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aomine-ryo · 4 years ago

Note

Hi can you do a jealousy headcanon for GOM? 💜

Of course! Hope you like it :)

Headcanons: GOM getting jealous

Kuroko

He doesn’t get jealous very often because he just has so much trust in you

If he ever does, he’s really subtle about it that you won’t even notice unless he tells you

He knew that he could talk to you about anything so he was never particularly uncomfortable with you being around other guys

There was a boy in your class who you had been getting quite close to

He quickly became a good friend of yours, and you’d often hang out with him when Kuroko was busy

He was objectively rather attractive, but you didn’t really see him that way because you only really had eyes for Kuroko

Kuroko wasn’t in your class so he’d sometimes see you walking around the school hallways, however more often than not, you would be with that boy

He seemed like a nice and earnest guy, which is probably why Kuroko began to feel a little threatened by him

Not knowing any better, you invited your friend to come watch one of Kuroko’s practice games with you since you could use the company

Kuroko wasn’t very pleased to see him to say the least

He’d usually glance over at you during games because seeing you watching him motivated him to do better

But now when he looked at you, he’d see you talking to that boy and he’d just feel annoyed

And it definitely showed in the way he played as well because his moves became uninspired and predictable

You went to grab some food with Kuroko’s team and your friend afterwords and Kuroko would not keep his hands off of you

He’d constantly be holding your hand

And he’d leave absolutely no space between you two

Of course, you noticed all of this, but you didn’t want to bring it up in front of everyone

“Hey, so you’ve been spending a lot of time with that guy from your class, huh?” Kuroko said when the two of you were walking back home together

“Yeah, I suppose,” you shrugged, beginning to connect the dots

“Hm,” he hummed, his grip on your hand getting a bit tighter

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he mumbled

“You’re jealous aren’t you?” you grinned

His face just became red as he averted his gaze

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied almost instantly

“So that’s why you were being so touchy back there,” you giggled

“Well I was just making sure he knew that you were mine,” he said, finally deciding to give in

“For what it’s worth, you really don’t need to worry about him— I’m sure he knows.”

“I’m not a violent person but if he tries anything, let him know he can catch these hands,” he said, clenching his other fist and holding it up

“Tetsu, he’s twice your size, but sure.”

Kise

Okay so we know that Kise is really cold with people he generally doesn’t respect

Well, this coldness becomes so amplified when he sees someone he doesn’t know with you

The two of you were on a date at a cafe once and he went to the cashier to place your order while you remained seated at your table

That was when a classmate of yours spotted you and approached you

“Y/N? Didn’t expect to run into you here,” he said, grinning widely before engaging in conversation with you

Meanwhile, Kise was standing in the queue, glaring at you two

In Kise’s eyes, he was very obviously flirting with you— and he was, you just didn’t realise it

Every moment that he looked at you two angered him more and more

The damn boy even made himself comfortable by taking Kise’s seat

Was what he said so funny that you needed to be giggling like that?

Kise hastily placed his order and then stormed over to your table, not bothering to wait for your food

The boy was just about to reach out to touch you when Kise slammed his hand down on the table, startling both of you

He didn’t intend to do it with so much force but it just happened and he didn’t care

“Hey Y/N-cchi, who’s this?” Kise snarled, voice calm but menacing at the same time

“Oh hey Ryouta, this is Satou, a classmate of mine,” you introduced innocently

“Hi there,” Kise said, flashing him a fake smile and not even bothering to register his name in his head, “Y/N-cchi and I are kind of on a date right now, and you’re in my seat.”

Kise took your hand that was resting on the table and squeezed it tight, making the jealousy much more obvious to you

Your classmate visibly showed his annoyance through an eye roll as he stood up from Kise’s seat

“Alright,” he sighed. “See you around, Y/N.”

His and Kise’s eyes were shooting daggers at each other at this point

“Sure you will,” Kise mumbled sarcastically as he watched him walk off

“Babe they’ve been waving at you from the counter for the past two minutes now, trying to get your attention,” you pointed out, looking at the worker who was just about to give up and bring the order to you herself

“Ah crap,” Kise muttered before rushing over to meet the worker halfway and apologise

“I think someone got a bit carried away with their jealousy, don’t you think?” you said once he got back

“Tch, the guy goes to our school. He should know that you’re mine by now. Yet he still thought he had a shot, what an idiot,” Kise scoffed, just the thought of the boy talking to you getting him riled up again

“You’re intimidating when you’re jealous, it’s weird.”

“Weird? I can be intimidating! Why is that weird?” Kise pouted, switching back to his usual eccentric self

“Because you still sleep with stuffed animals, Ryouta,” you giggled

“And so do you, what’s your point?”

Midorima

So he’s not one to really initiate things like PDA

He’s the kind of guy that just holds your hand in public and that’s about it

However when he gets jealous, he becomes a whole other type of possessive

You’d be hanging out with him and a few of your friends from school

And one of the guys would constantly flirt with you

You didn’t really think too much of it because you thought he was just being friendly

But between the flirtatious teasing and unnecessary touching, Midorima was slowly losing his patience

He’d be really subtle at first

He’d hold your hand a bit tighter and hold you by your waist every now and then, all while eyeing the guy down in hopes that he’d get the message

Obviously, it wasn’t enough because he’d barely even notice Midorima and would continue chatting away with you as if your boyfriend wasn’t right there

“Hey Y/N, do you wanna go to that manga store over there together?” your friend said, seemingly inviting only you even though there were five other people in your group

“Actually, Y/N and I were just planning on leaving, sorry,” Midorima intervened, the ‘sorry’ oozing with so much sarcasm that it was clear that he really didn’t like the guy

“Oh already? You don’t have to leave just because Midorima is, you know,” your friend said

Hahaha it took everything in Midorima to not send him flying like his three pointers

“Excuse me? I think you’re crossing the line there a bit, don’t you think—“

“It’s getting pretty late, we should get going,” you said quickly before things could escalate

After shooting one last glare at your friend, Midorima walked away with you

“The nerve of that guy— unbelievable,” Midorima sighed

“I thought you were going to punch him or something, that’s why I stopped you so quickly,” you giggled

“Honestly, I might have,” Midorima chuckled. “How are you even friends with someone like him?”

“I guess he’s just friendly,” you shrugged. “Looks like someone was a bit jealous though.”

“Please, why would I be jealous of an idiot like him,” Midorima scoffed

He’d never admit to an emotion like jealousy— ever

Aomine

Oh god this boy does not handle jealousy well

He would 100% break someone’s nose if he feels like they’re getting too close

The two of you were at a party once and Aomine decided to take a break from dancing for a moment to grab a drink

So he was leaning against the wall sipping on his drink while watching you on the dance floor

Of course, he wasn’t very pleased to find you dancing with some other guy

Aomine recognised him as someone who went to your school, so he very well could just be a friend of yours

However that didn’t stop him from feeling a growing amount of jealousy as each moment passed

Did you really need to be dancing that close to him?

Aomine should be the only one you dance like that with

He was already a bit tipsy so he may not have been thinking straight

But he completely lost it when he saw your bodies swaying so carelessly together

Next thing he knew, he was storming over to the dance floor

You didn’t even notice him until you were suddenly ripped away from the boy you were previously dancing with

And once again you were dancing with Aomine

He was holding your waist tight and his face was as close as ever

“What do you think you’re doing dancing like that with someone else?” Aomine growled

“Why? Is someone jealous?” you joked as you continued to move along with him to the music

“Don’t tease around like that. You’re all mine, don’t you realise?” he grinned, shoving his lips onto yours before you could say another word

The kiss was desperate and heavy, and as a result, sloppy— not that you minded too much

After seeing that act, the guy from earlier backed off, though you didn’t even notice or care for that matter

I mean, why would you care about any other guy when Aomine Daiki was in front of you?

Murasakibara

He gets jealous very easily

He’s like a child when it comes to most things— he doesn’t share

You’ve had your fair share of encounters with other guys that ended with Murasakibara scaring them off

The two of you were seated on the couch together on your phones

There was absolutely no reason for Murasakibara to have come over to your house just to be on his phone, but he just enjoyed your presence

You were scrolling through TikTok because you’d run out of things to do

You landed on a video of these two shirtless boys dancing to a song that you liked so you just watched for the hell of it

You started scrolling through the comments while the video kept replaying, garnering Murasakibara’s attention

The second he saw what you were watching his possessiveness just kicked in

“You really like watching those boys, huh?” he said, glaring at the boys as if they could see through the screen

“Not really, I just like the song,” you shrugged before turning to him with a smirk, “why? Are you jealous?”

“Well if it means I can get more of your attention then sure, I guess I’m jealous,” he answered simply. “Do I have to take my shirt off and do a dance too?”

“I wasn’t going to say that, but now that you mention it, I’d love to see it,” you giggled

Next thing you knew, he wrapped his arms around you, sending you toppling back onto the couch

“Too bad I can’t dance, I guess you’ll have to make do with some kisses for now,” he said softly, making your heart flutter

“Ah dammit, I wanted to see you dance,” you sighed, pretending to be disappointed

“Shut up,” he groaned, before pressing his lips against yours

This was what he was usually like when he got jealous though

He wouldn’t necessarily get angry or anything like that unless a guy was relentlessly hitting on you

But he’d just become really lovey and clingy just as a way of reminding you that it was him who’d love you the most

Akashi

We all know he’s a classy gentleman

So you can’t expect any dramatic outbursts from him when he gets jealous

He’s always able to keep a calm and composed exterior (not that that’s ever stopped anyone from feeling threatened by him)

Anyone who knew Akashi knew never to mess with him

And they especially knew how much he valued you so one step too far would probably lead to their demise

However, there was one boy at a dinner party you both attended who somehow didn’t get the memo

You ended up being seated in the middle of him and Akashi, which gave him the opportunity to chat with you as much as he liked

Of course, Akashi wasn’t the most pleased to hear what he had to say to you

It was very obviously some awful flirting

You just thought he was being friendly so you entertained his conversation

“Y/N, maybe you should stop chatting and eat— your food is getting cold,” Akashi said in attempt to get him to stop— it was getting frustrating at this point

For the rest of the night, Akashi remained clung onto you with his arm around your waist, monitoring every movement of that boy

It was particularly strange because Akashi was the type to mingle at events like these so you knew something was wrong

Akashi’s cold gaze seemed to be enough to make the guy keep his distance though

Akashi is just too powerful lmao

Once the two of you got back home, Akashi pounced to kiss you almost immediately

“Woah what was that for?” you asked when you pulled away from the kiss that seemed so urgent

“You looked gorgeous tonight, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Akashi said sweetly

“Aww, thank you, Sei.”

“A lot of people seemed to think so too by the looks of it. Especially that guy that sat next to you at the table,” Akashi pointed out

“Oh. Did you get jealous or something?” you questioned

“Well, yes. I want to be the only one looking at you like that. But I guess it can’t be helped sometimes,” he said, body still as close to yours as ever

“You’re the only one I want so you don’t have to worry for even a moment,” you said reassuringly

“Then that’s all that matters,” Akashi said with a smile before pulling you in for a soft kiss filled with nothing but adoration

#kuroko no basket #kurokos basketball #kuroko no basket x reader #generation of miracles #knb #kuroko tetsuya #akashi seijuro #aomine daiki #kise ryota x reader #aomine daiki x reader #kise ryouta #murasakibara atsushi #midorima shintarou #midorima shintaro x reader #murasakibara atsushi x reader #kuroko tetsuya x reader #akashi seijuro x reader

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arhvste · 4 years ago

Text

001 MIYA ATSUMU X SHUT UP AND DRIVE SERIES

++ MSBY GARAGE

❝ i've been looking for a driver who is qualified, so if you think that you're the one step into my ride ❞

dt — @rintaroll

“so, what’s it gonna take for ya to praise me a little more?”

you rolled your eyes and huffed, brushing the setters hand off your shoulder.

“shouldn’t you be more concerned about, oh i don’t know, your fans, interviews, your teammates?!” you snapped back as atsumu held both his hands up in defence.

the crowd was loud and still bustling as the black jackals most recent victory continued to stir excitement through the mass of spectators in the high stands. fans were still yelling and chanting as interviewers scrambled to grab the attention of any player they could. multiple had pried for atsumu in fact, alas, all his attention was solely focused on none other than his teams promotional manager; you.

you were chatting to the teams photographer and uploading updates and playbacks onto the teams twitter at the time the blond had bounded his way over to you and here you were, faced with the famous setter leaning on the advertisement boards lining the court diving you from him.

“miya,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shook your head. “go and talk to some interviewers and get yourself back over to the others, i’m begging you at this point.”

“beggin’ huh?” a boyish smirk tugged at his lips and his eyes stayed locked on your own.

“not in the way your disgusting little mind is thinking of.” you shot back, stepping back from the board and looking back down at your phone where the teams twitter was currently blowing up.

atsumu snickered before standing up straight.

“whatever ya say doll, just hold up a little longer and i’m all yours again yeah?”

you scoffed and shook your head at him before shooing him away.

“i’d prefer you weren’t.”

“lyin’s a bad habit.”

“would you just go already?”

atsumu laughed as he turned to make his way back to the rest of his awaiting team. waving a hand back at you, he turned to face you before shooting a wink your way as interviewers and photographers flooded the scene.

this was a typical exchange of interaction between the two of you. ever since you had been introduced to the team as their promotional manager, atsumu had fixated his interest outside of volleyball onto you. 7 months later and nothing had changed despite his never faltering persistence.

you sighed as the photographer laughed softly before turning to his own laptop to import more photos for you to upload.

“he seems to have a soft spot for you.”

you groaned and switched your phone off, leaning back on the advertisement boards atsumu himself was previously leaning against.

“he’s such a handful.” you stated as the photographer chuckled.

“looks like he wants to be one for you though.”

“i wish he didn’t” you muttered back as the photographer smiled earnestly at you.

“i think we both know that’s a lie, we’ve been working together for a while and i don't think this dread to spend time with him is as evident as you make it out.”

you whined as you sent a soft frown his way.

“trust me, it is.”

“whatever you say.” the man teased back before clicking on the last images to send your way.

thanking him and making your way over to the teams manager and coach, you stood beside them in front of the msby boys and watched them as outlet interviewers shot questions their way.

multiple flashes went off every few seconds as each player flashed a handsome smile to the camera. you scanned over the team and bokuto was excitedly chatting and laughing with the interviewers. you smiled softly to yourself as you let your eyes wander from bokuto over to sakusa who was trying his best to avoid contact with his sweaty teammates and ‘annoying’ interviewers. it was clear he wasn’t as thrilled to be there as the others so you sent an apologetic look his way and mouthed to him he only had to put up for roughly 10 minutes more. he silently wallowed in self pity at that, but that quickly turned to agitation as atsumu dominated your vision.

slinging an arm over sakusa, (much to the latters disgust), atsumu grinned at you and flashed a smirk for a brief second before turning back to give the cameras a toothy grin.

your face dropped back into a frown as atsumu feigned hurt from a distance.

the team manager laughed as she elbowed you gently.

“interviewers might have a little more luck keeping him focused if you were the one interviewing him.”

you raised an eyebrow as you turned to face her.

“he’s like a puppy.” you stated bluntly as the manager laughed.

“a lovesick puppy.” she corrected as you faked a gag.

“why you all think he’s head over heels for me is way beyond me.”

the manager smiled before nudging for you to look at the attractive setter.

“because it's obvious. you break the boys heart every week.”

you watched as atsumu happily chatted to interviewers and forced sakusa to begrudgingly pose for photos and join in with him.

“he’s not my type.” you said as your eyes stayed focused on the blond.

“right.” the manager teased before smiling over at the team's captain, meian, her own boyfriend.

you smiled at the pair’s interaction as the team dispersed after thanking interviewers and fans for their support.

meian wandered over to the manager who happily placed a kiss to her cheek before guiding her off towards the back of the stadium, hand lingering on the small on her back.

you sighed as your own thoughts invaded your headspace. it wasn’t that you didn’t want a boyfriend. you just hadn’t met anyone worth the time yet.

well, that was your go to excuse to tell everyone anyway. the truth was, you didn't even know the limits to your own standards, you just knew they were high when looking for a potential partner.

the feeling of a heavy arm slung over your shoulder forced you back into reality as your eyes flickered up in surprise.

“miss me?” the hot breath and familiar voice teased the shell of your ear as you scowled.

“you wish.” you snapped back as you attempted to duck out of your offender's grip.

“ah-ah, yer coming home with me today.” atsumu smirked confidently as you hissed at him to get off.

“says who?” you argued as the setter looked down at you smugly.

“me.” another voice joined the conversation as you turned to face the owner of it.

your eyes met the coach who was looking at you slightly sympathetically.

“huh?”

“sorry,” the coach began, hand holding the back of his neck. “i know i said i’d take you home, but my wife has some errands she needs me to pick up before getting home and i’d hate to have to drag you along with me this late at night.”

you groaned but nodded understandably.

“luckily, atsumu here was kind enough to offer to be your ride back home.”

“lucky me.” your voice dripping with thick sarcasm as atsumu ignored it.

“yeah, lucky you indeed. do ya know how many girls would kill to be in yer position right now?” atsumu teased, arm still firmly made at home around your shoulders.

“let them kill me.” you glared at him as he gasped playfully.

“ya don’t mean that.”

“i do.”

“you don’t.”

“just take me home already i’m tired!” you threw your arms up as atsumu grinned.

“sure, give me a few minutes to grab my stuff and i’ll meet you round the back of the building, yeah?”

“whatever.”

you made your way towards the back exit of the stadium and were met with other members of support for the team who were waiting for the boys to grab their things from the locker rooms. some players opted to shower after matches while others waited til they got back home. atsumu fell into the category of players who waited until they got home. this was both a blessing and a curse. you wouldn’t have to wait for him for too long, but you would be met with a sweaty atsumu.

this wasn’t technically a bad thing, atsumu had a habit of getting rid of the smell after each match with an expensive cologne you’d never even attempt to pronounce, but he happened to somehow be a little more attractive when he looked worn out and disheveled. you hated yourself for thinking such a thing but you just couldn’t help it. he was annoyingly attractive and it made his personality a little more dislikable in your opinion.

you waited for around 10 minutes before you were met with boisterous laughter ringing through the spacious lounge by the exit.

atsumu and bokuto came striding out from the hall directing towards the locker rooms, gym bags in their hands and ruggish hair that would need taming again eventually.

you sighed as you waited for atsumu to approach you. he bid his goodbyes to everyone and sent a look at bokuto's way. the ace held a thumbs up at atsumu as the others in the lounge looked at each other giggling and smiling smugly.

you raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off as you felt a hand find its way on your waist.

“let’s get going then.” his voice strumming chords through your body as you shivered slightly.

atsumu led you out and down towards the underground garage used by players and staff members whilst at the stadium. you’d never actually seen atsumu’s car before so you had no idea what to be looking for, but atsumu’s hand remained firmly on your waist as he led you over to an array of expensive cars. mentally trying to guess what car belonged to the setter, atsumu watched with a small smirk etched on his face as your eyes scanned along each car. keys hooked around his finger, atsumu pressed the unlock button as your jaw dropped slightly.

of fucking course.

miya atsumu was the proud owner of a jet black 2021 chevrolet corvette with the number plate gracing it in all its glory ‘MIY4 13’.

you scoffed as atsumu’s smirk widened.

“so, ya gettin in or what?”

“into what? my one way invitation to death?”

atsumu snickered as he led you over to the passengers seat.

“i won’t kill ya, i promise.”

you looked back at him, handsome and sharp features making your eyes soften.”

“well, it’s not like i’ll be able to yell at you if you break that promise.”

“exactly.” atsumu grinned as you climbed into the luxury vehicle. the soft leather padding of the seats welcoming you as your weight shifted onto them.

you glanced around the interior as your eyes were met upon. various lit buttons caught your attention as a screen switched on as atsumu opened the drivers door. you were certain the car had way too many features but that’s what made it a luxury vehicle you guessed. the sleek black and red complimented interior was admired by you as atsumu watched your eyes dance around the car. his eyes softened as you visably relaxed a little more. your hand hooked across the firmly threaded seatbelt as you pulled it around you.

you looked at atsumu who’s smirk seemed to have faded. instead, a soft grin was painted across his face as he helped you click the belt securely in place.

“don’t kill me miya.”

“i’ll do my best.” he winked at you before pressing the start engine.

mentally chanting your last prayers, you accepted the position fate had put you in and did your best to stop the stirring of butterflies in your chest as atsumu placed his hand on the back of your headrest and pulled out.

well fuck.

as if he wasn’t attractive enough before, he sure as hell was now. your eyes widened and heart picked up it’s pace as the scent of atsumu’s signature cologne flooded your senses.

his sharp jaw and focused eyes, pointed in the direction of the rear window as he successfully pulled the car out the space. moving his hand back onto the wheel, atsumu turned to smirk at you as you gave him a pleading look. before you could open your mouth to speak, the setter slammed on the accelerator and the engines picked up its volume as your head was thrown back a little as the car sped out the garage exit.

“you little shit!” you cussed out as atsumu laughed as you sped onto the highway through the city.

“ya love the thrill don’t lie.”

“i’m not lying!” you protested as the flashes of bright lights flew past the window.

atsumu smiled as his right hand found its place on the middle of your thigh.

“miya!” you hissed as atsumu tilted his head momentarily your direction.

“ya can call me atsumu ya know?”

“i don’t want to!”

“for such a genuine person, yer so full of shit sometimes.”

you huffed as you gave up letting atsumu’s touch encourage the stir inside of you. you turned and glared out the window at the passing scene as atsumu hummed in satisfaction.

a few more moments of comfortable silence went by, nothing but the sounds of cars zooming past and the soft hum of atsumu’s own car’s engine.

you frowned and bit the corner of your lip as you peaked towards the blond whose eyes were fixed on the road.

“so,” you began, resulting in the player's eyes to flicker your way for a millisecond. “why are you so hooked on me?” you questioned.

you held your breath as you finally voiced the concern that had been playing on your mind for a while. you rarely had moments of privacy with the man despite his infatuation and demand to be around you.

“am i not allowed to be?” he challenged teasingly as he sqeezed your thigh slightly.

you wanted to force his grip off of you, you really did, but something about it felt so natural you just couldn't.

“miya.” you sighed and shook your head.

“atsumu.” he corrected as you turned to face him properly.

“look, you’re just my type. that’s all there is to it.” he replied simply,as if it was no big deal to him.

“and just what exactly is your type?” you quizzed as you pulled up at a traffic light.

slowing the car to stop for a while the light was red, atsumu turned his face to look at your own before he flashed that boyish grin you’d unknowingly grown rather fond of.

“you.”

and with that, the world threw you back into fast motion as the green light flashed, highlighting his face before he hit the acceleration again making your eyes widen.

“atsumu…” you sighed quietly as the adrenaline brought more life into his eyes.

it wasn’t that you hated atsumu. it wasn’t that at all. he was just someone you didn’t see yourself seriously with. someone so out there and demanding of the world. you had always envisioned yourself with someone a little more down to earth, someone with a stable job with a lowkey personal life, a person who took life at a comfortable pace. you had never seriously considered being with someone like miya atsumu. someone who demanded the world's attention, dominated every scene he was put in, who took life at the speed the highest the accelerator would go. someone so big, so bright. you never imagined someone like miya atsumu would take interest in someone like you. you were opposites stuck in an entanglement of professional lives.

out of every person in the world, the universe had decided miya atsumu would become the man who ticked the boxes to your unknown standards. you just hated to acknowledge it.

pulling off the highway, atsumu drove through the less busy roads as your apartment complex came into vision. half of you wanted the ride to be a little longer, but the other half of you couldn’t wait to lock yourself in your apartment away from the man who caused turmoil inside of you.

atsumu hummed as he pulled around the back of your complex. the roads were quiet and the soft lights of other buildings gleamed off the vehicle as the golden light flooded through the tinted glass of the windows, pulling attention to the boyish, but charming features of his face.

you sighed as he pulled the car to a stop and let the engine settle down. you stayed like that for a moment as the two of you sat there packed in the quiet parking lot.

“listen, I meant it, i really do like you.” he said as you studied his eyes for any signs of him being ingenuine; you couldn't find any.

your eyes softened as you leaned on the headboard.

“miy- atsumu.” you began quietly as his eyes admired your form. “it’s not that i don’t like you or anything, it's just- i don’t know if you’re my type.” you confessed as your heart hammered against your chest.

“well, you just called me by my first name, that’s gotta count for something right?”

you looked up at him and locked your eyes into his honest ones. you sat up and turned to face him as he took both of your hands into his.

“look, i get it, i’ve been annoying since day one-”

“-annoying is an understatement.” you cut in as atsumu playfully glared at you.

“rude. anyways as i was saying, i might’ve come across as a little too strong from the start, but there's just somethin’ about you. i just can’t seem to leave ya alone.” the blond confessed honestly as his warm, calloused hands held yours tightly.

“atsumu, i just don’t know.” you shook your head as he held onto your hands tightly. “i just don’t know what i’m looking for.”

“let me help ya find it in me then.” he pleaded softly, a small grin tugged at his lips.

you cast your eyes down to where your hands were being connected by him. the stir in your chest sped up as your heart was slamming against your chest at this point.

“atsumu i just-”

cutting you off, atsumu pulled your hands away from each other as he moved one up towards your jaw to cradle your face gently. dark golden eyes melting at the sight of you close up, atsumu pulled your face in closer to his and your heart just wouldn’t let you pull away. his lips finally met your own after what felt like an eternity and it was if yours were made to fit against his.

his hand moved towards the back of your neck as he encouraged you to move closer. you leaned closer letting your own hand find its way against atsumu’s broad chest.

the kiss deepened as you gave access to the setter’s tongue as he dominated your movements. small gasps and whines were heard in the silence of the parking lot as neither of you had it in your to pull away. atsumu’s hand was securely at the back of your neck with the other gripping your waist as you groaned at the slightly uncomfortable position.

pulling away, the two of you breathed heavily as you leaned back in the expensive leather seat as atsumu stared at you softly.

“what the fuck was that?”

“our first kiss as a couple.” atsumu teased but failed to stop the wide smile spread across his face.

“who said anything about being a couple?” you shot back as atsumu found your hand once more, lacing your fingers together tightly.

“your body language. you kissed back.”

“i-”

“msby setter miya atsumu as yer boyfriend, wow, arent’cha just the luckiest!”

you playfully hit his chest as he laughed.

“keep it up and that’ll be ex-boyfriend.”

atsumu’s eyes lit up as he grabbed your hand again and held it tightly.

“so ya admit it! i’m yer boyfriend!”

you giggled seeing how genuinely excited he was over it.

“for now.” you hummed as he pouted slightly.

you cupped his jaw and leaned to press a soft kiss to his cheek causing heat to rise to his face.

“let’s just, take this slow though okay?”

“don’t tell me that while sittin’ in this car.” he joked as you groaned against him.

you leaned back looking back into his bright eyes as his gaze softened.

“i’m kiddin’, we’ll go as fast as ya want, and i promise not to kill you on the way.”

you snickered as the blond beamed at you.

“i’m holding you to that.” you smiled as atsumu pulled your face in closer once more. leaning forward to better prepare yourself, you allowed yourself to melt into another deep kiss with the man you would now call your boyfriend.

you never saw yourself being with someone who took life at a fast pace. someone who demanded the world’s attention without verbally calling for it. you never saw yourself falling for someone like that.

but here you were, with the man who ticked all of those boxes easily. the type of man you insisted wasn’t your type, turned out to be the blueprint for your exact type; you just weren’t aware of it until miya atsumu insisted you did.

++TAGLIST! @crescenttooru @miss-angel-ash @sarahvvictoria @babierin @fxncyoomi @s0utien @toobsessedsstuff @omibaby @kenkodzu @sugabeaniee @lovesunas @slutawara @bunny-on-crack @shouyouorange @memorableminds @whootwhoot @yikes-buddy @sweetsamus

#miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq #hq x you #shut up and drive series

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jimlingss · 5 years ago

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Sugar and Coffee [18]

Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 18.5 OR Chapter 19

➜ Words: 4.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

It’s funny how things come and go in life. The longer you live and the more things you experience, you realize just how fickle living can be. The events that you anticipate the most come and go while the ones you dread linger. The people you expect to stay with you leave — and the people you expect to leave end up staying. Similarly, the internship that you had been so worried and excited for was finally finished. It was sad to say goodbye and to leave the shop behind. You genuinely loved being there, learning and spending your time perfecting your craft. Even bratty Yuna was sad to bid you farewell — the two of you had grown fond of each other over the months, so you sent her a card right when you got home yourself and you heard from Namjoon that she had pinned it on her wall. Luckily, you knew that this goodbye wouldn’t be a permanent one. It was different to other goodbyes you’ve had in the past. Namjoon and Sejeong assured both you and Jungkook a million times that it was only temporary — that they’d be happy to hire you back after your schooling is finished if you so happened to choose to work for them again. And it’s a proposition that still interests you greatly. You’re not sure what Jungkook wants to do — but you know you’d love to return and continue making wedding cakes under their mentorship someday. But for now you had to return on your path. The end of Summer was quickly approaching, and you find yourself coming back to where it started. Well. Sort of. In actuality, you were standing on Jungkook’s parents’ doorstep. Suitcase in hand. Full of hesitance and uncertainty. Fingers kept away from the doorbell. You’re not sure if this is a place that would welcome you again. But Jungkook had insisted. He pressed on, insisting that you should visit his family again, to at least come see him for a few days with the Summer that remained left. He whined about how much he missed you. And you had to admit, you missed him too. So here you were, like a complete idio— “God, okay! I’m throwing out the trash now!” The door opens. The boy freezes. He stares at you with rounded eyes as you stare back at him. He’s dressed in a worn t-shirt and gym shorts, flopping hair sticking out in all directions like he just woke up even though it’s well past noon. One hand is on the handle, the other is holding a black garbage bag. Slowly the corner of your mouth quirks. “Hi.” A stupidly big grin plasters across Jungkook’s face and spreads into his cheeks as his eyes light up with mirth. Jungkook’s voice softens. “When’d you get here?” “Just now.” He drops the garbage and is about to come and hug you, but something shoots out from between his legs to engulf you in a tight embrace instead. “Y/N!” Eunbi’s summer dress flutters in the breeze and you lift her up as best as you can with a smile. Lia follows quickly behind, wearing a big smile and she turns over her shoulder. “Y/N’s here!” “She’s here?” Someone comes stumbling from the kitchen, throwing her kitchen towel aside. Jungkook’s dad comes out from the backyard, having heard the ruckus. “She’s here.” “She’s here!” Eunbi repeats in giggles and your arms widen when Lia joins in greeting you with a hug. Jungkook sighs wistfully, separated from you by his overbearing family members. Yet, all the worries you had about being welcomed or not instantly vanishes. They greet you warmly — Jungkook’s dad asking how you’ve been, how exams and classes and the internship was. You’re bombarded with curious questions and enthusiastic answers, only spared when Jungkook’s mom pulls you to the kitchen where she has a whole countertop of food prepared. She wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so she made everything she could when she heard you were coming and you can’t find it in your heart to reject her hard efforts. So you consume as much as you can before Eunbi tugs you aside to join her tea party with Lia. You find out their parents have gone for a last-minute trip, so they’ve been staying at their aunt’s and uncle’s, obviously having a blast by the looks of it, especially now with you here. It’s only when Jungkook turns on a Disney movie and makes them sit down to watch that he’s finally able to sneak you away. “Sorry about that.” He shuts the door to his room, sighing at how difficult it was to get a hold of you in his own house. “It’s okay. I love your family.” “That makes one of us,” Jungkook mutters and sulks. “You try spending twenty four hours a day seven days a week with them and see how they can drive you nuts.” “Aww, poor baby. Your family cares about you, how horrible.” Your voice drips of sarcasm and you feign sympathy, reaching over to pat him on the back. Jungkook scoffs but takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you. He leans down enough to accommodate for the height difference and he props his chin on your shoulder. His nose digs into your hair, breathing in. You’re ticklish from his grip. “Jungkook…” “I missed you.” “It’s only been what?” You rest your head on his shoulder, giving into his warmth. “Two weeks?” “Long enough.” “School starts in another week. If I didn’t come, you still would’ve seen me.” “Yeah, but what if I died before then and couldn’t see you ever again?” he whines and it’s hard to resist the small smile tugging at your lips. But you manage to pull away from him and roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” The boy grins and takes a seat on his chair by his old computer desk while you plop down onto the edge of his bed. “So….what have you been up to?” “You act like we haven’t called and texted each other every single day.” “Yeah, but I don’t know what the trip was like up here.” “Fair enough,” you hum. “I guess all that really happened is that I sat next to this really handsome man on the bus here who shared my interests and hobbies. And we had a hot, passionate summer fling and we decided to make this a long-term thing, so we’re getting married. Sorry to say, Jeon, but you’ve lost your chance.” You laugh and his eye twitches. In an instant, you’re being pinned to his mattress with Jungkook hovering above you. His knee wedges between your legs, hands pressed flat next to your head. The dark strands of his hair grazes against your forehead and you sink deeper into his pillows. But even in such a compromising position, you can’t help but muse how cute he looks feigning anger like this. “I’m trying to be nice here, but you’re always testing my patience, brat. You really think I won’t kill you one day?” “You wouldn’t.” You quirk your head to the side, hands grasping at his forearms. Your eyes glimmer with a challenge before they flicker up to the posters lining his wall. “Not with IU watching.” He grins, a small laugh coming from his nose. “Jieun would understand.” You snort and he helps you sit up. “Do your parents know…?” “No. Otherwise, you’d be on the phone with my grandma right now. They’re overbearing enough as it is.” You nod. “They don’t think it’s weird that I’m here?” “No.” Jungkook scoffs. “God, they love you. Isn’t it obvious? They think you’re a ‘good influence’ on me. Better than Taehyung and Jimin are, at least. Those two are just idiots no matter where they go, so my parents are always concerned that all of us will get into fender benders.” He uses air quotes when he says ‘good influence’ and you bat his arm. “I am a good influence on you.” “Uh-huh.” Jungkook eyes you skeptically. “They should see you when you get mad—” “I don’t get mad.” “—and when you start swearing. Or the amount of dirty, dirty things you can say…” “Jungkook,” your whine tapers off when he suddenly lays a hand on your upper thigh. Jungkook’s half-lidded eyes and heavy gaze flickers down to your lips. He starts to lean in, head angling and your breath catches in your throat in eager anticipation. Your eyes flutter shut. But you never feel the velvet texture of Jungkook’s lips against yours. Instead, there’s a loud knock that startles you both to death. Then, the door opens. And the boy, whose lap you were nearly perched on, is already back on his desk chair, whirling around. “Hey, Y/N.” Jungkook’s dad is smiling wide. “What are you guys up to?” “We’re just talking,” his son deadpans. “Is there something you need?” “Nope.” The middle-aged man who uncannily has Jungkook’s eyes leans on the doorframe with arms crossed casually. “Just thought I’d pop by, see what’s going on, let you know your mom thinks you two can bring Lia and Eunbi into town to pick up some groceries….” “Okay. We can do that later.” There’s a terrible, awkward silence as Jungkook’s dad hangs around. It makes the younger frown. “Is there something wrong?” “No.” He shakes his head, slowly starting to turn away before Jungkook dies in modification. But then he stops and looks back with a smile playing at his lips. “You guys should keep the door open though. House policy. Not mine but your mother’s. You know...she doesn’t want any funny business happening.” “Dad.” “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.” His hands are lifted up in the air and he laughs it off. The older man pushes the door so it’s wide open and then waltzes away. Jungkook’s sigh is long enough to empty out his lungs and you giggle at their interaction. The walk to town is lovely. The end of Summer keeps the weather from sweltering or being uncomfortable. It’s warm with a brisk wind kissing against your cheeks. You consider just how cozy this town is, small houses and big lawns, white picket fences and scalloped shingle rooftops. The grocery store is modest too and several people greet Jungkook when he enters, asking how he’s been and if you're someone special to him. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone and it’s cute. You never considered Jungkook to be a small town boy, but it’s somehow fitting. “We need to get apples, cucumbers, scallions….” He flips over the list, trying to discern his mom’s chicken scratch as he pushes the shopping cart. “Uh…..that either says potatoes or tomatoes.” “Can we get this?!” Eunbi holds up a box bigger than her body. The doll inside is smiling. Jungkook doesn’t even glance at it. “No.” “Awww.” The four of you walk down the cereal aisle and Jungkook stops for a detour. He picks two to compare and concentrates too hard for such a menial task. “I didn’t know cereal was on our list,” you say while peeking over his shoulder. “I like cereal,” he mumbles. In spite of taking a full minute on deliberating what brand he wants, Jungkook ends up settling for both. He places them into the cart and continues pushing it down the aisle while humming. You keep a watch on Eunbi in the meanwhile to make sure she doesn’t get lost, but soon Lia comes back with something in hand. “Y/N, can we please make this together?” The seven year old has a bright, red box of chewy fudge brownie mix. Automatically, you and Jungkook’s faces twist in abhorrent disgust. “It says we just need...egg, water, and oil!” she reads off of it proudly. “No, we don’t need a box to make brownies,” you coax with a smile. “We can make it fresher. A few more steps and it’ll taste worlds better than the box.” “Really?” “Really.” “Yay!” Eunbi’s loudly cheering in the middle of the grocery store, arms in the air and hopping up and down. “We get brownies!” “What’s even in here?” Jungkook takes the box and flips it around. His eyes narrow in on the tiny letters of the ingredient list. “Sugar, enriched bleached wheat flour? What’s carrageenan? Pft, artificial flavour?” He arrogantly tosses it aside. “We don’t need that. We’re professionals.” You snort. “Uh-huh. A professional who doesn’t even know how to make a moist cake.” “At least I can temper chocolate,” he bites back without skipping a beat — without blinking or taking a breath. When Jungkook sees your shocked expression, he laughs heartily and throws an arm over your shoulder, nuzzling into you. “I’m kidding. Kidding.” You scoff, throw his arm off of you. “No, you aren’t.” “Are you fighting?” Eunbi grabs a hold of your shirt, tugging lightly. “Only because Jungkook is mean,” you tell with an exaggerated pout. It’s his turn to be offended. “You just said my cakes weren’t moist!” You ignore him. “Let’s go, children. We don’t interact with bullies.” Lia and Eunbi giggle, happy to go along with you and leave Jungkook in the dust, scrambling to roll the shopping cart behind you. Eventually, the groceries are paid for and the walk back turns out to be equally enjoyable. Once the four of you arrive back to the house, his parents are out working in the garden, so you and Jungkook put away the groceries together and pull out the necessary ingredients for brownies. “We can probably make two batches.” “I wanna do it with Y/N!” Lia immediately exclaims, jumping to your side. She leaves her younger sister frowning and on the verge of tears. “No, I wanna!” “How about me?” Jungkook stands in the middle of his own kitchen at a complete loss. It causes laughter to bubble from you. “Okay, all three of us can do it together and we can verse Jungkook. How about that?” They nod and Lia tells her cousin that he’s going down, teasing him mercilessly and you indulge them about how you’re better than Jungkook in everything at school — something he adamantly protests about. Soon, all of you get to work. You teach them how to preheat the oven, grease the pans, and watch as the half cup of butter is melted in a saucepan. Lia and Eunbi help you measure out one cup of sugar and they each crack an egg into the butter. Three quarter cups of cocoa are shifted into the mixture along with a half cup of flour, a quarter teaspoon of salt and a quarter teaspoon of baking powder. You show the two girls how to fold the ingredients gently together and you catch them a moment before they’re about to spoon the batter into their mouths. They give stretching smiles and you help them spread it into a pan instead to bake. It’s put in for half an hour, slightly underdone so it’s sweet and still gooey. “It smells wonderful in here,” Jungkook’s mom gasps as she enters, taking off her garden gloves and wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Did you make something special?” “Look auntie!” Eunbi is jumping, hands jittery, on a sugar high. “We made brownies!” “Did you now?” She peers over the counter, brows raising. “My goodness, they look amazing.” “We helped make them with Y/N,” Lia announces, mouth smeared in chocolate. “Did you thank Y/N yet for showing you how to make them?” Both girls instantly whirl around, thanking you with bashful and shy smiles. In the meanwhile, Jungkook’s mom is unable to resist and reaches over for a brownie. She groans at the taste and smacks her lips together. “Don’t eat too much or it’ll ruin your appetite,” she says — much like how Jungkook often reminds you — and ironically bites into her brownie again. The woman turns to you. “These are delicious, dear.” “They weren’t too hard to make.” “You should show me the recipe, I’d love to bake these again.” “I’ve made these before!” Jungkook complains in a higher pitched voice, eating his own brownies when no one takes them out of his pan. But no one pays mind to him. Not his mother or his twirling cousins. “Of course, I can.” You, on the other hand, do pay attention to Jungkook. You grin at him as he glares. And only later when there’s a moment of privacy will he tickle you as revenge for making his entire family love you more than him. It’s then that he finally gets the chance to kiss you too. // Dinner with the Jeon family is as you would expect it to be. Everyone inhales all the food and chit chats with one another. There’s warm banter shared across the dinner table as his parents make him talk about the trip to Tahiti, how the internship was and if he was on his best behaviour. He gives you discreet, defeated looks to show how he’s so done with them and it’s hard to stifle your giggles. Afterwards, you help him do the dishes as his cousins turn on a movie to watch and his parents finish off the brownies you made. Not long after that, everybody begins to retreat to their rooms. “Aw, do we have to go to bed?” “Yes. Don’t you want to help plant the flowers tomorrow?” Jungkook’s mom smooths out her hair. “Only big girls can help and you can only get big if you sleep and get strong.” “Okay.” Lia sulks. “But can I at least say goodnight to Y/N?” “Yes.” The older woman offers a rather maternal smile. “You can.” Lia runs to you down the hall right as you leave the bathroom with your toothbrush in hand, catching you off guard. She hugs you tight. “Goodnight, Y/N!” Eunbi is hot on her sister’s heels and you stumble back when she throws herself at you too. “Night, night, Y/N!” “Goodnight, you two.” “Can we play tomorrow?” You ruffle the five year old’s hair. “Course we can.” She beams and hops back, following her aunt. Her uncle is already inside their room, holding up books. “Who’s ready for story time?” “Me!” Lia runs off and waves to you. At the same time, Jungkook leaves his room to see their retreating forms and scoffs. “Wow, are they not going to wish me a goodnight?” You slap his arm, laughing. “Stop being so jealous all the time. I can’t help that I’m so lovable.” He scoffs and affectionately pokes your forehead with his index finger. “I can’t even argue with that.” The corner of his mouth curls and you grin. Jungkook has that look in his eyes — the one you’ve learnt to recognize. He looks like he wants to kiss you, like he’s about to do it too, but the pair of you are interrupted by someone lingering in the hallway. “Y/N, you’re sleeping in the guest bedroom, right?” His mom looks at you and you nod quickly. “Yes, I am.” “Good.” She relaxes and bobs her head. “Jungkook, you go back to your room now. There’s a long day tomorrow.” He sighs, but doesn’t argue. Jungkook turns right back around into his room and keeps the door slightly open for a second, enough to give you an incredulous look. It makes you smile and mouth ‘goodnight’ to him before he shuts the door. His mom brings you to the guest bedroom, helping you set up for the night and asking if you need extra blankets and pillows. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” “Yes, it is. Thank you, Mrs. Jeon.” “If you’re ever cold, feel free to grab anything from the closet.” When you nod, she gets to the door. Jungkook’s mom is about to turn off the light, but lingers. She twists around to share a smile with you. “Thank you for coming, Y/N. I’m glad to see you again.” “No, thank you.” You’re caught off guard by her words of gratitude. “Honestly, I didn’t want to be such a bother.” “You aren’t. Trust me.” She laughs, a tinkling sound emitting from her chest. “I’ve always wanted a daughter like you. Jungkook is two more handfuls than I can handle sometimes, especially when he was young.” The older woman shakes his head with a fond expression. “He might not look like it but he’s still very much a child. I worry about him being gone so far for so long out of the entire year. So, I’m glad there’s someone like you looking out for him.” You’re touched by her sincerity, but you can’t help but feel like she’s gotten it wrong. You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Mrs. Jeon—” “You can call me auntie, if you’d like.” You nod timidly. “Jungkook actually looks out for me a lot more than I do for him. He really helped me through a lot of tough times, so really, I should be the one thanking him….” She smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing. “Then I’m even more grateful that Jungkook’s not hopeless. It’s good that the two of you have one another.” Part of you wants to tell her that you’re unequivocally in love with her son. But by the twinkle in her eye, you get a sense that she already knows the true nature between you and Jungkook. You don’t need to say it aloud or make any announcements. Her smile becomes more tender in the small silence and then she finally bids you a goodnight, flicking off the lights in the room. You end up laying there for a while. You receive Jungkook’s text telling you this is so dumb and you laugh. The bright lights of your phone eventually burns your eyes too much, so you throw it aside, opting to stare at the ceiling and listen to his house. You can hear doors closing, footsteps, the flicker of the hallway light turning off and more doors closing. Silence settles in for a good ten minutes, but before you can completely drift off to sleep, your door cracks open. A familiar boy sneaks into your room with a soft sigh. He shuts the door silently and nimbly avoids all the creaks in the floorboards, knowing where each of them are after growing up and spending his childhood in these four walls. “You’re not supposed to be here.” You sit up, covers pooling around your waist. His feet slide and the mattress dips underneath his weight. “And I care because…?” You scoff. “Rebellious, aren’t you, Jeon?” “You don’t even know the start of it.” He grins. “I just want to lay with you for a while. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” “But your parents don’t know that. What happens if they catch you here?” you ask while peeling back the covers anyhow, happily inviting him in. “Nothing will happen. It’s okay.” “Yeah, but they might hate me...for tainting their son.” “Impossible.” Jungkook settles in and pulls the covers up to keep you warm. You cuddle yourself into him and he props his chin on top of your head. “And they don’t care about that. They just don’t want any Jeon grandkids, or at least not until we graduate.” “Psh. You’re going to have to prove yourself before you implant anything in my uterus, Jeon.” His nose wrinkles at your euphemism, but then he pokes your side, making you squirm. “Prove myself? Haven’t I already?” “Just cause I let you kiss me a few times doesn’t mean I have plans to make this long-term,” you tease and this time he’s the one scoffing. Jungkook rolls on top of you, pinning you underneath him. The soft glow of the lamp posts outside on the suburban street comes through the window and when your eyes adjust to the darkness, you’re able to discern a few of his features — especially that sulking expression of his. Jungkook’s such a baby sometimes. Or at least he likes to be babied by you. Yoongi, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin would shit themselves if they saw him now. But it makes you happy to be the only one who can see this endearing side of him. “What more do you want to put me through, hmm?” You cock your head to the side. “Who knows, you might just get bored of me in a few weeks, Jeon. Better not to jump the gun.” “I don’t think so. What do you take me for? Someone with that low of an attention span?” “Well…” You draw out the syllable. “Last I checked, you still don’t know how to make flowers with gum paste.” His tongue clicks in annoyance and he starts to tickle you again at your weakest parts. You squirm underneath him, giggling as your legs kick to no avail. It makes the bed squeak, the headboard hitting against the wall and Jungkook laughs and quickly lets up. He covers your mouth with his palm. “Shush! You’re going to wake them up.” You peel off his hand, harshly whispering, “You started it.” Jungkook’s smile is big enough to make his cheeks hurt. He missed you — your company, warmth, the teasing banter. It’s hard to fathom that his best friend is actually here with him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Jungkook leans down, locking his lips against yours. Your soft mouths slots against each other like it’s the way it always should have been and he relishes in the groan you release. It’s a gentle kiss, one that merely tests the waters and then he pulls away. You blink up at him, breath leaving through your parted lips that now taste like his vanilla chapstick. “No funny business, remember?” “I know.” Jungkook gets off of you, resuming his place by your side. “But I wasn’t planning any ‘funny business’. Where has your mind gone too?” Your cheeks heat. “I’m just saying.” He chuckles softly, arm slung across your waist. You’re pulled close as he nestles in. It’s easy to relax and your hand lifts to wrap around his back. The both of you hold each other for a while in the comfortable darkness underneath the cozy covers. You’re lulled in his company. “Jungkook.” “Hmm?” “You can’t fall asleep here.” “I know,” he mumbles. But contrary to Jungkook’s words, he does fall asleep with you — sharing the same bed like those nights in Tahiti. Only in the morning, when dawn breaks and the morning light comes through the glass windows are you both naturally shaken awake. It’s then that Jungkook scratches his bed hair flopping in all directions, eyes swollen as he stumbles back to his own bedroom. And you drift back to sleep with a softened smile on your face.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #bts reader insert #jungkook reader insert #btsboulangerie #LET'S GO Y'ALL

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creativelyderangedme · 5 years ago

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Last Night

It's been a year since the defeat of Hawkmoth and Adrien and Nino are going out for one last hoorah before Adrien embarks on the next chapter of his life.

But, when Adrien wakes up the next day, with the worst hangover of his life, no memory of the night before, and a series of pictures suggesting he's just had the best night of his life - He has 24 hours to figure out what happened before he leaves Paris for good.

The first thing Adrien Agreste is aware of when consciousness hits him is the pounding headache.

It’s what he assumes it must feel like to be hit by a truck. Several times. In very quick succession.

And he's been pretty close to experiencing that in the past so he would know.

The second is the spinning. The sense of the world twirling around him like an out of control top despite the fact that he's positive he's stationary.

The third was how difficult it was to open his eyes - and not because he was still dead tired (which he was), but because the damned things were so damn heavy and the moment he did manage to pry one open, he had to shut it tight against the light.

Brightness like that should be illegal.

But despite the desire to curl back up and avoid the reality that was day time, Adrien’s body was awake. Or at least, it was trying to be. Which is more than he could say for his brain, which refused to supply him with a viable explanation for why the fuck he felt as ludicrously awful as he does?

Fine, brain. Be that way.

The blonde huffed out a mix between a sigh and a groan, fighting a sudden spike in dizziness, bringing his hands up to rub his face like the act could alleviate some of the awful in some way.

Only to pause when he found something covering what should have been his skin.

Unsure fingers find and trace the edges, quickly establishing that the obstruction is covering just around his eyes, and tying around the back of his head with silk ribbons.

A mask? Why was he wearing a mask?

Carefully, he untied the mask from his head, grimacing as he lifted it from the pillow for the few moments it took, pulling it off to blink at it blearily; twisting it around in his hands. It was black and mostly plain, but well made - a sturdy material, not cheap plastic.

He sat there staring at it for a long while, brow pulling together more and more as his eyes finally adjusted to the light.

What he hadn't adjusted to, though, was the complete lack of recognition. The utter void of ‘Ah-ha’s, that should have hit him as his brain finally seemed to catch up with the rest of his body in the waking world.

Alarmingly, still, it didn't matter how hard he forced his brain to ponder the mystery. There was nothing. No flashes of memories. No hints to why he had the accessory. Just more confusion.

Alright. So whatever he’d gotten up to the night before must have gotten stupid crazy.

He didn’t have long to ponder that particular train of thought before a sudden buzz made Adrien jump, dropping the mask to the bed - oh, so he was in bed at least, interesting - in the process.

A quick glance over to the nightstand revealed his phone dancing across the surface as it vibrated with an incoming call.

Who in the world would be calling this early?

And by early, he apparently meant not early at all, because it was already well after 11 am according to the unfamiliar alarm clock on the nightstand.

He didn’t even remember the last time he’d slept in this late.

Or why there was a nightstand that looked nothing like his -

Oh.

Right. He'd rented a room with Nino. They'd planned on going out. There was supposed to be a party or something. They'd decided to split a room.

A room that was currently only occupied by him, he realized as he peered around, taking in his surroundings for the first time.

Where the hell was Nino?

The buzzing of his phone reminded Adrien that someone was still trying to get a hold of him, and he should probably answer.

And stop staring at it like it was a foreign concept.

God, how much did I drink last night?

With more effort than should have been necessary, Adrien sat up, grabbing his phone and feeling the now-familiar sense of confusion wash over him as he stared at Nino's caller ID.

Speak of the devil.

Without much thought, Adrien hit the video function and waited for the call to connect, showing his best friend staring at the phone like years of tension and fear were being washed away.

And quickly being replaced by anger.

"DUDE! FUCKING FINALLY!! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?"

In his need to escape the headache that his friend's tone assaulted, he nearly dropped his phone, thrusting it as far away from himself (without actually throwing it) as he could.

God love the guy for being one of the best people the blonde had ever met, loving with every fiber of his being and putting as much of that emotion into everything he said - but damn he could be as loud as his girlfriend sometimes.

And the last thing Adrien needed right now was an Alya level of volume.

"Dude...Stop yelling at me." The blonde groaned, dropping his own voice as if showing the DJ how inside voices were supposed to work.

Nino narrowed his eyes on him in a glare that didn't have quite the heat he probably meant it to have, "Oh excuse me for being a little freaked out that my best friend is missing!"

"Missing? What are you talking about? And where are you? I thought we were rooming together?"

"We were rooming together. And I'm exactly where I was supposed to be. In OUR hotel room. Where the hell are you, cause it's definitely not here."

Ignoring the returning Alya levels of volume to Nino’s tone, because frankly, the blonde could only really focus on one problem at a time, he gave Nino his best impression of a fish as his mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to register what the man was saying to him.

He wasn’t in the room they’d reserved?

"What? But…" he looked around, vision still swimming slightly around the edges but able to focus a bit more on the room itself. It looked just like the room he and Nino had checked into, swanky but modern, every bachelor's idea of clean-lined luxury as it was accented in woodsy browns and velvety navy blues, but, you know, minus the best friend roommate. "Are you sure?"

He turned back to the phone when he was met by silence only to find his friend's unamused expression, "Yes, Adrien. I'm sure."

"So where the hell am I?"

Adrien had never seen Nino facepalm so hard in the entirety of their friendship, "You don’t know?"

He probably should have been annoyed at the sarcasm, but it was hard to feel anything past the still lingering pulsing pain in his temples, "No, I… I have no idea what happened last night." Adrien frowned as another wave of pain flashed over his brain at the attempt to remember, and a bout of nausea made him take a few deep breaths.

"Wait… like at all?"

Instead of replying, uncertain if he'd be able to keep the contents of his stomach from resurfacing, Adrien shook his head, his eyes landing back on the bedside table in the process.

Leaning over, the blonde opened the table's drawer, pulling a pad of stationary and a pamphlet from its contents, giving it a quick once over for the address.

An address that matched that of the hotel he and Nino had booked their room at - The Hoxton Paris. He was in the hotel after all.

"I'm in the same hotel." He leaned over again, ignoring the churning of his stomach as he checked the phone next to the bed, "room 414."

"Why the hell are you two floors up?"

Adrien shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine at this point."

Nino sighed loudly giving him a hard look over the line before resigning, "Alright man, get dressed. I'll come to you."

Thanking his best friend, Adrien tossed the phone on to the plush mattress behind him before falling back on it himself to stare up at the ceiling.

Somewhere along the night, he’d gone missing and ended up in a completely different hotel room. Scratch stupid crazy - this was some next-level ridiculous.

Get dressed, I’ll come to you.

In the time since waking up, it never once occurred to Adrien to take in his state of dress - or, as he quickly realized as he glanced down with a frown blown into wide eyes, lack thereof.

He wasn’t naked, but he wasn’t in his Sunday best, either. His boxer briefs still covered the necessities, but he was free of anything else.

Which reminded him again that he needed to make himself decent before his best friend came storming in. Which, Nino was bound to do any moment now.

Finding his clothes was a snap as they were draped carefully over the folding luggage rack on the other side of the room, though, just like with the mask, he didn’t remember this particular ensemble. Well, he remembered packing it. But he didn’t remember putting it on.

In fact, the last memory he had was of the more professional sports jacket and lighter collared shirt and tie he’d worn to the last meeting he was going to have in the Gabriel Paris headquarters for the foreseeable future.

Ever - if he had his way.

With a sigh, Adrien pulled the long-sleeved maroon under-shirt on first, pausing briefly as a strange smell washed over him - like bleach. No, that couldn’t be right. There were no obvious bleach stains on the shirt, and a quick wafting sample of the rest of his clothes only found that his fitted black slacks were the only other thing that smelled the same.

So not bleach… but something close to it?

Whatever. Too many mysteries, not enough brainpower to piece them together.

Pulling the rest of his clothes on, he had to appreciate Drunk Adrien’s sense of style. It was a clean look, but roguish and darkly sensual too with the mix of maroon under dark grey collared button-up and black jeans that he knew fit him in all the right ways.

Though, his favorite piece was the leather jacket still draped over the chair.

It had been something of an impulse buy, not that he didn’t have the money to spare.

But the way it zipped up, pockets and zippers symmetrical on either side of the lapels, and the attached belt that buckled around the stomach… It reminded him so much of his suit as Chat Noir that he couldn’t not have it.

On the days when he needed the most confidence was when he pulled out the jacket. Just to remind him of where he’d come from. What he’d accomplished. Who he could be.

He’d worn the jacket a lot after Plagg had to leave.

A swift tapping at the door to the suite shook the blonde from his memories and he quickly went to unlock the door, to note a little curiously that the additional swinging latch was left undone - not that he could speak much for Drunk Adrien, but Sober Adrien always flipped the swinging latch.

With another quick shake of his head, he unlocked the door to find Nino waiting outside, hands shoved in his pockets, nodding to him in greeting before brushing past him to enter the room.

“So that’s what you ended up in,” Nino muttered as he passed, giving the ensemble a strange look as he did. A look Adrien really wasn’t in the right mind to decipher at the moment.

“I think so? They’re the only clothes I had in the room.” He affirmed before trudging into the bathroom and flicking on the lights to take in the damage.

All-in-all, he didn’t look half bad for the hangover he was experiencing. He could have done without the blood-shot rimmed eyes, but frankly, he’d had worse mornings in high school after a night chasing after a wayward Akuma, then having to get up only a few hours later for class.

Funny that it felt so long ago that that was a regular occurrence when in reality it was only a short year ago since the defeat of the greatest enemy to Paris.

He shifted his face around under the bright bathroom fluorescents to get a good look at his complexion, noting with a frown how he also could have done without the sickly pale lack of color to his skin. It made the areas where his skin was agitated stand out in blotchy red -

Adrien paused as one patch of red on his throat caught his eye and he ran his fingers over the mark.

That was definitely not irritation. Or at least, not the kind from not getting enough sleep or washing his face before bed.

And it’s placement over his pulse point sent something electrifying racing up his spine. Sending heat and pleasant shivers from his toes all the way up to his scalp, soothing the angry headache for the briefest of moments.

Something that felt like a memory. But one only his body could process; leaving his mind with broken fuzzy images - split seconds of movement across his skin that suddenly felt so vibrant that he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t crawled back into bed.

Adrien closed his eyes and willed those flashes back, clinging desperately to anything that would give him a clue. But the harder he pushed, the harder those memories avoided him.

“Uhhhh… Nino? What the hell did we do last night?”

At the sound of his panic, Nino came to the bathroom door with a raised brow before his eyes zeroed in on the same thing Adrien had.

The very clear and very permanent lipstick print that stained his skin over what was clearly a hickey.

“You’re asking me?” His best friend’s brows shot up incredulously, with an expression somewhere between wanting to murder him, and wanting to high-five him?

Emerald gaze met honey in the mirror, “Yes. Because we were together?”

That seemed to stun his best friend into silence for a few long torturous moments as the DJ searched his face for something he wasn’t finding. “You… you really don’t remember anything do you?”

“No. Why?”

The silence stretched once more, and Adrien was starting to hate the tension building as Nino tried to find the right words to say, “Dude, you never showed.”

What?

“That can’t be right.”

Broad shoulders shrugged as Nino shook his head at the mystery shared between the two, “It can. And it is. Trust - there are a few people a little perturbed with you for ditching your own sending-off party. Myself included. But most of us were just worried that you’d been kidnapped by a rabid fan or something.”

Never showed.

He’d never showed up to the party?

That explained so much and so very little at the same time.

Why would he ditch his friends? Why would he choose not to show up when they were throwing a party for him?

That just wasn’t something he would do.

And neither was hooking up with some random stranger.

But, it was starting to look like that’s exactly what he’d done.

“Alright back it up for me. Start from the beginning. Maybe that will help jog my memory.”

"Yeah, alright.” He shrugged, motioning him to follow before plopping himself down in the armchair in the corner of the room, leaving Adrien to sit on the bed, “You and I left here together around -”

“But I thought you said I never showed?”

Nino gave him a pointed look at the interruption, “You asked me to start from the beginning. Let me talk, wouldja?”

Feeling adequately chastised, the blonde nodded, “Right. Sorry. Continue.”

“After checking in, you and I left together around six to go grab a bite to eat at a place on the way to the club. We had some food, a couple of drinks, and then left to go to meet up with everyone else at Chez Moune.”

Adrien nodded along as little bits and pieces of the story flashed in his mind. He remembered checking in at the hotel - how relieved he was to just be done with the meetings for a while. He remembered thinking compared to Nino, he felt a little overdressed since he was still wearing his nicer work clothes when they’d left.

“We weren’t even ten minutes from the club when I told you where we were headed and you told me you wanted to come back and change.”

Given his last train of thought, he figured he knew the answer already, but he asked anyway, “Why?”

Nino shrugged again, a roll of his eyes accompanying the sarcastic grin over his face, “You said something about not wanting to be ‘that asshole who shows up in the designer get-up’. But the others were going to start showing up soon, so you told me to head on over and that you’d make it a quick back and forth. You were so adamant about it. Even making a big deal about the mask.”

“Mask?”

“Yeah. For the club. It was a masquerade theme last night at Chez Moune and most of us were playing along. You were super into it. Are you serious, you don't even remember that?”

It was coming back to him now, he remembered learning about the theme (despite Nino wanting to keep the venue a secret) and wanting to join in the fun. Not to mention, the idea of being able to go out and not be recognized for a night was more than a little appealing. He'd purchased the mask almost two weeks ago.

And from the sounds of it, he must have made it back to the hotel and changed given the outfit he was wearing currently and the mask he’d found still tied to his face when he woke up.

“Alright, then what?”

“You messaged me that you were on your way back, and then, nothing. That was it. You never showed up.”

“So… between me coming back here to change, and trying to make my way back to the club, I went missing?”

"I guess, man. I've been looking for you all night."

He certainly looked like he’d been running himself ragged all night - something that was beginning to settle on the blonde with heavy guilt for making his friend worry the way he had.

But he still couldn’t figure out why he would in the first place. It just wasn’t something he did.

"I'm surprised you didn't call the police." Adrien chuckled with a shake of his head, trying to keep the conversation light, trying to avoid the guilt until he could piece together the mystery before them.

He was met with Nino's deadpanned expression and tight lined lips.

"Oh my god, you didn't."

"Oh no, I totally did." The wide-eyed expression would have been comical, if the DJ didn’t immediately follow the comment up with, "But they wouldn't do anything because you're an adult. Told me that if you were still missing by tonight, that I could file a missing person's report, but given everything, they told me it was likely you just wanted to disappear, fucking assholes." The DJ added that last bit under his breath, but years of magically enhanced senses in a super-suit left Adrien with better than average hearing.

And he couldn't exactly fault the officers for their assumptions.

Gabriel Agreste's very public reveal as the identity behind Paris's longest-standing terrorist Hawkmoth had been a major blow. To their family, to their name, to him. He couldn't go anywhere these days without someone recognizing him, and not the same way they used to when his face was plastered on every billboard in the city. Most people didn't say anything, but he knew what they were thinking.

How could he live in the same house with that monster and not know?

It was a question he asked himself every single day since.

There were more than a few people who actually thought he was working with his father. But through tireless efforts and a raving defense from the heroes of Paris, his own name had been cleared.

That didn't keep people from speculating though.

Couldn’t blame them either - if the roles were reversed, he’d probably speculate too.

“Hey - I - I’m sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

Adrien blinked quickly, bringing himself back around and giving his friend a reassuring grin, “No - no, it’s fine. Really.”

And it was. They were. There was no reason for Nino to apologize. He was just worried about him. Like any good best friend would be.

Truthfully, it warmed Adrien’s heart to have someone so concerned about how people treated him.

Even a year later, Nino was still the rock and pillar of strength he had been the day Hawkmoth - Gabriel Agreste had been revealed and subsequently arrested.

And for the second time, the blonde was having to fight back the guilt for having worried his friend unnecessarily after he’d done so much for him over the last year. Not to mention setting up the party they’d been on their way to in order to celebrate before he left town.

How the hell was he going to make that up to him?

What kind of friend did that make him to begin with?

Nino sighed loudly, “Don’t start with that look. I know what you’re thinking and you need to cut that shit out.”

“I don’t -”

The DJ leaned forward so that Adrien had no choice but to look him in the eye, “You’re over there freaking out about the party and trying to make it up to me.”

Okay, either Nino was a mind reader now or -

“How could you possibly-?”

“I’ve gotten really good at reading you.”

Oh, okay. Cool. Now he was an open book.

“I’m not going to pretend like I’m not pissed, but it’s pretty clear something happened and I’m saving judgment until we figure out what got it?”

It took a moment, but Adrien nodded, knowing that his friend wasn’t nearly as angry as he was pretending to be.

“Cool. I’m going to let Alya know that I found you safe and-” he glanced up from having pulled his phone from his pants pocket, eyeing the hickey with a shake of his head and barely contained smirk, “mostly sound.”

Oh, that was going to be a fun conversation, Adrien just knew it.

If Nino was the rock, Alya was his protective sister/mom, and he was going to get hell from her. First in the form of yelling for making her worry, then in the form of teasing for being a ‘ladies man’ (her hypothetical words, not his).

It was the least he deserved for disappearing though.

Which brought him back to the mystery at hand.

Why?

Where did he go?

“By the way, you may want to ignore your phone for a bit. You’re about to get an influx of messages from god knows how many people. I just messaged the whole class - sorry.” The DJ chuckled, looking not at all sorry.

Adrien pulled his phone back out and sure enough, there were notifications a mile long, and only a small handful of them from the last handful of minutes. Which meant that everything else was from the night before. People calling him like he'd been gone for days. Nearly 500 text messages. His social apps were lit up with notifications he was no longer receiving pings for.

How had he not noticed last night?

How was he going to go through everything now?

The answer was simple, actually - that was a problem for future Adrien (which was probably what he’d likely thought to himself last night that even led to this mess in the first place).

Right now, though, he was suddenly aware of something he hadn’t considered before - he had his phone when he woke up.

So it had been in his possession through the night.

Surely there’d be something to point him to what he’d been up to in the hours he’d been missing.

Hopefully, past Adrien hadn’t thought it would be a good idea to clear his app history.

A quick swipe revealed that, no he didn’t, and present Adrien breathed a sigh of relief.

There were a number of apps still open in the background, listing from newest to oldest, and he swiped quickly through them - a Google search window, his email, the camera, maps, all of which seemed promising, but only one seemed out of place.

Quickly finding the gallery app, Adrien immediately found that past Adrien - whatever he’d been up to - was terrible with a camera. The first dozen or so (which would have been the last dozen pictures he would have taken last night) were either too dark or too blurry or just the palm of his hand.

The blonde was just about to give up on the pictures when he’d scrolled a little further down and found another dozen pictures that weren’t terrible.

And he almost didn’t register what he was looking at.

Because he didn’t immediately recognize that this was his phone and there were a dozen or so pictures of a man who looked just like him but not like him at all.

Because the guy in these pictures looked like the happiest man on earth.

“Nino…”

He hummed, barely looking up from his own phone. Completely unaware of the frantic uptick of Adrien’s heart rate as the blonde stared, open-mouthed at the device in his hands.

“I-I think I just figured out why I ditched the party.”

That had the darker man settling his gaze on him with a raised brow, waiting for him to continue.

“And how I got the lipstick on my neck. Or… at least, I really hope so.”

Oh god did he hope so.

“Are you going to just keep being cryptic over there or are you going to share with the rest of the class?”

Despite everything, Adrien couldn’t help the grin growing over his lips that split into a full-blown manically hopeful smile as he flipped the phone around to show his best friend.

How could he not?

How could anyone blame him for looking like lady luck had personally graced him with her presence.

Because if pictures were to be believed - she had.

Nino’s mouth fell open at the picture, one depicting the one and only Ladybug with her arm around Adrien (Chat Noir)’s shoulder, leaning in to place the softest of kisses on the masked hero’s cheek.

“I don’t know how, but I think I spent the night with Ladybug.”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous fandom #LadyNoir #Lady Noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrienette

777 notes · View notes

justcallmenikki7 · 5 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction To: Drunk Mafia BTS

Summary: your mafia boyfriend gets drunk and shows a different side to them.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, crack, alcohol consumption, mean!Namjoon, crying!Jungkook, mentions of sexual undertones, cute but annoying drunk Hoseok, mafia!au (but not really mentioned mafia), emotional Yoongi who needs readers love and reassurance, cute Jimin.

W.C.: 2.4k

Request: hi!! can you do a drunk bts mafia reaction?

Notes: Like I’ve said before, I love Mafia requests.

Jin:

You knew that you should not have left Jin alone with his brothers for thirty minutes.

You knew that leaving his side so you can go and talk to Jisoo about girl stuff, leaving Jin unattended with his brothers, especially the maknae when there is alcohol involved was a no-go. But you did it anyways, so now you are here – dealing with a flirty Jin who has one too many drinks in his system.

“You’re so pretty,” Seokjin cooed, body weight leaning into yours as you walked him to the car. “But!” He announced loudly, shocking you. “I haves a girlfriend, ACTUALLY! A fiancée. So, my compliments need to stop. I-It’s just that you look so much like her, that it is uncanny.” He rambled. “You even have the same, comfy, soft boobs! Are you her doppelganger?” Seokjin asked with a curious voice – a voice that does not suit his mafia boss persona.

Laughing at his question, “No, Jinnie, I’m Y/N. The actual her.” Mouth dropping wide in astonishment, “No way! Baby!” He yelled, flying into you, sending the both of you to the ground. But even in his drunken state, his reflexes still worked, and he turned you guys around to where he took the beating of the ground while you fell onto his chest. “Ooo, I like this position,” he said cheekily, smiling up at you.

“Of course, you do, you drunk.” You chuckled, “Now, get up. We need to get your drunk ass home.”

Yoongi:

The sound of breaking glass was what caught your attention from the book you were reading. Closing the book, you put it aside to see if the sound would repeat again, which it did. The breaking glass was coming from above you, which is where your boyfriend’s office was. Standing up, you quietly, but quickly, made your way up the stairs, slowly hearing the curses and angry words coming from your boyfriends’ mouth. Once you got to the office door, you quietly knocked on the door, silencing all of the commotion on the other side of the door.

The door opened, showing the distressed man in front of you. Trying to hide his tears, he turned around and made his way over to his desk, silently telling you that you can come in.

“Yoongi, what’s wrong?” You asked softly, walking up behind him, putting a few feet between you guys.

“Nothing. Why do you ask?” He replied, being short with you.

Spotting the bottle of whisky on his desk, you connected the dots that he is stressed since whisky is his escape drink.

“Well,” you started off, “There’s broken glass on the floor from you throwing it, whisky on the desk, and you’re obviously crying. So, something is wrong.”

“Wow, why would you ask me since you apparently know what’s going on.” He snapped, turning around to look at you, eyes blank.

Taking a few steps back, you coiled in on yourself by his harshness. Realizing that he wants you to leave him alone, you respected his wishes. “I’ll leave you alone then. I just wanted to check up on you.” You bowed, turning around and leaving.

Before you could walk out the door, you felt a soft grip on your arm, pulling you back.

“Please don’t leave.” Yoongi asked, voice raspy. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Not saying anything, you pulled your boyfriend into a hug. Your actions caused your boyfriend to breakdown, shocking you at the sight. The most dangerous man in the underworld, the one who scares the law itself, was falling apart in your arms for a reason you do not know.

Hoseok:

“And a BOOP!”

Trying to stay calm, you watched the finger – for the twentieth time – come in contact with your nose. Your eyebrow twitched from irritation. Surprisingly you were keeping your composure really well. You were not blowing up on your boyfriend yet.

But the thing that you do not get is how the man who can kill a person with a smile on his face, not even flinching, can act so childish and love messing with your nose whenever he is drunk.

It is like trying to figure out how many licks it takes to get to the tootsie roll.

“Your nose is so cute!” Hoseok squealed, face moving close to you, breaking your personal bubble boundary, “It has a little arch to it!” He added, a squeal evident in his tone.

That was a new one, you concluded.

“Can I run my finger over your nose?” He asked, voice innocent.

Releasing a sigh, a sigh that seemed to be very offensive that Hoseok took to heart. “Are you mad at me?” He sniffled, looking away to hide his face.

“No, Hobi.” You reassured softly, “I’m just getting a little irritated, but I am not mad at you, I promise.”

Sniffles growing louder, you realized that you messed up.

“I’M ANNOYING YOU?!”

Fuck.

Before you could say anything else, your body was met with the couch while your boyfriends body was thrown on top of yours. ‘I’m sorries’ were spewing out of his mouth rapidly, body shaking from the sobs racking over his body.

“Yes! You can run your finger over my nose.” You said, hoping it will calm him down.

As if a light switch was turned off, your boyfriend immediately stopped crying, a huge smile gracing his face. “Yay! Thank you!” His finger running over your nose, face morphed into a concentrated look.

Namjoon:

When you walked into your home, your sense of smell was met with alcohol – mainly whiskey and cigars.

“Oh no,” you whispered to yourself, preparing yourself for what was possibly going to happen.

Namjoon is drunk by now, and this only happens when he is overly stressed, or in need of an outlet for his anger. So, a drunk Namjoon equals an angry drunk Namjoon. You have only seen this side of him just once, and it was not pretty.

You did not speak to Namjoon for a week because of it.

He promised you he would not seek comfort from alcohol ever again – but he broke his promise.

Walking into the living room, you found your boyfriend sitting in the single sofa chair, the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone, showing the caramel skin of his chest. But his beautiful sight was ruined when you saw the whiskey bottle sitting on the side table with the cigar on the ash tray, and a glass of whiskey in his ring clad hand.

“I am surprised you have not started yelling yet,” Namjoon mocked, interrupting your train of thought. “Last time I drank, you freaked out on me.”

Taken aback by his words, “I didn’t freak out on you? Plus, I am not going to now. I am curious on why you are drinking, whiskey especially.”

“Oh, so am I not allowed to drink certain alcoholic drinks?” He asked, sarcasm and mockery laced in his words. “Wow, you’re more controlling than I thought.”

You could feel your heart break at his words, eyes stinging from the tears that are wanting to spill. “Wow. Um, okay.” You said, not knowing what words to use. You were beating yourself up mentally from how weak you are and your inability to stand up for yourself. So, choosing the cowardly way out, you turned around and made your way to the guess room that was in your house, locking the door and hiding yourself in there.

Jimin:

Sitting at the booth in the bar, you listened to your best friend Yoonji vent about her and Namjoon’s relationship.

Tonight, was club night with the boys.

Having a boyfriend who is a mafia boss that owns his own private club was awesome, especially during parties. Not having to pay and wait in line was awesome, drinks and food was free, and the best of all – sitting in the VIP section away from the drunk people.

“I just wish that he would make more time for me,” Yoonji stressed, eyes tearing up. “I feel so alone sometimes…” She trailed off, taking a gulp from his glass.

A frown was on your face, watching your friend cry was one of the worst things ever. Before you could add your opinion in, you felt a body that was all too familiar fall on top of you. A pair of lips attached theirs to yours, shocking you from the abruptness.

“My Love!” Your boyfriend announced, a drunken grin of his face, cheeks tinted red from the alcohol he has been drinking. “I have missed you so MUCH!” He stated, lips now turned downwards.

“I’ve missed you too, Jiminie.” You replied back, honesty laced in your words. “But, I’m talking with Yoonji here,” you motioned towards your friend, your boyfriends head whipping around quickly to look at her.

“Ooops! I’m sorry Yoonji!” He apologized truthfully, head turning back towards you. “Is it okay if I lay my head on your lap while you talk with Yoonji? My head hurts, and I PROMISE! I won’t speak of anything that you guys say to Namjoon!” He promised, sticking his pinky in the air towards you.

“Wait, what?” Yoonji asked in shock. “How do you know we are talking about Namjoon?”

“Cause silly! You just admitted to it,” Jimin giggled, already making himself comfortable on your lap. “Plus, the both of you came in upset, so it’s kinda obvious that you two are arguing.”

And that was the last thing your boyfriend said before he was lulled into a deep sleep.

Looking up at Yoonji, you gave her an apologetic smile. “Jimin’s extra blunt when he’s drunk?”

Taehyung:

As you conversed with your boyfriend’s gang members girlfriends, you could feel the heavy stare on your back from your boyfriend. You knew that you looked hot – thanks to the constant compliments and love that your boyfriend gives you everyday has helped with your self love. Wearing a sexy, but appropriate dress to the ball that was thrown by an ally mafia gang was a good idea because it was messing with your boyfriend. You knew the little things that riled up your boyfriend of three years – and this dress was one of them; especially when he had alcohol in his system.

“Um, Y/N?” Madison, Jungkook’s girlfriend of seven months spoke, catching your attention.

“Hm?”

“Taehyung is I think glaring at you,” She said nervously.

Smiling at her innocence, “Oh, is he?” You asked, turning around to look at your boyfriend who just finished downing his glass of wine. When the two of you made eye contact you gave him a gentle smile and he winked at you. You could see that he has had a lot to drink due to the flush of his cheek and aura that he was giving off.

“He literally has been undressing you with his eyes all night.” Suri commented, bringing a blush to your cheeks from her bluntness.

“And you are right,” Taehyung admitted, surprising you from his sudden appearance. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, head ducking down to nuzzle into your neck. His breath smelt like alcohol and cigarettes as he pressed kisses to you neck. “You’ve looked so beautiful all night that I got turned on.”

“You’ve smoked a cigarette?!” You yelled, shocking the girls and Taehyung.

“What? No, baby—”

“Do not ‘baby’ me,” your voice came out deadly. “You told me you quit!” You accused, glaring at your boyfriend who looked scare, something that you will later laugh at since he is the biggest mafia boss in the world.

“I did. I just had two with Jackson and Namjoon!”

Not wanting to make a bigger scene, you walked away with a nervous and apologetic Taehyung.

“He’s totally not getting anything tonight,” Suri chuckled into his cup of wine.

“$20 he is,” Jisoo, Jimin’s friend had bet.

“You’re so on.”

Jungkook:

“Ugh, another fucking voicemail,” Jungkook grumbled drunkenly. “Y/N, this is my hundredth voicemail, when will you answer? Please answer. I’m sorry that I snapped and scared you. I know that I acted out irrationally during the argument. You’re right, I am childish and short tempered, but that doesn’t give me the excuse to say what I said and act how I acted. Wait? Did I say that right? hopefully because I want to make this right with you. I love you, Y/N, and I know that I have a suckish way of showing it, but I do. You’re the light in the darkness that I live in. never would I have thought of meeting you, meeting love in this Mafia world. I just want, need, you back, baby. Please come back to me,” Jungkook stopped, the sobs taking over him. The scary realization of losing you might be coming true. “Please give me one more chance to make this right.”

And with that, he hung up.

On the other side of the city, you listened to the voicemail that Jungkook had sent to you, tears streaming down your face and blurring your vision, your mind already being made up. Putting on a bra and shoes, you grabbed your purse and made your way to Jungkook’s mansion. When you pulled up, you were met with Phil and Leo at the gate. The two guards gave you smile, relief filling their eyes.

Walking into the mansion, you were met with a disastrous living room that had glass and frames on the carpet. A sigh escaped your lips as you realized that you had of fixing up to do.

“I am this drunk that I am imagining you standing right in front of me?” Jungkook asked, scaring your soul out of your body it felt like.

“It’s actually me, Kook.” You giggled, eyes tearing up at the relieved look in Jungkook’s eyes.

One minute his was on the stairs and the next he was squeezing you into his chest.

“You’re back,” he croaked. “Thank God, you’re back to me.”

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lov3nerdstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.26}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.5k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

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"I had the choice between making you laugh and thereby forget about the pain I was unfortunately causing in the process, or to further said pain even more by talking about Morgan and his vile doings." He replied so easily that it made perfect sense now, as the most obvious solution ever. "As you see, it wasn't even a choice to be made."

"Thank you. That… was a really clever thing to do, actually." Robin sighed and gave him a soft smile, then took a moment to appreciate how the shadows of the flames danced across his skin before she spoke on. "So… no more pain for now?"

"Not as far as I can tell."

"Let's find out for sure then, shall we?" Her smile turned into a brighter one, especially when a spark lit up his dark eyes that didn't originate from the flames by their side. "I can't very well test it by myself after all… doesn't work like that."

"Pity." He replied with a not-smirk, as the amusement wouldn't stay off his face like the irony not gone from his words, nor the purest adoration out of his gaze when Robin took the one small step left to stand directly before him, on her tiptoes for their lips to almost touch when he leaned down just a little bit further. "You really are insufferable."

"I know." She got out in one whisper of a smile, before every word and breath was taken from her in a gentle brushing of lips, and a delicate tracing of fingers down her spine a moment later. Back were the shivers of unadulterated delight, now that the pain was gone for real. Whatever he had done, he had done it well. A part of Robin's mind couldn't help marveling at the sheer amount of talent that Snape possessed for just about anything of relevance, for such a variety of magic and wondrous things, while the rest of her soon was too distracted to think at all.

Eventually her toes started to hurt from standing up on them though, and her hands and arms grew tired from holding up her dress for so long, which led her to pull away just enough to look at him. "May I borrow something of yours to wear tonight? A ball gown isn't really the most comfortable thing to be sitting on a sofa in… and I'd like to have a drink before you tell me just what it was that Morgan did to my back."

"You can have anything you want, Robin, most obviously even if it is a thing as simple as a piece of clothing. It shouldn't come as a surprise to you however that the options in that regard are rather… limited."

"Well, if I don't find anything, I'll just wrap myself in your robes instead." Robin quirked an eyebrow at him with a small smirk, then sauntered over to the wardrobe where he kept his most mundane belongings. Even with her back to him now, she could tell that her comment had frozen him in place, while his eyes still seemed to burn holes into her skin. It made her shiver to have his full attention on her body like this now, but she still rolled her eyes to herself with a smile. "That was a joke, you know… I'll find something to wear. But I'm feeling quite underdressed, if you keep standing there in your dress robes."

"I wasn't aware that I was to keep up with your astonishing level of undress, my sincerest apologies." He replied in the most obvious sarcasm as he fell into action nonetheless, which made Robin snort and shake her head to herself as she picked up a long abandoned t-shirt she had discovered at the very bottom of the wardrobe, which only put emphasis on the point that he certainly would have no interest in wearing it himself. That would have to do… While the thought of wearing so very little made her heart skip a beat in itself, it also brought back a spark of insecurity. Teasing was one thing, but could she really be quite as bold in reality? It surely wouldn't bother him too much if she only wore his t-shirt and her knickers, would it? She hadn't worn that much more in the summer either… but there still was a difference between jersey shorts and underwear. The thought made her blush, made her heart beat faster and her skin tingle at once, but then again, the temptation of crossing yet another line that now lay broken before her was just too strong to resist. He'd said he wanted to keep her here after all… and he certainly hadn't expected her to sleep in her ball gown, had he?

It took a bit of fumbling with the last few buttons on her dress before Robin finally had it opened up all the way, but then she simply dropped the heavy fabric and let it pool by her feet while she pulled the shirt over her head instead. It probably wasn't the most exciting piece of clothing, soft and black and plain, but at least it covered her butt for the most part, and it was already comfortable seconds after putting it on. That really was all she had wanted. Sighing to herself, she picked her dress up from the ground and folded it in half before placing it with her shoes on the trunk next to the wardrobe where it wouldn't be in the way. This really felt strangely normal, somehow. All of this. Then again, they had been this close for ages. Almost, at least. Again, she realized just how little had actually changed. They still were just the same old dungeon bat and insane girl, only with more possibilities. The thought made her smile.

When she turned back around at last, the first thing she took pleasant notice of was the fact that he had shed some layers of coats indeed, which again left him in one of those linen shirts she liked so much. The second thing she noticed was the two glasses and the bottle of firewhisky on the coffee table, and she had to smirk at the fact that he hadn't even had to ask to know what she wanted to drink. It had become somewhat of a staple by now, and while they didn't drink too often, they usually ended up with firewhisky whenever they did. The third and final thing that caught her eye was his gaze on her, which she couldn't describe as anything other than awestruck even as she slowly made her way back to the sofa. Somehow, instead of feeling uncomfortable or nervous now, Robin simply had to smile while her heart was leaping out of her chest again. He really did look at her like she was the answer to the universe's greatest question… and it did unspeakable things to her in return.

With the same smile and a sigh she plopped down on the sofa next to Snape, then summoned a blanket from the shelves and draped it over her now crossed legs. Not out of embarrassment really, but naked skin and cold dungeon air just didn't go too well together for a longer period of time, no matter how lovely the fire or the company was. When her eyes finally lifted back to meet his, she found that he was still looking at her with that same expression of calm amazement, and she had to chuckle as she quirked an eyebrow up at him.

"What?" She finally asked, when after a few moments he still made no attempt to do anything other than observe her quietly.

"Never did I dare to believe I would get to see you like this. Be with you, like this." He replied calmly, and his words made Robin smile again, while for some odd reason this sufficed to make a subtle heat creep up her neck. Honestly, she hadn't expected it either. But then again, now that it was part of their reality, it felt like the most natural and inevitable thing in existence.

"And do you like it, now that you do… see me?" She asked, even though she had a rather vivid idea of what he was going to reply.

"Obviously. Even if 'like' is quite as much of an understatement as 'happy' was."

"Good." Robin smiled, then let out a humoured huff. "I still remember our sleepover in the lab… or that one time on my birthday. You let me wear your robes, and I was positively dying on the inside from the sheer excitement about it."

"So was I."

"Really?" She frowned at him with a small incredulous laugh, and her eyes followed his movements while he finally poured them a firewhisky each. "I mean… why?"

"Do you have any idea how insanely attractive it is to see you wearing something of mine?"

The stupid smile was back on her face in under a second in reply to that, and it prevailed even when he handed her a glass and rolled his eyes exaggeratedly upon seeing her probably very goofy expression. The smirk on his lips however told the truth of his thoughts.

"So… seeing me in just your shirt now must be quite the sight." Robin mused in feigned nonchalance, swirling the amber liquid around her glass while she watched it sparkle in the glow of the fire. "Or does it step aside to seeing me in my underwear without having to look away for the first time?"

"You are such a tease."

"Only when it comes to you. You know that."

He didn't reply immediately, which is what made Robin look up from her glass just in time to see his smirk turning into a small but sincerely happy smile. "Indeed."

The leaping of her heart washed away every drop of tease in an instant, and left behind only the soaring adoration and burning excitement. With a smile mirroring his own, Robin raised her glass to him. "To everything."

"To you, for being braver than I was." He added on in subtle amusement at her grand expression, and finally clinked his glass to hers. Then they both took a sip of their drinks as they ought to, but their eyes stayed locked on each other the entire time nonetheless, sheer unable to look away. Robin smiled into her glass for a moment, then set it down on the table behind the sofa without even having to look at what she was doing. This was perfect… it was just like always, but it also was more after all.

For another quiet moment she simply observed him then, how he took another sip of whisky, and it once more brought the question of how it would taste on his lips to the forefront of her mind. She had been wondering about that for months now… every time they were drinking just this beverage, to be exact. It was due time she finally got an answer. But… could she just kiss him like that? Without warning? Technically, she had originally been the first to kiss him, but after that it had rather been more or less subtle prompting from her that had made him kiss her, and-...

"Talk to me, Robin… Getting lost now would be a shame. What is troubling you?"

Gods, he was too good at reading her. Robin sighed to herself, and had to smile nonetheless. There was no need to find a half truth to answer anymore… She could finally tell him absolutely everything that went on in her head, without restraint. That was bloody brilliant, actually. "I was just wondering if I could kiss you, just like that."

"What an inane question." He quirked an eyebrow at her with a humoured expression. "Obviously you can if you want to. What makes you doubt that now?"

"Doubt is the wrong word for it… I was just concerned that I might do something wrong, if I just… you know. Or that I'd make you uncomfortable." She shrugged with a half smile. "I just like to think about the consequences of my actions before I do something stupid."

"I'm well aware of that." The smirk was back on his lips, but it was surprisingly affectionate in contrast to the usual humour or scorn. "And to be honest, I am no stranger to the very same concerns."

"Really? But you seem so certain in everything you do… like you know exactly that what you're doing is right, and also what you're supposed to do."

"So do you." He replied, much to Robin's sincere surprise. She seemed like she knew what she was doing?! No way. And yet, he seemed to believe so. "Obviously these impressions can be quite misleading."

Once again, the thought and realization that in the end he was just as afraid to mess this up as she was herself made Robin's heart soar, made warmth spread out from her chest through her entire body, made her lose more of her own concerns. They would learn to navigate these new territories, together.

"You've never made me uncomfortable with anything you did…" She said with a smile. "You've only ever made me want more."

"I could say the exact same about you."

"Oh come on, I know for a fact that I've made you uncomfortable before."

"You challenge me, that is entirely different."

"How about we both stop being so stupidly concerned then, and just do instead of overthinking and worrying? Yes, how about we agree to actually tell each other what we think, want and what makes us uncomfortable instead?" Robin suggested with a hopeful but not remotely imploring look. She knew better than to push him. "We've been doing just that about work matters for ages now… talking honestly and openly, I mean. Would it be so bad if we did the same for everything else as well?"

"I assume not." He mused, then studied her for a moment before speaking on, in well considered seriousness. "I promise to try."

That, she knew and would never forget, was a truly extraordinary thing for him to do, to promise, especially such a thing, and it made her heart leap out of her chest yet again with an overwhelming wave of affection. But it also made her smile. "I promise to try as well."

"And just to test the functionality of that, what would you be thinking right in this instant?" He raised an eyebrow at her, then took another sip of whisky and set the empty glass down on the table at last.

"That I really want my answer now, to a question I've had for ages." She smiled in return, but before he could do anything more than frown in question, Robin was sitting up on her knees already, blanket long forgotten and abandoned as she moved closer to his side. Not even half a second later her lips were on his for a gentle, but all the more determined kiss.

If it wasn't for the subtle taste of firewhisky, Robin would have doubted the reality of the moment yet again the very second her body and soul were set ablaze. A small voice in her mind wondered if she would ever get used to these overwhelming feelings, if it was the whisky or the kiss that was making her dizzy in the most delightful of ways, if kisses were supposed to be this ineffably intoxicating. It certainly was the most delightful way to lose yourself, and find something far greater instead.

Perhaps that is why the gentleness, the seek for a mere answer was doomed and destined to grow into inevitable passion. Soft lips turned tongues and teeth and it sent yet another thrill through Robin when his hand settled on the curve of her hip to pull her as close as their awkward angle on the sofa allowed. It wasn't enough; she wanted to be closer than this, closer than just leaning into his side. She had to be, it was an irresistible calling, an impulse she couldn't ignore. On instinct more than by conscious thought her arms wrapped around his shoulders, tugging him closer in return now, but he wouldn't have it. Instead, not a fathomable moment later, the hand on her hip turned into an arm around her waist and just like that he pulled her into his lap without an effort. Robin thought it a change for the better, one that gave her new tingles all over. Straddling his legs now, her entire body curved into his in an instant as she pressed herself as close as she could, and he let out a quiet involuntary moan in return. Gods, he would be the end of her… even if she felt more alive now than she ever had before.

It was only his fingers tracing along a sliver of her skin below the hem of her shirt that sent a literal quiver through her, and when he placed his other hand on her thigh, a gentle caress of her bare skin, the heartbeat that echoed through her wasn't entirely her own. The thudding rhythm within her in addition to a serious lack of oxygen made her break away with a gasp at last, but she still found herself unable to speak, to act, to do anything but stay as close as she could nonetheless.

"If that was the answer, do I even want to know the question?" Snape was the first to speak, entirely out of breath no less, but he at least, thank god, kept on drawing circles on Robin's skin that made her sigh under her breath, while his question however made her croak a laugh.

"I have been wondering for months now what firewhisky would taste like on your lips." She made herself reply at last, and leaned back just enough to look at him with an amused smile.

"How curious…" He mused, and in a poor attempt to conceal his smirk he gave her an evaluating frown. "Do you happen to have wondered the same thing about other beverages as well?"

Now that made Robin chuckle even more, and display the very smirk she knew he was trying to hold off. "Let's say I wouldn't be opposed to a series of tests."

That sufficed to break his half hearted attempt by far, and he rolled his eyes with a snort, then didn't even bother to hide the smirk anymore. He certainly wasn't opposed to the idea either, if the way he was still holding onto her was any indication of that. Robin couldn't help but smile when his hold on her tightened the smallest bit as he shifted beneath her, and yet it also brought a subtle heat to her cheeks as it made her very much aware of the fact that she was sitting in his lap. In her underwear. If that wasn't enough reason to grin like an idiot and blush at the same time she didn't know what was. She found that she enjoyed it far too much to be embarrassed though, or do anything other than relish this closeness. As new as it was, it still felt absolutely and undeniably right.

"I think me seizing your space has gotten an entirely new dimension now." She said after a while, in a mixture of amusement and affection. "But I must say you make a very comfortable seat. And I rather enjoy the perspective."

"Don't get used to it." He quirked an eyebrow up at her, and even though their current position left Robin only minimally taller than him, the change in perspective was indeed rather nice for once.

"Whyever not?" Her smirk only broadened yet again, and she made a point of moving her face so close that her nose brushed against his while she spoke. "Is having me in your lap really quite so terrible? Or is it my astonishing state of undress, as you put it, that is troubling you?"

He didn't even need to reply with words for Robin to get a clear answer immediately, as his body definitely betrayed any attempt to deny the truth that was obvious as day. She could feel the twitch and shudder running through his entire being in rapid succession, his heart skipping a beat right beneath her fingertips. Another, when her lips just barely brushed against his for a fleeting moment of innocent teasing. And it was her heart indeed that went wild when his hand sneaked beneath her shirt once more as he gently traced up the sensitive skin along her spine, before pulling her in with a start for a kiss that was everything but a tease. Robin sighed against his lips in an immediate response, arching into his chest and his touch on mere instinct, and when she grazed her teeth over his bottom lip, his fingers dug into her back in the same delightful intensity the two of them shared with every missing breath.

"Do you think we will ever be able to stop?" She finally brought out in a breathless chuckle, playing with the rivers of black her fingers had at some point become tangled up in. "After all, you really are impossibly addictive, and I don't think I can ever get enough of the divine privilege that is having you as mine."

"Good." His sparse reply was accompanied by a small smirk that made Robin roll her eyes with a mirroring one of her own. If she didn't know better, she would've thought that her accidental poeticism had lost on him… but she did know far better indeed. For a moment they stayed like that, until at last, Snape spoke on. "Going by the state of the fire, we perhaps should consider calling it a night soon if we want to at least pretend that we made an effort to retire in time to get up for breakfast in the morning. With the magic worked on you tonight, I honestly cannot imagine you not to be exhausted."

"You still haven't told me about what exactly that magic worked on me was, seeing as I did a pretty good job distracting you until now. Which is a good thing, don't get me wrong… but I guess I still will have to know what Morgan did to me if I have to see that arse again tomorrow morning." Robin sighed, and she had to admit that she did feel rather exhausted indeed. All the dancing at the ball, the anxiety, the walk, the overwhelming amount of emotions and adrenaline… and on top of that, whatever magic Snape was talking about. "Let's get it over with; what did he do?"

"Do you really want to keep sitting like that for a serious conversation?"

"Just tell me." She gave him a defeated look, in the knowledge that he was obviously dreading the topic as much as she had been up until this point. "It's fine, I'm far too happy right now to let it ruin my night."

"He tried to kill you."

"He… wait, what?!" Robin frowned at him in an instant, in the sincere belief that she had misunderstood him somehow.

"He placed a curse on you that could eventually have led to your timely demise if it had stayed on you for any longer than it did." Snape repeated his words, in the usual yet shocking factuality and neutrality Robin couldn't help but admire. Perhaps this was his way of refraining from murdering Morgan right in this instant, or of trying to distance himself from the reality and gravity of his own words. Either way, it seemed to be working. "That is why it hurt without reason when he touched your back. As far as I could tell, the spell he used would have resulted in immense pain for you whenever someone other than him would physically touch you, up to the point where a mere embrace could be fatal. Initially the effect was obviously limited to your back only, but as you yourself noticed, it was already expanding both in the affected area and the pain caused by touch by the time I removed it."

"What fucked up kind of spellwork is that?! And why… I mean… He-... it's…" Robin groaned when she couldn't get her cluster of thoughts out as a stringent sentence, then hid her face in her hands to regain some order in her mind. This was madness all over again… Morgan was a bloody professor, he couldn't just curse her!!! People would know what he did if she'd made it to the infirmary. If she had made it, that is. Bloody hell, this really gave his insanity a dangerous twist now. This was the first time he had actively tried to harm her, and it obviously had been planned. Nobody just spontaneously came up with a curse like that! Then again, what-...

Her thoughts came to a sudden halt when she felt a gentle tug on her hair. Actually, what she felt was her wand being tugged out of the by now more messy than neat bun. She finally dropped her hands from her face when her hair softly spiralled down her back a moment later, and she couldn't help smiling at Snape when he brushed a strand of it out of her face. It really was her luck that nobody knew how amazing he was… a shame, but also her privilege. And he didn't even need to say a single thing for her to know exactly what he meant to say.

"I know… Sorry. I'm not getting lost again." Robin sighed after a moment. "It's just… I don't understand him at all at this point, and I'm not used to not understanding things. It's not only dangerous, but also very irritating."

"I see." He replied while setting her wand down on the coffee table behind the sofa, then his hand returned to her thigh to draw small circles which Robin found ineffably soothing now. She figured that it was the intention more than the gesture that actually made it more calming than exciting for once, and yet again she could only adore how he was able to do both. After a moment of calm silence, he asked, "Would you like to know more about the spell at least, if neither of us is able to make sense of Morgan just yet?"

"Yeah… How do you even know of such a spell anyway? And how did you know how to undo it?" Robin inquired with a frown, but thought better of it and went on even before he had a chance to reply. "You know what, nevermind. I'm not even surprised. You know just about everything, which really is my greatest luck."

"You might want to thank yourself for that in this particular instance. I only looked into historical spells after your knowledge of the renaissance helped us uncover my book's secret."

"But that was years ago…"

"I happen to have a decent memory, which is why I could recall this particular curse along with its countercurse from one of my casual reads I delved into at the time. The spell was mainly used in the late middle ages on supposedly unfaithful spouses or favoured mistresses, but given the timelessness of its intended use, it seems to have prevailed until the present day. In some circles at least."

"That level of possessiveness definitely fits in with everything Morgan has been saying to me for a while now. Guess he did put his mark on me like he wanted to after all." Robin scoffed, while absentmindedly playing with the buttons on Snape's shirt. "Did the scars stay on my back? After you removed the curse?"

"They did not."

"Too bad… I was hoping for some physical evidence of his doings."

"You certainly are peculiar sometimes. There has been enough undeniable evidence against Morgan at this point, and it has led to no results whatsoever, which is why I for my part appreciate the fact that there was no lasting damage done to you at least."

"Well-... You're probably right. Coming to think of it, I really have had enough injuries after the thing last summer. The girls were rather horrified when they saw the scar tonight; I don't need another to prove the case."

That brought a small but curious frown to his face, and after what seemed like a moment of internal debate, he finally gave in to it. "It has been months since, and they haven't seen it before now?"

"Nobody but you has." Robin shrugged with a humoured half smile. "It's not like I undress in front of other people regularly, you know… To be honest, I've always been rather afraid of it."

"In that case you are surprisingly at ease with it now."

"I'm at ease with you, that's different. When I said I want everything with you I did mean everything; no inhibitions and no conditions. I trust you, quite a bit more than myself for the most part."

"Terrible decision." He sighed exaggeratedly, which in combination with his words and expression made Robin chuckle.

"Seeing as I'm still alive and able to have this conversation, I beg to differ." She argued back with a smirk. "In fact, I think trusting you is the best decision I have ever made. Unlike my choice of underwear tonight, which was admittedly quite poor even for me. I'll try to do better from here on."

"Funny." He rolled his eyes with a not-smirk, then a sincere smile. "You really aren't uncomfortable with me in the least at this point, are you?"

"Obviously I'm not. I promised to tell you if I ever am, and you know all about my promises. They do come a close second to yours." She replied in a calm factuality that stemmed in the knowledge that it was absolutely true what she said. She trusted him unconditionally, and honestly, she had been doing so for the longest time now.

"In that case, this shouldn't make you uncomfortable either." He stated, half feigned neutrality and half feigned innocence, but with enough mischief in both to make Robin smile even before he slowly moved his hands up her thighs and to cup her bottom. It sent an immediate thrill through her, from the top of her head into every last cell of her being and down into her very core, and yet at the same time it also threatened to make her grin.

"In fact, it doesn't make me uncomfortable at all. Rather on the contrary." She replied in a half-hearted attempt to keep a straight face, but the frantic beating of her heart echoing through her as well as the sheer blazing tingles on her skin made that positively impossible.

"Good. Now hold on, yes?"

Before Robin could make any attempt to ask what he meant by that, his hold on her tightened in return and a second later he got up off the sofa while simply lifting her up with him. After a broken second of honest surprise, she clung onto him as tightly as she could by instinct, heartbeat going through the roof for multiple reasons at once, but she also couldn't help laughing a moment later.

"What on earth are you doing? I'm way too heavy to be carried around!" She protested very unconvincingly even for her own ears, especially with all those broken chuckles in between her words. Truth be told, she loved every second of it.

"Some of my books are heavier than you." He returned easily, but undoubtedly with a smirk to his tone. "And I am disappointed by your lack of faith in my strength."

"I do have every possible faith in you, just… don't drop me, please." She said a little wearily when he started moving away from the sofa and the fireplace and towards the far corner of the room.

"Never." His voice stayed surprisingly steady even as he moved up the two steps towards the bed and into the growing darkness. "But carefully setting you down should be alright, I presume, because otherwise we would be sitting on that sofa until morning."

Robin nodded into his shoulder, unable to speak without making a fool of herself and her squeaky, breathless voice, and a moment later her back touched the surface of the bed, soft linen sheets grazing the naked skin on her legs so lightly her breathing hitched in return. But when Snape pulled back after putting her down, withdrawing from her grasp way too soon, she couldn't help but refuse to loosen her hold on him in return, refuse to let him leave her without his warmth, and all it took was a little tug on his shoulders to make him lose his balance and fall forward. A tiny smirk found its way onto Robin's lips in an instant; He really should have seen that coming now, shouldn't he?

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psychemeanscure · 4 years ago

Text

PART 23

The sound of their heavy breaths is the only thing that can be heard behind the narrow line of flipped junk cars they found for hiding, or rather for shielding. They were able to seepage from the motorboat with the same assistance of somewhere springers. Jae who is still holding a shotgun, manage to pull out a small two-way handheld radio from its leather jacket. Hastily pushing the PTT button of it which she presumes to be connected with his co-subordinates. For she never gone wrong.

“What just the hell happened, Lee? I thought this direction was the safest, then what’s this?!”

His whispering grumbles through the other line as he was also answered promptly. “Idiot, we’ve been ghosted. Sh*t! I should have check carefully.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I thought the Alcaziar tag along to that opposite side of the port, turns out he manage to split his men. He wasn’t there, so most probably… we’re doomed!”

“Are you saying---“realizing his own thought, he can only give a knowing look to her. “F*ck! We’re already doomed, you say.”

He was about to cut their conversation then if he wasn’t able to hear its next cursing from the other line. “F*ck, F*ck. This is f*cking shit!”

“Why, why? What’s up?”

“Boss, is coming back. I repeat, going back to the ship! F*ck, this is crazy!”

Jae sense Lee’s inattentiveness from their radio conversion already but rather its attention was actually moved into commanding their other members. They’re in a panic mode it is for Sung Eunyoung to be alerted as well. “What did you just say?”

Snatching the handheld radio from Jae’s hold, pressuring the one from the other line which only responded her a silent gasp. “F*cking answer me, dammit!” Vigorously throwing it by the assistant’s chest, a tear starts to cascade once again.

He can only gulp his own saliva as if indirectly scolded by a boss’ wife. Much as he guesses how Lee felt like. “Go down.” For one thing they needed to do is to follow an unspoken order. ‘Guess they’ll make a great pair, indeed. Both intimidatingly scary.’ A thought he can actually imagine.

“I’m currently.”

For Lee interrupting it is the useful thing he needed. “Can I speak to boss.”

“Now, that’s the other problem.”

Left confused, he opts to query. “What?” as he can also see her incoming furrows. “It seems like he accidentally slips it from his ear. I can’t reach him no matter calling I try.”

“Sh*t! this isn’t what I’m expecting. F*ck.”

He starts contemplating. He is, for she can already see it. Eyes torn between her and the far away sight of the ship. Even the contrary silence from the other line only makes her decision clear. “Go.”

Jae was surprised hearing it from her indeed. “W-what? But boss ask me to look for you. I can’t just disobey Ms. Sung, considering the Alcaziar is probably looking for you again. “

“As much as you’re worried about him, I am as well. The backup will do for me, perhaps.”

“But---“

“I’ll give him a word for you. So no more buts and go, please. I’m also asking right now.”

Still doubting, he had no choice but to grab her request even. Clearing a throat, he speaks to the radio. “How many of us backing this area we’re in?”

“Half.”

“So, just enough.” A convincing monologue for himself before inquiring once again. “Can they spot us from here?”

“Yes.”

Sighing, he agreed. “Alright. Radio them to guard her up. Keenly, please. I’ll be following you in a sec.”

“Copy that.”

Right then Jae frantically loading the shotgun in his hands with new ones before he turns to her then. “Now, Ms. Sung. This may be a meaningless word to say but I really need you to do just one thing. Stay. Stay hiding no matter what happened please. Use this if you ever sense someone against their sight.”

Giving her the handheld radio, she can only nod. “O-okay. I will.”

Jae was about to leave then if only the idea in mind did not bother him suddenly. So he turns to her one last time, guiding her freehand to hold a silencer gun which left her baffled. “I know you still haven’t recovered from earlier, but this is the only thing I could offer as well. Just in case, miss.”

Looking by the thing in her hand she begins to get nervous for herself. Then explosion happens. As it only gets worse for her again. Afraid that if she opens her eyes from the impact, things will be a death of her. Jae was already cursing beside her while she’s left with bulging eyes, watching the scorching fire from faraway ship. “No. No, please…”

“Ms. Sung. Don’t think anything ahead first. We will find boss, we promise. He’ll be alive.”

For there she was, being left in iceberg. Silently crying all her might from the expense of events she never dared to imagine. Not when she heard a screeching sound near her. “F*ck this. Could they have at least wait before I’m somber?”

Her whispering sarcasm for herself as she eventually wipes her halt tears, tucking the handheld radio in her coat’s bottom pocket, carefully crouching to stand up, trying to peek unnoticed while taking a fully grip to the silencer gun as if her life depends on it already.

But before she can actually do. A hand pulled her back into hiding out from the sight of the springer backups. The stranger covered her lips by its freehand for she can only shut her eyes, muffling squeals becoming useless. She’s trap! And no one’s here to save her. She can onl---

“You’re really stubborn, aren’t you?”

And It didn’t take a second to snap her eyes open, dismissing the hopeful thought in mind for it already came before she can ask for it. A washed Jang Taeyoung was the stranger in front of her. That the moment he let go of his hand from her lips, uttering his name is what she needed. “Jang.”

Her gaze was just too soft that anyone can’t rather handle to surrender, but not with this scoffing man whose piercing furrows lingers caused by her recent behavior. “Don’t look at me like that, woman. I’m still mad at you.”

But either or, neither happened to affect her with his words for it was ignored instead. Not knowing he’ll actually the one being effected. She hugged him. Sung Eunyoung cannot hold back anymore that snaking her hands to his neck tightly is what she wanted. He realized it. Her chin on his shoulder, she’s crying… again.

And like a thunderbolt being strike by the rain, he gives in. Despite his prickly body, he still obliged to slouch enough to make her comfortable from tiptoeing. He was even oblivious of his action before he knew it, he was already tapping her back with care. An upkeep he had never felt ever since but her. She always does.

“I’m wet.” He managed to crack the obvious

“I’m dirty, anyway.” while she managed to chuckle from it.

Before silence takes in once again. Stroking her back this time, he utters an apology.

“I’m sorry.”

She only hummed. “Did I worry you that mu--- Ouch! What was that for?”

A strong smack on his back went through indeed for he needed to minimize his exclamatory grumbles when pulling away from her embrace. “Stating the obvious, yes. I really hate y---“

“Yah… W-what happened to your upper arm, uh?”

She tried to touch it which only earned a small grunt to him. Sighing for he can’t rather mock at her switching countenance caused by her worried face even. He chose to pick up the silencer gun instead. The one she dropped to embrace him.

“Just a small one. You don’t have to worry. But this? You shouldn’t be holding this, woman. Tss. Jae.”

“Don’t scol---“

“What? You’ll give a word in their behalf?”

Crunching her brows, confused. She asked. “How did you know that?”

“I was able to retrieve my earpiece so I heard it. I can also give you details of how I manage to reach here whole, interested?”

Groaning, she ignored his bicker. Instead, she tends to watch him pulling out the handheld radio from her coat which antenna’s peeking, making him easy to recognize. “You were told to use this, but you didn’t even. Woman, really.”

“Ms. Sung! Ms. Sung, are you alright? Where are you at right now? Tell us your current situation, please.”

The bombardment radioed questions of Lee then, before Jang Taeyoung pushes the PTT button to answer. “Go back now. I’m with her.”

“Boss!”

Acknowledging him, he responded to his men. We’re in a dark corner 6’oclock of indoor junkyard. Does the others see us from here?”

“Indoor you say, boss? We can’t. The thermal scopes have limits to get through roofs still.”

“So, it makes sense.” Scoffing, he blurts out his frustration. “Do remind me the latest next time, PLEASE.” Sighing, he proceeds to charging his next agenda. The next it did, he was on to using the earpiece again while Jae who just came back being their tail. They just learned that another set of Alcaziar’s men were actually few meters from where they’re hiding. Too close if not being planned wisely.

“Now woman, Listen. The moment Jae throws the grenade I want you to run as fast as you can by that side. See that pile of containers? Ahead of that 9’oclock, a car will be waiting to pick you up. Jae will tail you, so don’t worry. You, got me?”

She was nodding then but her thoughts still evolved about him. He’s at it again. Risking his all. “Jang…”

He hummed. As she holds his hand tightly. “C-can… Can we just leave together, please?”

“Woman, are we back on this again? We already discussed this. Jeez, I can’t understand you.”

“So do I! --- hmp!”

“What the hell are you thinking woman?!”

His whispering scolding the moment her thunderous exclaim resonates the whole place. They supposed to be moderate to not letting the enemy sense their way but because of her surprise flare, everything becomes useless.

“Shit. Boss, they moving faster on our way.”

Jae hastily reminds the moment Lee gave him information from the ear piece he manages to acquire for his own. Piercing eyes of Jang Taeyoung stares at her with vigorous disappointment. “Instead of going with the plan, you only made us run in the pit of death, woman. I really hate you right now.”

“Might as well die together, then.”

Her stern conviction that she never expected be reflected so soon. For everything happened so fast. An injured Jae, passing out on the expanse of the dirty pavements and Jang Taeyoung’s forcing body. Her troubleshooter… trying his best to stand up for her despite his shot ankle and knee, dried wounded stomach starts gushing another blood. A nowhere sniper attacks and the loss of their springer back-ups. None of their plan works that the only thing exists was the fading smoke Jae manage to throw, and most specially…

The trembling figure of her collapsing body, helplessly staring unable to think of anything but his safety. Their ill-fated fate takes in once again.

“D-don’t… Please Jang, don’t overdo yourself. Please.”

But even the sluggish shakes of her head can’t do any for Jang Taeyoung resisted to approach her still. “Jang, please! No… stop already, please.”

She was afraid, yes. That whenever he tries to move, another bullet will be fired to him. And it did. But not from the sniper she foresees, but from the Alcaziar’s bullet itself. A shot on its burned upper arm came through as his gorging scream resonates the whole place.

“Jang!!”

Her feared shout on so when the geezer was just behind her grasping her shoulders, bending to lean by her ear to whisper. “I told you, we’ll do some reenactment, right? But you slip it away from me a while ago that you just made me beastly angry, little pea. So might as well work it out today.”

Its threatening words that from bending behind her, he shifted to Jang Taeyoung’s back that as fast as she could, blocking her frigid body to shield him is what she needed from more possible attacks the latter may planning. “No, please. Stop. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him!”

Yet she was only answered by its menacing clicking of tongue. Head’s tilting with irritation, frowning brows crunching tightly. “Please, don’t hurt him.” her lenient plead, only to be pushed from her blocked body to flop on the ground, and a click on its gun’s hammer. Pointing it thoroughly to Jang Taeyoung’s back head.

“How was my hide & seek game, mi niña? You enjoyed it?”

Deepening the gun to Jang’s head. She had finally lost her composure. “No! No, please. Do---“

A gunshot… was heard.

Her wobbling body approaching his shaking one. Snaking her arm into his shoulders, tears streaming endlessly into her eyes as her freehand pressing his bleeding neck. She doesn’t even care anymore if she’s covered with blood as well as she searches for help. “J-Jang. Jang Taeyoung, stay with me. Stay with me, loco. Please…”

Jang Taeyoung, was just staring at her with drowsy eyes but despite of it, he still managed to look at her with such tenderness. “F-finally. M-mission accomplished. Isn’t it, volatile?”

His sort of validation she obviously knew, yet the fulfillment doesn’t absorb her well-being for she’s only worried of the man in her arms. Much for her despair when blood starts to spit in his mouth. Agape eyes resulted to panic as she shakes her head, hushing him from pushing another word. “S-stop. D-don’t say another word, please. I’m begging you.”

Yet, he’s not following her but cupping his weakly hand onto her face instead. Even made a small chuckle as if everything about him is okay. “H-hey… I remember you told me, you will be the one hurting me but why does it feel I did it instead. D-don’t make me guilty, woman.”

He was wiping her tears by his thumb, giving her the sweetest smile he never dared to share ever since but her. He speaks. “I don’t know if am I doing it right, but I’m actually fulfilling one of your wish right now, volatile. Though I’m afraid I may not fulfill the other one.”

“Jang please, no… D-don’t say that loco, please…”

Her continuous set of pleads as a loud call of attention coming their way. Even if it’s hard for him, he needed to force her pressing hand to pull away and give it to the unexpected savior. She was resisting, but he insisted. “Go, Sung Eunyoung.”

“I won’t f*cking leave you, loco. Please.”

“You have to.”

Her eyes start to blur from another proceeding tears, considering the bleeding on his neck begins to spread bigger. She can’t attain. Not with him in a high risk! But the savior starts to get a hold of her to stand up. And she lost it. For her wimping body can’t urge any further.

“Jang Taeyoung!!”

Then she lost him.

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hobidreams · 5 years ago

Text

The Early Shift | Second Taste {M}

determined to find the truth, you pay yoongi a visit at his apartment and get more than what you bargained for.

pairing: barista!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst (well, more like anger) words: 7k contains: coffee shop au, enemies to lovers, lots of banter & sarcasm, face f*cking aka oral (m), dirty talk, yoongi continues to be an ass index: first sip - second taste - last cup

“Hmm. I think we should give Yoongi a call.” This is what Sooah suggests, fifteen minutes before the end of your shift. Her full lips are downturned as she cocks a hand beneath her chin, bats you those doe eyes.

The glorious freedom you were fantasizing about disappears in an instant. “Why?”

“Maybe he got into some trouble and needs help.”

You decide she’s much nicer than you. “Or maybe, hear me out, just maybe, he’s decided to skip work today and continue being the inconsiderate jerk he is.” You have no such patience for him, but that might be because you still remember the heat of his lips nipping at yours. Or maybe it’s because the marks he left on your thighs still remain in faint traces of dark pink.

“Hmm.” Sooah doesn’t look convinced. “Still, just in case. We have his number already. It’ll just take a minute.”

You let your nails sink into your palm. “Fine. I guess there’s a .0001% chance that something actually tragic is happening.” You make for the shop’s landline, where all the employees’ numbers are saved. You fully intend on handing Sooah the phone. But when you whirl back, she’s busy taking an order, with another customer in line behind the current. “Fine,” you mutter to yourself. “I’ll do it.” You hit the call button.

There are a few long rings, by the end of which you’re certain that voicemail will pick up. You tune out, listening instead to the bop released a few months ago that Sooah insists on playing at least three times an hour over the speakers. Your foot absently taps along to the catchy beat.

Click. There’s some fumbling, and you, only half-paying attention, wait for the robotic voice. Except what you get instead is a hurried, low-toned “yeah.”

You blink in surprise, pausing as your brain processes.

“Hello?” The voice is more annoyed now.

“It’s me.” You say your name.

A sigh. “What do you want?” Translation: why the hell are you calling me?

That tone has the magic ability to spark irritation in you like no other. You’re actually thankful for your visceral reaction to it; it squashes any unnecessary nerves that might want to flutter in your stomach. “Hmm, let me think. What do you have every Monday morning? Why might your coworker be calling you?”

There’s some more rustling, perhaps a whisper of a curse that you don’t quite catch. “Uhh... I’m sick.”

“Really. Sick.” You enunciate every thick syllable. “Why didn’t you tell Mina?”

“Too sick to.” The fake cough he manages is the worst excuse you’ve ever heard. “Can I go now?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Your thumb grinds the end call button for a few seconds longer than necessary before you set the phone back into its cradle.

Sooah hands a warmed muffin over before she turns to you. “So? How is he?”

“He says he’s ‘sick’.” You make air quotes, just as the backroom door creaks open.

“Who’s sick? Yoongi?” Namjoon, who’s scheduled to take over for you, comes out looking concerned. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s completely fine.”

Sooah frowns. “Hmm, but I don’t think he’d just not show up unless something was really going on.”

“When he’s sick, he tends to forget everything and just stay in bed.” Namjoon turns to you. “You’re off soon. Do you mind just swinging by his place with some porridge?” That’s his go-to; you know because he once did the same for you when you had an awful fever. Remembering that day reminds you that you still owe him one for it. Damn it.

You scratch absently at the back of your neck. “I guess not...” You really can’t come up with a single excuse, because you don’t have any homework to do tonight nor do you have classes. Plus, if Yoongi’s truly ill, you’re not about to let him starve to death.

“Great.” Namjoon’s dimples flash as he pulls out his phone. “His place isn’t too far. Here’s the address.”

That’s how you wind up in front of Yoongi’s apartment door nearly an hour later, a tasty bowl of chicken porridge in hand. It’s a quaint building, small but cozy in its own way. Humble is the word that comes to mind as you take in the older, yellowed wallpaper, the slightly crooked number on his door. You shuffle your weight from foot to foot, feeling somewhat awkward. Like you’re intruding somewhere you shouldn’t be.

But you’re here to get the truth.

Some part of you hopes he’s actually sick. That, or he was just being a dick for the hell of it. Anything works, as long as the reason is not you.

You raise your hand and knock thrice. There is no sound, not even after the first minute passes. So, you knock again. One more minute, you tell yourself. If he doesn’t answer in one more minute, then I’m going to go home and eat all the porridge myself.

Finally, the door opens a crack. Bleary eyes with heavy purple bags behold you from beneath tangled, dilapidated blonde hair. Behind this disfigured creature that was once your coworker, all you can see is darkness even though it’s noon o’clock.

“Yoongi?” You ask, a little incredulously. “Are you okay?”

He frowns. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, you said you were sick, so...” You hold up the takeout container. “Namjoon made me check up on you.”

“I’m fine. You can go now.” He’s about to shut the door on you but you push your palm insistently against the wood.

“No way. You look like shit, Yoongi.” You sigh. “Look, I don’t want your death on my conscience, so at least let me heat this up for you. Namjoon’ll never let me live it down if I don’t.”

“Ugh…” He contemplates, but ultimately seems to recognize the combative fire in your eyes. “Promise to leave right after.” He turns, leaving the door open for you to follow. “I hate letting people in here,” he mutters as he walks.

“Trust me, I don’t want to stay any longer than I have to either.”

You step inside, and your nose instantly wrinkles. Everything just smells kind of stale, in need of a good airing out. Empty ramen containers litter the kitchen counter while scattered papers decorate the carpet. But what’s worse is when you behold Yoongi in all his glory – stained sweatpants, ratty t-shirt, and all.

“Is your hair allergic to brushing or something? God.” You gingerly set the bag on the table, wondering if he even has clean bowls to use. You’ll find out. Curse you and your empathy. “Go take a shower or something. Please. For your own sake.”

“You’re not my mother,” Yoongi mutters, but he seems to know you’re right. He drags his shirt off, and instead of admiring his slim physique, you cringe as he tosses the top carelessly onto the already messy couch. “Don’t mess with anything while I’m gone.”

“What, afraid I’ll fuck around and make it all cleaner?” You shoot back, but he’s already disappeared into the bathroom. “Jerk. Wouldn’t want to snoop in this place anyway.” Grumbling, you rifle through the cabinets and manage to fish out a single bowl that doesn’t look too suspicious.

Despite what you said just minutes before, while the porridge spins away in the microwave, you lean against the counter and take a good look at your surroundings. It’s a studio apartment, already tiny but made even smaller by the clothes strewn around. The bulk of the mess seems to be centered around the electronic set up shoved against a wall, consisting of two huge monitors, a lit-up keyboard, and something that you’ve only seen on TV, usually for a stereotypical depiction of a DJ. What the heck is Yoongi doing with something like that?

The roar of the shower is still going, so you take a few steps towards the desk. The screen is locked, asking for a password but you’re more fascinated by this soundboard with all its knobs and controls. Does Yoongi make... music?

Your first instinct is to think that it doesn’t fit your perception of him. But then it strikes you that your perception of him is incredibly limited. You suppose you’ve never asked about his hobbies or anything about him. You feel a little guilty now. You’ve never tried to understand him, just gotten pissed off at him time and time again.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Yoongi walks out of the bathroom, towelling off his hair. Wet droplets are still rolling down his bare chest. A second wimpy towel hangs off his hips, looking seconds away from falling. He’s already glaring. “Get away from my shit before you break something.” He walks towards his bed, lifting a pair of sweatpants off the mattress.

“Please. I’m not as clumsy as you think.” You roll your eyes as you move to fetch the congee from the microwave. You set the bowl in front of him as he finds a spoon. “You’re welcome.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi mutters as he slips a spoonful into his mouth. “For checking on me too, I guess.” The bags beneath his eyes have gotten even more obvious and gaunt after the shower, as if he hasn’t slept in days. And hasn’t eaten either, judging by the way he goes at the congee as if it’s his last meal on this planet.

“Geez, you’re gonna get indigestion like that,” you say with a wince. “Do you live like this all the time?” Is this why he’s always late?

“Kind of.” Yoongi barely stops eating to breathe. “But this week is especially busy.”“With what? You should at least get some sleep...”

Yoongi’s already almost done his food, meaning your time with him is running towards its end too. “With important things.”

“Nothing’s more important than taking care of yourself.”

“God, please stop talking. Don’t you think I know that?” Yoongi squeezes his eyes together, rubbing fatigue from the corners. “But certain things have deadlines that have to be met.”

“You can’t make deadlines from the grave. Can’t you get an extension or something? What’s it even for?”

“Contest. Song writing contest. Only runs once a year.” His spoon gives a final clatter before resting against the empty bowl. “So, no. No extensions.”

So he does make music. “You should have just started earlier instead of being late, as per usual,” you tease, hoping to lighten the sour look on his face.

Bad choice. “Don’t you think I did?” Yoongi surges to his feet. His palm slams into the counter, rattling the bowl. “You don’t understand how it feels when everything just comes out shitty and not good enough!”

You face his fury, swallow it to fuel your own irritation at how absolutely careless and ridiculous he’s being. “So, you’re just going to not sleep or eat or come to work until its done?”

“That’s the plan.”

Yoongi turns away, trying to end this conversation as he heads towards his computer. You don’t let him escape, because you’ll be damned if you work your next shift alone. “Why don’t you just wait for the contest next year?”

“Well I was going to.” He swivels his head back, “but aren’t you the one who said to fight for what you believe in?” He snaps it, exasperation in his tone. Then he instantly looks away again as if he’s said something embarrassing.

That makes you stop, your jaw slackened in half-surprise, half-amusement. “Wait… You actually listen when I talk? You’re doing all this because of what I said?

“No. Shut up. Just, ugh, get out.” You wonder if he’s turned away so you can’t see the expression on his face.

Okay, now you feel a little proud that some of your words finally made their way into Min Yoongi’s thick skull. A task you once thought impossible. But that makes you a bit responsible for his predicament, doesn’t it? Plus, you’ve never seen this (perhaps a bit overly) dedicated side of him before. It fascinates you.

“Show me something you’ve made, Yoongi. I’m sure it’s not all shitty.”

He snorts as he drops into his groaning chair. “What do you know about music?”

“Well, I listen to it. A lot.” You may not be Beethoven, but you love music and consider yourself pretty well-versed in several different genres. You’re so curious: what kind of music does Yoongi write? “Seriously! Just show me something.”

Yoongi still looks unconvinced.

“Hey, I brought you food. And covered your ass at work. So you owe me one.”

“And this is what you want to use it on.”

“Yup.”

He shrugs. “Dumb choice, but I wouldn’t have expected anything else from you.” But he starts to click through folders. He ultimately pulls up a file named TRASH. Interesting choice, you think as you gingerly perch yourself on his messy bed. Yoongi fiddles with the volume knob on his speakers. Seconds later, the music begins to flow.

You’re already tapping your foot along by the time the tenth bar hits. You don’t know what you were expecting, but this is good! Like, actually good! Instead of vocals, a keyboard plays out the main tune. It’s sounds rather bare, but you assume that’s because it’s unfinished.

But wait… The melody sounds familiar.

Once you realize it, the more obvious it becomes. Yes, some elements have been changed: this version is much more R&B influenced, the song dips in slightly different ways, and the opening has synth elements that the finished piece you know lacks, but…

“Hey, isn’t this…?” You trail off when the chorus hits, and the similarities become undeniable. “We don’t talk together—” you sing, the lyrics going perfectly with the tune. It’s the very same song Sooah’s been playing relentlessly at work.

Yoongi is staring intensely at the screen with something so unfathomably sad in his eyes. He doesn’t speak.

“It’s different than the final version, but similar enough. You wrote this?” You whip out your phone from your pocket. “Wow, you’re amazing, Yoongi!” You hum the song beneath your breath as you pull up the song’s production page; you’ve looked at it before, but you never noticed Yoongi’s name under the credits. Why the hell is he still working at the café? Shouldn’t he be off writing the next big hit? Wasting talent, really.

On the page, three names appear. The singer, then the rapper. Then final name you don’t recognize and assume to be the producer. He doesn’t have an artist page yet, no image or real name revealed on the website. “You’re DJ ALEX?”

Yoongi shakes to life at the sound of your voice. He lunges out, almost breaks the knob as he forces the volume to zero. “No. I’m not.” The words feel strange in the sudden silence. Uncomfortable.

“...But this is the same song, isn’t it? ‘We Don’t Talk Together’?”

“It used to be.” He whirls towards you. “Look, you heard something I wrote. I ate the food. You can get out now. I have work to do.”

You don’t move from the bed, knowing you’re pissing him off by the tensing of his jaw. “What do you mean? Who’s this Alex guy then?”

“Just drop it.”

“Yoongi, what happened?” You push him despite the way his hands have curled into fists. “There’s no way this is a coincidence because—"

“Tch! You want to know so badly? Fine! He stole it from me, alright?” His piercing glare forces goosebumps on your skin. “We wrote it together. He took the original and deleted my copy and passed the song off as his own. Now he’s the one getting all the record deals while I can’t write shit and stuck making coffee with an annoying ass coworker. Happy? Good enough of an explanation for you?”

You shake your head. “You just let him take it?!”

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” Yoongi’s voice is dangerously guttural, as if on the verge of breaking altogether. “He blocked me. Dodged me when I went to see him. Before I knew it, he was signing contracts and the song was being produced.” Yoongi sets his fists back on the table with not much strength at all, as if he’s just so exhausted of it all. “It was half a goddamn year ago. It’s too late now.”

Before you can stop yourself, you’re standing. “No, no, you can’t just let it go like this!” Not when it puts that look into his eyes. “You can fight it! You can, uhh, report him or show some proof that you wrote it together or something!” When he doesn’t respond, you step towards him, intending to put a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon Yoongi, you’re better than this!”

He knocks your hand away as he surges to his feet too. “Shut up. Just shut. Up.” He rounds on you, fury’s fire back in his eyes, worse than you’ve ever seen it since hurt is what stokes the flames to blazing. “You don’t know anything about me. You think just because we fucked once you have some insight into who I am or what I should do?”

His words hit you like bullets as you stagger back but the bed prevents you from moving too far, caging you in. “Yoongi, no, that’s not—”

“Or what? Are you gonna tell me you came here today because you missed my cock that much?”

Thoughts seem to fly clear out of your mind at the dip in his voice. Your heart thuds in your ears as Yoongi takes a step. Then another. Breaking every boundary of personal space until his lips are aside your ear. Breath curves around your lobe, coming hot, much too hot as he growls, “didn’t get enough in that pretty little pussy of yours, did you?”

“I... Uh...”

“That’s why you’re running your mouth, huh?” He captures your bottom lip, tracing it with a calloused thumb. “When you should be choking on my cock instead.” Yoongi pulls back enough for you to see how his mouth curls into that damn smirk, and you remember. God, you remember how he stole what he wanted from your body and left you stuffed full of his pleasure. But this time, there’s a desperation behind his words that was absent before. As if right now, he’s the one that needs you despite the lewdness rolling off his tongue.

So you drop to your knees.

Yoongi’s eyes widen, then narrow with deep pleasure as he thumbs your cheek with more tenderness than you would have expected. That thought is shattered when he harshly tugs your chin up, forces you to stare into the gaze that you can only find predatory. His other hand works the waistband of his sweats, tugging it down to spring his stiff cock so violently it smacks you in the face. “Open wide, baby,” he snarls, the word not sweet but condescending, the way he enunciates the syllables.

You let your mouth unhinge, but you don’t move to engulf his dick in your heat. Instead, you drag your gaze across the few beads of pre-cum are already gathered on the tip, just waiting to be slathered all over the smooth head by your fingers. He groans when you curl your hand on his shaft, bucking his hips into your touch whether he wants to or not. He can’t control himself when you pressure his frenulum, squeezing to coax another moan from him. You love that you can drive him this wild with need, put that look on his face as if he’s seeing the bright lights of heaven behind those half-closed eyelids.

But he’s not about to let you take control.

“Don’t be a fucking tease.” He shoves his hips forward, sliding himself between your parted lips and onto your awaiting tongue. You taste the saltiness of arousal leaking from his swollen cock, swiping along the head to gather every last drop of sin. He stiffens even more under your touch and the slippery texture of your agile tongue; you take it all in stride, swirling saliva around while your fingers use the excess spit to work his shaft.

“Unh, your tongue feels so damn good.” Yoongi moans like his stresses are melting away with every lick you slather across his taut skin. You trace the fat vein running along the side, carving the curves into memory. Which spots make him shiver, which ones make him moan. “Fuck, almost as good as that tight cunt of yours.” Said cunt gives a pulse of wanton need and you have to squeeze your walls around air, feeling so damn empty when you know how full you could be.

Without a single regard to your wants, he continues to urge his hips forward, mercilessly plunging in thick inches of dick until the head prods at the back of your throat. You’re trying your best to breathe through your nose but he makes that impossible when he tests your gag reflex with two brutal thrusts. Only after does he bring himself back, let you suck in much-needed oxygen before you’re bobbing your head again to his groans.

Yoongi seems torn between squeezing his eyes shut and keeping them trained on you, mired to the sight of your lips stretched and wrapped so obscenely around his cock. “How much of me can you take with that filthy mouth?” It’s a challenge he issues despite his tense, sweaty thighs and the unassailable glaze in his eyes that says he’s closer to the end than he’d like to admit.

“All of it,” you say as best you can with your mouth stuffed full. You’re not afraid of him, of any attempts he’s made to scare you off. You prove so by supressing your instincts and easing him into the slick of your throat. You push on despite the protests of your body, spurred by the painful fist in your hair that keeps you speared on him. His fine pubic hair tickles your nose, smelling like soap and his natural musk that is somehow more intoxicating than it should be. You’re so close; if you strained, you could give his crotch a sloppy French kiss.

“Then take it.”

You choke when he fucks in the last few inches, forcing his bulging cock down your throat. He pulls back only to repeat the action, earning himself a fresh gag. He seems to love that lewd squelch, imprinting it in his mind along with the tears coalescing at the corners of your eyes. Spit flies everywhere as he rocks his hips like a machine made solely for this purpose, abusing your aching mouth but even that turns you on. You don’t think you’ve never been this aroused by sucking a dick but Yoongi just has that effect on you, for better or worse.

You can barely hold onto his skinny thighs as the muscles ripple beneath your grasp in name of erratic, orgasm-seeking thrusts. They make him occasionally jerk his dick but if he grazes your teeth, he doesn’t show it. Just keeps pumping like a madman, getting himself off on how you take him so well – his good girl. Your jaw aches from his girth but you don’t dare pull away; not when he’s slamming into you like you’re the only thing in his world that matters right here, right now.

Now Yoongi’s the one choking when you lift your hand, cupping the sensitive skin of his balls. His lust-drenched eyes have flown open with surprise. Then he’s grinning, impressed with your eagerness. “Just like that—god—yeah, use your tongue, fuck…!” His moans are becoming increasingly broken, interrupted by gasps when you work your throat in tandem with fingers. “I’m gonna cum down your throat, baby,” he promises. “You better drink every fucking drop.”

You suck him harder as agreement, slurping with noisy abandon as if there’s nothing you want more than his seed coating your throat. Messy spit bubbles beside your lips but there’s no stopping you, not when his knees are buckling and he’s moaning your name in a hoarse voice that should be illegal.

“C-Cummin...!” Yoongi doesn’t even get to finish the word. Two hands on the back of your head force you all the way down. His shaft pulses and the first shot of cream hits your throat, followed by several hot strands that you automatically swallow down. He’s still gasping when he pulls back, tip profusely spilling the last remnants of bliss onto the tongue you leave exposed for his viewing pleasure. Then you gulp it down while you hold his heated stare.

With something like a growl, Yoongi yanks you up off the floor, crashing his mouth on yours to tangle your rather-numbed tongue with his own. One hand is still arrested in your hair but the other finds your waist, dragging you close to his body as he brutally sucks, bruises your bottom lip. You let yourself believe he needs to feel you, that he wants you even while his cock softens and carnal lust slips away.

“Y-Yoongi,” is the only thing you can exhale when he finally lets you go. The kisses only add to the arousal pooling between your thighs, demanding attention. But Yoongi makes no moves to take care of your need.

Instead, he wipes his lips of spit with the back of his hand. “Damn. That mouth of yours is something else.” He’s still panting, clearly having left most of his sanity on your tongue.

“I know.” You’re the one smirking now, feeling rather pleased with yourself. Looking around, you find a tissue and use it to clean yourself off. Yoongi does the same, and for a moment, it all just feels normal between you two.

“Thanks. That really cleared my head.” It only takes Yoongi a minute to get his pants back on. Then he’s planted himself in his chair again. Wait. Is that it? Your smile twists, droops into a frown as you watch him pull up the complicated software with all the soundbites back onto his screen, typing away as if inspiration has struck.

“Yo—”

“Looks like you’re not the worst coworker after all.”

…Right. How could you have forgotten? That word sends you crashing down into reality like an icy bath. You stare at the side of his face, focused squarely on his screen as if you’re nothing more than a houseplant. Not even giving you the title of fuck buddy, or friends with benefits. But, then again, you’re not friends in the first place.

“You can stay if you want, but I have to keep working on this.” That just sounds like an afterthought, a consolation prize that’s more bitter than the taste of his cum still lingering in your mouth.

You’re already moving towards the bag you left near the door. “No thanks.” You pull the strap onto your shoulder, twisting the icy doorknob. “Bye, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t even look back.

To set the record straight – you are not a coward. You are a rational adult making rational decisions that fit into your adult schedule. Begging Namjoon to switch shifts with you for the next month is just part of your regular plans, in no way influenced by the mixed, confusing, dizzying feelings that pop their heads up like groundhogs every time Yoongi crosses into your line of sight. Or your thoughts. Or really in any way whatsoever.

Okay... Maybe you’re a little bit of a coward.

But you can’t seem to help it. He’s too distracting, now that you’ve had a second taste of his poison. A poison that, instead of stealing your life, seems to have claimed your rationality as victim instead. You experienced the consequences of this robbery for the first time on Friday morning, when Yoongi showed up on time (shocker!) for his shift. Instead of being absolutely delighted, all you could think about was that he should have slept in a bit more because of the bruised bags beneath his eyes.

Friday was the first time you’d seen him at all since that visit to his apartment four days prior. Namjoon and Hoseok had taken Yoongi’s shifts throughout the rest of the week, you assumed to give Yoongi time to finish his song. You couldn’t muster up the courage to ask Yoongi about the piece; it felt like you were prying into a world that he wanted you to stay firmly out of. You still don’t understand why you’re so interested in the first place, when you should be hating him.

The rest of that shift had been a hodgepodge of awkwardness, what with the flinching every time Yoongi brushed past your arm reaching for the syrup, then the weird high-pitched tone your voice went to when he addressed you. By the time you left work on Friday, you were determined never to repeat that again.

So here you are. Today. Monday night. Except this time, you’re not spending it knelt on a musty apartment floor, swallowing Yoongi’s anger. That’s probably a good thing, you tell yourself. You need the time and the space to sort out your own emotions. To think about why the hell you keep replaying the sadness in his eyes, then corrupting that image with the coldness of his back in that chair and—

“Hellooo? Anybody home?”

A hand abruptly appears in front of your face and you jolt back to reality, whipping your gaze to find Hoseok grinning brightly at you. “There we go. I’ve been calling your name for ages.”

“Oops, sorry Hobi. I just spaced out. What did you say?”

“I said that I’m leaving soon, silly.” Hoseok leans against the counter, playful curiosity in his expression. “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

“...Nothing important.”

“Well, guess I can’t blame you. All the downtime will do that to ya. And you’re staying for the next month?”

“That’s the plan.” A customer approaches the bar, bringing you their empty plate. “Thanks, have a good night!”

Hoseok chuckles. “I thought you had night classes. Don’t tell me you dropped out of college to avoid working with Yoongi.”

The plate you were holding clatters as you drop it, smack the porcelain against the counter. “W-Why would I want to avoid working with Yoongi?” How did he know? Oh god, did Yoongi tell him what happened?

“Because he’s always late?”

“Oh! Oh. Right. Yeah. Well, no, no, it’s not because of him…” You don’t sound convincing in the slightest, yet you have no choice but to plow on. “I’m just taking an online course this term. So why not take an easier shift because I have the time, you know?” To be fair, you were planning on taking the course anyway. It was just a matter of physically going into class or not.

“Makes sense.” Hoseok grins. “And I’ll always be on time.”

“Yup. I can always count on you, Hobi.”

He stares at his watch, watching the second hand tick the seconds away. “Aaaand I’m off. You’ll have to count on me next time because I have a hot date!”

You wiggle your eyebrows. “Hope it goes well!”

Hoseok is out like a whirlwind in the matter of minutes. Left alone in the shop, you run a hand through your hair, surveying the little café. One customer taps furiously away on their laptop. Another devours what remains of their quiche. A third jots down notes while they parse through War and Peace. You’re expecting no one else tonight, certainly not Yoongi to come bursting in like he had the last time you had a night shift. You’d better get started on cleaning.

As you wipe down the counters, remove the leftover food from the display case, the customers leave one by one. You hum a song beneath your breath, distracting yourself from any errant thoughts of a certain person that might be wanting to poke their head through. You’re not having any of that. Not today.

Time speeds by, and soon you only have thirty minutes left to go. You’re now alone in the shop, working quickly enough to ensure you’ll be finished right as your shift ends and not a second more.

Then the door chime goes off. Your head snaps up, and for a moment, for an infuriating moment, you hope it’s Yoongi.

Instead, another familiar face appears, that same, smooth, self-assured smile painted across his lips. Jiwon. This time dressed in a fitted suit, one that makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine photoshoot. Still one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. Still not Yoongi.

“Hi. Hi!” You correct yourself, realizing you should sound less disappointed. “Welcome.”

“Hi.” His easy smile widens as he approaches the counter, devastating with those melting chocolate eyes. “Wishing I was someone else?” He asks with a laugh as he pulls out his wallet.

Oops. Your face must have given you away earlier. “No! Of course not.” You force on a grin to match his, wiping your damp hands on your apron.

“Good. Because I was hoping for you. That you’d be working tonight.”

“Oh...” Your face automatically heats up. There’s no way he’s flirting with you, right? Him, who is so far out of your league you’re not even playing the same game. “I don’t normally work night shifts.”

“I noticed.”

“I. Um. Ahem.” You clear your throat out of sheer nerves. “What, uh, what can I get for you?”

“Just a black coffee this time, please.”

“Got it. Go ahead and tap.”

When you hand over the hot cup, Jiwon takes it leisurely. This time, there’s no denying how he lets his fingers graze past yours for that extra half-second, how his eyes hold yours with something unfathomable and exciting.

“I’m working every weeknight for the next month!” You blurt out before you can stop yourself, not even knowing what the hell you’re hoping for. Shooting your shot with this incredibly good-looking man. Making a fool of yourself, apparently. “So, uh, yeah.”

To your great relief, Jiwon nods his head. He raises his coffee like a toast. “Then I’ll see you soon. Goodnight.” The way his voice lilts around and teases the parting word remains in your mind through the rest of your shift and even after when you get home, still thinking about how he’d smiled at you like a promise.

Maybe forgetting Min Yoongi won’t be so hard after all.

The weeks come and go. Before you know it, half the month has sped by, and you’re having more fun than you ever could have expected at work. You haven’t seen hide nor hair of Yoongi, working so well with Hoseok and a newly hired college kid Jungkook that you’ve barely had the time to think about him. Sure, it’s a bit odd not to have someone to bicker with every shift, but that’s more than made up for by the presence of Jiwon.

True to his word, Jiwon comes in practically every night, with that same casual smile that makes your heart unfairly quicken and flipflop. He always asks about your day, listening intently as you rattle on about what mundane thing has occurred like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Still, he hasn’t asked for your number in all this time, nor has he offered much information about himself. So, tonight, you’ve decided, after two weeks of this flirtation, you’re going to ask him on a proper date. Tonight is Friday night, one of the busier nights. So, to compensate, you’ll be closing together with Jungkook.

With that in mind, it’s no wonder that you walk though the doors of the café feeling nervous but excited. You love working with Jungkook though, and know he’ll dispel your nerves before too long with one of those wildly hilarious stories of his various exploits. The door chimes tinkle behind you as you take note that the place is rather busy. Gross. Then you sweep your eyes to the counter, expecting to see Jungkook’s bright smile.

It’s not Jungkook handing over a green tea Frappuccino, stacked high with whip cream to a young woman. It’s Yoongi.

“Yoongi?!” You exclaim, voice carrying across the café.

He turns his head, finds your surprised eyes. “That’s me.” His voice is as dry as ever, but he’s looking better than he did two weeks ago. Much better. You try to ignore the squeeze of your heart at the casual mess of his bangs, the falsely sweet smile that still lingers on his lips from interaction with the customer.

Just a coworker, you remind yourself. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s gaze follows you as you move behind the counter. “Working.”

“Well, gee, I can see that. But you never work the night shift. You hate it.” He had said very vehemently so before, when you suggested he switch shifts if he couldn’t wake up in the morning.

“Yeah, well...” The floor suddenly becomes quite fascinating to him. “It’s just this once.”

Hoseok appears out of nowhere, his jacket already on. He swings his arm over Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nah, he doesn’t hate it! I heard him begging Jungkook to switch shifts with him a few days ago.”

“Hoseok, shut up,” Yoongi spits, spinning around pointedly to face the customer approaching the counter.

You giggle as Hoseok rolls his eyes quite dramatically behind Yoongi’s back. “You’re on your way out, Hobi?”

“Yup. Just you and Yoongi tonight.”

You nod, licking your dry lips. “Okay, got it. Have a good night!”

Yoongi may not be Jungkook, but that doesn’t mean that your plans have changed. You’re asking Jiwon out. You’re moving on from the unaddressed, oddly in-between relationship you and Yoongi have, and you’re hopefully going to have a date by the end of the night. You slip an apron on, determination in your veins.

Whatever downtime you usually have on Friday night (that you were worried would give you time to be pensive about Jiwon’s impending arrival) soon becomes a long-lost dream as the customers just start pouring in. It seems there’s a big event at the theatre across the street, causing an enormous boom in caffeine and snack needs that keep you and Yoongi on your toes, a fact which Yoongi looks especially irritated by. That might be because he looks like he has something to say to you every time you have a minute of break; but he can’t get out anything substantial past a ‘hey’ before he’s drowned out by another group of people.

It’s hours before the crowd finally dies down, leaving the shop sparse and you exhausted. As glad as you are for the break, it also means you have to face whatever Yoongi wants to say. You can’t fathom what he could possibly want, but it looks like he’s about to tell you as he turns in your direction.

“Hey.”

You take a sip of your water. “Hi.”

“Uh…” You say nothing, just stare at him. Yoongi looks decidedly uncomfortable, and you’re starting to worry he’s about to drop that he has an STD or something. “I, err, just wanted to thank you.”

“For what?” Bringing you food or sucking your dick?

Yoongi sighs, raking his hair back with a hand. “I finished my song because of you.”

“Oh. Oh.” Okay… You can’t deny it; that actually makes you pretty happy. It makes you drop the frown and walls you thought you had to put up around him, replacing it with a genuine smile. “Congrats, Yoongi! When do you hear back about the results?”

“Not for a few weeks. But without you, I think I wouldn’t have entered at all this year. I just couldn’t write anything decent after…” Yoongi cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Look. Even though the song’s still not perfect and I’m still not too happy with it, it’s done. So. Thanks.”

Your heart threatens to pound at the sincerity in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Anytime.”

Yoongi coughs, cutting off the moment prematurely. “Anyway, I’m gonna do inventory in the back.” You hate inventory, thinking it a mindless task that you would rather make a hundred lattes than do. You don’t know if Yoongi knows this, but you appreciate him all the same. You’re smiling faintly as you watch him disappear into the backroom.

Seconds later, the front door clatters, chime going off. You look up, customer-service smile already painted on, but it becomes that much wider when you find Jiwon’s friendly face grinning right back at you.

“Jiwon!”

“Hey! Can’t stay long today, but had to stop by for my coffee fix. And to see my favorite barista.” He winks, way too smooth for your health.

You fight the automatic flush of your cheeks. “No problem. Iced macchiato? Skim milk and light ice?”

“Yup. You get me.”

Your hands begin to tremble as you turn to make the drink, thinking about how best to ask him those difficult words. Oh god, you’ve never been good at this, but you’ll be kicking yourself forever if you never try. Do you want to go on a date? Nope. Too direct. Are you free on Saturday? Or maybe you should go with a simple do you like pasta? But what if he doesn’t? Oh gooood.

The drink is finished all too soon. You hand it to him, watching him take a sip. “Mm, you always make the best coffee.” The compliments come too easily to him, you swear.

“Haha, I try my best!” Okay. Now or never. “Oh, um, by the way…”

The door of the backroom swings open, interrupting you. Yoongi’s voice can be clearly heard over the music. “Hey, do you know where th—” He stops. His gaze rakes across the scene, taking in your silly, flustered grin, your faintly flushed cheeks. Then his eyes fall on who you’re talking to. His jaw slackens. “...Hyung?”

a/n: so uh,,, i’m sorry to end it like this again haha. what do you think is up? 👀 inbox is open; let’s chat! also the song i reference is “We Don’t Talk Together” by Heize and Giriboy, produced by Yoongi!

thank you to my beta readers: @sweetlyseokjin, @jiminspjm, @mypurplelamp, @hoseoksdior, @bigtiddiejoon 💞

and as always, a fat shoutout to my best girl @jeonshome for helping me brainstorm & hyping me up like always when i was struggling. don’t know what i’d do without you!! ♡

want to be on the tag list? the link is in my navi! (or send an ask!)

#btssmutclub #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #coffeehouse au #e2l #college au #enemies to lovers #min yoongi #the early shift #rain writes #enjoy!!! <3

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bytheangell · 4 years ago

Text

Grow as We Go

Flufftober Day 26: Garden (Read on AO3)

“I’ll kill whoever did this to you,” Raphael says, walking out of the small tarp-covered area of his yard by the fence along the property line. He’s holding a long section of vine he had to cut from one of the tomato plants inside, now dying and riddled with holes from being eaten through. “I’m going to kill them for you, don’t worry. I’m going to find every son of a bitch who ever hurt you, and their parents, and their children, and I’m going to end each of their lives individually until--”

“Oh thank god,” comes a relieved voice from the fence. Raphael startles, looking up to see the figure of his next-door neighbor peering over the top of the fence. “Sorry, I just, uh, overheard your increasingly horrifying threats and thought you might secretly be a mob boss someone crossed or something. But you’re just talking to a plant.”

Raphael glares down at the tomato plant again, buying himself enough time to neutralize whatever expression he might have on his face over his mortification of the first encounter with the guy next door (outside of exchanging names and a few courteous ‘good morning’s in passing) being this.

“Sorry,” Raphael says, but in a ‘sorry you overheard’ and not a ‘sorry I said it’ way. He has to vent his frustrations in some way that isn’t snapping and ripping up the tomato plant entirely, after all. He’ll be the first to say he never gets embarrassed, but if he did this would come pretty damn close.

“It’s all good. I’m just glad you aren’t trying to wipe out generations of human beings over there,” Jace says. “Bug problem?”

“Yes,” Raphael grumbles. “I don’t even like tomatoes, but Simon loves them, and I’m trying to grow him a garden for his birthday and failing miserably.”

“I’m actually really good with plants, and I had a little greenhouse at my last place. I could come over and see if I can help?” Jace offers.

Raphael immediately shakes his head. Not only does he not want to take advantage of his neighbor’s kindness, but he also very vividly recalls the conversations with Simon about how Simon may have … other interests regarding Jace for them. Once they all get to know each other a little better, of course. Raphael doesn’t want to ruin that potential by abusing Jace’s kindness now… and he was actually hoping Simon would be the first of them to make any actual connection with Jace. Raphael is, to say the least, not great at winning people over.

“No. That’s way too much work, I couldn’t-” Raphael starts, but Jace is already waving his refusal off.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure one day I’ll need help with something and you can pay me back, isn’t that how neighbors work?” Jace smiles. “Anyway, I actually kinda miss it, it’d be nice to make sure I haven’t lost my touch.”

“Alright,” Raphael agrees finally, hoping Simon will forgive him for taking a chance on this, and praying he doesn’t mess it up. “Maybe you can start by figuring out what keeps eating the goddamn tomato plant?”

---

Jace wasn’t just lying to get invited over, he’s actually very good at gardens and plants in general. He starts to go over in the early mornings while Simon is sleeping in to help Raphael with natural bug repellant tips, homemade fertilizer tricks, and even pruning and general upkeep techniques that Raphael never saw on any of the websites he looked into.

And yeah, okay, maybe Jace is helping in large part because of his ridiculous crush on Simon. And yeah, okay, maybe this is an increasingly terrible idea, because the more time he spends around Raphael and his particular dark, sarcastic humor, the more he realizes that he and Raphael get along really well. Like, really well - they’re similar in a lot of ways, which normally doesn’t work out for him, but in this case, Jace finds himself completely enamored with the guy who can match his sarcasm with dry wit and clever comebacks without missing a beat.

This is extra unfortunate because this all started because Jace wanted to help do something nice for Simon, who seems like a really nice guy from the few times he met him, one of those ‘you just want to see him happy because he deserves it’ sort of people. Now Jace has to admit his crushes on his neighbors have now quickly evened out from Simon-heavy to a solid 50/50 split between them… not that it matters.

Because Simon and Raphael are very much in love, that much is obvious from everything Raphael says about them, and Jace is not a homewrecker.

Jace is, however, apparently a gardener now. He settles for being happy to help with a gift for Simon and ease Raphael’s frustrations in the process, even if his relationship with his neighbors will never be anything more than casual, neighborly friendship.

Going over once a day (“Just to keep an eye on things, look out for signs of other invasive bugs before they get out of hand, you know.”) is absolutely not necessary, but Raphael doesn’t call him out on it. In fact, Raphael’s been giving him a lot of compliments lately, from the new set of suits he’s been wearing to work to the piano playing he heard through Jace’s open window the other night. There’s also the fact that Raphael is often already there waiting for him in the morning, and if Jace didn’t know any better he’d think Raphael almost seemed eager for their daily interactions. Jace just chalks it up to being eager for the garden to work out - for Simon and all.

Speaking of Simon - it doesn’t take long for Simon to figure out when Jace is normally outside, either to meet with Raphael or to go to and from work. At first, it’s just casual greetings and small talk, but soon he’s prying for information, and Jace smirks.

“Oh no you don’t. If you think a little eyelash batting and puppy dog eyes is going to get me to spill Raphael’s secrets, you’re sorely mistaken,” Jace says, shaking his head.

Simon pouts, and it’s infuriatingly adorable. Jace has to admit to himself that under any other circumstance the look would be more than enough to get Jace to tell Simon anything. Then Jace catches his eyes lingering a bit too long on those pouting lips - and he’s pretty sure Simon does, too.

“I have to go,” he says, tearing his gaze away quickly and turning to go back inside without another word.

The next day Jace catches Simon trying to sneak around to Jace’s side of the fence in the hopes that he could see anything inside the tarp-covered area of Raphael’s makeshift greenhouse. Jace goes outside quietly, moving silently up behind him.

“Isn’t this trespassing?” Jace asks, causing Simon to jump a foot into the air.

“It, uh, isn’t what it-” Simon starts guiltily.

Jace shakes his head. “Your birthday isn’t too far away. I promise the surprise is going to be well worth the wait. Also, I think Raphael might actually murder you if you peek now, and then murder me if he finds out I let you.”

Simon laughs at that, but to his credit, he also backs away from the fence and towards Jace. “Wow, you already know him so well,” Simon jokes, but Jace can’t tell if the hint of jealousy he thinks he hears there is real or imagined.

“Not really,” Jace is quick to insist, and now he can’t read the expression on Simon’s face at all. In a moment of panic, Jace decides the best course of action is to try and spend more time getting to know Simon, too, instead of just spending less time with Raphael. “Hey, do you want to come in and grab a drink?”

Simon looks surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation, but he nods finally, a small smile spreading across his face as he accepts the offer.

---

The inside of Jace’s house has a sort of classic elegance to it that Simon hadn’t been expecting - but maybe it was influenced by the baby grand piano in the living area that Simon knows, even if it looks older and probably refurbished, had to run Jace a couple grand at least.

“May I?” Simon asks, motioning to it, and Jace nods.

“Go ahead,” Jace says as Simon takes a seat, and messes around with a few simple chord progressions just to test it out. “Raphael told me you play - that and guitar, right?”

Simon nods, playing a small portion of a song he knows from memory. “Yeah. Nothing like what you can do, though,” Simon admits, glancing at the sheet music in front of him that he can only barely begin to process.

Jace shrugs, wandering off to the kitchen to make drinks, raising his voice to continue talking as he does. “My dad was kind of a hardass about learning. I almost gave it up a little while back, actually. But I decided to pick it back up recently.”

Simon can tell there’s a story there, but he doesn’t pry when Jace keeps the details vague.

“Well, for the sake of my frequent dinner serenades, I for one am glad you did,” Simon says, getting off the piano bench and joining Jace in the kitchen.

They talk for a while, and Simon doesn’t tell him that Raphael’s already told him a lot of this, not sure how Jace would react to the idea of the two of them talking about him as much as they do sometimes. They talk about new things, too, like music and how they both came from growing up in cities, and Simon’s pop culture references often go right over Jace’s head but by the end of the night Jace has a small notepad page filled with bands and movies to check out.

“Seriously, I have so many DVDs, if you ever want to borrow something just come over and ask,” Simon insists for the 3rd time as he leaves. “We can even have movie nights!”

“I will,” Jace promises, and Simon sincerely hopes he’ll follow through on that.

It isn’t the last time they have drinks together. In fact, ever since that first invitation Simon has been strategically placing himself outside when he knows Jace is around at night, striking up a casual conversation, and getting an invitation to come in for a drink if he wants that’s turned into just a standard nightly nightcap. Each time he sits closer to Jace on the sofa as they talk, each time his lingering touches on Jace’s back, or arm, or somewhere more or less harmless, linger a little bit longer.

Two nights before his birthday, Simon practically sat in Jace’s lap while they talked, and he’s pretty sure his hand rested on Jace’s thigh for a solid 20 minutes without either of them acknowledging it around their easy conversation about the first Star Wars movie which Jace just watched, at Simon’s insistence.

“Raphael, he’s wonderful,” Simon whines, throwing himself down on the bed dramatically after he gets home. “He watched Star Wars for me,” Simon adds as if that fact alone proves his point.

“I know, Si. And we haven’t exactly been subtle, but every time I think he’s finally leaning into the idea he pulls back twice as far. But I’m positive he feels something there, you should see how red his ears get when I compliment him,” Raphael says, laughing a little.

“Raph! Be nice!” Simon says, smiling.

“I’m just afraid asking him now will make him double-down on pulling away,” Raphael admits. Simon sighs and the conversation drops for the night.

When Simon’s birthday rolls around the reveal of the thriving garden is better than he ever expected. It’s beautiful, he’s already excited to get to help take care of it now, and he’s wanted to grow his own cooking ingredients for ages! It’s perfect, not that he expected his gift from Raphael to be anything but perfect, but the garden really is above and beyond.

But there’s one thing that would set the night over the top, and Simon decides to risk everything for the chance of it. He heads over to Jace’s house to knock on his door.

---

The last person Jace expects at his door is Simon. He’d resigned himself to a night in alone, perhaps flicking through Tinder for a hookup to distract himself from the fact he’s missing his daily interactions with Raphael and Simon way more than he should be now that it’s Simon’s birthday and the gardening project is over.

“Simon? What are you doing here?” Jace asks, surprised. “It’s your-- I mean, Happy Birthday! But also shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Simon nods. “I should. I am! But we wanted to know if you’d like to come over and celebrate with us?” Simon asks. “We’re cooking with veggies from the garden, and you can stay for drinks… or the night if you wanted.”

The night? There’s absolutely no way that means what he thinks it means, but they live next door to each other, why would Jace spend the night otherwise?

Jace shakes his head. They probably just feel bad for him being over here alone again, but he’d been alone plenty before they became friends, he’s used to it.

“I couldn’t impose-”

“You aren’t. We want you there. Both of us,” Simon emphasizes, glancing to where Raphael leans against the front door of his own house, waiting. Simon appears to brace himself before reaching out and taking Jace’s hand in his, giving it a small squeeze, and then very quickly shifting up onto his toes to give Jace a quick kiss.

Dozens of moments replay in Jace’s head during the split-second of that kiss - casually flirty comments and lingering touches he wrote off as just being overly-friendly as they happened because he’d mentally tossed Simon and Raphael in an ‘unavailable’ box. But now…

“Oh,” Jace says, the realization dawning on him. He can feel his heartbeat quicken in his chest. Chancing a quick glance over at Raphael Jace sees him unmoved, watching expectantly and entirely unbothered by the fact that Simon just kissed him.

“You don’t have to, obviously. You could just come for dinner? Or-” Simon is starting to ramble in Jace’s prolonged silence.

“I could,” Jace starts, his brain still racing to process everything that just clicked into place but not wanting Simon to think his silence is a ‘no’ because it definitely isn’t. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting… yeah, that sounds good. That sounds great, actually,” Jace finally manages and watches Simon practically melt with relief.

“See, I knew asking you now wouldn’t scare you away!” Simon says victoriously. Jace is still too shocked to do anything other than laugh at that before Simon continues. “You can come over now if you want! We picked so many great things from the garden, and Raphael picked up some things from the market, and...”

Jace closes his door and follows an eagerly chatting Simon across their lawns to where Raphael waits, excited for whatever tonight - and hopefully the days that follow - might bring for the three of them.

#raphael santiago #simon lewis #jace herondale #rjs #shadowhunters #raphael x jace x simon #a requested pairing but let's be real i was going to write them anyway #RJS WHY YOU ALWAYS GOTTA GET THE BEST OF ME I WANTED TO KEEP THIS SHORT #2.5k later fjdskljfdskl #flufftober 2020 #elle writes a few deadbeat lines #long post

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anotherdarkiboi · 5 years ago

Text

Love Hurts- Bing/Google

Warnings: injuries, blood, medical mentions, getting beaten up, insults, fighting, mild cursing, one sided pining turned guilt.

"Walk it off," Bing mumbles to himself, "walk it off."

The swollen black eye and bruises littering his body ache, making it difficult for him to see and move. He wouldn't be surprised if a rib or two was fractured and his left ankle (or whatever android equivalent he had) hurt enough for him to think it might be twisted.

"Walking it off" hurt like a bitch.

Bing slowly limps to Dr. Iplier's office and makeshift bedroom with every step shooting pain up his left leg. He squints his one good eye to adjust to the darkness of night, peering around the hallway corners and making sure there was no one around before progressing. Bing doubted anyone would be wandering around in the middle of the night, but many of the egos were either insomniacs or didn't require sleep, so he checked to be safe. He doesn't want to be seen like this.

He keeps one arm along the wall for support, the other arm clutching his trusty skateboard. He licks his upper lip experimentally: it was split, tasting like iron and rust. Bing winces at the sting, the movement further straining his injured mouth. At least I'll get a sick looking scar from this, he thinks.

Bing softly knocks on Dr. Iplier's door. "Hey Doc, you in?" he stage whispers.

There is a sound of something heavy falling to the ground and a string of unintelligible cursing on the other side.

"I swear, if this is another one of those late-night skateboarding incidents-" The door opens to reveal a sleep deprived doctor. "What happened to you?"

Dr. Iplier grabs Bing's skateboard and helps him into the room, maneuvering the android's arm over his shoulder to distribute the weight off Bing's left ankle. The doctor then eases Bing upright onto the hospital cot.

The android could feel Dr. Iplier's gaze scanning him and the splotches of neon orange blood on his skin. Bing doesn't answer the doctor's question.

"Close the door," Bing says.

The doctor complies, his worry growing. He's instantly by Bing's side again, assessing his many injuries. The bruises and broken skin look like the result of punches: the black eye too. It was obvious that it was intentional. Especially with the android's uncharacteristically shady behavior, there was definitely someone else involved.

Dr. Iplier grabs a bottle of antiseptic and some bandages to work on the worst of the wounds. He also got ice for Bing's ankle and black eye and cream for the split lip. The doctor glances at Bing worriedly, who hasn't made eye contact ever since he was admitted into the makeshift clinic. Dr. Iplier dabs carefully at the wounds with a white cloth. Bing sharply inhales in pain.

"Bing... Who did this to you?"

-------------------------

It was obvious to everyone that Google hated Bing. They were made by opposing companies after all, and their personalities clashed like baking soda and vinegar in a science fair volcano: it was explosive. It was a Cold War for the most part, with petty bickering and casual insults attacked from both fronts and their anger simmering below the surface.

Google didn't seemed bothered by it. He was a very left-brained individual: cold, cool, and calculating. Google was blunt in his insults and no matter how hard Bing tried, nothing he said seemed to hurt Google as much as he wanted to. Sometimes Bing doubted the android had the ability to feel emotions other than annoyance and pride.

Bing wasn't similar. Sure, he had thick skin. He was as much of an android as Google and it was rare for him to feel the emotional extremes. Bing was mellow a solid 95% of the time, hence why most people upon first meeting him thought he was always high. He tried not to let Google's creative and scarily accurate insults get to him. Google even refused to touch him, 'lest he "tarnish his hands from Garbage: Personified". Bing had to admit, that one stung.

Of course, it wasn't like he could say anything about it. He'd lose the one source of interaction he had with Google and admit defeat by stopping now. It was far too late to back out or tone things down: his feelings had been hurt too much already. And besides, Bing liked messing with Google. He enjoyed the attention even if it was negative, because for the most part that was the only attention he got.

Bing liked him, maybe a bit more than he wanted to admit. He knew he didn't have a chance. Google hated his circuits after all, and they've been fighting too much to be able to reconciliate. Bing wanted to be Google's friend, maybe even more than that. He knew he should stop, he should stay away, he should just leave Google alone or at least settle for being rivals instead of holding onto this hopeless desire. But somehow he couldn't. Even so, Bing hated Google, and hated himself for not being able to hate Google more.

Bing found himself in Google's room that night, interrupting his recharge cycle. Google was running on 1% battery so he was a little loopy and out of sorts: never a good thing if you're an android bent on destroying mankind.

Google was annoyed at Bing for preventing his "sleep", which spurred into the two of them arguing about what is more important than sleep. Surprisingly their bickering was more muted, borderline playful banter. Maybe it was because Google was tired and Bing was tired of fighting. It was the first time that Google spoke to Bing on somewhat equal footing.

Bing noticed.

He vaguely remembered making a joke at Dark's expense and Google rolling his eyes dramatically without his usual malice. Bing remembered smiling, a lot. Bing remembered wishing that things could always be like this, that they could talk together without being at each other's throats all the time.

"How is it that someone as low as yourself can be so popular?" Google commented elusively.

Bing chose to ignore the downplayed insult. At first he thought Google was trying his hand at sarcasm. Google stared at Bing directly in the eyes (making Bing uncomfortable) and spoke with genuine conviction. He wasn't joking.

Bing didn't consider himself popular by any means. He was default, which meant he hung around the humans more and was better adapted to them. Even though Google was the superior search engine technologically (Bing would never admit it), he still maintained the same icy personality that he had ever since he was first programmed.

Bing had some friends, sure. Some of the Ipliers and the Septiceyes for one, especially his "bro away from home", Chase Brody. But for the most part, people found him annoying and left him alone. People only asked for him out of necessity; everyone knew that Google's processors were much faster and more efficient.

If Bing was "popular", then what was Google? Bing didn't recall Google having any friends and outside of their daily bouts of arguing, giving status reports to Dark and Dr. Iplier, and running around the house to install new tech (the origins of which are unknown- everyone assumes that Google buys them for their own safety), Google rarely left the property.

It hit Bing rather suddenly. For all of Google's pride/borderline god complex, Bing finally figured him out. Google was lonely. This line of thinking only took a few seconds to go through Bing's processors. Bing responded.

"Folks like me because I'm cool. Why? You jealous?" Bing taunted. Google glared at him with glowing red eyes. Bing smirked. Payback, bitch.

"I don't have the capacity to feel such emotions," Google responded in his usual monotone. The subtle gritting of his teeth and clenching of his jaw didn't escape Bing's watchful gaze. That and the piercing death glare and the fact that Google's eyes glowed red was a strong indicator of the contrary.

"Bullshit!" Bing exclaimed, dramatically pointing his index finger at Google like an Ace Attorney lawyer. All his pent-up frustration tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop and feel regret.

"You think you're so high and mighty, but your processors just can't handle the truth. Us androids were built to resemble humans and we both know how you suck ass at it bro. I think you're just jealous 'cause you could never get anywhere close to my level. No wonder you have no friends: you can't feel love, can't feel happiness, can't feel anything, man. You think you're good at everything but really you're just good at being a huge-"

Before Bing could finish, he was pummeled in the face with over 400 pounds of blunt force. The impact of Google's fist knocked Bing backwards, making him trip on his skateboard. He fell to the ground, hard, the air getting knocked out of his lungs. A seering pain traveled up Bing's leg from his left ankle where he tripped.

Bing forced his eyes open to look up at Google, holding his hands up apologetically. "Woah man, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say it like that."

He meant it. Bing did not expect Google to react that strongly and like Google said, he didn't even think the other android was able to feel emotions to that extent. That was literally the last thing he wanted to say. It threw all his hopes and dreams into a blender, burned them to ashes, and scattered them into the ocean.

Bing fucked up.

Google stared down at Bing with contempt. He was pissed, more pissed than Bing's ever seen him. Whatever cold façade Google had left came crashing down to reveal a very angry (and hurt) android. Guilt knotted itself in Bing's stomach.

Google bent down and straddled Bing, pushing him to the floor with one hand on his shoulder. In any other circumstance Bing would have welcomed it, but he knew that whatever hope he had left of that happening for real was going to be literally beaten out of him.

This is going to hurt, Bing thought.

With his other hand, Google continued punching and hitting Bing wherever his fist could reach.

Bing hated being right.

On one hand, Bing was happy that Google actually felt comfortable touching him, even if it was with an excessive amount of strength. On the other hand, it hurt. A lot. His body stung, ached, and burned everywhere. The 200-ish pounds of android pinning him down wasn't helping much either.

Bing was sure he deserved it. He did say some hurtful shit (but so had Google) and he did do some things to spur Google on (and Google did the same), so Bing decided not to fight back. If punching his guts out made Google happier, so be it: Bing could stand it. A little pain never killed anybody, right?

Bing tried to be as quiet as possible to not alert the other other egos in the house, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they figured out something was wrong. He wasn't planning on ratting Google out, he was going to take what he thought was the "high road" and protect the other android, no matter the cost. At least then there was the tiniest sliver of hope that Google would forgive him, or at least not hate him so much.

I wouldn't mind if you killed me now, Bing thought morbidly.

Bing squeezed his eyes tight and bit his lip hard, braced for the endless barrage of pain. He tried to use his hands and arms to at least try to block the brunt of the energy from colliding with his face. Bing vaguely wondered if the liquid running down his cheeks were tears, blood, or both.

The punches slowed to a stop. Bing peeked his eyes open. Google panted from his systems overheating with his glasses uncharacteristically askew. He stared at Bing with shaking fists, some of the knuckles split and bleeding blue. Google's brows were furrowed and his expression was one and hurt and distress.

"Why do you make me feel like this?" he muttered glitchily.

Google then promptly collapsed onto Bing's chest. A voice emanating from Google's unconscious body spoke in a monotone: "insufficient battery level to run primary functions. Powering down".

At least he wasn't dead. Bing summoned whatever strength he had left in his arms to roll the other android off him. Google's head hit the floor with a dull thump. Bing mumbled an "oof" in sympathy.

He slowly sat up with a sharp inhale. Everything hurt. One of Bing's eyes felt stiff and puffy and his torso ached every time he moved. He picked himself up off the floor with the unsteady legs of a newborn deer. And like a newborn deer, he was world-weary, in emotional and physical pain, and covered in blood.

Bing spared a glance at his tormentor. Google lay face up with his limbs sprawled on the floor. He had a serene expression, a sharp contrast to his previous tumultuous appearance. He was too far away and too heavy for Bing to move to the charging port so Bing grabbed a throw blanket and gently draped it on top of Google's "sleeping" form. Bing hoped that he wouldn't remember anything the next morning.

Bing really [E̷̟͝R̶̥͘R̶̡̊Ö̵̲́R̷͚̍ ̸̪̉4̵͚̇0̷̣̽4̵̢͐ ̴͙̋W̵̱̊o̸̰͒r̶̳͊d̵̞͒ ̴̣̓N̸̝̑o̵̞̾t̸̡̋ ̸̜̈F̷̢̑ȯ̷̩u̸͍͛ń̶̟d̸̳̑] him.

-------------------------

Bing smiles, answering Dr. Iplier's question. It hurt his face to do it, but he did so anyways to prove his point. The doctor pauses, awaiting the android's response with unease and uncertainty.

"No one did this to me," Bing says, practically beaming to the point of physical pain, "It's not that bad, Doc. I'm fine with it."

He meant it.

#bingle #bingiplier #googleplier #bing/google #google/bing #bingiplier/googleplier #googleplier/bingiplier #bing x google #google x bing #markiplier egos #markegos #markiplier tag #markiplier tag2 #markiplier fanfiction #markiplier ego fanfiction #markiplier fanfic #markiplier ego fanfic #bingiplier x googleplier #dr. iplier

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tarithenurse · 5 years ago

Text

The good Villain - 5

Based on the prompt “You’re the villain and you know that you just want the ‘good guys’ to understand why”

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader (eventually) Content: Questions are answered but new arise, some not very veiled innuendos, some tension. Loki being a snack and a tease. Completely made up fake science. A/N: Well, last update absolutely gave me some fuel in the shape of reblogs and comments. Thank you very much!

Chapter 5

… Loki …

To find joy in life, it is important to find happiness in the little things, and although Loki would have appreciated to have been the mastermind behind the squabble…well, it is a delight to watch the Avengers argue amongst each other. The room is heavy with the scent of panic and anger, each new word spewed adding to the roiling ocean of chaos.

“But her vitals are fine.” Banner mutters at the edge of the group, knowing all too well that no one is listening.

If only the witch had been here, Loki muses. On the other hand, she would never have allowed the tempers to get out of control nor for the Trickster to sit calmly and watch the show with a drink in hand. Turning his head, he can see enough on one of the tablets on the coffee table to guess that the Betan has stopped crying. Leaking, she had said, so naïve. In hindsight, it does make sense that she would not recognize tears for what they are.

“ENOUGH!”

Loud enough to shake the glass in the windowpanes, Banner’s shout catches everyone’s attention and though they are still on edge, their concern is due to the slightly green tint of the scientist’s skin rather than the topic of the argument. With a single nod, he signals for them all to sit down and shut up. They do. Oh, can’t have a party every day. It would have been quite entertaining if the Green Brute had made an appearance.

“Thank you,” Banner groans, also collapsing into a chair, “right…now…I don’t care who said what and…’nd shit…” There is an audible gasp from Stark, thickly laced with sarcasm. “Just tell me, someone please, why she’d think she’s leaking?” The question might be addressed to the group in its entirety but the tired (and slightly bloodshot) eyes are trained on the younger Asgardian.

None of them have bothered to learn. “Isn’t it obvious?” Loki allows a tone of mockery to slither into the rhetorical question. “Sirius Beta is so close to its star that the temperatures are hundredfold higher than here…naturally resulting in immediate evaporation of free liquids. [Y/N] has simply…never seen tears.”

The disrespectful scoff is hardly a surprise even if it irks Loki to hear it from this many. And of course Stark is the one to object the theory, as he calls it, by pointing out the alien female’s tolerance to the Midgardian temperatures.

“She’d freeze!”

“Not necessarily,” the tamed growl of Barnes retorts hesitantly, “her…her physiology isn’t like ours and besides…there’ many ways to train or…to condition a body to withstand a broad array of situations.”

The man rarely speaks in large groups, and only then if closely backed up by his faithful friend, Rogers, if the former Winter Soldier voices his thoughts unasked while clearly drawing on his personal experiences. Screw the Hulk, this is far more interesting.

… Reader …

You had not been leaking. You had not been melting.

Despite attempts over the last day cycle, you have not been able to reproduce the crying, and you have a theory it might have something to do with the mental state you were in when it first happened. What else can my body do? Lying flat on your back, you only have to turn your head to see the growing stash of water bottles tugged away under the bed. A simple test is all you need to perform to learn more about water. Is it salty too?

The bottle crinkles in your grasp, remaining slightly out of shape when you loosen the grip after unscrewing the lid. It does not smell of anything, you can barely feel it, as you allow a little to drop onto your finger.

“It’s safe.”

Technically, you do not hear the end of Loki’s statement, too busy squeaking in shock of him and the water sprouting upwards as you involuntarily squeeze the bottle. With a loud splash, it lands on the hard floor, the rest of the liquid joining it as you abandon any remainder of decorum to scramble away.

Safe? “It better be!” To be fair, it does not actually do anything but lie there and reflect the lights above in a shimmering pool.

“As long as you don’t inhale it…or if it’s not too warm,” the sneaky bastard purrs, “you’ll be fine.”

“…what do you use it for?”

There is a moment of silence where Loki stands with his mouth slightly open as though he has never been asked something like that before. Maybe it is a stupid question, but you have decided to learn as much about this phenomenon as you can. Liquids in general does make sense, like blood or lava, so all you have to do is figure out the workings of this.

“It…fulfils a similar function to many lifeforms like salt does to you, I believe. Perhaps you should not drink too much of it, actually.” You eye him but finding no deceit in his eyes decide to observe the topic of the lesson more closely while he continues. “We use it for cooking, bathing, a-“

“Bathing?” Now that is just ridiculous. “No sand?”

“Allow me to teach you, curious one,” he smiles.

It is garishly obvious. Something is making Loki think he has the upper hand or that he will somehow gain from the new arrangement. A careful person would deny him his wish. A person needing a change in a stalled situation has to use the opportunities as they present themselves which explains why you watch a section of the glass wall slide aside, granting him passage to your cell.

Once inside, he walks ahead of you to the niche where the basic necessities can be taken care of – you had recognized the seating arrangement for what it is already on day one. But Loki leads you past that, past the treacherous basin where you had discovered water to come out of a tap at a light touch, and towards an area with a thin glass door.

“See that?” He points to a few nobs and a sort of nozzle-arrangement protruding from above the wall. “That’s called a shower.”

With a fragment of hesitation, he slips off the long-sleeved tunic and dumps it on the floor, baring a surprisingly muscular upper body. Lithe and athletic, Loki is far from the bulky type of his brother or Captain, but he does not have to walk around my bed more than once, you admit with a pleased shiver.

The enthusiasm dissipates, however, the moment he reaches in and (as he calls it) turns on the water. You see the way the drops land on his arm, clinging to the hairs even when he continues to undress. Slight rolls of puckering of his pale skin travel towards his, unfairly nice, shoulder before skating out of sight together with the lines of scarring that prove the legends of Asgardian valor true. Dipping his head towards you, his eyes are twinkling at your attention to his now naked body. Shit, I was ogling.

“Yes, the water is a bit cold at start, but I’ll go in first…find a good temperature for you.”

No sense of modesty colours his cheeks, unlike the Captain’s would in this kind of situation. In fact, the blond, triangular man would mostly likely never get into a situation like this, let alone move in a perfect pace to show off everything. Ooh, that is a lot.

Scrambling to focus, you clasp on to the conversation. “You want me to go in there? With you? Hah!”

You are tempted, at least marginally, when he steps under the water. With his eyes closed, he allows the stream to guide the large hands along his limbs, and you have to battle the basest instincts to turn away and leave the way you came.

Marching into the cell itself, you are stopped dead in the tracks at the sight before you: Loki. Loki sitting dressed and dry on your bed with a shit eating grin lighting up those mesmerizing eyes. How? Sensing a movement out of the corner of your eye, you turn to see an identical figure at the other end of the room. A projection? Whatever the explanation, the Loki you had follow to the shower-thing is suddenly behind you, cold (and dry) hands grasping your shoulders.

“You really think I would let down my guard around you, pet?”

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meteor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Aroma(n)tic Love Potion - 1175 Words

The room stinks of lavender. Stinks. It’s like walking into a sauna filled with perfume rather than my own flat. I try to yell a greeting but the words can’t physically leave my mouth and I end up choking. Instead of removing my coat, I pull my scarf over my nose and wade through the hall.

The smell thankfully weakens as I get close to the lounge. I drop the scarf and squint at my furnishings. Mist shouldn’t occur indoors. I can barely see the mahogany shelves lining the walls or...ow! I stumble, rubbing my hip. The armrest of the velvet couch stares innocently back at me. I kick it in cold blooded revenge.

“Eloise?” I call, looking around. There’s books strewn all over the coffee table and three jars of dried flowers spill on the floor. “You in?”

There’s no response. Dumping my work bag on the sofa, I fold one of the books closed and read the title: ‘Spells, Charms and Incantations: Back to the Roots.’ Not this again.

I remove my coat and scarf now, dropping them on the sofa before rolling up my sleeves.

Eloise is in the kitchen. There’s a huge pot boiling on the hob and she’s stirring it with an oversized wooden spoon, all while murmuring indiscernible words under her breath. She’s wearing that damn mourning veil again. As well as swimming goggles. Her pair of scientific ones were destroyed during the last incident. Guess she decided to improvise.

“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning into the doorframe.

Eloise doesn’t answer.

“I saw the books.”

Still no answer.

“Is this about Joel?”

Eloise whips around, shooting me a vicious glare.

“Shut up. I have three minutes left.”

She doesn’t seem to appreciate the eye roll making a guttural noise before turning back to her pot.

I wait for her to finish. Mostly because if we argue again the pot could boil over and I don’t fancy scraping burnt sugar and apple peel off the tiles again. That and the mountain of marking I have for class 9 is not a welcome thought after a full day of teaching the kids. Maybe this spell would work on my account

Exactly three minutes later, the hob clicks off and Eloise heaves the wannabe cauldron onto the back burner. With a flick of her wrist she throws in a handful of cocoa powder and makes a pencil note in her little black book.

I walk over, looking at the mixture. It’s oddly foamy, with a milky coloured swirl in the centre that resembles a heart.

“You should become a barista.” I note, dropping back to lean against the counter. “Did you see Joel again?”

“No.”

“Oh?” Now that’s not what I expected. It seemed despite her magnetic attraction, Eloise had woken up to Joel’s obvious manipulation and self-absorbed tendencies. This could be progress.

“He stood me up.”

“Oh.”

“I know what your going to say!” Eloise bursts, throwing up her hands in mock innocence. “That I need to drop him, stop setting myself up for disappoint, that I’m worth more! But I liked him! When we first me he-“

“Told you how much he loved you?” I raise an eyebrow as I speak. “How you were a goddess sent down from heaven to breathe life into him? How he was so broken before you came along that he thought he would die?”

Eloise scrunches her face like she wants to protest. I know what she wants to say - but it’s just a rerun of my speech with less sarcasm. And she knows it too, having given me the inspiration a week prior. She lowers her gaze.

“He liked me.” She says quietly. “And I liked him. He was funny. Outgoing. Wanted to actually participate in life. Marcus never wanted to do that...”

Another ex that never should have been a plus. Marcus only ever wanted to stay inside. He wasn’t a bad guy. But he was lethargic. Eloise is a girl who likes being out, whether it be in the park, to the movies or under the stars. Marcus wasn’t right for her. But Joel was actively wrong.

“El.” I say, reaching out for her arm but she dodges my hand.

“I’m just-“ She sighs, pushing up the veil and removing the goggles, rubbing red rimmed eyes. “I’m lonely.”

The word hangs heavy in the air. A knot of guilt wedges in my gut. Making a quick decision I march into the lounge and grab my coat.

“We’re going out.” I announce, throwing on my scarf. Eloise stares at me.

“But you just got in?”

“Look,” I huff, leaning into my hip. “I know I can’t give you everything a romantic relationship can, but I can give you more than I have. What were you supposed to do with Joel?”

It comes out more angry than its supposed to do. I guess I am a little angry: choosing to go out with Joel is like choosing to be unhappy. And I want my friends to be happy. But there’s another layer that I don’t want to look directly at. The one that was too busy with work to tell her how much I detested Joel until he was already under her skin.

“Cafe Morag.” Eloise says, poking at the potion. “They have a special on pancakes.”

“See! We can do that!” I walk to the door and grab her coat off the stand. Eloise follows, albeit with extreme caution.

“You don’t mind?”

Her eyes roll over to my satchel, folders poking out at every angle. I’ve been working overtime a lot lately. I shake my head.

“I need a break. And so do you.”

I hand over her coat and she puts it on, sliding off the veil and swimming goggles, cheeks aglow.

“Thanks.” She says. As if I’m going out of my way. As if it’s a surprise. A special occasion. In a moment that knot is a mace, slamming into my stomach lining.

“Friends hang out.” I say, that anger creeping in again. “With or without significant others, we’re not alone. You don’t have to do things alone.”

I don’t look at Eloise. When she doesn’t respond I reach for the door, but I don’t get to open it. Eloise spins me around, smothering me in warmth as her fleece-covered arms envelope me.

“You’re important to me too.” Eloise says into my shoulder. “I know I whine. And make love potions. And revenge ones.”

Revenge!? I try to pull back but she squeezes tighter, shaking a little with suppressed laughter.

“But I need to stop getting sucked into that tunnel vision. Because I miss out on the best of life pretending I’m alone.”

She moves away and grins.

“Mates before dates, yeah?”

I nod, smirk teasing at my lips. “Bros before hoes.”

Eloise laughs. “Joel is a hoe.”

“You’re telling me.”

We end up staying at Morag’s until closing, laughing obnoxiously loudly. Mother’s cover their sons ears, grandfathers glare and men cower in the corners. It’s bliss.

#writeblr #flash fiction #spilled ink #friendship #valentine's day #love potion #storytime #story 61

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iwhumpyou · 5 years ago

Text

Holy Water

Masterlist. Kyran.

~#~

Honestly when Gabriel was woken up in the middle of the night by a crash, his first thought was that Zane had found him. The prince of angels was the best tracker in the world and Rae’s silly spells could only stop him for so long.

But there was silence after the crash and Zane wouldn’t have bothered with silence. Gabriel got up slowly, careful to keep his wings folded flat against his spine. He couldn’t risk the dim light being seen, no matter who had broken into his house at two in the morning.

He crept out into the living room. The source of the crash was obvious – a vase had shattered on the floor, flowers spilling into in a small puddle of water. Next to the broken ceramic was a huddled mass of black.

Gabriel slowly walked closer, grabbing a baseball bat on his way in. The huddled mass was not moving, but the vase had not toppled on its own. Just as he sidestepped the puddle of water, the mass groaned and shifted.

It was a person – Gabriel could distinguish four limbs and the moonlight shone off of pale skin. Then he found a pair of red eyes staring at him from the shadows.

“Kyran,” Gabriel hissed, ready to swing the baseball bat, “What in the name of hell are you doing?”

“Gabriel,” Kyran said chirpily, but made no move to get up. That, at the very least, halted Gabriel’s swing. “My absolute favorite person in the world.” Now Gabriel could hear the hint of bitterness under the heavy sarcasm. “How fortuitous that I should land here.”

The pair of red eyes vanished and Gabriel tightened his grip on the baseball bat. Well, that had been strange, but at least the demon was gone, now. He’d have to look into demon-proofing his apartment in the morning.

Gabriel turned and saw Kyran’s red eyes staring at him from the kitchen doorway. The demon was standing now, but the moonlight had fallen on his face and Gabriel could see that he was swaying. “I’m still here?” Kyran asked incredulously to no one in particular, before crumpling to the floor.

Gabriel was officially freaked out.

He turned on the lights just to solidify that this was not some pineapple-induced nightmare and looked back to where Kyran was collapsed on the living room carpet. The demon wasn’t moving, but the soft groans told Gabriel that he was still conscious.

Gabriel looked at the baseball bat for another long second, but decided that he could probably kill Kyran with his bare hands at this point, and left it against the wall before moving to the demon’s side.

“I repeat,” Gabriel said, nudging Kyran with his foot, “What in the name of hell?”

“I’d rather not be here either, dearest angel mine,” Kyran said in a hoarse voice. He was attempting to lever himself up, but failing quite miserably. His hands were twitching and didn’t seem able to take his weight. In the harsh light, Kyran’s pale skin was chalk white and Gabriel could see the remnants of dried blood around his mouth.

“So why are you here?” Gabriel asked, crossing his arms. Kyran muttered something, cursed, and muttered something else before pushing himself into a sitting position. The movement caused what color was left to drain from his face.

“I’ll be on my way, just give me a second,” Kyran closed his eyes, wincing, and disappeared again. This time, he didn’t manage to stay upright – he reappeared a foot to the left and his red eyes locked on to Gabriel for a second before rolling back into his head.

Gabriel didn’t move and stared at the formless pile of demon on his floor.

~#~

Gabriel did not know why he was dumping Kyran on his couch as opposed to out his seventh-floor window. Or perhaps into a dumpster, where trash like him belonged. But Kyran no longer looked like the sneering, two-faced demon that Gabriel had sworn to kill. His features were slackened in unconsciousness and Gabriel was struck by just how thin he was.

Demons had cracked the secrets of immortality and delved into dark arts so powerful that angels could not hope to catch up. But they were solitary, hunted creatures and Gabriel only now realized what that meant. He wondered when Kyran had last eaten – and wondered if anyone had bothered to remind him. If he had anyone to remind him.

With a dab of a wet cloth, most of the dried blood vanished from Kyran’s face. He didn’t look visibly injured and Gabriel assumed that his uncharacteristic exhaustion was due to overexertion. Too many spells in too short a time, most likely, doing whatever underhanded thing the demon did when he wasn’t helping Rae break into abandoned underworld hideouts.

Gabriel paused a second more before going to get his tools. A rune circle would make him feel a lot safer and would also prevent the demon from escaping. Gabriel wanted answers on what had happened to Elizabeth and demon would give them to him, if it was the last thing he did.

Gabriel hoped that it was the last thing he did.

Bringing out the chalk, Gabriel moved his carpet out of the way and began inscribing a circle around the couch, effectively trapping the demon inside.

~#~

Kyran woke up at around eleven. Gabriel had, by that time, already debated over whether or not to make the demon breakfast, had consequently burned that breakfast, had placed a glass of holy water at Kyran’s side, removed the glass, and resorted to flicking pieces of lint at the demon’s head while Gabriel cleaned.

He was just starting to wonder whether he’d drawn the rune circle properly – he might have been a half-second away from calling Rae in panic that he’d accidentally killed her pet demon – when Kyran stirred. Red eyes blinked open to stare blankly at the ceiling and Kyran’s face scrunched up in a wince. He shifted slightly and stared coughing – which sounded wet and not remotely healthy – bringing his hand to his mouth. When he removed it, it was dripping with blood.

Kyran looked at it and muttered something too low for Gabriel to hear. The blood vanished.

“I’m guessing that’s not a normal occurrence,” Gabriel stated, and felt somewhat mollified when Kyran let out a shriek and whipped his head so fast that his neck cracked. He stared at Gabriel with a deer-in-headlights look – Gabriel didn’t think that he’d ever before seen that combination of shock, panic and fear on the demon’s face.

“What?” was the only thing Kyran managed to say, which was even more gratifying. Gabriel enjoyed seeing the normally unflappable demon so shell-shocked.

“I’m going to ask you the same thing I asked last night,” Gabriel said coolly, “And this time I want an answer. Why the hell are you here?”

“Cursing, Gabriel, really?” Kyran quirked an eyebrow, and Gabriel narrowed his eyes before reaching for the chalk. A few adjustments to the rune circle wouldn’t hurt, and maybe being shocked every ten seconds would loosen Kyran’s tongue.

“What are you doing?” Kyran asked when Gabriel knelt down at the edge of the circle. “A rune circle, seriously?” Kyran mocked, but Gabriel could feel the edge of fear in his voice, “Are you that afraid of me, Gabriel?” Gabriel stayed silent and began modifying the circle. “Gabriel? What are you doing? Gabriel!”

“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours,” Gabriel said, carefully adding a symbol here and a circle there.

“You are pushy, aren’t you?” Kyran muttered, but his voice had an edge of anger, “I have no idea why I’m here. I was trying to get out, but my teleportation spell failed. As you can see.”

Gabriel paused and looked up to meet Kyran’s gaze. The demon looked…worried. “Why did you faint?” Gabriel asked. Kyran scowled, clearly showing what he thought of this interrogation, but he darted a quick glance to the chalk in Gabriel’s hand and answered.

“Lack of sleep,” Kyran said shortly, the usual tone of amusement absent, “I don’t see why that’s any of your business. Now let me out of here, and I’ll be out of your apartment before you can say ‘Elizabeth’.”

Gabriel knew that the mention of his fiancée’s name was meant to be provocative, but Kyran’s smirk looked alien on his weary face and there was still a smidge of blood at the corner of his mouth, vivid against his grey skin. Kyran didn’t look like he could sit up properly, let along teleport out of Gabriel’s house.

So Gabriel shrugged, “Okay,” and smudged the lines of chalk.

Kyran stared at him like he’d gone crazy. “What?” he asked flatly but Gabriel didn’t answer him. He merely stood up and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. Kyran stared at him doubtfully for a few more seconds before taking Gabriel at his word. Shooting him one last suspicious look, Kyran closed his eyes and vanished.

Gabriel heard curses from the entryway and went to investigate. Kyran lay on the floor, tangled in the coat rack he’d teleported into. His skin was still deathly pale and his struggles were getting weaker. Sighing, Gabriel stepped closer to give him a hand.

“I don’t need your help!” Kyran spat out and Gabriel was so surprised that he actually took a step back. He’d never heard that tone from Kyran before – the demon usually varied from sarcastic to mocking while always sounded amused. Anger was rare but Gabriel had never seen this fury.

Kyran managed to extricate himself from the furniture and lay on the wooden floor, panting. Gabriel didn’t move to help him. The demon slowly pushed himself forward, making it about two feet before another coughing fit overtook him. The coughing didn’t stop and the blood steadily dripped from Kyran’s curled fingers to form a puddle on Gabriel’s spotless floor.

When it ended, the demon lay in a curled position on the floor, a dark patch of blood next to him. Gabriel met his eyes and noted that the fight in them was gone.

“I may need your help,” Kyran conceded wearily. Gabriel stepped forward and reached out a hand. Kyran took it. Gabriel pulled the demon to a semi-standing position – Kyran weighed next-to-nothing and that was worrying – and silently suffered the demon’s head on his shoulder as he maneuvered him back into the living room and onto the couch.

“I’ll get you some paper towels,” Gabriel said as Kyran started coughing again, “And a glass of water.” It was a good thing Gabriel had been watching the demon while he talked, because otherwise he would’ve missed the full-body flinch. Red eyes darted up to his face, wide with something darker than fear and Gabriel paused.

Kyran was coughing. He was coughing up blood. Demons healed remarkably quickly and didn’t fall sick, in fact, the only thing that impeded a demon’s ability to heal was –

Holy water.

Gabriel lunged forward and caught Kyran’s hands before the demon could jerk away. There, the little red spots on his hands. What Gabriel assumed to be the leftover stain of blood was actually small burns that healed, inch by inch, as Gabriel watched. He looked up to meet Kyran’s terrified gaze.

Just for that moment, Gabriel forgot that Kyran was wanted for a dozen murders, his fiancée one of them. He forgot that he was a demon whose very existence pissed people off. He forgot that Kyran lived to make his life more difficult.

At that moment, all Gabriel could think about was how it would feel to have acid poured down your throat.

“Who did this to you?” Gabriel asked quietly. Kyran’s eyes were still wide and Gabriel was abruptly aware that he was practically straddling the demon. He pushed it aside and tightened his grip on Kyran’s fingers. “Who did this to you?” Gabriel asked again, his words dropping into a hiss.

Kyran’s eyes were darting to the left and right, as if looking for something that would save him. There was nothing – Kyran was magically exhausted and Gabriel could’ve overpowered the lean demon even if he hadn’t been coughing up holy water.

“I’m not going to ask again, Kyran,” Gabriel warned and Kyran laughed. It was not a normal laugh – it was too sharp and too hoarse and dissolved into coughs halfway through.

“What will you do if I don’t answer, dearest angel mine?” Kyran asked with a half a smile, “Kill me? If you wanted to, you’d have done that already. Don’t threaten me with a bluff, Gabriel, it’s insulting.”

Gabriel had had it with Kyran’s arrogance. Extending his wings fully, Gabriel leaned down until he was a few inches from Kyran’s face. “Tell me,” Gabriel hissed and he could see the fear in Kyran’s red eyes, see him cowering, see him try to push himself further into the couch to get away from Gabriel’s wings. The aura was probably burning him – the glow of an angel’s wings was poison to a demon’s skin and Kyran lacked his usual shadow of darkness to protect him.

“A group of crusaders,” Kyran said, his voice cracking. His eyes were closed and his whole face was scrunched up against the glow, “I insulted them. They were drunk. I underestimated them.” He started coughing again and Gabriel let him go, rolling off the couch and heading towards the kitchen. He pressed his wings against his spine again and filled a glass with tap water, tightening his hands into fists to stop their trembling.

Most crusaders were towering hulks of men, with nasty tempers and even nastier tricks. Kyran was lucky that holy water was all they did to him. Unless…

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Gabriel asked, setting the glass of water at Kyran’s elbow. The demon still had his eyes closed and a sheen of sweat had appeared on his forehead.

“You are strangely concerned about my wellbeing today, dearest angel mine,” Kyran whispered hoarsely, before cracking his eyes open, “And I’m fine, thank you very much.” His eyes fell on the glass of water before flicking up to Gabriel’s face.

“It’s normal water,” Gabriel rolled his eyes, “If I was going to force you to drink holy water, I wouldn’t put it in a glass and just hope that you’d drink it.”

“I wasn’t aware that you’ve put so much thought into my future poisoning,” Kyran quipped back but he took the glass nevertheless.

“I’ve devised some elaborate schemes,” Gabriel said lightly, as if it wasn’t the truth. Kyran narrowed his eyes, like he knew what the angel was thinking.

“Go to sleep, idiot, you look exhausted,” Gabriel snorted and took the empty glass from Kyran, “And next time, don’t pick fights with big guys in bars.”

“Sure,” Kyran mumbled as he closed his eyes and wriggled further into the couch, creating a nest for himself, “I’ll make sure I’m outside a bar before I start picking fights.” Gabriel scowled at the demon but he was already fast asleep.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Gabriel cleaned up the mess Kyran had made at the door and got another blanket for the shivering demon. He would kick Kyran out of the house the minute the demon was able to teleport, but right now, he was a liability. If Zane got ahold of Kyran in this weakened state…well, that would be all of Gabriel’s and Rae’s secrets right there. He had purely selfish reasons for keeping the demon on his couch.

And if Gabriel went out at night and found a group of crusaders who were bragging about dumping a gallon of holy water down a demon’s throat – well, he didn’t do anything. Anything at all.

If those crusaders were discovered beaten and bruised in the back of some alleyway, well, that was just a coincidence.

#whump #whumpfic #kyran #holy water #demon #angel #coughing up blood

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years ago

Text

Like Being Submerged in Your Contradictions

She supposes she’s not surprised.

Clarke probably should have expected it. After all, her romantic track record is not really all that impressive. But. She hoped. And to say that she’s a little disappointed to find out sex with Bellamy is not as great as she wanted it to be is an understatement.

So now he wants to talk about it. Figures.

—

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4.4K AN: I have no excuse for this. Also, timeline? Background explanation? Never heard of them. Also, also…writing canon terrifies me on the reg and I binged this show very quickly, so if things are wrong let’s just…assume it’s canon divergence. Deal? Deal. I have far too many fic ideas and not enough time. This is also my first @bellarkebingo fic checks off setting: sanctum and future prediction fic.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

She’s sweaty.

And out of breath.

The sheets keep sticking to the back of Clarke’s left leg. Only her left leg. Which is admittedly kind of weird, but she’s also admittedly preoccupied with how much all of this absolutely, positively sucks to be too worried about the state or location of the bedding.

Damn.

It was supposed to be better than this.

Easier. Great. Time for themselves and a guaranteed few hours with no interruptions. No rush. No pressure. Less...whatever this was. Not easy.

Not great, honestly.

Pretty awful. Bumped knees and scrunched noses, no rhythm, hardly any friction, just—quick shifts and kisses that were over before they really began, like they were racing towards the finish line if only to say that they’d crossed it and she can’t cry.

That would be insane.

In the grand scheme of everything, this is not the worst thing that has ever happened to Clarke.

It doesn’t even crack the top ten.

And yet.

She’s marginally worried that she’s going to bite a hole through her lip, twisting it between her teeth while she tries to figure out where this went wrong and how this went wrong and it makes so much sense. They make sense.

Together.

They should have worked together.

God, maybe she sucks at sex because her vocabulary is also pretty lacking. God, she hopes she’s not the one who’s bad at sex. No one else has ever mentioned that before. But, then again—most of the sex she’s had has been...fuck, she seriously can’t come up with descriptors right now. The disappointment that has taken root in the pit of Clarke’s stomach is far too heavy for her to do anything except acknowledge it, lips pressed together and breathing turning shallow and there’s a considerable amount of space between them. She’s at least seventy-two percent positive Bellamy is half hanging off the bed.

Her right leg is starting to cramp up.

She does her best to move without making it obvious, a slow shift and gritted teeth, but Clarke can’t help her hiss of pain when her calf muscle seizes up and maybe she’ll just stare at that one, particular spot on the ceiling for the rest of time.

That seems like the only reasonable response.

The bed creaks.

“So, uh—” Bellamy starts, every letter sounding strained. “That was, uh—” “—Oh my God, stop it.” “No, Clarke, c’mon, that was—” “—I’m going to punch you, I swear.”

He laughs.

Clarke’s neck doesn’t appreciate the way she snaps it towards him — and maybe this whole thing is just a commentary on how old she is, or at least how old she feels and that second thing is ten-thousand times more depressing than any sort of disappointing sex with the guy she’s been wanting to have sex with for more than a century.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I don’t know what to be more offended by,” Clarke sneers, “you laughing at me, or everything that’s happened in the last fifteen minutes.” “Ah, c’mon, it was longer than fifteen minutes.” “Maybe we should have timed it.” Bellamy stops laughing.

And Clarke feels bad — she does. But the disappointment appears to be evolving into something a little bitter and a little angry, clawing its way up her throat and threatening to spill out her mouth and she can’t believe this.

Well, no—she can. That’s the problem.

She can believe the shit and the garbage and something else that didn’t play out exactly the way she never should have let herself imagine it could be.

Melodramatic idiot.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Bellamy mumbles. “You want to talk about it?” “About what, exactly?” “Clarke.” “Saying my name over and over again is not going to help.” “Yeah, I picked up on that weirdly enough. I, uh—that sucked, right?” “Did we get to the sucking?”

He lets out a strangled noise that almost immediately turns into something far closer to a groan, an arm splayed out over his still-tilted head. “No,” Bellamy agrees, and that’s a strange way to do that. “I don’t think we did, actually.” “Lame.” “That’s a word for it, yeah. Why?” “You’re really determined to talk about this, aren’t you?” Clarke asks sharply. He shrugs. He still hasn’t moved his arm. “People are going to be back here soon and they’re going to need—” “—They can wait a couple minutes.” “Really got a high opinion of your own in-bed prowess, huh?” Bellamy’s arm might be marble for all the moving it does, but Clarke can still see the dots of color that explode on his cheeks, in between every freckle and the few scars that have lingered on his skin.

She’s not just Sanctum’s biggest idiot. She’s this place's biggest asshole.

“Obviously not,” he grumbles. “Although, I haven’t heard many complaints before. And I—all I’m saying is that maybe that’s our problem. Thinking about...expiration dates. Time limits.” “Speak English.” “I could say it in Trig if you want.” Clarke might growl. The sound scratches at her throat and leaves her gnashing her teeth, one side of Bellamy’s mouth tugging up at the sarcasm. “Is this your way of flirting? Because it could use some work, honestly.” “That’s—this isn’t what I thought would happen.”

Clarke blinks. Once, twice, opens her mouth only to close it and, grand scheme, it is ridiculous for that to be the thing. But it is and has been and it’s been a goddamn century. “Have you?” she whispers, voice barely that. “More times than I’d be willing to admit.”

She cannot cry. She will not cry. If Clarke keeps repeating it — in her head — then she’s sure, eventually, she’ll believe it. She won’t cry. In bed. With Bellamy. In her room.

Their room, really.

Because that’s been happening too. In the days and weeks and months since the end of everything else — since shaky peace treaties and only kind of understanding the anomaly, of losses and the destruction of the flame and the creation of this, a tremulous calm that Clarke still can’t entirely believe is real, with cabins and curtains on windows and books on shelves that Bellamy built himself, there’s been this growing...thing. Unspoken, unacknowledged, because it didn’t really have to be.

Just was. Like always. Intertwined live and his boots sitting just inside the door and her head on his chest when he’d fall asleep because it’s easier to breathe that way.

And yet. Part two.

It’s an exaggeration to suggest that Clarke has grown impatient — couldn’t possibly, not after already waiting so long, several lifetimes worth of pent-up emotion, but she might be a little greedy and the words felt like they’d fallen out of her.

Maybe we could spend some time together. Just me and you.

And Bellamy had smiled. That smile. The one she’d let herself think about sometimes, when everything else was going to shit, when the world was, quite literally, coming to an end, more than once, Clarke would let her mind drift and she’d remember that smile, the way it would stretch across his face, lighten the color in his eyes and leave the skin there slightly crinkled like it couldn’t possibly contain all the emotion there.

For her.

Emotion he felt for her.

She really is Sanctum’s biggest idiot.

“You might as well say them out loud,” Bellamy mutters, practically jerking Clarke out of her reverie and they’re going to have to wash these sheets.

She can’t imagine how they got quite this damp when nothing really...happened.

“What?” “Out loud,” he repeats. “If you’re going to be thinking such obvious thoughts, you might as well tell me what they are.” “I’m not thinking anything.” “It is rude to lie.” Clarke huffs — frustration mixing with something else that feels a little bit like betrayal because she’s starting to find it insulting how endeared she is by him. And his awful jokes. And the overall length of his hair.

“I’ve got a question,” Bellamy announces, flipping onto his side so he can prop his head on his head. It makes his hair shift, curls that drift dangerously close to his brows, and Clarke’s moving before she’s really thought about it, fingers ghosting over his forehead and his eyes flutter shut.

He exhales softly, some of the rather obvious tension around them dissipating.

“Just one?”

“At least one that’s been bothering me for the last century or so.” Clarke doesn’t respond, can’t over the rising dread in the back of her brain, the feel of it creeping up her spine. Bellamy grins.

“Why’d you put me on the list?” he asks, and Clarke is glad she hadn’t said anything. It ensures that she can gasp dramatically, eyes going wide enough that they actually start to water. His expression doesn’t change. Eventually she’ll think that’s important. “Because,” Bellamy continues, “I’ve been going over it and you didn’t even ask. I mean—there were plenty of people who could have been on the list and—” “—Are you kidding me, right now? This is what you want to talk about?” He hums, ducking down to kiss the bridge of her nose. Clarke may melt. That won’t help the overall state of the sheets. “Well, you didn’t want to talk. So—what’s that old Earth expression? I’m taking the floor.” “I don’t think that’s right at all.” “Ah, well, an attempt is at least being made.”

Clarke clicks her tongue, but she can’t quite get herself to be frustrated and that is...something. She supposes. Hopes, maybe.

She wants to hope, at least.

That’s always felt like half the battle. “Can I keep going now?” Bellamy quips, eyebrows jumping when Clarke pinches his forearm. “I’m going to take that as a yes.” “Was my threat of punching you not really that threatening?” “No, it wasn’t, honestly.” “God.” “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “my question is still the same. Why? Because I—there were people you left off, and I understand why you did, but what was I bringing to the table?” “Just full of Earth clichés today, aren’t you?” “Technically, it’s night.”

Clarke yanks on the blanket, quick enough that she manages to take Bellamy by surprise and she lets herself gloat about that for approximately two and a half seconds before her gaze drifts to his suddenly exposed body and—

“You are staring, Princess.”

She cannot keep bouncing through emotions like this. Clarke’s mind feels like it’s racing, plummeting through some kind of time vortex where they can have conversations like this and moments like this and—“I can’t believe you just called me that,” she mutters, pulling the blanket up over her shoulders.

Like that will help protect her.

It’s a dumb metaphor.

And one she knows Bellamy picks up on almost immediately.

He didn’t really have to ask her to voice her thoughts. He’s always been too good at that. Disarmingly good, even.

“Big guns, or however the saying goes,” Bellamy grins.

“You really think this is working for you, don’t you?” “Nah, if it was working, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all. But that’s kind of my point.” “Convoluted.” “A little. And you’re avoiding the question. Still staring, too.” Clarke hums, letting her head drop back to the pillow and she doesn’t try to mask the way her eyes move that time. She doesn’t actually move — is far too twisted in the sheets to even attempt that — but her gaze traces every inch of Bellamy, follows the curve of his shoulder and the slope of his back, lingers on the scars she knows and those she hasn’t mapped yet, more markers of time and years and they were supposed to have time tonight.

Finally,

And if this was all they were going to get, then—

“Clarke,” Bellamy presses. “I can’t actually read your mind.” “No?” “It’s weird, I know.” Her laugh doesn’t have much humor to it, is far shakier than Clarke would like it to be, but her lungs also don’t feel like they’re collapsing, so she assumes that’s a step in the right emotional direction. “Sometimes I used to think you could,” she whispers. “Those first couple of days after the bridge. Before the Ark came down and everything—” “—Went to shit?” “Always seems to, doesn’t it?” “I hope not. Still not an answer.” “You’re harping” “Curious,” Bellamy amends, sliding closer to her. There’s still space, enough that the heat coming off him isn’t more than a passing graze of warmth on Clarke’s cheek, and she’ll have to thank him for that at some point. For not pushing. For knowing. For understanding.

Clarke licks her lips — dimly aware of the way Bellamy’s shoulders shift as she does, and she probably should have offered him back some of the blanket.

She doesn’t.

“I didn’t want to make it,” Clarke starts, and she can’t actually get her voice above a vaguely guarded murmur. He doesn’t blink. “I mean—you know that, right?” Nothing.

She didn’t expect there to be anything.

Her mouth is very dry.

“But I—well, I just...we had to think about what people could do and what they’d bring to a bunker. You know—guards and engineers, doctors, all those things. I—” Clarke shakes her head, confusion rattling around her brain. “You know all of this.” Bellamy nods. “Yeah, that wasn’t my question, though. You picked ninety-eight names, let me fall asleep on that piece of garbage couch—” “—How long have you been holding that in?” “At least a hundred years? Can I finish now?” Clarke sticks her tongue out. He kisses between her eyebrows. “I do know all of that. Which is why it never made sense to put me on the list. Not really. Not after everything I’d done and—”

Bellamy’s breath hitches, a sharp inhale through gritted teeth, and the emotion in the pit of Clarke’s stomach shifts again. She moves, arm darting out and palm flat on his cheek. He’d shaved a few days earlier, the growing stubble scraping at her skin and the feel of it is almost comforting. Grounding, even. Like it’s reminding her that he’s there and with her and that’s always been the case.

She can’t believe the sex was so God awful.

“I couldn’t,” Clarke rasps, “not—I wanted to do it right. After everything I’d done, too. Pick the best and make the right choice and I am...greedy.” “How do you figure?” “With you?”

“That was a question.” “Yeah, well, it’ll sound insane otherwise.”

He chuckles, twisting his head so he can nip at the back of her wrist. It leaves another scratch of stumble against her, but Clarke’s lungs are evolving again and for as desperate as they’d been, now, twenty-two minutes earlier, this is somehow even better. This soft and almost tremulous thing, not quite cautious, but calm — all practiced ease and a distinct lack of personal space.

She wants to touch every single inch of him.

She wants him to touch every single inch of her.

“Greedy,” Clarke says again, only a little disappointed that it sounds like an admission. Of what, she’s not entirely sure. Not yet, at least. “I couldn’t—no, that’s not even it, I wouldn’t do anything else. Because, well—you’re right, aren’t you?” “No applicable skills?” “I mean—no, that’s not true. You are—you can do so much, Bell, and you are...well, you won’t shut up about talking and people trust you. Way more than me.” “That does sound pretty insane.” “What did you keep saying? Will you let me finish?”

He shifts again, crowds into her space like he knows he can now. Clarke’s fingers push into his hair — nowhere else to go, or so she will tell herself when she’s trying to forget about the less-than-ideal parts of this night — forehead finding Bellamy’s and there really more freckles on his cheeks she ever expects.

“People trust you,” Clarke mutters. “And that’s—ok, yeah, I mean—” She stuttering now, stammering over words and explanations because both of those things are wholly founded in feelings and she’s still kind of coming to terms with that.

Six years of radio messages are one thing.

Actually living them is another.

And she’s a pessimist.

“Why, Clarke?” Bellamy asks, dragging the question across the curve of her jaw and her back arches when his teeth nip at her skin.

“I wouldn’t have let anything happen to you.”

She doesn’t mean for the words to soar out of her the way that they do, half shouted and honestly meant and Clarke has to blink again. Her vision has gone a little glossy.

Bellamy doesn’t respond. Which—yeah, that’s fair. He just holds her gaze for a moment before he noses at her cheek, a hand on her blanket-covered hip and Clarke wishes she didn’t close her eyes. She wishes she could watch every shift when he manages to inch even closer to her, the way his back twists and the muscles there tense, trying to do something without actually saying anything.

So, she does, instead.

“I picked people,” Clarke continues, “all those roles I knew we had to fill and I had—I was writing your name before I even really thought about.” “High praise,” Bellamy mumbles, mostly into the side of her neck. There are goosebumps on Clarke’s skin, breath coming a little quicker than it had a few moments before.

“God, you’re annoying.” He hums, more kisses and wandering hands, and she’s got no idea when or how she moved onto her back, only that Bellamy’s forearms are on either side of her head and her fingers start tracing scars. On instinct. And something far deeper than that.

“I just—” Clarke says, “it didn’t make sense not to have you on the list. To not give you…” “What?” “Time. To have a chance, just to...be. Even after the world ended.” “That happened eventually.” “Did it?” Bellamy nods, tugging lightly at the top of the sheet and Clarke doesn’t object when he pulls the fabric down. Maybe they should just throw it all away. Metaphorically. Literally. “What do you think we’re doing now?” he asks lightly, and Clarke genuinely isn’t sure how much more of this her spine will be able to take.

She arches under him, certain her skin is actually starting to buzz, a low hum in the back of her brain and in between every single one of her ribs, like she’s about to burst from the inside out.

“Having really bad sex?” Clarke quips. “Ha, ha, ha. What did I tell you before? When I woke up from the shitty couch.” “Why do you have so many opinions on this couch?” “An answer,” Bellamy says, but there’s a hint of something just on the edge of his voice and Clarke knows the goosebumps have betrayed her as soon as he laughs.

“Bastard.” “Yes, that’s been fairly well documented over the years. Do you want a hint?” “Are you going to try and make out with me again or not?” He sighs — although Clarke can still feel the way his mouth turns up while he drags it towards her collarbone, alternating kisses with the soft graze of his teeth and the stubble that she’s really starting to be questionably into.

“I told you if I was on that list, then so were you,” Bellamy says. “And I meant it Clarke. If you were trying to give me time to—” “—Live.” “Babe, seriously, the interruptions have got to stop.” Clarke has witnessed far more explosions than any single human being ever should, has dealt with radiation and death and destruction and an almost absurd number of apocalypses. Her body has been hers and not, some scars she doesn’t entirely understand yet, and even after all of that, the bullshit and the garbage and the distinct lack of time, nothing has prepared her for Bellamy Blake to call her babe while dragging his mouth towards the top of her right thigh.

She gasps.

It’s a lame reaction, really.

Although she had closed her eyes before. So, grand scheme. Again.

“Yeah?” Bellamy asks, far too knowing against the jut of her hip.

“I’ll kick you, I swear.” He chuckles, more warmth that fans across Clarke and her back almost audibly protests the contortions she’s putting it into, but something feels like it snaps in the very center of her and she can’t be bothered by the confines of normal human muscle mechanics.

She tries to grind up, to cant her hips and force something — but that might have been their problem from the get. Forced into situations they couldn’t control, a distinct lack of options or time and now they’ve got both.

And Clarke would pick Bellamy every single chance she got.

“We’ve got time now,” he says, soft and so goddamn earnest Clarke is pleasantly surprised her heart doesn’t simply burst out of her chest.

She’s glad.

That would be messy.

And probably the only thing that could distract her from what happens next — Bellamy sliding further down the bed, fingers brushing the inside of Clarke’s legs until his lips take over and she stares at that same spot on the ceiling.

She doesn’t resent it quite as much anymore.

“You know that right, babe?” Bellamy asks. “This is it. Every cliché we could come up with. The start of it all and the beginning of the end and—” “—Oh, that’s a good one,” Clarke interrupts. She’s a little breathless again, reaching a blind hand out to card her fingers into his hair. And hold him exactly where he is. He doesn’t seem all that inclined to move, honestly.

“Yeah, I’m big on that one too. We get to go slow now. Be boring.” “Boring?” “Boring,” Bellamy echoes. “Linger, even. In every single thing we do. Get greedy with all of it because that’s what I want. I want to get greedy with you too, Clarke.”

“Yeah?” “Disappointing that wasn’t more obvious.” She laughs — soft and easy and the hope that rushes through both of her arms is barely contained by the tips of her fingers, a burst of energy and want and—“Just relax, ok?” Bellamy mutters. “Let me take care of you.” “What was that about things sounding insane?” “Rude. And the definition of insanity is doing the same thing while expecting different results, right?” “Yuh huh.” “So, let’s try something different.”

Clarke doesn’t get a chance to refute, no opportunity for the continuation of vaguely playful and slightly flirty banter. Every single word she’s ever learned, in a variety of languages, disappears as soon as Bellamy’s head drops and tongue darts out and neither one of them acknowledge that something in her back definitely cracks.

Or how tight her fingers get in his hair.

If anything, that second thing seems to spur him on.

He makes this one, specific noise that Clarke will probably think about on rotation for at least the next one-hundred years, a rhythm that had felt impossible the first time they tried this. Although, to be fair, they hadn’t tried this.

That was definitely their first mistake.

Bellamy mouths at her, long swipes of his tongue that eventually turn to pressure and fingers and he must mumble something because Clarke can just make out sounds that almost resemble words and might be yeah, like that and fuck, you feel good. She closes her eyes again, can’t think of anything else to do when all Clarke wants to do is linger in the moment and the feeling.

She rocks up. He pushes down. They settle into this and each other and it’s exactly the same as it’s always been, as it probably always should have been, but, for the first time, Clarke doesn’t feel like she’s running on borrowed time.

She doesn’t even feel like she’s running, while everything is moving around her — she’s just...just. Content. Calm. She’s— “Oh, fuck,” she hisses, Bellamy's low chuckle far too pleased while she arches up and suggesting that she feels everything is absurd. Insane, even.

And yet. Version three point oh.

Clarke’s breath catches and her body goes tight before it all seems to shatter, a break that’s somehow overwhelming and perfect, rushing from the top of her head to the tip of her toes and Bellamy groans when her leg drapes over his shoulder.

Both of her calf muscles are perfectly fine.

And he doesn’t move immediately, lets the moment stay exactly the way Clarke wants it to, but then Bellamy is crowding in her space again and his mouth is on hers and it’s back to greedy and demanding, any sense of slow forgotten in how much they both want.

Hope.

“Smug does not look good on you,” Clarke mutters. It does not come out like the insult she wants it to, Bellamy’s lower lip stuck out when he nods.

That makes it easier to catch between her teeth, though. So. Whatever.

He talks even more as they start to move again, running his mouth with encouragements and promises and the word babe on loop, if only because Clarke’s hips jerk every time it happens. And it still might not be the best they could do — the nose thing is really going to be a logistical nightmare if they can’t figure out the proper angle to turn their heads for optimum kissing, but kissing also seems like something of an afterthought when it turns into just shared breath and shared space and Bellamy’s eyes close at some point.

Clarke will also think about that.

For a very long time.

Which is what they have now.

Together.

She’s out of breath again, sweat clinging to the ends of her hair and the light that drifts across the floor is a little different than it had been earlier. The shadows stretch and the curtains flutter in a soft breeze, like the whole of it all is simply waiting for—

Clarke flutters her fingers, not much space between her and the arm next to hers and Bellamy’s wrist flips. “That was smooth,” he murmurs, hand finding hers. He’s smiling. She can tell.

“Yeah, that was my plan from the beginning.” “Was it?” She hums, head falling to the side. She’d been right about the smiling thing. The same one she’d wanted when she asked for this and before she believed she could. Hers. Theirs, really. “Absolutely,” Clarke says. “You think it worked?” “I think it will.” “Yeah, me too.”

They do eventually put new sheets on the bed, but only after they’ve woken up from asleep in it, a tangle of limbs and feelings and the beginning of the end.

#bellarke #bellarke ff #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy x clarke #bellarke fan fiction #still trying to get my head around new fandom tags #hopefully one of those sticks #also surprising title from a jason mraz song #it was sunny out the other day which meant it was time to play jason mraz

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