#why could he not drop the last syllable like everyone else in his family

[stray-kaz]

Three Day Hire : a Leo Grande x reader FF : seven + epilogue

18 and up, y’all.

Sunday morning, you were slow to get up, slow to get ready and slow to eat breakfast, scooting the bacon and eggs around on your plate until they had turned cold and virtually inedible. When you left the dining room, your luggage was already waiting for you, Leo’s leaning up against it. It all looked small and inconsequential, even though it had been witness to some of the more memorable memories of your lifetime thus far.

Leo carried most of it to the waiting car, bearing the brunt on his shoulders, much wider than yours were, physically and psychologically. Looking back at you sitting on the porch steps, he saw how lost and sad you were, compared to the semi hopeful girl you were when you arrived, hand in hand with him. He remembered his first day with you and wished he could rewind the time and do it over again with you, just to get the details right and make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

“Hey, baby.”

You looked up at the sound of his gentle voice and smiled sadly.

“Hello.”

“So sad, beautiful girl.”

You shrugged and let him help you up off the step and down onto the drive. He slung his arm over your shoulders, tucking you into his side.

“Hey!”

You stiffened against him and he glanced over his shoulder, frowning when he saw Millie pacing quickly towards him, her eyes like two bullets trained on your back.

“You didn’t say goodbye” she accused, reaching out to pull at your shoulder. “You said goodbye to everyone else but not me. Why is that? Why do you look like a kicked puppy this morning? Did the king of sex break up with you or something? Look at me!”

You spun, fists clenched, but Leo got there first. Eyes hard as jade, voice lowered, he got right in her face, his body crowding hers. You watched him, awestruck and gratified.

“Millicent” Leo growled, dragging out every hated syllable. “Drop it. Let it go. She doesn’t want to look at you, okay? With any luck, she’ll never see you again. Goodbye. It wasn’t nice to meet you.”

She stared up at him, eyes wide and gulping like a goldfish. Without another word, he turned on his heel and took you to the car, making quick note of the fact it was the same one from the club night. He held the door open for you and then climbed in after you, slamming the door shut.

“Thank you for what you said” you said quietly.

Buckling his seatbelt, he glanced over at you with a faint smile.

“You’re welcome. It might have been a bit much, I admit, but -”

You shook your head, cutting him off.

“It wasn’t” you assured him. “I’ll be quite happy never having to see her again.”

He nodded and you shuffled over to lean your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as the engine growled to life and Reginald drove away, leaving the holiday home in a cloud of dust.

Leo was prepared for the flight home, now knowing your fear of flying, and was holding your hand the second your seatbelt was secure. You kept your eyes closed until the plane was in the air and all you could see was white and blue.

“I’m sorry your stories about your sister were true” Leo told you, pressing a kiss into your hair. “I’m sorry she doesn’t love you the way you should be loved.”

You nodded against his shoulder.

“Does anybody love anyone how they should be loved?”

Leo fell silent, thinking about that. It occurred to him that you were probably right and that maybe you were a little bit wise, and even braver than he was for admitting it. Maybe there was a little bit of Gryffindor in you, too.

To your surprise, Leo followed you into the same cab when you left the airport.

“Aren’t you going home now?” you asked, puzzled. “You have no more obligation to me anymore, the weekend is ov-”

He kissed you to shut you up, pressing you back against the car door.

“I’m following you home” he murmured against your mouth. “On the house. This is all for me. And all for you.”

Half an hour later, you were crashing through your bedroom door and falling onto your bed, unmade from the last time you slept in it days ago, comfortable and familiar, silver and white. Leo’s hands were up your shirt, but he didn’t bother undressing you this time, instead just pulled your underwear down, along with his shorts and underwear, and tipped you over onto your hands and knees to face the headboard, skirt still on.

You arched over and dug your hands into your pillow, shaking as he entered you, the stretch as sweet and earth shattering as you remembered from the previous two times it had happened. Leo pushed the hem of your skirt up and out of the way so he could see what he was doing, his grasp on your hips tightening as his snapped against you, making your thighs tremble and your breath hitch, your eyes closing against the pleasure.

You cried out on his name so many times over and over, the letters blurred together into a mess. He tapped the same blackout spot again and again, until your mouth opened on a silent scream and he held you up against him until he came with a whisper of your name and collapsed with you in a jumble of limbs and too many clothes.

And then when he was sure you were okay and breathing normally again, in the heavy afterglow, he told you about his life, the real one that had morphed into this new, shiny cover story he didn’t let anyone see behind. You held his hands as he told you about his mother, what she had seen, and how she had forced him out of his home and named him dead. And he told you his real name.

As the light started to change out the window, Leo dressed and walked to the door, shouldering his backpack and gripping the handle of his suitcase. One hand on the doorknob, he turned to look back and blew you a kiss.

“Goodbye, baby” he said quietly, peacefully.

And then he opened the door and closed it. Gone.

Epilogue : 4 months later

You had never felt more anxious in your life. You paced in front of the door to your flat, wondering for the fiftieth time if you were making a mistake.

You had booked Leo again, but had given no indication what for. Nevertheless, when he knocked, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you opened the door and let him in. He kissed your cheek and closed the door.

“It’s nice to see you again” he told you, smiling. “I wasn’t sure I would. You’re just as beautiful as I remember.”

“So are you” you replied, and facepalmed yourself as Leo laughed.

He put his backpack down, crouched and started to unzip it, but you stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and he looked up expectantly, hesitating.

“I didn’t book you for sex” you said quietly.

Leo stood up and looked down at you.

“So why am I here?” he asked, puzzled.

You took a deep breath and lifted your shirt, turning side on so he could see the swell at your belly.

“Wha-?”

He stepped back and stared, starry eyes wide.

“How...how far along?”

“Four months” you said shyly. “I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but then I realised you deserved to know.”

You could almost see the cogs turning behind his eyes and you were about to tell him not to worry, you’d be fine on your own, when he took a step closer and held out his hands.

“May I?” he asked.

“Of course. Go ahead, Leo.”

You nodded and he placed his hands tentatively on either side of your bump. An expression of surprise came onto his face and you waited, watchful.

“It’s so hard and so soft at the same time” he said, awed, as he traced your skin with his fingertips.

You giggled a little and covered his hands with yours.

“It’s a boy” you said softly, and fixed your gaze on his.

Leo stared again, not sure what to say.

“I would like to name him Connor, if that’s all right with you” you said slowly, your voice steady. “That name deserves a fresh start.”

With trembling hands, Leo cupped your face and brought his lips to yours, tender, pouring out, grateful.

“I would like that” he murmured against your mouth. “Thank you.”

“But I need you to know you don’t have to stick around. I can do this.”

He shook his head, his nose rubbing against yours.

“He’s my son. He’s my responsibility.”

“But you don’t -”

Leo kissed you again then, stealing your breath and your words.

“We will figure it out, baby” he told you, grinning. “My job’s a little unusual, but we’ll make it work. So...your place or mine?”

Tagging: @fineanddandy​ @slippinginto-theairwaves

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read to the end! This story fulfilled itself in ways I didn’t expect, and the ending? You can thank Daryl McCormack in The Randomer for it. I am a sucker for a man with a baby. Keep your eyes peeled for a Christmas themed Leo x reader oneshot, featuring baby Connor.

[onlyfreds]

He's a Simp | F.W.

Title: He's a Simp

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: Fred is a simp when it comes to Hogwart's most popular girl: Y/N L/N

A/N: This is absolutely the first time that I wrote the whole fic through Fred's POV.

(Fred’s POV)

“Finally!” George said as he hopped off the couch, stretching a bit, “What took you forever? I’m starving.”

I rolled my eyes at him, flipping him off, “Don’t be overdramatic. I only took five minutes.”

George scoffed, “Whatever, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

The two of us then headed down to the Great Hall then we sat down next to Ginny.

“What took you two so long?” She asked as she took a bite out of her toast.

“Oh nothing.” George said, filling his cup with pumpkin juice, “Fred just wanted to make sure that he looked good for his favorite girl.”

I felt my cheeks heat, “I did not!”

“Yes, you did!”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did!”

“I did not!”

“Can we at least eat breakfast first before you two argue?” Ron said impatiently, cutting off the argument.

“Who’s Fred’s favorite girl anyway?” Harry asked.

Hermione looked at him, “You seriously don’t know?”

Harry shook his head.

“His favorite girl is none other than Y/N L/N.” George said, teasingly nudging my shoulder.

Harry still looked confused, “Who?”

“Miss Popular!” Ron said through a mouthful of food.

“She’s the most intelligent.” Hermione said.

“The kindest, the sweetest, the prettiest, the hottest, the sexiest and the most amazing person in school.” I said, smiling dreamily.

“Aaw.” Ginny cooed, “Look at that, Freddie’s in love.”

George chuckled, “In love? He’s whipped for her. He’s basically a simp!”

“And, here she comes now.” Hermione said with a small smile.

As if on cue, Y/N came in with Angelina and Alicia.

At that moment, the world seemed to fall into slow motion, the way her eyes seemed to almost disappear behind her smile. Her laugh was a tune that came straight from heaven.

I wondered what it would be like if I made her laugh, if I was the cause of her laughter.

I wondered, as I always did, what it would be like to hold her, hug her, kiss her, love her so freely and openly to show the whole world how lucky I am to have her in my life. To call her mine.

I felt Ginny gently tap my chin, “Fred, you’re obviously gaping at her and you’re literally drooling.”

I could feel the blush rising up to my cheeks as I wiped the spit off my chin.

“Seriously Freddie.” Ginny said, smacking Ron’s hand away as he tried to reach for her toast, “Why don’t you ask her out? She’s really nice.”

George snorted, almost spewing his pumpkin juice on Harry, “Ginny, before Fred could utter a single syllable in front of Y/N he would’ve already melted just by looking at her.”

“Yeah.” Hermione said with a small giggle, “Fred would do absolutely anything Y/N would tell him.”

Harry laughed, “That’s how much he’s whipped for her.”

“Mate, he’s practically wrapped around her finger.” Ron said.

Harry leaned forward, “You better get a move on mate. Before someone else beats you to it.”

--

George and I were walking back from the library, having finished researching for one of my products when I heard someone calling me.

“Hey Fred! Wait up!”

I turned and my heart skipped a beat when I saw that Y/N was the source of the voice.

“H-hi, what’s u-up?” I asked, praying that the blush could only be mistaken for the heat.

She gave a small smile, handing me a book, “Here, you left this in the library.”

I took the book from her, “T-thanks.”

She nodded, “I’ll see you around.” Then she headed back inside the library.

George nudged my shoulder teasingly, “Aaw, somebody’s a simp.”

I flipped him off, “Who wouldn’t be? Just look at her.”

He tried to reach for the book Y/N handed me, but I swatted his hand away, holding the book close to my chest.

George scoffed, “You really are obsessed.”

--

News about the Yule Ball traveled around Hogwarts spread like wildfire. Now guys were asking their dream girls left and right.

Ron was planning on asking Hermione, Harry was too late for Ginny and George had already asked Angelina.

My only problem: How was I supposed to ask Y/N L/N?

I was walking back from the owlery when I overheard a conversation from a bunch of guys I didn’t know.

“Mate, do you already have a date for the ball?”

“No, I was actually planning on asking Y/N.”

“You’d be one lucky guy to date her.”

“She’s literally the girl of my dreams.”

“Come on, whoever gets to marry her. I would be so jealous of.”

My hands immediately clenched to fists at my side as I walked away from the group.

My thoughts were so clouded that I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry.” We both said at the same time.

I looked up and my eyes met the y/e/c ones of Y/N.

“Sorry.” I apologized sheepishly, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

She gave a reassuring smile, “It’s fine. I was just heading to the owlery.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I had just gone there.”

Y/N was already halfway up the stairs when an impulsive and possibly rash decision made me call after her, “Hey Y/N!”

She turned around, “Yeah?”

“Will you go to the ball with me?” I asked, immediately regretting my decision and started to brace myself for rejection.

But she just smiled, “I would love to.”

My eyes widened, thinking I’ve misheard her, “Come again?”

She giggled, the sound similar to angels singing, “I said that I would love to go to the ball with you.”

I grinned, “Thanks. I’ll pick you up at eight?”

She nodded, her beaming smile never seemed to leave her lips, “Sounds brilliant.”

I walked back to the common room with a spring in my step, not believing my luck that out of all the people in this school, I was Y/N’s date to the ball.

“Someone’s in a good mood today.” George said.

I grinned, “How couldn’t I be Georgie? The sun’s shining. It’s a beautiful day.”

“Come on.” Ginny said, suddenly interested in the conversation, “We know there’s something going on. So just spill it.”

I smiled, leaning back on the couch, “I asked Y/N to the ball.”

“And?” Ginny and George said in unison.

“She said yes.”

“Yes!” Both of them said, doing a little celebration dance along with the chant, “She said yes! She said yes! She said yes!”

It was honestly the best day of my life.

--

Christmas couldn’t come any faster.

Next thing I knew, I was already standing at the end of the staircase by the Great Hall.

I fiddled nervously with the end of the jacket the dress robes came with, hoping that Y/N didn’t back out last minute.

I then heard soft footsteps growing louder and louder with each passing moment.

“She’s beautiful.” I heard Angelina say next to causing me to turn around.

My jaw literally dropped when I saw her. She looked like a goddess dressed in a y/f/c gown that fell a bit past her knees with her hair tied up in a half-up half-down look. Giving a shy smile when she saw me staring at her.

“You look absolutely gorgeous.” I said, when she arrived at the bottom of the stairs.

Her cheeks were suddenly painted with a tint of rose pink, “You look quite dashing as well.”

I offered my arm to her, “Ready to party?”

She giggled, taking it, “Absolutely.”

Everyone was looking at us when we entered, I saw George give me a thumbs-up from afar.

--

We were taking a small break after dancing the night away. Having a drink in a secluded part of the hall.

“What are you doing on the arm of a Weasley, L/N?” An, obviously, drunk Adrian Pucey calls out.

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she answered, “Why? What do you care?”

Pucey gave a drunken laugh, “Shouldn’t you be on the arm of someone better? Like me?”

I was ready to go and teach the guy a lesson on manners when Y/N placed a hand on my arm, “Are you trying to make me laugh Adrian? Whoever told you that you were better than Fred Weasley is talking dragon dung. And I would rather skip the ball than not be on Fred’s arm. So, if you excuse us, we have to go.” She said, dragging me back into the Great Hall.

“I’m so sorry about that.” She apologized, “Pucey could be such a prick at times.”

I paid no attention to her apology, “Do you really mean it?”

She gave me a confused look, “Mean what?”

“What you said. That you would rather skip the ball than be someone else’s date?”

She blushed, “Yeah.”

I couldn’t believe what I heard; has she been waiting for me to ask her this whole time?

“I’ve actually fancied for such a long time.” She admitted, fiddling with a stray strand of her hair.

Have I actually died and this is already heaven?

Y/N was stunned at her sudden confession and started to ramble, “Oh Godric, I’m sorry. I just made things so awkward. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I mean, of course you won’t feel the same. Why would you? I could be so annoying at times and I’m not even that pretty. Besides, I’m sure there are other girls that are way in your league-“

She wouldn’t let me speak, so I did the only thing I knew to shut her up: I crashed my lips onto hers.

I rested my hands on her waist as she rested hers on my shoulder.

Once our lungs started to demand for air we pulled away.

“Will you let me talk now?” I asked.

Y/N looked up at me, cheeks painted red, “Yeah. Sure.”

“I love you too.” I confessed, “You did not make things awkward, you made it feel like I was in heaven. You are the prettiest, the hottest, the sexiest girl I have ever laid eyes on. My whole family teases me for being such a simp for you. I am so whipped that I would gladly do anything you ask me to do. So, now all those have been sorted out, will you give me the honor of being your boyfriend?”

She giggled, pressing our lips together in a brief kiss, “That’s the best thing I would ever be: Fred Weasley’s girlfriend.”

There was no denying that Fred Weasley is a simp for Y/N L/N.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

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[ihopeineverloseyou19]

DELUSION

"Strange how we decorate pain" Margaret Atwood

Tw: minimal abuse is mentioned, cuts and some bruises too

Words: 2k

It was a strong word to spell out for him. It was one of the words they assigned Aaron to spell out in the contest, the teachers had chosen him to represent his class. He didn’t understand why. Out of everyone in his class he had nothing special that made him stand out from the rest, he loved reading wherever he could, away from his parents fights, but spelling, spelling was not something he considered himself good. Words were something he could get lost into on his way to middle school. Not something he was good at speaking out loud. 

Abuse.

The last word to spell, the three syllables where the only ones separating them from winning his competitors, Aaron felt the pressure settle into his chest, looking out towards his classmates he saw that they were cheering softly for him. Well, not for him, they were not his friends, they only wanted to win, because Mrs.Logan had promised cookies for everyone if he won the spelling contest. Again, he wondered why he was up there, it was Sunday morning, his family was supposed to be in church. He was supposed to learn new prayers between the time they were out of the house if he didn’t want to be punished when they came back. 

Abuse.

 One word he had trouble with. He stuttered, his eyes firmly locked into his father's cold look. Although he didn't learn the damage that world would do to him. He didn't know very well what it meant. Never really paid attention when Mrs.Logan was explaining it, because who would hurt someone else for their own pleasure. That for Aaron was inhuman, something he did not understand. Some of his classmates spoke behind his back, when he was changing from his gym clothes, back to his hoodies, even when the temperature was getting warmer that’s all he wore. That’s all he had. 

But like his mother explained to him once when he was changing and he complained about the harsh way his father had grabbed him when he failed his spelling exam weeks earlier. He did it out of love. Aaron questioned her then why his father didn't touch him the way he touched her, with love, he had so much love for her. He didn't understand then why his mother's eyes filled with tears as she said that 'he wouldn't like his touch'.

It wasn't until one morning that he saw his mother trying to fill up his father's coffee, it slipped from her hand dropping the warm beverage into the floor just as his father came walking down stairs, dressed in his tailored suit, ready for the day. His father's eyes darkened when he saw the mess and grabbed Aaron's mother through her shirt, he was watching attentively how he would show her his love. He had never had the luck of observing it. His mother squirmed from his touch, a sharp slap was thrown into her way, before his mother pleaded at him to stop 'Aaron is looking' His father's gaze followed him and let her out of his grip 'get me another one ready' as he took a seat at the kitchen table. It was so strange for Aaron, to see his father seated there, that he decided to take the chair next to him, he didn't know better so he just asked him what was on his mind 'why don't you love me like mum,dad?'.

His father turned to look at him, smirking at his kid, 'one day Aaron don't worry about it kid'. His response had been enough to have his mother quickly appear in the kitchen, the mug on her hand, he took it, drank the liquid and left, his mother quietly followed him, the last thing Aaron heard before the door closing was another plead 'Adam he is just a kid he doesn't know what it means'. What he didn't see was a bruising kiss followed by 'it might be the time to show him' 

It was a promise that his father would get through him, slowly he would break him the same way he broke her. Aaron didn't know it at the time but he was going to feel his love sooner than he thought. Back then he didn’t know that someone loving him would hurt so much. 

One Monday his father had driven his mother to the hospital in the middle of the night. He got him changed in some pajamas, the first ones he found and finished in the ER. He was accompanied by some nurses while his mother was being taken care of. His father had an attorney present in the room. He never knew what was doing with his best friend while talking to the doctor.

From what the nurses told him, he lost a little brother or sister. He didn't feel sad. The thought of sharing his mother was not appealing for him. His father didn't care too much, 'there were enough mouths to take care off' he had grunted that on the way home. His wife was discharged with a warning, if they finished in the hospital in the same state and marks on her skin the police would be involved. She would have to pass more than the necessary time in bed. Aaron never visited the ER again.

She took his love as best as she could when she was better, closed her bedroom door wherever her husband entered the house, she had to keep his oldest one apart from him. Apart from his touch as long as she could, she could take them. And she did, Aaron complained that his father didn’t spend enough time with him as he did with her, his mother reassured him that they were just talking about the future, that he didn’t need to be worried. She had learned early enough in her marriage that the word ‘no’ did not have any meaning for her husband. Until one day that she couldn’t anymore, she ran away for a few days, with Aaron by her side, to her fathers house. 

They didn’t stay long, one week, one week without his father. His grandpa was not as nice with his mother as his father was, he was mean with her and demanding in ways his father had never been. So at the end of the week Aaron took his mother's cell phone and called his father up. Telling him the exact location of where they were staying, his father came a few hours later. Beggin for his mother to come back to him, pleading her that it ‘would be different’, he would learn to appreciate his wife more. And he did, he spent more time with Aaron even played hide and seek with him, they were happy. His father was happy. He looked to be complete.

His mother gets pregnant again. This time she checks it at the doctor instead of telling her husband first, she takes the necessary measures, of taking it up with her neighbors and when his husband comes home she presents him with four new ultrasounds. He was happy about the pregnancy, he even took her to every appointment they had to go to, took the liberty to explain to Aaron that he would have a brother or sister, someone to play with.

Sean had been a loud baby, always crying and craving attention. His father loved him in ways he didn't Aaron. Sean was the perfect child. He ran and liked all the sports his father approved of. Aaron contrary was not so happy that his father was not as enthusiastic with him. Never. No matter how many prices he won or his straight A's perfectly in all the school subjects. After Sean everything changed, his father changed and Aaron was the only one suffering the consequences of his moods.

 He was forced to go to the basement at nights, a new way his father found that kept him from drinking. His mother was more at ease since Sean was growing up as a healthy baby. Never going down to check on him wherever his father finished taking out all his rage inside. Aaron thought that deep down his father didn’t like Sean that much, that might as well be why he was taking out his anger with him. He kept in mind that he was his favorite now. It was his time to have his fathers love. Solely for him, that made him happy, the bruises and cuts were a side effect from a love that was so powerful that only could hurt him. He learned to live with it. And accept that he was the chosen one to make his father feel better. Somehow Ms.Logan's explanation of abuse didn’t correlate with how he was feeling it. 

It was not until his father died and his mother forced all the family to go to see a therapist. That Aaron understood the true meaning behind that word, it had nothing to do with love. His parents had decorated the word all his life. Wherever he asked his mother, his friends advised him to talk to the school counselor about the bruises they had seen in gym class. They denied that word. It could not be spoken out loud in his house. He should have known the time they were driving back from the spelling contest that his father told him. ‘Your teacher is totally confused, abuse is equal to love, your mother can collaborate it’

 The human body replaces its cells every seven to ten years. Aaron likes to think that there will be a moment in his life where his body is not going to be contaminated with his father's hands. By his father's love, or what he taught him to be. Biology had helped him comprehend everything a little more, he could put to practice how the bruises healed, the cuts closed and the physical love his father left behind disappeared, he knew how his body healed, because he could see it happen. He could not wait until his fathers love stopped. His mother was right, he would not like it. 

 Years later Aaron found himself in the same theater he won the completion. This time it was his turn to be in the audience watching Jack proudly as he spelled word after word correctly, like they had practiced last night and so many before since he came home bearing the news. 

Then in a moment he felt the familiar sensation when he heard that word that had changed the meaning of his entire childhood. The same one he found out the real meaning when his therapist asked him if he had suffered it. His breathing changed while the word was sounding out of the speakers, feeling the room and parts of him stop. The word that unknowingly dictated his whole childhood. That word has the power to paralyze people. Specially him.

Abuse.

Jack spelled it perfectly, he had no idea why when they arrived at that particular word his mother would have to take over the encouraging yells. But he did notice when he paid attention, his grandma's hand forcefully grabbing his dad's and his uncle Sean smiling, but somehow it didn't reach his eyes, not like when he was spelling the other words. Something about this one was different. 

He came back with a little trophy. His mother had already hugged him and was talking to his teacher animatedly so he ran towards his remaining family. They had promised him that he would choose the restaurant if he won, and he did. His grandma told him there, 'your father had won it too'.

Jack excitedly turned towards Aaron who was already looking at him, 'did grandpa took you out to celebrate it too?' Aaron didn't really want Jack to know how his father had tainted his childhood; the three adults surrounding him made a pact when he died. To never let Jack find out. It only would hurt them more. It was strange how they would always decorate what nearly broke them down. 

[slowpoke-fics]

Coming Undone | Mate Series

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Derek x Reader

Summary: Things are still heavy and a surprise visitor shows up

Warnings: violence, anxiety, soft!reader, angry Derek, I know for a fact I might be missing some, people are different and warnings vary, as always please read at your own risk.

A/N: Previous Chapter | four | Next Chapter

Remember this is a pack family AU because it could've been so good and it will be so good under my writings because I need feel goods

The secret was out for better or worse.

Derek realized the wolves were still growling, Scott still growling just not sure at who-you or Derek. Derek set you down, turning in front of you, and now protectively guarding you, growling at the wolves. His own betas backed down, but still standing defensively. When Stiles noticed that Scott wasn't backing down he got in front of Scott, grabbing him by his shoulders. "Dude, chill, bring it back," Stiles pleaded, "it's fine we're all friends here." Scott shook his head and looked at Stiles, his eyes dimming as dismissed his betas, whispering in shock to Stiles, "You knew?"

Derek growled protectively, Malia was still up in arms. "Malia, it's okay." Malia growled at Scott, glaring at you, "Malia, stop." Her eyes flashed blue, a challenge to you and a stand against Scott. Derek was guarding you, but Malia found your eyes, stepping forward and holding her eyes a steady blue as she roared.

You got angry, you've never hurt any of them, you've never done anything to put them in danger, you've come to think of all of them as family. You could feel your control slipping away, the betrayal that you feel from your pack awakening anger you'd not felt in a long time. Malia let out another low growl, causing your walls of resolve to fall.

You stepped out from behind Derek, claws slowly descending as your eyes lit up, still connected with Malia's. You took a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control, but lost it all when Malia started to move. Before she was able to make a full step you growled at her, shaking yourself to your core.

It was the first time in a long time you'd been able to release that much emotion as a wolf. Your roar matched Derek's, shaking the windows and walls. Malia cowered at you, taking in the rage that came from you. You calmed down when Malia's put her claws away, your breath out of control and heavy. Malia was still reeling, still on edge after your display of power, "Someone explain something, right now."

You were shaking, Derek could sense it all, your power, fear, shame, guilt, anxiety, relief, need, love. He was on fire, overwhelmed with his own inner turmoil as well as yours. He feels you cry out silently as Stiles reaches for you, and Derek snaps at him, growling and causing Stiles to jump back. "No."

Derek turns to really look at you, tear soaked face, puffy eyes, rattled and shaking. His eyes finding where he'd cut you, a rush of guilt filling him. He placed his hand gently on your arm right above where he had clawed you. Sighing, and turning to the pack, "Stay put." He looked back to you, his hand around you and on the small of your back, "Come, mate."

Your feet peddled for you, following close next to Derek as he pulled you into his bathroom, having a spare shirt he handed it to you and turned around. "I would like to have you rub off your lotion shit, I'll teach you how to block your scent-huff-I'm surprised-huff-please, mate," he sounded desperate, handing you a rag, "take it off." You wet the rag, slowly rubbing off the lotion and drop or two of blood off of you. When you went over the blood, Derek's eyes ignited, "I'm sorry about that." You shook your head, "No, it's fine, it's the least I-" Derek huffed again, "Don't say it." He heard you put his shirt on and turned around. Looking at you in the light he could tell how irritated your eyes were, how puffy your cheeks became, how pale you looked, how scared you really were.

He started mindlessly scenting you wherever he could, so you'd smell like him, trying to comfort you. "Why?" He asked you, still gently scenting you, letting you scent him as well. It was peaceful. "Why hide from me?" He asked again, this time in a lower tone. "I was scared, it's a long story, I'm sorry." You started tearing up again, one falling from your eye and Derek quickly looked you in the eyes, wiping it away. "There's no need for that. We're confused but you're part of our pack." You were shaking again, Derek could sense the fear, no the terror, coming from you. He pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around as much of you as he could. "It's going to be okay," he sighed, petting your hair, "and as much as I just want to hold you," a deep breath in, "you have to explain it to us, you have to right now. I know you smell them, hear them." You whispered to him, spilling fresh tears, "They hate me." Derek rocked you, speaking softly, "No, they don't, I promise." He shook his head again, "Stilinski knew, Stilinski!" He laughed, deep and full. God, you thought, that laugh will be the end of me. You giggled a little, causing Derek to kiss your forehead, asking, "You okay now?" You wiped your eyes, nodded and let him pull you out of the bathroom.

"I can't believe you knew!" Scott is playfully teasing Stiles, "How long? I tested her! Did anyone else know?" Scott looked around and you spoke up from behind Derek. "No, Stiles helped me look for my mom." Scotts face when from playful to sorrowful, stepping towards you, your fear shot up and Derek growled at Scott. "Man, calm down I'm not going to hurt her!" Derek growled again, your fist twisting in the back of Derek's shirt tighter as Scott raised his voice. "Don't tell me, tell her," Derek spoke softly, the pack now focusing on your demeanor and how it's changed. You're standing behind Derek, taking protection in his large frame, hand twisted in his shirt keeping him close to you, eyes puffy from crying, fear coming off of you. Scott and the pack take a step back.

"I didn't mean to scare you," Scott says softly, "I-I just." You stopped him, still hiding behind Derek, "It's not your fault, I didn't just hide my scent because I'm a wolf, I'm a soft wolf, I don't like this yelling and fighting" you took another deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You shook your head as you spoke, "This violence. It's hard for me." Scott studied you, wondering how much all of this troubled you and you never said anything.

"I knew that you would be hurt, but I am scared, you don't know my story, or where I came from. I'm scared, I'm not-" you huffed, wiping a tear away, "I'm scared. I'm not bad." Everyone softened, Stiles approaching you, Derek seeming to allow that as Stiles pulled you down the stairs, Derek following right next to you, and sat you at the table.

Derek stood behind you, hand placed lovingly on your back, but you could smell him radiating anger, feel it. Had you already accepted him as your mate?

Malia was first to speak, as she sat down, "So what are you?" You laughed, "I'm a born wolf, last of my line." Malia flinched, curiosity and sympathy coming off of her. "You're the last of the Sun Crest Pack," you heard Peter breathlessly from the doorway. Every person in the room turned to face him, Malia the only one without claws out, Kira even has her hand on her sword, ready to attack. Derek and Scott have moved in front, now growling at Peter.

"How did you even know to come?" Derek snarled, claws out. "Your commotion was heard around the state, I was worried, and then, oh man," Peter breathed, flinging his arms pointed at you. "I smelled her, and that- that's not a smell you forget." Derek growled, jumping at Peter a little. Peter stood defensively, now with his claws out, eliciting half the pack to cautiously move towards Peter. The other half to you for protection. Your essence dripped with anxiety and terror, every person in the room aware of it, none more than Derek. Everyone in the room connected to you enough to stand between you and whatever Peter had planned.

Stiles is beside you, holding you as you struggle to think. His right arm gently wrapped around you, left hand petting your hair. He knew that you didn't like any of this, this true anger. He knew how easy it was for violence to panic you, you were his best friend as much as Scott was. "Make them stop," you whispered, Stiles barely hearing you, petting your head, but Derek was focused on you as much as he was Peter. Knowing every stroke of Stiles hand, every tiny tremble your body had, every hard breath in, every heartbeat.

And sweet, sweet, Derek didn't miss a syllable.

[reidgraygubler]

lonely moonlight (spencer reid/reader)

Title: lonely moonlight

Request: no

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: angst (w/ maybe the tiniest bit of fluff); songfic

Content Warning:  thoughts of wanting to cause harm, verbal arguments, mentions of divorce, intrusive thoughts, talks about abortion, mentions of bad mental health, ptsd (?), mentions of anxiety, mentions of needing to get help, someone walking out on their partner, pregnancy, mildly ooc spencer, post prison!reid, swearing (if any) (if i missed anything or something needs to be tagged, please message me and i’ll add it)

Word Count: 6,694

Summary: spencer left his partner and ends up regretting it. 

A/N: howdy partners! This is for @badthingshappenbingo​ (more about that later), blocking off the rejected apology square on my card (pictured at the bottom). this is very loosely based on the song lonely moonlight by ryan ross! this was something i don’t usually write. it’s probably the most angsty fic i’ve ever written... and it’s a little more on the “darker” side. please pay attention to the content warnings, and again if i missed anything, please message me! thank you everyone for the love and support on my other works!! check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

The days following up to me leaving were bad. I wondered if that’s what it was like for Aaron and Haley. Although, there were different circumstances between the two of them. Same with David and all 3 of his wives. But, who am I to compare my problems with my superiors and their problems. Although, their wives left them… Not the other way around. Not like how I left you.

I should have stayed. We could have figured everything out. But I left. I think it’s because I got scared and didn’t know how to talk to you. And the reason behind why I got scared is a valid reason… I wanted to cause harm...

“God! This is so ridiculous!” you shouted from across the living room. I watched as you looked around the room, at all the piled up books and files. “I just do not understand you!” Your shout was louder than before, causing me to flinch slightly.

“I don’t know what you want from me!” I returned the shout, watching as it was your turn to flinch. “What do you want!?! Huh!? You know I can’t read your mind!” I stared at you. I wish I had noticed you were crying before I yelled.  But that didn’t stop me… 

“Spencer!” The way your voice shook didn’t bother me. But what did bother me was the way my hand started to ball up. It scared me. I took a step back, pressing my body against the wall that was closer than I originally thought. 

I looked at you before I stormed out of the living room and out of the apartment all together. The sounds of your light footsteps followed behind me, and your faint voice calling out my name. I didn’t stop though, even as you begged me to stay. I couldn’t stay though… Not when I wanted to cause harm to someone I loved. 

So, I left.

{***}{***}{***}

I looked down at the file in hand, reading over the case we just returned from. You didn’t come with. It wasn’t the first case you missed, and it wouldn’t be the last. Everyone ignored how awkward and uncomfortable it was in the room where we sat to talk about our cases.

“Hey, Reid,” Luke’s voice pulled my eyes from my case and to look up at him. He nodded towards the door to the bullpen, causing me to follow his gesture. 

You were there, walking in like you knew what you wanted and that you were going to get it. I stood up and watched as you walked in more, scanning the room. Our eyes met and I dropped my shoulders as you walked towards Emily’s office. I tossed my file to my desk and practically ran up to you. I nearly tripped over my feet as I met you at the steps to the cat-walk.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Spencer,” you kept your voice low and your head held high. You didn’t even bother to look over at me. 

“Please, just a minute. Two minutes. And then you never have to talk to me… again…” I tried to hold my ground but failed when my words broke. My throat and lips nearly betrayed me, closing as the last few syllables failed to come from me. “Let me explain myself,” I whispered, looking at you. If I spoke any louder, I’d fear my voice would crack, forcing me to crack and become a ball of emotions.

You stopped right in front of Emily’s office and looked at me. You looked right at me… I honestly can’t remember the last time I remembered you looking at me, and not right through me. It was well before our last fight, and even before we even started fighting.

“I don’t want to talk to you. You lost that chance when you left,” your tone held authority. I was left speechless as you stepped into the office, shutting the door in my face. Emily closed the blinds, leaving me to wonder what the conversation would be about.

I sulked back to my desk and lowered myself down to my seat. I kept my eyes on the closed-off room, waiting for you to leave. I didn’t want to miss what could be my last chance in ever talking to you again.

“How’d it go?” Luke asked as he appeared beside me and my desk. I sighed, glancing at him, taking my eyes off the door for a brief moment.

“She didn’t want to talk,” I whispered as Luke leaned against my desk. He was also looking at Emily’s office. I tried not to slouch, but it was so hard when it felt like a weight was on my shoulders, weighing me down.

“I don’t blame her,” Luke whispered, resting a hand on my shoulder. I swallowed roughly and closed my eyes. 

“Thanks for that, Luke,” I muttered before pulling my shoulder away from his touch.

“Is she talking to Emily?” Penelope’s voice caused me to open my eyes again. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“You knew she was coming?” I looked right at Penelope. She was standing beside Luke and looking right at Emily’s office. Jennifer and Tara joined us, standing on the other side of my desk.  

“You were the only person she didn’t tell, Spencer,” Jennifer looked at me for a moment. She looked at me like I was the last person she wanted to be around. I didn’t realize you two were so close. You told her everything, and I knew it would come back to bite me in the ass. “In fact, you’re the only person here she doesn’t want to see right now.” her tone was cool, and still. And, it made me feel like the bad guy. To be fair… I already felt like the bad guy.

“There’s no need to point that out, Jennifer,” I muttered, picking up the file and looking over it. I tried my hardest to keep focus on the file, but it was so hard when everyone was around me, looking at Emily’s office.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” Penelope whispered, wrapping her arm around Luke’s before resting her head on his shoulder. I swallowed roughly and looked over at the door before looking back at Jennifer. She was looking at me, her lips pierced together in a thin line. She was angry and there was nothing I could do to make her not angry. 

“Could be anything,” Tara returned. I tried my hardest to keep from rolling my eyes. But I so obviously failed.

“I heard she was transferring,” Jennifer looked away and at Tara. That was it. You were officially leaving and transferring out of the BAU. All Jennifer had to say was that you were leaving and I knew it was true. Again, you tell her everything. So, that’s why you were here… 

“That’s not true! She can’t leave!” Penelope protested. I let out an annoyed sigh. “She... She has to stay! She’s a part of the family!”  she continued. I almost wanted to snap at her. But, I wasn’t angry at Penelope. No, I wasn’t even mad at you. I was mad at myself.

“She told me that she was. Who knows what Emily is going to tell her.” Jennifer shrugged. I could still feel Jennifer’s eyes on me. Like her eyes were lasers boring a hole into my head.

“I hope wherever she transfers to… She enjoys… I’ll miss her a lot,” Tara walked around to her desk, finally leaving me alone. Now I just need everyone else to go. 

We sat in silence, staring at Emily’s door. I couldn’t help but feel my stomach bubble with too many emotions. I wanted to excuse myself to go to the bathroom, but the door to Emily’s office opened and you both stepped out. You guys shared a few more words before you looked over at the group watching for you. 

“We were just… Talking,” Penelope smiled at you. I wanted to glare, but I knew I shouldn’t direct my anger at her. In fact, I couldn’t direct my anger anywhere. It was my own fault you were leaving.

You looked away from the group before walking away from Emily. You walked over to my desk and the group of people around it. Our friends. Our family.

“Just talking to Emily about a few things. That’s all,” you whispered. A lie. You didn’t want to tell everyone that you had put in for a transfer… No, what will happen is we’ll all show up to the office, and your desk will be empty, clean of your stuff. “I, uh, wish I could stay. But, I’m having coffee with someone and I don’t want to be late,” you pressed with a fake smile, trying to convince us all you were fine, even though we all knew you weren’t fine. 

“You can’t leave,” Penelope looked at you with wide eyes. I could feel my heart rate picked up as I looked up at you. “We aren’t a family if you leave.” she continued, her voice pleading to you. You looked at Jennifer, clearly annoyed that she told everyone that you were leaving.

“Penelope,” Jennifer started, her tone warning.

“Now really isn’t the time, Pen… I seriously have to go. I can’t be late,” you looked at her and shook your head. The look on your face was incredibly apologetic and I knew you were sorry for everyone but me. “I’ll see you guys later,” you flashed everyone a smile before turning to leave. “Goodbye,” you mumbled as you looked at me one last time.

I sighed, dropping my shoulders, as I watched you leave the BAU for the last time. My eyes stayed frozen on the elevator doors as they closed, and I could feel a familiar wetness rolling down my cheeks. 

{***}{***}{***}

I’ll have to be honest, this isn’t the first or last day I’ve spent sitting in my office at home, regret filling my head and my heart. The sunset made the room look golden and the rays shone off the various reflective surfaces. 

I needed a change of scenery. My apartment, office, and BAU offices were starting to drag me down emotionally and mentally. All places that reminded me of you. So, I packed a book and other things and went to the nearby park… Which is where we’d gone on many picnics.

Why would I go to the park as the day turned into the night? You know, I’m not sure. I just needed something different and the park was the best thing I could think of. It was walking distance and I knew no one would be there to bother me.

That was until I saw you.

You were walking beside Jennifer on the far side of the park. Henry was running around, playing with a remote control car. Michael was sitting on your hip, his head resting on your shoulder as he slept. And something about that looked so natural to me. If I had known you were here with Jennifer and her kids, I wouldn’t have come. I swear. 

I kept my head low as I walked towards one of the park benches on the far side of the park. With my book in hand, I continued to pretend that I didn’t see you and prayed that you didn’t see me. I don’t know why I didn’t just leave and go to a different park… It was the familiarity of this one that made me feel safe. Or, maybe it was the chance of you seeing me, and wanting to talk.

“Uncle Spencer?” A young boy’s voice asked as a fire engine red remote control car hit my feet. I closed my book and looked up to see Henry standing in front of me.

“Henry,” I smiled at him. I closed my book and placed it back in my bag. “What are you doing here?" I asked, pretending that I didn't see his mom, little brother, and you. 

"Mom brought me," he smiled as he looked over towards Jennifer and you. "She wanted to talk to…" he trailed off the end of his sentence, not wanting to say your name. Jennifer and Will didn't tell him about what happened between us. But he was old enough to know. Considering any event we were both invited to, we avoided each other like the plague. I’m sure he thought it was weird that his aunt and uncle (his god-parents) stopped talking to each other and ignored each other every chance they had.  

"That's nice," I felt my smile falter as I nodded, "Is this the race car your dad got you?” I asked, keeping my eyes on Henry. He smiled and nodded as he picked up the car.

“Yeah, mom said I could bring it with while they talked,” he looked down at the toy. I smiled at him and nodded. “It doesn’t go very fast though,” he looked back up at me and pouted. 

“I’m sure you could make it go faster. With upgrades.” I smiled at him as he placed the car back to the ground. I watched as he drove the car and spun it out. I watched as he moved it back and forth on the sidewalk in front of us until he drove it away and towards people walking towards us. The small red car hit the feet of two people, causing both Henry and me to look up.

At first, I looked at Jennifer. I knew she wouldn’t be mad to see me. The tense expression her face held told me a different story. Her jaw was clenched and her lips were in a tight line. Her eyes were wide, but the emotion behind them frightened me a bit.

Then I looked over at you. Your hand was resting on Michael’s lower back as you held him. Your hair was in disarray that looked nice, but that’s how you usually wore it anyways. You had bags under your eyes, they were a deeper color than they were before, it was a clear sign that you had obviously lost sleep. And then you looked at me, fear and sadness in your eyes. The golden sunshine shone across your face, highlighting the important details. The details I loved. But, also details that you didn’t deserve to have, all because of the stress I caused.

I rushed to stand to my feet, my bag falling off the bench and spilling its contents all over the ground. I didn’t care though. I just wanted to talk to you. 

“H-hey,” I looked at you, then back at Jennifer, then back at you. You kept your eyes on me as I fumbled over my words, trying to find the right thing to say. “I was just… I just wanted to come out to read and go for a walk,” I spoke, trying to find a pliable excuse to be here, at the public park. It wasn’t even an excuse. I was actually here to read. I don’t know why I need to explain why I was here.

“You’re allowed to be at the park, Spencer,” you whispered back. I stared at you before I realized something. You spoke to me. And it was the first time too since you transferred out from the BAU. We stared at each other, feeling an awkward tension grow between us.

Jennifer cleared her throat, causing me to rip my eyes from you and look at the ground. I silently cursed myself when I noticed all my belongings on the ground. I fell to my knees and pushed all my things back into my bag.

“We should get going. I know Will should be home soon and we can get a head start on dinner.” Jennifer spoke, causing me to snap my head to look at her. You were staring at where I was standing, but not at me. 

“Yeah, yeah… That’s probably a good idea,” you looked at Jennifer and smiled, “Michael here is getting a little bit heavy,” you let out a very forced laugh. I stood back up before brushing the debris off my pants. You and Jennifer (even Henry) look at me with wide eyes.

“Can we talk?" I asked, nearly begging, as I looked at you. You refused to look at me again. And I could see a familiar wetness in your eyes. My shoulders instantly sagged as I looked at you and watched tears begin to form in your eyes. My heart sank to my stomach, which then sunk to the ground. “Please?” I whispered.

“Henry, are you ready to go?” You looked down at the boy, who was holding his red race car. I swallowed roughly, watching as you offered Henry your hand. You looked back at me before leading Henry away from Jennifer and I. 

I reached out my hand to stop you but failed when Jennifer stepped in front of me. I looked back at her, ready to protest her stopping me. 

“Jennifer, please,” I thought I shouted, but I’m sure it was hardly above a whisper. She dropped her hand from my arm and looked at the ground. I watched as you brought Henry and Michael back to the Jaraeu-LaMontange mini-van. Something about the way you carried Michael and helped Henry looked very natural. I couldn’t place my finger on why though.

“Leave her alone,” Jennifer whispered, pulling my attention back to her. I looked at her with wide eyes, my lips parted my mouth dry of words.

“I need to talk to her,” I whispered as I gathered my things again. I put the strap of my bag back over my body as I held a death-grip on my book. “I have to talk to her,” I turned to leave, but stopped when Jennifer grasped my hand again. “Jennifer,” I warned as I looked at her.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you right now. Okay? Give her time to figure stuff out,” she spoke. Her tone was low and had a certain demanding tone to it. “She went from having you in her life 24-7 to not having you at all. Give her time, Spence,”

“Okay, okay,” I whispered as I looked to the ground, “How much time?” I looked back up at Jennifer with tears threatening to fall. 

“I don’t know. You left her without an explanation, Spence. And she needs time to heal… To fix herself… To rebuild herself… She ju-” She bit her lips together to stop herself from saying something. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong? She just what?” I dropped my shoulders as I looked at her. She looked at me and shook her head.

“Just leave her alone for right now. She’ll come to you when she’s ready,” Jennifer half-warned. I went to argue back but failed when she looked at me before leaving. I sat back down on the bench and buried my face into my hands. A frustrated sigh left my lips as I pushed my fingers through my hair. 

I looked up and over at the mini-van. You and Jennifer were sitting in the front seat, talking to each other. And I noticed that you looked over at me once or twice. I let out another frustrated sigh before standing up and walking back home.

The thoughts and memories filled my head of when you were mine and I was yours and before I made a stupid decision. The sunshine was almost fully gone by the time I returned home and it was safe to say this was another day I lost filled with regret.

{***}{***}{***}

My body jerked, forcing me to wake up and sit in bed. The bedding and blankets pooled around my waist as I felt the bed beside me. There was a moment where I forgot you weren’t there and panic settled in my stomach. And then I remembered. 

The darkness of the room started to feel claustrophobic and I panicked in the night. I nearly knocked everything off my nightstand as I went to turn the lamp.

You would always tell me not to be afraid of the dark (or anything for that matter). But, ever since I left and we no longer saw each other, I was afraid. I looked over at where you once slept and reached my hands out over the blankets to feel for you. Even though I knew you weren’t there, I wished you were.

I sighed deeply before kicking the blankets off me. My body was on auto-pilot, and I found myself in the kitchen. The tea kettle was on the stove, waiting for the water to warm up. The clock on the stove read 3:13 in the morning. 

The moonlight illuminated the living room, the silver lighting hitting the coffee table, floor, and the various stacks of books. It sort of reflected my mood for the last few months. I wondered if you felt this way. Probably not. 

I sat down on the couch and turned the lamp on. A random book was in my hand, and my nose was in it. I was not retaining any of the information as I read, or looked at the words. 

A knock on the door honestly scared me. I wasn’t expecting anyone at my home at 3:30 in the morning. I looked down at my book before placing it on the couch beside me. I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around my body, hiding my pajamas from whoever was at the door. 

I don’t know who I was expecting when I looked through the peephole. Maybe it was a hitman coming to kill me. No, no that’s entirely too dark. Serial Killer? Maybe a burglar? No, burglars don’t knock. Could be Luke coming over, drunk because the woman he was sleeping with told him to leave. Or, maybe Penelope wanted to have a late-night Doctor Who marathon. Of all the people and things to be at my door… 

I wasn’t expecting you.

You were standing on the other side, your eyes red and puffy from crying and your hair still in messy disarray (this time it was because of restless sleep and a clear emotional breakdown). I couldn’t tell if the makeup you had on during the day was washed away by your tears, or if you cleaned your face before the day ended. But I could see faint streaks on your cheeks. You wore a pair of flannel pants with a very big sweater. 

It had been a few days (okay, weeks… Month and a half…) since I saw you at the park. My heart nearly stilled as I looked at you in the peephole. My body was paralyzed against the door. I watched as you lifted your hand and knocked again.

Except you didn’t get to knock, I had pulled the door open before you hit the door. You looked at me with shock on your face. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be awake,” you whispered, dropping your gaze from my face. I stared at you with wide eyes. You came, expecting me to be asleep… I wondered what you would have done if I was asleep, and if you would have told me you showed up to my house so early in the morning (or late at night. Depends on how you look at it.).

“No, no… It’s okay. I was awake anyway. I was working on some files,” I lied and waved my hand off like it was nothing. “No, wait… Sorry. I was already awake. I was reading The Narrative of John Smith. I wasn’t doing any extra work,” I looked back at you. 

“Why… Why were you awake?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. I watched as you brought your hand to your lips and bit your thumbnail. That was one of the many nervous ticks you had, and I wanted nothing more than for you to not be nervous around me. 

“Couldn’t sleep. So I thought I’d have some tea and read a little bit.” I looked over my shoulder towards my book and teacup. I quickly looked back at you, scared you wouldn’t actually be there when I looked back. I let out a sigh of relief when my eyes landed on you. “What are you doing here?” I watched as you looked at the door jamb.

“I, uh, I’m ready to, uh… I’m ready to talk,” you whispered as you looked at me. You folded your arms over your chest as you kept your eyes on me. This was the first time I noticed that you looked different. And not because you were awake at 3:30 in the morning in the midst of a breakdown. You looked different and I didn’t know how to explain it. 

“You’re… You’re ready to talk?” I asked, my voice suddenly trembling as I looked at you. You nodded as you wiped your eyes with your fingers. 

“Yeah, yeah, uh…” you wrinkled your nose as you looked at the ground. “Figured it was time. Been a few months and wanted to talk,” you whispered at the ground. I stepped to the side and pulled the door open more. 

“Do you want tea?” I asked, knowing tea calms you down. You looked back up at me and nodded lightly. You stepped into my apartment (which at some point was our apartment) and went right to the couch. I stood still for a moment before retreating to the kitchen.

I quickly poured the hot water into a new teacup. I grabbed a chamomile tea bag, the milk, and a bottle of honey before going back out to you. 

“Chamomile… I brought you the milk and honey too. If you want something else and sugar… Or… Anything.” I whispered as I sat back down where I once was. I placed the items on the coffee table. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, putting the tea bag into the cup.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, trying to figure out why the hell you were here and if I was actually dreaming. You steeped the bag a little bit in the water, your eyes looking at the steam swirling off the water. 

“I could lie and say yes, but I don’t think that’d be fair to you, Spencer,” you finally looked at me. Tears were sitting in your eyes, threatening to fall. I shifted in my seat, turning to look at you more. “Everything is not okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. I scanned the room, looking for a box of tissues. I got up and grabbed them for you. You took a few before blowing your nose. 

“I’m-”

“Let me talk… Please, before you apologize,” you cut me off as you looked at me. I nodded and kept my eyes on you. You were still looking at me, the tears started rolling down your cheeks and you used your sleeve to dry them. You licked your lips as you looked for the right words to say. “JJ didn’t want me to come over,” you whispered, finally taking your eyes off me. You looked back at the steaming water. I could feel a familiar anger bubbling in my stomach, that was directed towards Jennifer. Of course, she didn’t want you to come over. “So I left when I knew she was asleep. I think the last time I did that was when I was 16,” you let out a dry laugh before you sipped your tea.  

I stared at you, taking in the way you sat in a moment of silence. You were probably thinking of what you wanted to say. You were never good with words and articulating them. But, neither was I. “You know, like when you would sneak out of your house so whoever you were with didn’t wake up? God, I did that a lot as a teenager,” you laughed before sipping your tea. You shivered as the hot tea went down your throat. “Anyways, sorry… Basically, JJ doesn’t know I’m here,” you momentarily glanced at me before looking back at your tea. 

“I won’t tell her you came,” I whispered as I turned to face you more. I watched as you leaned over and placed the teacup on the coffee table. You grabbed a random throw pillow off the couch and hugged it close to your body, as if it was some sort of protection.

“I don’t think you understand how hard life has been for me the last couple of months, Spencer,” you whispered, keeping your eyes anywhere but me. I furrowed my eyebrows, not because I was confused. But because I wasn’t sure what you were going to say. “And… and I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why you left, and what I did wrong to make you leave, and… I’m still working on getting better… But, I found something out and it broke me back down…” you whispered as you looked over at me. You were very cautious as you looked at me. Tears were fresh in your eyes again, and I knew you weren’t going to be able to control them. You sniffled and closed your eyes.

“What’s wrong,” I asked, keeping my voice low. I didn’t want it to go any louder in fear of my voice breaking the slightest bit. Tears started to blur my vision as I looked at you. 

“Why’d you leave me in the first place?” You asked instead of answering me. Part of me wanted to point out that you answered my question with a question. But I didn’t bother.

“I got scared of losing you,” I whispered and looked down at the couch. That was partly true. I did, indeed, fear losing you. That wasn’t the whole truth… I was scared of losing you but I was more scared of hurting you.

I wrinkled my nose as tears started running down my cheeks. “And, I didn’t think about the consequences and outcome of me just… leaving,” I looked up at you. I left out the true reasoning for me leaving you. I could tell you knew I was leaving something out. But neither of us wanted to point it out.

“You did a lot more than lose me, Spencer,” you dryly laughed again as you spoke. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Yes, I know. And it was a mistake. You don’t understand how much I regret leaving. I’ve never wanted to take something back so badly in my entire li-”

“I’m pregnant, Spencer,” you cut me off and spoke. Your tone was filled with authority and you were so sure when you spoke. It totally caught me off guard, I wasn’t sure if I heard you correctly.

“I’m… I’m sorry. Wh-what? You’re what?” I stared at you, my lips parted and eyes wide. I swear my heart stopped as I tried to comprehend what you said. Or… it was going so fast and I just couldn't feel it.

“I’m pregnant. And, obviously, it’s yours. I’ve contemplated so many things. But, I think you would have killed me if you didn’t know,” you whispered as you looked away from me. I looked at you, trying to find the right words to say, but I couldn’t figure out what to say.

Then I thought back to the park. You were so dismissive, which is allowed considering the things I had done and said to you. Or the lack of things said to you. But then I remembered how natural Michael looked in your arms and how you were with Henry and how different you seemed. Jennifer was talking about you, about you just-ing something but she cut herself off… Jennifer knows. 

“Does Jennifer-”

“Yes, she knows. She knew when we saw you at the park… And she knew when I talked to Emily about transferring,” you whispered, picking at the fabric of pajamas. Your voice was so soft, I felt bad for leaving you and I tried to not be mad at you for keeping something so big from me. “Emily knows too…” you answered my next question.

“You’ve known for that long?” I finally found words to say. You looked at me like you were a kid who was getting in trouble. But you weren’t getting in trouble. I was just… Mad at myself. 

“I… I, uh, I didn’t know what to do. And, JJ was the only person I could talk to about it.” Your words were soft and quiet and you avoided me and my eyes like the plague. 

I wanted to be mad… But I didn’t exactly have the right to be mad at you. After all the things I did to you? It wasn’t fair if I snapped at you. You knew this too. You knew me well enough to know that I wanted to be mad.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked after some time had passed. It felt like hours, but in reality, it was only a mere few minutes. 

“Because… I wasn’t sure if I was going to stay in DC… I wasn’t sure if I even wanted it…”

“Clearly you do if you’re telling me,” I whispered and looked at you. You looked at me, ready to protest, but failed when you realized I was right. You knew I was right. Why else would you be telling me that you’re pregnant if you didn’t want it? You dropped your head before nodding.  

“There’s more to you leaving me though, isn’t there? It wasn't just about losing me,” you asked, changing the subject back to me. You didn’t want to talk about your pregnancy that you’ve known about for several months. So, I swallowed roughly before nodding. “What was it? Were you cheating on me? Were you bored with me? Did I do something wrong? Was it something I did? Or was it something I didn't do?” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong… It was all me…” I paused and looked up at you. You were looking at me, intently watching me. I took a deep breath as I lifted my hand to wipe your cheeks. “I wasn’t cheating on you, and I wasn’t bored with you,” I pulled my hand back to my lap and flexed my fingers. “I think it was just… Work was getting overwhelming… And,” my words trailed off for a moment, causing me to sigh. 

“That’s not a good enough reason, Spencer, you know that,” you looked at me and shook your head. Your tone was short. There was no hiding it, you knew there was something else. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you the truth… But, I had to.

“The issue stopped being the actual problem… and it became me wanting to hurt you… And… And I never want to feel that way… Be-because I love you.” I looked up at you, watching the tears slip down your cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt the people that I love,” my voice was hardly above a whisper, “I guess… I-I need help, and I didn’t realize it till… till I had those thoughts,” I could feel my words shaking as I spoke. You looked at me with worry in your eyes. 

“Spencer,” you whispered. I looked up at you and watched as you reached over, nervously placing your hand on my knee. I looked at you and let out a deep breath. Part of me wasn’t so sure we should be having this conversation at 4 in the morning. But here we are, having it. “After everything you’ve been through, with… With prison, and… and Cat, and Scratch…” your words trailed off as you spoke of the horrors I’ve lived through within the last few years, “Of course you need help… And… And we can get you the help that you need,” you whispered as you looked up at me. My eyes stayed glued to the hand you had resting on my knee. You were here… With me...

“It was just too much… And… I-I’m happy I didn’t do anything…. To…” I paused and took a shaky breath, but also to keep myself from saying that I almost did hurt you. Although, I did hurt you when I left. “I just didn’t know how to ask for help, even when I didn’t reali-”

"Spencer,” you started, your voice low and quiet. I could hear the raspiness in your voice. I’m sure it was the exhaustion of life for you. And it was my fault... 

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” I whispered. I knew just saying sorry wasn’t going to be enough. Something else needed to be said, but I didn’t know what. “I’m so sorry,” I couldn’t help but repeat my apology even as I brought a hand to cover my eyes, and as I fell forward to let a sob go through my body. 

“Hey, hey, Spence, it’s okay…” You whispered as you rested a hand on my back. I could feel you move closer to me as you embraced me better. I sat up and looked over at you. “I… I can’t accept your apology right… right now… But, I think we can work on it. We both need help… We can help and heal… Together…” you turned to face me more. Your gentle hands grasped both mine, holding them in the space between our bodies.

“It’s something we’ll both have to work on,” you looked at me before looking down at our hands. I stared at you, waiting to hear you continue. My heart was beating faster than it should and I was only a little worried about it stopping. I could feel my palms getting hot and sweaty on the leather couch. 

“You… You…” I swallowed roughly and squeezed my eyes shut. Tears rolled down my cheeks, causing me to roughly push them away.

“Obviously I want you back in my life, Spencer. I’m sure you’re aware of how hard these few months have been for me,” you whispered, your voice so soft, I’m happy there were no other sounds. I’m sure I wouldn’t have heard you if it was 4 in the afternoon instead of 4 in the morning. “But, you have to understand, things are going to have to change in order for us to work. Especially now… that I’m pregnant,” you whispered and nodded. 

“Of course! No, I know that! I understand that more than anything in the world.” I moved closer to you and nodded. My heart finally returned to it’s normal speed. “I’ll stay. And not because you’re pregnant. I knew I wanted you back right when I realized my mistake,” I whispered, looking down at our hands. Your hand was on top of mine, and your thumb rubbed the back of my hand. “I can’t apologize enough, because no matter how many times I apologize… Sorry won’t be enough.” I wrinkled my nose and looked back at you.

“I’m not going to give you anymore second chances, Spencer. Please, understand that… You have to get help… If not for me, or yourself, for our child…” You spoke with a sureness in your voice. You knew what you wanted, and you knew you were going to get it. Honestly, I was going to give it to you too. 

“No, no, I do… I do understand… I’ll get all the help I can. I promise,” I kept my eyes on you. A worried feeling overtook my body, I was worried that all of this was just a dream and you’d be gone when I’d wake up. But you were here and it wasn’t just a dream.

At this point, I’d be willing to do anything to keep you safe, and our unborn child safe. I knew I didn’t want to mess this up. I didn’t want to miss any moments or chances of a family. Considering you were my family and I’ve known that for a long time. I didn’t want to lose any more time with you. These last few months without you were the roughest, and I didn’t want that anymore.

taglist: @thebluetint​ , @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ 

(if you would like to be a part of the taglist just let me know :) )

[holykillercake]

Emergency Light

ᴋᴏʙʏ x ᴍᴀʀɪɴᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

word count: 2.6k

summary: 

Female reader developed a crush on Koby since he stood up against Akainu in Marineford. Someday at a party at the marine´s, you get drunk, too drunk. Koby takes you to your room before a disaster happens. You two get stuck in the elevator while everyone is busy partying.

highlight:  You wondered if they were training kamikaze marines now.

warning: 1. ¨Do not press random buttons.¨ - LAW, Trafalgar; 2. Trafalgar Law is not part of this story, but his wise words are worth of quotation. 

notes: *knock knock* Hi, guys! After a terrible writing block, I finally finished @pure-kirarin​´s lovely lovely request, which I used as summary since it was really good! I really hope you like it! <3 A little disclaimer! At some point, the ¨too drunk¨ part vanished from my brain, so our reader is just... drunk, hahaha. 

𝕃𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤, 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖!

¨Y/N-san!¨ 

You were wiping a sweat drop from your forehead when the pink-haired boy appeared beside you, offering an isotonic drink and a warm smile. 

You did your best to hide the tiny heart attack you had.

¨Koby-san!¨ you shouted, smiling awkwardly. ¨Oh... is it for me?¨

¨Of course! You have been working really hard these days.¨

¨Thanks.¨ you took the drink from his hands. The heat and condensation caused a layer of cold sweat to wrap the bottle. ¨I just don´t know why they are making us help prepare this party. They have a team for this, Koby-san! Besides, we´re Captains now.¨ you pouted the last bit. 

¨Yeah...¨ he scratched the back of his neck. ¨well, at least we get to spend some time together!¨

¨I know, I just-¨ you stopped talking as his words processed in your brain. 

You felt your blood vessels dilating on your cheeks, leaving a hot sensation on your face. 

Perhaps he was just being polite, or maybe you were making a big deal out of this, but you couldn´t help. You have been fond of him for a while now, and you couldn't stop that involuntary reaction of your body when he said such lovely things. 

Koby realized the words that came out of his mouth, and the scene that followed made even your spirit giggle. His eyes opened wide, and you could almost feel his throat running dry with all his stuttering.

 If that was a blushing competition, you would be down to the second place. 

¨W-We´ve been on separate missions for ten months, right? I m-mean... and it´s not dangerous or anything, and-¨ 

¨Yeah, you´re right, Koby-san.¨ a smitten smile blossomed on your lips, and you tried to hide it by sipping the refreshing drink. 

As stated by the boy, you had spent almost a year in different locations of the Grand Line, leading missions of your own. That was the kind of thing you had to do as promoted Captains.

You had no idea where Koby ended up going. These subjects could not be discussed over snail transponders, just for precaution. In fact, you barely spoke to him during this time. There were only a few nights when you would exchange coded messages. 

Since you became Captains, your tasks have kept you apart for much longer than before. You couldn't help but miss him and wonder how he must be doing during those times. 

You have already met thousands of Marines. Some even stronger and more agile than him, but no one had his willpower. You would put your hands on the fire for that. 

Whenever you felt unmotivated or helpless, the memory of the boy standing up against Sakazuki, putting his life on the line to honor his fallen comrades made your blood burn hotter. 

He did what no one else had the guts to do. 

Too blinded by the bloodshed, in the end, the number of casualties made it clear that accomplishing the task was no reason to celebrate.

When the sole of your shoes stained with blood and the blade of your sword sliced through anyone who didn´t wear the justice symbol on their back, you questioned if the Marines had finally lost their purpose. 

You should be civilized and do justice, but not at the expense of soldiers who had families to return to. If the target had already been eliminated, why were you still fighting? 

A chill ran down your spine when, for the first time, you looked up and faced the massacre. It was as if before, you could look at everything and, at the same time, see nothing. 

If Koby hadn´t stood up at that moment, you wouldn´t be here today. Maybe for leaving, maybe for dying. But his act of braveness and courage returned a bit of your hope. 

You wanted to see how far he could go, and hopefully, you would be by his side. 

Before, you used to watch him, along with his colleague Helmeppo, getting beat up and beat up by Garp and always put himself back on his feet. 

You wondered if they were training kamikaze marines now. 

From your room, you had a perfect view of the training circuit, so you could see the cycle repeating itself over and over again. Boys, seduced by the idea of absolute justice, strength, and power to fight bad guys, came to Marineford willing to prove their worth. They would fall a few times before the sparkle in their eyes started to fade. 

Eventually, they would fade too. 

Those boys, however, fell and fell, being punched to a pulp, then patched back together only to suffer on Garp´s hands again. Watching them became your late-night entertainment, and seeing their improvements and growth turned out to warm your heart. 

At some point, you were assigned to be their opponent, and from that moment on, your days became brighter. They would share the craziest stories and tell the funniest jokes. Or not so much tell jokes. They were naturally clumsy and fun. 

Although, if you could choose, you would prefer to spend more time with Koby. Nothing against Helmeppo, he was just too much sometimes. But apparently, they came in a two-for-one pack. 

                                                             ***

It has been only a few hours since the party started and you reached the jackpot. You had taken all your frustrations on alcohol and rice cakes, and it showed. 

Every ten seconds, the memory of what you wanted to do disappeared, and that was somehow hilarious, making you explode in laughter and cause commotions. So for every ten seconds during the first hours, one of the last remaining sober in the enclosure had tiny cardiac arrests. 

Everyone was drunk enough to have a good time without causing any trouble. But the detail worth mentioning was that your party had started a little earlier, under the statement that you needed a little incentive to help you through the night. 

It meant that your energetically loud phase was close to reaching its end, giving place for your sleepy and distracted persona. Your eyes felt heavier by the second, light dizziness fogging your brain, but it felt relaxing. 

¨You know Koby is a type of meat?¨ you said, resting your chin on the table and giggling to yourself.

¨Y/N-san, I-I don´t think that´s the name of it.¨ his face turned red as he shifted on the cushion, adjusting his posture. 

¨Ugh, you´re so nervous Koby, you should relax.¨ you sang the last syllable. ¨Look at Meppo, he´s relaxing.¨

Your lips bent in a goofy smile as you watched your comrades building an okaki tower on Helmeppo´s head. The blonde had passed out on the table a few minutes earlier, too exhausted and drunk. He looked so peaceful in his sleep that a yawn escaped your mouth, catching Koby´s attention. 

¨Y/N-san, you should go to bed already. Y-You look tired.¨ his voice trembled when he took sight of your sparkling but sleepy eyes, rosy face, and messy hair. 

¨Hmm, no... I´m still good.¨

Another yawn. 

¨Come, I can walk you to your room before you relax like Helmeppo.¨ 

Your brain was working in slow motion, so by the time you thought of answering him, your grip was already tight in his. A little tighter than necessary, but you were afraid your wobbly legs would cease, and honestly, he didn't object at all.

The air outside the salon made your nostrils hurt within every breath, not because it was freezing cold but because the alcohol made your body run hotter than usual. Your ears felt like they were clogged, but that was merely the tingling silence on the empty hall. 

When he guided you inside of the elevator and pressed the corresponding button to your floor, your gasp, which echoed through the narrow walls, made Koby jump back, scanning for any sign of danger. 

¨Oh my God, look at this, Koby!¨ 

He watched you walk closer to the panel, completely mesmerized. ¨Uh... what, Y/N-san?¨ 

¨Wow! They never did this before!¨ you shouted, falling on your knees and leaning in like a child on an ice cream shop showcase. 

The boy kept staring at you, who pressed the buttons in a row with shimmering eyes. What was in that saké?

¨They never did...?¨

¨Look!¨ you clicked some more. ¨When I press the buttons... they light up!¨

A moment of silence fell upon the two of you, and although Koby always felt comfortable in your presence, he wasn´t sure what to do now.  

You, on the other hand, didn´t seem to mind, too focused on your groundbreaking discovery. 

¨Y/N-san, they have always...¨

¨This is so cool!¨

¨Y/N-san... I don´t think you should...¨

¨What does this one do-¨

A loud shriek escaped your mouth when the shaking of the elevator took you off balance, making your butt meet the floor in a thump. The lights flashed a few times before everything in your sight was pitch black. 

You heard Koby call your name, asking if you were hurt, but all you could do was hold still, fearing for your life. The alcohol made the bouncing feel like a devastating earthquake. 

¨Y/N-san!¨ you felt light pats on your shoes. ¨Are you ok? I can´t see anything!¨ 

Koby crawled on the floor, using your foot as a way to locate you. 

¨Koby, stop moving.¨ you whispered, but he seemed not to hear, lost in his rumbles. ¨Koby, stop moving!. We´re going to fall.¨

¨Wh-no! Y/N-san, are you hurt?¨

¨No, I don´t think so.¨ you answered, head swirling and heart racing in your chest. 

¨Y/N-san, did you press the emergency button?¨ 

¨No!¨ you stopped for a second, failing to hold your drunken giggles for yourself. ¨But that´d be a great idea right now. I think I remember where it is!¨ 

You twisted your body towards the panel, ignoring Koby´s attempts to stop you, and started to touch the many buttons, searching for the emergency one. 

Click. 

Click. 

Click, click, click. 

¨It´s not worki-¨ you squealed when the elevator struck again, piercing sound of creaking metal cooling every disc in your spine.

¨Y/N-san, please stop pressing the buttons!¨ Koby cried. 

The feeling was too strange. You felt everything rocking slightly, no light was coming in, and the adrenaline made it difficult for you to calm down and adapt to the darkness. 

Your breathing had already become irregular and heavier when the emergency light turned on. It was dim and greenish but better than nothing. 

¨Oh, no.¨ he said.

¨No, no. Don´t say oh, no.¨ You shook your head. 

¨Y/N-san, that´s the emergency light.¨

¨Yeah, so...?¨

¨So the elevators are not a priority now.¨

¨And that´s bad...?¨

¨Well, yes, because the energy is being used somewhere else.¨

You stared at him for a few seconds. All of his words made total sense, and in a normal situation, you would be able to handle it without further complications. 

¨Koby, I don´t know if you´re getting somewhere...¨

¨Y/N-san, there was probably a problem with the generators, and they had to redirect the energy consumption.¨ you nodded, starting to connect some dots in your head. ¨I think they are sending everything to the kitchen beca-¨

¨Wait.¨ you said with a terrified expression painted all over your face. ¨We´re stuck?¨

He saw the panic grow in your eyes. 

¨Y-Yes. B-But it should be back soon, don´t worry. Someone will come.¨ 

You remained in silence for the first hour, mainly because you kept falling asleep.

Little by little, the effects of the alcohol on your body began to cease and your temperature to cool down. Added to that, the darker the night fell, the chillier it got. So at some point, you couldn´t sleep anymore because your bones wouldn´t stop shivering. 

Koby handed you his coat as soon as he took notice of your discomfort. 

¨No, you don´t have to-¨

¨Y/N-san, you´ll end up getting sick.¨ he spoke, leaning a bit forward so you could take the piece of clothing. 

¨Thanks.¨

A huge smile rose on your lips when the coat fell on your shoulders. It was incredibly warm and had his soothing laundry fresh smell. 

Maybe with a hint of meat from the party. 

It served you like a cape, so you pulled the collars closer to your body and curled up to retain the warmth. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel like it was him. 

That granted you another nap. 

Still, after about twenty minutes, something woke you up. This time it was a sneeze from Koby, who leaned against the wall, hugging his legs close to his body. 

Guilt hit you right in the guts. 

You crawled towards him, gently poking his leg. 

¨Koby-san...¨

He raised his head and mumbled something you didn't understand. Maybe he asked if you were ok. 

¨I... I´m still a little cold... c-can I sit by your side?¨

¨Uh? Yes, of course.¨ he shifted on the same spot, only to return to the previous position. 

His voice was a little nasal and rasped, probably from the cold. You hoped he wouldn´t get a sore throat. 

The coat became a blanket that you used to cover both of your legs, although he made sure you had gotten the bottom end since it had more fabric.

¨Are you feeling better, Y/N-san?¨

¨I am, thank you.¨ you whispered.

¨Y-You can lay on my shoulder... if you want.¨

You smiled and did as he suggested, curling up closer to him. It took you very little to fall asleep once you rested your head on his shoulder. His body began to feel warmer, and he even asked if you wanted to hook your arm with his to maintain warmth. 

Using the last bit of boldness provided by the saké, you reached for his hand. You had this sensation, deep down, that the feelings you carried for him were reciprocated. But you could deal with this some other time. For now, you focused on calming down the fireworks inside of your chest. 

[EXTRA SCENE]

A roaring noise followed by a ray of light fished you out of whatever dreams you were having. You pulled the blanket up to cover your eyes and snuggled deeper into the warm body in front of you.

Nothing crossed his mind at that moment. All you wanted to do was get rid of the light and have a few more hours to sleep. However, a sound like a throat clearing caught your attention.

You blinked a few times, images of last night taking form in your memory. The last thing you remembered before blacking out was you leaning against Koby.

I must have slipped to the floor at some point. 

Your hands were wrapped in a turquoise fabric, and it didn't take long for you to realize that the fabric was wrapped around someone.

Koby's scarf.

Koby!

You ended up lying in front of each other, sharing his uniform. Your face a few centimeters from his chest.

After yawning a couple of times, you opened a distance to look at him. 

His face was wrinkled, brows furrowed, and lips turned into a pout. The round glasses were no longer on his head, and the bandana, like his hair, was frowzy. 

So adorable.

A louder throat clearing made you turn your head. The groggy smile on your lips disappeared instantly with the image of the elevator repairer, Garp, and dozens of other marines staring at the two of you.

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Damian Wayne)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part one of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic. 

Masterlist

Series Masterlist. 

You wait by the platform, tapping your feet to the rhythm of the Little Colonel Bojangles Dance. It's been so long since you've seen the movie but your feet can still remember the steps- much to Damian's annoyance. Your feet patter against the pavement, wet from the spring rain, in a soft rhythm that kept your excitement at bay.

You wave to the approaching cab. The passenger of the cab looks away from you, pressing his mouth into the heel of his hand as his eyes stare out into oblivion. Your mouth quirks at the petulant gesture. You haven't seen each other in two decades and he's still mad about... what was it again? You'll find out soon enough.

The cab stops in front of you.

You bow your head, resting your weight on your umbrella. You grin at his seated form postured perfectly with an ease of a man born with the world in his pocket. He's dressed in a black suit and a dark coat that looked far too thick for spring.

"Long time, no see, little prince." You say in a dialect of Spanish too old for the young cab driver to recognize.

Damian raises his brow, articulating his annoyance. It takes you a moment to realize that it was with the accent you'd chosen. It was inelegant and curt and it mangled the curve of the syllables far too easily. In short, it was your favorite dialect.  Rolling your eyes, you try again. This time with a softer, smoother dialect much more modern but still old enough that you could talk freely without worrying about eavesdroppers.

Damian cracks a smile at you. It was wry but soft in the way Damian always was. Your own exasperated smile softens as you look at his eyes, their ever-changing lushness. It's been too long.

You open the door. Damian eases out of the cab handing the cabby what you quietly hope was the correct amount.

But considering the wide-eyed glee on the cabbies face, you can guess that twenty years has done nothing for Damian's spending habits. That was if the tailored suit wasn't a dead giveaway.

You look him over whistling," whose funeral are you going to after the museum?" 

"Yours if we're on schedule." Damian deadpans looking at his watch. 

You snort, sounding like a piglet in mud. Adoration flickers in Damian's eyes but you miss it as you throw your head back.

"Who has a schedule on vacation."

"People who don't like wasting time."

"That's what a vacation is for."

Damian makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat and you shake your head. Damian wraps his arm around your shoulders. You happily press into his side, reveling in the intimacy of the action.

Damian had been telling you a story in rapid Arabic, the only words you understood were 'Jon' and 'moron', when you pause in front of a pair of paintings. The painting on the left was of Damian, his form drawn in harsh, messy angles. He's hunched over his sketchbook, candlelight glowing softly by his side makes his copper skin and forest green eyes breathtaking. The subject is out of view. The other was a portrait of you dozing off on a workshop table, your flaws lovingly rendered in gentle brush strokes. By contrast, your portrait was lit by the summer sun. Only Damian could make your features look this beautiful.

Vaguely, you remember this.

You remember it only for the countless times it had happened.

"They say that the one on the left is the painter sketching the portrait on the right and that the portrait on the right is of his lover."  You say airily. Damian, not one to disappoint, gives you an unreadable look.

Your stomach turns. You drop the subject. Wordlessly, you two make your way to the exhibit.

"Love through the Ages?" Damian asks, crossing his arms.

"Shockingly love wasn't invented by Stephenie Meyer."  You say. Damian wrinkles his nose at you and you cover your mouth to hide the scraggly smile spreading across your lips.

"I'm shocked your paintings didn't make it in."

He looks down at you huffing, "it's only speculation." 

You're heart twinges at that.  You press a frown to your hand.

"It'll be fun, Dami. I promise. Pleeeeeease."

Damian's stern look gives way to a weary half-smile as he capitulates to you.

"I promise it will only be half as nauseating as Dick's attempts to do family bonding."

"Tt, it would take a miracle to surpass that."

You grin. "Perish the thought."

"They say this stardust came from star-crossed lovers as they traveled through space. Oh and this one is a statue gifted by Persephone to Hades."

You drag Damian all over the exhibit. Pointing to specific exhibits with enthusiasm. He has to admit. It's infectious. Then again, Damian's never been able to resist anything about you. This amount of enthusiasm for something so frivolous would have been obnoxious on anyone else but because it's you, Damian's found himself utterly enamored by it.

"This one," You say, pointing to a series of paintings. They were all beautiful, painted in bold colors. The torrent of emotions radiating off of the canvas. "This one was made by an artist torn between three loves."

"Three? She must have been an exceptional artist."

"Probably was but her name was lost." You sigh.

 "She’s got exceptional brushwork." Damian hums. 

You squint at it. You would think after hundreds of years you would be able to discern that.

"And over there! Look at those postcards!" You say, pointing the three postcards pinned to a cloth in a glass case.  One card showed the northern lights, another with a picture of a thick rainforest, another with a large cave, and another with the pantheon. 

"They're not well preserved are they." Damian comments, scrutinizing the postcards and noting all the imperfections, the little cracks and tears, the water stains, and odd splotches of dirt. 

You roll your eyes, curling your fingers around his arm. "That's cus Hermes supposedly brought them everywhere while he searched for his lost love." 

"Quite the romantic. Do you know all the artifacts?"

"Yup." 

"I see..." Damian drawls.  "Then why are we here then?" Damian winces at how harsh and impatient he sounds. 

"Cus Jon said I needed an excuse to get you here and viola. It worked. I knew you'd cross the sea for a rare exhibit."

I would cross the sea for you, no matter how many times, Damian thinks.

"What about this?" Damian points to a golden coin, shaking his thoughts away. 

You lean back, side-eyeing him. "Care to guess?" His handsome features furrow as he thinks. 

"I think it’s a coin used to pay Charon." He says finally. 

You frown. "Good guess." A smug grin curls on his lips.  You stick your tongue out at him. 

"It’s an old Greek coin to pay the travel into the underworld."

 "Why would they want to travel  to the underworld?" It's Damian's turn to frown. 

"Yanno for someone who's so smart. You're asking the dumbest questions."

"It's a reasonable question." He asserts, his tone oddly defensive.

"Most people can't bear to be apart from their beloved."

Damian hums noncommittally. He understands that. he understands that all too well. 

"Like you and Jon." You say grinning.

Damian glares at you. No real anger behind it. 

"You two bicker like an old married couple." You laugh.

 "So do we." Damian says flatly, stepping closer to you and closing the gap between the two of you. He's looking at you so intensely that your skin sets itself on fire. 

"I often think about burying you under the kitchen patio too." Damian sneers, with a sharp grin. 

You snap out of your daze. Leaning in close and smiling, your hot breath fan against Damian's face.  "Will you do it affectionately?"

The moment hangs still in the air.  If you could capture it in amber, you would.

"Huh? This is new." You say, looking down at the glass case.

"How many times have you seen this exhibit?"

You preemptively shoot him an accusatory look. "What are you?"

"Concerned."

"Pfff!"

You lean down reading the plate. "Says here it's a letter from the late 1700s and early 1800s. An unsent letter to lost love."

"Sounds cliched." Damian says, leaning down next to you. 

"You've said that about everything."

You feel Damian stiffen beside you. You glance at him. He looks mortified. Your eyes follow his and land on the letter. The calligraphy looks familiar but you can't think of where you've seen the scrawl.

Damian tugs at your shoulder.

"(Y/n), let's go."

You shrug him off.

"(Y/n), let’s go." He repeats with increased urgency.

You shove your palm to his face.

Damian wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You flail and kick out childishly.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne, I will gnaw your arm off.” You hiss but he doesn’t let go. In a last ditch effort to break free of his hold, you wriggle out of your coat.  Landing on your ass, you scramble for the glass case. 

My beloved (Y/n), 

Finding the words to tell you how I feel about you is not an easy feat. I feel as though Ibn Hazm himself would struggle to compose poems to express my feelings for you even then they would be inadequate.

Whilst we are surrounded by such death and misery, here in London, I want you to know that during these dark times, it is you that keeps me a light. It is you that leads me through the void and guides me.

I think I’ve always loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on your beautiful lopsided smile. Yes. Your real smile. The one only a handful of people will ever see. I have been lucky enough to see it every day.

As time passed, I fell more and more in love with you. You have seen all of me. You have seen the monster within me and yet you still stand by my side. Never faulting in your stance.

I wish I had the strength to tell you this, face to face. I wish I could look into your eyes and whisper words of love my immortal beloved.

With Love, 

Damian

You stare at the letter uncomprehending. Realization slides off of you like rain off a tin roof. You read it over and over again until each syllable is embedded in your mind. “Damian, what the actual fuck?!”

“I-”

“You dork!”

Damian clams up unable to think of a response. Ok, no. He had a number of responses but none of them were appropriate or witty. He searches your features but the only thing he can make out is shock. 

“(Y/n), I was-”

You press your hand to the glass. “How come you never sent me this?”

“The French Revolution.”

“Which one?”

He crosses his arms raising a brow. 

“Ok, nevermind. But still, it’s been 200 years.”

“A lot has happened in 200 years.”

“A lot has happened in 200 years.” You repeat mockingly.

Damian pinches your cheeks in retaliation.   

“I was pinning for more than 200 hundred years!” You protest. 

“So was I!” Damian says, releasing your cheek. 

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Damian asks, accusing and curt. You flinch, something vile and caustic rising in your stomach.  Damian sees it and grips your hand as you fall away from him. He just got you back. “(Y/n)....”

The fear and hurt melt off of your face. “I thought… I just thought you’d...” You ball your fists in frustration, not quite grasping the right words. But Damian already knows what you’re thinking. He’s seen that look in your face. He’s seen it every time you look at the mirror. It was infuriating to watch you like this. Why couldn’t you see just how perfect you are?

Damian pulls you into a hug, burying your face into his chest and resting his chin on top of your head. 

“You are infuriating.” He mumbles into your hair.

“And you’re rude.” You mumble back.

“Yet here you are 400 years later.” He laughs softly. 

You two stand in silence for a long moment. With Damian, silence itself was a language. It was one you’d grown fluent in. An unspoken conversation of confirmations and reassurances. 

He releases you but holds your hand in his. It feels warm. You shiver and Damian smiles at you, smooshing your coat into your face. Both of you can’t help but laugh. 

You step closer to the glass case, pulling him along. Damian follows without resistance, only lacing his fingers into yours. You both stare at the page. His proclamation of love carefully preserved for all to see. You take your phone out to take a picture.  Damian shoots you a glare. 

“You’re not sending that to Jon.” 

“Tim then.”

“No.”

“Fine, for myself then.” You pause seeing the confusion on his face. “In case, you know...” You say waving your hand. 

Damian tilts your chin up. “Beloved, I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest flutters. After centuries of inaction, you can feel your heartbeat.  

[kaisa-ryo]

Sukuna Ryōmen NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Lie on your back with your arms crossed under your head. Most of the time, Sukuna looks up at the ceiling and thinks about something; sometimes he talks to himself, asks himself if he really loves you or pretends to love you. But when you start to cuddle up to him, he looks at your sweet sleeping face and, smiling for some reason, gently squeezes your hand, which rests on his chest, and snuggles up to you.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

At first you thought he was joking when you said he liked your whole body. But he was not joking. From the outside, he really admires your whole body, because for him you are the most perfect specimen in the world, and he was simply mesmerized by your perfection. Perhaps it will surprise you, but you began to realize your sexual attraction only with him. Before him, you had no idea how good you are. Yes, there were those types who said that your eyes should be mesmerizing and your hair should be long. Or that you must have big lips. Naturally, for a long time you considered your appearance as your biggest flaw. But against the will of fate, as in a typical love story, one possessive brute appeared and made you love yourself. You haven't confessed to him yet that you are grateful to him for teaching him to love yourself. And even if every day he notices some flaws in you, you still don't listen to him, because you know that he still likes your body, it's just that such an egoist has a habit of influencing you and the people around you.

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

Anywhere, as long as it is your body.

Yes, inside, too, is no less horny, but hell, you seem so spoiled and dirty in his eyes when you are covered in his cum. He will not let you go to the shower right away, because he wants your body to be more saturated with his scent. And he doesn't care that you are indignant, that you are uncomfortable. If he needs it, he will do it.

D = Dirty secret

Public sex.

Sukuna moans at the thought of how he is leaning you as much as possible against the panoramic window so that everyone can see how you wriggle and groan. You feel his tense flesh, watch how he digs more and more into your buttocks, and feel how his penis, increasing in size more and more, pierces your pussy. It seems as if in the whole universe there is nothing but his rhythmic movements inside you. Everything else: people outside the window, cars, barking dogs - nothing compared to this powerful electrical discharge that escapes from your body at that moment.

E = Experience

It was several times before you. Only now, none of them wanted to start a relationship with him. As, in principle, he is. Yes, baby, sex without obligation is still in fashion. You yourself can no longer remember why it was you who decided to take such a brave step - to meet with the curse, and even with their king. Probably because even behind the veil of selfishness and dependence on power, you could see in him one pitiful, but still a drop of humanity. Naturally, Sukuna did not disregard this and even imbued with your enthusiasm. And this splinter is still amazed that you have not left him yet.

F = Favorite position

His most favorite is missionary and doggy style with a squeeze of your wrists over your head. So he can do whatever he wants: change speed, pace, bite, and you cannot stop him or push him away.

G = Goofy (Serious at this moment?)

No.

During the process, he can throw something dirty and humiliating. Can slap, bite or hit. He cannot stand it when it is quiet and only spanking and your moans are heard. He needs to create a whole performance, whatever, just to fill the room with something passionate other than silence.

H = Hair (Is the hair okay?)

Not at all.

The king of curses does not see the need for this at all. If you're uncomfortable with giving a blowjob, he doesn't care. He's not going to waste time making you comfortable. Only throws a short "bear with it." But one day you still managed to persuade him to at least try, smirking him with cute eyes. Then he “limped” for a long time and was angry with you, because it was as if his skin had been ripped off below him, and now everything became sensitive. You laughed at him until everything grew back again, and Sukuna vowed that he would never shave his pubic hair again.

I = Intimacy (Romance)

Oh, he has a problem with that. But don't be in a hurry to despair, he just started to learn!

Most recently, he stopped making a grimace of disgust after kissing you on the cheek or kissing the back of his hand. There were some compromises - now he began to inhale your scent into all his lungs. Then you asked why and why, and received in response what he liked, how you smelled, adding that for all the time that he was on Earth, he had never felt such a unique and intoxicating scent. Not to say that it did not bother you at all, then you really felt a pleasant feeling of goosebumps.

He has no money for gifts, but if you try, he can take you to any place. If you want - to the forest, if you want - to an amusement park, if you want - to a park of culture and rest, if you want - to a museum. In general, such a good guide. Lazy and does not immediately agree, but still a guide.

You push him to all these (however, there is no one else), forcing him to watch dramas, musicals, family comedies, throwing fleeting glances at him when the romantic scene begins. He will cast a second glance at you and guess your goal, sighing in disgust and rolling his eyes.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

It happened a couple of times. That same dirty secret.

To be honest, he didn't react in any way when you caught him doing it in the middle of the day. Unless he just wanted you to "help him." You rolled your eyes and slammed the door, leaving for another room. He grinned maliciously with such a predictable reaction. He was sure that you wanted it, it was just that you didn't have the courage.

K = Kink

If you only knew how languidly he sighs when you give yourself pleasure. Especially if you do it for him. The way you do it turns all his ideas about sex upside down. How you moan when you play with your nipples and stick thin fingers into your hole - it makes his mind melt in an ocean of pleasure. How he fidgets, waiting for your orgasm when you start kissing him. How do you hold his shoulders, snuggling up to him so that he can feel all your hidden virtues. He asks for more and more. And then suddenly he sharply grabs the hair and digs his lips hard into your mouth. He has very strong arms, it seems that even a pinch of effort, and your head will be ripped off. Yes, power and the elements of BDSM are also on his list of favorite things about sex, as are bites or wet sucks.

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

To be honest, he has no preference.

If he wants to fuck you on the kitchen table, he will. If he wants to fuck you on the couch, he will. In the laundry, he'll do it. It's no secret for you that he would not mind trying a couple more places and he will never get tired of coming up with new ones.

M = Motivation

He likes it when you suddenly start to dominate or suddenly rub against his cock.

He realizes that he has a competitor and this idea turns him on as hell. Sukuna naturally loves to compete, and you also add fuel to the fire. Naturally, he will not give in, because you are still a pitiful person in comparison with him, and your power must be defended. Therefore, do not be surprised if he begins to act more efficiently than usual in order to assert his own greatness. And Sukuna will try to show you how small and insignificant you are, unlike him.

N = No (Which will not do)

Greed and the desire to completely control the process, of course, is what he aspires to, but when he sees you suppressed and constrained by some thought coming directly from your subconscious, it worries him much more. Such vulnerability literally tears him apart. Under the pressure of circumstances, he turns, in a sense, into an evil, but caring mother. The king of curses first looks at you, as if expecting your gaze on him. Realizing that this is useless, he starts the dialogue first:

— Well, what is different?

Now you didn't want to answer him. I didn't even want to see him. This is not the first time he has shown waywardness. It started to exhaust you in order. The thoughts in your head were dark and your voice sounded cold and indifferent. I thought that it would be better to kiss you or touch you tenderly, but his hands at that moment were too persistent. It infuriated, but it was already impossible to leave. And he did not stop talking to you.

— Sor..m.. - the words from his lips sounded somehow strange. He seemed to have eaten the last syllable.

— What? - you responded.

— Sorrmm...!

— I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.

— Forgive me already, fucked up!

He rolled his eyes after you started either laughing or crying (you laughed and he realized it almost immediately).

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

Receive. Definitely.

What else can you expect from a cursed spirit like him? He will definitely make sure that the blowjob is the longest process in sex for him. Moreover, he will do this persistently: winding your hair around your hand, forcing you to swallow the penis as deeply as possible, so that later as deeply as possible and finish. He doesn't care if you gag, cough or provoke a gag reflex. Sukuna insists that you have to endure, adding "for my sake" with feigned tenderness. You have no choice but to succumb to his pressure. After all, if you do not do this, do not expect that he will please you.

P = Pace

Very lively.

There is hardly a second when you can completely relax. He will hammer into you like a jackhammer, dig his nails into the skin, leaving red streaks on it, and whisper something viciously at the same time. In order to somehow soften these moments, you intensely squint and succumb to his tricks, allowing you to lull your vigilance and give an outlet to the accumulated tension. But you still feel a growing wave of excitement inside you. And Sukuna knows it, as if he reads your thoughts.

Q = Quickie

Immediately starts high. And if because of this you end up quickly, he will require a second round, then a third, and so it will continue until he gets tired of it. Your sex play can last for hours. His "come on, I know that you are already at the limit" will be repeated so often that you will not even be able to think about anything other than orgasm. And he fucking loves it.

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

Always ready.

You have such compelling requests almost every day. You refuse the majority, because they sound too crazy, but he does not despair and continues to whisper details in your ear, if you nevertheless agreed. And this is, surprisingly, really a working method.

Did the baby suddenly want sex on the roof? Why not!?

On the director's desk? Oh, how can you refuse when you ask him so sweetly, moaning into the phone speaker and squeezing around the air, instead of which there should be yours and only your Sukuna.

S = Stamina

Fuck with him until the morning? Easy! If you are free all weekend, he will definitely find time for you to have fun (if you understand what I mean).

T = Toys

Bad attitude. It's just bad.

— This crap can't take and replace my dick like this! — shouted the King of curses, — Or do you think that she will be better!?

— No, that's not what I mean! — you yelled, — I just suggest you try.

— In that case, I'm against it.

He turned around and left.

You rarely managed to convince him, and this time he was seriously opposed to it. Well, if you want to try them, then you have to do it alone in secret from him.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

It is already difficult to remember at least one sex in which he would not tease you.

Yes! God yes! He knows that you want him at any time of the day or night. Every minute ... He knows all this and feels as if it is a part of him, as if he was destined to constantly touch, squeeze, lick and caress you. Feelings are heightened more if you tell him this directly. For this, he is ready for almost anything. He is ready to give up and just melt between your legs. His skin is so sensitive to your touch that every movement of yours creates desire in him. And an ordinary "dirty slut" excites both of you no less than any other intimate intimacy.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

Loud.

The kisses that descend on your goose bump, lower and lower, turn into a marathon of moans and screams. Whichever of you tries to sound quiet, at times like this it becomes useless. Sometimes you even thought that Sukuna just wanted to shout you down. Such thoughts make you smile involuntarily.

— Why are you smiling? Are these days over?

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

One neighbor lives next to you. Kind and friendly. Every day, there is a new gift for you - a cake, a cookie, or even a garden gnome. In general, he loves you very much and is constantly interested in when you will marry.

One night you were especially noisy: the bed was reeling back and forth, its back was banging against the wall, and you were screaming with pleasure so that the glass trembled. In general, it is not clear how the house sustained both of you, but you woke up in the morning as if you had slept for a whole month.

You were lying around, unable to even pick up your phone or go to the toilet. And then there was a knock on the door.

You quickly pulled on your panties, threw a robe over your naked body and with small steps ran to open the door. There was a neighbor at the door. It turned out that she had heard the noise from your house all night and decided that they were burglars or worse. The morning head, with difficulty digesting information, finally woke up and at that very second you felt so ashamed that you winced and closed your eyes.

— The guy and I had a fight a little. But it's okay. Rampaging is the norm for him.

She was a little taken aback by this answer.

— Was it me who was on the rampage? — There was a hoarse voice from behind, — Yes, you rode on me like a stallion! Although, to be honest, I liked such a filly...

The neighbor stares at Sukuna, dumbfounded.

You wanted to put it in a blender right now.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

20 cm. During erection ± 2.5

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

As stated earlier, Sukuna is not good at compliments or gifts. And he himself constantly claims that this is not necessary at all. He acts on the following principle: good for you, good for him, then everything is fine and nothing else is needed. You want something romantic, not depraved. Sometimes he gets bored with his reproaches and requests to spend the evening in bed again. One gets the feeling that he is not capable of anything else.

Sukuna wants to change for you. Listens attentively when you say anything about the human world. What are the customs, countries, traditions, sights. He remembered everything that you said to him and remembers, too, what you tell to this day. He wants to prove that you were not mistaken by discerning humanity in him, towards which no one ever dared even look. She looks at other men, studies gestures and tries to repeat them. Now you do not understand this, but one day you will realize it, and you will love him like you never did before.

± 8/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

He does not fall asleep and does not sleep. And he goes to his tomb and sits on the throne while thoughts of you visit him. The more he thinks, the more he wants to touch you. Take it and never let it go Any philosopher would say that you are the same as all people. She is as ordinary as millions of others, with her weirdness and naive dreams. Anyone would say, but definitely not him. He doesn't care if you’re ordinary or not, but he wouldn’t date you if he thought the same way. Even if you don’t live a thousand years like him, you’re ready to give you half of your life force, just to die with you.

He doesn't like such thoughts. They don't like the fact that you tied him to yourself, just once you smiled sweetly. He gets angry and screams that he allowed himself to get too carried away by you, and everything around, the whole world is just a pitiful soap bubble, which does not exist even in such a seemingly huge format as your most human soul of all.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

[jeogiyall]

Growing Pains; Song Mingi

Word count; 21.5k

Genre; Mingi X Reader, Hongjoong X Reader, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, Angst, Fluff but Barely

Request: “ hey can I please request a college au with #11 and #17 with mingi from ateez! can it also be long and really angsty but with a comforting ending?? love your work by the way ❤ “

Additional; Featured Ateez, Rebound Hongjoong

Warnings; General Angst, Depicts Depression, Honestly Just Really Sad lol

A/N; this took me so freaking long to write, i’m really sorry to whoever requested it dhkdsfsdaf!! i hope you enjoy it! i haven’t been to college yet so this is all based off of books i’ve read or stories that i’ve been told. if anything is inaccurate i’m sorry, i’ll be learning about really soon lol. if you you like this fic please leave a like or some kind words! love you all, happy reading!

It was a summer day when the local neighborhood bullies pushed you off of your barbie themed bike for the umpteenth time. You remember scraping your knee, dropping your strawberry ice cream cone, then seeing the older boys approach you with malicious grins. But before they could fully reach you there was someone else, someone with limbs that were a bit too long and knees that were raw like yours. Any other day you would’ve found it unbelievably embarrassing that this bozo thinks he can handle this situation any better than you. As if you haven’t been handling this for years. 

But with him it was different. He somehow scared off the crude boys, then offered his hand to hoist you from the pavement while looking sadly at your discarded ice cream cone.

“I’m sorry about your ice cream.” You remember his voice being creaky, like it was always about to break (which it did, frequently,) “I’ll make you some whenever it snows! Th-that’s the only way that I know how to make it, but it’s really good I promise!” He was excited, almost like a puppy. Some part of you thought that it was cute, the bigger part knew he was probably just pitying you. Pitying you the same way that everyone does when you tell them of your constant bullying, only to forget about it in a week and leave you to the wolves. 

“Oh it’s okay, um…”

“Mingi.”

“Mingi!” You repeated the syllables, allowing their taste to form on your tongue. It’s sweet, like an orange soda and going to bed too late, “It’s okay Mingi, you don’t have to pretend like it matters.” Where you thought that his features would fade into relief they pull taught with sadness. He almost looked offended.

“You’re (Y/n,) right?” You nod shortly, eyes welling with tears for no apparent reason, “I-I’m not pretending. It matters.” Something about the way he gazes at you makes you think he’s been wanting to say that for a long time. 

“N-not really, they’re just mean sometimes. Besides, even if it did matter no one can stop it. No one’s ever stopped it.” It felt like you’d crossed a line. Cut the cake before you were supposed to, put out words you were meant to swallow down. Tears were really about to start falling, until Mingi took your skinned palms into his own larger ones. The clench of familiarity in your chest is enough to snuff out the stinging.

“I’ll stop it. I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, and it felt so nice. The gentle touch of someone who could be a friend. The notion that someone wanted you. It felt so nice and foreign and familiar all at once. So you nodded.

“Okay.” He squeezed your hand excitedly then surged forward, but stopped just before his arms could take home on your shoulders. You notice that he smells nice, like oranges and cinnamon.

“Can I hug you?” And just like that he’s made his way into the walls that you’ve already managed to build up.

“Okay.”

The boy holds true to his promise when two weeks later the boys approach you in the hallway, all cheery smiles and cold eyes. It’s a common exchange, they show up and tell you that you look nice today or some other fake compliment before demanding that you give them all of your lunch money. Which sounds stupid, until it’s two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten all day and you won’t get to for another half hour.

But before anything can happen, Mingi is at your side and talking about his advanced math class. You watch as the boys slowly disperse at your friends silly rambling until it’s just the two of you. A deep breath floods your lungs as he softly punches your bicep in a way that’s starting to feel normal.

“Told you so. Do you want to come over for ice cream after school?” It’s silly how the words fill you with warmth, but you don’t even care. Because what you have here is so secure, and you know that it always will be.

And it always is. Mingi’s friendship is solid throughout your entire life, even when you started high school and nearly everything was shaky. Even when he grew out of the awkward limbs and squeaky voice, and all of the girls at your school wanted his attention. Day after day, Mingi would reject their proposals with a simple “I’m busy,” when the truth of the matter was that he would be sitting with you. Alone. In his basement, watching Star Wars on VHS tapes while eating strawberry ice cream and popcorn.

You remember turning to him one night, eyes drinking in the sight of his side profile illuminated by an exploding death star. He smiled widely, clapping his hands the way that he always does at that part. A deep sigh resounded through your chest, causing the boy to look at you with furrowed brows. For what must have been the millionth time, your eyes locked with his. Words weren’t even necessary for comfort.

“Why did you want to be friends with me? No one has ever cared about me too much, so why did you? I didn’t have anyone, why did you want to be my someone?” Your question sounds small, voice wavering gently.

“Maybe I needed someone too.” The response was so quick. Like he had pondered it before. As if he knew every doubt that you were having, and knew that you didn’t need to have them. 

From that night on, Mingi was more than your best friend. More than someone who you spent everyday with. No, he became your partner in almost everything. He took you to the school dance, stood beside you at every sports game, spent long nights trying to decipher math problems. No one was surprised when you two started applying to the same colleges, you weren’t even sure that you’d survive living without him. Judging by the pattering of his heart each time you entered a room, Mingi thought so too.

Over the years of close proximity and healthy doses of codependency, Mingi’s feelings towards you had progressed slightly past friendship. Not that he didn’t still think of you in that way, obviously. It’s just that whenever you fell asleep on his chest halfway through star wars marathons he’d have to will his heart to beat a tiny bit slower, or when his family brought you along to the beach he had to remind himself that it was rude to stare. The shift in his feelings started about three months into your sophomore year together, while stuffing your face with greasy fast food burgers after a wildly unimpressive football game. Neither of you ever cared about school sports too much, yet you were present every single week. When Mingi asked why, you claimed it was to get him out of the house. He’s pretty sure it was so that you’d have an excuse to get burgers afterwards, though. 

The boy distinctly remembers looking up over his boat of fries to see you with full cheeks, one strand of hair sticking to your slightly sweaty forehead. He remembers the bustling sounds of the diner going silent as his eyes drank in the sight of you for what felt like the first time ever. He remembers thinking that he wouldn’t know how to live life if it weren’t for you. Thinking that life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for you.

“What?” You had questioned, nearly spitting out bits of cheeseburger onto your friends fries. If Mingi wasn’t so infatuated in that moment, he would have been disgusted. 

“You’re gross.” He laughed, one hand moving to nudge your shoulder. From that moment on, Mingi thought of you as just a little bit more than a friend. Just a little bit more than a movie marathon partner, just a little bit more than someone to spend late nights with. A little bit more than someone who helped move you into a college dorm, too. 

“Who on this forsaken earth thought that loft beds were a good idea?” You heave, flinging yourself onto the elevated mattress. It’s far from comfortable, and you’ve had to carry countless boxes up two flights of stairs due to the lack of an elevator, and the hallway smells distinctly of burnt microwave popcorn, but you have never in your life felt more free. High school was absolute torture, and while you did have Mingi to lean on you were still terribly lonely for those four years. Every other girl had a group to sit with, or someone to drag along to the bathroom with them in the middle of class. Having only one friend typically meant having absolutely no classes with them. 

But you’re here now, hundreds of miles away from the tattered building where you used to go to school. The only person on the entire campus that even knows your name at this point is Mingi, which in turn means he’s the only person that knows about your habit of loneliness. You intend to keep it that way, too. Every shy kid hears it from their parents, ‘College will be so good for you,’ ‘You’re really gonna come out of your shell in college,’ but those words meant more to you than an empty promise. In the last few months when you were so terribly lonely that all you had was Mingi and writing until your fingertips fell off, those words were your lifeline.

“Probably someone that didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.” Your friend responds while dropping the final box, which is filled with nothing but fuzzy sock, onto the pile that’s accumulating on the desk that’s squeezed under your cursed bed, “Looks like the last of it.” You nod, cheek brushing gently against the uncovered mattress. It creaks loudly when you shift, which is something you’re sure that you’ll never get used to.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help unpacking?” You barely look up while asking the question, nuzzling even closer into the awful bed. It takes a certain level of shamelessness to sleep on a fully uncovered mattress while a random stranger could walk in and drop all of their stuff on the floor, but you swear to the stars that you’re about there. Mingi appears to be the same way, taking to resting against your yet-to-arrive roommates desk.

“Yea I’m sure, my roommate’s this absolute giant, Yunho I think? He promised to help, so I’m all good.” A hollow laugh leaves your throat, aching with sleepiness. Mingi’s eyes soften ever so slightly before casting to your dirty tile floor.

 “Sounds nice.” There’s a nod, then a groan, then shuffling on everyone's part before Mingi is standing in your doorway and casting a soft gaze to your sleepy form.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” A low humph resounds as your answer, but Mingi knows there’s no weight. You’re going to lay on that loft bed, sleeping like a rock until someone bothers to wake you up.

The someone just so happens to be Mingi, five hours later in a fresh hoodie that has your universities name embroidered across the chest. First you notice the perfectly made bed across the room, then the lack of another girl, then the scrent of oranges mixed with cinnamon, then finally Mingi nudging your shoulder from the ground while holding a Styrofoam bowl of hot food. 

“D-did I miss dinner?” Your eyes squint harshly, the way they always do when someone’s just woken you up. 

“Yea.”

“Sorry.” Mingis heart clenches tightly at your slurred speech, then again at your fluttering eyelids.

“S’okay, I brought you food.” His voice sounds warm, low. Like the Mingi that you’ve always known. You sit up and accept the to go bowl he’s passing up before patting the empty spot next to you. Within seconds the boy is next to you and offering utensils along with his arm around your shoulder, “It’s ramen.”

“Really?” The boy nods, fluffy brown hair falling onto his forehead as you excitedly rip the lid off. The smell of spicy ramen wafts through your otherwise empty dorm, and while it’s not the same as what Mingis mom would make from scratch on Winter days it still fills your belly with an immeasurable warmth, “Have I ever mentioned that you’re my favorite person?” Your shoulders relax thanks to a mouthful of slick curly noodles, Mingi can feel each individual muscle give way beneath his touch.

“Once or twice.” 

The two of you spend that night curled up on your bed sharing bites of the warm soup, and even once it’s done and the bowl is disposed of it still feels like old times. His arm is resting around you, the conversation is happening effortlessly, laughter is bouncing from every last tile. It doesn’t exactly fit in with your ‘new school, new me’  narrative, but that’s okay. You can always spend one night in comfort seeing as the following nights will be spent doing thousands of things out of your comfort zone.

When the time comes for him to walk back to his own dorm building, it’s well past dark outside, your clock ticking dangerously close to midnight from its perch on the (useless) nightstand. The boy hugs you in the doorway, making you pinky promise to not sleep through lunch tomorrow. 

“I won’t, I promise! Please don’t tell me that I left you sitting alone!” He exhales a short laugh at your furrowing eyebrows, his hand taking home on your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze out your tension.

“Not at all, Yunho has like a ton of friends. They’re funny, too.” 

“Really?” Mingi squeezes your shoulder one last before nodding. 

“Really.” 

He walks home in silence, the beginnings of an Autumn breeze kissing his cheeks. Upon arriving at the dorm Yunho spins around in his desk chair, smirking at the younger boy as if he knows something that Mingi doesn’t. 

“Where’d you go after dinner? We were gonna invite you to Wooyoung and Sans apartment.” Yunho leans back in the chair, it’s legs teetering precariously in a way that would debilitate elementary teachers.

“Oh, thanks! Maybe next time, I had to check on a friend.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow as Mingi begins to climb into his bed, kicking his shoes off at the base of the wobbly ladder.

“A girlfriend?” The question should be shocking, Yunho doesn’t even know that you exist for crying out loud, but he is so used to it. After being your best friend and caring for you as deeply as he does, he is so used to it.

“Nope, why do you ask.” The older boy simply shrugs, grounding his chair and picking up a stubby pencil. 

“Just an inkling. Lots of girls came up to you in line, you seemed less than interested.” Mingi ponders his response, because what do you even say to that? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s not interested in anyone, he only has you to worry about. You, with your laugh that defines his childhood. You, with eyes that shoot wide anytime you’re worried about accidentally offending someone. You, who wants to make a new person in the coming year; and you, who Mingi wants to convince that you don’t have to change.

“Nope, she’s just a friend.” He decides, the words falling flat in the cramped room.

“Whatever you say.” 

Mingi lays sleeplessly in his bed for hours, his head pounding with the thought of how hard your connection with him is becoming. He loves you in more ways than one, but he doesn’t love the ache in his chest whenever he has to leave you. He doesn’t love that way that the weight of your touch haunts him for days, when for you it’s probably just something easy and meaningless. He doesn’t love being less to you than you are to him. 

But he does love you, in a way that’s impenetrable and everlasting. That alone is almost enough to make everything worthwhile. Almost.

*

It turns out the whole ‘new school new me’ thing is much harder than you previously anticipated. Naïve senior you thought that maybe you could meet new people through your roommate, but that didn’t exactly work out. It’s been two weeks and all you know about her is that she’s a junior, and that she really doesn’t want to be staying in a dorm. 

So, that’s obviously not going the way that you’d hoped. There is another person though, and he’s been a great help in meeting new people. He is a roommate, ironically enough. Just not your own.

Jeong Yunho, sophomore, fading blue hair, cheeks that look like freshly baked bread, brown eyes that sparkle a little bit when you ask about his major (biology, which is something that you know far too much about after a brief stop by Mingis dorm,) and a head that hits damn near every doorway it passes through. He has to duck to get into the cafeteria. But he’s sweet, like the guy who you could ask for help with homework. And he has so many friends, who are all terribly boisterous, that just eating lunch is like going out of your comfort zone.

Which is enough for you, but apparently not Mingi.

It’s a classic Friday night marathon, you already cuddled up on your bed with Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire pulled up on your laptop. The only thing left to accomplish is getting Mingi next to you and watching the movies, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan that your friend has. When he opens the door to your dorm you immediately notice the lack of Harry Potter pajama pants and popcorn. Instead he’s opted for movie night chic, with jeans that have something written on the left thigh and a white t-shirt that hangs off his lithe torso. His caramel brown hair is pushed back in a way that you’re not used to seeing, but it looks good. Attractive, even. There’s something about seeing him all dressed up and handsome while you’re in measly shorts and a platform 9 3/4 t-shirt that makes your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew that you would say no, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a party tonight and we’re going. Surprise!” Your mouth drops open at Mingi’s form of greeting. Before you can even process what’s been said he’s shaking the rail of your loft bed and chanting ‘Get up! Get up!’ 

“What about Harry Potter night?” You question dumbly while shimmying down your ladder. Obviously Harry Potter night has been discarded in favor of a house party, you don’t need Mingi to say anything to gather that much information, “Seonghwa is okay with a party in their apartment?” Mingi laughs gently, a soft shake of his shoulders and glittering eyes. It’s the only familiar thing about your interaction thus far. 

“The boys said that it’ll hardly be a party, probably too few people and too many wine coolers. Maybe some jazz, Seonghwa’s pretentious like that y’know?” He opens your closet door for you and starts to wrack through the few dresses in the very back. You’d never had much of a reason to buy any dresses. 

“Believe me, I know.” Seonghwa was one of the first of Yunho’s friends that you’d met, and while he wasn’t an ass about it he was definitely a little pretentious. It’s probably hard to be an art major for three years and not be pretentious, “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“You don’t have to, but-” 

Long story short, you find yourself sitting on a suede couch clad in a red plaid mini dress that you only bought for a neighborhood Christmas party in your sophomore year and your one pair of worn leather boots. It’s a tight fitting thing, meant to be worn over turtlenecks and with tights, but Mingi insisted that it would look good alone. He’s not wrong either, ever since you set foot into the surprisingly swanky off campus housing your lunch mates have been showering you in compliments. It started with Wooyoung wolf whistling and asking for your phone number, then Hongjoong asking if he could’ve complimented you in a way that was any weirder, then San giving you a stemless wine glass and announcing ‘A sparkling cider for the lady,’ in the most offensive British accent you’ve ever heard. It was for sure a strange form of flattery, but flattery nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry about Wooyoung, he apparently hasn’t been house trained yet.” Hongjoong jokes while settling you onto his plush, red hair briefly sweeping in front of his attentive brown eyes, “Though we can’t really blame him because of the whole sports medicine thing.” You hear a brief ‘I heard that!’ waft from the kitchen, where Yunho and Seonghwa have gathered the majority of the boys. It makes Hongjoong giggle a little bit, and the sound is so clear and gentle that you find yourself giggling too.

“I guess we can’t.” Your eyes move to take in the living room, which is filled with your lunchmates and some extra people who you don’t know in the slightest. First there’s San, your fellow literature major who just switched from middle school education. Then Yeosang, a quiet sophomore who majors in political science. He usually only talks at lunch to tell his table mates that they sound ridiculous, but every once in a while he'll indulge their antics. Lastly there’s Jongho, the only other freshman in the room with you that you know of. You’ve only just finished your second week but everyone’s already expecting him to be the star student of the music program for the next four years. 

Everything about this situation reads anxiety. Mingi is already in a different room, you’ve barely held a conversation with any of these guys before, someone in the corner is definitely getting a little too drunk into a ficus tree in the corner of the room. But you aren’t nervous. A little tense maybe but who wouldn’t be? You certainly aren’t nervous the way that high school you would’ve been nervous.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Your eyebrows shoot up with a quiet ‘hm?’ behind your lips. It’s mostly because you think you’ve missed something that Hongjoong said.

“Not wrong about what?” He looks at you with his brown eyes and a lopsided grin, and when you look back it feels like he’s asking for permission to unravel you.

“That you look pretty.” 

It’s not his words that take you off guard, or how he pinches your cheeks afterwards, or even him getting off of the couch and bouncing into the kitchen like a kid coming down the stairs. Your heart barely announces a flutter, your cheeks barely give way to heat. He was probably tipsy. It’s just that no one has ever noticed you in that way. No one other than Mingi has ever really called you pretty.

So it leaves an impression, to say the least.

Quickly after Hongjoong leaves, San takes his place, Jongho sitting on the floor and nuzzling into the older boy's legs. The three of you talk for hours, Jongho sharing your disdain for grumpy roommates (he says that Yeosang throws pillows at him when he starts practicing) and San for Beowulf. He does mention that your creative writing class is fun, to which you agree. Fun, but ever so stifling for creativity. 

It’s a simple kind of conversation, the kind that doesn’t tell anything too personal but still gives insight into the people having it. San throws in a few anecdotes about him and Wooyoung in high school, Jongho shows you a bruise he got from fumbling up the ladder to his loft bed. You even include a few of the controversial star wars opinions that you and Mingi came up with at three in the morning so many years ago. It’s simple, weightless.

When Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night he pauses outside of the door, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Hongjoong asked me about you.” He says, a smile playing onto his lips. Something about the way that it doesn’t fully reach his brown eyes makes it seem sad.

“Really?” The memory of Hongjoongs hands on your face, his cute voice burning the words ‘you look pretty’ into the back of your mind, “W-What did he ask?”

“Just basic stuff. How long we’ve known each other, your major...” He wants to add ‘whether or not we’re dating,’ because that’s the question that struck him the most. Mingi doesn’t know Hongjoong too well, but he knows that the older boy is sweet and respectable. If Mingi explained all of this mess to him, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t think twice, just go about his day and be friendly as always. But Mingi didn’t explain it, he said that you guys are just friends and that it’s never been anything more than that. Hongjoong smiled in a way that made Mingi’s chest ache and thanked him before bouncing off to entertain Seonghwa. He remembers feeling taken aback, then like he should go talk to the pretty girl that’s been eyeing him in calculus, “I can’t do movie night next week. I-I have a date.”

And it’s something about those words that manages to crawl into your body and find a home in your heart, then pump throughout your entire bloodstream. You shouldn’t be upset. You have no reason to be upset. Mingi is your best friend, and you were stuttering about Hongjoong mere seconds ago, and you shouldn’t be upset right now.

“Oh, okay... Just don’t forget about me.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Mingi looks at you like you’re the moon. With care glimmering in his irises and adoration adorning the glow of his cheeks. You think to yourself that there’s something special in the air, then that you shouldn’t be upset.

You have no reason to be upset.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

*

The next time that you see Mingi is at lunch on Monday, but he doesn’t take his normal seat next to you. He can’t when you’re already sandwiched between Jongho and San, who are talking in intense detail about their terrible morning classes. Sometimes you can join in, seeing as you and San share classes, but for the most part they just banter. Hongjoong is taking up the seat in front of you, his chin resting on his palm while he nods attentively to everything the younger boys are saying. He reminds Jongho that he needs to be getting sleep, and that life doesn’t happen in practice rooms. He tells San to eat his food whenever the boy gets a little bit too excited. He even asks about your day, to which you respond with something simple and lame. When you mention being tired he gives you the rest of his coffee.

Mingi comes to the table nearly twelve minutes after you do, and it’s not really a big deal that he can’t take his usual seat. There’s a chair between Wooyoung and Yunho at the end of the table, which is perfectly fine. The two of you know each other well enough that a simple look can be translated to ‘It’s okay, we’ll see each other later.’ Which is perfectly fine. You both have a lunch that is perfectly fine.

The week continues on like that, though. Missing each other by a hair's breadth. On Wednesday his intro to statistical methods test goes so late that he misses your scheduled coffee run, then when you tried to surprise him in his dorm later that night, Yunho had to inform you that he was holed up in the library with some of the people in his calculus class (Yunho let you come in and made hot chocolate in the Keurig, so overall the night wasn’t too bad.) Then on Thursday you skipped lunch, opting instead to finish the assigned Beowulf reading at the last possible minute. You hated every minute of it, but not as much as you would’ve hated failing your second ever quiz. San sent you a picture of himself and Hongjoong pouting around your empty chair and Mingi in the background laughing at something that Wooyoung had done to Seonghwa. 

Friday night feels more lonely than you had expected. Your bed is empty without the taller boy sitting in it beside you. The movie gets cut off halfway through when your roommate stumbles in and announces that she’s going to sleep, which is the most she’s ever said to you at one time. You turn off your laptop and fall into the uncomfortable bed that you’re slowly getting used to. This is okay. You remind yourself that you shouldn’t be upset and that this is okay. 

Right as sleep is about to wash over the room your phone lights up with a message from Mingi. It’s a picture of his hand cradling the chin of a golden retriever puppy, and beneath he’s written ‘we found these dogs in the courtyard. sleep well :)’ 

After reading the message three times over and staring at the image for ten minutes you start to believe your words. This is okay.

You shouldn’t be upset and this is okay.

*

Your high school had three classes per semester then one free period for a study hall. Mingi would always make this huge deal out of lining up your study halls, claiming that he needed help with his English classes. In reality you were the person that needed help with classes, namely math and science, but he’d always insist that it was because of whatever book he had for assigned reading in the upcoming class. 

There was this one semester, though, where you had four classes. Anatomy, geometry, personal finance, and then your absolute saving grace. Creative writing. 

It was a true blessing, honestly. Since every other class was absolute torture, and you didn’t really have any Mingi time to take the edge off of your day, that class was your favorite part of nearly every day. You would kind of use it as an escape, just sit in the isolated corner desk, tap the toe of your then fresh leather boots, and write about any and everything that came to mind. The teacher liked one of your stories so much that he framed it. 

Seeing as that was your only experience when you saw ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ on your schedule you were ecstatic. You thought that you’d just get to sit and write anything that you wanted. Needless to say, it is nothing at all like your high school class. The teacher speaks too quickly and assigns nearly a million readings. He waited four weeks to let the students do any actual writing, a fact that San was most grateful for. You, however, were dying.

You think the assignment is kind of stupid, too. Focus on a setting, no characters. Just the setting. It took a while for you to get it just right, but after about a week of staying up past midnight you wrote something that was actually good enough to read. It was nearly two pages about Florence Italy, going in depth about the winding roads. You commented that they were the kind of streets that lent way to deep discussion. The kind that begged for secrets to be shared.

All in all, you were quite proud of it. You even considered showing it to Mingi, until it came back with a bright red C sketched on the front. It was covered top to bottom in red ink markings, none of which were comments about your grammar. No, these notes were personal. This sentence is lifeless. Your tone shift is unnecessary. I’m not sure that this is actually in Italy. 

San asked about your grade on the way to your European literature class that day, right as you’re reading over the harshest note of them all. He says that he got an A minus, which makes perfect sense. San isn’t lifeless, he doesn’t do unnecessary things. 

“My grade is fine.” You choke out, eyes endlessly tracing over the red notation. 

‘This feels lonely.’ 

In a way, you suppose that it is. 

*

“So you did this every single Friday night?” Yunho questions while sandwiching his way onto Mingi’s bed. It would probably be normal to be upset that your movie is being infiltrated by your friends roommate and Hongjoong, but you’re just so grateful for the movie night to actually happen that it doesn’t matter.

“Sounds about right.” You’re about to comment that you’ve skipped the past two weeks, but the words twinge with resentment right as they’re about to come out. So you swallow them down while scooching into Mingi’s side. Hongjoong immediately fills the new space beside you, his hands occupied with fuzzy blankets that have various patterns. One has corgi’s and hearts printed from corner to corner.

“I don’t know if that’s lame or endearing.” The older boy comments while spreading the blanket you’d been eyeing across your lap. Yunho laughs while taking in a mouthful of microwave popcorn, and you think to yourself that this isn’t so bad. Having a movie night with more people than usual is better than having none at all. There’s more snacks and extra blankets now, so you don’t have to burrow into Mingi’s comforter halfway through and tangle your legs together. Because you’ve never wanted to do that before, it just happened out of habit and necessity. Definitely habit and necessity. Definitely. 

There’s also not much difference in the essence of movie night. Someone still interrupts serious scenes to crack a joke, you still tell Mingi that he’s breathing too loud, by the time the credits are rolling you still find grease stains on the underside of Mingis comforter. It’s from all of the years of him using the plush blanket in place of a napkin, and the years of you telling him that he’s going to stain it.

Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night. When he stops in front of the door and lets out a deep exhale it almost feels like you haven’t skipped the past two weeks. It almost feels normal.

“I’m glad that at least one of us has a cool roommate.” He comments idly, eyes raking over your growing smile.

“With cool friends.” There’s a gentle laugh, and you’re not exactly sure why. Nothing is funny, just familiar. Maybe a bit tense, though you suppose you don’t know the reason for that either.

“Yea. Cool friends.” Mingis feet shuffle, brown hair flopping onto the bridge of his nose as his gaze takes purchase on the floor. He smells like oranges and cinnamon. He always has. You think that he looks nice like this, with the flickering hall lights illuminating his face. This is probably what Mingi was always meant to look like. Real, and handsome, and grown, “I think we should switch movie nights to once a month.”

And if this whole thing was a little tense before, like an ornament hanging on by it’s hook around one green needle from a Christmas tree, it’s worse now. It’s broken shards of glass all over your living room floor, willing and ready to pierce your foot and stain the carpet. It’s the gaping hole in your Christmas tree. It’s your mom's favorite Santa no longer having a head.

“O-oh... Once a month?” Mingi nods gently. It almost looks like he doesn’t want to be nodding, but he is. He is, and it’s pulling your heartstrings like an orchestra. 

“Yea, I just figured that’d be easier since we’re so busy. Y’know, with classes and friends...” You wonder if he’s going to say something else. Like dates with girls from his calculus class. He never does, but you can feel it.

“I know, I-I’m like... Super busy with all of my f-friends.” A heartless laugh leaves you, and Mingi replies with a smile that doesn’t quite crinkle his eyes, “But yea. Once a month, once a month. Once a month totally works for me.” He takes a step towards you.

“Look, (y/n-)” You think that he’s about to comfort you, which of course would be welcome. Comfort from your very best friend is always welcome. It’s just that a small part of you is worried that he’s going to take it back. You’re worried that he’s going to tell you that it’s whatever and you can have movie night every week until you die and that he’s going to live life in college dragged down by your stupid, lonely self. You’re worried that he’s going to drop it, and that you’ll never live it down.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, yea?” Before the boy can even fully nod, which makes you sick to your stomach for no apparent reason, you’re scrambling desperately for the doorknob to your dorm. You think that you may hear him say goodbye, or wait, or something. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Everything matters. You just want to be inside. 

When you get inside your roommate is sitting on her bed with earbuds in, though they don’t appear to be playing anything. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you can’t really blame her. In the rush to get away from Mingi you probably ended up looking a bit frazzled. 

“Um... Are you okay?” She questions, her mouth making a perfect circle. You nod fervently while bringing your palms up to pull at your cheeks. They’re wet. You’re not sure when they turned wet. 

“I’m fine. It’s okay.” 

Sometimes you say something so many times that it doesn’t sound real anymore. I’m okay, this is okay. I’m okay, this is okay, This is okay, this is okay. Okay, okay, okay...

If your roommate hears you sniffling and shaking while alone in bed that night, she makes no comment. It’s the first thing she’s given you to be grateful about all year. 

*

One of your biggest concerns before starting college was walking to classes alone. All throughout high school Mingi would walk with you across the tiny campus, somehow managing to drown out the crowded hallways with laughter and tips for quizzes. When you were taking discrete mathematics he’d walk backwards down the hallway while showing you flashcards. 

Obviously you knew that wouldn’t be feasible in college. You might not have known many things before coming here, but you knew that vastly different majors would lead to vastly different classes. You knew that Mingi wasn’t going to wake up at eight am every Wednesday to walk you to your lectures. Knowing didn’t seem to make the actual act of it any easier in your brain.

But after just one week you started to look forward to the trek to your classes. At first it was because you could listen to the assigned readings in the amount of time it took you to get from your door to your desk, however that hasn’t been necessary since your social calendar became suddenly clear. You just do the readings at night in your loft bed, which hasn’t gotten any comfier, then use the walk as a time to relax. To think without impositions, even though they’d find their way to you most mornings. 

Today your imposition is dressed in jeans with painting above the knee and a sweater that’s too big, tufts of red hair sticking out from beneath his black beanie.

“What are you doing out so early?” Hongjoong asks while jogging to take up the spot next to you, pulling on the strap of your bookbag as he arrives. When you fully look at his face you can see a dusting of pink across his nose. You think it’s from the light fall wind.

“I could ask the same thing of you.” You think that he looks pretty like this, with inklings of the rising sun taking purchase on his face. You almost think that anyone would look pretty like this.

“I’m out for a walk. Also grabbing muffins from the campus cafe, we’re out of food and Seonghwa’s mgonna be hungry.” His voice sounds groggy with sleep, like maybe he hasn’t been awake long. The notion conjures an image in your head of Hongjoong detangling himself from bed and trekking out to campus all so that his friend would surely have something to eat. It makes this whole exchange just a little bit easier, “Your turn.”

“I have an eight am class.” The boys eyebrows knit together as he looks at his darkened phone screen.

“It’s seven fifteen.” 

“... I don’t like my roommate?” At that wimpy explanation he laughs, a gentle laugh that was made for morning, then hooks his arm through your own. The weight is something that you’ll have to grow used to.

“You kids are gonna drive me insane, I swear it.” His free hand pinches your cheek which is growing increasingly warmer. You hope that you two will continue walking like this, quiet and unbothered and maybe a little bit childish.

“Hongjoong?” You question as he begins to pull you down a brick paved road that you’ve yet to travel.

“Hm?” He answers like nothing about this is strange. 

“My class is the other way.” The boy giggles at your concern, wanting to reach out and run his thumb over the crease in between your eyebrows. Something about your demeanor, which isn’t far off from a stray kitten, clues him in that you wouldn’t respond well. 

“We’re taking a detour.” 

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going I’ll pull out my pepper spray.” This sentiment is the first thing all morning that’s made him stop in his tracks, casting a puzzled look to your bulky bookbag.

“Do you actually have pepper spray in there?” You can feel a smile edging on your lips as your eyes click with his, and while you know that he’s not giving you butterflies or sparks it does feel like something. Like the first gulp of soup on a cold day, or the sound of orange leaves crunching beneath your sneakers. 

“Tell me where we’re going and you won’t have to find out.” Obviously, you don’t have any. It’s been in your cart on Amazon for forever but you’re not one hundred percent sure about how to order things to a dorm, and you figure that your first package shouldn’t be a literal weapon. 

“We’re getting coffee, and you are terrifying.” The comment lights your cheeks with fire as you scurry to catch up with him once again.

“Well you’re the only person that thinks so.” The boy walks so quickly that your feet are nearly going in double time, face puffing with cold air while you speak.

“I doubt that.” You notice that his face is pink again, though you’re not too sure that it’s from the cold this time.

“You’re probably the only person who thinks anything of me.” Hongjoong stutters like he’s going to stop walking again but you tug on his arm once more and he’s back in full swing. 

“That’s so not true. Yunho thinks you’re sweet, San says you’re a wonderful writer, Mingi clearly thinks that you’re amazing.” That last statement finds a crawl in your chest and begins to fill your lungs with pink daisies. Amazing. Mingi clearly thinks you’re amazing. 

“Sure.” You answer with twiddly fingertips and a thumping heart. Luckily you’re standing in front of the campus cafe before you can think too hard on it.

Hongjoong orders two salted caramel hot chocolates, a black coffee, and three blueberry muffins. When you asked why he didn’t get you a coffee as promised he told you that the coffee here is ass and Seonghwa only drinks it because he’s starved for energy. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the frappuccino you order has so much cream and sugary syrups in it that you could barely even call it coffee, and it tastes pretty darn good. It’s not a big deal. Hot chocolate is good too.

“This is really good.” You offer later while walking through the campus quad. There’s not many people out this early, just a girl you’ve seen in your lecture once or twice and two boys playing checkers on the grass. Hongjoong keeps stepping on the crunchy orange leaves then smiling like a little kid. It makes you think that he’s growing on you, then that you thought that you’d be doing this kind of stuff with Mingi. 

You don’t really know why you can’t let yourself enjoy this. You’re in the quad with Hongjoong, waiting out the clock until your class starts, and this precious sweet boy is playing in the fall leaves. This should be a perfect morning, but you can’t help feeling sad. Feeling incomplete. 

“I know, right?” He answers, bouncing over to you wearing a bright expression, “Now get up pretty girl, we’re playing in the leaves.” 

“I have a lecture.” He takes your hot chocolate and places it on the empty seat next to you before slotting his hand into your own. His skin is soft, like blankets fresh out of the dryer.

“And before that you’re going to have some fun, let’s go!” He’s smiling at you expectantly, so what are you supposed to do other than drop your hot chocolate and join him?

Your first impression is that he plays with people in the way that a puppy would play with another puppy. He’s quite fond of kicking up piles of leaves just to see how tall they’ll go, then you kick them up further and he gets flustered. He then proceeds to throw leaves in your face, then picks them out of your hair before you can get mad enough to throw them back. You think that this is a lot of fun, then that your trusty boots make a nice sound when the leaves crunch under them.

There’s this one time when you try to kick up the leaves and your leg slips out from beneath you, which sends you flailing backwards into the leaf pile. Hongjoong rushes over immediately, his face half concerned but mostly lit with laughter. He asks if you’re okay, though it’s through indecipherable wheezing so you can’t really hear him. The boy is laughing so hard that he ends up laying next to you, red hair and sparkling eyes mingling with the orange leaves seamlessly. You think that he looks like a photograph. 

If you show up to your lecture ten minutes late and with crushed leaves sprinkled through your hair, no one mentions it. 

*

Movie night with Wooyoung and San is fun. The popcorn is a little bit burnt, courtesy of San, but their couch is far more comfortable and blankets far fuzzier. Sans burning a candle that smells like cookies, and you feel like nothing could be more accurate to him. 

“This is nice, I’ve been meaning to rewatch Harry Potter.” Wooyoung comments while sinking in between you and San on the couch. He’s cradling a bowl of slightly browned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth as if there’s nothing wrong. 

“Yea, definitely. I like spending nights in.” You’re about to tell them that you considered this a night out, but then you think that’s terribly sad and that you’d sound really lame. So you nod instead.

They’re pleasant movie guests, San makes funny comments every once in a while. Wooyoung starts to fidget about halfway through the first movie so he spends the first portion of the second one making a fresh batch of popcorn. It doesn’t burn this time. Him and San spend almost the entire movie tossing popcorn across the room and into each others mouths.  Overall it’s not such a bad night.

When all is said and done and you’re helping them pick up misfire popcorn kernels, the boys get to talking. They ask you what Mingi’s up to that he couldn’t make it to a Friday movie night. You’re going to tell them the truth, that Mingi’s out on a different date with a different girl from a different class. You’re going to tell them, but the words taste so terribly bitter on the way up.

“Um... I’m not sure. Probably homework.” Wooyoung tosses an unpopped kernel so that it hits you square in the forehead. You simply giggle before throwing it into your trash bag.

“We should’ve invited him! Him and Yunho, it could’ve been a whole thing!” San shouts from the kitchen. It makes your skin prick up with goosebumps. Because while you are definitely lonely, and you definitely miss Mingi, you’re not sure that you could handle his response. You’re not sure that you could handle asking Mingi to come to one of your most prized traditions and him saying no. Him saying no because he’s out with another girl and giving her his undivided attention, because that is how he is, and you couldn’t handle hearing him saying no to you. He never used to say no to you.

“I had fun with just you guys, though!” They tackle you in a bear hug, and it feels nice. It really does, it’s just that you still have that nagging feeling in your gut. Like your professor is right. Like you’re alone.

*

Your next ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ assignment is about characters. The rubric clearly states that it should just be about the people and nothing else. Points will actually be deducted if you mention a setting.

So you wrote two characters, a boy and a girl. The boy finds the girl too bland so he asks if she’ll share a secret with him. She thinks for a long time while the boy studies her face, and he loves every corner of it. Finally, she leans in to whisper something. You don’t tell the audience what she’s said, but you do tell them that it makes the boy laugh. Then he kisses her cheek and they laugh some more, until time dies out and the stars no longer shine. You liked it from the moment that you started writing it, and by the end it was something that you were genuinely quite proud of.

Apparently pride wasn’t enough to get you a much higher grade. It’s passed back looking exactly like the last one, a bright red C and thousands of red notations. You flip to the rubric in the back to see that everything is marked straight down the middle. 

You didn’t mention a setting, but you didn’t make the setting irrelevant.

Your characters didn’t interact with the setting, but they barely interacted with each other.

You included characters, but they were not lively and enjoyable.

And you’re not quite sure why everything you write is so dead. You’re not a person who feels dead, you’re funny and full of life. You have things to say that are important so you write them into stories rather than speaking them out loud. You’re good at this, so why are you getting C’s? Why is an old man with a beard that touches his belly button saying that you aren’t good at this? 

When you get back to your dorm you rip the paper to shreds and cry alone in your loft bed. Mingi texts you to ask when you’ll be at dinner, you tell him that you’re too busy with homework. He asks if he should bring you something, but you lie that it’s all covered. You’re not entirely sure that you could handle seeing him right now. 

When your roommate comes in she seems a little drunk. She clambers over to her bed then finally looks up to you. It’s not your finest moment, cheeks streaked with mascara and shreds of paper all around you.

“You okay?” She slurs out. You think that it’s a dumb question, because obviously you aren’t, but at least she’s trying. Trying is good.

“I’m fine” Right as the words come out you know that they sound fake, but you don’t know what else to do. Normally when you feel like this Mingi is just a phone call away. Every time you’ve tried to call him in the past week it’s gone to voicemail. When a week has really torn you down like this one you’d always have a movie night to look forward to. Mingi made it clear that he wasn’t too keen on that anymore. You usually have your shoulder to cry on. Now you don’t even think you’ll be able to keep yourself together if you see him.

And it’s hard for a lot of reasons. Because you need Mingi but Mingi doesn’t need you. Because everything feels so wrong unless you’re desperately trying to salvage your longest friendship. Because maybe this friendship meant a little bit more than just that, but you’ve realized entirely too late.

*

You usually wake up at seven thirty in the morning. It’s not because you want to, or because your roommate is too loud climbing into her bed at night, or because the sun comes into your dorm weirdly. You just go to sleep late, because you can’t force your brain to stop, then wake up early. Because out of all of the things that are going wrong, why wouldn’t you also get less than four hours of sleep every night?

But it’s not all bad. Every other morning you meet Hongjoong in the quad. Sometimes it’s with a book, sometimes with your latest creative writing assignment. He’ll read them and make comments. He always says that it’s good, and it’s fun to believe him for a little while. 

This morning you come to him empty handed, just like he said to last time. There’s supposed to be a surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you don’t like surprises. 

“Good morning, pretty lady!” He’s always so chipper in the mornings, with his eyes crinkling happily around the edges and bright red hair bouncing. Today he’s wearing a puffy coat that’s nearly ready to swallow him whole paired with jeans that have a painting sprawling up the calf. You had recently found out that he and Seonghwa were responsible for the illustrations on everyone's clothes. Mingi gave them his favorite jeans after two lunches spent in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” You were clearly finding it hard to be as excited.

“Did you read the student newsletter yesterday?” Cold air puffs from his lips along with the words, and his face lights up when you shake your head no. The collar of his coat is brushing his cheeks, “So it’s really a surprise then!”

He’s so precious and childlike in that moment that you decide there’s no harm in indulging him.

“What’s really a surprise?” He’s already started walking so you have to do a half jog to catch up, once you’re at his side he starts to skip so that you have to jog even further. This happens every once in a while whenever your friend is feeling extra punchy. You often find it hard to match that energy, but something about this early November morning has you more present than ever.

“Catch up to me and I’ll let you know.” He reaches into his pocket and appears to pull something out, then hang it over his head. You know there’s nothing in his hand. It’s empty and you know that, nevertheless you chase after him. The boy laughs loudly before sprinting away. Once you’ve caught him you start jumping for the mythical gift hanging over his head, which he finds unreasonably funny. The sound rings off the brick path beneath your feet, and it’s like the sun is finally rising. You think that’s the kind of person that Hongjoong is, the kind that would bring the sun up just to make someone else smile. 

When you open his clenched hand he slips it into yours, fingers curling ever so gently around your own. His skin feels soft, it makes you wonder what kind of lotion he’s using.

“I caught up.” Your voice sounds small. Hongjoong thinks it’s bright, “What’s my surprise?”

“There are puppies in the quad, I think they’re up for adoption. I figured you’d like to see them.” He’s perfect. On paper Hongjoong should be the perfect boyfriend. He takes you to see puppies, buys you hot chocolate, makes you play in leaf piles, you’re pretty sure he’s redone his entire sleep schedule just so that you two can keep up with these morning strolls. You so badly want Hongjoong to be perfect.

But there’s just something off. Maybe it’s because his one hand can’t fully engulf both of yours, or because he doesn’t tower over you with what feels like two extra feet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t smell like orange zest and freshly ground cinnamon. 

Maybe it’s because he’s not Song Mingi.

“I would like to see them.” You respond, squeezing onto the boy's hands. Hongjoong is perfect, but he’s just not right, “I’d like that very much.”

*

You’re not quite sure how it happened, but San seemed to notice that your Fridays were becoming more and more lonely. After that one Harry Potter movie night you did with him and Wooyoung in their shared apartment you’ve not really done anything. Hongjoong invited you to another house party, and you were going to go, but when you reached for the handle to exit your dorm you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about going and knowing that Mingi would be there, probably with his date of the week, made your mouth taste sour. So you stayed home instead, sitting in your bed and struggling with a creative writing assignment. You’d occasionally snack on some granola bars that Mingi stashed in the bottom of your closet when he moved you in.

Those were your plans for tonight, but San grabbed you just before class ended. He told you that Wooyoung was planning dinner but the recipe serves four so he figured that they could invite you and save the rest as leftovers. You agreed, fully expecting that you’d chicken out at the last second and stay home, yet here you are. Standing in their kitchen while sipping on a shirley temple that San mixed up for you, Wooyoung is occasionally stirring the simmering pot on the stove. San invited Hongjoong at the very last second so those two are sitting at the kitchen table and trying to talk each other's ears off. You find your way into the empty seat beside Hongjoong and let his hand rest on your thigh. He rubs gentle circles on your jeans, and it nearly gives you butterflies.

“Dinner is almost done, would you guys mind grabbing some drinks from the garage.” The two boys nod before scurrying towards the front door and shared garage. Wooyoung takes the seat across from you, “Do you think you’re gonna date him?”

“Who?” You ask, probably in a less defensive way than he’d anticipated.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung doesn’t look as playful as usual, the childlike glint gone from his eyes. If anything the boy appears worried, probably for his friend Hongjoong. Part of you wants him to be worried for you. You’ve barely eaten anything except for granola bars in the past week because you don’t want to risk running into Mingi in the cafeteria. Your five hours of sleep every night has been slowly dwindling down to four. Mingi has moved movie night twice this month. You still can’t get a good grade on a creative writing assignment. 

“I don’t know.” You think that you probably are. You think that you mostly want to.

“But you aren’t going to date Mingi?” It feels like the air around you is made of cotton, your mouth has gone completely dry.

You don’t know why you’re upset. You shouldn’t be upset.

“No.” There are tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hope that if you breathe deeply enough then you can will them to stop, “I suppose I won’t.”

The dinner turns out lovely, but you can barely take a bite. You can barely even say another word for the rest of the night. You just tell  them thank you, it was lovely, then go home to finish your creative writing assignment. The professor is probably going to write a note that it’s lonely. That’s okay, though. It is lonely, because that’s what you are. Terribly, and irrevocably lonely.

*

A week after the dinner party you and San are partnered together on a creative writing assignment. The main goal is to learn how to work collaboratively with another author, not that you even considered yourself that, and it’s coming along nicely. There are just a few things that need to be cleaned up before it’s due, which prodded San to invite you out to coffee. At least you thought that’s what it was about, but when he takes his seat at the table there’s no laptop tucked beneath his arm.

“A-are we not working on the project?” You question softly, hands hovering idly over your keyboard. 

“I wasn’t planning to, but you... You can if you want to, I guess.” He drops his bags and heavy coat in the vacant seat before flipping through his wallet, “You ordered yet?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want him to show up and have you already be halfway done with your drink and then deal with the awkward conversation of how you showed up thirty minutes early because other than meeting Hongjoong in the morning this is the only thing on your social calendar for a week. After that you have movie night, “I’ll get you something. Coffee or tea?” 

“Coffee.” When the boy returns to the table, it’s with two steaming mugs, perfect for the frost bitten weather outside. Yours smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

“It’s the shop special I think.” He smiles gently, dimples on parade for the entire campus to see. You think that San has a nice smile, the kind that takes over his face, along with yours before you can even stop it.

“It’s nice, thank you.” Things are quiet for a second while San is putting away his wallet, and for some reason you’re confused. If you’re not going to work on the project then why on earth did he make the time to get coffee? 

“(Y/n?)” He asks softly, raising your attention from the untouched mug of coffee to where his hand is on the lid of your laptop, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” The words sound dismissive before they’ve even left your mouth, “Why did you ask to get coffee?” Sans eyebrows raise and he feels a small tug on his heart. He doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend time with you.

“Because I have free time and I wanted to spend it with you.” You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to hear that. Maybe because you’ve been hiding from life for as long as you can remember, or because you’ve had nothing but free time for a month and you’ve wanted to spend all of it with the one person that will hardly return your texts, or maybe because sometimes those words are hard to hear. 

“Oh.” You take a sip of the coffee, it makes your stomach feel warm for the first time in a long time, “Thank you.” San cracks his knuckles while offering up a gentle smile.

“No need to thank me, we’re friends.” 

“I guess that’s why I’m thanking you. I don’t have a lot of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” The boy is looking at you with attentive eyes, and it feels like there’s something lodged in the back of your throat. It tastes like vanilla and nutmeg and thousands of wasted opportunities, “I used to have Mingi, but he’s so busy with all of the classes and... Dates, that we don’t really talk much. I’m grateful that I have you.” When San smiles it’s sweet and genuine and you feel like you are finally doing the whole college thing. The thing where you make growth.

“I’m grateful to have you too, you’re a sweet kid.” If you weren’t so touched you would remind him that he’s only one year older, “I don’t think any of Mingi’s dates have much substance, honestly.” Something about the way he says it makes you think that he’s not talking about the girls themselves. It makes your heart flip.

“How come?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you pray that they don't sound eager. San lets out a heavy sigh and you think that maybe your prayer worked.

“He just isn’t really satisfied with anything. There have been girls eyeing him since his first time in the cafeteria, but he didn’t care much for it. Now he’s decided to take them up on their offers, and yet he still doesn’t seem to care for it. We’ve all asked him what’s up but he won’t say much. Just that it’s not what he’s looking for.” There’s a pointed gaze that says a million things. Mingi hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Mingi is just as lost as you are. Maybe Mingi couldn’t find what he was looking for because it’s always been there. Maybe Mingi needs you as much as you need him.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You leave the cafe that day with a smile on your face and hope fluttering around in your heart, and for the first time in a long time you think that maybe you can be happy.

*

You’ve been planning this night since the moment you stepped out of the campus cafe with San. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, with all of the contraband candles and what not, but Mingi always said that you went a little overboard on movie nights. Now you’re standing in the center of your empty dorm room, illuminated by tea light candles, wearing the dress that you wore when Mingi dragged you to your first ‘party,’ and your heart all the way in your throat. Because tonight is the night. Tonight you’re going to tell Mingi how you feel about him, and you’re not going to listen to the little voice in your head that says this is probably stupid, and that Mingi showing up over half an hour late is a bad sign. That voice is annoying and has made you wait too long for too many things.

So when Mingi walks into your dorm with rosy cheeks and windblown hair, you let your heart stutter. When his jaw drops open, you let yourself laugh, and when he takes a step forward, you do too.

“What’s this about?” He questions with a familiar deep voice that leaves warmth blossoming in your chest. 

“I just...” Your eyes lock onto the freckle on his neck before flashing back up to eyes. They’re sparkling in the flickering candle light, “I’ve missed you. Really badly, Mingi. I miss you in the mornings when I walk to class, I miss you at lunch when I get my granola bars from the closet, I miss you when I’m with my friends, I-I... I miss you on Friday nights. I spend all of my time missing you, and I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about things, like I think that my creative writing assignments are stupid, and I hate everyone in sports medicine except for Wooyoung, and I miss you. A-and I think that I might love you, so I wanted to-” Mingi takes two steps forward, coming dangerously close to closing your distance, and you think that he’s about to kiss you. You think that you’re ready for him to kiss you. You’re heart is beating faster, then faster, then faster-

“Why are you doing this?” And then it stops dead. You honestly think that you might be dead. This feels worse than being dead.

“Um, d-doing- Doing what? I’m not doing anything, I thought you were-” You’re rambling and it’s so awful, Mingi knows it’s awful. His hands are massaging his temples as if this is insanely stressful. It kind of is, but you can’t figure out why he would think so.

“Why are you telling me that you love me? After not seeing each other for almost a month, why are you telling me that?” Clearly, this is not the way that you expected tonight to go. Several of the candles by your desk has burnt out, you feel like you’re about to cry, “I haven’t been lonely, (Y/n,) because I have a-” You feel tears tugging on your eyelids so hard that it hurts. Before you can think about it, and before you can hear whatever he has to say, your index finger is in between his eyes and you’re staring at him like you want to throw something out a window.

“Don’t say that.” It’s probably the most assertive you’ve ever been with him, “I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.” Mingi takes a deep breath before running his hands through his hair. You wonder when he picked up on that habit, which person got to see this before you did. He looks handsome. You hate it. 

“I don’t understand why you get to want this now. I don’t understand how I have waited and waited for you to love me back for years, and once I’m finally done with letting you break my heart you get to decide that you want this. I don’t understand how that’s fair.” There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but they’re different from the ones that you’ve seen before. They’re not like the ones he sheds over movies, these tears are angry and unwilling. 

“Mingi I-“ 

“Don’t say that you didn’t know. I know that you didn’t know, because you never wanted to know. You were too scared to know, but I was never scared. I’ve always known that we were right, and you were always scared.” It feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat in the worst way possible. Like it’s a spider that you swallowed. 

“Mingi that's not what-“ 

“But I can’t be with you (Y/n,) because I’m done with you being scared. I’ve been done with you being scared for years, and I'm finally okay with being done with you. Let me be okay, (Y/n.)'' There are now tears behind your eyes as well, but it’s not angry. It’s sad, because he’s right. You are really scared, it took months for you to work up the courage to admit to even yourself that you love Mingi.

“What are you saying?” The words are choked and staccato, tears spilling freely onto your cheeks. A brief look at his tear streaked face tells you that he’s known this answer for forever. 

“I’m saying that I can’t be with you right now. I just… Can’t.”

He leaves before he can see you sink to the tiled floor, or hide your face in your hands, or cry off all of the mascara you had put on just for tonight. Just so that you could bat your eyelashes at him and give him love until the sun came up. Just so that you could give him your love like flowers and a candle lit room.

But you don’t get to do that. You put on mascara for no reason. Mingi doesn’t want your love, he doesn’t want your candle lit room. He gave your flowers back, and they’re just going to sit on your nightstand until time takes her toll on them. Until they wilt and wither and all of the petals fall onto the floor. You don’t know if you’ll have the strength to sweep them up.

It’s not clear when you start crying, but it is clear that you never stop. You cry for hours and hours until you finally pull yourself off the floor and into your bed. The candles burn themselves into darkness. The room smells a bit like ash. Your blankets are warm. Your chest aches. Mingi is gone. You are scared and you’re alone. You probably always will be.

* 

You’re not sure when food lost its taste. When your room lost its color. When your legs became too heavy to move. When sleep became extinct. When it was easier to be in the library than it was to be in your own room. When every single one of your grades sky rocketed to an A while creative writing sat heavily at a C. You can’t watch Star Wars anymore without wanting to throw up. Strawberry ice cream tastes like poison.

You’d fallen asleep on a desk in the back of the library twice before Yunho found you. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do seeing as it was the middle of the day and no one had heard from you for a week and a half except for San, but he figured that leaving a hot coffee by your sleepy head seemed to suffice. If you were tired enough to fall asleep in the library it was probably much needed.

He thought that he’d just forget about that encounter, sweep it quietly under the rug and hope that you started getting more sleep. It was going well enough, until he arrived here. One week later, ten minutes before midnight, you in the same exact position as last time. There were tear tracks in your makeup and black smudged beneath your eyes. He could see the assignment peeking out from beneath your folded arms, ‘Study In Relationships,’ no doubt for creative writing. There are only two words that aren’t covered in black scribbles. You let a gentle snore, and he knows that it’s time to wake you up. To talk to you.

“(Y/n?)” He whispers while gently nudging your shoulder. You grumble ever so slightly before snatching the unfinished assignment back to rest beneath your head. Another small grunt leaves your lips before he calls out your name again, shaking you with a bit more force than the last time. Your eyes flutter open gently and take in the tan walls and fluorescent lighting before you fully register that Yunho is there. 

“Hey,” Your voice is gruff around the edges, and you know that if you say too much everything is going to fall apart, “good to see you.” His eyes take you in, sweatpants with countless stains, a hoodie that has a little hole forming in the armpit, your hair disheveled and greasy. He knew that something bad had happened when Mingi came back to the dorm about two weeks ago with tear filled eyes and an unwillingness to talk. You stopped showing up to any of the meals after that, even Hongjoong couldn’t get a hold of you. The blue haired boy would be lying if he said he didn’t worry for you in passing, but all of those concerns were brought to a forefront at the sight of you now. You look, and he means this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster. 

“Yea, i-it’s good to see you too.” His hands fiddle with the hem of his sweatshirt, busying themselves so that he doesn’t start to pack up for you, “The library is closing.” Your eyebrows furrow as you suddenly remember where you are. 

“Oh. I-I’ll get this cleaned up then.” You don’t know why, but asking him to help feels wrong. You’d like help, but something about his pitying eyes makes you feel small. The same way that you did when those boys pushed you off of your hot pink bike. Like he’s pitying you, except now there’s no lanky kid to save you.

Yunho ends up offering the smallest amount of help possible, just slipping your pencil into your bookbag, before helping you stand. The room swims for a minute before you can walk.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” You don’t know how to tell him that most nights you don’t go back to the dorms after the library kicks you out. Most nights you plop down on a bench in the quad and slave over your creative writing journal. Most nights you don’t crawl back into your room until four in the morning, when your roommate is dead asleep and can’t ask you if you’re okay, “Just don’t want you walking back alone in the dark.”

And really, what are you supposed to say?

“Yea, that’s fine.” The two of you walk in silence for a wall, nothing except for the rhythm of padding feet and rustling tree branches. Early winter air nips the tops of your ears while Yunho shivers beside you. You hear him miss a step and you feel yourself choke on a thousand words. 

“We’ve missed you.” You don’t respond with the question that you desperately want to ask. You don’t ask if everyone misses you. If a certain boy that smells of cinnamon and eyes that glimmer like childhood misses you. 

“Yea. I’ve missed you guys too.” The silhouette of your dorm building is slowly coming into view, you think that it looks different when the world is still awake. Some windows are still lit, people are drawing curtains shut. Normally when you come home everything is dark and unbelievably cold. This isn’t anything special, but it’s a whole lot better than that, “This is me.” You say tersely while slowing to a stop in front of the looming building.

“Yep.” You can tell that he wants to ask you something. Maybe it��s why you were asleep in the library, or why depression wears you like a necktie, or why he hasn’t seen you in the cafeteria for a month in a half. He wants to ask you something, but the way his lips close around the consonant tells you that he won’t.

You get halfway into the door before something tugs at your heart strings, “Yunho?” You call out, turning halfway over your shoulder to see his eyes trained on you. They look sad. You think that it makes sense why, “Thank you.” 

He nods curtly, and you know that he’s not sure why you’re thanking him. It’s okay though, because at least you know that he misses you. Before tonight, you thought no one missed you.

Sleep is as rare as ever that night, yet the thing that lulls you to sleep is the same as always. Floppy brown hair, clapping hands, a bad CGI explosion playing off of a crackly VHS tape. He smells like cinnamon and orange rinds, yet when you inhale it’s nothing but your dusty dorm room.

*

The end of the semester means wrapping up many loose ends. You pack up every coat and Christmas themed clothing item in your closet, notably avoiding the dress that you wore for Mingi. You meet Hongjoong for coffee and exchange presents, a pair of customized jeans for you and a twenty five dollar visa gift card for him. He smiled really wide when you told him that it was to make up for all of the coffees and meaningless conversation. You drop the level two creative writing class that was on your schedule. San makes a plan to meet up over the holiday and you agree wholeheartedly. Finals week isn’t all too bad seeing as you’re already getting less than four hours of sleep a night and funneling every bit of brain power into school. The only thing that’s left for you to do is turning in your creative writing assignment, which is both the easiest task and the one that you want to do least. 

The classroom is dead empty when you enter, not even your white bearded professor in sight. You scurry down the steps with the short story in hand, a meaningless piece about two strangers who share misty mornings. You hate it, just like you’ve grown to hate almost everything that you create, but it’s an assignment. It meets the bare minimum for what’s required on your rubric. You finished it.

“Miss (Y/n?)” Your body freezes in the middle of the final step before stuttering slowly back to normal. It probably looks stupid but you barely have the will to care, seeing as the thing that you were most dreading was happening. Your creative writing professor is standing at the top of the classroom with his long beard and judgmental eyes, and you are standing in front of his desk with shaky knees. 

“O-oh, hi! I was just turning in-”

“Why aren’t you enrolled in my class next semester?” You take in a breath, the air as thick as soup. You don’t know how to answer his question. You don’t want to answer his question. Answering his question feels like letting go of a piece of yourself.

“Oh, I-I dropped it. It’s just that I have other classes I need to take, a-and I’m not all that good so…” Your professor nods before furrowing his bushy eyebrows and starting slowly down the stairs. Each of his forward steps causes your heart to thump. 

“Who said that you aren’t good?” He questions, continuing down the steps. You clench the assignment in your hands and watch as the paper creases beneath your thumbs. When you look at the pages they’re clear, nothing but your words and margins, but when you think about what it’ll look like in a week you want to cry. It’ll be marked in red, with a fat red ‘C’ circled on the title page.

“I-I just, I never thought, Y-you said-” The professor is now standing in front of you with folded hands, his expression of confusion shifted into concern.

“I never said that you aren’t good.” You  breathe in again, the air thin enough to actually intake this time around. 

“You didn’t?” He shakes his head before pulling the crinkled assignment out of your hands.

“No, you show great promise as a writer! Your writing is… lacking, but it’s only in one area that can be easily improved upon. No great writers start out great, but all great authors show their flaws at one point.” Tears prickle the back of your eyelids, and it feels like there’s a little hand grappling onto whatever you thought you’d have to let go. 

“Miss (Y/n,) I’m trying to say that failure is okay. Getting less than a ‘B’ on your paper is okay, but you can’t stop trying.” He’s right, a part of you has known for a while that he’s right. Just because you got a bad grade in this class doesn’t mean that you’re bad at writing. Just because Mingi said no doesn’t mean that you’ll never feel deeply again. It just means that you need to keep trying.

“Oh, um… Thank you.” You’re not sure what else to say. There honestly isn’t much else to say, so you give him a short nod and head towards the stairs. You think that you’re going to head back to the dorm and cry on your bed, which is stripped of its duvet and most of the pillows. You think that you’re going to ask if you can have this class added back to your schedule. You think that you might speak with Hongjoong more often once your break is over. 

And sure enough, your spring semester begins with Hongjoong walking you across campus and to your second level creative writing class. The month away seems to have done good for the both of you, Hongjoong returning with dozens more customized clothing items and you with slowly disappearing eye bags. His hair is also faded into a lighter pink shade, which you think suits him quite well. 

Your walk to class is uneventful, riddled with small talk and basic catching up. Near the end he slips his arm beneath your book bag and around your waist, which feels nice enough. His arms are stronger than you expected. The half embrace is not unwelcome. When you two are standing outside of the quickly filling classroom he takes your hands into his own for a brief moment before asking if you’re free for coffee after class. You want to make up an excuse for why you can’t go, because you know that this isn’t just two friends going for coffee, but when you look at Hongjoong there are sparkles in his eyes. Pink hair tickles his cheekbone as he smiles warmly at you, and you find yourself thinking that his confidence right now is commendable. You also find yourself saying yes, you can definitely get coffee with. 

It’s a fun outing. He cracks a few jokes, you talk about class. He asks if you have any assignments and you say not yet. When he orders an iced coffee you ask if he’s trying to get frostbite, to which he laughs and pokes out his tongue. You think that he looks cute. You think that all of this is kind of cute. 

You also think that when you’re with Hongjoong, and he’s making you laugh and holding your waist, it’s very easy to forget about how badly you miss Mingi. 

*

When you agreed to re-enroll in your creative writing class you and your professor exchanged a number of emails. First about how you could improve your grade, then about how to improve your writing, then countless of other questions with ambiguous answers before the two of you finally settled on having weekly meetings. It would be sort of like he were your personal advisor, but only for writing. You would come into his office once a week to discuss your current project and he would read it over, ask if you had concerns, usually give some feedback. 

Within the first week it was clear what your most reoccurring critique would be. It was a mantra echoed many times, ‘To write life you have to live it.’ He said that your writing was good, pretty, but the characters lacked life. Then he asked if you could try to spend a little more time with people. It didn’t have to be much, but he was convinced that a bit more people time would improve your writing greatly. 

It’s been a month or so since that first meeting, and you weren’t sure if you agreed yet. You were spending almost everyday with Hongjoong, sometimes Seonghwa as well. You were definitely more tired each time you came home, but you also smiled more. Laughed more, too. They would often ask you for help with silly things, like the time that Hongjoong called you at midnight because he needed help touching up his hair, Seonghwa often asked you to mix his paints. It often felt like you were their third roommate, but it was okay. You had fun. 

Yet you didn’t see much improvement in your writing. There were still notes in red ink on your paper. You weren’t sure of the remedy you should apply, but more people time seemed like it wouldn’t hurt. So you set up daily lunches with Yeosang and Jongho, which was an interesting dynamic to say the least. Jongho would sit down most days and chug an entire reusable cup of green tea with soy milk before getting lunch, to which Yeosang would furrow his eyebrows and comment ‘I don’t know how he drinks that.’ Usually the younger boy would talk animatedly with you about classes then he’d ask if Yeosang had anything going on. Your dark haired friend would look up from his half inhaled plate of food with deep set eye bags and say that he had at least three papers to write. One time you asked if he was okay, but he just laughed and blamed it on his major. After that your writing seemed to improve greatly, at least according to your professor. He told you that it was starting to come alive much quicker. The only thing he had left to say was that your more gentle characters needed work. He said that they needed to be more than just gentle.

Running into Yunho in the library after that meeting was pure coincidence. You were headed to the back to start cracking down on some of your more challenging classes, namely entrance level biology, yet when you dropped your bag on your usual study table you noticed someone was already there. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll just-”

“(Y/n?)” He asked while turning to face you. It suddenly hit you that the last time Yunho had seen you was while you were at your absolute worst. Not sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone but yourself. You don’t know if he’s going to let that version of you go. You only know how badly you want him to. 

“Yea, it’s me.” The words tug on your vocal chords so you cough lightly in an attempt to clear them, “How are you doing?” He twirls the blue gel pen in his hand for a moment before responding.

“I’m okay. The usual kind of busy, my room’s been messy lately. Just normal stuff.” Quiet settles over your conversation so that you’re left standing awkwardly in front of his neatly organized table. You’re not sure why you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you are sure that it has something to do with the fleeting thoughts of the boy that Yunho’s sharing that messy room with, “What’re you working on?” He asks, motioning with his gel pen to the stuffed folder in your hands.

“O-oh just some biology stuff, I have a quiz next week so…” Before you can say otherwise he’s clearing off a spot on the table and telling you to pull up a chair. He helps you with pretty much every half finished assignment. He even adds extra cheat codes onto your flash cards in crisp blue ink. As you’re leaving the library to get dinner with Hongjoong he tells you to meet him back here after your quiz.

“After all, I’d like to know how my best student is doing.” Weekly study sessions honestly come about naturally. He insists that he’s beyond happy to help, and you’re beyond happy to observe him. Listening to him talk is your favorite part. He’ll ramble on about a lab or being worried that someones going to steal his bike from in front of the dorms. He tells you that he thinks Hongjoong will ask you out, you tell him that you know. He says that your handwriting is pretty, you thank him. When he talks about things that make him angry his words are gentle and calculated, so as not to hurt people that aren’t even present. Needless to say, the red ink marks are few and far between after factoring this newfound knowledge into your pieces.

But you think that it’s a bit more than that too. For the first time in… Ever, you think, you’re happy. Not in a fleeting way that depends on strawberry ice cream eaten on Friday nights. You’re happy in a way that’s hard to tumble, and you’re happy in a way that’s without Mingi. You never thought that you would be happy without Mingi. All throughout high school you feared this very thing, having to live without him and be okay with it. Now that you’re doing it, it’s not all that scary.

You still see Mingi around campus from time to time, in curls of chestnut hair and broad shoulders. Sometimes when you’re walking to class with Hongjoong you can hear his laugh bouncing from the surrounding buildings. Part of you wonders if you’re just conjuring him up. Part of you wonders when it’ll stop. 

Hongjoong does ask you out, just like Wooyoung, and Yunho, and everyone predicted. You say yes. You laugh with your friends until your sides hurt. You share kisses with your boyfriend. You start to feel excited about life in a way that you never have, and a part of you honestly wonders if this whole thing with Mingi was just a growing pain. Something that needed to happen in order for you to change.

The aching of your chest at night says otherwise. But believing as much is easier to stomach.

*

You’re relaxing at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s house when a nerve is struck. You'd been sitting at the table chatting with Seonghwa while Hongjoong made himself something for lunch. It was really an accident, you had just been telling Seonghwa about your study session with Yunho when he got onto the topic about an awkward study date he had been on recently. You laughed as he recounted it and assured him that a study date was a cute first date.

“I’m sure it’s not as cute as whatever you and Hongjoong did.” And that’s when it happens. The chord is played, the line is written, and Hongjoong was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Y-you did have a good first date, right?” Your boyfriend said nothing, just bit his lower lip and returned his attention to the stove, “You’ve been dating for a month, you had to have had a first date. Right?”

“I’m sure that we will.” The tension that followed your meek statement was painstaking. First Hongjoong inhaled sharply through his nose, then Seonghwas mouth pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows raised. He muttered some nonsense about needing to get started on his painting for realism class. Apparently he was in such a rush to leave that he forgot that he wasn’t even taking a realism class, “Look, Joong we don’t have to-”

“Do you want a cutesy first date?” He asked, turning away from his food once again so that his eyes could bore into your own. You weren’t sure if his voice was stern in that moment or sincere, either way it was maddeningly effective.

“I mean… It would be nice.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded with his tongue in his cheek before returning to his food. Once it’s done and the fragrance is drifting from his workplace and towards the table, he takes the seat across from you. You’re about to say something but then he presses a swift kiss onto your lips.

“Then you, my darling, are getting just that.” 

A cutesy first date, with your sweet boyfriend who brings you tons of joy. It sounds great in theory, except for the fact that it’s been a week since your conversation and he still refuses to tell you when or where the date will be. Some may say that it’s romantic, but you say that it’s stressful. Pretty much every time that you leave your dorm room you end up seeing Hongjoong, so pretty much every time that you leave the dorm room you’re fully dressed and ready to go out. You’re starting to think that he’s finding joy in your suffering. It’s not too drastic of a belief, seeing as every time that you open your dorm room in a new outfit he giggles and whispers ‘cute.’ 

The miniature cat and mouse game finally comes to an end about a week and a half later, when he texts you Friday morning that you should wear something cute today and to be ready for pick up at five thirty. Though, the suffering doesn’t really end because in reality you spend the entire day raking through your closet for anything that could possibly make a cute outfit. There’s the cursed red plaid dress that you wore to that house party and awful confession oh so many months ago. You figured that was a no go, but honestly what else did you even have? There’s a uniform skirt that you bought while thrifting with Hongjoong, but you weren’t sure what shirt to wear with it. Your favorite jeans were in the wash so those obviously weren’t an option. It looked like it was going to have to be that dumb little dress.

But it’s not so bad, you manage to pair it with a black cardigan and the pair of leather boots that your mom got you for Christmas to replace the old ones. You also do more makeup than last time, so it really doesn’t look all that similar. When you look in the mirror before answering Hongjoongs knock you’re barely even thinking about the last night that you wore the dress. You’re thinking about tonight… Mostly about tonight.

You open the door to see your boyfriend wearing a black button up and blue hair that catches you off guard. His hands are shoved cutely into his pockets, you can see his thumbs twiddling from inside his jean pockets. The moment that his eyes take in your frame his face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s a familiar smile at this point, he wears it around you constantly.

“You look amazing.” He says beneath his breath. You watch with twinkling eyes as he examines every one of your features, your smiles growing with each passing moment.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You're not sure what to do past this point. He’s said that you look nice, you’ve internally fawned over his new hair that looks so incredibly soft, you’ve looked each other once or twice and smiled. You don’t know if you’re supposed to kiss him now, or hold his hand, or what. This is all quite new, “Um, should we get going?” He looks back at your face with a jump, as though your question had pulled him out of something. You’re going to ask what, but you aren’t quite sure how to get the words out. 

“Yes, yea! I-I’ll lead the way.” After five minutes of walking around your familiar campus you arrive at the shuttle. You’ve only taken it once or twice in your time here, mainly to get to Hongjoong’s house at the edge of campus, but you do know that on weekends it will take you into the nearby city. There’s only one seat left by the time that you get on, so of course Hongjoong let’s you have it and opts to stand instead. 

“You can sit if you want to.” He immediately shuts down your offer with a quick peck to your lips and a sweet giggle that you’ve grown to adore. 

“It’s our first date, I can’t have you thinking that I’m anything less than a gentleman.” If he weren’t so endearing you’d point out that you’ve been together for over a month. But he is endearing, so you only laugh and take hold of his hand. 

The date ends up being pretty much perfect. He takes you to a small cat cafe that’s tucked away on the downtown streets of the city, something that you didn’t even know existed until this very night. The inside is fully decorated in light pink with white lighting that highlights your adorable boyfriends features. He’s so sweet the whole time, smiling and letting the cats curl up in lap. The two of you share a piece of cake, he smears a little bit of the stiff frosting onto your nose. It’s cute. Sweet. You return to the dorm room with hot cheeks and a bashful grin.

“I had a lot of fun.” You say to him while leaning up against the doorframe of your dorm room. He smiles, but it’s different from the smile that you usually see. He’s usually so confident and sure of himself, but in this fleeting moment you can see unsureness in his features. It’s almost like he didn’t think you’d like the date.

“Yea?” You nod as quickly as he can ask. It’s not clear why, but you feel the need to assure him that you enjoyed your time together, “I’m glad. We could do something like this every week, you know?” 

The response isn’t as quick this time, or as adamant. You want to say yes. You had fun tonight, you enjoy spending time with Hongjoong, you want to say yes. But there’s something holding you back. It’s gentle, tugging on your heartstrings like a haunting winter melody. It tastes of strawberry ice cream, and smells of Song Mingi’s basement. You still remember the first time that he proposed a weekly movie night, all those years ago. You still remember how wanted it made you feel. At times you wonder if anyone will make you feel as wanted as Mingi did.

You’re starting to wonder that now, even as Hongjoong catches his thumb beneath your chin so as to tilt your chin up. The thoughts don't waver until your eyes meet, and you think that you’re probably right. No one will make you feel as wanted as Mingi; but Hongjoong does make you feel wanted. It’s not as overwhelming as Mingi. It’s not as safe as Mingi. It’s not as fateful as Migni. But it is there.

“What do you think? About the weekly thing, I mean. Like how does that sound?” Mingi was everything to you. In many ways he is still, but he’s also gone. Hongjoong is most things, but at least he’s here.

“It sounds lovely.”

*

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few weeks, pretty much ever since Hongjoong started with the dates. It’s mostly when you come back to your dorm after them and lay belly up on your loft bed, eyes glazing over the ceiling tiles that you’re pretending to count. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong, the way that his smile overpowers his face. The way that he laughs whenever he flusters you. The way he takes time out of his week to plan these cute little dates with you. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong. But most of the time you don’t. 

Most of the time you find your thoughts wandering far out of reach, and most of the time they wander straight into Song Mingi. It starts with thinking that you miss his presence, the way that he jumps to help anyone with anything. The way that his eyes shine each time you call out his name. You miss the way that he gives hugs, all warm and inviting. Some nights if you focus hard enough you can even remember the way that he smells. Orange zest and cinnamon.

If you’re honest with yourself, you know that this isn’t fair to Hongjoong. You like him well enough, but he adores you. He calls you darling and kisses you as though the action is sacred. He always walks you home after every date even though his own house is so far away. In theory, he is perfect. You’ve been dating for close to two months, you should be fully head over heels by now. But you can’t give that to him, and you know it. You also know that you can’t be alone again.

“Darling?” Hongjoong questions, pulling you away from your thoughts and back into the present. The two of you are cuddled into a far corner of the couch, midday sun pouring through the tall windows and landing across your boyfriend's face. You were watching the light dance in his eyes and talking about your latest creative writing meeting, but then he started talking about having another dinner party at the house. He said that it’d be like the one that he and Seonghwa hosted at the beginning of the school year, where you came with Mingi. It’s kind of funny honestly, because he regards that as one of the nights where he first started to like you. You regard it as one of the nights where Mingi first started to hate you, “Is everything okay?”

You should tell him no, because that’s the truth. You’re not okay. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over Mingi. You don’t think that you’ll ever love Hongjoong the way that he so clearly loves you. You shouldn’t lie to him. You should tell him no.

You also shouldn’t be alone again, right?

“Yea! I’m just tired. That’s all.”

*

In retrospect, you should’ve asked Hongjoong to not invite Mingi to this house party. It would’ve sounded odd, sure. As far he knew you and Mingi were still friendly. Had you requested that Mingi wouldn’t be invited you probably would’ve ended up having to rehash the entirety of your history. It would probably leave your boyfriend questioning whether or not you still had feelings for Mingi, a question that you’d have to lie through your teeth to answer. It would’ve been a little bit awkward, sure. But at least you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You fall gracelessly onto Hongjoongs unmade double bed, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Mingi arrived at the off campus house nearly two hours after all of the other guests. There was an small window where you thought that you were safe, in which you took time to talk with San and Wooyoung while grazing over the cheese board that Seonghwa had set out. You felt like a true adult in that narrow window, the kind that works a nine to five job and deals with their problems. Then Mingi arrived. Two hours late.

You watched carefully as his eyes bounced around the room. They landed first on Yunho, who engulfed the boy in a warm hug before returning to his previous conversation. Then they traveled to the sectional couch in the living room where Seonghwa sat with Yeosang. He offered them a short greeting while walking through the living room, face crinkling with laughter at something that Yeosang had said. You find it comforting that after so much time apart his laughter hasn’t changed. He filtered naturally out of the conversation before moving to stand beside the tv. You watched his eyes move deftly across the open floor plan and began to wonder what he’s looking for so eagerly. Maybe it’s the girl from his math class. Maybe it’s someone entirely different. His gaze wandered and wandered, covering every corner that it could reach before finally landing. Before finally landing on you.

His eyes were piercing yet kind, stripping away the facade that you had previously believed. You aren’t an adult. You’re a little girl that got pushed off of her barbie bike and had to have a lanky preteen come to her rescue. You’re the idiot who lit dozens of tea light candles in her dorm room just to be turned away. It feels like you’re being stripped of your skin, but it also feels like you’re being reminded of yourself.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asked. You were so occupied with Mingi that you didn’t even realize he had joined. His question was sobering though, pulling you back to the harsh reality that you are okay. And you’re okay without Mingi.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You tore your focus back to the group in front of you, who were all staring at you. They clearly didn’t buy your answer, and you didn’t blame them too much. Anyone who didn’t know you could see that you were distressed, so clearly three of your close friends could tell, “I-I just realized that I have a paper due tonight. I’m gonna go finish it in Hongjoong’s room.” 

You now find yourself praying that Hongjoong won’t try to come and find you. You don’t know how to lie about this to him. You don’t know how to look him in the eyes and make up a reason for why you freaked out and left the party. By some terrible coincidence the door handle starts to jiggle. You want to say that you think through all of the possibilities of what you’ll say to him, but in reality there’s only one option of what you’ll say. The truth. If Hongjoong were to come into his room right now and ask what’s wrong you would have to tell him the truth. That you love Mingi.

“Hey honey, I had a paper to finish and-” The person that comes through the narrow doorway is much taller than your boyfriend. His shoulders are broader. The slope of his nose goes down further. Even from here you can smell brown sugar and oranges, “Oh. It’s you.” He looks handsome as ever. His cheeks may be a bit slimmer, the bags beneath his eyes are a bit deeper, but he still looks like Mingi. His face is still your childhood.

“Yea. It’s me.” Silence falls over the room, squeezing tightly around the chords of your throat to the point where you think that they’re going to break, “I-I just saw you come in here and-”

“I have a paper.” He swallows harshly, hands shoving into his pockets as his eyes stay glued to the floor. You find that bit funny, seeing as when you were outside he wanted to look nowhere but you.

“Right. A paper. I’ll leave you to that, then.” He’s moving to leave, and in that moment you know nothing. You’re not entirely sure what your name is, or where left is in relation to right, but you do know one thing. You don’t want Mingi to leave. You don’t want him to leave. He’s barely been here for two minutes. You haven’t said a single thing that you wanted to say. He can’t leave.

“Wait!” The boy stops in his tracks before turning. His eyes finally meet yours again, they’re  questioning and so gentle that you almost think things could go back to normal, “I don’t have a paper due tonight. Well, I do but I did it two days ago. It’s just that when I saw you I-I… I panicked. Probably because we haven’t seen each other in months. Probably because I really, really, miss you.” Your eyes are slowly becoming tearful, but you really don’t want them to be. You’ve shed so many tears over this relationship. You should be able to do this. The fact that he’s not saying anything doesn’t make it any easier, but still. You should be able to do this, “You don’t have to say anything, I guess, but I-I’m glad that I said it. You were my best friend, I’ll always think of you in that way. I know that we’ve both said… Things, and I get that you might not be able to move past that, but I’m willing to. If it means that we can be friends again, I’m willing to.” Your eyes somehow became glued to your twiddling thumbs over the course of your speech. You don’t think that you’re going to move them, until you feel a pair of strong arms embracing you. He smells so good, like he always does. This one hug feels like all of the comfort that you’ve craved for the last six months. Like the comfort that only Mingi can bring you.

“I’ll move past it. I-I’ve missed you too.” His voice is low, crackling like a fresh log that’s been thrown into the fireplace. You spend the following two hours in Hongjoongs room. You’re curled up on the bed and he’s in front of the disheveled desk. It’s dodgy, you know that it is, but something about really being here with Mingi makes you forget about all of that mess. It’s much easier to forget about it. You eventually return to the party, floating in between conversations with all of your friends. It’s nice to not have to avoid Mingi. At one point Hongjoong joins your conversation with Mingi, San, and Wooyoung. He puts an arm around your waist, which you should enjoy. You would like to enjoy it, but your mind is slightly preoccupied. 

“Where’d you go earlier, darling?” He whispers into your ear halfway through a drawn out story that San is sharing. He’s always been awful at telling stories, but he gets so excited that everyone lets it slide. 

“Oh! I just had a paper that I needed to finish, so I went and did that in your room.” He wants to ask why you had to do that with Mingi, but then the other boy starts to laugh and he knows the answer. Based entirely off of the way that you look at him, Hongjoong knows. 

Once everyone has left and you’ve all shared your goodbyes, Hongjoong suggests that the two of you clean up the living room together. It was an hour or so of silence before he brought up the elephant in the room. 

“I’m not it for you. Am I?” You don’t know why you thought he’d be angry with you. Probably because he’d have every reason to be so. But this is Hongjoong. You could single handedly send the world into ruin and Hongjoong still wouldn’t get mad at you. 

“I really want you to be.” You’ve stopped cleaning now, hands lying limp over the small stain that you were previously scrubbing off of the couch. Getting dumped isn’t going at all how you always thought that it would. It doesn’t feel like your heart is being trampled. You don’t have the compulsive urge to cry. No, none of that. It just feels like you’re explaining away a weight that’s been on your chest for months, “Does that make sense?”

“I think that you wish you wanted me. I think that you wanted me more than you wanted to be alone.” He’s started to play with the strings of his hoodie in a hopeless attempt to calm his raging heart, “But you’re not alone anymore, are you?” You could pretend that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could deny it, but in reality there’s no point to any of that. It would only prolong all of this, so you nod, “Yeah. Thought so.”

When you say goodbye to him he hugs you tighter than usual, you think for a minute that he’s going to tell you something else. He doesn’t. Just kisses your forehead and says to get home safely. You do, it’s a mere twenty minutes before you’re tiptoeing into your dorm room and up the ladder to your bed. It almost gets to the point where you pretend to count ceiling tiles, but then your phone buzzes from beneath your pillow. It’s a text from Mingi, a short and sweet message.

‘I’m glad to be your friend:)’ 

It’s probably stupid, seeing as the night ended on a terribly sour note, but those few words and that silly emoticon makes it feel like this entire year has been worth it. Because you have Mingi again, and there’s no way that you’ll lose him this time around.

*

After the breakup with Hongjoong, you were slightly worried that no one would want to be friends with you anymore. It would certainly be a fair decision on their part, seeing as you were beyond awful as a girlfriend. You thought that in Hongjoong’s healing, he would end up telling some of the worst things that you did to some of the people whose opinions matter the most. You’re not sure why you thought that, perhaps because it’s what you would’ve done if someone did this to you.

You’re more immature than he is, though. Hongjoong handles his feelings with grace. His words are unbelievably careful whenever he shares them, or at least that’s what Seonghwa says. He also says that he misses having you around to mix his paints and clean his brushes. You had told him that you were just glad that he still likes you, even if the wounds were only a month old.

There was also the ever present worry that Mingi would ask why you and Hongjoong split. You’ve thought of plenty of fake reasons, like saying that the two of you didn’t really click. Or you could keep it simple and say that it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. The options were endless, but there was the problem of Mingi being able to read you like an open book. He would surely know that you’re lying, possibly before you even opened your mouth. The main risk involved was whether or not he’d pester you for the truth. 

That constant fear was not helpful for a regrowing relationship, to say the least. You’ve hung out a number of times since reuniting, but he would always ask you about what you did in the months that you spent apart. Obviously, mentioning the end of first semester was strictly off limits. The rest of the time you spent with Hongjoong, so that left very little room for conversation. You would mostly end up talking about your creative writing meetings, which was fine. It was just sparse.

But this weekend would be different. The two of you had made plans nearly two weeks ago to carpool home together after spring midterms for the long weekend. Your immediate response was to panic, because what on earth would the two of you talk about for the hours that it took to drive home? How would you possibly avoid talking about any of your life for the past four months for that long? But as the days drew closer you realized that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. The two of you used to go on fun drives constantly, and most of the time you’d barely talk at all. This would be fine. You could manage this.

He picks you up an hour after the exams are concluded, and much to your gratitude there’s music already blaring from each of the speakers. He motions through the window for you to put your bags in the backseat, which you do before sliding into the front seat of his car. 

“Hey.” He’s looking at you with a soft smile when he says this, the gentleness of his face juxtaposed against the disney channel music blaring from the speakers is enough to make you laugh. So you do, the sound falling from your lips in a way that reminds Mingi of how dearly he missed it.

“Hi.” You stare at him for a minute, and he stares back. You find yourself thinking that all of this is mighty odd. Just two months ago you didn’t think that you’d ever have the strength to talk about Mingi again, now the two of you are sitting in the same car, “We’re listening to High School Musical?” He laughs too, passing his phone into your lap while shaking his head of brown curls.

“For now yes, you can change it if you’d like.” If you didn’t know him then you would’ve missed the twinkle in his eyes which indicated that he was going to continue, “Only if it’s Hannah Montana, though.” 

The ride was full with playful banter and off key high notes. Each time Mingi would go to hit one he’d tilt his head back ever so slightly, the brake lights of the car in front of you catching on the delicate lines of his adams apple as he did so. You would laugh until you had to clench your stomach then chastise him for not keeping his eyes on the road. He never once tried to ask about what you’ve been up to, or ask about Hongjoong. In a way, you almost forgot about it for the long hours that it took to drive into your hometown. Mingi seemed to have that effect, like walking through a museum of all of the things that he made you feel for the beginning of your lifetime. Comforted. Carefree. Joyful.

The car slows down then turns, and even if you weren’t looking up you’d know exactly where this car was headed. It’s the place that you spent every late friday night, the place where burgers couldn’t be served without a milkshake on the side, the place where Mingi first knew that he would always love you no matter how hard he ran from it. The chrome on the outside of the diner looks exactly the same, and when you peer through the windows it’s even more familiar. Red cushioned seats, a jukebox in the corner, salt and pepper in mismatched porcelain dispensers on each table. It feels like you’re coming from a football game with sweaty hair and a quickly beating heart. It feels like you’re still a kid.

“Are you hungry?” You ask teasingly as Mingi turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing lowly.

“More like thirsty, milkshakes on me?” You know how this is going to end. You know what paying for food and offering up rides indicates. You know that this could crash and burn and leave you utterly devastated for months. But you also know that you’ve changed. That you’re finally done living a loveless life in honor of your own comfort. You think that he’s changed too, less bitter now. You’re both finished with hurting each other, so maybe it could end up hurting exactly the way that it did last time. Maybe it’ll end up working out. The fact of the matter is that you’ll never know what falling feels like unless you jump.

“Milkshakes on you.” You respond with a purely happy smile. He smiles too, the kind that breaks across his entire face until it can’t possibly get any bigger. You’ve missed that smile so much, “Hongjoong and I broke up by the way. I’m sure that you already knew that, but I wanted to tell you myself.” He nods once, then purses his lips, then begins to play with his own fingertips. It’s too early for you to get a read on him, but you do think that he already knew. You also think that he’s trying to hide his happiness.

“Thank you for telling me.” He pinches his lips shut and swallows before continuing, “Are you okay?” He reaches out to hold your hand before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t seem to make you uncomfortable. You take his hand and squeeze it gently then slowly set it back down to lay on his thigh.

“I’m fine. I’ll be even better once I get a milkshake.” 

Conversation flows more naturally after that, the both of you talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He tells you about the time that Yunho made a hotdog explode in their microwave. You share one of your many anecdotes from lunch with Yeosang and Jongho. He asks about what you’ve been writing lately and so you tell him briefly about your work in progress and the meetings with your teacher. The entire time while you’re talking he beams at you with pride. You had always loved writing so much.

You finish your milkshakes and he tips the waitress extra. You drive the remainder of the way to your house, Hannah Montana still blaring from his speakers. It’s unbelievably stupid and childish, but at the same time it’s absolutely perfect. He pulls into your driveway and lets out a heavy sigh, hands smacking against the steering wheel.

“Well. You’re home!” He doesn’t really want you to go, despite having driven all this way specifically to watch you leave. Something about the look in your eyes, and the fact that it’s directed straight at him, makes him think that you don’t want to leave either. 

“I’m home.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car before Mingi can even think of another thing to say. He maneuvers a bit in his seat so that he can see you as your picking up your stuff and think of something to say, “Thanks for the ride, I’ll-”

“Do you want to start up movie nights again?” He wasn’t exactly planning on asking you that, but he was planning to ask if you could spend more time together. It’s been so long without you that he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, “In my room, on Saturdays. And I’ll never stand you up or reschedule at the last minute.” Your heart is hammering, you don’t even bother to pretend that you don’t know why. The boy in front of you is stammering and over explaining and turning red in the face, and you are terribly in love with him.  

“I’d like that very much.” With that simple agreement, it feels as though the entire world has been set back into place.

*

You didn’t realize how much junk a dorm room could accumulate in the span of a year until it was time to clean all of it out. There were schedules to peel off of the walls, clothes to dig out from the back of the closet, phone chargers that had fallen behind night stands. It’s weird to look at it now, with all of the homeliness and personality stripped away. Next year there will be two entirely different people sleeping in the loft beds, which you admittedly grew used to. Maybe they’ll be strangers. Maybe they’ll be best friends.

“That’s the last box.” Mingi enters the emptied room right as your eyes move to the empty bed that had been adjacent to yours for the entire year. Your roommate had left early this morning, her things had been packed for weeks already. The two of you never grew any closer to one another, but you didn’t mind. Coexisting with her felt like one of your many growth challenges throughout this year, “You missing your roommate?” Mingi asked with a cocked eyebrow, making you realize that you’re still staring at her stripped bed.

“No, not really.” Your voice comes out so matter of fact that it makes Migni giggle a little bit. He thinks that it’s nice to see you, who was once so meek and quiet, being adamant about not caring for someone, “I’m grateful for her though. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live with a stranger before this year. I didn’t think I’d be able to do lots of things before this year.” You finally move your eyes to the boy standing at your side to see that he’s staring at you with a proud smile. It makes your chest swell with warmth in a way that you don’t even fight against, “What?” You can’t help but break out into a smile as you gaze even longer at his.

“Nothing, I’m just really proud of us. Who we’ve become, especially you.” His pinky finger brushes up against your own, for a moment you can feel his hand aching to hold your own. You open up your palm and lace your fingers into his, moving with certainty and purpose, “I like who you are now, you’re a lot bolder. Happier.” Your body flushes with heat, heart pattering so erratically that you’re sure he can hear it. You hope that he does. 

“I-I like you now too.” Your voice wavers as his hand travels to your wrist, pulling you gently so that you’re facing each other. His face looks stern, like this moment is do or die, yet his eyes sparkle with the same childlike twinkle as always. You watch his eyes travel from your own to your lips in a mere second, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You’ve waited for this for such a long time, but as his nose brushes ever so gently against yours you find yourself thinking that it was worth it, “May I?” The question is whisper, your breath ghosting against Mingi’s plump lips. You place your hand on his chest so that his heart is thumping beneath your hand. 

“Yes.” You hook your free hand beneath his chin and bring his face closer to yours so that your lips are finally touching. It’s nothing but a gentle brush at first, both of you timid and overly careful, but as soon as you try to pull away his hands are on your waist and pulling you closer than you thought was possible. He kisses you with fever, hands gripping you as though he’s scared that you might melt away. You bury your fists into his shirt, trying desperately to let him know that he never has to worry about that again. 

He pulls away after sometime, hands moving to hold your face as he rests his forehead on yours. He says nothing, only brushes his thumb against your cheek and smiles. In the quiet moments, you can make out the blurred lines of a future, one that’s spent in a modest apartment that’s decorated with all of the junk that Mingi just hauled downstairs for you. You can see late nights spent writing at a desk that’s full of his trinkets. You can see weekly movie nights on the couch with blankets and twinkling fairy lights. You can see a life that’s lived with love and passion, a life where pains are forgotten and growth is left in their place.

When he smiles at you and goes in for a second kiss, your eyes flutter closed. Yet you still see it all so clearly. You can see a future, and you can see it with Mingi by your side.

[zutarasecrettunnel]

For Zutara Week 2021 Day 6: Spirits

Your Face, I See

Synopsis: The war is over for everyone but Katara, who keeps seeing the scarred face of the boy who sacrificed himself for her and for the world, everywhere she looks. When she finds out why she is experiencing these so-called hallucinations, she may be led right into a trap centuries in the making.

Read Chapter 1 here or on AO3:

After the war, scars were everywhere.

The earth lay scorched, trees stood singed, soldiers returned mangled to their homelands. The blemishes of war seemed to stain every surface, no mark more personal than the other, all a collective memory of survival for a world too long drenched in strife. None except for the mark that constantly haunted the waterbender. That mark was familiar. Each surface seemed to contain the same ragged skin, the same aged trauma, the same golden eyes.

It had been three months since she had escaped war into peacetime physically unscathed but obliterated nonetheless. Three months of seeing the scar that marked him, the banished prince of the Fire Nation, in nearly every object and landscape that entered her vision. It started in the Fire Nation palace only a week after the cacophony of flame and lightning that had ended the 100 Years War for good. Flickering flames cast the shadow of ruined layers of flesh, folded in on themselves like the staggering billows of crimson curtains they would appear behind. For months she stifled gasps as cat-like eyes seemed to watch her from around the imposing columns of the nation's grandest hall. Flashes, like the one that had taken him during the blaze of Sozin' comet, nothing but small jolts appearing out of nowhere like the snapping of a campfire during a ghost story.

The first time she saw him she almost believed he was real. His face had appeared in the blackness of the doorway of her borrowed chambers one night as she sat rocking at the edge of her bed, having only just awoken from another nightmare. In the soft candleglow, she had almost believed he had miraculously returned. This face was the one she remembered - taciturn, loyal, fragmented, handsome. It was not the ashen face of suffering he had held before finally succumbing to his family's dynasty of cruelty while his sister shrieked in her chains. This face, the one she had so long ago described as the face of the enemy, was the one she had begged the spirits to let her see ever since the Fire Sages had whisked his lifeless form away from her in the smoky aftermath of the Agni Kai.

But that's all it was. His face, unaccompanied by a body, and fading almost as soon as she had been able to adjust her eyes to the sight - a one-time hallucination brought on by sleeplessness. Just another aspect to the nightmare she was experiencing while awake and asleep, a side effect of watching a boy who had quickly become one of her closest friends die in her arms. As the plain blackness returned, so did Katara's heartbeat, sputtering back to work as if it had forgotten its role in her body and only just now remembered it had to keep her alive. She blinked again and again, feeling wetness on her cheeks. She would not sleep for the rest of the night.

It wasn't until the next time she saw him that she started to become concerned. His face appeared again ten days later, this time emanating from the bark of the willow tree near the royal turtleduck pond, illuminated plainly by the midday rays of the Fire Nation sun.This time it could not be blamed on candlelight and tired eyes. The waterbender gasped, dropping the rice ball she held. It rolled ungracefully into the pond, immediately being devoured by a small family of turtleducks.Her companions stopped their own consumption at the sound of her sharp intake. Sokka stared at his sister with concern. Suki followed her stare to the willow tree, looking back at the younger girl puzzled. Toph was the only one who continued nibbling absentmindedly on her own rice ball as if she hadn't noticed Katara's outburst at all.

"What is it?" Aang's voice broke through Katara's shock. She blinked, and already the second hallucination of the prince was gone.

"N-nothing," she stuttered, trying to recover, "it's nothing. I thought I saw a cave hopper and I-I-I thought they only lived in the caves!" She felt a reassuring touch on her elbow, looking to see Sokka offering a half-smile. He had noticed the deep circles forming under her eyes, the way any upturn of her mouth never reached them. Unsure of what else to do, he offered his presence as some semblance of reassurance to his sister, trying to impart that he was there for her no matter what.

"Oh," was the only response from the Avatar, hesitation clear in the single syllable. He hated seeing Katara like this, jumpy and anxious. None of them had been the same since Zuko had entered the spirit world, despite how they had all tried to move on. They had gotten everything they had worked for, an end to the century-long suffering of the four nations, but the cost seemed as if it was too great to bear. He worried he would never see the carefree Katara he had spent so much time trying to cultivate in the overburdened young girl again. The world was finally better, finally the way she deserved it to be, and yet he still couldn't make her happy.

The already somber mood of the group's lunch only soured more. It was then Katara decided she would work harder at keeping the ghostly image of the fire prince at bay, or at least keeping her hallucinations to herself. Despite her silent commitment, the visions only got worse. As time went on they became more frequent. First it became every day, then what seemed like every hour. Everywhere she went in the palace, in the streets of the capitol marketplaces, and even on the shores where she sought the healing nature of her element. Every inch of this vibrant and troubled nation was haunted for her, from the planned peace festivals to the pop-up protests of the now displaced ruling class. She stayed to help Aang restore order, working to ensure the stability of the nation her friend had so dearly loved, the nation whose honor he had sacrificed everything for.

With the increase in frequency of the hauntings, so increased the abject panic rising in Katara. It was becoming more difficult to hide her affliction from the others. After months of torment, while floating secluded in the star-speckled waves of a small, hidden inlet not far from the crater's edge, she finally asked for help.

The rising tide sent salt water lapping at her skin, while her eyes caused it to flood her face. She would often seek healing in these waters, but had so far been unsuccessful in drowning her grief. Tonight she basked in Yue's light, and finally got the courage to beg her celestial friend for relief.

She wasn't sure it would work, ignorant to the communication abilities of the spirits, but desperation consumed her. She had heard Sokka try talking to the moon shortly after they had left the Northern Water Tribe, sadness laden in his usually upbeat voice. She suddenly wondered if he had also seen visions of the princess after she had left them.

"Please, spirits. Please, Yue," she began her sorrowful overture to the large lunar surface overhead, floating parallel to the enormous heavenly body. "Why do I keep seeing him? Why do I keep seeing Zuko?"

She swallowed hard in the ensuing silence, trying to wait patiently for an answer. She was met only with a quiet, steady glow. Eyes closed tightly in despair, she listlessly started swimming back to the shore. As she neared the empty beach she heard the velvety cadence of the moon spirit speak softly between her ears.

"I know you miss him."

Katara froze in the water, settling upright, her toes sinking into silky sand. The ocean still covered her up to her shoulders. The voice arose in her again.

"Tui and La must circle each other in an eternal dance. One is not complete without the other. This is not what was meant to be," she explained. "Your anguish has pierced even the spirit world, and many have taken note."

Katara let her body sway loosely in the waves as she listened intently, her sand-covered feet her only anchor to this world.

"There are some that might use-" The sweet tones emanating from the pale night sky were sharply interrupted by a graveled voice. The new voice called out loudly, direct and authoritative.

"Katara!"

At the sound of that voice calling her name, she snapped her body toward the beach, searching the dimly lit shore for it's source. She hesitated for only a split second, taking one last glance at the moon, before summoning a grand swell of ocean to deliver her directly to the dry sands. Once ashore, she continued seeking the source of the voice. Her eyes darting from dark cliffs to jagged palm fronds, her heart beating wildly.

Finally she saw it, and immediately crumpled into the sand.

It was his face again, staring back at her from a rocky, moonlit crag. Just as it had been the hundred times before, his expression was serene, tranquil. Except this time it changed. This time the face curled into a twisted smile, an expression more suited for the deposed Phoenix King than his son. She stared, horrified, watching the distorted lips form the syllables of her name over and over. When it turned, revealing a hulking, segmented body like that of an enormous centipede, she finally screamed.

She could hear Zuko's voice continuing to call her name, begging her to help him, as she quickly picked herself off the ground and darted past the monster back toward the palace, heading recklessly into the heavy night.

[yespolkadotkitty]

Conference Room B

A little smutty fix-it for poor darling Marcus Pike, who really got shafted in The Mentalist. I wanted to give him a treat. Special thanks to @alldatalost​ for cheerleading.

Warning: shamelessly fluffy smut.

You stare at your computer screen, willing something to change, so you can leave already. You adore the team here, in many ways they’ve become your family, but you were meant to have been in DC with Marcus for eight days already - well, okay, so he wouldn’t have been there yet, but you could have slept in the sheets that smelled of him and started to organise your home together. Instead, a new murder case dropped and swallowed the lives of everyone. But you’re nearly there, you’re all so close you can taste it. Even Jane is antsy.

You miss Marcus. No, that doesn’t seem enough. You long for him. Marcus’ new job seemed to come with some hefty, dangerous undercover work, and while he’d been on the job, you hadn’t been able to video call, so for six weeks your relationship had been maintained via whispered voice calls and texts at random times.

Sometimes, late at night, you hadn’t seen his face for so long that you wondered if you’d made him up, inside your heart.

Agent Cho drops by your desk, tapping the corner to get your attention. “Agent Pike is in the building.”

Your pulse jumps. “Thanks. But-”

Cho just arches a brow and smiles.

Your heartbeat rockets as you stare at the lifts opposite the bank of desks you work in. What would he smell like, after this time apart? Why was he here now?

“What if I fuck it up?” you whisper to Cho. “What if he’s changed his mind?”

Kimble smiles at you, and his usual calm, stoic demeanour works its magic on your nerves. “If he’d changed his mind, would he be here?” He gives you a little nod, and then swaggers off, no doubt to impart his even-keel advice on someone else who needs it.

You spend a few fruitless moments trying to get back into work, and failing. Lisbon meets your gaze from her own computer and gives you a sympathetic smile. You guess they all know.

And then the elevator doors open and actually, nothing else matters when you see him.

His hair’s grown out, and it curls over his forehead, flicks up at his collar. It looks so soft; you want to sink your fingers into it. And his top lip and jaw are scruffy and the new, patchy beard really suits him. His posture is great as usual - he’s not arrogant, but he won’t apologise for being confident. He wears a suit well; always has, the lines cut sharp, his white shirt striped with grey, cut in half by the wine red tie.

He is a big, tall drink of water, and you want him more than your next breath. He scans the room and you stand up, and your eyes meet. His are that bottomless, dark chocolate brown, and his face lights up when he sees you, that big, goofy, no-holds-barred grin, and you make yourself calm down and try and remember you’re at work, rounding your desk and walking to him slowly across the carpet.

“Hey,” he says softly, and his voice is deep and sexy and everything you’ve ever wanted. Your hands itch with the urge to touch all that soft hair and his scruffy beard.

“Hey.” You search his gaze. He looks thrilled to see you, his expression soft and sweet and tender and unguarded, and your heart aches for all the nights you’ve missed him. “I love the beard.”

Marcus rubs a hand over it. “Thanks. It’s for the undercover thing. It ended last night, and - well. I know it’s sudden, but I had to see you.” He glances around the office, and you turn around to see Cho, Lisbon and the rest of the team quickly duck their heads, pretending to be super engrossed in other stuff.

“Wow,” you mutter. “We’re supposed to be good at subterfuge.”

Marcus chuckles, and takes your hand. Just that simple touch sends licks of want and need up your arm. “Is there… somewhere we can talk?”

Your stomach drops. Is he.. Ending things? “Sure.” You keep his fingers linked with yours, and lead him down the hall to a small, unoccupied conference room. You gesture and he precedes you in, dropping your hand, as you close and lock the door, and release the blinds, so you’re totally alone.

“Marcus, is everything-” your words get swallowed up as he’s on you in a heartbeat, kissing you like a man desperate for air after a lifetime underwater. His tongue traces your lips and you open eagerly, sliding your hands up his chest and into his newly grown hair, and it’s as soft as you imagined. He smells of his habitual black pepper and vanilla cologne and fresh coffee and clean soap, and it’s heady and you could breathe him in forever. He tugs you as close as possible, folding your body into his larger one, his hands running over your back like he’s re-learning you after over a month apart. You fist your hand in his hair hungrily, licking into his mouth. His moustache tickles your skin and it’s decadent and delicious, like a favourite cake with a new flavour added.

He releases you, making this low groan of need in his throat, and you think if he isn’t inside you in the next thirty seconds, you might die.

“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Couldn’t do that to you out there. And I had to - I had to.  Sometimes I’ve wanted you so much, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me too,” you whisper, cupping his dear face, tracing your thumb along his scruffy jaw. He feels so good. “Is it wrong to get frisky on FBI property?”

Marcus winces. “Most definitely, but…” He pulls you close again, and you thrill to the evidence of his want for you pressing hot and heavy against your belly. “ Fuck, I want you. We’ll have to wait until you get home from work.”

“For what I really want, yes, but… not for everything.” You back him up against the door, kiss him breathless, drinking in his addictive taste, and slide one hand down to his fly, unzipping his suit pants.

“What are you-” Marcus asks, and then footsteps sound on the other side of the door.

You kiss his scruffy cheek and whisper into his ear; “You’ll have to be quiet. Anyone could come past.”

He swallows audibly but doesn’t say anything to the contrary. You nip at his earlobe as you use your other hand to play, too, sliding open the slit of his boxers and drawing him out, palming his length and soaking up the little growl in his throat that’s just barely audible.

“Oh my God , have I missed you,” you murmur, licking at the scruff on his jaw. “And you show up looking hotter than a Laredo night.”

Marcus’ hands clench on the small of your back as you continue to stroke and tease him. He’s steel in velvet, and your hands become slick as you begin to draw an orgasm up his spine, one eager touch at a time. When you pull back to look up into his face, he’s wrecked, pupils blown with lust, teeth sunk into his lower lip in an attempt not to make any sound.

He’s a fantasy wrapped in a Bureau-issue suit, everything you want in a tanned, voice-made-for-sex package - kind, smart, patient, soft, and he’s yours. “Marcus,” you murmur, your head full of love with him, and you slide down his body and take him in your mouth.

A strangled sound escapes his lips just as voices pass the door, and you hear him mutter “ Jesus fucking Christ,” as you start to lick him the way you’ve been fantasizing about for six weeks. One of his hands curls into your hair as you work him steadily close to a blinding climax. He’s slumped against the door now, desperately trying not to let his knees give in, as his hips move incrementally, exercising extreme restraint in not fucking your mouth.

You take him as deep as you can and he makes that sexy little growl again, and your name falls from his tongue, the syllables deep and gravelly, a warning, and you squeeze the hand he’s fisted at his hip, letting him know it’s okay.

A litany of curses barely reaches your ears as he comes like a freight train, his whole body tensing for a moment that seems to stretch to forever, and you drink down everything he gives you, afterwards gently tucking him back into his boxers and zipping his smart suit trousers.

Marcus rubs a hand over his face, and you see his wrist tremble. “Fuck. That was…. Probably not legal.”

You kiss a smile on to his sweet lips, hug him tight, and he pulls you into him, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Thank you,” he rasps, low and sweet in his perfect drawl. “You can’t imagine how many times I’ve come in my hand in the last six weeks, wishing it was you.”

“About the same number of times I’ve imagined you in my bed,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “That’ll have to hold us until I finish for tonight. Do you still have your key? Wait for me at my place?”

Marcus pats his pocket, dark eyes shining. “I will.”

You take time to adjust your clothes before leaving the conference room. The coast is clear and you walk Marcus back to the elevators.

Jane passes with a cup of coffee in hand. “Glad you had time to come, Pike,” he says genially, and you follow Marcus into the elevator, and when the doors close, you laugh in each other’s arms until you’re weak.

Tagging: @pedropascalito​ @pedropasscals​ @paniclana​ @littlemissthistle​ @spacegayofficial​ @tiffdawg​ @keeper0fthestars​ @dindjarindiaries​ @pedrosasscal​ @thewaythisis​ @javierian​ @restingnurseface​ @abuttoncalledsmalls​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​

Please do ask to be added or released from the tags!

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

the worlds collide - i: an old face

Summary: Who are you? Now that the new world has collided with the remnants of the old? 

Pairing: BTS x reader (slight Got7/Jackson x reader)

Warnings: Referenced violence, covert sexism, zombies  Notes:  I knoooow I should be working on lessons to build and looking back at you but this idea just won’t let go. I originally wrote it for my 30 minute challenge but it got out of hand. So here it is, a zombie au! Not sure how long it’ll be yet but we’ll see! UNEDITED. Word Count: 3.2k

At the center of the end of the world, humanity was stripped to what it only needs to exist - strength, camaraderie, and grit.

With the undead nipping at your heels day and night, the only thought that remained were thoughts of where the nearest exist is, how to store food, how much farther for the next stronghold, and how long will that stronghold last. To survive, you stripped away everything unnecessary from your former life. All the bashfulness, the shame, and coated yourself with an armor as thick as the new callouses on your fingers - you still remember the first time you’ve went topless around Namjoon, and neither of you flinched.

Frankly, you’ve forgotten how to be anything else but this brought you to your new role in the new world. You’re no longer a girl, or a woman - you’re a survivor.

And with your old life etched in the sinew of your muscles, of your arms and your legs, you became a valuable member of the group. Along with Jungkook and Hoseok, you carry the front, bashing heads of zombies left and right, clearing the way to a new possible food source and haven.

It was a tiring existence, the type of tired that can’t be washed away by sleep. If that’s what you can call those pockets of peace you have when you’ve finally trusted them to watch your back.

It took long for you to finally drop your guard around these boys that you now call your family. Understandable, given that men didn’t really have a great track record for women to trust them even prior to the apocalypse. But you’ve met them in a tight circumstance, that had them trusting you before you even bothered to try.

(It was Jimin who first reached out, somehow unchanged by the cruelty of the new world. Always soft, always yearning.)

The seven of them had been friends before shit went down, and you were just a lucky one to be part of their orbit.

You remind yourself of this now that the new world has began.

This is the longest you’ve stayed in one place since two years ago, and it’s starting to feel like a place everyone could plant their roots in. The town’s largely untouched by the apocalypse, its strategic location in the mountains and quick response had them building trenches and walls, to keep the hoard from closing in.

It’s an extra precaution thoughtfully made by a self-sustaining community. For once, isolation brought forth more benefits than mishaps. They’ve barely lost people, largely untouched by the terrors of the world outside theirs. Innocent. Their lives went on. No nightmares, nothing.

The first time one of the pleasantly-dressed girls approached you with what could’ve been friendship, you flinched.

The boys were taken to it so easily, perhaps being as weary as you are didn’t make them jaded as it has made you.

Namjoon was swept away by the village committee, his brains and leadership evident with how he led you to safety. Jin and Jimin’s apprenticed under the village doctor, Yoongi’s turned to farming along with Taehyung, while Hoseok and Jungkook’s muscles are put to test building houses at the craft shop.

Everybody’s found a place except you, because while this town’s been untouched in all the good ways, it’s also been untouched in a sense that it kept to all the antiquated ways of the old world.

And, you hate how much you resent it in your deepest of hearts.

It’s as if they thought that putting you in a dress will wash away all the blood in your hands, as if you didn’t shed as much as all the boys did if not more. You’ve been turned away from all the things you could do, and are now being forced into things they want you to.

It’s suffocating, being torn with the desire to put your foot down and the fear of being perceived as ungrateful.

“They don’t understand, do they?”

You blink out of your thoughts and turn to a familiar face making himself comfortable beside you.

Jaebeom’s pushed away the unfinished basket to the side and pulled up one of his long legs to rest his elbow on.

By his side is his gun, locked and loaded, always ready even after months of quiet. You didn’t even hear him come in, but instead of being unsettled, you’re a slightest bit relieved to know that at least someone hasn’t gotten rusty.

The scar on his eyebrow stands out underneath the moonlight, and on  the porch of your little house way’s away from the center of the town, you two make a fine pair of outsiders.

“No, they don’t.”

Even in times of peace, loss is inevitable.

Namjoon mulls over this as he looks at the list of names up for the next supply run. Two names have been crossed, and two funerals were attended last week. One had a body, another didn’t.

Old man Jungho died of a heart attack after his son died outside, and along with the grief, Namjoon could feel the pressure placed on his shoulders by a community unused to “unnatural” losses.

He’s developed a cycling procedure that makes it slightly fair to everyone who volunteered. Marked with blue ink are the ones who were in the previous run, those in black are the ones who are up for the next one.

With the latter list down by two, Namjoon turns to a different corner of his notebook to see your name. Until now, he’s had every excuse not to put you out there but now…

“Fuck,” Namjoon sighs and rubs his face with his hands. He doesn’t know why you’ll want to do this again. He’s tried asking you but somehow, you’ve grown farther and farther away.

When he tried to find you in the village garden with Yoongi, suddenly you’re out getting water. When Seokjin did your monthly checkup, you’re as impenetrable as the walls, when Hoseok tried to approach you with improvements for your home, you brush him away saying you’ve dealt with it with Jaebeom.

Jaebeom.

Whom you’ve only met a month in after you’ve settled into town. Who somehow’s been rumored to visit your house after dark, when the boys you’ve spent two years with haven’t even gotten the chance to step into your home.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath. You’ve been so unreachable it’s made him cry out of frustration when the nights are dark and the seven of them feel your absence the most in their own quaint home.

They miss you, so much. Even Yoongi who’s as taciturn as they come has tried reaching out to you, working endlessly hard in his own little garden at the back of their house to produce strawberries that you love so much.

“Who’s on the list?”

Hoseok steps in the kitchen and jolts Namjoon out of his longing. He’s wearing his “fight” pants and boots, his gun taken out of the secret cellar and empty go bag slung on his shoulders.

Namjoon pushes his notebook towards him and watches as his friend’s face grow dark at the sight of your name.

“No.”

Namjoon sighs at the conviction in his friend’s voice. It draws in Jungkook from the living room, wearing the same pants and same tension in his shoulders every run.

It’s different when it was just the seven of them, now, they have to lead a bunch of unseasoned people outside the walls just so they don’t go in blind when - not if - shit hits the fan. The loss of the Youngho weighs heavily on Jungkook. They were of the same age, but not the same life experience and ultimately, that was what killed him.

“No, what?”

Jungkook takes in the tension of the room and glances down at the open notebook. “Oh.”

He mouths your name silently, treasuring each syllable. How long since he’s called you? How long since you two talked? Back outside, he liked to believe you and him had a special bond born in the midst of danger and trivial common hobbies from the old world.

He still has that photo card of an old gaming character you two loved.

“I can’t play favorites.” Namjoon states, teetering between duty and keeping you safe inside the walls. If you knew, you’d probably hate him for this, but you don’t.

“You can - you have!” Hoseok slams his hands on the table, the sound echoing inside their house. Everything falls silent followed by footsteps from the second floor.  “What makes it different now?”

“The difference is the fact that we lost someone!” Namjoon bellows, his anger and stress rolling off him like waves but Hoseok doesn’t stand down. He knows its selfish, but the only thing that has him going now that you’ve pulled away is the knowledge that you’re safe.

“We always lose someone—“

“It’s not just us anymore, you know that, Hobi.”

Hoseok bites his cheek at Namjoon’s use of his nickname and he could feel the rest watching him like a hawk. All at once the fight goes out of him. It’s true. In exchange for safety, the get a community - for better or worse.

A hand lands on his shoulder and he turns to Taehyung, who in turn offers a strained smile. “At least, she has two of you to keep an eye on her out there. Like old times.”

Hoseok never thought he’d feel nostalgic about the times they’re elbow-deep in zombie gut but — “Yeah, like old times.”

Except, it isn’t like the old times.

Jungkook’s always been an awkward guy around girls, especially pre-apocalypse. He was all long limbs and Bambi eyes, not quite steadfast on what he was as a man and easily shaken by every attractive girl’s attention.

And although he’s grown a bit, confident in his looks and skills in this new world, he still hasn’t mastered the art of rejecting someone.

(He’s never had to, not when it was you.)

And so, he’s stuck at the last meeting with his back against the wall and one of the town’s remaining daughters - Hyerin-  crowding his space as opposed to being beside you across the room.

He doesn’t even know that Hyerin signed up for the run, especially with how he’s told her that it’s dangerous and that she hasn’t had the proper training to go out there. It rankles him all sorts of wrong when she said that her father said that “it isn’t as dangerous as they made it out to be” as if they’re lying about the dangers they’ve faced.

And sure, they’ve cleared out a large space around the town of zombies but things can always go wrong, and if there’s anything Jungkook has learned is that things have a habit of luring you to a false sense of security before fucking everything up.

Hoseok’s giving the briefing to their small group of ten, and he could see his friend’s eyes linger a second too long whenever it passes you. You with your hair pulled back and back straight, it almost brings him back.

But then you smile at something Jaebeom says and Jungkook feels his chest tightening on cue. You haven’t smiled nor even looked at him since the start of this briefing. What had he done wrong? What have they done wrong that drove you away?

“We might encounter people on this run, and I want you to remember - people are more dangerous than zombies.” Hoseok reminds the group, “They can think, they can plot - and are much harder to predict. We’ll need someone to bring up the front before we flank the space—“

Before Jungkook could raise his hand, yours shoot up along with Jaebeom’s.

“I’ll do it.”

From the back, Jungkook could clearly hear the murmurs of the men in the group. Someone, someone stupidly brave enough speaks up, “I think you should let the men handle this, darling.”

Jungkook sees you put your hand on Jaebeom’s arm before turning to where the voice is. It’s one of the older folks, large and burly with eyes alight with mockery.

You smile sickly sweet, “Oh? I’m not the one who puked on the side of the road during the last run, am I?”

The man sputters and laughter erupts around him, his friends who were equal parts terrified at the sight of a half-torso crawling towards them last month. It’s easy to laugh when it’s not your ass on the line.

Before he gets another word in, you remind him, Hoseok, Jungkook and everyone in the room how dangerous you were on the outside. And how dangerous you still are here.

“And for the record, could you stomach killing a man when you can’t even finish off a zombie? I can,” you pause the silence being answer enough, “So, no, I’m not leaving this to the men.”

“Antagonizing them isn’t earning you any points.”

Keeping your eyes on the road helps you steady your nerves. Outside, you could see the remains of pushed over cars as your caravan makes its way away from the forest and down the mountain.

According to the last team’s run’s intel, there were traces of people loitering down the town proper and so Namjoon’s sent a team before you get caught unawares.

Hoseok coughs, “Y/N. Are you listening?”

“I didn’t know there were points to earn.”

One line, and its scathing but, Hoseok thinks, at least you’re talking to him. He was afraid he’s forgotten your voice.

He may have abused his power a bit to split you up from Jaebeom but it still makes sense, given that you two have worked together longer outside. You with your speed and him with his agility, you make a pretty good team.

And with your pretty face, people tend to underestimate you until its too late.

Hoseok pauses and mulls over your statement. Adjustment is hard, he knows, pandering to people who don’t know how hard it is on the outside but it’s needed. He doesn’t understand where your dislike of it comes from, so much so you’ve decided to ostracize yourself not only from the people in town but also from them.

(He’s a man. Of course he doesn’t understand. Old or new world, men can only touch the surface of what damage the world has done to women.)

“Y/N, it’s just so we could live with them peacefully. No trouble.”

You finally turn to him and he shivers from the coolness in your eyes. “When have I caused them any trouble? I help out, don’t I? I’m a functioning member of the community - is it required to be all chummy with them?”

Framed like that, Hoseok doesn’t have any answer but a semblance of the truth lying in a question, “Why don’t you talk to us anymore?”

Outside, the caravan reaches its destination and people pour out of the old trucks.

“Is there anything to talk about?”

Of course, of course there is, Hoseok wanted to say. But job calls, and  when the sight of tracks greet your group, everything goes back to the back burner.

By the looks of it, there were at least four people about. All with large feet which most likely mean they were males.

Hoseok made a executive decision and sent back all of the group except you, Jaebeom and Jungkook. Given the situation, your group had too many people for this run turned reconnaisance and moving that many people will slow down any retreat you might need to do.

So he sent them back up with a message to Namjoon about the situation. He’ll get a lashing later but he’s sure the guys will understand. A small group is more manageable, but a group with established trust and dynamics (at least with the three of you) is more than ideal.

Your tracking leads the team to one of the larger convenient grocery stores in town. It’s long been looted and cleaned out, but somehow, one of the older craftsmen in the village figured out how to run the generator. Now, it’s store room is being used to hold and freeze any meat and fish you can’t afford to salt. How long you’ll have it running with the generator, who knows?

At what previously was an aisle for chips and snacks, you and Hoseok tread lightly, guns cocked and hands steady, your ears straining to hear any off-beat step as you get deeper into the store. Somewhere across the room, you know that Jungkook and Jaebeom are doing the same, closing off the larger exit.

It’s four on four, the odds may not be on your favor if it comes down to it but it’s not on theirs entirely either -whoever they are.

The morning light filters through the broken glass windows and reflects on your gun as you step forward to the large space at the end of the aisle. At the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook, -free of that girl hanging off his arm- tilt his head towards the large freezer ahead of you.

Behind him, Jaebeom moves to the right, taking position for a surprise attack while you three continue to advance. The freezer’s door is slightly ajar and you could almost make out the conversation and the shadows moving about inside. There’s unfettered laughter and guffaws, pulling you into a false sense of familiarity.

That laugh…

You were so in your head that your next step crushes a stray glass and echoes in the store. For a moment, it rings in the air, suspended like Hoseok freezing to look at you, before suddenly everything just- drops.

Out the door, someone tackles you to the ground, grabbing your gun and tossing it under the shelves. Your head bounces against the tiles and it steals your breath in pain but without missing a beat, you drive the heel of your palm to the man’s chin, hard enough to unbalance him off your waist.

The man rolls to the side and tries to grab your foot before you break free and kicks it to his face. With satisfaction, you hear him grunt in pain before grabbing at you again.

To the side, you see Hoseok trying to reach you, his gun similarly tossed away by the paler and taller man clutching his shoulder, slumped against a turned over cart. You’re ears are ringing, and you might’ve hit your head but vaguely you could hear someone punching someone at the other side of the aisle.

Everything happens so fast - and ends so quickly.

Your vision clears up as a cock of a gun rings clear, pausing everyone’s movements.

In front of you is a face you’d never thought you’d see again. He’s darker, with what seems to be a permanent five o’clock shadow on his jaw, but his eyes light up at the sight of you and a smile stretches on his lips, his hands up but uncaring of Jaebeom’s gun against his head.

“Y/N, long time no see.”

You gasp, frozen on the floor. “Jackson.”

End Notes: Hearts are appreciated but comments are gold. Let me know what you think and if you want to be included in a tag list!

[katsukikitten]

Part 2! Here is Part 1 f you have yet to read it! I hope you enjoy my little Walmart brand of summer wars as much as I am writing it! Let me know what you think!

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The two of you leave with a small bow before your grandmother answers the phone. 

The second you are out of the room Bakugou grabs you roughly by the wrist, pulling you down into the small dimly lit hallway to press you against the dark wooden wall, caging you in much like he did on the train. 

But this time with malintent. Small pops ring out from his forearms, one hand threatening to char the wood beside your head while the other grips your wrist harder. 

You could understand his anger, it's not as if you had been truthful to Bakugou. He detests liars and although you didn't necessarily lie to him you still told him a half truth. He was still figuring out which was worse. 

"Fucking fiance?!" He snarls close to your face, "Deal's off." 

You had planned to allow him to bitch and moan about the shitty situation you put him in without argument. 

But his refusal to act semi decent towards you for the sake of your grandmother's old heart had rage burning hot in your veins. 

It wasn't like you were asking him to fuck you. With a tick in your jaw you drop your precious Kimono. Grabbing onto his chin with your free hand, tilting his face closer to yours to have a better look at those stunning crimson eyes. They widen from both the force of your grip and the proximity of your lips. He swallows thickly, his glare slowly coming back. 

"Listen here Bakugou Katsuki. I'm asking you to pretend to be my fiance for two weeks. I'm asking for small shit like sitting close to me, maybe giving a small smile in my direction and at the most hand holding. I'm not asking you to fucking marry me or fuck me in front of my family. My grandmother is a bit old fashioned if you couldn't tell by the house or her demeanor, she has been hounding me about bringing a man to her for approval since I was 16. She wanted to make sure I had a man that deserved me, that I would be taken care of. So I've made up boyfriend after boyfriend since I've never really had time for more than a good fuck but my Uncle called me last winter to tell me her health was beginning to decline and rapidly at that. I called her immediately and told her I had just become engaged and she'd meet him on her birthday. So you've got two choices Katsuki." You let every syllable of his name soak in sugar coated venom, "Suck it up for two fucking weeks and be semi decent to me or break my grandmother's heart and earn a dangerous enemy." 

Bakugou's heart pounded in his chest the entire time you were ranting, unsure of why he was attracted to the hard set of your eyes and the ice in your voice. His stomach flips when you say his first name causing him to grind his teeth. He breaks away from your grip with his free hand, quickly pinning your arms above your head. Locking your delicate yet deadly wrists in one of his broad hands while the other presses against your hip bone. Thumb sliding through the loop of your too short shorts, bringing your pelvis to his.  The denim was barely able to contain your ass and thick thighs, he is surprised none of your elders have scolded you for such indecency if they were as old fashioned as you say. 

The faint blush on your cheeks and the defiant look in your eyes has his voice turn husky as he speaks.

"I should make you regret bringing me here. Maybe have you begging for something else." His lips a breath away as he presses his forehead to yours. Eyes molten with what you think is lust before he tilts his face. Amplifying the sudden magnetism between your plump lips and his own. Your chest tightens with mixed emotions as your eyes begin to flutter closed.

Suddenly he changes direction and gives you a harsh headbutt, hard enough your vision blurs at the edges causing you to growl in response. 

"This better not fucking bruise." 

He rolls his eyes, dropping your hands as he reaches down for the old Kimino. His heart racing from almost losing control of these odd feelings. 

Feelings that had never been aimed towards you until your grandmother stirred them up. 

"Would you die for my granddaughter?" 

The question drives him mad, mad enough that he places the kimono in your hands speaking the dark thought that he should have fucking kept to himself.

"Did you actually drag me along for your grandmother's sake or did you just want the kimono, Princess?" His voice is all bite, holding your gaze, your eyes widening. 

"Don't call me that." Your voice threatens to crack but he walks away before he can see the rest of your reaction to wander the house for his room until dinner. 

You're left standing there, eyes glued to the fabric, the deep navy blue and hand stitched cranes and lotus blur in your hands. Before fat droplets fall from your eyes. 

Why did you ever think Bakugou Katsuki would be a good partner, fake or not. 

You collect yourself quickly, angrily swiping at your eyes before you set to find your normal room. 

It doesn't take you long and you're honestly hoping Bakugou stays lost until dinner. His room should be on the opposite wing of the house. Opening the old tatami door to find Mei setting down your stuff and Bakugou's bag.  Mei follows your eyes to the well worn backpack with a skull pin on the strap. She knew exactly who it belonged to when she picked it up, having spotted the handsome devil from the hall. 

"Mei what's this you know he's supposed to be in the western wing!" You exclaim, trudging past her to hang your kimono on the old rack in the corner of the room. Mei scoffs, eyes glued to her phone as she speaks. 

"He was bound to sneak this way anyway. I'm doing you a favor." She rolls her eyes as if she knows everything at the ripe age of sixteen. 

You thought you knew everything then too. You sigh, rolling your own eyes. 

"What you call a favor I call a headache. Just take his bag to his room." You pass the straps to her, hating that it smells so much like him. Your stomach flips even as you look at the two person futon. 

"Just sleep with him tonight no one will know! Plus I hadn't cleaned his room. It's full of spider webs, the floor needs patching and his futon is gonna be dusty." She counters. 

"B..but one futon is not modest." 

"Wow please tell me you're not a virgin jushi. You're gonna get married anyway! I know I wouldn't have said no to a catch like that either!" 

Mei makes her way out of your room while you pinch the bridge or your nose. 

"Yea…. Why would I ever say no to such a great catch?" You fall backwards onto the futon hoping that that asshole was still lost for now. 

Someone would find him wandering and take him to the great dining room. 

×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×*×

Thankfully someone does end up showing Bakugou to the dining room but of course it would be Mei who also tells him where the SHARED room is. You bite your lip and choose to play dumb.  

"Oh good you found your way, babe." You smile sinking next to him on one of the many blue cushions. He grunts in response but pulls your cushion closer to his. Carefully pouring you some water before he yanks down your tank top that was riding up and trying to expose your midriff. His fingers feel like fire as they brush against your skin, igniting a dying ember in your stomach.

You quickly remind yourself of his nasty comment, as you're about to set him straight your cousin Haru walks into the room.  He sucks his teeth and sits further down the table across from his sister Mei as people slowly come in to sit or bring in food. 

"I don't know why you bothered to bring him here. Sobo is never going to approve of him." He cracks open his beer and drinks prematurely earning an eye roll from his sister. Bakugou and yourself both open your mouth to retort when Mei pipes up. Eyes still glued to her phone as her thumbs fly across the illuminated glass. 

"She already did stupid. She gave her the crane Kimono so get used to seeing his face." Mei rolls her eyes as your cheeks blush. 

Bakugou regrets his comment now more than ever but sucks his own teeth. An older gentleman sits to Bakugou's left commenting on the conversation as he does. 

"Wow the crane kimono! You know she's been holding onto that for quite some time. You must be very special. I'm Sozen, your lovely fiance's Uncle." He smiles, just as you're about pinch the blonde to make sure he answers he gives a small bow of his head. 

"Bakugou Katsuki." He introduces himself as aunt Mai rushes into the room.

"Wait, wait! I want to meet him!" She sinks next to your right, all smiles as her eyes are fixated on the young man, "Wow he is as handsome as you said on the phone last night." 

Fresh blush creeps onto your cheeks, remembering the phone conversation from when you were too nervous to sleep last night. Bakugou catches on and smirks in response. Everyone but Sobo takes their seats and you decide now is a good time as ever to get the formalities over with. 

"Let's just get through the introductions shall we?" You say as you run through the names of each family member on both sides of the three low tables shoved together. Introducing the hot head to well over 12 adults and their children and even children's children. For now Bakugou only makes an effort to remember the ones closest to him. 

Uncle Sozen who sits to his left and Aunt Mai who sits to your right. It's becoming quickly apparent that a lot of your family is either much older or much younger than yourself. He can understand why you could feel a little lonely at times. Being more of a black sheep than anything. Then he realises something very important.

"Wait, where are your parents?" He asks lowly to which you shrug. 

"They show up closer to grandma's birthday. They are both extremely busy and always have been. Soba more or less raised me." 

As if one cue grandmother comes in, looking over the table with the biggest and warmest smile she can muster. It reminds him of the summer sun lazily dancing across his skin in the late afternoon. 

And again it reminds him of you. He looks to you and sees you mirroring the exact same smile, happy for your grandmother's happiness causing his chest to tighten and butterflies to awaken in his stomach. He grinds his teeth in an attempt to calm them down. 

She sits at the head of the table, closest to Great Oba who he had the pleasure of meeting first thing, before grandmother holds up her small cup of sake. 

"To family." She announces, everyone lifts what cup they have, whether it was a kids small sippy cup, their o-choko, or even their cup of tea. 

"To family!" They roar back to her all taking a sip. 

"Let's eat." She says while the family cries out, "Itadakimasu!" 

The tables are loud and full of conversation. Although Katuski's family is not so big, the volume reminds him of his own family. A small smirk comes to his lips as he thinks of his mother and how she would fit in here. 

"So no Shoji?" Haru asks with a sneer, almost purposefully stirring the pot. 

"No surprise there." Someone else comments. 

"Shut. Up. Haru." You bite out, look fierce as if you were to devour him whole. He swallows thickly. 

"Great uncle Kodaka tell us about that battle we won here!" You change the subject and everyone groans as Kodaka starts the story they've heard thousands of times before.

"It was almost 150 years ago, when we were still a prosperous nation. Us samarai doing fine on our own. Hired by the wealthy or living by our own moral compass. It was like fish in a barrel…" 

The story continues on, mostly the children listen and your grandmother who smiles as she hears her youngest speak.

Sozen leans closer to Bakugou, as grey eyes hold onto scarlet. Bakugou remains quiet, glancing to you and then back to the uncle. Uncle Sozen takes this as an invitation to speak. 

"I guess since you're gonna be part of the family now I should tell you about Shoji. There was a time shortly before Grandpa died that he went down a dark path, gambling away majority of the family fortune and just when grams thought she had him under control then came Shoji.He was Grandpa's illegitimate child with a woman much younger than Sobo. But she loved Shoji fiercely anyway. She would take him through the field of wildflowers to the lake in the early mornings of summer. One hot day when he was small and the sun was rising, painting the sky in hues of red there was a crane. Our family's crest." Uncle Sozen points to the wooden crest above the door to the adjacent room that held the family's artifacts. A crane stands tall with a white lotus behind it in full bloom.

"It was the first time in decades that a crane had come to the lake and the lotus were in full bloom. He flew away, causing a gentle ripple in the lake and it was then Sobo knew that Shoji would bring fortune to our family." Sozen peeks your way to make sure you're not over hearing, he continues explaining softly as your loud laugh bellows out, "Everyone is so angry with him because he took the last of grandmother's savings and then ran away to America with no way to be contacted." 

"She is quick to defend him because she was too young to really remember how much it upset Sobo. That and she believed in him wholeheartedly. She looked up to him because despite his quirklessness he was exceptionally intelligent. She had faith that he would restore honor and fortune to our name." Sozen's chopsticks point to you as he speaks before he picks up a dumpling. Bakugou's eyes follow over you. 

"Hello Sobo." A deep voice calls from the engawa reducing the lively roar of dinner conversation to nothing more than the sad song of a lonely cricket.

"Uncle Shoji?!" You call excited, standing from your spot at the long table while the rest of the room holds animosity. 

Bakugou downs his sake to which Uncle Sozen silently refills. 

"I thought you were still abroad in the states!" You sink next to him and pull him into a crushing hug. He smiles, slowly separating the two of you. 

"What the hell do you want trash?!" Uncle Kodaka snarls, to which you produce a deadly glare his way.  

"Well yes I was in the states, thank you for asking Princess." He tucks a stay hair behind your ear before rising to speak with grandmother.

He does not address her properly nor does he bow. If anything he stands loosely with an arrogance about him that leaves majority of the room with a sour taste in their mouth. Bakugou watches Great Oba's chopsticks strain in her delicate hand, the distaste for him is becoming more and more obvious by the second.

And then he opens his mouth. 

"I made tenfold out of what you let me borrow, Soba." He pulls a stack of money and a check from his pocket as he speaks, "I made a drug to make people powerless and sold it to the highest bidder." 

Eyes around the room widen as news headlines flash in their heads about a new drug that made people quirkless. Villains shooting innocent bystanders and heroes in hopes of getting a leg up. 

Shoji tosses the money and the check onto grandmother's lap. Dark brown eyes stare into her lap for a long moment. 

Suddenly grandmother moves like an agile cat, jumping to her feet and grabbing for one of the divine naginata. She wields it masterfully before shoving the point towards him, fire burning in her eyes. 

"Mother!" Half the table shouts, as you begin to see red. You stand stepping next to Shoji, body shaking with rage as your heart drums in your ears. 

"I knew my Princess would save me." He says coyly to hide just how shaken he is, sweat dripping down his brow. Even ten years your senior he couldn't hide his fear of the fierce woman before him, shocked that a woman in her nineties could still brandish such a big and heavy weapon. 

Your hands land harshly on Shoji's chest as you give him a shove. Shocking the table into further silence. 

"YOU MADE THAT?!" Your voice echoes over the dining room, into the empty halls and out into the night but somehow the hurt in it does not reach Shoji. 

"Of course, it was going to be a hot seller. Governments offered me billions. Besides I made an anti...." But before he can finish you've got him by the collar. 

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO INTELLIGENT YET SO DAFT?!" Bakugou watches your knuckles turn white while your cheeks flush deep red. Shoji barely frees himself, his shirt crumpled but you press on. 

"Those were my friends!" A stomp of your foot has the dishes rattling on the table, Bakugou becomes more on edge, "You hurt my fucking friends!" 

You raise both of your fists above your head, ready to bring them down with all of your might. Too angry to control your gauge of power uncaring of the consequences. Katuski acts quickly, flicking his wrist to empty the shallow cup of sake high into the air. Igniting it into beautiful dancing fireworks, the kids oo and ah while he hopes to distract you if only for a moment. 

It works, slightly. You realize his plan as he jumps to his feet, running along the low tables as you try to beat him to the punch. 

Literally.

Bakugou barely makes it, shoving Shoji into the table, food and dishes fly into the air just to stain the freshly mopped wooden floors. The hot head holds out his other arm to take the brunt of your force. He let's off the smallest explosion to soften your blow but a small crack still rings out. 

Heated eyes watch as a black bruise blooms from the crease of his elbow to all the way to his wrist as the shock shakes the house behind him. Paintings and pictures fall from the walls in the wake of your force.

"Are you trying to bring down the house dumbass?!" He yells before his voice dips low, soft almost, "What if the roof had caved and Soba-san got hurt?" 

Your eyes widen at his words before they are locked with glistening scarlet pools. You look over Bakugou's toned arm, marred in angry shades of purplish black. Eyes darting over the family and the mess that lies beside you. Finally they fall on your grandmother behind your shoulder. Her own aged shoulders heave from the adrenaline, her graying white hair out of place with her lotus pin threatening to fall out. You spy Shoji, your once hero still squishing food beneath his torso and elbows, eyes filled with fear.

"Fuck this." You mutter storming off, leaving Bakugou to stand alone before your family. Shoji stands, rushing out of the house, moments later everyone can hear a car peeling down the gravel drive losing traction once or twice. 

After a few moments of silence grandmother fixes her hair and returns the naginata as she speaks. 

"This family cleans up their own messes. Now get to work!" 

And with that your family and Bakugou begin to pick up the shattered pieces of dishes, pride and family matters.

[iridescentjin]

Summary: The summer that you meet Kim Taehyung proves to be a cruel summer. kth x reader

“I’m drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar. Said, “I’m fine”, but it wasn’t true. I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you. And I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate.” Taylor Swift - Cruel Summer

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: vaginal fingering, swearing, recreational alcohol use, protected and unprotected sex, impact play, light choking, everyone’s fingers in everyone’s mouths, smol amounts of exhibitionism, oral sex (f. receiving and m. receiving)

a/n: this is mostly just a story that I wrote a bunch of my friends into. Anyway, I didn’t even read it all the way through once. It could make no sense at all. It’s my your queen of not editing and not having someone beta read. I don’t remember who else I was supposed to tag. @moonpjms @glossyfever @onherwings @softguks​ @ot7always​

WC: 18K+

You pulled up your hood then firmly tucked your arms around yourself. You ducked your head as you ran across the street through the rain. The awnings covered most of the sidewalk, but the street was uncovered, rain splattering all over the black asphalt. The neon and LED lights from the shops bouncing off the wet ground, creating a constantly changing abstract art display. You felt yourself hesitate as you were coming upon the curb because you were entranced by the dancing colors.

Leaving work this late hadn’t been your plan today, but at least you’d come prepared with a jacket, knowing that the monsoon season tended to span most of the summer. You, however, had forgotten your umbrella at home. You admonished yourself in your brain for being such an airhead today, like always. Thank God for Find My iPhone, or you’d constantly be in trouble.

You look at the sidewalk ahead of you, still glinting with the lights from the shops and business, and you sighed in exasperation upon seeing the large sections ahead of you that had no awning. Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal, but you were supposed to meet friends tonight at a bar in Gangnam. You were already running behind, not to mention the 30 minutes on the train that you had ahead of you. Now, you also had to worry about looking like a drowned rat, with your hair falling stringy and wet around your face.

You stand at the edge of the awning as if you’re looking down a steep precipice for your inevitable end. You stand for one more second, close your eyes, and accept your fate. Before you can take a step into the downpour, someone clears their throat behind you. You turn quickly to see a tall man with dark shaggy hair standing a little too close to you. You can’t see most of his face because he’s wearing a mask and a hat with a bill, but his eyes are sparkling just like the lights off the wet pavement.

“You look like maybe you could use an umbrella,” he says, and you can tell just from his tone that he has a smile on his face.

Normally, you wouldn’t accept help from a strange man on the street, but it’s raining and you’re late.

You sigh and say, reluctantly, “Are you going anywhere near Saetgang station?”

He shifts his weight in an energetic kind of way. “As a matter of fact, I happen to be going to Saetgang station.”

He shifts his umbrella to his left hand and holds it over you more than himself. You walk with your shoulders touching, and after about 2 minutes, he talks. He isn’t looking at you, but you still know it’s for you because no one else is around.

“You can just call me Tae, by the way.”

“Oh, thanks,” you pause, unsure if you want to give him any more information about yourself than you have to; stranger danger and all that. “I’m y/n.”

“Y/n? That’s an unusual name for around here.”

“Well, I’m originally from the States, but I moved here when I was very young. My dad worked at the consulate and my mother was an English teacher, so I’ve been here most of my life.” You realize the insane amount of detail you’ve just given him, and you shake your head at yourself. To shift focus, you snap, “Besides, Tae isn’t that common for around here anyway. If you were traditional Korean, wouldn’t your name be three syllables? Whoever heard of a traditional ‘just call me Tae.”

“Hey! Come on. I’ve got a Korean name. I would just like to have a tiny bit of anonymity, thank you very much. Not all of us are open books, Ms. my-father-works-for-the-consulate.”

“Worked.” Your tone drops, and you keep your head down as you see the stairs down to the subway before you. You thank the universe or God or whoever was listening to the shouting in your head for the awkward interaction to be over.

As soon as you are down the stairs and out of the rain, you thank him and try to scurry off. Hopefully you’ll never have to see that jerk again.

You swipe your transportation card and make your way to the platform to wait for the next train. The train from Yeoui-dong to Gangnam comes every 12 minutes, and you have the times memorized in your head. The last train had come at 7:11pm. You look down at your watch. 7:22pm. Perfect timing you think to yourself. Despite being slowed down slightly by just-call-me-Tae, you were still perfectly on time.

When the train arrives, you clamber inside around the car stuffed with bodies. You find a place to grab the railing overhead and cast your eyes at the floor of the car. It’s best to avoid eye contact on the train.

After the first stop, the people inside shift around, and the shoes in front of you now are not the same as the last pair. The person before you before was wearing black shoes, the kind that are so shiny that you could see your reflection in them. These shoes are slip on loafers with a little decorative metal clasps on top. Something about them is familiar. Oh shit.

You draw your eyes up the slender frame before you, and you take in the muscles on his chest that you hadn’t noticed before. When you finally look at his face, he has a smug, amused grin showing his teeth. You roll your eyes, and then your heart speeds up.

“Are you following me? What do you want? I don’t have any money.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Oh my god! No! We just happened to be on the same train! I’m meeting friends at SAHM in Gangnam, I promise!”

The panic in his tone makes you want to trust him, but you still remain wary. As his words set in, you roll your eyes again.

“Seriously? SAHM? Are you kidding me call-me-Tae?”

You know you didn’t tell him where you were going except to the station, but the fact that he says he’s going to the same bar as you seems too crazy to be coincidence.

“Yes?” he says, the surprise wiped from his face to be replaced by confusion.

“Why?” you ask to yourself in exasperation.

The train stops, and people shuffle around the car. You get pushed a little closer to the man in front of you, and you feel your cheeks redden.

“Well, my friend is hanging out with his girlfriend and her friends tonight, and they invited me and some other friends too.” He’s confused, and you want to call him an idiot for not realizing that the question wasn’t directed toward him.

He reaches into the pocket on his long, sweeping tan coat. You recoil ever so slightly from the unexpected movement.

He plucks his phone from his pocket and holds it toward you. “Dude, relax,” he laughs. “I’m not stalking you. I’m not going to murder you. You’re fine. I see you clutching that pepper spray. Use it if you need, but maybe just not in the confined train car.”

You become aware of the fact that your hand is in your purse, gripping your pepper spray, and you feel a little embarrassed. You mutter an apology.

“Look.” He holds his phone out to you.

Very clearly in the group chat he shows you are several people making plans to meet up at SAHM tonight. You roll your eyes again.

“If you keep doing that, they’re gonna get stuck like that.”

Every moment with this man is more embarrassing than the last, and you cannot wait for the ride to be over. Only one more stop before yours, and you can get off the train, mosey around the station for an inconspicuous amount of minutes before going to SAHM to meet your friends.

You ride the rest of the way to Gangnam with your eyes on anything but that embarrassing man, and he doesn’t push the conversation any further.

When the doors open, just-call-me-Tae bows slightly and says it was nice to meet you. Then he disappears into the sea of people in the station.

It’s about 30 minutes later when you finally make it to the bar, and you see your friends across the crowded space. The place has a kind of rustic feel to it, lots of wood and exposed brick. It reminds you of the hipster bars back in the states when you visited family last summer, and your cousin, Lindy, had insisted that you just had to try the new bar in town. You had a good time, but those fancy hipster drinks were stronger than you thought. You’d ended up drunk, flirting with the bartender. You even started an argument with Lindy when she refused to let you go home with a stranger in a country that you didn’t know well or speak the language perfectly.

You wriggle through the crowded bar to make your way to your friends. You smile at the sight of them all laughing and drinking together. Your friend, Rey, has her arm around the waist of a guy a little taller than her, who has a mask and a cap on, covering most of his face. You assume it’s her boyfriend, who she talks about non-stop but rarely goes into detail about.

Once you reach them, you see your friends’ beautiful faces and smile. They’re all gathered around a tall table, drinking and talking loudly. You say hello to all of your friends, hugging Rey last.

“y/n, this is Jimin. I’ve told you a little bit about him,” she shouts over the loud bar sounds, beaming up at him. She’s so precious when she’s in love.

She’s talked vaguely about Jimin for a long time, and you aren’t totally sure what his job is. You know that he travels a lot for work and that sometimes Rey goes with him. You know that she never says exactly where he lives or who his friends are or anything like that. She’s so smitten that you are so excited to finally meet him.

“Hi, Jimin. I’m so glad to finally meet you!”

You shake his hand and exchange pleasantries. His eyes are the only part of his face that you can really see, but they are full of light and excitement and joy. You feel overwhelmed by the feeling of happiness in your chest just from meeting your friend's boyfriend.

“y/n, I brought some of my friends along. Everyone else has already met them, but I’d love to introduce you.”

Jimin’s friends are all gathered together, talking and drinking. Jimin pulls each of them over to introduce them, the smile in his eyes shining above the mask. He finally pulls over a man with white shirt, when he turns, it’s undeniable that the face before you is the same one that you’d hoped to never see before. Luckily, you’re drunk and having fun, so you feel a little more relaxed.

“This is my best friend, Tae,” says Jimin. Tae shakes each of your hands, and when he gets to you, he hesitates as he says, “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m y/n,” you say, with snark dripping off your tongue.

“y/n? That’s such a unique and beautiful name.”

You blush a little bit, and you’re not sure why. You know he’s just making a joke, making up for what he said before. The alcohol pulsing through your body leaves you feeling a little hazy as you realize that you’ve been holding his handshake for too long. You yank your hand away from him and rub your cheek gently.

You turn from him and make your way back over to your friends. “y/n, you are so red!” exclaims Ahhyun.

You duck your head and cover your face with your hands. You’re just red because you’re embarrassed by Tae nothing else. You throw back the rest of your drink and track down the server to get another one.

After a few drinks, you are feeling silly and giggly with your friends. Everyone, including Jimin’s friends, decides to play a game around the table, and everyone is giggling and drinking. You’ve missed nights out with your friends like this, and for some reason, you keep finding yourself next to Tae.

Someone suggests that you all play suck and blow because apparently you aren’t actual adults with real jobs and retirement accounts. At least not tonight. You end up next to your friend Seoyeon on one side and Tae on the other. As the card goes around, you look up at Tae thinking about the fact that he has yet to remove the mask from his face. He sneaks the straw from his drink up under the bottom and drinks. You laugh to yourself at the silliness of it all.

“Are you going to be able to play with that mask on?” you ask him pointedly.

“Of course. You have no idea how strong my skills are.” He giggles and sets his drink on the table.

You finish your drink, and you feel that fuzzy feeling in your head that tells you that it’s probably time for some water. You watch the group pass the card from one person to another. Jinhee intentionally drops the card as she turns to her girlfriend, Ash, an adorable girl who is studying abroad in Seoul. You feel yourself blush as they kiss, and you melt a little bit more. You’re such a hopeless romantic, and love makes you so soft.

You get the card from Seoyeon and turn to Tae. He tries his hardest to hold the card against his mouth with his mask on, but it falls. Everyone laughs as he keeps his face close to yours.

“Oops,” he whispers. His tone hints that maybe it wasn’t an accident, but you can’t tell.

Suddenly, your mind is full of the image of you pulling down his mask and kissing his lips hard, tasting the sweet alcohol on his tongue. You want to put your hands in his hair and pull his hat off. His shirt is loose, and you long to see the shape of his chest underneath it. His collarbones are poking out of the top of his shirt, and you can see how perfectly your mouth would fit on them.

You are completely lost in the lustful thoughts when someone drops a glass on the floor, and it shatters. You realize the thoughts that you’ve been having, and you feel like the heat immediately shooting into your cheeks again. You decide to head to the bathroom to try to rinse your face with cold water. Maybe it will sober you up and keep these thoughts about Tae out of your head.

You splash the water on your face and wash your hands. This is the first time that you’ve looked in the mirror since before you walked in the rain, and you can see that your hair, while not as bad as it could be, is windblown and messy. Your fingers fumble through your hair until you get it slightly more presentable. You rinse your face once more, trying to wash away the redness in your face from the drinks.

When you stumble slightly as you exit the bathroom, and you trip slightly and grab onto the arm of the man that you trip into. You look up, and a tall gruff looking man is looking down at you.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” you mutter and try to slip away from him.

“Where are you going, cutie? You didn’t even introduce yourself yet,” he says as he grabs your wrist.

“Look, I should really get back to my friends.” You’re panicking a little, and you try to wiggle your wrist free of his grasp.

“Ah, honey, won’t you stay and chat a while with me?” he starts to pull you closer to him, and you yank your wrist away from him.

“Oh goodness, darling, there you are. I’ve been looking for you,” a male voice announces from behind you. When you whip your head around, Tae is standing there.

You scoot closer to him and grab his hand. “Sorry, babe, I didn’t mean to get lost. It’s just so crowded in here. I lost direction.”

The man who had been trying to get you to stay with him looks disgruntled as Tae pulls you into his side. Before he can say anything, Tae pulls the mask down from his face and the bill of his hat up a bit to reveal the absolutely gorgeous face before you. There’s something super familiar about it that you can’t quite place. Upon seeing his face, the guy mumbles some apologies and skulks away.

“Really? Your face scared him? That pretty thing?” you ask, drunker than you felt a minute ago.

Tae laughs and pulls his mask back up. Then something clicks in your brain. You’ve seen that face before in the subway, all over the television, all over the internet. Oh fuck.

“Thanks. I have to go,” you blurt out and slink away from him.

“Wait!” he shouts after you, but you keep moving through the crowd to your friends.

When you get to the table where you’d all been gathered and grab your bag. You say a quick goodbye to Ahhyun, seeing that Rey and Jimin are way too wrapped up in each other to notice. You slip out the front door onto the cool, wet sidewalk. Luckily, the rain has stopped, so you can walk briskly toward your apartment, your shoes slapping against the wet pavement.

When you’re a little way away from the bar, you slow your walk slightly, trying to process what just happened. Tae, who is an idol, had just attempted to protect your honor in public. Why was he even there? Shouldn’t he be...dancing or something?

You’re not sure why you’re so angry at him just for being who he is. Your ego is a little bruised in that you thought this guy might actually be interested in you, but there was no way that someone like him was going to be interested in someone like you. You’d seen the female idols and movie stars; he could have anyone he wanted.

You shake your head to try to get the image of him with a beautiful super model, laughing about the girl at the bar who flirted with him like a child by being mean to him. The sound of feet on the wet sidewalk pulls your attention away from your thoughts. You turn around, and you cannot believe your eyes. Tae is walking briskly toward you.

“You’re kidding me, right?” you blurt out, hoping he isn’t within earshot.

“Look, I know we don’t really know each other, but I felt like I connected with you in a way that I haven’t with other people,” he huffs out. “Plus, you didn’t look at me differently when you saw my face. I mean...you did, but it was almost disappointment on your face. You have to know how rare that is for me, right?”

You feel the corners of your mouth tugging back. You didn’t want to admit how beautiful you thought he was or that you thought his sense of humor was funny, but it was true. You were glad that he was here because the way it felt to stand next to him was warm and real.

“I just don’t really know what you want from me,” you say as you turn your face away from him.

There’s no way that a famous idol is standing in front of you telling you that your disappointment made him feel good. You shake your head again.

“Just...hang out with me. Just one time. It will be casual, and I don’t expect anything from you, but it’s worth it to me to try to see if we can even have a friendship. I like you. I think you’re funny.”

You blush and push your hair behind your ear. You inhale and exhale deeply, trying to slow your thoughts. You don’t want anything about your life to be in the spotlight; you don’t want to be seen in public with an idol. You don’t want to have sasaeng fans who wish death upon you for just being near their “one true love.”

“I don't know. The kind of attention you get isn’t the kind that I want in my life. I don’t want everyone in Korea knowing who I am.”

His eyes drop slightly, and his shoulders sink a little lower. “You won’t have to have that kind of attention. We have ways to make sure that you aren’t seen. We can be really careful. Come over tomorrow. We can have dinner, and I can show you that you don’t have to be in the spotlight.”

You pause and sigh. “Fine.”

You can see the smile in his eyes, and you fish your phone out of your bag. You open Kakaotalk and hand it to him. He sends himself a message and hands it back to you.

“Trust me. This is going to be fun,” he says.

“I hope so. I gotta get home though. Have a goodnight, Tae,” you mutter awkwardly.

“Thanks, y/n. I will. Thanks.”

He walks away quickly, and he turns back and looks over his shoulder once before you turn and walk away from him toward home, smiling to yourself.

*****

“Kim Taehyung!”

The shout greets Tae in the hallway as he makes his way toward the practice room the next morning. He has a little bit of a headache from drinking too much, but he doesn’t let that get him down. Tae still feels the way that it felt to hold your hand in the bar. He doesn’t want to be dramatic or anything, but he feels like you might be his soulmate. He would never say that out loud though.

The voice down the hall belongs to his manager, Minjoon, who is looking at him with disappointment in his eyes.

"Kim Taehyung, I cannot believe that you slipped your team again and spent the whole night out. At a bar, Tae? Really? What if you'd been seen? What if you'd been mobbed by people?"

Tae smiles at him, with the dreamy look still in his eyes. "But I wasn't. And Jimin was out too!"

Minjoon rolls his eyes at Tae and leads him away by the wrist.

"Yes, but Jimin took the proper precautions, and he took Beomseok with him."

Tae rolls his eyes and begins to walk away. "I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again."

His manager lets him walk away, and he feels a damper starting to fall on his good mood that he thought that nothing could ruin. He makes his way to the practice room and flops down on the floor. Jimin is in there practicing hard in the mirror, hair pushed back off of his forehead and sweat shining on his brow. He ignores Tae for a couple of minutes, focused on getting the correct moves down. Finally, he looks up and sees the lump that is Tae lying on the floor.

"What's wrong with you? I thought you had a good night last night?"

Tae flops over again, so he's turned toward the mirror, looking at Jimin's reflection in the eyes. He brings his hand up and runs it through his hair. He lets the memory of your scent sink into his brain for a moment.

"Sometimes I just get so sick of not being able to be a normal 24 year-old. Not have to take security everywhere. Not worry about the spotlight. Don't you?" he asks, feeling the desperation in his voice.

"Of course I do. My relationship would be so much easier if I was able to just be a normal guy, but I chose this life. I think that Rey loves me, so she knows that this is the way that things have to be. It can be hard some days, but it's the way it is. Plus, Minjoon-ssi shouldn't have yelled at you. Beomseok hyung was there."

Jimin walks across the room to where Tae is lying on the floor. He encourages him to stand up, and when he finally gets Tae off the floor, Jimin heads to the boombox and puts on the song "My My My" by Troye Sivan. Jimin starts dancing silly all around the room, beckoning Tae to come dance with him. Soon Tae is laughing with him, and the two are singing loudly and dancing wildly around the room. When the other members come into the room, Yoongi rolls his eyes, and Hoseok joins in dancing.

After practice, while they have time to eat lunch, Tae decides to go ahead and shoot his shot. He opens KakaoTalk and pulls up your messages. The only thing in there is a message from him to himself.

Hey, y/n, I was wondering if maybe you'd want to come over for dinner tomorrow?

Now, all that he can do is wait. Wait for you to read it. Wait for you to decide. Wait for you to respond. Even though his schedule is very busy lately with press and practices, he feels like waiting for you has been the most important thing that he's waited for in a long time.

As he waits, he eats his Kimbap quietly. Namjoon comes up to him and sits next to him.

"Hey, Tae, are you all right?" he asks gently.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You've been really distracted all day. Just kind of smiling into space."

Tae takes a moment to think back to his effort in practice earlier, and he realizes that his hangover and daydreams have made him noticeably less engaged than usual. Shit.

"I'm sorry, Namjoon-hyung. I will get my head back into it." He hangs his head slightly as he says it. Maybe having you come over tomorrow was not the best idea.

Namjoon sighs and wraps his arm around Tae's shoulders. "Hey, I know how you get. Just...don't put everything into this one person, okay?"

Before Tae can question it, Namjoon has gotten up to take his bowl to the staff before they start work again. He turns and looks at Tae one more time before he leaves the room to head to the studio. Tae sighs deeply and throws his head back on his shoulders. What am I even doing? he thinks to himself.

Your name shows up on his screen when he's all but resigned himself to not hearing from you. When he opens the message, he doesn’t know what else he had expected from you.

Fine.

His heart leaps slightly in his chest at the thought of it, and he smiles at his phone. Instantly, his mind is darting between all the things he wants to do and all the arrangements that he wants to make for you. For the rest of the day, he feels like he works hard enough to make up for how much he was dragging in the morning.

*******

Be ready at 8:00. I'll send a car for you.

That's not ominous at all you think to yourself. You weren't sure if this was a good idea, but you suppose if anyone can figure out how to sneak around fans and paparazzi, it's the famous idol who simply rode the subway with you last night.

You curl your hair slightly and slap on a small amount of makeup. You don't want to look like you tried too hard, but you didn't want to look like a total schlub either. When you look at yourself in the mirror, you actually are impressed. Trying not to look too long, you pull yourself away from your reflection as you start scrutinizing that your eyeliner is slightly uneven on each side. The last time that you'd done that, you had ended up with half of each of your eyelids covered in black liquid liner, and you'd had to remove the entire look at start over.

You had sent Tae your address the day before, so you assumed that you should just wait outside for the driver. The elevator ride down from your apartment is long and slow. You realize how mildewy and old the elevator smells, even though your building was built in the 80s. When the doors of the elevator slide open, you see a black town car with black tinted windows sitting in front of the front doors of your building.

You had never seen a car with such dark tint on the windows, but this must be the kind of car that Tae has to ride in all of the time to avoid being seen. You walk up to the car, your flats making your steps nearly silent through the lobby. You see your reflection in the pitch black car. A white crop top and a purple pair of cut off shorts with flats on your feet. The outfit had seemed like a perfect summer outfit that flattered all the right parts of your body without looking like you were trying too hard to be fancy or dressed up for a "date."

For all you knew, this wasn't even a date. It was just two people hanging out. While you were lost in thought, the driver of the car came around and stood next to the rear door.

"Miss y/n?" he asked in such a formal tone, that you felt taken aback. No one ever talked to you so formally. You were the youngest in your team at work, and you were so used to being everyone's dongsaeng that you didn't know what to do with all the respect he was giving you.

"Yes, thank you," you blurt out awkwardly.

He opens the door for you, and you clamber in. The ride is almost 45 minutes with traffic, there's always traffic in Seoul. You have plenty of time to think about all the ways that this could go wrong. Think about how you're going to see your face on all the gossip sites tomorrow. You hardly let yourself relax or breathe as you sit in the car. Maybe it won't be so bad. Or maybe it will be a nightmare.

Finally, the car reaches the first gate of an apartment complex, and the driver gives the man at the gate his idea. The security office records it in a big binder and waves him on.

"You'll need to get out your ID for the second gate, miss," he says back to you.

You fish your ID out of your bag and hand it up to him as he pulls up to the second gate. He hands the IDs to the security officer, who enters the information into his computer and wishes you both a good night. Wow. You didn't know what you expected, but it wasn't this. It makes sense though.

The car pulls into the garage, and after parking, the driver leads you through the concrete labyrinth. You have to check in at the front desk too and be led by someone else in a black suit to the elevator and up to the apartment.

When you get to the door, he knocks in a unique pattern and waits a moment before Tae swings the door open.

"y/n! Hi!" he exclaims. He is beaming, and the smile spread across his face is infectious.

Shit. He's so beautiful.

He leads you into the apartment where there is a chef in the kitchen who barely looks up at you. There is one man sitting in the living room, and no one else to be seen. The man on the couch turns around and grins at you, popping up out of his seat. His eyes scrunch up slightly as he smiles at you. Shit. He's so beautiful too.

"Hi, I'm Jungkook," he says as he extends his hand out to you.

You shake it, blushing. "hi, I'm y/n."

Tae seems to see the blush in your cheeks, and he puts his body slightly between you and Jungkook. You smile to yourself at the possessiveness and jealousy that he seems to feel for his roommate.

"Jungkook was just leaving. Weren't you?"

You laugh out loud at the obvious "hint" that Tae is trying to drop. Jungkook laughs too, and the two of you make eye contact.

"Actually, I wasn't. I was just going to hang out and watch TV for a little while." He gives Tae a teasing look, and Tae flushes from his neck up to his cheeks. There's a small pleading look in his eye. It must be hard for him because his whole life is surrounded by people, even though some of them are his friends.

"Oh, you know what? I actually told Laur that I would call her tonight, and I should probably go do that because I love her." Jungkook trails off slightly, making long hard eye contact with Tae. "it was nice to meet you, y/n. Have fun!"

Jungkook disappears into one of the doors down the hall. You turn to Tae after you watch Jungkook make his way away from you. Tae has a slightly hurt look in his eyes, but he tries to hide it from you with a smile.

"What? What's wrong?" you ask.

"No. Nothing. I just don't want you to feel like you can't hang out with the other members if you want to."

You grab the sides of his face and make him look at you. "I'm here for you. I agreed to hang out with you, not them."

He smiles at this and leads you to the couch. It's a huge sectional that takes up most of the room, and you follow his lead in sitting right in the middle, leaving a little space between the two of you. You are still hesitant and don't know him well. You aren't trying to cuddle up on the couch with him just yet.

He grabs the remote to turn on the TV. On the screen are the titles of literally hundreds of movies.

"We can watch whatever you want," he says in a more normal and steady tone than you've heard from him since you were on the train.

"Why don't you pick?"

He smiles huge, and from the look in his eyes as he reads each of the titles, he is in his element. Ultimately, he selects Midnight In Paris. Before he hits play, he looks at you to confirm his decision. You nod toward him gently and smile up at him. He's taller than you remember, even sitting next to you.

You watch the movie, laughing along at Owen Wilson, until the chef in the kitchen announces that food is ready. He graciously brings it to you, and there is so much to choose from you don't know what to choose. Kimchi jjigae, oi kimchi, samgyeopsal, galbi, and tons of other food are spread out on the coffee table in front of you.

"I don't know what you like...so I told him to just make some of everything. I figured you can't go wrong with the staples."

Tae sounds nervous, but it looks amazing. There's no way you could pass up a meal like this. The two of you lean over the table, watching the movie and laughing, and eat way more food than you had planned on eating.

Once you're finished, you lean back onto the couch, certain that you're going to fall asleep. Already, this has been so nice, but you realized that you've hardly talked to Tae at all. Your plan was to come here and get to know Tae better to decide if spending time with him was worth the struggle.

When the movie ends, Tae turns to you to ask what you think of the movie. You hesitate for a second.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, but...Woody Allen?” you know you shouldn’t be starting into it the first time you’re hanging out.

His jaw drops slightly, but after a brief discussion, he agrees that it’s hard to separate the art from the artist and there are amazing directors who haven’t done even half of the terrible shit he did. You were impressed with his maturity, and you decided that you’d definitely give him a chance.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asks as you sit awkwardly in silence after that discussion.

You can’t think of a single reason that you should say no, and a glass of wine sounds delicious. “Yeah,” you smile. “Why not?”

Tae heads into the kitchen, and when he returns, you laugh at the comical size of the wine glass. It is roughly the size of your head, and even though it’s only half full, it is roughly the amount of two or three glasses of wine. 

“What? These are the only glasses we have,” he laughs along with you as he sets them down.

After you’ve had the entirety of one glass of wine, you are feeling lighter and looser and less awkward. You forget about the fact that Tae is one of the most famou men in the country, and you are just hanging out with your friend. The two of you talk about your childhoods and exchange embarrassing stories from high school.

You don’t feel yourself scooting closer to Tae, or maybe he’s scooting closer to you. His face is just a few inches from your face by the time you realize it, but you don’t want to move away from him.

“I’ve had a really good time with you, tonight, y/n,” he whispers, leaning even closer to you.

You can feel his breath on your lips, and you can smell his skin and his breath. The smell of the Cabernet mixed with lavender and vanilla, and it’s more intoxicating than any drink that you’ve had. The condensation his hot breath leaves on your lips makes your skin tingle. 

“I’ve had such a wonderful time, Tae.”

You close even more of the space between the two of you. There’s less than an inch in between your mouths. You can’t stop your lips from darting down to his mouth. Shit. He’s so beautiful. His mouth is a perfect pout with his pillowy lips tinted slightly darker red from the wine. When you look back up at him, his eyes are on your mouth too. You can see him tracing every curve of your lips. Your heart pounds in your ears at the thought of kissing him, touching him.

Tae moves to close the distance between the two of you. Your lips ghost across each other, but before you can fully feel the rose petals of his, you hear a key in the lock. You feel like a teenager being caught by your parents, so you jump back from him, putting at least a foot of space between you and Tae.

Tae turns toward the door and the gorgeous, thin-framed man coming through the door. Behind him is a tall, blonde girl who is stunning. Tae’s face is flushed from the wine and the embarrassment of the moment.

“Hi Yoongi-hyung,” Tae mutters as he averts his eyes. “Hi Soph.”

The man hardly acknowledges Tae, but the woman sends a warm smile Tae’s way. “Hi, Tae! How’s your date?”

Your eyes widen at the word date, and you choke slightly on the breath that you were taking in at the moment. Her eyes dart toward you, and she immediately turns pink. She immediately becomes awkward, and Yoongi turns toward her and laughs at the blush in her cheeks.

“Well, this has been sufficiently uncomfortable.” Yoongi turns to you. “Hi, I’m Yoongi. This is my girl, Soph.”

“Hi. I’m y/n, and I am, indeed, sufficiently uncomfortable.”

Yoongi laughs and then leads Soph down the same hallway that Jungkook disappeared into, entering a different door.

After they’ve been out of sight for a moment, you turn back to Tae and say, “I should actually probably head out,” rubbing your arm awkwardly, still warm in your cheeks.

Tae calls the car for you, and a few minutes later, the rhythmic little knock on the door tells you it’s time to go. Tae walks you to the door, and before it opens, he leans in and presses his lips to your cheek. A huge smile spreads across your face, and you’re sure the security agent can tell that something just happened between the two of you.

On the way out of the gates, you can see through the tinted windows the young women gathered around outside of the gates in a contained area. They are holding signs and wearing t-shirts with Tae’s name and face on them. It gives you an uneasy feeling in your stomach, but once you’re past them, you can’t help the warm feeling that is bubbling inside of you from the night.

*****

“You didn’t even kiss her?” Jimin asks, exasperated as he sits on the couch next Tae. The two sip wine together while the television plays in the background.

Tae groans and throws his head back, hand on his forehead. “I tried, but Yoongi-hyung ruined it. He came in right when I was going to.”

Jimin starts giggling uncontrollably, eyes shut tight. His laugh is infectious, and no matter how much Tae doesn’t want to laugh at his own misery, he can’t help but laugh that of course it was Yoongi who interrupted. Any of the other members would have been cool about it, but Yoongi just had to make a sarcastic comment. The two laugh for a long time, the wine pulsing through their veins. Taehyung feels grateful that they don’t have to work early tomorrow, but this was not the end to the night that he had hoped for.

Taehyung had an image in his head of him kissing you, fingers laced into your hair. He imagined what it would feel like to have your lips against his, the smoothness of them and how pert they are. You would have leaned closer to him and run your fingers over his neck. He would have slowly moved his hand up your leg, feeling your skin up to the frayed hem of your shorts.

Tae feels himself hardening in his loose linen pants and adjusts himself awkwardly. The thing about these loose flowy pants is that while sitting down, they don’t hide anything. He looks over to make sure that Jimin didn’t see, and when he’s confident that he didn’t, he relaxes slightly.

“I’m going to though,” he states.

“You’re going to what?” Jimin asks.

“I’m going to kiss her. I’m going to make her mine.” A smile stretches across his lips, and he sinks back into the couch to watch the rest of the show with Jimin.

*******

Three weeks after hanging out at Tae’s, you are sitting at your desk looking over an expense report that someone messed up the spreadsheet for. Everything in one of the columns is one row off, and you are trying to fix it and all of the equations.Your phone vibrates next to you, and you welcome the distraction from the tedious work.

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you see Tae’s name appear on the screen. Though you hadn’t seen him in person since the day that you went to his place, you were able to text everyday and video chat a few times. Things with Tae felt simple, like he was your oldest friend in the world. You couldn’t believe how well he knew you even after such a short time of knowing you.

Tae: Tonight?

What a vague message. What did he want tonight? To video chat? To hang out? For you to do your laundry?

You: Tonight will be Thursday night, yes.

You are always a little sassy with him, and he dishes it right back. The dynamic that you’ve built between the two of you is natural. You’re pretty sure this what people mean when they say that two people have chemistry, though you’ve never really understood the expression.

Tae: Oh thank goodness. I thought it was Saturday, and I’m busy Saturday.

Tae: Since it’s Thursday, do you want to hang out tonight?

You smile. You’ve been looking forward to seeing Tae since the last time, and you want to be able to pick up where you’d left off before Yoongi had interrupted the two of you. After video chatting with Tae several times, you learned that’s just sort of Yoongi’s M.O. if he interrupts anything. Be awkward and sarcastic then move on. A solid technique.

You: I guess I can pencil you in.

Tae: Excellent. Be ready at 6.

You look at the clock, and it reads 3:30pm. You only have 2.5 hours before you’re supposed to do god knows what with Tae, and you know that you are not looking your best. You figure you can leave at 4:00 if your boss doesn’t see you and you ask Aecha to cover for you.

When she agrees, you thank her profusely, slip your purse off the back of your chair, and head out the door. You get out without any trouble and walk briskly toward your apartment building. Your head is swimming with the idea of seeing Tae and the possibilities for the evening. You’re trying not to get too ahead of yourself, but all you can see in your mind’s eye is the shape of his body.

It’s been months since you were even interested in a man. You’re most recent ex, Yongsoon, had been a delightful man, but he was so boring and predictable. You never felt challenged by him. You never felt like he was that passionate about anything. You’d ended things, and even during the break up, he’d seemed so apathetic about the whole thing.

Tae didn’t feel like that. He was bright and vibrant. He had so many passions, from art to film to fashion. He made you feel like you could shine as bright, reach as high as you wanted. He also made you feel like you wanted to see what was underneath his whole clothes.

You shake your head as you unlock the door to your apartment. Stop being lustful, y/n! You rush around your apartment, trying to make your hair and make up look better. You decide that tonight, you’d like to wear a skirt. In the heat of mid June, you wanted to be able to move freely. Plus you loved the way that your black skater skirt swished when you walked or twirled. On top, you wear a purple shirt, tied up at the waist.

When your phone turns over to 6:00, you take one last look in the mirror, grab your bag, and try not to sprint down the stairs. Outside, once again, you can see the black town car with tinted windows waiting for you. The sight of it makes your heart leap a little, and you smile again. Everything about Tae makes you smile.

The driver meets you at the rear door, and he lets you into the vehicle. Expecting it to be empty, you jump a little upon seeing a figure inside. Sitting on the driver's side seat, Tae is wearing black slacks, a button up shirt, and beret-type hat. He has his mask pulled down around his chin, and he’s beaming at you. You climb in next to him, mumbling a hello as you get comfortable.

“Didn’t expect me to be here, did you?” he asks, with a sly grin on his face.

“I honestly didn’t know what to expect. You just told me to be ready. You didn’t even tell me what.”

He laughs, amused at his own vagueness. “It’s best if you only know what you need to know.”

“Well, can I know where we’re going now?”

He smirks at you and then announces, “We’re going to Ihwa Mural Village!”

He can’t be serious. A public place? While it’s light outside? With an idol? You start to panic as you think about all the possibilities of things that could go wrong. He could get rushed by people. You could get hurt. He could get hurt. It was far too risky.

Seeing the panic in your eyes, he blurts, “Don’t worry! I went the safe route this time. I have security who are going to be there, and we should be in the clear. They’ve cleared it out for a filming. We did everything we needed to keep us safe.”

You relax slightly, but you still know that people crowd around movie sets and things like that on the street. You know that Tae would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you are terrified.

“Hey,” he grabs your hand and squeezes it with his. “It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

The feeling of his warm palm in yours is comforting and feels like home. You wiggle your fingers slightly, just to take in the sensation of each of his between each of yours. 

“Okay. I trust you,” you mutter, trying to believe your own words.

The car pulls up into an area that you’ve seen before and know is usually crowded. This time, there are only three men outside, all wearing black jeans. Tae pulls up his mask and pulls down the brim of his hat. You pull your mask over your face, wishing you’d known to bring a hat with you today, but hoping everything would be fine.

After a while of walking on the deserted street, looking at murals, making jokes, and taking pictures, you get lost in the moment with Tae. You let yourself breathe into the way that his hand feels in yours, the warmth of his body next to yours. His scent is soft and subtle, just like him.

After about an hour of walking around Ihwa, he asks if you’re hungry. You smile broadly at him, but quickly realize that half of your face is covered with cloth. 

“Yes, I am starving!” you exclaim, feeling the hunger pangs in your stomach for the first time. You had been so distracted with Tae that you forgot that you hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Tae laughs, and he leads you back to where the car was parked. The driver lets both of you into the car, and Tae thanks him by name. He slides over to the seat in the middle and wraps his fingers around your knee while you ride together. You feel him slowly creeping closer to you, and you know that if you turn it’s all over. Isn’t this what you want?

While driving through a tunnel, you turn your face to see Tae’s. His eyes are searching your face, and you can’t resist it anymore. You move toward him and press your lips to his. It’s soft and sweet, and he moves his mouth slowly, positioning his bottom lip between yours. You shift slightly, so you can turn toward him more. He wraps his hands into your hair, running his fingers along your scalp. Your hand traces its way over his shirt along his collarbone. You can feel the heat growing between your legs, but you become aware of the third person in the car.

You pull away, panting slightly, and drop your head, cheeks burning. You can’t wipe the stupid grin off of your face if you wanted to, but you don’t care because the way that Tae’s mouth felt against yours is burned into your brain forever. You’ll never forget how he melted like chocolate on your lips. Or how he tickled your scalp just right while his exhales made the peach fuzz on your face stand on end. Your senses feel heightened after kissing him, and you know that you want to do it again.

The two of you ride the rest of the way in silence, with your fingers entwined on top of your knee, and you can’t help but think that this is maybe the beginning of something wonderful.

When you get to the gate of the apartment complex, you try not to look at the crowd of people who are wondering if Tae is in fact inside this car. You pull your ID out of your wallet, and Tae pushes your hand down.

“You only have to do that when you aren’t with me.”

Once inside, he leads you to the apartment. Before he opens the door, he turns you around to face him. You’re looking up at his perfect face. He is so smooth and symmetrical, and you feel so homely next to him. He plants his hands on the wall behind either side of your head, and he leans down to you. He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead. Then the nose. Then each cheek. Then the lips. It’s so soft and sweet that you think you’re going to melt or explode or both.

He unlocks the door and leads you inside. In the kitchen, a chef is preparing food again.

“Dude, how do you do that?” you gawk at the man working in the kitchen.

“Do what?” He follows your eye line and laughs. “Oh, Bonhwa-ssi? I texted in the car. He works for us, and he’s the greatest guy ever.”

Bonhwa looks at the two of you briefly, then he goes back to chopping and preparing. You can see that this meal is a little different from the last one, but you are so excited to eat anything that your mouth starts to water.

The two of you hang out at the dining room table until Bonhwa brings over the hamburgers and sides he’s prepared. Tae is smiling at his food, and you get to see him just as he is. One bite in, and you know that you’ve never had a hamburger this good before. You try to force yourself not to eat too fast, but you can only restrain yourself so much because it is so good.

After you eat, the two of you sit at the table just staring at each other for a while. You feel a little sleepy, but you don’t want to miss a moment with Tae.

“Do you want to see my room?” Tae asks awkwardly.

You aren’t sure if he genuinely wants to show you his room or if this is his awkward attempt at getting you into a more private space. On both fronts, you are more than happy. You want to see the inward private space that’s kept only for Tae, not for the public figure. And you would be more than happy to have some private time with Tae because you can’t stop thinking about the way he felt against you.

You nod, and he pushes back his chair from the table. He helps you up onto your feet and leads you by the hand down the hallway. He opens the third door in the hallway, and upon entering the room, you feel Tae in every inch of the room. In the corner are canvases, blank and painted, stacked in the corner, and an easel stands tall above them. A desk sits in the other corner, scattered with pens and pencils. It looks like he’s been brainstorming or planning or writing, and to the small messes side there is a nice desktop computer. You don’t know too much about gaming computers, but you do know when you see a nice one. This one is definitely a nice one.

His bed is made with a gray comforter on top, and there are lamps on either bedside table. He flicks them on quickly and shuts off the overhead light.

“I hope you don’t mind. I just like the ambient light better,” he says quietly, making his way across the room to you.

Every picture in the room draws your attention. There’s one large painting on the wall. It looks like an acrylic painting done with a palette knife. It’s beautiful, and the muted colors swirl together to create intricate patterns.

“This is so beautiful, Tae. Did you do this?”

He chuckles a little and sneaks in behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I wish. No, I bought this one. I hope someday to be able to do that.”

Seeing the things that Tae loves and hearing his aspirations as an artist fill your heart with warmth. His fingers sneak along the top hem of your skirt, tickling your skin and make you shiver in place. You let him continue to do it, and you drop your head back against his shoulder.

He pulls you closer against him, your back flush against his chest, and you can feel the growing stiffness in his pants against your ass. You smile. Knowing that you made Tae excited like that causes your chest to swell with pride. 

He has the option of any woman in Korea and probably the world, and he is choosing you right now. His fingers continue to dance along the skin of your waist and the top of your skirt. They slowly dip under the waistband, tracing small circles under the fabric. You can’t control the small moan that leaves your mouth when his fingers creep into the waistband of your panties.

He exhales sharply, and you feel him press against you. His other hand makes its way to the bottom of your shirt and ghosts underneath the cotton. You are rapt in the smell and the feel of him. You never want anything but his soft skin to be touching you again.

“Is this okay?” he whispers into your ear before he continues.

“Yes, it’s so much more than okay.” You turn your head, and your lips find one another. This time the kiss is desperate and pleading. It feels like if you don’t kiss him without enough passion, he won’t know how badly you want him. All of your desires try to escape off your tongue, dancing against his. Your hands try to find purchase on his hips, and you grip him on the top of his pants. One hand slides to the bulge that’s pressing against his pants and against you. His cock is hard and thick, and you immediately feel wetness pooling in your panties the second you touch it.

All you can think is how badly you want that cock in your hand, in your mouth, in your pussy. You want all of him tonight, even though you know it’s a little improper. Tae’s fingers dip all the way into your panties while the other hand finds your nipple. He gently pinches it between his index finger and thumb. He rolls it carefully, and the arousal shooting to your core is almost overwhelming. His other hand is tracing small circles through the wetness between your legs. He slides his fingers up and down your slit from your entrance to your clit. He moans a deep, low groan into your neck.

His wrap around the skin on your neck, teeth nipping at you. His breath is hot on your neck, and you lean further into him. He slips one finger into your entrance, and you inhale sharply. He begins a slow pace with his finger inside of you, just barely giving you what you crave before pulling back out again.

His teasing sets you off. You turn around to him and kiss him hard, caressing his tongue with yours. You drop to your knees before him and glance up at him, smiling, before your fingers undo the button on his slacks. Once you have his pants undone, you yank them to the floor. His cock is pleading to escape the confines of his underwear and who are you to deny it. When you pull him out, your mouth immediately waters at the sight of it. It’s thick and smooth, and you cannot wait any longer to have it inside of you. 

You let one droplet of spit fall slowly from your mouth onto the shaft of his cock. You use your tongue to swirl the wetness around it, making him slick for you to take him all the way in. Your hand wraps around the base, and, as you look up into his eyes, you slide him into your mouth. With his cock inside your mouth, you use your tongue to massage the head, slowly flicking it around the tip. Tae groans.

His hand slides into your hair, gripping it firmly. You bob your head up and down slowly, taking in all that you can, using your hand to rub it up and down as you take it into your throat. You press your face against his pubic bone, the hair tickling your nose slightly, and Tae’s hips thrust slightly further down your throat. You gag around him, and he moans again. You moan around him, knowing the vibration will feel good, plus you are so beyond turned on.

You feel his cock pulse slightly in your mouth, hardening further. He pants and uses your hair to pull your mouth away from him.

“Fuck, you make me feel so good. I’m going to cum too fast.”

You smile at his words, using your tongue to wipe the spit off of your fingers. His eyes widen and he pulls you up to his level. “Get over here.”

Tae picks you up and throws you gently against the bed. He stands above you and rips his shirt off over his head, tossing it aside. His fingers slide up your thighs and loop around the waistband of your panties. He pulls them off, leaving your skirt on.

“You’ve been teasing me all day in this skirt, haven’t you? You knew how good you looked in it when you were getting dressed.” He’s panting a little and his hair is sticking to his forehead slightly at the sweaty spots.

The gruffness of his voice and his words are making you a wanton mess for him. You know that you look good in this skirt. You know that it’s pretty short and shows off your legs. You, however, did not know that it would have this effect on Tae. With your panties thrown aside, he pulls your shirt over your head, revealing the lilac lace bralette that you have on underneath.

“Fuck,” Tae whispers to himself, eyes raking over every inch of your tits.

Tae climbs on top of you and plants his lips against your neck. He’s teasing the delicate skin and leaving little nips all over your chest and collarbone. His mouth makes its way down to your breasts, and he pulls each one gingerly out of the cups of the bralette. He marvels at them for a moment  then takes your right nipple into his mouth. You moan immediately, having extra sensitive nipples.

“Tae,” you moan out, hand lacing into his long dark hair. “Please.”

He looks up at you smiling. “Please what, darling?”

“Please....” you’re a little embarrassed to say, but you’re too turned on to care. “Please fuck me.”

He growls in his chest and pushes himself away from you. At first you think that you’ve offended him, but then he opens the drawer of his bedside table. He pulls out a condom, holds it up, and smiles at you. You take it from his hand, tearing the packaging to get the little latex shield out. Rolling it on to his cock, you can feel how hard he is, and you get even more aroused, looking at it and feeling it.

Once the condom is in place, Tae lies you back on the bed. He aligns himself with your entrance, and before he pushes himself inside of you, he asks, “You’re sure this is okay?”

You blush slightly because you did just moments ago beg him to fuck you, but you smile up at him. “Yes, Tae. I am so so okay with this. Please.”

He smiles and pushes himself slowly inside of you. Your eyes meet his as he hovers above, his eyes growing in intensity. His thrusts are rhythmic and deliberate, and you can’t believe that you feel like you’re going to cum already. Your fingers claw at his back, and you know that you’re leaving little scratch marks behind.

Soon, he pulls his cock almost all of the way out of you and thrusts it back inside, less gently than before. Your hands, unable to control themselves, grip firmly on his arms. You can feel how wide your eyes are, and you gasp for air as he does it again. Your head is growing foggy, and you feel yourself hurtling toward your orgasm, unstoppable. 

Your pussy pulses around his cock, and Tae moans out your name. The sound of your name falling off his lips while he’s inside you is enough to send you over the edge. You feel the muscles in your pussy contracting, and your clit feels like it’s covered in warmth. The orgasm tears through you, and your mind goes completely blank, only pleasure exists.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Tae pants out. As you come down from your orgasm, he starts thrusting faster and less rhythmically.

“Cum for me, Tae. Please,” you say, and that’s all it takes to send Tae over the cliff. He moans deeply and spills inside of the condom with his buried deep inside of you. His breathing is rough and jagged, and you can feel all of his muscles clenching. You run your fingernails gently over his back as he comes down. The two of you stay there wrapped in each other for a moment.

With a sigh, Tae pulls his softening cock out of you. He slips the condom off and tosses it into the trash. “Stay here,” he says and disappears into the bathroom.

At this moment, you’re very glad that all the guys don’t have to share one bathroom. When he returns, it looks like he’s washed his face and gotten all the wetness off his cock. He tosses you a warm, wet cloth.

“You can use that bathroom if you need to.” He points from where he just came, and you smile at him, popping up off the bed to go take care of yourself.

When you come back out of the bathroom, Tae is standing there in his underwear, looking much more shy than his behavior just minutes ago.

“Just so you know, I wasn’t planning on that happening. I don’t want you to feel like I just brought you here for that.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks at you through his eyelashes.

“Tae, it’s okay. I really enjoyed it.”

“I just don’t want you to think that I’m just trying to use you or something. I’m not like that. I really care about you.”

You don’t know how to comfort him or make him feel validated. You hadn’t at any point in time thought that he might be using you. You’d been having filthy thoughts about him since the train ride that first night. You cross the room to him and throw your arms around him. Your fingers run through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“Tae, I asked you to fuck me. I wanted this more than I care to admit. You looked so good in that outfit today. I couldn’t help myself.”

He wraps his fingers into your hair and pulls your head back gently. He angles your head so that your mouth is free for him to kiss. He presses his mouth hard against yours. Your lips are swollen and bitten, but you kiss him back with all the affection that you're feeling. You part your lips for his tongue as it snakes back into your mouth. You feel yourself getting aroused again, and you laugh into Tae’s mouth.

“Tae, I worked all day. I kind of want to just take it easy,” you say against his mouth, immediately regretting it when his breath is no longer on your lips.

He laughs and pulls you into a hug then lets go. He walks over and picks up your shirt for you. You still have your skirt sitting on your hips where he left it, and you adjusted your bra in the bathroom. With your shirt adjusted on you, you watch Tae put on a shirt and a pair of loose comfy pants.

“Want to watch a movie?” he asks.

You smile up at him, taking his hand. “As long as it isn’t Woody Allen.”

***

After that night in Tae’s bedroom, whenever the two of you are together, you struggle to keep your hands off of each other. Whether you’re in the kitchen at the apartment, in the car together, or in Taehyung's room, you are touching each other somehow.

Being with Tae feels amazing when you’re together, but it’s hard because he is so rarely around, and you can’t have normal dates with him. After about 3 months of talking, you’ve only seen each other a few times. You feel grateful for the time that you have with him, but half the time he is too exhausted to do more than lie on the couch or in his bed together.

You love the way that Tae makes you feel, but you don’t love the way that you feel when you see him on some gossip site. You know they’re just fishing for whatever story they can get, and his name gets clicks. It still doesn’t feel good. You have mixed feelings about everything in your relationship, but you keep it to yourself.

One Friday afternoon, Tae texts you to make plans for the weekend. You see the text, but you are swamped with work and ignore it. Two hours later, he texts you again, asking if you’re angry with him.

You: No. I’m not angry. I’m just busy. What’s the plan?

Tae: I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight. I’m taking you to dinner.

Tae: AND BONUS! You can stay over tonight if you want.

You haven’t been able to stay the night at Tae’s place throughout your whole relationship because he has manager’s coming in early every morning. The other member’s girlfriends tend to leave around the same time that you do, and you’ve made friends with some of them. You feel your heart flip slightly as you read the words. You smile to yourself, trying to plan what cute jammies you’re going to take and then not wear.

When Tae picks you up, you’re wearing a dress with lace panties underneath. You made yourself up a little bit, but you figured you didn’t need to dress too nicely since dinner with Tae was always just at his house. When the driver, Beoseon, opens the door, you are taken aback by the site of Tae in a suit. He looks deadly, and you feel sinful just looking at him.

“Wow. I feel underdressed,” you say as you kiss his cheek.

“No way. You look amazing!” he says as he gives you a cheeky look that you have grown to recognize from him. “I have a special plan for us tonight.”

The two of you are all smiles in the car, hands searching each other. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his trousers, and you sneak your way into his pubic hair, resting at the base of his cock. You don’t wrap your hand around it, don’t grab on to it. Instead, you just run your fingernails gently over the skin through the hair. Teasing Taehyung is one of your favorite things because he’s normally silly and mild mannered, but as soon as he gets aroused, he becomes a determined little demon.

Tae sits still, smirking over at you while you tease. You can feel him growing harder, but he doesn’t reveal any of it on his face. Working Tae up just means that things are going to be better for you later. You smile to yourself thinking of all the things that the two of you could do.

“So, what are we having for dinner tonight?” you ask casually, as your fingers caress his cock gently, and you look up at him.

“Like I said, I have something special planned. It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you. Though, if you keep that up, I’m gonna have something else in store for you too.”

The car turns a different way than it usually would to take you to Tae’s place, and you look at him with surprise. He has only taken you out the first time when you went to Ihwa Village. You’d had so much fun wandering around looking at the art with him, but you were worried about being in a public place. It was Friday night. Places would be busy. People would be walking wherever you went.

The car pulls into a service parking lot under the Horim Art Center, and you look at Tae confused. You go in through the employee entrance and take the elevator up. When you walk through the doors of the restaurant, the entire place is empty except a server, a bartender,and the kitchen staff. You turn to Tae and smile. He takes your hands in his and pulls you along to the table.

“Only the best for you, jagiya.”

The man leading you to the table pulls out a chair for you and then for Tae. This place is so fancy, and you feel a lot underdressed in your summer dress. You feel like this is the kind of place that you need to be dressed to the nines in high heels with your hair actually done instead of messily curled when you got home from work.

“Kim Taehyung, you did not tell me that I needed to be dressed for a place like this,” you glare at him.

He laughs. “y/n, you do not need to be dressed up. It’s just you and I here. We aren’t trying to impress anyone.”

“Well, maybe I’m trying to impress you,” you coo, trying to use your seductive tone on him.

Realizing that it’s just the two of you in the restaurant, you are determined to get him worked up. You slide your hand sneakily under your dress, and Tae quirks his eyebrow at you. You remove the black lace in one swift movement and the reach under the table to place it in Tae’s hand. It’s a little more awkward than you’d pictured, but it does the trick when the warm fabric hits his hand. You see his eyes widen at the feeling of them.

“Is someone feeling a little naughty?” he asks.

You wink at him and open your menu like nothing just happened. The food on the menu is all super expensive, and you are taken aback by the prices on it. You wouldn’t spend this much on dinner, opting instead to just go to the barbecue by your house. You look at Tae, and he’s smiling softly at you, an intimacy in his eyes that you haven’t seen before.

The waiter comes over and Tae orders wine for you, and you order your food.

“Tae, you shut down this whole restaurant just for me?”

“Of course not. That’s absurd.” When you cast him a confused look, he smiles. “I shut down the whole museum.”

You can feel the heat in your cheeks as the flattery overwhelms you. You know that he’s rich and famous and can do things like this but still.

“We can eat and take in some of the museum...then go back to your place maybe?” he asks.

What? What is happening? I thought he said you could stay the night with him, not him staying the night with you.

“What?” you blurt out after finishing your sip of wine.

“I’ve just never seen where you live. Not in person anyway. I just want to feel what it feels like in a space that you created.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to fucking explode. You absentmindedly start running your foot up the inside of Tae’s leg, and you reach for his hand across the table. He grabs yours loosely with one hand, and the other hand snags your foot and pulls it up toward his crotch. While the waiter delivers your food, Tae slides your shoe off, and you press your foot gently against the bulge in his pants. You can’t even start eating yet you are so focused on the way that Tae feels in your hand and against your foot.

You adjust the way that your fingers are intertwined and move both of your hands toward your mouth. Your tongue creeps out of your mouth, and you lick up the length of his pointer finger. With a satisfied little smile, you pull your fingers away and sink your whole mouth down onto the finger, sucking slowly up the length of it, staring into his eyes. There is a fire behind his eyes, and he growls a little under his breath.

“Filthy girl. We should eat dinner, and then you can tease me some more.”

“Though this food looks amazing, it’s not really what I’m craving right now, Tae,” you pout.

“Tell you what. If you eat your dinner like a good girl, you can come sit in my lap.”

Tae chuckles to himself, placing your foot on the floor, adjusting himself, and picking up his chopsticks to eat. He looks like he’s proud of the comment he’s just made, and you roll your eyes at him. You can’t deny that the comment sent heat straight to your core, but you don’t like proving him right.

You straighten your napkin in your lap and begin to eat. You look at him through your lashes, but you make sure to hold your posture perfectly like you are unaffected by his comment. The two of you eat silently for a few minutes before picking conversation back up.

When you finish eating, Tae takes you on a tour through the whole museum. He shows you all of his favorite exhibits, and the two of you spend much of the time laughing and kissing. You aren’t sure if he’s forgotten that he has your underwear in his pocket or if he’s just biding his time, but you love the little game that you’re playing.

By the end of the evening, your heart is full to bursting with the love for the man with you, and you don’t ever want to let go of his hand.

“Tae…” you pause.

He raises his eyebrows and looks at you with that curious, dark stare of his, and you feel like you’re going to melt.

“You feel like home.”

The smile that rips across his face feels like the first warm day of the spring. It wraps you up in its comfort, and you feel yourself falling even deeper for him in that moment. There are things about his life that you don’t love, but you know that you love him.

“y/n, no one has ever felt more like home to me than you do.”

You can’t control yourself, and you throw your arms around him, pulling him tightly against you while you kiss his lips. This kiss feels different, like the first kiss after saying I love you. But I love you means so many different things to so many different people, and the feeling of being home feels right to you.

Later that night, you are lying naked on Tae’s bed, hair tousled, feeling exhausted. You and Tae are having your designating scrolling time on your phones, and you hear him whisper, “Oh fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” you ask him softly, worried that something has come up with the band.

“I-I have to go.” He shoots up off the bed and throws a pair of pants on quickly before darting to the door.

You look flabbergasted at him, worried that something is really wrong.

“I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

He disappears out the door, and you’re left to wonder what you should even be doing.

*********

“This is so bad,” Tae groans as he holds his head.

He’s pacing in the kitchen while Jimin is trying to comfort him.

“Honestly, it can’t be that bad. The company will take care of it. There were only so many people there, they’re going to find who did it.”

“It’s….just...these pictures are bad, hyung. They’re really bad. Look.”

He hands his phone to Jimin whose eyes widen upon seeing the pictures on the screen. Tears are starting to roll down Tae’s cheeks, and he looks at Jimin wildly. Jimin wraps his arms around him and holds him closely. Neither man is really sure what to do.

On the screen of Tae’s phone are several slightly grainy photos of him in the restaurant earlier that night. Your face is completely visible, and your tongue is running along his finger in one of them. His finger is in your mouth in another.

“This is so bad,” he sobs out. “I can’t believe I did this to her.”

While Jimin is telling him to just breathe, you emerge from Tae’s room, hair messily thrown up. You look confused and as soon as you see the tears in Tae’s eyes, you run to him.

“y/n, I fucked up,” he whispers.

“Tae, it’s going to be okay. Shhh. Breathe through it. Tell me what happened.”

The way that you’re looking at him with so much concern in your eyes about something that he’s done to you, the last thing that he ever wanted to happen to you, something he promised wouldn’t happen. He can’t say it, so he just picks up his phone and hands it to you.

“What the-” you trail off as you look at the pictures retweeted by hundreds of thousands of people already.

Your face turns white as you look up from the screen at Tae. Your expression is grim, and he can’t tell if you’re angry or sad or numb. He’s so worried about what you’re going to say as you look at him. Instead of saying something, you turn and walk down the hall back into his room. He looks puzzled at the door, unsure what the hell you’re doing.

You return with your bag that you brought to stay the night and your phone in hand. You don’t look at him as you walk out the front door of the apartment.

“Wait, y/n, wait!” he shouts after you, taking off down the hallway.

Jimin catches him and holds him firmly in place, deceptively strong for his size.

“You have to let her go. You have to let her handle this on her own.”

The hot tears are gushing from Taehyung’s eyes, and he feels like a volcano of devastation is erupting out of him. He isn’t sure he’s ever sobbed this hard and definitely not in the last few years. His stupidity and carelessness caused you to be photographed with him. He is the reason that risque pictures of you are now online. He knows that the company will catch them, if they haven’t already, but it’s not consolation for the cost of losing you.

******

Your chest heaves as you ride in the back of the car. Beoseon is silent, but you can see his eyes flitting back to you in the rearview mirror every couple of minutes. You wish it wasn’t such a long trip home. You just want to get out and walk and feel the cool air on your face. This car is suffocating, the air inside stale and recycled. You ride in the back of the car until you can’t take it anymore. Beoseon pulls over and lets you out, and you take off briskly down the sidewalk.

You breathe in the humid midsummer air, and you think that this has to be a joke. Taehyung and Jimin had to be playing the worst prank of all time on you. He was going to call you any moment and tell you “gotcha! Jimin took them!”

It wasn’t though. You weren’t going to get that call because you say the tweet. You saw the retweets. You didn’t even want to think about the comments on it. You just want to go home and become one with your bed. You wonder if The Secret applies to becoming furniture.

You wonder to yourself why Tae hasn’t even texted you yet. You feel like this would be one of those things that he would continually text you about like that time that he thought he’d made you angry when you were arguing about mint chocolate ice cream. This was a much bigger thing than fucking ice cream, and now, radio silence.

You turn the corner, and the breeze against your skin feels calming. You can feel yourself sweating, and you realize you left your underwear at Tae’s house. You don’t even care. You left your dignity in the restaurant when you had your lips wrapped around his finger. How could you be so stupid? Nothing is private. Especially not when you’re with him.

The tears come again as you make your way up the stairs to your apartment. It’s only a matter of time before you’re getting calls from people. It doesn’t say your name anywhere, but you know how stan twitter works. They’ll find anyone and dox them.

Once in your apartment, you strip down and put on your comfiest sweater and sweatpants. The air conditioning makes you feel as chilly outside as you do inside. You can’t believe this is happening. You can’t believe you let this happen. You curl up on your bed on top of the covers and fall asleep, face wet from the tears soaking into your pillow.

You didn’t leave the house or go online all weekend. Instead opting to clean your entire apartment and reorganize your entire bedroom. You felt a little better being away from the situation. You felt worse knowing that Tae hadn’t called or texted at all. It seemed like he’d completely resigned himself to you leaving and wasn’t going to fight for you at all.

You had resigned yourself to showing your face at work on Monday, and you hoped that you would have a normal day. When you walked into the building, everything was completely normal, almost everyone ignoring you, and you feel hopeful.

The work day ends, and the only conversations that you’ve had have been about spreadsheets and the copier. You heave a sigh of relief as you walk outside. You never thought that it would be so easy to get away with dating an idol. Maybe his company took care of it? Maybe you were lucky, and no one recognized you.

Tuesday is a different story. It starts with glances from the other girls in the office.

Wednesday, Aecha comes up to you and stares at you for a minute before you turn to her.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, thinking maybe she needs help with a task.

“Do you really know Kim Taehyung?” she asks, eyes wide, nervously holding onto her left arm with her right.

You roll your eyes. You knew this couldn’t last.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, with no expression on your face.

“There are just these pictures and...they really look like you.”

Her nervousness is palpable, and you feel your hands getting clammy. You had already decided that if anyone asked about it you would deny deny deny.

“Well, maybe I’ve just got one of those faces.” You shrug and turn back to your computer.

Aecha stares at you for a moment longer, but then she sighs a nevermind and walks away. After she’s gone, you let out an exhale of relief, but you are hoping that she’ll spread the word to the rest of the women at the office. You hope that no one thinks it’s you. Such lewd behavior in public could lead to you being fired.

That night is when the notifications start. Thousands of them every hour. Eventually, you turn your phone on to airplane mode just to get away from them. This. This is what you were afraid of. You decide not to read of the messages, fearing that the content could be detrimental to your already fragile psyche.

You get a phone call from your boss telling you that you should probably take the rest of the week off, and the two of you will talk about next steps when you return on Monday. You knew at that moment that your life wouldn’t be the same. You wished you had someone to talk to about it. That’s when you remember that Rey has been seeing Jimin for almost a year. There’s no way that she hasn’t been exposed if you have after a few months.

You find her number in your contacts. Afraid to turn on your phone, you hesitate slightly then swipe the screen to allow connectivity. You ignore all the badges on every app you have and call her.

You can hear voices in the background when you call her, but she sounds relieved to hear from you.

“y/n hi!” she exclaims, a little too eagerly upon picking up.

“Hey, do you have a minute to talk?”

“Of course I do,” she says to you. You hear her whisper off to the side, “shut up, it’s y/n.”

There are muffled whispers on the other end. “Oh, I can talk to you later if you’re busy.”

“No, no. I’m not busy. I want to talk to you.”

“Did you hear about the pictures?” you ask meekly. 

“I did. Yeah. I saw. I’m so sorry, y/n. How are you holding up?”

“I honestly don’t know what to think. I don’t feel that bad about it in general. I haven’t read any of the messages, and I haven’t had too much happen in person either. The worst part is that I haven’t even talked to Taehyung since that night. I just don’t even know where we stand. Is he embarrassed? Is he in trouble? Does he want nothing to do with me anymore? I thought I knew what I wanted, but it’s hard when I have no one to talk to about it.”

She pauses for a moment, and you look down at your phone to see if you dropped the call.

“All I can say is this. It’s going to be hard and trying and challenging. Sometimes he’s going to be gone for months at a time. Sometimes he’s going to be too tired to talk. Sometimes people who think they’re meant to be with him are going to hate you. I decided that it didn’t matter. As long as I had Jimin, I could make it through anything. I loved him too much to not fight for him.”

Her words hit you in your heart, and you immediately start crying. You thank her and hang out the phone. You lie down on your bed staring at the ceiling for a long time, and you aren’t sure at what point you drift off to sleep.

*****

“Kim Taehyung!” a shout echoes down the hallway.

“Why is everyone always yelling my fucking name?” Tae grumbles to himself.

He stands up from his bed, dressed messily, face unshaven. When he gets to the hallway, Jimin, Jungkook, and their girlfriends are all standing around in the dining room, staring at him.

“Did I hear that you have called or text y/n AT ALL since the night that she walked out of here?” Jungkook demands. Even though he’s the youngest, his tone is commanding and dark. If anyone knows about the pain of having their private photos leaked, it’s Jungkook.

Shit.

“She doesn’t want anything to do with me. She made that clear when she walked out on me.” Tae turns to go back down the hallway.

“Seriously? You haven’t talked to her. You’ve literally said zero words to her since you showed her that someone took pictures of an incredibly intimate moment. How do you know how she feels?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “No, no. If you could have seen the look on her face...I broke the one promise I made to her.”

Jimin walks up to Taehyung and grabs him by the shoulders. “Hey, look at me.” When Taehyung lifts his eyes up to his friend’s, he can feel the tears welling behind his eyes.

“Taehyung, if you love her like you say you do, if she feels like home, you would fight for her. You know that.”

He feels the water fall on to his cheeks, and he can’t stop all the doubt running through his mind. It’s like Jimin sees it in him, and he says, “you can’t get caught up in what ifs. You have to go to her.”

He nods and runs back to his room. He throws on a casual outfit and calls Beoseon on his way out the door. He knows that if he doesn’t do something right now, then he won’t be able to say all the things that he needs to say to you.

****

A gentle knock on your door wakes you from your sleep. At first, you aren’t sure if you even heard it, when you blink your eyes open, looking around confused. Then it comes again.

You drudge yourself up off the bed and maunder to the door. The sight out of the peephole is one of the last things you expected to see. Standing in the hallway outside of your apartment, a sullen-looking Kim Taehyung is knocking softly against your door.

You unlock the door and swing it open to face him. He simply stares at you for a moment. He opens his mouth and closes it again like he doesn’t know what to say.

“Why don’t you come in?” you mutter.

Once inside, the two of you stand, shifting your weight between your feet. You aren't sure what to say, but you know that you can't just stand here in silence any longer. The things that are unsaid between you hang in the air. It's thick and heavy and difficult. Seeing Tae's face after the last several days is painful, and you hope that he'll speak first.

"I..was an idiot," he says.

It isn't really what you expected, but it was true. He was an idiot.

"Yeah. You were."

He winces slightly at the bite in your tone, but you know that he has to have more words to say.

"I wrote a song for you."

Well...this conversation is not going how you expected it to.

"Well, I'm glad you were writing a song in the five days that you weren't talking to me after a super embarrassing photo of me was posted on the internet."

You turn away from him and start to walk toward your bedroom. He grabs your hand before you are too far away from him. You remember the man in the bar the night that you met, and you freeze, melting a little at the memory. The way that he felt that first night was the reason you'd even agreed to any of this at all. The warmth of his palm on yours reminds you of all the things that you loved in your time together.

"Look, y/n. I can't ever apologize enough for abandoning you when this happened. I should have immediately called and texted and come over and hired a skywriter. Instead, I was a coward and assumed that I would know what you would say to me about it. I didn't even talk to you before assuming that you were done with me and wanted nothing to do with me. I broke a promise that I made to you. I can tell you that the company is taking legal action against that line cook, and they were fired. It doesn't change what happened, but I just want you to know that I'm trying to do everything I can to make it up to you."

You know that Tae didn't mean to hurt you. You know that. But it doesn't change the fact that he did.

"Taehyung...I know that you didn't mean to, but you hurt me. You broke promises."

"y/n, please. I love you. Please forgive me."

Those three words hang in the air, wrap around you, and overwhelm your senses. You know that you feel that way about him, but the fact that he said them first fills you with joy.

You leap at Tae, and he grabs you as you jump into his arms. You kiss him hard, breathing him in. Your lips move together, and you know that it's all worth it for him. You pull back, wrapping your fingers around his neck, messing gently with his hair.

"I love you too, Tae. You are worth it."

He grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, and you feel your heart quickening in your chest. You tug at his hair. He lets your lip go, and you slip your tongue across his bottom lip. You want to feel every inch of him, taste every part of him. Your tongue traces his bottom lip and then sneaks into his mouth. His tongue finds yours, and they feel like they were meant to be together.

He pulls back from you and drops you down on the couch. He pulls his shirt over his head, and then he grabs the hem of yours and rips it off, tossing it aside. You aren't wearing a bra, so your nipples harden at the cool air and the arousal. Tae growls quietly in the back of his throat, and he leans down to kiss you. You pull him toward you until he's on top of you.

He laughs as he kisses you, and he presses his torso against yours. He wraps his hand in your hair and pulls gently. "Is this okay?"

He pulls a little more. You nod fervently at the small sting in your scalp. He pulls harder and harder, and you smile as he pulls your hair hard. The pain makes the wetness between your legs grow, and you can't wait until he hurts you again.

"Tae?" you stare up at him. "Do something for me?"

“Anything, my love. Anything.”

“Will you...slap me?” His eyes widen, and he stiffens slightly. “Shit. If you’re not into it, then we really don’t have to do that.”

“No, yobu, that’s not it. I really love it. It’s just that I hurt you emotionally already…”

“Well...make the outside match?” You thought it would be fun and flirty, but it just sounded kinda rude. You laugh to try to make it clear that you aren’t actually upset with him.

He stares at you for a moment, then he brings his hand up away from your hip. It smacks against your cheek, and you try not to flinch as it comes down on you. The sting in your skin makes you soak through your underwear. 

“Now, I’m going to show you how much I love you,” he whisper-growls in your ear.

He drops his weight back on to the couch and pulls you into his laugh. You slightly awkwardly straddle his lap from the position you’ve been placed in. Taehyung slips two fingers into your mouth and pulls your jaw open. He rubs his fingers on your tongue, and you moan in the back of your throat. He pushes his fingers further into your mouth to back of your throat.

He brings his other hand up to the back of your head, stroking your hair, and says, “Good girl.”

Around his fingers, you plead, “Pleath Taehong.”

He smiles at your inability to properly pronounce the words.

“You sound so desperate with my fingers in your mouth like that. Sweet dumb baby can’t make words when she’s so turned on.” He’s smiling and pressing his fingers further into your mouth again. “You don’t know how desperate I am though, jagiya. Should I show you?”

You nod, and his hand leaves the back of your head and wraps around your throat, squeezing gently. “Use your words.”

“Yes Tae.”

You are starting to drool down your chin with your mouth so wide open, but you don’t care because you want to cover him in your spit. Tae shifts his weight and pulls his pants down, hard cock bursting free as soon as the fabric that contained it is gone.

“Do you see what you do to me? Every time I see you, it’s like the first time again. I feel like I’m infatuated. A lusty mess.”

You moan around his fingers, and your spit drips from your lips onto his cock, and you smile at the sight of it.

“Does my lovely baby like to see her spit on my cock?” he asks, smirking at you, still holding your jaw open.

“Yeth.” More spit falls from your mouth.

“My love, I just want to feel you,” Tae whispers against your neck. His mouth finds purchase on your collarbone. He bites down hard and then sucks the skin where he’s just bitten. He looks up at you with so much affection in his eyes, it almost hurts.

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and sucks the drool off of them. You feel like you are going to explode if you don’t get some sort of stimulation soon.

“Bedroom?” you ask him.

“Bedroom.” he states back.

You lead him into your bedroom, and he pushes you back onto your bed. You pull your sweatpants and your ruined panties off and toss them aside. Tae stands before you, completely naked, and you marvel at him. He’s so beautiful and so perfect, his honey skin stretched just right over every curvature of every muscle and bone.

Shit. He’s so beautiful.

He slowly lowers himself between your legs, and you can’t believe that it’s possible to grow any wetter until you do. He positions himself about your clitoris, blowing cool air on the aching bud. You squirm beneath him, but he holds your hips in place. His tongue makes contact with the sensitive skin, and you immediately moan. He pulls away after one lick and blows again. The pleasure and the desire are overwhelming. Your mind is losing control.

“Please. Please,” you beg without knowing what in particular you are begging for. His touch? His tongue? His love? All of it?

He chuckles against your folds, and the stimulation makes your squirm even more. He isn’t touching you, but you are dying for his touch.

“Hold still.” 

He holds your hips as the gyrate, trying to get attention in some form. He pushes a little hard on your hips, but you can’t control yourself. You are out of your mind, and you need his touch now before you die for the lack of touch.

Smack!

Tae’s hand lands on your inner thigh heavily. You look down at him with wide eyes. “I said hold still.”

With all the power you possess in your mind, you force your hips to quiet. You hold perfectly still while panting in anticipation. You want to be good so that he’ll reward you with the thing you want most, and your brain tries to focus on still hips instead of those still lips.

Finally after what feels like years, he dips his head and traces gentle patterns through your arousal. Every time his tongue passes over your clit you moan but fight to keep your hips still. You feel yourself losing your grip, hips shuddering from the pleasure, and Taehyung slides a finger inside of you. Slick with your arousal, it easily caresses the bundle of nerves inside. The stimulation from his tongue and his finger immediately send you over the edge.

It’s sudden and forceful. It feels like all of the emotions, anger, sadness, hopelessness, all burst from within you, melting into your orgasm. Your pain melts away as the only thing left in the room, hell, the world is the sensation that Tae is giving you. Your fingers pull at his hair, and even the feeling of his soft locks is too much for you, adding to the pleasure.

As the feeling begins to wind down, you can’t stop your hips from rolling against his face. He doesn’t seem to mind, hands wrapped around your ass and hips, pulling your hard against his face. When he pulls away, his chin is shining almost as much as his eyes.

“I love you, y/n.”

He climbs up on top of you and kisses you deeply. You taste yourself on his lips, and you moan into his mouth.

“Tae...fuck me raw?”

You stare up deeply into his eyes, and you hear the intake of air from him being startled. He nods, and his cock presses against you. He slides his cock through your folds, and the way the head of his cock feels against your clit causes your to shudder. It feels like small shockwaves that are left over from your orgasm are rocking through as the stimulation continues.

Once his cock is coated in your wetness, he pushes himself inside of you, and you moan a deep, heavy moan as he sheaths himself within you. The stimulation is already pushing you toward another orgasm, and you can feel yourself pulse around. He has a way of making you cum over and over so quickly.

“I love you, Tae,” you whisper, and he starts to move his hips in rhythm. The thrusts leave you breathless. He repositions himself so that his weight is resting on your legs, and he is pushing your knees up near your chest. It burns in your hamstrings, but the feeling inside of you demands more of your attention.

You moan loudly, hearing your own sounds echoing off the ceiling and the walls. Tae repositions once more. He’s holding your ankles, pressing himself deep inside of you. Another orgasm tears through you, and while you clench around him, Tae spills inside of you, filling you full of his cum. You feel him fucking it deeper inside of you. You relish the feeling of being filled with Tae, knowing that there will be a day soon where you will make him fill every hole with him.

You both pant in each other’s arms before you finally start talking.

“I mean it, y/n. I was such an idiot. I’m so sorry. I know that it doesn’t change what happened, but I think that we can try to figure out a way to make this work.” His eyes are a little desperate again, veiled in exhaustion.

“Kim Taehyung, if someone is worth it, you make sacrifices. For what it’s worth, I love you. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” you giggle as you say it.

He flips himself onto his back and pulls you tightly against his chest and kisses your nose. “Far from it.”

*****

On an unseasonably warm November afternoon, you lie on the roof of the recording studio where Tae is working today. He had a few minutes to sneak away for lunch, so you brought Banh Mi for him. You kissed him on the cheek when you saw him and greeted the other members.

The two of you lie looking at the sky, picking out shapes in the clouds. He’s gently holding your hand, and you are tossing Swedish Fish into his mouth.

“Isatrashcan!” he says with several gummies in his mouth.

“Isa what?” you ask, laughing at him incredulously.

He points out a long cylindrical cloud. “It’s a trash can!”

He looks so proud of himself, and you can’t help but love that about him. The sexy man that ruins you and dominates you. The devastatingly handsome man who wins awards and forgets to call you when he’s on the road. The oblivious man who almost cost you your job and almost broke your heart. He is also the love of your life.

You lean over and kiss his lips, smiling at him. You know that this trash can cloud is just the beginning of many adventures to come.

[mrs-takami-keigo]

Something to Someone

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader x Shouto

Warnings: Mentions of cheating, and smut....lots of it....

Word Count: 5.3k                                                                         

Note: Everyone is aged up for this as usual. Ages between 25-27

Description: One is your past and the other is your future, but which is which

A/N: Please let me know if y’all think I should continue~ I thrive off of comments

Part 1 

Pushing the door open you struggled to get yourself through the entryway seeing as you had no hands. The passion fruit tea you picked up on the way was in between your teeth, while you had your duffel bag over one shoulder with a purse in your hand while the other had the room key and welcome papers in it. Finally, you were close to the bed, shrugging the heavy bag off your shoulder onto the king size bed throwing everything else next to it. Sighing and making your way towards the ceiling to floor windows, you lifted your arms above your head stretching your back and let out groan as the vertebra in your back cracked. It was a 2-hour drive to the hotel, and you caught Bakugou looking at you through the rearview mirror about six times, even Kyouka caught him. You thought about it the whole way here, what if he did love you? Does that change how you feel about Shouto, did you love Bakugou back? Do you still have love for Shouto as well? Taking your hands, you scratched the sides of your head trying to shake the thought of the two men. It was all too much; this weekend was about your friend not your fucked-up love life.

“You alright in here?” Turning around you saw red hair as it peaked around the wall and a smile on the person's face once he fully stepped into the room.

“I'm fine Kiri, just trying to release the tension you know?” Kirishima always had a soft spot in your heart. When you and Bakugou broke up he took it hardest, he had his “bakubro” and you were like a little sister to him.  Walking into the room Kirishima shut the door behind him and joined your side by the window. You could tell he was looking at you with a concerned expression. Kirishima was another person that could read you like a book and he knew you were holding so much back right now.

“You know, it's okay to not be okay, nobody would think any less of you.” An arm wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you in for a side hug. Kirishima was never one to beat around the bush, taking your arm wrapping it around his waist reciprocating the gesture. He was always one to tell it like it was, you appreciated that about him but right now you hated it.

“I'm fine I promise. I’m going to go take a shower but first,” breaking away from him and going to the duffel bag on the bed and opening it you pulled out a folded up black sweatshirt.  “Do me a favor and give this to Shouto for me. He forgot it at my place last week.” Pushing the grey fabric in Kirishima's arms, you smiled and turned away heading to take a much-needed shower.

Sighing Kirishima looked at the object and shook his head. Something told him this trip was not going to be good.

---

It was only two in the morning and the group of eight were drunk, some were drunk beyond repair.

“To the birthday boy, Denki Kaminari!” A drunk Denki yelled from on top of the table they had gotten. The group decided to go to a club after dinner and it may have been a mistake.

“Who shouts happy birthday to themselves?” Kyouka asked her boyfriend once he sat down after Chugging his drink.

“Your amazingly fine as fuck boyfriend does that's who! Now gimme a kiss!” Denki said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips. Rolling her eyes Kyouka turned over her shoulder to look over at the dance floor to see you and Mina dancing together. She knew you were drunk but she couldn't help but smile when a genuine laugh came out when Mina started to dance like a break-dancer.

“Tch I guess she’s happy.” Bakugou said, taking the empty seat that was next to Kyouka.

“It’s about time too. She tried to put up a front but whenever she was at the apartment I would hear her cry or she would take a bottle of liquor to her room and I wouldn't see her till the next day.” So many nights Kyouka would stay up with you as you cried in her arms. This whole thing broke you and all Kyouka wanted to do was beat the shit out of the two assholes but knew you wouldn’t let her.

“I didn't know she was that bad.” Bakugou felt that sharp pain in his heart when Kyouka told him that. Even with him just hearing about it started to break him down. Taking a sip of his bourbon on the rocks he leaned back watching as you dance with Mina not paying attention to all the male gazes. The crimsoned eyed man felt his hand tighten around the glass, he shouldn’t feel this way about you, you weren’t even his.

“Yeah the fight was pretty bad, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that not since-.” She cut herself off knowing exactly the last time she saw you like that, with Bakugou. Turning her head while taking a sip of her drink and watched as her drunk boyfriend took another shot with a very drunk Shouto. She was really hoping that Bakugou didn't know the fight was about him.

“Yeah I know.” He said crushing all her hopes.

“How did you find out?” Kyouka turned to the blonde in shock, eyes wide.

“Your dumbass boyfriend told me. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“Hmm I see.” Kyouka made a mental note that tomorrow would also be Denki’s death day. “So, do you really still love her?”

Bakugou looked at her before looking back down at the drink. “I-“

“I think our friend here had way too much to drink.” The table looked over to Mina who was half carrying a very drunk you who wouldn't stop dancing.

“Why we stop dancing? The night is young, let's go!” You tried to walk back to the dance floor only to be stopped by the pink haired women who kept trying to tell you it was time to leave.

“Yeah because it looks like Denki and Shouto are in the same boat as her.” The two men were the definition of drunk. Denki was getting louder and louder and Shouto was becoming more unlike his usual quiet self by the second.

“Well I guess I'll take Shouto.” Sero said as he went to grab the drunk icy-hot hero throwing him over his shoulder.

Kyouka was trying to get Denki up but she too was a little drunk making it hard to stand up on her own. “I can take birthday boy. Let’s go you drunk bastard.” She heard Kirishima say from behind her and thanked him. Walking around the table she started to wobble only to be caught by Mina.

“I got you.” Looping her arm through Mina’s, Kyouka looked back at Bakugou to see him squat in front of you, instructing you to climb on his back.

“Onward my noble steed!” Bakugou made a face ready to say something back when he caught eyes with Kyouka. ‘Do you still love her?’ it rang in his over and over as he walked back to the hotel with you on his back calling him your blonde stallion.

“Oi! Dumbass you need to tell me your room number.” Bakugou huffed once he got off the elevator.

“1028.” You said in a sing-song voice as your arms tightened around his neck slightly, nuzzling the side of your face in his hair. The scent of caramel and vanilla hit your nostrils, you may have been drunk but you knew who's back you were on. The way his back muscles flexed under his black silk button down whenever he had to reposition you so you wouldn’t fall off or the way his calloused hands gripped your thighs, it all brought back repressed memories, dirty memories. Walking to the left Bakugou watched as the numbers got higher and higher.

“1022,1024,1026 and finally 1028. Hey, pass me the-” He soon found a key being waved in front of his face. “Thanks.” grabbing the key he swiped it and the little green light flashed telling him he could open it.

Once in the room he walked to the bed and dropped you down on it. When you landed on the soft mattress you let out a laugh and kept bouncing up and down.

“Well now that you are safely in your own damn room, I'm gonna get going.” Bakugou turned on his heel not trusting himself to be alone with you right now only to feel a hand on his wrist stopping him. Looking down he followed your arm to see you staring at the ground. A slight blush had appeared on your cheeks making the hero want nothing more than to kiss you right there.

“Stay please have a drink with me.” your voice was soft, if he said no, he knows you would break down.

“Listen I don’t-”

“Katsuki I just need a friend right now, please.” Your voice was low and serious. His eyes never left you as you lifted your head, eyes meeting his brilliant crimson ones.

“Fine but only a glass then I have to go.” You snapped a wide smile that he missed so much. He knew it was a mistake but he couldn’t help himself, not when it came to you.

One glass turned into 2 whole bottles of vodka. Most of the alcohol was drunk by Bakugou while you just stayed in the same level of drunk as you were in the club. This felt good to you, this felt almost right. With Shouto you felt complacent and comfortable but with Bakugou you felt adventurous and young.

“Did she really say that?” Bakugou asked you as you finished updating him on how your niece was.

“I kid you not. She said, 'Where is the firework man?'” While you and Bakugou were together your niece had grown fond of him, always following him around whenever you brought him over to your family’s house for the holidays. That little nut always loved when he made small explosions in his hands for her hence the name firework.

“She wants to become a hero because of you,” you paused and looked down at the now empty glass, the condensation from the ice started to drip on your exposed thigh. “She misses you.” You whispered but he heard every syllable. The mood in the room shifted and it went from fun to serious.

“I miss her too.” He realized that this was his one shot, he was going to get you back. “Do you miss me?”

“What?” You whispered back at him not meeting his gaze. You were sitting on the edge of the bed while Bakugou was sitting on the little chair by the window.

Putting his glass down, leaning forward he asked again “Do you miss me too?” His voice got a little louder as he spoke. He needed to know, he knew it was wrong but there was just too much between you two and he couldn't just let you go. If you didn't miss him then he had no choice but to let go, but if not then he was ready to fight for your heart.

“I- I gotta go to the bathroom.” Making a mad dash for the bathroom you shut the door behind not realizing it didn’t close all the way, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Did I miss him?” You asked out loud. Your hands were flat against the sink arms holding you. Those good times you had together popped up again. That time you went hiking for the first time where he told you he loved you, that time he tried to bake you a cake only to have somehow almost burn down your kitchen. All the times he would sneak up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you got ready in the morning or how you spoke about the family you were going to have together. You could feel the tears starting to sting your eyes. It was wrong for you to miss him, you were the one who stepped out on him, the one who cheated.

“Princess?” Turning to the left you saw Bakugou standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

'Shit I forgot to shut it.'

“Just answer my question, do you miss me too?” with every word he said he walked towards you making you back up until your back met the shower door.

“I-I,” You looked him in the eyes and knew you couldn't lie to him. In his eyes you saw that he had missed and still misses you. “Yes, I miss you.”

Bakugou felt his whole being melt when you uttered those words. Carefully he reached his hand up cupping your cheek. He leaned down and did the one thing he has been dying to do since he got in the car, he kissed you with every fiber of his bones.

He brushed his lips gently against your own, he was showing you how happy he was. You ghosted your hands up his slightly unbuttoned silk shirt, wrapping your arms around him as the kiss began to deepen. Running your hands through that fluffy blonde hair giving his head an encouraging message.

Breaking apart you could feel those soft lips start a trail of butterfly kisses that slowly moved to your neck, feeling him graze his teeth over your delicate skin. The feeling of his teeth made you buck your hips up into his as a moan escaped your lips.

That moan seemed to wake Bakugou up seeing as he pulled away from you taking slow steps back to the bathroom door.

“Katsuki?” Bakugou shook his head soft blonde hair moving with each shake. His lip twisted up and a hiss came through his teeth, he was battling with himself you knew that face all too well.

“I'm sorry.” That was all he said before he turned around and walked out of the bathroom to sit on the bed, facing the starlit sky as waves crashed onto the beach.

Walking out behind him you watched as he sat down and put his head between his hands hunched over. Moving closer to him while paying attention to how the moon seemed to make him look even more beautiful than you ever imagined. Now taking a full moment to look at his face, you could see he had matured. That boyish charm he had all those years ago was replaced with a defined jaw and thick neck. His shoulders were much broader and muscular that much you noticed when you were on his back.  

Bakugou didn't even notice that you were standing in front of him until he felt you nudge his legs open with your own and stood in between then. He could feel his body move on his own as his strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist bringing you closer to him. Bakugou put his face flat against your stomach and just stayed there.

You missed this with him, when he woke up in the middle of the night from his nightmares, you would wake up too and let him hold you like his life depended on it. Bringing your hands to the top of his head you played with the hairs on top of his head knowing that this would calm him down. You both realized that even after five years apart you still remember what to do to make each other calm again. The way you felt so at peace with his soft breaths ticking your stomach through your thin dress made you want to stay like this forever. Feeling his calloused hands on your hips, Bakugou gently pushed you back slightly so he could make eye contact with you.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything.” Placing your hand on his cheek, he covered it with his own before leaning into it.

“Did you think of me when you were with him?” His question threw you off, but he needed the truth. So did you, you needed to come to terms with how you truly felt about him.

“At times, yes.”

“Is it bad to say that I still love you? That ever since the fucking breakup, I felt lost and regretted ever leaving you.” He had grabbed you again and put his forehead against your stomach. Your heart picked up its speed, you were shocked, he regretted leaving you after what you did?

“No, no it's not. Look at me Katsuki.” Squatting down you were eye level with him, “Katsuki Bakugou, part of my heart is still in love with you.”

Smiling gently at you, he took your face in his hands and brought it close to his own. He placed his lips onto your own, voiced six words that set your heart on fire.

“I love you so much, princess.” Smashing your lips to his, you had wanted to show him just how much you needed him in that moment. Standing up, you bent your body in half so those god given lips of his didn’t leave yours.

Pulling away Bakugou smirked at the position both of you were in, the heels on your feet made it perfect for his face to be right in front of your already pulsating cunt. Pulling the hem of the dress up so he could get a view of the red lace panties you were wearing; he kissed the exposed skin right above the waistline of the garment sending a shiver up your spine.

“Take this damn thing off.” He growled against your stomach giving it a small lick while staring up at you, those once bright crimson eyes seemed to have turned dark red. Nodding your head you did as you were told, when the dress went over your head you felt hands on your back already working on the bra clasps. Removing his lips from your torso Bakugou watched as you slid the straps down your shoulders before throwing the bra to the other side of the room. You could feel his hungry eyes washing over your exposed body. How your nipples were already hardened, all he wanted to do was run his tongue over those nubs while his teeth pulled on them.

“Come here princess, I want to feel you.” He had you by the hips pulling you closer making your trembling knees hit the bed. Watching as Bakugou continued to roam his eyes over every inch of your body and his hands not leaving any part of you untouched. You missed his touch, his large hands were rough and calloused from fighting everyday but his touch was so soft, as if he was touching the most precious object in the world.

“Still as soft as ever.” You heard him mumble. You let your head fall back and relished in the feeling that he was giving you.

Bakugou let his hands fall from in between your breasts, down your stomach landing on the hem of the lacy fabric. He pulled it down ever so slightly while he placed a small kiss where it used to be. Letting out short breathy moans with every kiss he placed on your burning skin, you looked down when you felt him pulling your panties all the way down. Lifting one leg at a time you helped Bakugou get rid of the cloth but when you tried to take the heels off, he told you no with a shake of his head. He grabbed your right leg and pulled it up so that you had that foot placed on the bed next to his jean clad thigh.

“I'm gonna need you to grab on to me if I become too much for you baby.” He whispered against your thigh leaving a wet trail from his tongue in its wake. The feeling of his hot tongue as it trailed higher on your thigh leaving bite marks, had you taking deep shallow breaths anticipating the feeling of his mouth on your throbbing area. Slowly he finally reached his destination and let out a shaky breath letting it fan across your slick cunt.

Taking his tongue, he let it slip out and gave your folds a quick lick, Bakugou felt your whole-body tremble before he heard you speak, “Oh god.” Realizing what he said about holding on was true, you grabbed onto his shoulders. Liking the reaction he was getting, he placed his whole mouth on your clit.

You felt him take his tongue out and started his sultry dance against you. Lost in pure bliss as you felt him go up and down and circle around your clit every now and then making sure to give it playful sucks as well. You had forgotten just how good he was at this, Bakugou always knew what to do to make you see stars and you loved every second of this.

Bakugou felt how wet you had gotten for him and smirked. His body longed for yours just as much as your body longed for his. But he felt he wasn't pleasing you as much as he wanted to, he wanted to have you dripping wet and screaming his name. Letting go of your cunt he watched as you opened your eyes and looked at him with confusion.

Bakugou laid his back against the bed but didn't forget to pull you along with him. Now with your knees on the bed, you let him lift your body wherever he wanted, which just so happened to be on his face.

“I want to do it this way. It's been so long since this happened to you right?” You just nodded your head. Shouto was good in bed but something about Bakugou was animalistic and that’s what you needed right now. Something so raw just fueled by lust. Bakugou wrapped his arms around your thighs pulling you down to his awaiting mouth.

“Oh fuck Suki.” You moaned when you felt him take your clit back in his mouth and tugged on it a little. You started to gently move your hips when you felt that the man below you stiffen his tongue. Your hands roamed your own body pretending they were his making you reach ecstasy faster. Bakugou moaned when he opened his eyes and saw you squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples as his name fell from your lips.

“Please don’t stop babe.” He didn't like that you were having all the fun on your own, Bakugou grabbed your waist and held you still as he took control of the situation. He started to suck on your hard clit when he pushed two fingers inside your wet pussy, feeling your tight walls clamp down on him. Letting out a hum he sent shock waves of pleasure through your body making you double over.

“Holy fuck Katsuki!” You yelled as you placed your hands behind you to rest on his thighs. Bakugou kept that up until he felt you start to shake, knowing you were close his fingers kept going in and out of you. The sound of your wet pussy and your own moans had you cumming all over his fingers and in his mouth.

With long shallow breaths you got from him and watched as he sat up and licked his fingers clean of your juices.

“Still as sweet as I remember baby.” Smirking at him you pointed at your feet asking him to get rid of your heels, cause what you had in mind for him the shoes would just get in the way. Bakugou did so but also kissed your ankles as he pulled off the black heels.

Smiling at him you got on your knees and sat up in front of him pulling him by the collar of his shirt for a long passionate kiss. Still tasting yourself on his mouth you moaned into his lips.

“God princess I missed you so fucking much. How I missed your body,” He let his hands go down your back and landed on your ass giving it a light squeeze which caused you to let out a laugh, “I missed that smile and laugh so much that it hurt. I missed every little thing about you.”

“Show me Katsuki, show me how much you missed me.”

“I don't need to be told twice.” Bakugou had started to grab at his clothes pulling his shirt over his head while you worked on his jeans. Pulling them off his body you had taken his swollen flesh in your hands and started to move your wrist up and down giving it a twist here and there. Bakugou let out a hiss and took your hands in his own and stopped its movements.

“We will have time for that later,” He growled as he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the bed, “Right now I need to be in you before I fucking explode and we both know we don’t want that.” His body covered yours, slowly rubbing his cock against your folds, mixing his pre cum with your own. The heat from his body alone was making your own hot while the anticipation was starting to drive you crazy.

Bakugou took his penis and lined it up with your hot core. “You have no idea how many dreams I had of this moment.” His head was right next to your ear as those words came out as a growl making you tremble. You reached up and grabbed his head and gave him another kiss. Bakugou took that moment and thrusted into you.

Pulling away you let out a long moan when he finally pushed his whole length inside. You had forgotten how thick he actually was, out of all your partners he was the biggest and you weren’t used to it anymore.

“Fuck! So tight.” Bakugou had buried his head in your neck letting his breath fan across it adding more to the pleasure that was coursing through you.

“Move Bakugou.” He felt you rotate your hips begging for him to start thrusting. Pushing himself up Bakugou started to rock his hips in a slow and moderate pace leaving you and him moaning for more. You racked your nails up his chest leaving red marks all over him causing him to let out a growl.

“Faster.” You told him, but Bakugou was not a man to take orders.

“I think you forgot who you were fucking baby.” A rough hand soon came to grip your face, forcing you to stare in his eyes as his hips stopped moving. Letting his lips ghost over yours he snarled through his teeth, “Ask me properly princess and then maybe I’ll reward you.”

“I'm sorry, Daddy please move faster.” You remembered calling him that once by accident, finding out both of you were very into it.

“That's what I thought, such a good girl.” With that said Bakugou started to move his hips faster and his strokes became deeper, hitting that soft spot inside of you.

“Oh fuck Katsuki right there!” Both hands held onto the headboard, eyes rolling in the back of your head as he repeatedly stroked the same spot. 

Gritting his teeth Bakugou picked up his pace, grabbing the headboard like your own making the bed move slightly. Looking down between you, he watched as his dick disappeared inside of you over and over again. Moans kept falling from your mouth trying to say his name but only coming up with the first syllable.

“I've missed fucking you. Your body always knew exactly how I liked it.” He brought his lips down to your ear giving it butterfly kisses. That tightening sensation came back making you wrap your shaky legs around his waist while your free hand started to claw at his back.

“I'm about to cum please don't stop.” It took everything in you to form that sentence as drool started to pool in your mouth before spilling out.

“I wouldn't fucking dream of it.” At this point Bakugou was slamming his hips against yours, meeting each of his thrusts. “Come on princess, cum for daddy. Show daddy how much you've missed him, how much you love him.”

His voice and his words were all you needed to send you over the edge. Closing your eyes as your body started to convulse, cumming long and hard all over his dick. Feeling your walls tighten around him Bakugou bit onto your shoulder as he too came inside of her, leaving a very noticeable mark.

Slowly riding out your orgasms, you opened your eyes the same time he did.

“Every time I look at you, I just fall all over again.” He said as he placed his sweaty forehead against your own. His breath fanning over you making you place a loving hand on his cheek.

“And you know how to make me fall for you all over again.” Smiling down at you Bakugou kissed you letting his tongue slip past your lips, starting another make out session. Moaning into his mouth when you felt his cock that was still inside of you start to twitch, you smirked pulling away from him. He knew you could feel him getting hard again, the blonde male moved his hips to give you a playful tease.

“I see someone wants round two.” You said before flipping him on his back. “Now let me take care of you.”

Sitting up, Shouto looked over at the clock and saw that it was almost noon. Groaning he put his head down and closed his eyes. He thought back to the night before and remembered the talk he had with Kyouka.

“I know you miss her, and she misses you. Just talk to her and do it this weekend. Stop dragging this out.”

He knew she was right, and he did miss you, god did he miss you greatly. He was going to use this trip to ask you to move in with him but now, he had a different question for you. Would you forgive him, he let his insecurities take over him. Shouto stood up to go take a shower and get that alcohol smell off him when he saw a note on the desk.

“Shouto, she's in room 1028. I have an extra key take it and take some Advil with you; she's probably just as hung over as you.” -Kyouka

Laughing Shouto placed the paper back down as he went to the bathroom to take a shower. While in the shower he kept thinking of the perfect way to apologize to you. He was going to do anything to win you back.

Taking the elevator Shouto walked down the hall to your room and knocked on the door first. He heard a muffled voice come from inside that sounded like “Come in.” And that's what he did, but he didn't know he would be left heart broken. When he walked in, he saw clothes all over the floor, taking steps further into the room he saw a sight that made his heart stop and the anger rise back up. There you were, naked with only the sheet covering your lower half as the top half was on top of Bakugou, whose arms were wrapped around you.

“Are you fucking serious?!” His voice bounced off the walls, making you jump up. Once your eyes focused, you could make out a figure that looked an awful lot like Shouto. But why was he yelling and how did he get into the room? So many questions ran though your head as the hangover headache started to take effect.

“Shouto?” Just as you were about to get up, you felt the bed move beside you, looking over your eyes became wide as you saw Bakugou sit up and scratch the back of his head.

“Oh fuck!”

[thebluenoteblog]

Who I Am With You

Summary: You visit the Tkachuk’s for the first time and they are a bit surprised by Matthew’s new attitude.

Player: Matthew Tkachuk

Word Count: 2k

Requested: visitning Matty Tkachuk and his family and Matty being super soft and Keith and Chantal have to do a double take because he's being so sweet and puppy like

“Don’t be so nervous, babe.” Matthew said, wrapping his free arm arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Everything will be fine. They’ll love you.”

You frowned up at him then quickly looked back ahead of you to avoid running into anyone in the crowded airport. “I don’t know if I believe that,” you said. “I’m not a very loveable person.”

“That is such a lie and you know it,” he rolled his eyes at you and squeeze you against his side, you stumbled, and he steadied you then chuckled like he hadn’t been the reason that you’d almost fallen in the first place. “Besides, you’ve met Brady once and he thinks you’re great.”

“I’m still not too sure about this…” you said, trailing off as Matthew’s parents and sister came into view in the crowd of people waiting for passengers to exit the gates. “Show time.”

He snorted, “You’re ridiculous. If I had to handle meeting your family who thought I was a massive dick before they even knew me, then you can handle meeting my family who has only heard amazing things about you.”

“You don’t know what Brady has told them,” you said, pausing and looking up at him with wide eyes.

He looked down at you and for the first time realized that you were legitimately scared. He set the suitcase he was rolling up on its wheels and turned to face you. He put a hand under your chin and tilted your face up toward his. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, nothing indecent, nothing that would make anyone stop and stare. It was comforting. It was sweet. He pulled away and stroked his thumb over your cheek, “I promise, everything will be okay.”

You smiled up at him and nodded, “Okay.”

He returned your smile and your nod and said, “Good, are you ready now?”

You intertwined your fingers with his and then said, “Now I am.”

He laughed and brought your hand to his lips before dropping it back between you. He grabbed the suitcase and started toward his family.

“Welcome home, Matthew!” Chantel exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him as soon as he was close enough for her to reach. You attempted to let go of his hand, so he had two arms to hug her back with, but he held onto you.

“Hi, mom.” He said, giving her a one-armed hug.

Chantel turned to you and said, “You must be (Y/N),” she was smiling, and you could tell that you were about to get a hug too. You were right. You gave her the same one-armed hug that Matthew had a moment before.

“That would be me,” you said as she pulled back. “It’s so nice to finally meet you guys.”

“I’m still amazed that he finally brought a girl home,” Taryn said, “I was beginning to think that it would never happen.”

Chantel hushed her, “Leave your brother alone.”

Taryn’s eyes widened, “Leave Matthew alone? He has a girl here and now he’s off limits? I need to try that.”

Keith laughed and rubbed his eyebrow, “Oh god, it’s already starting.”

Matthew held up your joined hands, “I’m innocent.”

Keith looked at him and opened his mouth to say something, then paused, thought about it and said, “You know what, I think that is the first time in your entire life that you’ve ever said that, and it wasn’t a lie.”

“Thank you?” Matthew asked, dropping your hands.

Keith shook his head, still looking a little confused and held out a hand for you to shake. You took it and he said, “It’s nice to meet you too. I’ll apologize in advance for the chaos.”

You laughed, “I’m second youngest of five. I’m used to chaos.”

Keith nodded, but there was something in the look on his face that made you think you might be in for a little more than you’d bargained for over the next two weeks. “We should get going. Brady’s waiting back at the house.”

“When did he get in?” Matthew asked, grabbing his bag and you moved to grab yours, but Keith got to it before you and was wheeling it ahead of you.

“Earlier this morning,” Chantel responded, “He didn’t want to go out again after just getting off a plane or he would have been here to meet you.”

“Better to save the big family reunion for at home anyway,” Keith said, “Don’t need anyone to get cross checked in an airport.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, “It was one time.”

Chantel sighed behind you and Taryn laughed, “I thought it was funny. I was hoping for a fight.”

“Taryn,” Chantel chastised, “don’t encourage that.”

“Why do you want us to fight?” Matthew asked her, “You grew up watching us beat each other up.”

“No,” She said, “I grew up watching you beat up Brady. Now Brady is big enough to beat you up.”

Matthew looked over his shoulder and frowned at her, “Jerk.”

Keith was laughing quietly at the front of the group and Chantel was rolling her eyes. Matthew turned back around, and his eyes landed on you beside him. He brought the back of your hand to his lips again and then dropped them between you just as he had before.

You could feel two sets of eyes on your back but thought nothing of it, assuming that they were just happy to have Matthew home and taking in the girl that he had brought with him.

<><><><><><><><><><>

“Matthew tells us that you’re a social worker?” Chantel asked while gathering roasted potatoes on her fork.

You nodded, “Yeah, I graduated last semester. I’m really enjoying it.”

“It must be a hard job,” she said.

You nodded again, “It isn’t easy, but I’ve wanted to do it most of my life, so I can’t complain.”

Matthew looked over at you, “She’s amazing at what she does too,” he said.

Brady and Taryn gave each other strange looks over the table which you caught but didn’t pay much attention to. Keith looked at Matthew and leaned forward, his elbows on the table and asked, “Matthew, what do you think of Brady’s new haircut?”

Matthew didn’t even look at Brady, he had an arm across the back of your chair and he was sitting at an angle in his seat, his knee touching yours under the table. He never looked up from his plate. “It’s cool.”

Keith stared blankly at his oldest son, then his eyes drifted between the two of you. He leaned back in his seat and piled potatoes onto his fork. “Interesting,” was all he said.

<><><><><><><><>

You were curled into Matthew’s side, his arm holding you close to him and he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “See, they love you almost as much as I do. You had nothing to be worried about.”

You looked up at him and smiled as Brady plopped onto the couch beside you with an exaggerated sigh and kicked his feet up on the ottoman. “What movie are we watching?” he asked.

Matthew shrugged, “Ask (Y/N), she picked it out. I have no idea what I’m watching right now.”

Brady turned slowly to face him, “You let someone else pick a movie?”

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?”

Brady just laughed and turned toward the TV shaking his head, “I don’t even know man. I don’t even know.”

You looked between the two brothers, but Matthew didn’t seem too concerned about it, he had a hand in your hair and an arm tossed across your lap and he had his eyes fixed back on the screen as though Brady had never said a thing.

<><><><><><><><>

You pulled back the covers and sat down on the bed, watching as Matthew hung up the last shirt from your suitcases in the closet. Finally, you couldn’t take the curiosity anymore. You sighed and asked, “Why does your whole family keep giving us the side eye?”

This time it was his turn to side eye you. “What are you talking about, babe?”

“All day. It seems like every time you say something everyone looks at you like you’ve lost your mind,” you said as you pulled your leg underneath you.

He paused, hand still on the hanger. He turned to look over his shoulder at you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You shook your head and pulled the sheets over your legs, “Never mind. It was a stupid question.”

Matthew closed the closet door, walked across the room, and crawled into bed beside you. He pulled his side of the sheets over the lower half of his body and wrapped his arms around you, “None of your questions are stupid, baby.”

You curled up into his chest and closed your eyes, attempting to forget about the odd looks and Matthews avoidance of your questions.

<><><><><><><><>

Matthew always woke up before you, and this morning he could smell his mother cooking breakfast downstairs, so he wasted no time in pressing a kiss to your forehead and crawling out of bed, pulling on a shirt then heading down the stairs to hopefully steal some bacon off the plate.

The second he walked into the kitchen, four sets of eyes focused on him. He raised an eyebrow at them, “Morning,” he stretched the word, overexaggerating every syllable.

“Morning lover boy,” Brady said just lowly enough that their mother wouldn’t hear from across the kitchen where she was standing at the stove.

Matthew narrowed his eyes at his brother, “At least I can land a girl, asshole.”

Taryn snorted from across the table, “The spell only works when she’s around. We have to keep her.”

Keith was leaning back in his chair, coffee mug in his hand, “It’s weird. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

“What are you talking about?” Matthew asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“You,” Taryn waved a hand at him, “not being an asshole for the first time in your life.”

Matthew blinked at her a few times, shocked by her words. “I take pride in being an asshole, thank you.”

“But you weren’t a dick all day yesterday,” Brady said, but he forgot to keep his voice down and Chantel heard him.

She glanced up from the bacon she was frying and narrowed her eyes at him, “Language.”

“Sorry, mom,” Brady said. “You weren’t a jerk all day yesterday,” he amended.

Matthew thought back through the day. He couldn’t think of one moment where he had said or done anything rude or crude. He didn’t even have to think about why. He knew the answer already. It was the same reason that he hadn’t answered you when you had asked him why his family was giving him weird looks even though he’d had a pretty good idea.

You were so good. You helped kids for a living and you loved spending time with them. You loved feeling like you were making a difference in the world. You were so strong. You were so beautiful. You were so much better than him.

He hit people for a living. Not really. He played hockey, and he played it well, but sometimes it felt like that’s all that people knew him for. He was terrified that if you ever saw the pesky, snarky, asshole side of him off the ice, that’s all that you would see to.

But there was more to him.

You were the first person to ever see more than that.

“No,” Matthew said, shrugging his shoulders as he headed over to the island to grab a piece of bacon, effectively ending the conversation, “I guess I wasn’t.”