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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #paper rings #inspired by #taylor swift

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oumiyuki · 3 years

Text

A little bit wet and a little bit too cute

Summary: You-chan gets wet from the rain and Chika is worried and concerned and cannot look away.(Happy Birthday, Chika-chan!! Forgot to share it here XD)

Pairing: ChikaYou

Genre: Romance, Fluff

Words: 1793

Read me at fanfiction.net or AO3 too!

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[You POV]

Kaboom. Psshhhhhhh…

Thunder rumbles on after a loud cackle of the lightning ripped through the dark clouds for a second and rain began to pour down.

Uwa..!! Not good, not good, not good!

You was not given much time to think as big fat raindrops were quick to become a sheet of white rain and You was drenched within a minute of running for shelter.

You-chan forecast or the weather news did not mention sudden thunderstorms at all this morning!

The swimmer had good legs and running stamina but the bus stop was still quite the distance from the snack store You was stopping by to grab something before visiting Chika for some assistance in lyric writing after her swim practice.

You lets out a breath as she wiped rainwater off her arms futilely.

“All wet… At least the snacks are safe in their packaging.” You lifts the dripping wet plastic bag full of sweets and snacks with a wry smile, and then another sadder smile at her school bag.

I wonder what time the bus will arrive…

You was planning to stroll back if she was done shopping early in the first place, but now that it started storming out of the blue, she decides to check the bus timing.

And as expected, the estimated time for the next bus was one and a half-hour away.

We’re in the countryside after all, huh!

You laughed to herself and looked back outside the small shelter of the bus shelter – a beautiful white sheet of rain falling from thick dark clouds that have fully blown in, the trees rustling strongly. That’s when You felt the wind too, blowing against her soaking wet uniform and damp arms made the ash-brunette shiver and hug herself.

“It’s cold! Ah…” You looks left and right slowly, a small hope to see someone around but alas, none.

I might freeze out here. Guess there’s only one course of action…

You tightens her school blazer she wrapped around her waist, adjusted her schoolbag on her shoulder, and gripped the plastic bag of yummies before nodding to herself. “Time to run!!!!!”

You dashed out into the rain to get to Chika’s place as fast as her legs could bring her when fighting against the torrential rain. Halfway through though, You could not help but chuckle. Running through the rain is refreshing.

If I didn’t have to worry about the others catching a cold, I’d definitely ask the rest of Aqours to play in the rain with me~

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[Chika POV]

“Ahhhh, why isn’t You-chan picking up my calls or answering my texts??” Chika complained aloud, her face was a picture of worry as she looked out her window, seeing and hearing the thunderstorm rage on outside.

“What do I do..?” Chika mumbles as she gripped her phone tighter and she sat tensely on her bed.

You-chan said she will come over today but… It’s raining so heavily right now…

Chika stood up and start pacing the floor, stopping by her balcony to gaze worriedly into the white sheet of rain.

Club practice is definitely over for You-chan… I’m sure she does not have an umbrella too since the weather report said sunny this morning… Ah… What can I do??

Chika paced her room again, staring at her phone for hopefully some replies but there was none. The orangehead threw her arms in the air with a loud helpless cry.

I’m gonna wait at the entrance!!

It did not matter how long Chika had to stand by the inn’s entrance as long as it means one second sooner to make sure her girlfriend made it safely to her side.

It was an additional fifteen minutes of waiting before Chika finally caught sight of You running through the rain towards her.

You-chan!! Ahh she’s okay but--

“YOU-CHAN! MOU! Why didn’t you call me? Why are you running in the rain? You’re all wet. What if you caught a cold? I was worried sick! I kept calling when I noticed the rain but you never picked up. I- I thought… What if…what if something happened… You-chan! H-Hurry inside already. Mou!!”

“Ahh… Chika-chan… I’m sorry, I didn’t want to keep you waiting and I was already wet? So… I’m sorry.” You lowered her head in apology, holding her arm awkwardly and for some warmth at the same time.

Chika’s concern for You was still at the maximum meter but she also realized she raised her voice and made You feel bad so she quickly shook her head and took a quick breath.

Aaahhh, I didn’t mean to make You-chan sad. But… But I was worried.

“You-chan…” Chika murmurs.

You raises her head a little and looked up at Chika with upturned eyes.

Ah… You-chan is kind of pouting too, that’s cute—mm?!

Chika’s breathing hitched when her eyes lowered from You’s sad ocean blue eyes, pouty lips and down to You’s chest which Chika finally realizes again how wet You is and that the rain has caused You’s white uniform to be sticking to her body and…and…!!

Gwaaahhh baby blue- bra- You-chan!!! What are you showing me?? No, no, what are you wearing??? It- It’s a cute one… Gyaaah! No, wait! What am I doing staring at You-chan’s b-b-bra and thinking about wanting to…touch…!!

Chika shakes her head and subconsciously raises her hand to touch You’s arm, sliding it down those cold, wet and toned arms down to You’s hands, intertwining their fingers.

You-chan…I, I want to make sure she’s warm and safe and definitely not let anyone see her like this!

“You-chan!” Chika shouts which shocks the ash-brunette again but before You could say anything, Chika grips her hand tight and pulls You inside. “F-Faster!”

“Ahh, mm. Hold on Chika-chan!” You had to run a little after shrugging off her wet shoes at the entrance.

Now in Chika’s room, the orangehead wastes no time in saying the important things. “Strip.”

“Eh?”

“Not ‘eh’, You-chan. Strip! Before you catch a cold. C’mon, I’ll help you.” Chika takes a step closer and had her hands on You’s front, getting to the buttons.

“W-Wait, Chika-chan!”

“I’m not waiting.” Chika had a determined expression as she unbuttoned You’s drenched shirt.

I’ve already waited enough!

“Aahh, Chika-chan!” You whines as she quickly drops her bag and snacks to the floor and tried to hold onto her girlfriend’s hands to stop her. “Wait, wait, wait. You…left the windows open!”

“Win…dows?” Chika looks to the side, seeing the rain pour and the light of Riko’s room behind the curtains. “Oh.”

Chika looks down to see she had two buttons undone from You and she could see the swimmer’s chest raise up and down with each breath, that baby blue bra which looks soft to the touch like what it is holding stares back at Chika. Looking at You’s cute troubled face, Chika swallows. “Oh.”

W-Wouldn’t want Riko-chan seeing this.

The leader of Aqours releases her hold on You’s third button she was about to undo and pitter-pattered over to the window to shut it, pulling her curtains over while she was at it.

“Is this okay?” Chika asks softly as she places her hand back on You’s chest.

Windows closed. You-chan mine.

After five breaths (Chika counted the rise and fall of You’s chest), the mikan-lover whispers, “May I..?”

I want to see more…

You nods small, timid blue hues staring into passionate crimson eyes.

And with the swimmer’s permission, Chika’s hand slowly moves downwards, her fingers brushing past You’s chest and back to the third button… Unbuttoning it and so forth.

You’s cheeks were rosy red by the time Chika was done with all the buttons and Chika helped shrug it off You’s shoulder and arms – successfully stripping You’s top off.

Chika takes a slow and long breath through her nose. Crimson eyes hyper-focused on You’s breasts to the valley which a stray raindrop from the ash-brunette’s hair dripped in between.

Chika stares till You clears her throat. “C-Chika-chan, I thought this is so I won’t catch a cold?”

It was! Is! Aahhh..!

Chika was turning scarlet red like her eyes as her eyes flitted about the room, finding it hard to look her girlfriend in the eye. “I-It is… I just, um, realize that it’ll be better if you took a bath right away…”

I wanted to help you get warm but your bra and breasts distracted me!

You chuckles softly; the movement once again had Chika distracted by You’s ample bosom, leading to Chika’s heart thumping louder in her ears and her cheeks mimicking You’s redness.

“W-What?”

“Mm…” You hums thoughtfully, wearing a silly, shy smile. “That’s what I thought too when deciding to run through the rain.”

Chika puffs her cheeks out at You before averting her gaze again. “You should have said so earlier.”

“I tried to but Chika-chan wouldn’t wait…” You looked at Chika with large, watery ocean blues – cute.

What is this. Why is You-chan so cute. Mou!

“Ahhh! Then! C’mon!”

“Whaa- Chika-chan??”

Chika tugs You over to her wardrobe and picks a t-shirt. “Put this on.”

Not gonna let anyone but me see you half-naked!

“O-Oh…” You takes the shirt but does not wear it.

“You-chan?” Chika tilts her head to the side questioningly.

You looks down. “Um…I’ll need that hand.”

Hand..?

Chika looks to their intertwined hands from when Chika pulled You along with her.

Uu… It can’t be helped that I love holding your hand, You-chan!

Chika reluctantly let’s go so the still-wet ash-brunette could put on the nice and dry shirt.

“Here I go.” You verbalizes the action of getting dressed and lifts Chika’s hand after.

You-chan..?

You brought Chika’s hand into hers and grins blushingly at her.

Gaaah! You-chan is being romantic cute again!!

Chika puffs her cheeks out once again but holds You’s hand tight, loving the warmth she could share with her dorky girlfriend who would run through the rain to be with her.

“Chika-chan, take me to your bathroom~” You flashes a big smile at Chika who squeezes You’s hand tightly.

Baka You-chan.

Very tightly.

Baka You-chan!

Extra tightly.

“Ah, um, ahh, Chika-chan? My hand… can’t breathe..??” You gave Chika a troubled look as her fingers turn red and redder.

Why are you so charming AND cute??? Mou!! You’re making it hard for me to not just hug and kiss you nonstop!!!

Chika pouted hard at You who did not understand why Chika was gripping her hands so tightly.

Thankfully, when You sneezed, Chika remembers to put her desire to jump her girlfriend to the side first as she prioritized getting her adorable girlfriend fresh and warm again (maybe with a side of cuddling in bed after the bath).

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Author Notes

Aaaand, we wish we get bathroom scenes and cuddly scenes and maybe a kissing scene XD But for now…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHIKA-CHAN!!!!! (*≧ω≦*)

I love you and your girlfriend ;D hahaha, please keep being the adorable mikan-loving girl you are!

Dear Readers, did you enjoy it~? :D

I hope you did! It was much fun to write it :P hehe~

Leave me a comment if you like! (Grab a mikan from the table while you’re at it ;) I look forward to seeing your love for Chika, ChikaYou and this little story (≧◡≦))

See you next ChikaYou! ^w^7

(Also, there is a picture that inspired this story: https://twitter.com/airmisuzu0920/status/1415081677425049602/photo/1)

#chikayou #youchika #takami chika #watanabe you #love live #love live sunshine #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #miyukiwrites #you watanabe #chika takami #fluff #romance #otp #happy birthday takami chika 2021

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sinsiriuslyemo · 4 years

Text

Dearest Readers,

I know I’ve been absent during this quarantine and for that I’m sorry. It’s been pretty crazy to have to do distance learning with my six-year-old, but we’re getting by. I’ll be honest, I almost messaged the amazing @thefanficfaerie to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to do this, but the more I realized that I hadn’t created in what seemed like forever and thought about how much I missed interacting with you guys on here, the more I wanted to complete this challenge.

So I did what I always do, I sat down with three loose-leaf sheets and played “Penny and Me” by Hanson on a loop until this came out. I didn’t intend to be so on the nose with this one nor did I intend to use our current situation with covid19 in the fic, but here we are. Thank you so so much to @thefanficfaerie for creating this challenge! Also, thank you so much to @italiandoll1129 for betaing this little diddy. I hope you guys enjoy this little imagine and I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe <3

Sinceriously,

Amanda

Your life up to the point when the world stopped had largely been made up of acoustics and half note runs. Countless moments captured in a simple bar, a single verse, a reprised chorus. Music was your lifeblood, the ticking of the muscle that resided deep in your chest and then--just a few short weeks ago--silence. The world stopped turning, life as you knew it upended, and the music in your soul faded without refrain. It seemed survival had been triggered when the governor implemented a stay-at-home order and music became little more than a distant memory of better days.

Rafael had been more than annoyed at the disruption of his carefully crafted schedule, but had it not been for his steadfast reasoning and patience you surely would have sunk deep into the dark, bottomless pit of despair and hopelessness. Your loving, quick-witted ADA was the brain that steadied the storm in your heart. Had it not been for him you surely would have crumbled into a useless mess by day two of quarantine. Not that you weren’t on the edge every second of the day, but at least you were sure that if you did fall apart, Rafael would be there to put you back together again.

You sat on the bumped out window seat in the corner of the living room, pillow in your lap, sipping your mug of home-brewed coffee, staring at the lifeless street below. New York City had never been so quiet, but now all of its residents waited with bated breath for the virus that had halted all to pass. Even the criminal world seemed to be practicing social distancing, though an uptick in domestic violence was certainly keeping Rafael busy. For the creatives of the world, however, the coronavirus seemed to slowly poison the well of inspiration, leaving little else aside from disconnection and isolation despite the countless public figures proclaiming “alone, together.” Or whatever they were saying.

“Mi amor?” You heard Rafael’s voice from down the hall and let your forehead gently touch the cold, glass surface of the window as your eyes closed. “Y/N, we should go to the store today and pick up a few things, what do you think?”

You inhaled through your nose and turned your head to look back at him, offering a weak smile. “Yeah, maybe they’ll have toilet paper this time.” How had toilet paper become more valuable than the dollar bill seemingly overnight?

Closing the distance between the two of you, your boyfriend brought the back of his fingers to your cheek, corner of his lips quirking upward. His touch had always been enough to calm the emotional tornado that stress brewed inside you. Especially lately, you had become acutely aware of his ability to make you believe that everything would be alright.

“This is all temporary,” he would say. It never took very much convincing on his part as long as his skin was making contact with yours.

“We still have plenty for at least a week or two,” he said as he moved to sit on the other side of the window seat, facing you.

Pursing your lips, you nodded. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra on hand, just in case.” You tried to leave it at that instead of allowing a worst-case-scenario to form in your mind. The governor’s instructions had been clear: stay home, wash your hands, social distance until the curve flattened, remain calm. Despite your own paranoia, the world was not actually on fire...or if it was at least it wouldn’t be forever, and in truth as long as you had Rafael by your side, all would be well. Though it was times like this that made you wish you believed in God. There were moments when you envied Rafael in that sense; most of all now, when a magical sky-daddy would be a welcomed reprieve from the ever-rising death toll and unemployment rates.

“Honey, we have to stay calm and not panic-buy, okay?” Rafael said, reaching for your hand. “You should try to keep yourself busy. You know how your anxiety gets when you sit still for too long without something to focus on.”

“I know, I just…” You ran a hand through your hair and grimaced when you realized you hadn’t showered the day before. “I can’t slow my brain enough to create anything coherent.”

“So create something incoherent,” he suggested with a bob of his shoulders. “Or, instead of writing music, why don’t you just play some songs you enjoy or learn to play one?” You could sense your lips trying to form a smile as your thumb stroked over the skin between his knuckles. “I just know how important music is in your life. It always makes you feel better.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” you said in a whisper as your eyes fell to your joined hands. “Maybe I could go live on Instagram,” you added carefully. “I’ve seen a lot of people talking about how scared they are, too.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I thought we agreed you should stay off social media for now.”

In the beginning of your self-isolation, you spent nearly every waking minute refreshing your Twitter and Instagram feeds, which in turn, had served only to fuel your anxiety and almost caused a panic attack. The logical thing was to avoid social media; the daily press conferences and videos from Philip DeFranco were more than enough to keep you updated on the situation without causing you to cry yourself to sleep because Dr-Random-Twitter-Handle had posted about his hospital’s desperate need for PPE, and how a portion of his staff had become sick, which would convince you that this was in fact the end of the world and there was literally nothing that could be done to stop it.

So yeah, no social media had been the plan.

However, your desire to share music had been a part of you since you could remember, and especially at a time like this, music could be the very thing to soothe people’s fears, even if only a little bit.

“I know but I can’t help but wonder whether playing where other people can hear would help in some small way,” you said.

Rafael lowered his eyes as if in thought, nodding once. “What if you opened the window so the neighbors could hear?” His gaze came back to meet yours. “It’s been pretty quiet the last few weeks.”

It had been quiet in the neighborhood since all the bars and clubs shut down, including Penny and Me’s, the bar just downstairs that normally featured live music, which would fill the entire neighborhood and carry over to the next block. You smiled at your boyfriend.

“You don’t think people might get annoyed?”

“No,” he answered. “I think people are reaching for as many positive things as they can get. And some music, especially when the neighborhood has been so eerily quiet, might be just the thing that makes them feel normal again. Even if it’s only for a moment.”

You eyed your guitar in the far corner of the living room, leaning against the bookcase that held countless escapes into other worlds. Normally when reality came to be too much, a mix of other worlds and strums on your guitar would be enough to keep you from losing it completely. But right then, when the world as you knew it was forever changed, you couldn’t justify leaving it, even to save your sanity.

“And,” Rafael added. “If anyone complains, they’ll have me to deal with.”

You snorted, standing and opening the window before you went to pick up your guitar. Sitting back on the window seat, you took your time tuning it while your eyes periodically wandered, looking for an idea of what song to play. From the corner of your eye, you saw Rafael take out his phone, tap his screen a few times before he held it up. You knitted your brows at him; wasn’t he just trying to talk you out of going live?

“I just realized your family might want to hear you play,” he said as though he’d been inside your head. “What are you gonna play, corazon?”

“I don’t know.” Your gaze fell on the unlit, cursive lettering on the building across the street and the familiar chalkboard by the door that now read, “Stay home. Stay safe.”

With a gentle smile, you began to strum an intro of chords, the beginning of a song that was written strictly as a love letter to music, highlighting the importance of a song in our hearts and how a simple, familiar melody could remind us of our favorite moments in our lives. Music, without which the world would be a much darker place, the one thing that in an instant could heal a hole in your heart, the thing that often formed fond memories of nights up late by the fireplace. Music that could speak for you with such clarity if you had trouble forming words.

“That’s not obvious at all,” Rafael mumbled after hearing you sing the first chorus.

“Hush, you,” you replied quickly, not missing a single strum. “Cause Penny and Me like to roll the windows down…”

As you sang through the full chorus, a second voice joined in from below. Rafael carefully stepped closer to the window, mindful to keep his phone pointed in your direction as he leaned to stick his head out the open square.

“Lawrence?” you heard him call out between lyrics.

“Hey Rafael!” the voice replied. “And Penny and Me like to gaze at starry skies…”

Your ADA chuckled under his breath when a third voice sounded from further down the building, and a fourth from above. By the time you reached the bridge, it was as though half the block joined in. Your focus was on keeping time with your strums against the strings, but your skin had prickled into goosebumps at the sound of your neighbors singing along with you.

For the first time since you’d been stuck inside, it actually felt like despite the fact that you were all self-isolating, none of you were alone. In that moment, the entire block of 82nd street was one, singing through their pain and loneliness, belting their affections for each other simply by joining you in a cover of an early 2000s tune by one of the original popstars of the 90s. Through the final chorus you could hear the longing, the desire to be together truly once again, going to Penny and Me’s for a drink after a long week and weaving in and out of clusters of people on the sidewalk to get home after it got late. It reminded you that New Yorkers were fighters, that you had all seen worse than this pandemic and that one day soon you would be reminiscing about where you were during the 2020 pandemic that had paused the world and forced people to appreciate each other just a little bit more. The time when music, as always, kept you connected while you distanced.

“Do you think this is going to go viral?” Rafael asked no one in particular after you’d played the final chord of the song.

“I don’t think so, it’s a fairly obscure song,” you answered with a grin as you leaned back against the window sill, allowing the breeze to blow strands of hair against your face.

“Still,” Rafael mumbled as he tagged your parents in the post and, at your request, tagged the song and the virus for easy reference if you needed a pick-me-up later in the night. “Okay, I’m gonna head out to the store. Did you wanna come?”

“I think I’m gonna stay here,” you answered, rolling your head to one side until your eyes met his. “I should clean the bathroom...and myself. Then afterward, I might try to work on some more music.”

The smirk you knew all too well flashed in your direction as he closed the space between you to kiss your forehead. “Maybe without the window being open. The neighbors didn’t mind a song they knew, but the last thing we’d want is to disrupt their marathon of Tiger King.”

“Speaking of which, they added an episode,” you said.

“They did?”

“Yep, Carol Baskins isn’t in it though, from what I’ve heard,” you said.

“Fucking Carol Baskins. Okay, I’ll be back in an hour, tops,” he said, going to the door and putting on his coat. “When I get back, I think we should make dinner and watch that episode.”

“And after that?”

He bobbed his shoulders. “You’ve been trying to get me to watch Lost for years. Maybe now is when you do.”

“I don’t know if I wanna watch a show about a plane that disappears to an island no one knows about. We’ll see what my paranoia level is by the time we finish the last Tiger King episode.”

“Well, you know I’ve been dying for you to watch Catch-22,” he replied with a smirk.

You paused a moment, grimacing at the thought of the show adaptation of a Joseph Heller novel that you hadn’t very much enjoyed in the first place. “Lost it is.”

#rafael barba #rafael x reader #aprilchallenge

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insfiringyou · 5 years

Text

BTS - Stranded - (Suga proposes to his girlfriend)

Contains: Angst. Soft smut. Oral sex. Vaginal sex. Sex outdoors (in a car.)

This is part of our headcanon universe and involves Suga’s girlfriend, Jeong-sun. New readers can find out more about our headcanon universe here. Jeong-sun and Yoongi find themselves stranded in a freezing cold car in the middle of nowhere, forcing them to confront each other about their feelings. But the pressure of balancing his career and their relationship is taking its toll on both of them.

We have also created a fan art of a scene from this fic here

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook & Our full masterlist can be found here

Rated Content below cut

The sun had already begun to rise as he slipped into bed that morning, utterly exhausted. There was a measly page of writing in the notepad on his bedside table – far less than usual, but much more than he'd managed the past few days. It had been the first night in over a week that he had been able to pen lyrics without them ending up in the rubbish bin beside his desk. Donghyuk's advice had been to take a break, to take care of his health more and eat well. But though Yoongi felt better in confiding his stress to an impartial friend, he knew when he opened the text that it simply was not an option. Instead, he continued to push on, hoping that something would come of his effort. A sharp pain troubled him as Yoongi readjusted his pillow, and he rolled over onto his other side. He suspected that the nights of falling asleep in his studio chair had brought about these familiar aches in his shoulder, and so had made an extra effort to drag himself to bed on this occasion.

He glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 4:14 am. That left just four and a half hours before he needed to get dressed, yet the nagging feeling he'd forgotten something kept his bleary eyes open. With a soft sigh, he slid the phone from the tangle of bed sheets and was met by the picture he had taken several months prior. His girlfriend was laid on his couch, her legs dangling over the edge. Her face was barely visible past the glare of the phone screen reflected in her glasses and the dark hair framing her face. It wasn't extraordinary by any means, but Yoongi felt his lips tug into a reminiscent smile. The top buttons of her blouse were incorrectly fastened where 10 minutes before, he had pulled them apart to tenderly kiss and suck at her breasts. Without thinking, he opened up her name in the contacts and pulled up the text chat, his brow creasing. Had it really been 9 days since they’d spoken? He had mentioned that he was working on his lyrics that evening and would write to her in the morning. A pang of guilt swept through him as he realised he never did, and he slid his tongue over his lips anxiously.

I've just finished a song and will see RM & JH in the studio this afternoon. You should come over, so let me know your schedule and I'll pick you up after work. I've missed you. He pressed send, looking at the screen for a few minutes though he knew she would be asleep and wouldn't respond. With a weary sigh, he pushed the power button on his phone and rested it against his chest, finally allowing his eyelids to shut.

The room fell into a natural silence as his team members studied the sheet of paper. Yoongi's penmanship was delicate and spindly, despite the many crossings out and revisions across it. Perhaps there were a few more blemishes than usual, but it was not hard to read, even in its rawest state. Namjoon's brow was raised as his eyes stopped moving across the page. Meanwhile, Hoseok's lips had parted in their characteristic grimace.

"What's wrong with them?" Yoongi prompted as the two skimmed the lyrics once more. He could tell there was something off. "Woa...are you sure you wrote these, hyung?" Hoseok said, leaning back in his chair. "What's with this line 'when you said you loved me it split my heart in three'?" He looked irritatingly boyish as his grimace turned into a teasing grin. Yoongi's stomach twisted. What the hell? Is he laughing at me? "That's my handwriting isn't it?" He replied sharply, beginning to feel annoyed. Why couldn't he have written something like that? He looked to Namjoon for an explanation. The leader was still pondering the lyrics, his lips mouthing the letters as though he already knew the melody. "Well, it's not that the lyrics are bad..." Namjoon said slowly, "but they just don't fit with the concept of the track. We need a strong rap part in this song. This is too romantic. Maybe we can make it work for the vocal line, but..." "Yoongi!" Hoseok interrupted, a wide grin spreading across his face as though he had just realized something. "This is about your girlfriend, right? It's not your usual style at all." He folded his arms, impressed.

"Hey, who said it was about anyone? Can't rap be romantic? We needed lyrics, so I wrote them. And I don't see you coming up with anything." His pale complexion began to redden, but it seemed to amuse Hoseok, who was a coward in every respect- except when it came to Min Yoongi. "Chill, dude. He didn't mean it like that." Namjoon said calmly, placing a warning pressure on the arm of the over-excitable dancer."We can use them for a different track, or solo stuff maybe." "Ah, I really envy her," Hoseok continued recklessly. " I could really fall for a guy who wrote me lyrics like this." "Just fuck off, will you?" Yoongi snapped, snatching the paperback from Namjoon's hands, stuffing it deep into his jeans pocket. His heart was pounding in his ears, making everything sound as if it were underwater. But as he stormed down the corridor, away from the studio, a sharp voice cut through the noise.

"He's too touchy these days! What did I say?"

Yoongi's head pounded hard as he got as far away as he could from the studio, the bickering of the two fading away with each large stride. Before he knew it, he was in his car, turning the ignition and gripping the wheel tight enough to turn his protruding knuckles white. The vehicle rumbled into life at his touch, and he pressed his head to the cold leather, feeling the vibration against his aching temples.

A different, persistent sort of buzz took him away from the gentle hum of the engine. Yoongi ignored it for a while. Finally, he raised his head to the dim fluorescents of the underground garage and pulled his phone out from his back pocket. His heart sank as he saw a string of missed calls from Hoseok and a single text that made his temperature rise.

Is everything okay with you and Jeong-sun? The brat needed to understand that he had crossed a line. Angrily, he flung it into the back seat. Why wouldn't everything be okay with Jeong-sun? And what business was it of his to go shouting about it? Unaware that he was biting his nails, he withdrew his fingertips from his mouth and put his car into gear as inspiration struck. Maybe Donghyuk was right about needing a break, and right then, getting drunk seemed like a great idea.

Yoongi pulled into a tiny parking lot. The signs outside the convenience store were weathered, merchandise spilling onto the pavement outside. He adjusted his beanie, disguising nothing but the scar on his ear, more out of habit than anything else. The wrinkled old man at the register greeted him as he entered, and returned to his bookkeeping. With a courteous nod, Yoongi made a beeline for the alcohol. He didn't even bother to inspect the labels as he hooked three bottles of soju between his fingers. Pausing, he reached out and grabbed three more in his free hand. The bag clinked heavily as he lowered it onto his car seat, and he removed his jacket, laying it out next to him. Deftly, he wrapped the bottles inside the fabric and knotted the sleeves to create a neat package. He tucked it under the passenger seat, thinking almost longingly of the prospect of feeling nothing. The phone in the back seat called out to him, but he continued to drive with a sense of purpose. It wasn't just Hoseok of course. He knew that blaming Hoseok was an easy excuse, that though he was irritating and insensitive, he had no malice in his words. But it gave him a reason to feel angry, and that was good enough.

The car came to a stop in front of a tall building covered in mirrored glass and grey concrete. His knuckles were white as he clutched the wheel, the engine still purring beneath his touch. A short woman with jet black hair was standing a little way off. She would have been hard to recognize if he hadn't known her so well, but he knew her silhouette perfectly even through her floaty white dress, leather jacket, and ankle boots. Yoongi watched her, his mouth popping open slightly. Once more he drew his fingertips to his lips and waited anxiously. The woman pressed the button of the call box, which he knew was to his apartment. When there was no response, she pulled out something from her pocket.

The cell phone in the back seat began to ring again, and slowly, Yoongi reached over and slipped it against his ear. "Jeong-sun..." He said, in a heavy voice. "Yoongi," His girlfriend interrupted, her voice sinking audibly with relief. "I've been trying to call you. Hoseok said that you went home, so I wondered..." "You spoke to Hoseok?" Came his voice, low and monotonous. "He called me... is everything okay?" There was silence. "Yoongi? Talk to me, please." his girlfriend called softly, and he closed his eyes at the sound of her voice. "Get in the car."

He heard a slight intake of breath through the handset as the figure turned, instantly recognizing the black vehicle. She hesitated before hanging up, staring hard at the blacked out windows. Too slowly, she walked over, and Yoongi watched, feeling his heart pound with every step. He needed her to get in quickly, yet she was dawdling, and he tapped his forefinger on the wheel impatiently. The passenger side door swung open as she approached, and he was already putting the car into gear as she fastened her belt. Eyes full of concern, she searched his face for answers, wanting to understand. He glanced at her and quickly broke the eye contact, focusing instead on the road moving past them.

"I said that I'd pick you up." He muttered, and she did a slight double-take at the blunt edge in his voice. She adjusted her seatbelt to rest more comfortably between her breasts. "I just finished work and it's not that far from my apartment so..." Jeong-sun inclined her head a little, trying to see his expression better. "I was worried. So are you going to tell me why you're mad, or do I have to guess?" "Hoseok. " He said tightly, giving nothing away. "But he can't have said anything that bad, can he?" She said, incredulous. She'd never known the two to argue and was not sure that it was even possible.

Yoongi knew verbalizing the argument would make him sound stupid. It wasn't like they had never critiqued each other's lyrics before. In truth, he knew that it was the mention his relationship that had bothered him the most.

"Look, maybe you should just call him," Jeong-sun said reasonably, seeing as there was no reaction from Yoongi otherwise. "I bet it was a misunderstanding." Yoongi looked sideways at her, his eyes flitting momentarily from the road. "No. I'm not going to call him." "Well, if you don't do it, I will." She said sharply, beginning to feel a bit annoyed. "I'm serious." He repeated sternly, his eyes back on the road this time, though he held out his hand insistently. What the fuck was he supposed to say anyway? "Give me your phone."

Jeong-sun bristled at this, pausing as she searched through her contacts."Fine," she said tersely, handing it over."So where are we going?" "I don't know." He replied bluntly, and she rolled her eyes at him. Yoongi delicately fingered the knob of the radio and music began to play. Jeong-sun took the cue sullenly, folding her arms and looking out of the window, knowing the conversation was over. When she opened up his text that morning, she couldn't wait to see him. Now she almost wished she hadn't bothered rushing home to change, ditching her usual band tee and jeans in an effort to dress up.

Hadn't it been Yoongi who wanted to see me? She couldn't help but think. Of course, she had wanted to see him too; they had barely spent any time together in the past few months. The last thing she wanted was to get in his way, so she had graciously accepted that Yoongi needed space. She understood that he had responsibilities, but, so did she. After dating him for a year, she'd grown used to his frequent absences. But recently he had become more distant, more tired, and she was beginning to feel like an unnecessary burden on his already busy schedule. Even her colleagues at the pharmacy had begun to notice the absence of the mysterious man who lurked around the toiletry aisles, wondering if he had finally realised the huge mark up on their products. Today, inspired by his text, she'd decided to be more proactive- but it was all backfiring terribly.

She gave up trying to speak to him as he continued to drive, her mood souring. After a while of driving in silence, she began to recognize fewer and fewer of the streets. She glanced at him as the light began to change, and suspected he didn't either. Yoongi flipped on the headlights as the sky grew dark, yet he showed no intention of stopping or even speaking. He pressed his fingers against his lips as he drove, and eventually, they had left the long highway out of Seoul. It was hard to tell, but he seemed to be choosing routes based on how sparse the traffic was, and a couple of times they found themselves surrounded by anonymous farm land.

They were heading down a dead end dirt track before he put the car into reverse and rejoined the long, deserted road. Her heart had begun to thump harder now as she realized there was no way that Yoongi knew where they were. Maybe he wasn't just being childish when he said he didn't know where they were going, but she didn't ask whether they were lost. He seemed to be rooted in thought. She searched both pockets for her phone, thinking to switch on the GPS before remembering that Yoongi had taken it from her. Anxiously, she cast a wide-eyed glance at her lover, urging him to speak. But his otherwise beautiful profile was cast in shadow, and she could tell he was oblivious to her rising panic. It wasn't that she'd never seen him this way before, but it was the first time that she felt powerless to do anything. She could only watch as he slipped further away from the man who had made sweet love to her just a few weeks ago, the one who had said he loved her. Her eyes began to water at the memory, not understanding what had changed. "Please...talk." Jeong-sun whispered, so low that he barely heard her. "Yoongi, you're scaring me..."

His eyes darted to hers at the quiver in her voice. It was the first time he'd made eye contact with her in what felt like hours, and they grew wide as though he had been woken from a deep sleep. Suddenly, the car lurched, their seatbelts cutting hard against their chests as the wheel hit the curb. He tore his eyes quickly from her to readjust the wheel. "Stop it!" She yelled, her pitch unnaturally high. "Stop the car!"

He pulled into a grassy lane away from the road and came to a bumpy stop. He turned to her, hands reaching out to hold her. But to his surprise, she moved quickly away from him, belt already unbuckled as she flung open the door and tumbled out. "Ya, Jeong-sun!" He yelled in shock as he saw her run into the darkness into the long grass. Yoongi flung open his door and ran after her, shouting her name so that it echoed through the silent night. She hadn't gotten so far as to be completely invisible, and the glare of the headlights made her white dress glow phantom-like in the blackness. His heart pounded hard as he caught up to her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to face him. But she wouldn't, resisting him fiercely. "Jeong-sun! Why'd you run like that? Look at me!" He yelled, his voice still echoing around them.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!" She yelled, her voice wavering in an attempt to compose herself. Her face was flushed, and as he met her eyes, he saw that they were wide, red-rimmed, burning with anger. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she wiped them messily away with the sleeve of her jacket. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Let go of me." "Jeong-sun..." The edge in her voice was painful, and Yoongi reached forward again to hold onto her. "I'm sor..." "Don't touch me." "Jeong-sun..." He repeated, shocked, as she tore her wrists away from his soft grasp and held them stiffly by her sides. " I told you to keep your fucking hands off me. " "I thought you'd understand that I -" "What the FUCK am I supposed to understand about any of this, huh? " She yelled fiercely. "How am I supposed to know what's going through your head when you won't fucking talk to me."

Yoongi's lips plump lips parted. Her words were sobering. "Genius Suga, right? That's what your fans call you. Or am I just too stupid to understand? Well, I think you're a fucking idiot, Min Yoongi. Why don't you go write a fucking song about how upset you are?"

For a moment she thought that he was going to vomit as he wretched, pressing his palm hard against his mouth and turning quickly away from her. He had doubled over, and she realised quickly that it wasn't the case. It caught her off guard, and although she wanted to keep shouting and to expel the rage she felt, her passion cooled instantly as she saw his shoulders heave with silent sobs. Despite pushing him away only moments before she pulled him instinctively into the crook of her neck. Her face was still hot with emotion, her wet cheeks pressing against his dark hair. As she felt his warm, hot ragged breath against her skin, an uncomfortable pressure slipped into her stomach. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she let them fall freely, mixing with Yoongi's own.

After a few minutes, Jeong-sun felt his fingers splay across her lower back, bunching the material around her hips. She held him up, still cradling him against her body, sure that he'd sink onto his knees if she let go. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, more familiar.

" Yoongi. Please...talk to me. I hate this." "I-I'm sorry..." The crack in his voice pained her. "I didn't plan any of this." "No you didn't." Her arms were beginning to shake a little as she supported his frame, but she didn't loosen her tight hold. "Are you...breaking up with me?" She asked after a pause, even though the thought of it made her ache inside. "I'm not breaking up with you," he murmured hoarsely against her neck, pressing his burning forehead against her collar. "Then, why…" Her stomach was knotting so hard she thought she might be sick. "If I'm making it hard on you..."

Pulling away, he ran his long fingers through the back of his tousled hair, his eyes not quite meeting hers. "You're right, I am an idiot." He drawled, lips pursed a little as he spoke. "Yoongi," she sighed. "I was just...mad. I didn't mean it." "You were right though. I should have told you what I was thinking."

Jeong-sun agreed, a little uneasily, as an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Their surroundings were full of black shadows as she gazed ahead, a few stars dotted over the inky sky and a crescent moon disappearing into the clouds. Yoongi wiped his wet eyelashes with the back of his hand.

"I've not been able to write anything decent for weeks." He admitted, gazing into the darkness. His voice was low, a soft resonating murmur."I try, but it's no good. When I perform, I forget my lines, I forget the choreo. PD-nim scolded me for the performance on KBS last week, in front of the others. I feel like I haven't been able to do anything right for a while." "You're tired, Yoongi. That's all. We all get overworked. I mess up prescriptions all the time when I've slept badly."

Her boyfriend met her gaze with a small, empty smile. "I just feel like I'm going to lose everything."

He looked so sad, she thought, and she could tell from his tone that he wasn't just talking about music. She couldn't find the right words to comfort him, so instead reached out to take his hands in a reassuring gesture, squeezing them gently. They were stone cold, his fingers stiff as they entwined around hers. He was shivering slightly in the cold breeze, dressed in only a black tee and jeans.

"Didn't you bring a jacket?" Jeong-sun asked. Yoongi shook his head, stroking his thumb sweetly over the back of her hand which was pleasantly warm in contrast to his own. "Let's just go home."She suggested simply. Hand in hand, they walked back towards the gleaming headlights and slipped quickly inside. With a soft click, the doors locked. The car's interior was warmer only by a few degrees, and Jeong-sun did not remove her jacket, which had once belonged to her boyfriend, as she buckled her belt. Yoongi made no move to start the car, ignoring his own buckle as he cut out the blinding glare of the headlights. She gazed at him, questioningly."Don't you know the way back?" Yoongi shook his head. "Not at night. I remember we drove somewhere near here for a shoot a long time ago, but I think I took a wrong turn or two." Reaching over to him, she slipped her hand in his snug jean pocket and slid out her phone. They were illuminated in the bright glow of her screen, and she clicked her tongue impatiently. Yoongi watched her cautiously. "Shit, no service..."

He seemed unsurprised by the fact, pulling his lower lip lightly between his thumb and forefinger. He didn't bother to try his own phone, knowing that good reception was miles away. Jeong-sun leaned back in the seat, and the car once again became shrouded in dark shadows from the fringe of trees ahead. "I liked the view of the stars away from the city," Yoongi said, in an air of explanation. "We didn't finish filming that night till around 4 am. It was ice cold outside - we had to share a big blanket between us whilst waiting for the director to call us up. I remember thinking that I wasn't cut out for it. I even thought about stealing the company car to drive home." "But you didn't?" "No , of course not." He replied, steadily. "Hoseok and Jin convinced me to stay, and in the end, we had fun. Though I was exhausted. " She wondered why he was telling her this . He rarely shared moments like this, except through necessity, but this time she could tell he wanted to talk. "It sounds like you all need each other," she said, gently. Jeong-sun knew that they were a big part of his life. She thought she could understand the pressure he felt, trying to please so many people and how it must affect him. Though she had to admit to that she couldn't possibly comprehend the full extent of it.

Yoongi was quiet, his brow furrowed miserably as he stared at the dashboard. "I've not been a good boyfriend."

The admission was full of guilt, and he said it shamefully, hanging his head a little as he fingered the cool leather of the steering wheel. It was clear that this had been playing on his mind. A pang of regret swept over her for what she'd said, knowing that it'd been from a place of passion.

"I wouldn't change a thing about you." She said earnestly, leaning to pull his face close to hers. Tenderly, she pressed her forehead to his and captured his lips in a soft kiss. The seatbelt tugged against her, and their lips broke apart several times as they explored each other delicately. The pressure of Yoongi's lips was so light, and she couldn't help but pull against her restraint in an effort to bridge the gap between them. Jeong-sun fumbled with the clasp to free herself, feeling the gear stick prod into her stomach as she inclined to the scent of his skin. His usual vanillary fragrance was a little lost in the overwhelming aroma of cold winter air. He closed his fingers around hers as she tried to find the clasp, and she paused, feeling his other hand slip under the belt and rest between her breasts. Momentarily still, the lock yielded with a soft click as he pressed his thumb over the release. He slipped it over her shoulders, allowing her to press her lips more energetically against his. The taste of him was healing, addictive and utterly consuming. When they parted, they pressed their foreheads together as they regained their breath. It wasn't enough.

"Backseat..." She panted, craving to feel his skin against hers. His low purr of consent rumbled across her lips as he kissed her once more. The gap was small, but Jeong-sun manoeuvred herself to squeeze through it, her dress riding up as she tried to slip her legs over the seat. His fingers gripped tightly around her ankle, holding her in place and forcing her to grab a hold of the set infront of her to steady herself. Yoongi's free hand ran up her exposed thigh to the peachy flesh of her behind. She groaned in anticipation as she felt a pair of lips trail the way up her bare legs and finally press against the cotton of her underwear. He inhaled her deeply, pressing his mouth to the warm fabric. "Are you comfortable enough?" She felt his voice rumble against her labia.

She panted, feeling breathless. The seat created a strange pressure in her stomach which seemed to sharpen the familiar, throbbing, ache between her legs. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but the anticipation of what would come next made it bearable ."Yes, it's fine..." And with that a finger ran under the band of her underwear and was pulled the entire length of Jeong-sun's legs. The cool air in the car tingled for a moment until she felt Yoongi's hot breath on her cunt. He pressed his plump lips against her labia and kissed her, open-mouthed, his tongue running along her exposed core. She felt his tongue enter her, pushing as deep as it could physically go whilst his mouth continued to suck her. When he made love to her like this she couldn't help but hang her head and lose herself in the sensation.

"I love the way you taste." Yoongi purred, pulling away to breathe. His chin was glistening with her arousal, and he slid his tongue over his lips salaciously, savouring her. He kissed her once again, hungrily, pulling her arse cheeks apart to deepen it. Jeong-sun groaned as he moved further up her cunt to capture her throbbing clit and suck on it, flicking and circling it in his mouth. The ache between her legs built, and finally as he drew the nub between his plump lips and suctioned it, a strong pulse shook through her. Paired with the pressure on her stomach, the intensity of it was almost painful. The rhythm of it was unusual and left her feeling incredibly sensitive as his tongue continued to circle around her.

When she spoke, her breath was irregular, "Y-Yoongi....wait a minute." He paused, his lips still on her, and she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm a little more smoothly. She sighed in relief, a warm blush colouring her cheeks.

"Are you okay?" He asked, stroking her thigh as he pressed his lips to her bare skin before adjusting her dress back over her behind.

"Yes...it was just...a little intense." She said, pulling herself through the gap and dropping, onto the back seat. Yoongi followed swiftly, his slim figure easily slipping between so that he could join her. Automatically, their lips rejoined and she tasted herself on his breath. Her body began to sink back as they deepened the kiss, the seats clearly not designed with the kind of activity they had in mind. Her right leg dangled over onto the floor, her foot pushing a bundle of cloth further under the seat as she tried to stabilise herself. His body was impossibly close to hers, perhaps through necessity, though they both knew that they would have been just as entangled in the back of a limousine as a Hyundai. Jeong-sun's nipples were already hard as he pulled aside her bra to capture one between his lips. He pushed her breasts together to create a valley of flesh, kissing between her cleavage before working the other. When he drew away the cold air bit the already sensitive nubs, his saliva cooling quickly in the falling temperature of the car. Yoongi pulled the cups of her bra back over them tenderly.

"I need to be inside you." He murmured, and she felt the sincerity of it resonate deep inside her. She needed it to.

Agreeing, she snaked her hands under his body, running her fingertips over his pelvis and towards the small trail of pubic hair escaping the confine of his jeans. She managed to unhook the top button and slid the zipper carefully down, feeling his erection through his boxers. Yoongi brushed her hand, pulling his cock out from his underwear and sinking into her slowly. He was quite still as they met, sharing each other's warmth and savouring the intimacy of the act. Jeong-sun wanted desperately to hold him there, wishing that they could stay like this; it'd been so long since they'd been so physically close, and she realised in that moment how much she had missed him. Slipping her hands under his shirt, she ran her fingertips over his soft stomach and towards the dimples of his spine. The hard denim of his jeans was creating a barrier, rubbing awkwardly against her thigh and bunched dress. She tugged them down a little and curved her hands over his backside. Yoongi moved barely at all, filling her entirely as he pressed his lips lovingly against her own. She flinched a little as his icy fingers skimmed under her dress but they warmed quickly as they spread along the curve of her waist. Gradually, his hips moved under her hands as made unhurried love to her. It was achingly tender, gentle beyond words. The silence would have been overwhelming were it not for the small exhalations they made, their breaths turning to mist as each unspoken word and emotion evaporated between them. It felt different this time. Jeong-sun knew that she would not come like this, but she did not care. She just wished that they could stay like this, entwined, pressed together, feeling every inch of him. His eyelids fluttered open as he pulled back slightly to see her face, his dark eyes searching for hers. "I love you," he admitted. "I love you..."

The soft rumble of his voice made her heart unexpectedly lurch, clenching at the sincerity of his words. "I love you too, Yoongi." He sighed, almost in relief, pressing his nose against the crevice of her neck. He readjusted his position, fingertips running messily through her hair as he formed a barrier between herself and the car door. Yoongi sank deeply into her, his breath growing short and his own orgasm drew close. In a small gasp, he stilled, curling his fingers against the back of her head as he found his own release . The sensation lingered, ebbing away little by little as he clutched onto her. What seemed like minutes passed before he eventually pulled out of her. Reverently, they pressed their lips together and Yoongi rested his warm forehead against hers.

"Marry me." His breath was so sweet, so soothing, that the meaning of his words didn't immediately sink in. She was quiet, her mind a little foggy with his proximity. "Marry me, Jeong-sun." He repeated. There was a desperate ache in his voice, and unexpectedly she felt her stomach turn, leaving her feel short-winded. "Yoongi... think about what you're asking me." She said, seriously, searching his expression for an explanation. "I am." When she opened her mouth again, she sounded exasperated, bewildered. She couldn't articulate her thoughts. "Why?" "I love you," he said in a simple answer, though he looked slightly embarrassed with himself.

"Yoongi..." She sighed, running her hand along his cheek, fingertips brushing despondently through his hair. She had never been so in love with another person, but the thought of accepting his proposal was inconceivable. The realisation hurt. "...I don't think I can say yes."

He closed his eyes in thought, understanding that it wasn't a rejection. Yoongi knew deep down that she was right, that perhaps now wasn't the right time or place, and that marriage would not solve anything. "Forget I mentioned it." He muttered. "You know I love you,” she continued a little more softly, “...that’s enough. I don’t think you need a wife nagging you, on top of everything else.” Jeong-sun pulled his face into hers and placed her lips delicately against his eyelids, needing him to understand the depth of her feelings for him. He exhaled slowly, cherishing the kindness of this simple action. Silently they righted themselves, Yoongi tucking himself back into his jeans, and her sliding her panties back over her hips.

"Were you really scared?" He asked seriously. Jeong-sun nodded, meeting his eyes uncomfortably. "Honestly, yes." "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel like that." He looked away, guiltily.

"We should try and get some sleep," she suggested quickly, wanting to move on from the topic. "We can figure out how to get back when it's light." He nodded, looking thoroughly drained, she thought. Automatically, she pulled him against her chest, allowing him to rest comfortably against her. His body was cold, and he wrapped close around her, his face resting against her breasts. After a little while she was sure he had fallen asleep, his breathing rhythmic and slow. She, however, couldn't fall asleep so easily. She ran her fingers methodically through his dark hair. Jeong-sun wondered for how long they could continue this way, loving each other intensely whilst side stepping around each other's own lives. A little shiver caught her attention and she brushed his bare arms, feeling little bumps raised on his cool skin. Trying not to disturb him, she freed one of her arms, remembering the bundle of cloth that she had nudged with her foot. Her fingertips stretched under the passenger seat, and she managed to grasp the coarse fabric between her index and ring finger. She pulled it, realising it was trapped under something heavy. There was a light tinkle of glass as she managed to extricate the blanket from underneath it. The thin slither of moonlight illuminated the outline of her boyfriend's jacket, wrapped neatly around the green bottles. Pulling aside the collar, she felt the long, cool necks of the bottles before pushing the parcel back under the seat. Had he been intending to get drunk? The thought troubled her a little, and she wondered had she not been waiting for him would he have remembered to pick her up at all. Yoongi purred against her chest, his lips pressed lightly against her exposed skin. Jeong-sun tried to forget it, remembering how sweetly they'd made love, how impossibly close their bodies had been pressed together, his proposal... A little unevenly, she managed to pull the scratchy woollen picnic blanket over them, covering her bare legs which had begun to tingle in the cool temperature. Eventually, after what felt like hours, her eyes closed and the darkness became absolute. * "Was she mad?" Yoongi asked, opening the car door and slipping back into the driver's seat. The smell of cigarette smoke and petrol followed him, and he tucked the pack of menthols back into the glove box. Jeong-sun lowered her phone, finally having enough network service to make a call to the pharmacy. "I don't think so. She just asked me to come in as soon as I could." "That's good." He said, relieved. "I don't want to get you into trouble. Here, I got you this." Yoongi reached into a small plastic bag and pulled out a triangle package, a tuna and mayo sandwich on wholegrain, and a bottle of water. She took it, wondering whether she should mention what she had found under the seat. Deciding to drop the matter, she wordlessly unscrewed the cap and took a large gulp, her dry throat soothed at once. Yoongi's phone vibrated several times and he pulled it from his jeans pocket, sliding the screen across and tucking it away with a slight frown. "And what about you?" "They'll be fine...I'll just tell them that I overslept."

Turning the key, Yoongi started the ignition and pulled out of the gas station carefully, rejoining the slow flood of traffic back into the city. It took another 40 minutes before they finally pulled up to the kerb outside Jeong-sun's apartment, neither of them moving immediately. Cutting the engine, Yoongi reached for her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. "I'll wait for you." "Maybe you should go." She began, a little gloomily. She didn't want to leave him, but she knew that she'd have to, that he too was procrastinating. " I have to shower and change. Besides, I only work around the corner...and I'm sure you have work to do too." He looked a little dampened by this.

"I promise, I can manage." She reassured, more softly. "Besides, you need to make up with Hoseok. You will, won't you?" "I will." He assured her. Jeong-sun leant into him, pressing her lips against his and allowing her taste to linger there, trying to ease the knotting feeling in her stomach. They broke apart all too soon, Yoongi's dark eyes desperately searched hers. Finally, she unfastened her seatbelt and drew it slowly away from her breasts.

He reached to capture her hand once more."Wait a little, Jeong-sun...stay..." "I can't, Yoongi. I have to go." She echoed the ache in his voice. Their lips met once more, a little sadly. "Take care of yourself." Untangling her fingers from his, she opened the car door and stepped out, dawdling as she reached into her pocket for her keys. She looked back to the car as she opened her door, seeing nothing through the tinted glass, and eventually it pulled away and blended into the street.

***

Our fan art of the scene where they make love in the car can be found here

To read each member & their girlfriend’s headcanon universe fics in order, follow the links here: RM / Jin / Suga / J-Hope / Jimin / V / Jungkook

& Our full masterlist can be found here

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alj4890 · 5 years

Text

What Happened to Our Friends? ~Fluffy Friday

(Liam, Drake, Amanda, Maxwell) *friendship x unrequited love*

A Choices: The Royal Romance Fan Fiction

A/N Before the events of The Other Friend and this particular storyline was suggested by one of my little guys.

*song that is lip synched Dream Come True some of the lyrics listed below.*

Tagging those who wanted extra fluff 😉@brightpinkpeppercorn @riseandshinelittleblossom-deact @zaffrenotes @fullbeaumonty @speedyoperarascalparty @bobasheebaby @tmarie82 @littleblossom-18 @cocomaxley @ehkw1989 @hopefulmoonobject @leelee10898 @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @littlecrookedheart @mrswalkerwritesagain @debramcg1106 @krsnlove @littleblossom357 @ritachacha @lodberg

"We have to go to a karaoke bar. We are literally in its birth place!" Maxwell argued while staring out at the bright lights of Tokyo. The city looked amazing against the dark night sky.

Drake and Liam turned hesitantly to the one who had the worst singing voice. Amanda knew what their look meant.

"Don't worry. I won't sing." She folded her arms and looked away from them.

"Then I'll go." Drake said. He let out a grunt when Amanda hit him with a pillow. He smiled as he threw his arm around her shoulders. "We still like you. You're the frog of our group. Nobody croaks a song like you."

Amanda couldn't stop her laugh from coming out. "Yeah, yeah. Keep talking and I start belting out show tunes."

In a sea of neon, they discovered a club that Maxwell declared was the one. When they walked into the lobby, they were surrounded by many in cosplay. Liam studied some and tried to figure out why it was so familiar. His eyes widened as it hit him.

"Amanda! Look it's --"

"Liam! It's a room filled with RWBY fans!"

Maxwell and Drake stared at them in confusion. "Guys...want to tell us what Ruby is?" Maxwell asked.

"First off, it isn't technically the word, 'ruby'. It is the four main characters initials forming their team name." Liam began to explain. "Even though the one character is actually named, Ruby."

"It's an American created anime. It is about--"

Drake held his hand up. "Hold on, let me check on something. Yep. I don't care."

Amanda and Liam looked around and saw a shop selling some RWBY costumes. They whispered excitedly and ran off.

"HEY!" Maxwell exclaimed. "What has gotten into them? Did I miss something when we walked in here?"

"You had to go out and pick this place." Drake said. His jaw dropped when he saw his once sane friends. Liam had on a black hoodie that suspiciously looked like it had a bunny's face on it but was covered by some type of armor over his upper chest. He also had some armor on his upper arms. Gloves and blue jeans completed the look...and was that a shield? He had a large sword and was swinging it alongside what was once Amanda.

She not only was wearing a costume that made him and Maxwell blush at seeing her in something more revealing than she normally wore, she had somehow turned her hair red and had it pulled up in a ponytail. Or else it was a wig. He couldn't tell from this distance. Her outfit looked like something straight out of Greek mythology.

Liam and Amanda stopped before them and posed with their weapons. Amanda had a sword that extended into a javelin in her hand that she held as if to throw while blocking with her shield . "What the---what are you?" Maxwell asked.

"I'm Jaune Arc." Liam announced. "She's Pyrrah Nikos."

"Hello again." She waved and mimicked Pyrrah's sweet voice and phrase perfectly. Liam's smile grew with pride as some nearby asked her to do it again while recording her. When she added the, "I'm sorry," Liam clutched his heart. "That line gets me every time." He said to Maxwell.

"You know what gets me? Is finding a twenty-four hour psychiatrist for you two." Drake dryly replied.

"How did you get your hair like that?" Maxwell stepped closer to her and stared at locks that were once dark brown, a color he had been very fond of.

"Spray on hair color." She faced Liam and handed Maxwell her weapons. "Speaking of hair, hold still..." She ran her fingers through Liam's until it was mussed completely.

"Thank you. I forgot to do that." He scrutinized her and straightened her sash, causing Drake and Maxwell to simply stare. This could not be happening. Where were their calm, retiring friends? Who were these people?

After Amanda and Liam were satisfied with how the other looked, they all walked in and were surrounded by multiples of particular characters. There was a table with pictures of scenes from RWBY and a sheet of paper. Amanda read it and immediately wrote her name down.

"What did you sign up for?" Liam asked.

"RWBY lip synch contest!" Liam groaned when he couldn't think of a song to lip sync dressed as Juane.

"Seriously! What has happened to you two?"

They shrugged at Drake. "You would understand if you watched it." Amanda answered patiently. Liam's pitying look at him and Maxwell freaked them out.

"How have we not known you two suffered with this affliction? Have you been having clandestine dates to watch this?" Maxwell's laugh died when they lowered their eyes.

"Wait, that's what you have been doing?! What did you use to trick us into not joining?" He asked.

Amanda chewed on her bottom lip while Liam rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that committee we asked if you wanted to be a part of that you both refused last year?"

"Are you talking about the one to make sure roadkill is removed in a specific--good lord we were stupid to believe that was an actual thing." Drake held his head at the revelation.

Maxwell's eyes widened. "You even made an acronym for it! You called it...RWBY!

"It was rather grim for a committee." Amanda winked at Liam, causing him to double over in laughter.

"What's so funny?" The two left in the dark demanded.

"You wouldn't understand it." Liam replied. Amanda took pity on them. "Grimm are the creatures that our characters, and many that you see here represented, fight."

"You have private jokes over this?" Maxwell thought something was very wrong with this. He wasn't sure what, but she shouldn't have private jokes with just Liam. That was supposed to be their thing.

They sat at a table and began to watch some Ruby's and Weiss' and a few Sun's try their hand getting the crowd into their performances. Many Yang's, two Blake's, and one Nora gave it their all.

Amanda sat with her leg shaking. She recalled why she never volunteered to do these things. She hated being the center of attention. Her costume had gone to her head and made her think she really was brave.

Noticing her jittery nervousness, Maxwell leaned forward and spoke in her ear, "Just pretend it is only us in the room."

Liam grinned at her. "Remember, your song is to me."

She nodded and stood when her name was called. She left her weapons and got on the stage. Her head was bowed in front of the microphone as she waited for her song to start. She couldn't help but think of the irony of lip synching this song in front of Maxwell.

"What do you mean her song is to you?" Drake asked.

"Her character is in love with mine. I, or rather my character doesn't know it and has a crush on someone else. That one," he pointed at a girl all in white. "Weiss is the one Juane likes, until season 3." His smile disappeared as he thought of that season. That ending still upset him.

"They kiss!" Maxwell had pulled up an image on his phone. He gritted his teeth as he looked up at Amanda. Why would they pick these two characters?

When the first piano notes were played, her head came up and she began. She started on one end of the room, acting coy with some of the other Juane's.

When she reached their table, she had relaxed and was really playing it up. She actually appeared sincere as she mouthed the rest of the lyrics. She smiled at Liam and moved around him. He in turn did the mannerisms of Juane causing cheers from the crowd.

I've been spending time wondering why,

Nothing that I do can catch your eye.

Just can't capture your attention.

Maybe I'm too tall or not your type,

But I'm not giving up, I'll get it right.

Being close to you is my intention.

I see more in you than the rest of them do

And I'm not gonna let you fall.

I'll swallow my pride, time after time,

Cause you're worth it all.

Whenever I think of you,

How I wish you only knew,

That you might be my dream come true.

But what do I have to do to make you notice me?

A girl dressed as Weiss at a nearby table began to flirt with Maxwell. Amanda narrowed her eyes and thought the timing couldn't be more perfect. She walked over to stand directly in front of the man she secretly loved with her whole heart.

Oh, know that.

You and I we would be alright,

We could dance on the roof, we could light the night.

Gotta make you see me in that way.

Why don't you,

Forget about the little chick in white?

She don't care about you and she's so uptight.

Let me put a smile on your face.

She tilted his face up and ran her gloved hand along his jaw and into his hair as she leaned down to look directly in his eyes. He swallowed nervously and placed his hand over hers.

How I wish that you knew that I'm crazy for you.

And I'm waiting by your side.

I'll get you alone,

Make you my own,

It will be divine.

She walked away, smiling at Maxwell's stunned expression. She returned to the stage and continued to work the crowd into a frenzy as they began to clap along with the last few stanzas. She ended the song by meeting Maxwell's eyes with a heartbroken face as she pleaded the sad words, "notice me?"

Once the contest ended, Amanda was announced as the winner. As she went to the stage to collect her prize, the guys all stood cheering. She was given a gift basket filled with RWBY collectibles and shirts. She promised the crowd to share it with her Juane, causing the cosplayers to laugh and applaud.

"I feel like we are stuck in some alternate dimension." Drake whispered to Maxwell.

Suddenly a loud song began making them both jump. Liam whooped. "They're playing Shine!" He jumped up and grabbed Amanda as her face lit with recognition of the song. They joined the other cosplayers and began to do some choreographed dance.

"They have a dance!" Mawell knew this was the final straw. Drake was pulling it up on his phone. "Yep, and apparently it was a pretty big deal between their characters. Why am I looking this up?! This has to be some type of contagion. We will probably lose our minds soon just like them."

Maxwell frowned and watched them dance in line. They came back, cheeks red and an arm around each other. "Can you believe this night?" Amanda yelled over the music.

"Nope. I haven't been able to believe any part of it." Drake teased. "Are we ever going to do what we originally planned?"

"I booked a room for the karaoke." Liam motioned for them to follow him.

Amanda fell into step with Maxwell and slipped her arm through his. She gave into an impulse and kissed his cheek. She leaned her head against his shoulder as they walked. "Thank you for encouraging me earlier."

His anger evaporated when he looked down at her. "Why did you and Liam choose these two out of all the characters?"

A soft smile appeared on her face. "These are who we share the most characteristics with. Juane is placed as leader of his team but doubts his ability to be the right one and struggles throughout the series. He wants to protect all he loves and is relentless in trying to make himself worthy of their faith in him. He never sees what he really is."

Maxwell nodded. "That is definitely Liam. What about yours?" His curiosity peaked as she started to blush.

"Pyrrah is one who offers encouragement to everyone. She doesn't mind being in the background yet is willing to step up when it is the right thing to do. She sees the best in those around her and tries to point it out to them."

Maxwell grinned. "That's you. Anything else you identify with?"

"Well...she did suffer with an unrequited love for Juane. I definitely know what that feels like." Amanda preceded him into the room while he paused outside. Did she mean she had been in love with someone or was in love with someone and it wasn't reciprocated? Who was it? Liam was dressed as Juane...but she lip synched some lines to directly to him. He wondered if he would ever figure it out.

#choices trr #the royal romance #trr #choices #trr maxwell #trr drake #trr liam #rwby

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door-into-summer · 5 years

Text

Rain- A Short Story

I had to visit this city. It wasn’t on most travellers’ must-see list, but I had to go, I knew that. I’d been to all the big cities, now here I was, on a train to nowhere, as far as most tourists were concerned.

The streets were nearly empty. It seemed odd, for a Saturday afternoon, even if it was a little gloomy outside. Ah, well. I suppose that simply makes sightseeing a little easier, I thought to myself. I strode down the street, in the direction of the city’s largest park. I’d been told that the fountain there was a must-see.

Whoever I’d heard that from was right. The fountain was more of an elaborate sculpture, with water gushing forth from the mouths of four dolphins. Between them was a pillar, carved with all sorts of animals. It looks lovely lit up at night. I started at the thought. Where had it come from? No one had mentioned anything about lights. I glanced around, and sure enough, lights were set in the base of the fountain, beneath the water in the pool. Little kids must enjoy playing in the water there. I could just picture them, cavorting about in the shallow water, their parents scolding them for getting their clothes wet. Shaking my head, I stood up from the bench I had been seated at. Where were all these strange thoughts coming from? I hoisted my backpack onto my back and walked in the direction of a copse of birch trees.

Just past the trees was a gate leading to another city street. I glanced at my watch. 4:00. Still plenty of time for exploring, before I needed to find a place to stay.

I chose a street at random. I walked past a couple of boutiques, not bothering to go in. It’s not like I had room in my pack for another extra set of clothes.

I was about to tear my eyes away from the shop windows when something caught my eye. It was an old guitar, but in good condition. A classical acoustic. I pushed open the shop door and went inside.

The store was packed. Not with people, I think I saw a couple other customers, but with instruments. The walls were covered with all sorts of guitars, and amps, drums, and other instruments occupied most of the floorspace.

“Hello,” someone, possibly the shopkeeper, greeted me, craning his neck to see me around a stack of assorted instrument cases. I smiled at him, then wandered further into the shop. Soon enough, I found myself standing before a display of acoustic guitars. I lifted one off its hanger, sat down on a small stool, and began to strum a melody. After a few bars, I found myself humming along. How I knew the chords to this song, I didn’t know. There were only three of them, though, so I didn’t think anything of it.

The guitar was lovely, but it wasn’t the kind of thing I could take with me on a train. I’d been travelling for a while, and I’d seen many passengers struggling with large instruments. A single glance at the price tag cemented my decision.

“Thanks for stopping by!” the shopkeeper called as I left the shop. I offered him a smile before striding back onto the sidewalk. There were even less people out than before. I continued on my way down the street.

Almost as soon as I’d left the music shop, raindrops began to fall from the sky. I didn’t bother to quicken my pace. There wasn’t anywhere I needed to be. The rain picked up quickly, and before long, I was forced to duck into a coffee shop to avoid being drenched. Pushing soaked hair out of my face, I looked around. It was a cozy little place, with art covering the walls. The chairs and tables were mismatched, but that only added to the place’s charm. The shop was empty aside from myself and the barista. It seemed a good of a place as any to wait out a rainstorm. I quickly ordered a coffee and sat down in the back corner, watching the rain. It was quite tranquil. Watching the rain is one of the most soothing things, I mused.

After a few minutes, I got up and began to walk through the shop, gazing at the art on the wall. There were paintings, drawings, collages, you name it. A sign informed me that they were all created by local artists. I circled around the shop, until I was back to the counter. One picture stood out from the rest. It was a small photograph of a smiling kid. They had long hair and wore wire-framed glasses. It didn’t have a title, or the photographer’s name. Still, they seemed familiar.

I looked over to the barista, who sheepishly shut her book.

“Who’s that in the photograph?” I asked, gesturing to the portrait.

She looked askance. “That’s the boss’s kid. They went missing a while back.”

“Oh,” was all I had to offer. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t know them.”

Sensing the awkwardness, I made my way back to my table. The rain was still coming down in sheets. A song started to play over the speakers, but I wasn’t listening to the lyrics in my reverie. I wondered about that poor kid. I could hear the singer’s voice coming through the speakers, singing one word- rain. The word was drawn out, almost beyond recognition.

I don’t mind

Shine

The weather’s fine.

Something clicked in my mind. It was the song I’d played at the music shop- the song that I’d listened to with my sister- my sister who I used to play with in the fountain in the park- the park my family always went for picnics in the summer-

My family.

That was me in the picture. Two years ago, before I cut my hair. When I still bothered to wear my glasses. How long had it been since I’d really looked in a mirror?

I remembered it all. I was travelling for a year, before going to the university. The concussion I’d gotten in the crash, and the amnesia that had followed. I’d just kept going, continuing on my sightseeing trip, no end goal in mind. I hadn’t sent a letter to my family for-

My family.

How could I forget? Mom, dad, Elle, Connor, they must have had no idea what happened to me. I didn’t have a mobile phone, and I’d lost my I.D. a few days prior to that, no wonder I didn’t have anyone to call.

How was I going to get back? I questioned. Sunlight was streaming through the window, reflecting off of puddles in the street.

“That’s the boss’s kid,” I recalled the barista saying. I shot up out of my seat and rushed over to the counter. “Can I have your boss’s number, and do you have a phone I could use?” The words came out breathless.

“Um, yeah,” she replied, reaching for the phone. Then she hesitated. “Why do you want to call them?”

“I need to talk to my parents.”

#original story #rain #my writing #i've never posted my writing before #so here goes nothing

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idabbleincrazy · 6 years

Text

Invisible Touch Ch.5

Pairing: Gabriel x Reader

Word Count: 2614

Warnings: um...pining?, like seriously, you might end up screaming “just kiss already!” other than that none that i can think of.

Summary: y/n and Gabriel go to a bar in town and its karaoke day.

A/N: I know I said I might do a time skip but this happened instead (gotta follow the muse where it goes, right?) and tough as it was to write, I had fun writing it. Song is from Moulin Rouge (if u have never seen it, u should!) Quotations in italics are the lyrics. I truly hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Y/f/a/d= your favorite alcoholic drink

You had finished your lunch with Gabriel without incident, finally able to have a conversation that didn’t leave you fumbling for words or wanting to flee in embarrassment. He had been quiet at first, watching you eat for a few minutes, and you had started to feel self-conscious. Thankfully, just as you could feel the flush starting to rise to your cheeks, he began talking. He didn’t further explain this morning’s upset, and you were loathe to bring it up either, so you decided to just let it go. The two of you carried on, talking about this and that, every now and then Gabriel reaching across the table to take a fry from your plate, dipping it into the chocolate frosty he had snapped up.

When you had finished eating, you continued to talk for about an hour, till you got a call from Sam asking you to go look up something in the library. You excused yourself and went to go find the book Sam had named. You quickly found the book, which was just within your reach and spent the next twenty minutes flipping through the pages and relaying the information, stopping every now and then to send him pictures of symbols that you couldn’t quite interpret. After hanging up, you put the book back and went back to the war room, slightly surprised to see Gabriel was still there.

“Boys need help with their homework” Gabe questioned, an almost annoyed smirk on his face.

“Yeah, seems they came across an older nest of vamps than they’ve encountered before. Sam said they’re stronger than the others they’ve fought, even the ones that aren’t pureblood. They got half of them before the rest made their escape. It might take an extra day to track down the rest.”

You sat back down at the table, propping your feet up. You considered something for a moment before speaking again. “You know, I’m getting kinda bored just sitting around here, want to go do something?”

“Like what?” Gabriel looked at you cautiously.

“Well, it’s five o’clock, somewhere right? How about we go to a bar, there’s one in town we haven’t been to yet.” You cocked an eyebrow at him as you spoke, wanting desperately to get out of the bunker for a while.

“Uh, sure. We taking one of the cars from the garage, or would you rather I just zap us there?”

“It would probably be best if you took us there. That way I don’t have to worry about driving back”, you respond, getting up from your chair to pull your phone from your pocket.

You quickly look up the address of the bar and an inconspicuous place for Gabriel to snap you to. You hand him your phone to look at the map and make your way around the table to where he is now standing. He hands you back your phone and grabs ahold of the sleeve of your shirt, careful not to brush against your skin, lest he cause another spark from the contact. You close your eyes as you feel reality shift around, and when you open them again you are standing in the alley behind the bar. The two of you walk around to the front of the building, Gabriel’s hand lingering on your sleeve, the warmth from his touch slowly sinking through the layer of fabric.

You walk in and stand in the doorway for a few seconds as your vision adjusts to the sudden dimness. As you look around, you are surprised by the rather sizable crowd in the bar. It may be Saturday, but its barely 2:30 in the afternoon, you weren't expecting the town to have so many day-drinkers. The bar is rather large, bigger than the other two you had already gone to with the boys.

As you and Gabriel head up to the bar, you notice why the place is livelier than you thought it would be. Set up at the back of the building is a stage with a banner over it reading Karaoke Saturday. When you get to the counter, you find a flyer and quickly scan it for the start time. It started in a hour. You figure all the early birds are getting a head-start on fueling up on liquid courage.

You order a (y/f/a/d) and Gabriel orders a Purple Nurple, at which you just shake your head, having heard the story of how the boys first met Gabe over a decade ago. He slams back the shot, orders another and tells the bartender to keep them coming as you go to find an empty booth. Gabriel sits down, handing you your drink as he sets down his second shot along with the beer he ordered. You quirk an eyebrow up at him.

“You never cease to surprise me, Gabe. Beer and a drink that’s basically a cranberry-vodka? Neither of those are particularly sweet. I’d have figured you'd order something with an umbrella.”

“Nah. When it comes to drinks, the simpler the better. ‘Sides, it takes a lot more for me to even feel a buzz, remember?” He took a swig from the beer, letting out a contented sigh as he set it back down and looked at you.

You nodded at him in slight wonder and took a sip of your drink. You noted that the bartender hadn't skimped on the alcohol like most other places do. You made a note to yourself not to drink too much too fast. Didn't want to go making a fool of yourself, now did you?

-------------------------------

An hour and two drinks later, you were feeling well relaxed as a man got up on the stage and announced the start of the karaoke, calling up the first person on the list. As the music started, you couldn't help but smirk as you recognized the beginning of The Offspring’s ‘You’re Gonna Go Far Kid’. It was one of the songs that never failed to make you think of Gabriel. You looked over at him to find him considering the stage with a wistful smile on his face.

You went up to the bar to get another drink, letting the music surround you. The guy singing wasn't half-bad, and it sounded nearly as good as the original. By the time you got your drink and headed back to the booth, the next person headed up to the stage. The opening guitar work of Pat Benatar’s ‘Invincible' rang out from the speakers as you sat down.

The power of the music and your third drink thrummed in your veins, making you bolder than you had thought possible at the moment. You considered yourself for a second before turning your attention to Gabriel.

“Hey, Gabe, you ever done karaoke”, you asked the archangel, a nervous flutter running through your chest.

“Of course”, he replied. “Hard to spend so many centuries down here and avoid that gem of human creation. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was wondering if you'd like to do a duet with me”, you asked with hope in your eyes.

“Huh. Sure, cupcake. What did you have in mind?”

You flashed him a quick smile as you got up to find the sign-up sheet. “It's a surprise. If you don't know the words already, I'm sure you can just snap them into your memory.”

You signed the both of you up and went back to the booth, determined to be just buzzed enough to push back any lingering doubts and fears by the time they called your names. Over the course of the next half hour, you finished off your drink and two shots of whiskey, feeling pleasantly tipsy but still sober enough to talk without slurring. Your nervousness abated, you watched Gabriel closely as he consumed more Purple Nurples. As the current song faded, you straightened up and prepared yourself mentally, knowing you were next on the list.

The man came back on stage and called out your names. Gabriel got up first and reached a hand out to you to help you out of the booth. As your hands touched, instead of the electric shock you had experienced this morning, you felt a tickling warmth spreading from his hand to yours and up, throughout your body. You smiled up at him and the two of you made your way up to the stage.

The man in charge handed you your microphones and you waited for the song to start. As the name of the song appeared on the screen, Gabriel let out a small laugh and looked over at you. “Really, sugar?”

“What, it's one of my favorite movies! It makes a perfect duet.” You crinkled your nose and held in a giggle.

The two of you turned to face the bar patrons as the words to “Elephant Love Medley” showed up on the screen.

Hoping the crowd was buzzed enough not to care that the beginning of the song was more talking then singing, Gabriel began, taking of course, the part of Christian, while you would be his Satine.

“Love is many, splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love.” His voice carried through the speakers, a voice that at the same time as being non-threatening, commanded to be listened to.

You gulped and quickly put on the British accent that you were quite proud of as you spoke out your part. “Please, don't start that again.”

Back and forth you went as the music kicked in. When the time came to actually sing, he turned to face you. You noticed he was acting just like Christian did in the movie, right down to the hand gestures, so you decided to do the same. Chuck knows, you've watched the movie enough times to have Satine’s part memorized.

You turned away from him at the line “You crazy fool, I won't give in to you” and back again at his spoken “Don't”, now fully immersed in the performance. What you hadn't expected was the way your heart clenched as you looked into his eyes as he softly sang out “dont leave me this way”. You took a breath as you quickly prepared for the next verse, praying your voice wouldn't be as shaky as you suddenly felt.

“You'd think that people would've had enough of silly love songs.” You managed to squeak out, thankful that this part of the song was softly sung in the movie too.

“I look around me and I see it isn't so, oh no.” Gabriel took a step toward you as he sang.

“Some people wanna fill the world with silly love songs.” Breathe in, breathe out, don’t look him in the eye.

Another step. “Well, what’s wrong with that”, step, “I’d like to know”, step, his hand reaching out to you and caressing your chin, nudging your face up to look at him, “’cause here I go, again.”

As his verse continued, you could feel the warmth from his touch spreading through you once more, your nervousness ebbing away and your heartbeat calming again. You stared back at him, leaning in to his touch, your resolve to see this through hardening. Smirking, you sang back at him.

“Love makes us act like we are fools. Throw our lives away, for one happy day.”

“We can be heroes”, he belted out, his hand sliding away from your chin, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Just for one day.”

Slipping back into the scene you were playing out, you turn away from him, shaking your head. “You, you will be mean.”

“No, I won’t.”

“And I, I’ll drink all the time!” You prepared for the next few lines, reminding yourself it was just a song, he was just performing for the crowd.

“We should be lovers”, he crooned.

“We can’t do that.” You looked back at him, your head cast downward, looking up at him through your lashes.

“We should be lo-oo-overs,” Gabriel grabbed your hand, pulling you around to face him, caught up in the song just as much as you were. “And that’s a fact.”

“No, nothing would keep us together.”

“We could steal time, just for one day.” The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine as you continued singing to each other, forgetting that there was anyone else in the room.

“We could be heroes, forever and ever”, your voices joined together in a delicious harmony that would’ve given Nicole and Ewan a run for their money.

As the operatic crescendo built up around you, you felt your heart thumping loudly in your chest and you could feel a tingle of electricity coming from his hand again. This time, it didn’t shock either of you but instead was gentle and soothing. Neither of you noticed when the music ended. You just stared at each other until the noise of the applauding crowd broke through and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding. You smiled at Gabriel and quickly ducked your head as you felt a blush rising to your cheeks.

“Gabriel and (y/n), everybody!” The announcer came back on stage to retrieve your mics and the two of you headed back to your booth.

“Wowzers, (y/n), I had no idea you could sing like that! You should do it more often.” Gabriel looked at you warmly as you sat down. “Let me go get you something to drink, you must be parched after that performance. Another one of those?” He gestured at your empty glass.

“No, I’ll have a beer this time, thanks Gabe.”

As he went to get the drinks, you took the moment alone to contemplate the craziness that had just occurred. You were ecstatic that nothing had gone wrong up on stage, you had gotten through it without completely embarrassing yourself. But, those looks Gabriel had given you had thrown you for a loop. You were wary not to get your hopes up that the lyrics of the song had meant the same to him as they had to you. You were glad that the two of you were able to finally get along and didn’t want to push the issue and end up ruining everything again. Unfortunately, you also had a nagging curiosity about why his touch no longer shocked you, but still emitted a type of energy you hadn’t yet encountered with other angels. It might be because he was an archangel, but you had a feeling it went deeper than that.

You were brought back from your thoughts as you saw Gabriel coming back with the beers, and you smiled at him as he handed you one of them. “You know, you were pretty awesome yourself, up there. I guess I should’ve expected it though, seeing as how you are the archangel of languages.”

“Heh. Well, someone’s done their homework, haven’t they? And, yes, singing happens to be one of my many talents.” He flashed his flirty smirk and raised his eyebrow.

The two of you drank your beers and listened to the next three performers in silence, this time just enjoying each other’s presence, no trace of the normal awkwardness you usually felt. After you finished, you asked Gabriel to snap you back home, not wanting to travel past the mellow buzz you felt into the nauseously drunk category. Gabriel went and paid the tab and you walked out and back around to the alley you had arrived in. Once again, you closed your eyes as reality bent around you, waiting till you felt ground firmly beneath your feet before opening them again.

Gabe’s Babes: @liloldlou @calamitychaos

Rich’s Bitches: @warlockwriter @archangelgabriellives @green-draws0 @waywardtricks @hankypranky @briars-glenn @thewhiterabbit42

Invisible Touch: @somewhatnatural @missihart23 @whodoesntlovefanfics @baritonechick @nobodys-baby-now @marichromatic @black-angel-bahamut

tags are still open.

#invisible touch #ch.5 #gabriel x reader #spn #gabriel #gabe #gabe x reader #spn fanfic

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sealegs2414blankpages · 7 years

Text

OSFTSB ~ Ch. 3 Reminisce

Stretching as much as one could on a couch, Yoongi opened his eyes to see another day. His first thoughts unsurprisingly were on the man occupying his bed. Yoongi sat up and ran his hand through his bleached blonde locks a few times before shoving the blanket off completely and standing up. He looked around but didn’t see anyone. Perhaps Jungkook was still sleeping. As if he needed that. It was already bad enough that last night had maybe gazed upon the younger as he slept soundly wrapped up in his sheets for a few moments. A few moments being almost twenty minutes. That was much too long but once his feet had taken him from his bathroom, had drank too much water before bed, and planted themselves on the side of his bed he couldn’t seem to move. It was too easy to get lost in his thoughts and much too easy to take in more of face of a friend that he hadn’t seen in years. A face that he never thought he would ever have to go without seeing at one point in time. A face that belonged to the man who made him feel more than any other person ever had before.

Ignoring his bedroom, he didn’t want to get caught in an awkward position, he walked into the kitchen. Sitting along the bar top was a plate with breakfast already made. His mug was next to the plate, waiting for coffee to be poured into it. A small note was placed next to both, scribbled in handwriting that could only be from one person. Did he leave? That was odd, generally, Yoongi would have to kick the kid out of his apartment but… things were different now. It was something he had to keep reminding himself even though they met again for less than 24 hours. He probably would have to for the next week with or without seeing Jungkook again.

Yoongi hyung,

I wanted to thank you for taking me in last night. I appreciate it more than you know. I tried to make you breakfast since I didn’t want to wake you but you only had eggs and teriyaki spam? in your kitchen. What even is spam? Uh, I probably shouldn’t have written that when I cooked it for you. I promise it tastes good… Maybe… Good luck! Coffee is in the pot and your favorite mug is at the ready. Thank you again. If you ever need anything, call me.

Jungkook

P.S. If you don’t have it, here’s my number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

If it tastes like shit, it’s not my fault ;)

And there it was that one sentence that made Yoongi’s breath hitch, catching in his throat making him at a loss on how to exhale nor inhale.

If you ever need anything, call me.

Call me.

A hand was extended, previously Yoongi would call it a lifeline but it’s not. He can live just fine without Jungkook, he has been for the last couple of years. He’s known Jungkook since he was eight and they moved to the same neighborhood. They lost contact in school a little bit here and there but not enough to ever lose contact completely or not have the others phone number. Even though Yoongi had cut off contact he had never deleted Jungkook’s phone number. Unless the younger had changed it, he could still contact him. In fact, he almost had a multitude of times. Generally, Namjoon would take his phone away, shaking his head and grumbling and Yoongi thanked him for those moments. The first year was extremely hard but time heals everything doesn’t it?

Sliding onto the barstool, Yoongi picked up the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. It wasn’t hot but it was still warm enough to drink. He re-read the note and couldn’t help but laugh at the way Jungkook’s mind went in so many different directions, exposing himself when he didn’t have to. It was just like the younger. Nothing had changed.

“Why is he so cute?”

He spoke quietly into the air, as his eyes read over the note yet again. Letting out a sigh, he pushed the note to the side and stared at the breakfast that had been made for him. It at least looked edible. The eggs weren’t burnt, they were fluffy yellow eggs. Hm, did he have milk too? It wasn’t as if Yoongi didn’t know what was in his fridge but… he didn’t know what was in his fridge. He hadn’t really been home much the past week, holing up in his studio that he finally was able to acquire a few months ago.

He poked at the teriyaki spam a few times before finally picking it up with his chopsticks and trying it. Chewing the smallest bit, he decided that it wasn’t half bad but also didn’t see the appeal. How was this an American staple? That’s what Namjoon had said as he tossed it in the cart. He was going to have to ask his friend later. The spam had been in his pantry for awhile but tasted fine enough.

Yoongi didn’t finish every speck of food on his plate because Jungkook had cooked him a meal but because he didn’t like food going to waste. With his dishes washed and put away, Yoongi made his way back to the living room to grab his phone hopefully before his alarm went off. He certainly had chosen the most obnoxious alarm there was and it did it’s job. Swiping his iPhone from the coffee table, he quickly turned the impending alarm off and opened up his messages.

Joon 8:02am: Don’t forget I need you here by 9:30

Okay, dad. That’s what Yoongi wanted to reply but didn’t. Instead he replied with,

Me 8:41am: Spam can’t possibly be an American staple.

Scrolling through the rest of his notification, his bare feet padded across the cool hardwood floor to his soft carpeted bedroom. The blonde’s phone vibrated in his hand a moment later. Joon scrolling across the top in notification.

Joon 8:42am: It is dude.

Wait did you finally eat it? Isn’t it like a year old?

Pulling out jeans and a graphic tee, he quickly changed and grabbed the nearest beanie. He didn’t have any fucks to give about his hair. Especially not since he slept on it wet and was sure it looked pretty awful. Picking up his phone from the dresser, he clicked on his friend’s message and promptly snorted. Why the hell else would he randomly mention spam...but had it really been a year? Fuck. He really needed to go to the grocery store. Tonight. He would go tonight.

Shoving his phone in the front pocket of his black jeans, he tugged on his beanie once more before grabbing his keys off the nightstand, slipping on his Air Jordan’s and out the door. Namjoon had been requesting his help with some tracks for a project he had been working on. It was something he only did in his spare time between his own gig at the radio station, his own composing and from time to time a show. It was becoming less and less frequent that he actually did shows at clubs but every now and then or when he had some good new material he’d make an appearance.

Namjoon and him had a few places in their old stomping ground that let them do a set almost whenever they wanted. It was a good time and helped to keep his skills sharp. There would never be anything remotely similar to the feeling on standing on stage, bright lights on you obscuring your view, the heat of the crowd wafting over you tinged with the electricity of their energy from their screams. Nothing could compare, a type of high that was certainly better than any drug he had ever tried back in the day. However, work was work and as much passion as he had for the stage he had in music in general. The way he was living now was good. He was able to do what he loved and still make a comfortable living. No, he wasn’t in some million dollar skyrise but when he often lived in his studio more than his own apartment, that was very unnecessary.

Striding through their studio door, Yoongi kicked the door behind him with his foot and handed over one of the coffees occupying his two hands.

“Did you kill me with that spam?” he grumbled to the man that was hunched over the desk scribbling in his notebook. The laptop was open next to the man but he was still putting pen to paper. Waving the coffee in his friends face, the younger looked up and took the coffee with a nod of thanks.

“So, you did eat it. Nah, you'll be fine. That stuff like never goes bad.”

Yoongi eyed him quietly for a moment as he parked himself on the other chair that was to the left of Namjoon. Crossing his right leg over his left he hummed.

“We know who is responsible if I do.”

Namjoon chuckled before taking a sip of his hot coffee and then leaning his elbow on the desk.

“I’m just surprised you actually cooked for yourself this early in the morning.”

Averting his gaze, Yoongi became interested in the lyrics that Namjoon had just been scribbling so furiously. He grunted in reply but that unfortunately wasn’t enough to fool the younger. They had been friends for much too long for either one of the two men to not know when they were hiding something or not revealing all the details. Sitting up straighter in his chair, Namjoon turned towards his hyung and pinned him with a knowing gaze.

“You cooked for someone?”

He asked the question with rising interest and extra emphasis on the word, someone. Yoongi wished there was a way to escape this, which may have been why he was pulling down on his beanie even more. As if it would be able to hide his entire being and end this conversation. He muttered a no, lips brushing against the straw of his Americano. More coffee he didn’t need but felt that he needed to exist.

“Wait… someone cooked you breakfast? Who?” A large hand clapped Yoongi on the back and sent him rocking forward but not enough to launch him from his seat.

“Min Yoongi finally got some. It’s been how many years now. So, who is she? He?”

Hacking up a lung, Yoongi tried to prevent himself from dying. The mention of his non-existent sex life had sent the bitter liquid down the wrong pipe. He really didn’t need a reminder as to how boring his life is or more like he didn’t want to have this discussion with Joon again. For some reason the younger is always worrying about him and being “all pent up” to which Yoongi would always grimace at. He was fine. He didn’t need to fuck around all the time to remain a human being. Though he couldn’t deny that on some days perhaps if he had he wouldn’t be quite as much as a grump as was.

Waving his hand as indication that Namjoon was wrong, the blonde's eyes squeezed shut as he felt the burn in the back of his throat, coughing a few more times before regaining himself once again.

“No? You didn’t get some? Then what the fuck are you cooking that old as fuck spam for?”

Oddly enough, this comment and Namjoon’s incredulous face just made him laugh. His deep yet soft chuckle filled the space between them. He picked up the notebook that Namjoon was writing in and tapped the page.

“Can’t we just work on this. It’s nothing important.” His words were tinged with just the slightest whine but even that didn’t stop Namjoon. Instead it earned him a lack of response. Tossing the notebook back down he turned to look at his best friend. Well, shit.. He had that look, the one that said I’m not doing anything until we talk about this.

“Maybe I should have added some Bailey’s into this.” Yoongi grumbled to himself, luckily for him Namjoon couldn’t hear because he would have gotten a smack for that. The gaze intensified before the younger sat back in his seat and let out a sigh.

“Jungkook-ah made it. It’s all I had in the house, you know I haven’t been home for days.”

Yoongi rambled more than necessary but he couldn’t help it. He was nervous. The last time they had a conversation about Jeon Jungkook. Well, it hadn’t ended well. Not at all. They didn’t speak for three days which is a record because they generally hear from the other at least once a day. He silently cursed himself for letting the fondness slip out in his voice when he spoke the younger's name.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

Yoongi nodded.

“Our Jeon Jungkook?”

Not daring to look into Namjoon’s eyes, he stared at the words on the page that were just blurring together.

“Mm…”

If crickets were active at 9:30 in the morning then you would be able to hear them in the studio right now. It was dead silent and the longer it stretched the more that Yoongi itched to move. Now he wished in his morning stumble that he hadn’t text the other about the spam. He could feel those deep brown eyes of Namjoon’s peering at him. It was unnerving because he knew that the younger was trying to reign in his emotions. For the most part Namjoon was a very calm soul but, there was always something that pushed another. In this case, Jungkook was his button. Don’t get him wrong, Namjoon also adored Jungkook like a younger brother but said younger brother wasn’t supposed to play with his best friends feelings like a dog toy. Or something like that Namjoon had said to Yoongi before.

“Why was he at your place? I thought you didn’t see him anymore, nor talk to him.”

If anyone were to barge into the studio they would think that the two men were having a lover's spat. It certainly sounded like it, the barely restrained anger in Namjoon’s voice and Yoongi shrinking back at it. He finally looked up and met his best friend’s angry yet worried gaze.

“He was crying Joon-ah. Not once but twice. How could I- I couldn’t turn him away. It’s over though, he left this morning and that’s that.” The blonde felt like he was pleading with his best friend and in a way he kind of was. Pleading with him to calm down and not jump to the conclusions that he could feel the other wanting to jump to but was clinging so hard not to.

The other man took in three calming deep breaths before saying anything more to the one person he cared about more than anyone besides his mother. He placed a hand on Yoongi’s knee and the anger was receding but the worry became ever more present.

“Hyung, you can’t do this again-”

“Do what? I haven’t done anything, Joon!” He didn’t want nor need a lecture right now. Yoongi knew that the younger cared but this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to travel down again. They had been there three years ago, it was shitty then and even worse now.

“Hyung, you know this is how it starts. It’s how it always starts. He runs to you whenever life hits a speed bump, you patch him up and then he ignores your feelings all over again. Don’t put yourself through it again.”

Knocking Namjoon’s hand off his knee, emotion broils in his gut and now he’s the one to needs to find a way to keep his cool. His best friend meant well, he knew that he did but he’s skipping so far ahead in a timeline that’s not even close to that. It’s been three years and Yoongi’s done everything to cut Jungkook out and move on with his life, doesn’t that count for something? Shouldn’t that build some trust that he’s not going to fall into the same trap as before.

“It’s been three years, three fucking years. I’ve cut him out, I didn’t seek him out. Why are you acting like I’m some pathetic groupie that can’t get over a one night stand with their idol?! Do you really have so little faith in me? Shit.” Pushing his chair forcefully out from him, Yoongi stood up and strode across the room so he didn’t have to look at his friend as he pulled off his beanie and threw it onto the couch.

“You’re right, it’s been three years Yoongs and you haven’t so much as had a single relationship that lasted more than a few weeks and don’t you dare lie to me about the reason as to why those ended.”

Namjoon turned his chair around to face his hyung’s back. Neither said anything. Yoongi couldn’t. He knew very well the reason his relationships had failed. He’d never been fully invested in the first place. It was a means to get a certain someone off his back. Those had worked sort of but now it was just being thrown in his face.

A loud sigh sounded from the man sitting down,

“Look, I do have faith in you hyung but he has some type of pull over you that nothing can break. I don’t think i can pick up your pieces again. I don’t think you can either. Please… be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

Yoongi ran a hand through his blonde locks, taking one breath at a time and finding a way to calm himself once more. Namjoon and him rarely fought but they always fought about Jungkook. What the younger had said wasn’t wrong. He would always give his all to Jungkook, they were close and in ways they seemed like a couple. It was easy to blur the lines and hope for more but it was never anything more. Yoongi was the only one who got hurt, always just him. It honestly was the way he preferred it but that still didn’t make it sting any less.

“I care about you, hyung.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I care about you too. Let just work on those lyrics you got, huh?” He turned around and found his chair again. Pulling it up closer to the desk and picking up his Americano that he had left on the desk in the midst of his rage earlier.

“Alright, I think it’s pretty good but this hook is is lacking something.”

A long finger pointed to the section he was talking about and Yoongi nodded before reading over it for the third time that morning.

“You don’t have his number right?”

“Joon.” Yoongi’s fingers tapped the same spot on the page in warning.

“Alright, alright. I never asked. What do you think?”

The next four hours were spent uninterrupted in the studio and Yoongi would be there for even longer.

Pressing his key into the slot of the lock on his paint peeing green apartment door, Jungkook bit into his bottom lip. The entire way home he couldn’t help but wonder if he had made the right choice. It was honestly too late to be worrying about what was already done. Seeing his hyung again had been a rollercoaster of emotions. However, he welcomed those emotions in comparison to the ones that his ex had left him with.

A part of him would always be happy to see Yoongi. They were such close friends and he never wanted that friendship to end in the first place. It was his fault though, he knew that, understood that. It had taken him much too long to realize that older man didn’t think of him as just as friend. Or didn’t want to anymore. That he had been silently waiting, hoping for things to progress and in some ways they did progress. The two certainly had moments that their friendship bordered going into a new direction. Even still they were so innocent that they could be overlooked and that was exactly what Jungkook had done. Overlooked Yoongi and his feelings.

One could say that, Yoongi had never properly confessed but that would just be another excuse to make himself feel better. There had been plenty of signs, there had been plenty of people telling him as well that his hyung liked him as more than just a friend and maybe it wasn’t ideal but Yoongi had made himself very clear that one night that everything unraveled for them.

“I can’t do this anymore Jungkook-ah.” The words came out in a shuddering breath, so quiet that the Jungkook could almost wonder if he was just imagining the words.

“Do what?”

His stomach rolled over, an odd type of fear and nerves twisted inside of him and hung there like a brick. The way his hyung wasn’t looking at him, the way he spoke those words scared him.

“This! Us! Friendship!” The explosion of words caught the younger off guard as the explosion of words contrasted so much from the quiet words that were spoken just a moment ago. The second that Yoongi raised his eyes to Jungkook’s it was like the dam had broke and all of his emotions flooded out. The amount that those obsidian eyes could hold felt limitless and Jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t take a step back because they scared him.

“Hyung?”

His words stuck to his throat, he couldn’t finish them let alone form them. What exactly was he going to say? Jungkook didn’t know, he couldn’t think full sentences. All he could do was stare at the eyes that were practically crying out to him to understand, to notice, to finally notice just what the other was doing to his hyung.

“I can’t watch you be with another person who treats you like crap and have you run to me. I can’t help you. I-I can’t watch the way your eyes light up for another… I can’t continue this in between t-thing. Whatever the fuck that is?! I c-can’t just be your rock anymore.”

The words were cryptic but as clear as ice. Jungkook knew what his hyung was saying, it was obvious. So painfully obvious. The way Yoongi was staring at him, like he was the source of his pain but that he would also take that pain tenfold spoke volumes. It was what the other had been doing all along. Reaching out, he went to take his hyung’s hand only to have it snatched away.

“D-don’t touch me. Don’t pretend that you don’t know what that means for me.”

Jungkook stared down at his hand and then the one that Yoongi yanked away as if he was some demon. It would have hurt if Jungkook didn’t feel so numb. So much information was being shoved at him from all different facets and it was too much. He loved his hyung, but he had never seen him in any other light than friendship. Everything his friends had said were right. And to think he had just laughed it off. Laughed about how Yoongi and him could never be in a relationship right in front of him, that it was the funniest thing he had heard. Jungkook had been cruel.

“I care about you hyung.”

“I know you do Jungkook-ah… but not like that right? Never like that.”

The sadness that was reverberating off of Yoongi, wasn’t something that Jungkook could ignore this time. It held him in it’s grips and kept him frozen. He couldn’t utter a single word. All he could do is stare at his hyung who was bleeding in front of him and wish that he had the answers. Pretend that he didn’t see how those eyes threatened to water, something the elder had only allowed him to see but not anymore.

Jungkook took a step forward and Yoongi a step back. Then another step back and another. Finally, the silence that stretched between them, building a wall that Jungkook couldn’t break down let alone stop it from building.

“It’s okay. I didn’t expect you to anyway. I meant what I said though. I can’t do this anymore.”

Yoongi wouldn’t look at him, Jungkook wanted him to but the reason why was selfish. He knew that if Yoongi would just raise his eyes, that he’d take those words back. That they could fix this and go back to how things were. He willed the elder to but Yoongi didn’t. Instead he turned away.

“I wish you happiness, it’s all I’ve ever truly wanted for you. Sorry, Jungkook-ah.”

The click of the door was the last thing that Jungkook heard and what snapped him back to the present .

“Finally!”

The loud baritone voice made Jungkook jump and he quickly wiped at his eye in hopes of removing any evidence of the rocky emotional state he was in. Turning towards the right, his apartment was small. As soon as you walked in the door you had the kitchen to the left, living room to the right, further ahead was a very small dining room right next to the kitchen and if you walked through the living room to the right there was a hallway with two bedrooms and one bathroom.The nice thing was he had a balcony. His place to escape from life and enter his own little world. His best friend was promptly on his couch, arm hanging along the back of it with him looking up at Jungkook. The flickering of images from the TV could be seen but the volume had been muted as soon as the owner walked through the door.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have given you a set of keys.”

Taehyung scoffed as he waved the younger over. Jungkook rubbed his jaw before tossing his keys and wallet onto the small table at the entranceway, trudging over sullenly. He wasn’t looking forward to this chat but maybe he should have replied to the other earlier and then he wouldn’t have to.

“Where’d you go last night? Not h-” Immediately Jungkook interjected with a firm,

“No.”

Widening his eyes slightly, the raven haired man patted the empty space on the couch next to him. Jungkook sunk right into the cushion and let out a long sigh.

“O-kay, so not there… then where? You don’t really do one night stands even though I’ve told you over and over you should get your rocks off some. It’s a great way, no strings and they leave immediately after or morning of if you like to snuggle. You’re totally a snuggler. I mean any time we sleep together it’s like trying to get out of a choke hold-”

“Tae... “ Jungkook raised his hand in motion to stop his friend from continuing his ramblings. The man always got distracted so easily.

“Why do you think I got laid anyway? It’s been a few days.”

“Right, it’s been a few days so you might need-” A hand covered Taehyung’s mouth and Jungkook looked at his friend incredulous, where did he get this type of sexual appetite from and why was he projecting it onto him? Sometimes he really couldn’t handle Taehyung.

“Since the break… break up. Is your mind always in the gutter?” He removed his hand and was shaking his head in disbelief. Looking a little sheepish, Taehyung shrugged his shoulders.

“I know what works for me but really Kookie. I know you needed some time alone but I’m worried about you.”

“I know, Tae. I know. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just didn’t want to talk and I know you’re still curious so no I really didn’t go home with anyone last night.” He paused as the words that just left his mouth played again in his mind, that wasn’t quite true.

“I mean I went home with someone but nothing happened.”

Taehyung began twirling a strand of his hair around his finger as he stared mouth agape at his friend. Trying to decipher what that just meant. Jungkook stretched out his legs and threw his head back on the couch. Another conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted to start with his best friend but he didn’t really have much of a choice.

“Who the hell would take you home but not fuck you, except me and your mom?”

Jungkook grimaced at the mention of his mother in the same sentence of him being fucked. Sometimes the other really didn’t think about his words before saying them.

“Ew. Please for the love of god and everything holy do not ever include my mom in the same sentence of me fucking. Ew, ew, ew.”

Pressing his cheek into the couch, Jungkook opened an eye and stared at his friend who looked genuinely regretful over those words.

“It sounded better in my head.”

“Everything does.” He grumbled only to receive Taehyung’s fingers on his left nipple through his shirt, twisting it. Jungkook smacked his hand hard.

“Fuck Tae, that hurt!”

“Good.” The giggles that came from Taehyung were unfortunately infectious and a second later Jungkook was laughing too. The elder certainly was one of the most unique people that Jungkook knew but he was also one of the most caring. He was really lucky to have the man in his life.

“Really, though who would take you home and not fuck you… unless it’s Yoongi hyung… Hmm…” Taehyung was doing what he did best, speaking his thoughts aloud, not really expecting an answer. Except, Jungkook became very quiet. So quiet that he was trying to silence his breathing without actually not breathing. It took a moment but Taehyung raised his eyes up to the younger and tilted his head to the side as he peered curiously at Jungkook.

“Kookie… what aren’t you telling me? Fuck! It was really Yoongi hyung? Shit?! How is he? Was he wearing that leather jacket he always used to wear? Man, he was hot in that leather jacke-”

“Hyung!”

A large hand waved in front of the elders face, to hopefully bring his back down to earth. It caught his attention enough to stop rambling and really look at his friend again.

“Yeah, it was Yoongi hyung and he’s fine I guess?” It came out as a question because neither of them really talked much about how they were presently. And… well, obviously Jungkook wasn’t doing so hot at the moment.

“He looked good, lost some weight I think. No leather jacket. He’s blonde. Like really blonde, almost platinum. It suits him oddly. A lot, it suits him a lot.” As he brought to mind the image of Yoongi he had been with not too long ago, his eyes looked dreamlike and Taehyung smiled as he gazed at his best friend. Placing a hand on the younger’s through brought his attention back to the present and the person in front of him.

“You missed him, huh?”

Jungkook quietly contemplated the question. Rolling around the words missed him on his tongue. The couch dipped as he repositioned himself, moving Taehyung’s hand and laying his head in his hyung’s lap.

“Mm…”

It was the most of an answer that Taehyung was going to get and for once he didn’t pry. His hand instantly went to the younger's head as he threaded his fingers through the golden brown locks. It was quiet for a few moments, Taehyung let his friend get lost in his thoughts and he traveled down his own.The two men could lie like that for hours, Taehyung had a habit where he had to be touching someone at all times just about if they were close enough friends. He specifically loved playing with another's hair. It had gotten him in trouble when he was in grade school not noticing that he kept playing with the girl’s hair that sat in front of him every day.

“You came back pretty early, was it too awkward?”

Jungkook’s eyes had long closed, as the tendrils of peace relaxed every muscle of his body from his head down to the tips of his toes. He loved having someone run their fingers through his hair. Maybe it stemmed from his childhood, where his mother would do so from time to time, especially when he couldn’t fall asleep. Jungkook wasn’t really sure but it relaxed him in a way that nothing else could quite match.

“Kind of? I mean at first but-”

“You were thinking too much again.”

The brunettes chest shook with mild laughter, his best friend knew him too well. He nodded in reply and began biting his bottom lip. A nervous tick he could never seem to break. Taehyung’s large hand stopped playing with Jungkook’s hair and cupped his face, thumb caressing his cheek.

“I felt...feel. I feel bad you know. I was completely selfish, again, last night. I shouldn’t have gone there.” He inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. Trying to push down all the feelings of guilt that were rushing over him once more. The man hummed to let the other know that he was listening and it was okay to continue when he was ready.

“But Tae, he just welcomed me in. No questions… heh, well there were questions but you know how hyung is. He didn’t pry.”

The raven haired man nodded his head but realized the other couldn’t see his acknowledgement. Continuing to caress the other's cheek he leaned down and pressed his lips to Jungkook’s forehead.

“Kookie, it’s okay to feel happy about that. It’s okay that you went over there.”

“It’s not okay, hyung. I shouldn’t have gone.” The firmness in Jungkook’s voice was as solid as an aged oak tree whose roots sink deep into the earth for miles and miles. It made Taehyung sigh. The man was so stubborn.

“Kookie, you can’t beat yourself up forever for what happened.”

“Yes-”

“Yes, you fucked up. You fucked up royally Jungkook and I’m still baffled as to how you didn’t realize his feelings for you. Especially, when you two went around being boyfriends.”

“We didn’t go around like that.” Jungkook’s words cut in so fast that Taehyung gave him a judging glare and the younger returned that glare with one of his own.

“Well, you could have fucking fooled me and every poor soul that walked by.”

Jungkook turned over on his side, arms crossed over his chest as he huffed. This might have been one of the reasons why he had never noticed anything. Everything was so comfortable with Yoongi that it just felt like the norm. They always seemed to fall in line with the other but they had known each other for many years, it would be strange if they didn’t… Right?

Sometimes Jungkook wasn’t so sure about that. Now wasn’t one of those times.

“Bunny, “

“Don’t call me that.” He swatted Taehyung’s hand away from his head. The elder ignored it and went back to twirling some of his hair around his long finger.

“Bunny, stop pouting. Admitting it doesn’t make you any less of a person, you know. In fact it makes you more of a person. We all know, even Yoongi hyung knows that you didn’t do it on purpose and neither did he. Just, stop feeling guilty. It’s been three years, you felt like shit, you apologized. It’s time to let it go.”

Only silence from the person lying in Taehyung’s lap. It didn’t bother the elder, he knew that Jungkook needed some time to marinade over those words. And he would. He would think about it for the rest of the day and the next as well.

“He let you in, that’s a good thing. Who knows, maybe this break up with Hoseok could mend your friendship.”

“Ugh, do you have to mention that dick’s name?”

Taehyung’s baritone voice broke out in a soft rumble which earned him a smack to the thigh from a very petulant Jungkook.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just amusing to hear you refer to him like that when just the other week it was these sickeningly sweet honey bun eyes.”

Honey bun eyes? Where did his friend even come up with these comparisons. What did that even mean? Well, Jungkook could figure out what his hyung meant but any one else would be confused. He rolled his eyes at that description.

“How are you holding up, hmm?”

He sighed.

“I’m here aren’t I?”

Taehyung frowned. That wasn’t the answer he wanted. He knew that it really had only been a few days since the breakup occurred but he still wanted his friend to bounce back as soon as possible.

“He never even told me he loved me but he said it to whoever that was.”

Taehyung let out a string of profanities mixed in with words that Jungkook wasn’t really sure who or what had come up with. The grip on his hair was growing more and more taut.

“Ah, ah, shit hyung that hurts!”

Taehyung looked down and saw that in his anger of the man who had hurt his best friend he had unintentionally been about to pull Jungkook’s hair out of his skull. He let go immediately and kissed the spot a few times.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I just want to beat the shit out of Jung Hoseok. What a fucking asshole.”

“Yeah, hyung I know....”

And he did know. Jungkook knew all too well but that didn’t change how he felt about the man. He couldn’t just stop caring like the flick of a light switch. Man, did he wish he could. It would make everything easier. Instead he his wounds continued to bleed and sometimes he licked them clean other times he opened them further. His phone was still littered with remnants of their relationship. The five million selcas the man always made him take, the cute videos he’d send Jungkook in the morning to wake up to. The sweet words he’d say at night before they went to bed, if they didn’t talk all night on the phone. He hadn’t found the will to delete them yet. To let go.

He whispered, “I-I still wait for him to come back and say those words to me hyung.”

It’s stupid. He knows. He knows that it’s over. That it had apparently been over and he was the only person to not know. He knows that he’s only hurting himself more by clinging onto this impossible hope but Hoseok had made him happy. It’s just too hard to toss all those memories in the trash like yesterday news. Even if Hoseok had already done as such to him.

A warm hand gripped his arm and rubbed it gently.

“Have you heard from him?”

A small nod, could be felt against Taehyung’s thigh. Wetness was staining the elder’s jeans, one drop at a time but neither said anything about it.

“Once.”

Jungkook hadn’t been ready to tell Taehyung about this which was why he had been ignoring his hyung’s messages for the last few days. Sliding his hand into his pants pocket, Jungkook fished out his phone and then held it up for Taehyung to take. Once he did, Jungkook brought his hand in towards his chest, silently wiping away his tears with his index finger.

Taehyung unlocked the others phone, they knew each other's passcodes and even if they didn’t it generally only took a few tries before the boys were able to figure out what it had been changed to. Opening up his messages, the raven haired man found Hoseok’s and opened it to reveal a single message the same night that Jungkook found out he had been cheated on.

Hoseok 12:43am: Jungkook-ah, I know that there isn’t anything I can say to excuse what happened or what I did but I want to apologize for letting you find out in such a way. I won’t ask for forgiveness but know that I wish for your happiness. I’m sorry that it can’t be with me.

There was no reply, which Taehyung was glad his dongsaeng didn’t reply. There honestly wasn’t much you could say to such a message. It was a very clear cut, we’re over and there’s no need for us to keep in contact anymore. It was honest but still shitty. Feeling a squeeze to his arm, Jungkook took comfort in his hyung.

“Come up here, Kookie.”

He didn’t need to be asked twice, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the couch and pushed himself up and then let Taehyung stretch out so that he could lay with him. Laying his head down on his hyung’s chest, Taehyung’s arm wrapped around him immediately.

“He’s an asshole. Cry today but don’t waste your tears on him after today. You deserve so much better.”

The brunettes nodded, his hair swaying to the left and then the right and Taehyung brushed his hair out of his eyes. He pressed his lips to the top of Jungkook’s head for the second that morning and he would for as many times as the younger needed. Smoothing those silky locks down over and over, Taehyung felt every shake of the younger's shoulders as he cried. Letting out all of the emotions he just couldn’t seem to shake. Letting go of the memories he had built with a man he had fallen for. Letting go of every sweet nothing, touch, kiss. Everything that was Jung Hoseok and what he meant to Jungkook in his heart of hearts.

This wouldn’t fix everything but it was the start that he needed to move on. Holding on was fruitless and showing that message to Taehyung had been the way of putting the final nail in the coffin that was his relationship and hope. The two stayed on the couch, Jungkook wrapped in his hyung’s embrace for a few hours. Eventually the tears dried up and just the comfort of having someone that cared for him filled in the gap.

“You really slept with Yoongi and nothing happened? Should’ve tapped that.”

Jungkook wouldn’t deny nor confirm that the indentations in Taehyung’s sun kissed skin that looked suspiciously like teeth were his.

OSFTSB Chapters

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