#the only blond man I trust implicitly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kpopfanfictrash · 3 years ago

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Love to Hate (Ch. 8)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Fuck Buddies / Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Jungkook / Reader

Synopsis: Born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you've done your best to rid yourself of the taste since you were old enough to walk. Occasionally though, your mother manages to rope you into an obligatory function – or a blind date with playboy billionaire, Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook stands for everything you loathe about the world you left behind, but you can’t deny the spark of attraction between you. Intrigued by the promise of mutual satisfaction, you agree to one night in bed… and quickly realize you’re in far, far deeper than you ever intended.

Rating: 18+ (not an explicit chapter)

Warnings: mentions of cheating (past)

Word Count: 10,561

“I don’t have to point out the irony, do I?” Hoseok shouts to be heard over the wind. “The fact that you’re terrified of open water, but run an organization dedicated to saving the ocean?”

“Nope,” you say, gripping the rope like a lifeline. “No need to point out the obvious.”

Hoseok grins. “Anytime,” he laughs, stepping onto the yacht.

Determinedly, you stare at the gangplank before you. You can do this, you reason. People walk onto boats every day and walk off them, alive. There’s no reason you would be the one to trip, fall into the ocean and be devoured by a shark. Or worse.

Shit. Now you’re thinking about what worse would be.

When Olya suggested this meeting, you agreed without really listening to the particulars. The particulars were important though, since they involved meeting Doug Johnson – reticent mayor of Marine Cove himself – onboard a yacht owned by one of Seokjin’s friends. A meeting during which you’ll be setting sail for several hours.

On the open ocean. Alone.

Most likely, you’ll die.

At least today will be a distraction, you think, gingerly placing a foot on the gangplank. After the events of the past week, you’ve done everything short of flinging yourself into the sun to distance your thoughts from Jungkook.

Forcing your concentration, you run the last several steps to enter the ship. Catching your breath, you turn and find Hoseok looking bemused.

Casual, he pushes his glasses up his nose. “Come on.” Hoseok turns. “Liam should be here any minute.”

Ah, yes – the other nerve-wracking part of today.

Marine Cove still hasn’t given a response about whether they’ll participate in your coastal ecosystem project. In a final effort, Hoseok suggested bringing Liam along. Marine Cove’s biggest worry is their main employer abandoning the town in retaliation. Hopefully, introducing Doug to Liam will remind Marine Cove there are other companies willing to work with Clean Ocean.

A promising idea, but one wreaking havoc on your sanity – what’s left of it, anyways. After your parents’ party on Saturday, you’re hanging on by a thread. First you introduced Liam to your parents way too soon and received their unfortunate approval, and then…

Well. And then.

Shutting out thoughts of Jungkook, you return to the problem at hand. Forcibly confronting your fear of open water might be the only thing planet capable of tearing your thoughts away from Jungkook.

At least only Hoseok saw your embarrassing entrance. He insisted on arriving a half-hour early to set up, resulting in no one seeing your struggle. By the time Olya and Liam get here, hopefully your motion sickness pills will have kicked in.

Beneath your feet, the boat gently rocks while you wait on the deck. Checking your phone, you see zero messages. Ignoring the way your heart pinches, you replace your phone as a man enters the stern.

“You must be Y/N and Hoseok,” he says with a grin.

Stepping forward, the sun’s rays light him as though they belong there. Blonde hair, tan skin, and an easy smile – the man could be an advertisement for surfing but for a steadiness which makes you trust him implicitly. Safely, you assume he must be the captain.

“Yes,” you say, shaking his outstretched hand. “And you must be… Noah?”

“At your service.” Finished with greetings, Noah steps back to lace both hands before him. “Would you like a tour of the vessel before heading upstairs? That’s where the table has been set up for your meeting.”

“Sure.” Hoseok cuts off your noise of protest. “That’d be great.”

Nodding, Noah turns and disappears down the hall.

You tug on Hoseok’s sleeve. “Didn’t you want to prepare for the meeting?” you hiss.

“This is preparing. Or don’t you want to know where the exits are?”

Hoseok has a point, so you nod and follow suit. The boat – yacht? Ship? –is beautiful, you have to admit. It belongs to one of Seokjin’s family friends and whatever he did to allow your use, you don’t want to know.

The interior is clean and white with bright wooden beams overhead. Having entered from the stern, you follow Noah through the interior to reach the bow. He points out several rooms as you pass – staff quarters, an equipment room, a game space and more.

You nod, slightly dazed when you come to a stop at a narrow staircase. At the top, the view frankly takes away your breath. Hoseok lets out a low whistle, climbing behind you.

“Damn,” he says, stopping to take in the view.

Ahead is the bow, waterproof cushions laid out for sunning. A steel ladder descends to the deck – one you won’t be using, you decide. The marina stretches beyond it, and past that lies the ocean in waves of pure blue. It hurts your eyes and, squinting at the brightness, you turn away.

Immediately you spot the table Noah mentioned – a small, four-person space set with paper, pens and assorted drinks and snacks.

Noticing your glance, Noah asks, “Will it be just you two today?”

“We’re expecting three more,” says Hoseok. “So, we need another chair.”

Taking this all in stride, Noah nods. “I’ll go and grab one. You two make yourselves at home.”

Once he’s gone, you look at Hoseok. “Three?”

“Mhm.” He nods. “I asked Olya to come.”

Pointedly not meeting your gaze, Hoseok pulls out a chair to sit at the table. Hiding a smile, you leisurely join.

“So,” you say, nonchalant. “Olya’s coming.”

“So. You’re scared of fish.”

Your smile vanishes. “I’m not scared of fish, Hobi. I want fish to live in a clean and safe environment. I just don’t think people give the ocean the respect it deserves!”

Lips twitching, Hoseok shakes his head. “It is pretty spectacular, I’ll admit,” he says, gazing around the deck.

“I know,” you agree. “When we’re docked, I appreciate it even more. I just wish we’d stay in the harbor today.”

“We are.” Hoseok closes his eyes. “I was fucking with you when I said we’d be at open sea.”

You gape for a moment before smacking him – hard – on one arm. Hoseok laughs and jerks upright, swatting right back. Before you can fully berate him, someone calls from below.

“Hello?” Liam’s voice drifts from the staircase. “Anyone here?”

“We’re up here,” you call back. “Hoseok and I are upstairs!”

Liam’s hair appears first, windswept and golden. His eyes crinkle as they emerge, revealing a smile when he clears the last steps. On the landing he pauses to take in your surroundings.

“Wow.” Liam whistles. “What does your friend do again?”

“It’s not his boat,” you say, rising from your chair. “But it is beautiful.”

Turning from the ocean, Liam’s gaze darkens when he sees you. “It’s not the only thing,” he agrees, dropping his voice so Hoseok won’t hear.

His words prompt butterflies in your stomach, the unmistakable pleasure of being complimented and – that’s it. Nothing beyond that. No sweaty palms, throbbing heart, or sudden speechlessness. Before you can adequately mask your disappointment, Hoseok jumps in.

“Should we go over the plan?” he asks. “Before Doug arrives.”

Retreating from you, Liam nods and gestures for you to sit first.

“Sure thing,” he says, and you rejoin the table.

Since Saturday, you’ve been in contact with Liam nearly every day. Nothing crazy, just a hey, how are you here and a goodnight text there. Your exchanges have been pleasant, if not exciting.

Which is a good thing, you remind yourself.

Liam is the exact opposite of crying alone in a hotel bathroom until you can breathe easily enough to pretend nothing happened.

Holding onto this, you glance upward and catch Hoseok watching. His brows furrow, and he stares a moment longer than necessary before Captain Noah returns.

“Ah, another one,” he says, setting down the fifth chair. Good-naturedly, Noah sticks out his hand for Liam to shake. “Apologies for not greeting you at the dock. Wanted to make sure everything was set up here.”

Half-rising, Liam offers a smile. “No problem at all,” he says, shaking hands. “Beautiful boat you have here.”

“Not mine.” Laughing a little, Noah withdraws. “But beautiful, all the same. I’ll head downstairs to greet the rest of your guests. Let me know if you need anything!”

“Thanks, Noah!” you call as he leaves.

Silence falls when he leaves, save for the wind off the ocean. A quick glance at Hoseok shows him texting someone, probably Olya.

“So.” Liam leans in. “Strategy?”

“Right,” you exhale.

Earlier, you printed out copies of Hoseok’s talking points. Accepting the paper you hand him, Liam quickly scans the page as Hoseok’s phone dings.

“That’s Olya,” he says, jumping up. “I’ll go get her.”

You have no time to protest before Hoseok disappears. Taking advantage of his absence, Liam leans forward until his knee presses to yours.

“So,” he says, his voice low. “I enjoyed meeting your family on Saturday.”

“Did you?” You blink, unable to mask your surprise. “That has to be my first time hearing that.”

“Granted” – Liam laughs – “those types of parties aren’t my thing, but it was nice to be introduced to people as your boyfriend.”

“Ah.” You hesitate. “You… really don’t need to worry about that. Jason tends to get carried away.”

“I didn’t mind,” Liam says, not hearing the subtext. “I liked when he said it.”

“Oh. Sure.”

Sinking a little, you ponder how best to fix this when Olya and Hoseok return. Pasting a smile over your face, you make room for Olya as Liam asks Hoseok a question.

While they’re talking, you can’t help but look at Liam.

It was strange, how Liam acted on Saturday – or rather, how he didn’t act. Since meeting, Liam has said he doesn’t belong in your parents’ world but from what you saw, Liam fits in better than you. Take now, for instance. His crisp, linen trousers and white shirt are ready-made for a yacht. You’re ninety percent sure you’ve seen your father wear the same get-up.

You’re so entrenched in these thoughts, you nearly miss the moment Doug arrives. Hoseok notices though, the legs of his chair scraping as he stands.

“Mr. Johnson,” he says brightly. “Please, have a seat.”

Scanning the table, Doug nods and places his briefcase on the floor. “Hello, everyone,” he says, seating himself beside you. “I know Hoseok and Y/N, but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting everyone else.”

“Liam Jessen.” Liam extends his hand. “CEO of Infinity Motors.”

Doug glances briefly at this, then back up. “I see.” His gaze cuts to Olya. “And you are?”

“Olya Cermak,” she supplies. “Head of Communication and Events for Clean Ocean.”

Doug nods, recognizing the name. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Now that we’re all acquainted,” you say, jumping in. “Shall we get started?”

“Yes, let’s.” Doug nods. “I suppose I can tell you the city council has yet to come to a decision regarding our participation. It might be best if we withdraw until after the pilot.”

His words cause your heart to sink, though you try not to show it.

“That would be a shame.” Hoseok pushes up his glasses. “We invited Mr. Jessen so that you could talk. I know you’re concerned about how temporary closures might affect small businesses. As a business owner himself, Liam might be able to better explain the benefits of our programs.”

“That’s right,” Liam says confidently. “Infinity Motors has always–”

“You’re a big business, though.” Turning away, Doug cuts Liam off. “I fail to see how your experiences are relevant to brick-and-mortar stores with seasonal customers. Just one month’s loss of income could be enough to drive them out of business.”

Liam falters, glancing at you with a panicked expression. Doug has a point though and, as you realize this, even Hoseok falls silent. Your last-ditch effort might be dead in the water.

Except.

Doug’s speech would be more convincing if he hadn’t told you his greatest fear was that clothing corporation. Painting himself as the savior of small business is laying it on a bit thick. The moment you think this, Jungkook comes to mind, and you hear your conversation play back in your mind.

Are you talking about blackmail?

No. I’m talking about explaining their options.

Teeth gritted, you have a momentary debate before deciding to hell with it. Smoothing your expression, you lean back in your seat.

“Doug,” you respond, folding your hands together. “Let’s all be honest, okay? You’re having second thoughts about participating in Clean Ocean’s program because of threats from a certain clothing company – right?”

Doug is silent long enough to confirm your suspicions.

You nod, as though in agreement. “I suppose I can’t fault you for that. You’re only looking out for your town and that company is a major employer.”

“That’s… true,” he says slowly.

Brow furrowed, Doug continues to look at you skeptically. Clearly, he doesn’t trust you and for good reason. Hoseok gives you a similar look and silently, you will him to hold on.

“Ultimately, Clean Ocean can find another town to pilot with.” You shrug. “Hell, we already have two other cities lined up. There’s unfortunately no shortage of polluted cities. The main reason we thought of you was because of said clothing company.”

Although Doug remains silent, he appears to be listening.

Reaching out, you take another sip of your water. “I know it can be hard to divorce the short-term from long-term. Right now, this company is threatening to leave. In the long term though, your tourist numbers continue to dwindle. Those businesses you claim to care about won’t have sustainable profits to live off much longer. I can only imagine what they’ll think once they hear their city council passed on a coastal renovation project.”

Hearing this, Doug’s eyes widen.

“Is… that a threat?” he says, stunned.

“Of course not,” you say, keeping your expression neutral. “Merely an observation.”

“So, what then,” Doug blusters. “You’ll go over my head? Leak the news that we turned you down to the press?”

Hoseok makes a tsk-ing noise in the back of his throat.

“A news leak. No, no – nothing like that.” Doug’s momentary look of relief disappears when Hoseok continues, “It would be understandable though, if a lower-level employee accidentally published a release with our Head of Communications out of office. The one which lists Marine Cove as a program participant.”

Olya nods. “Terrible, but understandable. How can employees learn without making mistakes? Of course, it’d be embarrassing if Marine Cove needed to correct our materials. Explain how they turned down our offer.”

Looking slightly green, Doug glances between you. “The council won’t like this,” he warns.

He seems queasy enough for you to take pity. You know first-hand how companies like your parents’ operate. Setting down the water, you lean in.

“I meant what I said,” you tell him. “We can find another city to work with. The only reason I’m pressing is because I believe Marine Cove would benefit from this program. If you decide it’s not worth it – fine. All I’m doing is saying you have options if the council refuses to act in your town’s best interest.”

Something akin to hope rekindles in Doug’s gaze.

Relief seeps through you. That was a gamble, but you couldn’t help but notice Doug’s declinations always involve the city council. It sucks to be the messenger, especially when it’s for a cause you don’t believe in. Hopefully, your information helps Doug to push back.

Sensing you’ve outworn your welcome, you push back your chair.

“It might be worth asking,” you continue, “why the possibility of the public knowing the truth is so alarming to the council.”

Doug remains quiet, only looking up when Olya slides an envelope towards him.

“An invitation,” she says, standing as well. “For a pre-launch event this Friday. The launch party is next Saturday, but we’re holding a smaller gathering for investors and participants only. We hope to see you there.”

“Thank you,” Doug says, staring dazedly at the card.

Casting him a sympathetic look, Olya grabs her purse and turns away. Hoseok and Liam start to leave, the latter pausing at the top of the stairwell.

“Y/N, are you coming?” Liam asks.

You nod, although Doug still hasn’t moved. “In a minute,” you say, waving him onward. “You go ahead, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

Liam departs.

You wait until his footsteps fade, wondering if he were someone else, would you have asked them to stay. As soon as you think this, you shake your head. There’s no point wondering what-ifs when you have a job to do.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole,” you say.

Doug gives a low laugh. “No?” he asks, looking up. “A happy coincidence, then.”

You ignore this. It’s nothing you haven’t heard before; all women in business have heard worse, especially when they need to be firm against men.

“I really do believe it’s for the best,” you continue. “I think you do, as well – despite what you said.”

Doug pauses, then stands and looks out at the ocean. “I know,” he says, shoulders drooping. “That’s what makes this so damned hard.”

Noticing he holds the Clean Ocean invitation, you decide to press on.

“The pre-launch party is more than just a gesture,” you offer. “Clean Ocean has a lot of investors. Infinity Motors is just one of them. If that clothing company does decide to leave…”

You trail off, allowing him to fill in the blanks. A moment passes, then Doug turns his head.

“Who knows?” you say as you move towards the staircase. “Maybe you’ll find another company to replace them.”

Doug doesn’t respond, and you emerge on the lower deck to blink in the sunlight. Hoseok and Liam stand ahead of you, quietly conversing against the railing. Olya is beside them, frantically typing something on her phone. When they hear your approach, all three of them look up.

“Hey.” Breaking away, Liam smiles. “All done?”

“Yep,” you say. “I –”

Doug appears behind you.

“Thank you all for the meeting. Mr. Jessen,” he adds, glancing at Liam. “I’ll be reaching out to you with questions about your Clean Ocean involvement.”

Liam blinks, recovering enough to nod. “I look forward to it.”

Pulling sunglasses from his pocket, Doug slips them on. “You can expect my final response on the subject by the weekend.”

Hoseok lifts a brow. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Glancing your way, you think Doug almost smiles before striding away. You wait until he’s out of view before you release your breath. Even Hoseok sags slightly before he whirls around.

“That was not in the bullet-points,” he huffs.

“I know, I know,” you groan, slumping on the wall. “But Hobi, he completely shut us down. I had to change directions.”

“I know,” Hoseok says. “And it was a risk, but… damn, it paid off. Good job.” Smiling a little, he pulls out his phone. “I need to head to the office, but you should stick around. Celebrate. Maybe take Seokjin’s boat for a spin around the marina.”

You glare daggers at him and Hoseok smirks, knowing that’s the last thing you’d want. Liam doesn’t seem to notice, looking around in surprise.

“This is the Kim family boat?”

“No,” you correct. “Just someone he knows. And no thanks to the joyride, but I will say goodbye to Noah.”

“No need,” Hoseok says. “Olya said goodbye for all of us.”

Olya nods. “Yeah, he mentioned something about preparing lunch. Hoseok,” she says, turning around. “Can I get a ride to the office? This Friday caterer is giving my assistant the runaround. Don’t worry,” she adds, spotting you. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hoseok says, fishing for his keys.

Liam glances between you. “Will you be heading into the office as well, Y/N?”

“Oh.” You pause. “I – well, I was planning to.”

“Oh.” His face falls a little. “Right. I was kind of hoping we could grab lunch.”

Guilt flashes through you at his expression. You have a ton of work at the office, but it would be nice to get some fresh air – on land, of course. And you did say you’d give Liam a chance. That means going on things like day dates.

“Okay, sure,” you allow, glancing at Hoseok. “Can you move all my afternoon meetings?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll text Jason to call you back tomorrow.”

Again, you smack Hoseok, prompting laughter from Olya. “Anyways,” you say loudly, turning to Liam. “Yes, I’m free for lunch.”

“Great.” He smiles. “I’m parked around the corner.”

Nodding, you retrace your steps to exit the gangway. As soon as you’re on solid ground, you exhale in relief. You have gotten better at being on the water. When you were young, your parents could barely bribe you to step foot on a boat. Now, you barely notice – apart from entering, exiting and the actual sailing.

Heading up the hill, you find Liam’s car parked beyond a meter. Hoseok and Olya keep going, waving and leaving the two of you alone.

“So,” you say, squinting at the sun. “Did you have a lunch place in mind?”

“I actually do,” Liam says. “There’s this sushi place I’ve been meaning to try that’s near here. Are you good with that?”

“Sure,” you agree. “Sushi is my favorite.”

“Perfect.” His grin widens. “This way, then.”

Opening the passenger door, Liam waits for you to settle. Once you’re both seated, you’re suddenly aware of how small the space is. Liam is tall – very tall, his head nearly brushing the moonroof above. His cologne fills the car, a rich scent you think Jason used to wear in high school.

“I do have a favor to ask,” says Liam, returning you to the present.

“Oh?” you ask as you buckle your seatbelt. “What’s that?”

When Liam extends his hand, you balk and wonder if he wants you to take it. He opens his palm to reveal an AUX cord.

“Will you DJ?” Liam laughs. “I have shit music taste, according to all my friends.”

A relieved smile breaks over your face.

“Of course,” you say, reaching for the cord. “But I’ve got to say, this is risky. I could have even worse taste than you do. My entire Spotify could be that one song from the Baha Men.”

“Can you move it like this?”

“I can,” you confirm, pressing play. “I can also shake it like that.”

Liam snorts, placing the car into drive. “I’ll take my chances.”

Selecting your LONG DRIVES NEAR THE BEACH playlist, you press play and the opening notes of a pop song fill the car. Liam’s windows are rolled partway down, the sounds of city and surf mixing with the singer’s voice.

The sushi place isn’t far, and you only make it two songs before you arrive. City parking elongates your trip another five, circling the block several times before finding a spot. By the time you reach the restaurant, it’s prime lunch hour.

Despite this, you’re led to a table with a view of the ocean. Taking a seat, you stretch your legs and glance around the place. The restaurant is mostly empty, which is odd – although you suppose it is a weekday. There are office buildings in this area though, usually with hungry lunch patrons.

Taking the seat across the table, Liam stretches his legs to grimace at the fit. You can’t help but laugh as you pick up the menu.

“We could’ve sat at the counter,” you tease him. “Give you more room.”

“No, no,” Liam sighs. “I’ve been this tall since high school. By now, I should be used to it.”

“Since high school – damn.”

“I was much smaller back then, though. Like a stretched-out string bean. I didn’t put on all these muscles until college.”

You peek at him over your menu and his lips twitch, amused.

“Are you looking?” Liam asks without glancing up. “Did it work?”

“It did,” you confirm with a laugh.

Despite the awkwardness on the boat, you’re beginning to enjoy yourself. Talking to Liam is easy, and if you don’t feel the kind of stomach-churning passion you feel in the presence of Jungkook, that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

If this were a few months ago, you would’ve been satisfied. Liam’s presence is far better than Eric Main or any of your other dates. And if that were your only comparison, the thought would end there.

He isn’t though, and each time you look at him, you think about Jungkook. Your first date, the last time you spoke, and everything in between. Jungkook making ramen, meeting Dante, and conversing with Jimin. You hear him teasing, supporting and know that no matter how good Liam makes you feel, it’s not the same.

On Saturday, you thought that was what you wanted but now, you’re starting to doubt.

“What can I get you?”

The approach of your waiter drags you from unpleasant thoughts. Forcing a smile, you put down the menu.

“A bento box,” you say, picking the first thing you see. “Chef’s special.”

Nodding, the waiter turns to Liam.

“Make that two. And a glass of Chardonnay. Y/N?”

“Water for me,” you say, handing over your menu. “Thanks.”

Once the waiter disappears, Liam leans in. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help more with Doug,” he says, lips twisting. “If he does reach out, I promise to sing your praises.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you say. “It’s not your job to get people to join our programs – it’s ours.”

Liam nods as his white wine is set before him. Picking this up, he takes a deep sniff, tips the glass forward to check for sediment and finally, drinks. Nodding acceptance, Liam dismisses the waiter and sits back in his seat.

Dimly, you feel a shred of annoyance. Jungkook is an actual sommelier and you never once saw him do that.

“You were great though,” says Liam, continuing where you left off. “It was a good idea to leak their withdrawal to the press. Did you come up with the idea with Hoseok?”

His words make you pause, confused. Clearly, Liam wasn’t listening when Hoseok voiced his surprise. Neither did he read the briefing materials – if he had, Liam would’ve known a press leak wasn’t the plan.

“Well – no,” you say, and then stop.

You were about to credit the idea to Jungkook, but Liam doesn’t know how close you were.

Not that it should matter but still, you hesitate. Liam mentioned knowing Jungkook, and not in a good way. Jungkook hinted at similar bad blood between them. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to bring either up to the other.

“It just… came to me,” you say, forcing a smile. Quickly changing the subject, you glance around. “Guess the lunch crowd is a little slow today.”

Frowning your gaze, Liam follows. “Yeah, seems so.”

He doesn’t seem put off, unlike you. Maybe it’s your Type A personality; you hate wasting your time at subpar restaurants. Not that you vet every place before eating, but if you walk into a restaurant and it’s empty at peak hours, that’s typically not a good sign.

“Where did you hear about this place?” you press.

Liam takes another sip of his wine. “A guy from work. He took a distributor to lunch here and raved.” Brow furrowed, he adds, “If he turns out to be wrong, John is officially moved to the last seat at the conference table.”

You laugh, though the sound dies quickly when Liam doesn’t join. Apparently, that was a serious remark.

“Right,” you say. “Uh. You went to the same university as Jason, right?” you add, reaching for a new topic. “How did you like it?”

Liam’s expression relaxes. “Honestly, university was kind of a mixed experience for me. Most of my class grew up together, and I was always the outsider.”

Sympathetic, you nod. The fact that Jungkook, Jason and Liam all attended the same university speaks volumes for the type of institution it is.

“The way Jason tells it though, sounds like you were something of a legend,” you tease, hoping to coax a smile.

On cue, his cheek dimples appear. “I don’t know about that,” Liam laughs. “But I did graduate at the top of my class. Even went back for my MBA.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” His teeth flash. “That’s where I met Jungkook, actually. You remember him, right? From your fundraiser? I’m a few years older than he is, but we attended at the same time.”

Although you nod, you shift uncomfortably. Yes, you remember Jungkook. If memory serves, you went home that night and promptly fell asleep after receiving a mind-blowing virtual orgasm from Jungkook.

Feeling your neck start to heat, you look away.

“Yes,” you manage to say. “I remember him.”

“We were close at university, but after the whole thing at his father’s company” – Liam waves a hand – “we lost touch. I haven’t been back to my university since.”

At this, your eyes narrow.

Call it a sixth sense, but you’ve always had a good instinct for what’s important. If Seokjin knows when you’re lying, you’re able to sift through his nonsense to discover what he really means. Something about Liam’s story isn’t adding up.

Tilting your head, you say, “You… haven’t been back to your university because of the Jeon family?”

Liam pauses, as though realizing he’s said something he shouldn’t. This, of course, only further stokes your interest.

“I – well, partly,” he says. “I know his family are donors, which means they’re close to the professors. After the internship, I wasn’t sure what they’d heard about me.”

“What happened at the internship?”

Again, Liam hesitates, and you lean forward despite yourself. Jungkook said Liam wasn’t a good guy but refused to say why. You’re tired of all the half-truths and lies – if Liam has something to say about Jungkook, you want to know.

“Liam,” you say, your patience slipping a little. “What happened with you and Jungkook?”

“I… don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m not blind. Something clearly happened between you. What was it?”

Liam exhales, then uncrosses his legs. “I just… don’t want to change your perception of him,” he admits, voice dropping. “You seemed friendly at the fundraiser, and I know your parents run in the same circle.”

“Well, we’re clearly not friendly enough for me to know what happened.”

This seems to land, since Liam finally nods.

“It’s stupid,” he admits. “Honestly, I feel embarrassed just telling you. But… like I said, Jungkook and I went to the same university. I was getting my MBA, but we both were part of the business club. It was through him I got my internship with Jeon Energy.”

“Right,” you respond. “I remember you saying it didn’t work out.”

Grimacing, Liam finishes his glass of wine. “Yeah, well… that’s not quite true. I liked Jeon Energy. Jungkook’s dad was a good boss – hands-on, super helpful and he seemed to like my work. I was going to accept their offer at the end of the summer, but …”

“But?”

“… but later, I found out Jungkook was upset by my offer. He got me the internship, but didn’t like how close I got to his dad. At the end of the summer, the company threw this giant party for the interns. I got absolutely wasted, accepting shots from all the managers. When I woke up the next morning, I had a bunch of missed calls. Apparently” – Liam’s face tightens – “my girlfriend was spotted at some club. Making out with Jungkook.”

You feel rooted to the spot. “She … he did what?”

“Hooked up with her,” Liam confirms. “Right in the middle of the dance floor. I got the message loud and clear, and declined the job offer.”

“I….” You falter, unable to think of a response. “I can’t imagine what that was like.”

Liam gives a half-shrug. “It was a long time ago. I try not to judge, because I know Jungkook doesn’t have the best relationship with his dad, but –”

“But he didn’t have to do that,” you interrupt. “There were a million ways he could’ve responded that weren’t hooking up with your girlfriend. Jungkook could've, oh, I don’t know – talked to you.”

Liam’s upper lip twitches. “Yeah, well. He was young.”

“We’re all young,” you say. “If Jungkook and his dad had issues, then that was their problem to work through. Sorry,” you add, catching Liam’s expression. “I just… don’t like cheating.”

“I get it.” He nods. “But it was so long ago, I can’t really be mad. Honestly, I should be thanking Jungkook for how things turned out.”

“Thanking him?”

Nodding, Liam reaches out and takes your hand in his. “If things hadn’t happened the way they did with Jeon Energy, I might have accepted their offer. Then I wouldn’t have joined Infinity Motors, become CEO, and I might never have met you.”

Your stomach twists, gaze dropping to where your hands lace together.

Liam keeps saying all the right things. Most women would kill for what you have; a guy grateful for his struggles because they brought him to you. The only problem is that Liam’s words bring a sense of expectation. Rather than be excited, you have the impression his feelings have strings attached. It leaves an unpleasant tint around the edge of his words.

Drawing back, Liam continues to talk but each word he says goes in one ear and out the other. No matter how hard you try and concentrate, all you can think of is Liam and Jungkook.

Jungkook helped Liam’s ex to cheat.

It’s not just the cheating. It’s the fact Jungkook did something so petty, so vindictive, it leaves your mind reeling. In fact, the story is so despicable that… you have trouble believing it.

You know – you know – you’re being naïve.

Objectively, the story sounds like something Jeon Jungkook, heir to Jeon Energy, would do. It sounds like the guy you thought Jungkook was before you knew him, the guy who exists for the tabloids and who thrives on rich people scandals. Not the Jungkook who made a special bedroom for guests and watches Ever After before bed in a desperate plea for romance.

Glancing away, you pick up your chopsticks and push Jungkook from mind. You suppose it doesn’t matter whether he did it or not. Jungkook isn’t your boyfriend – or even your friend.

Hardening yourself, you take a bite of sushi – and grimace. Across the table, Liam is doing the same. Eyes watering, he slowly sets his chopsticks down.

“I should have known,” he says. “Any sushi place recommended to me by a guy named John could never be great.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

Liam gives you a look. “Is sushi really the food you want to test your theory on?”

“On second thought,” you say, dropping the fish, “do they have karaage?”

Laughing a little, Liam flags down the waiter.

The chicken is better than the sushi, so you end up mostly full as the meal draws to a close. Liam grabs the check, leaving you shaking your head as you exit the restaurant.

“Okay, next time I’m paying,” you laugh. “I know men have this terrible need to be in control, but I promise I won’t think any less of you if I pay the bill.”

Pretending to be wounded, Liam clutches his chest. “But what about my ultra-fragile ego?”

“Tough.”

He laughs, holding the door open for you to step outside – until you turn, finding Liam hovering above.

He’s closer than you thought, his breath soft on your lips and the tension between you is taut as a wire. Even if you don’t feel as strongly, Liam is still attractive, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thinking about his mouth on yours.

“Liam…” you say.

“Yes?” he says, bending a little.

In response, you close your eyes and his lips brush against yours. Warmth courses through you as Liam releases the door, sliding an arm around your waist to pull you closer.

Shocked, your eyes open, and you’re met with the sight of the backs of his eyelids. This is all wrong, you panic.

In a moment, a flash goes off in your peripheral. Coldness spreads through your limbs, chasing away the warmth. Years of living with your parents taught you what that means.

Jerking away, Liam’s arm drops. His gaze cuts over your shoulder, landing on someone unseen in the bushes.

“We should go,” he murmurs. “Someone is watching.”

You nod, feeling slightly sick as you turn around. Another flash goes off and you wince, instinctively covering your face.

With an easy sort of laugh, Liam slips an arm around you to pull you closer. In another situation, the gesture might seem protective, but you can’t help but notice you remain exposed. If the paparazzi are still photographing – which is likely – they’ll get an excellent shot of Liam’s arm on your waist.

Twisting away, you step from his grasp and begin to walk faster.

“That’s enough,” Liam calls out, turning around. “You got your shot – go.”

Someone responds but you don’t hear them, heart pounding as you force your legs to continue. In the distance, horns honk and the breeze from the ocean stirs the hairs on your neck.

You make it nearly a block before Liam catches up.

“I’m sorry about that,” he pants. “I don’t know how they found us.”

“No?” you say, a bit sharper than intended.

You can’t help but overlay this moment with others, thick from your past. Dinners with family. When you broke up with Kameron. Launching Clean Ocean and the ensuing bad press. Camera flash after camera flash, coupled with rude headlines.

“I – no,” Liam says. There’s an earnestness to his voice you want to believe. “Really, Y/N. What are you saying?”

“I…” Slowing your steps, you look up and see his wounded expression. “Nothing,” you say at last. “I just don’t like being in the public eye, that’s all.”

Solemn, Liam nods and you look away. Slightly chagrined, you continue to walk in the direction of his car. Each step calms you enough to think.

Although you don’t know Liam that well, you also don’t know him well enough to distrust him. Even if he didn’t react how you would for the paparazzi, that’s not a bad thing. Liam didn’t grow up with all this. He doesn’t understand the terror of being chased by a strange man for unflattering photographs and an untruthful headline.

The remainder of your walk is silent, thoughts of the paparazzi clouding your mind. You’ve almost forgotten the kiss from earlier – almost, but not quite. Liam’s kiss only confirmed what you’ve been suspecting.

You don’t want this. You thought you might, but the idea of a relationship without love is as ridiculous as the idea of you dating Jungkook.

Reaching his car, Liam unlocks the doors. You buckle in as he enters, and once you’re both settled, Liam exhales.

“I feel like I messed this up,” he confesses, hands on the wheel. “I… I moved too fast with that kiss.”

Surprised, you glance sideways.

“No,” you insist. “No, that’s not it. Really.”

Liam gives you a wry smile. “Then, why haven’t we talked since the restaurant?”

“I – okay,” you say, facing forward. “Here’s the thing. I was kind of seeing someone else, and it recently ended.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” You look down. “I just don’t think I’m ready to see someone else.”

Liam exhales. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Slowly, he shifts the car into drive. “I mean, I guess I should’ve known a woman as amazing as you couldn’t be single, right?”

“Right,” you respond.

Glancing away, you stifle a twinge of annoyance. You hate the narrative that only unpleasant women could be without a relationship. Not everyone desires or aspires to romance.

Liam glances at you. “Just so you know, though,” he says. “I do like you, Y/N. As more than just friends or co-workers. So, if you ever change your mind – I’m here.”

Again, you’re aware this is the type of confession which makes women swoon. Not you though, and you wonder if something inside you is broken. Maybe you only want what you can’t have.

“Thank you,” you say softly, and roll down the window.

You ride the rest of the way in silence, and Liam drops you off at your office with a promise to send over the paperwork to Hoseok. When he speeds away, you exhale and pull your phone from your pocket.

Seokjin’s name blinks across the top of your screen.

Seokjin: hey [2:14 PM]

Seokjin: I need you [2:15 PM]

Seokjin: -r help lol sorry, pressed send too soon [2:15 PM]

Seokjin: heh heh hope that didn’t get your hopes up [2:18 PM]

Rolling your eyes, you stop in the stairwell to text him back.

Y/N: Seokjin, I was the one who drove you to the ER after you took off-brand Viagra. Safe to safe any sexual spark between us is dead [2:31 PM]

Y/N: what do you want? [2:31 PM]

Seokjin’s response comes as you enter your office.

Seokjin: glad that you asked [2:35 PM]

Seokjin: I need you to come with me to dinner [2:35 PM]

Y/N: ………. what’s the catch? [2:36 PM]

Seokjin: what do you mean? Why does there have to be a catch? [2:37 PM]

Y/N: Seokjin, I’ve known you since we were in diapers. There’s always a catch [2:37 PM]

Seokjin: This time there’s not! One of our food reviewers just quit, so Conde needs me to step in to review some restaurant. It’s supposed to be good… free dinner… [2:39 PM]

Y/N: what restaurant? [2:40 PM]

Seokjin: idk, I’m supposed to get details soon. What do you say? You in? [2:41 PM]

Y/N: fine, fine, I’m in [2:41 PM]

Seokjin: you say this like free dinner at an amazing restaurant is torture. Pick you up around 7, ok? [2:43 PM]

Y/N: see you then [2:45 PM]

Exiting the thread, you take a seat at your desk and turn on your computer. While you wait for it to load, your gaze slowly drifts again to your cell phone.

An uncontrollable itch takes over and suddenly, you find yourself opening Instagram. For a few minutes, you scroll before giving in and typing the name you want.

Tapping your fingers, you wait for Jungkook’s page to load. It’s been nearly six hours since you allowed yourself to look and in that time – nothing. Releasing a breath you didn’t realize you held, you glance away.

Since Saturday, Jungkook seems to have disappeared. He posted a story on Sunday (you viewed it from Hoseok’s phone), but that’s all. Just a shot of Jungkook in his apartment watching the Ted Lasso finale. He posted a quote and a boomerang of him pretend-kicking a ball. That’s it. Since then, Jungkook’s profile has remained as empty as your text thread.

Exhaling out loud, you place your phone on the desk. Jungkook’s silence shouldn’t bother you as much as it does. As you said on Saturday, you’re over him. Easier said than done though, as your lunch with Liam proved.

At least work passes quickly, ironing details of the pre-launch party for Friday. Progress for the coastal ecosystem project is also coming along. Only Marine Cove’s participation remains a question mark – given the circumstances you should count this as a win. History has taught you many things can go wrong with a program launch.

The next time you look up, you swear and realize it’s close to six. Ripping the cord from your laptop, you toss everything in your purse and dash outside. Hoseok and Olya have already left, vanished an hour ago to check on Friday’s venue. Obviously, you’ve noticed their increased time spent together, but out of respect for Olya, have chosen to stay quiet.

For now.

At home, you take Dante on a walk and feed him his dinner. Standing in front of your closet, you frown. Seokjin not telling you the name of the restaurant means you’re flying blind. He doesn’t answer when you call him, forcing you to pick a dress which could double as casual with a sweater.

Slipping into heels as the clock strikes seven, you kiss Dante goodbye and drop him off at Jimin’s. Hurrying outside, you find Seokjin idling at the curb.

His car is something shiny and Italian with leather interiors, likely a lease from his corporate account. Opening the passenger side, you sit and quickly shut the door.

Lowering his expensive shades, Seokjin stares at your outfit. “A sweater?” he says, voice full of derision. “Honestly, Y/N, we’re not going to a drive-thru.”

Removing the sweater and tossing this in the backseat, you give Seokjin your best withering glance.

“How was I supposed to know the dress code?” you complain as he pulls away. “All you told me was ‘restaurant.’ That could mean Michelin star, or it could mean a dive. I had to dress for both occasions!”

“Michelin,” says Seokjin, putting on his blinker. “They just earned their first star. Some new chef who changed their entire menu.”

“Mm,” you say, rolling down the window. “What restaurant?”

“Chez Moi, Chez Toi.”

Your fingers freeze as slowly, you turn your head. Oblivious to your predicament, Seokjin hums beneath his breath to a song on the stereo. He makes it several obnoxious bars before noticing your stare.

“What?” He turns down the music. “What’s wrong?”

“Chez Moi, Chez Toi,” you say through gritted teeth. “Does their chef happen to be Min Yoongi?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin blinks. “I think so. Why?”

“You mean, Jeon Jungkook’s close friend, Min Yoongi?”

Now, Seokjin is the one staring at you in horror.

“… shit.”

“Ugh,” you groan, sinking further in your seat. “Okay, well, that’s it. Turn back around and drive me home. I’ll stay in.”

“No can do,” Seokjin says. “If I turn around now, I’ll miss my reservation. I need to get a review to my editor tonight.”

“Well, then drop me off at the restaurant next door. I’ll hang out there and meet you after.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Y/N. I doubt we’ll even see Yoongi – and what does it matter if we do?”

“I– it matters,” you say, jaw snapping shut.

Seokjin gives you a look. “Come on,” he groans. “Don’t make me eat alone. How sad and pathetic would that be?”

“I eat alone all the time, Seokjin.”

He raises a brow.

A small laugh escapes you, unwilling. “Okay, fine – point taken. I’ll go. But we’re eating really fast – in and out. No appetizers.”

“No appetizers?”

“Okay, one appetizer,” you amend, remembering the buffalo chicken spring rolls Yoongi made for your fundraiser. “But just one cocktail!”

“Deal.” Seokjin turns on his blinker. “I’m driving, anyway.”

Grumbling lowly, you turn up the stereo. It’s a short drive downtown but Seokjin is right – city traffic means you arrive with only five minutes to spare. Parking as fast as he can, Seokjin exits the car and gallantly offers an arm to help you in heels.

The host must think you’re on a date since she brings you to a romantic table near the window. You keep your gaze steady on her back, refusing to look around the restaurant. Panic suddenly flares as you sit, and you chance a quick glance around to ensure Jungkook isn’t here.

He’s not and, exhaling deeply, you face forward. Seokjin watches you with an expression that says he sees far too much.

Ignoring this, you pick up the menu. “So,” you say loudly. “What are you thinking?”

“For food?”

“And for drinks.”

You clutch the menu, certain Seokjin is going to pry but for once, he chooses to let it go.

“Hm.” He scans the pages. “Conde Nast sent me a bunch of dishes to try, so why don’t we start there?”

You nod, about to respond when your waiter arrives.

Not the same one as your date, prompting further relief. In the corner of your eye, you can see the table you sat at with Jungkook. For a moment, your past self seems to overlap with the present, prompting an unbidden memory. You remember someone photographing you that night as well, but Jungkook sprang into action and led you out the back way. Unlike Liam.

Unease prickles your neck, and you wonder if photos from the paparazzi have leaked by now.

“Hello!” says the waiter brightly. “Welcome to Chez Moi, Chez Toi. Is tonight your first time dining with us?”

“Yes.” Seokjin lays down his menu. “But I’ve heard good things.”

“Well, I certainly hope we live up to them.” He smiles. “There are a lot of great options on the menu. I’m more than happy to point you towards some of my favorites.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary. Y/N,” he says, glancing your way. “Have a drink in mind?”

“Before you do that,” says the waiter.

Both you and Seokjin look at him, brows raised.

“Apologies,” he says, cheeks slightly flushed, “but I do want to point out the wine pairings noted next to each dish. Chef Min recommends ordering smaller portions of each drink to pair with the dishes you try.”

“Interesting,” Seokjin says. “Why don’t you give us a minute to decide on our food, then?”

“Of course. I’ll be back in five.”

With a nod, the waiter disappears, leaving you alone.

“Why did you send him away?” you ask. “You already know what dishes we want.”

“Right, but he can’t know that.” Seokjin opens the menu with a snap. “I’m supposed to seem like any other unbiased customer.”

“Yeah, sure. An unbiased customer with an Hermes belt.”

“Par for the course here.”

Seokjin’s not wrong, you think as you scan the restaurant. Honestly, you’re surprised to see so many faces from your parents’ circle. You were too distracted that first night to appreciate the food, but from what you remember, it was delicious and although Yoongi has a Michelin star, he’s been very vocal about striving to make his menu accessible.

This was explained by Olya before your last fundraiser – although at the time, it was in one ear and out the other. Her taste has always been impeccable, so you rarely feel the need to weigh in.

Exactly five minutes pass by, and your waiter appears to take your order. Once he retreats again, you sink in your seat and take a sip of water.

Seokjin clears his throat. “So.”

You frown. “So?”

His brows lift. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Say what?”

Seokjin sighs. “You’re going to make me say it. She’s going to make me say it,” he mutters to no one.

You glance around the restaurant. “Who are you talking to?”

“What happened with you and Jungkook?”

Startled, you blink, unaware you had been so obvious. Then again – you suppose you did ask Seokjin to drop you off rather than eat at a place where Jungkook’s friend works. Exhaling softly, you sink back in your seat.

“It didn’t work out,” you say quietly. “I tried to tell Jungkook how I felt, and he said he has feelings for someone else.”

Whatever he thought you were about to say, it wasn’t that.

“He – seriously?” Seokjin gapes.

“There’s no need to look so surprised,” you huff. “I’ve been wrong before. I mean – not often, I guess, but it happens.” When Seokjin’s brows furrow further, you exhale. “It’s for the best. Better than finding out his feelings later.”

“I… guess.” Seokjin considers. “And Jungkook didn’t say who he has feelings for?”

“No,” you mutter. “And I don’t want to know. It’s better this way.”

“… is it?”

“It is,” you say, adding steel to your voice. “How would knowing that make me feel better?”

“I don’t know. Closure?”

A puff of air escapes. “Overrated. All I need to know is Jungkook doesn’t want to hook up anymore. Case closed.”

Again, Seokjin scans you with his truth-seeking gaze. After a moment, he reluctantly nods. “I guess you’re right. To be honest, the whole thing seemed unlike you from the start.”

“How so?” you ask, stifling a prickle of defensiveness.

Seokjin is saved from an answer by your waiter’s return, bringing with him an appetizer and the first round of drinks. You sample the dish, nearly swooning at the taste. Equally impressed, Seokjin jots down notes in his phone.

When he’s done, he looks up.

“I mean – fuck buddies?” Reaching out, Seokjin takes a sip of his wine. “No offense, Y/N, but casual is hardly the word I’d use to describe you. Militant, sure. Passionate, yes. Good odds of winning on a survival TV show, absolutely. But casual?” He snorts. “No.”

“First off,” you say. “I would never go on a reality show. Second – militant, Seokjin? Really?”

“All I’m saying is the words, ‘casual relationship,’ wouldn’t be on my Y/N BINGO card. Especially not with someone like Jungkook.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” you respond, automatic.

Seokjin’s brows lift.

Stifling an eye roll, you smooth down your napkin. Truthfully, you don’t know why you’re arguing with Seokjin. Jungkook ended things after fucking you in a closet, not to mention the story you heard from Liam. Neither paint Jungkook in a shining light and yet, you can’t help but rebel against what Seokjin is saying.

Maybe Jungkook isn’t wholly good, but he’s not bad, either. A bad person wouldn’t send their date home to take care of their drunk friend. They wouldn’t automatically be loved by your picky dog. They wouldn’t offer you rides, walk you to your door or offer you pleasure on whatever terms you want it.

“I mean…” A heaviness settles deep in your chest. “In some ways, you’re right. From the outside, the situation doesn’t look good.”

“And yet…”

Although Seokjin is prompting, there’s no judgment to his gaze. Possibly this is what makes you continue.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean – I know what some people say about Jungkook and sometimes he’s like that. Yeah, he sleeps around. Yeah, he works for the anti-Christ and sure, he can be arrogant but… he’s other things, too.”

Looking down, you fiddle with the edge of your napkin.

Seokjin can always tell what you’re thinking and right now, you’re sure your emotions are written all over your face. You like Jungkook. You like him, and it hurts more than you admit that he let you go.

Maybe if you had been honest earlier, Jungkook wouldn’t have fallen for someone else. Maybe if you’d mustered the courage to tell him – but no. It’s pointless to wonder what-if. The only situation you have is the one before you.

Rather than chide you for your naiveté, Seokjin just nods and sips his wine. Curious, you watch him drink; you’re well-aware Seokjin is rarely quiet without reason.

“You know…” He lowers his glass. “You’re not the first person I’ve heard say that about Jeon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well.” Seokjin frowns. “I’ve heard other people say that he’s different in person. That his whole reputation is a front. Kind of.” He pauses. “People say Jungkook used to be like that, but not anymore.”

“Why? What do you think changed?”

“I don’t know. You... know what happened to his mom, right?”

Your expression tightens. “Yeah.”

“Rough, to lose a parent so young.” Seokjin pauses, then shakes his head. “From what I hear though, things started changing long before that – if they did, that is.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, curious. “What do people say?”

Leaning forward, Seokjin drops his voice. “You know my cousin who works in PR?” When you nod, he continues, “Her company supports a ton of high-profile clients – including the Jeons. Apparently, one of her co-workers is convinced they have this conspiracy. Each time Jeon Energy does something bad, Jungkook has a scandal. The public’s attention goes to him, and not to the gallons of oil Jeon Energy dumped in the Pacific.”

Your jaw sags a little. “That’s… horrible.”

“I know,” Seokjin says. “It’s only a theory, but it does make you wonder.”

Shaking your head, you reach for your wine. Mind racing, you find yourself unsure what to think. It’s a lot of information to take in – and again, it’s only a rumor.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Seokjin wipes his mouth on a napkin. “I never really believed her, but then you said you liked him, so… I don’t know.”

“What does my liking him have to do with anything?”

“Y/N.” Seokjin stares. “I can name like, six people you like and two of them are Dante.”

“Well, sure. He has many personalities.”

“You get my point, though.”

“Yeah, I do.” Slowly, you exhale. “It doesn’t matter though, because Jungkook and I aren’t–”

“Are you enjoying your meal?”

Startled, you turn and find Min Yoongi beside you. Sitting up a bit straighter, Seokjin drops his napkin into his lap.

“It’s good,” Seokjin says, quickly composing himself. “Are you our replacement waiter? Did we scare off the other one? I should apologize for my friend here, if so. She can be somewhat off-putting.”

This last part is said in a whisper, causing Yoongi’s eyebrows to raise. He spares you barely a glance, making your cheeks heat and you wonder what he overhead.

“Nothing like that,” Yoongi says drily. “I’m Min Yoongi, the head chef.”

Furtive, Seokjin glances around. “And are you greeting each table individually, head chef?”

“If I say yes, will you speak highly of me in your review?”

Seokjin’s eyes widen, and you relish the flabbergasted look on his face. It’s a rare person who can fluster him and when it does happen, it’s a remarkable sight. Flashing Seokjin a smile, Yoongi turns to face you.

His expression tightens. “I know you,” Yoongi says.

“I – yes.” You hasten to reply. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I run the Clean Ocean organization. You catered for my fundraiser a while back?”

“Ah, yes. That must be it.”

Something in his face warns you this isn’t all, but before you can respond, Yoongi turns again.

Seokjin sits back. “How did you know I’m reviewing your restaurant? Do I have the aura of someone with a refined palate?”

“No.” Yoongi’s lips twitch. “Actually, your assistant made your reservation from their work email.”

Not to be deterred, Seokjin drops a wink. “And what about now that you’ve seen me in person? Refined palate aura?”

To your surprise, Yoongi laughs.

You nearly give yourself whiplash, glancing between them. It’s equally rare for someone to keep up with Seokjin and when this happens, it spells love or disaster. Based on Seokjin’s grin, you’d guess the former.

“And what would a refined palate aura look like?”

Seokjin’s voice deepens. “You know when you look at someone and think, ‘I bet they eat well.’”

Yoongi’s expression slackens, a gleam of interest entering his gaze.

“O-kay,” you cut in before they can go any further. “I think what Seokjin is trying to say is the food is incredible. As are the wine pairings,” you add. “Our waiter mentioned you have an in-house sommelier?”

“Close.”

“I – sorry?” you say, taken aback.

“I said, close.” Yoongi turns. “A sommelier made the pairings for us, but they aren’t in-house. It was a friend of mine, actually.”

Your fingers freeze as you gain a sinking suspicion of who this friend is.

Entirely oblivious, Seokjin continues. “Oh, really?” he asks. “What’s their name? I’ll be sure to mention them in my review. Since the cat’s already out of the bag,” he adds, grumbling a little as he opens his notes.

“Sure. The name’s Jeon Jungkook.”

Seokjin’s fingers still on his keys. “Ah.” He pauses, then swallows. “Okay, right. Jeon Jungkook. Thank you, Chef Min.”

Glancing your way, Seokjin has a guilty expression you choose to ignore. Smoothing your napkin, you focus instead on your water.

“Call me Yoongi.” Yoongi nods. “Enjoy your food.”

With that, he turns and strides across the restaurant. Seokjin watches him leave, waiting until he’s out of earshot before giving a whistle.

“Damn,” Seokjin says, his gaze dropping. “That tiny man has an ass.”

“Seokjin! That is not what’s important right now.”

“To you.” When your glare only increases, Seokjin snorts. “Okay, fine,” he says. “What’s important?”

Glancing around, you lean forward. “Did he seem weird just now?”

“Who? Yoongi?”

You nod.

“I don’t know.” Seokjin shrugs. “I just met him.”

“He seemed weird,” you insist, your voice dropping. “I met him at my fundraiser, and he was much nicer. Quiet, but nice. That was…”

“Expected?” Seokjin supplies. He shrugs at your look. “I mean, come on, Y/N. He’s Jungkook’s friend.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, I – oh my god,” Seokjin moans, placing the steak in his mouth. “This filet is amazing, Y/N. Have you tried it?”

“Seokjin.”

“Right, sorry.” He swallows. “What was I saying?”

“Jungkook.”

“Oh, yeah. Jungkook. I’m just saying, who knows what he’s told his friends? Yoongi was probably giving you side-eye because he knows what happened between you.”

“But that’s just it!” you protest. “What could he know that would prompt that kind of response? Jungkook was the one who ended things, not me.”

“I don’t know.” Seokjin shrugs, unconcerned. “It’s only a theory. But if you’re out here shit-talking Jungkook, he’s probably shit-talking about you to Yoongi. It’s the circle of life, or whatever.”

“I am not shit-talking Jungkook to you.”

Seokjin gives you a look which makes you wither a little. “Alright, fine,” you say. “Maybe I’ve shit-talked him a little. But I was the dumpee.”

“And I thought you two weren’t dating.”

“I – you – well, you know what I mean,” you sputter.

Smiling triumphantly, Seokjin moves on to the tuna tartar.

Slightly subdued, you’re forced to admit Seokjin has a point. It shouldn’t bother you what Jungkook tells his friends because you two weren’t together. It doesn’t make sense that you’re here, talking about Jungkook to Seokjin. If anything, you should be asking his advice about Liam.

And yet, you haven’t, and Seokjin hasn’t offered. Likely because he knows Liam means nothing to you in the long run. You also should have mentioned Liam’s story when talking about Jungkook’s past. Seokjin possibly could have shed light on it.

Maybe you didn’t tell him purpose, says a voice in your head. Because if the Liam story is true and Jungkook’s heartbreaker façade is who he really is, then the man you have feelings for doesn’t exist.

Catching the slip of present tense, you close your eyes. Even your subconscious betrays you, reaching for a man who might not be real. Apparently, your feelings aren’t something sheer force of will can dissolve.

Neither can it lessen the hollowness in your chest.

For the rest of your meal, you don’t turn your head and by the time it’s over, you’re more confused than before. Your phone burns in your pocket the entire drive home.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :) I do not have a tag list, so please do not ask to be added or ask about updates. My writing progress can be found in my updates schedule, linked in both my header and FAQ!

[Series Master List]

#bangtanarmynet #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook fic #bts series #bts fic #bts angst

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hangovercurse · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Be Sorry

In which Y/N’s past catches up to her... and Colson

Reader x Colson Baker

Warnings: Abuse (Graphic), cursing, violence.

A/N: Seriously, it gets detailed. If you are uncomfortable with domestic abuse/ violence then this is not the fic for you. If you are a victim of abuse, there are resources available for you. The National Domestic Violence Support Hotline is 1-800-799-SAFE (7233).

Word Count: 2352

masterlist

“To good music and good friends” Colson shouted over the noise of the crowd. The group raised their glasses in a toast before downing the shot. “Now let’s fuckin party!”

It was your first time out in a while. You liked to pretend it was because you were too busy. I have a job outside of writing music with you, you would always remind the older boy. But truthfully, you weren’t as attached to the party scene as your friends and did whatever you could to avoid them.

But when Colson asked, well begged, you to go out with them to celebrate finishing Hotel Diablo you couldn’t say no. Colson’s face when you said yes almost made you excited. Almost.

But now on the crowded rooftop of a club you’d never been to in an outfit that was all too tight and all too short, you wished you’d made up an excuse to stay home. Luckily your friends made you forget your unease.

“Y/N, watch me drink both of these beers in 10 seconds!” Rook shouted, holding two bottles in his hands. You laughed, shaking your head slightly at his antics and pulling out your phone to time him.

“Ok, go.” You said as he brought the bottles up to his mouth, chugging both in an astounding 9.75 seconds. “Dude that’s insane.” You showed him the timer and he cheered, dragging you to the bar.

“I’m getting you a drink, whaddyu want?” Rook asked as he waved down the bartender. “Rum and coke?” He questioned, knowing your order by heart at this point.

“How’d you guess.” You asked with a smile on your face.

“It’s a talent.” Rook laughed, arms flailing as he bowed dramatically.

The pair of you got your drinks and returned to your group in the middle of the dance floor. When you got back Slim dramatically held out his hand for you to dance with him, and you guys jumped around to the music.

The drink in your veins made you a little more comfortable. it wasn’t enough to get you into any trouble, just enough to loosen you up for a good time. As the group laughed at AJ’s terrible dance moves, you felt a chill come over the room.

As the rest of your friends smiled and laughed, you looked around the dance floor, trying to find anything, or anyone, out of place. Unfortunately for you, you were much shorter than the men around you, so you couldn’t see much.

Colson noticed you weren’t really with the group, and he followed your gaze around the room, leaning in close to you. “Everything ok?” He asked.

“Yeah, I just have this weird feeling.”

He laughed, “drink too much?”

You gave him a pointed look and then chuckled to signify you were joking. “No, I just, I don’t know how to explain it. I just have a bad feeling about something.”

“Ok, well just don’t leave my side. I’ll keep you safe.” He winked at you and you rolled your eyes, but you appreciated the sincerity in his statement.

Colson and you had been friends for years, but after your last relationship ended... roughly (to put it nicely), he let you stay at his place for a while until you got back on your feet. Since then you’d gotten closer to the tattooed man and come to trust him implicitly.

You refocused on your friends, watching Pete and Baze racing pints of beers, with Baze winning (for obvious reasons). You laughed as Pete hung his head in shame. He scrunched his nose at you. “I don’t see you chugging anything.”

This only made you laugh harder, “I don’t think what you were doing is considered “chugging.”” You made air quotes as he put on a mock hurt expression.

“Y/N’s up next!” Slim shouted and your eyes went wide.

“Oh hell no, man. I leave that shit up to you guys.” You smiled as he shook his head profusely.

“Nope, you gotta do it. Rook’s already getting the beer.”

You hung your head, knowing there was no arguing with Slim. “Fine, but I’m gonna lose and then I’m gonna be mad. So if I’m mad, its your fault.” You shook your head as the boys howled.

Rook came back with two beers in his hand, handing you one. “I’ll give you a head start.” Slim smiled.

“Fuck no, man.” You said before bringing the beer to your lips, chugging the drink. Slim was taken off guard and ended up starting a few seconds after you, which was all the advantage you needed.

You raised your hands in victory as AJ picked you up in celebration, the boys cheering for you as Slim hung his head. Once you landed back on your feet, Rook threw his arm around your shoulders, “Y/N is the fuckin bomb.”

You loved this feeling, you loved being surrounded by your friends who loved you. You giggled as he leaned into you, making you stumble under his weight.

“Oh look, Y/Ns surrounded by all her little man-whores.” His voice sobered you up instantly and made every bone in your body tense up. You looked up to Colson for support, but he was already focused on the man behind you.

“Not even gonna look at me, damn. You’re really that much of a bitch, huh? Not even gonna say hi?” His voice was like poison in your veins. Every word he spoke reminded you of the last time you saw him. You subconsciously reached up to your neck, rubbing your throat.

“Get the fuck away from her dude.” Colson said shortly. You tried to catch his eye. You wanted to beg him not to make a scene, to just take your hand and leave. But it was too late for that.

“And who the fuck are you?” Jason, your ex-boyfriend, moved towards Colson and into your view. You flashed back to the night in his living room, his back facing you just like it was now, before he turned around and-

Luckily, Rook’s hand squeezing your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to look at him, his head cocked and his eyes questioning. You simply shook your head at him. You looked back to Colson who was seething. You caught Pete’s eye behind him and mouthed, we need to leave.

Pete nodded, grabbing Colson’s arm lightly, but the blond only shook off his friends grasp.

“Hey, there’s this really cool music store down the street that’s still open, we should go check it out.” AJ said, his eyes trained on you. Thank god for AJ.

“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea.” Pete said, “Colson let’s go check it out.”

You could see Jason’s face change when he figured out who the blond man was. “Yeah, Colson, why don’t you take your bitch and get out of here.”

“Don’t fucking call her that.” Colson moved closer to him and your eyes widened in fear.

“What? A bitch? That’s what she is, a slutty fucking bitch.” With every word, Jason moved closer to your friend until the two men were almost touching. Tears stung your eyes as you flashed back again.

“You stupid fucking whore. Who the fuck do you think you are? Fucking around with some asshole rapper! Did you forget you fucking belong to me?”

His words still rang in your mind. You could feel your body begin to shut down, your lungs gasping for breath just like they had that day.

You were brought back to reality by the screams of protest as Colson pushed your ex-boyfriend away from him, causing Jason’s fist to make contact with Colson’s jaw.

“You think you can get away with making me look like an idiot? I’m your fucking boyfriend, not him.”

Jason’s fist made contact with your left cheek and your knees failed to hold you up. The man caught you before you hit the ground, leaning forward to pin you against the wall behind you.

“Y/N, c’mon, let’s go.” Rook’s arm fell to the small of your back as he escorted you through the crowd, Slim following you. You made your way down the stairs, the two boys helping to support your weight.

“I’m gonna make you remember who you belong to.”

Jason pinned your arms above your head as he pressed you further into the wall. His free hand made its way up your chest to your throat. His soft grasp turned into a squeeze around your neck.

“Jason please-”

You tried to talk, but few words could come out. You struggled for air as his eyes grew darker and darker.

“You think you can go and fuck around with whoever you want, don’t you?”

You shook your head, but he continued.

“You’re a goddamn slut, and you need to learn your lesson.”

Your vision began to blur.

“Y/N, you okay?” You came back to reality to find yourself in the alley between the club and the neighboring building. Slim was standing in front of you, Rook to your side as you leaned against the wall behind you.

You shook your head in response and he let out a sigh. Suddenly the door slammed open and you flinched at the noise.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

You kneed Jason as a last resort before you lost consciousness, and now you were running through the house. You ran into the bathroom, locking the door behind you and pulling your phone from your pocket, not even noticing the new crack in the screen. You searched for the first name you could think of.

“Colson?”

“Colson, take a breath, man!” AJ yelled as he followed the tall blond man outside.

Colson was pacing a few feet away from you as you tried to focus on breathing, your hand subconsciously reaching for your neck again, as if you were trying to pry his invisible hand off of you.

Pete moved in front of you, taking in your state of fear. Other than Colson, Pete was the only one who had any idea about your ex. He didn’t know the whole story, only that it ended violently.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, keeping his distance as he leaned against the other wall across from you.

You sniffled and wiped your face, nodding quickly as you realized most of your friends- save for Baze and Colson- were watching you. “Sorry guys- he’s just an ex. He’s kind of an asshole.”

“Really kid? We couldn’t tell.” AJ tried to joke, and you cracked a small smile, trying to convince them you were ok.

Your breathing started to slow, and you felt yourself coming down from your panicked state, until you caught Colson’s fist making contact with the wall of the club.

“Open this fucking door bitch!”

Jason’s fists beat against the door- the only thing standing between you and him.

“He’s gonna kill me Cols. I’m so scared.”

Your sobs rang through the phone as the banging intensified.

“He can’t save you now, bitch! Not such a big man now, are ya? Colson!”

“Colson!” Baze berated the blond man, who recoiled in pain. “Get your shit together, bro.” He said, quieter.

Colson looked up at his friend and then past him to meet your eyes. His blue orbs softened at the tears in yours. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” He whispered, walking over to you.

He leaned forward against the wall you already occupied, his arms above your head as his head drooped down to watch you. You looked up at him, your hand reaching up to touch his face where Jason had made contact.

He flinched when your skin met his, causing you to jerk your hand back, afraid he would yell at you for hurting him.

“It’s okay, I was just surprised is all.” He whispered before grabbing your hand and bringing it back up to his chin. You ran your fingers over the forming bruise lightly, another tear falling from your eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered. “I didn’t think he’d- I didn’t know...” You trailed off, looking down and dropping your hand from Colson’s face.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He moved one hand to gently tilt your face up, leaning down to be closer to you, “Look at me. This was not your fault. Okay? You don’t need to be sorry for anything, babe. You did nothing wrong.”

“I just- if I hadn’t called you that night-”

“You wouldn’t be here. Y/N if you hadn’t called me you could’ve been seriously hurt. He could’ve killed you.”

You took a shaky breath in, sniffling. Colson sniffled too. “Y/N, this is nothing, okay? I would take a thousand more punches like this if it means that douchebag never comes near you again. I mean it. Don’t blame yourself for this, okay?” You nod, reaching your arms up to wrap around his neck as you bury your head into his shoulder, your nose pressed against his neck.

His arms wrapped around you and you could hear his sniffles in your ear as his lips pressed against your hair. “Thank you.” You mumble into his neck, pressing your lips against the hot skin.

“Hey! Get the fuck out of here! This isn’t some fucking party you can photograph. Fuck off with your cameras!” Pete yelled, causing you to release Colson and look towards the commotion. You briefly see a figure in the distance before a white flash blinds you.

“Fuckin paps.” Colson whispered, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

“Let’s get outta here, guys.” Slim says, leading everyone back into the club to leave through the back door. Colson interlocked your hand with his as you stepped into the building, keeping you as close to him as possible as you squeezed your way through the crowd.

Once you loaded yourselves into the van, you leaned your head on Colson’s shoulder, your hands still interlocked. “Can I stay at yours tonight?” You asked in a whisper. Colson simply pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand leaving yours to wrap around you and pull you closer to him.

#mgk #machine gun kelly #colson baker #mgk imagine #mgk angst #colson baker imagine #colson imagine #colson x reader #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly imagine

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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

This Gravitational Pull

Summary: Penelope Garcia sets her two best friends Derek & Spencer up on a blind first date. Even with the best intentions and highest expectations, no-one could've predicted it would go quite this well.

Tags: fluff, first date, au: diff first meeting, shy spencer, insecurity, anxiety, flirting, cuddling, protective derek, silly amounts of affection

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

I started writing this and then realised that I'd set their date in a pub's beer garden? I googled it and apparently they are a thing in America so I kept it in. I don't know how common they are, but I hope it's all good and you can picture the setting just fine.

Spencer really wishes he hadn’t agreed to this blind date.

Not because he doesn’t trust Penelope — he does, he trusts her implicitly and entirely — but because it's a blisteringly hot day in late July and the heat compounded by his shaking nerves is making for a rather unpleasant sweating situation.

A bumblebee buzzes quietly around the table he’s sat at, briefly interested in the iced coffee he’s got his hands wrapped around, and Spencer watches it with a gentle sort of intrigue, able to briefly take his mind off the impending date. He knows that Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan is physically attractive, Penelope had made that more than clear with both her copious photos of him and the way she’s sung his praises since she started working at the FBI, but if anything, that just makes him more nervous. If Derek wasn’t his type, then he wouldn’t have as much to lose.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair as he heaves a small sigh. Worst case scenario, he can run home to his apartment, order Indian food, bury himself in the early edition of War and Peace he just won in an auction and forget that this date ever happened.

“Spencer? Spencer Reid?”

A surprisingly deep and sexy voice has him looking up from the watch face he’s been staring at perhaps a little too intensely, and he’s instantly taken aback by the Greek God standing in front of him. He’d known Derek was attractive, he'd seen pictures of him, but no camera could ever hope to do someone so beautiful any semblance of justice.

“Uh, y-yes, um, yeah. That’s me.” He shakes his head to try and recover his awkward word stumbling before discreetly wiping his sweaty palm on his trousers and standing up to shake Derek’s hand. “You’re Derek?”

“The one and only,” Derek says cheekily, shooting Spencer a grin that already has his stomach churning with a mix of excitement and crippling nerves. “Penelope told me you were gorgeous, but let me tell you, she really undersold it, pretty boy.”

His cheeks instantly flush red as he fights to maintain eye contact, blinking owlishly at the other man. Did he really just say that?

“I was going to say the same thing.”

Derek’s grin only widens. “Well, it looks like Penelope matched us well, then.”

This time Spencer allows himself to briefly duck his head as a baffling mix of pleasure and mortification swim around his chest. He puts it down to inexperience. Any other explanation will only compound his embarrassment.

“She did,” he agrees, smiling over at Derek and hoping desperately that he’s managing to stay cooler on the outside than he is on the inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

Derek nods. “I’ll go and order a beer at the bar. Do you want anything or are you okay with that coffee?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you,” Spencer says, and mentally he praises himself for finally getting out a coherent sentence that doesn’t sound hopelessly mangled and flustered.

He watches Derek as he strides into the pub, looking as cool and confident as his looks and personality allow, and he realises that he really does just have a way about him. The bar is relatively crowded due to the blinding heat on a Saturday afternoon, but the bartender serves him instantly, all the girls eyeing him interestedly and the guys knocking his shoulder and joking about with him as though they’re all easy, long-time friends.

It’s nice, Spencer thinks, to be the focus of someone like that’s attention. Derek could have his pick of most people drinking here, but he only has eyes for Spencer as he comes back out, holding a tall pint and wearing a happy, focused expression as he sits back down.

“Do you not drink?” Derek asks curiously and without judgement, gesturing to his coffee.

“I go out with my friends sometimes,” Spencer says, blushing again, “but I’m a bit of a lightweight, and that’s not the best state of mind to be in on any first date, let alone a blind one.”

Derek chuckles warmly at that, and the sound is a pleasant rumble reminiscent of a distant thunderstorm. Spencer wants to melt into it.

“I think I’d like to see you all messy on a night out, pretty boy,” Derek says wryly, still grinning shamelessly, and Spencer gets the distinct impression that this ‘pretty boy’ business is going to be a Thing between them.

Spencer cocks his head and takes a sip of his coffee through the long metal straw. “Maybe you’ll have to join us some time.”

“Does that mean we’re going on another date?” Derek asks, but before Spencer can panic that he’s said the wrong thing, he’s smoothly continuing. “Because I’m more than down for that.”

“You are?”

“Pretty boy, you ever looked in the mirror?” Derek demands playfully. “Add that to this cute little nerdy bashful doctor thing you got going on and you’re the whole package. Of course I want another date with you, and we’ve barely even started this one.”

Spencer flushes bright pink at that, and decides to move the conversation on before he melts into a literal puddle in the middle of this beer garden. “So you know Penelope through work?”

Derek gets the hint. “I was part of the group that arrested her, actually,” he chuckles, “and I thought she was gonna be a nightmare to work with when we gave her the option of working for the FBI instead of going to prison. But then she showed up on her first day decked out from head to toe in pink and yellow, her hair dyed back to her natural blonde, and the way she smiled when I called her baby girl… well, it was smooth sailing from then on. Did you know her back in her Black Queen days?”

“I was her one phone call,” Spencer answers, his face splitting into an easy grin as they discuss his favourite person on planet earth. “I was terrified she was going to jail and I’d lose her forever, so I was over the moon when you guys offered her that deal. We went to get our hair done together the very next day.”

“Oh yeah? And what did Pretty Boy have done to his hair, hm?”

Spencer blushes. “Let’s just say she wasn’t the only one who had a rebellious phase?”

“Now that I have got to know more about.”

“Save it for date number two, SSA Morgan,” Spencer shoots back, relaxing into the easy banter between them.

“Alright, alright, baby, I can do that,” he says, winking again. Thankfully, Spencer manages not to do an embarrassing impression of a traffic light this time. “How did you and Penelope meet?”

“Back in college actually,” Spencer nods. “She was sort of going off the rails after her parents’ death, but I think finding a scared 12 year old in her Geography elective helped her rein it in a bit. We’ve been glued at the hip pretty much since we met. Even when I went to MIT for a bit to complete my Engineering PhD, she came with me. Since her job back then was mostly hacking and some supplemental side jobs, it didn’t really matter where she was based, she was just hellbent on protecting me like she has ever since that first Geography class.”

“Wow,” Derek says, looking genuinely shocked as he leans back a little bit, eyeing Spencer with curious eyes. “You went to college when you were twelve? I’m glad you had Penelope because that could’ve been a disaster.”

“It kind of was,” Spencer nods, laughing a little. “But it meant that I had five degrees including three doctorates by the time I was twenty-one so I wasn’t too mad about it.”

Derek stares at him consideringly, the soft smile on his face making Spencer’s stomach fill with butterflies. “You’re quite the genius aren’t you?”

“Well, I don't believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I do have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory, and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

Derek just stares at him.

“So, yeah, I guess I’m a genius?” he says bashfully.

Derek laughs, shaking his head. “Definitely a genius. I mean, Penelope told me you were clever, but this is like… insane. Are you sure you’re okay to go out with a mere mortal like me or should I see myself out?”

“Yeah actually, Derek, sorry, it’s not going to work out,” Spencer says, feigning seriousness. “I can’t be with anybody who’s not within twenty IQ points of me or doesn’t have at least two PhDs.”

“A good actor, too? What don’t you have going for you, pretty boy?” He laughs in that wild and free kind of way Spencer always wishes he could, and he wonders whether Derek could teach him how.

Derek watches him like there’s something special about Spencer as the sound of their laughter mingles, looks at him like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be but right here, right now, and the warm intensity of it has a buzz going in Spencer’s chest, a pleasant feeling he can’t imagine anything dousing, and he never wants Derek to take his eyes off him again. Not if this is how it’s always going to make him feel.

The hours of the afternoon fly by and all of a sudden the sun is setting and they’re feeling distinctly hungry.

“How do you feel about getting some street food and taking a wander down to the beach?” Derek suggests hopefully, and Spencer can’t help the wide grin that splits his cheeks at the idea.

“Let’s do it.”

The beach is slightly cooler than the garden now the sun is setting and a soft, salty breeze is floating in from the ocean, so they sit close together in the sand, sharing their servings of nachos and fries between them.

“What’s your family like?” Spencer asks, a little daringly after a couple of minutes of comfortable silence.

Derek smiles. “They’re amazing. It’s been just me, my mom, and my two sisters since I was ten years old, but I think losing my dad only brought us closer together, y’know? We had to learn from a young age how to rely on each other, and we were also taught the very valuable lesson of just how important family is and how nothing in life is guaranteed, so we’ve made every effort to be as close to one another as possible.”

Spencer watches with quiet admiration as Derek gushes about his family, and takes another bite of their nachos. “Do they live locally?”

“No, they’re all still back in Chicago,” Derek says. “It’s sad sometimes, being so far away from them, but they would have killed me if I’d stuck around back home just for them and hadn’t chased my dream of climbing the ladder of the FBI.”

Spencer nods, chuckling along with Derek as they stare out at the quiet, tumbling waves of the ocean.

“What about you?” Derek asks. “Are you close with your family?”

Shit. He hadn’t exactly considered that asking Derek about his family would lead to reverse questioning about his own. I mean, call him a genius all you want, but social interaction is not his area of expertise.

“Uh, it’s just me and my mom. She lives back in Vegas,” he explains, clearing his throat awkwardly as he hopes that’s enough to appease his date.

Truthfully, it probably would have been, but Derek doesn’t say anything immediately, and the silence feels like it’s choking him into admitting the truth, however much it makes his chest tighten and his stomach flip with anxiety. What if this is it? What if Derek doesn’t want to start something with someone who has a family history as fucked up as his? What if he reads between the lines and sees that Spencer could be just like his mom in the future, and thinks that starting a relationship is just too risky?

“She has paranoid schizophrenia,” he blurts out, the words rolling off his tongue without his express permission, and instead of shutting up, they just keep coming. “When my dad left when I was ten, I had to be her sole carer until I left for college at twelve, but even then she refused professional help and medication, so I was taking the train from Pasadena to Las Vegas every weekend to try and help her out, and it got messy a lot of the time. It was only when I turned eighteen that things got a little bit easier, and that was only because I betrayed her trust and had her sectioned into a Sanitorium.

“They’re amazing, they take really good care of her and I did my research obviously, but I think a part of her still resents me for doing that.”

He stares out at the ocean for a couple of seconds before he suddenly realises where he is and what he’s just done.

“Oh my god,” he says as horror and dread fill him from the bottom up, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just dumped all that on you, I’m sorry, just—”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek says gently, placing a reassuring hand on his back to get his attention. “It’s okay, don’t worry. I’m just happy you felt comfortable enough to tell me all of that, and besides, I asked the question, and I meant it. I wanted to know the answer.”

Spencer feels some of the panic recede a little, and he looks up at Derek to try and gauge whether he’s telling the truth. “Really?”

Derek’s expression only softens further. “Really.”

He relaxes a little further and leans into Derek’s side, smiling to himself when Derek wraps his arm fully around his waist, resting his head on top of Spencer’s.

“I feel like I’ve known you way longer than just four hours and fifty six minutes,” Spencer says eventually.

Derek chuckles, and this time Spencer can feel the low rumble against his cheek as well as hear it. “It might be the biggest cliche in the book, but I feel exactly the same, baby.”

“I think sharing street food on the beach while staring out at a sunset as romantic and beautiful as that one has cemented the cliches in this date enough already,” Spencer points out, laughing a little.

“That is very true,” Derek agrees, squeezing his hand against Spencer’s waist. “We could round all the cliches off with a kiss, if you’d like.”

Spencer sits upright, blushing again as he eyes Derek’s flirtatious but serious expression. “I’d like that a lot.”

Derek wastes no time in taking Spencer’s jaw in his hand and leaning in slowly to place a long, sensuous kiss to his lips. Spencer kisses back with as much control as is possible when your experience is next to none and you have one of the most beautiful men in the world turning your stomach inside out with his attention, but it seems to be enough for Derek because as soon as they pull away, he’s grinning widely.

“You’re quite the kisser, pretty boy.”

Spencer fights the blush but it comes anyway. “I like that.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “The kiss?”

“No, the pet names.”

Derek’s expression smooths out and he smiles again, a little more tenderly than his usual cheeky grin. “Well, that’s good, because I have plenty more up my sleeve, sweetheart.”

Spencer flushes with pleasure this time and settles back against Derek’s side, observing the blue sea as they settle into silence once more.

“I’m not very used to all of this, by the way,” he says after a while, the sky slowly darkening.

“Used to what?”

“This. Kissing. Dating. Pet names.”

Derek looks down at Spencer to try and get a better look at his face. “Really? You could’ve fooled me.”

“I’ve only ever had one boyfriend before, and this is only the second date I’ve ever been on.”

“Any girlfriends?”

“Not really my area.”

“And this other date, was that with boyfriend number one?”

Spencer shakes his head against Derek’s shoulder. “No, I never went on a date with him. I met him in college and we were friends first, so we never really dated, just fell into a relationship.”

“Ah.” A brief silence settles over them again, but Derek doesn’t let it hang long. “You know I’m not bothered by any of that, right? You could have never dated anyone ever before or have screwed your way round half of California and DC and it wouldn’t matter a single bit. Not if you were here with me, right now.”

He laughs softly as Derek lightens the mood, and something in Spencer’s chest feels like it falls into place at that, like his last anxious reservation has been washed away and he can really move forward, forge onward with this scarily exciting endeavour.

“You’re a good man, Derek Morgan. You know that, right?”

Derek kisses the top of his head. “I do,” he says, “but I’m not sure it’s ever sounded quite as special falling from anyone else’s lips as it does falling from yours.”

Further down the beach, another wave crashes against the shore, and the colours of the sunset fade away slowly. People pack up their picnic baskets and head home, and seagulls attack their leftovers, but none of that matters, because right now, Spencer’s world is Derek Morgan.

Penelope Garcia deserves a medal.

(Yes, I've used that "yeah I guess I'm a genius" sequence in way too many fics, leave me ALONE. )

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @hotchscotchh (add yourself to my taglist here!)

#my writing #moreid #criminal minds #cm #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #moreid fic #moreid fanfic #moreid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #moreid fluff #protective derek morgan #shy spencer reid

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ikeromantic · 3 years ago

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First Day

This is an Ikemen Sengoku coffee shop AU. Approx 1700 words. Nobunaga, the owner of Azuchi Cafe, hires a girl to work in his coffee shop alongside his other oddball employees.

Pastry Chef and little rain cloud: Ieyasu Tokugawa

Head Chef and irredeemable flirt: Masamune Date

Dining Room Manager and rule-master: Hideyoshi Toyotomi

Barista and most popular kid in your class: Ranmaru Mori

Barista and coffee disaster: Mitsunari Ishida

Accountant and walking bad-boy vibe: Mitsuhide Akechi

I have never written a coffee shop AU and I have no idea what I'm doing.

Nobunaga unlocked the back door at 3am. It was so early most people would still call it night, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet at this hour. As if he were the sole living human in a world of stray cats and blinking traffic lights.

He flipped on the lights and began morning prep. As the owner of Azuchi Cafe, he didn’t need to be the shop opener, but he was the kind of man who’d never ask his employees to do something he wouldn’t do himself. This meant he often worked from opening until close, cleaning the kitchen at 10pm. It was something he was proud of, even if it was exhausting some days.

Ieyasu arrived a few minutes later, along with the morning shipment. Fresh fruit, cream, some new coffee bean varieties, and other items he stocked daily. The blond was quiet as he helped unload. Not a morning person, not by a longshot.

Once the crates were inside, Ieyasu made a beeline for the espresso machine and had two cups on the counter before Nobunaga completed his inventory check.

The blond downed both cups and then got started in the kitchen. He was too smart for a cafe job - easily one of the best bakers Nobunaga had ever met. And this cafe was blessed with two, though the other man was a polar opposite of the silent, serious Ieyasu Tokugawa.

As if thinking of him summoned him, the back door swung open and in swaggered Masamune. “Good morning!” His voice was loud and vibrant, as always. He never needed caffeine to feel awake - Masamune was naturally caffeinated.

“D’you have to be so loud?” Ieyasu glared.

“Do you have to be such a grouch?” Masamune raised his one eyebrow. His other eye was covered with a pirate-style eyepatch. The look wasn’t just for effect. He’d lost his left eye to a childhood illness, but that hadn’t dampened his spirit or enthusiasm.

Ieyasu held up a dough covered middle finger in response and went back to making croissants.

Masamune put a hand to his heart. “Such cruelty.”

“Stop bickering and start cooking.” Nobunaga tried to sound stern but couldn’t help the little smile on his lips.

The two of them did, though the grumbling and sniping never really stopped.

While Ieyasu handled bakery items, Masamune was in charge of the grill. Hot sandwiches, soups, and whatever else he decided to put on the menu. Nobunaga had given up trying to restrain him. The man was a genius cook, and whatever he made sold, so it made sense to give him his head.

Akechi showed up next. Mitsuhide was an accountant by trade, with a law degree besides. He didn’t technically work at the shop, but he did the books and didn’t charge much for the work. Nobunaga wasn’t sure why he spent so much time at the cafe, but he’d become a fixture. Showing up before opening to do Azuchi’s books and then sitting in the dining area, working on his laptop for hours.

“Anything I should know about,” Nobunaga called, before Mitsuhide disappeared into the cafe office.

“If there was, I’d tell you. Probably.” Mitsuhide gave him his trademark smile, sly like a fox.

“It’s that probably that worries me.” Nobunaga frowned. He didn’t actually believe Mitsuhide would sabotage him. Not after so many years as a client. But with that man, you never quite knew where you stood.

Akechi shrugged. “I can’t think of a reason not to - but you never know.” He disappeared into the office, and soon the only sound from that room was the clacking of a keyboard.

The sky to the east was beginning to lighten, the stars fading from view. It would be time to open soon. As if on cue, Mitsunari showed up with Ranmaru in tow. They were the baristas, taking orders, making coffee, and serving the sit-down diners.

“Isn’t it a beautiful morning?” Mitsunari said this to Ieyasu’s back as he passed him.

The blond snorted. “It looks like every morning. Literally, exactly the same.”

“And every morning is beautiful.” Mitsunari Ishida smiled. “I am so lucky to work with such wonderful people. It will be a great day. I can feel it.”

Ranmaru laughed. “Absolutely. Just ignore old grumble-pants here. We are going to have an awesome day.”

“I am not old,” Ieyasu snapped.

“You are compared to me!” Ranmaru was the youngest in the crew, and he liked to remind the others about it.

“That’s enough. Get up to the front and prep the display. Both of you.” Nobunaga pointed toward the front counter.

Ranmaru gave him a pouty look, but did as he was told. Despite his penchant for causing trouble in the kitchen, he was great with customers, and pretty reliable.

Mitsunari didn’t seem to realize he’d been in the middle of the bickering. He just smiled and followed Ranmaru to the front.

That one, Nobunaga thought, was dangerous. At first impression, Mitsunari Ishida seemed like an airhead. Cheerful to the point of being vapid, and clumsy as well. But he could take orders faster than anyone else, remember which customer had which preference, and quote the menu without a glance at the board on the wall. He was great, so long as you didn’t ask him to pour the coffee.

At opening, Hideyoshi finally sidled in. He was the dining room manager, in charge of the servers, and everything on the front end. Nobunaga trusted him implicitly. Most cafe owners had to worry about theft and inattention from their cash-handling employees, but not him. Not with Hideyoshi Toyotomi at the counter. That man was a veritable saint, if sometimes a little melodramatic about his service.

“I know you told me I didn’t need to be here until 10, since you open. But I couldn’t let you handle everything alone.” Hideyoshi’s version of ‘good morning’ as he tied his apron on.

Nobunaga sighed. “You are my closing manager, Hideyoshi. You’re going to be stuck here until 10 or 11 tonight . . . and you realize, I do have employees here, helping, right?”

Toyotomi nodded. “Sure, sure. But extra hands always help with morning rush, right?”

“Right. And that’s why I have a new hire coming in at 8.” Nobunaga sighed.

“A new hire?” Mitsunari’s violet gaze lit up. “Will I get to train them?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Ieyasu grumbled. “We want them to make coffee, not learn how to dump the pot on the floor.”

“Stop being so mean,” Ranmaru sniped back, defending Mitsunari.

“Hey, hey! The new employee isn’t gonna get trained by any of you. Clearly, the boss is going to put them with me. To pass on my culinary genius.” Masamune’s one eye sparkled.

“No, no, and absolutely not,” Nobunaga said, raising his voice. “Hideyoshi and I are going to train them. If the lot of you don’t terrify them into quitting on their first day.”

And that was the end of that discussion. It was 5am and the door opened. The steady stream of customers kept everyone busy for the next few hours. Lattes and cappuccinos, americanos and macchiatos, and decaf for those in denial. The flow began to slack as 8am approached. Most people were at work now, coffee in hand.

Clean-up started in the kitchen, and Hideyoshi began on the dining room.

The glass front door opened at 8am sharp. The new hire walked in. This wasn’t Nobunaga’s first time meeting her, but he still felt a twang in his chest as she smiled brightly at no one in particular.

“I hope I’m not late!”

Hideyoshi eyed her up and down, nodding to himself. Flat shoes, cute but practical. Hair pulled back sensibly - stylish, but not overdone. Professional clothes, fitted and comfortable. He hadn’t been part of the interview but he was feeling pretty positive about this candidate. He gave Nobunaga a nod.

“No, you’re right on time,” Mitsunari replied, leaning on the counter. His angelic smile was fixed on her.

The impact was obvious. One did not face the pure, focused joy of Mitsunari and not feel it. She blinked for a moment, stunned, her cheeks flushing. “Oh. Well that’s good, right?”

“Sure is,” Ranmaru said, coming around the side of the bakery display. He wiped his hands on his apron and held one out to her. “Welcome to Azuchi!”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Nobunaga grumbled.

“Yeah, but I’m cuter when I say it.” Ranmaru’s cheek reply got a chuckle from Masamune.

The one-eyed chef came out from the kitchen to observe. He wasn’t looking for whatever qualities Hideyoshi had, but what he saw made him grin. “Well, lass, I’d say welcome again but that’d make me look like an idiot. How ‘bout I help you put on an apron and show you around the place?”

“Again, my line,” Nobunaga said tiredly.

Ieyasu poked his head out from the back and sighed heavily. “Great. Another fluff head to train. Look, when you get bored listening to these idiots, come find me in the kitchen. I’ll try to teach you to bake. I’m sure you can manage a simple recipe. Probably.”

The girl looked unsure how to respond. She finally shrugged. “Yeah, ok! I’m here to work, so whatever you want to teach me, I want to learn.”

“You’d be better off learning how to keep the books,” said an amused voice behind Ieyasu.

The girl’s eyes darted up as Mitsuhide came out from the back. “Not that I’m hiring. I don’t do internships either,” he continued. He stepped out from behind the counter and closed in on her like a stalking cat. His golden eyes slid down from her face, over her chest and hips, down her legs, and back up, slow as syrup. “Though I can think of some reasons to make an exception.” He handed her a business card. “For when you tire of this service job.”

“Ah, thanks?” She glanced at the card and by the time she looked up again he was gone.

“Everyone, get back to work. I’m handling the new hire. You’ll all get a chance to train with her. I want her to work swing, so she’ll need to know a little of everything.” Nobunaga clapped once.

The workers all got back to it, though not without plenty of backward glances.

Hideyoshi handed the girl an apron. “Good luck!”

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen ranmaru #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen masamune #ikesen ieyasu #coffee shop au #fanfiction #fanfic #otome guys #otome #fluff

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writingsbychlo · 4 years ago

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upholding traditions | dave hodgman

word count; 19,396

summary; a year later, dave finding himself in need of his christmas party saviour again, and is missing his girlfriend, thinking she won’t make it home for the holidays.

notes; honestly, this switches between his POV and hers a lot just to get the full story across, so just roll with it. click here to check out their new years outfits, I had very particular images in mind.

warnings; underage drinking, smut, semi-public sex

“Oh, Dave, isn’t that just the loveliest little garden?” He could only nod, biting down on the inside of his cheek, hard, to contain the yawn that he wanted to release. On one side was his mother, and on the other side was his ex, her shoulder pressed up to his as the perfume he once thought smelt alluring and sexy now just gave him a headache and made his nose wrinkle was overwhelming, her phone held out in front of the two of them, as she swept through photos of her new home. “You know, Dave, if you had a nice little house like that, you could host some lovely little event. Are you planning to host any, Aubrey?”

He gave her his best smile, knowing how fake it all must seem, and when she finally pulled her arm back and placed her phone away, her body leaving his side, he felt like he could breathe again, no longer sandwiched between the two women. The problem was simple; his mother had joined his neighbourhood book club, as had Aubrey’s mother, and over the year, as the group cycled between various members houses for meetings, his mother had become much more social and friendly. Aubrey had transferred home for college, after Ronnie and his piss-poor band had landed a series of songs to be made for cat-food commercials that he considered his ‘big break’.

Slapping an engagement ring on the pushy blonde’s finger and deciding the two of them would move in, Dave had come home from college, exhausted and ready to crash, to find his mother had befriended his ex, and everything since that day only one week ago had been a steady de-escalation in his run down to Christmas.

After the raging success that last year’s set of Christmas parties had been, and the formation of the neighbourhood book club - who seemed to have now self-elected themselves as the community event organisers - he once again found himself standing in an itchy festive jumper on Christmas Eve, a glass of punch in his hand as he tried to wrap his head around the fact that if his mother and his ex-girlfriend got any friendlier, she might actually start being invited to family gatherings and thanksgivings.

With her ‘big news’, in the form of an engagement and a small house in her hometown as she decided she was never going to break free, apparently, Dave found himself with a whole new set of problems. He was being badgered by everyone he knew about when he was going to settle down, when he was going to find himself a nice girl, when was it going to be his turn to get a house or start making roots, and what his direction was?

The worst of it all? You weren’t here to save him this time.

Three weeks before Christmas, and you’d broken the news to him over your weekly video chat date. You weren’t making it home for Christmas this year, your junior college year workload had all become too much and you were staying behind over your break to finish it all up. You’d been vague, not many details and so he didn’t have much to talk about when the older ladies of the neighbourhood asked him where you were, meaning they were all fixing him with disapproving stares and offering to set him up with their granddaughters or nieces.

Glancing around the room, he longed to catch sight of you, your sweet smile, enough to light up a room, but he already knew he wouldn't find you. The last time he had seen you in person had been the summer, when he’d flown all the way to your university campus as a surprise, spending the entire last week of summer with you, and flying back for his first day there, falling asleep in his first lecture of second year, and yet he hadn't regretted a moment of it. Going to college at the opposite end of the country to your girlfriend was hard, more so when your schedules never aligned and workloads began to pile on, but he struggled not getting to see you for so long.

Swallowing thickly, Dave gave up on all decorum and falseness of polite wishes, not missing the side-eye his mother gave him as he slumped out of the conversation, not having a single fuck to give about the names of paint samples Aubrey had been trying on the walls, but instead dipping down to sit in the chair closest to himself. The night was pushing on, and he had no doubt that the dinner would be being served soon, and he placed his chin onto his hand, elbow balanced on the tabletop as he propped up his head and tried to stay awake.

“Dave, you’re being rude!”

He flinched as his mother pinched at his shoulder, and he swatted her away, glaring up at her as he scowled at him, and Aubrey chuckled a little, a sound that grated his nerves when he was already wearing so thin on tolerance for any kind of festivities right now. “Girl talk, am I right?”

“Sure, Aubrey.”

“I think there’s something else bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?” His mother cooed a little, patting her shoulder, before seeming to find someone else to talk to, wandering away across the room and starting up another conversation, leaving him alone with the woman, and she sipped at the drink in her hands as she stared at him. “Is it because you’re here alone?”

Narrowing his eyes on her, he huffed, and she shrugged slightly.

“It’s okay to be alone, Dave.”

“I’m not alone.” His words were growled out a little bit, and she only seemed to fix him with an even more pitying look, shaking her head slightly, grown-out bangs falling into her face from the slicked-back style she’d put them in, and she tucked them away, the smile on her face now unobscured, and he couldn't quite decipher whether it was condescending or just overly concerned. “I’m not. My girlfriend just couldn't make it for Christmas this year.”

“Couldn’t? Or wouldn’t?”

He deadpanned, straightening up a little bit to look at her more clearly, and she fixed him with an innocent look. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” She took another sip of her drink, clearly not done with her statement, before her shoulders were slumping as she waved her hand, trying to brush it off. “Sometimes it can just be a bad sign, y’know? When one person in a relationship starts to give up, and the other person starts having to carry all the weight. It never works out.”

“Oh, you mean like how it ended up with us?”

“That’s not fair.” She mumbled, at least having the dignity to look a little offended and guilty. “I was young, I was all over the place with my emotions. I didn’t know what kind of baggage I had then. I thought you were right for me, but it didn’t work out. I’m just saying, anybody who can’t make time for you at Christmas might not be worth it. C’mon, Dave, it’s the holidays. What else could she be doing?”

He gaped a little, not quite sure how to reply, a prickle of doubt racing through his veins as he thought about her words, a feeling he knew was inappropriate because he trusted you implicitly and knew you’d never lie to him, and he was certain that the flame was burning strong still, but now she’d planted that seed of anxiety, and it was growing rapidly.

“She should be here. It’s the most wonderful time of the year, after all.”

His lips flicked up at the edges, a smile mirrored on her face as she finally cracked through his shell, and he knew she wasn’t all that bad, she just had no filter and ofter was a little too crass for her own good, but Aubrey wasn’t a terrible person, he just didn’t like her all that much. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he patted himself down for it, lifting it to his face, and feeling the entirety of his body perk up as your name flashed access the screen with a new unread message.

A simple text, asking what he was up to, and Aubrey chuckled as she realised it must have been you, but he was barely even in the room anymore, mentally he was in a bubble with you, now. Lifting his phone up to take a picture of the event before him, his eyes swept across everyone in the shot, just once, before he was pausing, and looking again. Lifting down the device, he stared out at the crowds with an uninterrupted gaze, checking that what he was wasn’t just a red-clad illusion on his phone screen.

No, he was right.

There you were, hands still tucked inside the pockets of your coat, scarf around your neck, and you waved at him, phone in your hand still open to the texts on the screen, and he shot up in his chair as he stared at you, jaw hanging open and a disbelieving look on his face. Turning off your phone and tucking it back into your pocket, you unwrapped your scarf from around your neck, hanging it up on the overly crowded coat racks, and turning away from him as you watched your boyfriend get up from the table to shoulder through the crowds towards you.

Slipping your coat down your arms and hanging that up, you shook your hair free of the windblown positions that it had been blown into, turning back to sweep your eyes over the hoards of people. You barely had a chance, before hands were finding your heels, pulling you forwards until you were sharing space with the man, breath shared, a shaky sigh released from him, before the gap was closed.

His mouth slanted across yours, warm and wet and eager, lips moving softly as he tries to tempt you to kiss him back, and you pressed back just as happily. Your hands sat on his sides, feeling him shake a little under your touch as you did, trembling at the connection as you finally saw each other again for the first time since the middle of the year, and he barely pulled back for breath, before he was kissing you deeply once again.

His fingertips were digging into the edge of your jaw, falling way lower and lower, until one was resting gently on your neck your pulse thrumming under his hand, as the other smoothed along your arm, dipping under to sit low enough to reach your waist. Giggling a little against his mouth as his fingertips tickled along your sides, he whined at the break in your exchanges, leaning in to press a series of shortened kisses to your lips until you were resting back from him, far enough for you to crack your eyes open and really take him in.

“Hi, Davie.”

“Really? ‘Hi, Davie.’ That’s all you have to say?” He repeated you, brows shooting up but a playful smile finding his lips as he pinched at your side enough to tickle you, a quiet yelp on your lips as you jerked, fixing him with a mock-glare that scarcely lasted longer than a second, before your arms were coming up to loop around his neck, allowing him to pull you in close again. “You have some explaining to do, ma’am.”

“Couldn’t leave you alone on Christmas, could I?” He smiled, bumping the tip of his nose with your own, and your heart raced in his chest as you found yourself wrapped up in him once again, the feeling being sorely missed. Running your fingers through his hair gently, scratching at the shorter hairs at the base of his neck, he let out a familiar little rumble of complete contentment as you did. “I wanted to surprise you. I didn’t know until about a week ago, but I realised that if I pulled some all-nighters and grabbed a last-minute plane ticket, I could be here to see you.”

One of his hands rubbed along yours lightly, sealing around your wrist to bring your hand around close enough for him to press a kiss to your palm, before letting it fall back to his shoulder. “When do you stay until?”

“Right through to the New Year, baby.” His face lit up, a smile that still managed to make butterflies raise up in waves within you, despite a year having passed in your relationship now. “I cleared my schedule for you. You’re going to be getting a whole lot of me real soon.”

“I should hope so.” He whispered, before pulling you back in, puckering his lips to tell you what he wanted, and letting you be the one to close the gap this time. It was softer, and calmer, and much more loving. The first kiss; needy and frantic and simply a reassurance that you were there and not a figment of his imagination had slipped away, and was replaced within the both of you as something that was much more about passion and comfort.

It hurt you, to see so little of him, to know that he missed you just as much as you missed him, every time you had to cancel a date, or fell asleep too soon in differing timezones, or staggered conversations that took the whole day to have via texts, all becoming irrelevant as you found one another again.

His tongue teased along your lower lip, prodding slowly, and you grinned, feeling his own lips curve up against yours in response, but you only made him wait a moment, before you were parting them and allowing him access to lick into your mouth. Beat shared, noses bumping together as mouths slid together and connected with deep and loving exchanges, head twisting to the side as you tried to push yourself up even further into him.

His hands slipped a little lower, the both of you seeming to forget the world around you for a moment as your front pressed to his, hearts beating together in unison and thudding against one another’s chests. For a moment, it was a space in which only the two of you existed, nobody else mattering, before the tranquillity was shattered.

“(Y/N)!”

A loud squealing, high-pitched, drawn-out and overexcited. A voice he knew well and Dave pulled away with a startled shock, eyes going wide and cheeks flushing red in a way that was mirrored to your own as embarrassment flushed your system, in time to find sights on the younger girl in the glittery dress dashing towards you. You dropped down to take a knee just in time, before you were almost being knocked over, her arms wrapping around your neck and her face pressing into your neck as she all but screamed happily into your ears.

Standing back up with the little girl in your arms, her legs found a place either side of your body, sitting on your hip as she held on tightly, and you turned to face her older brother, an adoring look you recognised well was flashing on his features. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too, Stella! We can have so much fun now that I’m back, though!”

“I got new toys!” She was still shouting, making Dave wince a little beside you, and you were sure your eardrum was ringing, but her apology as your boyfriend chastised her for her volume was enough to make your heart melt. “Can I tell you about them?”

“Why don’t you tell me over dinner? I’m a bit of a surprise to everyone, so I think I’ll be sitting at your table again.”

“Well, that seems fitting,” Dave mumbled, grinning at you when you rolled your eyes at him, and yet you still found yourself leaning into him when his hand found your lower back, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and scoffing at the dramatic whining and groaning Stella let out at the simple affections. “It’ll be just like last year.”

“I am a sucker for tradition.” You joked, his eyes glinting slightly, and before either of you could say anything else, attention was being called by the tap of a microphone on stage, announcing to you all that it was time to take your seats. Letting Stella back down to the ground, she was bolting away with the intention of leading the way from the very second her toes hit the floor, and Dave was soon after catching your hand with his, squeezing tightly.

He let you lead the way, pulling him along slowly, and his mum gasped loudly as he approached the table behind you, a beam taking over your face at the excitement that the older woman displayed. She was over to you both in a flash, arms held wide before they were wrapping around you and pulling you into her embrace, your hand shaking away from Dave’s so that you could hold her back just as tightly.

You giggled, your eyes meeting his for a second as his mother squeezed you tightly, rocking you from side to side, before she was finally letting you go. She had released you, just long enough to pinch at one of your cheeks lightly, the other arm sitting on your shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

“Your mother said you couldn’t make it! We weren’t expecting you, darling. It is lovely to see you, though!”

“Well, I came back as a surprise, she had no idea until she got a call to pick me up from the airport this morning.” His mother’s face cracked out in a smile as she laughed with you, and you felt his fingers inching along your arm, smoothing over your palm before weaving with your own once again, lacing together, and you wrapped your own back in comfort and security to assure him.

“It’s a good thing you did, too! Dave has been moping about all week since finding out you couldn’t make it.” You grinned, turning to look at your boyfriend as his cheeks flared up with red, swallowing thickly and glaring at his mother.

“Mom!”

“What? It’s true, and you know it! You’ve been moody and sulking, pouting all around the house.” He only flushed further, and you leaned in, muffling your laughter by pressing your face into his shoulder, and feeling him sag a little underneath you, giving in, stomping his foot like a child as he whined.

“Mom, stop it!”

“I think it’s cute.” You finally managed to contain your giggles, wrapping your spare arm around his waist, his other hand coming up to rest on your arm and he huffed out as he gave up on the argument, no longer fighting the truth about it all. He had been moody and grouchy, not excited to see in the new year alone, but now you were here with him, and his whole world was lighting up once again. “I missed you, too.”

“You two are just the sweetest.” Your eyes widened, almost having forgotten that his mother was there, and he chuckled down at you, smirking a little now that you were just as embarrassed as he was. “Do you want us to shuffle all the chairs up? We can drag another seat over, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“Thanks, Mrs Hodgman, but that’s okay. I already promised Stella that I’d sit with her this year again, and I never break my promises.”

She only chucked, nodding her head, before you were leaning up to press a kiss to Dave’s cheek, grinning to yourself at the warmth of his skin as he flushed with shyness once again. “Okay, my dear, I’ll go and have a word with the kitchen and see if we can’t rustle up an extra plate for you.”

She walked past you both, wobbling a little on tall heels as her wine raced through her systems, and your boyfriend shook his head as he watched his mother go. He was tugging on your arm, and you looked up at him, following his footsteps over to the kitchen, and Stella was waiting patiently, her hands pressed down into two seats on either side of her own body, preserving them both as other kids began to fill in around the table, denying them the chairs each time, a toothy grin with a missing tooth flashing up as you both arrived.

“Scoot, Stell.” Dave tapped at the back of the left end chair as you took the right, and her head snapped up to him, chocolate brown curls the same shade as her older brother’s bouncing as she did.

“No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He looked utterly shocked, crushing down to her height, and she shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head at him.

“I want to sit in the middle! She’s my friend, too!” The younger girl insisted, and you couldn't hide your amusement as Dave gaped, eyes flickering up to you for support, before narrowing playfully when he realised he didn’t have it.

“Yeah, Dave. Stella’s my friend, too.”

He growled a little, the action more directed at you, a heatless warning, and his hand ruffled in his sister’s hair as he stood up, begrudgingly taking the other seat. He shuffled closer, until the edge of his chair was pressed up against hers, and his hand was reaching out to rest along the back of your chair, playing lightly with the strands of hair that he could reach, while your attention was turned to his sister. She was a whole year older, but just as adorable, and was already beginning to tell you all about her experience so far in second grade.

Her plate was placed down in front of her, and she paid no mind to it, the other children around the table receiving third as well, but she was far more focused on telling you all about the other kids that she’d met. You took charge, cutting up her food for you as you began to add into her stories, telling her all about your own experience in second grade.

“Y’know, Stell, I met your brother when I was in second grade.”

Her jaw dropped, turning to look back at Dave, who only nodded his head in confirmation, but seeming a little strained as he tried to remember that far back. “Really?”

“Really! He had just moved here, and you weren’t even born yet.” You poked at her sides, tickling her a little, and she broke out in a fit of childlike giggles, squirming slightly, pushing at your hands as she did. “He had two front teeth missing, and a buzzcut.”

Dave groaned behind the little girl, seeming to be patching it together now, a wicked glint on your face as you thought about even more details of the story. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands having been growing out over college, more than the short length that they had been when you’d reconnected with him last year, the strands sticking up a little over his head, messy and untamed, only making it worse the more he messed with it.

“He was in a superhero phase, and he came in wearing a different costume every day of the week.”

He let out a loud groan, but there was a smile hidden behind it, and you finished chopping up her food for her, placing the knife and fork down on the edges and pushing it back over to her, little hand picking up the shorter set of cutlery. The chair your boyfriend was sitting in scraped over the floor as he pushed away from the table, beginning to stand up and leaning over to press a kiss to his sister’s head as he passed her by, before coming to a stop before you.

The adult dishes were beginning to be bought out now that the kids all had their own, and he tipped his head in the direction of the bar, making you realise that neither of you had a drink. You’d been so caught up in the whirlwind excitement of surprising your boyfriend with your return that you’d completely neglected the scratching dryness in your throat, or the rumble in your stomach, lighting up a little bit at the thought.

You nodded your head, tipping your head into his hand when it came to rest over your cheek, leaning down enough to brush his lips against your own. It was barely a kiss, before a little hand was slamming down on the table beside you both, making you jump. “Gross!”

You couldn't help the laugh that you let out, head snapping back down to look at Stella as she glared at you both, your cheeks aching from the grin you held. “You don’t like kisses, Stell?”

“No!”

“Not even if I gave you some little kisses?” You leaned over, scoping her up and into your lap so that you could kiss the crown of her head, holding her to you tightly as you peppered the side of her face with little affections, her face growing red as she laughed and wriggled in your arms, barely an effort to escape at all as she cracked up. Just when she thought she’d made it and you let her go Dave caught her on the other side, pressing a kiss to his sister’s cheek, grinning wickedly as he walked away, and you watched her rub aggressively at both of her cheeks as she tried to wipe them clean.

When she deemed the task finished, she set off on her eating, pointedly moving across a seat to get away from you, dragging her plate over to the chair Dave had once sat in, sticking her tongue out at you as she went, and you only beamed, before she was diving into conversation with the other children.

A waiter leaned over, placing two larger plates down, one for you and one for your boyfriend, a smirk on his face as he glanced around the table, before looking to you, and you shrugged, knowing how amusing it was that for now the second year in a row, you were sitting at the kid’s table, despite being in your second year of college, and they walked away with a chuckle.

Moments later, Dave was filling the chair once again, placing a glass down in front of you and raising his brows in silent question of approval as he did. A bubbling gin and tonic, a bottle of beer for him, and you lifted it up, taking a sniff of the contents inside, before taking a testing sip. A concoction of fruity flavours exploded within your mouth, a delicious mix, nodding your approval to him, and he grinned around the neck of his beer as he took a swig himself.

His gaze lingered on you, remaining while you ate, beginning your food, only ever leaving you for a few moments as he ate himself, or answered a question for his sister or one of the other kids, looking away momentarily to chop food or find his drink. It wasn’t an uncomfortable stare, and each time you caught his eyes throughout your conversation and the meal, you felt nothing but utterly loved and cherished.

So, in the pause between your dinner and your dessert, you turned to him, shifting in your seat enough to tangle your feet with his under the table, and his smile seemed to brighten even further.

“Are you trying to burn the image of me into your head, or something?”

“What do you mean?” He moved a little himself, facing you more, one hand smoothing over the tablecloth to find your hand, lacing your fingers together. You waited, and you could tell that he knew exactly what you meant, before shrugging a little, and finally tearing his eyes from you to look around the room. “I hate that we’re always so far from each other, and that this is the first time I’ve seen you in months because college got so busy. I love you, and I’m happy with how we’re doing, but it just..”

“Sucks?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, squeezing your hand back when you squeezed his first, and he watched as people came and went, your attention turning to the mingling folks around you too, and yet you were still entirely wrapped up in one another. “I’m patient, and I’m happy to wait, but sometimes I just feel like we’re being left behind. I mean, my mom and all the neighbours keep going on about the future. They’re all bugging me about when I’m going to move out, start growing up. Simon and Big-C have their own place, Jane just got married, even Aubrey is engaged and moving in with Ronnie.”

He was talking himself breathless, and despite the slightly angry tone to his voice, you knew how to read him, being able to tell that it was more stress than it was frustration, and you placed a hand over his cheek, thumb rubbing over the skin gently to soothe him. Placing his hand over your own, and holding it there.

“Everybody just keeps acting like I have no plans, and that my life isn’t going anywhere, but when your future is half-way across the country for fifty percent of the year, it makes it harder to know where you’re going and what to do.”

His words made your heart flutter, and you choked back the cooing that you wanted to make, pulling him in closer to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

It was chaste, and delicate, and you sighed out happily against his mouth as the hand closed over your own simply tightened, lips melding in slow patterns that had your heart beating out of your chest, exploding with emotions, finally being with the man you loved once again. Dragging your hand from under his, you pushed it further around into his hair, nails scratching at his scalp, a happy sound making itself known from the back of his throat, a rumble in his chest as he tipped his head further into your hold, and you let out a breath giggle as your lips broke apart, finding him relaxing more and more into your touch with each little scrape, knowing just how to comfort him after all this time.

“Don’t worry, Dave.” He only hummed, eyes fluttering shut as a content look washed over his features, head hanging back, now longer only supported by your hand to hold it up, and his body was sagging into the chair, like the actions you were taking had been a reset button for his entire body, stress clearing away. “You’re my future too. We will have plans, when we’re ready, we don’t have to rush for anyone. It’s me and you, and we can take out time.”

“Me and you?” He repeated, words a little slurred, and he jumped at the shock of a plate clanging down, the waitress apologising as the spoon clicked on the edge of the dish, before pudding a dessert down before you as well, and he forced himself to sit back up, to crack his eyes open and let your hand slip away to take your spoon. “You promise that?”

“Of course, I do. I love you.”

He nodded his head, pecking the tip of your nose as he shook himself off slightly to try and bring some life back to his body, and pulling your chair up and under the table properly.”I love you, too.”

“Good, because that tiramisu looks really good, so I’m kinda’ hoping you’ll share.”

He grinned, eyes flicking over the dish you had yourself, considering it all, before nodding his head. “Okay, but only because your pie looks good too, so we’re splitting them both.”

“Deal.”

Poking your spoon into the dish, you dragged it towards you a little, a disbelieving scoff on his lips as he caught his spoon against the other side, stopping you from taking it any further, and stabbing the cutlery into it hard enough to chime against the counter, before taking a large mouthful of it and bringing it up to eat.

You cringed through a laugh as he chewed loudly and unattractively, his spoon battling yours each time you tried to take a bite of the dessert. “Dave!”

“Hey, I said you could have some, but you have to earn it!”

“That’s how you want to play this?” He nodded, taking another bite of his, and you took the chance, dragging your spoon into it and pulling off a piece of the creamy treat, and he was quick to use his own to scrape it back into the dish. “That's no fair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart.”

He picked up the dropped chunk, watching as you pouted, eating it with a wide smile, and half of his tiramisu was already gone, and you gave a dramatic sigh. Instead, you pouted, deciding that if he wanted to play dirty then you would too, and you twisted away from him to face your own sweet, dragging a piece of the apple pie away from the pain crust, and lifting it up to your mouth.

He chuckled beside you, more than amused with his own antics, and you ignored him, letting out a little huff, and not responding to him when he cooed a little, and you tried some more of your pie, staring down into the dish as you pretended to be upset. “Oh, c’mon, baby. I’m only messing around with you. Here, you can have some now.”

He pushed the bowl closer to you, and you looked up at him again, pretending to study him for a moment, and he lifted up his spoon, holding it out to you with a large piece of tiramisu, the Italian delicacy calling out to you. Just as you leaned in to take it, he swerved it around, closing the mouthful between his one lips, and laughing around it as your jaw dropped in shock.

“I won’t fall for your fake sadness, I know when you’re really mad. Good try, though.”

You growled a little, biting at the inside of your cheek to contain your smile, before raising a brow, and dropping your act to deadpan at him. “Fine. War is war, don’t blame me when you regret it.”

“Sounds like a threat?”

“It is.”

It was just the two of you at the table now, the kids long since having finished their ice creams, sticky dishes and spoons left littered around the table as they’d all run off to play, and it was just the two of you left, the low lighting in the corner of the room, a smirk spread over your features as an idea came to mind.

Your hand landed on his thigh, leaning over to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw, feeling him shake a little under your hold as he laughed, bringing up the hand that was resting on the back of your chair to weave into your hair instead. His head twisted, lips brushing your ears, and hot breath washing over your neck as he curled back around you.

“Squeezing my thigh and kissing my jaw won’t work, I’m not the same shy kid I was when you first started using that trick.”

You only hummed, nipping a little at his earlobe, before lifting one leg to rest right over the top of one of his own, the blockade of your leg meaning you had enough space to slide your hand up higher. His breathing did hitch then, as your fingers pressed lightly to the crotch of his jeans, and you settled your head onto his shoulder. To anyone who may look over, it was simply a couple cuddling in the corner, young adults who’d missed each other enough to put aside the general rules of PDA for one night, and it would be okay.

Instead, you licked lightly at the base of his neck, a spot you knew made him weak, and your suspicions were confirmed when he trembled under your touch. “Who’s not playing fair now, huh?”

“It was you who made it a war, Dave.” He dropped his spoon, a loud clanging, and he was choking back a moan as you rubbed your palm down against his cock, feeling him twitch under your touch as he did, even through the layers of material. His hand came down, snatching at your wrist, and cursing under his breath as your actions refused to cease, barely suppressing a moan as he began to grow under your hand.

“Fucking hell, you’re evil.” He whispered, and you nipped lightly at that same spot again, hearing him whimper as you did, hips bucking up into your hand, fingers gripping your wrist even tighter as he tried to push you away, yet never trying to hurt you. “I give up, I give up. Fuck, if I cum in my pants at a Christmas party, you’re never driving my car again.”

“You surrender?”

Squeezing the bulge in his pants, you lifted your head, his eyes rolling back in his head as he bit down on his lower lip, turning his face towards yours and pressing your foreheads together to hide the expression on his face. “I surrender. Dessert is all yours.”

“That’s all you had to say.”

He wheezed out a relieved breath as you finally took your hand away, panting slightly as he came down, having been halfway to creaming himself at the age of twenty like some kind of horny freshman, and he looked mildly irritated when he finally managed to pull himself together. “That was low.”

You only grinned, taking his spoon and enjoying the final bite of his tiramisu, watching as his thumb came up to wipe the powdery dust it had been sprinkled with from the edge of your mouth, but a frown was still sitting on his features. “Hey, you’re the one who wouldn’t share. Besides, it wasn’t so low back in May when you stuck your hand up my skirt while we were playing pool at the bar, huh?”

His eyes flashed over for a second, remembering the moment clearly. He’d been losing, the two of you having snuck into one of the bars on campus and gotten a little tipsy, and after boasting just how good he was at the game, to be losing to you in his hazy state, and as you’d leaned over the table, he’d stood behind you, fingers pinching your clit roughly through your panties and making you fall forwards onto the table, a cry on your lips as you lost the game. It had led to some pretty amazing sex when you’d made it back to his flat, though.

“Besides, I’ll make it up to you.”

“You better.” He mumbled, watching you switch between dishes once his was empty, his jaw hanging open as he waited for you to serve him up a piece of the apple pie. His hand came down to rest on your thigh, holding you close to him as the two of you happily shared out the foods, before falling into comfortable silence.

It was whispers about anything and everything you could think of, nothing too deep, simply making passing comments about what you’d been up to, small talk that would usually come along via your video call dates. His sister had come and gone, crawling up into your lap to sit with you for a while, more than happy to fill the silence as you asked her about what she and the other kids were up to, before she was running away again to chat with her friends.

The conversation went on, chatter about college, updates on all the extra work you’d been doing that had prevented either of you from being able to make any trips in the last few months, straining the long-distance relationship that you were already sharing. First-year had breezed by, being easy enough that since last Christmas, the two of you had made plenty of time to visit one another, meeting up halfway between or making the full trip for the weekend, but second-year had come down hard, and had been kicking your asses.

You moved yourself, his arm settling behind your chair so that your head could fall to his shoulder, one arm slung over his waist, and tiredness began to creep in. You could suppress it for a while at first, holding in your yawns, and being able to follow the stories he was spinning for you, updating you on everything that his friends - both college and at home - had been up to, soft laughs on your lips with each adventurous tale he shared.

Eventually, though, he had caught on, going quiet as he let you fall into a half daze, the hand behind your body moving to stroke over your shoulder, comforting and warm as he just held you there.

“You falling asleep on me, sweetheart?”

“No, no. I’m totally awake. I’m here to spend time with you.” Your words were a little mumbled from sleep.

“Yeah, sure you are.” He teased, jousting you on his shoulder, and you groaned, but sat up, shaking your head to clear it before blinking your eyes into the lights again, trying to readjust.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little tired.” He only nodded his head, watching as you stood up on shaky legs, and following behind you. “My parents are going to be here all night. I can just tell.” You glanced over at them, finding them sitting around one of the tables, chatting away happily with no signs of stopping any time soon, and Dave slipped an arm around you, directing you over to where his mother was and showing you that he was in the exact same boat. “Come get my coat with me?”

He nodded, following after you, and lifting it down to help you pull it up your arms, booking yourself a cab as he tied your scarf around your neck for you, making sure you were nice and cosy.

Another yawn was pulling at your lips, and the second it was finished, he was offering you a soft kiss, one that you barely had the energy to return as you began to slip closer to just passing out in your exhaustion. Time zones were a real bitch, you were getting the short end of the stick with jetlag, but it was all worth it.

“You know, I could come with you? We could stay at my place, tonight?”

“I should probably stay in my own bed for the first night back, don’t you think?”

The cold was enough to make you gasp loudly as you stepped into the night air, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than you had a moment ago as your breath clouded in the air, making you shiver, sticking your hands into your coat pockets as you moved down to the curb to wait for your taxi to arrive. Seeing headlights coming around the end of the road, you could barely make it out, but suspected it to be your vehicle, and you rocked up onto the tips of your toes to steal another kiss from him, his lips working against your own just as eagerly. Licking along his lower lip, he parted them for you with a soft moan, tongues tangling together, his hands finding your waist and pulling your body flush up to his own, keeping you close.

It was a kiss that was long overdue, finally getting a real moment alone together, nobody around, no crowds, just the two of you for the first time in months, and you were looking forwards to much more time with him like this over the holidays, and beyond it. One of the hands on your waist was now sliding up, tangling into your hair as his head tipped to the side, stealing deeper access to your mouth, before pulling away for breath only a moment later.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place?”

“Tempting. Very tempting.” You mumbled, letting him lean in for further kisses as he laughed softly, the innuendo in his words not being missed but slipping way as irrelevant, and the squealing of tires pulling up only a few metres away told you that your assumptions had been correct, your taxi waiting patiently, phone buzzing in your pocket to confirm it.

“I could make you breakfast if you did.”

“How about you take me out for breakfast on Boxing Day morning? I’ll finish my unpacking and we’ll go for an early morning date.” He sighed, nodding his head and walking over to the car with you, reaching down to open the door.

“Fine, Boxing Day breakfast date it is. But only if you promise that it’s a lunch date and dinner date, too. I want you for the whole day.” He pulled it open, letting you step down from the sidewalk and settle into the seat, closing it and leaning against the open window as you smiled up at him.

“All-day date, you got it.”

“Call me tomorrow?” He questioned, not wanting to hold you up much longer as the driver waited, politely turning up the radio a little as the glass stayed closed, giving you both privacy.

“Of course, I have to wish my man a Happy Christmas, right?”

“It’s much happier now you’re home.” He leaned in, pecking your lips one final time, before stepping away from the car, and sticking his hands into his pockets, the car revving to life a little. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

You nodded, blowing him a kiss and rolling the window back up, the car setting off on its journey.

This wasn’t like last year, where Dave had been waiting in unknowing anxiety as to whether he was even going to see you again. This year, he was filled with confidence, enjoying the part around himself instead of sulking in a corner, because this year, he was happy. You’d texted him a half-hour ago to tell him you were almost ready, and that you’d be on your way over soon, and he was anticipating the arrival of his girlfriend with joy.

He’d allowed his mother to introduce him to as many people as she wanted to, mingling and socialising as she willed him to, until finally, he’d been left along in peace to get a drink. He was now standing still staring down at his phone as he lurked near the dining table, the chairs dragged away into the living room and the wood pushed up to the wall, laid out with food and snacks, and just waiting for you.

Wrapping your arms around his waist, you felt him jump, before your hands were connecting over his middle and he was dropping a hand down to cover yours. His other shifted around between you, tucking his phone into his pocket, before turning in your arms to take you in. Before he did, he leaned down, pressing a careful kiss to your lips as not to smudge the makeup you had done, a fresh layer of lipstick sitting on pouted lips, and he hummed happily as you squeezed yourself in a little closer to him.

“Missed you.”

His words were mumbled against your lips, and you grinned, trying to kiss him through it and whining when he pulled back, but shaking his head, feeling mischief coarse through your veins. “You saw me yesterday. And the day before that, and before that, pretty much all week. Aren’t you sick of me yet?”

“I’m never going to get sick of you, baby.” His hands found your cheeks, tipping you back a little bit as your smiles were pressed together, ruining what would have been a romantic kiss, but you couldn’t contain your joy, cheeks aching as you tried to straighten it. “You look pretty.”

His hands slipped down to find yours, holding you out before him and dropping one, lifting the other to twirl you around in the golden wrap dress that you were wearing, a low whistle on his lips, and he tugged a little at the belt around your waist, raising his brows as the material gaped open a little with your movements, exposing your thigh to him as the hem of the dress at around the middle of your calves.

“This is new.”

“I bought something special for the night, I wanted to feel good.” He grinned, lifting your hand up to sit on his shoulder, before placing both of his own on your waist, nibbling on his lip as he looked at you. “You scrub up pretty damn good yourself, Davie. All black suit, looking hot.”

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders and pulling you back in for another kiss, groaning as the song in the room changed. Your lips were just brushing his, before his mother was darting straight through the room, calling his name loudly, and he sighed, pulling back from you to look up and find his mother, who was trying to shoulder her way through the crowds towards him.

“This is your song, Dave!”

“It’s not my song, this is just a song you play every year and make me dance to because I danced to it once in a middle school play.” His mother took no notice, rolling her eyes and grabbing onto his arm, trying to drag him away. He gripped onto your hand, forcing you to follow him along, until you could see Stella, tearing up the dance floor with the sugar rush she was currently holding, an upbeat song playing over the speakers and vibrating through the floors.

The part was reaching its full mass, the place absolutely teeming with people, far more than should be able to fit into a house like this, even if the gardens were open too, despite the cold weather, and yet there was still a spot cleared on the dance floor for him. His mother had found a dance partner, Stella was dancing with two of her friends in a crazy trio, and Dave was holding his hand out to you, wiggling his brows as the song progressed on. He didn’t give you a chance to mull it over, taking your hand and pulling you into him, your chest crashing into his, before he was positioning you to be able to dance.

“This is the worst song in the world.” You teased, bodies around you moving just as fervently, and he nodded his head, before the lyrics were belting out of him, shouted at the top of his lungs, and you were giggling as he twirled you around. “I am not dancing to this.”

“You have to!” He insisted, still trying to get you to move with him, one arm wrapping around your waist as the other connected with your own, holding it up in a waltz style pose, despite the fact that you’d never be able to waltz to this kind of pop.

“Says who?” Your laughter broke out again as he dipped you backwards, spinning you around, your bodies bouncing a little as you moved to the beat, and you couldn't deny that it was catchy, your feet beginning to move along with his, and the smile on his face only widened as you did.

“Says the laws of being my girlfriend. You have to dance with me, always, even if you think I’m embarrassing you.”

He let out a loud cheer, just to draw attention to you both again, but the smile on his face made it worth it all as you danced with him again. Your inhibitions were slipping away, heart beating rapidly in your chest and laughs drowned over the sounds of the music as you twirled around the room, almost bumping into other people on the dance floor as they joined in. The heat was building, your cheeks flushing as his skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, the song seeming to go on forever, and yet, you couldn't find it within yourself to care, because the moment felt perfect.

When the music finally ceased, you slumped against him, letting him catch you as the two of you panted, a few stray hairs sticking to your forehead for the exertion of the activity, and he laughed breathlessly, holding you up as the funky hip hop tunes continued on, the more tame songs would come along later in the night when only the adults were left, the kids still making the most of the evening.

Looping your arms around his neck, he smirked, hands finding your waist, as the two of you rocked slowly to the upbeat song that was playing, a smile finding your lips when his forehead came down to rest against your own. “So, later on, will you save me a real dance? When the slow songs are playing?”

“Who says I slow dance?”

“The laws of being my boyfriend.” He chuckled at your use of his words against him, before he was dipping down to press a kiss to your lips, sighs sounding from both of you at the chaste connection. “You’ll have to get used to slow dancing with me, Davie. As you said, all our friends are starting to grow up, getting engaged and throwing parties, and I’m going to want to slow dance.”

He nodded his head, spinning you out form his body and twirling you around, before he was bringing you back into his body, a smirk on his lips and mischief flashing across his eyes. “Who says you’re my date?”

“Oh, you got someone else?” You took the bait, gasping falsely as he grinned wider, a cocky look on his face as he held you once again, swaying you in his arms before dipping you backwards, lifting your thigh onto his hip for only moment, and when he pulled you back up, you were even closer than before.

“You know you’re my one and only, baby.”

You leaned up, mouths brushing together again. “Mhm, I better be.”

He closed the gap, teeth scraping over your lower lip at a more passionate connection, sucking on your lower lip slightly, enough to make you moan out a little under your breath, and his hands tightened on your body. The dancing you were enjoying had become more like swaying, no longer focused on the movements of your feet or the tune of the music, but just on one another.

Your hand came up to tangle in his hair, nails scraping over his scalp lightly as his fingertips dug into your waist, all but burning through the material of your dress, making you feel like flames were consuming you from the inside out. You’d never felt this way with a guy before, Dave mad you feel cherished and loved, everything you always wanted, without ever having to ask, he was perfect for you. He accepted every flaw and rumple, and he never made you feel anything less than beautiful.

You wanted to live in this moment with him forever.

It was short-lived, unsurprisingly, before the two of you were being pulled apart once again to mingle, your mother wanting to introduce you to people and show you off, telling them all about your big university plans, and Dave being forced to help his mother host, the hours of the night passing by.

You were moved from group to group, the same questions being asked every single time, repeating the answers like a script you’d learned as you recited facts about your course, and told them what you liked, and what you thought would be improved on. You were asked about your college experience and the campus, and everything that the middle generation could possibly think of. You were sick of college, you were sick of being asked about how hard it was to be away from your family and friends, or whether it was liberating and gave you your freedom. You didn’t want anything but to enjoy being home, to hear about what you’d missed out in, instead of being interrogated about your life.

You managed to escape from the conversations, hiding away in the corner and letting out a sigh, eyes closing for a second as you tried to steal a moment to yourself, your phone buzzing in your bra from where you had stored it, no pockets or a bag, and just as you reached for it, there was a voice calling your name once again, and you wanted to bite down on the inside of your cheek just to stop a scream of frustration from leaving you.

A blonde head of hair was bobbing towards you, leaving the group within which her date was wowing a collection of the locals with his information on music and his up and coming cat-food album. Aubrey Miller, somebody you had formed a begrudging allegiance with over this last year, the girl constantly messaging you on Facebook, commenting on your Instagram posts and retweeting you, and so you’d simply accepted that she was going to be a part of your life. Besides, you never wanted to feel like the jealous ex, because you weren’t and you knew Dave loved you, but sometimes it irked you how she always seemed to be around at the most inconvenient of times.

Your phone buzzed again, but she was taking both of your hands in hers, squeezing tightly and laughing as though something had been said. “It’s been so long since I last saw you!”

“Yep, that’s right.” You managed to muster a somewhat enthusiastic tone, unsure of how you did it, but she seemed to breeze on over it, charging straight into her next topic. “How is life at college? It’s so far away!”

“Can we talk about something other than college? I’ve been talking about it all evening.”

She paused, chuckling for a second, before nodding her head. “Sure, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you about my new place yet! I’m having a house warming party, and I wanted to invite you. Dave and his family will be there, of course.” You ground your teeth a little, smiling through it as she spoke on behalf of your boyfriend, but knowing that deep down you were just a little frazzled because of the night.

“Sounds fun, I’ll be there.”

“Great, it’s in just a few days, I can send you the details!” You only nodded and smiled, glancing around the room to try and catch sight of your lover, but he was nowhere to be seen. “Besides, it’ll be nice for you and Dave to have some more quality couple time together, I know how lonely he’s been feeling lately.”

A lump formed in your throat, your eyes snapping back to her own as your brows furrowed, narrowing a little as you looked at her. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, gosh, no.” Her eyes widened, shaking her head as she realised how her words had come out. “I know what that came out as, but I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I hear some things, and he said some stuff earlier tonight.”

“Like what?” You mumbled, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at her, insecurities beginning to creep in.

“Well, I’m the only one still around here, so I talk to the parents a lot. His mom is really proud of him, and of you. She loves you, she talks about you both every book club, but Dave just misses you a lot. He tells her, she spills it to us, that's all. She likes me, but only as a friend. She never liked me the way she likes you, like you’re her own daughter.” You smiled a little at that, warmth blossoming in your chest at the idea of being welcomed so wholly into his family. “I was talking to him earlier tonight, just before you arrived, his mom was grilling him about moving out and making moves, plans for his life, y’know?”

“Yeah, he told me about that.”

“Well, did he tell you the part where he just felt alone, because he never got to see you? I like you, I admire you, I really do, but Dave is my friend. I’m not still in love with him, I’m in love with Ronnie, but him and I went through a hard time and Dave was there for me during that time. I want to be there for him, too.” You were suspicious once again, somehow feeling like you weren’t going to like what was about to come from her. “It’s Christmas, and you’re here now, so clearly we’re on the same page, but I told him that I thought you should be here, because it’s the holidays. I wasn’t trying to start anything, I was just giving him the same real talk that he gave me when I couldn’t see the truth about Ronnie.”

“The truth? Are you trying to tell me that you told Dave you didn’t think I was good enough for him?”

“No, of course not! I just told him that I thought he should be thinking about why you couldn't be here, and whether you were growing too busy for him, and he should prepare himself before any more hurt came.” Your jaw clenched, and she cursed under her breath, seeming to realise that she still wasn’t getting her words right. “I’m messing this all up.”

“You think?”

She pursed her lips at your hissed out words, and you stiffened as you felt arms sliding around your waist, a chin hooking over your shoulder, and she excused herself, pointing over her shoulder, before disappearing into the crowds, and you twisted around in the arms of the man who was holding you. “You haven’t been replying to my texts.”

“You feel alone?”

His face dropped, the smile disappearing, and eyes widening as he looked at you. “What?”

“You confessed to Aubrey and not me?” He looked panicked, freezing up before you, and you placed your hands on his cheeks, trying to reassure him a little, not wanting him to bolt or get overly anxious. “You should tell me these things. I’m your girlfriend, if we’re having issues, I want to know about it.”

He held onto your hand, bringing your knuckles to his mouth, pressing kisses along them as he sighed. “We don’t have any issues at all, sweetheart. It’s just me being insecure and needy, that’s why I didn’t tell you. I just miss you a lot, but I know you’re busy.”

“I would make more time for you, though, if I knew you needed me.”

“Yeah, but then you’d be putting all your work aside, and you’d get more stressed than you already are, and I don’t want that.” Your heart warmed, watching him put your needs before his own, and you leaned up enough to bump your noses together. “I’m sorry, I just wish we had some more time together.”

“I know, but we will, okay? I promise, the future holds a lot of quality time for me and you.”

“It does?”

There was a hopeful tone to his voice that made your lower lip tremble a little, pressing a series of kisses to his lips that were for his assurance as well as your own, and he sighed happily at knowing you weren’t angry with him, kissing you back until you pulled away. “Wanna’ find a quieter? We can have some quality time.”

“Yeah?” He wiggled his brows a little, and you grinned, already knowing exactly where his mind had gone. “It’s loud in here. I keep getting pulled away to mingle. You know what I really want?”

“What do you want, honey?” You reached up, fingers smoothing through his hair, weaving through the strands as you tried to restyle the hair atop his head that was starting to flop back down into his forehead as the gel wore off.

“I just want to makeout with my girlfriend on New Year's Eve, like I should be able to. I’m young and horny, and my girl is hot, I don’t want to spend it away from her and socialising.” He huffed out the words, and you tried to cover up your laugh, raising your brows. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because I’m remembering how we missed last year’s countdown, and your mom was furious about it, and she didn’t even know what we’d really done.” His lips parted a little as he remembered it, eyes glazing over as he went back to that moment, and his lips were beginning to curl up at the edges, pulling your body in a little closer to his own. “Stop that, I know where your mind is going.”

“You brought it up!”

“To prove to you that we have to stay here!” You laughed, and his hands ran a little further down your sides, pushing you closer to the wall, and your breathing hitched in your throat as his grip became tighter, body pressing into you as you were pushed up into the surface. “Dave..”

“We could be quick, back in time for the countdown. Nobody has to know.”

You shook your head, resistance beginning to fail as his nose nuzzled at the underside of your jaw, lips dragging over your skin teasingly, before he was pressing a soft kiss to the spot just below your ear that made you shake in his hold, your body betraying you as a tremor wracked along your body, making you arch up into him a little further.

“C’mon, kitten. You look so good tonight, and now you got me thinking about sex. What do you expect from me, when you’re here looking this good, and you’re all mine, huh?”

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” You muttered, already preparing to cave in to his pleadings, before he was pinching at your ass roughly through your dress, snickering at the yelp you let out as he did, and he palmed roughly at the patch instead. As you released a little moan, his mouth closed over yours to silence you, a hot kiss as his tongue plunged into your mouth, tangling with your own without even a second’s hesitation.

You were putty in his hands, and you already know it. Clearly, he did too, because his hips were pushing into yours as he held you up to the wall, risking it all as people continued to wander around you, and it only took one o the more conservative neighbours or one of your parents to see for it all to be over, the two of you to be chastised like children again, taking you back to your youth, but you had absolutely no reservations when it came to him.

As you finally pulled back for breath, feeling his lips trace along your jaw, you nodded your head, giving in and telling him what he wanted to hear. “Okay, let’s go.”

He snapped up, lips a little swollen and eyes glossy, a look on his face that made your thighs clamp together and rub with need, and his gaze flickered down as he caught onto the action. Taking your hand in his, he dragged you away, glancing back at you over his shoulder as he heard you giggle, before making his way to the staircase. He went ahead of you, your feet barely having touched halfway up the set, before your eyes were closing in on the hoards of people upstairs, too.

It was twice as busy as it had been last year, the two of you having been able to sneak away to the empty upstairs, but even the corridors outside of his bedroom were busy, and as you finally pushed through the people to open the door, finding his bed piled high with coats, bags and purses.

“Of course.” He mumbled, practically hearing his mother’s voice yelling at him again for disappearing, a little task clearly done on purpose to ensure the two of you had nowhere to sneak off to this time, but he wasn’t giving up so easily. “Basement?”

You nodded, falling into step beside him, and chasing after him, adrenaline and excitement racing through your veins. There was always the risk of getting caught, there was last time too, but this was something else. Last time, you didn’t know what would come of it, it could've been a one-time thing, and so this one was all new kinds of thrilling. A year into your relationship, and you were making up for all the time that you had lost, searching for new excitement as you celebrated the time that had passed together.

As your fingers hooked onto the door to the stairs leading down, the light was already on, your stomach sinking, and the further down you went, the more kids you already found hanging out down there, a game of twister in play as thirteen year old girls all squealed and giggled, eyes wide as they stared at you while trying to balance.

You both mumbled your apologies for interrupting, backing your way out, and there was a pout on his lips as you returned to the main party. Leaning up, your body slumped into his, large hands smoothing over your back, before you were teasing the lobe of his ear with your teeth, a shudder rolling over his body as you did. “Don’t you have a treehouse?”

“Only if I can climb up the ladder behind you.”

“You’re going to get to see what’s up my skirt anyway.” You scoffed, and he only winked, the two of you stumbling out into the back garden dirty little jokes and exchanges as you poured out of the back door. There were considerably fewer people milling around the garden, the cooler temperatures making people prefer the indoors, and as you approached the treehouse, a muffled set of giggles caught your attention from the top of the ladder as you stood at the bottom.

An incredulous look flashed over your features at the idea that someone might have actually already beat you to that spot, and Dave groaned in frustration, kicking at the wood before him, and the ladder trampled a little from the force. “You have got to be fucking kidding me!”

He turned to look at you, frustration flicking across his face as disappointment set in, your shoulders rising and falling in a shrug, not sure what else to say, and the two of you began to trudge back inside. The backdoor way was blocked as you approached it, Dave’s hands clenching by his sides as he navigated you around to the side of the house, using the spare key to open the garage door, and knowing that there was a lock to the main kitchen from inside of it.

Sealing it up behind yourselves and replacing the hidden key, he navigated himself between his car and his mom’s, parked at alternating angles toward the kitchen, and an idea flashed through your mind.

“Dave!”

“Yeah?” His hand was sitting on the handle to the kitchen, ready to flick the lock on it open, light spilling out from the crack under the door.

“We’re alone.” He paused, and your arms motioned out around yourself, the chill of the room quickly making your hands clamp back up at your sides, and he seemed excited for just a second, before shivering himself.

“It’s freezing, and there’s nowhere to lay down.”

“Come over here and warm me up, then.” You smirked, leaning against the edge of his car next to the front, and his face lit up, hopping back down the steps towards you. Hands hooked under your thighs, lifting you into his arms for just a second, before the cold metal of the car’s hood was pressing into you, making you gasp at the chill, his body taking place between your parted thighs.

It all became irrelevant, though, when his mouth collided with yours, slamming together with heated intensity, and all of that burning passion came rushing back. Hands were burning on your thighs, bringing your legs around to wrap at his waist, the material of your dress falling aside as the wrapped material fell open, rough palms dragging over the smooth skin.

One hand was sitting on his face, feeling his jaw moved under your own, sharp and smooth from where he’d freshly shaven, rough kisses making your lips sting as you pressed back with an equal kind of love, your other hands tingling in his hair. Your lungs were burning for oxygen, your head spinning the longer you prolonged the inevitable. Finally pulling back for breath, you dragged your mouth along his jaw, feeling the moan that rumbled up in his throat as you licked your way along the column, his pulse pounding beneath the skin as you kissed across that same spot.

He tipped his head back, letting you work longer, and when your lips came to meet the collar of the same dress shirt he wore, your hands slipped down to his shoulders, to his chest, nails scratching at the muscles underneath loft and he puffed up into your hold, before your fingers were finding the buttons.

“I love it when you wear smart shirts.” You mumbled, each space of skin exposed as you undid his shirt being pressed with a kiss from your lips, faint marks of your lipstick being left over his skin the lower you went, until you were untucking it from the belt around his waist, and leaving it to hand open. Goosebumps travelled over his skin when your nails scraped across the lightly defined muscles of his abs, red marks being left in your traces as you did, your fingers hooking into the belt loops of his jeans. “God, you’re so fucking hot.”

“I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He mumbled, fingers playing with the belt around your waist, the sequinned design making it harder for him to find the catch, but when it fell loose, he was quick to let it drop away to the floor, discarded as you pulled his belt free from his jeans. “You’re telling me that all that’s holding this whole dress shut is two buttons?”

His eyes were wide, nimble fingers undoing the button on the outside, and pushed the base of the dress open a little more, a smirk forming on his lips, before looking up to catch your eyes.

“Wearing my favourite panties, too, huh?”

“Not the matching bra, though.” Your words were whispered, a hoarse voice, and he licked over dried lips, before popping the final button and letting the material expose you to him fully. He hummed happily, two hands smoothing across your stomach, pushing you down until the cold metal of the car until you were laying back across it, large palms cupping at your tits and squeezing roughly.

You couldn't help the way you pushed up into his hands, a loud moan falling from you, and he shushed you quietly, bending at the waist to press a wet kiss to the spot just under your ribs, licking at the spot teasingly as he worked his way down and around your navel. “Keep quiet, baby, we don’t want anyone to come in here and see you with your legs wrapped around my head, do we?”

A single finger ran under the crotch of your panties, knuckle brushing over your clit, and you bit down on your lip to contain the whimper that such a feeling aroused within you, your hips bucking against his hand. He pulled back, snapping the edge of the lace garment against your folds, chuckling at the gasp you made when he did, before he was pushing them to the side. Holding them or of the way, dragging a finger across your slit, a happy sound produced from him as slick coated the tip of the digit, swirling with a filthy sound bouncing around the two of you as he did, sinking a single finger into your walls.

“So wet for me. I love getting this reaction out of you. What got you all worked up tonight, hm?” He was sinking further down, nipping along the indies of your trembling thighs, and despite the cold metal you were laying along, you were already burning up from the inside out, eagerly awaiting the moment in which his mouth would reach the place that you wanted it the most. “Was it the dancing? Or the outfit? Tell me what made you like this.”

He pumped the finger slowly, and your hands formed fists, nails digging into your skin as you found your first orgasm beginning to build rapidly within your stomach, guts winding up into a tightening coil and you tried to catch your breath just to be able to reply. “You did.”

“Mhm, I know that, but what specifically?” He pushed, dragging his tongue slowly over your centre, and you let out a loud cry, cutting it off halfway through by covering your mouth with your hand, eyes rolling back in your head as the pad of his tongue dragged slowly across your clit, electricity sparking across your body. “You can have what you want as soon as you use your words, kitten.”

“You did! Just you, nothing special. I just love you, you drive me crazy.” Your words were slurred and rushed out, but he paused for a second, his finger no longer pumping but instead curling within you, pad searching along your walls until he found the spot he was looking for, your entire body jerking at the stimulation with you.

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dave, please! You know how I feel about you, stop teasing me now.” He nodded, pressing down once more on the patch within you that made you cry out, before he was pulling back, sinking to his knees entirely and giving you exactly what you wanted. A hot and wet mouth closed over your folds, tongue parting them and licking at everything that had already built up, teasing around your entrance as he slurped up what you had to give. Teeth dragged across your clit, enough of a sting to make you cry out into the cover of your hand, your eyes rolling in your head hips bucking up into his face, and he was more than happy to allow it.

Easing your thighs up onto his shoulders so he could move deeper, your legs clamping around his head with every motion he made, every shake of his head as he worked at your centre, lips sealing around the throbbing button nestled between your thighs to focus on the pleasure it brought you. Dave was skilled with his mouth, he’d known what he was doing since the very first time he’d gone down on you, but basic skills had become honed to your body, being able to read you, everything he did bringing you closer and closer to melting bliss.

Tears lined your eyes, squeezing shut to contain them as the simulations all became too much, and your other hand came down to thread into his hair, pulling roughly, your words muffled by the hand covering your mouth, and it became your only way of communicating with him. Fingertips were digging into the muscle of your thighs, holding you still as he dove into you, again and again, tongue lapping at every drop that came from you.

His tongue was plunging in and out of you, fucking you against the wet article as your keened up and into his hold, writhing against the hood of the car, speech becoming completely incomprehensible. Dave was by no means boring in bed, but there was always something exciting about the idea of fucking right when there was someone on the other side of a door, and right now there was a wheel party that might hear you scream Dave’s name, because as his tongue traced at your walls, lips and teeth teasing over your clit, alternating between where he wanted to please you the most, your arm was growing heavier and heavier, your climax teetering on the edge.

He knew it too, reading you like a book, pulling away and prying your legs from around his head before he was grabbing a hold of you and pulling you up to stand. Your legs buckled underneath you, almost falling away to the floor if it wasn't for his hands supporting you, a dark chuckle was sounding in your ear, a wet kiss placed to your cheek, before he was turning you around. Your hands pressed to the car, using it for support as he pressed up behind you, fingers dipping down and under the waistband of your panties.

He wasted no time, two fingers plunging into your already stretched out core, and just as a loud cry of his name left you, his other hand was skating up, over your throat, making your breathing hitch, before he was tipping your head back onto his shoulder. A thumb slipped into your mouth, and you sucked onto it, using the digits to muffle yourself as two fingers began to slam in and out of you.

It was oddly reminiscent, the amusement of the thought flashing across your mind for a split second, about just how comparative this was to New Years last year. Dave standing behind you, hand in your panties and cock straining into your ass as he prepared to fuck you senseless, except this time it wasn’t just lust, but love too.

As your peak came crashing over you, your eyes were rolling back in your head, shaking in his arms as he held you tightly, your underwear becoming far too uncomfortable as your juices slicked up his fingers, ruining the material as he kept going to rid you through it, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sensitive walls, the heel of his hand brushing over the swollen bud that fireworks explode within you.

When you finally couldn't take it anymore, he let you go, slumping down in an undignified manner across the hood of the car. Your dress was half hanging off of you, and you shucked the material down your arms and to the floor, feeling like you were burning alive in it now, skin covered with a thin layer of sweat from the heat building between you both, and your thighs were still twitching a little.

A hand came down roughly on your ass, and you jerked at the feeling, hissing out a curse to your boyfriend, and he didn’t reply, a more than proud and cocky look on his face as he palmed at the stinging skin.

“We have two options.” He knelt down, fingers hooking into your panties, pulling them roughly down your thighs, until you could step out of them, and he pressed kisses all the way back up along your skin, until he was standing again. “Option one, I can fuck you over the hood, but you gotta’ keep quiet.” He pinched at your ass cheek, the one he’d laid a spank to, and you moaned, pushing back into his touch.

“And the other option?”

“Option two, you can ride me in the front seat, and scream as loud as you want.” You whimpered, managing to find enough strength to turn around to face him, fingers hooking into his belt loops and stand up a little further.

“I like option two.” You whispered your response against his mouth, lips brushing together, and he could only nod, tongue flicking out to lick at your mouth a little, spreading the taste of you to your own lips until it was smeared there. He reached behind you, pressing up to you until you fell backwards, and he opened the door, stepping away from you with a wide smirk and half-lidded eyes.

Tugging open the front of his jeans, the zipper grated angrily as it came undone, and he palmed at himself through the thick material, thumbs hooking into the waistband to push both the denim and the cotton of his underwear beneath it down, a dripping and flushed red cock springing up, slapping against his stomach and leaking with shining precum, bobbing in the cool air, a sight that made you legs clench together tightly.

Collapsing down into the passenger seat, he patted at his thighs, tempting you forwards while rummaging through the dash box, finding one of the emergency condoms that the two of you kept hidden in his car at all times, and tearing the little packet open as you settled across his lap, cramped into the chair. As he rolled the rubber along his length, pumping himself slowly, and you cranked back the lever on the seat to push it backwards.

As he laid down you were granted more pace, hair falling around the pair of you like curtains, hiding the meshing of your lips as your hands found a home on either side of his shoulders to support the weight of you above him. His hands were on your hips as you sank down, rolling yourself along his length, the head of his cock dragging through your folds and pushing with a delicious friction against your button every single time.

Finally, when the tension became too much, he shifted, hips bucking up and into you, the head of his cock sinking within your walls, and he reached one hand out to find the car door, pulling on it and slamming it shut, before bucking his hips up the rest of the way inside of you. Your arms trembled, almost dropping you down onto him as the pressure of his cock within you stretched you to your limits, filling you up perfectly just as he did every single time, his name spilling from you in a drawn-out whine as he gave you a moment to adjust.

“That’s right, baby, call my name. Tell the world who makes you feel this good.”

“Dave!” He leaned in, sitting you up a little in his lap and helping you start to make rhythms with your hips, lips closing around one perky nipple. Your fingernails were dragging marks into the pale flesh of his shoulders as you held on for dear life, his mouth working over your chest with the same vigour and determined enthusiasm that he’d used to assault your core. “Fuck, Dave!”

The head of his cock was pressing up to that spot within you that made everything go fuzzy, the world melting away until it was just the two of you left. As you grew more in your confidence, the simple circling and rocking of your hips became more, you became bold enough to lift yourself up, slamming yourself back down onto him, and he switched to your other breast, equal treatment being shared across your body.

“Oh, my God. You’re so fucking good..” Your words were whined out, and you couldn't wait for the morning, when you’d wake up with that ache between your legs, body littered with fading bites and bruises made out of love, and he was beginning to thrust his hips up a little into you. For every movement that he made to meet you, another fizz of electricity and excitement raced through your veins, another moment here your entire body lit up with sunshine and fireworks just for him, because he took you to heights of pleasure that you’d never before experienced.

“Louder, kitten. Scream louder for me, like I know you can.”

He licked over the pad of his thumb, slipping the hand between your bodies, and pressing down roughly on the already overstimulated bud that was throbbing and desperate for attention with every brush across the hair-smattered skin at the base of his cock. “Dave!”

“Louder!”

Two fingers pinched at your clit, and your head was thrown back, eyes welling with tears at the joy of pain that made you unravel once again, nails ripping marks into his skin as you quivered on top of him, his name leaving your lips in a loud scream like a mantra. The windows were fogging up, the heat becoming unbearable around you both, and yet it still felt perfect, the two of you boiling in hell as you roasted within the weight of your sins; filthy and reckless, utterly debaucherous as you stole yet another chink of one another’s innocence with each dirty act.

You couldn't help it, the need that washed over you, the easy way that every time you were with him felt addictive never wanting to pull away, no matter how spent you became, because chasing a high with home was just too good to pass up on.

Your forehead pressed to his, skin slick and sliding together with sweat, and you slammed yourself back onto him, riding him for everything that you were worth, and from the way he was beginning to shake and quiver underneath you, you could tell that he was nearing a peak that would make his eyes roll back in his head the same way yours did.

“Always so damn tight, so good for me. Perfect, baby, all mine.” He was babbling, the same way he always did when he was nearing his climax, and your walls were fluttering around him, never once taking a break, chasing up both of you final crashing downs. You felt like you’d been electrified, and he planted his feet on the floor, arms circling your waist to pull you down until your legs were folded against the chair, chests pressed together, and he could buck up without restraint into you.

You were boneless, feeling like you’d become nothing but jelly, your throat raw as you cried out his name, eyes crossing at the feeling of how deep he could reach within you, and all that you could hear was the sounds he made, low growls and grunts, cracking voice as he moaned your name and a slew of praises, and your heart beating in your ears.

Your blood was rushing, heart threatening to explode entirely for you both, racing and banging against your ribs.

“Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.” You whispered, unable to muster up anything else, and as you came undone for the final time, the clenching of your walls dragged him along with you. He bit down on your shoulder as he came, only dragging out the feelings you were experiencing, and you felt as though you’d blacked out for a moment as your vision spotted, everything within you going numb, except for all the places where you were joined to him, hands on your waist and cock buried inside of you.

“Yes, kitten, fucking hell!”

“I know!” You squeaked, the aftermath of your orgasm making you twitch and clench around him, and he groaned, squirming at the overstimulation and lifting you off of him, pacing you down into the driver’s seat.

The windows were fogged up, marks streaked across the glass as you wiped them clear, and you reached across, opening one of the doors and sighing happily at the cool breeze that swept across your body. There was a chafing sting along the backs of your thighs from the denim that was still bunched tightly around his upper legs, and he cringed as he peeled back the condom that was still wrapped around his softening cock.

You tried to move, tingling sensations spreading the whole length to the tips of your fingers and toes as you tried to wiggle some kind of feeling back into them, sitting up a little as you made attempts to regain control of your body, and your elbow recessed into the horn, a scratch sounding from you as it sounded out loudly. Your boyfriend jumped too, loud barks of laughter leaving him as you did, and you almost joined him, before panic was washing over you both, heads snapping over to the garage door that connected to the kitchen, fear making your blood turn to icy cement in your veins.

When nobody came through, he turned to shoot out a mock glare, slapping at your thigh lightly. Lifting his hips up awkwardly, he managed to tug his jeans back up, searching around for his shirt and finding it discarded on the floor, unaware of when he’d even taken it off, but finding it messed up alongside the various garments that you had been wearing too.

“Think we should go back?”

“Probably.” He sighed, leaning over the centre console for a kiss, lips puckered and a hand landing on your cheek to pull your mouth down to his, delicate and sweet as he made the most of the final moments.

When you felt like you might be able to stand up without falling, you removed yourself from the car, the temperatures having dropped as you came down, and the chill of the crisp December air was making goosebumps rise through your skin. He was messing with his belt when you finally had your panties back on, your dress on your arms but hanging open, the same way his shirt was, and he closed up the car doors, chuckling at the way you wobbled as you buttoned your dress back up.

His hands found your hips, mouth coming back to claim your own, smeared lipstick making his pale skin stand out even more, and you giggling against his mouth, the rubbing of his thumbs through your dress was soothing and relaxing, bringing you back down to earth from the cloud nine that he’d taken you to, and you did up the buttons along the front of his shirt, trying to get them right without looking, but in your haze, the task was too hard, and you dragged your lips from his kiss to be able to check the task.

He smoothed down your hair for you, grinning at the messed up state that it had become, and you ran a finger around the edges of your lips to clear away the smeared lipstick that was now just a mess on both of your mouths, and you were glad that it had already begun to fade somewhat before this had all taken place.

He licked at his own lips, making sure the colour you’d printed onto him was gone, and when you finally judged yourselves to be appropriate again, or as appropriate as you were going to get, he opened the door for you both to reenter the house. The kitchen was warmer, and while you’d adjusted to the difference in temperature while Dave’s body had been pressed up to your own to keep you warm, you were glad to be back into the heated room. The doors were all closed now, the crowds having thinned, parents with younger children or older parents leaving, and yet there were still enough people that you managed to slip back into the party without being noticed as absent.

“See? Fifteen minutes ‘til the countdown. We’re just in time.”

Champagne flutes had been laid out along the island in the kitchen, all filled up perfectly, and Dave had two in his hands, passing one over to you, and you clinked them together, fingers weaving and palms pressed or one another’s as you walked into the rest of the house. The music had quietened, and the television had been turned on, the countdown displayed prominently on the screen as the final few minutes began to tick down, and Dave’s mother was making the rounds with a bottle of champagne to top up the glasses of anybody who needed it, always laying the perfect hostess.

Taking a small sip of the liquid in your glass, you winced slightly, but swallowing it anyway. It wasn’t your drink of choice, and you weren’t particularly keen on it, but since the two of you were not only celebrating the new year, but celebrating your anniversary, you were indulging in something a little classier. Dave’s hand was sitting low on your waist, letting you curl into his side, the night plodding on, and Stella and her friends were sprawled out on the couch, all looking absolutely exhausted, trying their very vest to keep their eyes open for long enough to see the countdown.

Now that it wasn’t as busy, you could see the extent of the mess left by the party, food trays and empty platters stacked high on the dining table, plastic cups and paper plates all over the room, both floors and surfaces, and there was enough leftover food and crumbs that it would probably fill a bag all on its own. Party poppers had been set off by the younger children before their parents had taken them home, leaving confetti and streamers on the floor, among the shredded remains of popped balloons and lost belongings. It was a catastrophe, and yet somewhere within yourself, you still couldn't wait until it is you hosting the party, getting to play that role.

A squeeze at your side brought you back to reality, dragging you from your thoughts, and you looked up to your boyfriend, finding him nodding his head towards the television, just as the timer clicked over onto one minute left, everybody beginning to crowd into the room just to see the screen, and you once again found yourself surrounded on all sides.

“What’s your New Year’s resolution, baby?”

You thought about it, unsure yourself as to what it actually was, nibbling on your lower lip a little, before letting out a sigh. “I suppose it would just be to complete this school year to the best of my ability, and to start journaling, because I keep wanting to do that and never get around to it.” He chuckled at the addition, watching as you pouted to yourself for only a moment, before you were turning your attention back to him. “What about you?”

“Same as every year; just to make every moment count. To make good memories.”

You giggled a little, a countdown beginning to start around you as the numbers on the clock hit twenty, and you rolled your eyes slightly, coming to stand before him more clearly. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Maybe, but it’s worked out pretty well for me so far.” His nose bumped against your own, and as the final countdown hit, your eyes were fluttering shut, whispering the figures as they dropped lower and lower, sinking into that same bubble that consisted of only you and he, until his lips were pressing to yours with the number one, a warm and loving kiss, his arm squeezing around you even more tightly than it had been and pulling you up into his chest, your free hand resting over his jaw, thumb stroking lightly across his skin, before settling to sit just behind his ear.

There was loud cheering, shuffling and celebrating, your bodies being jostled as hands landed on your shoulders in pats of congratulations and celebrations, but you paid them no mind, instead simply being focused on the way that it felt to kiss the man you loved as the year clicked over, welcoming you both into your second year of being in a relationship, and being in love.

When he finally pulled back, he pressed an equally adoring kiss to your cheek, and you could feel his smile pressed against you, the last scents of his fading cologne washing over you as you were shifted into a hug, feeling his cheek pressing against your temple. “Happy New Year, baby.”

“Happy New Year, Davie.”

You knew that you should call your parents and wish them the same, and that you should begin to acknowledge all the friends and family that were surrounding you, but for one more selfish moment, you wanted to absorb the time you had with him. When he pulled back, it was to clink your glasses together, one eye dropping in a cheeky wink, before the pair of you were downing what was within your glasses, trying to school the appalled looks on your faces as the taste trickled down your throats, fizzing and making itself known, before it as finally gone.

“Go and find your mom and your sister, I’ll call my parents, and I’ll find you afterwards.”

He only nodded his head, a final peck pressed to your lips, before he was disappearing through the crowds to find them.

You managed to find a quiet corner, pulling out your phone and calling your mother to wish both her and your father a happy New Year, and listening to them talk all about how they’d spent their own evening, bickering playfully about the movie they’d watched and the conversations they’d had, before bidding you a goodnight and telling you to use the spare key to let yourself in, as they’d locked the door, and were on their way to bed.

It was almost fickle how quickly the masses began to clear away. Once they’d had their midnight celebrations and welcomed in the turn of the year, they were already all beginning to leave, cars along the street roaring to life and taxis being called to ferry the more drunken patrons to their addresses, and the people around you were beginning to dwindle.

It wasn’t all that hard to find your love, his height and hair giving him away, messy locks standing out in the crowns of middle-aged neighbourhood women that had gathered around him and his little sister to coo at them and wish them the best, his face flushed a little pink as his eyes finally connected with your own, a look in them that screamed for help.

You hesitated, allowing him to be fussed over for a moment later, before finally, you took pity on him, moving in towards the group and taking the hand that he had outstretched for you. The neighbours didn’t like you nearly as much as they liked him, because he was the ‘handsome young man’ that they wanted to set up with their nieces and grand-daughters, but you were just the polite young lady who had taken that chance away. They favoured Dave greatly, and you weren’t surprised at all, because you favoured him too.

He was honest, well-mannered, funny, and a real sweetheart. His fingers laced with yours, letting you pull him away from the groups, and he followed after you, feet kicking through discarded rubbish on the ground. A yawn was pulling at your lips, and you covered it with your hand, trying to shake your head clear as tiredness crept in.

“Do you want a lift home?”

“I’ll call a cab, you’re just as tired as I am.” You mumbled, and he nodded his head, leaning down to be able to press his forehead to yours as your eyes fluttered shut. “Let me go and grab some bags, and we’ll start getting this place tidied up a bit.”

“Leave it ‘til the morning.” He grumbled, hands locking on your hips to hold you steady, and you laughed softly into the space between you both.

“You’ll hate it in the morning if you do.” You took his hands, stepping away backwards, and pulling him along behind you as you tugged him into the kitchen, leaving him to lean against the counter while you found a couple of new bin bags, and pressed on into his hands. “If you clean up the whole kitchen while I do the living room, the next time we go out to eat, I’ll let you choose where we go.”

“That is a backhanded deal, because you know that you’ll complain and we’ll still go to your place.”

You shrugged, a cheeky grin on your face as you pecked his lips swiftly, barely giving him a chance to reply. “Yeah, well, that’s what you get for loving me.”

“Oh, that’s what I get, huh?” He mocked, grinning as you walked away, and beginning to focus on the kitchen-connected-dining room, sweeping trash into the bag, and you made your way through to the main room. Dave’s mother was bidding farewell to the last of her guests, and Stella was fast asleep on the couch, curled up in her favourite party dress and what seemed to be every single sparkly necklace she owned.

When the door finally closed, you heard the relieved sigh that Dave’s mother let out, and you chuckled, turning to face her upon clearing the top of the television cabinet, no more plastic cups, plates and waste to go into it, and she grinned through her exhaustion as she saw you.

“You shouldn't be doing that, darling, that’s my job.”

“It’s no trouble. I even managed to wrangle Dave into doing the kitchen.” You teased, and she looked completely shocked just at the thought, before you were sharing tired laughs.

She held the bag open, and you grabbed every piece of litter you could find, and you were certain that while the room might look clear now, it would probably be littered with missed pieces of crap in the morning, when fresh eyes after a goodnight’s sleep were cast over it, but you were sure that the Hodgman’s would be able to handle it, especially with the head-start that you were giving them.

With the two of you working together, you managed to clear the halls and closets too, leaving everything empty as far as you could, by the time Dave came to collect the bags, and take them outside to the trash cans. Taking another one, you began to clear upstairs, finding it much tidier than it had been downstairs, only one bag’s worth of rubbish to be thrown out, and you took this one yourself, Dave trying to cover his tiredness as he swept the floors, glitter and confetti cleared from the solid oak floorboards until they were visible once again.

Stella managed to sleep through it all, drooling onto a pillow as she lay half-propped up, and your heart beat just for the sweet little girl, loving her as much as you’d love a little sister. Taking out the last of the litter, the bins were overflowing, the old year being ushered out by plastic and bottle, and you tried to shove it down, dusting off your hands when you finally made all the bags fit. The streetlights were yellowed and dull, making you realise just how late it had gotten and how tired you really were, the stars twinkling overhead and lulling you back into the sleepy haze you’d left behind to clean.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you rubbed at your skin, trying to warm back up as you wandered up to the house, letting yourself in and leaning back against the door as you let out a deep sigh. Dave was making his way up the stairs, carrying his snoozing baby sister, and you watched him go, until he was disappearing from your view along the corridor.

“You okay, sweetie?’

You jumped a little, snapping over to look at his mother, who was watching fondly from the doorway, a nostalgic look on her face as her hands sat on her hips, and you shrugged a little. “Just tired. Thank you for a lovely evening, Mrs Hodgman. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

She scoffed, waxing a hand as she made her way towards you, and leaning behind you to flick the locks on the door, rubbing your shoulder lightly. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re never a bother. You’re welcome to stay, and Dave can get you all sorted out.”

“Well, I can take the couch and just sl-”

“Oh, honey, I’m a mom, not a nun. You’ve been dating my son for a year now, I’m certain you and my son have shared a bed before, so sharing a bed won’t be an issue tonight.” Your face flared up with heat and you gaped at her, watching as she flicked off the remaining lights around the both of you. “You can stay over, I’ve already left your parents a message to explain. There’s no way I could possibly send you home at this time of night and feel at all like a responsible mother.”

She was walking up the stairs ahead of you, leaving you to stand alone in the darkness with heated cheeks and amused embarrassment coursing through your veins. Following her up the stairs, she slipped into her own bedroom, wishing you a goodnight before the door was clicking shut, and Dave was backing out of his younger sister’s room and turning off the light. He jumped a little as he found you sitting on his bed when he turned around, eyebrows shooting up a little, and he stepped into his bedroom, a softening tired look on his features.

“I think your mom just gave me a version of ‘the talk’.”

“She did what?” He was equally mortified and amused, toeing off his shoes and kicking them into the corner of the room, a hand closing behind his head to tug the material up and over his head, dropping it into the laundry bin in the corner.

“She said she knows we ‘share a bed’, and so tonight we can share a bed.” He snorted a laugh at your words, undoing the belt around his waist and leaving it abandoned on his desk, a smile on his face as he looked at you.

“That means you’re staying the night?”

“Yes, it does. You’d better find your best pair of sweats and a t-shirt for me.” He tapped at his drawers, undoing the button and zipper on his belt to be able to push them away down his legs, the denim pooling at his ankles, and your gaze followed them, a smirk on your face as he almost tripped over them while trying to get them off.

“You know where my clothes are, get them yourself.” He had a cocky look on his face, pulling a pyjama top on alongside his boxers and disappearing into the bathroom to clean his teeth.

It was a true statement, you knew exactly where all of his clothes lay, and you folded yours neatly to rest on his desk, finding a pair of sweats that hung baggy around your ankles and a t-shirt of his to wear, before allowing him into the bathroom. His hip bumped against yours, brush hanging from his mouth as he winked at you in the mirror, pulling a face a moment after, and almost making you gag on the mouthwash you had, chuckling to himself as you spat it away and cursed at him under your breath, and hot tap coming on.

He left you alone to remove your makeup, already curled up in bed with the covers pulled back when you entered the room, door closing behind you and light being flicked off, using memory alone to guide you to where you knew he to be laying.

When you were all tucked in around him, feeling him chuckle at the shuffling you did to get comfortable, you finally settled with facing him in the dark, his hand running up and down over your sides as you adjusted yourself, one leg slung over his, and the minty taste of his breath lingering on your tongue as noses brushed together, sharing a pillow.

“I like this.”

You hummed, eyes closing a little, your hand coming up to find his, bringing it away from your side to instead clasp it between your bodies, and you dipped your head down to press a kiss to the fingers joined with yours. “Sharing a bed?”

“Well, yes, but other things. Getting to see you as much as I have this week, it’s been incredible. I’ve seen you almost every day, and I’d have you by my side even more than that if I could. Going back to college is going to suck.” You squeezed at his hands tightly, a spark of excitement running through you, despite your sleepy state.

“I thought you loved your college? You always tell me such great things about it.”

“Everything else could be world-class, award-winning, and it’d still suck because you’re not there.” His words were slurred with sleep, and you let his hand fall down to rest on the mattress, your palm pressing over his heart, feeling it beat steadily and solidly under your touch.

“Well, that’s no fun, is it? I’m expecting you to show me all of the great things to do.”

He let out a huff of amusement, never shifting, but shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, if we ever get some free time during this year for you to come visit.”

“What if I didn’t just visit? What if I stayed?”

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart, I might justice you down to the bed and refuse to let you leave.” He seemed to realise how his words had sounded, his body stiffening for just a moment, before breathy and quiet laughter was shared between you both, and he tipped his head up to press a long and slow kiss to your lips, both of you too lazy to really move, and so your lips played a lazy game together.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Oh, yeah? You breaking up with me? Because it would be awfully awkward if you did, we’d have to sleep back to back, and I would much rather cuddle.” He used the arm slung over your waist to pull you in closer, until his chin could rest on the top of your head and he could pull you in enough that your legs tangled and your chests pressed together.

“I’m not breaking up with you, you weirdo.”

“Your weirdo.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just listen to me, okay?’ He made a vague noise of agreement, going quiet despite the snickering that he was holding in, and you toyed with the material of his shirt, scratching lightly at his back as you tried to form words. “You know all the extra work I’ve been doing lately?”

“The work that’s been keeping you extra busy?” He sounded like he was pouting, a sulky voice, and you squeezed him a little tighter, not sure that you could get any closer to him if you tried, by now.

“It’s not been college work. Technically.”

“Extra credit?” He was half-asleep now, and you wanted to get this out before you lost him to sleep.

“No, transfer papers, and the likes.” You heard the sudden intake of breath that he too, body tensing up beside you, and then he was shifting a lot, pulling back and holding your face in both of his hands, more alert and awake than he had been for hours now. “There was a lot to do, I had class papers and catch-up assignments, and I still haven’t sorted out housing, but it went through. From now on we won’t have timezone struggles or differing social calendars, but our only problems would be different class schedules.”

“You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent.” You barely got your laugh out before his mouth was descending onto your own, a kiss that portrayed everything there was to say. Love, passion, adoration, gratitude, excitement, anything and everything that you could think of, feeling it all being conveyed.

This was exactly the reaction you’d been hoping for, you wanted him to be as thrilled as you were at the potential that the two of you would have, sharing a college as you moved to be closer to him, and there was a wetness to his cheeks as he twisted his head one gasping breath before he was dicing back in to kiss you again.

“I love you, Dave. I’m sick of being away from you.”

“I love you so fucking much.” He mumbled, lips stinging as they pressed for his, trying to return the eager kisses that he was gifting to you. When you finally needed a real breath, you pushed him back, shushing his complaints and groaning as you did, twisting your body to rest your head on his shoulder, and he kissed along the top of your head, any space he could reach, before finally laying back down into the blankets and settling in for sleep. “Happy New Year’s to me.”

#dave hodgman #dave hodgman x reader #dave hodgman x reader smut #dave hodgman/reader #dave hodgman/reader smut #dave hodgman the first time #dylan obrien dave hodgman #dylan obrien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader smut #dylan obrien the first time

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phandoz · 3 years ago

Text

Cin Vhetin

Chapter Four

Summary: When the covert revealed themselves on Nevarro, a plan was hatched to get the foundlings to safety. But at what cost to members of the covert.

Pairing: Din Djarin x OFC (eventually...)

Warnings: Some swears.

Din and Sana make it back to Tatooine and debrief with Boba and Fennec.

Basically a lot of dialogue with Din saying as little as possible. Pretty standard. I would write purely banter if I could.

See notes at the end for mando'a translations.

Chapter Three > Chapter Five

Sana exhaled once the fresher door was closed behind her.

She stripped herself from the gods awful scrap of an outfit and hunched over the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. She regretted it immediately. Maker. She looked like shit.

She ripped the blonde hair from her head and unbraided her own from where it was wrapped tight against her skull. The contact lenses were soon to follow, tossed into the small bin in the corner. She hadn't wanted to risk ever being recognised once she was back on Tatooine. Lastly she removed her gloves, the only item of clothing she had worn for the last four months that was her own. .

She turned the water on as hot as it would go and scrubbed away the fake colouring on her skin. When the water finally ran clear she started on her hair. Head tilted back and eyes closed she let the steady stream flow down her back, taking much of her tension with it. When she finally felt somewhat human again she wrapped herself in a plush towel. It was the most luxurious thing she had felt in months. Catching her reflection in the mirror she was overcome with relief that she was herself again. Tired and considerably thinner, but still herself.

She snuck out of the fresher to avoid disturbing the man still in the cockpit and gently closed the door to the captains quarters behind her. She stood at the foot of her large bed and contemplated what her next move should be.

If Boba had sent Mando after her then he must trust him implicitly. Her brain was screaming at her that Boba’s opinion didn’t even matter to her. She already knew she could trust the Mandalorian.

Don’t think about that now. You need sleep.

With that thought she let herself fall face first into the covers, not bothering to get dressed or even get under them before passing out.

Sana's hunger woke her some hours later and she forced herself to drag her still tired body from the bed. Now that she was in a safe place and her adrenaline had worn off her fatigue from the previous months had caught up on her with a vengeance. She was more exhausted than she thought.

Digging through the drawers recessed into the wall opposite the bed she found some black pants and a long sleeved brown tunic. She shrugged on a vest and sat on the edge of the bed. She rubbed at the small target tattoo in between her thumb and index finger before turning that same hand over and staring at the small mythosaur on the inside of her wrist. She quickly hid it, sliding her fingerless gloves back on and fastening them around her wrists tightly. After slipping on socks and lacing up her boots she sat staring at the door. Only then did she allow her thoughts to turn to the man currently piloting the ship.

It was Din.

She was sure of it.

Din fucking Djarin.

The armour was new, pure beskar too by the looks of it, but she was adamant it was him. The confident stride, surprisingly good manners and his penchant for silence only confirmed it. And that voice. She could never forget that voice. She had known it before it was spoken through a modulator.

Osik.

Her first thought when he appeared from her ship was that it was a trap. The Hutts definitely had deep enough pockets to afford a Mandalorian but only Boba would have the nerve to send one after her to deliver a message like that. Mir'sheb. How does Boba even know him? Did he know that she knew him when he sent him to look for her? Her mind was racing.

Din was alive at least so that was a good thing. Last she heard he was still on the run from Imperials. They said that he had a child. Where was the child now?

The only thing working in her favour was that he clearly didn't recognise her. He would've last seen her face when she was thirteen, maybe even younger. She had changed a lot since then.

She wondered how he had changed under his helmet. She could remember tanned skin, dark hair and kind brown eyes. She wondered if they were still kind or if the galaxy had claimed them like it did so many other good things. The life of a beroya would not be an easy one. Not that it mattered what he looked like when his creed was still intact. She could never wish the alternative on him.

Her rumbling stomach brought her thoughts back to the present. “Get it together di'kut” she chastised herself. She was starving. Finally having some decent food would be sure to distract her.

Din didn't hear her leave her room. It wasn't until he heard her clattering around in the small kitchen area just outside the cockpit that he knew she was even awake. With the ship still on autopilot he stood and made his way to the common area. He should probably check in on her, see if she was ok.

Her back was to him when she asked him if he drank caf without even glancing up. He only realised that she looked completely different when she finally turned to him at his lack of an answer.

She was wearing an outfit with a lot more coverage, but more noticeable was that the long blond hair and tanned skin were gone. This woman before him had brown, wavy hair that just grazed her collarbones. Her skin was fair and smooth but the most striking to him were her eyes. She must have changed them somehow because they were much lighter in colour now. They were a light brown with flecks and he was glad for the helmet so that she couldn't tell he was staring.

She cleared her throat and he snapped back into focus. She was looking at him expectantly. Had she asked him something? She held a mug in her hand as she arched her brow. Caf. That was it.

"Uh, sure."

She handed him a steaming cup shortly after.

"Thank you."

She merely nodded in response, turning her back to him once more and loaded her arms with frozen food from from the conservator. "Have you eaten, Mando?"

"No."

"Good, I'll cook us something up. I haven't had anything decent in a while."

"You... you don't have to."

"I’m aware. You'll offend me on my own ship if you don't eat it though."

"...Ok. Thank you."

He kept his untouched mug of caf in his hands as he watched her flutter about the kitchen. He was lost for words, stammering like some green boy and he chastised himself for it in his head. She seemed to appreciate the silence so at least that worked in his favour. Eventually she slid a steaming bowl across the counter towards him.

It had been a long time since he’d eaten anything on a ship besides ration packs. It reminded him of the covert and it smelled divine.

"I'll eat mine up front so you can, you know..." she trailed off, gesturing to his helmet.

"Thank you, that's very kind."

He heard a quiet "Enjoy, Mando," as she slipped into the cockpit, the door sliding shut behind her.

He waited until he heard her settle before he slowly lifted his helmet, placing it on the counter next to him. He had his back to the door in case she returned but true to her word she gave him the privacy he needed.

Enjoy it he did. It was the best thing he had eaten in years.

It was late the next evening when they finally landed back at the palace on Tatooine. The rest of the trip had been largely devoid of conversation. The woman was exhausted and seemed happy to keep to herself, spending most of her time in her room.

Sana led the way down the ramp and she motioned for Din to follow her. They made their way up the main tower where she ensured him they would find Boba. It was Fennec who was waiting for them, reclining with a bottle of spotchka as usual.

"Welcome back." she tipped her bottle in their direction.

"Fen," Sana nodded to her in greeting, heading straight for a cabinet and grabbing a bottle for herself. "Mando?" She questioned.

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself" she replied, taking a seat opposite Fennec.

"Boba will be with us shortly. We didn't expect you both back so soon. Everything went well I take it?"

"Only time will tell." Sana shrugged. "Should find out in the next day or so."

As if he knew he was being summoned, Boba waltzed through the door.

"Ah, Verd'ika! You have returned to us!" He squeezed her shoulder gently as he passed her.

"Very observant of you." Sana drawled sarcastically.

Boba barked with laughter as he sat next to Fennec, placing his helmet on the table in front of them. Sana looked between him and Din where he had remained standing at the end of the table. She wondered how he felt about seeing Boba’s face but he gave no reaction.

"You look like shit." He said on a more serious note.

"Again, very observant of you."

Din had never heard anyone besides Fennec speak to Boba in such a way. Judging by the poorly disguised softness in Boba's voice they must be close.

"Do you need to see a medic?"

"I'm fine."

"They are on call."

"I said I'm fine." She reiterated more sharply. "Sorry," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose "I'm just... It’s been a long few months."

"Well, we're glad you're back and in one piece.” Fennec took over the conversation as Boba sat staring at Sana, concern obvious across his scarred features. “We can talk more tomorrow. Get some rest, you deserve it." She gave the younger woman a warm smile and Din could tell that she was grateful for the dismissal.

"Mando, stay here the night and we'll sort your ship in the morning." Boba finally drew his attention back to the conversation. "You two will be on the same floor. Would you mind showing him the way?"

"Not at all." Sana glanced at Fennec and Din hesitantly. "Would you two mind giving us a minute?"

"Of course not," Fennec stood and waited for Din, leaning against the opposite wall once they were in the corridor outside. The door now closed behind them she looked at Din with a grin on her face. "This should be good. She forgets how thin the walls are here."

Din tilted his head at her in confusion but his unspoken question was answered soon enough as through the door they heard a muffled "What the fuck was that?!"

"What the fuck was that?!" Sana stared him down.

"What the fuck was what?..." Boba sat up straight in his chair like a child being scolded.

"I don't know what are you playing at Fett, but just don't." Her voice returned to a more normal volume.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Verd'ika. I know you are more than capable. I just wanted to check in. See if you needed help."

"It's not that and you know it." She seethed.

"What is it then?"

She stared at him, rage in her eyes, hands planted firmly on the table and Boba stood in realisation.

"It's that I sent another Mandalorian after you, isn't it?"

"I said don't..."

"You know him don't you, Little One." Boba’s voice softened in realisation.

"Don't fucking patronise me, Fett. We're done here, we'll debrief in the morning."

As soon as the door was open far enough she stormed from the room.

Pausing on the other side of the door she schooled her features before turning back to the others. "This way Mando," she spoke as pleasantly as possible as she stalked in the direction of the elevator.

"I hate it when they fight," Fennec said with mock sadness to Din, her eyes giving away her suppressed laughter.

"Don't fucking start, Shand" Sana called over her shoulder from half way down the hall.

"You better hurry, Mando." Fennec winked and Din hastened his strides, catching Sana as she reached the door. She slapped the panel for their floor as Din tried to ease the tension.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped in coming to Nal Hutta."

"Oh, you're not the one who needs to apologise, Mando. Sometimes I wish that sarlacc finished the job..." she grumbled under her breath.

They spoke no further until they came to stop in front of a door some floors below.

"This is you." She opened the door for him and handed him a key card she had snatched from Boba before storming out. "If you need anything, I'm just up the hall. I normally meet those two ass hats for breakfast at sunrise if you would care to join us."

"Sure. Thank you."

"I'll meet you here then. Goodnight, Mando."

"Goodnight, Sana."

He couldn’t stop his eyes from following her as she walked towards her room just down the corridor. Who was this woman who Fett called Verd'ika and sent to negotiate on his behalf? Fett and Fennec were a force to be reckoned with, they couldn’t have taken and kept the Palace otherwise, yet they treated her like Din would his own brother. He watched the subtle sway to her hips as she reached her door and he tore himself away before he was spotted.

Maybe he should've taken her up on the offer of that drink.

Boba looked up from his glass as Fennec leaned against the doorway, smirk on her lips. "Well that went about as well as expected," she grinned.

"I think it went even better. She knows him."

"What do you mean, she knows him?"

"I think they are from the same covert."

"Shit... you're sure?"

"From the way she reacted, one hundred percent. The dates match up too now that I think about."

"Boba, what have you done? You know she won’t take kindly to this. She will think you're interfering."

"Nothing bad. They will be good for each other. They are more alike than they realise."

And anyway, what was family for if not interfering?

Mando was already waiting outside his room when she walked out into the corridor the next morning.

"Morning, Mando. Shall we?"

They made their way to meet the others in silence.

Sana paused and took a deep breath as they reached the door. "Here we go..." she breathed out dramatically and Din couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips beneath the helmet.

"Sana, Mando," came Boba's gruff voice from behind a datapad at the head of the table.

"Morning," Sana greeted as she sunk into the closest chair.

Mando simply nodded and sat across from her, watching her small hands load up her plate with an amount of food that wouldn't look out of place piled up in front of Vizsla. Once she was finished he couldn't tear his eyes away from her shovelling the food on her plate in her mouth as if it would disappear at any moment. He didn't know where she put it but then the image of her in that scrap of an outfit with pronounced ribs flicked through his mind. She had obviously gone without for some time.

"Kaysh guur' skraan," Boba broke him from his reverie, smirking at Din across the table as Sana's head snapped up. "Fascinating isn't it," he nodded his head towards her.

Fennec laughed as Sana paused, fork halfway to her open mouth, glancing between them all.

"Oh, fuck off." she spat through the next mouthful.

Din was glad for the helmet so she couldn't see him smiling.

"Is it even safe to eat at this table or have you two been going at it like a couple of horny teenagers on every possible surface in my absence?" Sana batted her eyelashes innocently as she finished her mouthful.

That seemed to silence the older Mandalorian but Fennec near choked on her caf in laughter.

"Anyways,” she paused as she finished her mouthful, “Some of us haven't exactly been living the high life these past few months."

"Yes,” Boba sighed, “And for that I am beyond grateful, Verd'ika." he replied softly.

"Don't call me that..." she grumbled under her breath.

"Speaking of your return, I had a message from an associate this morning asking me if I had heard what happened on Nal Hutta,” he continued, clearly unbothered by the blunt exchange between the two of them.

The room fell silent bar the sound of Sana’s fork as she simply continued her breakfast. When she felt Boba’s statement had hung in the air for long enough she deigned him with an answer.

“And?”

“Do you want me to read the message or tell me yourself?" Boba continued, tapping the datapad in front of him.

"Read the message, I'm interested to see their take on it. You'll like this one though." Sana winked at Boba across the table.

Datapad in hand, it was once again silent while Boba was reading. A few minutes passed and he let out a booming laugh.

"Oh, Verd'ika! How did you make this happen?!" he chuckled.

"It turns out that there are a lot of unpaid 'workers', particularly women, that aren't a fan of the Hutts or our friend Agus." she said around a half chewed mouthful.

When Sana gave nothing else away Fennec merely arched her brow in question at Boba. It struck Din how in tune the three at the table were with each other. They could have a conversation with no words. He guessed that was a bonus of not wearing a helmet.

"Verd'ika here has not only managed to take care of our Agus problem, but she got the Hutts to do it for us. And if this is anything to go by,” he waved his datapad in the air, “you've started enough infighting within the lower levels of the Hutt Cartel that three family leaders have also been killed. The place is a shambles by all accounts."

"Good," Sana didn't even break eye contact with her plate, relentlessly spearing her next forkful. "The murkier the waters the better for us. There's no way it will be traced back here. Not now."

"You have outdone yourself this time. How did you do it?"

How did she do it? Din thought as he found himself leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting on the table.

"I needed an in with Agus to start with. He likes his women vulnerable which almost made it too easy." With her plate now clear she lounged back in her chair, nursing her mug of caf. "Made sure I was seen on streets within a block of where he was staying for a couple of weeks. It didn't take long for him to come sniffing. Make yourself look as small and meek as possible, men like him get off on that shit. Luckily for me though, I got sent to where he kept all the others. The ones that don’t entertain in a more ‘intimate’ manner. Eventually landed in a Hutt run club that he liked to frequent. Served him drinks a fair bit. Got talking. You plant a few ideas, help him believe that he really deserves even more than just Tatooine, maybe even some of the Hutts' business. It's not hard to get him plied with enough liquor to say something dumb enough and loud enough in front of the wrong people. Between that and the rumour mill amongst the working girls. It's very easy to spread gossip. This one is encroaching on that one's turf. This one tipped off the New Republic about the other ones next spice shipment." She waved her hand through the air, counting with her fingers. "You get the gist. They really are a paranoid lot."

She set her cup of caf back on the table and reclined once again in her chair.

"What do you need from me today?"

She changed the topic as if it what she had just told them was no big deal. Din blinked behind the helmet. This slip of a woman was responsible for taking down the dregs of Fortuna's operation, and a chunk of the Hutts, and all without raising so much as a blaster herself. No wonder Fett said she was more than just a barmaid.

"Nothing. Rest. Julla has everything covered in your absence. When we have you back we would rather it be at one hundred percent." Fennec finally piped up.

Sana blew her hair out of her face. "I might go and visit the lower levels then, see how they're doing. If you'll excuse me." She pushed up from her chair and disappeared out the door.

Fennec huffed, turning to Boba. "Well, that went far better than we could ever have hoped for."

"She's never let me down before." Boba said proudly before turning to Din. "Now, Mando. How did you like the ship?"

"You could've told me it was hers before I left. She had me at knife point before I saw her for the first time."

"That sounds like her," he scoffed, that same pride in his voice once again. "I have another ship the same funnily enough. Got them in a bit of a two for one deal with some suppliers that tried to short change me," he glossed over the details as if it were nothing. "Would that be suitable?"

"It is too much."

"You completed the job I requested, did you not? Consider it payment."

A ship the same as the one he had just flown to Nal Hutta and back. For free.

"It's still too much."

"I tell you what, Mandalorian, once I have a branch of the guild based on Tatooine once again, you make sure you swing by and complete a job for me from time to time. And if that doesn't sway you, consider it a gift to the rightful Mand'alor."

"Fett..." he growled.

"Come, we'll go and take a look at her."

Standing at the top of the ramp of what was now his ship, Din felt like things were perhaps starting to go his way again. He would swing past Peli's before heading off world to make a few modifications. Get the carbon freezer re gassed, install a bit more weaponry of varying legality. She would happily turn a blind eye for the right price.

Boba had been more than generous with the ship and Din suspected it was to do with Sana's safe return more than anything, even though he played an extremely small part in it.

A high pitched squeal drew both his and Boba's attention as a twi'lek girl, no more than a few years old, sprinted across the hangar and threw herself into what turned out to be Sana's arms in the distance. She was standing talking to a couple who he assumed to be the child's parents. Crouching down she bumped heads with the young girl before gripping her underneath her arms and tossing her into the air, the girl's laughter echoing through the hangar.

"You can't tell me she is really here just to 'pour your drinks'," Din couldn't help but comment as both him and Boba stood watching the scene in front of them.

"No, she is so much more," Boba laughed.

"You two seem close." Din would be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued about how this woman came to be in what seemed like a partnership with Fennec and Boba.

"I've known Verd'ika for a long time."

"Verd'ika?" Din raised his brow behind his helmet.

Boba let out an amused huff. "She was very green when we first met, not long out of her teens if I had to hazard a guess. Desperate to prove herself."

"She knows what it means?" It wasn't often that aruetiise could understand mando'a.

"Why do you think she hates it?!"

Din could hear the amusement in Boba's reply and couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. "That was quite the operation she just pulled off."

"Yes, it was. I learned very early on not to underestimate her." Boba changed the subject after a long pause "How is the covert?"

"Rebuilding," Din took a while to decide on his answer. "By all accounts the foundlings brought hope with them when they returned."

"Yes, they have a way of doing that," Boba said distantly, watching as Sana now bounced the young child on her hip.

Din paused in thought before he spoke again. “My name," he began, "You know it, do you not?”

Shaking himself from his thoughts Boba turned to him. “I do.”

“Yet you do not use it. Why?”

“Because you did not give it to me,” the older Mandalorian stated as if it were obvious. “We may not follow the same creed but that does not mean I will not respect yours.”

Huh. After the events of the past few years there were many people who knew his name without his say in it, yet here was a man he trusted that would not use it without his approval.

“It’s Din,” he didn’t need to think twice. “Din Djarin.”

"Well then, I won't keep you, Djarin. You are a busy man I'm sure."

"I can't thank you enough, Fett" Din smiled behind his helmet and held out his hand.

"Just remember, don't be a stranger." Boba clasped his arm in return before descending the ramp and walking in Sana's direction. "Ret'urcye mhi, Mand'alor!" He tossed over his shoulder once Din was too far away to reply.

He rolled his eyes he made his way through the lower level but Din exhaled in relief as he finished running through his pre flight checks. This ship would allow him to be more picky with the bounty work he took and help with supply runs for the covert. He could provide for them at full capacity once again, a prospect that gave him a great sense of pride. He had a family and purpose again.

For the first time since he lost Grogu, Din felt positive about the future.

As the ship lifted off from the hangar he caught sight of Boba and Sana, the latter still with the young twi'lek girl on her hip and he couldn't help but hope that he would cross paths with the intriguing woman again. He might just take Fett up on the offer of a bounty or two.

Chapter Three > Chapter Five

I imagine Sana's usual get up to be similar to Jyn Erso's from Rogue One. She looked great in that movie. It was also a female's outfit with multiple pockets which is simply unheard of. 11/10 for practicality.

On the off chance that you've made it this far and would like to read more let me know and I'll add you to the taglist for future chapters.

Translations:

Osik: Shit

Mir'sheb: Smartass

Beroya: Bounty hunter

Di'kut: Idiot

Verd'ika: Can mean private as in the military rank or affectionately, often to a child to mean 'little soldier'. Boba's nickname for Sana is him being facetious.

Kaysh guur' skraan: She loves her food (Said of someone who has a healthy appetite in an affectionate way)

Aruetiise: Outsiders

Ret'urcye mhi: Goodbye (literally 'maybe we'll meet again’)

Tags:

@tuskens-mando @theewokingdead @littlemisspascal @aliwritesfic

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x ofc

13 notes · View notes

melodious-madrigals · 4 years ago

Text

the last shred of truth (in the lost myth of true love)

Pairing: wondertrev Rating: T Word Count: 4277 Tags: amnesia!fic, hurt/comfort, happy ending, steve and diana being soft for each other Summary: When Diana wakes up alone in a hospital room with no memory of who she is or how she got there, she panics. But even though she doesn't remember anyone, there's someone who seems fundamentally familiar... AKA: the "i may have amnesia but i trust you implicitly" trope, wondertrev edition

Read it below the cut or on [AO3].

***

Notes: @svgurl410 this fic is Your Fault™ (affectionate) because you posted a thing about the amnesia trope and WHOOPS my hand slipped, so, uh, due to the stars aligning for some very convenient timing, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

***

She wakes up in a too-sterile room, white and soundproofed and empty, but for her and her bed and a battery of too-sterile machines, all hooked up to her.

The first thing she takes in is that everything hurts. Ache blooms down her body and her head feels like it’s about to split open.

She tries to lift a hand to knead away the pain, and that’s how she discovers thing number two: she is restrained here, in this strange place, by herself. Strapped to the bed with no recollection of where she is or how she got here.

Or, for that matter, her own name.

Normal hospitals don’t look like this, she thinks. Not that she can remember ever being in one, but she’s got the vague impression that there are usually windows, or people, or doors that look like they don’t require a top-secret clearance to exit through.

She’s in trouble, then; maybe the people tying her down are the reason for her faulty memory. (Retrograde amnesia, supplies a tiny voice in her brain that she doesn’t have time to examine.)

All she knows is that she needs to figure out how to get out. If she can’t remember anything, then she can’t rely on there being anyone who would help her out, which means she needs to rely on herself and only herself.

She struggles against the bindings—they’re tight, well-constructed, but she thinks she feels some give. With a little extra effort, she pulls, and low and behold, yanks the straps straight out of their holdings.

So she’s strong, then. Good to know.

She detaches her legs next, and is partway through unhooking herself from the plethora of machines when two doctors—scientists?—beep themselves into the room.

“Code yellow, she’s awake,” says one of them into a radio.

“Miss, you need to lay back down,” says the other.

“Where am I? What’s going on?”

“You’ve been gravely injured. You need to stay calm.”

The first one is still talking into the radio. “—and the patient is agitated. We need to put her on another macro dose of the sedative,” he adds to his colleague.

“No!” She wants to know what’s going on, not be drugged back into oblivion.

A frenzied swipe of her arm sends the man flying into the padded wall with a crunch that she’d feel bad about if there wasn’t panic rising in her throat.

Three more personnel, all bigger than she is, which is saying something, rush into the room and she leans back into a defensive stance until—

“Wait!” says a new male voice, and a tall, well-dressed man with the remnants of a cut over his eyebrow steps into the room. The orderlies stop their forward motion, but they don’t leave, and she’s scanning them for signs of weakness before she’s even aware she’s doing it.

“Diana, you need to calm down.”

Her attention snaps to the new man, and she eyes him warily. “Who are you? How do you know me? Where am I?”

“You don’t remember me?” He seems hurt when she shakes her head. “You’re at a hospital facility. You took a bad blow to the head, and now you’re in recovery.”

That would make sense, except, wait— “A head wound requires being tied down?”

“It was for your safety and theirs.”

“It seems more the thing you would do to a prisoner.”

“You’re safe here.” The man catches her hand as she tries to sidestep away from his advance. “Diana, you can trust me.”

There’s half a beat as she considers, where he makes eye contact, looks at her imploringly—

—but nothing good ever comes of people telling you to trust them, of this she’s sure, and when his grip tightens almost imperceptibly as he shifts, at the same time that one of the orderlies off to the side flinches forward, she throws him off, breaking his grasp and sending him flying into the hospital bed and related machinery.

The orderlies advance, but she’s properly panicked, now, desperate to get out of here, find something—anything—familiar, and it’s muscle memory that takes over, dodging around them and hurling them to the ground, blows strong enough to make sure they don’t get back up without hurting them too badly.

She’s out in the corridor when an alarm starts blaring, sending loud noises and flashing lights through the hallway that make her already-splitting headache throb as more people rush at her. Most seem to be technicians of some sort, but two are security guards carrying guns.

She doesn’t know how she knows how to fight—can’t even confirm with herself that her name is Diana—but she knows being here is not the answer and sets to work, lashing out at each successive wave of people.

As she’s dispatching with the last of this group, she hears a new set of voices and almost starts to cry—will these people stop at nothing to keep her locked up?

“—has gone crazy!”

“What the hell did you do to her?” At the sound of this newest shouting voice, another man’s, she counterintuitively feels her muscles involuntarily relax a little.

She turns around, dropping the last of her would-be attackers just as the man to whom the voice belongs skids around the corner and comes to a stop in front of her.

He is beautiful: dirty blonde hair and an angular jaw and striking blue eyes that have fixed themselves on her. There is fear in them, and anger, but it is not the same fear or anger of the scientists holding her in this place. She has the sudden, inexplicable thought that it might be for her rather than of her. Indeed, the second their eyes meet, she notices him deflate, relief evident in the lines of his body.

She sees him, and she feels—calm. He is familiar, somehow, even if her mind can’t pull him up.

“Diana,” he says, and the shape of her name in his mouth is a balm, like honey drizzled in tea or a whiff of lavender on the breeze under a hot summer sun.

Time dilates a little, as she drinks in the sight of him, whispers flitting in the corners of her brain that she can’t quite catch.

She takes half a step forward and sees the owner of the first angry voice fling an arm out in front of the man in warning.

“Stay back, Agent Trevor. She’s disoriented and extremely dangerous.”

“You’ve done more than enough already, and I’d thank you to stay out of it.” The man pushes the arm away and steps towards her, slowly, telegraphing the move before it happens. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here, Angel.”

Like the chiming of midday bells, a dozen discordant memories of him saying Angel like that flicker through her brain before fading back into foggy nothing. She’s moved instinctually, before her brain has time to approve the motion, and then she’s in his arms, holding tight.

Home, her brain supplies, and she feels her cheeks getting damp from silent tears that she does her best to blink away.

“Hey, I’m here,” the man says, pulling back just enough to swipe the moisture away. “I know you must be scared right now, but you’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t know why I’m here or what’s happening,” she admits, whispering into his ear. “I just want to get out of here.”

Before he can reply, another wave of security floods the hallway, and the man reacts accordingly, twisting out of her arms and nudging her behind him.

“Everybody, stand down,” he commands.

The alarm stops, but the personnel don’t move and there are several holding what look like big-game tranquilizer guns.

“They’re technically friendlies,” he says over his shoulder to her, “even though they’re doing a shit job of it right now. Everyone, back off.”

Finally, the woman he appeared with nods, and with a wave of her hand, people start to retreat back down the corridor.

“You could convince her to stay, Agent Trevor,” the woman says, somewhere between imploring and accusatory.

“Maybe,” the man agrees. “But I won’t.”

“Think of her treatment. Be reasonable—”

“I am.” His voice brooks no refusal, and she’s strangely relieved. “After the way you’ve bungled this, she isn’t going to be comfortable here and I’m not making her stay. She wants to leave, so we’re leaving.”

“Her memory—” The woman’s face is pinched, like she’s swallowed half a lemon.

“Will not be improved by you poking at her. Diana?” He turns to her, offering her his hand, and she slips her own into it without question, letting his guide her down the hallway.

“Oh,” he says, over his shoulder, “and tell Bruce to expect my call.”

The parking lot outside is just asphalt and concrete, but it’s a relief to be out of the building and in the sun.

“I’m taking you to one of our houses,” the man says. “You’ve been there before, and you liked it.”

“Anything’s better than that lab.”

Something in his jaw ticks, and he nods before sliding into the driver’s seat.

“Thank you, Agent Trevor,” says Diana, once they’re speeding away from that awful facility. The way he flinches tells her it’s a mistake, somehow.

Her brow furrows. “Is that not your name? I thought I heard them call you that, but I don’t know your name. I feel like I must know you, but I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”

The man next to her takes a deep breath. “You remember the important things,” he says reassuringly.

“I don’t see how that can possibly be true.” She can’t remember a single name or face, or any of the events that precipitated the memory loss.

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he reaches out and takes her hand, ever so gently, and slow enough that she could pull away. (She finds she doesn’t want to.)

“You remember how I make you feel, otherwise you wouldn’t have come with me,” he says finally. “The name stuff is a bit trivial compared to that.”

“Still,” she says, frustrated.

“Steve,” he relents. “My name is Steve Trevor.”

“Steve.” She turns the name over on her tongue and sees his mouth quirk out of the corner of her eye. Then he sighs.

“We’re about three hours away from the safe house. There’s plenty of time for a nap, and I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“No, the copilot’s in charge of the music,” Diana says automatically, surprising herself. Beside her, Steve glances her way, a bemused look on his face. In her seat, Diana just sags. “I have no idea why I said that. I’m exhausted.”

“You said that because it’s our road trip rule,” Steve explains gently, “but I think today calls for an exception. Get some sleep.”

She nods and lets her eyes flutter shut. Her eyelids have been heavy since she woke up the first time, but it’s only now she feels comfortable doing something about it. She’s asleep before they hit the next mile-marker.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, leaning in for a kiss that Steve is only too happy to provide.

“The hazards of loving someone who’s constantly saving the world,” Steve jokes.

“Alas, it was only a museum trade agreement this time.”

“As long as no artifacts were harmed in the process.”

“No, none at all,” Diana says, grinning. “What smells so delicious?”

“It’s—”

Her phone, on the Do Not Disturb setting that only Steve and the Justice League line can get through, pings angrily.

“Damn, I have to go.” She hands him her phone so he can read the sitrep from Alfred.

“I’d come with, but I have the meeting with Waller tomorrow.”

“I know,” says Diana ruefully. “It’s not worth an eight-hour flight for you. I should be home by tomorrow evening, anyways. It looks pretty standard.”

“Be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“You are absolutely not. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

She laughs and kisses him. “Don’t forget to buy new basil plants again on the way home from the market.”

He huffs good-naturedly and rolls his eyes. “Diana—”

“Diana.”

She jolts upright, still looking at Steve’s face, but in a different time and place. She tries to hold on to the memory, but it filters away like the tide receding on a beach, out of her grasp before she can catch onto its ephemeral quality. When she tries to chase it, pain stabs through her head.

“Diana, are you okay?”

“Fine,” she says, wincing.

He looks unconvinced but doesn’t press. “We’re here.”

It’s a little cottage in a secluded wooded area, and it feels welcoming even from the outside.

“Is this where I live?” she asks, trying to figure out if this is the type of place she would want to live, as he unlocks the door and ushers her in.

“No, you mostly use this house when you come to the US for long business trips,” Steve replies. “You live in Paris, most of the year.”

Her brain conjures up an image of the Eiffel Tower, but it doesn’t feel like hers, just something clinical that she knows about Paris. She finds she also knows French, though once again, she doesn’t remember learning.

“I figured we could stay here a few days to see if your memory comes back on its own. If not, maybe going home will help.” He pauses. “Is that okay with you?”

“It sounds reasonable. I don’t—I don’t really know how to make my memory come back, though.”

“I don’t think there’s an established protocol for that,” Steve says, cracking a smile. “Except to make yourself comfortable and try not to stress too much.”

They stand there, staring at each other for a moment, and she gets the intense, sudden urge to kiss him. To see if that would help, like some sort of fairy tale. She’s halfway towards working up the nerve to close the distance between them when Steve clears his throat.

“You should take the shower first,” he says. “I know you hate the smell of hospital.”

As soon as he says it, she knows it’s true.

“Will you answer my questions after?”

“As best I can, yeah.”

How long she stands under the pounding hot water, she’s not entirely sure, but it feels good. Her muscles relax, and she closes her eyes, letting the water stream over her body.

A phantom touch on her shoulder, gentle but blazing with heat, and eyes to match, and the sudden feel of cold tile against her back—

—her eyes fly open, and she gasps, scrabbling to chase the feeling, one she’s sure is a memory, but the harder she tries to catch it, the more painful the stabbing sensation in her head becomes, and she’s forced to give up, tired and frustrated.

When she finally emerges from the bathroom, hair still damp and curling, it’s to find Steve finishing a call. Even as he’s occupied on the phone, she sees him gravitate towards her and then consciously stop, hovering a few meters away.

“I have to go. We’ll talk later,” he says tersely, and hangs up. Then to her, “That was Bruce.”

He says it like the name should mean something to her, but it doesn’t, and she shrugs helplessly.

Steve sighs. “Someone you work with,” he explains. “You encountered him earlier. Sent him flying clean across the room.”

She feels a stab of guilt—she’d sent a number of people flying across the room in her desperation, and she hopes that if he’s her colleague, he’s okay and that she’ll be able to properly apologize. Until then, “The one in the pretentious suit?” she clarifies.

It startles a laugh out of Steve—fluttering white curtains and mischievous bright blue eyes and that laugh, warm and infectious, snatched away in a flicker of pain—who just says, “That’s the one.”

She nods once, and then looks around, unsure. “Can you tell me why I’m like this? What happened?”

“Let me put the kettle on,” says Steve. “It might take a while.”

He tells her about the extent of her abilities, surprising in the abstract, and yet not so much when she thinks about the thrum that ignited in her veins when she felt like people were closing in on her. He tells her about the mission she left for, last night, that was pressing but apparently standard enough in scope. He tells her that something went wrong, that something powerful and unidentified was used to deal her a blow to the head, that she was unconscious for eight hours, that he got there as fast as he could but not soon enough because transatlantic flights take time, even when you’re the pilot on a requisitioned jet. He tells her that the explanation that he was given was that she’d been convulsing in her sleep, and really had been restrained only to prevent injury to the attending doctors. He tells her that the doctors—who never really had a chance to examine her, but for a single CT scan while she was unconscious, and who have no precedent since her physiology is so different than any other being on Earth—aren’t sure whether her memories will return or not. (One of them said to give it a few days; the other wasn’t optimistic at all, based on the scans.)

Through it all, he barely references himself, but she can see the contours of him woven in: he has intimate knowledge of the things she can do, and the ways in which she uses them. He was with her when she was called away on the mission; indeed, he is clearly with her often. He speaks about her with delicate care and a small smile on his face, and she can’t help but think that given the chance, she would probably talk about him the same way.

“And you?” she prompts finally, when he’s done, when the tea has long since gone cold and dinner is prepped and in the oven.

“Me?” says Steve. “What about me?”

“You’re clearly important to me. I trust you, somehow. But you’ve said almost nothing about yourself, and I’m not quite sure how you fit in.”

“I guess it wasn’t relevant.”

It’s a bullshit answer, and they both know it.

“I love you.” It’s a question phrased as a statement, but Steve has the uncanny ability of hearing it just as she meant it.

“Yes.”

“And you love me.”

“Yes.”

It confirms everything she heard in the subtext of his words, his tone. They’re something, something powerful, and she’s gone and thrown a wrench in it by forgetting everything about him, about them. The absence plagues her, but she can barely imagine the weight he must feel at the loss of their history, of being the only one to carry it. For the first time, she really contemplates the implications of the gaping holes in her mind.

“What happens if I never get my memories back like the doctors said?”

Steve scuffs a hand over his face, the only overt sign so far that he’s feeling the stress of the situation.

“Well, I’ll go on loving you all the same, and you can decide whether you still love me.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Love isn’t simple, Diana, but loving you is the easiest thing in the world. I’ll love you no matter what happens, and no matter what you decide when it does.”

She regards him for a moment. Now that she’s looking, she thinks she can see lines of tension in his body. He’s good at covering it up, but there’s worry there. Then the understanding hits.

“You’d let me go.”

His eyes fall shut, and she thinks maybe it’s so she can’t try to read them. It doesn’t matter: she can already see that he’s pushing down his pain to put her first, a clear character sketch if she ever saw one.

“Yeah.”

That one word, it makes her heart break for him.

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d like to.” He looks up at her, confusion dotting his features. “Go on loving you, that is,” she clarifies, and is rewarded by an absolutely incandescent grin.

“Well, that’s neat.”

The sacredness of the moment is shattered by the insistent dinging of the oven timer, signaling that dinner is ready, and Steve ducks his head, breaking eye contact as he gets up to retrieve the food.

They’re not very talkative for the rest of the evening, but even though the mood is heavy, the silence is not uncomfortable. There is an unspoken agreement that they can deal with the ramifications of the day tomorrow since it’s been such a long and stressful day for them both.

The house is small, one bedroom only, and given the conversation they had earlier, she just assumes that they’ll share the bed, but Steve, apparently, does not seem to share that assessment, because when he leaves the bathroom, he picks up the spare blanket off the foot of the bed and heads for the door.

“You could stay,” she says, so soft she’s not sure for a second if he even heard.

“Are you sure?”

“I feel better when you’re close by,” she admits into the darkness, and a moment later, she feels the bed dip next to her as he slips under the covers.

Her hand finds his under the duvet, and she links their fingers together. She wants so badly to remember him properly, but every time she pushes, there’s a searing pain that drives its way through her skull.

“Goodnight, Diana.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

It takes surprisingly little to drift away on the current of sleep.

The air is acrid, thick with smoke and gunpowder. She’s been here before; she knows this place. It is dark, but there are fires burning all around and the thunder of bombs, lighting up the horizon.

The earth shakes somewhere close by.

Then there’s Steve, in front of her, telling her he loves her, that he wishes they had more time. She doesn’t understand; as far as she can tell, he’s young and healthy. They have time, don’t they?

Time fuzzes and suddenly she’s staring at the sky, and a plane that she knows to be carrying Steve explodes, high above her in the cold dark air.

“NO!”

This can’t be how it ends. He can’t leave her like this. Think, Diana, she tells herself. The pain in her head is unbearable, but it is nothing compared to the one in her heart. If she can only push through, maybe she won’t have to feel this way anymore. Maybe she can change the ending. Maybe they’ll have more time.

…a cerulean ocean, and a diving plane.

…the soft shimmer of snow in lanternlight.

…a plane exploding high overhead.

…the weight of arms, too long gone and miraculously here, enfolding her.

…dancing in the late-night glow of streetlamps on a bridge over the Seine.

A thousand tiny flashes, all swirling together as her past and present unfold before her, and there at the heart—

“Steve!”

Diana sits up with a gasp, struggling for air as her brain tries to sort through the influx of information that it suddenly has access to once more. It’s all out of order and too much at once, but it’s there.

A hand on her shoulder tells her that Steve’s woken up too, and she slumps back against him, relishing the way he rearranges his arm so that she’ll be more comfortable.

“Did you remember the basil plants this time?” Diana asks, exhausted.

He lets out a little huff. “I was a little busy, what with—” She feels him stiffen under her, the whole of his body silently asking the question that his mouth isn’t. “Diana?” he manages, hesitantly.

She twists a little in his arms so that she can see his face. “I’m so sorry I forgot you.”

Everything in him relaxes. “You didn’t; not really.”

“No,” she corrects, “I think it would be impossible to forget you entirely. You’re written in my soul.”

He chokes a little at that, squeezes her closer, shifting just enough so that he can rest his forehead against hers.

“I’m glad you’re back, Angel.”

Diana kisses him softly, feels the dampness on his cheeks. “Oh, my love. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” he insists.

“No, but I ache for what you must have felt, and yet you handled it all so calmly.”

“Shit, Diana, I was terrified,” Steve admits, somehow managing to pull her even closer, like he’s scared she might physically disappear, too. “It was only a day, but it felt like a century. I mean, we’ve had some pretty good times, and I didn’t want to be the only guardian of those memories.”

“That will never happen.”

“You can’t know that,” he says helplessly.

“I can. We always find our way back to each other, my love. I believe in us.”

“And you say I’m the one that spouts the romantic lines.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” He kisses her, soft and slow, and any quip she might have had flies directly out of her head in favor of this feeling.

“Don’t forget me between now and tomorrow,” Steve whispers later as they drowse next to each other.

“I wouldn’t even dream of it,” Diana promises, tucking her face back into the juncture between his shoulder and neck, before falling asleep herself.

(She doesn’t—her promises, after all, are unbreakable.)

***

#wondertrev #wondertrev fic #wonder woman #diana prince #steve trevor #Diana x Steve #lenci writes

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