#they see through his bullshit and none of them idolize him anymore | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mygloviesme · 1 year ago

Text

cool about it. || myg

no. 11: so i take some offense when you say,

predebut/debut!yoongi x female idol

summary: kanako is an established idol with a growing career and a secret relationship with a producer from her label, haneul. when she’s asked to work with yoongi and rm to create a track for her, she gains unexpected feelings for a certain upcoming rapper. with her increasing fame, her controlling boyfriend, a set of six boys who seem to have grown an attachment to her, and a new boy who’d give her the world, how will she figure out a way to balance it all?

(definitely inspired by boygenius)

word count: 2.8k

genre: ANGST, friends(?) to lovers, slow burn, fluff

chapter warnings: toxic relationship (not w/myg), mentions of mental health, drinking, throwing up (i read up on the drinking laws in sk, so as far as i know none of them in this story were partaking in underage drinking)

inspo song: y2k mostly

MARCH 7TH, 2012, 7:15PM

There’s a smile that doesn’t leave my face for hours on end. We’re all around a nice wooden table, eating up the hot pot Seokjin has made for us. We did help, but it was mostly a step-by-step instructed by Jin himself. I gawk at the boys, almost in disbelief that I could be this happy, this content. All I had to do was let them in, and as hard it’s been, I’ve seen the other side. This moment was worth everything I’ve ever been through. These seven boys were the gasoline that lit my dying fire. Yoongi sits next to me, his hand laying over mine. It’s so natural to him. The way he touches me is instinct, just like the way when I step into any room, he’s the one I look for.

I can’t even think about the pain anymore, as much as I want to sink back comfortably in it. As much as my body craves the familiarity of toxicity and yelling and screaming and fighting. It’s the adrenaline I get when Yoongi looks in my eyes like we’re an old couple. Like we’ve known each other for decades and he knows exactly what will make me laugh. In a crowded room I’m the one he looks at to see if I laughed at his joke.

“- And I told him that was just pure bullshit!” Namjoon exclaims, his hand making expressive gestures as he tells his story. Everyone is listening so intently but I’ve forgotten what he was even on about, but I don’t care. I could listen to them banter for hours. I’m still an observer, a listener. I nod and hum whenever he looks in my direction for validation. I want him to know I’m listening, even if I’m not. I lean my elbows on the table as I pour myself another shot of the apple soju Jihyo brought.

Oh yeah, she’s here too. With much more reluctance than when we asked her for alcohol, it was difficult to convince her to stay for dinner. But she eventually gave in, seeing Seokjin’s puppy dog eyes as he gave her a long ‘pleaaase?’ I knew even I couldn’t resist that. Speaking of someone else who was very much reluctant, Jungkook. After lots of arguing and protesting we came to a long conclusion that he wouldn’t be a part of the drinking. He was too young, and who would we be if we encouraged underage drinking?

Still, he sat happily with his bottomless Pepsi.

Admittedly we began all becoming very red in the face. Slowly Jimin’s antics became more slurred and silly, standing up to dance only to nearly trip on the floor. Taehyung laughs uncontrollably as he picks up Jimin by his armpits, almost falling himself with how hard he’s cracking up. Hoseok runs to connect his phone to a speaker, playing music.

He urges everyone to dance, getting a sigh from Seokjin. “I think if I dance I’ll projectile vomit on the floor!” He complains, Hoseok dragging him from the dining room to the middle of the living room. They begin flailing their arms and legs but look very convinced that they’re actually dancing. I sit and continue eating, staring as they seem to be content in their own little bubble. Jihyo has been quiet, as usual, so I give her a playful shove as the rest of the group talks amongst themselves.

“Are you having fuuun?” I say jokingly. She laughs in embarrassment, covering her face.

“Yes I am. Are you?”

“Yes, but I need to pee. Wanna come with?” I ask, the classic girls-going-to-the-bathroom-together shtick. I want to ask her about Seokjin, or to just give her a pep-talk so she can be more…in the moment. She nods slowly and looks a little confused but I drag her off anyway, giving Yoongi a peck before we head to the bathroom. The hallway where it’s at is long and dark, and as we walk further the blaring music becomes more faint. I’ve never been to a club but I imagine this might be how it feels.

Once we enter the bathroom I shut the door behind us and hop on the counter, swinging my legs playfully. “So…Seokjin.”

She blows a raspberry and plops herself down on the unopened toilet next to me.

“What about him?” She says, playing with her fingernails. There’s a cheeky smile that grows on her lips that I catch. “I see the way you look at him!” I exclaim.

She rolls her eyes and gives her head a short tilt, looking at me. “Yes, and what? It’s not like anything can happen. It’s so wrong in so many ways.”

There’s an obvious silence that floats. We both know what she said could also apply to me and Yoongi. I nod slowly and purse my lips in a fine line, “It’s good to have a bit of fun though.” I state.

“Is that what you and Yoongi are?” She shifts herself so she faces me more comfortably, “I mean like, do you guys plan on ending it before he debuts?” She asks curiously.

“Why would we do that?”

She stares at me like the answer is obvious. And it might be to most, but to me it’s a bad ending. It’s the worst possibility, the worst thing that can happen. A thought I get when I’m overthinking. It’s not an option. Not now, not ever.

“It’s really risky, Kanako.” She says. The age difference between us is now more visible than ever. I’m now talking to professional staff member Jihyo. This was not the fun gossip that I was planning for us to have.

“I know.” I state, staring down at my feet. “I don’t want to- it’s not my intention to…ruin his career. Or anything like that.”

“No that’s not what I’m saying at all-”

“But it is, isn’t it? That’s what you’re insinuating.”

I’m aware I’m being a bit petulant. I know that it’s childish that I can’t face the facts.

“I meant overall. For you, for Yoongi, for both of your careers. But I’m just worried about you. What happened wasn’t…normal.” Oh. She’s talking about Haneul. Suddenly I’m feeling the alcohol, the burn in my throat that still lingers. I play with the drawstring of my sweatpants, but everything is just a bit hazy in this moment. “Yeah, let’s uh- get back to the party, or whatever.” I mumble, hopping off of the counter.

She sighs and holds her hand out as if to say hold on, but I’m already out the door. I didn’t mean to ruin things again. I didn’t mean for things to get awkward or uncomfortable. But that’s what I’m good at, right? My drunk thoughts are kicking in.

Is that what you call this, drunk thoughts? Does this mean I’m a sad drunk?

I notice Jihyo stays behind in the bathroom, probably because she actually needed it. And this dark hallway I’m walking through instantly feels like it’s eating me alive. I travel my hands along the wall as I walk, staring into the smooth white that’s looking more like a dark gray. I’m getting more and more blue, wondering what went wrong.

How just a second ago I was so glad that I ended up here, but now I just think, how the hell did I end up here? How is it possible I got dealt with all of these bad cards? The only person in my life that knew exactly what to say, what to do, how to hold me, is dead. I have no other relatives, no other people who know what it’s like to have the blood I do. The Fujishima family tree is as empty as can be. It’s only me.

And then of course when I finally give in to someone who I think loves me, they mold my brain to become nothing less than useless. I’m now exactly like him. Drunk, sad, and ready to scowl at anyone who wants to give me an ounce of pure care.

The boys have now moved to the living room, sipping on the last bottle of soju. Yoongi’s eyes light up when he sees me, smiling and gesturing to me to come over. As I try to walk, I feel a set of arms wrap around me quickly. The smell of soju is strong but their familiar scent is one that can’t be missed.

“Kanako…oh why were you gone for so long? I missed you!” Jimin whines, rocking my body back and forth. This much movement is too overwhelming for my dizzying vision. I give him a pat on his hand and let out an uncomfortable laugh, “TothebathroomwithJihyo.” I speak rather unclearly.

Jihyo appears from the hallway and gives me a reassuring smile, but I don’t give one back. I break from Jimin’s embrace and walk to the living room to plop myself next to Yoongi. I groan and wrap my arms around myself, placing my head on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Why are you so sober?” I ask him. He gives me a playful laugh and wraps his arm around my shoulder, snuggling closer. We watch the boys as they shuffle around, every so often falling down only to get back up and continue. Why are they so excited and happy? I feel terrible.

“I can handle alcohol pretty well. Speaking of, you don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“Are you gonna be sick?” He props up, his eyes now alarmed and ready to aid me. Like always. That is a painful truth.

“Yes and no. I feel dizzy but I also feel like I hate myself.” I let out a huff. His gaze softens and he places a kiss on my forehead. “Don’t say that.” He whispers.

I shake my head, “I do. I don’t understand why all of this happened to me. Why my mom died or why I let Haneul ruin my fucking life.” I say, everyone listening in now. The bubble has now bursted.

Yoongi darts his eyes back and forth from me and the group, “Baby you didn’t let him, stop talking like that.”

I glare at Jihyo, “What I did was risky and I should’ve known better. Isn’t that right Jihyo?” Kanako…

She folds her arms and notices the growing stares she’s getting, “Kanako you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Fuckyou.” I mutter.

The group seems taken aback and unknowing of what to do. You’re embarrassing yourself. What used to be house music has now become background music. It’s fading into the back of everyone’s minds as the moment becomes more intense.

“Kanako let-let’s get you to bed.” Namjoon stutters, reaching towards me to help me up. Yoongi is quick to assist, going to the kitchen to get a glass of water for me. Namjoon throws my arm over his shoulder and gets me off the couch, beginning to walk me to my room. Yoongi follows but no other words were being spoken. It’s all so awkward and fast. I knew what I said was wrong and uncalled for, and my intentions were far from reasonable.

I had never felt the need to hurt somebody. When it came to arguing with Haneul, I took his hits like they were painless. Like his words didn’t mean half of what they actually did. But the feeling I had bubbling, along with the rising vomit when I saw Jihyo was nothing short of anger. I guess I am becoming more like Haneul than I thought. Angry.

Namjoon places me on the bed, grabbing the sheets to pull them over me. Yoongi hands me the glass of water, “Drink.” He says, and I do so. It’s far from refreshing but I finish it like I have an unquenchable thirst. I give the glass back to him to which he places it on the stand next to me. Namjoon throws himself beside me which causes a wincing reaction from myself.

“Sorry, just tired.” Namjoon mumbles. His eyelids flutter like he’s doing everything in his power to stay awake. Yoongi sits beside my body and rubs my blanketed legs with comfort. He knows that I’m drunk and not in my right headspace, so he leaves his words unsaid for now. We’ll talk about it in the morning, I can imagine him thinking.

There’s an approaching sound of jumbled footsteps and I raise my head to see what it is. The five other boys come into my room, most red-cheeked and sweaty. Why are they so sweaty?

“Jihyoleft.” Jimin says and tosses himself in the middle space between me and Namjoon. I groan and push his body with annoyance but he is insistent that that’s where he’s going to be. The rest of the boys pile onto the bed until there’s not one spot uncovered. Jungkook places his head on his hands while he lays on his stomach, looking to me.

“What you said wasn’t nice.” He says, Yoongi sighing. “I was hoping to leave that conversation when she’s more sober.” Yoongi speaks like I’m not there.

“I know guys. I’m sorry. I’m drunk. It’s not an excuse, it's an explanation.” I reply, the embarrassment of the situation seems to sober me up just a little. This night was very fun and very disappointing, no thanks to myself.

“Did she say something to you in the bathroom?” Seokjin asks, his position being draped over a now sleeping Namjoon and Jimin. I place my hand over my head as a headache comes to fruition.

“Something like that. But Yoongi’s right…let’s talk about it tomorrow.” I mumble, and they all comply. I scoot over as much as I can so there’s just enough space for Yoongi to squish in next to me. With a lot of difficulty, might I add. Seokjin and Hoseok settle on the floor, although there’s many beds in this house for them to go to. Jungkook stays at the end of the bed in a fetal position.

It seems everyone is too tired to even go across the hallway, but their company is something I never mind. Even if Jimin’s elbow is poking my side.

“Sleep…over…In…Kanako’s room…” Jungkook says sleepily.

I can’t wait to wake up and not feel like as much shit as I do right now.

MARCH 8TH, 2012, 10:34AM

Nope. Still feel like shit once my eyes open and meet with the blinding morning sun. There’s curtains, but they’re sheer. I understand it’s for aesthetics, but God do I wish the sunlight could not exist for a second. Most of the boys aren’t in the room anymore, only Yoongi and Jungkook. We’ve seemed to have moved to a more comfortable place in the bed during the night so it’s not as packed as it once was. Yoongi is on my left side and Jungkook on my right, like usual.

Jungkook always clings to me when we sleep together, like I’m his teddy bear he can’t live without. Yoongi starts with a hand draping me but turns over to his own side whenever he’s drifting off to sleep, which leaves Jungkook the one to hold me at night. I don’t mind too much but I’ve never experienced a friendship quite like his. If that’s what you could even call it. Sometimes I feel like his mother more than an older sister or best friend.

I do his laundry at times, remind him to eat, get him a plate of food, then tell him to stop playing with his food. It’s weird but I do put my foot down when need be.

Oh God, I am his mother.

I unlock myself from his embrace and sit up, stretching every part of my body. I feel sore and dizzy, and that’s when my eyes widen when the room begins spinning a little too much. Like a maze, I jump around the bed to avoid the boy’s sleeping bodies to run to the bathroom that I have in my room.

I don’t bother closing the door because I’m so close to throwing up all over the floor. I hover over the toilet and gag like a cat, the noise being so inhumane and so humiliating. I pause for a second before vomiting once more, feeling my hair being lifted by one hand and another rubbing my back. “D-Don’t look at me.” I breathe, not knowing who it is but knowing it could be anyone in this house. And that alone is too embarrassing for me to continue functioning.

I think the coast is clear and lift my body up slowly, only dropping down to my knees once more to push out another round of stomach fluid. I spit out the chunky bits that reside in my mouth and groan, grabbing a fistful of toilet paper to wipe my mouth. I flush the toilet once I’m done and turn around to see a tired Jungkook rubbing his eyes.

“Kanako, that was an unusual amount of throw up.” He says tiredly.

click here to read more of this story!

an: aaaaaand it’s out!!

16 notes · View notes

bigassheart · 4 years ago

Text

I’ve seen a couple posts about how everyone was wildly out of character and totally inconsistent this season and I’m just like... were you guys paying attention?

1. Luther

Arguably the biggest shift in character between the two seasons, but it makes sense. Luther spent a year fending for himself and thinking his entire family was dead.

This is the first time in his life that he had to hold down a job and actually live on his own. It was literally his first time living out in the world among anyone other than his family, and you can see in his reactions with the other characters from that life (the boss, his landlord, those kids that idolize him, and the waitress) that it has really mellowed him out. It has allowed him to be more normal, despite being very much not normal. You can see the way he’s so much more comfortable in his skin. Literally the only times he looks uncomfortable is when he’s fighting people, shirt off and body on full display. He’s still not comfortable with that, but he’s not trying to hide under huge overcoats anymore. He has people in his life who accept him for being a little weird, but really do treat him normal.

So is he a little less uptight and mission focused? Yeah. Because he can finally see another life, and it’s the life that he honestly did want in season 1 but felt like he couldn’t have because he was number 1 and he had a responsibility to his dad, his family, and the academy to be the leader. Having a year on his own frees him of all that.

But he also spent all that time thinking his family was dead and feeling so guilty about it. You can see in his very first interaction with Vanya, where he suddenly feels that responsibility again. He brings a gun, not knowing what’s going to happen and, despite what he told Five, he absolutely does still have that lingering feeling of responsibility. But then he sees Vanya and she’s not a threat and everything he has been holding in for the last year comes out. Because he does feel guilty as hell for what he did to Vanya, but also for the fact that his actions pushed her into causing the apocalypse. He spent a year with the knowledge that he did that and thinking that his family was dead because of his actions.

He’s willing to listen now because he spent a year living in a world where his actions killed his whole family. And now he finds out that that didn’t happen and he has a second chance. Of course he’s going to take it!

2. Diego

In the first season, Diego finally admitted that he wanted to be close to his family and that he cared about them and wouldn’t leave them again. He confronted the guilt about leaving, which he had previously denied. He realized the difference between revenge and honoring someone’s memory. But despite all that, he never confronted the reason why he, a grown-ass-man, wandered around the city as a leather clad, mask wearing vigilante.

So when we see Diego show up in 1963, that’s still who he is. He wants to be that hero and he finds an answer for how to be that hero in the first several minutes that he’s there. So he takes it. I mean, what else is he going to do? His family is gone. Maybe they’ll show up again. Maybe this is it. Either way, he’s on his own like he was before, so he’s got a duty to be the hero he has chosen to be.

And then he meets his dad again. Everyone keeps telling him he has daddy issues, and they’re right. He absolutely has daddy issues. He’s still trying to simultaneously prove that he’s good enough for his dad, but also doesn’t need Daddy’s approval. Except he does need it. He still desperately craves it and he feels gutted when his dad denies him that approval, even falling back into the stutter he had as a kid.

Now, despite the way we joke, Diego is not dumb. He is so observant and he makes some of the most poignant statements about his siblings and the way they see the world. He sees the people around them and he understands them, but he has never been able to completely turn that gift inwards and see those same things in himself. In this season, Lila breaks through all that and he finally sees himself in her at the end.

“Do you know how hard it is to trust people when your whole childhood was bullshit manipulation? Then why would you do that to me?”

Diego sees himself in Lila, in her failure to break away from her mother despite the fact that he knows she wants to. In the final episode, he sees that she is just like the rest of the siblings, but she doesn’t have to be. None of them have to be stuck with their daddy issues, because they have each other. They can support and care for each other. It’s the last step of the growth he started in season 1, moving beyond his tendency to define his life and his family through their father.

3. Allison

Throughout season 1, Allison struggled with whether or not to use her powers, but it was all centered around getting back to her daughter. When she appears in 1961, that motivation is effectively removed. She thinks everyone else is dead. She thinks that she is stranded in the past and that she will never get back. She finds a group of people to support her and before long... she finds her voice again.

It’s no coincidence that Allison’s first spoken words in the series come right after she gives Ray that pamphlet with a bunch of added notes. She finds her voice in the civil rights movement. She finds her power there. She finds a way to help change the world, to change reality, and she does it without her powers.

This is something she struggled with through the entirety of season 1, feeling inadequate for using her powers to get what she wanted, not knowing if anything was real or earned. Now she has the chance to earn everything without those powers and she is thriving.

And then she is forced to use her powers again. It all turns out fine, but now she’s showing off and experiencing all over again how good it feels to have power. She spent two years in a world where she was denied equal treatment, where she could be arrested and assaulted for any reason those with more power came up with. And now she feels that power... She doesn’t have to wait for people to give her respect. She can demand it. But the pain is still there, and it’s not enough to just be respected, because these people have hurt her. They almost killed her husband. They have used their power to cause pain to her and all those who look like her time and time again and now it’s time to understand what it’s like to be powerless, to be hurt and to be unable to stop it and...

And it’s scary. It’s scary to have that much power, to see how you could become the kind of person who uses your power to hurt others. And she knows that her power has hurt people she loves and suddenly she’s right back where she started.

Only not entirely.

She doesn’t shy away from her powers in the final fight. She is obviously still finding that balance and I would expect this struggle to continue for her in future seasons. Power can be addicting and Allison’s power is so strong. She knows the danger there, but she also knows that sometimes it’s needed despite the danger.

4. Klaus

Klaus is an addict. He finds obsessions to bury himself in to avoid dealing with reality. In season 1, he buried himself in drugs and booze. When he shows up in the 60′s, he finds a new drug to bury himself in: adoration.

Klaus is so impulsive and it’s not difficult to connect the dots of how one thing leads to another until suddenly everything is out of his control. Honestly, that’s the story of Klaus’s life, no matter where he goes. And then something changes. He gets tired of his cult and leaves. Except... that’s not really the reason.

After all this time, Dave is still the love of his life, and he knows he has an opportunity. He knows where Dave will be at this one time and he knows exactly what he has to change to keep Dave alive.

He also knows that Ben is going to have thoughts about this.

I know some people were disappointed that there wasn’t more Klaus and Ben bonding this season, but it makes sense that there is tension there. I think a lot of that tension comes from Ben’s circumstances, which I’ll discuss later, but Klaus is also not responding to that tension well.

They are fighting more than ever (not that they ever didn’t fight in season 1, where they spent much of their time being snarky to each other and Ben literally punching Klaus in the face for being an asshole), but the fighting is about something new this season. Ben wants his own life and Klaus is not in a position to give Ben what he really wants. We also learn that he has been carrying around this guilt for the last 17 years about forcing Ben to stick around as a ghost. He forced this half-life on his brother and now that it’s not enough for Ben, Klaus doesn’t want to deal with it. So he avoids and deflects and snarks and we see the toll on their relationship. We see it in the way he tries to deal with his plans around Dave entirely on his own. He focuses so much into that last ditch effort. He’s already in such a low place before this, so when that fails, we see him snap. We see him give up and crumble. And Ben falls back to his old role, trying to save Klaus from himself.

But the tension isn’t gone and Klaus’s guilt isn’t gone. We see it again when Klaus finally agrees to let Ben possess him. Klaus has always been afraid of his powers and being possessed is just as terrifying a thought as being surrounded by the dead. And yet he gives Ben that chance. It’s the last good thing he can do at that point.

I do wish we had gotten more closure for Klaus and Ben’s story. I think Vanya’s reveal could have been given a little more time, but that’s not really a problem with inconsistent characterization, so we’ll save that for another post.

5. Five

OK, who would argue that Five was out of character or inconsistent? He’s obsessed with stopping the apocalypse, is willing to cross a lot of lines to save his family, and constantly frustrated by his family’s failure to go along with his plans. This is textbook Five.

What I loved about this season was that we got to see Five finally meeting his father again. They interact as two adults, not as a child trying to find away to become his own person, frustrated by a lack of trust from his father. It allows Reggie to see Five in a different light and to actually provide advice in a constructive way, something he has almost never been able to do when viewing them as his children. But despite outward appearances and despite the fact that Five is a grown man, he still sees his father the same way he always has. He doesn’t register Reggie’s advice as advice. He hears that he’s striving beyond his abilities and that maybe he can only travel in seconds. He hears his father telling him he can’t handle time travel. That’s why he doesn’t try to actually take the very good advice until the very end.

An old dog can still occasionally learn a new trick and Five proves that true.

6. Ben

As I mentioned earlier, Ben is chaffing at his ghosthood. Maybe it’s because Klaus has been sober enough to keep Ben around solidly for 3 years. Maybe it’s because Ben is no longer spending all his time trying to keep Klaus alive and sober. Or maybe it’s the fact that he has finally found someone that he actually wants to spend time with. Whatever the reason, Ben wants to be alive this season.

Again, as I mentioned, that’s causing some tension. Ben doesn’t want to be tied to Klaus, but Klaus is ignoring that because he feels so guilty about it. Ben doesn’t want to admit that he was too scared to go into the light on his own, so they’re at a bit of a standstill.

And then Ben gets the opportunity to be alive again, if only for a while. And in a lot of ways, it’s wonderful! But it’s not the same as being truly alive.

So when the time comes, when he’s faced with that light again... he’s not afraid. He knows that it’s time to move on. He knows this isn’t where he should be, but he also got the chance to be there for his family. He misses them, but he got to talk to Diego and Vanya. He got to save Vanya. He got to save Allison and Diego and Klaus and Luther and Five and the whole world! So while he would have stayed, he’s not sad about leaving anymore, and he’s not afraid.

7. Vanya

OK, she was a little out of character because... you know. She had amnesia.

But aside from erasing her past, the amnesia allowed us to see Vanya without the anger and resentment that plagued her for all of season one. Vanya was always someone who was kind and loving, someone who cares enough to leave peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches out for a missing brother for years. Someone who knows the pain of not being seen and who will always take the time to truly see other people. She’s someone who wants to love and to be loved and to protect those she loves.

That was all here, with or without the memories. And as soon as the memories came back, so did the guilt and fear about what she had done, what she had become, terrified of what was inside her in a way that she was not when her powers first surfaced. But Ben is used to being afraid of what’s inside of him. He knows she’s not a monster and is the perfect person to explain that to her. And this time around, she has experienced the love and care and attention of her siblings (and Sissy) to back up those words. That’s how she finally accepts them as truth, how she finally accepts her power as a part of her.

Overall, there are things that I wish this season spent more time with, but there was nothing that I felt was out of character or wildly inconsistent. The characters still struggled with all the baggage from their shitty childhood, their fear of their powers, and the guilt in their past. Some struggled in new ways this season and some continued old struggles that had never fully been resolved. The season felt very different than the first, but it still felt like the Umbrella Academy. It was a good mix of new and old and a good mix of feel-good moments we have all been waiting for and frustrating and sad moments that just come with having a complicated family. I loved this season. And now, I’m going to go re-watch every episode.

#tua s2 spoilers #tua season 2 #tua analysis #The Umbrella Academy #tua #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #alison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves

6K notes · View notes

cocobeanncteez · 4 years ago

Text

ATEEZ Yeosang: Soulmate (oneshot)

Genre: Angst, fluff, idol au, soulmate au.

Pairing: Soulmate!Yeosang x Reader (fem) / Yeosang x idol!reader

Warnings: none.

In this world, everyone has a soulmate. Most people give up on trying to find their soulmate, while some travel the world just to find that one special person.

Each person has different indicators that a person is their soulmate; in your case, every mark your soulmate gets on his skin appears on yours, like a burn scar, bruise, or a cut. You didn't have the same moles, freckles, or birthmarks, and if he drew something on his skin, it wouldn't appear on yours; basically, anything that changes an area of the skin that can't be easily or instantly undone, will show up on your skin. Luckily, you couldn't feel the pain from it, you could only see it.

"Y/N, you're next," your group's makeup artist said to you, making you get up from the sofa. You sat on the chair, allowing her to work on your face while you listened to some music. After everyone in your group got ready, you went on stage. You were the leader of your group, so you had to talk before the performance.

Ateez had just finished performing and were currently watching your group from the TV in their waiting room while they had some refreshments.

Yeosang wasn't paying much attention as he was really tired... that was until he noticed the burn scar on your finger while you talked: it was the exact same burn scar as his that he got two days ago while helping Wooyoung cook. He got up from the chair, moving closer to the TV to check if it was really the same. He mentally cursed when you gave the mic to another member, cause now he couldn't see your hands anymore.

"What's wrong, Yeosang?" Hongjoong asked.

"Hyung, she has the same scar as me," he replied, showing the scar on his finger, shocking some of the members. "I'm not sure if it's exactly the same."

"Wait, wait, wait," Wooyoung took out his phone; he had already found his soulmate, so he was sure this was a sign. He immediately searched for images on Twitter. When he found a picture of a bruise that you had on your knee, he showed it to Yeosang. "Didn't you have the same bruise last month?"

Yeosang's eyes widened. "No way... this can't be true."

"You don't look very happy for someone who just found out who their soulmate is," Yunho commented.

"That's cause I'm not," Yeosang said through gritted teeth. "I hate this whole soulmate bullshit. I'd rather genuinely fall in love with someone than have the universe choose that someone for me."

None of the guys questioned Yeosang, knowing it was not the best time to talk to him about it; however, they really hoped he would change his mind soon.

After your group's performance ended, you all started filming for your behind the scenes content. Today, you all had a challenge to do: your six-member group was split into two teams, and one member from each team had to visit five other groups/soloists in the building to play a round of rock, paper, scissors, and the team who gets the least wins would face a penalty that would be shown on the next vlive. You and one of your members, Aeji, decided to volunteer for it.

After finishing the first four groups, you went to Ateez's waiting room which was at the end of the corridor. Aeji knocked on the door and Ateez's manager opened it. She explained what you both were here for, and he agreed to let you film with them.

You entered the room, bowing to the eight men. "Hi! I'm Y/N and this is Aeji, we have a small challenge to do here. Could one of you play rock, paper, scissors with us?" You noticed how some of the boys glanced at Yeosang who was staring at your hands. As soon as you made eye-contact with Kang Yeosang, you felt something unexplainable in your heart, making you gasp in shock. Your vision became blurry and your head started spinning, making you clutch your head with your arms in hope of getting the spinning to stop.

"Y/N?! Y/N, are you all right?" you heard Aeji ask, but her voice seemed so far away.

Your head started spinning even faster, causing you to faint.

"Fuck!" Aeji kneeled down, putting your head on her lap while Ateez's staff got some water for you. They sprinkled some water on your face, but you didn't respond. "Oh god, what suddenly happened? She was fine minutes ago," Aeji mumbled to herself, but everyone heard her.

"Yeosang, do something," Wooyoung said. "Maybe she'll respond to you."

Aeji glanced at them in confusion.

"I'm not doing shit," Yeosang said. "You know I don't like this whole soul—"

"I'm sorry, but what are you guys talking about?" Aeji questioned.

"Y/N is Yeosang's soulmate," San stated, making the older man glare at him for exposing him.

Aeji's eyes widened. "Oh, is that so? Well, then do something, please. I don't know what made her faint."

"Well, from what I know, she passed out cause she has seen and been in the same area as Yeosang, but never realized he is her soulmate. The intensity of not knowing but being so close probably caused her to pass out," Hongjoong explained.

You could hear everything, but you just weren't able to open your eyes.

"Hyung, touch her cheek or something," Jongho suggested.

Yeosang hesitated for a few seconds before he sighed, kneeling beside you. He placed his hand on your cheek, gently cupping it, stroking your skin with his thumb. Even though he hated the whole soulmate thing, he couldn't deny that you were absolutely stunning; he had never seen anyone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes slowly opened, immediately landing on Yeosang's beautiful brown ones. Time seemed to have frozen at that moment, and your heart filled with happiness. It was obvious to you that he was your soulmate; you were thrilled about it as you always wanted to find your soulmate, and you always found Yeosang unique whenever you saw him at shows.

"I-I have to go," Yeosang murmured before standing up and leaving the room, leaving you confused. Why didn't he look happy?

"Kang Yeosang from Ateez is my soulmate," you told your members. They all were happy for you, except Aeji.

"Y/N, I don't think Yeosang is as thrilled as you," Aeji mumbled. "Jongho told me that Yeosang hates the whole soulmate thing."

"Oh, my brother hated all that too, but after he found his soulmate, he loved it," one of your members said with a small smile.

"Then let's hope Yeosang is the same, hmm?" Aeji said, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. You really hoped everything would go well.

"Um, hey, can we talk privately?" you asked Yeosang, standing outside Ateez's waiting room. He rolled his eyes, but followed you to the rooftop of the building.

You gave him a small smile. "So, uh—"

"Look, Y/N," he started in a cold tone. "I don't care if we're soulmates according to the universe or whatever shit it is. Neither do I want a soulmate, nor do I need one. I'd rather find someone who genuinely loves me for who I am, not because of some hideous so-called soulmate bond." You just kept quiet, unsure of what to say while your heart ached terribly.

"So just move on, yeah?" he continued, staring at the clouds moving in the blue sky. "I'm sure you'll find someone who will genuinely love you." He glanced at you before leaving you all alone on the rooftop with a shattered heart.

You always wanted to find your soulmate. You wanted to experience being madly in love with the person you're fated to be with till death. But how could you do any of that when your soulmate doesn't even want you? You wondered how it was so easy for him to break your heart. Was your bond really that weak?

You sighed, blinking away the tears from your eyes. You can't and won't force your soulmate to love you back, so you should probably take his advice and try to move on.

"Wow, Yeosang, didn't know you were getting some action," San said with a smirk, confusing the man who had just finished showering.

"What are you saying?"

"No need to act oblivious, we all can see it," Wooyoung said.

"I pity our makeup artist," Seonghwa commented.

Yeosang raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you guys talking about?"

Hongjoong rolled his eyes. "The hickey on your neck, obviously."

Yeosang's eyebrows furrowed. He checked his reflection in the mirror, eyes widening at the big hickey on his neck and one below his collarbone.

"It's on Y/N," Yeosang said through gritted teeth, feeling extremely annoyed and hurt. His heart ached terribly. He wanted to see you right now, but it was nearly impossible. Both his and your group's promotions ended two weeks ago, and there was no way he could meet you anywhere outside due to paparazzi. He didn't even have your number.

"You look... pissed," Jongho stated.

"Well, yeah, my soulmate is fucking another man," Yeosang spat before sitting on the large couch in the living room of the dorm, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

Yunho raised an eyebrow. "Do you expect her to wait for you when you literally told her to move on?" he asked in disbelief. "And now that she has, you're pissed? That's unfair."

Yeosang sighed, remembering every word he told you. He knew Yunho was right.

"I know, but... I just can't do this anymore. The bond is torturing me. A-And," his voice cracked as tears swelled up in his eyes. "I love her. I really love her, soulmate or not."

Wooyoung sat beside Yeosang, wrapping his arms around him, letting his bestfriend cry on his shoulder. Everyone could only hope it wasn't too late for Yeosang.

"Yeosang... it's been a week. You need to come out of your room," Seonghwa murmured, kneeling beside Yeosang's bed.

"I don't feel like doing that, hyung."

Seonghwa sighed. "We have to practice for the award show tomorrow. Our manager won't let you miss practice for the third time."

Yeosang groaned, putting his blanket over his head. "Can't I miss it? Can't our company say I'm sick?"

"Absolutely not," Ateez's manager said, entering the room. "You might win a big award tomorrow. And there's a large audience, you could draw a lot of attention. Besides, Y/N's group will be there." Yeosang instantly removed the blanket from his head at the mention of your name.

"She'll be there?"

"Yeah, the final lineup got confirmed an hour ago."

Yeosang leaned in close to Jongho. "When is our break?" he whispered in Jongho's ear.

Jongho groaned. "Hyung, this is the eighth time you've asked me that in less than half an hour."

Yeosang glanced at where your group was seated; unfortunately, one of your members was covering you, so he couldn't see you. He sighed, shifting his eyes back on the group that was currently performing while he tried his best to wait patiently.

As soon as all artists were given a break, he rushed to your group's waiting room. He found only half of your members there.

"Hello," he bowed. "Where is Y/N?"

"She's in the bathroom on the second floor."

Yeosang rushed there as fast as he could, ignoring the stares he was getting from other artists and staff.

"Y/N!" he yelled once he saw you leaving the bathroom, causing you to turn around.

Yeosang now stood right in front of you, panting from the run. Your heart raced at the sight of how ethereal your soulmate looked tonight, especially in his black suit and newly dyed black hair. He was absolutely stunning.

"Can we talk, please?" Yeosang asked anxiously, hope clear in his beautiful eyes.

You couldn't say no, even though you should've. You simply nodded your head, letting him drag you to the emergency staircase in the building.

You leaned back against the wall, waiting for him to say whatever he wanted to. You noticed how he was fidgeting with his fingers while he leaned against the railing of the staircase.

"Are you okay?" you asked in concern. Your soulmate sighed, taking a few steps towards you.

"Can I hold your hand?" he questioned. When you nodded, he took your hands in his, gently rubbing circles on the back of it while he tried to calm down by taking deep breaths.

"I love you, Y/N," he confessed. "I just... can't stand the thought of you being with anyone else. It kills me to even think of it. I know I was a jerk before and I know you've moved on, but I—"

You cupped Yeosang's cheek before capturing his lips with your own, surprising him; he couldn't believe you were kissing him after everything he said. He kissed you back, his heart beating rapidly like yours. The soulmate bond between the two of you strengthened, causing a euphoric feeling.

You pulled away with a smile that grew wider when you saw how stunned and happy Yeosang was.

"I tried to move on," you explained. "But I couldn't. Not when my heart, my soul, belongs to you. I love you, Kang Yeosang."

Yeosang chuckled happily, leaning in to kiss you passionately. His heart swelled with happiness and he mentally thanked the universe for bringing the two of you together as soulmates.

354 notes · View notes

bxllafanficc · 4 years ago

Text

¡Skate/sing your hearts out! (Yuri Plizetsky x reader)

(part five)

Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Masterlist

Summary: After last year's cancellation of Figure Skating Grand Prix, Yuri Plisetsky finds himself unable to bring out his inner skater after a year of doing nothing but enjoy life like a regular teenager. That's when you enter the picture; We Are Voice Grand Awards's currently hottest competitive vocalist come first place two years in a row. Just like the other competitors of Grand Prix, it turns out that Victor and Yuuri faces the same issue. With an arrangement between Victor and Yakov, they agree to travel to Japan and hire you as a mutual coach for Yuri and Yuuri to help bring back the emotion into their performances like before, maybe even more intense than ever. Yuri however, who's never experienced issues with his coaches before, for some reason finds this one particularly difficult to coexist along with in their (reasonably) odd partnership. Warnings: none

*Yuri's POV*

(One week later)

He groaned, still trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes even after breakfast. The sun was annoyingly bright today and the crowds chatting along the streets became a loud buzzing in his ears. They walk along shore at a smaller street where the typical fisherman has been standing, even years from now since Yuri saw him last. With a face mask up to his eyes and his hoodie up, it also came to be exceedingly hot underneath his disguise. Sweaty again.

In front of him walked Yuuri and Victor, sheering for him to hurry up meanwhile Victor snapped some photos behind his head on him and (Y/n). 'A selfie to remember' he said. Though the sour face of (Y/n) was far from something anyone would like to remember. Terrifying.

Right. Why? Yuri didn't exactly hit it off at its peak this morning with (Y/n) as his roommate. The cold shoulder hitting him like a slap in the face grew even larger every time he tried talk her back to normal state. A 'what's the matter with you? Stop being a drag!' Wasn't gonna get him an answer so far. Though, Yuri found himself surprised that he even made an effort into talking with her in this mood. One week with her and he's already softening up? Not great. He can't treat her as if she isn't a stranger to him, nice or not. Even if she always came at the late ending hours of his practicing at the rink and greeted him with a late snack after training. Star-shaped apple slices and a smoothie. He found it weird the first time and he still does. Every morning and every late evening because Yakov happened to mention that apples were Yuri's favorite fruit.

And this morning? Maybe he could actually admit that he screwed up. It probably could've gone better if he hadn't stolen Magnolia from her... Long story short, she was asleep with the cat in her arms and Yuri sneaked out a makeshift toy to lure him over. (Y/n) quickly noticed that Yuri was now the person cuddling the cat and she tried to call him over for his morning brush with a happy chirping sound. But Yuri had held Magnolia still when he tried to go until the cat was like 'meh whatevs' and went back to sleep in Yuri's arms. He knew now afterwards that it was already a little bit much to hold the cat back but the worst part wasn't past yet. No. The worst part was when he said 'He wants to be with me, not you, you clingy hag' and 'Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and tacky all the time he would be sprinting to you this moment instead of cuddling with his savior.' When she hadn't responded well to his words some unknown force told him to push it harder. So kept on pushing at her limits with spiteful manners and comments. He can't really understand why he'd said that now afterwards. All that came out meanwhile Yuri was still half asleep from past day's exhaustion, and he hadn't yet realized that he probably should filter the way he talk to his coach, nonetheless the,, he wouldn't say idol,, but- Nonetheless the acquaintance she is. Though he couldn't stand her. How itching and irritated he felt whenever she made her own sour looks. Isn't she supposed to be happy sunshine or what? Just get over it already, it was just an insult anyway.

But it was clear that (Y/n) took the insult to heart and has been doing so since then. At breakfast, he had received a bowl of starshaped cut apples put down harshly in front of him at the table. That along with blueberry pancakes. Why she was the one making breakfast, he didn't understand. But it had certainly not been unbearable to eat. No the opposite really. The entire Katsuki household was there along with them and everyone had been gulping it down like starved hounds. But the thing really throwing Yuri off was the fact that his appleslices were the only ones being but into starshapes. Just that she took the extra time even though or because she was upset at him?

Yuri gazed at the girl's direction as he thought of the event. 'So very unnecessary' he thought. Was it some twisted joke he didn't quite get or a revenge he didn't see coming? Because except for the apples, she had been totally snappy with him since they left for the unknown adventure Victor had described it as. And she wouldn't really have made that extra effort out of kindness judging on her mood today.

(Y/n) was very keen not to glance at him just one bit this morning since that breakfast. And when Yuri made a huge deal out of it afterwards, Victor had took him aside and whispered into his ear; 'There will come days where she won't put up with your bullshit anymore and today seems like such a situation. I don't know what you did to cause that reaction because it's quite rare. But I recommend you lay off and let her cool down on her own.' His words had been a sense of advise with a hint of bitterness in it.

Just minutes later he had gathered us four and announced that he would be taking them all somewhere to cleanse our minds and gather our thoughts. He hadn't really understood why all four would go there but that's when (Y/n) decided it was time to announce a pretty important details she almost withheld from him until now. Apparently the entire reason they chose to do this whole coaching in Japan was because she had taken Yuuri as her apprentice as well. It all seemed relevant of course. Why else would Yuri be here right now and not with her back in Russia? But it made him feel uneasy and let down for some stupid reason. Why she apparently thought it was much more important to teach Yuuri than him since they were in Japan right now. He's always gotta be the favorite even though Yuri won gold and proved himself to be better than the piglet. Victor already chose him. And clearly (Y/n) did too. But she made him believe that she came here only to coach him.

He didn't understand anything. He didn't want her coaching, didn't want to hear anything she had to say. She wasn't a real coach even. He certainly didn't want to share a room with her and he didn't want to feel relieved at the sight of her at the rink yesterday, coming to his rescue like that. He just wanted her to stop talking so much but now he couldn't stand the silence she was giving him.

Couldn't she just get her shit together?

"Ta-daaa! We're here!" Victor's shout made Yuri snap back to reality at the beat of a second. It took him a moment to understand the building the man was waving towards but soon he remembered the experiences he had there.

"No- nonono! I'm not going through that hellish session again. No damned waterfalls and no hitting me with a stick!" Yuri turned on his heels but was grabbed by the collar of his neck by a pouting Victor. (Y/n) who was clearly new to the subject gave Yuuri a hesitant look but Victor wasn't going down.

"Come on, it will be great for everyone. And I promise no hitting this time!"

'This time.' He didn't believe it one bit. He knew it was just an attempt to get him through the doors. Once in, no turning back. But if there was going to be hitting, he was secretly hoping that it would not be (Y/n) as the one doing it.

"Still no. There's no way you're getting me through those doors! Never am I ever standing under a waterfall again!"

...

The rapid flow of the water forcibly threatening to push him forwards was as cold as he remembered it. Screw the hitting with sticks, this just felt like someone rapidly slapping him across the back over and over. At least the water could've been warm. What was the deal with that anyway? He knew exactly why going here was kept a secret from him. They would never have caught him if he knew before. Now Yuri is standing in the middle, unable to escape. A quiet but intimidating (Y/n) who hasn't spoken up for hours and Yuuri who seems to actually be taking this whole thing seriously. Then there's the big question. Where is Little blondie Rasputin in the picture. The answer is right in front of him in a corner of the other side of the room. In a bubble bath taking it easy. He said that he'd be making sure we'd concentrate on opening up our minds and he'd tell us if he noticed otherwise. Yuri believed none of it. He just doesn't want to be here himself. Cause why was (Y/n) doing it if both the coaches aren't in on it. She's already in touch with herself and doesn't need it. Part of him guesses that she was participating on her own terms for some reason.

'This isn't working. I'm literally standing here thinking about everything and anything until time passes!' He thought. And...

He made the mistake of looking to his right. (Y/n) was standing close beside him with closed eyes. He was going to close his eyes as well but then he noticed how soft her skin looked. Like, all the wrinkles caused by her constant grumpy face were flattened out. Her mouth hung low and her lips were slightly parted. That made him notice her slow breathing making her chest rise and fall in a nice rhythm. Even though the water hitting his scalp shouted angrily in his ears, he was somehow able to here her melodic breathing. She was doing this the right way. And she looked completely relaxed. Almost asleep.

He kept on listening to her breathing and prayed that she wouldn't open her eyes right this moment. If so, she'd probably have realized right away how long exactly he had been staring at her.

He brushed it off and adverted his gaze, closed his eyes shut. It wasn't anything more than that. He had to get to know her at some point and her striking eyes were always too intimidating for him. He would always look away to feel less stripped of his soul in front of her. It was almost the first time he really could study her features up close, and without her knowing. (D-Did that sound weird-? anyway.)

He couldn't see her anymore but her light breath could still be heard. A part of it made Yuri think of music when he listened to it. He'll focus on that. Mach the breathing to his own.

Everything she did held a steady rhythm to it, unintentionally probably. The music was so much more than just the beautiful voice she had, but it consumed her entire being. Maybe that's why it felt so real on stage.

Does he have to let the skating consume him too? What if he loses control of what he's doing? Starts doing a different choreography or hits the wall again? What would happen if he just let go?

"I think we're done for today. Great job guys! You too Yuri!"

Well, he would never find out because he could never let that happen. Ever. If he doesn't hold control, then what does he have.

Yuuri and (Y/n) came back to reality and stepped out of the fall. Yuri followed short behind and watched the droplets of water running down the back of the girl in front of him. Her shoulders were much less tense than before they begun their session.

'If she thinks she's her to help me let go of all control and fly off the surface of the earth, then I'm sorry. For your coaching will have been in vain.'

...

Yuri was the last one out of the showers and was alone in the locker room as the piglet had already finished before him. He put one the clothes he came in since he came unprepared and set off to the main entrance. To his surprise, he found (Y/n) leaned against a nearby wall just outside the path leading the separate changing rooms apart. 'She's been waiting for me?' She still looks stern but this time Yuri's directly hit in the face by it. She's not ignoring him anymore. Her eyes are as piercing as always but not with excitement or content as usual. Yuri has to turn his head. The feeling's too much.

He walks beside her this time as well. Not a few feet behind like the way they came here.

Victor's tall back was seen outside the building through the glass doors and the two of them headed out. Yuuri was there too but they weren't alone. A large crowd of screaming teenagers as well as adults were swooning over the two skaters. Reporters and journalists were at the front struggling to ask the pair questions meanwhile guards from the center nearby held them all back. At the corner of his eye (Y/n) was turning slightly pale of the sudden screams that roared as they arrived together. As soon as Yuri was noticed the same reaction came for the second time and he joined in on the surprise. His first instinct was to run and hope none in the crowd ran faster than him. But is seemed like (Y/n) sensed his intentions before he did. A firm and calming hand was placed upon his head and as what- a warning? A threat? He looked at her and she smiled. Not to him, but to the crowd.

"Is that (Y/n) and Yuri Plisetsky?"

"Yes! But why are they in Japan? And together?"

"Aww look! They look so cute together!"

A couple pictures were taken of the two of them and Yuri was as stunned by the girl's hand as well as her warm presence towards her fans. He was even too caught up to snap her hand away.

"How long have you known each other?"

"Yuri YURI! What were you doing in there with the Aubade duchess of (nationality)?" Duchess? Right. One of her many titles created by her fan base. It's pretty funny. Why a duchess? Why not a queen or an empress? Yuri wasn't the one to complain though. He was called the Russian punk.

"(Y/n), any reason you're in Japan? Any hot news you'd like to share with us?" The woman asking leaned over the fighting arms of the guard and winked playfully at the two of them. He saw (Y/n) getting visibly uncomfortable at the suggestive question and she stuttered, trying to come up with something smooth and contained for the reporter to use in her article. Yuri was just pissed off at how rudely this woman got all up in their private life like that. He felt like it had been put upon (Y/n) as her responsibility alone to answer that and that just made him angrier.

But the back of the tall Russian male hiding him from camera views stopped the salty defensive words he almost spit out.

"Of course! It's about time to announce anyway. On the behalf of myself and Yakov Feltsman, we're proud to announce that (Y/n) (l/n) will spend her time in Japan as coach for our competing skaters; Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuri Katsuki, in their preparations for this year's Grand Prix senior division!" Victor's worlds were happily announced to the audience and the next moment all hell of a screaming mess broke loose. The reporters rushed sideways to call their firms about the news and the guards almost failed to hold the fighting fans at bay. It all was a mess already. It went from being super private and secretive to Victor dropping the act without warning and soon the whole world would know in just a couple of minutes.

Shit.

A/N; Aaand another chapter! I have so fun writing these and it's almost like therapy session for me too:') no waterfalls though. It seems like Yuri's starting to warm up to (Y/n) right? Well... Baby steps;) What do you think will happen in next chapter? Let me know what you think!

#yurio plisetsky #yuri on ice fanfiction #yuri on ice fandom #yuri katsuki #yuriart #yurianime #yuri on ice #yuri on stage #yuri plisetsky x reader #victor nikirofov #yuuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #animelove #anime fanfic #anime icons

55 notes · View notes

softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 5 years ago

Photo

Allotrope

Genre: Idolverse Pairing: Kim Junmyeon (Suho) x reader Warnings: one night stand smut? It gets angsty and fluffy and more smutty as the plot continues. Chapter 1 Words: 9k.

The first time you met him, you knew who he was.

Or rather, you thought you knew.

You knew him as a leader of a group of younger brothers. A teller of Dad Jokes and generous giver to his members. A man who knew just how devastatingly handsome he was but somehow, didn’t let it go to his head.

You knew him only as Suho, not Kim Junmyeon. He told you as much during your first conversation.

You tried to prove him wrong. He wanted to hope you were right.

A typical Friday night. Where most might consider the hour ‘late’, you thrived. Nearly eleven thirty as your feet worked quickly and gracefully, weaving between other staff members. Friday nights had a love hate relationship with you.

You loved them because it was the easiest night to make bank, with the wealthy coming out of the woodwork to perch themselves daintily at the best restaurants in the city. You made good money working here any night, but you could easily walk away with a few hundred more on Fridays. Especially during the holidays.

You hated them because with the wealthy came the pompous, and you hated their attitudes. Too entitled to care how busy you are with your life and assuming that just because you work in a restaurant, you’re never going to amount to anything. The degree you’re so busy finishing when you’re not waiting tables will mean nothing.

If they weren’t pompous, they were egotistical. Men and women, all too giving with attention and cheesy, whispered promises of a good time that made you swallow bile and cringe. They paid well, but the money always felt gross.

As a veteran, having worked this gig the entire duration of your college career thus far, the celebrities didn’t phase you anymore. You were not here for them.

The giddy excitement of greenhorn servers working high profile tables is what set them sinking before they knew it. It went to their head. Not for you. It was dull enough that you simply did the job. That isn’t to say you didn’t generally enjoy the atmosphere when you served someone famous that was a decent human being. Sometimes they would tell you how much they enjoyed you treating them like they weren’t famous, too.

They appreciated how real you were, and you appreciated that they said so. You always tried to see that there is more to people than what they showed on the surface.

Why tonight was any different wasn’t something you had been expecting. When your manager came to you about a group of idols coming to dine in thirty minutes, nothing was nothing new. It wasn’t unusual for larger groups to ask for a private space, which your restaurant could certainly accommodate.

The time of their arrival was just the same as every other. You had hosted and served many groups over the years, but couldn’t ever really recall serving EXO. Perhaps, if they had dined here at all, it was while you were away.

With a fellow veteran and your closest friend, you greeted them. Easily, they appeared tired but happy, wearing comfortable oversized sweatshirts and athletic pants. Various hats or none at all adorned their heads, and their masks were removed once they finally settled into their seats.

Their manager sounded kind, apologizing in advance for any trouble the rowdy men may cause prior to taking his seat at the staff table in the room. You assured it was no trouble at all and got to work.

As someone heavily influenced by music, you knew who they were. You might even say you were a fan, but not die hard. Being a die hard fan lost its glimmer when you’ve been disappointed often enough in how little humanity is left in too high a percentage of people with just as much money and power as them.

So why did this feel different? Not unpleasant, but a persistent buzz in the back of your head making you pay more attention to them. Their leader, stage named Suho, was lounging at one corner of the table, fingers tapping lazily at his temple while he watched his younger brothers taking jibes at one another with a smile so fond it made you look twice.

He didn’t seem to notice and you carried on, bringing their copious drinks and appetizers. The largest one, Chanyeol alone seemed to devour an entire plate of wings before asking you politely for another with stars in his eyes.

When their meals arrived, Junmyeon looked up to your face with a phrase of polite thanks on his tongue, but it seemed to die as his brows rose and then his forehead creased.

You caught the way Sehun snickered beside him. Something funny you weren’t attuned to. Fearing embarrassment, you ignored them, briskly completing the delivery of their meals.

Taking Soohyun, your partner, by the arm, you turned away.

“Is there something on my face? In my teeth?”

He frowned, brow furrowing deeply as he leaned around to look at your face more critically, inspecting further when you showed him your pearly whites.

“No.”

“Oh.” The air was pregnant with words you didn’t say.

He laughed a bit at your response, “Why are you frowning suddenly?”

You huffed, tapping the end of your pen against your lips, “Just confused. Junmyeon acted like there was something on my face when I set his food down. Sehun laughed, too.”

“Y/N.” he said sternly.

You didn’t bother to look at him, instead losing yourself in your thoughts and absentmindedly checking your watch.

“Hey.” he said again, gently shoving his elbow into your arm and laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Don’t hit me, okay?”

Rolling your eyes, you placed you hands on your hips and raised a brow at him.

He sighed in defeat, “I don’t think he expected someone so pretty.”

The sound of your garbled revolt at his pure and utter bullshit was loud enough to make one or two pairs of smokey eyes flick toward you curiously. The two more observant of the group, Minseok and Kyungsoo, turned their eyes back to their meals after briefly meeting yours to confirm nothing was wrong.

“I’m serious, Y/N! You’re very pretty, almost too pretty.” Soohyun said.

He deserved the playful punch to his ribs, “Thanks for the backhanded compliment.”

The older man only continued laughing. Having your answer that it was in fact, not you, approaching the table again was normal.

You took a second Soju order for Chanyeol and Baekhyun, but a cool finger stopped you before you could leave. Normally, you would feel upset that someone physically touched you without asking. Something about the gentle touch sent a shock up your arm. Something warm and light and peaceful and not gross at all.

“Um, excuse me.”

You whirled, finding the man who had lost his words earlier staring up at you kindly.

“What can I get for you Mr. Kim?” you asked politely, pen at the ready against your leather notepad. You put on your best air of nonchalance.

He paused briefly, “You know who I am?” he inquired.

You nodded, “You’re Kim Junmyeon.”

Simple, was the way you said it. As if that were the truth and the only truth that mattered to him. The stare he fixed you with was unusual, and you couldn’t place the intent of its depth.

He recovered, dropping the intensity and falling into his charm, “Don’t you mean to say Suho?”

You were not here to take the bait, but you took it anyway. Something in his smile told you he was genuinely interested in your answer.

“Well, Suho is part of who you are as a whole. As Junmyeon.”, you clarified with a pout.

He nodded, sweeping a hand through his hair. He challenged you, “I see, I see...”

Immediately you took that as a bad sign, “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

His eyes snapped back to yours and holding the warmth of his stare was easier than looking even your parents in the eyes.

“Not at all, but I’m afraid you only know Suho. Not Junmyeon.” His tone was teasing.

What were you supposed to say to that? It would be too easy to agree, but you didn’t do easy.

“Everyone can have their own opinions. Agree to disagree.”

He laughed. Genuinely, he barked out and it touched his eyes. Enough that Sehun turned away from his food to watch.

“Fair enough. I’m sorry I’ve kept you from work. I’ll let you get back to it.”

“My work is to serve you right now, so I think you’re fine.” you assured with an honest smile of your own. Nothing about his presence or demeanor set your alarms off. You had never experienced someone with this much influence that didn’t give you alarms of ulterior motives.

With that, you parted to take care of the drink orders several of his members had placed.

The next hour continued on this way. Taking care of their tables with Soohyun by bringing drinks and Chanyeol’s endless love and appetite for chicken. The louder boys, the Beagle line, were all several drinks in and entertaining the table.

It might be a white lie to say their antics were not also entertaining to you whenever you were present, but the way Junmyeon kept catching your eyes with his own was quickly taking over your down time at their table.

Now, you liked to think yourself someone who enjoys others company. You’re a consenting adult and have had your fair share of experiences, both good and bad, both relationships and one night stands because you understand that your life is incredibly busy and you deserve to have some fun.

However, you had never considered even entertaining the idea of sleeping with someone you met on the job. You had never met someone who’s advances were not ultimately unappealing or downright creepy while being here. It was quite strange, how natural it felt. How obvious it was that he seemed to be struggling to put this gravitational pull into proper thought as well.

There was something trusting and warm about the way he watched you. Almost protective, like the guardian angel his name was true to. The way he appreciated your presence was tender and not exactly unwelcome. Perhaps a bit unexpected, but you didn’t mind it. He would go on his way once he and his members were finished dining anyway and then you might never cross paths again.

You were aware Junmyeon was extremely smart. Smart enough to realize it was going on one thirty and the restaurant patrons were dying off. Smart enough to let you catch his subtle tells. Tells such as you watching him chewing his lip while he looked up what time your establishment closed with his phone on the table.

Tells such as the way he seemed to lean toward you or ask you specifically if he needed something but respecting you enough not to touch. Anything to engage you specifically in conversation. Tells such as the way his eyes seemed to bore into you from across the room, or the way he visibly bristled when Jongdae a little too obviously checked you out from across the table while you took an order for cake from Yixing.

You noted he hadn’t had a drop of liquor the entire night. Opting for water through the meal and hot tea toward the end. Happily shocked, you smiled delightfully when he snuck out his black card and handed it to you, asking if you would please put their bill on it.

When his members whooped and hollered with thanks to him, he took it well. He didn’t do it for show. He did it to treat his brothers as an act of love.

You returned his card with the leather fold for him to sign, smiling. “That was kind of you.”

His charming, joking smile appeared again, quirking a brow at you and letting his fingers intentionally touch yours during the pass of the leather booklet.

“Kind of who?” he asked with a raised brow, the index finger of his free hand rubbing across his bottom lip.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you answered, “I suppose of Suho. I thought you said I didn’t know Junmyeon.”

He smirked at you, nodding in acquiesce.

Parting from him, you began to clear the remaining dishes. The group began getting up, stretching and putting on coats with whines of content fullness and protest at having to move. Proclamations of how tired they were, drooping eyes and full stomachs. A few with their arms draped around one another in camaraderie as they began to file out.

Just as you returned from the kitchen to collect more dishes, they began to say their thanks and goodbyes, following some of their staff out of the room. You bowed to each and every one of them with thanks and the normal phrases to kindly please return.

Sehun and Suho were the last of the line, with Sehun not having said a word more than he had to. Junmyeon on the other hand, with half of a smirk tucked into his cheek, thanked you directly as he left. His eyes, that rich deep brown, bore into yours with something that made you blush. Something that insinuated it wouldn’t be the last time you saw him.

Soohyun collected the check from their table and told you that he would see off the remaining table of their staff while you cleared a bus bin of dishes.

The moment you turned the corner, Soohyun came rushing into the kitchen nearly on your heels.

“Uh, I think this was meant for you.” he coughed, clearing his throat and holding the receipt toward you.

Written on the back were six simple words that sent you into a fit. You noted how pretty his handwriting was.

‘Would you like to find out?’

You flubbered for words, opening your mouth several times but nothing came out. Heat poured from every orifice on your face and you looked at Soohyun with wild eyes.

“He-”

Soohyun laughed, thick arms folded across his thicker chest, “I know.”

“And I-”

“Deserve to have some fun.” he finished for you, leaning his torso forward and locking eyes with you.

The face he was making at you was nothing but sincere and absolutely serious. You were frozen.

“Their manager is waiting for your answer. Go ahead if you want, I can finish up.”

You sat for a moment, thinking. You were still unnerved a bit, distracted by the way you’ve been rendered so completely shaken by the feel of Junmyeon’s stare. As if he were still staring into you. Underneath the feeling of being shaken, most noticeably was the lukewarm feeling you shouldn’t do this because it gets tricky with famous anyones.

Below even that layer, burning like magma beneath the Earth’s surface, was the pure want for him. You were at a loss, trying to remember when the last time was you desired someone so greatly. How badly and how long it has been since you’ve given in to your basic needs.

“Should I?” you ask Soohyun, and his reaction tells you he wasn’t expecting you to hesitate.

He smiled again, one hand coming to rest on your shoulder, “I think you should do whatever you want to and not regret it.”

You glared at him, “That’s not helpful, and shouldn’t you be more protective of me? You’re practically my big brother! Shouldn’t you be upset and telling me he’s a creep?”

At your admission, Soohyun laughed. He often laughed at things. “While most of the time that’s how I feel, I think we both know this time was different. I’ve never seen you so comfortable and electric with someone like that, famous or not.”

The weight in your gut lifted. He was right. Soohyun was typically your go-to friend when you wanted to go out and get drunk and maybe take someone home. He was there to have his own good time, but he always watched your back and got you out of uncomfortable situations.

“Just be safe, and text me when you get home.” he clarified with serious eyes.

“Thank you for this.” you whispered to him before turning to walk back into the private dining room.

True to what Soohyun said, their manager was loitering awkwardly by the door, his attention snapped to you the moment you whirled back around the corner and into view.

“So, how does this work?” you asked, rubbing your arm and looking away. The sound of your own voice made you cringe.

The manager chuckled lightly, “Well, I don’t really know. None of them do this kind of thing very much, if ever.”

You balched at him, “Really?”

He smiled at you, nodding, “Really.”

“Okay, so...” you trailed off, almost more apprehensive. Was he just saying that or was that really the case?

“I think the best way, is to give you my cell number. We go our own ways, assuming you’re leaving work now. When you’re ready, come to this hotel,” he handed you a card before continuing, “and when you get there, text me and take the main elevator to the seventeenth floor.”

“Oh.” you voiced, “That sounds reasonable enough.”

The manager smiled again, “I think it goes without saying that you have to keep this to yourself and anything that happens involving Suho, correct? Lest there be legal matters.” You could tell he didn’t mean it maliciously, but he has to say it to protect his idols. He seemed like a good man with only EXO’s best interests in mind.

“Absolutely.”

“Great. I’ll take my leave then.” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and smiling at you kindly, “Thank you again for taking care of them here. I know they can be chaotic.”

“Oh, I don’t think they were at all!” you chimed pleasantly.

The manager’s face flashed with something sly he wanted to say but instead he chewed the inside of his cheek and said nothing when he left.

_______________________________

Just a little over an hour later, you were nervous as ever when you heard the elevator ping loudly, opening it’s smooth metal doors to the seventeenth floor. The hall was fairly quiet, sans for the ice machine humming in the vending machine niche a few paces down.

A door opened somewhere down the long hallway and you recognized the familiar figure of a middle aged man walking calmly toward you. He had since changed into something more comfortable, wearing a hoodie, sweat pants and socks.

You felt awkward as you stood there in your leggings and oversized sweater and the discreet overnight bag strap suddenly felt like it was digging unbearably into your shoulder.

Your hair was still half wet from your shower, dangling loosely around your shoulders, and you shifted from foot to foot, deciding at the last moment to move toward him. Your were tremoring with every step. Luckily, you could blame it on the cold. “Good evening, miss Y/N.” he said quietly.

“Good evening.” you returned with a small bow.

Further down the hallway a door opened and pretty, boyish laughter you remember hearing a lot at their dinner table rang out before it was promptly slammed shut again.

The manager sighed, closing his eyes momentarily and you stifled a small giggle, the easiest way for you to release some nervous energy. Your trembling fingers remained hidden beneath the paws of your sweater.

“You seem nervous.” he said flatly once the noise ceased, his hands stuffed into the front hoodie pocket.

You smiled, but didn’t try to lie, “I don’t do this much either. It’s always a nervous experience.”

“It’s not because he is a celebrity?” he asked, voice laced with curiosity. He squinted at you, adjusting his glasses, as if your answer would be his judgement of your person.

Lying never got you anywhere. You did your best to always be honest, “With all due respect, I see famous, rich people whenever I work. He isn’t any different in that regard. But most of those people...” you trailed off and looked to the floor as if the words you couldn’t find might have been written there.

“I’ve learned to be a pretty scary judge of character. Junmyeon didn’t give me any of the alarms I usually get from people who possess the same power he does.”

The manager nodded, his lower lip protruding slightly at your remarks.

“I think you’re in pretty good hands then. His room is this way.” You must have been given his seal of approval.

He turned, leading you back down the corridor with the dimmed hallway lights to room number one seven two three.

Before he knocked for you, he cleared his throat, “So if you need anything I’m right there.” twisting to point to a door two rooms down and across the hall.

“Have fun, okay? He’s a good guy.” came his whispered goodbye, swiftly knocking on the door with two firm raps before turning to make his way back to his own room.

You watched him go, and just as the manager’s door closed, the one in front of you opened.

A waft of warm steam gently passed you, catching your attention to see the bathroom was just inside the room, wide open with the light on. Standing right in front of you was Junmyeon.

His hair was wet but combed back and to the side, and he was shirtless. That was all you could assess before he was quickly but smoothly dragging you inside so he could close the door, away from prying eyes.

“Sorry.” you muttered, eyes glued to the floor. You liked to think you could work through your nerves pretty well but the warmth that spread up your arm from where he had your wrist was making it difficult not to lock up.

He smiled prettily, “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t need to be sorry for anything, okay?”

Slowly, your eyes climbed back up from the floor, starting from the tiny dark spot on the carpet where his hair had just dripped.

You noted, much to your liking, that he wasn’t wearing anything more than an untied pair of fitted sweats. There was a towel around his shoulders. Making eye contact again must have assured him in some way that you weren’t going to run.

He moved away, “Make yourself comfortable, I’m just finishing up.” The towel became a frenzy at the back of his head while he scrunched it over and over, trying to soak up the moisture.

Removing your shoes while you observed him going back to the bathroom, it dawned on you. The back of his neck and his ears were red. You weren’t the only one who was nervous.

It made you laugh, in a burst a bit too loud, considering the buzz of the music he was playing was far too quiet to elicit such a reaction.

The light in the bathroom flicked off just as he emerged, a boyish grin tucked into his cheek, “What’s so funny?”

You let yourself sit on the bed, rubbing your face with both hands, “Nothing.”

He wasn’t having it, laughing gently along with your smile, “Oh come on, I feel like I’m missing out.”

Junmyeon was stepping closer now, standing and looking down at you with a soft smile that put a crease in his eyes.

“It’s just... it feels ridiculous to be nervous about this. I was taught that laughter is best for combating nerves.”

“Hm,” Junmyeon hummed, “Whoever told you that must be very wise.”

A tiny pang of sadness flickered across your face before it disappeared, “He was.”

Junmyeon caught on immediately, his smile fading to watch you intently, stepping closer still.

“Who?”

You smiled up at him, “My Dad.”

You had to admit, part of Junmyeon’s charm was how attentive he was to others empathetically. Instead of being unnerved about it, you felt as if his ability to see into you was a source of warmth and comfort. He never looked away from your face.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his fingers hesitantly reaching to tap against the top of your thighs softly.

Your smile broadened, “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

There was a pause where you watched his fingers quietly, tapping innocently against the tops of your legs to the beat of the music.

“Y/N.” he called you, and it was beautiful hearing him say it so pleasantly.

“There are a few things I want you to understand, but it is best that I tell you directly instead of it coming to you through my manager.”

You froze up, immediately thinking something bad, “Okay.”

He looked down at you, leaving his fingers splayed against your leggings but no longer moving, “First, let me say I never do this kind of thing. I don’t have the time to get involved with it, let alone attend to my own needs. There’s a lot riding on my shoulders and it’s just really getting to me and I wasn’t really looking for anything like this but you just came out of nowhere and I-”

You put a finger up to his lips, “Junmyeon, stop. It’s okay, I get it. Me, too.” You were giggling again.

He sighed, taking your hand in his from his lips and holding it.

“That leads me to the next thing I wanted to say. You are in no way required to do anything. Just because I asked you to come here and we’re intending to r-release some... frustration, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” he quipped, brows knitted together again.

His skin was painted in a pretty blush. Your eyes remained glued to him, fascinated in watching it slowly creep down his neck. It pained you to look away from his abs when you replied.

“I appreciate that. I suppose what I’d like to say is we’re both adults and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I’ll admit I don’t do this often either, between work and class I don’t have the time to pay attention to my own needs.”

Your smile was wistful as you spoke, and Junmyeon with his thumb, caressed the back of your hand he was still holding.

“I think it’s pretty obvious there is mutual attraction. We’re just acting on it.” he murmured against your palm. You swallowed thickly, nodding.

Something heavy festered between you as the last of the words faded away with finality. Subtly, the hand remaining on your thigh tightened it’s grip, your knees touching against his legs.

Junmyeon looked at you with that penetrating stare again, but your light melted his gaze into a different kind of intense. You stood your ground by focusing on how nice you thought he smelled, fresh from his shower.

“So what is there for us to be nervous about?” he whispered, taking the advantage you gave him to step closer by inching your legs apart for him.

His face was close and you could smell his mouth wash. You realized he was waiting for an answer.

You tilted your head toward him, your lips barely breathing the word ‘nothing’ before he was on you.

He placed your hand against his chest and it felt as if you were touching the Sun. His skin was scorching beneath your fingers, the delicate blush still blooming across him like a rosy sunset.

His mouth felt warm, balmy. Wonderful yet cautious. He was taking his time, just sampling your lips slowly, gently, perhaps waiting for you to stop him. Inwardly you might cringe at how awkward this was. As if it were a first kiss with a crush playing seven minutes in heaven during a high school party. Except... it didn’t feel like that at all. You were both experienced, only new with one another.

A new song came on his shuffle and you both smiled, nearly laughing into each other’s mouths when you recognized it as one of his own songs.

You took the opportunity to separate from him, hauling the strap of your bag over your shoulder. He politely took it from you and placed it on the chair near the foot of the bed before coming right back to you.

Not so hesitantly this time he stepped into you against the bed, pulling your thighs around him. Every touch seemed to quell the strength of this force between you. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, but you felt better touching him than not. There was no awkward placement of hands upon one another’s body like a virgin experience would be.

His kiss was passionate this time. Slower, but deeper, with his brow furrowed, he tried to find what you liked and you stumbled through finding a pace and a style that you both liked. Not too much teeth or tongues. He pulled your lip gently between his and the tiny sound of surprise from you fueled him further.

Making out, let alone kissing, was never perfect between a pair for the first time, and your head was swimming with how attentive he was to figure out how you liked to be kissed. What made you breathless. You hoped he could feel you were trying to do the same for him.

The tame swipe of your tongue against his lip created the opportunity to go further, tangling his tongue with yours in such a way that pulled a quiet moan from his chest. Now you were getting somewhere, just feeling and not thinking.

Junmyeon’s hands were urging you backwards, up the bed. He almost smacked your nose with his forehead trying to keep connected, kissing you while he climbed onto the plush linens after you.

He smiled, mumbling an apology while extending one well sculpted arm toward you, catching your leg and leaning over you. He sank down, dark eyes trained on you lips.

Your legs automatically separated to make room for him. He pulled the one in his grasp up to his hip while you let the other match it.

The feeling of his erection pressing into your center sent a soft moan from your lips. His own, plush and red from kisses activity dropping open and his forehead creasing.

“Junmyeon.” you whined. You hated to admit it, but kissing was always one of your favorite things. With any partner, if they were a good kisser, you were putty in their hands.

“Huh?” he cooed, trying his not to show you how much this affected him, too. You were just two people who had neglected your needs for far too long. Two people who were doing something about it. Two people who conveniently had a free schedule for the next six or more hours.

You said nothing in return, instead pulling him down to have his lips working against yours again. Taking note how he nearly purred with your fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck, you tugged delicately.

It only seemed to fuel Junmyeon further, shuffling closer on his knees and adjusting the angle to roll his hips against you.

You moaned against his mouth, that felt too good. An explicit pleasure to you both, he did it a second time, moving his lips to your neck to stutter out a groan.

“Can I take this off, please?” he begged, fisting the huge sweater surrounding you. He seemed personally offended by it clearly wanting to be in the way instead of where he thought it belonged, on the floor.

Before he pulled it up, he checked with you, and it made your heart flutter at his kindness. He was making sure you both felt like equals in this space, even if sharing this kind of thing was temporary.

Junmyeon helped you to sit up, taking the hem of the pink sweater and pulling it over your head. He was too busy tossing it toward your bag to notice what you were up to. His eyes were wide but in awe when he turned back to you with one arm twisted behind your back.

Then suddenly you’re sliding the black fabric down your arms and tossing it away, only to throw yourself back down against the soft bed. Junmyeon was lost, with his eyes hooded and his tongue poking out to wet his suddenly dry lips.

“You’re so pretty.” he commented, letting one palm slide up from your hip over your stomach and further still, catching the underside of one breast and giving it a moderate squeeze.

You relished in the attention he gave them, leaning his head down to lick. You hissed through your teeth when he pulled back slightly to blow coolly against the wetness he left behind. The soothing relief of his molten mouth against it was immediate and he made you arch into his face further when he brought his other hand to your side and ran his fingers teasingly over your ribs.

He couldn't help the groan spilling from his lips when you put your hands in his hair again and ground your hips up into his. He switched his attention to your neglected nipple, biting before releasing it, smacking the flesh of your breast lightly, in awe as it bounced softly.

You hissed, “Ow, you bit too hard.” with a pout, which he promptly kissed away.

“I’m sorry.” Junmyeon whispered, a sheepish grin splitting his lips.

It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t unpleasant. With a hand gripping your hip tightly, the dark haired man rolled into you further, emitting a growl that only fueled him to grind harder against you by your soft moans.

Your fingernails scraped down his scalp and further, across the top of his back as far as you could reach.

“Fuck.” driped from his lips in a strained voice and you blushed, certain the word has never sounded so sexy to your ears.

He released your breast, too focused on the attention you were giving one another through your clothing. His brows were knitted together again, lips open prettily as he sat up to pull your hips flush against his crotch.

“I can feel how hot you are even through all these layers.” he purred, fingers tracing down your center but avoiding where you wanted him most.

All you did was whine in response, instead reaching out to dip your fingertips into the band of his sweats.

He moaned, “You want it?”

“I want you.” was your reply, biting your lip and running your fingers over his abs appreciatively. His stomach twitched beneath your butterfly fingers.

He grinned, cocking a brow, “Want who? Suho? Junmyeon?”

You grinned back at him, “Whichever one is going to let me take all his stress away.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he began, understanding painting his face, “I don’t think I’ll last enough for that right now, but I’d really like to taste you.” The moan that left you at his words alone whipped a wolfish smile onto his face.

He broke away to move off the bed briefly. Pulling a box of condoms from a convenience store bag, he set them on the night stand before curling a finger at you with a smile.

You were awash with lust as you watched him, unmoving until his voice, gravely with want, broke you from your reverie.

“C’mere.” he plead.

Finally, you obliged him, moving to lay at the side of the bed. Your hips rose easily to aid him in removing your leggings, your panties right along with them, and Junmyeon was moaning before your legs were even free of them.

He sunk to his knees, his warm palms gentle but firm in their parting of your thighs for him. You mildly protested, fighting him just a little because you could and you wanted to.

“Sweetheart... please. I can practically taste you from here, don’t tease me.” he asked, laying his cheek against your folded knees.

You laughed, loosening your muscles to let him have you. He took his time, and somehow, you found you were not surprised. Everything about him was gentle and sweet, even for a one night stand. He was not overly eager just to get himself off, and the thought sent heated butterflies through you unexpectedly. You couldn't imagine him being anything but wonderful to anyone he shared a bed with, no matter how long.

His lips were pressing chaste kisses against your inner thigh and you gasp when his fingers were suddenly there, slowly running through your folds. You whimpered, hearing him speak something softly but not sure of the words.

Junmyeon hummed happily at the feeling of your arousal so easily coating his fingers. He used two skillfully, parting you and running the flat of his tongue up to your clit.

Your body melted and a cry sprung from your chest. His assault was not slow, lapping at your nerves and living off of the sounds you were emitting, put on a platter for his delightful tongue to indulge upon.

He twisted his wrist, slowly sinking one finger into your heat and you absolutely keened. The coil in your abdomen tightening suddenly and you were panting out “Yes, please, more.” before you even thought about the words.

A dark chuckle reached your ears from between your legs and Junmyeon fingered you with just the right amount of curl to his fingertips. Somewhere in your pleasured bliss, the thought that he was in no way even moderately inexperienced floats in your mind. It wasn't your place to care, but you were glad that he knew what he was doing.

The sound of his mouth on you had you inching closer and closer to paradise already. He pulled his hand back and slowly concentrated on adding a second, pleased to find you were ready enough to take both easily.

“Such a good girl.” he praised, sucking your clit harshly.

You cursed, “Junmyeon...” You were hyper-aware that your face was on fire. Is it even possible to feel yourself blushing in your eyeballs?

You could feel him smile against your core, his hair mussed from your fingers. He hummed in response, increasing his pace just to hear you whine loudly.

“So close, Junmyeon...” you huffed, your thighs on either side of his head beginning to tremble. You felt impossibly tight, abdomen curling in on itself with your fist in the linens at your side.

The handsome man between your legs never stopped, only pausing to praise you further when he feels your walls beginning to tighten around his fingers, “That’s it. Come on, sweetheart.”

It was all it took when he stood up and braced one arm on the bed to lean over you. His thumb replaced his tongue on your clit and the awed expression on his face put you over the edge.

Your voice was a mixture of a cry and a moan, teeth clenched and thighs quaking. Your hand reached out, clasping around his forearm and holding on while his fingers worked you through your orgasm.

“Fuck you’re so fucking pretty when you come.” he growled, kissing the side of your neck and nipping at the flesh.

Once you relaxed, he pulled his fingers from you and watched his own hand with rapt fascination until you broke him from his thoughts.

“Junmyeon...” you cooed, a happy smile on your lips. “Want you,” you clarified when he looked up at you.

“Good girls get what they want. How can I deny you when you say my name like that?” he said, cocking one eyebrow at you and yanking his own pants to the ground.

You had seen your fair share of nicely shaped men with nicely shaped appendages, but nothing quite as nice as Kim Junmyeon. The abs were free for all to see, but his thighs and what was standing at attention between them was another experience entirely.

Not the biggest out there, but for his stature you would definitely call him well endowed, which was more than enough for you. He was flushed there, too, his member a darker shade than the rest of his golden skin. Neatly trimmed hair framed the base.

He reached immediately for the box on the nightstand, tearing one packet off the line of them. “Sorry they’re not fun ones. I wasn’t sure if you were allergic so I played it safe.” he said, focusing on rolling it over himself in one motion.

You didn't mean to laugh but why were you absolutely not surprised that he was the caring type. The type to, while thinking about fucking a stranger for a one night stand, took into consideration a potential allergy while making a condom selection.

“I’m not, but thanks for checking. You’re too sweet.” you said, still a little high from your orgasm.

“I can’t help it. I take care of eight brothers for a living...and I sing once in a while.” his answering smile was sheepish.

You tucked away his statement for later discussion. You knew he was so much more than that, but it would ruin the moment and you admitted to yourself you really just wanted to get lost in pleasure with him.

So instead, you assured him, “I don’t need you to take care of me right now. I need you to fuck me.”

Junmyeon was stunned, one hand holding your hip and the other his cock. His eyes were hooded and they closed as he let out a deep breath, swallowing hard. You had an inkling your words affected him in the best possible way.

“I think I can do that.” he said just as you felt the head of him rub against your wetness, lubricating himself further before pushing in without any further words.

You groaned loudly, a pleasured hiss filling the space between you. “Fuck.”

He was still, biting his lip with his eyes half closed, trained on you. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths while he fought to remain still.

“I’m okay.” you told him, rotating your hips against him with your lips dropped open.

Your eyes zeroed in on his face, tongue poking out to run across his pretty lips before he slowly withdrew himself from you, only to slide in again.

He repeated the motion, grabbing your leg and hoisting it up, over his shoulder. His arm wrapped around it to keep you against him tightly, and he turned his head just enough to kiss your calf where it rested beside his head.

Junmyeon leaned heavily into you while he thrust, slowly testing which angle is best to bend you for your mutual pleasure. How far could he bend you so you would feel him as deeply as possible.

When he hit the right one, you cried out, pleasure soaking your features. He groaned above you, sinking his cock into your greedy heat with a force that you absolutely basked in.

“Yes, yes, please, just like that.” you begged. His wolfish grin returned, all white teeth and dark brows. Darker eyes, hooded, and pretty pink lips.

The pretty pink blush that paints his skin matched, you thought. You watched him move in pleasure, a vein becoming prominent on the side of his neck. The sight of him like this made your stomach tighten again.

He groaned again, feeling you clench around him. It was in that moment, with his hips digging into the underside of your thighs, that he bent you completely. Large hands pushed your thighs down into your chest and it changed the constriction of your walls around his cock.

“Is this okay?” he mused through his breath. Uncertain if your increase in pleasure was from the angle or happiness at his devotion to bedroom equality, but you moaned regardless, nodding at him. It was too difficult to speak with your chest being constricted like that.

He smiled, whipping some misplaced hair from his eyes. “Good girl.”

You whimpered at his words and your hands wrapped around your own legs, keeping them in his requested position. Now freed, he brought a hand between your bodies. You could feel his palm and fingers splayed against you, your center clenching with white hot pleasure when his thumb pressed into your clit.

Junmyeon didn't slow his thrusts. Instead, his head was turned down, focusing intently on the image of his cock disappearing into the tight, hot wetness of your pussy. His lips were dropped open and his jaw was tight.

His chest and abs were tight, too, heavy breaths pushing from his lungs in a pant.

Suddenly, he sped up. It pulled a moan from you. Too quickly now the orgasm you had slowly seen coming from a distance was closing in, sinking deep into your gut like lead.

“I want you to come all over my cock, sweetheart.” he confessed hotly, increasing his efforts to make you do so.

Your answering whine was a confirmation that he might just get his wish. His hips slowed a little against you. Your eyes caught his tongue poking out as he swiped his thumb against it. It added more wetness against your bundle of nerves when he brought it back to circle repeatedly.

Junmyeon teased you now, nearly pulling himself out all the way so only the head remains, shallowly thrusting into you in a lazy manner. He was grinning down at you, but you could plainly see the battle in his rigid posture that he was enjoying teasing but desperate to be buried back inside your warmth.

Your gut felt heavier, the spiral coiling tighter in your abdomen. “Junmyeon...” you whimpered at him, your core fluttering with how nearly empty he had left you.

“Yes?” he asked, one brow tilting up at you. His eyes pulled up to your face and he smiled genuinely at your fucked out expression.

You tried to speak words but they came out jumbled, a hot mess of incoherent letters that Junmyeon assumed meant you were going to come soon by the way your thighs were begging to tremble just so. You had spread yourself wider in an attempt to welcome him closer to you.

He removed a hand from your leg, letting it carve a scorching path up your body to pluck at your newly freed breast again. He rolled your nipple between his fingers and the yelp you released made him chuckle. You did not mean to blush harder, but his voice stirred the lava in your belly hotter.

Junmyeon bit his lips, groaning, “You’re so sensitive here,” he commented, teasing the nipple again just to hear you cry out, “I like that.”

The pleasure became too much for you to stave off any longer, and you froze up in his arms with a high pitched cry. He grunted, burying himself to the hilt and releasing a long moan. He released your clit from the torture of his thumb.

The pace he set immediately is hard, forcing himself between your walls, releasing tiny pants of breath for every powerful squeeze around his aching cock.

“Fuck, fuck fuck sweetheart. Yes, fuck... yes.” the words dropped from his lips in erotic praise had you twisting, the unbearable pleasure overstimulating your body.

Junmyeon became uncoordinated, grabbing your ankle and opposite hip to keep you still beneath him. “You can take it.” he growled, teeth clenched and moaning between his bitten lips. His brows furrowed hard as he drove into you repeatedly with messy thrusts. He didn't realize he was holding his breath or that there was a tick in his jaw. You realized, as he fought to deny himself his high, he looked angry.

The glutton for punishment in you sighed, clenching once more around him with aftershocks of your own orgasm subsiding. That put him over the edge, spilling all of his breath into the air between you at once. He threw his head back, thrusting one, two, three more times before he went as deep into you as possible and stilled.

Junmyeon’s head rolled forward on his shoulders, those pretty lips open in fucked out bliss. You wanted to kiss him, badly. His flushed chest was heaving and he shuddered visibly, eyes screwed shut in bliss.

Slowly he sunk into your body, curling himself over you as the pleasure peak left his body weak. He wasn't looking at your face, but you were staring at him. You kissed the tip of his nose and smiled, watching as he lifted his head to stare right back with a smile so pretty you could almost blame it on your shortness of breath.

You whimpered when he pulled his softening cock from you, and the full warmth of it with him. Unmoving, you watched him remove and tie off the condom before disposing of it in the waste bin beside the armchair.

He crawled back to the bed, scratching at his chest. Your eyes met and you both smiled. You knew you should leave but was it over? Did he need a few minutes to recover? Did he hate it?

Junmyeon was watching you field these questions in your head, deciding instead to just pull your relaxed body to him.

You began to speak, but he shushed you with a mellow kiss, “Thank you for that.”

“Oh.” is what came out, instead of anything useful. Your bewildered expression made him laugh against you.

“What?” you tried, pouting.

He handled you into a comfortable position, situating your body against his side and pulling your arm over his stomach. Absentmindedly, your fingers felt right at home running softly across his abs. “I don’t think you were expecting me to thank you?” he questioned with a scoff.

“No, I just... well I don’t know. This is always the confusing part. Do I leave, do I stay? Do you want to do it again, will you marry me?” You were both laughing at the ridiculousness of the last question.

“Don’t laugh, I’ve been asked that question immediately after sex before.” you said, digging your fingers into his ribs. It only made him laugh harder.

“I wasn’t going to ask you that.” he hummed.

“Good. I won’t have to break your heart when I say no.”

He balked, feigning hurt, “You would say no?!”

“I mean, celebrity or not, we did just meet today.”

“It’s not a no, though...” you heard him trail off.

You patted his chest with the flat of your hand, giving him your best fake smile, “It’s still a no, sweetie.”

You both laughed again, and he kissed your hair with a sigh, “For now, just rest here with me, if that’s okay?”

There was something in his tone that told you he was lonely, and suddenly some of his earlier comments came rushing back to you. It hurt your heart to think about. You could read between the lines, he was saying he didn't want to be alone.

“It’s,” you paused, looking to the digital clock on the charging station beside the bed, “five eighteen in the morning. I don’t have to be at class until eleven forty.” Suddenly, you gasped, raising yourself on your elbow to stare at him, “Do you think I’ll make it on time?”

Junmyeon lost it, snorting loudly. He pulled you back down and kissed your face before wrestling you to curl against him again.

So you relaxed. Lazily, both too tired to get up or clean up. Instead, you found your eyes closing as you listened to his steady heart beating within his rib cage. Your palm felt the gentle rise and fall of his stomach with his breath. You didn't realize how calm and warm it made you, pulling you deeply into slumber. You hadn't fallen asleep this easily in so long.

You jolted awake by the sound of a notification from your phone. Looking around, you noticed it’s nearly nine in the morning. There was just enough light from the dull, cloudy December morning to assist your eyes. A shiver ran through you when you remembered you were naked. Your eyes snapped to the side, realizing Junmyeon was still sound asleep with one arm behind his head, the other flat against the linens at your back.

You felt like you should go. It was not too early to get a cab back to your apartment and he probably wanted you gone by the time he woke up, anyway. It was just casual sex and a nap. Too bad you didn’t get to have a second go at it.

Quickly and as quietly as possible, you dressed, hunting for each piece and throwing it on haphazardly. Without turning on the light, you checked your hair in the bathroom mirror, stuffing it all into a cap you brought in your overnight bag.

Your phone pinged again. Checking, it’s two text messages, both from Soohyun.

SH: I hope you made it home safe????

SH: I just got up and realized you hadn’t messaged me. I don’t care about the deets, I just need you to tell me you got home, Y/N.

You smiled, keying in a quick reply.

Y/N: I’m fine. I am leaving his hotel now, should be home by nine thirty.

One last look over your shoulder at the sleeping idol sent you on a roller coaster of emotions you normally did not get with such detached partners.

It was a one night stand, nothing more and nothing less. Just two mutually attracted parties releasing their sexual frustration upon one another.

But... you had never stayed to sleep with any of your past escapades, as few and far between as they might be. You had never been made to feel like you were an equal participant. You had never felt so light afterwards that you were comfortable enough to sleep.

You had never been paid so much attention and not just a warm pussy for someone to lick and then stuff their dick into, no matter how good they fucked. You had never been treated like they were generally interested in caring who you are as a person, and you had certainly never connected with someone where it all felt natural. Not in a long time and never with a one night stand.

Junmyeon was different, and you thought about how grateful you were for last night during your ride home. You don’t know why you felt sad. Not for yourself, but for him. It hurt to know, now that it was over, how badly he craved to not feel lonely.

398 notes · View notes

ddaenghoney · 4 years ago

Text

chapter nine

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none, yoongi is just so sweet.

Word count: 5008

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi uses his left hand to type into the keypad of his apartment, digits beeping while you stare down at the base of the door. His other appendage remains gripping onto yours, a silent comfort that you didn’t stop appreciating from the second he led you from the party. Your cheeks are stained with the treks of tears that ceased dripping only minutes before arrival, trying to will yourself to calm down because you already had to bother Yoongi with going back to his place to retrieve your clothing from the daytime.

The lightning flashes through his windows when you both step in, causing Yoongi to glance at it, frowning at the sight of never-ending rain. It trails from the sky to the ground in a violent barrage that grew with strength along the way home. By morning the forecast is supposed to be clear like it had been all day, so opposite of the way it is currently that Yoongi never anticipated rain to begin with. Explaining the dampness of your outfits from the short walk inside, and the way his heavier honey locks cover more of his forehead.

You finally release his hand to hurry and find your clothing, along with typing in for a new taxi to come and take you home once you do. Your hip bumps into the corner of a coffee table in the travel to his room, making you freeze to make sure the lamp stays steady. Yoongi comes shortly after, watching you step back from the furniture with a sigh,

“I’m sorry, I’m acting like such an idiot-”

“You’re not.” His head shakes, eyebrows creasing to try and assure you that he’s not bothered. “You are a little bit tipsy though.” He acknowledges in a polite observation, more to lead into his next point, “I’m sort of worried about you going home like this.” You now shake your head quickly, trying to convince him otherwise,

“I’ve gone home worse-- I mean, think about that night where everything got fucked up at Joon’s bar after the club party--” You huff, rubbing your face with an irritated tremble that contrasts a short spout of spiteful laughter. “I was stupid that night too. It’s a theme-”

“Y/N,” Your hands lower as Yoongi calls your name with conviction having stepped towards you, he leans slightly so that he’s at eye-level. You notice the stubborn sincerity of his eyes underneath little locks of hair stuck to his face from the rain. “You’re not stupid. You don’t need to feel bad about all of this and keep putting yourself down.”

“I am stupid.” You instantly say again, eyes narrowing at him trying to defend you from your own words. The idea of you being anything other than idiotic for all the things you’ve gotten yourself into feels far removed. You thought you were a genius signing that contract and ruining everything around you in the present by doing so. “All of this is my fault.”

“What is?” Yoongi asked in complete confusion, disbelief. Not believing you at all. It angers you in the oddest way that he’s so convicted against your thoughts. With everyone else at the company likely thinking of you as the biggest fool for the decision of giving away all of your credit-- everyone including Jimin thinking you don’t deserve credit for your work after you signed your name, how could Yoongi think any different. He’s been in the business around the same amount of time as you, and succeeding in an entirely different light. Everyone knows whom Yoongi is. He has not allowed an opportunity for his name to be erased from whatever he’s participated in. He leaves his mark beside every song title produced, featuring, and involved with at all. You doubt he’d even give a moment of consideration to let anyone overlook his hard work. He stands up for himself, and you let yourself get walked over for a short-term prize.

“Everything!” You practically yell out in frustration, surprising Yoongi only enough for his eyebrows to raise though he remains the same pace from you as before. His lips part to combat your words, you know he’s going to tell you that it isn’t true, but you don’t believe him, you can’t believe him at this point so the words rush from your own mouth as your body trembles from the frustration of each word.

“I was a stupid college kid who thought it’d be so great if SoundWave took even one of my songs after I submitted five for their dumb competition. I’d get like one hundred bucks, I thought. That sounded great then, a few things could get paid for-- so when they call back that they’d use them all, I thought it was the lottery. They offered me a contract and I thought that everything was too good to be true, but I let myself be ridiculous and fall for the chance of a lifetime bullshit.”

Your breathing heaves your chest forward and back with the air, watching as Yoongi’s expression shifts from confusion to sympathy. His shoulders appear tensed from frustration but only after mention of a contract, and for that split second you think maybe he gets why you’re so angry with yourself. You don’t know why you want him to be angry too, but it feels deserving. After all of your complaining for your name to be heard, why should you when you fell right into the luster of money.

“I didn’t even bat an eyelash when they started telling me about not being given credit for anything. I just heard them say their idols would use my music,” Your eyelids blink as tears blur your vision, releasing fresh ones onto your cheeks, followed by new streams when Yoongi frowns in response to your words. You don’t understand why he does, everyone else knows you deserve this, so why does he look at you like he wants to help you escape all of the sadness you feel. “I just thought it’d be okay for then-- I mean, I don’t even have college debt.” The single chuckle chokes in your threat, as you reach to rub your eyes free of the salty liquid escaping again. “I should be grateful for it all, and I’m here trying to be selfish instead.”

Whimpers leave your lips when you try to hold back anymore tears, frustrating yourself that you’re unable to stop. Unable to stop crying, unable to get over any of this like you should. You’ve had enough time to cry, you shouldn’t dwell like there is an opportunity to change that doesn’t cost the entirety of your career or reputation in the music industry. You’re trapped, that’s it. You should be used to it.

“I,” You wipe continuously at your eyes as the tears keep spilling, unable to see any of Yoongi’s reactions anymore, but you can’t imagine you look anything respectable as you are. “I just want to stop being invisible to everyone, I didn’t think that’s such a bad thing, but it’ll ruin everything for everyone.” Your voice empties your small wish at the core of all of your anguish as a series of cracked words and trembling voice. “It’s my fault it’s like this, it’s my fault.”

As your voice trails you give up, allowing the flood of tears to continue while you find yourself unable to think of anything else. All there is to conclude is that the state of your career and your relationship with Jimin were fixable with the slightest foresight. You should have known better-

Within a second the cry hitched in your chest escapes at the contact of your face flat against Yoongi’s chest. You don’t consider stopping him as his arms continue to wrap around you in an embrace. Comforting you. Gently, barely his hands on your upper back soothe little ways up and down, trying to rub away the tremble of your spine at every whimper that leaves with your tears. You shift only so that your hands can leave your face to grip wrinkles onto the front of his shirt, but he’s unbothered. Simply continuing in soothing your cries as they continue to muffle against his top, effectively staining the white fabric with any of your makeup.

“You may not believe me, but I don’t think any of this is your fault.” His voice feels like an extended hand searching for you. Trying to help you out of the rut you feel glued to, lost in. So sure that he’s wrong, your head tries to shake though your throat croaks before you can say something against it. “SoundWave took advantage of your situation, Y/N. You shouldn’t blame yourself like this.”

Yoongi holds you against him, the tiniest of sways occurring as another attempt to help you calm down after the release of so much torment. He recalls Hoseok calling him the year prior to tell him that he doesn’t think he’ll get help from their old company in the early stages of his scandal. Where they were supposed to protect Hoseok they let him fall, and where SoundWave shouldn’t have baited a young student by means of financial security they signed you into a trap. If anyone should be blamed it’s the companies for their manipulation. The two of you shouldn’t be blaming yourself for the problems you face when they aren’t your faults to begin with.

“Jimin,” Your voice croaks, and you pause to try and blink back the tears in your eyes as far as possible, but it’s useless. “Said that I’d ruin all of their careers if I try and change anything-- I can’t do anything and hurt them all-- hurt him.” A fist on Yoongi’s shirt grows tighter, clumping it into a wrinkled ball and tugging it free of where it’d been tucked into his slacks, but you’re unaware. Too wrapped in the clutter of your mind that wants you to still stand up for yourself, but feels entirely overpowered by the idea of bringing trouble to so many people you know. “I love him and he said he loves me too, but he can’t be with me like this--”

The memory affects you, silencing your voice from continuing while it plays over in your head. Jimin was so close, your relationship with him always on the line of being realized, only to find out that your worst fear of it all is the truth. You let slide his constant stream of shrugging off your desire to go against the company continuing to erase your name, forcing yourself to believe that you overthink his obstinance, or attributing him not realizing how strongly you felt about the issue. But it’s just that, and to the most extreme form where the choice of not helping you is more desirable to him than being with you.

Yoongi understands pieces of this from your short flurry of statements. His jaw tightens when he considers how painful it undoubtedly is to have Jimin, who you love, pick something else over you, especially given that he even told you that he loves you in return. Yoongi’s hands feel the breaths that rumble in you, escaping against his shirt as small cries, and it’s difficult to witness, knowing that there’s nothing he can do for you other than let it flow while he holds you. Only able to offer you the security of solidarity, when a piece of him wants to tell Jimin off for stringing you along to this state for at least as long as Yoongi’s been a part of the company.

“If I was anything like you I wouldn’t be stuck like this.”

Yoongi’s irritation at the decision Jimin made drifts from his expression as you speak your last sentence, slightly stumbling his thoughts in the implication of you thinking himself to be something greater than you are, at least in the way of his decisions thus far. He shakes his head though you’re unable to see, rambling quickly, “No, I’ve made my own share of shitty decisions, Y/N.” He bites his lip, contemplating them shortly, but decides it’s not worth getting into a conversation of leveling your perspective of him in that moment. “And like I said, this isn’t your fault to begin with-- here, come on, I’ll run a shower for you-”

“Yoongi,” You bring your head away from his chest, shifting only slightly back so that his arms release you enough to put air between your bodies. “I’m not going to annoy you by using your shower-- I cause you enough trouble…” Your words fade off as he all the sudden chuckles down at you, smirk framing the sound of his laughter like you were saying something incredulous,

“Look, friend of mine, it’s what friends do.” You catch the way Yoongi stresses the role of friendship, not in a way that separates you both with a line, but rather as a means to express to you that he’s sincere in wanting to help you, just in the same way that you care about not overexerting his kindness. “Besides it’s not trouble. It’d make me feel better knowing you’re not risking getting sick standing here wet like this-- your dress is beautiful, but it’s not doing much to preserve heat on your shoulders and neck.” You bite your lip as his bordering teasing tone, but the sound of it relaxes you. Makes you feel safe and indeed like this isn’t an obligation for Yoongi. He just wants to.

In that moment you realize the grip of his shirt still well within the confines of your hands and quickly release it so that it flutters back down, while your lips tighten into an embarrassed line at the fact you’d been clinging onto him so harshly. It’s then that Yoongi’s arms also fall from where he’d stayed holding you, one hand straying to brush back his dampened bangs from his forehead. With a new gentle way of selling his idea, that is mentally fueled still by the worry of sending you slightly buzzed and alone back to your apartment where you have no one to comfort you, Yoongi tries in a small voice, “The shampoo and conditioner smell like daisies…”

You nearly snort at the innocent plead, covering your mouth with your hand to stop you from laughing. He smiles a little at the breakthrough, but stays quiet while you contemplate for a moment. Eventually your head nods once, letting yourself try to relax into the prospect. “Okay… Daisies sounds nice.”

You wander back into the living area after the refreshing feeling of shower water washing away some of the thoughts, if only to give yourself a break. The plush, dampened towel is a bundle in your arms, glancing around the room to find it absent of Yoongi who said he’d also shower. You nibble on your lip, not hearing the sound of shower water coming from anywhere, and you step forward more until you’re able to glance into the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re out?” He asks from a bar stool where he appears to have been fiddling with his phone with a bowl in front of him, contents out of your sight. You nod, noticing the same brand name on the chest of his long sleeve that’s present centrally in the sweatshirt he loaned to you after insisting that your top from earlier that day wasn’t going to keep you warm. “Ah, you didn’t need to gather the towel,” He says getting up to move towards you, hair now soft and fluffy after being cleanly washed and dried. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, and thanks for letting me take a shower. I feel a bit better after it.” You tell him meekly as you hand over the towel, catching Yoongi’s lips curl upwards as he appears relieved by your words. “More sober too.” Small joke as you rub your neck, happy its effect goes over well as he nods chuckling. “I’ll call a taxi, I can wait on the ground floor-”

“It’s,” He all the sudden frowns, genuine fret appearing on his features that grows as he averts his eyes back to the rain that falls from the sky. “Still pouring really hard outside, Y/N. And it’s almost two in the morning. Why don’t you just crash here until the morning? You can use my guest bedroom.”

You bite your lip, not uncomfortable with the idea, but more so still thinking yourself to be using him a little too much. But as lightning floods the sky with light followed by a loud rumble, you grip onto the sleeves that overtake your hands, shoulders shifting as the option weighs, “It’s not a hassle for you is it?”

“Are you kidding?” Despite the depth of his voice, Yoongi sounds bright. Happy you’re agreeing like it’s a weight off of him to know you won’t be alone. “That bedroom could use someone using it for once.” He smiles, finally beginning to walk off with the laundry in his arms, “I’m going to put this in the hamper.”

You nod as he exits from the kitchen and then remain in the space, having no opportunity earlier to view it properly. Not that you needed a tour of his apartment, but you find it interesting to see how the abode actively appears like Yoongi lives there. From the monochromatic decor that is consistent throughout each room you’ve seen, you’re still able to find the touches of him that don’t necessarily follow a theme. Like the sparse grouping of pictures attached to the refrigerator by means of cute dog shaped magnets, and the kitchen towel hanging off the oven that appears to have a large rose pattern printed onto it though it’s obstructed from being fully seen because of how it’s folded.

You walk to the refrigerator, sparing a glance towards his scribbled grocery list, and instead glances at the biggest of the pictures that you saw from the distance and recognize now that it’s of him and Hoseok. By the looks of their clothing--Hoseok’s in particular that appeared in one of his first music videos, you’re led to assume it was taken behind the scenes of the day it was shot. Taken during movement, they’re both a little blurry but equally ecstatic about something-- overcome with large grins and not even paying attention to the camera to begin with. The sight of it makes you smile softly finding their slightly younger-selves endearing, and thinking it’s nice that they appear to still have a solid friendship.

“We took that when he was working on Just Dance.” You don’t startle when Yoongi comments, having heard his slippers skid on his tile with his steps to return to the kitchen. Instead you hum, then take a moment to quickly take in the remaining few pictures; more of him and Hoseok along with another celebrity whose name left your mind, one of him and his family, then a picture of him looking not too much younger lay out on plush grass with a tiny fluffy, brown dog on his chest.

“Your pictures are all cute.” You comment gently as you turn to face Yoongi, finding him off to the side and reaching up into cabinets. “I didn’t realize you and Hoseok were such good friends.” Yoongi nods, walking towards you to hand you the two bowls he’s brought out, before opening up the freezer,

“Yeah, we were trainees together. Actually we almost were put into a group, but then at the last second they made us soloists.” He pauses, squinting a little like he’s in thought, and for a second you think it’s about what he’s said, but then Yoongi turns his head towards you. “You like vanilla or strawberry ice cream?”

“Ice cream?” You repeat watching as he removes two containers of the sweet desserts, making you giggle softly. “Vanilla.”

“Good choice,” He sets the strawberry one back in, then shuts the refrigerator as you take the hint and move to the counter to help him scoop some out. “Hoseok likes strawberry,” Yoongi begins after placing the ice cream next to the bowls and scurrying to find utensils. “Which, it’s fine,” He says in a somewhat sarcastic manner and with a shrug that makes you laugh softly while he continues along. “But vanilla is the most popular for a reason.” You nod at the definitive, passionate way Yoongi speaks about ice cream flavors. Your smile completely humored as he returns and begins scooping you both hefty amounts, “But Hoseok does something that is worth a bit of praise.” He admits with concentratedly pouting lips while trying to get the last scoop to properly fall into a bowl.

“Oh yeah?” You play along, taking the vanilla ice cream container from him as he finishes so you can put it back in the freezer. Yoongi nods, hand grappling around the base of the bowl that he was in front of him when you first entered the kitchen.

“Smashed oreos and chocolate chip cookies.” As though he just unveiled the invention of the century, Yoongi proudly showcases the crumbled cookies in the bowl. To which you awe in thought, actually quite happily surprised that he included toppings into the middle of the night ice cream meal. “Genius, right?” He smiles as you nod at the idea, letting him divide the treats equally on top of each bowl.

“Do you just have that on hand for whenever?” You ask curiously, taking the bowl from him when he hands it to you with the spoon in it clacking around. Yoongi looks at you for a long moment, suddenly turning sheepish as he begins to fiddle with his bangs, then speaks in an equally small manner,

“Well, no. I usually only do it when needed, so,” He shrugs, avoiding eye contact with you as he scoops the first bite onto his spoon. “I guess I was sort of banking on you agreeing to stay the night so I could make you feel a little better. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit like this though.”

Yoongi continues to keep his eyes on his ice cream, shoving another small bite into his mouth and trying to ignore how silly his words could be taken, but you can’t help feeling genuinely moved. A small thing sure, but an action he didn’t have to consider. You think that Yoongi must feel as safe to Hoseok as he is to you if he’s used to helping out by means of ice cream and small talk.

Considering your earlier interpretations of Yoongi’s character, you feel upset with yourself for believing in his image throughout the media. When you know how personas are played up to be something separate of who the individuals truly are, you should have given him the benefit of the doubt, and been so much less worried about interacting with him like you were months ago. You finally take a bite of the ice cream, once you notice the small beginnings it melting, happily chewing the cookies, and then swallowing to settle his worries unknowingly as you speak softly, “You’re really sweet.”

Yoongi glances to you, taking in your relaxed person, and no remnants of the hurt emotions you let out before taking a shower. He finds your appearance soothing, and he’s gladdened more than he comprehends when you make the comment. It’s a nice feeling to be thought of warmly. It’s a nice feeling to see you happier.

Within half an hour, you’re curled into the corner of his couch. Yoongi sits on the opposite end, facing you where behind him on the end-table you nearly knocked over earlier rests the empty bowls of ice cream. He’d let you take the lounge blanket, finding it silently impressive that the somewhat small square of fabric is able to cover you up as well as it does.

“Did that conversation with Seulgi go okay, by the way?” You ask him, head sinking into the cushion and Yoongi wonders if you realize how tired your eyes appear. Then the question registers and his tapping bare foot on the rug ceases, while he shrugs a shoulder.

“Yeah, as well as I’d expect.” He doesn’t sound like the experience was pleasant, and it takes you a moment of biting your inner cheek to verbalize a testing comment, trying to discern where he stands with giving you answers like he said in passing he would hours earlier,

“You seemed to be really uncomfortable about her.”

“She did some shitty stuff to Hoseok.” He nods, now resting his head against the couch’s cushion as well, causing his cheek to puff a little. “Without boring you about all of the stuff that happened with them last year, she should’ve helped him through his scandal even a little. I don’t like her much anymore because of it all.”

“I’m not trying to push you to,” Yoongi’s head angles better to see you as you speak somewhat timidly. “But, like you said to me, if you wanted to ever talk about something, I’d listen.” You’re able to maintain eye contact with his, hoping the sincerity of your offer shows through. Then you consider again how different the present is from when you met him, how back then this conversation seemed alien, and now you really do want Yoongi to heed your perspective and know you’re also willing to be a safe outlet for him like he is for you.

Yoongi realizes this. Understands that you hope to assert your place for him as a trusted friend. The shyness of your voice makes the side of his mouth curl, realizing then that he feels sleepy. “Thank you, Y/N.” He rubs his hair from his forehead tiredly, while you yawn across from him, using a sleeve-covered hand to mask your mouth. “If I wasn’t about to fall asleep, I’d tell you about it all.”

“You’re about to fall asleep? Can’t relate.” You mumble as your eyelids close shut and Yoongi chuckles in response. You smile at the sound, relaxing yourself further into the comfort of his couch. “Your couches are always so soft, why aren’t you an interior designer instead of a musician?”

“My couches?” Yoongi stretches out his arms, while sinking back into the armrest he lies on.

“The one in the studio,” Your sentence trails when you again yawn, then change the subject light-heartedly. “Crying’s exhausting.”

“Mm, I bet.” He rubs his face, willing himself off the couch to stretch his neck and then take a step towards you, “C’mon, let’s go to sleep.”

“I could sleep here, it’s so cozy.” Yoongi notices the drop of volume, and the fact nearly makes him properly laugh at how quickly you’re able to fall asleep. But he doesn’t, instead snickering before yanking away the blanket, leading to the eruption of a discontented groan out of your lips. “Rude-”

“Not letting you sleep on my couch, when there’s an entire bed you could be on.” He gives you a moment to rub your eyes and then squint them open apparently already not used to the lighting in the room. Then Yoongi’s hand reaches in the air beside you so you can use him as a means to stand up, so used to the prospect of hand holding that he doesn’t give it any thought. Neither do you as you take hold of his hand, finding familiarity in how his fingers grip around yours. Yoongi gently tugs you up, steadying you by use of his free hand on your waist, as your empty one finds itself flat against his chest.

Nothing overthought.

Yoongi yawns, as he begins leading you towards the hallway, listening to you quietly complain that his yawning is going to make you do the same. Then Yoongi grins sleepily when you indeed yawn a second later, your hand squeezing around his as a silent way to tell him to stop. “It was perfect timing though-”

“You caused it.” You grumble as you both come to a stop abruptly to you who hadn’t been paying attention, so your empty hand finds Yoongi’s long-sleeve to stop yourself from tripping up on his heel. Yoongi takes no mind, just opening the door to the guest bedroom and turning to you afterwards, smile looking increasingly quaint when taken into view with his slightly messy, fluffy locks.

“Yeah, yeah, it was my fault. Now go to sleep before you pass out on my floor.” Yoongi watches you smile, gratefulness mixed into your tired features, and then you step beyond him. Your hand leaves his to give a small wave, the sleeve of his shirt bunches beneath your wrist as you tiredly thank him again and wish him goodnight. The door shuts softly, like you were being delicate with his household, and Yoongi loiters for a second.

His now empty hand ruffles the hair on top of his head, thinking about the separately bad conversations you both had to have at that ridiculous party. Yoongi turns to the door across the hallway, entering into his bedroom as he considers the words Seulgi spoke to him in the mixture of air on the tiny balcony. He huffs as he lets himself fall onto the plush of his comforter and mattress.

“You could’ve helped Hoseok back then if you hadn’t only thought of yourself.”

Yoongi stares towards his ceiling, hand still fiddling with his hair while the sentence plays in his head over and over again. She didn’t need to tell him that, as though he didn’t know. Remember it whenever Hoseok brings about the idea of a comeback, while Yoongi can only reaffirm his distance on the issue. By public silence and private support.

Yoongi thinks about Jimin being so worried that he drops his relationship with you, about Seulgi following what her group wanted her to do so she doesn’t ruin everything for them, about himself consistently half-trying to help his friends. It feels old.

And he doesn’t want the fear to control him anymore.

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi @xionysus

27 notes · View notes

angst-fairygodmother · 4 years ago

Text

Break My Heart Right: Give Me Time (Luba x Reader)

A/N: I’m calling these oneshots, but also making it a series. Because Luba deserves it. Word Count: 1538 Content Warnings: references to alcohol, slight spoilers for Mute Cross-posted to AO3

“You know, Y/N,” Luba mused, resting his chin on his hands as he watched you strip off your coat and shoes, frustrated from another failed date. “I could help you work out some of that tension. Might make finding someone easier, or make you reconsider if you need to.”

You sighed in annoyance, not really looking to rehash this old argument. “Thanks but no thanks, Luba.”

“You’ve rejected me so often over the years but go out with boring men who would never be able to do the things I could to you, for you. I’m starting to think I should be offended.”

“I...can’t sleep with you, Luba,” you found yourself admitting, the feelings you had been covering up for so long bubbling to the surface as the thin walls you had managed to put up caved instantly under his gaze. “You’re my best friend…”

“Exactly. What’s a little sex between friends?”

“It wouldn’t just be sex to me, it would...mean something, and it wouldn’t to you. And that’s my issue to deal with, but it’s not fair or right to put that expectation on you.”

“What are you talking about?” He frowned, perfect lips twisting as if he’d just bit into something unpleasant.

“The truth is I love you. And right now, for as long as things stay the way they are, that’s platonic and friendly and doesn’t fuck anything up. But the minute we blur that line...I just can’t, okay?”

He was silent and you found yourself unable to look at him, even as his brilliant emerald eyes bored into you. You shook your head, making your way to your room, determined to just fall onto your mattress and let sleep erase the whole disaster of a day.

You paused in the doorway to cast a quick glance back at him where he hadn’t moved, almost as if frozen in place.

“Just...leave it, yeah?” you asked softly before closing the door behind you.

Luba sat there, unblinking. How could he forget those words, hanging sharp and sour in your wake?

Reluctantly, you rolled out of bed around two, the hungry growl of your stomach drowning out the siren's call of sleep. Padding out to the kitchen, your eyes danced past the place where Luba usually sat, where you had left him after your confession the night before, as if your mind didn't want to see it. Your coat had been hung neatly on one of the hooks, your shoes placed on the rack. You felt a pang of guilt that in your exhaustion and inner turmoil you had left the mess for him to clean up. You always seemed to be doing that in some way or another.

Your phone pinged, a message from your latest failed date. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him for now. You should have known better than to agree in the first place. Any man with a name as boring as Andrew and a willingness to wear a suit was either dull as mud, or into shit freakier than you wanted to delve; this time he, almost interestingly, managed to be both. If you were being fair, the date had gone fine even if there was no real spark. Until you were leaving the bar and he started spouting insinuations about what kinds of things you must be into, given what you did for a living. Maybe it was just because you'd each had a couple of drinks, and he'd had a couple more. But no one had ever managed to make the words “test subject” or “stitches” or on the flip side “executive stock dividends” sexy, and you really wished he hadn't tried.

You sighed, rubbing your temples and questioning why, given all that, you were considering giving him a second chance, as you set two-day old leftovers to reheat. Maybe it was because he was dumb but he was harmless, safe, simple. Maybe it was because you would try just about anything to escape your feelings for your best friend and roommate, knowing you couldn't compete with a ghost and just hoping you hadn't already ruined everything.

Poking at your vaguely grey noodles, you decided to open Andrew's message, only to wince when audio played.

“Y/N,” he slurred, obviously still drunk, or drunk again (or acting, you suspected, so that he had a defense if you responded negatively). “A name for a goddess. You are a goddess. My goddess. All I want in life is to worship at your feet and the air you breathe. I’m so sorry. I ruined everything last night, I don’t deserve you, but if you will only give me the time, I can fix it. I will do anything. I--”

“I can’t do this,” you muttered, pressing a series of keys to delete the message and block him before he could finish whatever rambling speech he had planned. You also sent a quick note to the other artist who shared your studio, making sure to warn her that if he showed up, he should be sent away post-haste.

“Your first mistake was picking a foreigner,” a lilting voice teased from the corridor, making you jump.

“Oh because your record leaves you any room to judge,” you sniped back, grinning at Luba as he glided into the room, dropping dramatically into the vanity chair in the corner.

“I don’t date them. And none of them have ever called me a goddess or gotten that desperate after one encounter,” he simpered, faux-jealousy ruined by the giggles he struggled to hold in.

“Bullshit. What about that lanky ginger kid?”

“Gregor. He was sweet.”

“Until he broke in and hid under your bed. For three days.”

Luba gazed off into the distance wistfully, sighing. “I still say you should have bagged the officer that came to arrest the poor fellow.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because ‘Protect and Serve’ is really my type.”

“Closer than this one sounded. What did he do again?”

“Corporate accounting,” you admitted reluctantly.

Luba turned to you with a long-suffering, ‘are you kidding me?’ look.

“What are you doing to yourself, Y/N? You escaped those cold sterile halls, don’t put yourself back there for…” he waved his hands in the air in a vague gesture, as if indicating the not-there but thoroughly disappointing guy you had gone out with.

You sighed. “If you know so much about it, what am I looking for then?”

“What?” he seemed taken aback by your question but you continued to push.

“You’ve clearly thought about my love life and have an opinion, so share it. What am I doing wrong? What’s going to make me happy?” you planted your hands on your hips, doing your best to be annoyed with him.

He smiled wryly at you, tilting his head to one side as he rose from his seat and came to stand before you, arms draped over your shoulders. Your hands instinctively fell to his waist, holding each other in not quite a hug, as you did strangely often when having serious conversations, like when you told him you were leaving the prestigious research firm you worked at in order to start fresh doing something that didn’t make you feel like you needed a hot shower to get the scum of shame off you every night, or when he told you he was falling in love with Naadirah.

“You need someone who understands you,” he said earnestly, “understands your lifestyle. Someone who is going to see you for who you are, not some idol on a pedestal, or something to be changed.”

“Someone like...you?” you asked, the words falling from your lips almost like a plea before you thought about what you were doing.

“Y/N…” he murmured, voice strained.

You closed your eyes, squeezing them shut and pressing your lips together, holding your breath as you waited for the sting of rejection. Instead, long fingers pressed against your back, drawing you closer, actually into a hug. He pressed his lips to your crown quickly before hesitantly tucking your head under his chin, holding you against him.

“I...don’t know,” he admitted softly. You felt the way he swallowed nervously and the minutest tremble of his body.

“I didn’t mean to push, Luba. I know that Naadirah...well that you...anyway, I just...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” you weren’t sure anymore what you were trying to say, what you were trying to apologize for, whether it was just pushing the subject or admitting your feelings, or having them at all.

He shook his head, the gesture tickling you. “No. Don’t, Y/N.”

You hummed in question, not sure what he was trying to say either.

“I think…” he was silent for a long moment before sighing heavily through his nose. “This isn’t the end of this discussion, I promise. But I need...just give me some time.”

You pulled away reluctantly, tilting your chin so that you could look him in the eye. “Of course. Anything you need.” You felt your heart breaking as you smiled. “If you want, it can be the end of the discussion though. We can pretend this never happened. I promise.”

“I don’t.”

#series title is also the title of a pretty fantastic song by James Bay #which may or may not definitely have some influence/inspiration on the writing #new character means:#post and run. post and run!#Luba x Reader #Mute (2018) fic #angst #Break My Heart Right

15 notes · View notes

kookitykook · 5 years ago

Text

Seven Soulmarks: Taehyung (”It’s you.”)

~genre: soulmate au, fluff, sfw

~word count: 5.2k

~warnings: absolutely none this is cute lmao

~pairing: solo idol!taehyung x y/n

~summary: At the exact moment of your twentieth birthday, the first words your soulmate will ever say to you appear on the inside of your left wrist. Seven boys meeting their soulmates shows how the universe always has a plan.

See how the other boys meet their soulmates (all interconnected) Jungkook -- Jimin -- Namjoon -- Hoseok -- Yoongi -- Jin

~~~~~~~~~

Kim Taehyung hated his life.

Rationally, he knew that this was likely the result of him being the most selfish douchebag on the face of the planet.

Didn’t change the fact that he hated his life.

“This is bullshit!” Taehyung shouted, tearing the beanie off of his head and chucking it across the room in favor of running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I thought this was my album, Sejin. Why are these prats making all of the decisions?!”

Taehyung’s manager, Sejin, took a deep breath. Taehyung was prone to outbursts as of late, but he knew that the young singer’s anger simply came from a place of frustration, not cruelty. He’d been working for Taehyung for over three years now, he knew the young man better than most.

“Taehyung, it’s just two songs. The rest of the album is all yours, but the company needs you to play nice so that—”

“I don’t care what the company wants,” Taehyung snapped, hands on his hips as he turned to face Sejin. “They don’t ever seem to care what I want in my music these days, so why should I listen to them?”

“Tae—”

“No, no! They would be a no-name recording label drowning in debt if I hadn’t signed with them and this is how they treat me! I’m done, I’m fucking done.”

Taehyung slammed his hand against the wall beside him, and only felt slightly bad when he saw Sejin jump out of the corner of his eye. His broad chest heaved with breaths as he leaned his forehead against the wall and tried to calm down.

“It’s not my music anymore,” he finally murmured. “It’s not … me.” He looked up, meeting Sejin’s eye. “I’m sick of doing the same damn formula for every song. The same chord progressions, the same shitty beat drops that sound like every other song, the same stupid ass lyrics that don’t mean anything. That’s not me, man. It’s not the fans either, I just feel … I feel like I’m lying to them every time I release a new shitty song that can be played in clubs but doesn’t really mean anything.”

“The songs are doing well though.”

“Of course they are, the fans will support me no matter what I release, but if it’s not really from my heart then I’m just taking advantage of them!” Taehyung retorted, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m sick of this! It’s been over a year since the company let me release anything that I wrote myself, and they won’t even give Scenery a chance!”

“You just have to be patient, Taehyung.”

“But I—”

“No, Taehyung, you have to be patient,” Sejin urged, cutting the singer off in a rare display of authority. “Your contract is up in a year. Just one year, and then you’ll have to resign for another four years or …”

Sejin trailed off, letting Taehyung connect the dots. He would never tell his young friend what to do, but he had seen the toll that lack of creative freedom was taking on the singer. Taehyung had lost weight, his voice didn’t have that same vibrancy that it did when he was singing his own music, and he had been avoiding any sort of outings that might put him in the path of paparazzi or his fans.

“Or I can choose not to re-sign with them,” Taehyung finished the thought in a quiet voice. He lifted his head to the ceiling, releasing a long breath. “Just one year. One more year. I can do that. I can do that, right?”

“Of course you can,” Sejin said quickly. “One year will fly by.”

Taehyung huffed, flopping down on the couch of the green room connected to the studio of the shitty, obnoxious American producer that he was being forced to work with.

“I’m not even twenty years old and I’m this tired,” he said with a humorless laugh, rubbing his eyes.

“Actually, you are twenty years old.”

Taehyung looked at Sejin incredulously. “No I’m not. My birthday is tomorrow.”

“You were born in Korea, and your birthday started there an hour ago. Because of the time differences you—”

“Well why didn’t you say something?” Taehyung shouted, jumping up to his feet and muttering under his breath as he tried to take off the thick, clunky bracelet over his left wrist.

Because of the occasional stalker and obsessive fan, the majority of celebrities who hadn’t found their soulmate yet had taken to keeping their soulmark area constantly covered — Taehyung had wanted to get in the habit of such even before his twentieth birthday.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to bring up your soulmark in front of those assholes back there,” Sejin muttered under his breath. Taehyung smirked. It was rare that Sejin cursed, so it was clear that Taehyung wasn’t the only one who was sick of the jerks that the company had been forcing him to work with lately.

“What’s it say?” the manager asked as Taehyung finally got the bracelet off of his left wrist.

“It says … ‘It’s you.’”

“Oh.” Sejin cleared his throat. “Well … I guess she’ll be a fan?”

Taehyung let out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t wait to meet his soulmate, sure, but a part of him had always romanticized the idea of someone falling for him first and then V, famous singer, second.

That was a pipe dream and you know it, he rationalized to himself.

The money, the fame, the countless opportunities that had been thrown Taehyung’s way since he was just barely seventeen were amazing, and he was thankful every day for them.

But the way that things were going lately, between having to make music that wasn’t from his heart at all and countless rumors and scandals that were always being blown way out of proportion, Taehyung just wanted to feel normal — at least for a little while. To get his head back on straight.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Taehyung muttered, not really thinking about his soulmate much at all in that moment. Even though if she was a fan, which it seemed like she was given her first words to him, she was probably thinking about him often.

Guilt struck him immediately. He loved his fans, it wasn’t their fault at all that he wasn’t content.

The inauthenticity of the situation was just getting to be too damn much. Being twenty years old was when he was supposed to really discovering himself, and yet his company wasn’t allowing him that opportunity. No matter the privileges he had, that was enough to drive someone crazy.

“Just one year,” Taehyung muttered to himself, glancing up as Sejin clapped a hand on his shoulder. “One year.”

***

“Honey are you sure you don’t want to celebrate with us?”

“Mom I am going to celebrate with you and Dad,” you reassured your mother with a smile as you shrugged on your coat. “We’re having a birthday party tomorrow!”

“Yes, but I don’t know how I feel about you being alone for your soulmark appearance.”

“Mom I’ll be fine.” You leaned over and kissed your mother’s cheek swiftly. “I just want this moment to myself. Besides, I was born at 2 AM, nobody is going to want to stay awake that late just to see some words appear on my wrist.”

“I would!”

“Mom, you can’t stay up past 10:30 PM and we both know it,” you laughed. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to help set up for the party. Bye, love you!”

You practically ran out the front door before your mother could say anything else, pulling your coat tighter to you. You picked a few pieces of stray dog hair that had attached itself to the material as you walked to your car. You weren’t sure if the dog hair was from your own dog at home, or if it was from one of the sweet little guys from the animal shelter you volunteered at.

After taking a moment to appreciate the beauty of the night sky, you unlocked your car and hopped in, going through the motions of starting up your car and pulling out onto the main road.

The coast was about a three and a half hour drive away, which would put you sitting on the beach listening to the waves under a starry sky right as your soulmark was set to appear. Just how you had always imagined it.

The drive was a familiar one, and you put on your favorite driving playlist to pass the time. The playlist mostly consisted of oldies that your dad had listened to with you when you were a child, a few rap songs, and some movie soundtracks that you liked. Nothing too current, honestly. You were so busy with taking online courses, waitressing, and volunteering at the shelter that you didn’t put much time into listening to the latest hits on Top 40.

Not that you really liked current pop music. There was this annoying trend going on for the last couple years of songs only about partying and having sex with annoying beat drops in the background that all kind of sounded the same.

Not that there was anything wrong with that kind of music, of course, it just wasn’t really your scene.

Soon enough, your mind started wandering. Your thoughts jumped between ideas of what your soulmark might be, to the apartments you were looking at moving into soon (if you could ever find a roommate, that is), to one of the cats at the shelter that needed to find a home ASAP.

You needed to call the shelter’s photographer on call tomorrow to help with that last one. The young woman was an amazing photographer that, like you, had a soft spot for animals. She’d started offering free shoots for the animals at the shelter that needed to be adopted sooner rather than later, hoping that by having professional photos of them to post on social media and on posters, people might be more inclined to take them in.

You and the photographer got along well. You’d even talked about soulmarks recently when she heard that your twentieth birthday was coming up.

(The photographer had yet to meet her soulmate, but her mark read, ‘Wait, please!’)

Realizing that you were thinking about work and responsibilities instead of just enjoying a peaceful drive to the beach, you decided you needed a change of pace. Not taking your eyes off the road, you turned off your driving playlist that had started to repeat and switched on the radio instead.

The song that was playing was …

Utter crap, honestly.

“Ugh,” you muttered to yourself, wincing at the overuse of bass and a chord progression that sounded suspiciously exactly like that recent Chainsmokers song one of the guys at the shelter had played for you the other day.

The male vocals were nice, you guessed. Even if the lyrics were about dicking down some random girl at a club.

Like you’d never heard that song before.

Fortunately, you only had to listen to about a minute of the song before it was over.

“Alright that was the one and only V on his brand new collaboration with Elia!” the radio announcer said as soon as the song was over. “Hey, did you hear the latest news about our dear heartthrob V?” he asked his cohost.

“No,” the female announcer responded with an overdramatic gasp. You rolled your eyes. “What is it?”

“Paparazzi caught sight of his soulmark the other day.”

That time, you gasped alongside the female announcer. A celebrity soulmark sighting was awful, everyone agreed on that. There were countless horror stories of fans knowing their idol’s soulmark and saying the words to them and even faking their own soulmarks to try and trick them into a relationship. It was a nightmare scenario.

“No!” the female announcer said even more dramatically. “I can’t believe it … but also, like … what’s it say? Just out of curiosity of course.”

While you curled your lip in disgust, the two announcers laughed together. You felt gross just listening to them discuss the celebrity’s soulmark like this, they had no respect for the sanctity of the marks.

You didn’t even know the celebrity (V, or something? Who names themselves a letter?), but no one deserved to have their mark discussed so flippantly. It was just plain disrespectful.

“According to the picture, his mark says—”

You turned the radio off.

“Assholes,” you muttered under your breath.

You decided to take the last twenty minutes of the drive in silence, thinking of your soulmark and who your soulmate might be.

Honestly, you weren’t picky at all. You trusted the soulmark system, and believed with all your heart that the person that had your first words to them tattooed on their wrist was going to be just right for you. You didn’t care what they looked like or did for a living, you knew they would be enough no matter what.

The thought made you smile softly. You had a person out there designed just for you. It was unbelievable, but in the best kind of way.

Finally you arrived at the secluded beach, parking close to the sand under a streetlight. You stretched as you stepped out of your car, grabbing your blanket and a flashlight and taking off your shoes before running towards the water.

You didn’t care that you probably looked crazy running onto the beach at almost 2 AM by yourself — not that there was anyone around to see, anyways. You were excited — this was the moment you’d been waiting for for twenty years.

In just minutes you were situated at the edge of the water, just close enough to feel the sea spray as the tide rolled in. You checked the time on your phone.

Just a few seconds to go. You held the flashlight up to focus on the inside of your left wrist, cheeks hurting from grinning so much.

And then it was appearing. Black lines slowly came into view and then … it was there.

The first words your soulmate would ever say to you.

‘Do you even know who I am, you psycho?’

You blinked.

“Well then,” you muttered to yourself, looking back out to the sea again, but this time with a decidedly not so ecstatic expression. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

***

A YEAR AND A HALF LATER

“Dude, you know you can go out and actually do stuff, right? Not sure how you’re getting ‘inspiration’ by being holed up in my apartment all day.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes as Jimin searched for his keys. He’d been staying at his best friend’s apartment for the past few weeks after finally calling it quits with the company that had treated him like shit for so long. He’d wanted to disappear, and his friendship with Jimin had stayed off the radar for the past few years, so his friend had gladly offered to let him stay at his place until he figured out his next move.

Not that Taehyung had any idea what his next move was. He knew he had to keep making music or he’d go crazy, he just wasn’t ready to sign his creativity over to someone else again.

“You know I can’t do that,” Taehyung retorted, scratching Jimin’s dog Chim behind the ears as the little mutt lounged on his lap. “I can’t risk being recognized.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, turning to face his friend head on. “They make things called masks, genius.”

“Hey, you’re the one who said I could come stay with you as long as I needed to.”

“And I mean it,” Jimin affirmed, checking his pink hair in the mirror by the front door. Being a hairdresser, Jimin did this annoyingly often. “You can. But you’ve got to get out and do something, Tae. Come with me to the salon, or go to the movies, or busk at the subway station. Do something, man.”

“While busking at the dirty subway station does sound appealing,” Taehyung deadpanned, “I’m just … I’m nervous, Jimin. I don’t know how to be … normal anymore.”

Jimin turned back to his friend sympathetically. He didn’t understand Taehyung’s dilemma at all, but he could recognize fear and pain when he saw it. Subconsciously, he rubbed at the thick leather bracelet covering his left wrist.

(Jimin hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but his mark read, ‘Stop right there!’ and he already hated himself for the way he was apparently going to inspire fear in the person he was supposed to love and cherish.)

“Well if it makes you feel any better,” Jimin finally said, making an excited noise as he finally found his keys, “You were never really normal. But,” he held up his finger when Taehyung started to protest childishly, “I think that’s part of your charm. Now put on a face mask and go on a walk Chim. My house, my rules, go do it.”

“Jiminie, I—”

“Nope! No arguments! There’s a really nice dog park two blocks down! Bye!”

Jimin slipped out the door before Taehyung could say another word.

“Jackass,” Taehyung murmured without any real bite. Chim looked up at him with his adorable big brown eyes. “Not you,” he assured the dog. “Just your dumb owner.”

Chim whined, cocking his head to the side. One of his ears stuck up, while the other flopped down. It was ridiculous how cute the mutt was.

“Ack, fine. You want to go on a walk, Chimmy? Not like I’m exactly stewing in song-writing inspiration now, right?”

Chim barked.

“Gee thanks, bud.”

And that was how Taehyung started his daily walks to the dog park with Chim.

***

“I’m going to murder him,” you seethed.

The vet photographer just laughed, not even taking her eye away from her camera as she took shots of the pitbull puppy that had just been brought to the shelter last week.

“You’re not going to murder anyone,” your friend said.

“Oh yes I am. I’ve tried to catch him three times now, but I keep missing him by just minutes!”

“How do you know that?”

“The poop is still warm when I get there.”

“Ew!” Your friend did look away from her camera at that comment, scrunching up her nose. “That’s disgusting, Y/N.”

“Yeah I know!” you retorted, walking over and picking up the puppy, holding him tight to your chest. “There’s signs everywhere in the dog park. ‘Clean up after your dog,’ ‘Please dispose of your dog’s waste here,’ ‘Dog waste bags available at the entrance of the park.’ And yet does this person clean up after their dog? No!”

“How do you know it’s the same person doing it?” your friend asked, letting her camera hang from the strap around her neck as she scratched the top of the puppy’s head.

“I can tell,” you said matter-of-factly. “It’s the same poop pattern.”

Your friend cackled at that, which stirred the puppy in your arms. “That’s so gross.”

“I’ve stepped in it twice,” you told her, gritting your teeth. “Everyone around here respects the rule, so whoever has been letting their dog poop in the park and then not clean it up for the past three weeks is a newbie. And I’m going to track him down and give him a piece of my mind!”

“How do you know it’s a he?” your friend asked, taking the puppy from you and repositioning him in her makeshift photoshoot set once again.

“Oh I just know.”

“Don’t tell me you saw his poop pattern, too?”

“Aish, shut up and take the pictures!”

***

Taehyung hummed under his breath as he led Chim down the street towards the dog park.

Even though Taehyung would never admit it to Jimin, his friend’s suggestion of walking Chim had been really, really good for him. It had helped him to realize that three years of fame and concerts and tours and events and press had left Taehyung with little to no schedule or routine in his life.

And Taehyung liked routine, he was discovering. He liked being able to know or at least have an idea of what the next day held, he liked going on walks and not having to make an event of it, or care what he looked like or what brands of clothes or shoes he was wearing because paparazzi photos would imply that he was promoting them, and so on, and so on.

He liked normalcy. At least small pieces of it.

And he liked Chim. Taehyung and the dog had become the best of friends in the past three weeks of daily walks together, a fact which Jimin was only slightly jealous of.

It was nice. And oddly enough, it was giving Taehyung inspiration for all sorts of new sounds and songs.

For three years Taehyung had gone on expensive retreats to try and find song-writing inspiration (not that his company had ever listened to any of his ideas after the success of his first EP), and now he was finding loads of it just walking his friend’s dog down the street for free.

Such a simple task was giving Taehyung an entirely new perspective. It was his favorite thing to do, which was absolutely mind boggling considering he was a literal millionaire that could do just about anything he wanted.

He liked this change of pace though.

“Ah, ah, no, Chim,” he said as the dog started to tug at his leash. “Come on bud, we go over this every day.”

At the halfway point to the dog park, they passed a local animal shelter. It was close to the road, so Chim always heard dogs barking or saw someone in the parking lot with their animal. He rarely barked himself, but always tugged on his leash to try and get closer.

“Come on, Chimmie, let’s go.”

With a huff, Taehyung did what he usually ended up doing and just reached down and picked up the dog, tucking him under his arm to walk him away from the sight of the shelter.

But as he stood back up, he glanced over to the shelter and froze.

As you stepped out of the building leading a medium sized golden retriever puppy, talking to it softly, Taehyung found himself unable to look away.

You were smiling, talking with the clearly skittish dog in a soothing voice. Your skin seemed to glow as the sun shone down on you and you were objectively stunning, even in plain jeans and a purple tee.

As if sensing that you were being watched, you glanced up from the dog you were working with to look up at Taehyung standing on the sidewalk.

Taehyung stiffened, looking away and walking with Chim down the street once more. It had been an instinct reaction, fearing that he had been recognized.

Then he remembered that he was wearing a mask and felt like an idiot for not looking at you for another moment more.

***

“Hey, hey!”

Your friend jumped as you came flying around the corner, almost dropping her camera in the process.

“You scared me!” she said with a hand on her chest to catch her breath. “What is it? What’s wrong”

“Can you get this sweet guy back into his crate? I have to go catch him!”

“Catch who?” your friend asked, taking the leash of the golden retriever you were leading.

“The dog poop guy!” you shouted, voice fading as you took off back out the door. “I’m finally gonna catch the dog poop guy!”

***

“Alright Chim,” Taehyung muttered, voice slightly muffled beneath his mask. “Go ahead, do your business.”

Chim looked up at him with those adorable puppy dog eyes of his.

“Seriously? We go over this everyday. I’m not watching. And there’s no one else even here!” Taehyung gestured around to the empty park. It was a Monday around 10 o’clock in the morning, which meant the park was empty save for the two of them.

“Fine,” he muttered after a few more seconds of Chim staring at him. He leaned down and unclicked his leash since there were no other dogs around, which Chim yipped excitedly about. “Go ahead, the world is your poop yard.”

Chim took off in a run around the fence as Tae sat atop the wooden picnic table and looked around.

It was a beautiful day. The weather was mild enough to wear short sleeves, the sun was shining but not overbearing, and it was a quiet area.

This was the normalcy he had been craving. After years of being on the road and constantly working with no real fulfillment, this was the contentment he had actually been striving for.

He let out a deep breath, leaning back on his palms and looking up at the clouds. He began humming a new melody under his breath, the words to a song that was almost finished just lacking … something.

He managed to hum for just a few more seconds when he heard the gate open.

Taehyung snapped his head up to make sure Chim hadn’t run out, but the person coming in had already closed it behind them.

And it was … you. The girl from the shelter. Except this time you didn’t have the golden retriever with you.

Out of habit, Taehyung lifted a hand to make sure his mask was still in place.

Chim barked excitedly, running to greet the stranger.

“Easy, buddy,” Taehyung called out to the dog as he ran around your legs. You kept walking towards Taehyung, making sure not to step on Chim in the meantime.

Taehyung hopped off of the picnic table and opened his mouth to say hello or … something, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say honestly, he hadn’t spoken to anyone but Jimin in almost a month.

But before he could speak, you beat him to the punch.

“It’s you!”

Taehyung froze as you marched up and pointed in his face.

He’d heard those words from countless crazed fans since his soulmark had leaked. The words that were supposed to fill him with joy at finding his soulmate now filled him with dread.

How the hell had you recognized him with a mask on and his hair a different color than his last paparazzi sighting?

“You are the poop guy!”

Taehyung blinked.

What the hell? he thought to himself. He tried to speak, but you weren’t letting him.

“For three weeks I’ve been bringing the shelter dogs here to play and do you know how many times I have stepped in your dog’s poop?”

Taehyung opened his mouth.

“Seven times!” you shrieked. “Seven times and now two of my favorite pairs of shoes are ruined because they are cloth and I can’t get rid of the poop smell. Can you read?”

Once again, Taehyung tried to speak.

“There are signs!” you yelled, gesturing around the park. “Three signs as a matter of fact! The park even has bags for you to use! It takes five seconds to clean up after your dog! It’s common courtesy!”

Your voice was as shrieky as ever, and your shoulders heaved as you caught your breath.

“Well?” you asked, throwing your hands up in the air. “Aren’t you going to say anything? An apology will suffice, but I prefer a promise to start cleaning up after your dog.”

Taehyung swallowed thickly and you tracked the movement. You couldn’t see the majority of his face because he was wearing a mask over his mouth, but he was built well and had cute fluffy brown hair hanging over his forehead.

Doesn’t matter if he’s cute, he’s not following common dog-owner courtesy, you scolded yourself.

Slowly, he reached up and tugged off his mask.

Aw crap, you thought. He’s not just cute, he’s model level hot.

And he was. His facial features were striking, you’d honestly never seen anyone as attractive as him. But you stood your ground, focusing on the fact that he had ruined two pairs of your favorite shoes and made you give four of the shelter dogs a bath because they stepped in his dog’s poop. Hot or not, that was unacceptable.

Finally, he spoke (not that you had given him much opportunity to until now).

“Do you even know who I am,” Taehyung asked softly, genuinely curious.

But before he finished speaking, he remembered that you had just yelled at him like a crazy person without even letting him defend himself.

“—you psycho?”

Your jaw dropped as the now annoyingly attractive man leveled up in his own irritation.

You briefly registered in the back of your mind that oh shit, this is my soulmate, but quite frankly your soulmate was being a dick!

“It’s a dog park!” Taehyung shouted. “Dogs poop! How hard is it to look down and see where you’re stepping?”

“I shouldn’t have to look down where I’m stepping!” you shot back. “If all dogs pooped here without their owners cleaning up after them, it would be anarchy!”

“Poop is biodegradable!”

“What?! It takes dog poop like three months to decompose!”

“Well that’s … longer than I thought!” he admitted, still yelling. “It doesn’t matter, you shouldn’t be screaming at strangers!”

“You’re not a stranger, you’re my soulmate!”

Taehyung blinked, mouth slightly agape. You realized your mistake.

“I mean, I-I don’t know who you are,” you muttered. “But you said the words, so — and by the way, rude first words to say to your other half!”

You held up your left wrist, showing your soulmate your mark.

‘Do you even know who I am, you psycho?’

He winced.

After the shouting match, the quiet between the two of you seemed oddly profound.

“Do you … do you actually know who I am though?” he asked quietly.

You raised your eyebrow. “Other than my soulmate and the guy who lets his dog poop freely in a public place? Uh, no, I don’t.”

Taehyung let out a deep breath, laughing softly.

“Good, that’s … good,” he said quietly, his striking eyes looking up at you from beneath his eyelashes. “Sorry about the dog poop.”

“No you’re not.”

“No, I’m really not. If it makes you feel any better, it’s not my dog.”

“That has nothing to do with it!”

“Do you always yell so much?!”

“No I’m usually very pleasant!”

“Well you could’ve fooled me!”

“Well ask me on a date and I’ll prove it to you!”

“Fine, do you want to go out to dinner tonight?!”

“Yes, there’s a good restaurant next to my apartment we can go to!”

“That sounds great!”

“You’re really pretty, I hope you know that!”

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

“I hope it doesn’t freak you out, but I’m actually a famous musician and my stage name is V!”

“Wait, what?”

You stepped back in shock at his declaration and right into a big, fresh pile of —

“Ack! For fuck’s sake, clean up after your damn dog!”

You wanted to hate him for laughing so hard, but after looking at his boxy smile and the way his dog (okay not his dog, but still) was running around his feet yipping excitedly … you just couldn’t do it.

Your soulmark wasn’t exactly the best, but … you had a feeling the man on the other side of it was going to turn out to be perfect for you.

Even if he did continue to laugh as you scraped the dog poop off the bottom of yet another new pair of shoes.

#bts fanfiction #bts scenario #taehyung scenario #taehyung imagine #bts #my writing

56 notes · View notes

side-effect-of-the-meds · 5 years ago

Text

So, it seems that some of y’all have taken an interest in Niko!!! I’m so glad. Anyway, here’s part two

Nikoshi is torn between charging up to hug his literal fucking idol and keeping up a cool kid facade. Fortunately, the cool kid facade wins out. If Niko had touched Kevin, he would not have been able to stop himself from flinging the kid across the lawn. There’s something that’s just so… so… Riko about the kid that Kevin is on the verge of breakdown.

Ichirou kind of ushers him into the house and Kevin sits down very mechanically on the couch. From the kitchen, Aaron walks out and is faced with Niko for the first time. Niko’s heard about Kevin Day’s husband before but he’s never seen him.

“You’re really short,” is the first thing out of his mouth. This kid, this absolute asshole, walks into his fucking house and the first fucking thing he says is ‘You’re really short’???? Aaron is so stunned by this kid and his bullshit that he doesn’t even say anything.

Amalia wanders out from the kitchen at the commotion in the living room and the second she sees Niko her first reaction is friend????? New fren??????? She’s very excited. Before she can go out and say anything, Aaron snags her and makes his way into the living room to sit beside Kevin and sets her in his lap. She keeps squirming bc she wants to meet new fren.

Anyway, Ichirou has already called the two of them and has informed him of who the kid is. They’re going to have to take him to the doctor and get some ‘blood work’ done to confirm Ichirou’s suspicions but they already know. He looks too much like Riko to not be his kid

Ichirou asks a few questions, all of which Aaron has to answer seeing as Kevin is too busy silently flipping his shit. Both Niko and Kev spend the whole half an hour just staring at each other in awestruck silence.

Ichirou leaves and Aaron says it’s time for dinner. They all eat at the dinner p quietly, except for Amalia who has run out of patience. She insists on sitting next to Niko and blabbering on and on about something or the other. She’s 5 at this point so she’s mostly talking about her crayons and showing Niko that she can count to fifty. For the most part, Niko is content to listen to her bc it means he doesn’t really have to talk.

After dinner, Aaron takes Niko upstairs to show him his room and hands him some clothes. As soon as Aaron heard the news, he’d gone down to target and just picked some random basic shit out. He tells Niko that they’ll go to the mall soon so that they can pick up a few things that’ll actually fit him. Niko’s never had new clothes in his life. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He puts all of his emotions aside for the time being. He’ll have to evaluate them later. Niko starts to pull his shirt off and he hears Aaron gasp. Only then does he realize that the bruises from his last foster haven’t faded yet. He goes red and backs away, trips over something and falls onto his butt.

“Niko-” Aaron started, moving forward. Immediately, Niko flinched violently and Aaron stilled. Schooling his face into neutrality, Aaron dropped his hands to his side. “Get changed and come down. I want to see the bruises.”

“No,” Niko spat.

“I’m not asking,” Aaron countered flatly. “As soon as you’ve changed, you will come downstairs and we will treat the bruises. Are we clear?” Niko nodded. Aaron backed out of the room, shutting the door to give Niko some privacy.

“What bruises?” Kevin asked, starling a curse out of him.

“Kev, he’s covered in them,” Aaron replied. Anger burned in his chest. In that moment, there was nothing Aaron wanted more than to hunt down whomever had hurt Niko so badly and beat them black and blue. All that kept him grounded was the pain of his nails biting into his palms. He felt Kevin’s arms wrap around him and he left himself be held. “He looks worse than I ever did,” Aaron whispered. His voice sounded hollow, even to his own ears.

“He’s going to be okay, baby. He’s here now. We’ll take care of him,” Kevin assured as he stroked his hair.

A few minutes later, Niko steps out and lets them take him downstairs. Amalia is long gone, put to bed so that she doesn’t witness this absolute horror that her dads are about to see. Aaron has a makeshift clinic set up in the house and he makes Niko sit down on the little bed and take his shirt off.

Kevin curses and gets smacked for cursing in front of Niko. After figuring out how old they are, Aaron sets to work massaging creams into them to heal them faster. His hands are firm, unyielding, but gentle enough that they don’t hurt. It’s a foreign feeling to Niko. He’s never not been touched by anyone without them intending for him to hurt.

Aaron asks Niko if there are anymore. Niko is tempted to lie to him but something in Aaron’s dark brown eyes coaxes him into telling the truth. He wriggles out of his pants to show him the bruises on his legs.

Lashes from rulers stripe his legs. A few scars have accumulated from the metal part cutting into his skin. Kevin sucks a breath in through his teeth when he sees them. He’s been hit with the metal edge of a ruler before. He’s got the same scars on his legs.

Aaron rubs scar cream into them and takes care of the remaining bruises. He’s so pissed off and it shows on his face. Niko, the poor, sweet bean thinks that Aaron is mad at him. So many adults have gotten angry with him for being such a problem.

He slides off the table when Aaron tells him to and changes back into his clothes. They dismiss him so he slips back upstairs. Kevin and Aaron stay downstairs to talk for a little while. Neither of them say it outloud but they both come to the consensus that, Riko’s son or not, they will protect Niko with their lives.

It’s not quite as easy as you’d think. Riko was such a bitch and he caused them and their families so much pain. Over the course of the next few months, every time Niko raises his voice, Kevin flinches violently. There are times when Aaron has to discreetly escort him away to help him avoid the impending panic attack.

They’d told Bee that they were taking in Riko’s son and she’d mentioned that it would be hard on Kev but Aaron hadn’t thought it would be this bad. It’s been almost twelve years since Riko’s death but Kevin is still such a broken man.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t trying. Kev drives Niko to school himself every day and picks him up from the bus stop every morning. They work on his history projects together and stress out over math together. Aaron is an amazing science tutor but he’s also very insistent that Niko actually learns things for himself.

Over the summer, Kev takes Niko to the court Every. Single. Day. Aaron, who’s the head physician for Kevin’s team is almost always sitting on the sideline with Amalia to keep an eye on them. He doesn’t need Kev killing their kids.

Most of Kevin’s frustration comes from the fact that Niko shows absolutely NO POTENTIAL. I mean, baby boi is just tripping over his own two feet and can barely keep track of his steps while holding the ball only to have Kevin just FUCKING BARREL INTO HIM BC HE KNOWS NO RESTRAINT ON THE COURT BC HE’S A DUMBASS!

Anyway, Aaron eventually intervenes and kicks Kev off the court. He just kinda sits a really huffy Niko down on the bench and asks him if something’s wrong. After a great deal of gently coaxing, Niko admits that Kevin is kind of scary.

Aaron digs his shit out of the closet and steps on the court and he helps teach Niko the basics. In a week, Niko is playing incredibly well for his age and Kevin is pissed bc how tf did Aaron manage this????

Anyway, Niko is playing really well by then so he tries out for the team and makes it! He’s playing varsity despite being in 7th grade and is a starting offense dealer.

He tried out for dealer in middle school but he only ever plays as a striker at home. It’s his secret and he’s not keen to show his hand just yet. He’s also a halfway decent goalkeep. That being said, both Aaron and Kev are comparing him to the best goalkeep in the Southern circuit so calling him half-way decent is an understatement but I digress.

Anyway, he’s an incredible player bc he has a lot of individual skill but he’s not much of a team player. More than once, he’s mouthed off to the wrong kid and gotten himself into trouble. That being said, he’s really fast so he’ll just nyoom off before anyone can beat his ass and no one has the time or energy to pursue him for it.

It’s not until 8th grade that he gets into serious trouble.

Kev and Aaron are called down to the school bc Niko’s gotten himself into a fight. When they get there, they just about die. Their baby boy has a massive black eye and there’s bruises on his arm from someone holding him down. They are so so so pissed off.

When they ask what happens Niko doesn’t say anything. One of the kids says that he was bullying them. Neither Kev nor Aaron buy that.

What happened was a bunch of kids were picking on someone and Niko was having none of that shit. He absolutely unleashed and shreds the kids, picking out insecurities they didn’t even know they had and trashing them. So caught up in roasting these ho’s Niko didn’t realize it was time to dip until it was too late. The kids beat the crap out of him and he can barely stand.

When the kid Niko was defending ghosts into the room Kev and Aaron immediately know what’s going on.

Niko,,,,,,, has caught feelings. Babie is looking at this kid like they hung the goddamn moon and, honestly, they couldn’t past them. Winter Aziz (they/them) is,,,,, stunning and it wouldn’t surprise either of Kev or Aaron if they’d crafted the moon. The two of them are now betting on how long it’s going to take Niko to figure out he likes the kid.

But back to the actual story.

Anyway, once Winter gives their side of the story, the dean admits that the boys were in the wrong. Two of the boys end up getting suspended. Apparently, Winter’s parents are busy so they offer them a ride home. In the rearview mirror, Kev can see Niko squirming bc Winter is just sitting so close!!!! They stop by this lil diner that Niko loves and buy him a milkshake. They offer to buy Winter one too but they decline. Niko ends up offering to share and its ADORABLE!!!! Aaron snaps a pic and sends it to Kev so that they can both be reminded of this cuteness.

Anyway, needless to say, Winter and Niko are now best friends. They do everything together and have a lot of,,,,,,, sleepovers in which Kev and Aaron feel really bad bc Niko’s gone gone for his best friend and Winter doesn’t seem to notice.

That’s bullshit. Winter knows Niko likes them. They’re just not ready to admit that they like him too.

Over the summer before 9th grade, Winter becomes a part of their summer practice. They’ve taken an interest in sports medicine bc they can be close to Niko.

Midway through July, Kevin gives up trying to get Niko to be a team player. He’s just not the kind of person who can teach him how to be that kind of person.

But he knows someone who can.

It’s a late night on the court and Niko’s run himself ragged.

“It’s no use to play against an empty goal,” a voice Niko knows too well said. It took every ounce of his energy to sit up enough to see Neil Josten standing above him. “Why don’t you give him a real challenge?” he asked as he stepped aside, revealing a man who looked exactly like Niko’s dad. The man said nothing. Instead, he moved quietly to stand in the goal. “Better hurry up, Niko. Andrew doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” With that, Neil left Niko on the court to face off against the best goalkeep in the Southern circuits all on his own.

#just a pipe dream #the foxhole court #all for the game #tfc #aftg #aaron minyard #aaron micheal minyard #kevaaron #kevin day #kevin day hc #ichirou moriyama #riko moriyama #neil josten #andrew minyard #andrew joseph minyard #nikoshi doe #winter aziz

70 notes · View notes

bellalikeskitties · 4 years ago

Text

fairy of shampoo ☾

pairing: lee donghyuck x reader

how a young man falls in love with a girl in a shampoo commercial

word count: 853

genre: angst angst angst, idol au, actress au

a/n: resonated with this one. and although it’s rather short, i hope you like it. based on fairy of shampoo by TOMORROW X TOGETHER and the 1987 poem with the same title by Jang Jung-il. listen to it while reading it if you want.

Haechan rushed to the television, hopping over the couch and grabbing the remote. He didn't tune into news, sports, or films often. No, he'd rather use his phone for that. It just didn't sit right with him to watch other women perform on air. He turned to the television, just for you. The only time he'd feel close to you like you were there with him, was through the screen.

Pushing through the square screen,

Gently approaching me,

Plating a silvery illusion.

She is my own little fairy.

Every eight-thirty, he would switch to a certain channel for you. It didn't matter if Jaemin was watching a drama or if Jisung was playing games. He wouldn't miss the 15-minute advertisement. The ad itself wasn't even interesting, nor was the product famous; making you stand out more.

Like the early morning fog

Coming closer to me

Her long hair, waving

She whispers with a soft smile.

You looked stunning in that white silk dress and sparkly earrings. So stunning, that it enchants him every time you let down your hair from the bun you show up in. Greeting him with your pleasing voice, you reach your arm out to him and he swears he could almost feel you there with him.

"How are you?" Hyuck can't help his heart from fluttering and he absent-mindedly replies with a "Great" even when he wasn't. Truth be told, that day he was extremely frustrated because his voice wouldn't cooperate with him. But for some reason, seeing you made his worries vanish.

"The wonderful fragrance. Something new, something great. Perhaps you will fall in love." And he very well did. The number of shampoo bottles with your smiling face plastered on it in his bathroom proved that.

I only thought you existed in a fairy tale

Pushing through the square screen, you gently

Came to me, a fairy called you

It feels like she’s talking to me.

He watched as you ran though fields of flowers, played in streams, and walked barefoot on the sand. It made him imagine a life with you. Running his hands in your hair when you sleep. Cupping your face as you dance under the twinkling moonlight. Leaning down to kiss your plush lips after a long day.

He thought love was bullshit, but you were entirely different. He believed you only existed in fairy tales, a fairy who called out to him. Flying straight into his heart, chattering away, then disappearing behind the dark screen.

As he turns the TV off, his heart breaks. He would never be able to be with you, to touch you. The ad provided him a brief comfort from the life he truly led, in front of the cameras.

Whenever I see her, I’m not lonely anymore.

My sad heart disappears and goes somewhere far away too.

She is my fairy of shampoo.

Now I will love you.

Just a peek of you makes his day. Just as the dandelion puffs travel to distant lands when the wind greets them, his sadness would leave him at your arrival. You, his fairy of shampoo, and he loves you. He closes his eyes and just like every day, he thinks of you. "It's fine, fifteen minutes are all I need."

And if he begins to feel the needles prick into his fingers, the rough pushing burden on his back; he looks at your photos and watches your shows. Anything you're in, from variety shows or even brief mentions on lives, he probably has saved on his phone.

He decorates his life with you, making it seem presentable as he tries to hide the scars of stress and the reek of sadness. But alas, no picture, show, or advertisement could ever save him from the imminent reality.

"(l/n) (y/n) is getting married next month!"

This emotion that can’t be expressed in words

It feels like I’m walking on top of those clouds

All of a sudden, in my heart

You were growing

From that moment, his knees could no longer bear the weight. The grief was too evident, too thick he couldn't even breathe. All that he could do was wallow in his tears. He was hit with the most devastating illness, one that would reach into your core to destroy you from within, unrequited love.

Looking at you smiling with your teeth bare made him nauseous. He had heaps of overflowing love for you and yet none of it was to be returned. His members could do nothing but watch him unmask the heavy perfume of lies he had built up to keep him sane. Oh, how you had tricked him. Lied about your love, but this was a harsh reality.

And as he trembled and shook with violent cries, he knew that he would always be watching alone from afar. His love tearing him apart. You were supposed to keep him together, you were supposed to be there for him. You should have been here, soothing him. But that was never going to happen, after all, you were just a dream.

Watching alone from afar

She was always my dream.

angst is hard.

#NCT-WRITERS #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct dream x reader #nct fic #nct au #nct imagine #nct scenario #lee donghyuck #haechan #donghyuck scenarios #nct idol au #this is sad #bellalikeskitties

37 notes · View notes

13lov · 5 years ago

Text

heaven. (m)

# pairing. manager!namjoon x idol!reader

# genre. late 90′s - early 00′s au, idol au, smut, fluff.

# word count. 5.5k+

# warning(s). house party [ alcohol usage ], smut [ soft dom!namjoon, virgin!reader, semi-public setting, fingering, edging/orgasm denial ], blackpink is featured within the fic along with jackson wang. | unedited as of sept. 13

# summary: being apart of the world’s biggest girl group had its struggles, especially when your members could barely stand the sight of you. it’s not all bad though, at least your manager, namjoon, is always available to comfort in any way you need him to.

↳ a/n. this is only part one 1 ! there will be multiple parts!

↳ m/l. fic masterlist | full masterlist

“So, that whole thing was a lie? We aren’t really getting a break?” Jisoo asks, being the first to break the silence after twenty minutes. Her eyes are still closed shut, patiently waiting for the makeup artist to add the final touches of her eyeliner.

Within this current situation, she was the one who had been least upset; maybe it was because it worked out in her favor.

You, on the other hand, were pissed.

When promised an extended break for the first time since you were a trainee, you were ecstatic to have the opportunity to rest, make time with your closest family and friends, and “enjoy the ordinary life of a young person in their 20s” as Big Hit had officially stated.

The announcement had only gone public a few days ago, and your publicist, Seokjin, already had an event scheduled for you and the rest of the group; a house party.

“You get a break from practicing and performing,” Seokjin mumbles, only slightly interested in the conversation as he flips through the tabloids in his hands, “but, we just can’t let the public forget about you five while you’re on break. We need to make sure you’re seen and out there.”

“Bullshit,” Lisa swears, standing up from the white plush couch, “after two months you think everyone is gonna forget the biggest group in the world?”

“Current,” Namjoon speaks, so quietly, you would’ve missed it if you hadn’t been staring at him this entire time. He’d been considerably silent since the moment he entered the dorm along with Seokjin and a team of makeup artists. He hadn’t even made eye contact with anyone, not even you.

“What?” Lisa asks.

Namjoon clears his throat nervously, “You’re the current biggest group, that could easily change in a matter of time.”

“Don’t tell me you agree with Seokjin…” Jennie trails off from her spot on the couch, a hopeful expression on her face as she turns to face Namjoon.

His energy was completely off today, and in return, it was making you feel weird. Maybe it was because he had indeed lied about your group being able to take a break. A part of you hopes it was the company’s decision and not his specifically.

Well, with the number of times you’ve cried to him about you and the girls were constantly being overworked, you really were hoping this wasn’t his idea of a break.

“You’ll still get to rest, we just need you to do a few events here and there; little things,” Namjoon had been slowly walking towards you as he spoke, completely forgetting about the hairstylist who had been adding the finishing touches to your curls.

He stares at you, intensely, and you stare right back. His gaze his somewhat amused, and you wonder what had changed within him in the past few seconds. The discussion wasn’t going well, so there was clearly something else on his mind. But, what was it?

“Still giving me the silent treatment?” he whispers, only a few inches away from your face.

You remain quiet.

“Gonna have to open that mouth sooner or later.”

On any other day, you would’ve fallen to his commands in an instant. But, today was different. You just let his words give you goosebumps and call it a day.

You turn towards your hairstylist, who is staring at your manager with a confused expression on her face. Namjoon notices your gaze and follows it, then feels flustered that he had forgotten your hairstylist was right in front of him and had heard every word he said.

Namjoon clears his throat, standing upright, “To practice your singing, of course.”

The stylist shoots him a dirty glance but doesn’t say anything else. The scene had (thankfully) gone unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t involved.

“Why are we going to a house party? And, who’s throwing it?” Rosé questions, breaking her own vow of silence and letting curiosity get the best of her.

Seokjin and Namjoon exchange an amused glance that only made you and the girls worried. Even your stylists had their share of little giggles.

Your stomach was turning.

“I’m sure you all know Jackson Wang,” Seokjin says, earning a groan from the five of and an annoying smile on your publicist´s face.

Jackson Wang was a rapper, actor, and your current fake boyfriend...in a way. It was all Jin’s idea, of course; to the public, it’d look like you were only friends who were dating in secret. Doing little things like wearing one of his shirts out in public, making sure to speak at him and every public event the two of you had attended, and now, showing up to his house party where paparazzi would definitely swarm.

It kept the paparazzi on their toes, thinking they’ve caught onto something that was supposed to be secret. So, in a way, Seokjin’s plan was working. Everyone was definitely intrigued.

“Don’t make that face, doll.” Jin is standing in front of you now, a fake pout on his lips, “You, of all people, should be excited. Kim Taehyung will be there.”

Kim Taehyung was yet another boy who you weren’t interested in but had to maintain some type of relationship with. With you making your acting debut soon, there was a movie you had already been set to film. Some type of horror-romance movie with your co-star being none other than Kim Taehyung. You didn’t mind starring with him in the slightest bit, but there was speculation that he was interested in making your relationship more personal than professional.

“Oh, so it’s _____’s fault we’re going to this? So she can promote her stupid movie?” Lisa barks. You weren’t exactly offended by her questions, it kinda was your fault. As the leader of your group, you had been offered more opportunities than your other members. Did you think it was fair? No, not in the slightest. But, there was nothing you could do about it except ask that the other girls get opportunities as well. In return, it made your members act cold towards you. It was ironic in a way that no one liked their leader, you don’t blame them much. In fact, you’ve accepted the fact that they don’t like you and most likely never will.

“Watch your mouth,” Namjoon says, looking out of the dorm’s window to stare at the limousine parked outside. “You don’t think we forgot about the rest of you, did you?”

Jennie sits up in excitement, now fully ready to go, “There’s gonna be stuff for the rest of us to do?”

“Of course! What kind of manager would I be the leave you guys out?”

“I dunno,” Lisa speaks up with crossed arms, “that’s the way things have been for a while now.”

As much as you hate to admit it, Lisa was right; and Namjoon knows it.

“Play nice at the party and you’ll see what Big Hit has in store for you. Deal?”

There’s a reluctant silent, then, “...Deal.”

You had never even seen Jackson Wang’s house, let alone been to it.

It was a mansion, located in the middle of nowhere. A small part of you feels he has so much money and doesn’t even know what to do with it.

The drive to his home is long and quiet, the only sound being music coming from the radio. At your every attempt to make small talk, you were shut down immediately. There was no point in even trying anymore.

Finally arriving at Jackson’s house is a relief, though you hadn’t wanted to go in the first place. But, who knows? Maybe you will have a good time, though this was simply just a promotion opportunity.

From the limo’s tinted windows, you’re able to see the luxury cars all parked around Jackson’s fountain; each vehicle owned by some sort of celebrity. Paparazzi is already here, of course, not even letting their camera flashes slow down for a second. It’s overwhelming, but it was the price of fame.

The stretch limo comes to a halt and within a few seconds, the driver has made his way over to open the door.

Being closest to the exit, you move your leg to step out until Lisa stops you by putting her own leg over yours. “You always get out first,” she says, a smile on her face so paparazzi can think the two of you are having a friendly conversation, “let someone else go for once.”

“Does the order really matter that much?” You reply, copying her smile.

“It does when you’re always first,” she adds a friendly laugh to her smile before using her leg to push you back only slightly and step out of the car. Rosé and Jennie don’t even throw a glance your way as they slide past you, and you don’t expect them to.

Jisoo is the last to leave before you, but she pauses before she steps out, “It really isn’t a big deal, but she has a point.” Jisoo chooses not to look at you when she’s done speaking, deciding to slide out of the limo with a smirk on her face as if that little exchange didn’t just happen. You remind herself that even though she was the nicest to you out of your fellow members, she still wasn’t quite fond of you.

You take one last deep breath before stepping out.

Standing at the end of the line, next to Jisoo, you let the photographers take as many pictures as they wish. All while ignoring the questions and comments thrown at your each and every way.

Seconds pass, and Jackson has finally made his way through his crowd of guests to greet you properly. He gives a polite hug to each of your members and decides placing a kiss way too close to your lips is enough to drive the paparazzi crazy. His large hand finds the small of your back as he leans down to speak into your ear, “I’m glad you could make it.”

Looking up at him, you notice the purplish bruise on his neck. It’s faded only slightly, so you assume there was a terrible attempt to cover it with makeup, or the marking was a few days old. Either way, you definitely weren’t the one who had planted it there. And yet, everyone would think otherwise.

Fighting the urge to tell him that you didn’t have a choice to visit his party, you only smile and ask that he bring you inside.

His house is packed with people, nearly all of them being A-list celebrities; you wonder how Jackson is able to live a lifestyle like this and how different he is from you. Sure, you enjoy being famous, but not all the time. For you, it’d be nice to do something as simple as take your dog for a walk without being swarmed with cameras. Jackson, on the other hand, made sure the press knew when he was going to the grocery store.

“Is Taehyung here?” You ask out of curiosity.

“Who?!” Jackson replies, yelling over the commotion of people.

“Taehyung! Kim Taehyung! I heard he was going to be here!”

“_____, baby, you know it’s rude to ask for another man when you’re at your boyfriend’s house.”

“You’re not my--” the metaphorical jazz music in your head stops playing for a moment, “I just...he’s my future co-star.”

Jackson completely ignores you, letting the arrival of his best friend captivate his interest. The rest of HEAVEN has gone about in their own way, leaving you alone in a crowd of people you don’t know.

It’s ironic. It’s so ironic to the point where it’s almost humours.

You vaguely remember something about Jackson saying there would be snacks in the kitchen, so you navigate yourself to where the food would be. You’ll relax after you’ve had a bite to eat, right?

Everything that had happened since the moment you entered the kitchen (exactly one hour ago) had been complete and utter shit.

To reiterate, Jackson did have snacks in the kitchen: Jello shots. Nearly every single flavor of Jello in existence had made its way into his home. You’re pressured into taking one, then another, but you stop at three because that’s when Jennie walks in.

“We leave our leader for ten minutes and she’s already getting drunk,” she snickered, “that’s not very responsible of you, now is it?”

“Ease up on ‘er, Jen,” Taehyung suddenly enters. His outfit is laid back and casual, all black except for a red bandana wrapped around his hairline. He’s even more handsome in person than he is on screen, but you still find yourself thinking of Namjoon; wondering what he was doing while you got tipsy off of Jello shots.

“The break just started, she has a right to let loose if she wants to,” Taehyung adds, now pulling you into a side-hug. “How’s my future co-star doing?”

A high-pitched, sarcastic laugh sounds through the kitchen. You immediately recognize it as Lisa’s without having to even look.

“That’s not gonna last long,” she states, hopping up on the marble kitchen counter.

“What won’t?” Jackson asks, who had only been a few steps behind her.

“The two of them being co-stars.”

You’re confused by Lisa’s words, but you don’t ask any questions. You instead wait and see where she goes with this.

“And why won’t that last long? _____ is an amazing actress,” Taehyung compliments, nudging your side slightly to earn a smile from you.

“Oh, I agree,” Lisa replies, “she is an amazing actress. But, doesn’t this movie involve a sex scene with the two of you?” Lisa shoots you a devilish glance, and it takes everything in you to not let your jaw drop to the floor.

You already know where she’s headed with this, and you can’t believe she’d even stoop to a level so low for the sole purpose of embarrassing you.

“Yeah, so? We’re both adults.” Taehyung says with an arched brow.

“If this is about me, I honestly don’t care that there’s a sex scene,” Jackson adds, “it’s all scripted.”

Lisa waves a dismissive hand in Jackson’s face, “No one cares about you. I agree that _____ is an amazing actress. But, oh...she’s still a virgin.”

A short silence falls over the kitchen, and Lisa still looks amused. You take a second to note that even more people have entered the room.

“You don’t need to have had sex in order to film a sex scene, Lisa. As Jackson said, it’s all scripted; we’re being told what to put where and what moves to make. Even I was a virgin when I filmed my first sex scene.” Much to your surprise, Taehyung had been sticking up for you the moment he had arrived at Jackson’s home, despite it being your first time to officially meet in person.

“Yeah, but she’s gonna have to fake an orgasm, right? You can’t fake something you’ve never had.”

There’s another silence, and even Taehyung doesn’t speak up to defend you.

Everyone is at a loss for words. Even you.

“I...that’s...wow…” Jackson sputters, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe the information he was given. “You’ve never had one? Like, not even from--”

“Oh, my God,” you cut him off and realize how foreign your own voice sounds.

This entire situation was childish, you felt like you were back in high school. There are tears threatening to fall from your eyes, you’re trying to figure out if their tears from anger or sadness.

“This is just…” you began, but can’t bring yourself to finish your sentence. Your anxiety is at an all-time high, the walls feel like they’re closing in on you and every glance in your direction feels like a judgemental one.

You exit the kitchen in a rush, and without a word.

With a house as big as Jackson’s, it takes you a while to make it outside. You search for your designated limo in the darkness and finally manage to locate it.

Your steps towards the car start to feel far too slow as soon as the paparazzi from earlier see you and immediately pick up their cameras. You keep your head down and try your best to not get blinded by the camera flashes, but that doesn't stop you from hearing all the questions and comments being thrown your way.

“Hey, _____ ! Why ya leavin´ so soon, babe?¨

“_____! Are the rumors true? Does Jackson Wang have a sex dungen in his basement?¨

“Where ya headed, dollface? Off to see a secret lover?¨

The last question sticks in your mind as you enter the limo, closing the door as quickly as possible to avoid the paparazzi.

“Are the other girls coming?̈ ̈ The chauffeur asks, starting up the car ́s engine.

“No, just me wanting to go back to the dorm a little earlier than expected. You´ll have to come back for them later; I´m sorry.¨

“It's not a problem” he glances at you through the rearview mirror, “it's what I'm paid to do, remember?” He adds a comforting smile to his words before driving out of Jackson ́s parking lot.

Once you're halfway down the street, it hits you that no one had bothered to follow you out from the party, or make any attempt to comfort you when you were obviously in an uncomfortable situation.

Though Jackson was tolerable at most time, he still wasn´t someone you were close with regardless of what the media thought. You definitely hadn´t expected your members to follow you out, but, you were hoping Taehyung would be a few feet behind. Maybe he would follow you all the way to the limo and even get in with you. The photographers outside definitely would´ve made a show of it and created some other type of dating scandal. But in the brief time you had gotten to know Taehyung, you´ve already figured a dating scandal with him wouldn´t be too bad, plus, Seokjin would love it; it´d make for great promotion in your upcoming film with him.

But, alas, no one had followed you out.

Shortly after ‘HEAVEN’ had debuted, it seemed as though the other members formed an unspoken cult to hate you. The reason being so is absurd, you try not to let it bother you.

But it’s hard putting on a ‘girl power’ persona in front of the cameras then going back to being high school enemies when no one was watching. It’s hard knowing the ones that should’ve been your best friends mentally rolled their eyes whenever you spoke yet faked a laugh on the outside.

And it’s frustrating how no one picked up on their bitter and petty actions towards you; anytime you brought up the members not liking you to someone, they always dismissed it or assumed you weren’t being serious. Essentially, you’re alone. It’s ironic and honestly a bit humorous that you were among one of the most famous people in the world and yet, there was not one person you could go to with all your problems.

But wait, there is someone: Kim Namjoon, your manager. Any problem you had could be brought to him, whether it be work-related or personal issues, he was always there.

So, you decide to call him.

Beside you is your Louis Vuitton handbag and in it is your small, pink Nokia cellphone. You scramble to get it out quickly, having to work out the numerous amount of lip gloss tubes you were able to stuff in such a tiny bag.

Namjoon is first on your speed dial, right above your own mother, and he´s the first contact you press on before bringing the phone up to your ear.

¨_____?¨ he picks up on the fifth ring, ¨Is everything okay? Are you still at Jackson ́s?¨

¨Nope, something happened so I decided to bounce,̈ you reply. There's a lump in your throat from trying to hold in a sob, so you keep your voice as quiet as possible to avoid Namjoon from worrying. He already has enough stress on him, he won't have much time for your childish habits.

̈ ̈What happened?¨ he asks, and you immediately regret there was an event that took place that caused you to leave.

¨Uh...someone brought in coke and everyone started doing lines of it,̈ you manage to lie. Sure, you could ́ve come up with something else, but this one was believable with the amount of celebrity house parties that was surrounded by some sort of illegal substance.

¨Oh shit, fuck,¨ Namjoon swears again under his breath, and you question if your lie was a little too believable. ¨Well it’s good that you left, but did you leave the other girls behind to? That won´t be a good image. You can´t just leave your members behind like that, it´s not a good look as the group´s leader. Next--¨

¨Namjoon, please,¨ you interrupt, because you already feel bad enough as it is, and being scolded by the only person you can trust right now isn´t how you planned for this night to go.

¨Are you…?¨ He doesn't finish his question and decides to sigh instead, and you do the same.

¨Just tell the chauffeur to bring you to the office, and let the front desk know you´re here for me, I´ll have the door unlocked for you, okay?¨

He doesn´t wait for a response from you before he hangs up, leaving you with no choice but to go see him.

You lean forward into the front seat and tell your driver that your original plans for the night had changed.

“Oh, _____! I wasn't expecting to see you here so l--”

“Tell Namjoon I'm here to see him.” You cut off the receptionists’ enthusiasm with your bratty attitude. You feel bad for so blunt with her, but you’re not in the mood to deal with anyone that wasn’t Namjoon.

Your handbag swings in the loose grip you have it in as you make your way to the elevator, and the price of it reminds you how hard you worked to be able to buy something like that with your own money. All the countless nights you spent, practicing your singing, dancing, and language skills just to make it all the way to the top, and be completely alone there.

It was so pathetic.

You call the elevator down with the press of a button as the receptionists alerts Namjoon of your arrival. The trip to his office is short, and you ignore any and everyone who had made an attempt at speaking with you.

You knock on Namjoon’s door twice, and a faint ̈come in ̈ sounds through the wood.

He's at his desk when you enter the room, slouched over, writing something down as his phone is pressed against his ear. You notice how the platinum blond of his hair makes his skin pop, as if he were a glowing. His all white outfit helps with the fact that you believe he was truly your guardian angel sent down by God himself.

Kim Namjoon was beautiful.

He looks up at you when he heard the door shut, and his eyes glimmer when you make contact. He can't help but smile at your current state, a hand on your hip with your handbag dangling in the other, pink cat eye glasses pressed up against your eyes while an evident pout was on your lips; you looked like a spoiled brat.

He beckons you over with a wave of his hand, making space for you to sit on his desk. You stomp the entire way there, Namjoon takes notice and forces himself to hold back his laughter. He's focused on this call, so you take the opportunity to lean over and see what he had been scribbling down.

Heaven cute comeback vs dark comeback ??

Contact suga regarding songs for comeback

Late fall / early spring

Nothing written down makes any sense to you, but Namjoon seems to know what everything means as heś finishing up his call.

“Yeah, I’ll set up a meeting over lunch with Suga. Yeah...got it,” he writes something else down, “alright bye.”

He hangs up the office phone, sets his pen down, and looks straight up at you. “You don’t look so happy,” he comments.

“I’m not.”

“That's fair, but first things first,” Namjoon reaches up to carefully slide the glasses off of your face, revealing the black mascara that had been running along with the dark circles that surrounded your eyes. “Why are you crying?̈” His voice is so soft and caring when he asks, you can cry again just from how sweet he is towards you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumble with a pout, staring down at your heels.

“Again, that’s fair,” he says, moving your legs slightly to access one of his desk’s drawers. From the cabinet, he pulls out a pack of facial cleansing wipes, and the fact that he has them doesn't surprise you in the slightest. It would explain his glow. “You’re gonna have to tell me at some point, though,” he takes one wet wipe from the pack before bringing up to your cheek, gently using it to caress and wipe at any leftover makeup until you were left completely barefaced.

“I’m crying because I´ve never had sex before.”

“Oh…”

“I’ve already told you a million times I want you to take my virginity.”

“_____, your virginity is a special thing.”

“Come on, Namjoon,” you groan, tossing your head back, “I’m twenty-one and you’re twenty-four; can we not talk about this as if I’m a child?”

“Then let's stop talking about it completely, babe,” ever so gently, he pulls you down only slightly to plant a kiss on your lips. As mad at him as you were, you can't help but erase all the angry thoughts the moment his soft lips collide with yours. You force yourself to pull away.

“Are you gonna give me more context on why you’re suddenly so upset about never being fucked?” He asks casually as he boots up his bulky, beige computer.

“No.”

“Okay then,” he smiles. You can tell he wants to know more, but doesn’t want to pry you for more information if you didn’t want to talk about it. Instead, he just watches his computer load up. “Have you eaten today?” Namjoon questions.

You think back to lunch, and remember that you, “had a salad for lunch.”

“That’s it?”

“Yeah.”

He shakes his head, sliding you a white container that had been hidden on the other side of his computer. “Eat up,” he says as you open the box to reveal a half-eaten cheeseburger. You stare at it for a few seconds without saying anything, causing Namjoon to roll his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you care about the fact that I ate half,”he says, typing his login information into the computer.

“No! It’s just...thank you,” you say picking the sandwich up and taking a bite out of it. Namjoon looks genuinely happy that you’re eating, you can tell by the way he’s staring, as if you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Are you gonna at least tell me why you wanted to go back to the dorms so soon?” he asks after a few minutes of silence, letting you peacefully eat your meal until you’ve finished.

“I was gonna cry for an hour then make myself orgasm since everyone seems to care so much,” you say honestly. Though it would probably take some time, you just wanted to get this “never-had-an-orgasm” mess out and away.

Namjoon is smart, so it only took him a minute to piece everything together and figure out what actually happened at the party.

¨I’m sorry, baby,” he says, putting a comforting hand on your thigh.

An idea forms in your mind the moment his hand makes contact with your thigh, and you call yourself a genius.

Placing your hand on top of Namjoon’s, you look at him for any type of response or reaction, but he doesn’t move; completely focused on his computer. Using your own hand, you move his up only slightly until his fingertips come in contact with the brim of your skirt. Still, he doesn’t react, and you grow frustrated.

You keep moving his hand until it’s on your inner thigh, and finally he realizes what’s happening.

He looks up at you, as if he were asking “you seriously wanna do this?”. Your response would’ve been “yes”.

Namjoon glances towards his door, aware of the fact that it was unlocked and not caring in the slightest. On his own, he continues the path up your skirt until his fingernail is lightly scratching at your clothed cunt, the delicate touch giving you the familiar sensation you had longed for.

He does this only for a few more seconds, eager at the fact that a touch so simple already has you soaking through your panties. And, speaking of panties, he slides them down only slightly, just enough for him to do as he pleases.

The pad of his thumb finds your clit, you try your hardest to keep your reactions to a minimum as starts to move it in slow circles. Namjoon changes his pattern every few moments, going from circling your bud to using his thumb to stroke it in a straight line.

His chin is resting in the palm of his free hand, and he’s watching you as if this entire situation was amusing. And, in his eyes, it really was. It was so easy for him to get you worked up; his words alone could make you wet. Namjoon wasn’t exactly the “secret lover” the paparazzi would’ve thought of (with him being your manager and all), but there really was no one else you could see yourself with.

There’s muffled talking outside of Namjoon’s door, and you’re suddenly snapped out of your daze. The talking continues on, and you’re worried whoever’s on the other side will be barging in unannounced in a matter of seconds. Even if Namjoon had completely removed himself from you in time, would you have a reasonable explanation as to why you’re sat on his desk? With your legs wide open? And panties on the floor?

Suddenly, you can’t even think straight; while you were in mild panic, Namjoon had slid a finger into you. Remembering there’s people right outside his door, you don’t allow yourself to make single sound. Namjoon is impressed with your actions, and his reward to you is a slow thrust. His long, delicate index finger does a stellar job at keeping you pleased for the time being. A second finger is added only seconds later, and you’re starting to feel stretched out.

The feeling excites you because maybe, just maybe, he was stretching you out to prepare yourself for him. His office isn’t exactly the place you imagined your virginity being taken, but you’ll settle for anything as long as it was with him.

The muffled noises outside is office are long gone, but you still limit the amount of noise you’re making. Especially now when his thrusts had gotten faster, and the look in his eyes had turned dark and full of lust.

A feeling forms in your neck, making its way up to your cheeks. You can’t find the words to describe it: like a tingling sensation with a little extra, and it feels so good.

“You okay?” Namjoon asks, noticing the change in your facial expression.

“Something feels...strange…” is all you’re able to make out.

“Where?”

Your hand taps on your abdomen, and you’re then aware of how weak your body feels. “Here,” closing your eyes, you reach up to touch the side of your neck, then your face, “and here. It feels good.”

Namjoon chuckles, automatically knowing what you’re speaking of, “It’s not a strange feeling, you’re about to have an orgasm.”

That catches your attention. “I am?!”

“Well,” he slides himself completely out of you, “you were. Not anymore.”

And, like you had felt earlier, there were no words to describe how you were feeling. Namjoon, however, seems like he just can’t stop talking.

“Remember earlier when you gave me the silent treatment? This was punishment.” He sets his attention back to his loading computer, watching the screen set up all of his important information.

“Maybe you finally get your reward if you act nice on your break.” He slides you a folded piece of paper, and written on it is everything expected for you to do while on your break. It was long and tedious, definitely a lot more than your members would be getting.

But, if Namjoon was going to make you cum as long as you did everything with a smile, you’d do the whole list twice.

#smutcentralnet #btswriterscollective #bts smut #bts imagine #bts scenario #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #namjoon smut #kim taehyung #kim taehyung imagine #jackson wang #blackpink #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenario #kpop smut

630 notes · View notes

lady-charinette · 5 years ago

Text

The traitors concept - BNHA

Okay, so I've seen theories circulating around Bakugou and Uraraka being possible traitors at U.A. (due to the connection between the Liberation Army and their hero costumes, so I..had a little idea)

----------------

The loud slam of the door made him fight that much harder against his chains and Bakugou's death threats were partly muffled by the cloth over his face. "MPFFHH! FU-MFF! ASSHMPF!"

Aizawa and All Might stood to the side, helplessly watching how their students were imprisoned. The former No. 1 hero raised his hands peacefully. "There must be some mistake."

The guard shrugged, securing the keys to the cells by a quirk morphing them back into his body, Aizawa's frown deepening. "There is no mistake, extensive research brought us to your school and furthermore to these two. We've tracked the company responsible for their hero costumes and detained a lowly ranked lackey with connections to the Liberation Army. They confessed they used the kids as spies."

All Might shook his head, his heart breaking at the sight of a livid Bakugou in the cell, thrashing against the steel bars of the reinforced prison cell.

Aizawa finally stepped in, eyes staring at the aggressive display of Bakugou trying to free himself from the reinforced restraints. "If you would have any experience in the field, you'd know a member from an organization suspicious of criminal activity would never outright confess of their crimes. Just who do you people work for?" Eraserhead's sharp gaze met the startled look of the guard, before the uniformed man straightened abruptly.

"I-I apologize Eraserhead, but that information is confidential. You'd have to ask the investigators involved in that case."

"Then give me the list of all involved in the case, including the names of the higher ups, I don't care how you get them, just send it to my office at U.A. as soon as possible." All Might settled a calming hand on his fellow teacher's shoulders, sensing the pro-hero's fraying nerves.

He scoffed, pushing himself off the wall and moving to look directly at Bakugou, who was panting from his efforts to escape his chains. " Bakugou." the boy turned his head to him, red eyes burning with rage. "I know you're angry, but you have to behave as long as they're keeping you here. Any outbursts or breaking of rules will be seen as confirmation of your involvement in this. Principal Nezu called a press conference, all the other teachers and students are working to get you two out of here." All Might was still talking to the guard, but his eyes glanced towards Bakugou and a look of hope shone in them, hope that he was sure he would get them out of this place.

That it was all a misunderstanding.

Bakugou's gaze fell to the floor until he nodded, jaw clenched tightly shut under the cloth. Aizawa nodded, something akin to sympathy in his black eyes. "You'll be out of here in no time, for now behave as best as you can." he looked to his right, where the only other cell was next to him. "And look out for each-other."

Bakugou followed his line of sight, ruby eyes meeting the cold grey of the other cell wall. He paused, as if only now remembering that he hasn't been the only one captured. Aizawa moved to talk to the other cell occupant while All Might finished his conversation with the guard. "I-I see, thank you for your time!"

The man bowed briefly but there was a dark frown on his face once the guard walked away to the door, waiting on the pro's to finish talking with their students.

All Might sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck before he too, kneeled in front of Bakugou's cell. "Young Bakugou, I know how this may seem, but I promise that Mr. Aizawa and I will do anything to clear up this misunderstanding!"

Bakugou loved and admired All Might, but in times like these, he preferred Aizawa's more direct, less sugarcoated words than All Might's hopeful ones. He admired the ability of his hero idol to make any situation seem filled with hope, but for now, stuck in this stinky cell with blasted restrains on him, Bakugou didn't see much hope here at all.

He only nodded and mumbled under his breath when All Might reached a hand in between the bars to affectionately pet the youth's hair. "Take care young Bakugou! We'll come back soon!" with those words, he too stopped by the next cell to talk to the other supposed traitor.

Uraraka had been the last person Bakugou would ever expect to be accused of such bullshit. He expected this shit more from the half and half bastard, he had to have something up his sleeve. Or the grape fruit guy, he was such a little shit. Maybe even Deku, if only because he had all his shitty notebooks and information on all of them and their abilities.

Bakugou growled, vehemently shaking his head.

No, despite everything, he knew none of his shitty classmates would've done it. This was the work of villains, and when he got out of here he would teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget.

Didn't the stupid police check on the League of villains or whatever they called themselves now? It made him sick, sick to the stomach that adults would think students were more potential criminals than the criminals themselves.

Nothing made sense.

"Hffpfh!!" Bakugou slammed his head against the bars, breath coming out in harsh pants as the rage boiled and stormed within him, his hands would've sweat like crazy had it not been for the stupid swear absorbing cloth they padded the stupid steel cuffs with.

There was a gut wrenching sob from the other side and Bakugou stilled, finally remembering that he wasn't the only one stuck in this damned place.

He hesitated, turning his head to stare at the grey wall.

Why the fuck did she have to cry in a situation like this?! They were just mistakenly captured, not dead!

"Mffph!"

More sobs.

"Mmffhh! Hmm!"

Still no response.

Bakugou thrashed, throwing his whole body against the bars before he fell to the floor, trying to removed the stupid cloth off his face.

He raised his feet up to his chin and tried to grab at the cloth with the heels of his boots, they'd left them mercifully on him.

Bakugou growled in frustration, trying and failing to grab the cloth securely.

He rolled onto his side, pressing his face harshly against the rough floor, concrete. The cloth caught onto one of the sharper surfaces and Bakugou shimmied and lifted his chin as high as he could to pull the cloth bit by bit off his mouth.

He finally succeeded but scratched his chin roughly on the concrete, cursing under his breath at the pain throbbing on his chin. "Fucking finally!" he huffed, raising himself back up on his feet.

The crying and sobs still echoed through the room and Bakugou couldn't take it anymore.

Before he could shout out a vicious threat, his teacher's earlier words echoed back to him.

'Any outbursts or breaking of rules will be seen as confirmation of your involvement in this.'

'...look out for each-other.'

Bakugou grumbled under his breath. How the hell was he supposed to look after anyone in his state?! Especially if Uraraka was in the other damned cell?!

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bakugou took a deep breath, missing the sparks of explosions in his palms as a strategy to tame his frustrations.

Once he got out of here, he would blow the faces off every damned asshole here.

"Hey..." His voice slightly echoed in the gray room, but no echo came back. "Hey..."

More sobs.

Bakugou growled. "Hey! Round face!" the sobbing stopped and he heard shuffling, before he finally spied a tuft of brown hair peeking forth from between the bars. There was nothing much else he could see. "Stop your whining already! It's making my head hurt!"

She sniffed before he heard the rattling of chains, probably her wiping her eyes from the tears that had started flowing ever since they got here. "S-Sorry..." her voice sounded hoarse and broken, so small, as small as he'd never heard her before.

Bakugou sighed, back leaning against the bars, head tilted to the side to try and catch a glimpse of his classmate. "Stop the fucking waterworks already, our good for nothing teachers will bust us out of here soon enough! And just wait until I get my hands on that stupid company-"

"Bakugou!" Uraraka's sudden cry made the blood in his veins turn to ice and the ash blond boy waited for her next reaction. "Just...just stop it. They-they think we are traitors! They think we'd betray our friends, everyone at U.A!" there were more sniffles and coughs, until she cleared her throat to speak. "I-I don't think we'll be getting out of here soon..."

Something like a hollow feeling etched itself into his chest and he grit his teeth in frustration. Why the hell did the girl who was friends with Deku, such a fucking gross sunshine herself, be this depressed?!

Bakugou growled, slamming the heavy metal of his cuffs against the wall. "Damn it! Stop saying shit like that! You know the little rat principal will clear this mess up! So just- just stop crying!"

Uraraka sniffed but gave no more sounds of herself, none that he could hear and Bakugou sighed, leaning his back flat against the wall, head resting against it.

Unbeknownst to him, Uraraka was in a similar position, sitting on the floor resting against the wall, with her knees drawn up to her face to muffle her cries.

#bnha #mha #traitor theory #bnha traitor theory #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero au #my hero academy fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #uraraka ochaco #possible kacchako #kacchako #bakuraka #katsuki x uraraka #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha uraraka ochako

82 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 4 years ago

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 35

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @thorsbathroomchicken, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @valkyrie-of-the-light

Don’t read this before Chapter 34 (posted yesterday) or this one will make absolutely zero sense lol

He sits on the edge of the tub; elbows on his knees and his left palm pressed to his forehead. Still clad in the same soiled; fabric damp and stained with a mixture of blood, sweat, mud, and grass stains. Right arm held across his chest, secured in a makeshift sling that had been created out of torn up old t-shirt. He aches; scalding, nearly unbearable pain that begins in the socket of the shoulder and spreads all the way down to his fingertips. A pounding, nauseating headache. Sore back and ribs; unable to draw in even the smallest of breaths without experiencing some kind of agony. His eyes are closed; the bathroom light even too much for his aching head to bare, and doesn’t even look up to acknowledge the soft creak of the door as it is pulled open. It’s quiet out in the main quarters of the suite, no Yaz or Mark and the incessant chatter of the latter. Curtains drawn tight, no even a sliver of sunlight making it into the room. She’s handled this before: the post concussion suffering.

“Get your dirty fingers away from your head,” she gently scolds as she stands in front of him, her fingers curling around his wrist and pulling his hand away. “The stitches are still fresh. It’s going to get infected. And you have enough problems right now.”

Her voice sounds…sad. And he hates that. He hates that he’s the one that has caused this. That she’s not only had to see him messed up, but that she has to be the one that renders care and aid. It’s a recurring theme over the past four years since he’d gotten back into the job; returning home with various injuries, having to rely on her to continue with the bandaging and the wound care, having to be completely vulnerable in front of her. The latter shouldn’t even be an issue anymore; after five and a half years, he would think he’d be perfectly comfortable with letting his guard down in front of her. You share a lot in that span of time; deepest and darkest secrets, brutally honest confessions, mind blowing intimacy. Yet a part of him still holds back. He still can’t seem to give a hundred percent of himself. Worried that his burdens and his suffering will be just too much for her to shoulder.

He feels her hands on his face; palms on his cheeks, and he keeps his eyes closed and allows her to gently turn his head up towards her. Fingertips tenderly inspecting the various wounds; carefully pushing hair out of the way to check the laceration that runs from the top of his forehead and back into his scalp. Softly pressing at the beginnings of a wicked black eyes, travelling over his nose. It’s not the first time he’s busted it. And it probably won’t be the last. Her touch comforts him; it’s soothing and loving. And he doesn’t feel as if he deserves either.

“Tyler…” she sighs heavily. “…what the hell happened?”

“That’s not important.”

“It’s important to me. You shouldn’t have been alone. If I’d stayed…”

“If you’d stayed, things would have been a hundred times worse. I sent you away for a reason. Don’t question it, okay?”

“Like you sent me away with Saju and Ovi?”

“That’s not the same thing and you know it.”

His hands find her hips, resting gently upon them. And when he feels the brush of her lips against his forehead, his palms slide around to the small of her back and he draws her in towards him, head falling forward to rest against her chest. Her palms still on the side of his face, thumbs rubbing against his beard, then moving a bit higher to brush against the middle of his ears. His never had hands like hers on him before; whether it be providing comfort and care or driving him absolutely insane with lust and need. Her touch is familiar but welcoming. Still able to make his stomach flutter and his knees weak even after five and a half years.

“I’m sorry,” his voice is muffled against her body. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Her hands move further back, nails lightly scraping against the shortest parts of his hair, then slowly moving upwards; until her fingers are pushing through the longest strands and loosely gripping. “For what?” she asks. There’s no judgment in her tone; no condemnation. And he doesn’t deserve that, her understanding, her patience. Her love.

“This. This whole fucking mess. For even getting you involved in it. I never should have called you that day. Asking you for help.”

“Would you rather it have been me coming here or a complete stranger?”

“You. But that’s not the point. I never should have gotten you involved in this.”

“I was already involved. The second you decided to do this. It doesn’t matter if I’m thousands of miles away from you, we’re still a team. I support you no matter what, even when we’re not on the same side of the world.”

Her hands drift down the back of his neck, eventually falling on his shoulders. Fingers and thumbs cautiously digging into the tight, painful muscles.

“You should have just said no. When I called you. You should have just told me to ‘fuck off’ and stayed with the kids. They need you. They need their mom.”

“They need their dad too. I didn’t make those kids by myself, you know.”

“You’re the one that did all the work. You’re the one that carried them inside of you. Kept them alive. You’re the one that spends all the time with them when I’m gone. They’d miss you a hell of a lot more than they’d miss me.”

“Now you’re just talking shit. Stop doing that. Stop downplaying the role that you have in their lives. The impact that you have. They adore you. They idolize you. You’re their daddy. Your role didn’t just stop the second you came inside of me. So stop. Please. Stop talking like this.”

“You shouldn’t have to be there. You shouldn’t have to see this. See me…like this.”

“I’ve seen you in a lot worse shape,” she reminds him. “A hell of a lot. Of all the people you shouldn’t be uncomfortable around, I’m at the top of the list. I’m your wife, Tyler.”

“Yes,” he smiles against her. “You are.”

“So then quit your bullshit and let me take care of you. You’d do the same thing for me.”

“I’m the guy. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“That’s not how this works. This isn’t a one-sided thing. So quit being so stubborn and just let me take care of you. Let me love you. Can you do that? I need you to do that.”

He nods, and she runs her thumb and forefingers along the edges of his ears, tugging gently when she reaches the lobes, urging him to look up at him. The light over head is blinding and agonizing to his tortured head, and he regards her through narrow, tortured eyes.

She smiles. It’s small. Soft. Reassuring. And she leans down to press feathery kisses over every inch of his face. Not caring about the dried blood or the dirt, lips travelling across his forehead, over his eyes and down his nose, onto both cheeks and then eventually his lips. A soft, long, sweet kiss that nearly takes his breath away.

“I don’t deserve this,” he says. “You. I don’t deserve you.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself, Tyler. I’m used to this, remember? How you live. This is your life.”

“No. You’re my life. Not this.”

“It’s okay,” she assures him. “If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t have stuck around for five and a half years. I never would have called you that night when we were separated and asked you to come home. This is who we are, Tyler. This is what we are.”

“That’s not how it was supposed to be. When we got married. This wasn’t supposed to be part of it.”

“Well, it is,” she says with a sad smile. “Until you’ve finally gotten it out of your system and you’ve had enough of this life. I’ll be waiting. For when you’re ready to finally walk away.”

“And what if I never do? What if I’m never ready? What if I never walk away?”

“Then we stick together and deal with that too. You’re not in this alone. And I won’t you to stop feeling guilty for bringing me into this. You’ve been holding onto that for five and a half years now. All that guilt. For what I saw in Dhaka and for staying with you in Australia. It’s time to let that go. Because it’s weighing you down. It’s weighing us down. I don’t hate you. I don’t resent you. I just love you. That’s it.”

He smiles, tears sparkling in his eyes.

“You need to stop being so hard on yourself all the time,” she presses a kiss to his lips. “If you could just see yourself the way I see you. You’re not broken. You’re not damaged. You’re a human being who has flaws and weaknesses just like the rest of us. I don’t think I could love you if you didn’t. Because it’s all those imperfections that make you, you. That made me fall in love with. That makes me love you more and more every day. I need you to stop doing this to yourself. For torturing yourself like this. Because I love you. And there’s no one else in the world I want to be with.”

He briefly tucks his lower lip between his teeth, then reaches up with his good hand, placing it on the back of her neck and pulling her down into a kiss. Nothing passionate or needy about it. Just a languid, tender kiss that he knows she’ll feel for days.

“Now come on,” she motions for him to stand up. “We need to get you cleaned up. You’re a mess,” she places a hand under his good arm, encouraging him to stand. “Are you dizzy? You’re not going to fall over on me, are you?”

“Not dizzy,” he confirms. “I’m fine.”

“Well try and give me some kind of warning if you’re going to faint. Because I need to get out of the way or you’re going to crush me.”

“I’m not that big,” he grins. “I’m not that heavy.”

“You’re more than a foot taller than me and you have about ninety pounds on me. If not more. So yeah. You are that big and you are that heavy. Here…let me help,” she uses his good shoulder for support as she climbs onto the edge of the tub, standing behind him long enough to undo the knot holding the sling in place. “…careful…” she says as she once more stands in front of him, frowning at the pained expression on his face; the simple chore of removing the fabric even causing him agony. “…is the doctor sure it was just dislocated?”

“That’s what he said. But without x rays, it’s hard to know for sure. Fuck…” he bites down on his bottom lips as pain shoots through his arm, having to support it; hand coming up to cradle his wrist, effectively keeping the shoulder in line. Sweat beads across his forehead. His breathing is ragged. Face a sickly gray colour.

“Just breathe,” she says, and tosses the sling onto the countertop. “Isn’t that what you always say to me?’

Tyler nods.

“Do you feel sick? Do you need to throw up?”

He shakes his head. “I’m okay.”

“If you need to puke, use this…” she dumps the trash from the small bin next to the toilet onto the floor. “…because you look like you might puke. We have to get this off,” she tugs at the bottom of his t-shirt. “Maybe sit down. Because it’s going to hurt like hell and if you pass out, at least you don’t have far to fall.”

“I won’t pass out,” he argues, but still takes a seat on the edge of the top.

“You nearly passed out watching Millie be born,” she reminds him.

“That’s different. That was…gross.”

“Weird how you don’t get violently ill or you don’t pass out impaling someone’s face with the end of a rake, but seeing your own child brought into the world almost brings you to your knees,” she teases, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t even try and use your right arm. Pretend it doesn’t even exist. Just use your left and I’ll help, okay?”

He nods, eyes closing, his good hand assisting her with lifting the t-shirt up and over his head. A string of profanities escaping his lips when he’s forced to raise both arms over his head to finally get it off the entire way.

“Good?” she inquires, as she tosses the piece of fabric into the corner. “Are you good?”

“Yeah…” his breathing is laboured, the sweat on his brow and at his temples more prominent now. “…I’m good.”

“Drop your pants,” she instructs, and even in his pained filled state, he can’t help but smirk.

“Normally that would turn me on hearing you say that, but…” he’s grimacing as he gets to his feet once more.

“I’ll forgive you…just this once…for not pitching a tent at my expense,” she helps with his belt buckle, button and zipper and then moves to start setting up the water for the shower. “Don’t pass out,” she warns, as she adjusts the cold and hot water. “You want it artic cold or hell fire hot?”

“Somewhere in between, I guess,” he’s able to his jeans and boxer briefs down with one hand, then resorts to kicking them off his legs and using his toes to push his socks off. “And I already said I’m not going to pass out. I’m fine.”

“You’re far from fine,” she argues, and when satisfied with the temperature of the water, begins peeling off her own clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“The easiest way to help you is to get in there with you. Am I supposed to leave my clothes on? Don’t worry, Tyler. I won’t take advantage of you in your weakened condition. It’s not like we’ve never seen each other naked before. Are you suddenly shy?”

“No. I just…I don’t know…I’m…like this…hurt….”

“Listen, I was with you in a hospital when you still had to use a catheter to take a piss. I’ve had to help you to and from the bathroom on many occasions when you were finally released and were at home recovering. I’m capable of seeing your dick without getting turned on, alright?”

“Maybe I want you to get turned on. That can’t exactly happen when I look like this. Blood. Dirt.”

“Baby, you’re insanely attracted regardless of what you’re covered in. As sick and twisted as that sounds. How does your mind always go there? Into the gutter? Especially when you’re like this. You’d think it would be the last thing on your mind.”

“I’m a red-blooded male. If my mind doesn’t go there, it means I don’t have a pulse.”

“You’re impossible,” she huffs, and then draws back the shower curtain and steps into the bed. “Well…come on…” she offers her hand.

He grins. “You gonna scrub my back.”

“Maybe,” she says with a wink. “And maybe some other things too.”

****

“Yaz says there was a problem with comms,” Nik says, as she and Esme chat via FaceTime. “That why he wasn’t able to warn you guys that someone was coming.”

It’s five thirty in the afternoon; curtains still drawn across the windows, late afternoon sun refused entrance. She sits in bed with her back resting against the headboard, laptop perched upon the tops of her thighs. The television on but the volume on mute; every so often glancing up to check the headlines that run along the bottom of the screen. Two empty room service plates and the accompanying cutlery on the nightstand next to her side of the bed, along with various bottles of prescription meds that Yaz had picked up earlier, and two bottles of water. Tyler sleeps soundly beside her; on his stomach; his good arm tucked under his pillow; face turned towards her. Snoring lightly, those impossibly long, dark eyelashes skimming the tops of his cheeks, a slight smile curving his lips. Pain free, at least for now.

“Everything was working ten minutes before. I talked to him over the radio. I even sent pictures to his SAT.”

“He thinks someone jammed the signals. Once you go back outside.”

“Whoever was in the car?”

“That’s his best guest. We have someone keeping an eye on the police system. As soon as they’re able to identify who these guys are…were…we will know. They’re dead. All four of them. There was no one left alive.”

“Except for Tyler,” Esme points out.

“Yes. Except for Tyler. Thankfully.”

“How did they even know we were there? We were careful Nik. We watched our backs, kept an eye out for each other. There was no one following us and no one watching us. So how…”

“There may be some kind of surveillance at McMann’s house. Or even in the bunker. Maybe even some kind of alarm that was silently tripped when Tyler broke the lock on the storm cellar. Once it’s dark, I’ll send Yaz and Mark to get a look at things. Just so you know, McMann is livid. That the two of you went there. He’s out for blood.”

“Well you tell him that I’m kind of livid too. Tell him I’m just slightly pissed off that my husband could have been killed because of his twisted suck fuck of a wife. Tell him that. And while you’re at it, tell him he’s more than welcome to come here and have the balls to say what he has to say to my face. Fuck him and his threats, Nik. And fuck him for ever getting Tyler involved in this.”

“I know you’re upset. I know…”

“This goes beyond being upset. I want to know how the hell his wife was orchestrating all of this right under his nose? Was this all some kind of set up? Did he know about? Is he in on it? We need answers, Nik. We deserve answers. We’ve been busting our asses to find those kids and we’re no further ahead now than we were then.”

“I know,” Nik sighs. “And I’m just as frustrated as you.”

“Are you? Because you seem pretty damn calm. Why don’t you try getting some answers out of him? Because he isn’t giving us any. He’s been lying to Tyler right from the get-go. All he wanted was for Tyler to come in and start a war within the IRA and take the heat off of who is really behind his kids going missing. Well fuck that, Nik. I’m not letting him…or you…use my husband as a pawn. Enough with the games. Do you realize how bad things could have ended today? What if Tyler hadn’t been able to fight them off? What if there’d been more? What if…?”

“Asking what if solves nothing and you know it. I’ll get answers from him. I want them just as bad as you do.”

“If I had my way, we’d be leaving on the next flight out of here. I’m sick of this, Nik. This life. I’m sick of Tyler doing all the dirty work. Of him being the one you always fall back on. Isn’t there someone else you can be obsessed with? Someone else from your past you can pine over?”

“Esme…” she sighs. “…that’s not what this is about.”

“When will you just let go? Of him? When we’re married ten years? Fifteen? Twenty? I’m not going anywhere, Nik.”

“This isn’t why I contacted you. To talk about this. To argue about this. I know you have a hard time accepting the fact that Tyler and I have history, but…”

“You were fucking him. Don’t romanticize it.”

“…but you need to get over it. He chose you. He married you. You have kids together. If you don’t realize how much he loves you by now…”

“This isn’t about Tyler, Nik. This is about you constantly testing boundaries. I thought we were friends. I thought I could trust you.”

“You can. We are friends.”

“So that’s why you’ve propositioned him? Twice?”

Silence.

“You honestly thought he wouldn’t tell me? We don’t keep secrets, Nik. Not even the ones that hurt like hell to confess them. Can you not respect me and my children enough to just leave him alone? I don’t expect you to stop being friends with him. I don’t expect him to stop working for you. But can you not stop trying to break up my family? His family? You’d think you’d be happy for him. You saw him at the lowest of lows. So you’d think you’d want him to have a normal life.”

“I am happy for him. And for you.”

“But not happy enough to not try and get him back in your bed?”

“Esme, I don’t know what you want me to say. I hate that this is becoming such an issue between us. I mean, it’s been there. The elephant in the room. We were doing so good. For five and a half years. We mended things, we became friends again, I’m the godmother for your twin boys. But lately it’s gotten out of control. You’ve gotten out of control. You’re jealous and possessive and…”

“I’m jealous and possessive because I don’t want my husband becoming someone’s side piece? Are you being serious right now?”

“It will never happen. He loves you too much. And he loves his kids. He’d never do anything that would risk losing his kids.”

“It’s not Tyler I worry about. It’s you. I want you to just let this go, Nik. I want you to let him go. We’re trying to have a marriage here. We’re trying to raise kids. And this tension you bring? It’s not good for any of us. Especially the kids. I’m asking you…no, I’m begging you…to let go of this notion of you and him. I need you to do that. Can you at least try? Can you just see him as a friend and nothing else?”

“Of course I can. You’re both my friends. And I am sorry. That this is so hard for you. Knowing that there’s a past between Tyler and me. But you’re his present. And his future. That alone should cement things for you. He chose you. He could have told you to fuck off after Dhaka and leave him alone. And he didn’t. Do you know how happy he was? When he came out of the coma and he saw you there? Do you know what that did for him that you were the first person he laid eyes on? Esme, you saved him. In every way possible. You gave him a reason to keep on when he wanted to give up. There is no one…and I mean no one…that could ever love you in the way he does.”

She glances down at him as he sleeps; boyish and peaceful looking. His features softer. No worries or fears or demons plaguing his mind. At least for now. And she uses her forefinger to gently push his hair out of eyes; the swelling starting to subside under the left, the bruising started to show.

“How is he?” Nik asks.

“He’s resting. I’ve been waking him up every couple of hours, just to make sure he’s okay. But he’s peaceful. Right now, at least.”

“Has he said anything to you? About what happened?”

“Not a word. Just that he had to do what he had to do. He said there was four of them. And that he killed them. All of them.”

“Did he say how?”

“No. I mean, he had the Glock on him, but I never heard any shots. And I would have heard those. Whatever happened, whatever they did to him, he’s pretty messed up.” She rattles of the list of injuries, and the names of the various medications that the doctor had prescribed him.

“Well just keep an eye on him. Knowing Tyler, he’ll want to be back at things tomorrow. He needs a couple of days at least. I can have Yaz and Mark continue working on things in regard to tracking the kids down and getting more information out of McMann. Be careful, Esme. Like I said, McMann is out for blood now. Tyler’s blood. And if he has to, he’ll go through you to get it. Stay safe and locked up in that room if you have to. Tell Tyler the same thing.”

“I will. We’ll be careful, Nik. I promise.”

“Did he tell you anything about the girl he found?”

“No. And I don’t think he wants to.”

“Probably for good reason. Tell him we’ll talk tomorrow, and he can fill me in then. In the meantime, just take care of him. And each other.”

****

She feels him stir against her when she leans over to place the laptop on the floor; a thick, muscular thigh rubbing against hers, followed by the faint rustle of sheets as he changes positions in the bed. And when she looks over her shoulders, he’s flat on his back; brow furrowed, a frown as his face, as if he can’t remember where he is, or he got there. The traffic jam, as he calls. So many thoughts and memories jammed up there, all competing against each other for his attention.

“Hey,” she greets. “Look who’s awake.”

He presses his palms into his eyes in an attempt to clear some of the cobwebs, grimacing at the pain that kicks off in his right shoulder.

“You okay?” she asks, as she places a hand on his stomach and leans over him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yeah…I think so…. what time is it?”

“Just a little after six. PM.”

“What?” those frowns in his forehead deepen, his frown becomes larger. “Six PM? What the hell…” he attempts to sit up using both of his elbows, then lets out a loud ‘fuck’ and collapses onto his back, clutching his right shoulder.

“Jesus, Tyler,” she sighs. “Can you not hurt yourself even more?”

“I forgot…about the shoulder…” he speaks through gritted teeth. “…shit…fuck…”

“Here…” she places an arm behind his back, and with the aide of his left elbow is able to get him into a sit. “…that okay?”

“Yeah…” he nods. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his breathing his ragged. His body very much feeling the damage that had been done to his body earlier, and the side effects of the medication he’d taken before drifting off. “I’ve been asleep? All that time?”

She nods. “I’ve been waking up every couple of hours. Just to be on the safe side. And I’ve been checking to make sure you’re still breathing every now and then.”

“Were you disappointed that I was?” he teases. “Still breathing?”

“No. I was pleasantly surprised. I’d miss you if you weren’t around anymore. How are you feeling?”

“I’m…confused…”

“About what?”

“What day is it?”

“It’s Tuesday. Why?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your date? That was Tuesday, wasn’t it? Or am I imagining things? Did I imagine that? You having a date with some other guy? Please tell me I was imagining that.”

“It’s not a date. It’s a ploy. To get information. But yes, that was today. But I said something came up and I asked for a rain check. So I could stay here with you and take care of you.”

“I bet that just broke your boyfriend’s heart. Did he cry?”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” she pecks his cheek. “You have any pain?”

“A bit,” Tyler admits. “My head is killing.”

“Do you want some of your meds? The doctor says you can take up to eight a day. If you need one…”

“No. I don’t want to take anything. I take enough. I’m fine.”

“You have to stay on top of the pain. Or else it’s going to be too much and…”

“I’m fine,” he insists, then smiles. “But thank you.”

She settles down next to him, turning her body into his, arm across his stomach, head on his chest. And he wraps his good arm around her, his palm softly stroking her arm.

“Thank you,” he says once more, and drops a kiss on the top of his head.

“For what? The blow job in the shower? I bet that’s what helped you sleep so well.”

He grins. “Yeah, that was…nice.”

“Just nice?” she pouts dramatically. “That’s insulting. Way to hurt my feelings.”

“It was better than nice. Way better than nice. None of the nurses I had in the hospital ever did that for me.”

“All your nurses were elderly women with hairy lips and unibrows,” Esme points out.

“You made sure of that. Didn’t you. That I wouldn’t get any hot, young nurses. You wanted to be the only one giving me sponge baths and helping me to the john. And giving me blow jobs behind the curtain.””

“I can’t believe you even remember that,” she blushes and buries her face in her chest. “It was only a couple of times.”

“Excuse me? It’s was several times. And we did other stuff. When there was like a month left before I was released. What are you so embarrassed about?” he chuckles, and runs his hand over her hair, settling it on her lower back. “It was hot. Insanely hot. Worrying about getting caught? That just made it even better.”

“That seems like forever ago,” she muses. “It’s only been five and a half years. Millie’s going to be six. She’s going to be in school full time. The twins will be half a day. So you’ll just be stuck at home with me and Declan every day.”

“And the new baby.”

“There isn’t a new baby. Yet.”

“Not for lack of trying. And there could be. It could be why you haven’t been feeling well.”

“Tyler, let it go. I am not pregnant.”

“How would you know? You haven’t even taken a test.”

“Because I know my body. I know how I felt before I found out about the other three pregnancies I’ve already been through. This is not the same. This is stress and worry and being homesick. This is not a baby.”

“Well we could make one hundred percent sure either way if we just got a test and….”

“Tyler James, I swear to God. Let it go. Why are you in such a hurry to get me pregnant? What’s the breeding kink you have all of a sudden? You turn forty and this is what it does to you?”

“It’s not a kink. And it has nothing to do with how old I am. I just…I don’t know…it would be nice. To have another kid. One last one.”

“You said that about the twins, too. You were one hundred sure you didn’t want any more when I had them and then low and behold…”

“In all fairness, I never said I wanted another one when you got pregnant with Declan. You were on the pill. We were being careful. It just happened. So I actually did stop at the twins. It’s your body that decided it wasn’t finished it. So if you should be blaming anyone, it’s yourself.”

She sighs. “You’re insufferable.”

“I just think it would be nice to have one more. It’s not a kink. It’s not because I’m getting older. It’s because I love you and I love having a family with you. It’s my legacy. They’re my legacy. I want to leave something behind that carries on my name.”

“You have three sons already that will always have your last name. So…”

“It just would be nice to have a big family. That’s all.”

“We already have four. How big do you want it be?”

“I think we agreed we’d have one more. So why are we arguing about this? I don’t want to argue about this. About anything. I’m just saying, if you would just take a test, we’d find out for sure if you are. That’s all.”

“You know, just for you, because I love you and because you’re annoying the shit of me, I will buy a test and take it. Okay? Does that make you happy?”

“Yes. It always makes me happy when I get my way.”

“You really are an insufferable shit head,” she laughs, and kisses him, then tucks her head into the spot between his neck and his shoulder.

“Well you knew that when I asked you to marry me and you still said yes, so what does that make you?” he presses his lips to her forehead, then drops his head back and closes his eyes. The pain is excruciating; spreading over the entire side of his head where the wound is, the stitches feeling impossible tight and stiff.

“I think it was a smart decision. You’re not the easiest person to live with, but I think I’ve mastered it. And I like having you around and I’d miss you like hell if you weren’t, so…”

“I’m stuck with you.”

“You’re stuck with me,” she confirms.

“There’s way worse fates than being stuck with you, that’s for sure. And we make really cute kids.”

“Yes,” she smiles. “We do,” she rubs his stomach softly, then slides her hand up to his right shoulder…the bad shoulder…and uses a fingertip to trace the roman numeral tattoo that graces his skin. “Tanner told me to tell you that he loves you and misses you.”

“Holy shit, you mean it only took him four years to acknowledge he has another parent?”

“Listen, Mister Rake. You’re already the favourite of the other three. Let me be the person one of them at least loves the most. Give me that much. I spent seven and a half months of sheer hell baking those twins, the least you could do is give me one of them all to myself.”

“Nope. Sorry. I kicked in all the good genes. And for the record, I did all the work while making them.”

“Oh bullshit! You have a very different recollection of when they were conceived than I do. It took all of like five minutes. Ten at the most. You were loaded that night. Like fall on your ass drunk. I’m surprised you could even get it up.”

“I could get it up with just a stiff breeze in the room. And you weren’t complaining at the time, were you. No. Did I get the job done? I got two jobs done. I got you off and I got you pregnant. We could say three jobs if we take into consideration I knocked you up with twins.”

“If you say super sperm, I will punch you in the side of the face and give you matching black eyes,” she warns, the nestles her face into his neck once again. Pressing a kiss to that short, yet thick scar. That one that will forever serve as a lasting reminder of the day she’d nearly lost him. “You scared the shit out of me,” she says.

“Are we talking about Dhaka or…”

“Well obviously Dhaka. But today. It felt like hours went by. Until you came back to the car. And then I saw you bleeding and torn to shit and…”

“I’m sorry,” his hold on her tightens, his hand resting just above her right buttock. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What happened, Tyler? What did they do to you? What did you do to them?”

“It doesn’t matter, okay? All talking about it will do is upset you. And I don’t want to upset you so…”

“At least tell me what did this,” her fingers gently locate the beginning of the freshly stitched wound. “You don’t have to give me any other details. Just that one.”

“Esme…”

“Please?” she pulls back to look at him. “Tyler…please…just give that at least.”

He sighs. “It was a shovel. One of those garden ones. The metal kind.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious?

“Just the edge of it caught me. Not that whole thing. That would have knocked me out.”

“Or killed you.”

He nods. “I killed two of them. With it. The shovel.”

“You have a fetish for gardening tools or something?”

He can’t help but chuckle at that.

“How’d you kill the other two?”

“Broke their necks. With my bare hands. I did what I had to do. To get back to you. I had to make sure you were okay. That you were safe.”

She places a hand on the side of his face, fingertips pressing into his beard, encouraging him to look at her. Then she smiles and presses a kiss to his lips. “What did you see? When you found that Erin girl?”

“I’m not talking about that. You don’t need to know.”

“It was that bad?”

He nods, then swallows down a lump of emotion sitting square in his throat. “It was that bad,” he confirms. “And I knew, if we got caught there, if you got caught there, what they did to you would be a hundred times worse. And what happened to her? That was horrific. So if they got their hands on you…” he shakes his head, draws in a shaky breath. “…if would have been so much worse and they would have made me watch and…” he has to stop in order to compose himself. “…and I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want you going through that.”

“Tyler…” she whispers, and then pecks his lips before climbing into his lap. A knee on either side of his hips, her hands wound around his neck. “…what did you see?”

“I can’t,” he shakes his head. “I can’t tell you. Because I know how worse it would have been for you. And I know they would have made me watch and when I think about that…I can’t…I just can’t…”

She uses her thumbs to clear the tears off of his cheeks, then draws his head down to her chest. “It’s okay,” she says, her fingers combing through his hair. “It’s okay now.”

He nods in agreement, then wraps both arms around her waist. Not caring about his injured shoulder or the pain that shoots through him.

All he wants to do is hold her. Forever.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fiction #tyler rake fan fic #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character

11 notes · View notes