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jaehyunfirstlove · 3 years ago

Note

CONGRATS ON YOUR 1K MILESTONE <3 can i please request a dad!jaehyun smut? 🥺💗

Pairing: single dad!jaehyun x teacher's aide!f. reader

Genre: fluff, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: cheesy flirting, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving)

Word count: 2k

A/N: aaaanndd another one i got carried away with lol! hope you like it, anon, and thanks for sending it in!

It was the first day of school and also your first day on the job as a teacher’s aide, and you were ushering the kids into the building when you noticed a boy standing off to the side, clinging to his dad’s leg. You noticed his dad had bent down, attempting to encourage the boy to enter the school with the rest of his classmates, but the boy just shook his head, holding even tighter to his dad’s leg. You walked over to see if you could help.

“Hi there!” you said in your sweetest voice, addressing the boy, “you must be Jeffrey. I’m Ms. L/N, your teacher’s helper.” You held out your hand for him to shake, but he just buried his face further into his dad’s leg.

“I’m sorry,” Jeffrey’s dad shrugged, looking at you with anxious eyes, “he’s just really shy since he doesn’t know anyone.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled, suddenly struck with how attractive Jeffrey’s dad was. Indeed, most of the parents and teachers milling about in the school yard were staring at him. “I’ve been trained for this sort of thing,” you reassured him. You bent down to be eye level with Jeffrey.

“I’m new too, just like you,” you told him, and this got his attention, as he peeked at you from behind his dad’s leg. “And I see you like Pokemon,” you continued, pointing at the keychain on his backpack. Now you really got his attention, and he finally emerged from behind his dad’s back. “I have some Pokemon stickers in the classroom, do you want to see them?”

Jeffrey nodded, smiling widely as he took your hand and followed you into the building. You glanced back at his father, who smiled gratefully at you, and you felt a stutter in your chest at the sight of the dimples that emerged in his cheeks.

---

Over the next few weeks Jeffrey became really attached to you, bonding with you over your shared love of Pokemon. He would sometimes play with the other kids, but mostly he would shadow you as you did your rounds during recess. He’d even opened up to you, telling you how his parents had separated and he’d moved into the area with his dad. You were intrigued by the story, by this sweet little boy who obviously missed his home, and a doting dad who had upended his life to take care of his son.

One day, Jeffrey’s dad was late to pick him up so you offered to stay with him while he waited. When Mr. Jeong finally pulled into the parking lot, he was frazzled, apologizing to you profusely for being late to pick up Jeffrey.

“I’m so sorry,” he’d put his hands together in a placating gesture, his eyes pleading, and you couldn’t help but smile at how endearing it all was. “I had a meeting that went late at work, I promise it won’t happen again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and he looked at you in surprise. “Mr. Jeong, those aren’t the kinds of promises you should be making,” you said jokingly. You’d only meant to lighten the tone of the situation, but he looked at you then, gears whirring in his head.

“Well Ms. L/N, what kinds of promises do you suggest I make, then?” he tilted his head at you, and your brain was busily trying to decipher if he was being flirtatious or not. You noticed that Jeffrey had wandered off to kick at the wood chips in the playground, and therefore couldn’t hear your conversation, so you decided to be bold.

“Maybe… the kind where I can benefit too, Mr. Jeong?” you raised your eyebrows at him, and he broke into a wide grin.

“You can call me Jaehyun,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he regarded you.

“Then you can call me Y/N,” you answered, then leaned in, whispering, “but not in front of Jeffrey.”

He laughed, a beautiful, velvety sound that was like music to your ears. “How’s this for a promise then,” he put a finger to his lips, pretending like he was thinking hard, “I promise that I’ll be on time to pick you up for our date this Friday night.”

“Is that your way of asking me out?” you asked cheekily.

“Yes? Do you accept?” he asked, now a little unsure but still encouraged by your lighthearted tone.

“I accept,” you nodded, “but let’s see if you can keep that promise.”

---

Friday night came and Jaehyun was indeed late, but just by a few minutes. You couldn’t help but tease him about it the entire time you were out together, and he took your teasing with a very good nature that impressed you. When it finally came time to take you home, he was silent as he walked you to your door, his face pensive.

“Everything okay?” you asked, noticing the change in his demeanor and wondering if you’d done or said something wrong.

“Yeah, I just… I just haven’t done this in a while… the whole dating thing,” he said hesitantly, running a hand through his hair. You noticed he would do that when he was shy or embarrassed, and to you it was the most endearing thing.

“I get it,” you nodded, “so there’s one new rule you need to know about.”

He looked at you questioningly. “What is it?”

“Well, breaking a promise on the first date means you have to come inside and have a coffee with me.”

He suppressed a smile, nodding his head and furrowing his brow. “Ah I see. Well, I would hate to break the rules, so let’s do it.”

When the coffee was done and a lot of heavy looks had been exchanged, but no actual move had been made, Jaehyun got up from the sofa with a sigh.

“Well I guess I’d better go, it’s getting late and the babysitter needs to get home.” Rubbing a hand on the back of his neck, he clearly seemed hesitant to leave, but he knew his responsibilities, something about him you really respected.

“Of course,” you responded, but you didn’t want him to leave either. When he turned his back to you, you had the sudden urge to touch him, just to be close, so you placed your hand gently on his back. At your touch he stopped and turned to you, and before you knew it he was gathering you in his arms, kissing you gently, tentatively, his lips soft and warm against yours. You sighed into his mouth, and that made him grip you tighter, and soon enough the kiss became heated and you had the sudden urge to rip his clothes off. But he eventually pulled away, ever so reluctantly, resting his forehead against yours as he tried to breathe properly again.

“I really have to go,” he said, and before you could pull him back and tempt him some more he walked towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school,” he winked at you, before pulling your door closed behind him.

---

The next time he asked you out he surprised you by inviting you over to his place, saying he wanted to flex his cooking skills. You asked where Jeffrey would be and he said he’d be staying over at a cousin’s for the weekend, and that gave you an inkling that you’d have more than just dinner in store for you.

You showed up at his door wearing your most killer outfit, and it definitely had that effect, because when he opened his door and took one look at you he looked like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Ms. L/N? Is that you?” his mouth had dropped open, eyes roaming all over your figure hungrily.

“Yes it is, Mr. Jeong. Do you not approve of what I’m wearing?” you asked innocently.

“I believe it violates every article of the dress code,” he said, shaking his head.

“Does that mean I have to take it off?” you asked with a smirk, and that was enough for him. He pulled you inside, slamming the door closed behind you, his hands rough and needy on your body as he pulled you to him.

“A violation like that requires a hands-on punishment,” he growled, in between sucking on your lips and then your neck, “which means I get to take it off you.”

He pulled you towards his bedroom, both of you stumbling over Jeffrey’s toys while he apologized between kisses and you alternated between giggling and moaning as his hands squeezed your ass, and then your breasts.

“Oh, Jaehyun,” you moaned, when he finally got you onto his bed, his body engulfing you as he hiked your skirt up to your hips. He groaned deep in his throat when he found you bare, his hand going straight to your pussy.

“Ms. L/N you are naughtier than I thought,” he said, shaking his head in awe, and you only had a moment to smile devilishly at him before he bent down and sucked your clit into his mouth.

You cried out, your body reacting instantly to the way he was pleasuring you, his eyes dark and hooded as he watched you fall apart. You threaded your fingers into his hair as you felt your orgasm coming on, biting your lip to keep from screaming as he continued to suck harshly, like you were the sweetest lollipop he’d ever tasted. Your orgasm came hot and fast, and instantly he released your abused clit, hastily pulling off his clothes before hovering over you.

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, lips flushed and shiny with your juices, his beautifully styled hair now falling messily into his eyes. “Are you going to give me my punishment now, Mr. Jeong?”

He smirked, before he reached down, peeled your dress off of you, slowly. Once it was off he ran his hands all over your body, admiring, watching your reaction as he flicked a nipple, or dipped a finger into your folds. When he had you panting and whining for more, he slid his cock into you, so deep that your back arched off the bed and your fingers dug into his skin.

“Y/N,” he groaned huskily into your ear, losing himself in the feel of you as he drilled you into the mattress, “fuck, you feel so good.”

You couldn’t even respond, every sound stuck in your throat as his cock hit you in just the right spot. You clung to his shoulders, his hips snapping into you so hard you’d be surprised if you didn’t have bruises by morning. The knot in your stomach started to form ridiculously fast, spurred on by the sounds he was making as he fucked you, low, deep, from the base of his throat, the reverberations in his chest going straight to your core.

“Jaehyun, fuck, that feels good, just like that,” you moaned, and your encouragement fueled him, his pace quickening.

“Like that, baby?” he asked, watching as you started to fall apart. He tweaked a nipple, and as your mouth opened to cry out, your orgasm finally hitting you, he crashed his lips against yours, swallowing your cries as you came, your body shuddering, pussy pulsing around his cock.

He released your lips to let you breathe, but he continued pumping into you, pulling you flush against him and pressing sloppy kisses to your neck. His thrusts started to stutter, and with one last deep thrust that took your breath away, he came with a low groan, face buried in your neck.

You were both breathing hard, bathed in sweat, but he still stayed inside you, nuzzling into your neck. You ran your fingers through his hair, and soon enough he pulled back to look at you, his eyes soft.

“I haven’t done that in a long time, so I hope it was okay,” he said sheepishly, a blush creeping up to the tips of his ears.

“Mr. Jeong,” you smiled, continuing to card your fingers through his hair, “I give you an A plus for that.”

#jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun smut #nct imagines #nct smut

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knuffled · 4 years ago

Text

just practice - chapter twelve

thanks for reading! i promise i didn’t mean for it to be so angsty, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions or whatever the idiom is. anyhow, i hope you enjoy it, and it would mean a lot if you took the time to reblog or comment on AO3! i have been replying to every comment chapter 8 or 9!

read on AO3

The January sky was gray. It was not late, but darkness had already fallen. Snowflakes fell in a flurry, only briefly illuminated when passing beneath a street lamp. It collected on the roadside and turned to slush beneath the wheels of cars passing by. There was something about driving in the dark that had always appealed to her. Something about the gentle whirring of the motor, the luminescent lights on the dashboard, lurid in their juxtaposition with the velvet dark, and the effortless way the wheels glided against the tarmac had a way of putting her at ease.

The scenery was similar to the night of New Year’s Eve but duller. Grayer. The image of Percy, wreathed in a halo of moonlight, arose again unbidden in her mind’s eye, but there was no sight of the moon tonight. The clouds had seen to that.

She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the not-kiss. Ever since that night, the sense of lack had never left her. It carved a hollow for itself in the center of her chest and consumed anything that trespassed its event horizon. Like a black hole, not a void.

Annabeth had spent nearly everyday agonizing about the feeling and what it meant, but it defied any attempt to be known. All she could decipher was the sense of dissatisfaction, like hunger, that gnawed at her, but there was no urgency to it. It merely sat there, an immovable object. She found it grating, but not enough to where it compelled her to act. So she tolerated it.

She pressed her lips into a hard line and pulled into the Seneca Falls high school parking lot. She was late, like always. Percy’s meet had started nearly a half-hour ago. Annabeth stepped out of her car and ducked her neck behind the collar of her jacket as she jogged to the front door.

It was dark inside the school. Only half of the lights in the hallways were lit, and those that were flickered erratically. Annabeth followed the signs posted to the wall, guiding her to the pool. She was baffled by the fact that it took her nearly five minutes to find the pool, at the far end of the building. But eventually she drew close enough to hear the noise of the crowd rumbling from behind closed doors.

Annabeth opened the door tentatively to peer inside and was immediately accosted by the smell of chlorine. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. There was a heat going on. She prayed that it wasn’t Percy’s. Otherwise, the entire drive down to Seneca Falls would have been for nothing. Annabeth craned her head further inside, trying to make out the competitors, but she was too far away to tell.

When the heat ended, she released a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding and slipped inside. On her way to the bleachers, she scanned the crowd and felt a rush of relief when Piper waved to her from the fourth row. She had to squeeze past a family to reach Piper, and the seat was uncomfortable when she sat down. The screwheads dug into her thighs, making her grimace.

“Please tell me I didn’t miss Percy’s heat,” Annabeth said.

Piper popped a cheeto in her mouth and shook her head. “Nah, you’re totally fine. Want some cheetos?”

Annabeth shook her head. “Those things have texture like cardboard.”

“More for me then,” Piper said, shrugging. “I was worried you weren’t going to show.”

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “I just had some stuff to deal with after school, and then it started snowing like crazy outside so I had to drive slower than normal.”

“Is it that project or whatever for Mrs. Dodds’s class? Jason has been complaining about it all week,” Piper asked.

Annabeth shook her head. “Taking AP Chem with that harpy is like getting your fucking teeth pulled. I just needed to review something for the english paper with Edmonds.”

Piper sighed melodramatically. “Still, so diligent. Truly a model student.”

“Fuck off.”

Piper balled up her now empty bag of cheetos and shook her head incredulously.

“I seriously can’t believe you aren’t feeling even a little bit of senioritis. Jason’s like that too. A pair of freaks, the two of you are. Mayhaps it has something to do with the fact that you’re both blonde. Seems to give one a proclivity for masochism.”

“I thought that the fact that we both unironically enjoy running stupidly long distances would have tipped you off about that by now,” Annabeth said lightly.

There was a pause before Piper cleared her throat conspicuously and said, “So what’s new with you, Annababe?”

“That was a real smooth transition there, Pipes,” Annabeth said.

Piper rolled her eyes and said, “Fine, you win that round. Happy? We can go back to the part where you were answering my question now, please.”

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there’s nothing new on my end,” Annabeth lied.

“How are things going with Percy?”

Annabeth snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you going to ask me that everytime you see me?”

“Yes, now spill.”

“You know? You can be a real piece work sometimes, McLean.”

Piper threw an arm around Annabeth’s shoulder, grinning, and pulled her in close to press a kiss to Annabeth’s cheek, making her scowl.

“I bully you out of love, darling.”

Annabeth gave her a weary look. “So you admit that it’s bullying.”

Piper waved a hand dismissively. “Semantics, shemantics.”

“How come you never harass Percy like this?” Annabeth grumbled.

“Oh, I do,” Piper said brightly. “All the time, in fact.”

“Really? And what does he say when you do?”

“He usually comes to me on his own, funnily enough,” Piper said pointedly. “Though, I will admit that it has been a while since I’ve had the chance to have a proper talk with him.”

“I know this might boggle your mind, but some people appreciate privacy, Piper,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes.

Piper opened her mouth, undoubtedly to say something clever, but Annabeth’s attention was pulled away by the fact that Percy was lining up in front of the pool. Three of his teammates stood in front of him, and it took Annabeth a moment to figure out why.

“Wait, he’s doing a relay?” Annabeth asked. “I thought he was doing freestyle, like always.”

“Fuck if I know,” Piper said, shrugging.

“State is next month,” Annabeth said, frowning. “What is he doing?”

Although Annabeth knew how intensely he practiced, she was still taken aback by his decision to not compete for the event he was doing at State: freestyle. She tried to glean some insight from his body language, but she found herself quickly distracted when Percy interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms away from himself, making the muscles of his upper back flex in response.

All at once, she found herself hyper-aware of the fact that practically all of his body was up for display. Her face flushed immediately, but she couldn’t force herself to look away. She’d seen him compete at meets countless times, but there was something different now.

Since when had his shoulders been so broad? How had she never noticed the beautiful curve of his spine or the sharp line of his jaw when he set it in concentration?

Over the years, Annabeth had heard her fair share of vulgar comments made by girls in her school about Percy’s physique. It wasn’t uncommon for many of them to show up at swim meets just to ogle at him. She had always found their behavior disgusting and objectifying. More than anything, it angered her that people talked about her best friend like that without even knowing him, like he was just a slab of meat. Annabeth had even snapped and chewed them out for it on more than one occasion.

Now, however, Annabeth couldn’t help understanding where those comments had come from, even though they were repulsive. She could no longer deny the fact that her best friend was gorgeous, even when he stood among other swimmers. Some of them were more physically impressive, sure, but Percy was imposing in his own right, trading impractical bulk for something more lithe and graceful. The untamed intensity that competition teased out of him was just the cherry on top.

Annabeth caught herself staring and immediately felt nausea and self-loathing rolling through her. She was acting like a fucking creep.

“Well, that might be the first time I’ve ever seen you checking Percy out so shamelessly,” Piper said, smirking.

Annabeth turned to her sharply, her face prickling. “I-It feels gross. Like I’m one of those groupies that show up at his meets just to perv on him.”

Piper snorted and said, “Annabeth, you’re nothing like them. You actually know him, for one thing. Besides, it’s not wrong to check out your boyfriend, you know.”

Annabeth mustered an uneasy smile and nodded. She tried not to squirm in her seat and to focus on the race instead, but her skin was hot. Uncomfortably so.

The first members of the relay stepped and took their places on the platform. Once they were settled, the official blew his whistle and they dove into the water. Westwood’s first swimmer did well, managing to stay in second place before handing it off to his teammate. She didn’t really pay much attention though. As long as there wasn’t too big a gap between first and second, they were fine. Percy was anchor for the relay and he was fast enough to make up that distance if push came to shove.

Still, Annabeth couldn’t help thinking that there was something off about Percy. She couldn’t say what it was, but he looked more tense than normal. As a competitor, one of the things Annabeth envied most about him was how relaxed he was at meets. Annabeth always had to wrestle with anxiety, but Percy had confessed to her that he barely ever felt nervous. If it was there, his focus was so finely honed that it didn’t even register to him. This was the first time that she had seen him look so jittery at a meet.

Her suspicions were only further solidified when Percy finally dove into the water. Usually, he barely disturbed the water when he breached it, but this time the water burst like he had belly flopped. It wasn’t a great start but they were still in second, so as long as he didn’t panic, there was no need to worry.

But he looked oddly sluggish. There was something wrong with his form. It lacked its usual effortless finesse and looked almost awkward. He slipped into fourth place by the time he kicked off the opposite end of the pool, and it didn’t look like he would be able to recover the distance.

Annabeth slid to the edge of her seat and worried her lip, praying that Percy would be able to figure something out, but at the end of the relay, Westwood finished in 5th place.

Percy stood there with a hand pressed against the pool wall and stared into the water blankly, his shoulders hunched. Eventually, one of his teammates helped pull him out of the pool, but they all looked as confused as Annabeth felt. This was uncharted territory for all of them.

His teammates look at one another, at a loss for words, before his coach pulled him away and had a hushed conversation with him. Annabeth couldn’t make out what they were saying over the noise of the crowd, but Percy’s posture never changed. His coach gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder and left to go deal with the team. Percy stood there for a few seconds before eventually dragging himself into the changing room.

Annabeth turned to Piper, hoping for an explanation, but she only reflected the worry Annabeth felt herself. They made their way down from the bleachers and waited at the entrance of the changing rooms. They had to wait for longer than she’d expected. Even though Percy had been the first to enter, he was the last to leave. When he did finally exit the locker room, his hands were curled tightly around his swimming bag and his hair was sopping wet, like he hadn’t even bothered drying it.

When he noticed them, he mustered a weary smile. “Ah, look! It’s my two favorite girls.”

Annabeth and Piper exchanged glances before Piper cleared her throat and softly said, “How are you feeling, Perce?”

Percy stopped smiling and pressed his lips into a thin line. “Not so hot, honestly.”

“Is there anything we can do for you?” Piper asked.

Percy rubbed at his eyes with his palms and shook his head. “Um, no— I-I’m just tired. I’ll be fine once I get some sleep.”

“You just had an off day,” Annabeth ventured. “It happens to the best of us.”

He set his jaw and looked away from them. “I really don’t wanna talk about it.”

Annabeth balled her hands into fists. She was utterly useless in situations like this. The situation only felt worse when Piper remained uncharacteristically silent. This was supposed to be her forte, not Annabeth’s — if she didn’t know what to say, Annabeth was screwed.

Piper glanced at her, trying to communicate something, but Annabeth didn’t know what she was trying to say. They stood there for a few more moments before Piper deflated with a sigh and shoved Annabeth towards Percy without warning, making Annabeth stumble.

“Well, I suppose I’ll let the girlfriend handle this,” Piper said with affected cheer. “Gotta go pick Jason up from the library anyhow.”

Annabeth turned to glare at her, but she paused when she caught the tick of Percy’s jaw when Piper said the word ‘girlfriend’. The gesture stoked the flames of helplessness burning inside her to even larger blaze. Annabeth turned to Piper in one last desperate attempt to ask for help, but Piper had already turned on her heels and walked away.

It seemed that Piper had thrown her to the wolves. Annabeth balled her hands into fists and tightened her jaw, feeling utterly lost. Piper was expecting too much from her. She didn’t know what the fuck she was supposed to do. She didn’t even know where to begin.

She tried looking at Percy for some insight, but he just looked utterly dead inside. There was something so wrong about that, like someone had extinguished the sun.

The floor squeaked underfoot when she shifted on her heels and wracked her brain for some combination of words that wouldn’t make the situation worse. It took all of thirty seconds for her to realize that she wasn’t going to come up with anything, so she decided to start with something easier.

“C’mon, let’s go to Martha’s,” Annabeth offered. “I’ll even buy you a milkshake.”

Percy dragged a hand across his face and said, “I’m exhausted right now. I just wanna go home.”

Annabeth shook her head. “I can’t let you do that. You’ll just spend all night beating yourself up if I let you go.”

Percy didn’t disagree with her, but he didn’t decide to go with her either. Annabeth screwed her eyes shut and exhaled fully. Then, she stepped forward and took his hand in her own and gave it a squeeze. It was enough to get Percy to actually look at her for the first time all night. She was struck by the fragility she saw in his eyes. No, fragility wasn’t the right word. More like vulnerability, more raw, more open.

“Look, I just don’t want you to be on your own tonight, okay? But if you really do want to go home, I won’t stop you,” Annabeth whispered.

There was a pause before Percy murmured, “Martha’s is fine.”

She almost asked him if he was sure before she thought better of it. “You should dry your hair or you’ll catch a cold again. It’s pretty brutal outside.”

Percy nodded and set down his swimming bag and dropped to a crouch. He tried to unzip the bag to find his towel, but the zipper was caught on something and wouldn’t budge. He tried to get it to work three more times, each attempt more violent than the next, until he stopped and sat down, shoulders hunched.

“It’s not working,” he said blankly. “Why isn’t it working?”

Annabeth crouched beside him and gently tugged the bag out of his grasp, saying, “Here, let me.”

It took her a few seconds to figure out part of his swimming trunks were caught under the zipper. Getting it out of the way took longer than she would have liked, but eventually she managed to tease the bag open. Once she did, she rummaged in the bag for the towel buried at the bottom and turned back to Percy with victorious smile.

“Took some work, but I managed to-” Annabeth’s smile dropped.

Tears were flowing silently down Percy’s face, and he bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering. Before her mind could catch up with her body, Annabeth dropped the towel and threw her arms around him. His breath hitched at first, but then he melted into her embrace and buried his face in the crook of her neck. It hurt to feel his tears straining her shirt and the spastic way his shoulders shook behind her palms.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just let it out. I’ve got you,” Annabeth whispered.

“I’m s-sorry. The stupid zipper. It- It wasn’t working,” Percy sobbed.

Annabeth ran her hands down his back, hoping it would be at least somewhat soothing. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. It’s alright.”

“Can’t even open a fucking bag right,” Percy said tightly. “God, I’m so fucking useless.”

Annabeth pulled away and held him by the shoulders. “Hey, that’s not true.”

Percy looked away from her, coating her hands in tears. “It is.”

“It isn’t,” Annabeth said firmly. “You’re exhausted and having a really shitty day. It’s okay if you couldn’t open your backpack, alright? It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it’s my fucking fault,” Percy said, voice cracking. “I-I let them all down, Annabeth. They were counting on me, and I fucked it up like I always do.”

It took her a second to realize he wasn’t talking about the backpack anymore.

“You had an off day, Percy. It’s nothing to beat yourself up about. I can guarantee that none of them will blame you for it, I promise,” Annabeth said.

“And how would you know that?”

“Because I’ll kick their fucking asses otherwise, that’s how.”

That tore a watery laugh from him before he slumped back against the wall. Annabeth hovered near him, unsure of what to do. Percy rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand and took a deep breath.

His voice was more steady when he said, “I’m supposed to be the captain. I’m supposed to be reliable. They put their trust in me, and I let them down.”

“They trust you for a reason,” Annabeth said. “They know how hard you work, how much you have given for the team.”

“But I still failed them when it mattered most,” Percy muttered.

Annabeth sighed and brushed her hair out of her face. “Literally none of them think that. They were just worried about you. I could see it in their eyes.”

When he remained silent, she added, “If one of them were in your shoes and had an off day at a meet, would you think they had let you down?”

“They aren’t captain,” Percy argued.

“So just because you’re captain, you have to be absolutely flawless, all the time?”

Percy opened his mouth before closing it again and looked down at his lap. Annabeth ground her teeth together. What could she do to make him understand? Why did he always hold himself to such unreasonable standards? He always shouldered too much responsibility, but didn’t he realize that, at some point, he would have to run out of things to give? Not even Percy could carry the world on his shoulders forever, but he would be damned if he didn’t try.

“Sometimes I wish people would stop putting their faith in me,” he whispered.

“I know but it’s not entirely their fault. There’s just something about you that makes people want to follow you,” Annabeth said.

Percy shook his head and said, “I don’t understand what they see in me. I’m not special. I can’t be who they need me to be. I wish I could. I really, really do. But I can’t. I just can’t. Even today, I lost us the relay because I couldn’t shut my brain off and focus. I just can’t stop thinking about the-”

“Can’t stop thinking about what?” Annabeth asked, frowning.

Percy swallowed and turned away from her. “It’s nothing. Just ignore what I said.”

A spark of anger that rushed through her. “No, that’s bullshit. You don’t get to do that. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I-It’s not a big deal.”

“Then you should have no trouble telling me,” Annabeth said.

When he remained silent, she crossed her arms over her chest and said, “I’m literally not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. Even if that means staying here all night.”

When Percy looked up at her, the mix of fear and resignation in his eyes reminded her of a lamb being led to slaughter. A lump formed in her throat. Since when had things gotten so difficult between them?

She forced herself to take a breath and said, “I’m your friend, Percy. I’m not going to hurt you. So, please, just talk to me.”

There was a pause before Percy ran his hands through his hair, almost violently, and nodded. “I- I can’t stop thinking about New Year’s Eve.”

Annabeth furrowed her brow. “What about it?”

Percy looked down at his lap and clenched his shirt with one hand, right at the center of his chest.

“I almost kissed you.”

His voice had been so quiet, Annabeth had almost missed it. It took her a few seconds to process what he had said and what it meant.

“And that’s why you’re beating yourself up so much?” Annabeth asked, trying not to gape.

He looked up at her sharply and said, “I almost stole your first kiss, Annabeth. You deserve to have it with someone that you actually like, not wasted on a stand-in like me.”

“Percy, first kisses are not that big a deal,” Annabeth said exasperatedly.

“They are to me,” Percy said quietly.

Annabeth didn’t know how to respond to that. Honestly, the whole conversation made very little sense to her. She couldn’t understand for the life of her why this was causing him so much anguish. Besides, there was that comment he had made, about being a stand-in. It was technically true, but there was just something wrong about it.

“The worst part is that I wanted to,” Percy whispered. “Even though I knew from the start, at that moment, I didn’t care. I almost did something awful to you.”

There was a brief pause before Annabeth exploded.

“Christ, boys are so fucking stupid sometimes.”

Percy looked up with wide red-rimmed eyes, surprised by the hostility in her voice. Annabeth pulled him by the collar of his shirt so that they were face to face, close enough for her to see the dried tracks his tears had left on his face, and dropped her voice to a deadly whisper.

“Listen to me very carefully: you didn’t almost ‘steal’ anything that night. I could have stopped the kiss at literally any point if I hadn’t wanted it to happen. It was just as much my decision as it was yours, okay? I’m a person, not a fucking mannequin. Stop treating me like one.”

Annabeth set her jaw and glared at him, daring him to challenge her, but Percy held his breath and nodded once, slowly. She stared at him for another second before she turned to pick up the towel. Her hands were trembling. Annabeth was surprised at how angry she was. She dropped the towel twice because of it.

She turned back to him and said, “Turn around.”

Percy blinked owlishly before he did as she commanded. Annabeth took a moment to run her fingers through his hair. It had dried some, but it was still wet. Annabeth started to towel dry his hair, and Percy flinched, almost immediately, like she had expected.

He caught her wrist and peered up at her. “You don’t have to do that.”

“God, Percy, just shut up and let me take care of you for once,” Annabeth said, sharper than she would have liked.

A beat passed before Percy nodded reluctantly and turned around. Annabeth took a moment to swallow and returned to her task. She took her time. There was no rush, after all. Nowhere they needed to be. Nothing they needed to do. Nothing to stop them from being who they were. So Annabeth tried her best to do with her hands what her words could not.

She was careful with him. Thorough. Gentle. Tension drained out of him, allowing his shoulders to open up, and he leaned into her touch unconsciously. The repetitive motions lulled her senses and the world felt less sharp. The dim lights in the hallway flickered erratically and hummed like a droning bee. His hair was soft and tickled her fingers. She wondered if any of his former girlfriends had known that. They probably had. They probably knew more than she ever would.

“Annabeth?” Percy whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. And— thank you. For everything.”

Annabeth hummed in acknowledgment. A beat passed and Percy’s lips pulled upwards in a half-smile.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten mad at me.”

“You sound far too pleased about that. Am I going to have to kink shame you or something?”

That tore a tired laugh out of him, and Annabeth smiled. Now, with her work done, she threw the towel back into his swim bag and stretched in place. Percy’s back was still facing her. Annabeth knocked her forehead lightly between his shoulder blades and grinned when it startled him. He turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“How are you feeling?” Annabeth murmured.

“Um, better, I think?” Percy replied. “Definitely more relaxed.”

“I- I didn’t make things worse right?” Annabeth asked tentatively.

“No, you helped,” he said quickly. “More than you probably know.”

Annabeth swallowed and looked down at her lap. “Okay, good. Just making sure.”

There was another pause and then Percy asked, “Should we go home?”

Annabeth met his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go home.”

#just practice #percabeth #percabeth fic #percabeth angst #fake dating au #percabeth fake dating au #i dont even know if this chapter is good anymore lmfao #i reworked it so many times #also ur boi is two followers away from 1k so if you could let people know that would be dope

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avengemebuckyy · 5 years ago

Text

Be Careful

Summary:

You tell Bucky to be careful with your heart. Too late he realizes you should have been careful with his.

or:

You’re awkward,odd, and not the most conventionally attractive yet you’re the only woman that Bucky sees

Warnings: manipulation

Authors note: Back from the dead lmao. This is probably trash but I just needed to force myself to finish something it order to try to get back in the groove! Feedback is more than greatly appreciated, it’s what keeps me writing tbh...

PS. You ain’t shit in this lmao

---

You weren’t the most eye-catching. You didn’t look like the girls Bucky used to chase after in his younger years, or the girls on the internet he’d find himself staring at once he’d discovered Instagram, endlessly scrolling through picture after picture, lost in a sea of beautiful bodies and faces. You didn’t look like the tall slim blonde agent he’d always make a point to hold open the door for, or his neighbor’s daughter in Wakanda, who had had dark skin so smooth and a face so perfect he’d never managed to say more than two words to her.

You were slightly awkward, with a slightly odd sense of humor, always cracking jokes that sometimes no one laughed at but you. But you didn’t care, you would laugh at them all the same. You wore baggy clothes, and not the fashionable baggy kind either. Your favorite outfit was baggy camo print cargo pants and an old grey band t-shirt, logo so faded it was almost impossible to decipher.

At first Bucky didn’t pay you much attention. He wasn’t rude, but he treated you with the same gruff stoicism he treated everyone with. Well everyone besides Sam, Steve, and Natasha. Besides he only saw you rarely, you were a high level agent thanks to your skill, but you didn’t work closely with the team very often. Until you did.

One mission with Clint was all it took to have your name thrust forward when Fury was looking to fill a coordinator position. Suddenly you were everywhere. Coordinating their positions on missions, even going on missions with different members of the team. You fit in well with the team, your corny jokes and generally happy disposition make you easy to like. Your apartment was five minutes away, thanks to Tony, so you would often eat breakfast with the team and stay at the Tower well into the night, often crashing in a room designated for you, also thanks to Tony.

You were like a deceptively shallow river Bucky would think after. One minute he was wading through your shallows, next moment he was being taken under by your currents, realizing too late that he was in deeper than he thought possible.

It started slowly, you would make an effort to make conversation with Bucky, never seeming off put by his non answers. Bucky found himself coming to you with numerous questions on how to work social media, you would give such long winded explanations he wouldn’t have to embarrass himself with asking questions. Soon he found himself seeking you out for more than explanations. Funny thing is you were the one who introduced him to Instagram, to the beautiful women on the app but eventually he found himself unable to see any woman but you.

Bucky found himself sitting with you at lunch, looking out the window in the mornings waiting to catch sight of your army green jacket. He’d sit with you in the afternoons as you did your paperwork, steal glances at you ,your forehead always shiny by midday with an almost ever-present patch of acne, eyebrows scrunched together as you filled out mission reports. He loved those quiet moments the most. Bucky wasn’t good with words, not anymore. But he would help carry the 10 pound boxes of paperwork, always bring an extra pen in case yours ran out of ink, and constantly would bring you your favorite Starbucks order. He secretly hoped that you would read the affection behind his actions.

You didn’t usually go to Stark’s parties, you’d rather go to bars and clubs with your friends.

“The crowd at Stark’s parties just aren’t my crowd,” you’d explained with a shrug, toeing the floor with your scuffed sneakers. Bucky had nodded in understanding. They usually weren’t his crowd either, but he’d always go to support Steve, who was pretty much expected to show face.

But for some reason you show up to this party. Four months into your blossoming friendship (and Bucky’s crush). Bucky wasn’t prepared for what you were wearing. When he heard the agents whispering about your unexpected appearance at the party he half expected to see you in jeans and a t- shirt. Or even your cargo pants. At the sound of your name Bucky zeros into the muttered conversation.

“Did you see her?”

“Yeah, damn.”

“Was not expecting that. Or her to even show up. Who knew?”

“She’s kinda hot, not gonna lie. In a weird way”

Bucky turns his head scanning the crowd, heart rate already picking up, fully expecting to see your sweat-pant clad form. He sees you alright. But not in sweatpants. A red dress barely covers your figure. Hemline way above the halfway mark of your thighs and twin slits in the skirt reaching up to your hips. A draping halter neck ties at your neck and completely exposes your back and gives a generous view of your tits. He catches flashes of the curve of your ass as you walk.

In hindsight the dress was totally in line with your character. You didn’t dress the way you did because you were ashamed of your body but rather because you didn’t give a fuck. Your hair is pinned up, one perfect curl escaping your updo and kissing your neck. Bucky feels his heart stop. He spies numerous heads turning as you languidly weave through the crowd in dangerously thin stilettos. You cozy up to one of your agent friends and the two of you drink, giggle, and dance. Bucky can’t take his eyes off of you.

When you head to the balcony he follows.

“Hey,” you say when you spy his shadow darkening the entrance to the balcony.

“Hey,” he gruffs, in a tone he fears is too quiet. But looking at the curve of your exposed back suddenly has his voice dying in his throat. You turn back to looking at the city skyline. Bucky steps forward next to you. Close. Closer than he’s ever been to you, painfully aware of your arms brushing. He can’t fully feel your skin through the long sleeve button down he’s wearing but the touch sets him on fire all the same.

“Needed some air. “ He eventually grumbles. Trying not to stare at your profile. You look at him then, wearing a sly expression he had never seen on you.

“I’m sure you did,”

After that it doesn’t take long for Bucky to gather up the courage after that. Maybe it’s the way you had looked at him on the balcony or the way both male and female agents were sniffing around you at the party. All the same about a week later Bucky finds himself heading to your office in the afternoon as usual, but this time holding a bouquet of flowers.

Afterwards Bucky falls in love with you hard and fast. He finds himself doting on you, taking you out, bringing you flowers and other tokens of his affection. He hears the whispers, it’s almost impossible not to with his super soldier hearing.

“How’d she’d get him,”

“What an odd couple,”

“The Winter Soldier’s with cargo pants?”

But he still holds your hand in public all the same. Stops in the middle of training recruits to kiss you whenever you happen to cut across the gym all the same. Keeps a picture of you in his wallet all the same.

Bucky has never felt this amount of care and comfort from a person since...ever, even before, in his other life. You put his boots by the heater in the winter when he sleeps over so his feet won’t freeze when he walks to the compound. You listen to him, even when he’s angry, raging at nothing, or when he’s sad and sullen, taking minute long pauses in between sentences. Or even when he wants to do nothing but sit in silence and hold you. You especially listen when his words come fast, tinged with self hatred. You reassure him, holding him like he’s fine china. After many late night musings you give him with the best present he’s ever gotten, an impossibly soft kitten who’s uncharacteristically loud purr always grounds him. Bucky finds himself able to open up with you in a way he can’t with anyone else, even Steve. Bucky’s not good with words anymore, but with you he’s amazing. He can’t stop singing your praises, lavishing you with sweet words and adoration.

In hindsight it was a warning.

“Sweetheart, your wallet must be screamin’ for mercy, with you buying this cake nearly everyday,” Bucky says pinching off a piece of the lemon pound cake which is almost always at the corner of your desk. He recognizes the cake from a bakery across the street, and knows its nearly four dollars a slice. You stretch cracking your back, nipples poking through your shirt. Your ever present band shirt had breathed its last breath, and this new shirt is thinner and cropped, and hugs your body closer.

“Not really, I don’t buy it, Tommy hooks me up” you say, shooting him a smile and then returning back to your paperwork.

“Tommy?” Bucky says, and unbidden hot jealousy sears through his chest at the mention of your coworker “He’s always buying you these?”

“Yeah,” you answer, not looking up, and Bucky tells himself to remain calm, unbothered.

He doesn’t.

Later after the subsequent fight and make up Bucky holds you as the two of you sit on his bed.

“I’m sorry,” He says again.

“It’s alright,” you say and somehow your simple words draw the truth out of him.

“I’m just...I- I’m afraid of losing you.”

“I’m afraid of losing you too,” you confess, then pause “Bucky, please be careful with me,”

Your relationship was easy, comforting. The two of you almost never fought, and never grew tired of being with each other. One blissful year turned into two and then five. It was like a dream and Bucky never wanted to wake up.

But reality eventually did.

How closely you guarded your phone should have tipped him off. How you’d constantly declined calls while the two of you were together. The way you almost always got ‘too drunk’ on girls night and would end up crashing at your friend’s place.

The first time it’s sixth months into your relationship on a lazy Saturday. The two of you had ordered pizza and planned to cuddle on the couch and have a movie marathon. You were in the bathroom when your phone had vibrated. Knowing that you would get a notification when the pizza arrived Bucky had looked at your phone. Bucky had felt surprised to see the name Dominos instead of an unsaved number pop up on your screen. Your phone didn’t show the preview of the text like his did. Your phone was still unlocked since you had headed to the bathroom but a few seconds ago, so Bucky tapped to open the text.

Dominos: [Can’t wait to see you again, beautiful]

Bucky’s blood had run cold. He froze, only unfreezing when he realized you were standing next to him.

“We aren’t exclusive!” you had defended.

“What the hell do you mean?” Bucky had growled. At that your face had crumbled, eyes filling with tears.

“You never asked me to be your girl.” you had looked away “We never talked about what we are,”

“Whaddya think we’ve been doing these past months?!” Bucky had yelled back,

“ I don't know. I don’t assume Bucky. Because guys always seem to want to date me, treat me like their girlfriend and then turn around and throw it in my face that they never said I was.” your voice breaks and so does Bucky's anger. He hadn’t been very verbal with you so far. It’s true he never asked you to be his girl, or even verbally on a date. He just thought you both knew. Guilt fills him at the sight of your tear stained face.

“I’m sorry I was just preparing for the inevitable,” you say and turn away. Bucky grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“Well, let me make it clear. I want you to be my girl. I want you to be mine and mine alone.”

Your expression is unfathomable as you wind your arms around his neck.

“I am yours.”

That night you stand in front of Bucky and wordlessly slip out of your sweatpants and t shirt, rendering him speechless. With reverence Bucky’s hands trace your frame and his mouth follows. That night he worships you.

Later, you wrap your arms around him and whisper

“I love you,”

And Bucky knows that he’s done for.

“I love you too sweetheart.” he says, and later still when you’ve fallen asleep Bucky lies awake, stroking the soft contours of your back. He’s done for. And he knows it.

“I’ll be careful,” he whispers.

Reality had tried to wake Bucky gently. Through warning signs that should have been loud and clear especially to an ex assassin. But Bucky had accepted your half baked truths and excuses. He was too far gone off of the drug that was your love to heed the warning signs until reality slapped him- no choked him, awake.

His awakening came in the form of the sight of you on your kitchen counter, a man kneeling in between your spread thighs. The flowers he had bought you on his way back from his mission that had ended early drop to the floor. Bucky freezes. But at the sight of Tommy’s face, cheeks slick with you he loses it. Next thing he realizes that he has his hands around your coworkers throat. But your hand on his shoulder drains the fight out of him, and as Tommy scrambles out of the apartment Bucky crumples to the floor and sobs.

“Why?” He asks and he realizes he’s not just asking about now, but about all the times he’s caught you cheating but didn’t have the strength to leave you.

“Baby” you say and gather him into your arms. He wants to pull away, thrash, yell, but he doesn’t. He just melts into your touch. You make him weak. And at night when he thinks about your excuses and half truths he hates himself for it.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he says, sobs wracking his frame “Five years-did they mean nothing to you?”

“I’m sorry,” you say “I love you,”

At this Bucky pulls away, standing. “Don’t fucking lie to me.” he hisses.

“I’m not,” you say standing “I might lie all the time but I’m not lying about this.” your eyes go soft at the corners, and start to water.

“No. I love you. I adore you. I’d give you anything-everything and you treat me like shit” Bucky spits, there’s a pain in his chest, his heart is breaking “And I just fucking take it, because you make me so fucking weak- and I hate it” another sob ribs from his chest. A part of him thinks that this is his punishment. For all of the terrible things he’s done. Cursed to be in love with someone who will never truly love him back. He looks at you, your hair is in disarray, baggy t shirt, those fucking cargo pants around your ankles. He gives a bitter laugh “Who woulda thought that you would’ve been the one to make me weak.”

“Why? Because I’m not pretty?” hurt flashes across your face then your eyes go hard. Usually Bucky would have been quick to refute any self deprecating words, reassuring you how beautiful he found you, how gorgeous you were. But now he just lifts his chin and looks back at you with the same hard eyes.

“Well I know I’m not pretty.” you shrug, face going strangely expressionless “But you still fell for me all the same. More fool you.” you say, and after a moment continue. “We should break up.”

At this Bucky shatters. Because he knows deep down that even after all of this he still would have taken you back. He still wants to grovel at your feet and plead to try to fix your relationship. But instead he decides to finally choose himself and turns and walks out of the door and out of your life.

Year later he still finds himself looking at your picture in his wallet, the one remnant of you he has left, that he can’t bear to get rid of. On lonely nights where he can’t sleep and can’t stand the coldness of his bed he’ll trace the curve of your smile and wish that you had cared enough to have been careful with him.

Tags:@stephie-senpai@ayeputita@pixierox101@iamwarrenspeace@ dreamgirljere @ufffg@pietrotheavenger @trinityjadec@abbytagg@wastedsummerss@turdblossommm@jimmyisfab@sev7en@hottrashformarvel @superbuckytrash@waidewilson@abbytagg @awkwardfangirl2014 @desir-ae

Bucky only @chamongangae@callmebucky-doll

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #Bucky Barnes #marvel angst #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine #bucky x reader

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bruh-haikyuu · 5 years ago

Note

Yohoo~! Can i request a scenario where s/o is akaashi’s long time crush and v popular in their school, always smiling to people left and right but she’s suicidal and depressed when no one’s around and akaashi discover it one day? I hope you understand what im saying haha, thank you~!

A/N: I hope you enjoy anon! For anyone who feels this way, it’s always better to talk it out rather than bottle it in, I learned this the hard way :’) // I’ve made the reader female, if that’s alright with you!

P.S: next request is a sequel everyone’s been waiting for ;)) can you guess?

tacenda. | akāshi keiji

word count: 1804

warnings: depressive and suicidal themes!

(n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence

16 years old and Akaashi had never seen you cry. Not even once.

He recalled it from the moment he’d known you. From the lengthy days in grade school up until the wee hours in high school. Not a single tear had left the premises of your face.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

When the both of you were in first grade, he had watched you stumble and roll onto the coarse surface of a gravel road. Your knee had gotten helplessly scratched, the injury pulsing with deep, crimson liquid. At the sight of the open wound, your friends had cried and cried, whining about how the indomitable L/N Y/N had been overpowered by a simple road.

Akaashi had watched you from afar that day, the cacophonous cries of your volatile friends pulling his attention away from the family of stag beetles nesting in a tree.

Girls will cry at just about everything, he had thought, the shrillness of your friends’ lament boring into his head. I think Y/N’s going to cry too. I should probably go look for Kaneko-sensei—

“Hey, hey. I’m fine, see? You guys are such crybabies, Rui, Akarin.”

Akaashi’s face had whitened like a blank sheet, unable to correctly register the tone of your voice. Even your friends had stopped crying at your lukewarm reaction.

Your knee had been oozing out blood like a spilled bottle of ketchup, yet there you were, completely impervious to the obvious pain that your wound displayed, laughing and smiling like you always did.

It was from that day that Akaashi realized you were much harder to crack than you seemed to be.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Ten years into the present, Akaashi Keiji still hasn’t had you solved.

Ten years into the present, you were still the well-liked, striking L/N Y/N he had known since he was six. In fact, you were even somewhat more dazzling each day. It didn’t dismiss the thought that you were an indomitable puzzle he was raring to decipher.

“If you ask me, L/N-senpai’s way cooler than any of the boys. Yesterday, she saved me from a speeding car on the way to school!”

“That’s so lucky, Mayumi-chan! Oh man, I would do anything to trade places with you.”

“When she spoke to me, I felt my insides tingle and everything… is that what it’s like to be in the presence of a deity?”

Lunch time was the only tolerating hour for Akaashi to eavesdrop on any of the school’s ongoing sensations without having to be called out for it. Like any other day, one of today’s hot topics was you.

Ears growing bigger by the second, he caught bits and pieces of the astonished first-year girls’ conversation. As they walked off into a corner, he managed to hear something along the lines of ‘beautiful’, ‘goddess’ and ‘confess’—but even that wasn’t new to his ears.

Yes, you were charming, kind-hearted and an absolute delight to be around but that didn’t even bring him closer to the truth behind your impossible perfection. His acquaintance with you from childhood didn’t do him any favors either, which was a downright pain-in-the-ass.

After all, Akaashi figured, if he was finally going to officially proclaim his feelings to you, he’d have to have at least a tiny grain of yours.

“Hey, Akaashi. You’re awfully quiet today. You good, man?” the captain of the volleyball club poked at him, stuffing his face with his second loaf of yakisoba-pan.

Sighing, Akaashi recollected his composure. “I’m alright, Bokuto-san… and please don’t eat while talking, you’ll choke yourself if you do.”

Bokuto said something, mouth full of yakisoba, bread and variants of sauce, but it all fell deaf on Akaashi’s ears because he had already picked up another conversation about you…

“Man, L/N’s trying out for a student council position again this year, right? That girl’s got a mad stamina when it comes to volunteer work.”

“Yeah…”

The conversation seemed to stray into the usual topics, but there was a malicious undertone that kept Akaashi’s ears on guard.

“…But don’t you think she’s just a desperate try-hard? Sometimes, she seems kind of shallow to me…”

‘Shallow’. That was definitely new. It was new, but it was irrefutably wrong.

Akaashi felt acid rising to his head. His teeth bit into his bottom lip, hard enough to possibly draw blood. He wanted to get up. He wanted to get up and beat the crap out of that guy.

But sitting in the spectator’s seat like always, Akaashi could only frown and watch. You were the star of the show and he was your closet fanatic—his abilities limited to throwing you congratulatory roses at every occasion. He would kill to share that spotlight with you.

The cafeteria began to clear up and Akaashi recollected his thoughts before returning to class. Class 2-6 had Modern Literature for last period—Akaashi wondered if his day could get any worse.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Practice ran late again with Bokuto’s persistent pleas for him to set for his ‘new’ variant of a cross spike.

Bokuto-san just wanted to do a cross spike while shouting ‘Hadouken’. Akaashi thought. What’s the difference from his usual spikes? I don’t get it…

Akaashi felt a wrinkle settling on his forehead as he double locked the clubroom for good measure. The captain’s insistence had prevented him from submitting the form for a school bus reservation—in fact, it had been Bokuto’s job in the first place. Akaashi couldn’t blame him though; Bokuto’s image didn’t exactly line up very well with paperwork and the Student Council (unless, of course, if it involved trumpeting about himself in front of its female members).

To his relief, the Student Council office was always open until 8:30 pm. It was now 8:15 pm. It would take him only a couple of minutes to drop off their form in the inbox bin. Then, Akaashi could finally sink himself in the warm clutches of his bathtub, surrounded by steam and the maybe that aromatic bath oil his aunt gifted him from Okinawa…

However, upon noticing the light streaming out of the rectangular, translucent window of the office accompanied with a faint sniffle from within, Akaashi felt his blood run cold.

It’s only 8 pm. It’s impossible. Ghosts don’t roam around student council offices, right…? I hardly think they’d come to this high school either… Oh no. How did that prayer Grandmother taught me go again?

Swallowing sharply, Akaashi’s fingers took the shape of the door handle and he pushed, eye screwed tight against whatever was going to greet him. “S-sorry for the i-intrusion.”

“Akaashi-kun?”

Akaashi let out a guttural noise inside his throat, teeth pinned to a grimace. Pupils adjusting to your slouched figure, he sighed, relieved that you weren’t any form of a Yuki Onna. However, your eyes were bloodshot, hair sticking up in various places. Any traces of your “perfect” appearance had been washed away with the tears that scarred your cheeks.

Looking at you in this state shattered Akaashi.

“I’m sorry.”

Meeting your darkened gaze, Akaashi murmured, “What?”

“I’m a selfish person for saying this, but I don’t want any of it anymore.”

Akaashi didn’t know how he didn’t notice the glint of a silver blade encircled by your fist until you pointed its tip at the upside of your wrist. He didn’t even think by then. He didn’t even think about the reservation form he dropped on the floor. He didn’t even count the steps he took to bound over the meeting table. He didn’t even think about how roughly he yanked your wrist away, knocking the cutter into a dark corner of the room.

He didn’t even think when he shouted, “Don’t!”

You furrowed your brows, palms clenching in resistance to his iron grip. “Are you stupid?!”

Akaashi’s hold on your arms slackened at your words, but he knew better than to let you go.

“I can’t take it anymore. It’s all too much!” more tears clump at your eyes, threatening to spill on Akaashi’s uniform slacks. “I tried! I tried to make everyone happy, but all they did was hurt me. It’s all my fault I’m like this. Please let me go, Akaashi-san…”

Your voice grew soft as your cries receded into gentle hiccups swaying in the windless room.

“Please let me end this…”

Akaashi felt the same acid from this afternoon bubble in his throat again, but this time he made sure it spewed. “Are you stupid, L/N-san? You can’t make others’ happy unless you’re happy yourself. Everyone knows that, you idiot!”

Akaashi felt his insides crumble as soon as his head registered the fact that he had called you, the most popular second-year at Fukuroudani, an idiot. But at least his words had stunned you so deeply you fell silent.

“Do things that make you happy, L/N-san,” he spilled, filter for words dissolved into nothingness. “It’s okay to take breaks and say no. Talk it out with someone you’re comfortable with. I’m even more positive that your friends will be happier if you were honest with them about your feelings. But doing things like…”

Akaashi’s attention caught the teasing shine of the cutter next to a potted plant.

“…this, would just make them miserable, won’t it? You may not see it, but everyone admires you. I admire you too. I would give anything to be like you. Kind, patient and all the more charming… You may not see it, but a lot of people are already happy just with your existence. That was you, L/N-san. You made them happy.”

Your gaze turned to that of a defeated puppy. A stray tear rolling down your cheek, you slid your arms down to take Akaashi’s hands in yours. In the midst of all the tension, his hands really felt like a warm bowl of miso soup. You really wanted to drink it all up to a finish.

“I’m really sorry for all the trouble I caused you, Akaashi-san.”

“It’s alright. Sorry for calling you an ‘idiot’,” saying more things than necessary really tired him out, but his energy really knew no bounds when it came to you.

“I-I’m really sorry, ‘Kaashi-san…’M really s-sorry…”

The hiccups returned and the dam to the waterworks burst at the linger of your voice. Despite all your trembling, Akaashi made it a point to hold you like he was never going to let go. If he had known from long ago, he’d tell you every day that he loved you, regardless if the feeling was mutual or not.

But he didn’t say a word for the length of the evening that he held you. His embrace seemed loud as it already was.

Akaashi Keji was 16 years old when he first saw you cry. And he was only 16 years old when he promised he was never going to let you feel that way ever again.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji imagine #akaashi keiji scenario #sfw #fukurodani x reader #bruh haikyuu writing #akaashi x rader #keiji x reader

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cyn-00 · 5 years ago

Text

Moreid one shot, 16 - "light of his life"

This isn't inspired by any episode, although it is kind of a sequel to my One shot 6 (around seasons 7/8). For those of you who haven't read it/don't remember it, in that fic Morgan's sister Sarah mentioned to him that he should ask Reid to come over for dinner. It isn't an actual sequel - this is a one-shots series after all ;)

Also: in my magic, fictional world where Moreid is real, there's no such thing as hetero-normativity. I'll never spend time writing about Morgan and Reid's past coming out, or the others' reaction, or whatever. Sometimes you'll find references to the fact that they're hesitant to show affection in public but that's about it - and I imagine it's because they don't feel comfortable doing so in a working context, not out of being afraid of discrimination :)

This is the longest one I've written so far lmao bear with me ily. (future me says: wait until u read number 20. Oh, little did I know...future me also says: I added a couple dialogues and other stuff)

Read it on AO3

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"Boy Wonder." Garcia's equally teasing and scolding voice came from the other side of Reid's phone.

"Hey Garcia" he greeted her, trying to sound as non-chalant as possible.

"Were you not gonna tell me? Was I supposed to find out from JJ??"

Spencer sighed. He should've known better than to tell JJ about him going to Derek's family home for dinner. He took a wild guess probably everyone on the team knew now.

"I'm- I'm sorry, alright? I have no excuse."

"No you don't! Especially not the cliché excuse where you say 'I forgot' because your eidetic-memory-cute-little-butt would never forget about such a thing!"

Spencer chuckled shaking his head. "Fine but, now that you know, please don't tell me you called to say how 'cute' it is or whatever, because JJ thought of doing that already."

"...well...ok then, plan B. You genius managed to burst my little bubble of "aww how cute"s in a fraction of second."

"...sorry ? again." he said in a confused tone.

"Nuh-uh don't think for a minute that you got rid of me so easily. I have another million yet un-burst little bubbles of topics you and I HAVE to discuss before you meet your in-laws."

"My wh-"

"FOR INSTANCE your outfit." Penelope raised her voice to interrupt him before he could tell her not to call Derek's family his "in-laws", because it freaked him out.

"...well for that I could actually use a little help." Spencer replied, staring helplessly at his half unpacked go-bag.

"Wait...you DID bring something NICE, didn't you?"

No response from Spencer.

"Oh. My. God. I can't belive this. Spencer, could it BE more obvious? Derek being totally in love with you + mentioning that his family wanted to invite you over to dinner + case in Chicago?? So much for being a math genius, huh"

Still no response from Spencer. "Derek being totally in love with you". He was smiling so hard he thought Penelope could FEEL it through the phone. His brain got stuck to that point in her phrase - he didn't even bother wondering how she knew that Derek had already mentioned it a month or so before.

"...uhm, hello? Earth to Doctor Spencer Reid?"

"Yeah- I'm- I'm sorry Garcia it's really late I have to go, thank you for your precious advice, you're the best." he finally answered in a rush.

"Wh- but I didn't even GET to-" he hung up before she could finish the sentence.

That phrase from earlier triggered a sudden realization in Spencer's mind: Derek could probably not care less about what he was gonna wear. The important thing to him, was that he'd show up. And it was late, so he had to get it out of his head - it wasn't like some kind of breaking news that Derek loved him, anyway. Spencer knew it, deep down. Even if it was still hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that SSA Derek Morgan, the hot chocolate, the hunk, the ladies' man - pfft, yeah, right? - was in love with him.

That very thought escaped his brain only to make space for another one, just as paranoid, inconclusive and time-consuming: Penelope was right, wasn't she.

Derek always made time to visit his family everytime they had a case in Chicago, before going back to Quantico; it was a known fact amongst the team. Plus, the others didn't mind spending an extra half-day in the city to go out or - more realistically - crash in their hotel rooms.

So if you take that, and add the fact that Sarah had hinted to Derek to invite Spencer for dinner sometime; you get that Penelope was right. EVEN if Derek could've asked with a little more advance - instead of that same morning - and EVEN if, at the time Derek had told him about that conversation with his sister, Spencer hadn't really said a clear "yes". He hadn't said "no" either, to be fair.

Also, one would guess Spencer should've just been prepared for it, sooner or later, right? After all, Derek and him had been dating for... well, he wasn't quite sure. Not because he didn't remember: of course he remembered their first kiss, their first "date" - or whatever you call it when two people see each other outside of work - the first time they had kinda-but-not-really expressed their feelings for each other, the first time they had slept together. So, which one of those should he take in consideration to determine how long they'd been dating? Or maybe it was a matter of guessing an average out of all those parameters? Spencer had always had troubles trying to pinpoint that.

Anyway. None of those thoughts were helping him to decide which one of the 3 shirts displayed on the mattress he was going to wear that night. If not a whole "nice" outfit, he could've at least packed Derek's favorite shirt, just to be sure. He didn't even know why that was his favorite: it was just a pale lilac button-up. He said that the fact that it hung a bit too loose on his shoulders and arms, and had to roll up the sleeves once or twice, gave him permission to fantasize that it was his shirt, worn by Spencer - which, by the way: he could simply say he'd like Spencer to wear his shirts. He definitely wouldn't mind doing that. And ultimately, aside from this whole reverie of Derek's: it was still a damn pale lilac button-up a couple sizes too big.

Spencer checked his watch for the fifth time in the last 20 minutes: 7:15 pm. Derek was gonna knock on his hotel room door in 15.

He chose to keep it elegant but subtle, finally picking a blue-ish grey shirt, to pair with black jacket and slacks, trying to go with his gut - whatever that meant. Derek always told him to "feel" stuff. He probably didn't mean him to apply it to such a shallow thing like picking which fricking shirt to wear, though.

He quickly got out of his sweats and put the outfit on, looking at himself in the mirror.

Shit. The tie. The question wasn't even WHICH tie, rather: with or without tie?

Spencer came to the most logical and well-thought decision he'd made during that whole outfit-picking process: if he'd chosen to wear a tie, he would've had to spend another 15 minutes choosing which one. So, no tie. However, he wasn't used to not wearing one, so he tried not to stare too long in the mirror observing how strange he looked - and felt - without it.

He left the first two buttons of the shirt undone, and tried to un-mess his hair up - "c'mon I love your messy hair!", Derek's words popped into Spencer's head, making him giggle as he proceeded to put his shoes on.

He didn't even have the time to take one last look at the whole situation in the mirror, that he heard a knock on the door.

"Fuck." he gasped to himself.

"Coming!" he said as he quickly made his way to the door, jogging back and forth every 5 seconds to pick up pieces of clothing spread out on the floor and go back to squeeze them into his bag.

Derek waited in front of that damn door for what felt like 30 minutes.

He kept his eyes down at his feet and his hands in the pockets of his pants, as he tried to decipher the sounds coming from inside Spencer's room.

Much to his frustration, he spent the waiting time regretting having asked only that morning. He had actually done it on purpose to ask with little to no advance, so that Spencer couldn't say "no", knowing he'd be afraid to sound rude if he didn't accept. He didn't force him to do anything, though: Derek was 100% sure that he wanted to meet his family as his actual boyfriend - because he had met them a few times before, first as his co-worker, later as his best friend.

He was just trying to make the decision-making easier for him, coming to terms with the fact that he DID want to meet them a little quicker than he would have if Derek had asked him days and days before, hence had way too much time to think and rethink and go all paranoid.

Anyway, as it turned out, even that tactic had a couple of downsides: first of all, Spencer would've felt tenfold more nervous because of the lack of time to process the thing; second - which was a direct consequence of the former - it would've taken him a million years to get ready, leaving Derek out in the hallway for 5 minutes straight.

"Hey!" Spencer finally opened the door, nervously running his tongue in between his lips and adjusting his hair behind his ears. He also looked slightly out of breath.

"Hi" Derek greeted him back, smiling warmly. It took him a few seconds to realize what was standing in front of him. His man, looking handsome in those clothes.

He walked inside the room and turned around, watching Spencer as he closed the door. He gradually got closer and closer to him, forcing him to pull back until he was caged in between his broad body and the door, with no way out.

Derek placed a hand on his own hip and leaned against the door with his other forearm, just above Spencer's head. He bit his bottom lip in the attempt to stop smiling, staring carefully up and down at every inch of his boyfriend's fineness.

"How dare you" he murmured, knowing that Spencer understood perfectly that he was referring to how outrageously and disrespectfully good he looked.

"W- what are you talking about?" Spencer asked, playing dumb, courageously staring back right into Derek's deep eyes and not even making the slightest effort to contain his furious blush.

Derek didn't answer, instead he reached a hand toward Spencer's jaw, teasingly stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. He was inching closer definitely too slowly for Spencer's liking, to be completely honest.

Derek finally pushed his body against his, making Spencer's back produce a light smashing-like sound against the wooden door. He gasped in all the air he needed before making their lips collide dangerously, forcing a surprised moan out of Spencer's lungs.

"Mmhh...now... t's clear what you're...talking mm'bout" Spencer mumbled teasingly against his lips.

He wrapped his strong arms all around Spencer's body, as if it was threatening to fall on the floor, unravelling his hot tongue inside his mouth at last.

Derek's lips ran down to his jaw, allowing Spencer to catch his breath and his arms to finally grab onto him as his head fell back, hitting the door.

The second his mouth reached his ear, slightly biting his lobe, Spencer realized he couldn't take anymore of that without risking to rip off with his bare hands every single layer of clothing Derek was wearing.

"Ok w- wait, Derek wait a sec" he breathed out, unable to keep his eyes open and aware.

"Mhmh" Derek hummed unbothered, as the tip of his wet tongue brushed on the warm spot beneath Spencer's earlobe, before sucking it into his mouth.

"Ohw fuck- no s- seriously we're already late"

Derek suddenly stopped like Spencer had pushed a "OFF" button. He'd totally forgotten the reason why he got there in the first place, being so distracted by making his boyfriend's head spin and his body squirm uncontrollably.

"Holy shit. You're right." he said checking his watch, without pulling back from Spencer's body even a quarter of an inch.

After a few seconds of silence, while they rested their foreheads against one another to catch their breaths, Spencer spoke up.

"Believe me, I wouldn't have stopped you if it wasn't so important to me."

Derek distanced his face a little in order to look at him. "It is?" he asked with a sparkle in his eyes. "It's important to you?"

"Yes. I really want them to see us together like this." Spencer said smiling softly, caressing Derek's cheek.

"...well maybe not like this " the other answered chuckling, breaking the romantic mood Spencer's words and demeanor had set.

"Yeah right- you know what I mean!"

"I know." Derek concluded nodding, pecking at Spencer's already flushed lips one last time before letting go of him.

"It took me 30 minutes to come up with a decent outfit and you messed it up in 5, that's rude to say the least." Spencer said after a while, adjusting his hair and tucking his shirt back inside his pants.

"I'm sorry pretty boy, but you kinda asked for it." Derek justified himself, shrugging mockingly at him.

"...could say the same thing of you, though." he replied murmuring, not sure if he wanted Derek to hear him or not.

"What was that?" the other asked, even if having heard crystal clear, in fact.

"What?"

Derek snorted, inching once again very, very close.

"Baby, you're only making it worse, you must know that right?" he whispered with a smirk.

Spencer didn't answer, too busy looking at Derek's lips as he ran his tongue in between his.

"And, you're standing in my way."

Spencer frowned and shifted his gaze down, noticing Derek's hand was on the doorknob behind him: he was, indeed, standing in his way. He shot him a glare and stepped aside, so they could finally get out of the room.

The realization that they were about to have dinner with Derek's family as a couple fell onto him once again, out of the blue, easing whatever bit of heat was left inside his pants.

30 minutes later or so, they got to Derek's house. The car ride was strangely silent, probably because they were both nervous - even Derek was, a bit. He was just better at hiding it.

He parked the car and turned it off, deciding to wait a little before getting out. He looked over to Spencer, whose eyes were staring blankly at the small house outside.

"Hey," Derek spoke softly, placing his warm hand on his thigh in the hope to calm him down a little.

Spencer turned his head toward him as soon as he felt his touch, revealing quite an anxious look.

"It's gonna be great. And I bet I'm gonna find myself saying something like 'I told you so'." Derek tried to lift the mood, not needing him to say anything to gather what was troubling him. Still, he paused right after, letting him have the time to say it nonetheless.

"...what if they don't like me?" Spencer finally asked, his voice small and a little trembly.

"They already love you. I can guarantee you that."

"Yeah but I mean, what if they don't like me... this way? With you?" Spencer explained further, trusting that Derek understood what his main concern was. Which wasn't the possibility that they wouldn't like him as a person - because they did, as Derek said and as he already knew. It was the possibility that they wouldn't like him as his romantic partner. As his boyfriend.

"Spencer... they know already that we're together, you know that right? It's not news to them." Derek said furrowing his brows. "and they're not just 'ok' with it, they love it. This. Us." he added reassuringly, pointing between the two of them with his finger.

Spencer simply nodded in response, getting back to looking down at his knees.

Derek shifted in his seat to lean closer, moving his hand from Spencer's thigh to his chin to lift it.

"Baby look at me." he murmured. His heart swelled when Spencer followed the order, giving him puppy eyes.

"I love you. And they love you as much as I do. So they will love us too, for sure. Alright?"

"Alright." Spencer finally spoke, a shy smile on his pretty face.

"...I partly take that back though. Not possible for anybody else to love you as much as I do." Derek concluded on a cheesy note, winking and giving him his signature smile.

Spencer chuckled, refraining from face-palming and choosing instead to simply shake his head.

They finally got out of the car, after that 10 minute pep-talk. Derek made his way around it to reach Spencer, holding out his hand toward him.

Spencer looked at him, shifting his eyes back and forth between Derek's hand and his smiling face. He sighed, acting annoyed, when actually he thought it was very cute of him to decide they'd get to the front door holding hands.

He took it and crossed his fingers with Derek's, clenching it tight to try and lessen his anxiety.

When they arrived at the door - standing beside one another, but Derek a few inches ahead of him - Spencer inadvertently squeezed his hand even more the moment Derek rang the bell.

"Derek! My boy!" Fran opened the door only a couple of seconds later - she'd been probably waiting on them for quite a while - with a wide, shiny smile on her face. Each time he'd seen that smile over the years, Spencer got more and more convinced of whom Derek must have got it from. And he could only thank her for it.

A few moments after, Sarah and Desirée joyfully came to the door as well, the younger one clapping her hands and squealing a loud "yes!" as soon as she saw the couple holding hands. Spencer's whole body was blushing, but he was genuinely happy to be there, with Derek.

"Hey mama!" Derek greeted back entering the house, letting go of Spencer's hand to hug his mom and kiss her forehead, with a smile just as shiny as hers if not more.

"Oh, Spencer, it's so good to see you! Come here," she said closing the door, right before spreading her arms to hug him. She was so small even compared to his skinny frame, Spencer could only imagine how tiny she must have felt in Derek's strong arms.

"It's good to see you too, Mrs Morgan." he smiled back, a little embarrassed because, even if it was from his boyfriend's mother, it was still a hug after all.

"Oh please, don't call me that. You make me feel old!" she pleaded arching her brows, while the two greeted and hugged Derek's sisters as well.

"Old? You look younger than your own son!" Spencer joked.

"Uh excuse me, what side are you on now??" Derek replied, playfully messing Spencer's hair by untucking a strand of it with his fingers to let it fall over his face, causing him to scrunch his nose in that way. The others laughed affectionately at them.

The three women led the way toward the dining room, enveloped in a warm, homely light.

Spencer waited a second to sit down, letting the others choose their spots. Desirée and Sarah sat next to each other, asking that him and Derek mirror them; while their mom - who had temporarily excused herself to check on the food in the kitchen - was of course entitled to the seat at the head of the table.

Dinner proceeded serenely, between some small talk about their tough job and a lively laugh at some joke Derek or Desirée said. Anyone who had spent even just as little as 10 minutes in that house, could tell with zero doubts that those two where the pranksters of the family.

The food was so good, the company even better. No one had brought up any embarrassing topics, nor had made Spencer feel out of place or looked at him weirded out, whenever he'd thrown some of his beloved facts and infos in the conversation: he was struggling to believe it wasn't all a dream.

He used to always remind Derek how lucky he was to have a family like that, but he'd never stood by that statement so much like in that moment. And Derek had clearly noticed it, by how much he was enjoying himself.

At a certain point though, after God knows how many half hours had passed, when they had finished eating and were enjoying the faint inebriating effect of the wine, Sarah asked the question.

"So...since Derek has never really answered this clearly, and since your memory is kind of a big deal right? I'm gonna try and ask you..." she started, staring at Spencer with a grin on her face, keeping both him and Derek on their toes.

"...how did it happen?? Like, who confessed and when?"

"Sis we already talked about this!" Derek said face-palming, dramatically leaning back on his chair resigned to the fact that she would never stop asking until she was fed every teeny tiny detail.

"Shush! She's right, you never gave a legit answer!" Desirée added, coming to her sister's aid.

"Well, it's just fair that he hasn't given a clear answer because it's not easy to determine exactly when the 'confession' happened, cause there have always been a lot of...let's say mixed signals from both parts through the years, for lack of a better word" Spencer started. "but first of all I can safely say that Derek was the one who confessed first, and I guess that's kinda obvious being the confident, cocky kind of guy I think we can all agree that he is." he paused his narrative, turning his head to look at Derek's reaction while he accused him of being those things.

"Alright alright, I'll give you that. Keep going." Derek nodded smugly, shifting in his seat closer to Spencer to stretch his arm on the backrest of his chair.

"What's ironic though is, that it actually happened while we were FIGHTING, about a thing that happened on the job - which I'm not gonna elaborate cause I feel like 4 years, 1 month and 21 days later, he's STILL mad at m- hey! " Spencer got interrupted by a light hand-smack on his nape from Derek.

" 'Course I'm still mad at you, smartass!!"

"Alright, fair enough, point is," he cleared his voice in the attempt to stop chuckling. "point is, we had a big fight, and then Derek just...he just said it, out of nowhere." Spencer shrugged in conclusion to his story-telling, lowering his voice on that last bit, while drawing circles on the empty wine glass with his thumb.

There were a few seconds of complete silence, during which Derek stared at Spencer's perfect side profile, absorbed in that... life-changing memory he'd just brought back. "Life-changing" was the right adjective because he remembered very well that it hadn't been all good. But - seeing how things were now going between Spencer and him - certainly not even all bad. It sure as hell had changed their lives, though.

"See? It's not like I came dressed in white with a carriage and asked him to dance, lemme tell you we were fucking MAD at each other!" Derek broke the silence, speaking to his sisters.

"Alright, you could've just told us!" his mom replied among a choir of laughs, too amused by the comment to bother about the cuss that had slipped out of his son's mouth.

"Well I don't exactly strike as the dancer type, so with all due respect you guys could've easily ruled that out from the beginning!" Spencer added jokingly, supporting his boyfriend's thesis.

"You don't- what?? You asked me to dance just about a couple weeks ago at JJ's wedding, who're you tryna fool, genius??" Derek loved to joke around about that episode.

"But that's different! Slow dancing at weddings isn't dancing per say, that's common knowledge."

" 'common knowledge', blablabla, a'ight, we get it, you're the smartest in the room." Derek kept mocking him, rolling his eyes and air-quoting the words "common knowledge".

He reached his hand out to place it on the back of Spencer's head, affectionately running his slim fingers through his soft curls. "I'm still convinced you're a pretty good dancer." he added softly.

Spencer finally shifted his look from the glass to Derek's eyes, trying to hide his smile.

"That's not an unbiased opinion, though"

Derek's brows shot up. "Oh you're right, I forgot that you're my handsome, smart boyfriend for a second there. I do have a couple bias."

Spencer shot him a look that said: Jesus Christ, Derek. His cheeks could've easily melted like candle wax and he was about to fall off his chair from hearing that answer, so the stabbing glance was only fair - Spencer was clearly not yet worrying about the 100% worth probability of Derek later mentioning how "cute" and "adorable" his reaction and expression were in that moment. "You're lucky I didn't sprinkle that face of yours with kisses in front of everyone, pretty boy" he always said.

The three women didn't even try to interrupt that moment, absolutely struck by their chemistry. If anyone was still wondering how in the world two people so different like them could be a couple, it must've been because they hadn't yet seen a playful banter between those two like the one Desirée, Sarah and Fran had just witnessed. It was like watching a movie.

"Oh my! It's so late. You two should probably get back if you wanna get some sleep before your flight tomorrow." Fran pointed out half-heartedly, checking the clock hung on the wall in front of the table.

"You're right ma'. Though it's not like we get much sleep with this job anyway..." Derek added dry-wittingly and with a deep sigh, as he checked his own watch, too: it was around 10 pm. Not even so late if it were a normal day of work in Quantico, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. They had to drag their asses on the jet at 5 am the next morning.

Spencer was brought back to reality when they mentioned work, but mostly when Derek's warm fingers until then drawing patterns on his scalp abruptly pulled back; leaving him mentally complaining.

"Do you need help in the kitchen?" he asked Fran politely, seeing her standing up from her chair and starting to pile up the dishes.

"No baby c'mon, that's my job." Derek immediately dismissed the other's offer, before his mother had even had the time to do that herself; getting up too while subtly caressing Spencer's cheek with his knuckles.

The two managed to gather all the dirty dishes and glasses and cutlery in one run, and headed to the kitchen, leaving there a blushing Spencer - calling him "baby" in front of his family? Dear God - alone with Derek's sisters, in what he anticipated to be an awkward situation.

After an unsettling amount of seconds, Desirée's almost whispering voice breached through the silence, as if afraid of being heard from the other room.

"Ok so, the most important question now is-"

"Desi, come on!!" Sarah tried to stop her from asking what she was about to ask, lightly hitting her forearm with her hand.

"What?? You wanna know too, don't play innocent all of a sudden!" she lowered her voice once again, shifting her attention back to Spencer in front of her.

"As I was saying, question is... has he proposed yet? "

Spencer's brain stopped working - if that was even possible, for the genius with an IQ of 187. He should've expected such a question - should he, though? Really?? What the hell.

"No! No he- we've never talked about it, I don't- I don't know what he thinks of it, I don't even know what I think, to be honest" Spencer was having the hardest time putting his words together. If the topic had been marriage in general, he would've undoubtedly started blurting out statistics until everyone's ears were bleeding. But they were talking about Derek and his hypothetical marriage: he hadn't rehearsed for that one.

How was it possible that in all the years they'd been together, the thought of getting married hadn't even brushed his mind? Or Derek's? Was it a bad sign? Or maybe Derek HAD thought about it but was afraid of rejection? Wow. Yet another paranoid thought to haunt him now. Thank you, Desirée.

"But how's that possible?? You're literally the light of his life, I don't understand..." Sarah shared her thought out loud, crossing her arms and staring at an undefined spot on the table cloth, as if the lace embroideries could give her tangible answers to the question.

Spencer's smile was impossible to control now. He tried, he really did, but that night it seemed like they were all daring him to melt on the floor.

"Girls, don't steal him! I know he's pretty but he's MY pretty boy alright?" Derek's loud voice came from the kitchen, from where he could hear his sisters' bickering but couldn't decipher what they were saying - luckily.

Derek's comment was probably about the twentieth proof of what stated before - they were literally RACING on who would get Spencer's face to catch fire first.

Fran laughed at Derek's scolding, shaking her head.

"Well, for what it's worth, he really is gorgeous if you ask me." she said, finishing to wash the last fork and passing it to him so he could wipe it dry with a cloth.

"That makes two of us." Derek replied. "Actually a lot more than two, so I'm very lucky." he added, after being distracted by that thought for a few seconds.

"He's lucky too, you know? To have you in his life." his mom assured, affectionately stroking her son's shoulder with her small hand.

Derek sighed, finishing to dry the dishes out and rolling the sleeves of his button-up shirt back down to his wrists. "I don't know mama. Sometimes I feel like he's getting tired of me."

"Oh baby that's not possible, trust me. I've dated a bunch of guys when I was young, and the ones who looked at me like Spencer looks at you were the ones I had to dump because they never would have in a thousand years." she paused. "...until I met your father, and then we both looked at each other like that. Just like you two do." she concluded in a nostalgic tone, forcing a sad smile out of him.

"...have you asked him yet?" she changed the topic, after a long silence.

"Asked what?" Derek answered with a question, frowning.

"...to marry you? "

"What?? Mom, I don't know if- we've never even mentioned it- Jesus mama we don't even live together yet!" he replied, even more confused than before he got asked, trying to keep his voice low.

"Alright! No need to fuss like that! Take your time. But you should at least think about it, if you really wanna know what your mother thinks." she winked, before finally getting back to the other room, leaving Derek full of questions he didn't even know he had in the first place.

Spencer entered the small kitchen, holding Derek's leather jacket in his hand.

"You done?" he asked, handing it to him as Derek turned around to face him.

The man nodded in response, putting the jacket on.

"I wanna hear you say it." he then said, grinning at him with his arms folded on his chest.

"...say what?" Spencer asked, as if he didn't know what Derek wanted to hear, non-chalantly leaning against the counter.

Derek made a step closer, grabbing his jaw in one hand and trapping him between said counter and his hips.

"Just say it" he repeated, this time murmuring a few inches from his face.

Spencer tried to avoid his eyes, but it was almost impossible. Considering how he'd been kissed senseless against the door earlier in his hotel room, Spencer should've known better than to stand between Derek's body and whatever other vertical surface. He would never admit he didn't want to learn that lesson.

"...you were right." he finally confessed in a sigh, trying to contain his smile.

"Yes." Derek let out a whispered exult, before ultimately erasing that bit of space left between their lips. He cupped the back of Spencer's neck to prevent him from hitting the crown of his head against the metal handle of the cabinet above. Or to prevent him from escaping his mouth, whichever option one deems more realistic.

They kissed slowly and secretly, both struggling to stop the giggles and little smiles from interrupting it every 5 seconds, making it impossible for their tongues to keep prolonged contact.

The moment Spencer was starting to get carried away just enough to wrap his arms around Derek's neck, they heard an intentional fit of coughing coming from the threshold of the door.

They quickly and embarrassedly took their hands off of each other and turned around to face Sarah.

"Uhm, guys, it's starting to rain..." she said with a slight cringe on her face.

"Nice." Derek sighed. He took Spencer's hand and led the way out of the room and toward the front door.

They hugged and said their goodbyes to the three women, and Derek opened the door, letting Spencer out first.

His mom grabbed his arm before he could close the door behind his back. "Think about it." she mouthed, winking at her son.

Derek snorted and rolled his eyes in response.

When he stepped out and turned around, he saw Spencer looking blankly in front of them, sheltered by the porch, righteously frozen in spot and gaping: it wasn't simply "starting to rain". It was like someone from up there was literally pouring the whole Lake Michigan over their heads.

They exchanged a resigned look, before deciding unanimously to run toward the car, luckily parked only 30 ft away from the house.

"Shit." Spencer cursed under his breath when they finally got into the car, soaked from head to toe.

"Yeah" Derek agreed. "Maybe we can wait a lil until this mess calms down before heading back, what do you say?" he asked rhetorically.

"Most definitely." Spencer replied chuckling, tucking his wet hair behind his ears.

They stayed silent for a few minutes, listening to the relaxing sound of the water running down the windshield, making it absolutely impossible to distinguish the shapes of whatever was outside.

"So, uhm" Spencer broke the silence, interrupting himself immediately after to sigh annoyedly at his failed attempt to wipe dry his drooling-wet forehead with the sleeve of his equally wet jacket. He wanted to talk about that thing before he could lose any sleep over it.

"...your sisters asked me a question that left me...honestly, I don't even know if there's a word to describe my reaction in that moment." he continued, now pinching with his fingers the pants sticking to his thigh.

Derek's heart rate started to increase uncontrollably. He didn't say anything, letting Spencer finish, to have actual proof that he was gonna say what he thought he was gonna say; and just then, could legitimately freak out.

"Desirée asked if you had proposed yet." Spencer said straight up, still struggling to believe that he'd actually received such a question. "I didn't know how to justify the fact that neither of us has thought about it yet. I mean, should we have thought about it? Is it- is it an option? I don't even know I just- I don't know. I don't know what to think about this so please tell me that you have a vague idea of what to do with that question." Spencer finished talking, leaving Derek speechless. Now, he had the right to freak out.

Derek let his forehead drop on the steering wheel, chuckling to himself - he didn't even know where to start.

"A'ight, uhm...mom asked me, too." he finally confessed, pulling himself together just enough to sit up straight again. "I don't know if it was all calculated, but it wouldn't be surprising if it was, now would it?"

"Definitely not." Spencer replied laughing.

Derek cleared his voice and got a little more serious. "Of course I told her I didn't ask you to marry me... yet. I guess. Dammit, I don't know, am I supposed to know?"

"I don't know!"

"How are we even gonna talk about it if we don't know? She told me to 'think about it', think about what??" Derek was freaking out way more than Spencer was, which was the most unexpected turn of events ever.

"Ok Derek stop for a second." Spencer said in a soothing tone, turning slightly to his left to look at him better as he grabbed his hand. Derek quieted down and stared deep into his boyfriend's gentle eyes, entwining their fingers together.

"It's hard to picture it because of our job. That's literally the whole point. The only point, to be fair, cause- look, I don't know if I wanna get married, what I know is that I...I think I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with you...you know? It sounds cheesy I know, but there's no other proper way to say it..."

Spencer's words calmed Derek down. He let go of his hand to caress the back of his neck, staring silently at him as his smart brain formulated the next things to say.

"and- and maybe, in the future, when the job and everything else falls into place...maybe we could consider signing a piece of paper, I guess. But the point is that if you asked me in this exact moment I'd say yes because- because yes, I want to be with you- but there's no pressure what so ever cause this is what I think and maybe I'm not making any sense to you right now and you don't ever wanna get married or...or be with me forever and- and it's ok, I'm just tryna figure my thoughts out-"

"Kid. It does. It makes sense to me, too. All of it." Derek was the one speaking sensibly now. He leaned closer and started to run his fingers through Spencer's damp hair to relax him.

"...do you want me to give you statistics about divorces within the first 3 years of marriage in homosexual couples?" Spencer asked after a few seconds of silence, though it wasn't so much a question rather an excuse to put a halt to the gears overdriving in his mind.

Derek burst into such a glee, beautiful sounding laugh, Spencer was on the verge of swooning. He swore if saying lame jokes was the way to hear that laugh 24 hours a day, he would've recorded himself saying them and played them to him non-stop. That was husband material, no doubt.

"Baby, you know I'm always here to listen to your ramblings, but I really don't think we should be discussing divorces before even having got married, what do you think?" the man said eventually, once his laugh had quieted down.

Even having predicted such an answer, the words Derek said and the way he said them didn't fail to make Spencer giggle and flush - a downside to his attempted teasings he'd found himself fall into a quadrillion times during the years. Another of many lessons he wasn't quite willing to learn.

After that, they stayed in silence for a while, staring into each other's eyes. From the sound of it, they noticed the rain had almost completely settled down.

Spencer timidly inched forward and laid a kiss on the corner of Derek's lips.

"I love you." he whispered, before placing his palm behind his neck to push him deeper into his mouth.

The moment Spencer pronounced those words and blessed him with one of his sugar-kisses, Derek started to contemplate that if spending the rest of his days with that man meant wet-making out in the car; and cozy family dinners, awkward questions included; and that sweet voice of his endlessly pouring his smart - oh, so smart - brain out to him at 3 am; and velvet tongue healing his bruised skin; and slow dancing even if it wasn't "dancing per say"; and feather-like fingers drawing goosebumps underneath his clothes; and being unable to stay angry at such a gorgeous face for too long - then he could've signed that piece of paper right there, right then.

When he woke up from that thought, Derek realized that the gap between their car seats that was keeping their bodies apart was starting to bother him. He pulled out of that tongue-melting kiss.

"We should get going now that it's not raining anymore." he said breathily.

Spencer nodded, swallowing the rich taste Derek's mouth left into his. "Yeah." he shivered. " 'm starting to get cold..."

Derek started the car, smirking as Spencer's words prompted a very specific thought to crawl its way into his head.

"We could keep warm actually doing that thing we were about to do earlier in your room."

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tvntae · 6 years ago

Text

She’s Too Clingy 12

Reader x Min Yoongi

Plot: Yoongi seems to always take his frustrations out on you. Have you finally reached your boiling point?

Genre: Angst. Happy ending maybe?

Word Count: 2.7k

///.

It was pitch dark out when You and Yoongi finally got into your car. You’d made a quick stop to the convenient store as promised, to pick up a few snacks. Yoongi wouldn’t leave without buying a case of beer so you picked that up as well. You had your suspicions as to why he was so adamant over getting the beers but, you let it go. Choosing to just stay positive and let Yoongi have his way, as per usual. Maybe a few beers wouldn’t be so bad. It will at least be something to calm your nerves. You were a little skeptical about having Yoongi over and it was just so late out. He might end up passing out and you wouldn’t have a choice but to allow him to sleep over. And Yoongi hated the couch, it gave him terrible back and neck pains, so you’d have no choice but to give up your nice, comfortable, warm bed for the old, hard, cold couch you even hated sitting on sometimes. Sleeping together in the bed wasn’t a choice for you. Hopefully, Yoongi wasn’t thinking about drinking a little more than usual tonight. Because, when he does he can get a little too touchy. And little touches turn into other things. You didn’t have the time to be seduced by Yoongi tonight. Not yet anyway. Not at all.

“Hey, Soju or Hite, maybe?” Yoongi ponders which brand of alcoholic beverages to buy. Asking you as if you could decipher between the taste. You weren’t the drinker, he was. All you wanted were some Biscuit Oreo Sticks and some Honey Butter Chips. Just ya know... normal snacks. You exhale a sigh of relief once you notice Yoongi takes your silence as disinterest and picks up Soju. It will pair great with those honey chips you have in your cart, though, so you can’t complain.

Yoongi offered to pay for you, again. Though you are a little tight on money, you didn’t feel comfortable for him to pay for you a second time tonight. You two always agreed to take turns paying. Equality, you called it. He laughed in your face, of course. Saying something along the lines of ‘men are always supposed to pay, it’s just the way the world works.’ Well, not in your world. You didn’t want Yoongi to think you were that broke. I mean, you were that broke but he didn’t need to know that.

Because it was so late many people weren’t out and about, which was a good thing, people wouldn’t be able to bother Yoongi. He had his mask though, just in case someone was to notice him. Thank God that no one did, or you’d both be screwed. Well, Yoongi even screweder. You wondered what it felt like, to be caught. You saw other idols out with their significant others via news outlets, but it was never that way with Yoongi. Hell, no one knew he had a girlfriend until recently and it wasn’t even you they were referring to. It was some other chick he’d met a while back. The one he swore up and down he wasn’t fucking. Obviously, he was. Maybe not when the two of you were together, you had your doubts about that too, but you were for sure he’s had sex with her recently.

After checking out you two headed towards your car. You let Yoongi drive since he was a much better driver than you at night. You couldn’t help but steal glances towards his way from time-to-time. He looked great all focused and stuff. “Something you need?” Yoongi teases you, noticing for the past 3 minutes you’d been staring at him. He didn’t mind, he found it cute. He was also hit with a little nostalgia. Thinking of the times you two would go on random rides to the city. When it was hot out and you two would go out and get ice cream. He missed that. He missed you.

///

Settling into the house, Yoongi flops down on the couch in front of the t.v and you set up Netflix while he sets the snacks and beers out. “Anything, in particular you wanna watch?” You ask him as you flop down next to him. He shrugs his shoulder, telling you he doesn’t mind what you pick. He always sucked at choosing, you think. But to be frank, so did you. You decide on AHS since you hadn’t started season 7 just yet.

“So what’s it like living alone? Don’t you get bored? Lonely?” Yoongi was curious as to how you managed to live on your own after all these months. He'd actually thought you’d get a roommate after he moved out. It seemed like something you would do anyway. You weren’t really the type to live alone. You were easily scared, especially at night. He remembers all too well that night when you woke him up because you thought someone was breaking in. He was so angry at you that day. He was actually angry at you for an entire week. Now that he thinks about it, he can’t help but feel stupid. He ignored you, even when he needed you he ignored you. His ego was far too big at the time and he has a hard time trying to figure out why. He worked so hard to win you over, only for him to fuck everything up way beyond repair. He can’t just say sorry now and wish that all is well. No, he has to prove himself to you. Like really prove himself.

You knew there wasn’t any malice intent behind Yoongi’s questions. They were a little personal, yes but, he wasn't an ass. Yoongi wasn’t that way by choice, or so you’d convinced yourself that. No, he was just interested in your life as of late.

“It’s been rough like I said, I struggled for a while, a place like this isn’t cheap, but its nice here. I’m okay alone.” You take a sip from the beer Yoongi had handed you a few minutes ago. I’ll use it as liquid courage. For some reason, you felt like you were really going to need it tonight.

Alcohol never really was your thing. You were a social drinker. You drank at events, you know weddings, parties, outings with friends, things as such. But drinking wasn’t for you. You didn’t feel the need to buy a pack of coronas when you were at the store to bring back home. You didn’t ‘crack open a cold one’ or whatever people say, with your buddies. It wasn’t you. Yoongi, on the other hand, was the opposite. He drank whatever and whenever he wanted. He didn’t care and neither did you. That was just him. You kind of had to train yourself to hold liquor better if you were to keep up with the big dogs. The big dogs being Yoongi and the rest of BTS. Yoongi took notice of you trying and he seemed proud of you. It was one of the few times you saw him truly happy about something you did for him. Everything else always seemed to go to shit.

Yoongi nods his head after you finish up your sentence, showing you he understands you.

///

You two sat in silence for a while. You sipped at your beer from time-to-time, not wanting to drink too much tonight, since it was so late. Yoongi, however, was already on his third, looking sort of out of it and red faced. He was more quiet than usual. You were appreciative about it, it gave you some time to think a little, get your thoughts together in case this night goes completely left.

“You okay over there, Y/n? You’re awfully quiet tonight,” He laughs. He could tell you were in pretty deep thought. He thought maybe you were a little tipsy but he noticed you’ve been nipping on the same soju bottle for the past hour and a half. You weren’t even paying attention to the show, just causally staring off into space. You ignore his question and ask your own:

“Wanna play a game?” You turn your body completely towards him.

“Is this where I die? Because that question sounds pretty damn ominous,” Yoongi snorts. “What kind of game, though? Truth or Dare? Cuz you seriously suck at that, you never want to do dare.”

“Na, not Truth or Dare.” you send him a smirk, “Let’s play something like 20 questions only it’s not 20 questions. We ask each other questions and answer honestly. Whatever we want, no limitations. You in?”

“Yea I am, you suck at stuff like this anyway. Is there a prize for first place?”

“Why would you get a prize for telling the truth Yoongs? I’ll go first,” You laugh

He shrugs his shoulders not seeing the point in asking any further questions. You came up with the idea because you still needed those answers. You had so many questions and you were a little too nervous to ask. You had so many you didn’t know where to begin. You chug back the rest of your beer and ask something that’s been probing at your brain for the longest time.

“Have you fucked her?” The question was clear as day. As much as it pained you to think about it, you at least had the right to know. Right?

You could see Yoongi was physically uncomfortable with that question. Good, you think, as long as he tells the truth that’s all that matters.

He gulps a large portion of his drink, sets it down and rubs his hands together. He was nervous. More nervous than ever tonight. He could feel his stomach doing flips and he almost felt like vomiting. Why was it so hard to tell you the truth? Would he feel better if he lied to you? Could you tell if he did lie? Was it even worth lying? This is an honesty game.

Maybe this was a test. She’s just trying to see if she can still trust me, he thinks. The last thing he wants to do is fuck this all up, again, for the umpteenth time. He didn’t have all lifetime to prove to you he could be better. And you definitely wouldn’t wait around for him for such a long time.

“Yes,” he coughs, “yes, I have.”

You hum at his honesty, grateful he did not lie to you. You weren’t as sad as you had thought you would be about the truth. He told it and that’s all that really matters.

You sigh and gesture towards Yoongi to ask his question.

“Why didn’t you move somewhere you could afford instead of saying here ?”

“Well,” you start, “because I was waiting for you to come back home I guess. I thought that if you knew I wasn’t going anywhere then you would just show back up. I needed you and I thought that need was mutually exclusive. So I just... stayed for you. After 2 months I saw you really were not coming back and I gave up hope. I stayed for you, for us.” That felt so good to get off your chest. In no way were you trying to make Yoongi feel guilty about anything but a little, tiny piece of you was really hoping he did. You did stay for him. And once you came to your senses, it was much too late to leave.

“I didn’t know that...” Yoongi says quite wide-eyed.

“Of course you wouldn’t, we didn’t communicate at all once you left. As much as I wanted to text you I never had the balls. Figured since you didn’t text me you were really done for good with me. Seeing as you’re here now... I see you aren’t quite yet.”

“How could I be?” He laughs, “Your turn now, ask away. Do your worst.”

“Let’s see,” “ were you happy after you moved out?”

“No, Never. At the time I thought I would be but I was just never found what I was looking for.”

“What were you looking for?” You ask another question, out of turn, yes but curiosity got to you.

“You, or at least the imitation of you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. How much I fucked up the best thing God has ever given me. I was scared for a little while, honestly thought my life was over. You were the only stable person that’s ever been in my life, so I was upset for some time. Can’t blame anyone but me though, huh?”

“What about you, did you ever find just a slither of happiness once I left?”

“Uh, well the house was quieter, didn’t have to wake anyone up in the mornings but myself, so yea I had a tiny bit of happiness after you left.” You flash Yoongi a smile, one he hadn’t seen in so long. The one that showed all your teeth. He loved that one the most because of the way your eyes scrunched up. He couldn’t help but smile himself, not being able to resist you.

“You’re still as beautiful as I remember,” Yoongi says, making you blush.

“Pretty sure that’s not a question and besides, it isn’t your turn anymore!” You exclaim and slap his shoulder jokingly. Sending him into a fit of giggles.

“Anyways, why did you never let me have a dog?”

“That’s your question?” He laughs at you, shocked that you went down that road, again.

“Yes, it’s a serious question now answer it.” You protested.

“I didn’t want a dog in the house because you’re not responsible enough. Remember that fish we bought from the pet store and I went on tour soon after that? Yea well you never fed him and so he died. You forget to do things what makes you think you wouldn’t forget to feed a puppy,”

“Dogs are bigger, that’s why I wouldn’t forget. They ask for food fish don’t.” You defended your self as best you could. Probably wasn’t enough to convince him but for now, it’ll do.

///

A few beers in and a couple questions later you find yourself a little too drunk for comfort. You weren’t supposed to get this fucked up tonight but you were having too much fun to care. Being with him was fun. You both even forgot the whole ‘honest game’ thing because you just wanted to conversate now. You didn’t mind and from the looks of it, he didn’t either. As drunk as Yoongi was, you knew you’d have no choice but to let him stay the night. At this point sleeping in the same bed together did not sound like such a bad idea anymore. You’d be damned if you had to sleep on that couch.

“You’re staying the night, you know that, right? I can’t let you go out in public like... this,” you gesture your hand up and down to show Yoongi just how much of a mess he looks.

He grunts at you, too far gone to speak or maybe just too lazy to speak.

“You really are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Yoongi tells you, a little slurred but he was able to get it out.

“That might be the first time I’ve ever heard you say that.”

“I should have told you that more but...look at me while I’m talking to you Y/n,” Yoongi grabs ahold of your chin and looks you right in your eyes. You were so close to his face you could smell his cologne, he smelled of sandalwood with a hint of mint. The soju he’d been drinking all night was the most prominent smell but you didn’t mind.

You forgot how soft his face was. How gorgeous his eyes were. You could feel yourself being pulled in by him, slowly.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care that Yoongi might be staying the night for a completely different reason than before.

to be continued…

masterlist

#bts #bts au #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #bts drabble #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts min yoongi #bts angst #bts suga #bts fics #bts fic #min yoongi fic #reader x min yoongi #bts imagines #bts reactions

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yarnings · 6 years ago

Text

A Chance Encounter

The latest installment in Le Tricoteur. With the plagiarism issues that are going on right now, I would most definitely like to acknowledge that this was inspired by a random comment made by @missclairebelle

Previously

As luck would have it, Ian was very grateful that he had gone to see his aunt and uncle so soon. The very next morning, on his way to open up the shop, he stopped in at the café down the street to grab a muffin and some tea. (He had a kettle and a selection of mugs and tea at the shop of course, but he found that his mornings went more smoothly if he didn’t need to wait until he was awake enough to make tea before he got any tea.) As his glance passed over the attached co-working space, he noticed Rachel Hunter sitting there, engrossed in something on her laptop screen. He stood for a minute, watching her and wondering if he should go and say hello, but decided that she wouldn’t appreciate an interruption when she was busy, especially from someone she didn’t really know.

As Ian was paying for his order, he realised there was someone standing behind him. When he turned to look, he saw that Rachel Hunter was standing behind him, with a scone and a mug that she had filled at the self-serve station.

“Linda, can you add those on too?” he asked, gesturing at the items in Ms. Hunter’s hands. The barista nodded and put everything through. Ian tapped his card and turned around, only for Ms Hunter to step up to the counter. “I’ll take a pay-it-forward token then, thank you.” After she paid, Ms Hunter took the little chit, which could be redeemed for a hot drink and basic pastry, and tossed it into the basket by the door, where they were available for people who needed them.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to make you do that. I was intending the coffee more as a ‘Welcome to Inverness’ gift.” In a rush, Ian added, “And, let me assure you, that sounded a lot less creepy before I said it. Let me explain how I’m not hunting down information about you behind your back. I was visiting with my Auntie Claire last night, and she works with your brother, and told me that you and he had just moved.” Technically all true. He would just not mention the fact that she had been the point of the visit rather than just another customer who came up in conversation. “She’s the one who recommended the store to him,” he added desperately as Ms Hunter’s face lit up with an avid interest.

“Your aunt is Ms. Beauchamp-Fraser? She’s why Denny wanted to take this placement in the first place. He’s been very impressed with her. He says she’s demanding, but really helpful, and he’s learning a lot. And she’s been very helpful with little bits of advice like about your store.”

Ian grinned. “That sounds like her. I was more than a little scared of her when I was young, but she’s actually quite supportive and helpful. She’s scary-smart, but never expects you to be too. Even though I just know yarn, and not surgery like her, the only time she’s ever intentionally done something that makes me feel stupid, was when I was actually being quite stupid.”

“Well, your yarn knowledge is certainly not a “just”. You know more than enough to leave me behind. Speaking of which, I have a note from my brother that he tells me you will be able to decipher, saying what he wants in the way of yarn. So you’ll be seeing me by the store again at some point. I had originally planned on taking a break when I finished this report, but that went faster than expected, and it’s too early now. I’m not very good at remembering to take breaks in the middle of things, so we’ll see how when I surface again.”

Ian laughed. “I fully understand getting immersed in a task. If you want to give me the note, I can try and pick something that matches it in a grey, heathered, British wool yarn. That way when you do come in it won’t take you as long.”

“Oh, that’s really kind of you. But I’ve also got instructions to go through that binder of charity projects you have and pick something out for him first.”

“Well… if that’s all you’d be doing, why don’t you come over to the shop with me now? You can look through the binder while I get ready to open? If I know what pattern, I can still bundle things together for a quick transaction.”

Ms Hunter looked thoughtful at this. “That would actually be really convenient, if you’re sure it’s not too much bother. I could use a bit of a change of scenery.”

Ian gave her an easy grin. “No problem. I’ll head over now, but I assume you need to pack up? I’ll leave the door open for you. If it’s locked when you get there, I just forgot. Give the shop a ring and I’ll let you in.”

Unsurprisingly, Ian did indeed forget to leave the door open. When Ms Hunter called he got the door for her with an apology, which she brushed off. “You’re already interrupting your routine for me, I’m not expecting you to be able to easily change something you do that often.” She was briefly distracted by the cabled keyhole scarf on the gift display, but followed Ian into the store quickly enough when he got her attention.

Ian showed her the table at the back where he had already put the binder for her. He explained that it was approximately sorted by project complexity, and how to check the recommended skill level, and went back to his opening routine. Once he turned the computer on, he ducked into the washroom. While he was in there, Rachel called through the door.

“I’m sorry, I just got a call, I have to run back. I’ve marked the pattern I was interested in, and left you the note. Thank you again, I’ll be back probably sometime in the afternoon.”

When Ian had a chance to look at the binder, he noticed that there were two patterns marked. One was with a business card that she had probably grabbed from the desk, and the other had the note from her brother. Presumably she wanted the one with the business card, but he decided to grab supplies for both anyhow. He looked at the note to see what her brother was interested in. Fortunately either Ms. Hunter had written it herself, or her brother had surprisingly good handwriting for someone with a medical degree.

A basic yarn in a 4 to 10-ply weight – no bouclé, nothing with a halo, no excessive twist. Washable is probably best. 100% wool, maybe a small amount of acrylic or nylon blended in, nothing fancy Pick up appropriate needles. If tension matters, pick up recommended and one size smaller (already have old number 9’s, but replacing those wouldn’t be a bad thing)

Ian checked the two projects that were marked. The first one was just a request from the local animal shelter for squares to make into blankets. Any weight of yarn would work, but there were instructions given for 10-ply, so he grabbed a hank of that. The other project was a request for hats for young adults who had aged out of foster care, and came with a few suggested patterns, any of which could be made with yarn that met the specifications. He picked one of the patterns at random, and bundled the pattern, yarn and needles for each project in its own bag, then put the two bags behind the counter with a sticky note labelled “Rachel Hunter”, and left it there while he went about his day.

It was reasonably late in the afternoon, around what Ian was vaguely aware was quitting time for people who worked office jobs, before Ms. Hunter came back. He was busy with another customer at the time, but he had scheduled Iona, his newest employee, for the afternoon, so while he regretted the loss of another chance to interact with her he knew that she was in good hands. Out of curiosity, at the next lull he asked Iona which of the projects had been the right one after all.

“Oh, was she supposed to pick one? I just rang everything in those bags through and she didn’t have any complaints.”

Ian gave himself a mental smack upside the head. He had been so looking forward to getting to see Ms. Hunter again that he hadn’t properly prepared for the case where someone other than him was helping. Oh well, presumably she would figure out her mistake and bring whichever one she didn’t want to the store. He could apologise then.

#Outlander #outlander fanfic #my work #fan fiction #yarn store AU #le tricoteur #Ian Og/Rachel Hunter #Ian Murray/Rachel Hunter #Ian/Rachel

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aerikimi · 7 years ago

Text

Just Breathe | 1

➵ min yoongi was a bad guy with expensive taste. eight months from your return to daegu, things start to get strange and dangerous again. nobody falls for the same fuckboy twice, specially if he’s your friend.

➵ pairing: yoongi x reader;

➵ genre: friendswithbenefits!au, fuckboy!au, smut, angst, a bit of fluff;

[1] [2] [3] [4] -

1 • The Issue

“Frankly, Y/N.”

Yoongi pushed his tongue on his cheek, scanning you as if you were some nasty piece of bubblegum he has just found sticking on the back of his shoe.

His mood dropped from a 3 to -3 very quickly only in the thirty minutes of waiting for the train to Seoul city. Of course the Min Scale goes up to 10, but Min Yoongi never went beyond 6 and he’s almost always between 4 and 1, -1 when he needs to socialize pretty much like tonight. And finally, -3 when you wore tiny skirts at the peck of winter.

“What? You said you wanted to go” You blinked slowly, pretending not to understand the reason for such annoyance as you calmly analyzed Yoongi’s angry face enlightened by the subway’s parlor light.

Although your voice was muffled by the thick scarf wrapping your neck and mouth, Yoongi could cap every word of yours with absolute despise on his face.

“‘I’d rather die than leave home Y/N’ is not exactly the definition of wanting something. Are you deaf?” He grunts, throwing his head back and squeezing the top of his blonde hair, his eyes tightly closed in a clear sign of frustration.

Min Yoongi could only think about how hard he’d fuck you after all this bullshit ends. He was the kind of guy who would always bring his frustrations to bed, and believe, it was far from being a bad thing. ‘I’d rather stay at home, Y/N, I’m not going at all. I don’t like crowded places and you know it. Stop looking at me like that, it’s making me uncomfortable. Are you dumb?’ were the exact words, but you decide not to contribute to Min Yoongi’s bad mood and remain silent as he kept his grumpy-pouty face on.

You knew underneath all that annoyance was a far greater reason than Taehyung’s birthday party, and you, as always, were painfully one step ahead of it all.

You knew Yoongi had planned to spend the rest of the night off watching the worst of South Korean TV, asking for delivery every two hours after an incredible round of the best kind of fuck. It could be brutal, depending on the volume of sexual tension hovering the air in the past few days or how much you’ve been naughty to him — walking around his studio in spectacularly tiny lingeries while he tried to work, or not using one at all, as you sat on his lap like he always liked when he was too stressed to move from his studio chair; everything could turn into a hot, punishing foreplay with Yoongi —, or it could be slow, slow and lazy and yummy, the one that makes your stomach chill through the whole thing; Yoongi wasn’t much of a fan of this one, and that was probably one of the reasons why it was so good and special when he wanted to do it with you.

Although he usually doesn’t appreciate food a lot — and runs the risk of starving to death if no one checks on him in Genius Lab every now and then — this was the kind of night both of you were craving so much the past weeks. Yoongi doesn’t like things he isn’t able to understand, and at the moment he didn’t understand why should he exchange a night of overwhelming sex with you for anyone’s birthday party, specially Taehyung’s. To be honest, Yoongi would trade pretty much nothing for any activity involving you and multiple naps on his couch.

The issue always started with dinner; If you two didn’t come up with an agreement between noodles or Japanese food, Yoongi would rather starve to death than go out for dinner, anywhere. “It’s too intimate, Y/N. And what if I suddenly feel like fucking you?” Yoongi had an argument there, even though you usually would fuck long before ordering anything to eat. You understood with that grotesque comment Min Yoongi was trying to say, 'I can’t kiss you in front of everybody, sorry’. Min Yoongi wasn’t the kind to be affectionate.

Friends with benefits seemed to be a very unfortunate term to define what you meant to each other; it’s not just sex. The sex could end or not even exist, and yet you still would be Y/N and Yoongi, without strange silences, awkwardness nor embarrassment. It just became inevitable and the tension was nothing less than excruciating. Painful, in his words, — “Congratulations, you’re the first woman to give Min Yoongi blue balls”. There is no reason not to have sex if its existence does not make things any more complicated — in fact, for you and Yoongi, sex only made you two more human.

Now, inside the train, Yoongi was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he played with a piece of paper between his fingers. Seeing him sitting on the red seat of the train, wearing black pants with holes in his knees and an earring in the first of his three spaces, so calm and serene in one of the rare moments his hermetic mind isn’t working on wire, you were sure Yoongi definitely didn’t belong there; he wasn’t even human. Min Yoongi belonged to distant afternoons of spring when you both took the train in Daegu on the way to school, or the ride back, when your mom would expect him with rice cakes for luch just as she knew he liked so much. Min Yoongi was now dark. And since you’ve came back from Seoul University eight months ago after three years far away from Daegu, — and from Yoongi —, things have quite changed. Not just the fact that you both started to fuck (it was quite predictable it would happen once you’ve left for so long), or that you came back and found a relatively well known producer, whom it’s mental health has always been in the middle of his way, unbelievably stable, but Min Yoongi was a completely different whole now. You still hadn’t figured out what was it yet, though. Min Yoongi was just... different. Less kind. Less open.

Still, he was the most magnificent and mind-blowing handsome human being you’d even laid your eyes on.

You’d give the world to know if he still writes.

•••

“Well, the truth is, once you start having sex it’s not friendship anymore, and if you’re not smart enough to run away when the right time comes in, one of you will eventually go nuts. If you aren’t the one developing feelings, good, as long as you keep it that way. On the other hand…”

Yoongi was now sure, Taehyung sucks at giving advice. His knuckles, already white with the tightness he’d put around his beer grew even whiter and more painful as he spotted you, a few tables away, and the idea that he had really refrained from fucking you to be at someone’s party whom in addition to all the inconvenience entailed couldn’t articulate a single useful word to Min Yoongi’s ears would certainly perpetuate the list of choices which he deeply regretted, Volume 5.

How many times had he seen you dancing like that? Ten? Twenty? You always did it the same way, and every single damn time Yoongi felt his chest pinch. No, not romantically speaking, really pinching, as if someone really poked him inside with a needle. He swears to God next time he fuck you he’ll make you dance like this on his lap.

“It shouldn’t be allowed to have you two in the same campus, though. Thank God Yoongi hyung stayed in Daegu. How many places they would’ve baptized? I’d be scared just to sit in the waiting room there” Jimin smirked as he intruded the conversation, making Yoongi munch his cheek in annoyance.

“Don’t be fucking stupid, Y/N will never be anything but a friend, either me fucking her or not. Are you deaf or just stupid?”

You definitely noticed Yoongi’s deadly gaze watching you from afar. Now, in the bathroom, listening to Aeri blabbering through every sniff of whatever she was doing behind the door did not seem so bad after all.

“The truth is, Y/N” Aeri interrupted herself after a long final blow, finally opening the door shortly afterwards “Is that there is no next step for girls like us. This is all a big fucking lie.”

You rolled your eyes, propped up beside the sink while your friend adjusted her blue fringe in the mirror. Aeri had spent no less than thirty minutes talking about how her relationship with Taehyung would never improve, because Taehyung would never see her beyond an easy girl and a casual fuck (a divine one, she said, but casual), and how girls are always the most impaired part of the relationship, despite what kind of relationship they are in.

You didn’t even bother trying to explain that with Yoongi things did not happen that way when the friend let out a spiteful “You’d better do something, before it’s too late for you too”, cracking her tongue between her teeth before leaving the bathroom.

•••

“Taehyung told me something really funny tonight. You wanna hear?”

Seoul has some great avenues, but hundreds of smaller boulevards. Everything the avenues had in extravagances — lights, signs, advertisements, buildings, big screens, movement — the little streets had in mediocrity. Poorly lightened, sometimes tortuous. But don’t fool yourself — it’s where the best of the city is hidden.

The walk back home was always incompatible. Even though you two were strangely connected in a freakish mental bond during your time together, sometimes being around other people seemed to pull you two apart, just like you were any other girl casually coming out with a boy, and honestly, it was frustrating.

At that point of the night, you weren’t even able to decipher a single expression on Yoongi’s face, and it felt as if he had left forever.

Not in a literal sense, of course, Yoongi’s presence has always been strong — he was not the type of guy to go unnoticed. It was unanimous that Yoongi’s singular dark and tuff appearance ripped off any woman’s panties whenever that rare and precious gummy smile decided to appear. Not being able to feel the usual bond between you and Yoongi made you feel like one of the other women — and it sucks.

Despite your frivolous silence, Yoongi continued, not even bothered. “Taehyung said the world has a bad sense of humour.”

“What’s fucking new?” you mumbled to yourself. Yoongi stared at the floor, hands in his pockets and a sneering smile lifted the corner of his red lips. It’s not like he’s going to remember anything the next morning.

“I know, right? He’s fucking pathetic, Y/N” Yoongi laughed behind his scarf, turning slightly red from the neck to the tips of his ears, part from the cold, partly from the amount of alcohol in his veins. You couldn’t help but find it extremely appealing, something you would never say out loud, fearing running the risk of not seeing him like this ever again. Knowing Yoongi, he would never smile again if he knew you admire him so much when he does. It’s not like he’s an asshole about it, it’s just his shy perspective of things. “Apparently, the world has a bad sense of humor because people like us are together.”

“What?” A cloud of steam escaped your lips to collide with the cold air. “What are you talking about, we aren’t even—”

“In his thesis, and apparently another twenty-one people in his shitty art class agreed with this bullshit” Yoongi stated, bittersweet “Besides the ridiculous amount of people who fall for someone who doesn’t give a fuck, the world places those who don’t want to be loved face to face, and then split up the lovers.”

Yoongi glanced at you just to see you wasn’t picking up anything. “Look, as far as he told me, it works like that, it’s simple unfair. He even used us as an example. You see—”

Hearing him referring to you two as us sent chills down your spine. Of course you two were a thing, everybody knew it. Maybe not everybody, at least not in your social lives; but your friends did. Hearing him affirming the fact and being so soft about it for some reason was just beyond pleasing to you.

“—there’s Jimin, right? Who broke up with that Eun-Ji girl after three months because she was getting on his nerves and vice versa. They do still love each other. Well, at least he loves her or whatever, the fuck I care anyway. But then there are us, who don’t belong to anyone but ourselves, we have an understanding and we still get to fuck. Got it now?”

You couldn’t help but smirk under your breath, you two now close to the subway. Knowing Taehyung well, he probably did a whole explanation on his point to Yoongi.

And besides, you could really understand what he was saying. It was a point, though.

“So am I glued to your crotch my whole life?” Your question made Yoongi frown his forehead. “What about the moment I find someone, like, romantically speaking, everything starts crashing down? Because, you know, it’ll eventually happen.”

Yoongi takes a few seconds to think, his usually annoyed resting face really pale as a ghost under the subway parlor light. “The fuck would I know?” He looks drunkenly pissed off as he takes off the tickets from his pocket. “Call him. And also use the opportunity to ask him why being glued to my crotch didn’t seemed to be a problem yesterday.”

Smart, you didn’t stick around to hear the rest, Yoongi was done with all the explanatory stuff and would probably start randomly cussing at anytime. But now, as you patiently waited for your coffees a few meters away, the view of a sleepy sluggish Yoongi melted yourself inside, badly. He was lazily propped on the wall, his tiny, cold eyes looking forward the rails. Yoongi was stunning, and no one could say otherwise. His frivolous angst from early that night hadn’t eased not even a little, though.

“Aeri told me something funny too” you cautiously mumbled as you approached the wall handing one cup to Yoongi, his venous pale fingers full of rings immediately wrapping tight around the plastic.

“Taehyung knows she’s madly in love with him, he’s not fucking blind” he sips his pure black coffee without hesitance as you set yourself beside him, shrinking.

“And don’t you have any empathy for her?”

“Of course I have, it’s fucking stupid and sad.”

“And where does his thesis come in? You know, with his and Aeri’s relationship. Because, you know, despite anything they are in one.”

Yoongi suddenly tilts his head a bit, only to look at you. For maybe a second you think he’ll kiss you, but he just remain silent, watching your face. His earnestness became goneness, the buzz of the train echoing and its blinding lights coming off of the tunnel straight to his face. It was heartbreaking seeing him drunk, tired and distant.

“I don’t know, Y/N”

A/N: Things start to happen next chapter! Thank you for reading! & feel free to leave some feedback here :D

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nightblogofficialbook · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter One

Also available on the Tapas.io Website, search for Night in the Novels tab!

“Helen, time to wake up!”

I turned over with a groan. “My alarm hasn’t even gone off yet, mom,” I complained, burying my head further under the pillow.

“You set that thing way too late, you’re always rushing yourself in the morning!”

Mom clicked the light on and I groaned louder. “Come on, I’ll make you pancakes but you have to get up now little missy.”

I gave in and sat up. My hair was a nest, my muscles still asleep. I yawned and stretched, and got up to walk out of my room to the bathroom to fix my mess.

My name is Helen Morris. I’m sixteen, tired of life, and ready for retirement already. It’s currently 5:30 a.m. thanks to school being an hour’s bus route away from home. In three months I turn seventeen and qualify for driving unsupervised. Not that I have a car to drive, but at least I’ll be able to work without the school stepping in, too. I live with my mom in an old, rickety two-bedroom, one bathroom house with walls that creaked and water that didn’t always run hot for very long. It wasn’t much, but it was paid off and in her name. My dad’s in prison, but I don’t want to think about him.

I got dressed in plain jeans and a blue t-shirt and walked through the hallway to the kitchen. Mom had some homemade blueberry pancakes made up ready the way I usually eat them. I groggily sat down and took a bite, enjoying the flavor for the moment. Mom glanced back at me from the sink where she was cleaning the pans and bowls.

“See, isn’t this nicer than rushing off with no breakfast?” she said matter-of-factly.

“It is, thanks Mom.” I really was grateful to being woken up like this. Mom usually works overnight as a nurse, so mornings like these are the result of her still being awake after her shift. It was hard to fully appreciate it in the moment, though, with the not being fully awake yet and all.

I finished my pancakes and milk, and dropped the dishes in the dishwasher. After finishing up the rest of my boring morning routine of brushing my teeth and getting dressed, I grabbed my bag, hugged my mom, and went out the door for the ten minute walk towards the bus stop.

The air was still cool and crisp, but I knew it was a lie. In two to fours hours it would be hot as hell. I still wore a jacket nonetheless because the school, in addition to being terrible already, did not know what the meaning of climate control is, and tended to have its classrooms ranging from stuffy to freezing. But for these ten quiet minutes, it was a nice morning.

The aged houses and trees of my neighborhood gave way to a more modern urban sprawl, the neighborhood of the better-off kids. I like to think I was only envious of the fact that they had less things to worry about, given their financial stability. Granted, I had no idea what kind of lives lived behind those doors, but I couldn’t help the bitter feeling that it surely couldn’t be anything nearly as bad as the rest of us. I haven’t really been out in the world necessarily yet, but I did see how much mom struggles to keep us afloat and happy.

Past this neighborhood was the community center and library, which is where my bus stop was. Behind this was a large, forested area which I sometimes use as shortcut to get here from home as it cuts the time in half. Which I frequently have to do. It can be pretty creepy this early in the morning, even more so after dark. But the five minutes of sunset was where it’s at; the way the golden-red rays fell through the trees...it was pretty magical.

Fun fact about this forest; there’s this huge creepy castle that no one ever goes near, somewhere right smack in the middle. It’s not like people aren’t allowed to go near, but, inexplicably, people avoid that place anyway. Some say it’s haunted, some claim it’s not even there. Apparently some have even actually gone in but never came back out. None of it is backed up by anything, but I’ve always avoided the area nonetheless. It’s a bit out of the way from my route home anyway, and I’m not dumb enough to go trespassing on someone else’s property in the middle of the woods.

The bus arrived, and thank goodness, because the other kids at my stop started to arrive at the same time. I didn’t want to interact with anyone if I could help it. One dude quickly put out a cigarette soon as he saw the bus, and a couple girls my age looked disappointed to not have any time to gawk and gossip about the shabbiness of everything in general. Since the bus barn is close to this area, ours was the first stop to be picked up in the mornings, but also the last one to drop in the evenings. Which meant we got first pick on seats but also had to deal with everyone else for the maximum amount of time possible. And this bus picked up both junior high and high schoolers.

I remember being in junior high, I grimaced as a bunch of fourteen/fifteen-year-olds loaded up at the next few stops. It really wasn’t all that long ago honestly, but it was such a weird age. Girls figuring out puberty, boys learning how to be asses but not understanding why girls won’t be attracted to them, but at the same time both genders thinking the other is stupid. I really hated that age. Not that high school is much different, but at least everyone has enough going on to keep out of each other’s business.

The hour passes and I nearly fell asleep as the bus dropped the high schoolers off first. I got my stiff legs moving and made my way into the building.

Classes pass in a daze like usual. Nothing is very interesting, but at least it’s consistent. I know what to expect from my day, and what’s expected of me. I know what periods I’m going to hate, and which ones I can relax in. It really isn’t as bad as I complain about, sometimes. That’s just how life goes. You settle into monotony and enjoy the calm ride however you can.

Unfortunately for today, I had forgotten about my math test. I’m not bad at math, but I’m not great at it either, and the teacher is REALLY confusing most of the time. She needs to seriously consider retirement; hardly anyone could make heads or tails of what she’d say. I bombed the test of course, I forgot to do the practice homework to prepare for it. When I got my test back, there was a note in red pen telling me I need to apply myself or I’m going to have to take remedial lessons. The last thing I needed was even MORE time at school. That would mean I’d have to miss my bus and catch a public bus. Which means getting home after dark and making mom worry.

Last class was just a seminar hour for study, and thankfully I had this with my best friend, Emily. We both took a dead language class as an elective and were translating a runes assignment.

“Tell me if you think this is close,” she said quietly. “Here be a person of shared...tree?”

“That’s the symbol for parent, not tree,” I corrected, “so it should be ‘Here be a person of shared parent.’ They’re saying it’s their sibling.”

“Ooooooohhhh I get it now,” Emily mused. “I swear though, I had to have gotten somebody’s eulogy or something.”

“It might be, it’s gotta be more interesting than mine. I’m pretty sure I just have someones written layout of their town.”

“Seriously though, how are you so good at this? These are dead languages, and the teacher freakin’ loves you.”

I shrugged. “I dunno. I have a hard time with the roman based letters sometimes, which is dumb, but give me runes and I’ve got it. I think it’s because there’s a simpler pattern to decipher for me. Like, the structure just makes sense with the language syntax or something.”

“I dunno,” Emily stared dubiously at her text. “We’re already in the second course and this is still all just gibberish to me.”

“You got that far, though, didn’t you?” I said, gesturing to her project. “You got halfway through the assignment before getting a symbol confused with another.”

“Yeah, but I still have to use a cheat sheet.”

I shrugged again. “Nothing wrong with that. Plus, no one else has it as easy either. Maybe I’m just a weirdo.”

She laughed, and I grinned. Our seminar teacher shushed us angrily, even though we weren’t being that loud. I narrowed my eyes his direction but just let it go. He had always been an ass that could only ever amount to a gym teacher, but it wasn’t worth picking a fight with him. Besides, there was nothing I could really do about it.

School let out and Emily walked with me to my bus. She was one of the lucky ones whose parents were able to have time to pick her up after school. “You think you’ll be able to come over today?” she asked hopefully.

“Sorry, not this time either. Mom wants me to pick up some stuff from the community center for her work and by that point it’ll be almost dark.”

“Dang. You should ask her if it’s cool if my mom just picks you up from school and then takes you home.”

“Ha! Good luck with that, she barely feels comfortable with me riding the bus, let alone someone else’s car.”

We said our goodbyes and I got on the bus to settle in for the hour-long drive back. The town flew by in a blur of hills and houses and trees, every now and then passing through the small business district again as the bus weaved back and forth, unloading it’s contents like a slowly hatching spider’s nest. The tiredness of the day began to weigh on me, and I felt a little guilty for lying to Emily. Mom didn’t actually have anything I needed to get; I just didn’t want to ask her again, only to be told no and reminded of the dangers of why. And with her busy schedule, she really didn’t even have time to meet parents and give proper assessment. It was so frustrating, but even more so because I understood why.

At least, in a few months, I’ll legally be allowed to work, and I’ll be able to use that as a reason for her to allow me to start making my own decisions.

My stop finally arrived, I got off the bus like all the other little spiderlings, and began my walk home. I still have enough time before sunset actually happens and it gets too dark, so I decided to take my nature path through the woods. It was quiet, immediately a different atmosphere from the civilization around the community center. The trees were tall and loomed far overhead, not impossibly tall or really even impressively tall, but gentle. The oaks and sycamores and birches all commingled their leaves, creating this wonderful blanket of patterned light through the summer green foliage. A breeze would sometimes drift through, causing the treetops to shimmer and rustle and bring relief from the fading summer heat. Below my feet was a lightly worn path from all the times I’ve walked through these woods, every now and then branching off into other less worn paths from the times others had walked through here as well. I breathed in and enjoyed the peace. Sometimes I wish I could just live out here, in the trees, away from all the people. Away from all the noise and frustrations of everyone’s expectations.

The peace was short lived of course, as it always was. The path was only a five minute walk after all. And before long I was back near my house with its tall privacy fenced in yard and it’s peeling paint and creaky hinges.

Mom was already awake and getting ready for work, wearing her baby blue scrubs as I walked in.

“Dinner is on the stove,” she instructed, “ and I have the oven on warm so don’t forget it. Remember to keep the doors locked.” She kissed me on the forehead. “Love you baby, be safe.”

“You too mom,” I hugged back, and locked the door as she left. I checked all of the windows and back doors absentmindedly, thinking about how different things would be if things were...well, different. Mom could stay at home and wouldn’t need to work so much, I could possibly have a life outside school and home, though to be honest I don’t know how much I’d actually want that. Maybe we’d have a bigger, newer house.

I shook my head, assembling the chili tortillas mom had prepped for me and sitting down. No, this is nice, this is okay. We’ve got a warm home, enough good food, and new clothes when we need them. We’re not hurting for money, and getting by modestly. This was nice enough.

After cleaning my dishes and putting the food away, I went back to my room to my desk to deal with the remedial homework my math teacher had given me. I clicked the radio setting on my alarm and listened to music while I worked through the numbers. The song playing on the station made me smile; it was a pop classic Emily and I liked to make fun of, due to it sounding exactly like every other song out there but with the lyrics being horrifically bad. I sung to it softly, wondering what she was up to.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, the phone rang. My heart gave a start from the sudden noise. “Hello?” I answered.

“Hey! It’sa me!”

I laughed. “Hey Emily. I was just thinking about what you’d be up to.”

“Making pizza rolls. Well, waiting for pizza rolls. So I just heard our song on the radio and I thought hey, Helen better be hearing this too ‘cause I can’t just enjoy the hilarity of it again all by myself.”

I laughed again. “I was, actually. Trying to plow through this stupid extra math work Mrs. Marrow gave me.

“Ugh, Bloody Marrow, she needs to retire.”

“For sure.”

“Anyway, so I actually wanted to tell you something that happened to me today!” she began, excited. “Erin asked me out in the most sweetest adorable way ever, she had given me her phone number last week ‘cause we had a science project together and had to coordinate outside of class and whatever, and today she sent me a text wanting to know if I like ice cream and would want to go get some at this new shop opening up at the mall this week!!”

I sat forward in amazement. “Emily! That’s awesome! You’ve had a crush on her for like, forever, I’m so happy for you!”

“I knoooooooow,” I heard her squee on the other end, and the sound of rustling as she was probably rolling back and forth on her bed happily. “She’s so prettyyyyy and I’m so gaaaaaaaaaaay.” I laughed.

“Well, I really hope it works out for you. It’d be really cool to see you two together.”

“Yeah, I’m a little scared though. I mean, this clearly sounds like a date, but I have no idea if she’s like, INTO me, or just ya know, looking for a friend or whatever.”

“Dude. She’s totally into you. How could she not be?”

“Buuuuuut-”

“For reals though. I’ve seen the way she acts when you come around. Plus you’re not exactly hiding your rainbows. She’s totes into you.”

“Uuuuuggghhhhh I just don’t knowwwwww.” I heard her shift. “Have you ever had a massive crush on anyone? Or have a crush on anyone currently?” she added with a hint of probing in her voice.

“I did once,” I grimaced. “That was a few years ago. You remember James?”

She made a noise of surprise. “Ugh that jock-head?”

“Yeah. He went to my middle school before we had moved here.”

“Dang, small world.”

“Yeah. Well, I used to think he was cute back then, and he kind of was. But I never really knew him. When I first moved here and started high school, I found out he went to this school too, so I tried to go talk to him since he was the only person I knew, and he essentially said ‘Ew, no, go away.’ Or something like that.”

“Ugh, boys are so rotten. You should switch sides, girls are way nicer.”

I gave a small laugh. “I wish. I get why you like girls, but I just kinda...don’t like anyone.”

“Dude, confession time to lighten the mood? I once had a crush on you.”

“I know,” I laughed. “You gave me chocolates and your lunch like, everyday. I felt bad for not realizing sooner after I ate all of your food.”

She laughed too. “S’algood, s’algood, I think I may have been mixing feelings a bit, you just seemed like someone I HAD to get to know.”

“I’m really glad you did. I didn’t have any friends at that time.”

“And you’re like, the most open-minded person ever. A lot of girls would get really defensive. Which sucks, but is also pretty hilarious too.”

“Well, I’m flattered you thought I was gay,” I teased. “And sorry that I wasn’t.”

“Yeah, you could be bi though, and I just wasn’t your type. Or maybe even ace.”

“I dunno, I kinda just...don’t care? I don’t really care what category I’d fit in, I just want to be treated like me.”

“Saaaaaame, girl, same.”

We chatted for a few more hours before it started getting really late. The phone call distraction extended my homework by the same amount of time, but it made it easier to get through, and at least it was done. As the last tangent conversation ended we said our see-you-tomorrows and hung up.

I flopped back against the musty pillows. I should really wash those. Our earlier conversation went through my mind, and I turned over on my side, hugging a large stuffed husky my mom got me when I was ten. It’s not like I didn’t want to like people, or that I didn’t want to date anyone. No one ever felt like they were actually interested in ME, not even Emily. At least Emily was aware of it; that’s the reason we became friends. But...I didn’t want to risk the possibility of actually really liking someone, and they just turn out to be like James had been; a stuck up jerk who didn’t even want to be nice. Or like some of the guys that were too thick to understand that Emily likes girls and certainly not them.

Being alone though...that’s what sucks the most. And for me, being around people who make me feel alone is the worst feeling of all.

I sat at the computer lab in the community center, looking at job listings, looking for any that hire seventeen year olds. It was still a few months away but It wouldn’t hurt to try to get a head start. I could use the shortened time to convince them to at least consider me; there was a public bus route that made a stop just down the road from where the school bus drops, at roughly the same time. I could take my seminar hour at the end of the day and check myself out of school, work for a couple of hours, and then commute back here. And mom wouldn’t need to know about it, AND I’d be able to help out with expenses. It’s a win-win scenario, it wouldn’t even cut into homework time.

I leaned back and stretched, and noticed that it was unusually quiet, and dark, in the building. I looked around; everyone had left save for the front desk lady, who was quietly reading her book. The auto lights had already gone out.

I checked the time on the computer. It said 8:05.

Oh crap.

Logging out as quickly as I could I bolted out the doors; the sun was already in setting position. “Oh crap oh crap.” Mom is going to be furious, this was her night off, I should have been home an hour ago…!

I ran towards the woods, debating whether to take the chance of it being dark before I made it through or getting into even more trouble with mom. To be honest, mom is probably scarier. The implications of it being after dark by the time I made it home was enough of a risk. I dove right into the treeline.

There was a different eeriness to the atmosphere here today, maybe it was because I was in a hurry, and maybe because it was minutes from full darkness. Something sent prickles across my skin, like I was being watched, like something was following me. I moved quicker, faster, my breath starting to become labored. A chilling mist was filling the forest; the sun had set. A strange lurch in the pit of my stomach pulled me in a direction that I was sure was the path home. Surely I was close now…?

I stopped, unable to believe my eyes as the treeline gave way to a clearing, my heart sinking as I realized it wasn’t because I was leaving the forest...and rising again from the sheer awe that was before me.

Towering far above me and covering the entire expanse of the open treeline I stepped out from, was an impressively large, black stone castle.

“It’s real…” I whispered. “No way…” How on earth did I end up here? I know that path by heart, I shouldn’t have veered off for a moment…!

Curiosity governed my senses. I walked through the white rose bushes that lined the outer wall and towards the brick; it wasn’t just a flat dark stone, it was carved with intricate details and patterns and symbols. With a start I recognized a lot of them; sanskrit, rune, greek, hebrew, korean. None were written in a manner I could read or understand, but something told me it was all the same language, whatever it was. Running my fingers across them felt almost electric, as if they held magic or something dumb like that.

I walked along the wall, carefully avoiding the rose buses that lined the way, coming up to a wrought iron gate. It twisted into intricate vine-like patterns with an almost glossy new sheen, as if it had just been made. A similar theme was applied to the rest of the castle beyond the wall, like a gothic style mansion with darkened rooftops. It was gorgeous and glossy and new and…

Wait, new?

I looked closer at the walls, and tried my best to look closer at the inner castle itself. Everything looked pristine and kept, fresh painted with muted and yet vibrant colors, even the stone and iron showed no discernable age. As if it had been freshly built. If this was the legendary castle in the woods, it would have to be SUPER ancient, because that myth has been around since our parents’ parents were little. It would be worn, the stones cracking and nature attempting to take over, or at the very least look uninhabited.

This looked very inhabited.

A chill fell over my body and dread followed suit. I shouldn’t be here. I don’t know what kind of people would live here, but I got the feeling they’d be the kind that wouldn’t care about shooting some random teenager looking like they’re about to trespass. I backed away quickly, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck rise as it felt like I was being closely watched again.

“Ouch!” Pain stung across my forearm as I stumbled into a rose bush, dragging a very thin bead of blood in a line down the scratch. “Ah, crap…” Now mom won’t just be mad. She’ll be paranoid.

A light snap! sounded from my left and I spun towards it, fear filling my pulsing chest. A million thoughts ran through my head, my breath started to catch. Very slowly, carefully this time, I started backing away. I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel ran out from a bush, but the tension remained. It was time to leave.

But then I heard another crack, and this wasn’t a squirrel.

A pair of eyes shone in the dark, and a large, lithe figure began to step out from the shadows; that was all I needed to turn around and nope the heck out of there.

I had barely taken ten steps before I felt a rush of wind, and then suddenly I was jerked backwards into something solid by my arms. “NO-!” A scream had just barely begun from my mouth when pain erupted my from shoulder. Numbness overtook me and then everything was black.

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moodring89 · 7 years ago

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Wedding Crasher Ch.02

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Side pairings Genre: Romance / Smut Rated: M / NC17 Tags: Wedding!AU, Badboy!AU, Violence, Debauchery (more tags to be added) Summary: It was always a little bit tragic for Hoseok whenever he got caught, which wasn’t often. He had enough experience with crashing weddings to be considered a veteran. One easy lie after another, from the church to the reception hall. Previous Chapters: 01

A/N: Thank you guys! You've showed that short ass chapter so much love. I have come prepared to feed you a bit more :) If you're enjoying the story, remember to say so! It makes us writers work faster with confidence! New Reader fics I recommend when you're done: It's Too Sweet Comfort Zone

‘I didn’t mean to rob you, inside job you. Baby, you were meant to take the fall.’

You were running late, which wasn’t something you were typically known for, but sometimes when the stars aligned just right – the molten outer layers of hell showing signs of freezing over, it could happen. It was currently happening, on the worst night possible. Tonight was the joint bachelor party for two of your closest friends. You helped organize the entire evening, booking the table at the Bizarre, enlisting Jeongguk to find a dancer, working your ass off just so you could confidently pick up the tab at the end of the night. Jeongguk was waiting for you outside the club, checking the time on his phone with a hint of impatience. It was hot out, even this late at night – your heels scraping and clacking against the concrete as you walked up to him. “I am so, so sorry!” you said, joining him against the building. You could hear the music thrumming through the walls. “Did they beat me here?” Jeongguk gave a sullen nod, “They did. In fact, they’re all here, including the dancer, but he doesn’t start for another twenty minutes or so.” “Jesus, I’m like, not even a friend right now.” He patted your shoulder with mock-sincerity, “I know, but it’s making me look good. So, keep up the good work.” “Yeah, that’s reassuring. Thanks, Guk,” you muttered dryly, while tugging down your dress, the fitted material clinging to your curves in all the right places. Even Jeongguk had taken an interest, tilting his head to the side, looking you over without even an ounce of shame. You raised a brow at him, “Can we go in now?” He took hold of your hand and guided you towards the entrance, “The dancer brought along a friend, but he isn’t part of the show. I’m wondering if he’s the boyfriend… ” You stared up at him, surprised given the fact that Jeongguk hadn’t cared since his last miserable relationship. “Oh? Well, I’m wondering why that would matter to you.” “Because he’s adorable and it’s the adorable ones that end up being kinky as fuck,” Jeongguk said, right before you walked through the doors. Talking at a normal volume was no longer an option. The club was an overwhelming pulse of writhing bodies. The music was like a shot of adrenaline that sang throughout your body, making your heart race. Thankfully, it was quieter in the VIP section that you’d reserved, but not by much. Namjoon looked at his invisible watch, before shaking his head at you. Seokjin nudged him, most likely telling him to stop with the teasing. You approached the two grooms with open arms, saying your apologies over and over again. “I’m the worst,” you said, keeping your hands on their shoulders, unwilling to break free from the huddle. “But you’ve been enjoying yourselves? Please god, tell me this is fun for you.” “Joonie and I may be old, but we still enjoy the club,” Seokjin reassured, curling his hand behind your neck to bring you in for another hug. “Stop beating yourself up. You did well. Babe, tell her.” Namjoon’s response was immediate, “For fuck sake, woman, you know I’ve been trying to book a table here. They probably got tired of my ass calling every week, so I had to go through you.” You nodded, “Yeah, probably. Where’s Tae?” Jeongguk tore his eyes away from the crowd, “Dancing.” “We should go get him,” you offered, when really – you needed to go pay for the dancer, and only Jeongguk knew what he looked like. He caught on quick, following your lead. You stepped out onto the floor, resisting the urge to dance like everyone else was. Jeongguk gestured in the direction of a guy who was leaned against a busy wall, “That’s him.” He had a smaller figure, hair hidden under a cap with a dark hood thrown over it. How your friend could decipher the dancer’s potential to be adorable with such little exposed left you temporarily baffled. Approaching him, you gave an awkward wave of your hand, because you don’t ‘people’ very often. Tragically introverted, which was probably why you and Jeongguk got along so well. “Hey,” you said with a start, raising your voice to go higher than the music. “Thank you for coming. Has Jeongguk already filled you in on the situation?” The dancer’s lips were plump and slick with gloss. It was difficult to pay attention to much else, when he nodded, “He said that I’ll be dancing for grooms this evening.” “Yes, our two friends are getting married on Sunday.” You looked over at Jeongguk for some extra input and were caught off guard by the dark, narrowed expression that fell across his features, eyes taking the dancer in like he was a whole meal. Alright, then. “Anyways, I am prepared to pay for a full hour of your services and no offense, but I hope that you’ve prepared something that’s a bit more…” You paused, watching as the dancer tapped the arm of a guy who seemed deeply immersed in conversation with a girl, a strand of her blonde hair wrapped around his finger, as he slowly reeled her into him. This must be the friend that Jeongguk was worried about earlier – probably not anymore given how obviously flirtatious he was being with someone else. He released her from his hold to extend his hand out, accepting the dancer’s hat and oversized sweatshirt. What he wore beneath the layers was enough to effectively shut you up. Donned in a mesh sleeveless top, a harness made up of black leather hugged tightly around his slim waist and riddled with plentiful buckles. A set of nipple piercings glinted whenever he moved. It was goddamn distracting. He slid a hand through his silver colored hair, a grin splitting his mouth around his crooked front teeth. Jeongguk was right about this one, except adorable wasn’t exactly what you would call him. No, adorable was an insult. “A bit more…?” the dancer asked, eyes alit with amusement. He was smug and confident, two qualities that would appeal to your friends. You released a shaky breath, overwhelmed by all the visuals. Half determined to help Jeongguk out of his post-breakup depression, you inquired for his sake, “What should we call you?” “Jimin.” Jimin…the name suited him. You gestured towards the redhead who had yet to even look in your general direction, too busy with securing his kill, “And who is your friend?” “Hoseok hyung,” Jimin said, leaning in as if you’d be able to hear him better that way. “He wanted to come clubbing tonight.” Jeongguk decided to finally steal the conversation away from you, “They’re waiting. We should probably go start the show.” You weren’t done with your line of questioning yet and Taehyung was still out on the floor somewhere. Jeongguk’s lack of care on the matter was unapologetic, as he boldly left with Jimin without so much as a backwards glance. Something told you that he wouldn’t be waiting for you to watch the dancer strip out of his clothing. Damn it. You turned, scanning your eyes around the room. Taehyung always liked being close to the DJ station, mainly so that he could make one bad song request after another. “Tell me more about your friend,” came the loud, obnoxious shout from beside you. You turned, seeing the friend with the red unruly hair, minus the girl he’d been playing with just moments ago. “I don’t really have the time and it would take plenty,” you said, taking him in with a hint of apprehension. The guy had two black eyes and a busted lip. “Although, I’d like to learn more about your friend as well…” He nodded, acknowledging the fact that you both shared a mutual curiosity, “Yeah, I practically had my dick zapped off from the electrical charge I felt between them.” You raised a brow at his metaphor, thus deeming him as somewhat crass, and unpredictable. As much as you enjoyed comedians, you knew that you should steer clear of this guy. Gut instinct was never wrong. You mentally checked him off as proceed with caution, because despite crossing him off, you didn’t trust yourself. You were being honest, “I don’t disagree.” He was decently taller, dressed better than most guys here, and was actually, actually prettier than you. In fact, it was borderline ridiculous how attractive he was – you could sense the danger of it, felt it drawing you in like an invisible string. “So, you had your dick zapped, too?” he asked, grinning with his too white teeth, reminding you of the damn Cheshire cat, except with two very pronounced dimples. “I need to get back to my friends.” Screw Taehyung. You’d fallen off the beaten path and had run into a fucking wolf. “That’s right. Your friends are getting married on Sunday,” he said, moving so that he could stand in front of you. You were slow to look up into his eyes, caught and stuck the moment that you did – dark brown eyes melting you through where you stood. Hoseok leaned forward, playing with the short distance between you, threatening to close it entirely, “What a coincidence, since I’ll be attending a wedding on that day.” That part intrigued you. “You know Kim Namjoon and Seokjin?” Hoseok smiled quietly then, as though knowing something you didn’t, and had chosen to keep it all to himself. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the chance to investigate it, when Taehyung found you. He wrapped his strong arms around your waist and held you against him firmly. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, when he planted a sloppy kiss against your neck. “Mm, you smell like heaven,” Taehyung breathed, hands becoming familiar with the curves of your body. You were used to a happy, slightly intoxicated Taehyung – knowing that he wouldn’t drink enough to get drunk, but he would dance enough to become high. You held onto him, slipping a hand through his dark, damp hair. “Let’s go, Tae…” you trailed, unsure of what to make of Hoseok, or his imposing presence. He tucked a hand into his pocket and nodded towards the stairs to where your small party was being held – being oddly hot about it. What was happening? The tension was so thick and unnecessary. The way he held your eyes let you know that this wasn’t over. You managed to climb the steps supporting most of Taehyung’s heavy weight against you. Seokjin and Namjoon were at the far back wall, sitting with their chairs pressed together. You weren’t surprised to see that Jeongguk had made himself comfortable, arms crossed with his back against the hard surface, watching in enrapt stillness as Jimin found the beat. Without looking away, Seokjin spoke to you, “How could you do this to us? What kind of monster are you?” “I would’ve been offended if she hadn’t done this much,” Namjoon said, the deep timbre of his voice thicker than usual, caught in his throat traitorously. There was a hand settled between the elder’s thighs, Namjoon’s large hand giving Seokjin’s leg a possessive squeeze. Jimin’s soft, near cherubic features versus the sinful actions of his body was harsh in contrast, making him all the more unsuspecting. It was the perfect dichotomy, until it wasn’t – the expression on Jimin’s face falling into one of dark allure, and seduction. Taehyung pulled you towards the direction of a leather sofa, intending to use you as a cushion for his head. You smiled at his commentary, “Oh, oh…his hips, noona.” “I can see, Tae,” you said, appreciating the sight before you. Jimin’s movements were fluid and restrained, like he’d been dancing all his life. It wasn’t the type of dancing that you’d pick up from the clubs or the streets, but something more refined. The boy moved with grace, even while it was downright filthy. As an extra service for reserving the VIP section, you were regularly checked on. You hadn’t even had your first drink yet. So, you ordered yourself a whiskey sour. When it was finally in your hands, the glass cold and fogged over, you let the cool liquid slide down your throat. It went down smooth. Truth be told, you were a lightweight, so it only took a few moments for the alcohol to make you feel warm and relaxed, racing thoughts put on slow. The guy with the wild red hair was since forgotten. An hour with Jimin seemed too short now, like you’d been cheated. However, he made good use of his time, removing his harness with practiced hands, his every movement purposeful. The mesh, once gone was almost offensive. You’d assumed it wasn’t so, given the fact that you could see everything, but now – now you could actually see everything. You pitied Jeongguk then, especially when he was given some direct attention. He lowered his gaze at the dancer, as Jimin guided the flat of Jeongguk’s palm down his abdomen in a slow, tantalizing path that stopped at the button on his jeans. Jeongguk popped it open and pressed the zipper in hard, before trailing it down. “Take them off me,” Jimin demanded, words coming out breathless from what you’d assumed was exertion, but was probably something else. Something Mrs. Potts would have to explain to Chip in a full length song once he’d become of age. Jeongguk was all too willing to oblige him, running his fingers along the inside of his jeans, and over his pert ass. Kneading each cheek roughly, he pulled Jimin closer to him, allowing the smaller man to feel the outline of his hard cock. With half-lidded eyes, the dancer placed a hand on the top of Jeongguk’s broad shoulder when he bent down to tug his jeans off the rest of the way. “I think Guk is in hell,” Taehyung murmured to you and all you could do was nod in agreement, because yes – most likely. When Jeongguk stood back up, he practically shoved himself against the wall as a way of ensuring that he’d behave himself. It was the funniest thing you’d seen in a long, long while. Another whiskey sour down. Jimin finished his show with his back faced towards the grooms, paying each lap one last, final tease. You tried not to look at anyone, thinking it odd to be the only one without an obvious boner on display. Even after Jimin’s job was done, he’d stayed behind, finding himself wrapped up in conversation. It was Namjoon’s fault, always was, never passing up on deep, meaningful discussions with strangers. “Noona,” Taehyung pouted, showing you his empty glass of Shirley Temple. “Baby,” you said back, using the same pitiful tone, as you took it away from him, and placed it down on the table. “Can we go dance now?” Seokjin overheard you, “Me too. I want to show off what I learned from Jimin.” The dancer giggled at this, his entire face scrunching up cutely. This caused Jeongguk to nearly go into shock, turning with a groan that you’d physically felt run through you. Your friend needed to handle his situation. You were brought out onto the floor, positioned at the center of your friends in the usual formation. They always felt the need to circle you as a way of providing protection. With this in mind, it was easy for you to drop your defenses, and let go. The wedding was stressing you out, but the finish line was in sight. Apart from that, it was the weekend. You didn’t have to worry about work until Tuesday. Life was good for you right now. However, no dancing was ever perfectly in place. It was kind of like whenever you go to the beach, swimming in the water, how the waves tended to drift you away from where you’d originally started. You’d curse for a good ten minutes trying to find your blanket and parasol. Now you were struggling to find your friends, when you felt a hand encircling your wrist, and pulling you closer towards a chest covered in familiar black and white stripes. A red hot blazer matching his hair was Hoseok. “You look a little lost,” he said, dominating the space between you with his height. It should have overwhelmed you, perhaps even frightened you a little, but you hadn’t made any plans to pull back from him. It was probably all of the whiskey, but you found yourself rather enjoying the odd turn of events. Remaining captured by him, you stepped closer, “You’re an acquaintance now, so maybe not.” That slow, insufferable grin broke out across his handsome face, “What an honor.” The way he’d fucking said it – the deep tone he’d used on you didn’t make you feel any safer. He turned you so that your back was against the solid wall of his chest, the music suggestive and pulsating – easy for your body to follow, as you gave an experimental roll of your hips. He tightened his hold on you, digging his fingers into your waist to hold you against him more firmly. “What happened to the girl that you were speaking with earlier?” Had she been smarter than you? Did she know well enough to run? The puffs of air from his laughter reached your skin, teasing you, “My face must’ve scared her off.” You doubted that was the truth, even if the cuts and bruises were questionable. He had a small nose and a heart-shaped mouth with a beauty mark on his top, curvy lip. Hoseok was attractive, busy style aside – he was still dressed like he had money, and the energy he exuded was intimidating. You tilted your head to the side, giving him better access. “How did you get those marks?” “I believe it’s my turn to ask a question,” he chided, as he purposefully sighed his breath against the small hairs at the back of your neck. Your body’s response was immediate, as a chill had run through you. Your nipples were already sensitive and erect beneath the material of your dress, sticky warmth pooling between your thighs. Hoseok asked, “Who was that guy with his hands all over you?” You gasped when you felt his teeth pressing into your skin. It took effort to keep your hips moving in rhythm, as if you weren’t affected, “My friend, Taehyung.” “Oh?” He laughed, minus the incredulity. Hoseok knew what close friends were capable of doing. He was responsible for doing plenty of damage in that field, specifically with Yoongi, but that didn’t stop him from feigning innocence, however minute. “Do friends usually touch each other like that?” God – you slid your hand up into his hair, keeping his mouth pressed to your skin. The growl he emitted reverberated through his chest, enticed by your willingness. Your eyes closed when you felt his tongue trace hard circles into your neck, marking you up. It was difficult to concentrate, “It’s my turn.” He mouthed at the sensitive shell of your ear, “Answer me.” “No, they don’t, but–” Why were you about to justify your friendship with Taehyung? The important question. “What about acquaintances?” “Not here,” you said and it was the line that you kept repeating, more to yourself, than to him. Not here where your friends could see you. Not tonight, where your friends should be your first priority. Your friends. You were far out into the ocean, you realized, lost to the sharks – helpless to the hand splayed across your jawline, so that he could sink his teeth into your bottom lip until he tasted blood. You hummed at the back of your throat, leaning up to deepen the kiss. You could taste the alcohol when he filled your mouth with his tongue, the hand in your hair pulling you tight against him – keeping you still, angling his mouth to fit yours perfectly. You were mindful of the cut on his lip, gentle in your every caress, different to how rough and fiery he was – desperately pressing into you like you were set to expire. He was the first to pull back, slow and reluctant, before he leveled his face to look at you seriously, “I don’t want to be done with you.” You were drunk – he was drunk, this was all a bit much. You’d known Hoseok for like two seconds, yet you were ready to toss the entire night for him. Your gut told you to stay the hell away from him earlier and this was why. You were weak. Seokjin showed up less than a moment later, eyes as wide as saucers with his eyebrows raised to his hairline, “Wow! Hello. Nice to meet you.” Hoseok partially released you in order to shake his hand when it was extended to him. Your friend continued, “She’ll deny it, but I’m her father. We don’t go by logic in our household.” “This is Jimin’s friend, Hoseok,” you said, inching the rest of the way out of the redhead’s arms, suddenly overwhelmed with shame. It felt like you were in trouble, despite being a mature adult. “Jimin’s friend,” Seokjin echoed, digesting the information for as little as it was worth. His main concern was you. “Joon and I are leaving, since we have a long day tomorrow, lots to do still. Are you still spending the night or…?” You gave a small nod, your face burning up at what he was insinuating, “Yes.” As though you’d stay behind just to sleep with a complete stranger, which you might’ve if he hadn’t saved you. What the hell was wrong with you? You stared up at the chilled expression on Hoseok’s face and were at a loss for words, knowing that it was in your best interest not to ask for his information. Cut it off now. But he was so, so… “Nighty night, sweetheart,” was all you got from him, with a soft brush of his thumb across your cheekbone, feather-light. Then he sauntered off, disappearing into the crowd. Just like that, he was gone. Seokjin turned to you, the look on his face soured, “The fuck was that?” “An almost mistake,” you said, sobering up more than you would have liked to. You grabbed onto his arm when he offered it, and left the club, sad and embarrassed.

Getting drunk was a slow process for Hoseok, given his high tolerance for it. Fifth drink in and he managed it just fine, tipping the glass of clear liquid to the back of his throat with a satisfied hiss. One thing Hoseok was good at was investments and he’d made a decision that night. Earlier he’d sent the blonde on her way, because he’d already settled on you. A wedding on Sunday caught his attention, but then he took you in, and he’d allowed his mind to wander. It was the icing on the cake. Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin – it was something he could look up on Facebook later, to become familiar with, to build a story off of. He would have asked Jimin for more details, but he was already gone. The mochi slipped out the back exit with that tall, raven haired kid. Hoseok had forgotten to inquire about him, although he doubted that you were ever in bad company. He saw the way your friends had protected you out on the floor, like you were their little princess. A touch of spite had him being handsy with you, deliberately possessive. The premature kiss he’d landed nearly stole your breath away. You were his in that moment – his and not theirs. It’d felt so good to have you, even if it was for such a short duration. He squeezed the lime wedge into his tequila, taking his drink from the bar counter, and hadn’t been prepared for his walk to turn into a stumble. Ah, shit. A large hand on his shoulder made him a bit more stable. He slurred out a thanks, wincing when his back met the counter, and he was pushed onto a stool. Taehyung released Hoseok and took a seat next to him at the bar. He smiled at the bartender, “Coffee, please.” Just as the redhead went to take another swig of alcohol, Taehyung placed his hand over it, and brought the glass down forcibly. Hoseok laughed, making a weak effort to remove the hand over his drink. “Listen, I can take a lot more.” When he looked up, he immediately recognized Taehyung as the guy with his hands on his investment. Time to perform. Hoseok flashed his teeth, “Hey, it’s you! You’re the guy with the friend. The friend who is probably giving my friend a good dicking as we speak.” “Guk and Jimin?” Taehyung asked, trading out Hoseok’s tequila for the coffee. “That’s the one, yes,” Hoseok said, as he took a sip of his warm beverage, not at all pleased with the bitter taste of it, but mannerisms weren’t lost on him. He slumped forward with a groan, giving a brief flutter of his lashes – finding it difficult to open them again. Taehyung nudged him after a moment, trying to shake him awake, “Uhm, dude?” It wasn’t the first time he had to take care of someone. Most of his hyungs had their moments of irresponsibility. Taehyung reached over to start casually searching Hoseok’s pocket for his phone. It was broken to high hell, like he’d tossed it one too many times in a game of fetch. There was no lock on it, which made helping him that much easier. The last text received was from Grumpy hyung. Taehyung was quite good at dealing with angry people, it was his forte if you will, but this person seemed to care. The messages were a worried array of, ‘We need to talk’, ‘Seok, please pick up’, and ‘Don’t do anything stupid’. He pressed the button to call, slightly anxious due to the fact that it was two in the morning, and was underprepared for the cost of such an inconvenience. What Taehyung hadn’t been prepared for was the voice on the other end, all low and rough like gravel. The Daegu accent was thick as it poured through the line, “Hoseok? I didn’t think you’d be the first one to call. Why is it so fucking loud?” Taehyung swallowed down the lump in his throat, “Hi…” “My, Hoseok, what a deep voice you have…” Yoongi rolled his eyes, trying to identify which one of their asshole friends had stolen his phone, but was coming up short. “I’m actually,” Taehyung started, struggling to come up with some plausible explanation. It needed to sound right – this guy was already being critical, he could tell. “…wondering how I should send your friend home. He had one too many and is passed out. I could drop him off myself or you could come get him?” “You’re from Daegu,” the blonde mused, suddenly not so annoyed with having to pick up Hoseok for the umpteenth time in the middle of the night. “So are you,” Taehyung said, waiting in a silence that was comfortable, and electric – better than the high he got from dancing. Yoongi reached for his boots, “Text me the address and I’ll meet you outside.” Taehyung didn’t know why he was nodding, considering the fact that the other guy couldn’t even see him, “I will.” “Good.” He looked down at the cracked phone in his hand, texting the address with shaking fingers to a one Grumpy hyung. He held onto the other’s phone in case he received a response and moved to sling Hoseok’s arm around his shoulders, and lifted him. Despite being decently tall as well, Hoseok wasn’t all that difficult to carry out of the club. The summer air turned cold due to how late it was in the evening, a breeze softly brushing the light brown hair out of Taehyung’s face. He’d dressed for the heat of the club, wearing his torn fitted jeans, and a loose shirt that was clinging to his tanned skin with sweat. Hopefully the drop in temperature would be enough to dry him off some. He was careful when setting them both down on the concrete, their backs against the building. Hoseok’s head kept falling against his shoulder and he hadn’t cared to adjust it. There was no telling how long Grumpy would take. Taehyung allowed the low hum of the music to override the sounds of busy traffic, trying his best to stay awake, but was failing miserably. Not even the excitement in his gut from getting to meet Hoseok’s hyung was enough to keep him from sleep. Yoongi had never liked the club scene. He was an indoor cat for a reason, preferring to stay inside his studio, and work on his music until seven in the morning, where his creative flow would forcibly shut down for sleep. He pulled up at the Bizarre, flipping off the valet, as he opted to do the parking himself. A fucking valet. He closed his car door and searched outside the club. It wasn’t difficult to spot Hoseok’s bright red hair. He cursed under his breath as he approached, not yet realizing that the other man was asleep. The fellow Daegu boy had his head resting against Hoseok’s, ash brown hair touching red. He was slightly darker than Hoseok, enough to be considered the sun 2.0 – a different source of light, a stronger, possibly more sustainable source of light, which Yoongi was drawn to, had always been drawn to with Jung Hoseok. Taehyung felt, more than saw the other’s presence, as he stirred awake, “Are you going to take a picture or what?” The offer was tempting, but Yoongi found himself declining, “I’m here for Hoseok.” “Grumpy hyung?” Taehyung asked, staring up into the soft cat-like features of the blonde. He was smaller than he envisioned, but that face didn’t disappoint – the face was rather pretty, thick lashes framing his dark brown eyes. “Grumpy hyung…” Yoongi trailed, before the realization sunk in. “Is that what that prick put me down in his phone as?” Taehyung smiled wide and boxy, unable to keep in the laugh that erupted from him. Yoongi didn’t know what to do with such a thing, the sound itself cutting him in places he’d once been safely guarded. This was bad. “I’m Taehyung.” ‘No, you’re the sun,’ Yoongi wanted to argue. After several long moments of staring down at the guy, he finally answered him, “I’m Yoongi.” “Yoongi,” Taehyung repeated, testing the name out on his tongue. He liked it a bit too much, enjoyed the way it fit the rest of him. “Let me help get him to your car.” It would be easier on him, so Yoongi agreed with a short nod, watching the way Taehyung helped Hoseok up to his feet with minimal effort. He was taller than Yoongi, taller than Hoseok even, and wider – thigh muscles filling out his jeans, shirt low cut, and showing off the smooth skin of his collarbone. A night filled with alcohol and dancing left a deep blush across Taehyung’s skin, his eyes fierce when they met Yoongi’s, catching him staring. There was a fucking freckle on Taehyung’s nose and another on his waterline. It was almost offensive how attractive it was, how unfair, and ridiculous. Wounded, Yoongi tore his eyes away, but felt unashamed of the fact that he’d openly checked Taehyung out. The boy was probably already aware of his beauty. Yoongi pressed the button on his keypad to unlock the car doors, watching as Taehyung carefully set Hoseok into the backseat. “Do you need a ride?” he asked, trying not to sound so hopeful. Taehyung passed Hoseok’s phone over, “I was gonna walk, since it’s…literally right around the corner.” Well, shit. “Taehyung,” Yoongi said, wanting those eyes on him one last time. Of course, it only made him want more of it. “Thanks for the help.” He smiled, tucking his hands into his pockets, “Of course. Good night, Yoongi.” “Night…” sunshine. Taehyung left, wondering if Jeongguk and Jimin would become more – wondering if Jimin knew Yoongi. He wondered how long it would take him to acquire Yoongi’s number, so that he could hear the other’s tired voice again. The thought of it was enough to give him chills. For the first time in Taehyung’s life, he wanted to be chased after. He wanted to belong to someone.

#btsprotectnet #networkbangtan #kwordsmiths #bangtanarmynet #Hoseok x Reader #Hoseok Smut #BTS Smut #Jhope x Reader #Jhope Smut #BTS Scenarios #BTS Fan fics #WeddingCrasher!AU #Wedding Crasher

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sublime-samantha · 7 years ago

Text

poly!NamJin Imagine

Paring: NamJin x reader

Words: about 1.6k

Warnings: swearing, lil but of smut at the end, shitty writing, this isn't edited so... yup...also hints at Sope/Yoonseok and Vminkook

a/n: wish me luck bitch, this is the first time I've written for BTS sooo..

You sighed and looked around the cozy coffee shop you owned. You weren't much of a coffee person, you were a tea person, but you were damn good at making all types of coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and all types of sweet goodies you could think of.

You started to reflect on the past couple of years of your life.

You came to South Korea in your sophomore year of college. You majored in Korean History. All your life people admired you for having an ear for languages. You learned Spanish fluently in just shy of a year. You always admired the Korean dialect so you decided to attempt to learn it.

You picked it up flawlessly.

When your professor took note of your devotion to the Korean culture, past and present, he told you about a program you could invest in. He told you that for your sophomore year and until you graduate, you could go to South Korea and study at a beautiful college there.

You ended up looking into the program your university had to offer and within six months into your sophomore year, you were shipped off to South Korea for the next three years.

In your junior year you met Kim Namjoon. You fell in love with his adorable dimples and his gorgeous, but sometimes endearingly awkward, personality. You had been talking to him, in person and via text for about a month when he introduced you to his boyfriend. You remember that day like it was yesterday.

It was mid November, there was a nice autumn breeze sweeping around you and your favorite library as you sat at a table outside, enjoying the nice weather. The gentle breeze made your long, yellow woven sweater billow around your black Doc Martins.

You let out a nervous sigh, Namjoon wanted to introduce you to his boyfriend, Seokjin, today. While you were disappointed he was taken, you couldn't blame this man you’ve never met, Namjoon was one hell of a catch.

You heard the crunching of red and golden leaves behind you as people approached you.

A large, warm hand settled itself of your shoulder. You look and your eyes meet the dazzling, sparkling eyes of Kim Namjoon.

You smiled widely and stood up to give him a hug.

“Y/n! I’ve missed you!”

“Oh stop, man, we saw each other like last week,” you smile, endeared by his enthusiasm to see you again.

“I know, just too long. Anyway,” Namjoon begun, placing his hand on the other man’s lower back, “this is my lovely boyfriend, Seokjin, or as many call him, Jin.” Jin shifted his soft gaze from Namjoon to you.

Your eyes met and it was like... well it was frighteningly similar to when you made eye contact with Namjoon, but yet so different. You felt this nagging need to love and protect this man with broad shoulders in front of you.

You felt like you'd been staring at him for ages, but in reality it’d only been a few seconds. You coughed to try and rid your former thoughts, “I’m- uh, I’m Y/n,” you stuttered out.

“Hi, y/n, I’m Seokjin, but you can call me Jin,” Seokjin threw you a dazzling smile that you couldn’t help but return

You smiled thinking about that day. Namjoon later told you that he’d told Jin about you and that he thought you’d be a great addition to their duo. They weren’t looking for another partner, but as Namjoon got to know you, he thought you’d fit right in. And Seokjin thought the same thing.

You had been with them since junior year. That was about three years ago. You graduated from uni and went back to home and packed up your things to move right back to South Korea, what you now call home.

You look up at the clock, it reads 6:48. It was twelve minutes until closing time. You cleaned up on the counter and went in the back to straighten up.

You hung up your apron, grabbed your bag, felt your jean pocket to make sure your phone was there and headed out the door. You had your own cozy little apartment about five blocks from your shop, but your boyfriends preferred you stayed with them at the dorm. They say it’s cause they get lonely and miss you, you internally squeal every time they say that, God their too fucking good for this world.

You made your was to their dorm, which was a short walk of three blocks too the left of your shop. As you farther approached the dorm you fished out you keys from your bag, Jin and Joonie had gifted you a key to the dorm one Valentines Day, you cried your eyes out that day, but what could you say, your were so touched.

The door swung open and you stepped in, setting your keys in the dish beside the front door.

The cold air nipped at your skin as you made your way to the thermostat on the far wall of the living room. You flipped the light on in the hallway as you made your way to Joonie’s and Jin’s room you dumped your bag in the swivel chair in the corner of the room.

You went back through the living room to the kitchen to start dinner. No one was home, your boys and the other five residing at the studio for the next hour and a half, enough time for them to get back and for whoever wanted to shower to do so before dinner was ready.

The boys always said your food was special because it wasn’t their typical dinner, it was a bit of a mix up. You typically prepared dinner every Friday night, tonight you were making Chicago style deep dish pizza.

You had tuned on some music as you cooked. You were in your cooking zone so you hadn’t heard the door open and close and seven sweaty bodies entered the dorm.

“Woah,that smells really good!” Jimin exclaims as he entered the kitchen, Yoongi and Taehyung following close behind him.

You almost jumped out of your skin, “Jesus fucking Christ- sorry,” you apologized for your particularly vulgar language

You turn down the music as you turn around to greet the group of men that had pilled into the kitchen and dinning space.

“Yikes, sorry to give you a scare,” Taehyung flashed his boxy smile, letting you know they were in no way sorry.

“Yeah whatever, dude,” you jokingly waved him off as you look at the timer on the oven to see how long the pizzas had left.

“How’s my favorite girl?” Namjoon asks, finally entering the kitchen, his lanky arms enveloping you in a warm back hug, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Meh, pretty good, just makin’ pizza,” you turn your head to smile and wink at him.

“Smells good.”

“It’ll be ready in half an hour if anyone wants to take a shower before it’s done,” you announce to the other five in the room. You hear various murmurs and footsteps exiting the room leaving you and Namjoon alone.

“Where’s our dashing boyfriend?” you ask Joon.

“He's right here, princess, no need to worry,” Seokjin announces with a smile as he enters the kitchen.

Namjoon drops his arms from right under your chest to your waist so Jin can embrace you as well.

“I missed you guys,”you mumble into Jin’s pink sweatshirt clad chest, gripping the cotton loosely in your fist.

You subconsciously recognize they’re surrounding you leaving you with no escape, not that your complaining.

You felt Namjoon’s chest rumble as he chuckled and felt Jin smile into your hair, “We missed you too, baby girl.” You smile at his comment and bask in their warmth for the next couple minutes.

Jin helped you set the table, eight table places. Everyone loved the pizza, of course, you made it with love. Everyone finished the pizza, the table conversation consisting of how practice went and a crazy customer you encountered today.

Yoongi and Jungkook helped you with the dishes. You washing, Yoongi drying and Jungkook putting away. **

“Thanks you guys,” you smiled at the two boys.

“No problem, Noona!” Jungkook chirped back, his cute bunny teeth appearing with the smile he flashed you.

“Ditto,” Yoongi muttered

Jungkook skipped out of the room to find his boyfriends, aka the rest of the maknae line. Yoongi sauntered off to find his personal human sunshine.

You finished putting the leftovers in a Tupperware container and into the fridge.

You made your way to Namjoon and Jin’s room and heard soft music playing trough the door. You unnecessarily knock on the door, signaling your coming in. You open the door to find Jin straddling Namjoon, his hips grinding down slowly onto Joon’s bulge.

“Oh, you started without me?”

Jin moaned and nuzzled his nose into Namjoon’s neck as he bucked his hips up into the older man’s grinding. Namjoon looked up at you from his spot on the bed. “Mhm,” he hummed in approval, “it’s never too late to join us though.”

Namjoon kissed the shell of Jin’s ear and whispered something you couldn't decipher.

He looked up from the crook of Joonie’s neck and up at you. The smirk that appeared on his face and he rose from Namjoon’s lap to approach you drenched your panties. He slowly stalked towards you as Namjoon also rose from the bed.

Soon you were trapped between two long, warm bodies, steamy kissed being shared between the three of you.

You were kissing Jin’s neck and he kissed Joon above you. Your shirt had been discarded along with your bra and skirt leaving you in just your pink panties and Namjoon and Seokjin fully clothed.

You whimper as Jin’s fingers dance over your clothed slit. He smirked as he expertly located your clit you whimpered louder and fisted his sweatshirt in your hand.

The two men chuckled above you and you knew you were in for a long night

**Lmao when I was a kid my brothers and I used to call whoever put away the dishes the ‘putter-awayer’ lmaooooo

Hope you like it, loves❤️

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lil-blue-one · 8 years ago

Text

In Secret - Friends

"So where have you been lately, Levy-chan? It seems like you're gone all the time, but Jet and Droy have been hanging out around the hall." Lucy giggled a little. "They look like lost puppies sometimes." Great. I sighed. "I'm so sorry Lu-chan. I'm such a terrible friend. I've been ignoring everyone because of a new set of books I've been reading." I was telling the truth, but it still felt like lying. I WAS reading a new set of books. I'd never really read teaching books before.

We were currently sitting in the baths at Fairy Hills after our excursion to the bookstore. My muscles were too sore for me to do much else at the moment. I'd told Lucy that I'd been rearranging the bookshelves in my room again, to explain for the stiffness. "Why didn't you say something? I'd have come to help you! And brought Erza! She could probably move the shelves without having to unload all of the books." We laughed then, picturing our scarlet haired friend moving everything without breaking a sweat. "I just, I don't know. It was something I needed to do for myself, Lu-chan. Mostly the shelves ended up back where they'd started anyway, so that wouldn't have been fair to anyone helping me. And it's good for me to not be such a wimp all the time."

I looked up to see Lucy looking at me with concern in her face. "Levy-chan, what's going on? You've been down lately. And when you ARE around, you're exhausted all the time. I know it's not just from moving the bookshelves." I just shook my head, mentally kicking myself again for being such a bad friend. I took a deep breath and smiled brightly at my blonde friend. "Nothing, Lu. Don't worry about it. Shall we finish up and go have Cancer fix our hair? I'm ready for that pedicure!"

Lucy continued to stare at me for a few seconds, then smiled back. "Sure! Let's go!" We both toweled off and got dressed, then headed to my room. I hooked my arm through Lucy's and we started skipping like a couple of children. That soak did wonders for my muscles. I'll have to remember to do that more often. We got to my door, giggling uncontrollably, and I opened it. "Go ahead and call him, I'm just going to grab something out of my room really quick." I went into my dark room to grab a book Lucy and I had been talking about. I knew exactly where it is, so I didn't even turn the lights on.

As I crossed the room, I felt like something was off. I adjusted my course and grabbed the baseball bat that leaned against the wall next to my bed instead. I took a stance ready to swing and looked slowly around my room to figure out what had triggered this paranoia. I noticed my window open, and thought to myself, I'm pretty sure I haven't opened that all day...

As I continued to sweep my room with my gaze, my eyes adjusted to the low light. I could tell no one was in my room, but the bed I was standing next to seemed to have something on it. Still holding the bat ready, I reached one hand over and hit my light switch. As soon as the lights came on I felt dumb, getting worked up for nothing. I sat the bat against my wall again and went to close the window before turning back to the bundle on my bed.

In the middle of the tiny bed was a package, plain brown paper, tied with twine. I could tell from the shape that it was a large book, but who... I reached a hand towards it, but decided against unwrapping it. I'm already ignoring my friends enough. If I open that now, Lucy won't be able to get my attention again tonight. I turned and grabbed the book I'd initially came in for and left the room, turning my light off as I went.

The rest of the night the package on my bed lingered in the back of my mind. I felt more and more like my old self as the night went on, and Lucy stopped asking if I was okay by the time we'd gotten our hair done. Cancer put gentle waves in my hair and pinned my bangs back with clips before he told me my hair was "awesome, baby", took a bow and disappeared. Lucy and I laughed about that as we left, arms linked again. Even though it was dark out, with my new defense skills and Lucy's whip on her belt, we walked down the street without any fear. Of course, she didn't know anything about my skills, but the salon we were going to wasn't all that far from Fairy Hills anyway.

We laughed and talked about books and boys while we got our feet done. Lucy told the girl doing my toes that I was super ticklish, so I spent five minutes convulsing with laughter as my foot was trapped and tickled. As revenge I started teasing her, "So, Lu-chan, have you kissed Natsu yet?" Her face was instantly a beet red, "What?! Why would I do that?!" The girls giving us pedicures perked their ears up. One of them squealed, "Natsu? You mean Fairy Tail's Salamander? He's so hot!"

The other girl rolled her eyes, "He may be cute, but I hear he's always destroying things! Wait, you two are with Fairy Tail, right? Is Gray really so cold all the time?" Lucy and I looked at each other and laughed at them calling Natsu and Gray hot and cold. "Not really," I told them. "He's just quiet, and not very good at expressing himself." Lucy and I lapsed into a conversation about the books we'd bought earlier. Well, Lucy bought one. I bought six. Not that I had room for them. When our pedicures were done we left, and started walking back to Fairy Hills.

"Did you want to stay over, Lu-chan? So you don't have to walk all the way home this late?" I really did want to stop being such a terrible friend. Lucy walked with her hands clasped behind her, bouncing a little with each step she took. "No, I'll be fine. Thank you though." She smiled, and the light from a store window we were walking past illuminated a blush crossing her cheeks. "I'd better get home and kick Natsu and Happy out before they destroy the place." I kept my laugh to myself. The girl was hilariously trying to deny that there was anything between her and our hotheaded friend, but most of the rest of the guild knew better.

"Okay, will you send me a message when you're home safe?" I'd figured out a way to enchant a couple of notebooks so we could write messages to each other. If I wrote in mine, the words would show up in hers, and the Fairy Tail emblem on the cover would glow a pale blue. If she wrote in hers it would show in mine, but my emblem glowed a soft yellow. I could enchant them for more than just the two of us, and probably would someday, but it was a new thing we were trying and I wanted to keep it something special for Lucy and I. She's my best friend, after all.

"For sure, Levy-chan!" We stopped outside the door of Fairy Hills and hugged good night, then I watched her for as long as I could see her. I wasn't too worried, her "Lucy kick" worked pretty well against Natsu, so average thugs wouldn't stand a chance. Plus, there weren't any bad neighborhoods between her home and mine. I turned to go inside and realized I had nothing stopping me from tearing that book open tonight, so I raced up the stairs. I wasn't even tired, really, since I was up later than this most nights lately anyway. I took more time than I wanted to making sure I wasn't too loud shutting doors. Just because I didn't want to sleep, it didn't mean Laki and Juvia didn't want to. And Erza... she's really not one I like to disturb.

Finally making it into my room, I dropped my purse on the floor and kicked off my shoes before hopping onto the bed. I reached out tentative hands, turning the huge book over carefully to see if there was a card or any writing to tell me who the gift was from. Finding nothing, I shrugged and pulled the twine apart and let the paper fall off the book. My jaw fell with the paper, and I stared at the tome in my hands.

This book was an old, I mean, really old book I'd been drooling over for months! Every time I was in the bookstore I would skim a page or two before immersing myself in other books. The price tag on it was almost as high as my rent though, so I'd never been able to buy it! Maybe if I'd held off on buying any other books. For two years. Maybe. But now I didn't have too! I searched again for a tag to tell me who to thank for this marvel, but there was still nothing.

I wiped my hands on my skirt to make sure there was nothing on them that would ruin the ancient pages. Grabbing my glasses, a pen, and a notebook, I settled in to start translating the book. It was in at least four different languages, and I hadn't ever been able to decipher more than a line or two before. I didn't even know what the book contained, which was new for me; I just knew I needed to read it.

As I got into the first few chapters, I smiled at my luck. This book is full of different types of magics! Even I knew that most people cannot learn magic from a book, but maybe this would help me figure out some techniques to teach the kids different basics. Even if it didn't, it would be fascinating to read. I looked up finally at my clock and realized it'd been over four hours. I whipped my head to look at the notebook on the shelf over the head of my bed and saw a faint yellow emanating from it. I smiled and leaned up to grab the book, rocking to my knees and stretching out all the way. I sat back on my feet, legs crossed, and dropped the notebook in my lap.

~I'm home and safe, and had my bed pre-warmed by a certain pink haired trespasser! Smh! That dumb cat left hair everywhere too, I'll have to clean that up tomorrow!~

~Did you see my earlier message? Don't want you worrying about me, and I know this new spell doesn't always come through right away.~

~I'm pretty sure you're probably curled up in bed reading, aren't you? I know that's what I'm doing right now! :) ~

~okay, Levy-chan, you were totally right, this book is amazing! But I really have to sleep. So I'm going to close it, and hate you for giving this to me so late in the day that I couldn't finish it. J/k, hope you get some sleep and don't read all night! Ily!~

I laughed after reading all of the messages from Lucy. I grabbed my pen and wrote back,

~Lu-chan, you know me so well. As soon as you were out of sight I was on my bed reading. Sorry I didn't answer right away, hope you're sleeping well! Talk to you tomorrow... I mean, later today! Ily2!~

I sighed and put all of my books down, standing up and stretching. I clasped my hands together and pushed them up over my head until I heard a satisfying pop. It felt so good, I decided to do some of the stretches Gajeel had taught us, even if I hadn't used any of my muscles. Hmm, I wonder if... No, I'm sure he didn't bring me the book. Why would he? There's no way he'd spend that kind of money on me.

I pulled the sundress I'd been wearing off and grabbed my pajamas, my favorite long loose pants and snug tank top. Before I pulled them on, I stretched my arms up again, then leaned to one side, holding for ten seconds before straightening up. Then I leaned to the other side for another ten seconds. Finally, I bent forward, stretching my arms out and then down, placing my hands flat in front of my feet. My flexibility has improved a bit too!

Standing up straight again, I pulled my pajamas on, then moved my pile of books off the bed and onto my desk. I turned the light off and collapsed on my bed, dreams claiming me in a matter of seconds.

Fanfiction.net - https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12352494/15/In-Secret

#fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #Gajeel Redfox #Gajeel X Levy #Levy McGarden #gajeelswoman #mywork #in secret #gajevy

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imapirahana · 8 years ago

Text

The Ice We Skate

Viktor often found himself taking walks by himself outside Hogwarts’s castle in the evening of the dead of winter. Most of the other students called him crazy, but his Russian roots allowed him to barely notice the cold in the air. In fact it largely reminded him of St. Petersburg…during summer.

As one of the first students to take part in the Wizarding Schools Exchange Program, he occasionally found himself simply needing a break from the constant attention and fake smiles he found himself constantly plastering onto his face. Viktor would wander aimlessly until curfew then quickly head back to the dungeons of the Slytherin common room pretending like he had been studying in the library for the majority of the evening. No one would question him, and they would simply adorn him with the affections he used to love but was now finding quite trying.

On this particular walk he found himself walking in the direction of the lake, a place he normally stayed away from. (Giant squids? No thank you.) Caught up within his own thoughts he barely noticed the small black figure slowly skating across the lake ice. That is he did not take notice until he saw it jump up in the air, execute a beautiful quad salchow, and land again with a small wobble. Viktor froze in his tracks mesmerized as the ebony haired figure began to increase the speed of his dance into an intricate step sequence. Viktor heard the complicated music sequence that seemed to flow from the skater’s steps and body, yet there was no music.

All too soon the skater came to a rest in the middle of the ice still unaware of the single spectator who had become enthralled in his performance.

As the skater stopped bent over panting, Viktor recognized him as one of the other foreign exchange students. As the skater straightened up he quickly became aware of the silver haired figure staring at him. Freezing, the skater simply stared back looking like a deer caught in headlights. Viktor soon realized, and quickly brought his hand up, winked and waved at the skater. Even from where he was standing Viktor could see the blush spread out on the skaters face.

Now this is going to be fun. Viktor thought to himself.

Quickly taking his wand out Viktor transfigured his shoes into black ice skates, and he stepped out on the ice.

As he skated to the middle of the ice he noticed that the other skater, was covered in what seemed to be about 10 layers of clothes compared to his measly 3 layers, and the skater still looked cold.

“I thought I could join you on the ice my beautiful ice fairy. Would you mind if I joined you?” Viktor asked with a flirtatious tone.

The other skater blushed even harder at this and stuttered out a “Y-yes”

Viktor delicately raised an eyebrow and asked, “You would mind? Or you wouldn’t mind?”

At this the skater said, “I-I wouldn’t mind! Sorry…”

Viktor smiled sweetly at the skater and getting tired of simply calling him “the skater” in his mind inquired about his name.

“Now tell me, my ice fairy what is your name?”

With a sheepish smile the skater replied, “Katsuki Yuuri, just call me Yuuri though...”

Smile growing Viktor replies with, “Hello Yuuri, my name is”

“Viktor! Viktor Nikiforov.” Yuuri interrupted bringing the blush back full force from its previous receding state. “S-sorry, everyone knows who you are in school.” Yuuri stumbles out quickly trying to explain himself while gesturing to the school half-heartedly.

Just then a howl came piercing out of the woods, startling the two boys from their seemingly isolated bubble of conversation. Viktor, realizing how late it had become, sighs in sadness as he realizes that tonight, he would not get to skate with the adorable blushing boy before him.

Turning to Yuuri, he says, “It appears that the awful curse that has been put upon us prevents us from skating together tonight, but tomorrow perhaps we could meet on the ice yet again my ice fairy?”

Small smile gracing his delicate lips Yuuri replies with a nod, and together they skate to the edge of the rink to transfigure their skates back into the boots that they walked through the snow in.

As they begin to walk back to the castle, Viktor begins to realize how cold it has been getting, and if he noticing how cold it is… He turns to look at Yuuri who has blue chapped lips and chattering teeth along with a small shivering body. Viktor reaches over and pulls Yuuri to his side in an attempt to warm him up, and also because it gives him an excuse to hold the beautiful boy closer to his body.

At first Yuuri stiffens then relaxes into the warmth of Viktor. Ten minutes later they are walking through the doors of Hogwarts into the delicious warmth that the castle has to offer. Sadly, once inside Yuuri pulls out of Viktor’s embrace but before the disappointed look can fully settle on Viktor’s face, Yuuri says shyly, “We still technically have 30 minutes until curfew, would you want to grab some hot chocolate with me?”

Surprised, Viktor all but shouts “Yes, I would love too!” Then thinks and says, “Wait I have no idea where the kitchens are. Do you?”

With a small smirk on his face Yuuri simply replies by grabbing his hand and pulling Viktor along down the corridor.

Soon Viktor finds himself with a warm cup of hot cocoa in his hands, leaning against the wall with Yuuri, watching the house elves work dutifully in the kitchen. Soon they begin talking about their hometowns and their families back at home, until Viktor asks the question, “Yuuri why were you skating out on the lake by yourself?”

At this, Yuuri looks down into his almost empty cup of hot chocolate and says, “Before I was admitted to Hogwarts as a 3rd year transfer, I was actually a competitive ice skater in the muggle world. Sometimes when I need to clear my mind I return to skating.”

Without pausing, Yuuri continues on with, “When I found out you had also been admitted to the school as a fifth year, I couldn’t believe it. I had watched you skate so many times on the T.V. at the junior competitions that…that you actually were the person who inspired me to really start to work harder and try to get into the same competitions as you.”

Dropping his volume and examining the contents of the mug even further, Yuuri says, “It was my dream to skate on the same ice as you.”

At that admission, Viktor was left staring. He knew that he had inspired people before, hell he still had a fan base eagerly awaiting his senior debut, but he hadn’t realized that he could inspire someone to skate like Yuuri had earlier that evening. Someone who literally seemed to create a whole orchestra of music simply with his body.

Stretching his hand out under Yuuri’s chin, he gently lifted the almond eyed boys head up to meet his own azure eyes. “Yuuri, I may have inspired you to start ice-skating, but you have just inspired me to keep ice- skating.” With a small smile he adds, “And technically you have now skated on the same ice as me.”

At this, Yuuri smiles and seems to relax a little from the tense position his body had taken when speaking. He then inquires, “You know, since we are still both practicing for ice skating, maybe we could start practicing together?”

“I would love to Yuuri” Azure eyes filled with true joy as he looks into his not so distant future.

Suddenly a girl’s head pops through the door with a Ravenclaw Prefect pin pinned to her robs. “Yuuri! Viktor! You are both breaking curfew, ten points from Slytherin and Hufflepuff each! Also detention, for both of you, three days.”

Shocked, Viktor is about to argue that they were only a few minutes past curfew when he looks at the clock on the wall and realized it was in fact actually two hours past curfew. Had it really been that long? Before he could say anything in dispute however, Yuuri started quickly speaking in what sounded like sad, scarred, and confused Japanese. From what Viktor could decipher, he was actually reciting the recipe for something with pork cutlets and rice? What the? Oh.

Quickly catching on to the idea, he began to quickly spout the Russian National Anthem in the most confused voice he could. He couldn’t really pull off the sad angle as well as Yuuri- it was Russian after all- but the trick seemed to do the job. The prefect took pity on the sad and lost foreign exchange students and retracted the point penalty but kept the amount of detentions intact.

Which, honestly, Viktor was fine with because it meant he got to spend more time with Yuuri.

The prefect then decides that it is her humble duty to escort them back to their respective common rooms. All the while Viktor and Yuuri continue to babble in their native languages switching between nursery rhymes, national songs, and random food recipes.

Right before Yuuri escapes into the Hufflepuff common room he turned to look at Viktor who winked and said in Japanese “Tomorrow after dinner, the lake.”

To which Yuuri smiled and nodded before fully disappearing. The prefect looked even more confused at this and turned to Viktor speaking very loudly and slowly saying “You can speak Japanese?”

As they began walking back to the Slytherin dungeons he pretends to try to figure out what the prefect had said and right before slipping inside his own common room said in perfect English, “I can actually speak a little Japanese, and I am fluent in English, Russian and French. By the way, I’m glad that you enjoyed my recitation of the Russian National Anthem along with the recipe for Borsch. Good night!”

The look on the prefects face was priceless. Before she could say anything else though, he put on his most charming and heart stopping smile then proceeded to disappear into the Slytherin common room.

As he got ready for bed that night the smile on his face was, for once, a beautifully real smile.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

#yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #victuuri #victor x yuuri #yuri on ice #yuuri on ice #fanfic #fandom #iveneverwrittenfanficbefore #constructivecriticism appreciated #hogwarts #slytherin #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #imsorry

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whatdoyouexpectthistime · 8 years ago

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‘Choosing Sides’ Part Eleven - What You Wished For

“God damnit Miho,” she muttered as she exited onto the street, pausing a moment to compose herself properly, pinching the back of her neck. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

It was well before the last train, and the station wasn’t much of a walk, so as she strolled, she tried to sift through mush festering in her head.

“You know, you’re doing this to yourself,” she huffed, irritably shrugging her shoulders and getting a weird look at a couple passing by. “You trusted Kaga not to be a dick, you angry-sob-fucked Baba and now you’re getting all hot and heavy for the guy you dumped for no good reason – jury?”

She looked to the nearest tree.

Yes, that was her jury.

“Exactly,” she nodded in agreement with the silent verdict. “Just…” she continued with a sigh. “… focus on work.”

Her dreams that night were an absolute mess; the kind you really enjoy at the time, but leave you with way too many questions in the morning.

“But why the hell was Narita there?” she muttered, shuddering as she dressed for work. “Uuuh.”

With classes in the afternoon, Miho went straight to see Kirisawa about getting her hands on the original journal she and Chiba had been working on the previous day. Though she didn’t really want to admit it, she knew she was more tense than usual making her way up to 2nd Unit’s office, praying she didn’t run into Nomura.

Thankfully, she didn’t encounter him on the way, but when she arrived at 2nd Unit, only Kyobashi was there.

“Morning,” she smiled as cheerfully as she could, glancing at her watch. “Kirisawa out already?”

“Not in yet,” Kyobashi smirked suggestively, but it didn’t quite click with Miho.

“But it’s nearly 8:30.”

“Well you know, he’s approaching that age where strenuous physical activity takes its toll on the body,” he explained, waiting for the penny to drop.

“Oh riiiight. Jazz,” Miho chuckled.

“But I heard you left alone, Fujiwara,” he continued, inspecting her with the same kind of scrutiny she routinely got from Shininome.

“Of course you heard,” she sighed, rolling her eyes, but she knew Kyobashi and his quirks – in fact, he was the only person other than Kirisawa who had known she and Nomura were involved.

“And yet…” he murmured, moving around the table and tilting his head a little, like he’d spied something about her and a new angle would help bring it better into focus. “Guess you’ve still got pulling power hmm?”

“You’re imagining things, Kyobashi,” she denied flatly. “Your perv-senses must be malfunctioning.”

“Or you’re the one imagining things,” he snickered, walking past her just shy of brushing her shoulder. “Coffee while you wait?”

“Sure,” she laughed, mostly to cover up how dangerously close to the truth he’d actually been, but Kyobashi wasn’t about to let it go.

“So how did it go last night anyway?” he asked, looking over from the coffee machine. “Not weird or awkward?”

“Don’t you have work to do?” she frowned lightly, taking the mug he held out to her.

“Well, when you’re as talented as I am, there’s always time for off-topic conversation,” he grinned.

“Except,” Kirisawa began, clearing his throat as he strolled into the office, “all your conversations seem to be on off topics, Kyobashi.”

“Can’t help it if I’m right,” Kyobashi defended, totally unbothered by Kirisawa’s remark. “And you know I’m always right.”

He cast a conspiratorial sideways glance at Miho, pointing toward Kirisawa’s neck with a long, thin finger.

“Isn’t that so, Fujiwara?”

Kirisawa self-consciously pulled his collar up a little higher just that little bit too late, and Miho could not stifle a laugh.

“Oh god, Kirisawa,” she giggled. “A hickey?”

“Don’t start,” he grumbled, but as he turned to his desk she saw one corner of his bashful grin. “Lemme do that evidence order for you.”

“Thanks,” she smiled, toning down her expression, “not that I’m especially looking forward to diving back into that nightmare. You’d better make sure this guy goes down hard.”

In the background, Kyobashi chortled.

“So childish,” she sighed, but the silly banter had lifted her mood considerably.

“You got out of there in one piece?” Kirisawa then enquired quietly as he waited for the paper work to print off. “Sorry to just bail on you like that.”

“It’s fine. You know I don’t need a chaperone,” she told him.

“Yeah, but still,” he shrugged, picking up his pen.

“I’m just happy that you got… happy,” she added mischievously, and Kirisawa’s pen slipped from his grip and went skidding across the floor. “Ha ha, I’ve got it,” she smirked, chasing the pen, but waving at Kyobashi in a conspiratorial fashion. “It’s actually two hickies.”

“Oh now who’s being childish?” Kirisawa muttered.

“Sorry,” she apologised, “but you’re such an easy target.”

“I’m going to remember you said that, Fujiwara,” he sniffed in mock indignation, but he couldn’t hide how even his ears were burning. “Go on, get out of here before Nomura makes another unscheduled visit.”

“Gone!” she announced, plucking the paperwork from his hold and heading quickly for the door. “Have fun.”

Before long, in a locked evidence view room, monitored by cctv, Miho was allowed to handle the original journal of the sadistic rapist Kirisawa and 2nd Unit were after. There was distinctly more malice in the immediacy of those pages – the fervent, something sloppy, sometimes digging penmanship of the suspect eerily reaching up at Miho as she squinted at certain sections.

“Better get used to this,” she told herself, cracking her neck as she turned to the next page, greeted there by the kind of display one might expect of an R rated torture flick. “This is why you need to do it.”

Ultimately, Miho was able to decipher and translate all but one of the ‘words’, and after checking the journal back into the evidence locker, supervised all the way she was satisfied, despite the enduring sense of that monster’s gaze following her down the hall, she dropped the transcription in with Kirisawa and left without any fanfare.

Back on campus, she met Chiba who gave her some feedback on her latest few lesson plans, then happily carried her equipment to the classroom.

“Wow Chiba,” Sasaki grinned she Miho arrived with him in tow. “I heard you got scouted as Instructor Fujiwara’s aide, but thought it was another rumour.”

“Oh um, scouted might be a bit of a strong word,” he fumbled, joining his fellow students while Miho set herself up at the front.

“Really?” Asahi chimed in. “I heard she took you to MPD yesterday and you missed all your afternoon classes. Word has it Instructor Kaga was pretty mad.”

“What?” Chiba blinked, eyes shooting toward the door like he might find Kaga looming there.

“Probably jealous,” Sasaki nodded knowingly. “They’re dating you know.”

“Huh?” Chiba dropped, looking back to Sasaki. “That can’t be true. She told me herself she hasn’t got a partner.”

“You asked her?” Asahi exclaimed, a little too loud.

“That was bold,” Sasaki grinned. “But, of course she would say that, I mean, it may not be against the rules for instructors to date, but I bet they want their privacy.”

“Okay, let’s begin,” Miho said, raising her voice to the now full classroom, and the noise died down. “Today we’re going to be running mock interrogations,” she continued, holding a stack of laminated cards, taking a moment to look around the room before she continued.

Heads had lifted, eyes keen on her.

At least they’re paying attention now.

“I need you to pair off. One person will be the suspect, the other the interrogator,” she explained. “Suspects, read your yellow cards,” she went on, holding up a yellow card with black printed text on it in English. “You’ll need to go over it and remember as much of it as you can. Interrogators, details of the crime, the suspect’s arrest and the evidence you have is on your blue hard.”

She this time showed a blue card, much smaller than the yellow one.

“Your suspect only speaks English, and so if you want charges to stick, you need to get them to confess using English.”

“This is going to be hard,” Sasaki grumbled quietly to Asahi, though she didn’t sound overly bothered. “But it makes sense.”

“Instructor Fujiwara has been busy the last few days, but put a lot of time into these scenarios,” Chiba put in, but fell quiet when Miho raised her voice again.

“This is an exercise in using your language skills,” she affirmed. “So I want you to keep other techniques to an absolute minimum. Pretend like the chairman of the Public Safety Commission is standing on the other side of that one-way glass; you really have to do this one by the book.

“I’m going to give you fifteen minutes to study your cards and ask for clarification, then you’ll get started. Next lesson you’ll switch places, and receive a new scenario – I will be assessing your fluency, pronunciation, annunciation, speed, articulation, expressiveness and creativity.

“Are there any questions?”

The long list of her assessment criteria seemed to have stunned even the students who had attacked her into silence, and so Miho shrugged.

“Next week I’ll be posting a schedule for official evaluation,” she declared with a slight smirk. “You’ll be interrogating instructors, so you’d better give this practice run your all.”

As she handed out the cards to ready pairs, she realised there was an odd number.

“Chiba,” she called, waving him over. “You’re with me.”

Asahi giggled at the grin that lit Chiba’s face, while Sasaki was more tactile in her response, giving him a shove in the back.

“I really should have paid attention to numbers,” Miho muttered to herself.

“I didn’t notice either, Instructor,” Chiba admitted. “Sorry, but, this works out for me – who better to coach me in this than you?”

“Well I’m glad you feel that way,” she chuckled, giving Chiba his card to study. “Though you might not by the end of the exercise.”

There were plenty of questions about certain terms and how to correctly express an idea or form a question, then after the allotted fifteen minutes the classroom was filled with serious expressions and attempts at intimidating English.

Miho tried not to laugh as she took a quick glance around, before Chiba began to interrogation, fidgeting nervously.

Then Miho slipped into character.

“How very intimidating, ‘Detective’,” she smirked, eyeing him critically, and she watched both his fists form.

“I do not need to intimidating,” he declared, drawing his face into something less… Chiba-innocent-like, and Miho had to exert quite a measure of willpower to keep her expression stoic.

She gave no pointers along the way, but revealed information as he was able to ask the right questions, but stopped when the sound in the classroom suddenly diminished.

“Instructor Fujiwara,” came a voice from the door over her shoulder, and Miho found Kaga standing there with a serious expression. “You’re wanted in the instructors’ room.”

“For?” she questioned, swiveling. “I’m in the middle of class.”

“Chief Namba would like to speak with you,” he clarified, and Miho stood.

“Sorry folks, I’ll be back as soon as I can. Continue,” she said to the class, but also apologised to Chiba. “Sorry; why don’t you see how everyone is going, take some notes on what they’re finding particularly difficult so I can work on it later?”

“Of course, Instructor,” he nodded, but Miho didn’t miss the slide of his eyes from her to Kaga, then back again.

“Since when are you anybody’s messenger boy?” Miho frowned at Kaga as they walked side by side back toward the instructors’ room.

“Since this is my problem too,” he told her bluntly, briskly, much like he had a bee in his bonnet over something.

“Problem?” she scowled. “Has it something to do with the case you were working?”

“It will do,” he confirmed, eyes forward, chin high, tone flat. “But I’ll let Namba explain.”

But Miho stopped outside their destination and looked up at him.

“Do you have a problem?” she enquired. “Because you know, if anyone has the right to be pissed off, it’s me.”

For a moment he looked down at her, eyes completely unreadable, though it looked like he was going to answer – then he pushed open the door and headed straight for Namba’s office.

With an exasperated sigh she followed, closing the three of them inside.

“Sorry to pull you out of class like that.” Namba apologised, “but I figured you’d want to know about this as soon as word was passed down.”

“Oooh-kaaay,” Miho exhaled on a long breath, actually feeling a bit on the nervous side.

“Your applications and all those shiny endorsements have been reviewed,” he announced, leaning back in his big chair with his fingers steepled like some evil overlord. “And in the face of overwhelming support, especially from Prime Minister Hiraizumi, administration has decided to grant you a special circumstances entry into Public Safety.”

“No way,” Miho dropped, the kind of thing a teenager would say when their favourite sitcom got cancelled. “I’m in? Just like that?”

“Hardly,” Namba sniffed, glancing from where Kaga stood at Miho’s left shoulder, back to her face. “There are a number of conditions and caveats.”

“As expected,” she nodded, fighting to keep the rush of excitement to an acceptable level. “Such as?”

“That exam you mentioned? You’ve got a week to prepare, and if you’re not above the average of this year’s results, you’re already done,” he told her.

“Right, well I can do a week,” she agreed. “No problem.”

“In discussion I did mention the whole academy assessment thing, and it was agreed that you will indeed have to complete all required criteria for evaluation that other students are prior to their graduation,” he continued. “This assessment is going to be reviewed by an external panel to avoid any suggestion of nepotism given you’re an instructor here also.”

“Yeah, that is fair, I did suggest that,” she conceded, though she knew it was going to be a really, really hard slog.

“And,” Namba went on, and this time Miho didn’t miss the look he shot at Kaga. “And they agreed that while you have a strong academic record, have shown great zeal for further self-improvement, and have worked with various law enforcement agencies here in Japan, you lack the basic police background other students of this academy have. So, Captain Kaga is going to be your mentor and direct superior. You will effectively be taking your orders from him beginning immediately.”

“Oka… what?” she blinked, her last agreement stalling half way.

“Well it’s not like I have the time,” Namba shrugged. “And you already seem pretty familiar with how each other works.”

“Yeah but, I thought after the whole thing with me getting shot…” she began, but Namba held up his hand and she bit her tongue.

“Get used to taking orders,” he told her, then softened his expression a little. “And try not to embarrass me?”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Kaga stated, and Miho had to fight not to comment about the satisfaction in his tone.

“Is that all, Sir?” she asked, and when Namba nodded she saluted and exited with Kaga right behind her.

And oh how she didn’t want to look at him now.

“Why you?” she questioned instead, though both Goto and Ishigami were in the outer room. “Seriously, after the reprimand – why the hell would they…”

“Because I offered,” he responded, as if as much should already have been obvious.

“What?” she blurted, rounding on him with such energy, Goto and Ishigami couldn’t help but look up from what they were doing. “Why?”

“Because,” Kaga smirked. “That four-eyed buffoon can barely handle the subordinates he has. There’s no way he could keep up with a trouble-maker like you.”

“It just so happens my subordinates are so capable they don’t require handling,” Ishigami retaliated with calm and poise – something that Miho was increasingly deficient in.

“I’m the trouble maker?” she glared, colour rising in her face, ignoring Ishigami completely.

“Fujiwara,” Goto said, voice firm but uncoloured by the unfolding argument. “Shouldn’t this be a moment for celebration, not fighting?”

“She hasn’t got time to celebrate,” Kaga snorted. “Because forget the Chief – if she embarrasses me on that test, there’s going to be hell to pay.”

“I can’t believe this,” she hissed, stalking to the door.

“Believe it,” he barked, “and start acting like the cadet you are.”

Miho’s jaw trembled, and though the grating of her teeth as they ground over one another was both a terrible sound and sensation, should couldn’t help it.

Calm down. Calm down. Calm down. All roads leading to success are paved with assholes… er challenges.

“You’re right,” she said, but her voice was very quiet. “Please excuse me, instructors, I have a class to return to.”

The next part required much more resolve – slowly she turned, and locked eyes with Kaga, before inclining her head.

“Sir,” she said, managing to sound at least part way respectful.

“North entrance. 7pm. Dress cute,” he instructed in response, and completely off topic.

“May I ask why?” she ventured carefully, fighting the urge to place her hands on her hips.

“Nope,” he shrugged. “You’ve got class to get back to so, I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

It was clear that was her cue to leave, because Kaga went into his office and closed the door the moment he’d said his last.

“I… wha…” she frowned – frustrated and perplexed and angry all over again.

“Hadn’t you better return to your class?” Ishigami prompted, and with a shake of her head, Miho scuttled away, completely rattled.

Dread settled in her stomach.

If Kaga was taking her out on another investigation of his, that actually wasn’t such a big deal, in fact she now needed all the experience she could get – but if it was like his lesson in interrogation then she didn’t want a bar of it.

“Sure you do,” she told herself bitterly. “You really did get what you wished for.”

Continue to Part Twelve - Beyond That Line

#voltage otome #voltage games #voltage fanfic #voltage angst #her love in the force #her love in the force fanfic #hlitf #hlitf fanfic #hiroshi kirisawa #kyobashi #kaga hyogo #Namba Jin #Chiba Daisuke

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endoftheline72 · 7 years ago

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Untouchable Ch 3 - Repost for Tumblr

She’d give him another ten minutes. Just ten more, then after that, she would let the panic that she’d been talking herself around for last two hours take control. The light was fading, the wind had doubled in the last half hour and the snow was now falling so heavily that Caitriona had trouble seeing more than a few feet out the window and he still hadn’t returned. Johnathon had left earlier in the day to climb the small mountain in an effort to get signal on the phone and alert the outside world of her whereabouts.

The weather had been reasonably good then and Johnathon had explained it shouldn’t take him more than a few hours. That was four hours ago and Caitriona was really beginning to worry. If anything happened to him what on earth would she do? She could barely hobble more than a few feet, even on the crutches that Johnathon had found tucked away in the attic. If he was hurt out there, she had no way of helping him or of even helping herself. She glanced at the clock. Eight minutes. Flicking the blankets back and mentally bracing herself against the anticipated pain, she slowly lifted her leg, swinging it over the edge of the bed and fumbling for the crutches. She sucked in a breath as her foot hung down towards the floor, the blood throbbing painfully to the joint. “Breathe.” She murmured, her mind recalling the gentle instruction Johnathon had quietly spoken to her earlier that day when he’d wrapped her ankle again, “Just breathe.” If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost hear him, the deep timbre of his voice, soft patience in his clear blue eyes, the warmth of his hand on her arm as he’d knelt before her, waiting with her for the pain to pass. Now, like then, the pain began to ease with each breath, at least to the point where it no longer left red streaks darting behind her eyelids.

Six minutes. Shaking hands gripped the crutches and Caitriona awkwardly hauled herself unsteadily to her feet. Breathe. After every small step she was forced to stop, wait for the pain to ease, then take another wobbly, off balance step. It took every bit of concentration she had not to topple over. Fortunately, concentration seemed to take priority over panic, every step helping her to calm herself. Three more steps and she’d be level with the kitchen bench. Step and breathe. Four minutes. She was almost there when she heard them. The distinctly heavy thud of boots on the front porch. The door pushed inwards bringing with it a gust of frozen air and the snow dusted blond head of Johnathon. Worried blue eyes met his, taking in his tall, solid form. “Thank God.” She said on a long breath as her eyes slid closed. The relief of seeing him, alive and in one piece, flooded through her, hands shaking as the crutches absently clanked to the floor. In an instant he seemed to be beside her, a strong arm wrapping around her waist, holding her steady, “Think you better sit down before you fall down.” His deep voice was calm and flowed like honey into her mind, smoothing the sharp edges of nervous worry that had been grating on her for what seemed like hours. Caitriona gave up trying to speak and instead mutely nodded, laying an arm across his coat covered shoulders, leaning into him, letting him half carry her as together, they hobbled towards the couch. Johnathon slowly lowered Caitriona into the seat, “Foot up.” He bent, chilled fingers gently gripped the back of her leg, causing her muscles to tense slightly. “Sorry.” He lifted her ankle, resting it on a cushion and reaching for one of the folded blankets, holding one edge, flicking it open then tucking the edges of the blanket around her legs, “Better?” He asked quietly sitting back on his haunches, blue eyes searching hers.

She nodded, “What happened Johnathon?” Her voice was slightly uneven, still coloured with equal measures of concern and relief, “I thought you were only going to be a few hours. It was getting dark, the weather was getting worse and I didn’t know what was going on.” It came out faster than she wanted it to. She took a breath in an effort to stop the cascade of what she was sure must sound like inane babble, tumbling from her mouth. “You could have been hurt and I would have been useless to help.” She dropped her gaze, hating herself for sounding like an irrational fool, staring at an errant crease in the blanket instead. He was little more than a stranger, there was nothing between them and yet the utter relief of seeing him safe had made her crumble like a deck of cards. Just one more log on the emotional fire of confusion that seemed to be constantly raging inside her mind lately. She lifted an unsteady hand and brushed the hair back from her forehead, “I'm the one who should be sorry. This is the last thing I’m sure you need to be dealing with after hiking through a storm to send my stupid messages.”

“It’s alright.” He offered her a soft smile, “The storm last night caused a lot of timber fall on the trail. It took me longer than I thought to get up there.” He dug into his coat pocket and retrieved the phone, “All the messages sent though and,” He shot her a lopsided grin, “Once I got decent signal up there, the phone wouldn’t stop buzzing and ringing.” He passed the offending object over, “Seems you were most certainly missed. A couple of calls came in while I was speaking with the local police. They went to voicemail, so you’ll have to wait until we get signal tomorrow to hear them.” “Tomorrow?” She looked up at him as he stood up and shucked out of the coat, looping it over his arm. “Tomorrow. Apparently the road is opened closer to town, but they are expecting heavy snowfall to arrive sometime in the next two days.” He perched himself on the coffee table beside her resting foot and began untying his laced boots, “We’ll head for town as soon as it’s light tomorrow.” Johnathon pulled one foot free with a slight grunt, “See if we can’t get out of here before the next storm comes through." A second boot joined its mate, "Sound okay?" “Can we get through after the weather today?” Caitriona glanced towards the now dark window, the wind blowing the occasional white flake against its clear surface. “We’ll give it go. Might be slow going, but worth a try.” Johnathon said standing ,tossing the boots in a reckless pile beside the log basket, “But in the meantime, I’m going to have a hot shower and get dry clothes,” He started walking towards the bathroom, untucking his shirt on his way, “You have a few texts there that you might want to look at.” Then he was gone, the bathroom door clicking shut, an empty silence settling over the room.

Tomorrow. She would have to face up to all of this for real tomorrow. No more thinking, no more pondering and considering. It would all come rushing back in full force. Tomorrow. Sam, Tony, production, the whole outfit. If her ankle was broken that would push filming back. She still had a four week break left of the hiatus but if recovery was to take longer than that, an expensive delay would be inevitable. All the crew who depended on the show for a job would be forced to wait, not to mention the stress a delay of wages would mean to them. Production and crew would be pissed off at her and rightfully so. Going on a road trip because she was upset wasn’t exactly the smartest idea she’d ever had. It ranked right up with there with deciding to go to Sam Heughan’s room after witnessing your significant other entertaining two guests privately in your own hotel room.

Caitriona glanced at the phone in her hand, wondering if either of them had anything more to say about that whole debacle. She swiped a finger across the screen, unlocking it and looking at the message folder. “Oh holy Christ!” She cursed aloud. A few messages? She shot a dark look at the closed bathroom door. Johnathon Chase, the lord of the understatement. There were precisely 84 unread messages and ten voicemail notifications. She decided on production as her first target. They were organising transport of her family and retrieval of the car, along with a medical specialist that she would be required to visit in New York. Depending upon what their diagnosis was, she was scheduled to fly out back to Glasgow as soon as possible to begin costuming for the upcoming season. That got rid of 14 of the 84 messages. So far, nothing too bad.

Her family was next. There were three messages from her mother and father, which in itself was fairly novel. Both parents steadfastly refusing to text, claiming that if they wanted to talk to someone they would call them up or go and see them. They were preparing to fly out from Ireland when these messages were sent, which would mean that by now they would be well and truly on their way. Her parents would, according to several of the messages be accompanied, by her eldest sister, Sarah, who had also recruited another sister, Deidra, currently working in New York. The plan, as far as Caitriona could decipher from the mixture of message senders, was for her family to unite in New York and then travel to her. That cleared out another 15 messages. Maybe things wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

On the other hand, she sighed loudly, recognising the next number in the line of messages as Tony’s. Mentally bracing herself, she opened the texts. All of messages, just seven of them, centred around a common thread, that being Tony attempting to explain what she’d seen in that Seattle hotel. First, it was under the guise of a misunderstanding, then as a mistake on his part, and finally, landing the blame squarely on her own shoulders. He’d done it, according to this theory, because she had been busy and distant towards him. Busy, yes. She agreed with that whole heartedly. It was part of the job, part of her responsibility as the star of this contraption. She did take exception to the insinuation that they had become distant. 'Become distant' implied that they had, at some point, been something other than that. As far as she had been able to tell, things were exactly the same as they had always been. They hadn't become that way, they always were that way. Point and case was before her very eyes. She had left furious, fallen off the grid with no contact and the best he could do was offer justification? There was no are you alright Caitriona, or anything resembling something along the lines of I’m glad you’re okay. Just avoidance and blame. She deleted the messages from the phone as she read them, wishing her mind was similarly configured. She could press a button on a phone and the words disappeared, lost forever into the emptiness of cyberspace ether, never to see the light of day again. Her conscience however, didn't possess such a button and left to its own devices, in the quiet stillness of the room, fueled by guilt, guided by regret and driven by uncertainty, it tended to think in circles. Maybe she was reading too much into this. After all, she tried to reason with herself, things had been going okay before that night in the hotel. If the relationship was really as toxic and unfulfilling as she was more recently considering, wouldn’t she have detected it before? She didn’t like to think she was that stupid and oblivious, but right now, in this moment, she wasn’t so sure. Had the signs been there this whole time? Had she, in an effort to not repeat LA, fallen headlong into something that was just as bad? Circle complete. It was maddening to her. She scowled and shook her head, hoping to physically dislodge the uncomfortable thoughts from her mind. It didn't work, instead her mind made another connection as her eyes read the number of the next sender. Sam. 51 messages. Most of the messages contained some variation of him professing his feelings for her, several, in quite graphic details that left her face warmed with embarrassment and her quickly pressing the delete button. Some were trying to convince her that their professional relationship didn’t have to change even if their private one happened to. A moot point, she argued with herself. Things had already changed because of it. She couldn’t even begin to process how awkward work would be right now. It was one of the main reason’s she stopped him and was determined to not go there. She was being professional. This was her shot. Maybe her only shot at this business and she had no intention of screwing it up with an off set relationship. Caitriona needed Sam to be able to do this job well. Needed the actor, not the man. Things may well be difficult now, but a relationship that went bad with her on screen lover would be a show ending, possibly career killing mistake. She knew it, even if Sam thought otherwise. She had to be the adult, even if Sam wasn't.

Life wasn’t meant to be easy, but no one ever warned her it would be one shit storm after another. Worse, no one ever told her about the way this would make her feel. Like she was failing at everything and everyone. She hated it. Hated doubting herself and hated that feeling of uncertain dependence most of all. She'd tried to be independent her entire life. She'd left home early, left the shelter of her family, needing to do things her own way. She'd been successful at it as a model. Caitriona hadn't expected that to change when she'd left that insipid lifestyle behind, taking a chance on acting. But it had changed. She gone from entirely independent and in control of almost everything, to relying on Sam for her job, relying Tony for her plus one at events and now, even relying on a practical stranger in Johnathon Chase, to get her back on her feet. Dependent and helpless to control anything right now. She couldn’t even walk ten steps on her own for Christ’s sake.

Caitriona ran a frustrated hand through her hair and tossed the phone on the table, letting her head fall back against the chair. Her mind was about to continue its frustrating contemplation of her situation and life in general, when a mark on a sheet of paper caught her eye. It was laying on the table, beside the phone she’d angrily tossed there moments ago, the silver of a set of car keys stark against the white background. A neat black script, indicating her name decorated the top of the paper. Her dark brows drew together as she sat up and reached for it.

Caitriona, the letter read, Here are the keys to the ute and a map with the road marked that will get you to town. The red circle is the section of the road where you’ll get signal for the GPS and the ute's two-way radio signal to call for help. It’s a about ten miles from the cabin but it should be doable once the snow stops enough to be able to see where you’re going. There is spare water and food in the ute and plenty of blankets. Don’t worry about me or anything else, wait for the weather to clear and get yourself back to your family. I know you can do this if you have to and if something happens, just stop, breathe and wait for the pain to pass. It always does.

Johnathon

P.S. Pro tip: Stay clear of sharp corners and icy lakes.

She glanced at the bathroom door and smiled, shaking her head at his smart ass post script and sniffling back a tear. 'I know you can do this if you have to' , he had written. The context between his thought and her situation was slightly different, she recognised that but....

She took a deep clearing breath and let it out.

Stranger or not, Caitriona hoped Johnathon Chase was right.

Could she do this?

Tomorrow she would find out.

Also on AO3

http://archiveofourown.org/works/10919163/chapters/24903501

#untouchable #outlanderrpf

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