing that he seemed just as eager to be here with me was a bonus.

“What do you think of the place?” He asked.

Blinking, I tried to disguise the fact that I had not been paying attention to a single thing since we walked inside. Letting my eyes wonder, I almost laughed at how accurate Jimin’s description of his house was.

Standing in his living room, I marveled at how dark everything was. Black leather sofas, a dark gray fluffy rug, a flat screen, and a black iron fireplace were the stand out pieces. There were a few family photos on the mantle and a fake potted plant beside it, but other than that it was completely barren. It was just as sad and depressing as he said it would be, but instead of feeling disappointed it only made me smile. Everything in here was his and now I was included in that.

“I love it.”

He laughed, squeezing me impossibly closer, “You don’t have to lie. I know it’s the quintessential bachelor pad.”

“I’m not lying,” I argued. “It’s perfect. Very you.”

“Even the dusty, ugly, fake Der Rose Jungkook got me as a housewarming gift?”

“Especially that,” I joked.

“Okay clown,” He laughed, pulling away from my side. “Go sit on the couch and I’ll make us some hot chocolate. Need to warm you up.”

Giving me the remote for the very large television hanging above the fireplace, Jimin promised to be back soon and left me in charge of finding something good to watch. After flicking through a few channels, I ended up settling on 21 Jump Street and ogled at Johnny Depp and Holly Robinson Peete. My dad and I used to watch the show together when I was young, and it brought me back to the few happy times that we had. I really needed to call him.

“Damn that’s a handsome man.”

I jumped, “Jesus you scared me.”

Jimin laughed, setting down two mugs on his coffee table. They were steaming hot and I decided to leave mine to cool off for a few seconds. Taking his seat next to me, Jimin was quick to throw his arm around my shoulders and pull his legs up onto the sofa.

“Get comfortable,” He said, crossing his legs. “It’s just me.”

“Yeah,” I snorted, curling my legs up next to me and placing my head on his shoulder. “That’s the problem.”

“You’re being extra flirty tonight,” He teased. “I like it.”

I chose to stay quiet and watch the show. This was one of my favorite episodes. Hanson, Hoff, and Loki go undercover to try and solve a string of drive-by shootings between a couple of gangs, and Booker is trying to investigate a dirty cop on the force. I always loved the scenes between Johnny Depp and Holly the most. They were so cute together and the chemistry was crazy even though their characters never ended up together.

Jimin started playing with my hair, his fingers gently caressing my neck before scratching my scalp. It felt amazing and I relaxed even further into his side. After that episode was over, he leaned down and put his head on top of mine. Another episode came on, this was the second part to the previous, and I let my eyes close. This was really nice. And to think I almost let it all go to shit because I could not keep myself from spiraling.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” I mumbled.

“Don’t be,” He whispered back, placing a small kiss on the top of my head. “Never apologize for being upset.”

Taking a deep breath, I thought about what Hoseok had said. There was no reason to tell him anything right now, or at least, the “L” word did not need to come into conversation. Still, it felt wrong to keep him in the dark. Jimin was always willing to listen and I felt awful for lying to him earlier.

“I really like you and sometimes it scares me,” I admitted quietly. “I called Hoseok to see if he had any advice. Sorry I lied about that.”

He shook his head, “I’m not upset with you, angel. Sometimes they scare me, too.”

“Really?” I had never really thought about that before.

“Of course,” He chuckled, moving away to look down at me. I lifted my head in a rare act of bravery. “I don’t think you understand just how amazing you are.”

I smiled lazily, unable to look away from him. He looked so beautiful in this lighting. The tv on one side of his face, the darkness in the rest of the house casting a dark shadow on the rest of it. I noticed his head inching closer, eyes heavily lidded as he watched me, waiting for a reaction. Heart pounding, I did the only thing I could think of. I closed my eyes and tilted my head higher.

“You smell so good,” He murmured, lips brushing mine. “God, you’re so pretty.”

I opened my mouth to respond but was unable to get anything out before his lips were pressed against it. I breathed out through my nose and allowed myself to just enjoy it. His lips were so soft and plump, his upper lip just barely scratching my skin with peach fuzz, and chin ever so gently bumping against mine as we came together.

My skin was on fire as he invaded every cell in my body until all I could think about was him. His hand gripped the back of my neck and pressed us together roughly, his tongue licking against my bottom lip asking to be let inside. There was nothing he couldn’t ask for now. I mewled embarrassingly when our tongues twisted together. Jimin groaned in response.

“Is this okay?” He rasped when we pulled apart for air.

I replied by taking his face in my hands and pulling him back in for more. Jimin responded eagerly, gripping my neck tighter and holding me close. I hummed in satisfaction, leaning into his chest. His skin was on fire beneath me and I briefly wondered if his chest got as pink as his cheeks did.

Jimin broke away, dragging my body closer until I was practically laying on his lap, before guiding my mouth back to his. My lips were numb, swollen, and still begging for more. The show was long forgotten, the noise also like static in the background as I suckled on his bottom lip. Jimin whined, fingers twisting into my hair as he held me in place.

“Feeling okay?” He mumbled into my mouth, taking a second to catch his breath.

“Great,” I slurred, before shutting him up again.

I lost track of time as we sat there entangled in one another. Lips hardly able to feel anything anymore, I broke away and tried to calm my racing heart. Jimin took the opportunity to go for my neck, his plush lips delicate against my skin. I shuttered.

I could feel my panties sticking to my folds, slick gently wetting my thighs as he continued his gentle assault on my neck. He never sucked hard enough to leave marks behind, but after a few moments I could safely say Jimin was a fan of teeth. They scratched my skin softly, tickling me in the process, before his tongue smoothed over any redness that might have popped up. Moaning, I tilted my head back and granted him more access.

“You’re so fucking hot,” He rasped, licking a long stripe up my neck before biting my ear. “So needy.”

I chuckled, the sound breathless. “Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no.”

I giggled, kissing his cheek, “Such a boy.”

I nodded, kissing the underside of my chin before pecking my lips.

“I’m your boy,” He smiled lazily, kissing me again.

“Yes,” I agreed, unable to stop smiling as I cradled his face between my hands. “My good-looking boy.”

With one final peck on my chin, Jimin leaned back into the sofa and dragged my body down with his. Laying on top of his body, my eyes fixated on the tv. Buffy the Vampire Slayer was playing now, and I grinned. It was one of my favorite shows to watch when I had a bad day. It was nice to have it with me at this moment. A happy memory with my comfort show in the background only sweetened the already tender moment.

“She should have been with Spike,” Jimin’s chest rumbled underneath me.

Getting more comfortable, I nodded.

“I kind of like that she decided to stay friends with them both. Tara and Willow were the power couple anyway.”

“Not a fan of Oz?” He started playing with my hair.

“I liked them, too, but for different reasons. The only other couple that comes close to Tara and Willow were Giles and Jenny.”

We were quiet as we watched, small kisses shared during commercial breaks, and I never felt the need to try and open my mouth. Nothing needed to be said when our feelings were so apparent. Hoseok, as usual, was right. I just needed time to breathe and think about things before running head first into a love confession. And if he said anyone with eyes and ears could see how I felt, then there was no real reason for me to say anything. Jimin already knows. He always did.

“God, I’ve always loved that DeSoto Fireflite,” I gushed, eyeing Spike's car hungrily. “The ‘59 model is sexy.”

“Why do you know so much about cars?” He asked.

“My dad’s a mechanic,” I explained. “He owns his own restoration shop back in Pennsylvania and I used to go over there all of the time. I almost ditched swimming to take over the body shop when he lost an employee.”

“You never stop amazing me,” He murmured, kissing the top of my head. “Has he found anything cool recently?”

I grew quiet. Truthfully, I had no clue. It had been almost two years since we last spoke, and I doubted he was looking forward to hearing from me. He had a new family. A new life. One that did not have the space for me in it. My silence must have worried Jimin because he asked if I was okay.

“We don’t talk anymore,” I replied. “He got remarried a few years ago and his wife doesn’t like me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” I sighed, “It’s juvenile, really. He seems happy though, so I don’t push it.”

“They don’t deserve you. You’re too good to be treated like that.”

I laughed, eyes prickling with unshed tears. I did not talk about this often and it felt nice to get it off of my chest. For a long time Victor had been the person I looked to as a father figure, and we still keep in touch. He always calls for holidays and birthdays, checks in randomly, and asks me how I’m doing. He stayed with me through the worst of the damage, and only left Colorado when his daughter decided to move abroad for school. Denver was too expensive to justify the expenses and his new trainee was in Florida. I missed him a lot more than I ever realized.

“I made my own family, though. Couldn’t have picked better.”

Colorado would always be home because that was where pieces of my heart lived. Jin, Andy, and Hoseok were never planning on moving. Minho would be there as long as Tilly was, and she was around for Hoseok. I had a feeling Max would change that, and the two of them may end up starting a new adventure with Minho in tow. A trouple for the ages. That made me grin.

Michigan was starting to feel like my own adventure. New bonds and ties are formed with each passing day. Going back to Colorado helped to put that in perspective. It did not matter if I was there or not, because my family was, and I would always have a place there. Ann Arbor was different.

The person I envisioned myself spending the rest of my life with lived here, his family and friends becoming like my own, and I could never ask him to leave them. When Na-Yeon died someone would need to be around for James and the kids. When Jungkook and Darcy inevitably went their separate ways, he would need a shoulder to cry on. Taehyung and his panic attacks. Milo and his work stresses. All of it meant that someone needed to be around to bring them back to themselves, and I wanted to be a part of that in any way they would allow me.

“I’m really happy that I met you,” I told Jimin, eyes not truly focusing on the show anymore. “Being here with you- I couldn’t ask for more.”

A kiss on my head, “I feel the same way, angel.”

I fell asleep like that. Jimin had to wake me up a little after one in the morning to see if I wanted to sleep at his place. I politely declined since I promised the Andersons that I would be back for breakfast tomorrow and left shortly thereafter. I barely even focused on the ride home, tired and drunk off of the high of the evening.

Calvin was awake when I walked through the front door. A plate of cookies in front of him, he held up a finger to his lips and pointed upstairs. Violet had been strict about his diet as of late. The last time he had gone to the doctor his cholesterol levels were slightly elevated, and we had been eating very bland, not all that great food ever since. I smiled sleepily, stealing a cookie for myself as payment. We would never speak of this night again.

Finishing up my cookie, I quickly peeled out of my clothes before heading into the bathroom to do my skincare routine. Exhausted, I was barely aware of the text I sent to Jimin before I climbed into bed. I was asleep before my head ever hit the pillow.

“You’re still not hitting your best time,” I spoke into my headset, looking at the stop watch in my hand. “We’re only at 90%. I want 92%.”

Jimin groaned, frustrated and tired. We had been at this all morning and he was not making as much progress as I hoped he would. I had prepared an 200s anaerobic training set so we could work on his endurance. For the last few weeks we were focused on speed and mastering his butterflies and turns. Now that we were feeling more comfortable training together I was moving onto those issues I had at the beginning. So far it was not going over well.

“This is bullshit,” He huffed, pulling his goggles up. “I’ve been at this for hours and haven’t done anything.”

I shook my head and fought to keep myself neutral. Training had become a bit challenging to work around given our new relationship status, but we both agreed to keep that out of our sessions. We had another date next Friday. He was refusing to tell me where we were going, the only hint being we would be going to Jungkook’s game, but the rest was a mystery.

“You’re getting better,” I replied, holding the microphone closer to my mouth. I had woken up with a sore throat and could not speak loud enough on my own, so we were finally using my old earpiece to communicate. “You went from 88% to 90%. I think with some more drills we can get up a bit more.”

He went to put his goggles back on, but I told him to stop.

“We’re done for the day,” I said, rubbing my raw throat. “You’re getting angry and I’m losing my voice.”

He stared at me, glowering childishly, and crossed his arms across his chest. Lifting my head a little higher, I looked at him with an eyebrow raised. It was a challenge, one we both knew meant I was losing my patience. Normally he would back down at this point, tucking his tail between his legs, and going to the back to get changed. Today, it would seem, was not a normal day.

“No we’re not,” He said through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed. “I’m not where I want to be.”

“Yes. We. Are,” I made a show of emphasizing every word, tossing my clipboard onto the duffle at my feet. “Something is bothering you. If you don’t want to talk to me about it, that’s fine, but you’ve been acting like a brat all morning.” I ripped my whistle off my neck, bent down, and shoved both it and the stopwatch into the pocket of the duffle bag. Jimin was still pouting in the center of the pool. “I’m not arguing with you. I’m sick and you’re angry. Just go get dressed.”

My throat burned. I talked too much and had not given the sore skin time to rest. Rubbing my forehead, I breathed through my nose in an attempt to cool off. His attitude was really starting to piss me off.

Angry, Jimin made his way out of the pool far louder than necessary. I sighed when the locker room door slammed behind him. I got us off on the wrong foot this morning by being snippy and curt with my answers. His foul mood only made it worse. As training went on I had gotten back into the groove, my annoyance over being ill forgotten, but my bad behavior had obviously bothered him enough to keep him frustrated with me for the rest of the morning. It did not help that I never apologized.

I took more time packing up my things today hoping that I could “bump into” Jimin before leaving. I tried to think of the right way to word my own frustrations without undermining what happened between us. I hurt his feelings, and I needed to take ownership of that.

“Sorry for acting like an ass.”

I shouted, shocked, and nearly slipped on the wet floor. Rebalancing on the balls of my feet, I looked over to see Jimin standing at the locker room door. He was still wearing his cap but threw on a pair of shorts.

“I thought you were taking a shower,” I rasped, all of the fire from earlier gone.

“Me too,” He ran a hand over his face and leaned against the closed door. “Just felt wrong letting you leave like that.”

I nodded, swallowing thickly. My saliva irritated my throat more and I winced in pain. I really needed something to help with the pain.

“It’s not just you,” I finally said, my voice cracking. “I acted like an asshole this morning and you had every right to be upset. I’m sorry I didn’t apologize, either.”

“Doesn’t mean I should have gotten all pissy,” He sighed, looking more relaxed now than he had all day. “I’ve always had a bad temper, but that’s not an excuse to talk to you like that. It wasn’t even that big of a deal.”

He was doing that thing again, the thing where he downplayed his own hurt feelings and redirected blame onto himself. Not wanting his mind to go down that rabbit hole, I walked over to him. I rarely went to this side of the room. I usually used the employee shower in the back since I felt less exposed, but Jimin never felt ashamed of his nakedness. The only reason he started putting shorts on is because he noticed how awkward I became.

“It’s okay to be mad at me,” I soothed, reaching out to take hold of his hand. “We both acted a little childishly. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Nodding, he leaned forward to rest his head on my shoulder.

“I just feel bad,” He whispered into my skin. “You’re not feeling well and here I am making it worse. I’m such a dick sometimes.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him close. Despite our second date being postponed due to training and the charity event this weekend, the physical affection we showed one another only ramped up. Kissing was Jimin’s new favorite thing, and I hoped we could take it a step further this weekend. Even if he was cool with taking things slow I had come to find out that I was not. Maybe after a nice conversation we could fool around a little more.

“So am I,” My voice was almost gone. “Now, can we stop arguing and get breakfast? A hot chocolate is the only thing that’s going to make me feel better.”

He chuckled, lifting his head to look at me. He was no longer angry, eyes dancing, and I felt a surge of energy run through me. Sick or not, I would do just about anything to keep him smiling. Even if it meant doing the hardest thing imaginable: apologizing. Stepping out of my embrace, Jimin took hold of my hand and walked us back to my duffle bag. He always insisted on carrying it.

“I think a hot tea would be much better for a sore throat,” He mused, “But if it’s cocoa you want, well, who am I to stop you?”

Rolling my eyes, I leaned into his side, “Who’s paying?”

“Me,” He scoffed. “Obviously. Denny’s is way cheaper than putting gas in my truck.”

That made me laugh loudly, the pain in my throat forgotten. We had a rule between the two of us. If you didn’t buy breakfast then you were buying gas for the day. Jimin had taken extra time coming to scoop me up this morning since I woke up sick and refused to stay in bed. After a lengthy conversation about money, we both agreed that he could pay for all of our dates if I could split up other costs with him. While not happy about it, he conceded.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” I teased, rolling my eyes.

The gym was filled, always packed just before and after lunch time. The lull of the afternoon would carry over until around 6 and we had a decent sized group until closing. When Giselle opened up at 5:30 the following morning, the same group of guys were always the first ones in the door. I had spoken to them a handful of times and helped spot one of them once or twice, but that was the most of my interactions with anyone that exercised here. None of us really wanted to be bothered, and kept mostly to ourselves.

Giselle and Sam were chatting at the host stand when we walked by. Jimin was always nice enough to greet his staff, but never stuck around for too long. They were all friendly, and he was very good friends with Yoongi and Megan, but he was too focused on keeping up with his daily schedule to hang out. Despite being late to everything, Jimin was an extremely organized person and hated it when his plans were disrupted.

“Where are you two headed?” The young woman asked, a genuine smile on her face as she glanced down at our hands.

“Breakfast,” I answered. Giselle was easily my favorite person here, her only competition being Megan or Yoongi, and I always tried to make time for her when she was available. “Do you need something?”

She shook her head, “Not right now, but would you be okay with bringing in a case of the blue Monsters tomorrow? We just ran out and Yoongi is feeling it hard.”

I laughed and agreed. Yoongi was the resident caffeine addict on staff and would go through pot after pot of coffee during his shift. After Drew, the general manager, told him he was using too many of the Keurig cups, he had moved onto energy drinks. The Lo-Carb Monsters were his favorite, and I was not surprised to hear he was out. He bought a four pack every other day.

“I’ll DoorDash a few packs to the building right now. I owe him anyway.”

“Are you ordering from Busch’s?” Sam asked.

I nodded, “Probably. I know they’ll have them. What’s up?”

“Can you throw in a couple of sushi rolls?” He asked, and my phone vibrated in the side pocket of my leggings. “I sent you $20. I totally forgot to pack my lunch and I’m swamped with sessions today.”

“Sure man. Spicy crab rolls?”

“You’re an angel,” Sam sighed. “Make sure you get plenty of rest. You sound like shit.”

“Thanks,” I replied sarcastically, rolling my eyes. “See you tomorrow. I think Park will be riding solo tonight.”

Jimin chuckled, “I’m planning on skipping the gym tonight, too.”

We walked out of the building, hands swinging between us. The feeling was so familiar and yet so foreign. I had not dated since Joon’s passing and was severely out of practice, but Jimin made it feel easy.

“You? Skipping leg day? Scandalous.”

Jimin laughed, sounding like sunshine. “And let my girl sit at home sick by herself?”

That shut me up. After learning I was a sucker for pet names, Jimin had gotten into the habit of using them to get his way. Feeling my face heating up, I forced a laugh as I let go of his hand and rounded the truck. My girl. It made me feel both terrified and comforted at the same time.

My girl…Angel…Angel Girl… I couldn’t pick a favorite.

“Do you mind if I come over?” Jimin sounded less confident now.

I had barely noticed him starting the truck. Must have zoned out again.

“I don’t have much to do,” I admitted. “My place is pretty boring.”

“You’re there,” He shrugged. “And you have a tv. I’m sure we can think of something.”

“Okay,” I hid my smile behind my hand and started to look out of the window.

Saline was very beautiful. At this time of year, many of the trees were barren but I knew they would look gorgeous in the summer. I frowned. I was set to be back in Colorado by then if I could not make up my mind about the move.

“Don’t get quiet on me, gran-gran,” I snorted. “You don’t blink when you zone out and it’s creepy.”

“I so do,” I laughed, turning to look at the pretty boy. “You are such a liar.”

That did nothing but make him laugh. “Might want to order those drinks, by the way.”

I thanked him for the reminder and quickly made a small shopping cart. I threw in a few extras. Coconut creamer for Skye, a new box of Hot Pockets for Drew and Dominic, and a large box of cookies and chips for the rest of the staff. Before I could check out, a page popped up of previous things I had ordered before and I quickly added one of those expensive bags of cookies. Those were Megan’s favorite and she had bought me two coffees this week.

“Do you want anything?” I asked Jimin.

“Maybe some seaweed chips?” We were turning into the Denny’s parking lot. “Thanks, angel.”

I added in a few other items. Band-aids because I knew we were running low, more tea bags, the coffee pods Yoongi liked, and a few different packets of the candy for Giselle. She had such a sweet tooth it was a miracle she only had one cavity. It took me a bit longer to find Jimin’s favorite brand of seaweed chips, and I decided to toss in a few different flavors of the spicy ramen he loves to eat as well. Finally happy with my order, I checked out and messaged Sam that I secured his lunch. He sent me the sunglasses emoji as a reply.

“Earth to Y/N.”

I jumped, blinking rapidly, and saw a thoroughly amused Jimin staring at me. We were parked, the truck was off, and his hand was already on the handle. We both laughed but did not say anything else. If Jimin could be late all of the time then I could space out whenever I wanted.

“I’m so ready for these blueberry pancakes,” Jimin threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked. “What are you getting?”

I shrugged, “Hot cocoa and an omelet, probably.”

“An omlet does sound really good,” He mumbled to himself, holding open the door for me.

“That’s why I’m getting one,” I mumbled, pausing at the door to kiss him. “I’m thinking ham and cheese.”

Jimin smiled, caught off guard by the gesture, “Shit, if omelets get me one of those then I’ll eat eggs for the rest of my life.”

I laughed, the sound echoing in the small entrance area. This Denny’s was always busy but I could see a few empty booths in the back. Perfect.

“You think I’m playing,” He continued, wrapping an arm around my waist as he grabbed a hold of the second door. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner if I had to.”

I rolled my eyes, “You don’t need to live off eggs to get kisses, you big baby.”

“No,” He chuckled, swooping down and stealing a kiss of his own. “But it sounded really cool.”

The hostess smiled at our little exchange and I fixed her with a deadpan stare.

“Typical.”

She laughed, “Right this way.”

Hobi: Are you excited about the charity event?

Me: Park’s going to kill it

Hobi: Nervous about getting seen?

Me: Not at all. I doubt anyone there will recognize me anyway.

Closing the trunk of my car, I sighed. We were on our way to the charity meet, and Jimin was running a few minutes behind. Fiona needed to go to a shop soon and Jimin was driving her like she was going to explode any second. It was frustrating as I hated being late, but it was impossible to be angry with him. We had planned on leaving the day before the meet and getting a hotel room so we could both be as well rested as possible.

To say I was nervous about sharing a room for the night was an understatement. Jimin had gotten a suite with two beds so I would feel more comfortable (his words, not mine), but the added security of separation did little to calm my racing thoughts. I was not planning on having sex this weekend, Jimin needed to keep his energy for the meet, but I would be lying if I said the thought had not crossed my mind more than once.

“Are you okay?”

Snapping out of my trance, I turned to find the man of the hour stood next to me. There was a large duffle bag around his shoulders, and his oversized hoodie only made him look even smaller. Smiling, he kissed my cheek in greeting.

“Fine,” I breathed, smiling back. “Almost ready?”

Jimin nodded, “Just need to put this bag in the back. You didn’t forget any of your meds, right?”

He had been spending most of his time at my house recently and was well acquainted with my large pill collection. At first he had been concerned as to why I turned down taking medication for my illness back on Monday, but stopped questioning it so much when I told him about the other four pills I take daily. I always avoided taking extra stuff if I could.

“They’re in my suitcase.”

We were going to be in Allendale until Sunday. The meet was on Saturday, and while it was only a little over 2 hours away, I was positive Jimin was going to be exhausted after we were finished. This was an event super close to his heart and he had told me how nervous he felt about attending. Spending two nights seemed like a simple solution to deal with both of our anxieties, and even more so when I brought up my fears of being recognized and harassed. Jimin turned red with anger when I told him about my previous experiences with the news and promised he would never let that happen to me again.

“I guess we should stop by my mom’s house on the way out,” He mused. “I know she wanted to come but she’s been really sick.”

Na-Yeon’s avoidance of treatment was finally beginning to take its toll on her physical health. I had hardly seen her at all since I came back from Colorado, and from what Jimin tells me she’s done nothing but throw up and sleep. James had told me that she was trying to stay alive long enough to see Jimin win an Olympic medal, but he wasn’t sure if that was going to be possible. I was hoping to speak with her myself and see if there was any way I could convince her to start her chemo back up again. It was killing Jimin to see his mother this way.

“I was thinking,” I handed my keys over to Jimin. “Maybe your mom and I could have a little girl’s day when we get back.”

“Why?” He chuckled,

I shrugged. Trying to come off as nonchalant was better than honesty. I was not sure how Jimin would take my intrusion, but I still wanted to try it anyway. I loved Na-Yeon, and hoped that I could talk her out of her decision. There had been a time when I would have let myself die, too, but I was fortunate enough to have Andy fighting for me. I probably would have never walked again had it not been for her and Hoseok.

“Just want to be closer to her,” It was not a lie. I was dating her son and I wanted us to be like mother and daughter the same way I had been with Namjoon’s family. “She’s been looking a little down lately. Maybe getting out of the house a little might cheer her up.”

Jimin grinned at me, his expression soft. Leaning forward, he kissed my forehead. My chest warmed. He was always touching me as though I was made of glass.

“Have I ever told you how amazing you are?” He asked.

“Once or twice,” I replied, a giggling bubbling up my throat. “We should get going. Traffic is going to start piling up soon.”

Piling into the car, I relaxed into the passenger seat and took a hold of Jimin’s hand. He chuckled, pulled away to put the car into drive, and placed his hand on my thigh. I could feel a light layer of sweat on his palms. I put my hand on top of his.

“Are you sure you’re okay driving?” I asked him, tightening my grip.

“Yeah, angel,” He replied, smiling over at me. “I’m good. I like driving.”

“Still,” I argued, “You’re going to be swimming all day tomorrow. I feel bad making you drive, too.”

“Don’t,” He lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. His eyes never left the road. “I’m happy you’re here with me. All that other shit is just details.”

That shut me up. We drove in silence for the few minutes that it took to get to his parent’s house. I decided to stay in the car while he went to say goodbye. Jimin deserved some alone time with his folks, and I had sent a text to his mother this morning promising to send her a video of him swimming. All she cared about was making sure she could have a phone call with him when everything was over with. Na-Yeon missed watching him swim more than anything and it broke her heart that she was too ill to come with us today.

James waved at me from the front door and I returned the gesture with a huge smile. He had been so excited to see me after finding out about Jimin and I. James was extremely supportive and had already started to call me his daughter. I had yet to return the favor, but secretly loved it. Jimin would get so embarrassed, he’d turn red and scold his dad in Korean. Na-Yeon would watch them silently, but send me a smile and a wink when she thought no one was looking. Wedding bells were already sounding off in their heads.

I thought it would bother me more than it did. Instead, I felt calmed by their excitement. I had been really worried about the age gap between the two of us, but having our family and friends be so accepting had taken that weight off of my shoulders.

Ne-Yeon’s little head poked out from behind her husband’s shoulder. She looked worn and had bags under her eyes, but her smile was just as big and beautiful as it always had been. Touched that she had thought to come and greet me, I got out of the car.

“What are you doing out of bed?” I teased, wrapping my arms around the frail woman.

She returned my hug with full force. It was concerning that her squeezes felt feather light. I hoped she was eating enough.

“Bodybuilding,” She joked, her voice lacking the usual spunk it carried. When I went to let go, she held me tighter. “Take care of him.”

I nodded, “I will.”

Jimin and I left a few minutes later. Na-Yeon was hanging off of him for as long as she could, her little arm wrapped around his waist as the four of us stood in their doorway. James and I never made physical contact, but Jimin always swore his dad preferred me to him. The older man was always smiling at me, his eyes sparkling brightly, and his mouth moving so quickly at times it was difficult to understand what he was saying. Today was one of those days and I struggled to pay attention to anything else.

“Dad,” Jimin interrupted Jame’s latest fishing story. “We have to go.”

James deflated.

“When you come back?” He asked me.

“Sunday,” I replied. “We should be back for dinner.”

He smiled again, “I make daegusal-jorim for you. It’s spicy.”

I grinned. If I remember right, that was some sort of cod dish. James was always making some type of seafood since he was fishing constantly. Na-Yeon often complained about never eating any other meat. Jimin and I were always happy to indulge ourselves in his father’s cooking.

“I’m cooking,” Ne-Yeon said.

I looked at her, “Really?”

The last time I had eaten her food was Jimin’s birthday back in October. She made a huge pot of kimchi stew since it was her son’s favorite, and I remembered it being delicious. Sometimes Jimin would talk about all of his favorite foods he grew up eating, and 9 times out of 10 it would be something his mother had made him. Apparently, according to Jimin, his father could only cook fish. Na-Yeon, however, could make magic out of nothing.

“Yes,” She insisted. “Need to celebrate my baby.”

Jimin flushed, his mother’s fingers pinching at his fat cheeks. “Mom.”

“I’ll try to get us back early enough to help you out,” I offered, checking my watch. “We really do need to go, though. Trying to beat the traffic.”

With a few hugs and a couple of kisses on the cheek, Jimin and I left. I had finally grown used to Jimin playing the radio while he drove, and I enjoyed watching him as he sang along. Catching my eye, Jimin grinned widely and serenaded me. He had a pretty voice, soft and sweet, and I felt my heart jump into my throat.

It was shocking just how comfortable I was in this car with him. Instead of staring out the window, watching the roads like a hawk, I was laughing and enjoying his presence. With the radio blasting, I opened my mouth and sang back. Jimin’s eyes widening, his voice growing more confident as he took my hand in his.

“With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride,” He giggled, squeezing my fingers.

“You're toxic,” I wiggled my eyebrows. “I’m slippin’ under.”

“With a taste of a poison paradise,” I leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “I’m addicted to you. Don’t you know that you’re toxic?”

Satisfied with myself, I leaned back in my seat and watched him sing. My actions only emboldened his own, and soon Jimin was singing his heart out in the driver's seat. His hand on my thigh moved closer and closer to my core only to slide back down when he realized what he was doing. Each time I laughed it off, but inside I was yearning for him to do more. Not in the car, I might have a real panic attack then, but possibly when we were in the safety of our hotel room.

The drive was quicker than normal. We had beaten the traffic by an hour and our impromptu karaoke session in the car made the time fly. The sun was just beginning to set as we pulled up at the hotel and Jimin was practically skipping inside. Making him happy was something I took great pride in, and my little performance in the car had made him radiant.

My chest puffed out when I caught the front desk receptionist eyed him hungrily. Her pretty eyes were unable to stop staring at the beautiful boy beside me. Hand in hand, we took our key card and made our way to the elevator.

When the doors shut, Jimin pulled me into his arms. I sighed in relief. He smelled so good, his chest warm and hard, and I could smell the faint hint of his after shave. It didn’t matter if we won or lost this event. Nothing was going to destroy the high I was on.

“I’m nervous,” Jimin mumbled, letting me go when the elevator dinged. “I know a few of the guys I’ll be swimming with tomorrow. They’re all really good.”

I nodded, “You’re better.”

“How do you know that?” I had never heard him sound so unsure of himself before. “I haven’t been competing like I normally do this season.”

“Because you’re Jimin Park,” I replied easily, the confidence in my tone unmistakable. “And I’m Y/N Y/L/N. We’ve both put in a lot of work and time into this, and you’re going to be great.”

“But-”

I shushed him. Taking the keycard from his hand, I swiped the card through the reader and opened the door. Behind me, Jimin breathed through his nose. It was a loud, defeated sound. Stepping into the room, I gestured for Jimin to walk inside and closed the door behind us.

It was a standard hotel room. A large queen sized bed was in the middle, a small love seat beside it, and a mini fridge beside the large flat screen hanging on the wall. The air was stale, like no one had been in here in a while, and I could faintly see fading stains on some kind in the dark carpet. I bit my lip. Maybe I should have gotten the nicer place Taehyung had suggested.

“5 Stars?” Jimin dead-panned, the little smirk on his face telling me he was joking.

I sauntered closer to him, hands resting on his chest, “Of course. Only the best for an Olympian.”

He sighed, wrapping his arms around my waist, “Thank you angel.”

Still feeling high off of his presence, I kissed his cheek.

“I was talking about me.”

“Yeah?” He mumbled, lips brushing my own. “You think you’re funny?”

I nodded, dazed, “Hilarious.”

“Ass,” He breathed, before finally kissing me properly. “Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?” Another kiss. Then another. Then another. “It’s distracting.”

“What should we do about that?” I choked out, chasing after his retreating face. “Where are you going?”

He giggled cheekily, eyes glittering mischievously.

“We need to eat, don’t we?”

I rolled my eyes and huffed, grabbing the back of his neck with my hand. “Fuck the food.”

He pulled away again, his face far more serious now. All of the playful lust flowing through my vein was stopped dead in its tracks leaving a chill in its wake. Fearful I had been too forward, I immediately took a step back and shied away from him like I had been burned. Jimin noticed this and shook his head, reaching out to grab my hand. I let him.

“I want to,” He told me. “I’m just not ready for that yet, and I think you deserve better than some nasty motel in Allendale.”

I nodded, my understanding of his fears doing little to dull the sting of his rejection. I knew it was not a real rejection, he had just asked for more time, but my heart ached with the memory of him moving away from me. It made me feel disgusted. Still, I forced a smile onto my face and nodded. I hoped he could tell I was okay with his request. It was only the hurt feelings that made me want to run away and hide.

“I get it,” Even I could hear the sickeningly-sweet edge my voice had taken on and hated it. I was so bad at this shit. “We can take our time. Whatever you want.”

Jimin frowned but chose not to say anything. Pulling back from him, I wandered to the tv and picked up the remote. A home renovation show was on and I knew I would not be paying enough attention to the tv to care how awful the acting was.

“What’s for lunch?” I asked absentmindedly, trying to come across more relaxed than I felt. “I saw a pizza place on the way in if you’re feeling it.”

Silence.

“Maybe something less greasy,” I mused, already feeling myself growing panicked. “Milo said there’s a really good Italian place not too far from here-”

“Baby.”

I stopped talking and looked at the pretty boy standing across the room. He looked so sad and it broke my heart. I hated it when he didn't smile. I hated it even more when it was my fault.

“Talk to me,” He urged, coming to stand beside me. He made no moves to touch me for which I was grateful. “I know you’re upset about something.”

I shrugged, “I take rejection about as well as anybody else, and I don’t want you to feel bad about it so I’m moving on. I know we’re both hungry so I’m trying to figure out food. I’m sorry if I’m being weird again.”

He nodded, smiling sadly. “I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

I reached out to hug him. Jimin was happy to take me into his arms. I loved how safe and secure I felt in his presence. I was slightly taller than he was, my body made for swimming, but he never seemed to mind. Leaning down, I tucked my head underneath his chin and closed my eyes. Breathe, I told myself.

“You didn’t mean to,” I replied. “I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured or rushed into anything.”

He chuckled, “I want to have sex with you. Just not right now. Not tonight.”

I closed my eyes, “Later?”

That made him laugh. I grinned in response. My foul mood left with a kiss to the top of my head. We were fine. There was no reason to get insecure. We were fine. Jimin liked me. I liked him. That’s all that matters.

I adjusted myself and leaned my head on his. Jimin buried his face into my neck and left a few gentle kisses on the sensitive skin. I whined in response, curling into him. Jimin groaned, the sound strained. I felt it in my core.

“Definitely,” He rasped, giving my neck another kiss. “We need to stop before I change my mind.”

I giggled, pulling away from him. If he wanted space and time then I would give that to him, even if it meant making the both of us a little uncomfortable for the next two days. With the awkward moment behind us, we started planning out dinner and I was confident in our chances at winning tomorrow. Even though it was a charity event, we were both excited about the donation money going to the hospital where his mother received treatment. Jimin especially.

After our late lunch (we decided on pizza), we came back to the hotel. I was adamant that Jimin take the day off from swimming to preserve his energy for tomorrow. His old coach (asshole) had always forced him to swim at every possible moment, and would become angry and condescending when Jimin asked for time off. I swore the next time I saw Hamilton I’d give him a piece of my mind, but knew that I would ultimately leave him be. The guy was a slimeball and didn’t deserve my time and energy.

Crawling into bed that night, we talked for a few hours while a crime tv show played. Jimin enjoyed pillowtalk and I just enjoyed his company too much to tell him to stop talking. Once it was around ten, his eyes closed in the middle of a sentence and light snores followed soon after. That was another thing he was good at- falling asleep wherever and whenever.

I got out of bed a few minutes later, my mind too busy to go to sleep. As quietly as I could, I walked out of the hotel room. Jimin did not move an inch.

Hoseok picked up after the third ring.

“Do you know what time it is?” He answered, fake anger in his voice.

“Yeah, 10,” I rolled my eyes. “Way before your bedtime. Are you free?”

Hoseok hummed, “Yeah. What’s up?”

I groaned, embarrassment creeping up my spine. I would have preferred to talk to Andy about this, but I knew she was working tonight and would not be free. Tilly was an absolute no go, and I did not feel comfortable enough with anybody in Saline to call them this late to talk about my dry sex life. They were all Jimin’s friends first anyway.

“Jimin says he’s not ready for sex and I’m trying not to overthink it. I need your advice, oh wise one.”

Hoseok laughed, “Dude, I can’t help you. My girl is the same way.”

Shocked, I tried to remember if I had ever heard about this mystery girl before. Then, it hit me. Andy had mentioned something about a blonde girl. She must be serious for Hoseok to casually bring her up in conversation. I wonder how long he’d been hiding her from the rest of us.

“Your girl, huh? And who might that be?”

Hoseok sighed, “I know it sounds crazy, but she’s a swimmer.”

Racking my brain, I tried to think of every blonde swimmer I knew of. MacKenzie Boyd was way too young, Rhonda Yara lived in Florida most of the year, and Brittney Powell was just not Hoseok’s type. That left Opal Simmons and Tove Alfson. They both lived in Colorado, both were fantastic swimmers, and both seemed like nice girls. Opal was the older of the two, so I was more inclined to believe that was who he was talking about, but this was all under the assumption that the girl was a professional swimmer.

“Do you remember Opal Simmons?”

I snorted. So I was right. Feeling good about myself, I nodded and told him that I did. She was pretty, but I remembered thinking she was unremarkable. She had been doing extremely well this season and swimming more than she ever had before. I had a good feeling about her run at this year’s Olympics. She had always swam in teams and this was her first time doing a solo season.

“How’d you meet her?” I asked, leaning against the metal railing across from the door.

“I went to go see Ozzie and she stopped by to talk to him for a few minutes. She took one look at me, smiled, and gave me her number. And you know I’m a sucker for a confident woman.”

“So you took her to the most expensive bar in Colorado Springs?” I joked.

Hoseok spluttered, “How’d you know about that?”

“Well international super spy,” I teased, “You blew your cover. Jin saw you and told Andy. Andy told me. I didn’t tell anybody.”

The swimmer groaned and I could not help but laugh at his expense. We were always like this. Teasing and joking around with one another. A few tender moments sprinkled in between. I remembered when people thought we were a couple simply because we were friends of the opposite sex, but I had never felt anything but sisterly love for the guy. We were always there for each other through thick and thin, and right now I was grateful for his crude sense of humor. Hoseok rarely took things seriously and I needed a bit of fun. It made my anxiety feel less scary.

“We had fun,” He defended. “She’s fucking awesome, man. You’re really going to like her. Next time you’re in town, bring your boy so we can go on a double date.”

“Will do.”

We had a momentary pause. That meant Hoseok was thinking. He tried to choose his words carefully when he was being serious, so I knew that meant we were going to actually start talking about the reason I called. He was far more easy going than I was, so I was sure Opal’s timidness did not bother him at all. I was the spaz of the group only being outdone by Andrea.

“Did he say why?” Hoseok finally asked.

I told him about what had happened this afternoon and the small moments before. The way he always stopped things before they could get any further. How kissing him sometimes felt like he was saying goodbye. How genuinely upset he was by my reaction to his constant pausing. Hoseok listened to everything before saying another word.

“Maybe he’s had something happen to him in the past,” Hoseok brought up. That was something I had not really considered before. “He just sounds a little scared and nervous. Not unwilling, just hesitant. You should talk to him about it. I mean really talk to him. That’s what I did with Opal and it made going at her pace seem less daunting.”

“So you don’t think I’m doing anything wrong?” I finally asked, voicing my fears from earlier. I could not tell Jimin that’s what I was afraid of, it felt too childish, but Hoseok was used to my ever present anxieties. “I really didn’t mean to invalidate him.”

Hoseok chuckled, “I think you’re doing just fine, babe. You just need to learn how to relax and let shit happen. He likes you. He told you he wants to have sex with you directly. Don’t let yourself ruin this, okay?”

I nodded, feeling a frog forming in my throat. It felt wrong to cry right now, but it was the most therapeutic way to handle how frustrated I was with myself. I was too old to act like this. Too strong and independent. This really should not hurt me the way that it does, and yet I could feel myself closing off again.

The door behind me opened and I startled, almost dropping my phone. Whipping around I saw Jimin standing there, no shirt and a pair of sweatpants hanging loosely around his hips. Dark hair a wild mess, he rubbed his eyes and tried his best to look more awake than he felt. My heart melted, some of the stress I felt moments before lessening. He was here. We were fine. I was just being overdramatic. I just needed to breathe.

“I have to get some sleep,” I told Hoseok, eyes never leaving Jimin’s body. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Talk to you then,” I hung up.

Jimin’s eyes searched my face and I could feel a few escaped tears on my cheeks. I felt small under his watchful gaze, but the gentleness in his eyes never wavered. I stood there stupidly, unable to move.

“Come back to bed,” His voice was soft. “I miss you.”

And because he made me behave like a good little lap dog, I crawled into that bed without protest. Pulling me into his arms, Jimin held me close and tight. I relaxed and let his body heat warm me up. I had not realized how cold I had gotten and shivered. Jimin kissed my nose and got comfortable.

“Don’t leave me,” He rasped, already falling back asleep. “Please?”

I almost cried again. He sounded so lost and defeated. Maybe Hoseok was right. Maybe something happened to him that made sex feel terrifying. What it could be I had no idea, but I hoped that with time he could help me understand. As desperately I wanted him to know me- I wanted to know him.

“I promise I won’t,” I whispered, kissing his chest.

His arms squeezed me gently before there was nothing but snores and the sound of the A/C in the room.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga @sumzysworld @chimmisbae

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melancholy-of-nadia · 1 year ago

Text

love u lately (m) #1 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately chapter title: #1 - lavender haze pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; summary: In the midst of your college journey, life takes an unexpected turn when you find yourself moving into a "pseudo frat" house with your childhood best friends Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin. The college experience you envisioned seems promising, but as Namjoon and Jimin get caught up in flings, their focus shifts away from you, Yoongi, and everyone else in the house. The strong bond you once shared starts to feel strained, leaving you to question your feelings and changing dynamics. Though, the haze of a single night at a party sets off a chain reaction of emotions that leaves you grappling with a question you never thought you'd ask—could you be in love with all three of them? warnings: pwp, swearing, making out, subtle body worship, penetration, cunnilingus, CONSENSUAL!! sex, nipple play, breast play, overstimulation, mutual orgasm, touch of aftercare, frustration bc guys are dumb sometimes note: thank u to @daegudrama (as always) for beta reading and editing my fics. much appreiciated. this is the first fic series i have written in 10 years (i used to be in the anime/pokemon fandoms lol) so i apologized if it isn't that great, but i will keep improving! note 2: this is also for the yoonminjoon stans !! such an underrated subunit! total word count: 8.3k drop date: august 29th, 2023, 1:00pm pst cross posted on AO3 here | Series Masterlist | #2 →

October 4 (Thursday)

The morning sun streams through the blinds, gently coaxing you awake. You catch the aroma of sizzling bacon wafting from the kitchen as you continue to fight the urge to sleep in longer.

With a quick stride, you open your door to find your close friends, Yoongi and Jimin, seated at the dining table, enjoying breakfast. Their subtle waves are met with your ecstatic waving. You glance at Namjoon standing near the stove wearing a tank top and basketball shorts. He tends to the bacon in the pan as it sizzles and pops.

"Joon, could you set aside two pieces for me?" you call out, causing him to jolt as he hadn't noticed your presence in the room due to him being in zen focus trying not to burn everyone’s breakfast.

He sighs, shoulders slumping. "You better hurry and brush your teeth, or I might let Jungkook have the rest once he's out of the shower in a few minutes."

Nodding, you hurry to the second bathroom in your home to prepare for the day, aiming to grab some fresh homemade breakfast before your noon class.

This spacious house has been your shared sanctuary with your childhood best friends – Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Park Jimin – since the start of your second year of college in September. Last year, some older guy friends from your hometown who went to the same college as you lived at the house originally. Then over the summer, your best friends moved in with them to take summer courses and on-campus internships. You got added to the mix when you were desperately trying to find housing as the university waitlisted you in favor of the 29,000 new freshmen they admitted to the campus who they prioritized housing for. After looking at expensive off-campus apartments and sketchy leases, the boys couldn’t bear seeing you struggle and potentially homeless, so they let you live with them in their 4 bedroom home. Your housemate Seokjin gave up his single room, with a bit of hesitation, so you could live comfortably. The rest of the boys share rooms with each other.

With eight people living together, the house unofficially earns the nickname "Beta Tau Sigma," or the “pseudo frat”, as some people around campus called it. While not officially recognized as a fraternity due to various complicated reasons, the BTS house still became known for its "poppin’ house parties” hosted by your lovely housemate Jung Hoseok last year.

Your friendship with Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jimin goes back to a little over a decade ago. Namjoon became your next door neighbor as a kid, eventually he introduced you to Yoongi who was a family friend of his, and finally, you all befriended Jimin when he transferred to your middle school. You all remained close during high school. Namjoon and Yoongi, being a year older than you and Jimin, graduated and went to college. Eventually you and Jimin graduated, and the two of you got into the same college a few hours away from your hometown as them and attended together.

However, moving in with a bunch of men was something you prefer that people didn’t know about you. You wanted to avoid any rumors being created, especially considering the guys living with you are popular among the girls at your campus. If there is something that you don’t miss from high school, it is the petty drama and baseless rumors people make to tear others down. For now, people assume you are living in the dorms with your only female friend: Hwasa. You always think that it’s for the best things are this way. You decide not to think too much beyond that, despite the probability that a few people are catching on to the fact that you probably do live with these guys platonically.

After washing up, you enter the kitchen again, taking a seat next to Yoongi who is engrossed in his Twitter feed. He finally acknowledges your presence.

"Took you long enough, huh? Don't you have Stats at 10?" He quips.

You scrunch your eyebrows at him. “Good morning to you too, Yoongs?” You retort playfully. “No stats today. It’s Thursday so I have Finance at noon!"” You exclaim loudly to the room.

Groans resonate through the kitchen. Yoongi's teasing backfires, much to his chagrin. Taehyung descends from upstairs, puzzled by the commotion in the room.

“What’s wrong with her finance class?” He asks innocently.

"There’s nothing wrong with the class, but it's the classmate in that class!" Namjoon sighs, leaning on the counter after placing your bacon and avocado toast plate on the table.

"Lim Jaebeom," Jimin snickers, promptly earning a discreet kick from you under the table. "Ow! Hey! No need to resort to violence! Hey! I’m only speaking facts!” He winces as he holds his knee up and rubs the pain away.

Lim Jaebeom, also known by everyone as JB, is the cute guy you met in your Macroeconomics class last year. He is popular as a member of a real fraternity, Gamma Omega Tau and the professional frat, Kappa Psi Pi (or JYP, as some called it?). Part of both fraternities, he radiates talent as a business major and an underground SoundCloud artist on the side. While your interactions remain class-related, he greets you often outside of class even after the course finished, much to your best friends’ annoyance.

Over spring semester of last year and the initial weeks of the current fall semester, you’ve developed a small crush on Jaebeom. Though when it comes to your love life, it’s been a few years since you’ve had some kind of thing going on. There’s only been two people so far: Wonwoo, captain of the Men’s varsity volleyball team who you slept with once when you boldly asked him if he would take your v-card. You and your best friends were going through an experimental era during your junior year of high school. They teased you a lot about being “innocent” but were left speechless when you told them what you’ve done. They said that was the end of the experimental era. Later on you also found out he’s your housemate Jungkook’s cousin.

The second guy is Yeonjun. You don’t like to talk about him much, but he was in the same year and you guys talked often (much to Namjoon’s dismay). He was your fake date at your housemate Seokjin's brother's wedding the summer after you graduated high school. One thing led to another and you were sneaky links for a while. It didn’t end well though.

"She's got eyes for JB, but is too scared to make a move," Jimin teases, earning him another kick under the table to which he dodges.

"In case you forgot, it took you a month to see Irene Bae wanted you so badly," Taehyung rolls his eyes while a hint of a smile tugs your lips as you struggle to suppress your laughter seeing him call out Jimin.

The Jimin and Irene power couple relationship goes back to spring semester last year. Taehyung needed Jimin to go on a double date with him to the Psi Gamma Epsilon Formal, which is the co-ed fraternity that Taehyung’s girlfriend Jennie is in. While you have many mixed opinions about Taehyung’s tastes when it comes to women, you hate that he influenced some of those tastes on Jimin. Thus, Jennie introduced Jimin to her friend, Irene (the Sigma Mu Epsilon Campus President) and the rest is history.

Though, you weren't aware that they were dating until a month ago when they had already been dating for three months. You are not sure how they managed to hide it from people for a while.

“Ya!! How was I supposed to know that getting asked to eat ramen together on a Friday night meant anything BUT eating ramen.” Jimin sighs as he gets up from his chair. “Maybe you should ask Jaebeom out for some ramen.” He playfully suggests, emphasizing Jaebeom's name, sending your face into a blush.

"I'm not interested in sleeping with him!" you protest, cheeks burning. In Korean slang, sharing ramen implies spending the night together. You’d rather romantically share ramen like the spaghetti eating scene in “Lady & the Tramp” than fuck him and ruin your friendship.

“Isn’t that what he’s known for? Sleeping with girls, taking sex polaroids, and plastering them on his frat bedroom wall? Taehyung butts in, since he too, knows of Jaebeom’s lifestyle like everyone else on this campus does. You, of course, are aware of it too, which is why you haven’t bothered to try your chance with him.

“Exactly why I’m okay being the nice friend saying hi from across campus when he says hi instead of becoming a faceless polaroid in his room of him giving me backshots.” You cross your arms as you roll your eyes at him.

“Please don’t give me mental images of that.” Yoongi finally speaks up, groaning at your words again. You playfully elbow his side at your remark. He covers his face immediately as he feels himself blushing at these thoughts.

“Well, when you decide to get the balls to do something, I shall be here to give you advice. Just let me know.” Jimin says as he grabs his bag from the couch and heads to class with Taehyung, leaving you with Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Wow, can you believe him? He thinks he can talk big now that he’s dating little Miss Sigma Mu Epsilon’s President Irene.” You let out an annoyed sigh as you take a bite out of the avocado toast Namjoon gave you.

At first you were excited for one of your guy best friends to be in a relationship again after years, but that excitement was short-lived as you noticed Jimins’ absence in the house became more evident. He would either be at his dance club, studying in the library, or spending the rest of his freetime with Irene. Maybe doing all of the above with her.

When you and your best friends were in relationships or flings in the past, they promised that they would never leave or ignore the group to prioritize those other people first. And they were always true to their word.

But as of lately, not anymore. While you once were used to having Jimin at home or at the dorm common area with the guys for Friday Night Game Night, this sight was slowly becoming a memory. It’s hard to admit how these subtle changes of seeing Jimin prefer to do other activities saddens you. You eventually decided to bottle up your feelings of sadness, not wanting them to see, and focus on other things filling up your plate.

Namjoon wasn’t paying attention to what you said as he uncontrollably smiles at his phone with a Kakao talk chat with someone pulled up, making your eyes narrow at him.

“O-Oh, sorry. I was texting Jihyo.” he admits blatantly, before widening his eyes at what he just said. “What did you say?” Namoon glances at you briefly.

“Park Jihyo? Your group project partner slash sex–?” Yoongi narrows his gaze at Namjoon, before he quickly launches to cover Yoongi’s mouth.

What? Is this seriously another sudden revelation incoming this early in the morning? You didn’t think you’d spiral into a pool of further questioning the future of your friendship with your guy best friends. Especially when it comes to Namjoon dating the campus’ kindest angel, Jihyo. Compared to Irene, you don’t have anything snarky to say about Jihyo. You admit she is better in hundreds of different ways than you. You wonder if your friends’ recent dating or fling escapades are a sign of a bigger issue in your friendship with them. You wonder if Yoongi’s also hiding someone away from your sight.

"So you’re also seeing someone?" Your pout is playful, but a hint of disappointment peeks through. "Don't tell me you're bailing on Friday Night Game Nights just like Jimin…"

Namjoon's response carries a weight of hesitation as he takes a thoughtful pause, considering his next words carefully. "Well, kind of…" His words hang in the air for a moment, a sense of complexity in his tone. "It's complicated... and no, I won't be skipping Friday Night Game Night every time like Jimin... except for this week."

The curiosity in your expression is mirrored by Yoongi's raised eyebrow. “What’s the excuse that you so kindly will be telling Yoongi and I?” you ask, the intrigue evident in your voice.

“Well actually, I may need to borrow the house so I was wondering if you guys could have Friday Night Game Night somewhere else.”

“Why should we go somewhere--” As you begin to protest, an epiphany interrupts your words, causing them to taper off. A realization dawns, connecting the dots between Yoongi's earlier comments and the direction this conversation is taking. “Wait what!? KIM NAMJOON YOU-!”

“You’re seriously going to sexile everyone in this house?” Yoongi's words burst forth interrupting yours, his laced with a mixture of genuine surprise and a hint of humor. His widened eyes are concealed behind a hand that covers his mouth, almost as if he's trying to stifle his amusement at the sudden request.

Namjoon lets out a chuckle, his expression playful as he confirms, "Potentially! But I'm not sure yet. I might go back to her place, but I wanted to keep my options open so we could..."

Your voice cuts in before Namjoon can elaborate further, a mix of jest and sincerity in your tone, "Okay, okay, okay, I get it! We'll move game night somewhere else then!" The words rush out of you as you shield yourself from whatever details might follow that your ears weren't prepared for. You shoot Yoongi a look, seeking affirmation. "We’ll figure it out..right, Yoongi?"

Yoongi doesn't miss a beat as he follows up with a response laced with dry humor, “Right. I really don’t want to hear my best friend fucking while I’m trying to relax at the end of a stressful week.”

A blush creeps onto your cheeks, and you playfully reprimand Yoongi, your palm meeting your face in an exaggerated facepalm, "Yoongi, please spare us from any more visual details." Your laughter mingles with a hint of embarrassment, but you quickly regain your composure. "But thank you for letting us know, Namjoon..."

Namjoon's easy smile returns, and he jests, "Have fun without me, though. I know Jin and Jungkook will keep things lively without me or even Jimin there."

Even without any truly scandalous events transpiring, an air of awkwardness hangs over the conversation. The remainder of your breakfast passes in silence, each of you lost in your own thoughts. Eventually, you rise from the table, making your way back to your room to prepare for class, which looms just an hour away.

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By the time you come out of your room again, only Yoongi and Jungkook are in the living room doing last minute assignments. You assume Namjoon already left for class with Hoseok and also figure Seokjin left even before that. He’s the only person in this house taking 8am classes.

This is the norm. On Thursdays, you walk with Yoongi to class, as his class is in the same building as yours. Sometimes, Jungkook joins you guys when he procrastinates the hour before class to finish assignments.

“Are you ready to go? Jungkook’s done now.” Yoongi gets up from the couch already expecting your response to be yes. Jungkook looks up from his textbook to give you a thumbs up.

“Yep, all ready to go.”

The three of you step out onto campus, engaging in conversation that weaves between the events of the week and the anticipation of the impending game night. As you discuss plans, you consider the limited guests—Namjoon engaged with his "complicated" fuck buddy situation, Jimin on his weekend outings with Irene—leaving only you, Yoongi, Jungkook, Hoseok, Jin, and Taehyung for the upcoming Friday Night Game Night. At least you thought it was just the 6 of you.

Jungkook interjects, scratching his head apologetically. "Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention earlier, but Taehyung and I are going out bowling and drinking with the Woogas on Friday..." His voice trails off with a sheepish smile, his plea for forgiveness evident in his gesture. The Woogas were a group of grad students who were close to Taehyung.

Surveying the group left, you pose a question, preempting any plans that would end up getting canceled. "Anybody else have plans?"

Jungkook takes a bit to contemplate, his mutterings finally clarifying the situation. "I remember Jin hyung texting the gc that he has a Kappa Psi Pi chapter till 9:30 tomorrow—pledging's keeping him busy. He might go out with his frat brothers afterward for drinks. Hoseok is out of town tonight for a competitive dance tournament with the uni dance club."

A collective sigh of resignation hangs in the air as you and Yoongi register the inevitability—it's just the two of you for the upcoming Friday night. Your expressions communicate mutual understanding, as if exchanging an unspoken acknowledgment that it won't be just this one time moving forward.

You bid farewell to Jungkook as he heads off to his own class, then turn to Yoongi with a hopeful glint in your eyes, silently urging him to weave his magic and devise a plan to fill the void left by your absent friends.

"Maybe we could hit that popular bar downtown? What's it called...Arena?" Yoongi suggests, a hint of excitement lacing his words.

A shake of your head expresses your skepticism. "On a Friday night? I heard too many weirdos go at that time, Yoongs.”

“Then, why don’t we go house party hopping? We haven’t done that since freshman year.” He smirks, as he adds the nostalgic suggestion.

The words "house party hopping" elicit a mix of memories, both good and not-so-good. It's a ritual familiar to college freshmen to excessively drink and dance at multiple parties in one night, but it gets too difficult to do through the rest of undergrad. You, however, have only done this activity of going to multiple different parties in one night, twice.

The first time, things went smoothly when Yoongi, Namjoon, and Jimin went to five different house parties on the frat house row. The second time was not so smooth. Contrary to popular belief of Beta Tau Sigma, everyone at the house are light-weights when it comes to drinking, with Yoongi, Jungkook and Taehyung probably being the strongest drinkers of the bunch. That night of house party hopping ended with Namjoon and Jimin getting drunk and losing their student access cards at one of the five houses you went to. Because they couldn’t get into their dorm, you and Yoongi had to carry them back to your dorm and have them to stay at the dorm’s study lounge for the night. At some point, you all almost got caught by the dorm RA making their nightly rounds to make sure everything is good. Yoongi quickly excused all of you being cramped in the small room as “studying for an accounting midterm”, to which the RA didn’t question anything further after hearing the words “accounting” and left you alone for the rest of the night.

Based on that experience, you are reluctant to even try doing that again. However this time, it is just going to be you and Yoongi, the most mature ones in the overall friend group. Or at least you like to think so.

"Well, considering how the last time went..." Your voice trails off, your narrowed eyes revealing your internal debate. "I'll think about it more and let you know."

Yoongi nods at your response and you both say goodbye as you part ways to class.

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Entering your finance class, You secure a seat near the door and the front board, a vantage point that lets you observe the classroom's dynamics. Today, however, your routine is disrupted when someone unexpectedly occupies the seat next to you.

As you set up your notebook, your gaze lifts, revealing Jaebeom sitting beside you. A faint flutter tugs at your heart, a pulse of anticipation racing through your veins. A steady stream of thoughts races through your mind, echoing, "This is definitely sus." You've consumed enough romance novels and coming-of-age stories to recognize when circumstances take a pointed turn. You've shared casual conversations and greetings with Jaebeom, but sitting next to each other is unprecedented—there's surely more to it.

A subtle "Ahem" draws your attention, and Jaebeom turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours. "Hey, Y/N… do you mind if I sit here today? I left my glasses behind, and I can't really see from my usual spot."

Your reassurance carries a softness as you reply, "Hi, Jaebeom! Of course, no problem." A smile graces your lips, and he returns it, dispelling the suspicions you had entertained. So you guess there’s no special reason for sitting next to you.

The rest of class goes by smoothly, but you can’t help but to think that Jaebeom has something else to ask you about. The overthinking from your wild imagination is getting to you. As the class concludes, you hurriedly pack your belongings, eager to continue with your day. Yet, before you can make your exit, Jaebeom's voice halts you in your tracks.

"Hey! I've been meaning to ask," his words are loud, receiving attention from your peers, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow? The Gammas are hosting a party, and I was wondering if you'd be interested in coming."

Bingo. This is exactly what you’ve been waiting for. Not an invite to a party per se, BUT now you suddenly have something to do with Yoongi tomorrow night after being ditched by everyone else.

“I’m down to go! I actually changed plans with a few friends so I don’t have anything to do tomorrow night.”

Jaebeom's response brings an even wider smile to your face. “Then I’ll see you there! You can bring a friend with you if you’d like.” And with that, you and Yoongi are definitely booked for tomorrow night.

With those words, your plans for tomorrow night are sealed. The newfound excitement has you beginning to wonder whether it’s actually alright to go considering Yoongi feels indifferent towards Jaebeom. You decide to call him about the plan on your way to the library for your daily fix of iced tea.

Dialing Yoongi's number, you initiate the conversation. "You and me, Gamma Omega Tau house party," you declare, your voice laced with anticipation.

His response holds a curious tone. "...So, I'll take that as a yes to house party hopping."

Chuckling, you clarify, maintaining your stance. "Well, we could do that if you're set on it," You explain, continuing your lowkey refusal to repeat that experience. “...but I actually got personally invited to the GOT party by Jaebeom.”

Yoongi's groan resonates through the line, conveying his reluctance but also a willingness to compromise. "If there's free booze and a chance to catch up with some other friends, then count me in."

“That’s perfect!” Excitement in your voice is clear to Yoongi as you both finalize plans for tomorrow night. Perhaps it’ll end up being a fun night for the both of you compared to what everyone else was doing instead. The upset feeling from all the sudden changes continues to linger in your chest, but you brush it away with the hopes of getting wasted on Friday.

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Friday comes by like a quick breeze. The day passes in a blur of classes, assignments, and hanging out with Yoongi and the rest of your friends. Evening comes around, and you find yourself getting ready for the Gamma Omega Tau party. You choose a cute yet comfortable outfit consisting of a revealing v-bar black tube top and ripped boyfriend jeans, hoping to strike a balance between looking good and feeling at ease. After a bit of makeup and fixing your hair, you are ready to head out.

You walk over to knock on Yoongi’s bedroom door. He opens the door revealing his outfit: a black tank top, acid-washed ripped jeans, and a black leather jacket to top it off. It definitely makes him exude his signature nonchalant charm. As he greets you with a nod, you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement for the night ahead. You guys look so hot and would definitely make the other guys jealous of your totally awesome alternative Friday night plans if they were here.

The two of you make your way to the party a couple blocks away on frat row, the streets buzzing with energy as students get ready to party for the weekend. The Gamma Omega Tau house is alive with music, laughter, and the glow of colorful lights. You both enter the party, and immediately the atmosphere hits you—a mix of pulsating music, chatter, and the distinct scent of alcohol.

Yoongi heads to the makeshift bar in the kitchen to get drinks, while you decide to explore the party on your own. You bump into a couple of familiar faces from classes, exchanging greetings and catching up briefly. Some of these faces included Hwasa, your only dear female best friend who you haven’t seen much since moving out of your shared dorm freshman year. She is a little busy taking shots with who seems to be your old dorm floor neighbors Soyoon and Jieun. But overall, the night is young, and the anticipation of what it could bring is building up inside you.

A little while later, Yoongi returns with drinks in hand—something colorful and sweet for you, and something stronger for himself. You clink your cups together before taking a sip. The music is loud, and bodies are moving to the rhythm all around you. It was a sight to behold—the carefree spirit of college life on full display.

As the night progresses, you find yourself playing various party games, dancing a little with Hwasa, and meeting new people she introduces you to. Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself from a distance, laughing and chatting with a group of guys from his music class. He occasionally watches you from afar to make sure you don’t get lost or that something even worse doesn’t happen. Frat parties can be dangerous after all. It makes you feel a little happy that he does these little things and shows how much he cares about you. More than you thought before. However, there’s a sudden moment in the lively ambience when you start to feel a pang of loneliness. A sense of being adrift in a sea of unfamiliar faces.

Time seems to slip away as you’re lost in the lights, and before you know it, you are on your third drink. The alcohol is starting to take its effect, making you feel warm and a bit more uninhibited. Maybe this wasn’t the best choice. Maybe partying is not what you needed tonight to get your mind off of things.

And these thoughts are only amplified with the next thing you see. In the corner of the crowded kitchen, you catch Namjoon and Jihyo making out, and your heart races. You suddenly excuse yourself from the group you are chatting with and head towards the front door, seeking some space to clear your head.

However you stop yourself from bursting out of the open door. Instead, you lean against the wall, trying to steady your breathing. The noise and chaos of the party feel overwhelming now rather than numbing your thoughts from earlier. You clutch your cup as you look around, feeling like an outsider in your own surroundings. It’s in this moment of vulnerability that someone bumps into you, spilling their red jungle juice all over your clothes. You look down at your stained jeans emotionless.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" the girl exclaims, looking genuinely apologetic as she hands you some napkins. Your vision is blurring and you can’t tell if you know her or not. Her voice sounds familiar though.

Though, you manage a weak nod letting her know it was fine. It is in that unfortunate moment that you see your crush, JB, appearing out of nowhere walking in your direction. In the several hours you’ve been here this is when he decides to show up?! Your heart continues to race faster as he approaches, his eyes locking onto yours. Not right now, you plead to the gods internally that he isn’t coming towards you. But he does.

"Hey, Y/N, are you okay?" JB asks, his concern evident in his voice as he looks you over.

You feel a lump forming in your throat, not wanting him to see you in this state of vulnerability. Your eyes well up, and you fight to hold back tears. This isn't how you want him to see you, at your lowest point, struggling to keep it together.

Just as you are about to break down, a strong hand gently takes hold of your left arm, pulling you away from JB. You are led into the dimly lit hallway, away from the noise of the party. Not many people looming in this area. The door to the bathroom opens as someone leaves, and the person guides you inside before locking the door behind you.

Your visions starts to focus fully again. And you see…

It’s Yoongi.

His presence is a lifeline you forgot that you needed moments before.

"Y-Yoongi!" The exclamation trembles in the air, a mixture of surprise, relief, and the weight of your unraveling emotions.

In the dimly lit bathroom, you finally let your guard down, the tears streaming down your cheeks. Yoongi is momentarily taken aback by the intensity of your reaction, but swiftly recovers. He extends a napkin from his pocket, offering it as a gesture of support. His features, though, oscillate between concern and puzzlement, his brows slightly furrowed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks softly, his voice a comforting presence in the midst of your turmoil.

You take a shuddering breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The alcohol is making it hard to articulate your feelings, but you manage to explain how seeing Namjoon and Jihyo had triggered a sense of loneliness and panic within you. Jimin dating Irene in what seemed to be a serious relationship also has you spiraling. It all makes you question the stability of your friendships and fear that you are slowly losing the people who once meant the most to you.

Yoongi listens intently, his gaze unwavering as he lets you pour out your feelings. When you are done, he leans against the sink, his expression thoughtful.

"I get it," he says, his voice soft but steady. "Change is hard, and sometimes it feels like everything is slipping away. But you know, life just keeps moving forward, and people change, I guess. But it doesn’t mean Namjoon or Jimin are leaving you behind."

You nod, sniffing as you wipe away your tears. "I know, but... it's just overwhelming seeing everything unfold."

He reaches out and gently tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze with his warm eyes. "You're not alone in this, Y/N. We're here for you, and we're all figuring things out as we go along."

His words strike a chord within you, a sense of comfort washing over you in the midst of your emotional storm. Yoongi's presence feels like an anchor, grounding you when everything feels chaotic.

Then, without warning, he looks at you intensely and asks, “Since we’re having this conversation, I’m questioning whether you like Jimin based on what you just said…"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "What? No! Jimin's like a brother to me. A reliable brother who understands me pretty well…” You pause a bit and mumble, “Well at least he used to."

He nods, his gaze unrelenting yet thoughtful, as if he's trying to read between the lines of your response. But then he asks another question that left you momentarily speechless.

"What about Namjoon?"

You hesitate, your mind racing. Your feelings for Namjoon have always been a bit more complex, and you aren't sure how to put them into words. Namjoon was your first friend out of the trio of him, Yoongi, and Jimin. He was 7 when he moved in next door from Korea as his dad got a new job working as a Chemical Engineer for an energy company in the US. You got along well with him as kids who both played Pokemon games and he was the only person you could trade with. He’s also the one who gave you his shiny purple Wailmer from his Pokemon Emerald. Eventually as you got older, you both came to enjoy reading books and art history. What does he mean to you?

Before you can muster a response to that, Yoongi suddenly adds another question, his voice gentle yet persistent. “What about me?”

Your gaze flickers to him, and you find yourself locking eyes with him. Then you quickly look away, focusing on the purple lighting in the bathroom.

This questions starts to add new thoughts that you hadn’t really considered due to your worries about Namjoon and Jimin. However now, the intensity of this current moment is almost overwhelming, and you feel a swirling mix of emotions within you. Yoongi's proximity, his unwavering gaze, and the weight of his questions are all converging, pulling you into a realm of introspection and vulnerability.

Yoongi seems to sense your uncertainty, your inner struggle. He steps closer, his presence enveloping you. His gaze remains fixed on yours, his face just inches away from yours. The air between you is charged, heavy with unspoken words and unexplored emotions. "You can tell me," he urges softly, his voice a gentle whisper that brushes against your skin.

As you look into his eyes again, your heart races. The alcohol has lowered your inhibitions, and in this moment, everything feels so intense, so raw. You try to form words, but they fail you. Instead, you let your gaze speak for you, letting your emotions flow through the unspoken connection between you. Suddenly Namjoon and Jimin are blurring away to only afterimages in your current state of mind. All you see in great focus is Yoongi right now.

Without another word, Yoongi closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. The world around you fades away, and all that matters is the warmth of his touch, the taste of his lips, and the rush of emotions that swirls between you.

The kiss is a silent confession, a release of feelings that have been building up for far too long. When Yoongi finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, his breath slightly uneven.

"Y-Yoongi..," you whisper, a mix of surprise and wonder in your voice.

Yoongi chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Sometimes, things don't need to be said. They just need to be felt."

As you stand there, locked in each other's gaze, you realize that this unexpected turn of events has brought you closer to Yoongi in ways you didn’t anticipate. It’s a new chapter, a chance to explore something deeper and more meaningful between you.

With a gentle smile, he leans in to kiss you again, and this time, there is no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the promise of a connection that has been there all along, waiting to be acknowledged.

And so, in the dimly colored bathroom of the Gamma Omega Tau house, amid the sounds of distant laughter and music, you and Yoongi quickly unite lips once again.

As the intensity between you and Yoongi grows, the bathroom seems to shrink around you, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a bubble of shared emotion. His lips press against yours with a newfound urgency, a hunger that mirrors the feelings you have both kept hidden for so long. The taste of him is intoxicating, a blend of sweetness and warmth that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. The touch of his fingertips against your skin sends a wave of electricity through your body, igniting a fire deep within you. Your own hands instinctively move to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

The kiss deepens, a passionate dance of lips and tongues that leaves no room for doubts or reservations. Yoongi's fingers trail up your back, the sensation making your breath hitch. The world outside that bathroom seems distant, irrelevant, as your focus narrows down to the connection between your bodies and the raw emotion that flows between you.

A soft moan escapes your lips, a sound that seems to fuel the fire burning between you. Yoongi's lips leave yours, trailing a path of heated kisses down your jawline, his warm breath sending shivers across your skin. His hands move to your hips, pulling you against him, and you can feel his own desire pressing against your abdomen.

With a mix of urgency and tenderness, he captures your lips once more, pouring every unspoken word and hidden longing into the kiss. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging lightly as his lips explore your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, each touch, each sensation sending ripples of pleasure through your body.

The soft fabric of your clothes seems like an obstacle now, an unnecessary barrier between your skin and his. Yoongi's fingers deftly work at the buttons of your tube top, his touch leaving a trail of fire along your exposed skin. Your breath hitches as his lips find the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin gently, causing a shiver to course through you.

In a moment of boldness, your hands move to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal his bare chest. Your fingers trace the contours of his muscles, feeling the rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. His lips find yours once again, a hungry, fervent kiss that speaks of the intensity of your emotions.

With a skillful touch, Yoongi lifts you up onto the bathroom counter, the cool surface sending a shock through your body. He stands between your legs, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks as he gazes into your eyes.

"I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You can only respond with a breathless nod before his lips crash against yours again. Not fully understanding the words that just left his mouth. The kiss deepens, a mixture of passion and tenderness that leaves you dizzy with sensation. His hands explore every curve of your body, memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

Your own hands aren't idle either, roaming his chest and back, reveling in the sensation of his skin against yours. The heat between you was undeniable, a magnetic pull that draws you closer with every passing second. And in that bathroom, amid the swirling emotions and the touch of your lips, you feel an unspoken promise taking root—a promise of something more, something real and beautiful.

The outside world fades into insignificance. The party, the noise, the worries about Namjoon and Jimin and everyone else—all of it melts away, leaving only the two of you and the intensity of this moment. As you hold onto each other, lost in the depths of your feelings, you know that this is a turning point that will permanently alter your friendship with Yoongi.

As the kisses between you and Yoongi continue, the electricity in the air grows stronger, pulling you both further into the depths of your shared desire. Every touch, every caress is a testament to the unspoken connection that has been building between you for so long. It’s as if the universe has finally aligned, allowing you to explore the feelings that have been simmering beneath the surface.

A soft, almost desperate, sound escapes Yoongi's lips as he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to catch his breath. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto yours, and you can see the raw emotions swirling within them.

"We should... we should get out of here," he murmurs, his voice rough with a mixture of longing and uncertainty.

You nod in agreement, feeling a rush of excitement and nerves course through you. This is a pivotal moment, a decision that could potentially change the course of your relationship. With a shared understanding, you both turn away from the party scene and make your way through the crowd towards the exit.

The cool night air hits you as you step outside, a welcome contrast to the heated intensity of the party. Yoongi's hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours as you walk side by side down the dimly lit streets. The silence between you is charged with anticipation, every step bringing you closer to a new chapter in your story.

When you finally arrive back at the house, the atmosphere is different—quieter, more intimate. Namjoon didn’t come use the house like he said he would yesterday, you briefly recall. Maybe that’s a good thing. The GOT party is still in full swing, he is there with Jihyo, but you and Yoongi are in your own world here with no one to stop what is happening. The journey up the stairs to your shared house feels like a blur, your heart racing in anticipation of what is to come.

Once inside, you both head straight to your bedroom. The air is thick with tension, the unspoken yet silly question hangs in the air: Is this really happening? As you close the door locking it behind you, the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of your own space.

Yoongi turns to you, his gaze searching yours for reassurance. Without a word, you step closer, closing the distance between you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you gently against him. The touch of his body against yours sends a shiver of electricity through you, a reminder of the desire that has been building between you.

His lips find yours again, a kiss that holds all the pent-up longing and emotion that have been simmering beneath the surface. The taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, is intoxicating. His hands roam your body with a reverence that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

With each kiss, each touch, the world around you fades away, leaving only the intensity of the moment. The bed is just a few steps away, an inviting sanctuary where you could explore the depths of your connection in private. Without breaking the kiss, you take his hand and lead him towards the bed, your heart pounding in anticipation.

As you stand at the edge of the bed, your eyes meet Yoongi's, a silent agreement passing between you. With a mixture of urgency and tenderness, you begin to undress each other, the air heavy with the weight of your shared desire. Yoongi's touch is gentle, his fingers tracing every curve of your body as he reveals the skin beneath your clothes.

Soon, you are both standing before each other, bare and vulnerable, yet completely unburdened by the weight of your emotions. You shyly stare down at Yoongi’s dick, admiring its pink, veiny appearance. It looks very girthy, potentially filling to the core. You're embarrassed to admit you might have imagined Yoongi naked before. When you were a middle schooler curiously imagining bodily differences between you and your male friends. But now seeing his beautiful body before you brings some excitement to your soft skin, some heat rushing through your core and nearly down your thighs, onto the floor. Your mouth suddenly dries and you feel self-conscious that your expression may be as plain and eager as it might be. He clears his throat, but that makes him more embarrassed. You bite your bottom lip, unsure of what to do.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Yoongi's lips find yours once more, a kiss that speaks of promises and possibilities. With a gentle push, he guides you onto the bed, his body following yours as the kiss deepens.

The softness of the sheets beneath you, the heat of Yoongi's body against yours—it is a sensory overload, a symphony of sensations that leaves you breathless. You feel the cold sweat of his skin on yours as your bodies press together. His lips are against your jaw and your hands are exploring his body as much as you can with your legs around his hips. He climbs down to your mound and opens his mouth letting his warm, wet tongue lap over your clit. One of Yoongi's hands finds purchase on your hip to help you move with him while the long fingers of his other hand tease your enterance before pushing inside. His hot breath on your clit and his fingers inside you makes you want to beg for more. But the sensation is so intense it has rendered you speechless, the only noise to leave your mouth is a choked, muffled groan that only urges him further.

His tongue on you feels too good and you can only let him explore. You are enjoying the sensation and the way his fingers play your body like an instrument. You let out a loud gasp when you cum, your whole body arching towards him as pleasure washed over you, your thighs tightening around to his back. You feel your insides clench and throb as your orgasm washed over you in waves.

Yoongi smirks at you for a second as he lifts his head, removing his fingers from inside you. He climbs up your body until he reaches your lips. Your hand wraps around the back of his neck and you kiss him with fervor. You taste yourself in his mouth and it makes you hungry for more. You feel the pressure in your abdomen again, desperate for more. His body is hard, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. It’s a gentle pressure, a delicious tension that makes you want more.

"Y-Yoongi... I need more.." You whimper against his mouth, your tongue running over his bottom lip before you pull away and look into his eyes. "Please, I need more..."

"I've got you, angel." He whispers reassuringly before he moves away briefly to retrieve the condom he keeps handy in his wallet in case he ever needs it. The new nickname catches you off guard as he usually tends to call you Sunshine unless you’re having a serious conversation, like earlier. However you kind of like this name.

He opens the package with his teeth and rolls the rubber on himself. You whimper when you feel the head of his cock press against you. He slowly pushes inside, but it’s enough to make your head spin. His length fills you perfectly and you can feel yourself pulsate around him. He makes his way slowly inside you, pushing deeper until he is completely inside you. He then rests his forehead against yours. You look into each other's eyes and the intensity of his gaze is almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"You're doing so well for me," He speaks softly, his voice hoarse with arousal. His praises pull a moan from your lips you can't supress.

He slowly pulls out then pushes back in watching as his cock disapears inside you. He pulls out again and does the same thing. His thrusts become faster with each time he pushes back inside. As your moans become louder, his thrusts become more eager. He adjusts himself until he finds a position that has his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust, your legs lifting over his hips and your hands roaming his body to keep yourself grounded.

Yoongi's leaves small kisses along your neck and down to your breasts as he continues to fuck you. He acts carefully with each action he takes, and makes a point to watch your reaction for the slightest sign of discomfort. He never stops praising you, whispering how good you were for him and how much he loves having you like this, taking all of him. His sultry low voice is making you even more sensitive and it’s a bit overwhelming, but it somehow helps make your depressing thoughts from earlier at the party disappear. With him, you felt safe and cared for.

His hands come to cup your breast and you cry out as your body arches towards him. He keeps one hand cupping your breast and takes your nipple between his fingers and gently pinches it, eliciting a softer whimper from you.

You pull Yoongi against you closing the gap between your bodies, your fingers grip his hair tightly as you cry out, your insides clenching around him. Your back arches off the bed as your orgasm washed over you once again. He fucks you through your orgasm, and when your legs relaxed over his hips, he keeps pushing inside you. The sensation makes you want to cry from overstimulation, but at the same time you beg for more. His cock inside you feels too good, the pleasure is too much. You don't know what to do with your body or if you should be doing something at all. Your hands find their way up his forearms and hold on to them tightly.

"Do it," You whisper intimately. "Cum for me, Yoongi..."

Your words are added motivation for him to do just that. As he moves, his thrusts pushing deeper inside you, a cascade of sensations courses through both your bodies. Your back arches instinctively, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure that envelops you. He responds by lowering himself, his forehead meeting yours in an exquisite intimacy that intensifies the connection between you two.

Amidst the whirlwind of ecstasy, a thought flits through your consciousness—a moment of profound gratitude for the intoxicating sound of Yoongi's moans. It's a melody you never envisioned hearing, a symphony of vulnerability and shared pleasure that resonates deep within you. This unexpected harmony adds a new layer to your connection, stoking the flames of desire and amazement that consume every inch of your being. It leaves you feeling content and relaxed.

Yoongi's body shudders against yours, his moans gradually subsiding into contented sighs. With a gentle sigh of satisfaction, he slides his cock out and shifts on the bed, rolling over to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in tandem, the rhythm of your breaths slowly synchronizing as you find yourselves tangled in the aftermath of passion.

You both move again, laying side by side. Both of you catch your breath, the world around you receding into a hazy background as your gazes lock. Eyes that have seen each other's vulnerabilities, laughter, and shared moments now reflect a new layer of intimacy that words could never capture.

The lingering cocoons you both in a silence that speaks volumes. It's Yoongi who takes the initiative to pierce through the quiet, his voice carrying a breathless quality that mirrors the aftermath of your passion.

"How are you feeling now?" His words hang in the air, delicate yet heavy with unspoken meaning. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and concern, a testament to his attentiveness even in the midst of his own unraveling.

A playful smile tugs at your lips, your voice laced with a hint of mischievousness as you respond to his inquiry. "Never better," you answer, your words bathed in the soft notes of a giggle that dances between you.

His laughter echoes yours, a harmonious symphony of shared joy that envelops the space between you. It's a sound that transcends the physical, a connection that binds you beyond the realm of touch. In his laughter, you sense a quiet affirmation—a declaration that the bond you've nurtured extends beyond the passionate moments, into the realm of comfort, friendship, and a connection that defies categorization.

As the night wears on and the intensity of your connection slowly ebbs away, you find yourselves wrapped in each other's arms, your bodies intertwined in a tender embrace. Yoongi's touch is reassuring, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as you lay together in the quiet darkness.

"I want you to know," Yoongi's voice was soft, his breath tickling your ear, "that no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. You mean a lot to me, and I don't want you to ever doubt that."

His words warm your heart, a balm to the insecurities that have been lingering in the back of your mind. In his arms, you felt safe, cherished, and valued—emotions that have been elusive for so long.

"I feel the same way," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "You've always been there for me, Yoongi, and I'm grateful for that."

The quiet moment between you is filled with unspoken understanding. It is a pact, a promise to stand by each other's side no matter what challenges lay ahead. In this moment, the weight of your fears seemed to be lifted, replaced by a sense of comfort and reassurance.

But the hours drift by, and as the night grows deeper and the two of you grow more sober, the lingering consequences of your actions begin to cast a shadow over your thoughts. The warmth of Yoongi's embrace can't dispel the nagging worry that what you’ve done could have far-reaching ramifications.

It was the alcohol that further fueled your doubts, the liquid courage dulling your ability to rationalize. In the haze of your tipsy stupor, you begin to wonder if the intensity of the night is a result of the moment, the shared emotions, or simply the effect of alcohol clouding your judgment.

Despite Yoongi's assurances, the fear of what could come next gnaws at you. What if this changes everything? What if it ruins the friendship that has been the foundation of your relationship? The questions spiral in your mind, a whirlwind of doubt and uncertainty that refuses to be silenced.

In an attempt to push those thoughts away, you cuddle closer into Yoongi's chest. It is a fleeting distraction, a way to drown out the voices of doubt that echoed in the back of your mind. The feeling of Yoongi’s warmth becomes a welcome distraction from the complex emotions that threaten to overwhelm you.

A/N: HELLO! Did you like the first chapter?! would it be crazy if i told you I had been planning this fic since 2021 but never got the chance to really delve into it until right now?? Well that's exactly what happened. I'd love to hear your feedback on this fic! pls reblog and like if you enjoyed! I am currently working on chapter 2 and bits of chapter 3, so I hope to get it done by early/mid-September, so please look forward to it!

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moonfromearth · 18 days ago

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Research montage.

[transcript below cut]

Lou: Naila Cabral... Who are you?

Article #1 (UHC Archive Past Champion Naila Cabral Page 1):

Record Breaker Naila Cabral has broken many records since she started competing in the UHC. The youngest to ever participate, just 15 years old in her first competition, she was determined to earn the coveted UHC trophy for herself and her horse. It wasn't long before that dream was realized when, a year later, Cabral became the youngest winner of the UHC at only 16. Beating out the rest of the competitors by miles, Cabral was the clear winner of the years' much sought after title. [Above: Cabral (16) being awarded her first UHC trophy] The Horse Whisperer From a young age, Cabral has been known in Chestnut Ridge as a "Horse Whisperer," with the ability to train any horse into a champion. Ranger, with whom she won her first UHC title, was a wild stallion, who had been previously labeled as "untrainable." However, where- (continued on page 2)

Article #2 (UHC Archive Past Champion Naila Cabral Page 2):

(continued from page 1) -others had given up, Cabral saw a challenge, and the pair have gone on to win dozens of awards together as a team. [Above: Cabral (16) and Ranger competing in the Show Jumping Event.] Making History... Again. Cabral made history for the third time when she became one of only a few winners to become the Ultimate Champion twice. Nine years after her original record breaking win, Cabral completed a showstopping run with impressive wins throughout the competitions. With a new teammate, Maneiac, Cabral was unstoppable throughout the entire season. She won gold in every event competed in alongside her newest equine trainee, one who certainly lived up to her name. [Above: Cabral (25) winning her second UHC in the new awards ceremony, which had been created some time after her first win.]

Article #3 (The Ridge Report Article "UHC Champion Wins at Olympics"):

[Above: Cabral (20) being awarded first place in the Show Jumping Individual Event today.] MT KOMOREBI - The Summer Olympics continued today with a big win for Chestnut Ridge. A former UHC (Ultimate Horse Championship) title holder, Naila Cabral, is continuing to make history far from her hometown. Already she's won gold in the dressage competition with her most recent trainee, Maneiac, who is as wild as her name implies. When interviewed, Cabral will-

Article #4 (Appaloosa Outlook Article "Chestnut Ridge's Equestrian Prodigy"):

Naila Cabral is not your average ten year old. Working on her family's ranch, she's garnered more life experience than one would expect of someone so young. When I finally got the chance to meet the child prodigy, she was more than happy to indulge my curiosity in how such a star rose in our small town. The Cabral Family name is long established in Chestnut Ridge. Here since the town's founding, chances- (page cuts off here) "One day, I'm going to win lots of gold medals!" Cabral responded when asked where she sees herself in the future. "We're going to be the best in Chestnut Ridge!" Cabral's loyal horse, Spot, lingered nearby throughout the interview, nibbling at grass in the pasture. A former trail riding horse, Cabral reports that her family adopted the elder to give ridging lessons to local children, a feature at the Cabral F- (page cuts off here) A Horse Lover From Birth Growing up on a ranch known for its horses, it seems only natural that the young Cabral developed a strong bond with the animals starting from her earliest days of todddlerhood. "She's always been drawn to the horses," Cabral's mother, Maria (39), had to say about her daughter. "She'd have slept in the barn if we let her!" According to Rees's father, Owais (41), the feeling was mutual. "They [the horses] just walk right up to her. Like she's one of their own," he said. "She's livin' up to the family name, that's for sure."

#this one took me so long to make but i looooove how the websites turned out!!#🥰#had fun working out her entire life story lol #🤣#aaaaannnyway #some more about the ever mysterious naila #🤭#sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 horses #sims 4 horse ranch #ts4 #ts4 gameplay #ts4 horses #ts4 horse ranch #horse ranch gp #palomino ranch #louise “lou” carrington #naila cabral

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acciofictionalmen · 1 year ago

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lust life - SIRIUS BLACK

(sirius black x female!reader)

summary : you've been hooking up with james potter over the summer, but when you return to hogwarts you find yourself drawn to his best friend. you've adamantly hated sirius black throughout your school years, and you're sure the feeling's mutual... or you were

a/n : hopefully if things turn out well this will be a story with at least 5 parts (probably more)? so feel free to stick around :))

warnings: sexual references, strong & suggestive language, 14+

other parts:

PART 1 (current)

PART 2

PART ONE

Hands buried in his jet black hair, you kissed him heatedly as he pushed you against the wall. Void of any thoughts, your mind was focused solely on the rush of adrenaline that the feel of his hands on you was causing. After a few minutes you pulled away, and looked into his dazed green eyes with a small sigh.

"I should get going, the girls will start wondering where I've gone." You said, your voice dazed and distant.

He nodded almost reluctantly, looking you over once more before leaving, giving you the chance to quickly fix your smudged lipstick in the mirror before also exiting the cramped toilet. You poked your head out of the door and checked the corridor of the train for anyone who might be watching, but thankfully it was empty. Flattening down your skirt, you made your way back to your friends' compartment.

You and James Potter had been hooking up for... 3 months now, was it? You weren't entirely sure and you hadn't exactly been keeping track. It had started off just before the fifth year of school had ended, and it had continued over the summer. It was simply founded on - like most things - sexual attraction, with both parties strictly agreed to no strings attached. It had stayed that way since. Potter needed an output for his energy (of which from personal experience he had an abundance of) and you were scared to commit emotionally in a relationship but still wanted certain benefits, therefore your arrangement just worked.

⚜

Sirius smirked as James entered the rickety train compartment, his hair even messier than usual and his glasses spread jauntily across his face.

"So, how was she?" Sirius asked, humour evident in his voice as James rolled his eyes whilst sitting down.

Remus and Peter looked up from the chocolate frog cards they'd been comparing (who had gotten the rarer card: "wanna swap?" "i will for your dumbledore"), finally taking notice of James' disheveled appearance.

"Who?" Peter asked, looking between the two boys nervously.

"His sneaky link of course- the one he won't tell us about." In that moment James felt extremely vulnerable as Sirius' eyes raked up and down him, looking for any sort of clue.

Remus quirked a brow, and Peter's faced promptly turned red as he busied himself by stuffing a struggling chocolate frog into his mouth.

James shrugged, "Good. Nothing much to say really." He paused, taking notice of Sirius' suggestive expression, "And it's definitely not like what you're thinking." He emphasised the last part, picking up the latest daily prophet that was strewn across the floor. James began to rifle through the pages, clearly not reading a thing.

"Who is she?" Sirius exclaimed, ignoring James' previous comment, curiosity biting at his voice. "This has been going on for months now, Prongs, and you haven't even introduced her to us!"

Sirius paused, taking a quick glance at the blond with the remnants of chocolate frog spread around his mouth. "I mean Peter I understand.." He lowered his voice, "but Remus and I... I'm your best friend. Plus I always tell you about the girls I'm with." He said pointedly.

"Only because you have so much to say; there's a new one every bloody week." James gave up pretending to read the newspaper and gave Sirius a look. "Sorry mate but it's just the truth. I'll tell you at some point she's- just not ready."

Sirius stood up with a dramatic sigh, a sign that the interrogation was over. At least for the time being. "I'm going to go grab some pumpkin pasties, anyone want one?"

Peter raised his hand, and Sirius began to leave when James stopped him.

"Here." The boy with the round-rimmed glasses gestured to the money in his right hand.

"James." Remus muttered warningly. He knew that Sirius could never accept money from his friends. Especially not from the Potters, who from Sirius' perspective were already kind enough to allow him to live with them over the summer ever since his parents had completely cut him off.

Sirius paused at the sliding door without fully turning around, so that only the side of his face was visible. "I can handle a few pumpkin pasties, Prongs." Sirius' prior demeanour of happiness vanished, and James realised his offer to help his best friend had likely offended him instead.

James quickly retracted his hand, "Yeah mate, of course."

⚜

"-and then I hexed him, because what kind of asshole stands a girl up at Madam Puddifoots?!" Your friend and fellow Slytherin Serafina exclaimed as you burst out laughing. The two of you had always been good friends, and had gotten especially close in the past year: largely due to the fact that you had the same humour.

All of a sudden the trolley lady popped into view as she stuck her head through the open compartment door.

"Anything from the trolley dears?"

Your eyes lit up, saying that you adored food was an understatement, "I'll have a-"

"Got any more pumpkin pasties?" A voice interrupted you, a look of disdain making it's way onto your features.

Sirius Black was in the corridor of the train, right outside your compartment. This had taken you by surprise- you hadn't expected to see him so soon. You had been hopeful that you wouldn't have to see Black at the very least until when lessons began. His sudden appearance had caught you completely off-guard. Granted, he hadn't exactly changed all that much since you had last seen him- which happened to be during an extremely awkward and unpleasant encounter during the summer holidays, just as you were heading to the Potter's home to meet James whilst his parents were away. You had made up some silly excuse at the time, waiting for an hour in a coffee shop before you dared to return to the Potters' home. But then, you hadn't really had the chance to properly look at him, since your eyes had been focused on your trainers in an attempt to conceal your red face.

Mind snapping to the present, your eyes drifted again to Black. His dark wavy hair was now chin-length, just about long enough to brush against his defined jawline. From where you were sat, he seemed noticeably taller too. A shame, you thought. The days during your first three years of Hogwarts - when you had been able to make fun of Sirius Black for being shorter than you as it was the one advantage you had - had clearly long gone. On top of that, Black appeared to have visibly matured. His air of arrogance and mischief were still there, sure, but he looked more... burdened. The dark circles underneath his eyes didn't escape your notice.

All of the girls around you except for Serafina immediately began to smile shyly.

Black, completely unaware, was in the middle of grabbing four pasties when he noticed his gaggle of admirers.

"Ladies," He acknowledged with a smirk, and you got the distinct impression that he was basking in the attention, like a cat in a garden enjoying the sunlight.

That was until his gaze fell on you. "(L/n)." He dragged out your last name in a disinterested tone, the anger in his foggy grey eyes betraying how much your appearance bothered him. Apparently you still got on his nerves. Good.

Your glare somehow increased as your eyes met his. It wasn't until the trolley lady asked again for what you wanted that you broke off from his stare. Black, taking that as a sign of victory, went back to his gang of troublemakers, allowing you to finally relax and scoff your cauldron cakes. Serafina had watched the two of you interact, now deep in thought as she absentmindedly fiddled with an empty chocolate frog box.

After a few moments of bated breath followed by a reassuring click as the compartment door slid shut, the girls began to giggle amongst eachother. Their gaze flickered to you every so often as they excitedly recounted what had just happened. This behaviour was pretty normal, and so you had learned to block it out by now. The girls you and Sera were with in the compartment were just some Slytherins you'd sat next to in class before, so it wasn't like you were obliged to chat with them or anything.

Lost in thought, you leaned your head against the cool window, swirling your tongue around your mouth as you savoured the taste of the delectable cake. Here was to hoping that your sixth year would be as sweet as the chocolatey goodness in your mouth.

Saltiness flooded your taste buds as you accidentally bit your tongue.

my first piece on this blog done ! 🫣

thank you for reading! please leave a comment of your thoughts as i'd love to know what you think so far & it'd be v encouraging to know if you're enjoying the story ! lmk if you're interested in finding out what happens next ahahsh :')

feedback appreciated as long as it's done kindly <3

#Sirius black #themarauders #Sirius black x reader #James potter #James potter x reader #Remus lupin #Peter pettigrew #harrypotter #Hogwarts #The marauders era

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lunafreya24 · 7 months ago

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Modern au: When the Storm Breaks

Pairings: Jacaerys Targaryen/Cregan Stark, Rhaenyra Targaryen/Harwin Strong, Rhaenys Targaryen/Corlys Velaryon

Cregan and Jace have been married for a couple years when tragedy strikes. Jace's brother, Luke, is killed in a car accident. From the moment they got the news, Jace barely cries. He buries himself into being strong for his family and planning Luke's funeral. Cregan stays by his side the whole time, trying his best to help. Everyone is worried Jace is carrying too much on his shoulders and that he's going to explode soon. Their fears become reality when Jace has a full-blown mental breakdown at the funeral. Jace's family and his husband rally around him. Afterwards he apologizes for making a scene. Everyone tells him that he has every right to upset and that he doesn't have to be strong all the time.

(cw: character death, graphic language, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms)

Notes: This takes place in modern day New York. Rhaenyra and Harwin are married. Aegon III and Viserys II are Harwin's sons, but they get their looks from Rhaenyra. All the age gaps are closed in this story. Cregan and Jace are the same age, Rhaenyra and Harwin are only like 3 or 4 years apart. Laena is Rhaenyra's best friend here not Alicent, because I didn't want to touch that situation. Helaena is the only green that makes an appearance because I love her. Laenor and Daemon also aren't mentioned in this story. Do with that what you will.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacaerys Targaryen and Cregan Stark had built a life together that was rooted in love, trust, and mutual support. They met in college, when Jace was getting his MBA and Cregan was getting a bachelor’s degree in architecture. Until then, neither of them had believed in love at first sight, but in that moment, love was the only thing that came to mind. They dated all throughout college, receiving their respective degrees with honors. Jace’s parents, Rhaenyra and Harwin, threw a grand graduation party at their home. However, Jace was the only one unaware that this party was also an engagement party. Once everyone important to them had arrived, Cregan got down on one knee and asked Jace to make him the happiest man in the world. Jace accepted with tears in his eyes. Their wedding was a sight to behold, a perfect blend of extravagance and sentiment. They vowed to be there for each other for every moment of their lives, no matter how painful. After four years of marriage, they had faced their share of challenges, but none had been as shattering as the phone call that came one quiet evening.

Jace was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while Cregan relaxed on the couch, engrossed in a book. The shrill ring of Jace's phone broke the silence. It was from Baela, Jace's favorite cousin. Jace and Baela were very close, but they hadn’t spoken in a while, feeling they didn’t have much to share with each other. When she called out of nowhere, Jace thought she had something exciting to tell him.

“Hey Baela, how are you?” He answered cheerfully.

“Hi Jace.” Baela said, her voice shaking, barely above whisper.

“Is everything okay?” There was silence on the other end.

Cregan could sense the tension and looked from his book. “Who’s that baby?”

Jace moved the food off the stove and walked over. “It’s Baela,” he whispered.

“Is that Cregan?” She asked in an abrupt manner.

“Yeah.” Jace said.

“Can you put the phone on speaker, you both need to hear this.”

Jace did as he was asked, placing his phone on the coffee table, “Okay, Baela what going on, you’re kind of scaring me now.”

Baela took a deep breath before continuing, "Jace, it's about Luke.”

“What about Luke?” Jace asked, fear washing over him.

They could hear Baela start to cry on the other end, “There…There’s been….. an accident. I’m so sorry Jace. He's... he's gone."

Jace’s breath hitched. He and his husband sat there frozen, Baela’s soft cries coming from below them.

“What? What happened?” Jace questioned. The room seemed to close in around them as the reality of the situation sunk in.

“He… he was driving home for a visit when .... a truck sideswiped him. He hit a wall and…. first responders couldn’t get to him in time.”

Jace could hear Baela talking to them. He could feel his husband grab his hand. But all of that seemed to fade away with the thoughts whirling through his mind.

"I'm so sorry, Jace," Cregan whispered, his heart aching for his husband.

Jace sat frozen once again, his eyes were unfocused. He didn't cry, didn't scream. He just nodded and took a deep breath.

"What about my parents? Do they know yet?"

“We’re at their house right now. My mom was with yours when she got the call. They didn’t know how to tell you so I offered to do it. They’re…. heartbroken, but we’re here to help them.”

“Thank you.” Jace muttered.

“That goes for you too, if you need anything, please come to us Jace.”

“Okay. Goodbye Baela.”

“Bye.”

Crega pulled Jace into a tight hold. “I’m so sorry baby.” He offered. But Jace shifted in his arms, pulling back. He looked as if he were in some sort of trance.

“I need to get home.” He announced. “My family needs me.”

The days that followed were a blur of grief and responsibility. From the moment they got the news, Jace seemed to switch into autopilot. He threw himself into planning Luke's funeral, his focus solely on being the pillar of strength his family needed. He promised his parents that they didn’t have to worry about anything while he was there. He coordinated with funeral directors, arranged flowers, and meticulously chose every detail, ensuring that his brother would be honored in the best way possible.

Cregan watched his husband with growing concern. Jace was handling everything with a stoic determination that bordered on obsessiveness. He knew Jace was hurting, but he seemed unwilling or unable to express his grief. Every time Cregan tried to talk to him about it, Jace would deflect, insisting that there was too much to do.

"Jace, honey, you need to slow down and let yourself grieve, let yourself feel something," Cregan urged one evening, gently touching his arm. "It's okay to cry, to be upset."

Jace shook his head, his expression resolute. "I don't have time for that, Cregan. My family needs me." That phrase had become Jace’s mantra over the last week. At night, he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, while Cregan held him, hoping that the physical closeness would provide some sort of comfort.

Jace's family was just as worried. At first, Rhaenyra was eternally grateful for her son's strength at this terrible time. But she quickly realized what was happening to her son, her whole body flooded with guilt. She and Harwin both expressed their concerns to Cregan privately. "He's carrying too much," Rhaenyra said one evening, her voice thick with worry. "I'm afraid he's going to break."

The day of the funeral arrived, a gray, overcast morning that seemed to mirror the heavy hearts of all who gathered. Jace was impeccably dressed in a black suit, his expression set in a mask of calm control. Cregan stood by his side, offering silent support.

The service was beautiful and heart-wrenching. Friends and family spoke of Luke's kindness, his bright smile, and the joy he brought to their lives. Jace delivered the eulogy with a steady voice, recounting fond memories and expressing the depth of his love for his younger brother. When he finished, sobs and sniffles could be heard throughout the whole church, but Jace’s face still didn’t falter.

As the service drew to a close, Jace stood by the casket, greeting mourners and accepting their condolences. He was the picture of strength and composure, but Cregan could see the cracks beneath the surface. Each handshake, each hug seemed to chip away at the veneer of control Jace had built around himself.

When everyone proceeded to the burial site, Luke's body was placed over the area where it would be buried and lay forever. As the priest gave final blessing, Jace’s frame stiffened, his breaths shallowed slightly. Cregan was at his side, sensing the shift. He grabbed his husband's hand and started rubbing small circles on his back. He had seen this coming from the beginning. He only hoped now that he could soften the blow, if only a little bit.

It was during the final moments of the burial, as the casket was lowered into the ground, that the storm finally broke. Jace stared at the graveside, the finality of it all crashing down on him. His breathing quickened even more, and he felt a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

“No.” Jace shook his head, pleading with every higher power he could think of. “Please, no!” he whimpered, not caring about what people thought about him. The pressure inside him had built up to an unbearable level. "I can't... I can't do this," he gasped, his voice breaking. "He's gone, Cregan! No....please! He can’t be gone!"

The tears finally came then, a torrent of grief and anguish that he had held back for far too long. He lurched forward, falling to the ground, sobs wracking his body. Cregan knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around Jace, holding him as he wailed.

The mourners looked on with a mix of sympathy and understanding. Rhaenys and Corlys took it upon themselves to start herding the funeral guests toward the reception, knowing the best thing for the family was to be alone with each other right now. Rhaenyra and Harwin rushed to Jace's side, their own tears falling freely as they tried to comfort their son. For the first time since the accident, Jace allowed himself to truly feel the depth of his loss. Jace clung to Cregan, his cries growing softer, his screams turning into broken whispers, “Come back…. Luke I’m sorry…. Please come back.”

The four of them sat like that for a while. Everyone else had gone, Laena had taken Jace’s other brothers to the reception, giving them time to just worry about Jace. Thirty minutes felt like a lifetime. Jace felt like he had cried away all the tears he had left, a terrible headache was brewing in the back of his skull. He picked up his head and looked around, realizing they were alone. “We should go to the reception now. They’re probably waiting for us.” He groaned, rubbing his burning eyes.

Rhaenyra cupped her son's face gently, "Jace, you don't have to go. Everyone will understand."

Harwin nodded in agreement, "We're all hurting, son. And you’ve already done so much. If you just want to go home, it’s alright.”

Jace looked to his husband for the answer. Cregan looked at him lovingly, saying, “I’ll do whatever you want, baby.”

Jace thought for a moment, “I think we should go.” He decided.

“Are you sure?” Cregan asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

The reception was a blur for Jace. He felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Many people came to him again, offering even more condolences and asking if he was alright. He assured everyone that he was feeling much better now, but the ache in his heart and the pounding in his head were creeping up on him again. He wondered why he even bothered coming. Just then Helaena came up to him with a gentle smile.

“Hi Jace.” She spoke softly

“Hi Helaena.”

She looked at him as if she was trying to speak a language she didn’t know. She quickly gave up on words and held her arms out to him. He took them gratefully. After a full day of words and tears, her silent comfort somehow surpassed it all. Helaena often struggled with words, but in her touch was a power no one else in that room possessed. In that moment, Jace felt all of his pain melt away. For a split second, he felt whole again. He felt the one thing that had been missing since Baela called him that night, hope. They stayed like that for a little while. Jace breathed in her soothing herbal scent, finally feeling a sense of healing take fold.

“Thank you so much Helaena.”

“For what”

“For being exactly what I need right now.”

Helaena smiled kindly and then left. Eventually everyone cleared out, leaving just the family. As they sat on the couch together, Jace struggled to come to terms with his outburst at the funeral. In hindsight, he felt embarrassed and ashamed for breaking down in front of everyone. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't mean to make a scene."

Rhaenyra held him in her arms, her eyes filled with compassion. "Jace, you have nothing to apologize for. You lost your brother, not even a month ago. You have every right to grieve. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I never should have let you take on all that by yourself."

Harwin nodded in agreement. "Neither of us should have, Jace. We're a family, and we should support each other. You don't always have to be strong for everyone."

Cregan held his hand, his voice gentle but firm. "You've been carrying so much, sweetheart. It's time to let others carry some of that weight with you. We're all here for you now." He pressed a feather-light kiss to Jace’s temple.

Jace looked around at his family, seeing the love and support in their eyes. He realized then that he didn't have to bear his grief alone. He didn't have to be the pillar of strength all the time. It was okay to lean on those who loved him. He felt tears come to his eyes again, but this time he let them flow freely. He grabbed on to his mother’s waist and cried slow, soft tears. Rhaenyra did the same until they both fell asleep in that position, their pain and exhaustion finally ceasing for the time being.

Harwin and Cregan shared a knowing look before carefully unraveling the two and picking them up bridal style. Harwin couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the last time he held his wife this way. She had gotten too tipsy at a party and passed out in the car on the ride home. They were so young then, before the children, before their lives had truly begun.

Cregan thought about the last time he held his husband this way. They had just gotten married. Jace was about to open the door to their apartment, when Cregan scooped him up and carried him across the threshold. It was a silly moment filled with laughter and so much love. They were still young, but Cregan knew from the moment they met, that he was going to spend the rest of his time on Earth and then some with the man sleeping in his arms.

They carried their spouses up the stairs and laid them down on their respective beds. With the softest touch they remove as much of their uncomfortable funeral attire as they could before laying down next to them. They knew in the morning the pain would hit all over again, but for now they enjoyed this moment of peace in the eye of the storm.

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