#before being able to cash my money order (not to mention waiting in line for 1 fucking hour for this)
Text
.
#im dead on my feet#i woke up at 4:45am this morning after going to bed after midnight lol and i had a hellish day#including a very turbulant flight that was delayed over an hour and then a traffic jam and walking to 3 fucking different wu branches#before being able to cash my money order (not to mention waiting in line for 1 fucking hour for this)#then i had to go grocery shopping for the week and i tried to find a subway card but not one of the 5 fucking stores i went had any#and then i had to go to the pharmacy bc of spotting (kill me) and i forgot to pack pads#anyway i finally get to the airbnb shower and make dinner#my neighbor MY VERY CUTE NEIGHBOR knocks on the door bc she accidentally dropped her blanket on my balcony#but she started talking so fast in spanish and my brain was mush after the day i had that i had to be like im sorry i dont understand you#she spoke so slowly i felt so embarassed after#i swear i speak spanish the uber AND the supermarket cashier thought i fucking lived here im just tired
1 note
·
View note
Text
👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕
The bunnies’ other jobs!
From my bunny cafe au
((I am so peeved :((( I had this all written out!! And I deleted it by accident!! Darnnnnn!!!))
Anon asked “You mentioned that some of the bunnies have day jobs so do they all have jobs outside the cafe or just a few?” (Something along these lines…again…I deleted it by accident 😔)
👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕
Diluc/‘Angel’
After his father got bored with the wine industry, he passed the whole company off to Diluc on his 18th birthday in order to shift his focus to mining. Diluc found himself swamped with all kinds of business decisions while just barely being an adult. He expanded the company and hired some very trustworthy people to handle things for him so he could finish college
When the business was given to him, Diluc and Kaeya had an explosive fight over it. Kaeya felt like he deserved to have some say in what happens to the business, he’s still a part of the family! But Diluc refused to let him in on any decisions so Kaeya packed his bags and left (not before cussing him out in front of their father, staff and business partners). He was just in a silly, goofy mood. They’re fine now, not on the best terms but they do chat and meet up for lunch on occasion.
He is filthy rich, he couldn’t spend all of his all of his money if he tried, so he doesn’t really need the job at the cafe! Kaeya got him the job because he knew his brother was stuck in a weird, antisocial funk and needed some fun in his life
Diluc loves this job, he has a great time, but it isn’t his main job. His priority will always be the family business!! If he has to quit his job at the cafe, he would in a heartbeat
👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕👯♂️💕
Kaeya
Kaeya was going to go into the police academy but was scouted out by a modeling agency. They had seen him at Ragnvindr company events and thought ‘well damn’ so they gave him a pretty generous deal
Kaeya makes a good living off of modeling, the tips and paycheck from the cafe. He rakes in cash pretty quickly just cause he knows how to get it. That, and his dad sends him checks every other month as well. Kaeya thinks of it as ‘I’m sorry’ money. He isn’t wrong
He doesn’t travel much for modeling, which he doesn’t mind, so he kinda just hangs around the city with a lot of free time on his hands between photo shoots. That’s why he got this job at the cafe! It gives him something to do and it’s fun as hell ;)
Albedo
Bedo is one busy bunny. He finished college early and is getting his masters degree online. He works most days at the cafe and on the weekends, he tutors other college students in bio/chem/science related subjects
(He was actually Xiao’s tutor back when he was failing chemistry!! Xiao is very thankful for Albedo’s help!!)
His dream is to become a biochemist, he’s always been interested in cells and what makes up living beings. So having a career in that field would make him the happiest man alive
His mother and sister live outside the city in a more rural area so he spends a lot of time FaceTiming the two of them! Klee is always so excited to hear about Albedo’s experiments or the people he’s met while working in such a bustling, fun city :)
Zhongli
Zhongli is a simple man! He’s a bunny waiter and an artist
He creates intricate pieces based on folklore from different cultures, focusing mostly on dragons. His favorite medium is paint, he loves painting on glass and layering the panes in order to create a 3D piece
He sells his works to galleries, shops and anyone who wants them! As long as they appreciate the story behind the artwork. Sadly…He undersells his work. He could def be making more money but he just does not desire money or material goods the way others may
So he got his job at the cafe in order to help out his dear friend Ningguang, not for money, he only planned on working there for a month or two until she got more bunnies but…he ended up really loving the people he works with :’) he looks forward to working with them now and texts/calls them outside of work to meet up for lunch or bowling (such an old man thing to do omfg)
Dainsleif/‘Sweetie’
Dain was a bouncer at another bar before leaving to come to Celestia’s! He’s good friends with Beidou, they belong to the same motorcycle club so when she was talking to him about the lack of security at the cafe/bar, he stepped in to help out
Little did he know…he’d actually become a bunny…And like it
This is his full time job now, he doesn’t have another for the time being. While he is a bunny at the cafe, he still keeps an eye out for any threats to his coworkers and has access to the offices upstairs (Ningguang’s office and the security office)
When he isn’t waiting tables, he’s upstairs in a tank top and sweatpants keeping an eye on the security cameras and talking to the other security guards through their ear pieces
Ajax
Ajax is a student who doesn’t really have much time on his hands
He mows lawns in the summer and he’s quit his job as a cashier to come work at the cafe! He mostly works night shifts his cause he’s still going to school aaaaaand he’s on his college’s swim team! He’s about to graduate so he works close with his coach to help train the others on the team
He doesn’t really want his family knowing that he skips around in a skimpy bunny outfit and fucking customers most nights but I mean…They’re bound to find out if they see him in pictures people post
Xiao/‘Tofu’
Xiao is an art student!! He wants to be a tattoo artist :)
He’s already got one sleeve of tattoos, it’s unfinished but you can’t really tell just by looking. When he isn’t at the cafe, he’s either in class or shadowing Ganyu, his best friend and tattoo artist. Their art styles greatly differ, she focuses her craft on cutesy, colored tattoos, but she is skilled. And Xiao looks up to her
Xiao admires Zhongli too, they met at the cafe and when Zhongli found out Xiao wants to be a tattoo artist he told him that once he’s licensed, he wants to get a tattoo from him :’)
Baizhu/‘Honey’
Baizhu is a (mostly) full time pharmacist, hence why he isn’t usually at the cafe
He also has a niece, Qiqi, who he babysits often. He loves her very much so he has no problem watching her! Baizhu will even bring her to the pharmacy with him when he’s swamped with work. In the break room, he has a play kitchen, coloring books and a bunch of puzzles to keep Qiqi occupied while he works :)
When he’s not at work, he’s at home resting. He has chronic pain flare ups in his back and shoulders that can make life miserable :( he has plenty of good days that outweigh the bad! And as a pharmacist, he has access to any medicine he needs to make his life easier!
Dottore(Alain)/‘Doc’
Alain’s an oral surgeon who’s a little bit….too into his job
He isn’t phased by blood or gore so he’s easily able to conduct procedures that would make other squeamish. He’ll pull teeth, put in dental implants, remove rotten tissue, any of that without even flinching
Outside of that, he works at the cafe. He wears a mask in order to avoid being recognized even though at his job as a surgeon, he’s usually wearing a medical mask anyways. It’s just a precaution
This has nothing to do with his career but he used to be a tap dancer and actor so he’d join in on local theatre shows! He helped build sets when he wasn’t rehearsing. He doesn’t have time for that anymore (which kinda makes him sadddd) but he has all kinds of theatre playlists on his phone and in his car that he’ll sing along to
Scaramouche/‘Boss’
Scara’s job at the cafe is his main job! His side job is something you may not expect from such a grump
He works at an animal shelter! In fact, he brings cats home to train so they have an increased chance of being adopted. Someone is more likely to adopt a potty trained, socialized cat than a feral cat who doesn’t know what a litter box is. So Scara brings them to his apartment for some one-on-one socializing, training and cuddling
One time he offhandedly mentioned working at an animal shelter while he was working at the cafe and sure enough, three separate customers from the cafe came by to adopt!!! Only one actually took an animal home but he was still surprised that those people had listened to him and cared enough to come by
Scara is a jerk most of the time but when he’s at home…by himself…With a lil kitten sleeping in his lap while he plays games on his PC…Yeah, he softens up a bit
So as you can see, we have a very diverse group working at the cafe! They’ve all learned a lot from each other, come to appreciate each other’s friendship and come to help each other out when one of their coworkers is in need or upset.
#UGH TECHNOLOGY;-;#I just have to be more careful ;-;#thats 30 mins I won’t get back#but again it’s my fault lmao#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin impact writing#genshin impact headcanons#series: bunny cafe 💕#genshin impact diluc#genshin impact dainsleif#genshin impact kaeya#genshin impact albedo#genshin impact baizhu#genshin impact dottore#genshin impact tartaglia#genshin impact childe#genshin impact zhongli#genshin impact scaramouche#genshin impact xiao
172 notes
·
View notes
Text
sick entertainment. (m) kth
pairing. hitman!taehyung x hitman!reader
genre. smut, pwp
warnings. mentions of guns, slight depictions of violence/murder, they’re both hitmen please don’t read if whats mentioned is triggering, they make some dark jokes (they’re sick okay lmao) smut in forms of: oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, choking, dirty talk but its all playful despite it all hehe
word count. 6.3k
note. this is a request based off #85 off this prompt list (now closed) thank you for sending this in! 🖤 also uh….this may become a series, in which case, consider this a saucy prologue that gives you a glimpse into tae/oc’s...interesting... relationship
The slamming of the door makes Taehyung cock his eyebrow, a sly smile spreading across his face as he mindlessly watches the television, his ears listening to the way your feet stomp on the concrete floors of the loft, no doubt a trail of fire following your path. A laugh is begging to make its way out of him, chest trembling from holding it in because he knows he’s in deep shit, he’d known it the second he had interfered.
Blame it on his playful personality, or maybe his need of meddling in business that very clearly wasn’t his, either way the second he heard the name of the next target you were assigned he knew he had to make a game out of it. Is it sick, or twisted? Maybe, but the man was a well known scumbag, a slimey wannabe mobster that has far too many hits out for him it’s a shock he still has a pulse, well had considering you were back now.
Like every single assignment, he knew this one wouldn’t be missed, wouldn’t even have a news report made on him. It was the main reason why you were able to get away with it all, despite the police showing up for investigations whenever any unlucky bystander stumbled upon their body, they never seemed to dive deeper into who did it. They didn’t have to, they weren’t stupid, knowing not to bite the hand that fed them.
As long as they continued to get a small portion of cash funneled into their department and you all continued to wipe out the low lives that made their job so hard, then there really was no crime committed.
Namjoon called it transactional, but Taehyung called it boring. He liked it messy, enjoyed the thrill of it all, the possibility of not getting away with it, and with the help of police it took that all away from him.
You knew he was up to no good, the gleam in his eyes when you had mentioned who you were hitting next spelled it out for you. Knowing Taehyung like the back of your hand made you wary, accustomed to the way his brain worked like a minefield, he was someone you had to watch from a distance and analyze before deciding your next move.
“Welcome home honey.” Taehyung sings out playfully when he senses you getting closer, that same smile plastered on his face as he turns to face you, only getting wider when he notices the shiny black gun in your palm, one that actually belonged to him. It wasn’t your usual choice, something you no doubt swiped from its hiding spot when you came in, but you couldn’t exactly conceal the sniper you had used an hour prior enough to make it undetected in your hands on your way to your apartment.
He knew it was currently disassembled and tucked into your backpack as you chucked it aside and marched your way over to him, hand clenched around the grip of his Ruger with murder so evident in your eyes. Taehyung doesn’t think you’ve ever looked cuter, even as you raise it up towards his chest once you close the distance between you.
“You’re on thin ice Taehyung,” you laugh as you round the couch, standing directly in front of his sitting form, still casually sunken against the cushions as if you weren’t aiming for his heart. “You really think Namjoon’s going to let you come back if I tell him you’re playing games with my targets?”
Your boyfriend sighs at that, a roll of his eyes being sent your way as he drops his head to rest along the back of the couch with a groan. He didn’t need you to remind him of his current standing with Namjoon, knowing fully well that he had crossed a line by smashing that random man’s face into the fancy bar counter for simply looking at you. It wasn’t fair really, had he taken the time to get to know the guy he would have realized just how high up that random man was in terms of connections, but Taehyung could blame his tunnel vision for cutting the introductions short.
Like you said, his brain was a minefield, one wrong step was all it took before his fingers were tangling into the poor man’s hair and connecting his face with the wooden counter. He wasn’t even sure what set him off, the edges of his sight blurring together as he wrapped his fingers around his throat, pulling out the small gun he always had tucked away with him, pressing the muzzle against his temple and laughing maniacally as the man tried to pry his hands off of him.
He liked to keep things exciting, but unfortunately for him that excitement ended up costing Namjoon far too much in order to keep Taehyung from being thrown into jail, which would have arguably been a lot better than being stuck on what could be considered probation, no longer able to work unless Namjoon deemed it acceptable.
“Children shouldn’t play with guns.” Taehyung mocks, hoping to distract you while his eyes stayed glued to the end of the barrel, following it as you inched it closer with a wicked smile on your face. He knew he was on thin ice, nearly ruining your shot, potentially resulting in the target escaping because of his stupid game. That wasn’t too big of an issue, the chase made it fun some times, but considering this target had a bigger money sign tacked onto their back there would be no way you could let a fuck up slide.
He smiles still, lips curling up and showing his teeth as he focuses on your face now, seeing the way you look at him. You had those crazy eyes he loved to see, full of adrenaline, body still buzzing from earlier, analyzing his every move as you tuck the end of the cold barrel under his chin and slowly cock the safety back with a soft click.
“Who said I was playing?”
The small flash of excitement sparks in his eyes as you dig the muzzle into his skin, his mouth dropping open as he breathes out a laugh, his large palm coming to clutch around your own, urging the gun further into his skin.
“Do it,” he taunts, guiding your fingers to slide over the trigger, floating off of it as you observe him.
“I should’ve done it the second I saw you leaving that bastards apartment” you threaten, remembering the rage you had felt when you witnessed your boyfriend exit the complex and look directly up at the building across from him, knowing you would be perched on the ledge with your gun aimed at the window as you waited. The childlike wave he had sent you from the ground made you want to change your aim towards him, the urge to pull the trigger only increasing when he sent you a simple text telling you to enjoy the chase.
That was the first push of the domino that sent everything collapsing and as you peeked through the window and saw your target frantically packing a bag as he looked around you couldn’t stop the flash of annoyance from flaring inside of you. It didn’t take much guessing to figure out that Taehyung had notified him that his head was on the line and now he was going to try to run.
It was supposed to be a clean job, it was the main reason you preferred to use a sniper instead of the slightly more intimate methods used by the others, all you had to do was disassemble your Sako and get yourself off whatever ledge you were on and that was it, job completed. Anticipating a chase was not something you thought would happen today but the second he began to shove clothes into some random bag you knew you were losing your window of opportunity.
“How far did he get?” Taehyung laughs, eyes full of mischief as you glare at him, that tiny smirk on your face giving you away, showing him just how amused you were at his antics despite the gun pressed against his skin
“The stairwell.” You knew the layout of his building well enough to know exactly what exit route he would take, beginning the chase Taehyung had been so eager to start. Having to get down from your spot and somehow beat him before he left his apartment was too far fetched, but catching him before he exited the complex completely was the only thing that kept you from admitting defeat.
Your heart continues to rapidly beat in your chest as you recall it, how your lungs had burned as you took the stairs two at a time once you managed to get inside the complex, nearly ramming into your target as he rounded the stairwell in his haste to leave undetected.
Had it not been for his already set paranoia he would have simply shoved you aside, not expecting a girl to be the one in charge of taking him out, but the second he spots the unhinged look in your face, the way your eyes glimmer when you realize you caught him, he knows it's too late to run. Thankfully for you, he accepted his fate pretty easily after that.
“Did you leave a mess?”
“I couldn’t use my Sako you asshole.”
Taehyung laughs freely now, his other hand coming to scoop around your waist and pull you closer, your thighs slotting between his. If you couldn’t use your precious Sako he knew you were pissed, hence the gun to his throat. There was nothing you hated more than having to come in close contact with whoever you were meant to kill, you weren’t a fan of the bargaining they tried to make with you, not particularly enjoying seeing their face as you pressed the suppressor of your Beretta between their eyes before you pulled the trigger.
“Is that why you’re so trigger happy right now?” He’s taunting you, biting his lip as he smiles up at you, eyes widening slightly as you gingerly place your finger on the trigger. “C’mon, teach me a lesson. Shoot me.”
You don’t need to be told twice.
The second the last word leaves his mouth, your finger presses down on the trigger, the brief moment of shock is painted across his face when he hears the click, eyes squinting when he expects the searing pain that was sure to follow but it never came. In a blink of an eye his hands are expertly releasing the magazine of his Ruger, letting it fall into his grip as he brings it close to really check to see that it was in fact empty, something you no doubt did the second you entered the loft.
Your joyous laughter fills the air instantly, dropping the gun from its position as you lose yourself in the giggles that escape you. “You should have seen your face.”
Taehyung continues to stare at the empty magazine, looking up at you incredulously, the beginning of a smile once again gracing his face at the pure shock that you actually pulled the trigger. “You were gonna fucking shoot me.”
“Oh please, like I’d ever shoot you–“
“You have!” He remarks, snatching the gun from your grasp and sliding the magazine back into place, remembering the time you gave him a warning shot to the shoulder the last time he tried to meddle in your business. Sure you might have just grazed his skin but a trigger was still pulled.
Taehyung chuckles when you plop onto the couch next to him, body still trembling with laughter as you wipe underneath your eyes for any stray tears. “Don’t tell me to shoot you if you don’t actually want me to”
“You’re a psycho,” he jests, tossing the gun safely aside as he faces you, seeing the oh so innocent smile on your lips.
“Don’t act so surprised.” He’s not, knowing you were two peas in a pod, just the right amount of crazy to level each other out, if any more was added to either of you there would no doubt be actual shots fired. It worked though, a nice balance between you that allowed the relationship to go on as long as it has.
“You’d never actually do it,” he sighs, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side, smug with the fact that you would never actually hurt him. “You’d miss me too much.”
“Would I?” A teasing laugh fills the air as your hand glides up his chest, fingers trailing towards his neck until they curl around his skin, feeling the rhythmic pulsing of his heart. When your fingers tighten around his neck he chuckles, the vibrations felt against your palm.
The arm slung around your shoulder slides down to your back, scooping you over until you’re settling onto his thighs in his favorite position, a mischievous glint to his eyes flashing when you look at him. “You definitely would baby, who else would be here to drive you crazy like I do?” His deep voice pulls you in, dripping from his tongue in a manner that makes you want to lean forward and savor every drop.
“Should we find out?”
Taehyung just drops his head back once more, a cynical lift to his lips when you bring up your second hand to wrap around his thick neck, fingers digging further into his skin. “Please, don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“You’re sick,” you laugh out, squealing when his hands tighten their grip around your waist, his head leveling out as he stares at you with that same glint in his eyes.
“I know I am, but you like it.” A gasp leaves your mouth as he slides you further up his lap, clothed core pressing into the slowly growing bulge in his pants. “Don’t act like I forgot the little stunt you pulled this morning.”
Flashes of this morning play in your mind, the way you had teased him the minute he woke up and felt his cock pressed against you. You couldn’t help yourself when you rolled on top of him, kissing and biting his neck while you slowly rolled your hips above him. Taehyung honestly isn’t complaining about it, who wouldn’t love starting their morning off with their girlfriend so hell bent on making them cum.
The only downside of it all was the fact that you actually hadn’t made him cum, leaving him high and dry with an evil laugh as you rolled back off of him and went about your morning as if you hadn’t just committed an awful crime. That may be the reason Taehyung was so insistent on making your assignment tonight a fun little game for the two of you to play and now that that was done and over with he could finally have you on top of him just like this morning.
“You’re telling me you don’t like when I play games with you?” He huffs out a laugh at the teasing kick to your voice, a sinful smile on your lips as you allow him to unzip your sweater, tugging the loose material off your body to reveal the simple black shirt you wore underneath.
“That wasn’t a game, it was torture.” His words are muffled as he leans forward, lips pressing kisses into your skin, breath fanning out and sending tingles down your spine. It was funny how he could pick and choose what was classified as a game, the earlier antics he caused seeming more like torture than you grinding on him at the crack of dawn but you’d let him believe it.
The hold you have on his neck loosens, your arms spreading out to allow him to slip the sweater off of you entirely, large palms now coming to roam over the small sliver of exposed skin that peeked out under the hem of your shirt. “You know what would be so hot?” His cold fingers leave a trail of goosebumps as he inches the material up, little by little, revealing your belly button, the edge of your bra coming next as you hum in question.
“If you ever wore some hot ass latex or leather on the job.” He groans unabashedly at the thought of you in a tight leather corset, boobs accentuated as it hugged your skin. Maybe you’d wear a cute little garter with your Beretta tucked into it, or one of those adorable daggers you had grown so fond of recently.
It might be a wet dream of his but you just snort at the thought, not being able to imagine yourself getting a decent shot with something so restrictive on, god forbid Taehyung decided to play another game of cat and mouse you’re not so sure a leather corset would hold as you chased your target.
“That's so impractical, I’ll do it for you here though.” That appeases him, a smug smile on his lips as he continues to pull up your shirt, taking his time as if he was unwrapping his favorite present. With your red bra fully revealed he sighs in appreciation, tossing the shirt aside without a care to fully admire you.
His hands cup over your bra, thumbs gently tracing the swell of your breasts before giving a rough squeeze that makes you breathe out a laugh. “Will you really?” He questions, keeping a good hold on you as he flips you over, flat on your back with your head resting by the armrest of the couch. Your elbows hold you up as you smile at him, dazed as you watch him tug up his grey shirt and throw it off to the side.
“Yeah, only if you buy that cute maid costume I found and wear it for me.” Taehyung doesn’t even think twice before agreeing, stomach tensing up as your fingers trace along his skin, circling around the random scars that litter his body from close encounters and senseless fights. They serve as physical reminders of your boyfriend’s careless behavior, that minefield mentality making the worst decisions possible in the name of getting a quick thrill. You follow them up until you reach the tiny scar you were responsible for on his shoulder, shallow and faded to a lighter tan now that it was healed.
“I told you, you’re trigger happy.” His hand grasps your own, bringing it back down to the couch as he chuckles. “I think you’re a danger to society Y/N.”
“Hm, am I?” Your voice drawls out as you stretch out, enjoying the way he watches you like a predator would his prey, sharp eyes hyper focused on your every move and you swear he can hear how your heart races in your chest. When he simply hums in response, nimble fingers beginning to unbutton your jeans, you can only giggle and help him as best as you can, lifting your hips and pulling your legs until the tight material has joined the growing pile on the floor.
Taehyung slots between your thighs with ease now, hands digging into the sofa as he holds himself up and leans forward to kiss you once more. His breath is felt on your face as he groans at the taste of you, forever loving the feeling of your lips on his, an endless craving he would never get over. You taste like your favorite chapstick, sweet like candy, and when his tongue peeks out to get a better dose you breathe his name out in a sigh that sounds like music to his ears.
Resting his weight on his knees, his hands are set on their mission, palms sliding underneath you until they reach the back clasp of your bra, expertly unhooking it until it snaps against your skin. A playful laugh is passed between your mouths as he does so, his teeth gently nipping at your lips before he begins his descent. Sloppy kisses are pressed along your jaw as he pulls the straps of your garment down your arms and lets it fall onto the floor.
As he reaches the juncture of your neck he takes a nice inhale, chuckling when he catches the hint of your sweet shampoo mixed with the metallic tang of gunpowder. “You smell like work–“
“Get off, I’m gonna shower!” You try to swat him off of you but he’s quick to grasp your hands, pinning them above your head, giving you a wicked smile as he stares down at you, loving the way your nose twitches in anger at being held down by his arms and hips.
So cute.
“No, I finally have you right where I want you.”
“Is that so?” Taehyung chooses not to answer you as he starts to continue the trail of kisses down your neck, grabbing both wrists in one hand as his other trails down your chest. The ticklish feeling leaves you fidgeting around as he grabs a handful of your tits, squeezing the flesh before slowly circling around your nipple until it hardens at the sensation. The wet path of kisses passes your collarbones, soft smacks of his lips on your skin as he nears your neglected breast, kisses around the swell of them in a teasing way.
When he finally envelopes your other nipple into his mouth you gasp, arching your back to push more of you into his mouth, feeling the vibrating hum against your skin as his tongue flicks around your areola. Tingles shoot up your spine as he pinches your nipple in his fingers, pinching and rolling the bud between his grasp, the feeling of his sharp teeth press into your skin when he smiles at the way you react to his touch, soft moans flowing past your lips the longer he teases you.
With a slight pop, he releases your nipple, a satisfied laugh hitting the air when he sees the way it’s covered in a sheen of his saliva, rising and falling with each of your breaths. His palm still holds your hands hostage but as you fidget in his grasp he releases them, allowing you to tangle your fingers in his hair, yanking at the soft tufts of dark brown until you were content.
“So this is right where you want me?”
“Almost.”
“Almost?”
“Yeah,” he leans up and kisses you once more before trailing down your body, your hands still tangled in his hair as he descends in the same fashion as before, an endless trail of smooches down your ribs, across your torso and around your belly button. The final kisses are pressed into your hips as his fingers hook into the band of your underwear, pulling the waistband of your matching red thong up at the sides and letting it snap against your skin like an annoying child, snickering at the sound it makes.
When you nudge your knee against his sides he stops fooling around, finally yanking them down your thighs, gingerly unhooking them from around your feets to be forgotten entirely now that he stares down at your exposed pussy. A smile graces his face at the sight, folds wet and glistening, already messy in a way he couldn’t resist as he glides his face against your inner thighs. “This is where I want you.”
Your fingers twirl around his hair as he messily kisses around your lower lips, eyes falling shut as you focus on each touch on your body, the brief nudge of his nose, the had press of his lips and finally, the cool sensation of his saliva as he licks a broad stripe up your slit, tongue collecting the drips of your arousal.
“Fuck, Taehyung.” It comes out as a mewl, head dropping back in awe when he repeats the motion, tongue slipping through your folds, the tip of it meeting your clit in a small jolt that leaves you breathless. He could do this all day, feel each stinging pull on his scalp that accompanies each flick of his tongue, your cries of pleasure only increasing when he spreads your folds apart and dives in with new set determination.
The messy smacks and slurps blend in with your choked breath, mingling in between each gasped syllable that make up his name, pleas of more that he can’t deny. Soft lips wrap around your sensitive nub, sucking gently in a way he knows you love, spelled out by your thighs spreading further apart, hips rutting into his face in desperation.
These deliberate flicks against your bundle of nerves are set to tease, proven when he stops altogether with an evil smile, your arousal coating his chin but he doesn’t mind it, revelling in the harsh yank you deliver to his hair at his stopping.
“Baby has a temper, it sucks to be teased huh?” Taehyung’s words are spoken through a smirk, mouth dropped open as he laughs carelessly, head pulled back by your hold on his hair. The cute pout on your lips doesn’t look threatening in the least, not when he can see just how close you are to falling apart, the subtle twitch of your thighs being telling enough.
“I promise, I’ll never do that again. Just make me cum, please.” His eyes glimmer now, teeth biting down on his lower lip when you guide him back down to your swollen lips, wet with a mixture of your arousal and his spit.
“Deal.” Without wasting another second, his lips are back on you, long fingers joining in as he circles your entrance, slowly easing their way inside in a familiar stretch that makes you arch your back. He smiles against you as he feels the tight ring of muscles wrapped around him, the soft walls of your pussy felt along his fingertips as he curves his digits inside of you, not content until you’re gasping above him as he tickles along your gspot.
“K-keep doing that.” You beg him, mouth dropping open as another moan spills out when he does as you ask, fingers pumping into you, rubbing along your sweet patch as his tongue continues to ravish you, circling and sucking on your clit to give you the release you crave.
“Ah, fuck I’m close.”
Taehyung holds in his laugh as your feet slide along the top of the couch, searching for some leverage as you lose yourself in the feeling. The grip you have on his hair tightens as you near your release, body set alight with each thrust of his fingers, eyes screwed shut as you savor it all. He can feel the way your walls squeeze his fingers, leaving his cock hard in his jeans when he thinks of the way your walls will feel around him next.
With a final flick against your clit you’re shouting out his name, flashes of light sparking behind your closed lids as your body tenses up, limbs rendered useless as the wave of your climax washes over you. Taehyung always loved the way your bones turned into jello when the pleasure rocked through you, fingers losing their grip and thighs flopping onto the couch when he pulled away, face looking entirely satisfied by your reaction.
“That was exactly how I wanted you.” A messy kiss is placed onto your hip once more, leaving a wet spot in its wake that can be attributed to the remnants of your orgasm coating his lips.
“Yeah, you know how I want you?” you pant, giggling when his kisses turn ticklish, eyes looking up at you in question. “Fucking me so hard I forget I’m still mad at you.”
Oh, he could do that no problem.
It’s almost comical how quickly he’s able to get out of his jeans and underwear, his hand wrapping around his cock as he kneels onto the couch again. A smile spreads along his lips when he takes note of the look on your face as you stare at him, eyes following his hand as he lazily pumps his length.
There's pure mischief in your eyes, a tiny devil on your shoulder that cheers at the prospect of you getting what you want, thighs spreading further apart in invitation for him. Taehyung presses his lips together as his thumb rolls over the tip of his cock, smearing the beads of precum around the swollen head before giving himself a gentle squeeze as he inches forward.
It feels like time stands still as you watch with bated breath when he guides his cock to your entrance, a gasp slipping through your lips when he slaps the head of his cock against your sensitive clit, enjoying the small shudder that courses through your body with a discreet laugh.
“Taehyung,” you whine, rutting your hips up impatiently for him to hurry up. He finds pleasure in this though, his constant need to play games with you out ruling anything else.
“What?” He probes, smiling at you as if he didn’t have his dick inches from entering you.
“Fuck me, c’mon.” Your words trail off as his tip presses against you, slowly breaching your entrance in a familiar stretch that leaves your mind spinning. Taehyung can’t even get himself to make a sly remark like he always does, tease you about how messy you were before he even properly fucked you, no his head is wiped out of any witty comment, only able to focus on how amazing you feel around him.
“Shit,” he gasps out, sliding into you with ease from how wet you were, the slick coating your thighs and dripping down onto the couch beneath you. You find comfort in the feeling of his hands sliding up your thighs as he bottoms out, fingers gripping onto your hips so tightly it dimples your skin, holding you still before sliding back out of you in a wet squelch. Taehyung can’t get himself to look away at the visual, how his cock shines in the light, coated in the strings of your arousal.
A choked moan reaches his ears the second he starts to thrust into you, hands keeping you still to prevent you from sliding around from the quick pace he knows you love. Your own hands scramble to reach down, fingers wrapping around his arms to ground yourself as he snaps his hips into you, the laughter mixing with delighted moans letting him know he wasn’t being too rough. No you would never think that, wanting nothing more than to let Taehyung have his way with you, hips knocking into yours with each rock, the head of his cock kissing your cervix in a dull throb that left your nerves on edge.
“Just like that,” you mewl, his attention dragging away from your soaked cunt, looking up at you and seeing the dazed expression on your face. Seeing you like this definitely topped the adorable way you had held a gun to his chest, broken down and vulnerable all because of him. It was a privilege he didn’t take lightly, allowed to see you in a light he knew others hadn’t.
“Fuck you feel so good, so warm,” his words are spoken quietly, almost like a train of thought that hadn’t meant to escape but he means them, completely lost in the way your walls flutter around him, each pulse leaving him grunting in ecstasy.
“You’re right,” you start with a laugh, “I would miss you”
That grabs his attention, hips never slowing as he tilts his head in curiosity. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, no one else could fuck me as good as you do.” He chuckles at that, looking down at you and seeing the evil glint in your eyes as you smile, voice as sweet as honey when you ask him, “Would you miss me?”
Taehyung hums thoughtfully at your question, eyes falling shut when you clench around him on purpose, a teasing laugh leaving your lips as his mind blanks momentarily. “I don’t know, should we find out?” He mocks your earlier phrase as he trails his own hand up your body to your neck, large palm easily wrapping around it. He’s no stranger to the flash of excitement on your face, having grown used to the way you’d beg him to choke you so often it was like second nature now.
Call it sick but it made your brain turn into mush, made you abandon all dignity whenever he wrapped his hands around you. Maybe it should instill a sense of fear into you, knowing those same hands had done so much harm to others, the countless times they’ve been wrapped around other targets with the intent to kill. The soft glimmer in his eyes settles any thoughts before you can even have them, the twisted version of love spelled out in the curl of his lips as he asks if this is okay comforts you because you know he’ll never actually hurt you.
“Tighter,” you mumble out, smirking when he listens, fingers pressing into your skin deliciously. The minute his hands are properly wrapped around you its like your body is lit up, every nerve ending spazzing out, allowing you to feel the pleasure tenfold as his cock continues to fuck you. Each obscene squelch of his cock mixed with the added feeling of him grinding into your clit makes your brain go fuzzy, your legs wrapping around his waist in an effort to keep him closer.
Taehyung knew you loved to be choked, loved to feel the pounding of your blood rushing through your ears, the way the edges of your vision would fade out, his own face speckled in black as the feeling spread. His eyes never leave yours, amazement displayed in them at seeing you fall apart, your small hand laying on top of his in a sense of security. Your chest rises and falls with each breath, the moans and cries only getting softer as your orgasm approaches you, eyes threatening to close.
He knows the signs too well, waiting for the right moment and just before he knows you’ll cum he releases your throat, the sudden rush of unrestricted blood flow pushing you over the edge and intensifying the feeling. It’s evident in the way you gush around his cock, body tensing as your climax crashes through you, your arms desperately clinging onto him as he fucks you through it, soft hushes and whispers pressed into your skin as he kisses you gently.
Your mind wipes out entirely, eyes screwed shut as you come down, body buzzing with sensitivity as you ooze around his cock, leaving an unholy mess beneath you. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” He groans out, the desperate cries and soft mewls of his name are what finally push him over, spilling into you in ribbons of white, rutting his hips a few more times before stilling altogether, panting above you with sweat coating his hairline.
“I’d miss you too.” He mumbles out with a shy smile, gently brushing away the stray hairs from your face as you try to catch your breath. His face looks soft now, almost squishy as his cheeks puff out, it was hard to believe that was the face of a killer.
“Hmm, certified psycho Kim Taehyung goes soft for his girlfriend, who should I notify?”
He snorts at your retort, pulling out of you only to flop on top of you without a care in the world, nuzzling his face into your hair because he secretly loved the smell of your shampoo mixed with the gunpowder he had teased you about earlier. “Maybe the FBI, I’m pretty sure they’d love to know the name of any accomplice.”
“I’m not your accomplice.”
“Right my bad, they think I work alone.” He chuckles as he recounts the way the crooked cops had notified them of the FBI’s increased interest in Taehyung after he had smashed that man’s head in. Really who would have pegged the guy as an FBI agent. It didn’t raise too many concerns for him though, Taehyung hardly meddled in foreign affairs in the states anyways.
Before you’re able to tease him about his fuck ups once more the incessant ring of your phone drones off from the floor. With a groan from Taehyung he’s reaching down and pulling the device free from your sweater’s pocket,seeing it was Namjoon calling, no doubt ready to ask how the assignment went but Taehyung swipes the screen to answer.
“You know, you really know how to kill the mood.”
Your jaw drops as you laugh, attempting to swat at him to grab your phone free from it’s confines but he’s determined, holding it tightly against his ears with a devilish smile.
“Keep it up Taehyung, you’ll be on probation until I say so.” Namjoon’s voice is heard loud and clear through your phone’s speaker, the eye roll your boyfriend gives being comical enough, his mood being dampened at the reminder. With a pout of his lips he’s handing you the phone, getting off of you with a slight grimace when he feels just how sweaty you two had gotten.
Your conversation is quick, finished by the time he was done cleaning up, exiting your room with new clothes on and your favorite robe to hand you. The very evident smile on your lips shows whatever you two talked about must have been good, no doubt having gotten endless praise from Namjoon along with a new assignment. “I know that smile, what’s up.”
Slipping the robe on with a sigh you stand up and wrap your arms around his waist, peering up at him in delight. “I get to use my Sako next week.”
He can only shake his head at the tone in your voice, speaking about using your favorite gun on a target like it was a shiny new doll for you to play with. “You’re psycho you know that.”
“Yeah, but you love it.”
#ficswithluv#btswritingcafe#heartsforbts#btsghostie#taehyung smut#bts smut#taehyung#kim taehyung#bts imagines#kim taehyung smut#new
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
For Day 29 of Rowaelin Month
“A song fic-“
The song- “Always Been You” by Quinn XCII
CW- Mentions of miscarriage and divorce
"I can't believe you right now."
Rowan looks at his wife in frustration. She's sitting at the end of their bed, staring listlessly at the wall. The skirt of the red dress she's wearing is wrinkled, and his heart aches when he notices the mascara marks on her cheeks.
"Aelin," Rowan tries again to reach for her, but she leans away from his grasp.
"No, Rowan. I'm done."
Rowan takes a long swing from the beer in front of him. The time on his phone alerts him that he's spent most of the evening sulking at his bar.
The guys had invited him to dinner, but Rowan hadn't felt like going in light of his current situation. Instead, choosing to meander to the shady little pub they'd passed by coming from the airport.
His lawyer had sent him numerous emails. Documents to sign, agreements to approve, and papers he needed to read through before sending them to the judge.
Divorce was a pain, and Aelin wasn't making it easy.
"Hey, bud. I thought I might find you here." Fenrys slides onto the barstool next to his.
Rowan sighs and rubs the lines forming on his forehead. "Well, I thought it was obvious I didn't want company."
"Too bad. Drinking alone isn't a good look on you." Fenrys raises a hand and motions for another round of beers. "How are things going with ya know?"
"Shitty. She's never paid a dime of rent on that apartment, but she wants the lease signed into her name and for me to front the first four months of rent." Rowan cracks a peanut between his finger. He has no intent to eat the growing pile in front of him. He just craved the satisfaction of breaking something.
"Well, have you talked to her about that?" Fenrys frowns in sympathy, knowing how equally attached both parties were to the little rental.
Rowan laughs mirthlessly. "No, she said that it was better if our conversations were mediated. I always knew Aelin was catty, but she's acting like such a-"
"Don't." Fenrys gives Rowan a severe look. "I know you are upset, but don't start saying shit you'll regret."
Rowan pauses and reluctantly nods his agreement. It's the alcohol talking. He knew the problems that had festered his marriage were predominantly his responsibility.
He takes a deep breath, but a heaviness seems to keep the air from reaching his lungs fully. The weight was slowly becoming too familiar, starting the day Aelin had presented him with the papers.
Rowan wishes he'd done more. Wishes he'd paid more attention and seen the signs of Aelin's unhappiness.
The day Aelin had broken down in their bedroom had been a cold wake-up call but by then? It was already too late.
"You missed our anniversary Rowan." Aelin shouts and pulls her heels off angrily.
Rowan picks up a shoe and tries to hand it back to her. "I know. I'm sorry. It's not too late, though. We can still go out? There's still time to salvage-"
Aelin turns away from him and seems to fold in on herself. Rowan wants to reach out. He wants to hold her, but something dark is building in the air.
"I don't want your leftovers, Rowan," Aelin whispers. "That's all I get anymore—your leftover time. Your leftover attention. Whatever leftover resentment you bring home from work."
"Aelin-" he tries to cut off her depressive spiral, but she's not finished.
"You used to call me during the day." Aelin's voice cracks, and he realizes she's crying. "Every day, you would call me on your break. Now you don't even call when you leave town."
"Baby, just listen to me." He puts his hands on her shoulders, but Aelin breaks his grasp to turn around and look at him.
"Is there someone else?" Her eyes are wide and vulnerable. So unlike his regular Aelin."
"What?" His brain is struggling even to formulate a reply. Rowan's lack of response only causes Aelin to worry more.
Something in her cracks. There's a quiver to her lips, and her face drains of color. "Oh. Oh no."
"Aelin. I swear there is no one else." Rowan finally says, but it's too late.
"Is," Aelin presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Is it because I lost the baby?" She sucks in a hiccupping breath. "You've always wanted kids. So did I, but my fucking body doesn't work."
Aelin closes her eyes, and Rowan knows she's speaking more to herself than him, but her words gut him just the same. "My body doesn't work right. I keep giving us false hopes and wasting money on pregnancy tests. Of course, you would look for a woman who can give you what you want."
He's surprised by the sudden flare of anger in him. "Don't put words in my mouth. That will never be your fault."
They'd known right from the start their journey to parenthood would be a long one. Aelin had a family history of complicated fertility. It had seemed so trivial when they got married. Yet even knowing there could be issues, nothing quite prepared them for the pain of a miscarriage.
Aelin sniffles, unable to force back her grief, "But you resent me. Don't you?"
Rowan doesn't reply.
"It's rough," Rowan admits out loud. "I let a lot get left unsaid. I was hurt and pushed her away. Now she won't even speak to me without a lawyer present."
Fenrys nods, "It's all probably for the best. Once this is over, you guys can put this drama behind you."
"I wish it were that easy," Rowan knocks back the rest of his beer. He grimaces at the drink. It's not taking hold quickly enough.
Fenrys raises an eyebrow. "You both will be able to shut the book on this chapter of your lives and move on? Considering how bloody you two have been fighting, it sounds ideal."
They sit in silence. Fenrys takes the peanut basket away from Rowan and picks at the shells. The bartender comes by, and disgruntledly eyes Rowan's pile of crumbs as he orders a whiskey neat.
Fen was like his little brother, but Rowan found it hard to admit his real problem to him aloud. "I still love her."
The basket goes flying over the side of the counter, and Fenrys chokes on his beer. "What?"
Rowan can't look him in the eye, "We lost a baby. It was early. Aelin didn't want to tell everyone. Three years we tried to get pregnant, and finally, a test comes back positive. She was so happy."
"Shit," Fenrys says quietly. "I'm so sorry."
"It was there, and then it was gone. I thought Aelin was fine. She cried for a week, but then it was like a switch flipped, and she was back to normal." Rowan clenches a napkin in his fist. "I was devastated. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want to send her back into a depression." Rowan shakes his head at how stupid he'd been. "So I put some distance between us. I didn't want her to think I was upset with her."
"I didn't feel better," Rowan sips the whiskey, relishing the warmth. "It made me mad that she got over it so quickly, and I couldn't. I didn't realize that I was growing that space between us. I didn't understand how much guilt she harbored and that she tried to be strong for me. Not until she broke."
"We fought. I said all the wrong things. Aelin couldn't take it anymore, she left, and I didn't stop her." Rowan leans his head on his hands and elbows against the counter. "She's the love of my life, and I watched her walk out the door."
Fenrys sucks in a breath and sighs. "You are my best friend, and I mean this in the most loving way possible. Why the hell are you here?"
"What?" Rowan looks at Fenrys annoyed face.
"Get out of here. Go. I'll tell the boss you have ebola or some shit." Fenrys fishes his wallet out and throws cash on the bar. "I'll even cover the tab. Just leave. Now."
"What? I don't understand?"
Fenrys looks at Rowan like he's stupid. "No offense, but you are about as interesting as a brick wall. The fact you caught a girl like Aelin is astonishing. If you love her, are you honestly going to let her go on being miserable?"
"She's not miserable," Rowan scoffs.
Fenrys laughs bitterly. "You forget I'm pals with Aedion too? Aelin winds up at his house almost every evening crying her eyes out. You two are still hopelessly in love. You're just dumb and badly in need of a good conversation."
"Aelin is upset?" A sense of disbelief washes over him.
"Yes! She misses you, but she's under the impression you are off sleeping around." His face saddens. "I told Aedion you weren't. He knows I go on all of these trips with you. Aelin's just upset you're gone and needs to believe in something that can help her let go."
Rowan stands up, swaying. "I have to go."
"Hell yeah, you do. Give Aelin my love," Fenrys waves as Rowan vates the bar like a hawk out of hell.
Aelin sets the stack of papers in front of him.
Rowan had been camping out in his office ever since there disaster of an anniversary. He'd texted a few times, but every time they talked, it was like relighting a fuze. Things weren't getting better.
"What are these?" Rowan asks without looking up from his screen.
"Your ticket to freedom," Aelin sits in the chair across from him.
She looks thin, thinner than she did when Arobynn was her foster father. It physically hurts Rowan that he's causing her that kind of stress. Glancing at the papers, she slapped in front of him. His blood becomes like an ice river through his body. "Aelin-"
"I'm not the one for you. That's apparent now. I won't hold you hostage in a marriage that you aren't happy in." Aelin blinks, and a tear slides down her face. He wants to wipe it away, but he's beyond angry. She was giving up on them.
"If this is what you want," Rowan slides the papers towards him and pulls out a pen.
Rowan is racing the familiar paths to their apartment. He doesn't care that it's almost four in the morning. The plane ride between Perranth and Ornyth is mercifully short, but he can't force himself to wait another minute.
"Aelin," he yells through their door. "Baby, answer me. Open the door."
Rowan's fists tap a consistent rhythm on the door, and his heart skips a beat when a bedraggled Aelin finally appears. "Rowan, do you know what time it is?"
She's in a pair of grey flannel pajamas, not one of her usual silky numbers. Aelin's eyes are red around the edges, and her face is still dewy from the excessive amount of lotion he knows she loves to put on. Rowan knows all of her routines. All of her favorite outfits, comfort movies, and best memories. He knows the scar she has on her left hand from an abusive foster father. Rowan remembers how the bridge of her nose wrinkles when she's upset in the same spot her cousin's does.
He knows everything about her, because not only were they husband and wife, they were best friends.
How could he have let that go?
Before Aelin can ask any more questions, Rowan has swept her into his arms. "I missed you so damn much."
"Rowan, have you been drinking?" Aelin asks in a voice cracked with emotion.
His hands are running up her back, and his knows burrows into her hair. He's always loved the smell of her jasmine shampoo. "Fireheart, I never resented you for losing the baby."
"Rowan, I don't want to talk about this," Aelin tries to push him away, but he squeezes her into his chest, and she melts.
That had been his mistake. He should have held Aelik like this and never let her go on pretending to be happy. How could he know everything about this woman and not have seen past her facade? She'd suffered. His own pain had blinded him.
"Aelin, I've made so many mistakes lately." Rowan rubs the back of Aelin's neck the way she likes, and he can feel the sobs starting to build up inside of her. "But the greatest shame of my life is not being there for you when you needed me. I was stupid, Fireheart. I'm not going to be stupid any longer. This separation can't go on, we aren't any happier for it, and I can't live knowing I'm away from the other half of my soul."
Aelin cracks, and he can feel the tears wetting the front of his shoulder. "You were never home. I thought there was someone else, someone who could give you the things you wanted because I can't."
Her whole form is shuddering his arms, and Rowan squeezes tighter as if he can hold her broken pieces together. "It's always been you. I don't care if we adopt or never have any kids at all. All I need is you, baby. You are all I've ever needed."
Suddenly, hands are in Rowan's hair as Aelin crushes their lips together. The kiss is frantic, a relief of the stress they'd carried upon their shoulders.
"I missed you too," Aelin whispers in between kisses. “Gods I mussed you so much.”
The rest of their night is filled with soothing words, frantic kissing, and murmured apologies. Rowan kisses the tears from her cheeks and Aelin looks into his eyes like she’s home. Nail dig into skin as they promise never to be apart again.
For the first time in months they sleep in the same bed. Rowan sinks into a deep restful sleep with his wife in his arms once more. He loves the way her cold toes search out his heat. How Aelin fits so perfectly against his chest. When he wakes up and she’s still there, his heart nearly features from relief.
After months of pain, it's the beginning of their walk towards healing.
The days after aren't perfect. They had legal issues to sort back out, more problems to lay bare to the sunlight. There was arguing, but it lacked actual heat, and they didn't walk away feeling unloved at the end. No longer did they fight to land barbs. Their bickering now served to work towards solutions and to express needs.
Between struggles, the love began to grow back. Rowan kept his job at work, and when he was home, it was about them. He started calling her on his breaks again, and it always astonished him how much he missed the sound of her voice. They both strived to communicate their feelings better and actually listen instead of reacting.
Aelin surprised him with romantic dates, and Rowan read pages of her favorite books to her at night. They danced in the kitchen and laughed at their favorite shows.
Fixing their marriage was hard work, but Rowan and Aelin didn't mind. The separation proved that neither of them wanted a life without the other. It was to whatever end, and they wouldn't accept anything less for them.
On one Sunday morning, Rowan opens his eyes and realizes that Aelin isn't on her side of the bed. Panic surges in him, and he looks around to make sure her things are still there.
They are, and the tension eases from his shoulders until he hears soft crying from the bathroom. Darting out of bed, he grabs Aelin's bathrobe and knocks on their bathroom door. "Aelin, what's wrong?"
Had he screwed something up? Was she sick?
The lock clicks, granting him silent permission for him to come inside. Rowan pushes the door open and finds Aelin crying on the side of the tup. With gentle hands, he wraps her robe around her and throws an arm over her shoulders. "What's wrong?"
Aelin looks up at him, a radiant smile on her face. "Look."
Rowan glances down to her clenched fists and-
He blinks, once, twice. Aelin laughs at his dumbfounded face, and it breaks his paralysis. Rowan grabs her around the waist and spins her around the cramped bathroom, the positive pregnancy test clattering to the floor.
Aelin's arms wrap around his neck. The emotion in the room is raw and bittersweet, but there's a hopefulness that can't be denied. Rowan holds her tight as they process the news. When they break apart, the love between them is palpable. They had another shot at this, a fresh start.
Hards times would come and go, but good days were never far behind for them. Because for Aelin and Rowan, it's always been them.
And that's all they needed.
#throne of glass#rowaelin#fanfic#rowan whitethorn#aelin galathynius#rowaelinmonth#angst#tog#sjmaas#throne of glass fanfiction#song fic#rowan x aelin#fenrys#day 29
132 notes
·
View notes
Text
Title: filthy rich [1/3]
Pairing: millionare!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au]
Genre: romance, major angst ahead ,fluff, yandere!au-ish
Synopsis: Your luck had just run out when you realized that you flirted with danger. [400 followers special]
Warnings: language and none...yet….[although i will put a trigger warning that is a controlling, abusive, and kind of a yandere relationship]
Notes:
Happy 460 followers i- look, i know i promised a long kita fanfic but i got more inspired to finish this and write this one because djjdjdjd ,,, anyways this was originally a kpop fanfic i wrote years ago and i switched it up to an omi fanfic. I don’t condone this type of relationship, if ya see this shit on your partner, please run (i beg of you)
also eheh the remaining two requests will be posted soon so uwu
next || series masterlist || taglist
“Hey Y/N.”
You look up from your medical textbook to find your aunt standing there with an expensive freshly pressed suit on her hand wrapped in plastic, you had been living with her along with her two younger kids in Tokyo after your parents decided to become humanitarian doctors. Wanting to explore and get out of your comfort zone, you ended up living in the big city along with your mother’s closest friend.
“Oh, hey obaasan.” you greeted, “What’s up?”
“Ah, you see, Shoyo is out now and no one will be able to deliver the suit to Sakusa-san, would you mind doing me a favor and delivering it for me?”
You shut your textbook and stood up from your chair, “Sure, uh- could I have his address?” you ask as you took the suit in plastic carefully from her hands, not wanting to damage something that cost as expensive as your tuition in med school. After saying goodbye to your aunt and carefully placing the suit at the back of your car, you drove your way to the upstate part of the city.
Your second hand car stood out like a sore thumb in the lane of expensive and flashy cars, you wanted to waltz in and out of here quickly. Following your aunt’s instruction’s, you march up to the front desk to hand the suit over to the receptionist, “I’m here to drop the laundry for Sakusa-sa-”
Before you could even finish your sentence, she snatched it away from your grasp. You narrow your eyes at her rather uncouth attitude, “Oh, cool...thanks…” you murmur, not wanting to cause a scene or pick a fight with the rude woman, you made a b-line towards the exit. Away from the judging and prying eyes of the people who were very much above you in terms of class and wealth.
The moment you step out though, you watch in horror as your car is being towed away, “Hey!” you exclaimed, hurriedly going to the worker who was writing something down on his clipboard, “Hey, wait! Please, excuse me?”
The worker turned to you with a questioning gaze as you immediately started to explain that you were in and out of the place and that you were just delivering some laundry but all you got was a shake in the head and the words, “It’s not up to me, that guy called us in.” He points his ballpen towards the man in a suit and paired with a surgical white mask on the phone, “...The parking here is for residents only and clearly you’re not one of them.”
Your eyes almost widened at his explanation, just what was wrong with people who lived here?
You fumingly grab the piece of paper he hands to you and stuff it in your pocket as you march up to the stranger on the phone, “Hey, excuse me!” you proclaimed, there were a few on-lookers but you ignored them, you were seeing red with the treatment you’ve been receiving here. The raven-haired stranger ignores you, still on his phone so you call him out again and when you do, the darkest pair of obsidian eyes are on you.
You clenched your fists tightly as the quote ‘eat the rich’ comes into your head.
“There must be some mistake.” You began slowly, trying to put your anger at bay because you didn’t want the whole thing to escalate in public, “I’m in and out here, all i did was deliver and I didn't know-”
“Your ignorance doesn’t excuse you.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ignorance of the law excuses no one.” He simply states, “Also the car was on the way in my space and not even a parking spot.”
You let out a loud, sardonic laugh, “I’d be gone in two minutes if you waited.”
“You would’ve wasted my two minutes.”
You clenched your fist tightly and as you were about to bite back on his snide remark, the receptionist from before intervenes, “Excuse me, he’s right. You aren’t allowed to park here.” she tries to look professional but you know she’s just siding with this idiot since he had the money.
“Right.” you nod, “You know what, fuck it, this blows. All I did was my job and I have to be shitted on because I don’t have money like Mr.fancy-pants over here.” You bellowed,your glare was intense as you turned around, stomping away before you would do anything you’d regret.
The stranger’s eyes towards you do not waver though, how interesting, he thought.
You never wanted to return to that place again, not only did you lose a lot of money to pay your toll fee for your car but you needed to buy a bunch of new books for the new semester. You groan out loud as you also realize that you needed to do a grocery run since all you had were empty packets of instant Ramen and water in your apartment.
Chunking the cue cards to the side, you made your way to the convenience store, the city was definitely alive tonight and amidst that, you look absolutely dead tired. Your eye bags were getting thicker, a few zits had popped out, and you had grown thin in an unhealthy way because of your food consumption.
Man, being in med school and being dumb wasn’t a very good combination.
Your thoughts are interrupted when your aunt calls you again and says you have to do deliveries tonight, “You remember Sakusa-san?” your aunt says on the other line.
You couldn’t help but grimace at the mention of the man and the memories of where he lived.
Man, did this Sakusa-san needed new neighbors.
“What does he need a suit for in this unholy hour?” You mentally groaned.
“He needs it for laundry, you can have the money when you pick it up.”
Your ears immediately perk up at the mention of cash, you decided to take public transportation since you didn’t want to risk getting your car toll away by that Sakusa guy’s wretched fancy-pants neighbor. Grocery shopping could wait another time, “Stupid rich people.” You muttered under your breath as you pushed open the entrance to find the same man who you despised, sitting there with a laundry basket next to him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You mumbled, sucking in a deep breath, you say, “Sakusa-san?”
“So I was right.” he says, pulling down his mask to reveal his sharp features, “You were the one who delivered my suit that day. It’s usually a young boy with a bike.”
Boy, this man was definitely at his prime, he was probably a good few years older than you and you bet he had the ladies swinging left and right with that face. Too bad he had a shitty attitude though.
“Well, that doesn’t give you an excuse to tow my car away.” you deadpan.
“How much do I owe you for the unfortunate accident then?” his tone was rich and low but you detected no remorse in it, it was as if waving huge chunks of money would help tremendously. The asshole couldn’t even properly say sorry to you because of the hard time you had to go through that time.
“None,” you scoffed, “Just hand me your laundry and pay the fee, we’ll call it even.”
The raven-haired man tilts his head and carefully hands you the laundry bag along with a wad of cash, your eyes immediately widen out of character, “Woah, wait-”
“For the troubles.” He simply replies, “Goodnight.”
You later found out that his full name was Sakusa Kiyoomi and not only was he rich, he was filthy rich. The man used to be a big volleyball player back or something when he was in high school and college but instead of becoming a pro player, he had inherited the family business.
“Huh, so he was a capitalist.” You stare at his picture at the morning paper which was coincidentally an article about him. You decided to forget about it, expecting to not see him after that night since Hinata had no classes or practices these upcoming weeks yet weirdly enough, he started to ask for you to pick up his laundry instead.
So you both fell into a strange routine, you’d pick up his laundry and return it the next day. He was also there to pick up his things and you no longer needed to talk to the rude receptionist. You were suspicious of him yet you decided to just overlook it, he gave good tips and he wasn’t as rude as the first time you met him, in fact, he made small conversations now and you sort of got to know the man.
You had a weird dynamic but strangely enough, it worked.
“L/N-san.”
“Good evening,” You greeted per usual, holding out your hand yet his eyes squinted at the bandage on your hand.
“What happened.” the raven-haired man asked, his gaze zeroing on the wound that you got in one of your classes.
“I’m a med student...I cut myself instead of the cadaver in class.” you shrug nonchalantly as you wiggle your fingers, “It’s alright though, I’m not going to stain your suit that you keep putting back to the laundry for some odd reason.”
“You got hurt.”
“Happens to the best of us.”
Sakusa mutters something incoherent under his breath before saying, “I’ll take you to your car.”
“Woah there-”
The man ignores you as he walks ahead of you, this was certainly getting out of character, even for him who always asked for you, “Open it.” He orders as he points to the car door, you begrudgingly obliged and did as he said. He places the laundry inside and turns to you to give you his usual pay, “Take care of yourself next time, L/N-san.”
The very next day, your aunt hands you an expensive package of ointments on your doorstep. Your brows are furrowed together in confusion as she says that they’re from the millionaire himself. You pointedly look at the package in front of you, completely lost as to why someone like him would send something like this to the person who he wasn’t exactly close with.
“Y/N-saaaaan…” Hinata drowns, you snap your gaze from your notes to the young orange-haired boy, “I’ve got news!”
You had stopped working for your aunt since you found a job at your university’s library, not only were the hours more lax but they even minus some of the tuition as long as you worked there. It was definitely a win-win situation for you.
“What’s up, orange?” You asked.
“Remember Sakusa-san?”
You hum a reply, “What about him?”
“I think he likes you.”
You almost choke on your saliva when you heard that, this little brat, why you ought to-
“He looked really disappointed when I said that you didn’t work for us anymore.” Hinata explains, cutting your thoughts short,
“Right.” You drawl, shaking your head, “Maybe you were just hard to look at, that’s why.”
“Hey!” He clenched his fists together and pouted at your tone, “I don’t even know why he likes you!”
You feel a vein pop in his forehead as you hear his insult, you proceeded to chunk a pillow to his direction in which he successfully dodged, “Get your facts straight and I assure you, he doesn’t like me.” you grumbled, returning to your books.
Ultimately, you thought that you’d never see Sakusa Kiyoomi ever again. It was fairly obvious that outside your job, someone of high caliber as him was someone you’d never see again yet you're immediately thrown off guard when you find him standing there around your campus.
Your eyes widen in surprise, well what do you know? it was the devil himself.
“Sakusa-san.”
“L/N-san.”
Man, you may not have seen him for a month or two but despite wearing the mask, you could tell that e still sported the same blank and basic bitch face behind it. Hinata was wrong in all ways, this guy wouldn’t like you, he’d probably deem you too low class for him, “What a surprise, it’s been a while.” You stiffly bowed down.
“You’re acting weird.”
You raise your gaze to meet his and you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes.
“You’re most likely a guest in the university.” You mumbled, scratching your head, “People might come at me if I treated you as casually as before.”
Sakusa raises his brow, “That’s funny coming from someone who was this close to punching me during our first meeting.”
“You were being a dick that time.”
“How you have guts to say that to my face amazes me every time.”
“Oh yeah?” You chortled, amused by his statement, “I’m starting to think you’ve taken a liking on me.”
“Was it not obvious when I kept asking for you from Hinata-san?”
You immediately choke on the coffee you were sipping, burning your tongue in the process, “Okay what the hell, sakusa-san-” you said in between coughs.
Your freeze up when you look at him dead in the eye, his eyes crinkling, was he smiling behind the mask? No way, the Sakusa Kiyoomi was smiling at you? He pulls down his mask and bends down, making you retract your steps and your cheeks flush to a brightly red color, “You’re turning red.” he points out loud and that makes you turn even redder.
“You’re acting weird.”
“You were getting dense.”
“How was I supposed to know...to know that…” You try to stutter out, completely embarrassed.
“To know what?”
“You know what.” You grumbled, standing up a bit straighter and ignoring his teasing tone, “I’m not interested in you.”
“Your red cheeks say otherwise.”
“It’s the cold weather.” You harshly replied, looking away again, trying to avoid his gaze, “I’m not interested in a boyfriend, a flirting partner, or whatever that is. So good day!”
You immediately stomp away, leaving Sakusa Kiyoomi with an amused smirk. How entertaining and adorable, you looked like a bunny. His cute bunny.
A few days had passed from that little interaction and you wanted to hurl yourself out the window whenever you thought about it. Sakusa Kiyoomi? The filthy rich capitalist Sakusa Kiyoomi? Interested in you? What kind of k-drama was this?
You tried to avoid going out much in the campus, Apparently he was around after he donated half a million to the medicine department.
You immediately groaned out loud at the thought, there was in no way that all this was possible!
“L/N-san.”
You immediately jump on the spot and drop your keys, “Holy fucking-” You pause, biting back your tongue, there he stood sporting a casual attire instead of a business suit and his usual face mask, “Sakusa-san?”
“Kiyoomi.” He smoothly corrects.
“Nice. Very nice.” You dryly replied, “Heard you donated half a million and some new equipment to our department. Sweet.”
“You don’t look that happy.”
“I mean you basically confessed that you were interested then decided to donate to my department only.” You narrow your eyes suspiciously, “You remind me of a sugar daddy.”
“Well,” He shrugged, “You didn’t exactly deny that you wanted one.”
Your brain immediately short-circuits as you try to stutter out a reply, Sakusa looked like he’d been having a field day. Gone was the fiery girl he met a few months ago, he really knew what to say to reduce you to a stuttering mess.
“I’m kidding, L/N-san.” he deadpanned when he realized that you weren’t giving him a straight answer since your mind was jumbled up, “It was purely coincidental, we’ve been eyeing certain medicine departments and yours was performing top-notch. It doesn’t mean that I’m any less interested in taking you out.”
“You do know I’m poor right…” You sweatdrop, “I could easily take advantage of you-”
“One date, L/N-san…” he says, ignoring your very weak argument, “Just one then I’ll let you go.”
You don’t know why but you ended up saying yes that day.
You didn’t know what to expect on your first date and you had your fingers cross the whole time that he wouldn’t take you to an expensive michelin star restaurant since you didn’t have the clothes for the place.
Thankfully, the date was more casual than you expected, it was in his home and he had cooked the meal himself.
“You’re looking oddly relieved.”
“I can’t function well in expensive restaurants.” You sweatdrop, covering your awkwardness with a laugh. You’ve never gone on dates before, the idea of being intimate with someone had made you feel awkward and bothered.
“I’m not a big fan of public areas so I assure you we're not going on those anytime soon.”
“Well aren’t you getting confident.” You raise a brow, teasing him a bit as you start to pick on the beef with your chopsticks.
“Call it a gut feeling, L/N-san.”
“Y/N.”
“What?”
“You asked me to call you Kiyoomi and well,” you turn red once again, “Well it would be awkward if you were all formal with me.”
You saw the small twinkle in his eyes, “Y/N.” your name rolls out of his tongue smoothly and you feel your heart hammering on your chest, “I like that, Y/N…”
It was in that little moment that you realized that you liked it when he called your name.
The dinner went by without a hitch, Sakusa Kiyoomi was not the same arrogant man that the media portrayed him to be. He was quiet, understanding, and soft. Completely the opposite of the first day you met him. He urged you to talk more about yourself, saying how boring and open his life was since the media tailed him a lot.
“Why Tokyo?”
“Why not?” You shrug, swishing the wine before taking a small sip, “It’s a great place, it’s new, and I had someone I knew here. My mom and Obaasan were good friends so I was allowed to move here on my own.”
“Are you coming back to your country if you’re done with your studies?”
You were silent for a moment, “I don’t think so. I wanna be like my parents.”
“A humanitarian doctor, huh?”
“Yeah.” You smile, “A humanitarian doctor. How about you? What’s your story?”
“Nothing interesting.” He glazed, “I’m an open book, Y/N.”
“Open book?” You tilt your head to the side, “You’re usually painted as an asshole by the media…”
“But you don’t believe it.”
“You kinda were when we first met.”
For the first time, you hear his soft chuckle and your heart starts beating fast. You liked that sound, you wanted to hear something like that again, “You always know how to amuse me, Y/N.” he shakes his head, “And for the record, just because I’m not comfortable with touches, public places and whatnot does not make me an asshole...I just am a very private person with interests…”
“What’s your interest now?”
“You.” He replied nonchalantly, making you look away..
“Stop.”
“What?”
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Flirting with me with a straight face like you mean it!” You choke out, turning red.
“Because I do mean it, Y/N.” He shrugs. “I am interested in you.”
It seemed like that little date you had turned out more successful than you thought, one date led to another and another. This went on for a few months until he asked you to be his partner one night at a very random place, you usually pictured Sakusa Kiyoomi to be the smooth type you were, after all, always the stuttering mess between you two but when he asks you to be his officially, outside the public restroom of all places with his ear tips turning red, your reduced to a heaping pile of giggles.
With men like him, you didn’t exactly expect anything more than the dates.
You should’ve known better that he was too good to be true.
general taglist for the next part is open aye
#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa kiyoomi headcanons#sakusa kiyoomi imagines#sakusa angst#sakusa kiyoomi angst#haikyuu yandere#sakusa x reader#sakusa imagines#yandere!sakusa#yandere warning!!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyu!! fanfics#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu headcanons#📝📝.Filthy rich series#hostclub.adulting
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
As It Should Be | Chapter 4: Company
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales
Summary: Whiskey gets a surprised call and he and Frankie have a long talk.
Rating: M
Warnings: Talks of drug use, alcohol, mentions of character death, mentions of canon typical violence, PTSD, violent nightmare
A/N: I really wanted this conversation to happen between these two given their respective histories. We all know that Whiskey needed therapy and in this verse he gets it. It’s also my HC, from what I vaguely know (I’m not an expert and I could be very wrong), that Whiskey was an officer in the Air Force where he flew/placed in jets and that’s how he knows how to fly an F-22 (The Silver Pony).
We are getting some angst and some fluff this time folks!
Also, yes I do have a specific soap in mind for Whiskey, it's Old Glory by Duke Cannon
Huge special thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the betas and encouragement!!
Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 3: Statesmen & Demons | AO3
He was drowning. He needed...something. He needed help.
Frankie pulled his phone out, went to the recent number that was, as of yet, unsaved, and pressed ‘call’. His shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear as the line rang.
Whiskey’s hair was still wet from his shower, and his white t-shirt clung to his damp skin. Eyeing the take out on his counter, he sank into his couch and smiled at your texts:
Whiskey: Thai sound good, sweetheart?
Bourbon: God yes Jack, I’m starving!
Whiskey: I’ll let you know when I get outta the shower, see you soon sweetheart
He was just about to send you a message to come on over when his phone rang. Glancing at the clock on his stove, then back to the unfamiliar Texas number on his caller ID, he frowned.
“Whiskey.”
His greeting was curt. Who the hell would be calling at 8:30 pm on a Wednesday?
“H-hey Whiskey, it’s me, Frankie. Is… uh, is she there?”
Whiskey’s frown deepened, not that he minded Frankie calling him, far from it, but his voice was cracking like he’d been... crying?
“Oh, hey there, Flyboy. No she isn’t, do you need me to get her?”
“N-no, no… I, uh, I don’t want her to see me right now. I’m, uh,” Whiskey could hear Frankie take a deep breath on the other side of the line. “I’m having a bad night, Jack. Could you come get me? I’m at the hotel.”
Jack shot straight up, practically leaping to his feet.
“Did you…?”
The question clung to the air like lead, crushing both of their chests in the silence.
“No, I haven’t… I just… fuck.”
Jack was moving, grabbing his leather jacket, keys, and Stetson, practically sprinting out the door.
“Don’t worry about it, Flyboy. I’m headed your way.”
He shifted his weight while he waited for the elevator to take him to the parking garage, shooting off a quick text to you in apology. Frankie’s words, “I don’t want her to see me,” rung in his ears and he decided to hold off on telling you what had come up, at least until he could see you at the office tomorrow.
Whiskey: Hey sweetheart, sorry something came up and I can’t do dinner tonight. Everything’s fine, see you at the office, sugar. X
Your phone went off and you quickly unlocked it, eager to hear back from Jack so you could head over. A frown pulled the corners of your lips down at his text, but you knew he wouldn’t cancel on you without good reason.
You: See you tomorrow, cowboy. Better make it up to me ;)
Frankie had left the door slightly ajar and was pacing around his room, arms crossed in front of him when he heard a quick knock, then the handle was turning and Whiskey crossed the threshold. He took a cursory glance around the room: nothing but minibar booze bottles, thankfully. Whiskey let out a sigh of relief that was short-lived when he took in Frankie’s demeanor. Frankie’s face was taut with shame, and his gaze refused to rise any higher than Whiskey’s boots.
“I didn’t know who else to call,” Frankie choked out, “ Pope, and Hawk… I can’t disappoint them again. I’ve been clean for three years, and I didn’t…”
Jack shook his head and beckoned Frankie over, wrapping his arm around the other man’s shoulders and pulling him in for a quick, tight hug.
“C’mon, Flyboy, this is not the time nor the place to talk about this. I’m taking you back to my place, and we’re gonna have some whiskey that’s much better than what you’ve had here, and then we can talk.”
Frankie nodded and grabbed his hat, planting it on his head as Whiskey tugged him out of the hotel room. He was so deep in his thoughts and his guilt for having Whiskey come out that he didn’t realize where he was until the elevator dinged. Whiskey unlocked and opened the door to his condo, giving way to a view so incredible Frankie almost forgot to breathe. Across from the entryway, on the far side of the condo, the gorgeous New York night skyline twinkled back at them from beyond the wall of glass windows. Frankie marveled at the rustic elegance of Jack’s home. It had an entirely open floor plan, giving Frankie a view of the dark cherry butcher block island, the top-of-the-line range top, and other appliances, all immaculately clean. For a moment, he wondered if that was because Whiskey ordered out more than he cooked, but then he saw the bags of takeout on the counter and immediately felt guilty.
“I’m sorry, looks like I interrupted your dinner plans.”
Whiskey closed and locked the door behind him, hanging his jacket up on the nearby hook. He glanced over at the takeout, then put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it, partner. I just told her something came up. You hungry? I ordered her Drunken Noodles, be a shame to put them to waste.”
Frankie was about to decline when his stomach rumbled, and Whiskey chuckled.
“C’mon, Flyboy, go sit down on the couch and I’ll bring the food and some whiskey round.”
With a nod, he toed his dress shoes off (they were all he had without his go bag) and made for the brown leather couch. He sat down a bit stiffly, feeling awkward given the circumstances. Whiskey brought over the containers of food, handing one to Frankie and resting his own on the coffee table before grabbing them the promised drinks. He sat down, and Frankie took his drink in one hand, relishing in the smooth burn as he took a sip, then set it down to dive into his food.
They ate in a relaxed and cozy silence. Frankie finished first, which wasn’t a surprise. When Whiskey finished, he took Frankie’s empty container with him to toss in the garbage before he made his way back. An awkward silence replaced the previous comfortable one, and Frankie found himself having a hard time pulling his gaze from the amber liquid in his glass. Whiskey took a deep breath, then turned on the couch to face Frankie.
“Santiago said you’ve been clean for three years? That’s quite the accomplishment.”
“Yeah, thanks. Doesn’t really feel like it right now. I feel like I failed. I’m worried I’ll slip up.”
“I don’t think you will, Frankie. Neither do Pope or Bourbon.”
Jack didn’t know why, but the words rang true in his mind, even though he hadn’t known Frankie for very long.
“You don’t seem like the kind of guy to throw three years of hard work away, Flyboy.”
A small smile tugged at Frankie’s lips and he took a sip from his glass.
“Must’ve been weird for Halcón. Last time she saw me, fuck, I was barely with it. The suspension hit me hard. I had been getting my shit together before Colombia and the funeral. I just wanted to be able to fly. I couldn’t and still can’t stand the idea of being grounded. That, and I knew my fianceé would leave me if I didn’t get it together. But then, well, we all went to Colombia.”
“I couldn’t imagine being grounded. I don’t fly often, but to not have the option? I dunno what I’d do.”
Whiskey shook his head and grimaced. Frankie perked up, head snapping to meet Whiskey’s gaze.
“You fly?”
“Mmmhmm, was in the Air Force for a bit, did jets. Statesmen has an F-22, the Silver Pony, that I fly.”
A small buzz of excitement was washing over Frankie, and he subconsciously scooted closer to Whiskey. He didn’t really have anyone to talk to about flying, even if helicopters and jets were two very different means of flying.
“What made you risk it, Flyboy? What happened in Colombia?”
Frankie frowned and let out a deep sigh.
“Pope had been down there for a few years, chasing a narco named Gabriel Martín Lorea. He finally got a break when his CI told him she knew where he was hiding out and where he was stashing his money. He showed up outta the blue asking us, our old team, to come down and do recon, $17k just for a week of recon. If we wanted to stay on after that, we’d be entitled to 25% of whatever we seized, and the rumour was that Lorea had $75M on him. I’m guessing Halcón was busy with a mission for you guys, and I’m glad she was. It ended up being a fucking shitshow.”
Whiskey noted the faraway look in Frankie’s eyes as he sighed and took another swig from his glass, shaking his head as Frankie recalled the events.
“After the recon, Pope said he thought we could do the job ourselves, take all the money and not tell the local governments. We found out that the local agency hadn’t been the ones to pay us the $17k. That had come out of Pope’s pocket. He was so sure that the locals were on Lorea’s payroll, and if he went to the local agency, Lorea would disappear with the money. At the end of the day, none of us could say no. Turned out the rumors of Lorea having $75M were wrong. The house was stuffed, literally, with cash. Tom, our captain, got greedy. He ignored our hard-out time and insisted we take more loads of cash. We ended up stealing close to $250M, then we burned the house down.”
Whiskey whistled. “$250M is a lot of money, partner…”
Frankie barked out a humorless laugh, his eyes rueful.
“Too much. Our helo couldn’t take it all and make it over the Andes. I knew it before take off, and I warned Tom and Pope, but all any of us could see was the money. Tom didn’t want to leave it on the runway. I almost had us over the Andes when a gearbox blew, and I had to get us back to flat. We had to cut the money net, and it was just our luck that it happened to be over a coke farm. It was a bad landing. I honestly don’t know how none of us were seriously injured, but Pope and Tom went to go and convince the farmers to get out of the money. Our comms were out, so we were going off of hand signals. Tom got too trigger happy, and he dropped a few of the villagers. I-I provided cover fire, too…”
Frankie hung his head, no matter how much Will, Benny, or Pope had tried to reassure him, he still held an enormous amount of guilt over what had happened. He felt Whiskey’s hand rest on his shoulder, and he leaned into the touch.
“That’s what you were trained to do, Flyboy. You couldn’t have known any different, especially without comms.”
Frankie nodded, taking a large gulp of his whiskey, then continued on.
“A couple days later, we took fire in the mountains, and they got Tom. It ended up being a kid and another guy from the coke farm. We killed them, but there was nothing we could do for Tom. Headshot, he died instantly. 10 years we all served together, and then he was gone, leaving behind an ex and two daughters. It could have been any one of us though, Jack… we all took lives during that mission. Tom just took the wrong ones. It… it could have been me even, I shot some of those villagers, too.”
Frankie felt Whiskey’s grip on his shoulder tighten and looked up to see the empathetic sadness of someone who truly understood how he felt reflected back in Whiskey’s eyes. Frankie cleared his throat.
“We ended up bailing on a lot of the cash, taking only what we could carry in our daypacks and tossing the rest in a ravine so we could haul Tom’s body out with us. At the end of it, we made out with around $5M, but we all agreed it should go to Tom’s family. I got back to find my fianceé had left. She couldn’t stand my leaving with Pope. Looking back, my addiction is probably what really did us in, but I was devastated to come home to an empty house after everything that had happened. Things got… dark after that. I fell back on old habits, fuck, I had barely been clean a few months when we went to Colombia. I didn’t want to think about what we’d done there, didn’t want to feel the emptiness, didn’t want to sleep and deal with the nightmares. I was a mess, and I… uh, I took too much one day. Pope found me unconscious, lying on the ground, and got me to the hospital. When I came to, I realized I didn’t want to end up dead in my shitty apartment, once they discharged me, I checked into rehab.”
Frankie took another drink. No one other than Pope knew that knocking on death’s door had been the turning point for him. Whiskey chewed on his lip, taking a drink and debating whether he should share his past as well.
“Drugs are… a terrible thing to get hooked on. My high school sweetheart, carrying my unborn son, was murdered by two meth head freaks robbing a fucking convenience store. I was on leave from the Air Force, waiting for them to come home when I got the call. I didn’t realize how much it festered in me until about a year back when we were taking down the Golden Circle.”
Frankie nodded. He remembered that he had been glad he was clean by then.
“I’m sorry, Whiskey… I didn’t know, I shouldn’t have-”
Jack’s hand moved from Frankie’s shoulder to rub his back reassuringly.
“Listen, the things you’ve done and seen for our country… and not, well, it’s a lot, and I know it’s not the same as the freaks who… it’s not the same. I almost sabotaged the mission. My hate-addled brain thought it would be justice… It was Bourbon who very literally knocked me on my ass and kept me from making a decision I’d regret. She encouraged me to see a Statesmen counselor, which has been a lot of work, but has been more helpful than I ever thought it would be. Have you thought about that?”
Frankie was distracted for a moment by Jack’s hand. It felt nice, reassuring, safe, things that had been sorely lacking for him today.
“I have and I did, well, I had to as part of the program, and I kept it up for a bit after. It helped, but… I couldn’t really talk about what happened with Tom. Sure there’s confidentiality and all that, but what we did is all kinds of illegal. I couldn’t exactly bring that to a session or group.”
Frankie snorted, a ghost of a smile tugged at a corner of his mouth.
“Really though, aside from the program I was in after rehab to get my license back, I’ve gotten some hobbies and some other out-outlets. This was just a lot. I needed to not be alone.”
Jack cocked his head at the way Frankie stuttered and subconsciously fidgeted with the bandage on his right wrist. He had picked up from the night prior that Frankie had a thing for pain, and Frankie’s reaction when he had bandaged him up was further proof of that. But using it as his sole outlet or method of working through his issues was something he wouldn’t enable. His eyes narrowed, and before Frankie could blink, Jack snatched his left hand, mindful of the tender marks as he held fast and fixed Frankie with a hard stare. Frankie flinched at the sudden movement then his eyes widened a little.
“You know this ain’t a solution, Flyboy.”
Jack’s voice had an edge to it bordering on a growl. Frankie shook his head quickly.
“Shit, no, Whiskey, the i-impact p-play stuff, i-it’s an outlet, and it’s not my only outlet. I met my old partners, Sam and then later on her husband, a year and a half or two years ago. I was a year clean before I even had my first session with either of them. I met Sam when she booked a flight tour, and one thing led to another… She’d come back into town and sometimes her husband would come with, but we all kept everything pretty quiet. They helped me relax, and they had their fun.”
Frankie was doing his best to be nonchalant, but he couldn’t help the slight bitterness creeping into his voice. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Jack’s tone had thrown him off guard, unexpectedly stirring something in him. Whiskey, of course noticed on both counts, having been trained to do so. He could see through Frankie a mile away. Frankie nervously took another sip from his glass, shuddering as Whiskey’s thumb gingerly rubbed circles over the marks, seemingly accepting his explanation.
“You know, had I known about your… interests, I would have done things a bit differently last night, Flyboy.” He winked at Frankie, then smirked as he examined Frankie’s wrist more thoughtfully. “How are they doing?”
“G-good, thanks. And uh, well, you’re one of 3 people who know.” Frankie murmured.
Whiskey’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise as he nodded and released Frankie’s hand.
“Really? Not Pope or Bourbon?”
“Are you kidding me? Pope would never let me hear the end of it. There are some things he doesn’t need to know.” Frankie chuckled and shook his head. “And Halcón? Well, there was never any reason for her to know. We never did anything together before last night.”
“How long has it been since you last saw Sam or her husband?”
Frankie downed the rest of his whiskey, eyes far away for a moment, remembering their last session, the sharp pain followed by a rush of endorphins and the occasional soothing praise. He shook his head gently, blinking himself out of his memories at the feeling of Jack’s warm hand on his knee.
“It’s been a while, six months? They moved overseas.”
There was a beat of silence, Whiskey could sense there was something up, it was a subtle shadow flitting across Frankie’s face. He decided to push a little more.
“Did you have feelings for them?”
“It was complicated.”
The edge in Frankie’s voice was tinged with pain, and he tried to cover it up with a laugh that came out humorless.
“I guess it isn’t that complicated. After six months, things shifted, and they made it clear I wasn’t part of their long term plan. It became very transactional, which was fine, but there was less and less... care after.”
“Oh.”
The response slipped from Jack’s lips, and he was momentarily stunned quiet before his temper began to flare. His index finger and thumb gently gripped Frankie’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.
“Listen carefully, Flyboy. What I did last night was the bare minimum of what someone should do in that kind of situation. Anything less is negligent. Christ, how was this ever stress relief for you if you were left to free fall afterwards?”
Whiskey’s voice was calm and even, but Frankie could see the fury raging in his eyes. Sensing Whiskey’s desire for understanding, he nodded then shrugged.
“I guess I’d try to go on a hike with one of the guys or go train at the gym.”
Silence fell between them, a muscle in Whiskey’s jaw clenching before he glanced at the clock and let out a deep sigh, willing himself to calm down.
“It’s already just about midnight, Flyboy. Why don’t you go shower, and I’ll put on a clean bandage for you once you’re done. You can use my bathroom. There’s a clean towel hanging you can use. Don’t worry about clothes, I’ll leave something for you to sleep in on my bed so you can change while I set up the guest room for you.”
Frankie was about to protest, saying he could do his own bandages, but Whiskey fixed him with a stare and shook his head.
“Go on Flyboy, get yourself in the shower. Head down the hall, second door on the left. Your room is across the hall. I’ll be waiting there with the medkit when you’re done.”
Whiskey took Frankie’s empty glass and stood, taking their glasses to the sink while Frankie got up and made his way to the shower. A pensive frown tugged at Whiskey’s lips. Tonight certainly explained a lot of things. The sharp fury that permeated Whiskey’s chest when they were talking about Frankie’s previous partners returned. How could someone not be bothered with aftercare? It was also clear that Frankie felt abandoned by them. On some level, the poor man was probably terrified of that happening again, if he even entertained the thought of something between the three of you. Whiskey waited a few moments until he heard the water running before heading into his room. He let out a sigh as he grabbed a white t-shirt and a pair of linen shorts for Frankie to wear, leaving them on the bed before he left to make sure the guest room was all set.
Frankie undressed quickly, folding his clothes and setting them down on the vanity in a neat pile crowned with his hat. Next, he made quick work of unwrapping the bandage around his wrist and tossing the materials in the garbage. He let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the shower and the hot water scoured the last two days from his skin. The relief was quickly replaced with a small whine of pain as the water hit his wrist. Closing his eyes and bracing himself against the wall with his forearm he breathed through the pain, acclimating to the sensation. Frankie took a minute to just exist, trying to enjoy the quiet that had slowly crept back into his mind. Taking a deep breath, he set to work getting himself clean. The steam made the air thick and heavy with the scent of Whiskey’s soap, something akin to leather and tobacco leaves. It clung to Frankie’s lungs, and he could have stayed there enjoying it for considerably longer. But, he didn’t want to keep Whiskey waiting, so he rinsed off and hopped out of the shower. He toweled off, smirking to himself when he saw it was monogrammed (because of course it was), then headed out and changed quickly into the shirt and shorts that had been left for him.
Whiskey looked up in time to see Frankie stride through the doorway wearing his shirt and shorts, smelling like him, his soap. He swallowed thickly and tried to recover with a smile.
“Feel better, Flyboy? C’mon, sit down. Let’s have a look.”
Frankie nodded, then took a seat next to Whiskey on the bed and gave him his right hand. Whiskey hummed his approval at the lack of resistance from Frankie, something the pilot felt tug at his chest.
“This is looking much better, Flyboy, should be completely healed in a few days.”
Whiskey smiled as he finished tending to and wrapping up Frankie’s wrist. Without prompting, Frankie offered his other wrist and Whiskey couldn’t bite back the smirk that followed. He was glad though, glad that Frankie was trusting him with this and was embracing these moments, even if it was for something small. Frankie’s left wrist was considerably better off, but even so, Whiskey was still gentle as he looked him over.
Frankie’s heart fluttered at the intimacy of what was happening. Here was Jack, a man he’d known for barely 48 hours, who was taking care of him, who had dropped everything to come get him, who had spent his evening letting Frankie talk. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him this way.
There was an overwhelming urge building in his chest, and without thinking, he acted on it.
He gripped the collar of Whiskey’s t-shirt with one hand, tugging him closer as Frankie leaned in and kissed him. Whiskey was shocked for a moment, it had been the last thing he had been expecting, but he quickly recovered when he felt Frankie’s tongue swipe at his lip. His hand rested along the column of Frankie’s throat, thumb grazing over the scruff along his jaw as he deepened the kiss, leaning into Frankie and tasting him.
A small moan pulled Jack back to his senses, resting his forehead against Frankie’s and cupping his jaw with this other hand. They both panted, trying to catch their breath, and Whiskey smiled as he gave Frankie another quick kiss. For a moment, Frankie was worried he had overstepped when Whiskey cut off their kiss, but looking into the other man’s eyes, he knew that wasn’t the case.
“You’ve had a long day, Flyboy, we’re not gonna do anything tonight. Tomorrow though, if you want, I could help you get rid of some of that stress and help you come down the right way. No rush, no pressure, you can say no and nothing changes. I don’t want an answer right now either, sleep on it.”
Frankie’s breath quickened and his pupils dilated at the thought, but one thing nagged at him.
“What about Halcón?”
Whiskey chuckled and patted Frankie’s shoulder.
“Well it’s what we both want, in a manner of speaking. She’d be onboard, but she doesn’t have to know exactly what we do for now unless you’re comfortable with it. A lot of this is stuff I know she wants to go over on Friday, but for now, when it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it, partner. If you want to do this tomorrow, then we can do it. If not, no harm, no foul, you’re still welcome to stay here and keep me company.”
Frankie nodded, still processing what Whiskey had said and more than a little surprised that Whiskey was inviting him back regardless of his decision. Whiskey stood up then, squeezing Frankie’s shoulder.
“G’night, Flyboy. Holler if you need anything.”
Frankie was back in Colombia. He felt sluggish, his feet refusing to respond the way he wanted them to. He saw the villager from the cocaine farm pop up from the rocky outcrop, but Frankie couldn’t move, couldn’t draw his gun to take him out. He cried out in anguish as the man fired.
“No! Tom!”
Then he was surrounded by Pope, Benny, Will, you, and Whiskey, statuesque as the man who killed Tom lined up and dropped Pope, moving his way down the line. Frankie was sobbing now, he was being swallowed up by the ground, sinking helplessly as the people he cared for were murdered.
Whiskey woke with a start to the sound of shouting.
Ripping the sheet and comforter off, Whiskey glanced at the clock. It read 01:30 and he sighed. Frankie just couldn’t catch a break.
“P-please, No! Po-Pope, God, n-no, Hal-Halcón! Whiskey!”
He really didn’t want to shake Frankie awake, worried as to how he might react waking up from that sort of dream, but Jack had to do something.
“Hey, Frankie, I’m right here, you gotta wake up. Wake up, Flyboy.”
Frankie shot up, feeling like ice water had been poured down his spine. He was wild-eyed and breathing heavily, but once again, Whiskey’s soothing words served to ground him, and he clung to them with all he had. He felt Whiskey pull him into a hug, and Frankie didn’t care about the awkward angle, he clung to the embrace as well.
Whiskey’s heart ached at the way Frankie clutched at him after hearing him call out Pope’s, his, and your names. He had a vague idea of what might have happened, he still had dreams where he couldn’t save his loved ones every now and then. Once Frankie’s breathing calmed a bit, Whiskey tugged him up out of bed.
“C’mon Flyboy, you’re coming with me.”
Frankie didn’t argue, he just followed, grateful that Whiskey was pulling him by his hand, needing that point of contact. Whiskey pulled back the covers on the side opposite of his and waited until Frankie crawled in before he pulled the covers over him, then slid in on his side of the bed. He scooted a bit closer, not wanting to crowd Frankie unless he wanted the contact, and was pleased when the other man scooted back until his back rested against Jack’s chest.
“Get some sleep, Flyboy. I’ve got you.”
Sooner than he expected, Whiskey heard soft snores coming from Frankie. He smiled then wrapped his arm around him and pulled him closer.
Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!
If you want to be added to my taglist just head on over here. If your blog is crossed out, it wouldn't let me tag you, sorry!
Taglist: @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @yespolkadotkitty @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @itsme-aj467 @kesskirata @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @driedgreentomatoes @pintsizemama @neganwifey25-blog @wheresarizona @absurdthirst @sarahjkl82-blog @duchesschameleon @sherala007 @beautyagegoodnesssize @all-hallows-evie @a-bang-for-your-bucky @starlightmornings @empress-palpat1ne
#Agent Whiskey#Agent Whiskey x Reader#Agent Whiskey x f!reader#Agent Whiskey x you#Jack Daniels#Jack Daniels x Reader#Jack Daniels x f!reader#Jack Daniels x you#Frankie Morales#Frankie Morales x reader#Frankie Morales x f!reader#Frankie Morales x you#Catfish Morales x reader#Catfish Morales x f!reader#Catfish Morales x you#Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales#As It Should Be#AISB#my fics#pedrostories
164 notes
·
View notes
Text
Grace and Frankie 7x1 - 7x4 thoughts
Meh? Like...I love them so much, but...meh?
(I did enjoy this line about brunch.)
I really loved season 6 of Grace and Frankie. I thought it was well-paced, largely very well-acted, generally well-written, and it culminated in a massive moment of character development for the title characters, who, having spent years growing closer and being there for each other when others could not or would not be, finally articulate to each other that they are the primary person in each other’s lives. Platonic gal pal soulmate BFF emotional support witches 4 lyfe!
I know progress isn’t always linear, and in fact is very rarely linear, but after a moment that significant, you’d think the writers on this show would maybe come up with some more interesting things for these characters to do than spin in circles?
@bristler and I watched on Friday night, and just this morning over breakfast had a good conversation about the first four episodes of the new season now that they have settled in our brains a bit. We concluded that the writing (often noticeably clunky, like the dialogue is responsible for more narration than usual) and the tone (aggressively wacky) feel really off, especially compared to the prior season. I think we diagnosed the big issue, which is that Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda are by far the most talented actors on this show (if you disagree, fight me in the parking lot) and it feels surprisingly unfortunate that their characters have, to this point in the new season, pretty much figured out their perspectives on each other. No matter how people feel about Grace and Frankie’s sexualities, the whole show has been about them finding each other and getting in deeper and deeper, and it’s less interesting to watch other characters have realizations about that than it is to watch Grace and Frankie having realizations about themselves. If the title characters are now limited to reacting to other people’s actions, and the title characters are played by the best actors on the show, the whole show’s gonna suffer. And is suffering, very much so, at least for these first four episodes. I’m definitely still excited for the final twelve in 2022 (twelve! I cannot believe this season will have sixteen eps!), but I’m pretty disappointed so far.
Stuff I Loved:
The family brunch. These families have been entwined for so long, and the backstory for this particular brunch was so fun (even though I didn’t care for the effects they did to depict Grace and Robert 25 years ago; there was no need for a visual flashback in the scene). I love that Grace hit Frankie with a wiffle ball bat. I love that the two couples realized some of the emotional reasons behind their decisions to lie to each other about Bud’s Bunny and about M’Challah. I love the way Jane Fonda sounds uttering the phrase “Bud’s Bunny” with little to no irony. I love that Grace is able to recognize and articulate just how deep and miserable her anger issues were, albeit with the continued help of her omnipresent martini, and that Frankie told her she’d now make up a holiday in order to spend more time with Grace. I really, really hope Frankie does exactly this at some point in the remaining episodes of the season. I love that Grace is generally a pretty good person now, with aspirations of being a delightful person. I love that she and Frankie don’t have it in them to stay angry with each other, and I love all the evidence that they really, really talk to each other about everything now.
Frankie talking to the man at the office (I don’t remember who he was supposed to be? A toilet manufacturer? I didn’t mention this before, but I actually got pretty high while watching?!? Believe it or not, this was the first time I smoked pot and watched Grace and Frankie at the same time despite having enjoyed both activities on their own for quite some time. I would recommend the combo! And I think I still pretty much got what was happening) about paying for the toilet parts with candy. This whole subplot with the money laundering was absurd and not that interesting, but I loved this particular scene because it was finally evidence of some really thoughtful writing. The concepts aren’t enough! You have to write them into good dialogue! And the whole cash/candy thing was a moment of dialogue that only someone as hilarious as Lily Tomlin could pull off. Which she did, IMO.
In a show about super messy people, Coyote has stayed sober this entire time. He is sober, employed, in love, and preparing to buy a full-sized house with his partner. He hasn’t murdered anyone in his family. Hasn’t even attempted murder once.
In 2017 or whatever, Grace Hanson would have been furious about Frankie using obscure Beatles references like a treasure map when hiding the cash. But here in 2021, she cooperates and even gets in on the fun. The writing is very unsubtle this season, but that did feel like a reasonably subtle moment that shows how good of a partner she is for Frankie. (Platonic, of course! So platonic. Female friendship, amirite?)
Stuff I Did NOT Love and Felt Incredibly Negative About:
Brianna. I can only conclude that June Diane Raphael has decided she’s happy with playing a character whose primary role in life is to be hot and mean. She succeeds at being hot and mean, but I have reached my limit with this character. I realize we’re only a quarter of the way into the season, but I don’t think I can take another arc about her learning to compromise only to reveal to Barry that she never intended to compromise at all. At this point, it’s both abusive and boring. How?! The Grace/Brianna parallels aren’t interesting anymore, because one character has grown and the other is stagnant. I get that Brianna was raised in an emotionally stilted environment by two unhealthy people. But I think it would be very cool if she could learn something from her mother at this point. Grace has put a ton of effort into dealing with her “rabbit-killing, mad-at-the-world anger.” She’s put a ton of effort into figuring out what makes her happy, what she wants her life to look like. She’s even started accepting her age and abilities without shame. And that growth is believable; Grace is still short-tempered and she still slugs back way too many martinis and she struggles to articulate certain things, but she’s grown into a truly lovely human. And while, as a daughter with a mother, I can absolutely attest to the fact that it can be difficult and uncomfortable to learn lessons from one’s mother, Brianna really, really should. Grace spent decades letting anger and shame trap her in a small, miserable life. Brianna—and even Mallory, who just seems like a vapid idiot this season—are traveling that same path, but there’s someone right there who could really help, maybe even more than Frankie helped when the Hanson girls were first growing up.
The arraignment. The scene might’ve been salvageable if it was filmed from Grace’s perspective, and filmed to reflect how surreal and improbable it all was. But speaking of non-linear progress, this scene erased everything Nick Skolka has done to put himself in my good graces (LOL) over the past couple seasons. I mean, I tried, man. I even wrote fic about Nick, Grace, and Frankie making a genuine effort at polyamory. But the arraignment is so emotionally manipulative, such a slap in the face of everything Grace has worked for, and while we’re certainly “supposed” to feel the weight of the moment, I mean, it’s not like we’re supposed to be like, “Oh, cool, we’re in a rom com now! This is adorable!” it still felt bad and unearned and slapdash.
And I want Frankie to process these things with her! Frankie seems so happy to have all this information about Grace and how Grace feels, but I want to see scenes in which we can gain an understanding of how Frankie actually feels. Hearing Frankie talk to other people about how Grace feels is interesting, but it’s like there’s no room in these episodes for us to learn anything new about Frankie herself.
Grace’s transitional wig. Is so. Bad. It is. Such a. Bad wig. Oof. I mean, I like what they’re doing with Grace’s hair from a plot perspective, although (see one bullet up) I would really like to get more of an understanding of what’s happening in Grace’s head, not just on top of her head. And gosh, Frankie would be a really good person to talk to about this in a conversation that lasts longer than 30 seconds. But the wig! She’s in a wig in all four episodes, of course, since Jane Fonda went grey and cut her hair short before they started filming this season. The wig for episodes 1 and 2 is fine; it’s a good approximation of Grace’s typical hair, and of course we know that canonically Grace’s hair isn’t 100% her own hair anyway. But the wig with grey roots looks so weird. The part that’s growing out doesn’t look the same as the hair on the wig from 1 and 2. And the grey roots look like a yarmulke. I cannot wait to get to the point in the season when Grace goes all the way grey.
(One more thing about the hair. I can’t let it go. I paused the show while we were watching to rant, but I’m not done.) I had the great privilege of seeing Jane Fonda in person at a protest in 2019. She is an insanely beautiful human. She was growing her hair out and it was partially dyed blonde and partially grey. It looked really cool. I am not ashamed to say I spent that day learning many things about the climate crisis and about Jane Fonda’s hair. Having seen her in real life with her real hair looking that fucking great, I just have a an extra-large grudge against everyone involved in that horrible wig. The wig is necessary, but it didn’t have to be this bad.
What Do I Care About Now?
I am pretty intrigued by the way Grace threw out her real age in a conversation with Nick and Elena. She has nothing to fear anymore! She’s so chill about aging! What could go wrong? I assume that Nick and Elena maneuvering for Nick to be on house arrest in Grace's house specifically has to do with the fact that Grace is 82. She’s gonna find out that Nick is allowed to be with her because she’s ancient and helpless and the court took pity. Or something like that. She’s going to feel betrayed on top of feeling stifled and overwhelmed by Nick’s presence. I want to see where this goes for sure.
Other than that, and other than the fact that I really do continue to believe this show is moving in a direction in which Grace and Frankie will choose each other, I feel very whatever about this whole thing. I love this show and I will always appreciate this show for giving me some incredible characters to spend years of my life writing about, and for bringing me some pretty amazing friendships. Speaking of those friendships, yesterday @ellydash and @telanu and I were talking about some of the incredible TV we’ve watched recently, like Ted Lasso and Hacks and Fleabag and Killing Eve, and how great it feels to watch beautifully written TV crafted by writers who are profoundly—organically yet intentionally—attuned to even the most minor character’s rhythm. The disappointment of these first few episodes of the new G&F season feels like a mild disappointment rather than a sharp heartbreak, and that has a lot to do with being deeply invested in other shows that could also go in all kinds of different directions but with writing I fundamentally trust.
Also Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin are my forever faves and my appreciation for their performances and general awesomeness onscreen and in life is undiminished. So that’s pretty cool.
#grace and frankie#meta by me#grace and frankie s7 spoilers#a lesbian watches ted lasso#grace hanson is a gay disaster#except#she's not even a disaster anymore#she's totally fine and men keep bothering her!#frankie bergstein is a bisexual mess
58 notes
·
View notes
Photo
One Piece Mermaid AU!
Featuring Luffy as a rubber mermaid who can’t swim, and Ace who carries her on his back as they pirate together.
＊Genderbend warning, fem!Luffy
Sliding in last minute for MerMay, bc idk about you, but I need something to mark that May has passed this year...
~~
PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, TRANSLATE, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART. To share, please reblog! Reblogs and comments greatly appreciated!!!
~~
Base headcanons for this AU beneath the cut! ↓ ↓ ↓
Luffy's a mermaid who was raised in Fuusha village, just like in canon. And, just like in canon, despite being a mermaid, she SUCKS at swimming, a fact that Shanks finds absolutely hilarious. She still wants to become a pirate, she still eats her devil fruit and becomes a rubber mer(?), she still gets kidnapped by Higuma (who sees her as an excellent way to rake in cash, given how valuable mermaids are on the slave market), and Shanks still gives her his hat.
As a devil fruit user, Luffy's already atrocious swimming skills are now at zero. She can still breathe under water, but will sink like a stone, her strength sapped by the sea, and if she loses consciousness she'll stop breathing too. Needless to say, she stays out of the water, and the villagers come to accept that sometimes, mermaids just live on land.
Garp still comes back, and is still furious at her wanting to become a pirate (and inwardly, extremely concerned that a bandit tried to catch and sell her), and still takes her to live at Dadan's where she meets Ace.
Ace has no idea what to think of the weird fish-brat who he's now told is gonna be his sibling, and resolutely ignores Luffy. He's inwardly slightly impressed as Luffy continues to follow him through the mountain every day, not even particularly hindered by lack of legs and using a mixture of crawling, squirming, hand-walking, and ricocheting forward with rubber arms to move.
Luffy still meets Sabo the same way as canon, and is still caught by Porchemy, who at first is thrilled because a mer brat! That'll bring in WAY more money than the spare change Ace stole! But in the end, he loses his temper at Luffy's stubbornness and still beats her to a pulp.
Ace and Sabo still rescue Luffy, and they still exchange sake cups and become brothers.
Yes, brothers.
Because at this point, neither Ace nor Sabo nor any of the bandits, nor anyone really on Dawn island save Makino and Garp actually know that Luffy's a girl. Not even Luffy.
The three brothers promise to each other that they'll all leave the island when they turn seventeen, setting out to sea to become pirates (Ace and Sabo are honestly a little concerned, given how often people try to sell Luffy, and how despite aquatic appearances Luffy's vulnerable af in water, but decide to wait and see. They have seven years together, Luffy ten until seventeen, who knows how much stronger their baby brother will get in that time).
Sabo "dies."
Ace and Luffy continue to train, and things don't change until Ace is seventeen, shortly before he sets out to sea.
He's let Luffy crawl into his blanket to sleep with him (partially cold-blooded, Lu gets cold easily when inactive), and Ace realizes that his lil brother's chest feels a bit lumpy.
Concerned, he makes Luffy have it checked out by the bandits, who are shocked to find developing...breasts?
That can't be right...right?
Dadan makes a call to Garp, who snorts and says of COURSE Luffy's a girl, didn't he say granddaughter?
No, he had not, he had only mentioned "grand child."
Everyone is shocked, but none more so than Ace, who really doesn't know what to do with this new information.
(Luffy's not quite sure what a "girl" is, and when she asks Ace, Ace honestly doesn't know how to define "girl" either, so she doesn't get what the big deal is)
Ace realizes he's troubled because he can't remember the number of times he's rescued Luffy from potential traffickers, and the number of times he's heard the lament, "Pity it's not female, it'd be worth quadruple," from the kidnappers before he beats them to a pulp.
He already had doubts about letting Luffy go out to sea alone, three years after he's left. But now knowing that Luffy's a girl, and one of the most sought-after species that traffickers target...he knows the world out there is much bigger than a teeny peaceful East Blue island, and Luffy may not get lucky every time, and may not be strong enough in just three years.
But at the same time, it's not like he can order her to stay here. There's no way Luffy'd listen; the sea calls to her, freedom calls to her, and Ace understands that more than anyone.
Sabo, Ace thinks, what would you do?
The night before he leaves, Ace tells Luffy that there's been a change of plans.
He's still leaving for sea. He's going to get stronger, and work his way towards becoming Pirate King.
BUT, three years later, Luffy will NOT leave Dawn Island alone.
Ace promises that he'll come back, a stronger pirate capable of looking out for his baby brother (because girl or not, they exchanged vows of brotherhood, and that's something that can't be changed).
He refuses to let Luffy be his captain, he's still got his pride, but maybe, maybe if Luffy becomes strong enough, he'll let her be co-Captain.
Luffy is thrilled, because she wanted to be pirates WITH Ace, and grudgingly accepts the compromise, and promises to train and wait for Ace's return.
Ace leaves Dawn island, and makes a name for himself on the Grand Line (he's PISSED when he finds out he's eaten a devil fruit, because now how's he supposed to rescue Lu from drowning when he can't swim himself???).
He even eventually makes it to Whitebeard, and eventually comes to admire the man. Whitebeard invites him to his crew, and Ace honestly replies that a large part of him wants to accept...but he can't. He promised his baby brother that they'll be pirates and co-captains together, and he can't join another pirate crew without Luffy agreeing too. Even so, and he knows it's selfish of him, he wants to call Whitebeard his father.
Whitebeard tells him that Ace is already his son, regardless of where his allegiances lie, and gives him his blessing to return to East Blue to fetch Luffy. Whitebeard laughs that he can't wait to meet the lil brat that Ace speaks so highly of, and for Ace to hurry up and come back to the New World so they can meet.
Ace plans on traveling light, his former crew all choosing to join the Whitebeard pirates except for his first mate, Deuce. Ace loves his crew, but they're also his crew, and knows that he wants to make their crew with Luffy. So he thinks he and Deuce will be a good starting point (You're just bringing me along bc you want someone who can swim on the crew, Deuce accuses).
As they're planning on leaving, Marco lets slip to fellow commander Thatch that he heard that Ace's "little brother" is actually a super cute girl.
The next morning, Thatch shows up too, insisting that he come along, because hey! He's been with the Whitebeards for ages and hasn't been to Paradise in a while, he wants some change! And won't it be nice to have someone as reliable as him along, just until they get back to the New World and reunite with the Whitebeards? Really he has no ulterior motives like wanting to check out Ace's supposedly hyper hot baby brother-sister!
Ace is suspicious, but Thatch is already on board and the other Whitebeards are already waving so he lets it go.
(Shortly after they leave, Thatch discovers a devil fruit. Deuce tells him to sell the damn thing, it'll taste like shit, but Thatch thinks boy wouldn't it be great to be able to woo Ace's hot brother with a really cool devil fruit power. So he eats it, and yeah it tastes like shit, but now he can control Darkness which is sorta badass?)
(Somewhere on the Whitebeard ships, Blackbeard is still waiting for someone to find the darkness devil fruit, and well, it doesn't happen)
Before Ace returns to Dawn Island, part of him still hopes that Luffy looks passably like a guy. Having been to Fishman island, having befriended Jinbe, he knows that while mermen can still be targeted, mermaids are exponentially more vulnerable. He's learned the kinds of clothing that can help conceal tails, and is hoping that there's a slim chance they might be able to be pirates without the world knowing that Lu's a mermaid.
His hopes are shot when Luffy rockets into his arms at the dock, and his face is immediately buried in enormous tits that definitely weren't there three years ago.
Despite Ace's growing concerns (and red face; why does he feel so hot??? It's not his devil fruit...), Ace lets Luffy give Deuce a beating (why me?!) to claim her position as Ace's Co-Captain of the newly established ASL pirates (because if we're pirates together, Sabo has to be with us too!).
Luffy's gotten a lot stronger, but is still utterly ignorant of the outside world and the dangers it holds (such as the drooling Thatch who immediately wins Luffy over with his cooking despite Ace's burning glares). She's reckless and falls into the ocean every damn day, and while Deuce dives in after her and they've discovered her useful ability to talk to fish to ask for help, it still gives Ace heart attacks.
They still pick up more crew members while in East Blue, including Roronoa Zoro, Usopp, and Sanji, a pervy cook who competes daily with Thatch for Luffy's affections through food (Luffy appreciates the food).
At Arlong Park, Luffy encounters fishmen for the first time in her life. Arlong mocks Luffy's choice of friends and family, and invites her to join his crew made of her own kind. Fishmen and mer are the superior race, and Luffy will make a fine wife, Arlong says.
Luffy breaks his nose off, and Nami joins their crew.
Luffy's chosen mode of transportation is on the back of one of her sturdier crew mates, usually Ace, but often Zoro too. She unfortunately hates all the long skirts/robes Ace suggested for her to hide her tail, and so Ace has decided that being as intimidating as possible while carrying his brother glued to his back is the only way to go.
Needless to say, news of the former Spade Pirates Captain + Whitebeard Commander Thatch (are they an extension of the Whitebeards??) establishing the new ASL pirates spreads fast. That, and rumors that there's a beautiful young mermaid on board who can't swim. And despite the strength of the crew and their attempts at vigilance, Luffy's still dumb and gullible, and is kidnapped (and rescued) a dozen times before they're even on the Grand Line.
(after a few times, Luffy's uncharacteristically quiet, and privately asks Ace if they can break up the crew. She's holding Ace back; she not only made him come back to her, but half their adventures just seem to be her crew rescuing her. She's strong enough to defeat enemies, but not save herself. Ace tells her to shut up, and never bring this up again; they're BROTHERS, and he's not going to leave her behind or make her abandon her dreams when she can't accomplish them alone, and that's his choice. Luffy doesn't bring it up again, but works harder than ever to become stronger and earn recognition as co-Captain when the world seems intent on thinking of her as Ace's pet.)
During one of these kidnappings, Luffy's successfully brought all the way to an auction house before her crew can rescue her. An auction house that unbeknownst to them, was under investigation by the Revolutionary Army.
Liberating slaves is an unfortunately common mission for them, and Sabo's doing final sweeps as Koala frees the last of them when he notices a tank stowed away in a corner. He's familiar with these tanks, used to showcase mermaids in the rare occasions one can be caught, and it looks empty but he's still drawn to it for some reason.
It's only when he gets closer that he notices a mermaid crumpled at the bottom of the enclosure. She's completely slumped over, and he's afraid she's already gone, even as something about her screams with familiarity.
He's cracked the tank and has reached in to pull her out, when the wall behind him explodes in flames, revealing a furious Ace who snarls at the strange man with his hands on his baby brother...
...and then Sabo's memories come back.
~~
Something like that???? For an initial HCs dump????
This AU has continued! A LOT! Check out the comics, illustrations, and text stories for this AU under the Mermaid AU section of my One Piece Masterpost!
As always, REBLOGS, tags, asks, and comments greatly appreciated!
Advance posts for this AU and more are on my Patreon! (Patreon(.)com/YukiPri)
#One Piece#MerMay#AceLu#Monkey D. Luffy#One Piece Mermaid AU#Portgas D. Ace#genderbend#YukiPri art#text headcanons#fem!Luffy#Honestly not a CLUE if this is the kind of AU that would interest people ^ ^;#Started on a whim and trying to keep my investment on it light#I have more posts planned for Patreon but idk if they'll be going public#it really depends on response so please let me know if this interests you!#I've been less invested in posting publicly recently and am trying to get that back#but i also know people don't engage in content anymore so...we'll see!!
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Salt-fic September Day 7: “From now on, I’m gonna call you Karen.”
@maribat-central-official
Salt Fic September Month Calendar
@agent-numbuh-227′s ask fits perfectly with this salt-fic September prompt, so I combined them.
Here’s my entry for Salt-Fic September.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Waiter, my steak is not cooked enough. Send it back and have it reheated.”
“Yes, Miss Rossi.” The waiter takes her plate to the kitchen.
Lila is having lunch at the Le Grand Paris hotel's Le Petit Restaurant. She’s not at school today as she told her gullible classmates she is in Achu for an emergency meeting. To not get caught by them, she timed it to be same time as their regular lunch hour. By the time Monday came, she’ll have new Achu stories and claim the quick lunch at Le Petit Restaurant was on a different day.
A few times during the meal, she claimed a bunch of petty stuff such as needing more ice in her water, trying to order something not on the menu, asking for more napkins when there’s already enough on the table, and ordering a caramelized onion tart with many things from it removed. The last complaint got the head chef herself to step out of the kitchen to address it.
The head chef made it clear she wouldn’t majorly alter the food. If Lila didn’t like it, she could order something else. The silent look of ‘If you don’t like the food here, then leave’ is understood.
After the delicious meal is finished, the waiter came with the bill.
“Waiter, since I’m a famous Gabriel model I should get a nice 30% discount. I’ll be sure to post on my social media about your restaurant’s generosity.” Lila is perfectly able to pay the bill in full. She just doesn’t like paying in full if she doesn’t have to.
“Miss Rossi, we do not offer discounts here.”
“You should after that ordeal I went through. I couldn’t finish my meal without something coming up.”
“Miss-”
“You know what, get me your manager.”
“Is there a problem?” says the head chef as the waiter leaves.
“Oh, you’re back. As I was saying, I need a discount to make up for the multiple errors that interrupted my lunch.”
“I’m sorry, there is a no discount policy. You need to pay the entire bill.”
“Do you know who I am?” The lack of recognition on the head chef’s face infuriates her. “I’m Gabriel Agreste’s muse. You guys should be happy I’m here. A mention of me eating here on my twitter will boost your sales.”
“No discounts-”
“Mr. Agreste would not be pleased at this service. He might even need to have a talk with your manager. I’ll forgive you if you make my meal free. I’ll pay for the drinks of course,” bluffs Lila. She would not actually bother Gabriel over something like this.
The head chef’s eyes harden. “No matter to your....connection with Mr. Agreste, you must still pay your meal. If you can’t, I’m afraid I’ll have to call the police.”
“T-There’s no need to.” Lila hands over the cash and quickly scampers off before the manager arrives.
Once outside, she spots a handsome guy around her age that was in the restaurant earlier. He has slick black hair and green eyes. She tells a shorthand tale of woe hopping to win him over.
His face of indifference doesn’t change. “You wasted my 3 minutes of life with a tale of your horrible behavior. Even money can’t buy you better manners.”
Lila storms off in a huff.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“-it was horrible. The head chef at the Le Petit Restaurant was so mean. Couldn’t even get my order right and had to get it remade several times. She wouldn’t accommodate my allergies too. She got angry when I asked her to keep some stuff off my food.”
After the handsome guy’s reaction, she tailored her story to focus more on the head chef than herself.
Alya looks shocked. “You mean the one inside Le Grand Paris?”
Lila nods. “Yes. I’m never going back there while that horrible woman is still there. Maybe I should report her?” The class is silent and weirdly horrified. She didn’t think the woman’s actions in her story was that outrageous.
Ayla slowly says, “You’re the difficult customer my mother was talking about.”
“What do you mean?” The shock of Ayla not cheerfully agreeing prevents her making the connection right away.
Ayla continues on. “My mom told our family about a rude customer at work. Very picky with their food, waving their connection around, and demanding discounts and free food. Even Chloe wasn’t as demanding as this girl. She didn’t say who it was, though.”
Kim gasps, “Oh my god. Lila’s a Karen.”
“W-Wait I can explain-”
Chloe laughs, “Shut up, Karen. You let the fame go to your head. A few modeling shoots and this amateur thinks she’s a big shot.”
A wide eyed Rose says, “What happened to you Lila? You used to be so kind and giving. Now you turned into this.”
Lila tries to do damage control. “Look guys, I’m so sorry. I’ve learned my lesson and I’ll never do this again.” She’s only ‘apologizing’ to get them to forget about this and move on. Think of it as a one time experience that’ll never happen. A little stain on her reputation is better than no one listening to her ever again over not saying some nice words.
Alix crosses her arms. “You’re not going to apologize to Alya about what you said about her mom? If you told those lies to the hotel Mrs. Cesaire could have gotten in big trouble with her disregarding allergies.” At that point Lila connected the dots and realized the source is the head chef: Ayla’s mom. No wonder the girl was so mad. A little surprised in not getting a slap in the face, though.
Chloe interrupts Lila’s storm of apologies to Alya with her fateful words, “Miss wannabe big shot, from now on, you’ll be Karen in my eyes.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Lila’s reign of lies may not completely fallen that day, but it’s pretty close. Mrs. Bustier’s class from then on took her stories with a grain of salt. Was Le Petit Restaurant Incident a one time occurrence or a pattern? No one trusted her accounts with other people from then on. They wonder if the people’s behavior in the story is as accurate as she claims.
A few had darker thoughts, wondering if Lila is truely like this the entire time and the fame just made it easier to see.
It becomes a tradition to call Lila Karen whenever they catch her doing what they call her “Karen-like” ways. Like Lila trying to get special accommodations (not medical related) and claiming someone is being mean to her. So no one believed Lila when she cries about Marinette saying bad things about her when no ones looking. It could be like the Mrs. Cesaire situation all over again. Maybe it’s just Marinette being firm on her boundries.
With the exception of one, the classmates don’t call her Karen too often as they don’t want to cross the line into bullying.
Chloe, channeling her inner Style Queen, never called Lila by her name ever again. Lila will always be Karen to her.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Before it’s asked, Ayla never asked her mom when this happened. She just knows it happened recently.
Did a small Damian cameo. I only watched parts of the Batman Animated series and the Marvel Universe. Didn’t want to butcher him too much.
264 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Cute Barista
Pairing: Jimin x reader
Word count: 2263
Genre: Pastel cafe?? Jimin being a comforting person :3
Summary: Your favourite barista has moved away and in her place is the ever charming Park Jimin. Can he comfort you just the same?
Warnings: Cringey pick up line (rip but it fit well with the story), stressed and upset reader
After a long day, a trip to the cafe was exactly what she needed. Classes were kicking her ass, what with essays, assignments, and presentations piling up on the daily, not to mention her trying to keep up with work and her own personal life. A calming sit-down, with a nice book, along with her favourite barista, Hwa Young, would surely cheer her up.
Opening the door to the cafe, the smell of brownies and buttercream frosting immediately wafts up her nose. The overall atmosphere of the place, with its pastel pinks walls and baby blue trimming, its bubbly aura due to the dainty display of desserts, large windows, and sweet jazz music instantly calms Y/N after a hectic day.
Walking up to the cash register, she realizes that Hwa Young isn’t at her usual station, neither is she wiping down the tables or serving customers.
She spots a blond boy standing in place of her favourite barista and decides to ask for her whereabouts. “Excuse me, I was wondering where Hwa Young was?”
The boy looks up from the till and gives her a warming grin, cheeks almost covering his eyes. My, he’s really handsome. Handsome, however, was an understatement. His face had an innocent, boyish charm to it, with large, honest eyes, plump lips with a subtle cupid’s bow, and a soft jaw.
“I suppose you’re in the dark about her.” Hearing this, Y/N grows worried and the boy sees this. “Oh don’t worry,” he scrambles, panicking for frightening her, “she just moved to Japan for university. She left just last week.”
She left? Crestfallen, Y/N looks to the ground. Damn, I was really looking forward to seeing her. “Really? It’s just...she has a really comforting aura and it was something I needed right now. I suppose I won’t be getting that ever again, if not ever again.”
Y/N realizes her mistake of oversharing and clasps a hand over her mouth with wide eyes. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. The last thing you need right now is for a stranger telling you her problem.”
The new barista chuckles, “It’s alright, my sister was a big help to a lot of people so I understand.”
“Yeah, she- wait. Sister? She was your sister?” Y/N squeaks out.
“Is, not was. She’s still here with us, just far away. But yeah, after she left I decided to take her place here to help our mom run the cafe.”
“That’s sweet of you…” finding no reason to stay any longer she decides to leave, picking up her wallet from the counter. “Anyways, I’ve got to go, but uhhh, thank you for telling me about your sister. Have a nice day-” she reads the boy’s name tag. “Jimin. I’ll be going now.”
Just as she’s about to turn, Y/N feels a grip on her wrist, disabling her from leaving. Jimin looks at his hold on Y/N and quickly lets go.
“Listen, I know you’re not exactly in the best of moods right now and I know I’m not my sister but please, stay and give yourself a rest.”
She considers his comment for a moment before turning back to him and offering a tight-lipped smile.
“Alright. I’ll have a medium honey latte, please,” she says, offering Jimin money for her order.
Taking the money from her, he gives a mock salute, chest puffing out. “Coming right up, Miss.”
Y/N can’t help but giggle at his gesture, hands going up to cover her smile.
“Yeahhhh! That’s what we like to hear. My goodness, if I knew your smile was this bright, I never would have bothered to change the light bulbs in the chandeliers.” Jimin puts his arms out as if protecting himself from a bright flash and at this, Y/N laughs some more. Giving the barista some more material, he pretends to swoon, resting the back of his on his forehead. “Wow, wow, wow. I might as well just shut off our radio too. Your laugh sounds much nicer.”
Y/N blushes, earning a “cute,” from Jimin but then composes herself. “Call me Y/N, please.”
Nodding, he begins tinkering with the espresso machine. “Y/N, I might not be as comforting as my sister but I’m certainly more charming and cuter than her, aren’t I?” throwing a wink to the girl.
Y/N rolls her eyes and replies, “You guys share half of the same DNA.”
“That’s true but my DNA gave me the upper hand in looks.” Y/N couldn’t deny that. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips, how they formed when he smiles, or the position they were in whenever he pouted whilst concentrating.
“Alright, one medium honey latte for Y/N,” he whoops, placing the porcelain cup before her.
“Thank you so much.” Taking a sip from her drink, she closes her eyes in pure bliss, the warmth of the latte spreading throughout her body.
“How is it? Is it too sweet? I think I might have put too much sweetener in it so-”
“It’s perfect,” Y/N sighs, opening her eyes once more.
He gives a proud smile and pats his head. “Good, I’m glad. I’ll leave you alone now, let you decompress for a while.”
“Thank you for everything… for being so patient and kind. I appreciate it,” Y/N says, gazing out the window.
“A little kindness never anybody. I just hope I made your day somewhat better.”
“You definitely did.”
And with that, Jimin leaves the girl alone, moving on to his own barista duties of washing the dishes, clearing tables, and taking the orders of a few people who wanted a kick of caffeine. It was close to the evening which meant that the cafe was nearly empty, something Y/N found most agreeable as it allowed her to enjoy the soft music playing through the speakers while enjoying her recent read. For about thirty minutes or so, Y/N was enjoying her novel whilst sipping occasionally on her latte, and at that moment, she was finally at peace. Here, she was able to temporarily forget about school, work, and her general stresses in life. All that mattered was her tranquility, the porcelain cup sitting ahead of her, and the cast of characters splayed out in her book. Y/N realizes that her brow had loosened, curing her blistering headache ever since she stepped foot into the shop, especially since she talked to Jimin.
Leaving all her worries aside, Y/N gazes out the window and ponders. Everything is so beautiful right now, what with the snow gently falling and families walking hand in hand, she thought. It’s a shame I can’t fully enjoy life with all my stress plaguing my thoughts. I should just enjoy it while it lasts.
It didn’t last long, that is, only because Jimin came over with a fresh piece of what appeared to be strawberry shortcake. He places the plate in front of Y/N and leaves with a simple, “Bon appetit.”
“Hey wait! I didn’t order this.” she rushes to her feet to return the cake.
Jimin comes back, pushing Y/N by her shoulders so she’d sit back down. “I know you didn’t. But you can’t drink something on an empty stomach,” he urges, nudging the cake towards her and turning back around once again.
With her mouth shaped into an O’, she reaches for her wallet to pay for the dessert but before she can do so, Jimin, with his back towards Y/N, protests, “don’t even think of paying for the cake. It’s on the house.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly eat this without paying. Besides, won’t you get in trouble?”
“You can, and you will,” he affirms, now facing Y/N, slinging the rag over his shoulder, adding with, “plus, what’s the worst my mom can do? Not feed me Jjajangmyeon for two weeks? I can survive.”
Warily, Y/N begins to stab the fork into the cake before venturing with a meek, “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive,” he declares, giving her a warm smile that makes her want to eat the cake all the more, wanting to see his smile once more. “Also, I uhhhh,” Jimin stammers, “I wanted to give it to you cuz uhhh...it m-matches your sweater vest,” he declares, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment from his statement.
Confused, Y/N looks down at herself. As per usual, she was in a rush to attend her first lecture of the day and just threw on the first thing her eyes met, which was a pink, strawberry printed sweater vest over a white button-up. Wait. He just gave me a slice of cake because it matched my vest. How much cuter can this guy get? With a blush creeping up her face, she shoved a piece of the cake in her mouth, and in an instant, her tense shoulders dropped, like a weight lifted off of them. The sweetness and acidity of the strawberries coated her tongue but was soon covered by the velvety taste of the buttercream frosting.
“Wow Jimin, this is...absolutely delicious.”
He hums, “I’m glad you think so. I’ll be sure to tell my mom.”
“Yeah, you def- wait. Your mom?” Y/N interjects, mouth full of cake.
Jimin takes a napkin from the dispenser and wipes the frosting from the corner of her mouth and asks, “Did you really think I was the one who made the cake? You overestimate me, my dear friend,” he leans in closer to Y/N, lips frighteningly close to her ear and whispers, “I appreciate the sentiment though.” He pulls back and winks at her, hair falling over his eyes. “I just thought it befitting to feed you something as sweet as yourself.”
Shocked at his boldness, Y/N goes back to eating her cake, not quite sure how to respond to him, especially since she was turning redder and redder by the second and it feels like her tongue had been swallowed.
“Cute,” Jimin chuckles, going back to washing the dishes.
By the time Y/N finished eating, the sun had set and it was closing time, leaving only Jimin and Y/N to be the only two in the shop. She looked at the time and her eyes nearly bulged out of her head. “Oh god, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got to wake up early tomorrow.”
Y/N scrambles to gather her items in her bag, her book, her phone, her wallet and is about to zoom out the door before she hears Jimin calling her name.
“Y/N hold up! You forgot something.” Bewildered, lets go of her hold on the door handle, and looks to the boy.
“Come here,” he beckons for Y/N to come closer.
Walking closer to the counter, Y/N has her hand reached out for him to place whatever it is she left behind. Jimin, placing something unbelievably small in her palm, smiles bright, cheeks overcoming his eyes. She looks down and sees a single Hershey’s chocolate kiss. Y/N looks back to Jimin for an explanation and what he says next throws her off completely.
“Hershey factories make millions of kisses a day, but I’m asking for only one...perhaps after our first date?”
Y/N is silent for a few beats as she registers his cheesy pickup line. Jimin, panicking, quickly regrets his words and goes to take back the kiss but is stopped when Y/N doubles over, shoulders shaking.
Concerned, the barista walks around the counter and puts his arms around Y/N, scared that he triggered what he thought were waterworks. “Y/N...I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you!” But then he hears laughter, belly-aching laughter, one that Jimin wants to hear all the time.
For a good minute, Y/N is hunched over, cackling while Jimin lets out small giggles but then ceases her laughter, wiping her tears away, and looks towards Jimin. “Wow, thank you for making me laugh like that. I haven’t done that for so long.”
Jimin frowns, “I’m happy I made you laugh but are you laughing at me or with me?”
“With you, I’d never laugh at you, especially since you made me feel so much better today,” Y/N replies.
“Oh thank God,” he lets out a deep sigh of relief. “So about that date...would you like to go out with me? I know it’s weird since we just met today but I heard a lot about you from Hwa Young and-and I always wanted to see what you were like. Our paths crossed and I didn’t want to give this moment up.”
Y/N considered how much of an impact he had on her in just one day and thought what it would be like being with him every day. She knew she’d feel tremendously better. As of now, she’s felt more comfortable than she had for a long while. Being around him reminded her of all the beautiful things she’s failed to notice and allowed her to feel like herself once more. If being around him felt like this, she never wanted it to end. His presence comforted Y/N and made her feel right at home. She definitely wasn’t going to turn him down.
“I’d love nothing more than to go out with you. But you better not break that promise of a kiss.”
Brushing a small strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear, he replies with, “Oh, I promise.”
#park jimin#jimin#jimin x reader#bts#bts jimin#bts au#bts fluff#bts imagines#bts fanfic#jimin fluff#jimin fanfic#jimin au#bts scenarios#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan
58 notes
·
View notes
Text
something new; koo jungmo + reader
pairing: koo jungmo + gn!reader
genre: fluff
word count: 1.2k words
summary: you weren't a regular customer, in fact, you only go to jungmo's store once a year. his curiosity about your yearly action sure had gotten the best of him when he finally decided to ask you why you'd always buy the same thing every year.
taglist: @bunnyseongmin, @lovevity, @marigolddss, @starrycrvty
a/n: a little late but !! happy jungmo day :> i suck at titles,,, this was supposed to be a short drabble
not requested! ☆ cravity masterlist ; taglist form
a month left before flowers start blooming again. you tucked your hand in the pockets of your coat, the warmth of the hot packs spreading into your body. usually, you’d stay in your unit for the whole day, drown yourself in activities you weren’t sure you actually enjoyed.
however, today was different. it was the only day in the year you’d put an effort to dress up and wander around the city.
you looked at the paper bag that held two cat plushies you had bought out of impulse. a strategy fooling you into buying a buy one take one stuffed toy you simply found cute. you don’t normally spend money on such a thing, but giving in to such little temptations once in a while shouldn’t be so bad, no?
a smile on your lips, there was only one more location left. your every year’s final stop. a cakery.
the heavy traffic of customers was set to occur in a few days with valentine’s day approaching. despite that, today wasn’t as condensed. a few customers would go every now and then to get either a birthday cake or just to indulge in buying their favorite slice.it was just a small shop, having too many flowers on its display that would at first make you mistaken it for a flower shop. a wide variety of cakes along with some muffins and sponges were on display.
never did it fail to give you such a welcoming vibe whenever the bell rings above your head. a cheerful greeting following it thereafter.
“the same cake?” jungmo, as his nametag read, asked and you nodded.
you only go there once a year. same day, around the same time. an hour before their closing time. and every single year, this guy seemed to be the one to handle your order.
“oh and—”
“the ‘happy birthday to me’ icing, noted.” there was a smile on his lips when he pulled your favorite cake out of the showcase. a small gesture that made you smile. he remembered.
“thank you.” you watched him turn his back to you to work on your cake. as you wait, you walked around the shop where you ended up settling in front of a bundle of tulips, still fresh. curious, a question slipped out of your lips. “you buy flowers every day?”
jungmo just finished packing your cake when he turned to you and answered, “not really.” his hand moved to place your order on a plastic where the shop’s logo was imprinted in such a whimsical font. “only during this date.”
you raised a brow at his response, going back to the counter to pay for your item. “it’s lovely.”
“it is.” the sound coming from the receipt being printed filled the room for a moment, giving any awkward silence no space to linger. jungmo attached the receipt on the plastic, placing it down on the counter for you to receive. “by the way, why do you always buy your cake for yourself?"
it was a question you didn’t expect to hear, but you took pleasure in answering. "for self-love.” you shrugged, a smile reappearing in your brim. “no one celebrates it with me, so i'll celebrate it myself."
no, it wasn’t as pitiful as it sounded. it was just… sometimes, your best company for such a special day would be yourself. and yourself alone.
“is that so?” a hint of surprise was painted on his expression. though it gradually melted when he locked his eyes on you. ever so nonchalantly, he asked, "then can i celebrate your birthday with you?"
“wouldn’t it be weird to spend your birthday with a stranger?” regardless of your words, you’d mentally agreed to do it. you simply wanted to see how he would react, trying to find some kind of entertainment in the situation.
and he sure was able to amuse you with his reply. “am i still really a stranger when you’ve bought the same cake from me every single year for the fourth time now?”
you chuckled at his response. “well, i guess not?”
jungmo smugly hunched his shoulder up as if he was able to win some kind of debate. it was something that made you laugh once more.
“after your shift then,” you said. there was only less than an hour left anyway, you can wait.
but maybe jungmo can’t.
“great.” he placed his nametag down, checking the balance of the cash register and locking it after. without wasting any second, he went to the signboard, flipping it to indicate that the shop was already closed. yet again another curve appeared on his brim. “it’s over now.”
to be outside during the evening of your birthday wasn’t a part of your plan. neither was being inside a cake shop after its closing time nor celebrating your birthday with the son of the store owner was in your checklist.
the two of you settled on one of the tables allotted for customers who would want to enjoy their cakes inside the shop. after his gleeful singing of a happy birthday song, you blew the candle and made a wish.
it was your first time to hold an actual conversation with jungmo. the chat going smoothly as if you’d known each other for years. well, in fact, you do, just not in this way. his background coming known to you; his parents owned the shop and he simply enjoyed being there at least thrice a week.
“so… you said you buy flowers during this date only,” you began, looking at jungmo as he brought a portion of his slice to his mouth. “why so?”
jungmo hummed at first, looking at the displayed flowers as he swallowed. his lips forming a thin line while he stared at the tulips you were adoring earlier. “it’s actually my birthday today as well.”
“oh, it is?” you weren’t able to mask the surprised look you had on your visage. what a coincidence.
“yes,” he said with a nod. “and i also do the thing you do. the cake that says ‘happy birthday to me’ i mean.”
that one didn’t come off as a shock to you. with how he mentioned that his family was busy most of the time, he’d probably have it the same with you. without much thought, you reached for the paper bag that contained the plushies you’ve bought earlier. you pulled one of it out and handed it over to him. “happy birthday, jungmo.”
an adorable pout decorated his lips after you gave him a ‘gift’ as though he was sulking upon receiving it. “that’s unfair, i don’t even have a gift for you.”
you simply smiled. little did he know that his company was enough as a birthday present. “it’s not. thank you, jungmo.”
before parting ways, jungmo made sure to get you another cake that had the same note as the icing. he thought that maybe even after celebrating it with him, you’d want to still do it alone. the tulips and some other flowers wrapped to craft a bouquet was also given to you. you never imagined this would be how your birthday end. no complaints though, it was the best birthday you had by far.
and it was probably the best one jungmo ever had as well.
#cravity imagines#cravity scenarios#cravity oneshots#cravity fluff#cravitywriters#koo jungmo#jungmo#cravity jungmo#cravity x reader
62 notes
·
View notes
Text
Smoke/Mute in which ten cups of coffee change Mute’s life. (Rating T, slice of life/fluff/budding romance, ~5.8k words) - written for none other than @nutbrain for being a remarkable human being and an even better friend 💖 Please enjoy!
.
Mark eyes the shopfront before him with suspicion. His safe haven apparently gone, a flashier version has taken its place some time during the semester break, keeping nothing but the location and the proffered goods. Instead of the old-fashioned, thick-cushioned chairs and dim lighting, the new café shines with an open-floor concept, simple wooden furniture and an overall dark look with specks of gold to brighten it up. Leo Coffee, reads the sign next to a golden logo displaying a roaring lion. What big cats have to do with coffee isn’t obvious to Mark, but he overcomes his initial distaste and steps inside nonetheless.
As visible from outside, the place is deserted. The previous coffee shop was frequented by businesspeople and students alike, located halfway between the campus and Mark’s dorm – on rainy days, people often took public transport and bought their coffee elsewhere, but even on those occasions, it’s never been as empty as this.
Not that Mark is complaining. If the coffee is good, he’ll continue frequenting the new shop, and being able to work in peace would be an added bonus. He is quite fond of Julien and Timur, but even so, they’re not the… easiest to live with. To say the least. A quiet place would be very welcome.
He sets his books down on the table furthest away from the counter, slings his bag over the back of a chair and approaches the empty void where an employee should be standing. This is when he notices another curiosity: there’s no menu board. There isn’t even a menu card by the counter or anywhere, really, only a glass case with a handful of baked goods inside, most of which look like a child made them. So far, the only redeeming quality is the delicious dark smell of roasted coffee beans lingering in the air.
After another minute, still nobody has appeared, so Mark checks his phone for reviews. If the place has less than four stars – alright, three, he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt purely because of their convenient location and quietness –, then he’s out of here. He can’t even remember the last time he had to wait this long to -
“Are you going to order or what?”
Nearly dropping his phone in the process, Mark jumps at the sudden gruff voice and looks up to find himself face to face with a grizzled man. The black apron is all that betrays him as an employee as the unimpressed glare and casual attire do nothing in his favour. “Uh”, he replies eloquently and vows that he’ll never set foot in this place again if this is how he’s going to get treated.
The old man’s expression melts into friendliness. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Welcome to Café Leo – it’s your first time here, so have a loyalty card, lad.”
Mark accepts the piece of paper without thinking, still thrown off by the bloke’s sudden appearance (how does he move completely silent like that), and at least has the presence of mind to inspect it. Its contents are so absurd that he forgets to ask how the man opposite him knew he hadn’t been to the shop yet. “‘After 10 coffee purchases, you’re eligible for a free wish’”, he mumbles, reading the text printed white on black aloud. “‘This offer is not transferable.’ What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that only you can redeem your reward, not anyone else. Would you like some coffee?”
He blinks at the bearded man, trying to ascertain whether he’s being serious, and is met with an almost bored stare. Weighing his options, the scales are only slightly tipped in favour of staying, but only because he knows Julien has a ‘visitor’ over today and there’s no other place he can study – the library is overrun by frantic procrastinators who left finishing their coursework assigned over the break to the absolute last minute, and Manu is coming back tomorrow. Apart from her and his roommates, there’s no one with whom he’s comfortable enough to invite himself over.
Especially not him. God knows why Mark even considered him for a brief second.
Looks like he’ll have to deal with this awkwardness if he wants to get any work done whatsoever. “Alright then. What do you sell?”
“Coffee”, comes the curt answer.
Mark rubs his eyes in exhaustion. He’s beginning to understand why there’s no other customers here. “Sure. Yes. A coffee, then.”
“That’ll be…” The employee trails off while frowning down at his wristwatch. “…um, about £7.92.”
“For one coffee?”
“It’s free refills, son.”
Oh, so maybe this is an American chain. That would explain quite a bit. Mark considers whether he’s staying long enough to get the most out of his money, but seeing as the bloke doesn’t seem the chattiest type and he’s unlikely to get interrupted, he decides it’s worth it. Still, there’s something he simply can’t let go. “… what do you mean, ‘about’ £7.92?”
“Are you paying cash or card?”
Alright then.
The next ultimatum: if the coffee turns out dogshite, he’s never coming back. He’d rather travel an increased distance to a normal coffee shop than to have to deal with this nonsense. Wordlessly, he sets down a £10 note and scoops the change into his wallet before watching the obviously American guy (and maybe the chain imports all their workers, who knows) pour a cup of the darkest coffee he’s ever seen. He unceremoniously sets it down in front of him and makes no indication of mentioning neither cream nor sugar. He’s lucky Mark prefers his energy supply as-is.
“Ta”, Mark mutters and scurries away, glad to escape that hard stare. To make sure he’s not being scammed, he takes a quick sip of the fragrant liquid and is surprised at how pleasant the taste is. Minimal bitterness, a gentle, almost floral note, and just strong enough to satisfy his craving.
Well, crap.
Looks like he’ll have to come back after all.
.
~*~
.
“Did you guys know the old coffee shop closed?”, Mark voices his thoughts into the middle of a medium-sized food war between Manu and Timur involving entirely too many packets of salt.
“The one on campus?”, Manu asks and accidentally elbows Julien in the ribs, causing him to actually look up from his phone for once.
“No, the one halfway to our dorm.”
“I was there last week”, Timur pipes up, making him furrow his brows. A week can’t be enough to refurnish the entire café, let alone switch owners completely. “Is it closed now?”
“There’s a different one instead. It was dead when I went, but the coffee’s good. The bloke serving me was weird.”
“Look at you, stringing multiple sentences together”, Julien chimes in, grinning. “Something novel must’ve happened for you to even bring it up. Was the dude hot?”
“Because that’s the only reason anyone would ever get excited about anything”, says Manu drily. “We can check it out if it’s good, even if the employees suck. Not like we have to socialise with them.”
Mark shrugs and regrets mentioning the café in the first place – it feels somehow personal, whether it’s to do with the odd experience overall or the fact that he ended up staying more than three hours. His productivity was through the roof, the calm atmosphere helped immensely and the thought of his loud friends – as much as he appreciates them – invading his newfound hideout isn’t one he particularly enjoys.
It turned out that the employee wasn’t so bad after all: as soon as Mark considered asking for more coffee, he appeared right by his side and filled his mug again, without bothering him at all. Still, Julien would complain about him and Timur might agree and Manu is likely to judge his impolite manner, and Mark wouldn’t be able to defend him. Even if he doesn’t mind the silent company.
For the moment, he needn’t bother with these thoughts as his friends are wholly occupied with arguing over some internet memes (and Mark remembers vividly how they all had to talk Julien down from nibbling at their laundry detergent pods), so nothing could be further from their minds than sitting down and actually studying for their degrees.
Not that they’re bad students, quite the opposite, they’re just not as… ambitious as Mark. Some have called him obsessed, yes, and he can’t quite refute it, but he prefers to call it ‘determined’. There have been few who are able to keep up with him, which is probably partly the reason why he’s made friends with people from completely different departments. He tends to be a loner in most classes, which suits him just fine.
Well. Most classes.
.
“I would give my left bollock for you.”
Mark certainly doesn’t appreciate the imagery. He hands over the photocopied sheet to the bloke nearly bouncing in delight before shuffling after his fellow students into the lecture hall. Closely followed, of course. “Make sure to change enough details”, he repeats the reminder, earning a scoff.
“I’ll make it illegible, babe, don’t worry.” James plops down next to him, stretching and taking up too much space. “You’re the only reason I’ll actually get credit for this course.”
Oh, Mark is very aware of this fact. He lets his seat neighbour prattle on as he takes out his materials, lines up his pens, and waits for the lecture to start. If he were pressed to explain how he ended up in this position, with a chatterbox glued to his side too lazy to do any of the coursework, he wouldn’t have a concise answer. Other than his inability to say no.
The problem is that James knows exactly who to befriend. Mark is naturally drawn to the overachievers in each class and carefully selects his group for projects, going by people who do put the time and work in to get a good grade – anything where students are meant to collaborate is 30% actual work and 70% politics. The right people tend to listen to him whenever he knows better, because they’re interested in improving and learning, they tend to go along with his division of tasks, because he distributes them fairly and suited to everyone’s skills, and they tend to work best independently, so they can get it done even without excessive communication.
And James? He follows the same strategy as Mark, except that he’s a leech. He latches onto the teacher’s pets, chooses the easiest tasks, always volunteers for presentations (meaning he’ll just have to regurgitate what his group produced), and bribes his groupmates so they don’t throw him out. Whether it’s snacks or drinks after class, whether it’s attention and compliments, or playing matchmaker: he knows how to make himself useful in all aspects other than his studies.
He’s a clown. He makes everyone laugh and worms his way into their hearts so they would feel bad about calling him out. Not having to do any work is his reward for asking questions everyone’s thinking but doesn’t dare ask for fear of looking stupid in front of the prof.
Obviously, James has latched onto him ever since they crossed paths in chem last semester, and Mark considered dropping the current class when he found out that he was in it as well. Even worse, James began asking him for homework, giving excuses like having had no time, not being able to write it down concisely, and so on – and though Mark initially refused, classmates approached him and gently nudged him towards sharing his results with James. Just to be nice. Just to help him. He’s such a good guy after all.
So Mark’s homework gets copied and passed along. And James’ fondness of him only grows.
During the long, meaningless rant interspersed with an impressive amount of curse words, he perks up at a quiet: “Wait, this one doesn’t make any sense.”
His pride won’t let him ignore it. “Which one?”
James points at one of Mark’s answers, a complicated equation. “Shouldn’t that be on top?”
“The denominator?”
An uncertain glance. He points again. “This.”
“You mean the bottom fraction? That’s the denominator, yes. And it is where it should be.”
James frowns, indubitably not content with the reply but possibly unsure how to voice his dissatisfaction.
“Trust me, it’s correct. Just copy it.”
“But I want to understand it.”
Fat chance. No way did he get any of the previous homework without having engaged with the subject matter at all, so it’s impossible for him to work it out, even if Mark explained it. Which he doesn’t want to. Because he figures it’d be like explaining string theory to a brick wall. He’s saved by the prof’s entry, knowing James at least has the decency to shut up during class, and hopes he can simply slip away afterwards.
It turns out, however, James is fully aware of his biggest weakness. “Do you have a bit of time after? You think you can explain it to me? Please?”
Yikes.
Not only is Mark burning to show him how wrong he is, he’s also entirely unable to refuse a plea for help. And there’s no doubt James knows this. He can’t keep getting away with it, he’s exploiting Mark enough as it is without offering much – if anything – in return, plus it’s obvious the endeavour is futile and doomed from the start. And this is disregarding the possibility of James suggesting more meetings in the future. So, like the reasonable adult he is, Mark replies: “Sure.”
And has never wanted to kick himself more.
.
If this bloke really is the only employee they have, it’s no wonder the place is dead yet again. They stare at each other, unblinking, and seem equally dismayed about each other’s presence. “Hi”, says Mark after a few seconds of tense silence.
The old man is wearing the same clothes as last time, apron and jeans – even his disinterested expression hasn’t changed. “I’m Sam”, he offers completely out of the blue, surprising Mark with how unexpected the introduction is. “I figured you shouldn’t have to keep calling me ‘this bloke’ in your head.”
“… Mark”, he responds hesitantly.
“Is that a threat?” Sam barks out a brief, mirthless laugh. “I know. You wrote it on your loyalty card.”
He most certainly did not, but only because the card is solid black with white text. “Look, I’m just here to buy coffee.”
“You brought a friend.” Sam indicates James who already sat down by a window and is absorbed in his phone for the time being – and for all his faults, Mark has to admit that at least his (limited) attention is always on the person he’s talking to; he’s never seen his fellow student even checking for messages during a conversation.
“Not really”, he says nonetheless and is reasonably sure they’re out of earshot. “We just have chem together.”
“You have chemistry, hm?”
He wonders if it’s possible to set someone on fire with a hard look alone. “Just sell me the bloody coffee.”
“For the both of you?” Sam turns around and studies the clock on the wall behind him, whispering to himself for a few seconds before announcing: “That’ll be roughly £15.84.”
“Fine.” He holds out a card, scowling when Sam makes no move to take it.
“No complaint?”
“Is it gonna be cheaper if I do? Besides, he’s paying. So I don’t care.”
“Oh. Then it’ll be £22.43.”
“Why is it -” As quickly as his annoyance spikes, it ebbs again. It’s obvious there’s no logic behind all this nonsense, yet he still tries: “If it’s cheaper for me, I’ll pay and get the money back from him.”
“That’s illegal. You’ve already told me he’s paying.”
“I’m not trying to buy liquor, why would it -” Deep breaths. He already told James about how good the coffee is, and if they go anywhere else, someone else might see them. He’s strongly incentivised to stay. “Fine. Here.”
Sam runs the card and, as last time, pours two very unimpressive mugs before, to Mark’s horror, reaching into the display case and pulling out two slices of cakes on their own respective plates. The chocolate one is drooping and threatening to fall over if anyone looked at it wrong, and the sponge cake seems suspiciously wet. There’s no telling how long they’ve been sitting there. “It’s on the house”, Sam says, almost begrudgingly, as if he was the inconvenienced one.
Mark considers asking for forks or napkins but decides that the shorter their interaction, the healthier his sanity. “Ta, mate. Do you need my loyalty card?”
“No need.”
Fair enough, though he’s not sure what the point of it is, then. He carries the coffees and cakes over in two trips and wonders how he’ll get rid of the sickly-looking bakeware without Sam noticing. When James eventually tries his piece and doesn’t keel over immediately though, Mark gives his own a try.
It’s the best chocolate cake he’s ever had. And he’s never been madder in his life.
.
~*~
.
At some point, it turns into stubbornness. There’s a few mannerisms, the odd hobby and some of his preferences which started out as either ironic, as guilty pleasures or as things he actively disliked, but the more he engaged, the more he developed the attitude of: you know what? This is mine and I don’t care what anyone says about it.
He’s starting to adopt Leo Coffee. The awkward vibe about it, the indecipherable employee, the delicious food and drinks – it holds its own charm in a way, and he’s stopped wondering about being the only patron. It’s perfect for studying or unwinding, and does wonders for his stressed soul. He’s been returning regularly now, about once a week, and even brought James with him a second time to argue about yet another homework he criticised. The atmosphere renders Mark calmer, more patient, and so he endured the other man’s presence for much longer than he would’ve thought possible. They stayed for almost three hours the first time, even longer the second.
Just to make sure he’s not being a nuisance, he tried to check the coffee shop’s opening hours and wasn’t even sure what he expected to find. They’re listed nowhere, of course, and Sam switched topics the instant he brought it up.
So now the only people he has to drag in here are his friends, who have somehow evaded his efforts so far – but not today. Timur and Julien promised to come even though Manu has to go to some recital or other, meaning she’s excused. For now.
Eyes idly following pedestrians outside, he’s resting his chin in his palm and waiting. Being the only punctual one has always meant boredom, so he’s lucky his mind is imaginative enough to keep him occupied in the meantime. His train of thought meanders through all the topics occupying his brain recently, how the new guy Julien is seeing is basically moving into their apartment, how Timur keeps hanging around the wrong crowd, how unfair it is that Manu aces all her courses with so little effort, how he happened to run into James during his break today and almost suggested spending it together -
His phone buzzes, interrupting his aimless daydreaming and prompting him to check the colourful screen.
I got ambushed, writes Julien and it’s unclear whether he’s being cryptic on purpose. Mark sends a question mark and has to wait a minute or two for the explanation: Sudden date night, looks like Netflix & chill boys ;) sry for ditching you but the shop isn’t gonna go anywhere right?
An eye roll later, Mark responds with a simple TMI.
I don’t think I’ll make it either, adds Timur, a friend wants to yarn bomb the stature by City Hall and they need me as lookout.
This one gets points for creativity at least. He sighs and reassures them with a quick sure, no problem before commending himself for not going home first to drop his bag off. Now he can just study instead. Woohoo.
Another brief vibration, this notification from a completely different group chat, one Mark apparently forgot to leave once the project was done: @Mark: are there carrots in carrot cake?
The number is translated to ‘GirthControl’, so there’s just one person this could be. He stares at his screen. Is that a trick question? Yes, he feels confident enough to affirm to James.
Ah okay. Thanks babe.
This is when it occurs to him: Wait, why did you only ask me?
Silence. Whatever quest James is currently on, it apparently required Mark’s input and Mark’s input only.
He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity and suddenly feels a lot less abandoned. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter whether his friends don’t rank him at the top of their priority list as long as he’s on it somewhere. And knowing that he’s left a lasting impression on James beyond being the lad who supplies him with homework is oddly reassuring.
When he approaches the counter, Sam once again materialising out of nowhere (at least that’s what it feels like – he’s always there when Mark needs him and never at any other time), he’s decided to not get weirded out by anything today. “A coffee”, he orders confidently and inspects the haphazardly thrown together bagels featured prominently in the infamous display case. “And a bagel.” He doesn’t bother specifying, Sam will choose for him anyway.
After peering at the digital alarm clock on the counter, Sam announces the approximate value of the aforementioned items and then squints at him. “Weren’t you going to meet with somebody?”
Mark half-shrugs. “Kinda. They’re busy though.”
“Mind if I join you?” He must notice Mark’s surprise because he adds: “It’s your ninth time here. Would be a shame if we didn’t get to talk before you’ve filled up your loyalty card, don’t you think?”
“Alright”, he agrees and waits until Sam has poured himself a mug as well before they sit down at Mark’s usual table – tucked away in a corner but close enough to the windows to be able to do people-watching if his eyes need a rest from staring at textbooks or screens all day long. It’s the first time he examines the man opposite him more closely: the distinguished features, greying beard, wild mane of hair. He looks too… important to be working in a coffee shop, like he was destined for greatness. Mark can’t picture him angry even if he exudes a bitter, cynical aura which he’s likely to hide behind sarcasm.
“How did you end up here?”, he wants to know, genuinely curious.
“Good question.” Sam takes a few sips of his excellent coffee as he ponders how to reply. “It’s a temporary thing, that’s for sure.” He leaves it at that. “What do you study?”
Mark eyes the disorganised heap of books keeping his bagel company and sighs. “At this point, I don’t even know anymore.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It is”, he emphasises. “I love studying.”
“Where’s the problem then?”
There is none, he wants to say yet his mouth refuses to comply. He stares into the dark liquid, running his thumb over even porcelain and then decides to sod it – he asked, right? And somehow, it’s always easier to unload on a complete stranger. “I feel like it’s all I’m doing.”
“You keep others at a distance on purpose.” He nods, even though it wasn’t a question. “So don’t be surprised if they do the same.”
“I’m not.” The warmth seeps into his palms as he wraps his hands around the mug, providing as much comfort as Sam’s gentle tone. “I just want it to be different.”
“Make an effort. It’s never to late to change. I’m sure your friends will appreciate it. Put some trust in them, they’re your friends for a reason.” He nods again, lost in thought. “Have you figured out what you’re going to wish for next time?”
He scoffs, amused. There isn’t a single thing he can imagine himself wanting from the old man before him, so he’s unlikely to wish for anything at all. “No. Not yet.”
“Well, think about it. I believe in you, son.” With that, Sam downs the last of his own coffee and gets up, ready to walk back behind the counter and only stops when Mark calls his name.
“Is there someone you care about?”
It’s the first time he sees Sam smile. “Yes. There were two, but I lost one – so I keep the other one twice as close without trying to be suffocating. It’s hard. But remember, Mark, it’s never too late to tell the people in your life how you really feel.” And then he’s gone, disappeared into the back, leaving behind a faint nostalgia tinted with hope.
There’s no challenge from which Mark has shied away in his life, and this one isn’t going to be his first.
.
~*~
.
The word fuck on his lips, Mark bursts into the café like a panicked chicken. He’s juggling two bags and his phone, his frantic typing only interrupted by the need to breathe now and then, and nearly drops it when he slams his book bag to the ground at the counter. “Sorry, one sec”, he addresses an unimpressed-looking Sam as he dials a number and curses once more when it’s not immediately picked up. “Can I get a coffee to go?”, he asks, out of breath, as the dial tone beeps in his ear.
“I don’t serve people who are on the phone”, Sam replies, as calm as ever.
Mark mentally increases the number of people who’d be dead if his looks could kill by one. “This is the worst thing to ever happen to me”, he says gravely and hangs up after thirty seconds have passed. “I’m gonna fail this class.”
“An event without precedence, I assume?”
“You have no bloody idea. But yes, a coffee please, I need to go back to the library and get an entire semester’s worth of material because I’m too fucking dumb to read a syllabus correctly. This has never happened to me, I have one day to write this assignment and I’m lacking so much -”
“Can you give me the time?”, Sam interrupts him nonchalantly and stares at the screen of Mark’s phone as he holds it up for him to read. “Thanks. Let’s say £2.63.”
“And I can’t study at home because Timur has his friends over, and Manu is in a panic herself, and I know the library is going to be overrun by people who treat the study rooms like their social media accounts by loudly oversharing all the time, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to do this. Maybe I’ll just accept fate and fail. No clue how I’m gonna tell my parents.”
“Your loyalty card.”
Distracted, Mark fishes it out of his wallet and puts it on the counter. “And the other people in chem aren’t answering or are no help at all, I don’t get it, I’ve done group projects with them and still they don’t have the courtesy to help me out in this. It was a genuine mistake, as stupid as it is, and I’m just -”
“You need to write it down.”
He’s briefly interrupted in his rant to frown at the black paper card. “Write what?”
“Your wish.”
“But you won’t be able to read it. I only have black or blue pens.”
“Doesn’t matter. Write it down.”
With an irritated sigh, Mark takes out a pen and thinks for a second, the majority of his attention elsewhere still. Eventually, he scribbles someone who cares, not that it’d be legible in any way, and hands it to Sam. “That’s it? I’m not sure this reward system is going to pay off in the long term, you know.”
Sam holds the card up to the light as if he was inspecting a bank note and nods, apparently satisfied. “You’re all set. Good luck.”
“Ta, I’m gonna need it.” Mark shoves all his belongings in various pockets, hoping he’ll remember where he put them, and grabs the to-go cup. And then, without so much as a goodbye, he storms back out, steeling himself for an all-nighter certain to mess up sleep schedule for days, if not weeks.
He ascribes it to his flustered state that he doesn’t look up as he exits the coffee shop, and promptly runs into someone, collides with what feels like a solid wall. His coffee gets squished and sloshes over, soaking the front of his clothes – fortunately, it’s not hot at all, more like lukewarm which is odd in and of itself. He swears again, yanking his phone out of his pocket before it gets wet also and it’s only due to another hand grabbing the device that it doesn’t plummet to the ground straightaway.
“Oh bollocks, I’m so sorry”, says the wall he ran into which turns out to be none other than James. Of all people. “Are you alright? Is it hot?”
“No, no, I’m fine”, Mark presses through clenched teeth, the stress slowly overwhelming him. “But now I have to go home and change before I can start on this stupid fucking -”
“Babe. Calm down. What’s wrong?”
He takes a deep breath and ignores the quickly cooling wet patches on his clothes for the moment. “I still have to do the report. I didn’t realise we were meant to -”
“Oh, you haven’t done it? At all?”
“No! No, I didn’t, and everyone else is partnered up so I can’t just join someone else, so I’ll have to -”
“I’m not paired up.”
“Sure, once I’m done I’ll put your name on there, whatever, but that doesn’t -”
“Babe. Mark. Listen to me.” James waves in front of his face with a slight grin. “I did it. It’s almost done. I’ll put down that we did it together and you’re good.”
He stares at James, mouth open, for several unflattering seconds. “Wait – you… how?”
“I can show you, but it’s at my place. My roommate is around your height, he can lend you some clothes. Let’s go.”
And yet again, Mark finds himself unable to refuse. He drinks what’s left of his coffee in one go (and it really is tepid, he must’ve gotten really lucky), tosses the cup in the nearest bin and leaves Leo Coffee behind without a single glance back.
.
James’ flat looks exactly like Mark would’ve imagined it, only louder. Double bass and epic vocals are permeating every room, and all available horizontal surfaces are littered with stuff. The walls are plastered with posters, some funny, some pretty, some morbid, and it reeks of weed.
A small part of Mark feels right at home, oddly enough.
“Turn the fucking music down!”, James yells at the top of his lungs, throwing him an apologetic look, clearly uncomfortable with the state of it all and ignorant as to Mark’s growing amusement.
Somewhere, a door opens and the shrill guitars become clearer. “Whot?”, someone replies just as loudly.
“Exactly!”, is James’ deafening reply, and a few seconds later, the melodies decrease to a reasonable level. Another bloke joins them, tall and well-built with an unkempt beard and a band shirt as well as no socks.
“Who’s that? Is he allowed to be here?”, asks James’ roommate and regards Mark with suspicion.
“That was Sabaton, wasn’t it?”, Mark inquires back. “Primo Victoria?”
The dude’s entire face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, a connoisseur. He can stay, James, I like him already.”
And while the two of them exchange more words, Mark goes exploring. He ends up in what must be James’ room which is covered in paper, be it books or hand-written notes, and most of it seems related to chemistry in some way. Curious, Mark looks around until he finds a spiral-bound notepad titled with the name of the course they’re sharing this semester. Contrary to his expectations, it’s far from empty – not only does it contain copious lecture notes, it also features every assignment they’d been given since the start of the course.
Solved differently from Mark’s own answers.
Confused, he checks more closely and finds a recurring pattern: equations that are struck-through, calculations lacking several steps in between which wouldn’t be accepted by the prof this way, and very little text. It looks like the writings of someone who certainly understands the material but simply has a hard time putting his thoughts in order, putting his ideas into neat writing.
He’s been immersed for several minutes when James finally joins him, and when he does, Mark holds up his notes and greets him with a simple: “What the fuck?”
James doesn’t seem to realise where Mark’s problem lies and shrugs. “Yeah, I’m a hopeless case, I know.”
“No. No, you’re really not. This is – look here, if you just shift this around, you end up with the correct result. You’re like 95% of the way there, you just didn’t finish it.”
“Oh.” James blinks at him. “I guess. It’s kinda like that with the report. I was hoping you could help me write the conclusion, I’ve got the rest, but -”
“Sure. Yes.” Mark’s agreeableness seems to astonish his host. “That’ll take an hour, maybe two. And I won’t have to pull an all-nighter. James, you have no idea how much you saved me.”
And James, bless his soul, is blushing. “Well. No problem. I owe you anyway. Right?” He suddenly remembers he’s holding spare clothing and vaguely gestures in Mark’s direction. “You, uh, you can change in the bathroom. Don’t mind the cat, she just loves staring at naked people. Dom found out the hard way.”
Twenty minutes later, Mark is reading through James’ report with a ball of fur purring on his lap, faint metal playing in the background. There’s a lot of grammar and spelling to be fixed, as well as phrasing, but content-wise, it’s near flawless. He’s smiling to himself, enjoying the way James turns almost bashful whenever he compliments his work, and remembers Sam’s words from the second-to-last time he visited the café: it’s never too late.
He’s definitely treating James to dinner after he’s saved his arse like this.
.
The next time Mark passes by that familiar spot, the next time Mark develops a craving for caffeine and some peace and quiet, the next time he plans to go to Leo Coffee, all he finds is the same coffee shop which has been here for years already, the afternoon crowd populating the tables and several diligent employees taking care of the customers.
Somehow, Mark isn’t the least bit surprised.
#rainbow six siege#smoke#mute#smoke/mute#zero#fanfic#oneshot#I combined a few things I know you like and hopefully it's the same with the result#I want to remind you that there is no need to retaliate#but also that'd mean I've won this war
39 notes
·
View notes
Text
Heart of Depth (2)
Member: Yeosang
Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff, a little tension. Genshin Inspired AU
Word Count: ~12k
Requested: Sort of yeah
Content: Yeosang x MC development. More world building. Food stuff. A little bit of crime stuff, some history, some art info dump, some typical genshin shenanigans
Note: this was done way before, I’m already 90% done with part 3 but I kinda got bored while focusing on IRL things that i decided to post this. Enjoy folks.
Network: @ateezlovenet
Tag list: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult @harubirus
Part 1
It’s been a few weeks since Wooyoung finally met Yeosang. While Wooyoung was mostly impressed with his background, there were a lot of mixed feelings from your end. For starters, he doesn’t stop talking about Yeosang and his job to you.
“Listen, he’s loaded.” Wooyoung tells you back in your apartment. It’s not that you didn’t believe him, in fact you did. It’s just the way Wooyoung is processing the entire thing made it seem unrealistic. Since Wooyoung found out he works at one of the most popular art museums in the region, he’s been pestering you about it nonstop.
“Wooyoung, I’m not saying that I don’t believe you but really, with the clothes he wears and how he carries himself, it’s not unbelievable that he’d be rich…” You say as you make yourself a cup of instant coffee. To most, they’d be surprised with how you choose to make instant coffee when you know how to make other types of coffee with ease. It’s just more convenient and less work for your head. It won’t give you the same caffeine boost as the coffee you make in your work but it’ll do for now.
“And you didn’t tell me this because…?” He trails off, dumbfounded at how you were so nonchalant about this. Well, maybe nonchalant isn’t the right word but you were a little too unaffected about this. He has a feeling that there’s more to this man, he just can’t place what it is exactly. Wooyoung does find the guy trustworthy, but there’s still something beneath the surface and that’s what bothers him.
You raise your shoulders at his question. “I just.. Didn’t see any point in telling you? Like, Wooyoung let’s be real,” you say as you write down how much you’ve made today. “What’s him being rich got to do with us? He’s a good person yeah but at least his money keeps my shop afloat with his daily purchases. If he wants me to make bulk orders then I’ll gladly consider it.”
He had to give that to you, your business was doing great too, judging by the money on the table. But he can’t help it, there’s something about Yeosang that tells him he’s not as regular as he makes himself out to be. There’s only so much that research and studying can tell you but to be able to talk about history as if he’s been there to experience it firsthand? Sounds fishy. He drops the topic though, seeing how you’re starting to struggle with the money. “So slow.” Wooyoung teases as he gets the cash box from you, as he starts to flip through the bills.
You roll your eyes at his teasing, kicking his shin under the table. “Even if I was slow, you enjoy my food and drinks so either way, we’re even.” You shoot back. You count the stacks he makes on the table and do the basic math that your brain can comprehend. Despite how infuriating he can get, you have to admit he’s really someone you can depend on.
Something in Wooyoung’s head clicks when he realizes that this was your closing routine every night. “You’re closing up early today?.” He asks, looking up at you from the stacks of coins.
“Yeah uh,” You stammer out. “I’m uh, meeting up with someone..” You mumble. Even to you, it feels unreal that you’re catching feelings for someone. Someone who honestly just feels way too out of your league. Yet, here he is, sharing the same interest towards you and he’s about to see you in two hours time.
The mention of the date makes Wooyoung’s eyebrow quirk upwards, a lopsided smile on his features growing. “Oh, with Yeosang?” He asks, crossing his arms across his chest. If he could take a photo of you sulking at him, he would for future blackmail purposes-- he’d also send it to Yeosang.
The mention of the man that has been making your heart race a little more than it should makes you hit his calf with the tip of your shoe. He doesn’t yelp so you coat the tips of your fingers with ice and tap the back of his neck, giving you the reaction you wanted. “Yes, it’s with him and please…” you already know what he was about to say, so you beat him to it. “I doubt it would blossom into something more..” Even to you, you don’t sound that convincing. You hope for something more but you know better.
At how flustered you look, he can’t help but chuckle lightly. It’s nice to see you show interest in someone in that light. Even if he’s still a little hesitant about Yeosang’s energy, he wants to trust your judgement. If anything happens, you know how to defend yourself. “I won’t push. You know what I’ll say anyways.” Once everything’s been accounted for, the two of you close up the shop for the night then head home.
The entire walk home, you let Wooyoung recount the conversation he had with Yeosang when they met. You wondered too how Yeosang and San found your best friend. The two of you were opposites but somehow it made sense. At one point, you kind of zone out of his stories, thinking of what to wear for tonight.
Wooyoung doesn’t really mind you zoning out. The two of you appreciate the alone time, you more than him sometimes. In a sense, it also helps Wooyoung to make sense of his thoughts when he thinks out loud.
The two of you arrive at your apartment and already you make a beeline to your room. You got roughly an hour to prepare now.
“Just wear something comfortable.” Yeosang reassures.
“Yeosang, comfortable can mean sweats or just jeans.” You point out, while you also had slacks, those were usually set aside for more formal stuff.
“Fine, not sweats.” He laughs softly only to stop at the look of mild panic in your face. “I promise, it’s nothing expensive.”
You mutter as you change out of your work clothes and into something more appropriate. You wiggle around your room, trying to find something appropriate and it’s a little unfortunate that you room has become a little messy from all the clothes you’ve been trying on. It took a little while to look presentable but you think you did well once you give yourself a once over on the mirror.
Wooyoung already barged into your room, already nagging you for taking so long. “You got less than an hour to get to your--- oh my god your room.” He says, his features dropping into one of horror as he takes in how your room looks.
“I’ll clean it up when I get back.” You beat him to it as you grabbed your bag. “What do you think?” You ask, shifting his attention from your room to you. His eyes scan your look closely then eyes your accessories. Without even saying anything else, he goes through the mess and picks up another bag.
“This goes better with your outfit.”
“Isn’t it a bit too big?”
“Who are you going on a date with tonight?”
“It’s not a date--”
“Who?”
You sigh. “Yeosang, so?”
“Use it. I’m telling you, that guy has a lot of money on him. You might bring home more things than expected.” He points out. “Also, make sure you wear your boots.” It made sense that Wooyoung would have more fashion sense than you. It just did.
“I’m not bringing him home!” You take the bag regardless and put your belongings in it.
He snorts at how you understood his words. “Not like that! I do trust you’d do it responsibly! But, that’s not my point. Just have fun okay?” He walks you towards the door. “If anything happens, call me.”
At his shift from insufferable to endearing, you decide to spoil him with a peck to his cheek. “I know. I brought a spare key also in case you get too tired from staying up.”
He scoffs at your words. “Go, have fun.”
---------
It was short sighted of you to forget to bring a jacket. The area Yeosang told you to meet him at was rather chilly especially at night. As you wait for him, you look around, the shops that lined up across you looked expensive. Did you bring enough money? Well you had a credit card but you only used it for emergencies. You doubt you could even buy one item from any of these shops. Maybe one day.
[ Yeosang to You ] Are you there?
[ You to Yeosang ] Yes! Are you here already? curious_ryan
You don’t know why you added an emoji to your message but you did. Once sent, you look around for the familiar black haired male.
[ Yeosang to You ] 2 minutes.
You lean against the wall, eyes still roaming around for the tall man. Truthfully, you wondered where he could be and what he was wearing since this was his idea after all. It’s up to what he wears that could decide if you wore too much or too little. You spot the raven-haired man from a few feet away; in a striped pull over and slacks as well. Though it looked just as casual as he said it would, his shoes seemed to make his outfit look more put together. You hope you looked okay. Once he gets a little closer, you wave your hand a bit to get his attention and it does.
“There you are.” He says softly, tipping his head politely to you. You take a few steps forward, greeting him warmly. It felt a little weird to meet him outside work but that’s the reason why the two of you are here.
“How was work?” You ask him, just like how you would back in your shop.
He gestures for you to walk with him, wherever it will be. “Same as per usual; scheduling field trips for high school students, collections from other countries and collectors coming in, restoring a few pieces and the like.” He returns with what you could assume was an exasperated sigh.
“It sounds like it was more than just the usual.” You point out as you look at the stores. “Where are we going exactly?”
“It’s the usual for me I suppose, maybe except for the field trips. Other than that, it’s routine for me.” You remember how he would talk about art restoration along with art collections coming in from foreign partners. It wasn’t an easy task for sure, maybe that’s why he didn’t mind staying for hours in the shop. “As for your question, there’s a small night market outside this mall. Nothing too flashy, just a lot of unique things that you might like as well.” You genuinely didn’t take him to be someone who would be into markets, based on his outfit that he feels your surprised gaze on him. “Is something wrong?” He asks. You shake your head at his concern.
“I just didn’t take you to be the type to like markets.” Well, for one, you know he’s rich and he’s wearing clothes that you can only assume are made to order. Two, even if you don’t really listen to Wooyoung’s insistent ‘He’s Rich and here’s Why’ tirades, you picked up a thing or two from it.
He takes no insult from your words and actually laughs behind a loose fist. “I’ve received those words a lot in the past. To be honest, it’s thanks to San and his lover that I’m more open to things now.” Back then, he was still in the dark about what the people like, intellectualizing everything to the point of disconnect. It took them having to explain things to him over and over until he understood things. “Though, old habits do die hard.” He continues, referring to his clothes. “But I have learned a lot.”
There’s something in his words that tells you there’s more. Your attention shifts to his clothes as he gestures to his pullover. You catch a glimpse of the brand name and in doing so, your heart drops. You know that name. An outfit there can cover two months worth of rent for your shop. Maybe even the bills.
That’s how the rest of the night goes: Yeosang showing you around the market, showing you various treats to the senses. There were various stalls that you fell for, buying a few of their products but you stopped yourself from over indulging in the purchases-- some merely out of impulse, some for the mere fact it just looked pretty. “Why don’t you buy it?” Yeosang asks as he catches you eyeing a small bottle of perfume.
“Hm?” You aren’t startled by his strange ability to slip in and out of your sight every so often now. This market has such a vast amount of products, that one would easily lose sight of their companions if they didn’t pay attention. Thankfully, he was tall enough for you to find him when needed. “Oh, well, I still have a bottle I use back at home. I don’t think I need another one just yet.” You shift your gaze to him, and you see he has bought quite a number of items. “Do you want to eat dinner already?”
“I was about to ask you. It is rather late.” He notes with a glance at his watch.
“Let’s go? I’m kind of hungry now as well.”
“Any preference?” He asks, offering his arm for you to hold to which you don’t turn down.
“As long as it isn’t anything expensive.”
--------
Now why did this restaurant look expensive?
You were seated a little further inside the establishment. The seats were comfortable, privacy was assured and the music playing overhead wasn't Today’s Top 40. You were certain it was jazz. “I thought I said anything that isn’t expensive..” You say, unknowingly pouting at the man across you.
“Consider this as thanks.” He says simply, not even looking up from the menu. The in-house steak sounds lovely, especially at this time.
You look up from the menu, confused at his words. “For what?” You don’t remember what you did to result in such a lavish meal-- you don’t even remember what you ate for breakfast today. A small part of you wishes Wooyoung could be here too, he would’ve loved to try out the dishes here.
“Putting trust in me to be considered a good friend of yours.” Yeosang says, it’s only then that he looks up from his menu. “Have you decided on what to eat?” He shifts the conversation to you upon noticing the confusion still etched on your face.
“Uh, well. I’m not sure what I should order” Also known as, everything’s expensive but also they sound good. You were bouncing between the pasta, beef and the fish, unsure of which one would be better for you.
“Anything that you were eyeing?” He presses. Odd enough, he can tell when you’re holding your tongue now. While he doesn’t force you to say what’s really in your mind at times, you’re human, your body has limits as well. An empty stomach carries repercussions that would probably have Wooyoung on his head.
At his question, you tell him your options. He asks about your diet preferences and your appetite for the night until he finds a good dish for you for tonight. Once all that is over, the two of you are left alone once again. “So, my dear, what did you get in the market?” He asks you, leaning a little forward, hoping for a bit of a peek into what fancied your interests.
You look at the small bags that came with your purchases, wondering which one first to show him. “Oh I just got those small perfume bottles,” you start, pulling the box out of the bag. “It’s not much but it was such a lovely scent.” You start to gush over the purchase. It took you some time to decide on purchasing it, as it was your last purchase for the night.
He picks up the box, looking at the details of the perfume, noting all the things about it. Truthfully, he didn’t think you were into this but he’s up for surprises from you. Also, San’s into this brand as well, he didn’t think they made perfume bottles in such small sizes. He hands back the perfume to you, a pleasant hum leaving his curved lips. There’s always something for him to learn.
“What about you?” You ask him as you keep your purchase away. “What did you buy?”
Yeosang looks at the small bag he had by his side. He lets you bring it out of the bag. You peek inside first, confused to see a few envelopes of varying sizes. “What are these? Are you sure I can open these?” You ask, picking a small envelope, the length just roughly around the same as your hand. When you see him nod, you carefully pull up the flap. Being greeted by a strip of colored paper behind a cream colored paper confused you, so you carefully pull it out of its confines only to gasp at the quality.
It’s a watercolor painting. It looks like a flower, something you’ve never seen before. The color was soft against the cream paper yet it was so lively, as if you could tell how the petals could feel under your fingertips. He sees the shock on your face, smiling a little at the sight of how wide your eyes get. “They’re all paintings, you can look through whatever fancies your curiosity.” His words make you feel like a deer in the headlights.
“Where did you get these? I didn’t see an artist in the market…” You mumble in thought. You’d like to get one for your shop too. “What flower is this?” You ask Yeosang, holding up the painting you initially chose. Finding entertainment in watching how you look at art results in his eyes taking a while to adjust to the art in front of him.
“Ah this, it’s called a Névé Jewel. It’s rare to find them now but the artist, a good friend of mine in the market knows of the flower and managed to create this painting. No one else seemed to want it so I got it for myself along with a few other works.” He explains. “If you wish to have work made by him, I can easily arrange that should he leave the market after we’re done with dinner.” As he was about to continue his explanation, the food started to arrive. As you return his purchases, you check the time, it didn’t take as long as you would’ve thought. The flash of warm light from your phone catches his attention. Even at an angle, he can kind of depict what the photo is. “Apologies for the question but is that your family?”
After thanking the staff for serving your meals, you let him see your wallpaper, though you cover the image of a child you from his view. “Yeah, it’s an old photo of my parents, and I.”
“How are they now?” He asks, studying the photo like he would with artwork. The sunlight casting shadows over your mother’s hat, your father squinting through the glare, probably done at high noon. The wall definitely was a product of its time, bricks but covered over with a huge mural. He’s unsure if this was shot here or in another country, regardless, it’s evident it came from a much simpler time.
“Well…” There’s something in your voice that makes Yeosang quiet. The wistful tone is something he knows too well and not something he wants to bring at the first dinner with you. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked such a question.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, we can change the subject.” He immediately adds after the gap. He gestures at your meal, not wanting it to go cold.
You shake your head at his concern. “It’s okay, it’s been roughly a decade now.” You explain as you pick up your utensils. “They’ve passed on now, it’s why I live with Wooyoung.” After your family’s passing, Wooyoung’s family took you in as one of theirs. It’s why you and Wooyoung can pass off as siblings now.
As he takes makes sure he gets a spoonful of the pasta, he smiles a little at your words. “If you didn’t tell me that the two of you weren’t related, I would’ve thought otherwise.” Yeosang’s voice takes on a teasing tone, a subtle attempt to bring back a smile of joy on your features.
You make a face, carrying no malice but rather fake annoyance. “Oh dear, that means he’s rubbed off on me.” You carefully cool off your meal before tasting it. It really was a good idea to bring a few extra in your wallet. “What about you? What’s your family like?”
“Well,” He takes a moment or two to eat before continuing. “I suppose, just like you, they’ve passed on when I was younger. It’s been just San and I since then.” People he considered to be his family have passed on, or have retired from the outside world. Regardless, it has left him in a rather lonely state at times. While there are memories he is fond of, who else is there to share these memories?
The two of you share stories, at least the happier ones, about each other’s families. How it was your dad who instilled in you an affinity for art, your mom teaching you history a little more entertaining than your teachers did. Yeosang shares his stories as well, his brother being a reason for his inquisitive nature that eventually grew into his work. He also talks of how his older teacher taught him the tricks and trades of business. Despite living well off, it was really his siblings who had more or less raised him as his parents were often or rather always, working. Eventually the business of art rested on his shoulders, as he was the only one who had an interest in it. You wondered if he was aware of how much money the business gave him before he signed into this. Come to think of it, there’s only two families that have a hold on the art business. Surely he’s from one of them?
Come to think of it, you still don’t know his last name.
“Are you alright? Is the food okay?” He asks you after the stories have ended. That’s when you realized that you had spaced out in your thoughts in the middle of the meal. “Huh? Oh! Yes, i’m fine. Sorry I was thinking...” You continue to eat what’s left of your meal. “Because you said you took over the art business in the museum right? There’s only two families I can think of that has a hold on the art business industry here: Kang and Song.”
He chuckles lightheartedly, a little pleased to know that even until now his family is this impactful. “Ah, the Song. They’re a lovely bunch, the next in line is rather clumsy outside of formalities, it’s rather cute to see.” His comment makes you stare at him in disbelief. That leaves the option left is Kang. Kang Yeosang.
You’re eating with The Kang Yeosang.
The Kang family has been a pioneer in art restoration especially in works prior to the 1400s. Their own art collection were always pieces hard to find anywhere else-- either due to human’s hubris or due to nature, the way they’re able to keep them in pristine condition as much as possible. You don’t know how they’re able to find some of the artifacts, or how they have the rarest pieces but it’s one of the reasons why they’ve amassed such wealth. Curating in a popular museum, restoring old pieces, tours from not only students but also from diplomats, scholars while being funded to keep security at its peak by the government. It makes sense. It’s been a dream of yours to work in the National Museum and here you are, eating dinner with the owner of what could be more than 60% of the collection in the museum.
He watches the gears in your head click and the realization set in your eyes. He says nothing but flash a bright smile once he knows you know the answer. “I hope this doesn’t complicate our friendship.” He admits earnestly.
You reassure him, with much fervor that it doesn’t. It just makes you respect him a lot more. It’s not easy to keep a bit of a low profile and privacy yet he’s able to do so. Shit, Wooyoung’s right then, a mental note to make up for your lack of reaction and doubt was stored away. So the rest of the meal goes by with you asking Yeosang how it is to handle a museum, knowing how things have been lately.
He sighs a little, the recent rise in art theft has been the bane of his existence since day 1. The amount of artworks he had to keep from sticky fingers, the security of those works is where a good portion of his money goes. He fears the day more works end up in the wrong hands. “We do what we can. It’s not easy but we’ve upped the security in and out of the premises.” He reassures you. There’s comfort in meeting someone who loves art just as much as he and the staff outside of work. “Maybe in the near future, I can give you a private tour.” He casually passes his credit card to a staff member, as both of you are now finished with the meal.
If he was asking you on a date, it’s already a yes in your book.
“I’d like that.” You admit, unable to hide the excited grin on your lips. “Though, as thanks for the meal. If you want dessert, can I pay for it this time?” He didn’t give you enough time to react to the fact he had just paid for your meal. Might as well make up for it, somehow.
On the way to a dessert spot, the two of you decide to stop by the market in hopes of seeing his friend. “Oh hey!” Yeosang’s friend greets him upon realizing who’s right in front of him as he puts away some of his earnings from a recent sale.
“Hey Seonghwa, so my friend here discovered your works and wanted to see them so I brought them here.” The man next to you explains. You see some of his works on display, all of them were in various sizes, some bigger than the pieces Yeosang had bought. Yeosang catches the curious gaze of his friend on you then at him to which Yeosang shakes his head, not wanting to keep anyone's hopes up.
“They’re so pretty…” You say softly as you gaze at the larger pieces in awe. Seonghwa has created watercolor pieces of scenery, places you have yet to see, some look dreamlike. The smaller pieces are of various plant life, one of them looks similar to the flower piece you peeked at from Yeosang’s purchases earlier. “How much are the small works?”
Seonghwa looks at the general direction of your gaze. “The flowers are fifty thousand while the terrain’s at sixty thousand.” You weren’t so surprised at the prices but you had to pick one or the other.
Your lips press into a thin line in thought. “What do you think, Yeosang?” You ask. “I’m thinking of hanging one of them up in my shop.” Truthfully, the flowers would look good considering the plants you’ve cared for in your shop. The terrain on the other hand would stand out in all the good ways.
“Perhaps the floral one would suffice. It suits the ambiance of your shop as well.” Yeosang notes. You trust his judgement with this-- he handles a museum after all, and you fish out your wallet.
“That’s a lovely bracelet you got there.” Seonghwa gasps, awed by the beauty. He knows what that is, eyes flitting to the archon a little too quickly before shifting again to you. His words bring you flattery that you accept.
“It’s from my mom.” You simply explain, ears a little pink from the sudden attention on you. The blond male doesn’t miss your bashful ears that he chuckles lightly behind his hand and drops the topic.
“Your mother has quite an eye.” He simply says as he hands you your change. “Thank you for buying a work from me.” With that said, the two of you make your way to an ice cream parlor.
You let Yeosang look at the various flavors on display. “Before anything, I’m paying.” You remind him. It’s how determined you are to repay his kindness that produces a light laugh from him.
“Very well.” He returns his attention to the display, pondering on his options for the moment. “I’ll get the injeolmi and red bean in a cup. Two scoops please?” He asks. He stays by your side as you order, curious by the other flavors. If he remembers right, San loves the mint chocolate with the popping candy.
As you wait for your turn, your phone buzzes with a message.
[ Wooyoung to You ] How are you?
You smile at his worry.
[ You to Wooyoung ] Cheeky_ryan.emoji
[ You to Wooyoung ] One of these days, you need to go here with me. It’s so pretty here.
[ You to Wooyoung ] Also buying ice cream right now hehe.
You pay for your orders, and let Yeosang choose a spot to sit for the next hour or so. You put your purchases right next to you as your lips widen into a giddy smile. It’s been a while since you last had ice cream too.
“Oh yeah. Now that we’ve settled in a good spot in this shop.” He hands you the same envelope that had the terrain you were in turmoil over earlier. “Consider it a gift.” He reasons when he sees how you were about to turn down such an offer. A smile of triumph brightens his entire face when he sees you give in to his request. You look cute sulking at him when you know you can’t turn down his offers. “The thing Seonghwa noticed, he’s got a good eye for jewelry.” It took eons for him to have such specialized sight but it’s been an asset since he could remember. “It’s something your mother gave you, yes?”
You show him the bracelet from your seat. “It’s an ancestral piece,” You admit. It’s the most watered down way you can explain without showing too much of yourself to someone. Since their death, you’ve become a lot more private about your family life when it pertains to them, but when it comes to your family life with Wooyoung you can easily talk about it. Here’s the kicker though, why were you so willing to share things with him?
Honestly, you didn’t know the whole name of the bracelet. You only vaguely remember it being called Aurora so that stuck with you until now. At night, the pearl shines brighter, when you use your cryo vision for whatever reason, the light inside the pearl pulsates. In a well lit room like where you are, it looks like an average pearl. It was one of the things your mother told you to hold dear before seeing them for the last time.
The male senses your inability to remember clearly along with your discomfort. A part of him reprimands himself for letting his desire to know get the better of him. You are your own person. He has to remind himself of this over and over. “You don’t have to tell me everything, I do respect your privacy.” He says softly.
“Yeosang?” You ask. The tone makes him stiffen, worried for having hurt you in such a short span of time.
“Yes?”
You prod at your ice cream for a moment, trying to find the words. “I mean, considering how historical the museum is. Has there been times where artworks have been stolen?” It was a valid question, most museums you know through the years have attempted thievery one way or another. Some works never find their way back home; you wondered if the same has happened to his museum.
“Oh of course.” There’s a bit of relief in hearing you shift the conversation. A little bit of dread since this is a difficult thing to deal with. “Before I became the head, a group did an art heist. Around ten works were stolen, until now we don’t know where they are.”
This somehow surprises you. You know how tight the security is in that museum even without knowing Yeosang’s hand in the museum, the security there was rather strict too. “What?”
“Yes, a number of works that are considered rarities were stolen. Not a lot of people know that these artists did such works either.” Under the jurisdiction of his predecessor, they kept the frames of the missing works up, hoping that one day they’ll get them back. Yeosang knows otherwise at this point. “Truthfully speaking, I have my doubts they’ll return in one piece if at all.” Yeosang continues. “It’s been decades, if I remember right, since those works were stolen.” Artworks gone for decades usually end up in the same place one way or another. If they’re lucky, they know where it is. The only problem is revealing how they know and why they know, usually.
As he tells you about the works, you search them up on your phone. These are works centuries before you were born only to be stolen decades before your birth. Despite the time difference, the impact it left on the art world seems to be immense. It explains the growing levels of security in museums around the world, among many other things.
“How do you know of these artworks? I haven’t heard of them.”
“With the people I work with, I have to know information like this.” Well that makes sense but why does he talk of these works as if he’s seen them?
“But, it’s been...what.. Decades? Since it’s been seen, how is your memory that clear?” The way he describes it as you look at the painting on your phone, you pick up on details you would have missed but there’s something in his words that tells you something more.
He stares at you, sweat already forming at the back of his neck as he tries to come up with a logical excuse. “I have the records, also the internet gives us the nearest accurate rendering of the paintings.” He explains, gesturing to your phone screen that displays one of the mentioned works.
He’s got a point and you drop the topic. After a few more minutes of looking at the painting, you turn away from your phone, shifting your attention to your ice cream and to him.
“The Ninth Wave by Ivan Aivazovksy”
“Judith Beheading Holofornes by Artemisia.. I don’t know how to pronounce her last name..” It was a little embarrassing that you didn’t know how to pronounce these names but you couldn’t really help but love the work.
That was something he didn’t expect. He looks up the work you mentioned, along with the artist’s name, wanting to avoid possible confusion. “Ah, this work?” He asks, as he shows you his phone. At the sight of the work, you nod shyly but the spark in your eyes overpowers the bashful nature on your cheeks. He gives it a good look for a moment or two, studying what he can from such a small screen. The blood in the work’s dynamic, actively spurting out from the male’s neck while the women wrestle to keep him down to finish the act. The women don’t look disgusted by the action at all, rather they look determined. “Why so?” It’s uncommon but not rare, for people to like works that were rather morbid. He just didn’t take you to be someone to appreciate works like this.
You gnaw on your spoon for a moment, trying to find the right words to say. Truthfully, you find it a little embarrassing to admit that this is your favorite work, not things like The Milkmaid by Vermeer or something more calming. “Uh, well,” you start off. “It’s not everyday really, that I see works made by women. Especially with the subject being someone who’s determined even in doing something morbid.” The reason behind the painting was just as violent, but could’ve been cathartic to the artist herself. To you, you want to do the same to those who have hurt you and your family. But hey, who would talk about that the first time they hang out right? “What about you?” You shift the topic almost immediately. “Why The Ninth Wave?”
Yeosang takes this moment to think for a moment or two, wondering what he should say. “Well,” he starts before scooping a small mouthful of the ice cream. “Seeing the ocean be so dynamic isn’t an everyday thing.” He lets the ice cream melt in his mouth for a moment before continuing. “People tend to forget that the ocean while giving, can take. We’re at its mercy, whether we like it or not. It’s a good reminder I suppose, that we’re not as invincible as we think we are.”
You look closer at the artwork. It’s a handful of men, clinging onto what looks like planks of wood as they face a wave that looks tamed. You wonder why it’s called the Ninth Wave, seeing that the painting was washed with soft pinks, warm bright yellows and various shades of blues and greens. It looks much more peaceful than the description Yeosang gave.
“A little ironic isn’t it?” He muses. A sheen of blue glowing softly in his eyes as he watches you study the painting with confusion. “You see, it’s an old sailing expression that means that another wave is coming. After the previous eight that were already big, the ninth one coming, much bigger than the last eight. The worst has yet to come but storm through it and then there will be peace.” He gestures to the faint wave just by the line of horizon. Indeed there’s still one more but the skies promise peace should they get through it.
You jolt in your chair when you see what time it is. You’re hoping Wooyoung’s already asleep back in the apartment. “I’m sorry, but I have to head home. It’s already late and I usually open the shop early.” You explain as you stand up. Yeosang looks at you with alarm as you nearly stumble from the rush.
“I’ll drive you home.”
“What?”
“It’s late isn’t it? Going home alone isn’t safe, I’ll drive you home.”
--------
That’s how you ended up in his car, breezing through the wide streets as you direct him to where you live. “You don’t have the app?” You ask him as your eyes dart from building to building. You’ve been so used to using the trains and walking that you don’t really spend time looking up to see the bright signages and other restaurants. More things to explore in the future, perhaps.
“What app?” Yeosang asks as he weaves through corners and light traffic. You take that as a cue to explain to him that there’s this app that tells you where to go when traffic in the main roads are too heavy or when an accident has happened to be aware of and the like. All of this while you eat what’s left of your ice cream. Though you did have to explain as well that while you don’t see any use for the app, Wooyoung’s workmate, Yunho, uses it and it’s been helpful for him when he oversleeps.
Yeosang chortles at the reasoning. “Well, I might use that app then despite not being the type to oversleep.” He spots your apartment building, based on your descriptions earlier. “I suppose that is your place?” He looks around. This seems to be a few stops away from your coffee shop. The more he learns, he supposes.
You sent Wooyoung a quick text saying you’d be home in five minutes should he still be awake. “Yes! That’s the building, you can just drop me off here.” You say as you look out the window to make sure there weren't any cars coming so you could hop off.
“I’ll drive you there, just sit tight.” He reassures. The drive was smooth, stopping just by the entrance of the apartment complex with a pleasant smile. “At least I can tell San that I can still make a drive be pleasant.” At his words, you raise a questioning eyebrow at him. “Another story for another time, I’ll see you again soon I hope?” He asks.
“Of course.” You return as you hop off the car. “Stay safe please?” You ask, as you wave at him. He shoots you this smile, and it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat. Too much that you have to remind yourself that the two of you are just friends, that regretting not having given him a kiss is not very friend-like. You watch him drive off until you can’t see the car anymore, by then you head inside back to the safety of your own abode.
--------
He arrives home, his mind still replaying the way you looked so flustered before he left. You were lovely in his eyes, that much he can admit. He tosses the keys on to the table. His coat shrugged off and hung somewhere. Coming home to an empty apartment after being with company and bright lights is a little disorienting. Maybe he should really invest in softer lighting for his home. He switches the lights on, and heaves a tired sigh. It’s been a long day but it was a fun one. Should he consider having you and Wooyoung room with him here? Granted, he already has a room for San whenever he’s in the mood for company as well. It’s been a ritual for him as well to let his place become a haven for those who have been injured through out the years. Perhaps that’s another thought for another day.
As he prepares himself a cup of tea, he goes through the current happenings around him. It was a little alarming that reports of crime were shooting up, some of which bearing certain similarities that he hopes the officials catch soon. The crimes reported haven’t changed regardless of the presence of a god’s protection. He’ll also have to talk to the security in the museum to keep anything from being stolen.
This reminds him to check on any emails concerning the museum and their upcoming events. Most of them were updates of planned exhibitions with other museums outside the country, along with events in partnership with brands in the country. It was rather tiresome really, same routine with every museum, every shop, anything to keep the museum running in ethical ways. Though he wonders how the gardens in the museum are coming along, the seasons are slowly changing and this means that some plants will have to be changed in order to keep up with appearances and health.
His cup of tea was finally ready when he remembered to send you a message.
[ Yeosang to You ] Hey, I’m finally home. I had fun today :)
No less than five minutes did you manage to return the text.
[ You to Yeosang ] I’m glad, I had fun too~ Sleep well!
He finds himself smiling at your reply as he takes a sip. He had a feeling that tonight, he’ll be able to sleep well.
Unknown to him and the rest of the staff, a small bud was already growing.
--------
“I got a proposition for you.”
Whenever Wooyoung has those words come out of his mouth, you were sure it wasn’t a good idea. Regardless of the fear, you entertain his thoughts. “And what is it?” You ask, your focus on the ceramic mug that you dry in your hands.
“What if I work with you here?” You were thankful for your reflexes for not falling lax at such an offer. The idea of Wooyoung working with you was okay to put it nicely but there was an important question you had to raise.
“Why?” You ask him as you keep the clean mug away. It was a Wednesday, which meant business runs slow. This is also the reason as to why Wooyoung was in your shop and not at home catching up on sleep.
“For starters, you work alone.” He says, raising his pointer finger. “Two, you’re practically dating Yeosang by now.” He raises his middle finger and it takes all your will power to not freeze his fingers off his hand. “Three, I want to help you with your work.” You admit, he’s got a good heart but you still want to freeze his hand off.
“Do I have time to think about this?” You ask, keeping an eye on the students who seem to be preparing for a final just a few tables away from you.
“Well, yeah you do cause you pretty much call the shots in this place.” Wooyoung returns with a shrug. “It’s just an offer.” he reminds you. “Oh yeah, is Yeosang coming today?”
You eye him in confusion. “I hope so..? Why?”
“Hope so, huh.” He repeats, a smug grin on his lips.
At his teasings, you let a rush of icy wind brush past the back of his neck, cold enough that snowflakes appear when he touches the skin. “We’re not dating! And yes, i do hope he comes in today or at least I think he will?” He didn’t really send you any message that says he won’t be able to make it today so you were rather confused. Then again, he and Yeosang have started to become good friends as well. San, though impressed, was just as alarmed considering how mischievous Wooyoung could get.
“It’s nice to see Yeosang make friends outside his work. I’m glad you and Wooyoung came along.” San said as he watches Yeosang fall for Wooyoung’s jokes and tricks.
You on the other hand, were behind the counter, cleaning up the coffee machines. The high pitched laughter echoing in the room countered by embarrassed chuckles and feeble attempts to defend themselves. “You think so?” You ask.
San catches onto your light hearted sarcasm and giggles. “Yeah. Guess you can say, you kind of opened him up to a world beyond what he knew. He’s been insistent in learning trends.” He continues. “Oh and don’t tell him i told you but he also wants to learn how you make your coffee. He can never get it like you do. Don’t be surprised if he ends his work early just to ask you to teach him how to make coffee.”
By then the two of you knew it was Yeosang’s way of spending time with you whenever work allowed the two of you to do so.
“Not dating yet.” He takes the extra effort to emphasize the ‘yet’. “Kid, I’m telling you,” he continues, not paying any mind to the lasers that shoot out of your eyes due to being called a Kid. “The two of you are going to date sooner or later.”
Just as he finishes his sentence, San enters the premises. You stand up straight to welcome him just like any other customer but by now you also know his usual order. “Usual order?” You ask him, already ready to write his order on his cup.
He shoots the two of you a cheeky smile. “Yeah, for me and Yeosang.'' The cheeky smile turns a little bashful now as he eyes the treats on display. “Can I also get the lavender blueberry sponge cake, two slices, to go? Yeosang’s been stressed with meetings today.”
Hearing this, your eyebrows furrow in concern. “Would tea be better for him then?”
The male shakes his head. “Coffee might do him better for his work. If we got time to come by later, then yeah give him tea.” You and Wooyoung look at each other, slightly alarmed and worried for him but the explanation will come for another time.
“Sure thing. “ With the payments out of the way, San and Wooyoung catch up as you prepare his orders.
“Something up?” Wooyoung asks, rather worried to see San be this concerned for Yeosang and also look just as stressed.
San takes this moment to take a deep breath and deflate in his seat. “Some of the sponsors are being illogical along with some logistical problems for upcoming exhibitions so all of us are pressed for time and resources.” He runs his fingers through his hair, already tousled by the amount of times he’s been doing the same motion since this morning. “On top of that, a break in just happened near the museum so security measures have been heightened.” San says under his breath, not wanting anyone to overhear that statement.
Wooyoung looks at him in alarm, then looks at his phone for any updates on their area. He wonders if leaving you alone would be a good idea at this rate. “There’s nothing yet on social media..” He mutters, still concerned for you.
“The media’s on their way to cover the situation so give it around ten minutes.” San explains, by then you arrive at the table with his orders packed up for him to pick up and go.
“Tell Yeosang, I said hi?” You say as you watch the two of them, sensing the tension in the air. “Something wrong?”
San shakes his head for now. “Just the usual work stuff, thanks for the food, I have to get going now.” He picks up the bag and bids the two of you farewell. “I’ll send your regards as well.” He says before running out the door.
You glance at Wooyoung and he shows his phone to you. “Besides stressful work issues, a break in happened nearby so their stress hasn’t been anything nice.” You read through the news article: nothing valuable was taken but everything’s in disarray. Though the museum’s a little further down the road from the break in, and further away from your shop, you’re a little worried for your own shop’s security as well. You also know how protective Wooyoung is of you.
“Fine, you can work with me in this shop, your shift’s gonna depend on your availability as well since I know you have to create choreographies and teach them.” You state. He smiles a little too triumphantly this time, mostly due to the relief of knowing you’re safe and because he can keep you company as well. “This also means I have to teach you how to work these machines…” You note with a sigh, you were never confident in your teaching skills.
“Hey don’t lose faith in me. I pick up quickly, don’t I?” Wooyoung croons with a proud smile.
“Do you have a shift today in the studio?” You ask as you look through the cabinets.
“No why?” The answer to his question is an apron tossed in his direction.
“Good, I’m teaching you today then, get your butt over here,”
--------
The two of you crash onto the chairs after a long day of working. Wooyoung glances over at you as he rubs his sore muscles, wondering how you’re able to do this day in and day out, all alone. You don’t seem to be as fazed as he is, as all you do is stretch in your seat. “How do you do this on your own?” Wooyoung asks, now that it’s only the two of you in the shop.
“I have to.” You say simply. It’s rare for Wooyoung to hear you complain as well. This was something you wanted after all. The only complaints he hears from you are usually just muscle pain that he helps ease, and the occasional horror customer. Besides the occasional pet discussion, he never hears you complain over how hard your job is. Meanwhile, he always complains about his. Not that you minded them, some of them are rather valid. He was simply the type to externally process what happened before being able to move on.
He catches you often looking towards the door, in hopes of seeing Yeosang. “He hasn’t said anything yet huh?” He asks, a little sad for you as well. He knows how much you look forward to seeing him, even if you don’t say anything about it.
You shake your head, your phone’s been silent the entire day and with San’s explanation, it makes sense why he’d be busy. Maybe you can send him a message? But wouldn’t that disrupt his work?
“Just send it.” Wooyoung says, hanging his legs over the arm rest. Well, at least it’s not his shoes against the arm rest. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” Were you that transparent in his eyes?
You shoot him a pout but take out your phone. You didn’t think he’d send you a message now.
[ Yeosang to You ] Still in the shop?
“He just messaged me, asking if I’m still in the shop.” You say, blinking at the message, slightly surprised.
“Well, you are so let him in.” Wooyoung says, eyeing the door. The mentioned guy was standing outside the shop, clearly exhausted from a long day. His words confuse you as you still gaze at the phone screen so he takes the honor to unlock the door to let the man in, then lock it once more. “Didn’t think you’d be able to drop by after what San told us.” Your friend notes, noting the loosened tie. He wonders just how much he had to go through today.
It’s only by the time the wind chimes chirp of someone’s entrance that you look up from your phone. The man responsible for the weird heart racing you’ve been getting is in front of you but instead of letting out your frustrations, you heave a sigh of relief to see him alive in one piece. “You’re lucky we haven’t closed the place for the day.”
“Not like they could until they saw you.” Your best friend cuts in much to Yeosang’s delight.
“I see Wooyoung’s now working for you?” Yeosang says, as he takes a seat on the stool next to your table. A soft groan slips from his lips as he finally feels peace after a tiring day.
“Do you want anything?” Wooyoung offers, as you watch the two of them banter in front of you. You let Wooyoung take the lead for his order this time, wanting to see just how much he has picked up today.
“Earl grey tea-- do you guys still have a vanilla macaron?” Yeosang throws back as he removes his blazer, folding it over his arms.
“Gotcha.” He says simply, already getting to work.
“It’s on me.” You tell him as you slip towards the stool across him. He takes the chance to hold your hand, holding it close to his lips.
“I apologize for the late arrival, my dear. Work was not merciful today.” He mumbles softly against your skin. “I was looking forward to seeing you today at a preferably earlier time.” His voice clearly carried the stress of unexpected problems that you wonder what else went wrong after San’s visit. Wooyoung comes back with his order, already pulling up another stool to listen to Yeosang’s woes. “I won’t stay too long today, it’s been a long day and I’m sure the two of you had a busy day.” It was a little worrisome to see him try to keep his stress to a minimum when it’s already clearly nearing the limits. You wonder how much he kept from you the past few weeks.
You don’t notice the look Wooyoung gives you at how intimate you and Yeosang look. Your eyes are on Yeosang the entire time, his free hand taking a sip of the tea, tension in his shoulders easing at the warmth of the tea spreads around him. “Do you want to talk about it?” You ask carefully.
He shakes his head. “For another time, I promise I will fill you in on them.” He says. He opens his eyes after a while, and it shocks you how vividly blue his eyes are. They weren’t the striking ice blue the foreigners have, rather it’s a deep blue. The blue that reminds you of how vast and deep the world you live in is, you don’t know why that came into your mind but it did. But, why does it feel so familiar? “Are the two of you done cleaning for today?” He asks all of a sudden. The two of you look around and the only thing left was to take out the trash.
“Just need to take the trash out then we’re done for the day.”
“How will the two of you head home?”
Wooyoung and you look at each other, surprised by the question. “Well, we just take the train.” His eyes darken just a bit and you want to ask Wooyoung so badly if you’re seeing things. He shakes his head.
“That won’t do. The two of you can ride with me on the way home tonight.”
“I’m sorry?” The two friends ask at the same time, much to Yeosang’s amusement.
“It’s late, though I trust and know that the two of you can protect yourselves.” He starts, gesturing at the visions the two of you carry. “But it is late, the recent crimes have been spiking. Let me pay back your kindness through this at least.” He wasn’t leaving any room to sway his decision so the two of you take his offer. This time you take the responsibility to throw out the trash, the two of them waiting for you by the door.
You wonder what has been going on nowadays for them to be this worried. Frankly, while you were touched by such concern, you were also frustrated. You know how to protect yourself with or without your vision. You’re not the same helpless child that saw the atrocities of this world. Busy in your thoughts, you don’t see a figure keeping an eye on you from a distance. Just as you look at their direction, it disappears. The familiar feeling of dread doesn’t leave, it lingers and it makes your skin crawl. Quietly, you coat your hands with a thin sheet of ice as you make your way back to the two.
“You okay?” Wooyoung asks, noticing how alert you’ve become. He sees the ice around your fists and already he’s on high alert, looking around. Yeosang too notices the frost forming around your skin and wonders what you have encountered.
“Let’s go.” He simply states, making sure that you were walking next to him and Wooyoung. The way your features became so cloudy was a concern but he’ll have to ask Wooyoung for more information for another day. What matters now is your safety.
--------
It’s only in the safety of his car that Wooyoung starts to freak out again over how loaded Yeosang is. Maintenance for this car model isn’t easily affordable, especially for its size. Did you understand anything of what Wooyoung has been talking about? Vaguely. Yet Yeosang manages to answer everything with ease that you wonder just how much he knows beyond art, and history.
On the other hand, The ice around your fists has melted into puddles at your feet. “Sorry for the mess..” You say under your breath. Yeosang doesn’t miss a beat about it, saying that they’re rubber so it’s nothing that can be easily cleaned. His tea was already finished by the time the three of you were near your apartment.
Honestly, if his work hadn’t let him off so late, he could’ve already asked the question already but he’ll have to wait until he arrives outside your apartment. “He knows where we live?” Wooyoung asks, realizing that you didn’t have to give him directions.
“Yeah, he brought me home after our hangout last time, so I just directed him.”
He takes pride in his clear memory, smiling to himself as he can already picture the bashful smile of yours as Wooyoung looks at the two of you incredulously. “So when are you guys going to be officially dating?”
The question causes your heart to race once more, despite your calm exterior. Yeosang as well, appears composed. Yet, the shock of Wooyoung’s honesty can be felt in the car. “Well.” Yeosang speaks up. “That depends on our dear, here, if they would be okay with it.” Just in time, the car slows down to a stop outside your apartment complex.
You face Yeosang, with your heart beating fast, your hands feel cold even without the frost. “I-I’d like that.” You manage to sputter out.
“Thank heavens.” Wooyoung exclaims, eyeing the two of you like the relief of an impatient sibling.
“Can I fancy you to a date soon?” Yeosang says as he unlocks the car, giving Wooyoung the chance to look away from such an exchange.
Ever the cheeky guy, he stays and waits for your answer.
“I’d like that.” You repeat softly, you couldn’t believe yourself for being able to speak up after such a shocking twist of events.
“Lovely, I’ll update you then.” Yeosang promises, waving the two of you a good night.
Wooyoung then hooks his arm around your shoulder as the two of you head back into the safety of your apartment. “About time, the two of you became a thing, he keeps asking me how to properly court you.” He says much to your flustered state.
Will you be able to sleep tonight?
--------
On the way home, Yeosang’s phone rings. It’s San.
“Hello? I’m driving. Can this wait?”
“Depends, are you at a red light or not?” San asks. When San’s voice goes that deep, it’s serious. He eyes the stop light.
“53 seconds.”
“The officials found a symbol on the break in. They don’t know what it is yet but gave us a copy in case we see it somewhere.”
49.
“What is it?” Already, Yeosang feels his blood rush to his ears.
“It’s a severed triquetra symbol.” San doesn’t have to say anything else anymore after that as Yeosang lets out a growl.
It seems they’ve returned. The question is why. “I’ll be home by 5 minutes. 20 seconds on the red light. I’ll call you.” WIth that he hangs up, in time for the red light to turn green. While people forget the events, he doesn’t.
It’s been so long since the Abyss has acted up. The last being a few thousand years back. The last few immortals like him and San remember their deeds. The Abyss was responsible for a battle he had to fight that wiped out a huge land mass in the region he now resides in.
The question that disturbs him: Who or what are they looking for? Because as far as his memory remembers, they stop at nothing to get what they want.
--------
A field.
This is the second time you’ve been here. Around you were plants that you don’t see everyday, in fact some of these look very odd to you. As you look around, hoping to make sense of this dream, you see someone dipping their feet into the clear water.
Just as you approach them, they stand up. It was hard to make out what gender they were: the clothes hang onto them like water slowly freezing, nor did they carry any feature that could separate a man from a woman. They smile at you, as if they’ve been expecting you this entire time. “It’s nice to see you.” They say, voice soft and calming.
“Apologies for not introducing myself, I’m Aos. I’m sorry I didn’t make myself known a little sooner.” They say. The apology doesn’t make any sense to you as you continue to gaze at them.
Despite them having introduced themselves to you, the name still doesn’t ring a bell. They don’t seem fazed at all to see your questioning eyes on them, in fact, they chuckle lightly at how confused you look. You manage to get a better look of their eyes and it reminds you of the sky when the sun is barely above the horizon. “What’s happening?” You manage to ask after getting yourself out of your trance.
“Nothing really. This is just me reaching out to you and giving you my blessing.” Again, the figure speaks in riddles. The last time they did was when Wooyoung’s family took you in, shortly after you were given your vision. You wonder what was going to happen this time.
The world around you loses its color for a split second and neither of you miss this slip up. “It seems that you’ll wake soon. I won’t make this any longer then, this might be our last meeting. Take care of yourself” The color around you fades into greys and whites, yet they don’t. The way they bid you farewell, reminds you too much of your mother and it makes your eyes hot.
“When you get the chance, tell him I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”
Before you could make some sort of sense, you feel someone shaking you awake. “Hey.” Wooyoung’s voice rouses you awake, and you don’t miss the concern in his voice. “You were crying in your sleep.” He states, seeing how dazed your eyes are as you try to look around, startled.
That’s when you notice that you were holding onto your bracelet while sleeping, and he was right. Your pillow felt damp with your tears. “Weird dream.” You groan out as you wake yourself up for another day.
Your phone flashes at 6:30AM, why did Wooyoung wake you up earlier than usual? It’s only then that you realize that it was raining once more. Couldn’t you get a few more minutes of shut eye after such a weird dream? The groggy feeling takes a little longer to shake off but you eventually get yourself out of bed.
--------
“What’s your plan today?” At least you are finally looking a little more presentable as you enter the living room.
“Choreography teaching for an idol group this morning until afternoon. I can close up the shop for you if you got plans today.” Wooyoung says, teasing you a little now that you’re more awake.
It’s not hard to miss out on what he insinuates with such that you roll your eyes at him. “It’s not today yet,” referring to your date, “but I need to visit a few shops to buy some ingredients and other stuff by 5PM.” You had plans of opening the shop a little later the following day, wanting to change the interiors even by just a bit. That and having to stay up later than usual to bake and experiment with new recipes was starting to catch up with you.
“Yeah I can take over by then. I’ll be at the shop by 4:30.” Wooyoung promises. He might have to be a little stricter today to get things finished quickly but the group he’s teaching today are quick learners. He can see so much potential in them too.
You flash a grateful smile as you eat. “Your overtime’s covered, I promise.” From this, Wooyoung hops around in glee. Of course, he was eyeing a new clothing line.
A glance at the time and you figured you should get moving. “I’ll see you later then. I need to start moving.” You say standing up from your seat.
“Lunch is by the counter!” He calls out from his seat as he watches you get your things and shoot out the door. With him now on his own, he lets out a sigh. He heard your mumblings earlier and those were the same words you muttered after you were gifted with your vision. Even when you looked put together for the day, there was still a hint of confusion in your eyes that you can’t quite hide from him. Whatever it is, he hopes things will turn out a little better this time.
--------
“Can we do three more runs after a five minute water break?” Wooyoung asks, sympathizing with the boys as they’re now drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. After the chorus of agreements, he lets the boys off for a few minutes and decides to check on you and Yeosang.
[ Wooyoung to You ] How’s work?
[ Wooyoung to Yeosang ] What’s up? Are you gonna drop by later?
It’s only Yeosang who manages to reply immediately.
[ Yeosang to Wooyoung ] There have been better days, but I will be alright. Yes I will be there later.
Seeing that you haven’t replied yet, he just chalks it up to rush hour. The boys enter the room and he puts his phone down. “Ready?” He asks just as he’s about to press play, he sees Yunho peeking into the studio. “Uh, give me a moment. Hyunjae, can you clean the choreo slowly while I’m gone? I’ll make it quick.” The male excuses himself to check on his peer, quietly leaving the studio. “What’s up?”
“Did their manager tell you of the changes to the schedule?” Yunho asks and by the way Wooyoung looks at him with wide eyes and that already tells him what he needs to know.
“Tomorrow or the day after will be the shooting day.” With such information being told to him, he panics a little, unsure if he has clothes that could fit a recording for this. He probably does but he’ll need your help assembling it.
“Okay, uh, forward the email to me and cc it to Popsicle.” Somehow the nickname doesn’t faze Yunho, already knowing well that he meant you. It’s not like there were a lot of cryo vision holders anyway. Yunho shoots him an okay signal and Wooyoung takes this as a sign to head back to his work. “Okay, let’s take it to the top? 3 runs at 100% energy then we can eat lunch.” He says as he enters the studio once more. The proposed plan instills a little bit of fear on the boys but he continues on. “No worries, there’ll be a break in between before going at it again.”
Beneath the calm demeanor he had for the boys right now, he was slightly panicking for his schedule in the next few days. He hopes you wouldn’t mind him being MIA for a day or two.
Wooyoung’s schedule has turned a little more hectic now thanks to the sudden update of the shooting. Not that he minds since at least he’s not at home whenever he’s not needed in the studio. If it means helping lessen the stress on you and keeping you safe then he doesn’t really mind it.
Though, he doesn’t know if you’ve been keeping an eye on the news lately. You still carry on with your day like normal. If he has a shift in the dance studio, he asks Yeosang or San to accompany you to the studio, no matter how many times you reassure that it’s okay for you to walk alone, either one of them is adamant about it.
He spares a glance at the clock as he watches the boys dance. The four hours will fly by quickly.
--------
“Yeosang, you might have to skip on meeting with them today.”
Part 3
#yeosang fanfiction#my writings#ateez fanfiction#ateez scenarios#yeosang scenarios#yeosang x reader#ateez x reader
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
enough | five
even if everyone else leaves me, you’re enough for me, you’re my only one, stand by me forever, only you, just you...
summary : to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.
warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to prostitution, mentions of gang activity, graphic sexual content, potentially triggering elements involving mental health, panic attacks, etc.
miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven
Something stirred you awake in the middle of the night; an unsettled feeling in the well of your stomach. Perhaps your body was so accustomed to the feeling of his skin against yours that it noticed immediately when the warmth of him was gone.
Opening your eyes, you turned, surprised to see Jinyoung no longer peacefully asleep beside you, but sitting on the edge of the bed and gazing toward the windows.
The lights had lost their luster. Even Seoul was deep in slumber at this ungodly hour.
“Jinyoung,” you called confusedly, dazed with sleep.
“Go back to bed,” he replied a little too sharply.
For a moment, you paused, studying the expanse of his shoulders. Something weighed them down. Something he couldn’t carry without being crushed from the inside.
Obstinate as ever, you crawled forward, slipping behind him and wrapping your arms and legs around his body. Jinyoung sighed, lips tugging into a reluctant smile, and stroked a hand across your arm to lace his fingers through yours.
Resting your cheek on his shoulder, you asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”
He exhaled loudly through his nose. The lines of his brow were furrowed in pensive thought; of losing everything. Of losing you.
“I have a lot on my mind,” Jinyoung finally answered, foolish to think that answer would suffice.
You rolled your eyes and teased, “What else is new?”
Jinyoung wrinkled his nose and squeezed your hand even tighter. Jiwon’s threat was very real and manifested in his mind with every bloody, gruesome possibility. Jinyoung knew he had to put him away for good. No hesitation and no mercy.
Seeing he had fallen back into his reveries, you traced your fingers over his abs through the thin white shirt. Bringing your lips to his neck, you left a few tender kisses before flicking out your tongue to test his mood.
Jinyoung felt his pulse pick up speed. It went without saying he would love to bury himself between your legs and forget about everything except you and him in his bed. But that was never what he was made of. He couldn’t indulge in your body when you were at risk and only he could make it right.
And, of course, he was still mad as hell at you.
Jinyoung turned to meet your eyes and for a fleeting moment, you naively believed you would get your way. He kissed the corner of your mouth chastely before gathering you in his arms and returning you to your place in bed.
Draping an arm over your waist and laying his head on your chest, Jinyoung whispered, “Sleep, baby. I’m right here.”
Satisfied that he wouldn’t leave you, you settled comfortably into the mattress. His weight on top of you was more than welcome. “Will you ever tell me what goes on in that head of yours?” you asked, delicately tracing your fingertips over his forehead and pushing away his fluffy hair.
Jinyoung took your hand in his and brought it to his mouth, placing featherlight kisses over each of your fingers. “You,” he confessed in a heavy sigh, as if it pained him to admit it. “Always you.”
Your eyes burned with emotion and you didn’t hesitate to tell him, “I love you, Jinyoung.”
“I know,” he replied without missing a beat.
You chuckled. It was worth a try to make him say it back after all this time, but he was nothing if not stubborn and hard-headed.
The morning came late and your growling stomach woke you with a vengeance. When you stirred, you were amazed to find Jinyoung already awake, but still clinging snugly to your body.
“I’m hungry,” you whined tiredly, rubbing at your eyes with a fist.
Jinyoung rose quickly and proceeded to sift you out from beneath the warmth of the blankets. “It’s about time. Get up, lazy,” he jeered, half-serious. “I’m starving. We’re going to eat.”
You gawked at his outburst. “Have you been waiting this whole time for me to wake up?”
“Yes,” he said with a frown.
You wanted to laugh. He was such a big baby. “I have to study,” you told him, slipping off the bed and gathering your clothes.
Jinyoung put his hands on his hips and chided, “You studied your brains out yesterday. It’s Saturday. Today, you rest.”
You stopped, blinking incredulously at how bossy he sounded. “Well, damn,” you said with a chuckle. “Guess I have no choice, huh?”
“None. Zero,” Jinyoung replied, heading out the door to give you privacy. “Get dressed.”
“Fine,” you shot back, attempting to sound annoyed simply to toy with him.
That was when you remembered you didn’t have any clothes to wear. You had been brought to his penthouse in your pajamas and you highly doubted Jinyoung would appreciate taking you to breakfast in your thigh-high socks.
There was a swift tapping of knuckles on the door followed by it opening before you could finish calling, “Yes?”
Jinyoung appeared again, a bag in each hand. “Right on time,” he announced, disgruntled. “I had some clothes ordered for you. The boys just dropped them off.”
“Jinyoung, you can’t be serious,” you exclaimed, racing over to see the spoils. “Please tell me you didn’t spend a fortune on these.”
Jinyoung snorted and narrowed his eyes at you. He was tempted to pull out a wad of cash and set it on fire before you just to prove a point. “I spend my money however I want. Now, for the love of food, hurry up and put something on. Or I’ll just eat you.”
Memories began to flood of the night before and you licked your lips. “I would not be opposed to that.”
Jinyoung lifted his brows. After a pause, he retorted, “Nope. I got nothing. All I’m thinking about is beef.”
“Me, too,” you shot back, glancing down at his pants.
He promptly folded his arms and made that damned adorable face. Pursed lips, puffed cheeks. “Wow, I ate her out one time and she can’t think straight. Woman, am I gonna be able to take you out in public ever again?”
You laughed aloud. “Yes, yes, I’m coming. I just miss the hell out of teasing you.”
“Yeah, well, I miss having a full belly,” he groaned. “You have five minutes or I’m leaving your horny ass here.”
“Cheese and rice,” you grumbled, pulling the shirt over your head and stripping down to your underwear.
Jinyoung was about to make a quip about how badly he craved rice, but was distracted at the sight of your breasts. Your body had filled out in his absence over the last four years. Though you were always perfect to him, he didn’t mind your bigger boobs and fuller hips.
You met his eyes, quirking a brow. Suddenly aware of the sexual tension that had filled the room in the span of a second, part of you hoped he would pounce on you then and there.
Jinyoung watched, feigning disinterest, and handed you one of the blouses.
By the time you arrived at the restaurant, bodyguards and driver in tow, Jinyoung was in full hungry brat mode. The owner recognized him at once and bowed deeply, ushering the two of you to the secluded table in the back corner. Before you slipped into your seat, you watched Jackson, Jaebeom and Yugyeom take a high table just beyond and strategically within eyesight at all times.
Not much passed in terms of conversation at first. Jinyoung was wholly focused on food. When the beef began to sizzle on the grill, you reached for the tongs and earned a swift slap to your hand.
“What was that for?” you exclaimed irritably.
Jinyoung proceeded to flip the beef and complained, “You have no grill skills. You burn everything.”
“I do not,” you said with a pout.
The servers continued to bring food at Jinyoung’s behest. By the time they had finished, there was no free space on the table.
The sight made your eyes burn with the threat of tears, even worse when Jinyoung took a large mouthful and made a satisfied sound in his chest.
There were days he gave you his food and went hungry himself. Jinyoung always suffered if it meant you were taken care of. The two of you went years without ever knowing how it felt to be full.
Jinyoung glanced at you, perturbed at how you had yet to start eating. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
You shook your head and lied, “Nothing.”
He watched you pick up the chopsticks and your hesitation was painfully obvious. He could see the moisture in your eyes. Jinyoung knew in that moment what had made you emotional and chose kindly not to press you on it, but he did say, “Let it go, baby.”
“What?” you questioned.
“Whatever you’re about to cry over.”
You blinked rapidly, fighting the tears even harder, and nodded your head. Then, you reached for the food.
The waitress came over not long after and asked if there was anything else either of you needed.
Jinyoung looked to you for an answer. “Want more food?”
Given how much you had already eaten, you patted your stomach and quipped, “No, I’m watching my figure.”
The joke was lost on your lover. Jinyoung scoffed in annoyance and told her, “Two lunch boxes please.”
You chuckled.
Jinyoung took another bite and asked, “You still love dosirak, right?”
Your mouth watered. “Obviously.”
“Then, eat a damn lunch box.”
The server came back with two tins and Jinyoung had barely taken it from her hand when he began shaking it. You mirrored him, recalling all the times as kids you would compete to see who could shake theirs the longest.
After the two of you ate to your heart’s content, you were in disbelief - but mostly thrilled - when Jinyoung returned with you to the penthouse and revealed he would be working from home for the day. Your lips spread into a grin and he quickly rebuffed your affections.
“It’s not that I want to spend time with you,” he calmly argued. “I just don’t feel like dealing with people today.”
You winked. “Of course.”
Jinyoung plopped down on the couch and opened the newspaper, reading through every section as he always did. You sat on the neighboring couch opposite of him and your gaze fell to his muscly thighs spread out, hugged by the tightly fitting jeans. His lap did look rather inviting.
You went into the kitchen and fixed a cup of tea. Offering to make him one as well, Jinyoung politely declined and you were content to lean against the counter and study him.
Very, very often you had imagined and daydreamed of domestic life with Jinyoung as a wild, restless teenager. And now, here it was. Although, Jinyoung had frequently joked that he would never be able to tame you, no matter how much you loved him.
That wasn’t true. The truth was, he had broken you a long time ago.
“I can feel you staring,” Jinyoung called from behind the newspaper.
You murmured coyly, “I’m enjoying the view,” and put the cup of tea to your lips.
Jinyoung flushed a subtle shade of crimson, pulling his paper close to hide it.
You approached him and asked, “Mind if I sit down?”
“Go right ahead,” Jinyoung replied, patting the empty space next to him.
You smiled and turned around, sidling backwards and landing squarely on his lap.
Jinyoung let out a tiny grunt the moment you sat on his hips and scowled back at you when you glanced over your shoulder to peer innocently in his direction.
“What are you playing at?” he barked, folding his newspaper.
“You started this game,” you sang innocently. “Don’t hate me for finishing it.”
Jinyoung cocked a brow and refused to surrender. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Well then,” was all Jinyoung said before grasping you none too gently and smashing his lips on yours.
You were completely at his mercy with your precarious position on his lap. Jinyoung quickly barred an arm across your stomach and cradled your face with the other. You reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Jinyoung slipped you his tongue and you moaned softly into his mouth when a hand landed on your breast.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Jinyoung whispered darkly in your ear, kissing hotly over your racing pulse. “Don’t leave out a single detail.”
There were times you wondered if he could read your mind. Glancing down to see his hands kneading your clothed breasts, you let your head fall back when he pressed slow kisses to your neck. “When you used to…,” you trailed, voice trembling. “Take me from behind.”
Jinyoung chuckled softly, grazing his teeth over your skin. “Yeah,” he growled even lower. “You always did look good on your hands and knees.”
You swallowed, heart thundering wildly. He must have heard it. You watched his hands drift down your body, slipping beneath your shirt before returning to palm your breasts.
“You were always so deep,” you panted with want and need. “I almost couldn’t take it.”
Jinyoung tucked his hands inside your bra, finally able to tease your nipples without anything in the way. “And you were always so tight,” he retorted. “No matter how hard I fucked you.”
You turned your head, nuzzling your nose against his. “Please, just take me,” you whimpered, trying to mold your lips to his.
Jinyoung rose, prying you from his lap and leaving you on the couch. “The only thing I’m taking is a cold shower,” he said, stomping toward the bedroom.
“You little shit,” you called after him, bracing your hands on the top of the sofa. “I can’t stand your stubborn ass!”
“You love this ass,” he bantered back at you. “And it’s a fantastic ass. Have some respect.”
You made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, and sulked when he locked the bedroom door behind him.
The rest of the weekend was less profanity filled. Jinyoung gave you a taste of your dreams of domestic life with him. Quiet dinners. Endless food. The scent of fresh coffee filling the room in the morning. Peaceful evenings under a shared blanket in the reading nook.
Jinyoung gushed excitedly when he told you what was happening in the novel he devoured. You soaked up every word, overjoyed to see him happy. Occasionally he would remember he was mad at you and would be sparing with his affection. Then, he would seem to forget again and couldn’t keep his hands off of you.
It was a constant game of push and pull. One that you came to enjoy.
But on Sunday night he grew restless, tossing and turning. You had no sooner finally fallen asleep when Jinyoung woke you screaming, thrashing in the bed.
Every image of his night terrors from years before hit you all at once and your body responded as if muscle memory took control. “Jinyoung, stop! It’s okay,” you tried to console him, grasping his face in your hands and staring into his wide, terrified eyes. “I’m here. It’s me!”
Jinyoung was stronger than you by leaps and bounds. He pried you off of him with effortless ease and staggered toward the window, pounding his fist against it in frustration. He ran his hands through his hair, desperately clawing for his composure. The thing he guarded so vehemently. “You’re not supposed to see me like this…,” he choked out.
That damn pride, you thought with a frown as fire filled your cheeks. “And who is, huh?” you snapped angrily.
He clocked a weathered glance at you and warned, “Don’t.”
“Jinyoung…”
Jinyoung was thinking of his nightmares. Of you ripped violently away from him. They blended into the bloody, malicious things he had seen. The things he had done to take his place at the top. He heard Jiwon’s threat to break you in before his eyes.
He guarded his heart; guarded it with an iron fucking fist. He protected himself with ice and steel. He had to in order to live with what he had done. You were always how he justified it. He did it all for you, but he had sacrificed so much of himself.
“I can’t let you in again,” Jinyoung whispered shakily. “You’ll be gone and I won’t survive.”
Your knees buckled. Your heart collapsed somewhere in your chest. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, face tensing with oncoming tears.
Jinyoung lowered his head, hiding behind his disheveled hair. The first time you left him it was your choice. If you left him again, it wouldn’t be by choice. It would be because someone stole you away.
“You make me crazy,” Jinyoung murmured, reaching for you and gathering you to his chest. His hands raked into your hair, keeping you looking up into his eyes. “I wanted to hate you. I tried. You ruined me.”
Tears freely streamed down your cheeks. Jinyoung and you, you and Jinyoung - two wounded souls just trying to heal. “I’ll never leave you again,” you vowed with all you had. “I swear on my life. I’ll die before I do that to you.”
“I know,” Jinyoung sighed.
That was exactly what he feared.
You looked at him with confusion, waiting for an explanation. You were given none and Jinyoung refused to return to bed. He sat by the window, waiting for the city to wake and watching over you.
The next morning, you opened your eyes to find Jinyoung was gone. And you weren’t surprised.
Yugyeom took you back to the condo and you stared at your phone all the while. No calls. No texts. Your blood began to boil.
You typed a message to send him, You can’t build those walls when I’m around, huh?
But you didn’t have the heart to send it. Not when the sound of his screams echoed in your ears. Deleting the words, you tossed your phone on the nightstand and buried yourself in studying. Exams were in full swing this week. It was time to get to work.
For three days you heard nothing from Jinyoung. For three days he avoided you. You felt wounded and your heart was sore.
When Yugyeom and Jackson arrived to take you to your exam, you asked nonchalantly, “Jackson, you’ll be seeing Jinyoung later, right?”
“Yes, mam.”
You hopped into the car and put on your seatbelt. “Do me a favor and please mention in passing that I stand by what I said. I’ll never leave him. But a woman needs an outlet to let off steam and reward her hard work, and if he does not want to provide that outlet, the club will.”
“With pleasure,” Jackson said with a chuckle.
Yugyeom grinned mischievously.
It was early afternoon when your exam had finished and you excitedly jumped into the tinted Range Rover.
“Well?” asked Yugyeom eagerly, hand draped on the wheel.
Jackson turned around from his spot in the passenger seat. “How was it?”
You flashed them a smile and announced, “I slayed that shit.”
The two boys applauded.
“The evil physics has been defeated,” Yugyeom sang, putting the car in drive and cruising out of the parking lot.
A moment later, Jackson crooned, “Mr. Park would like to extend an invitation for you to join him at his office immediately if you are still in need of… an outlet.”
That had your attention. “Oh?”
Jackson nodded, amused. “He says he will be happy to take you out to dinner as soon as he is finished working, but you may join him in his office until then.”
You rolled your eyes and huffed, “Just what a girl wants after spending two whole hours in an exam. To sit in an office and wait on her stubborn ass man.”
Yugyeom looked at you in the rearview mirror and said, “We don’t have to go.”
The gears turned in your head. Jackson smirked, noticing your expression full of mischief.
“Take me there, please,” you said, crossing your legs. “I think it’s time I got my revenge.”
The office was in an executive building on an inconspicuous corner. Jinyoung had to make sure each of his business endeavors looked legitimate by all means. You stepped into the ornate lobby and let the elevator take you to the third floor.
When you stepped into the office, Jinyoung looked up, but didn’t move a muscle. “Since when do you go to the club?” he asked gruffly.
No greeting. He was still embarrassed over the other night, you mused to yourself. “Since freshman year,” you countered, moving to one of the two chairs before his desk and making yourself comfortable.
Jinyoung put his pen down and leaned back in his own chair, folding his arms tautly. “You can’t handle your liquor,” he said bluntly.
You nodded in agreement. “I know. Still the lightweight. But free booze. Free music. Free dancing.”
Jinyoung’s eyes flickered. There were images filling his mind of you dancing with men, men that didn’t hesitate to let their hands roam your body. “Are you trying to make me jealous?” he asked.
You grinned. “Absolutely. How am I doing?”
Jinyoung scowled and didn’t dare gratify you with an answer. Instead he shifted subjects. “How was your exam?”
“I fucking nailed it.”
Jinyoung chuckled.
“I did, Jinyoung,” you insisted, beaming with pride. “I crushed it.”
He bobbed his head. “I believe you. I’m very proud.”
You gave him a soft smile.
Finally Jinyoung rose from his desk and moved to the nearby table, pulling a bottle that had been on ice and pouring two glasses of champagne. “How should we celebrate?” He looked to you expectantly whilst handing you your glass. “I can get us a private booth at any of the restaurants or we can…”
“I know what I want,” you interjected, taking a sip of your drink.
Jinyoung shrugged. “Well, you have my credit card. Go buy it.”
You shook your head. “I don’t wanna buy anything.”
Jinyoung tilted his head and exhaled, running out of patience. “Woman, tell me what you want.”
“I want you.”
Jinyoung let a lull of silence pass before he hummed, “Mm.”
“Did you have a rough day?” you asked coyly, setting down your drink and running your fingers up his tie.
“Maybe,” he said, voice laden with exhaustion. “But you know I don’t talk about my work.”
You brushed past him intentionally and came to stand behind his desk, pushing a few things back to give yourself room. Then, you lifted yourself on top of it, sitting on the edge and spreading your legs, motioning him forward.
Jinyoung downed his drink and discarded the glass, then sneered, “I’m not going to fuck you. Not yet anyway.”
“I know that,” you replied sharply. “Just come here and turn around.”
His brow furrowed, bemused as to what you were after, but Jinyoung relented and stepped between your knees, pecking a kiss on your irresistible lips. You smiled against his mouth and grabbed his arms, steering him to put his back to you.
Once he had, you settled your hands on his shoulders and began to knead, massaging his tense muscles and feeling him relax under your ministrations. A soft hum of a moan left his lips and you smirked in satisfaction, putting more pressure on his back until he sighed in relief.
Lulling Jinyoung into the headspace you wanted, your hands fell deliberately down his burly arms, still squeezing his muscles to release their tension. Slowly, you skimmed your palms to his stomach, grabbing his shirt and yanking upward, freeing the material from where it had been tucked into his pants.
“What are you doing?” asked Jinyoung lowly, voice sinking a few octaves.
Nipping the shell of his ear, you whispered, “Let me play.”
Jinyoung shivered as you began to kiss his neck and you were quick to loop your legs over his thick thighs, dissuading him from trying to escape your touches. With his shirt loose, you brushed the hem aside and fiddled at his belt.
Sliding your hand into his pants, you resisted the urge to giggle at his hardening length, but you did tease, “I’ve barely touched you and look how hard you’re getting, baby.”
“I started getting hard the second you spread your legs on top of my desk,” he confessed in a raspy snarl, staring down at the erotic sight of your hand down his jeans and your legs locked around his thighs.
You chuckled devilishly in his ear and pulled at his half-hard cock, stroking the length of him in your tightly gripped fist. Bringing a hand to your mouth quickly, you licked the span of your palm before reaching down to pump his shaft.
Jinyoung tensed against you when you focused on the head of his member, even more so when you sucked intently on his neck. Your breath was hot, making the sweat gathered at his hairline cool on his skin.
“Jinyoung,” you whispered pliantly, once he was rock hard in your grasp. “Please let me do this for you.”
His hips stuttered in tandem with your movements and so did his words, “Do what?”
You worked down his length with both hands, gathering a drop of precum with your finger and teasing his slit. You thought he would come undone and unravel in your hands at any minute with the way his breaths were tumbling out.
“Make you feel good,” you purred.
Jinyoung shivered at the thought. His attention was still fixated downward, where your hands had vanished inside his pants. You were jerking his cock faster and faster, like you were trying to get him off embarrassingly quick just so you could tease him for it later.
Which wasn’t far from the truth.
Suddenly, you gripped the base of his cock nice and hard, and stopped all motions. “Well…,” you growled with impatience. “Do I have your permission?”
Jinyoung exhaled in defeat, his hips moving of their own accord in a seeking thrust, desperate for friction. “Do what you want with me,” he mumbled, kicking himself for losing resolve so quickly. “I won’t stop you. Not today.”
You fought a giddy smile at finally getting your way and withdrew your hands from down his pants, pushing him forward to allow you room to slide from the desk. The moment your feet touched the floor, you twirled around him, switching positions, and pushed him up against the desk.
Jinyoung didn’t struggle, but he did grab the edge of the desk and hold tightly with both hands, breath bated.
Pressing your hands to his chest, you leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss, teased his tongue as he sighed into your mouth. Jinyoung was enraptured to say the least, clutching your waist gingerly and pulling you close enough that your breasts pushed against him.
As you kissed him, you rubbed your fingers over his clothed nipples, his cock twitching eagerly in his pants. Then, you took a tie from your wrist and affixed it to your hair, tightening the ponytail into position and pressing one last kiss on his lips.
You shoved Jinyoung against the desk once more, to remind him who was in charge until further notice and your eyes lit up at the blush across his cheeks and the fire in his gaze.
Jinyoung couldn’t believe his eyes when you dropped to your knees before him, grabbing his pants and boxers and tugging them down to his ankles in one sweep. His hard cock waited before your eyes, weeping and curving toward his abs.
Your fingers danced up his shaft, eyes on the vein bulging underneath. You liked teasing him, loved making him beg for release even more, but today you were in the mood to make short work of him. You were still bitter at being ignored for three days. You got a hold of him in your hand and licked a wet stripe from base to tip before meeting his gaze again.
Jinyoung clawed at his tie, loosening it frantically so he could breathe. The last time someone blew him would have been four years ago. You used to suck him off rather often, enjoying the way you could reduce him to a moaning mess. Jinyoung hoped this time would be no different.
“Jinyoung,” you whispered, peering up at him with the tip of his cock against your lips.
“Yeah?” he panted.
“Don’t hold back,” you said, holding his cock firmly as you took him in your mouth.
Inch by inch you sucked him down, lilting back before engulfing him again to wet him with your saliva. Jinyoung watched you stroke back and forth, each time going deeper until his member hit the back of your throat. You choked at first, out of practice after so long, but the tightening of your throat made his hips arch and his abs flex.
Jinyoung whimpered your name and that was all you needed to keep going.
You let his girth leave your mouth with a lewd pop, proceeding to pump him in your fist while you peered up at him with tear-filled eyes.
Jinyoung had let his head fall back the moment you choked on him and was content to stay that way. He couldn’t look at you. One glance of you with your lips around the base of his cock would make him bust in a heartbeat. And god knows you would never let him live that down.
You slipped him between your lips again, sucking on the head and teasing with your tongue before grasping his hips. He had thrust ever so slightly, probably unintentionally, seeking the heat of your mouth. Your eyes burned with more tears when his length hit the back of your throat again, but you swallowed him eagerly. Jinyoung inhaled a hard breath and fisted his hand in your hair.
Your warm, wet mouth was too much. It took all of Jinyoung’s willpower not to fill your mouth with cum. He couldn’t stop thinking about the vice-like grip of your pussy, how it was undoubtedly throbbing with need. He pictured you in his mind, moaning his name when he finally penetrated you.
“Yeah…,” Jinyoung growled, sucking another breath through his teeth when you hollowed out your cheeks. “Like that. Good girl…”
You moaned at the lust in his voice, sending vibrations through his cock and smiling when a little groan left his lips. You rewarded the sound, swallowing around the tip of him again and bobbing your head a little faster on his length.
Jinyoung was in bliss - absolute, mind-numbing rapture. Head tilted back, eyes pressed closed. You smiled with his cock in your mouth, hands rooted to his tensing thighs, and stared up at him in worship, heady at the sight of his chest rising and falling with labored panting. His full lips were parted as pleasured sounds left him with every thrust in your waiting mouth.
“Fu…ck,” he moaned, now gripping your hair with both hands.
You looped your arms around his thighs and set your nails to his plump ass. He had taken over control and all you could do was hang on for the ride. Jinyoung pumped his cock into your mouth, rutting into the back of your throat. Tears streamed down your cheeks and the sound of you gagging only made him twitch more.
“Good girl,” Jinyoung rasped, losing his mind to the feel of you. “Almost there.”
Sucking him off was nothing short of gratifying. Your pussy throbbed between your legs and you could feel wet arousal soaking through your panties. His cock would slide into you smoother than silk if he wasn’t so damn stubborn. At the thought, you moaned around his length and he whimpered.
Jinyoung couldn’t fight back his moans any longer and you knew he was at his end. His hips stuttered, his thrusts turning erratic, and he finally came with a shaky cry that sounded vaguely like your name.
You lapped him up, gulping down his release when you tasted it on the back of your tongue and swallowing every last drop. Seeing the ecstasy on his face made you desperate for climax and you pressed your thighs together.
Jinyoung still gripped your hair tightly, knuckles almost white, and slowly pulled his spent cock from your mouth. Without warning, he grabbed your arms and hoisted you up none too gently. “Fuck,” was all he said.
You opened your mouth and wagged your tongue at him in a taunt, proving you had milked him dry.
Jinyoung shook his head at you before reaching down to pull up his pants, fastening them quickly to get you in his arms again. “God, you’re good,” he growled, grasping you by the throat.
You were gifted a searing kiss and purred in response. At this point, you were sure he would give you anything you asked for.
“So fucking good,” he hummed, pressing a wet open-mouthed kiss or two to your jaw.
“Jinyoung,” you beckoned sweetly, eyes rolling when his lips drifted to your neck.
“Hm?” he questioned, pulling back to look at you.
“I’m wet,” you confessed, raking your tongue across your teeth at the way his pupils flickered.
Jinyoung cocked his head, brushing his nose against yours. Without another word, his hand trailed down your body and pushed between your thighs, getting a taste of your desire for him and the arousal coating your folds.
“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You like choking on my dick that much?”
“Mm, yes. I do,” you retorted, nipping at his lips.
Jinyoung fisted his hand in your ponytail, his usual roughness coming through. “What should I do with you?”
“Fuck me,” you replied, rather blunt. “Think how easy you would slide right in.”
Jinyoung smiled, biting his lip. He was so enamored with you. You wanted exactly what you couldn’t have and it consumed you. “It does seem like a waste of good pussy, doesn’t it?” he teased, seeming to mull over the thought.
You nodded.
Jinyoung released you then and launched himself onto the desk, sitting where you had been before.
You stood rooted in place, watching him curiously.
Jinyoung motioned you forward and patted his leg. “Ride my thigh.”
You frowned and whined, “I want dick.”
He almost laughed. “I’m soft.”
“I can get you hard in no time,” you crooned, bracing your hands on his knees and stroking upwards. “We both know that.”
Jinyoung harshened his tone, no room for further argument. “My thigh or your own fingers. The choice is yours.”
You huffed petulantly and hiked your skirt up your waist, trudging over and mounting the desk. And him. Putting a leg on either side of his thigh, you sank down until your panty-covered folds met the rough fabric of his pants.
The first roll of your hips was tentative. Yet another thing you were more than a little rusty at. Jinyoung sensed your inhibition and looped an arm around your waist, clutching you flush against him.
Jinyoung tucked his face to the crook of your neck and whispered, “Get yourself off.”
Oh, you wanted to. Release was at the front of your mind, holding the reins to your sanity. The image of Jinyoung reaching climax still lingered and you swore there was no better sound in the world than his moaning of your name. You wanted to hear it again and again.
“Please,” you spoke almost inaudibly, feeling small and helpless in his lap. “I need it.”
Jinyoung guided your hips, steering you to rub back and forth on his thigh. “Mm, that’s it,” he encouraged, lapping at the sweat on your neck. “Ride me like you mean it.”
You gathered more confidence at his words, grinding yourself down on him a little harder until your clit ached at the contact. You held his shoulders for balance, biting your lip at the feeling of his broad hands roaming to cup your ass.
Jinyoung kneaded your thighs and hips before settling on your ass again, humming his appreciation for your beautiful body and how it belonged to him, only him. He whispered little nothings in your ear, dirty things that riled you up and made you pick up the pace.
You moaned softly, gushing at the stimulation.
“Once upon a time,” Jinyoung teased, nuzzling his face between your breasts. “You used to ride me like it was what you were made for.”
And you would love to do it again if he would just let you sink down on his cock and be done with it. “Jinyoung,” you began to warn sternly.
Smack!
His hand collided with your ass and you squeaked, hips falling out of rhythm before settling back into motion.
“Don’t stop,” Jinyoung ordered, intently patting the print he had just made on your flesh. “And don’t slow down.”
“I…,” you trailed, lost in too many sensations at once.
His fingers tightened in your hair and yanked your head to the side. You felt his tongue racing over your pulse before his soft lips pressed a wet kiss on your jaw.
“Tell me,” Jinyoung snarled, reeling his hand back and landing his palm on your ass again.
Smack!
You gasped and rode him even faster.
“What do you want from me?” he pressed calmly before you could answer.
“Harder. Harder,” you pleaded, clinging to his arms for dear life.
Jinyoung chuckled with twisted pleasure at your torment, spanking your ass three solid times back to back. Your hips sped up at the sting, chasing after your high like it was the key to your sanity.
“Come already, baby,” Jinyoung urged, his dialect thicker than ever. “You’re soaking my goddamn pants.”
That rebellious streak flared and you griped, “I would rather soak your goddamn cock.”
Jinyoung bit down on the base of your neck, his member twitching at that. “Such a little angel out there,” he taunted, cupping your face. “No one would believe what a slut you are for me.”
You howled his name for mercy.
Jinyoung grasped your hips and brought you down to meet his thigh, rough and merciless. The moment you told him you were close, he commanded, “Come for me.”
You let your head fall back and your lips parted in a silent scream. This was the release you craved, needed above all else. To finally feel satiated after the suffocating tension and longing. Your nails set viciously to his shoulders and your hips slowed at the intensity of orgasm. Your engorged clit was suddenly too sensitive for the abrasive contact. Your body instinctively bowed away, but Jinyoung landed a palm on your ass with a vengeance.
“Don’t you dare tap out,” he scolded, keeping his hand poised at the ready to land yet another hit.
You kept riding him, overstimulating yourself to the point your lower half shuddered involuntarily. Satisfied at the endless, tiny cries falling from your mouth, Jinyoung grabbed your ass and rubbed the mark he had made, soothing the sting.
“You’re done,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms.
You went slack, satisfied he could support your weight. You let your head rest on his shoulder, burying your face in his neck, and held him tightly. Your body continued to tremble with orgasm, settling through the last of the aftershocks. Breathing in utter relief, all you wanted in that moment was for Jinyoung to never let go of you.
He turned his head, trying to get a glimpse of your face, and asked, “Feel better?”
Finally, you roused yourself, lifting your eyes and looking everywhere but at him. “I made a mess,” you murmured bashfully.
Jinyoung studied you, noting how you avoided his gaze, and asked, “How many exams do you have left?”
You smiled at what he was implying. “Three.”
“I’m gonna need more pants.”
You laughed at that.
Jinyoung let his hands slip reluctantly from your hips as you clambered off of him and he watched you with nothing short of amusement while you pulled your skirt back down and adjusted your clothes.
“So, yeah,” you stammered, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m gonna head home and study.”
Jinyoung cocked his head. “Why are you being awkward?”
You were finally forced to look at him and lied, “I’m not.”
“You are,” he asserted. Jinyoung could smell bullshit a mile away, especially yours.
You shifted your weight.
“Was it… something I said?” he asked worriedly, jumping down from the desk and approaching you. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, it’s…,” you trailed, looking away. Your hunger had been soothed, but not your heartache.
Jinyoung cradled your face tenderly, eyes filled with concern. “Talk to me,” he whispered.
You pried his hands from you and snapped, “I can’t talk to you. You decide when I’m allowed to see you.”
Jinyoung sighed in realization. He knew the cold shoulder was too effective on you and regretted being as severe as he had been. But he couldn’t let you know the threat that you were under. Or the misery it inflicted on him.
“I’m sorry,” was all he said.
You dragged your feet toward him, falling back into his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin. Jinyoung was all too relieved to wrap his arms around you, kissing your brow with affection. For a moment, you were content to hug him. Then your mouth got in the way.
“I just want to be with you all the time. I’m crazy about you,” you rambled, brushing your lips over his own. “You make me absolutely out of my fucking mind crazy.”
Jinyoung studied you. Then, he cut the tension by smarting, “Stalker.”
You recoiled and snorted. “Asshat.”
Jinyoung flashed his teeth in a grin. “Dinner?"
“Ugh,” you grumbled. “Shower first.”
Jinyoung nodded, snickering. “Okay, okay. Go home and shower. Yugyeom will bring you to the restaurant. Deal?”
“Perfect,” you replied, turning on your heels and making for the door.
“Hey,” Jinyoung called out.
You turned.
“Where’s my damn kiss?”
Without hesitation, you ran back into his arms, colliding into his chest and nearly knocking the wind out of him. Jinyoung held you close and kissed you, tangling his fingers in your hair. The two of you giggled and smiled and kissed like a pair of hormone crazed teenagers with no clue what they were doing.
When you finally pulled away, Jinyoung watched you go and you swore you had never seen a more beautiful mess of a boy in your life.
No sooner had you stepped out of the shower did your phone ring. Clad in a towel, you answered eagerly, “Hey, Hoseok. It’s been a while. How are you?”
His voice was unnerving. “Seokjin wants to see you right away.”
“Oh,” was all you could manage, heart picking up speed. “Did he say why?”
“No, but he wants you in here right now. It sounds serious.”
This was new territory for you. Seokjin never summoned you with such a manner. You reckoned you were in trouble or at least, someone was in trouble. “I see. Okay. I’m coming. I will be there as soon as I can.”
Yugyeom put the key in the ignition and revved the engine. One look at your face and his smile fell. “What’s wrong?”
You closed the door behind you and fastened your seatbelt, answering, “We need to make a stop first.”
The sun set as Yugyeom drove to your employer’s building. You hadn’t been back since the contract was established between you and Jinyoung. Obviously, you were no longer available to serve as eye candy for wealthy men. It had been strange being able to focus on school without making routine trips to see Seokjin for jobs.
You turned the corner and entered the office, seeing Seokjin standing behind his desk with his hands on his hips. “Hey, boss. I…,” you began.
Seokjin laid eyes on you and snapped, “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”
You watched him stomp toward you and questioned carefully, “What do you mean?”
“That your client is your ex-boyfriend,” he roared.
Your eyes were wide. “Oh. That.”
Seokjin folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at you in disappointment, but he softened his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
It went without saying that you had dealt with many bad, dangerous men in your life. Seokjin was not one of them. Nothing about him inspired fear in you. The relationship you had with him was built on trust and solidarity. Even when he was angry, you weren’t afraid to be honest with him.
You swallowed. “Do you want the honest answer?”
He scoffed. “Is that even a question?”
“I didn’t want you to cancel the deal,” you admitted quietly.
Seokjin was in disbelief and decided to repeat it back to you, almost to make sure you understood what you were saying. “You wanted me to approve the contract for you to be a sexual servant to your ex?”
Well, when he put it like that it did sound awful. You shrugged. “I don’t have a good explanation for you, boss.”
There was no way you could explain your relationship with Jinyoung. It would take days, weeks even. The two of you had been through so much together, so much damage and evil and every fucking thing that could go wrong did go wrong. You both were forged in the same fires.
“There are rules here,” said Seokjin, pragmatic. “Rules in place specifically for drama like this.”
You nodded. “I understand that.”
“Clearly you don’t,” he interjected, like a parent scolding a child. “You have no idea how out of hand things get in situations like these.”
You remembered Jinyoung’s words on that day - I bought you so no one else would. Jinyoung would sell his soul before he let you sell your body.
“It’s not like that,” you tried to reason with him. “You don’t know our history.”
Seokjin shook his head and returned to his desk. “It doesn’t matter. I’m pulling the contract.”
You understood his fear. His entire business was founded on confidentiality and secrecy. Any form of drama or scandal could expose a lot of powerful people and put Seokjin back on the street.
You opened your mouth to argue, but an irritated voice behind you came first, “Is this how you conduct business around here?”
Both you and Seokjin looked to see Jinyoung entering the office with Jackson a step behind him. With their added presence, Hoseok joined only a second later.
“Mr. Park,” Seokjin began, emerging once again from behind his desk. “You should have been more forthcoming as to the nature of your relationship with…”
Jinyoung countered, “Maybe so, but that’s water under the bridge now. Did I just hear you proceeding to nullify my contract without consulting me?”
Seokjin set his jaw. “Putting your ex-girlfriend into an indentured contract to soothe your own…”
Jinyoung took a single step toward your boss and seethed. “Believe me, Mr. Kim. You don’t want to go there with me,” he hissed. “End the contract, but she is still to be paid the full balance for this month. Take your share as well. It doesn’t concern me.”
Hoseok called your name tenderly, drawing your attention, and said, “Don’t go with him. I’ve seen this happen before. It doesn’t end well like you think it does.”
“Hoseok,” you started, moved by his concern.
Jinyoung brushed past you, putting himself squarely between you and Hoseok, and asserted his territory. “And who the hell are you?”
Hoseok was not intimidated in the least. “I’m the one that’s been protecting her for the past four years. Who the hell are you?”
“Hoseok,” Seokjin beckoned, sensing the situation was going to devolve.
“I see how you’re looking at her,” Jinyoung snarled under his breath.
Hoseok didn’t deny it.
You grabbed Jinyoung’s arm, attempting to steer him away. “Jinyoung, don’t make a scene.”
“Considering your boss called you in here without me, solely to rip you a new asshole and then take the rest of your money, I’m past making a scene. I’m gonna make a fucking spectacle,” Jinyoung snapped, shifting his weight as you grasped his sleeve.
Seokjin drew your attention, speaking from a good place. “I’ve been where you are and I know how it ends. Think about what you’re doing.”
Your brow furrowed, but you knew he was referring to getting into bed with a dangerous lover. You had been ignorant to the power Jinyoung now held and how deeply he had rooted himself in the underworld of your city.
He was your Jinyoung and you could turn a blind eye to what he did because you were head over heels in love with him. Naively so, you had to admit. And for that reason, you believed Seokjin when he said he knew what it was like.
“Seokjin,” you spoke resolutely. “Thank you for everything. I owe you more than I will ever be able to repay in my lifetime, but please accept my resignation.”
Jinyoung stopped, angling to you in surprise.
You met Jinyoung’s penchant gaze and added, “Effective immediately.”
Hoseok called your name.
“I’m sorry,” you apologized with all sincerity. “I never meant for this to happen. I don’t want to cause you any harm after all that you have done for me.”
Seokjin accepted your apology and bowed in response.
Hoseok enveloped you in his arms when you hugged him goodbye and with his eyes intently on Jinyoung, whispered in your ear, “Be careful. Someone ratted you out.”
You blinked in surprise and the moment Hoseok let you go, you turned to face Jinyoung. There was no shock on his face, only aggression and anger. “Outside,” was all you said, tone low.
Silence, cold and unforgiving, between the two of you down the elevator, through the lobby, and finally to the top deck of the parking garage. Once in the fresh air, free from the potentially eavesdropping ears, you asked, “Did you tell him about us?”
“No.”
“Did you have someone tell him about us?”
“No.”
You scoffed out a laugh, mirthless. “You’re lying.”
Jinyoung snorted. “There is literally nothing I can say to appease you when you’re pissed.”
“Don’t manipulate me,” you snapped with a roll of your eyes. “Tell me the truth.”
Jinyoung smiled, though he was far from amused. “See that’s the thing with you. When you have an idea in your head you just want someone to confirm it, you don’t care what the truth is.”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. All you’ve ever done is pull my strings. The minute I do something outside of what you want, I get punished,” you yelled, bristling with annoyance.
Jinyoung shook his head. He had indulged you thus far, but was officially at the end of his rope. “I don’t have to stand here and take this from you. You of all people. You left me because I did what you didn’t want.”
This was the weak spot of the relationship; the one unmistakable fact that always tore the two of you apart.
You would always assume he was lying, because that’s what he did. He would always assume you would leave him, because that’s what you had done.
Tears filled your eyes and the next words left your mouth like venom, “You don’t love me. You just want to own me.”
Jinyoung approached slowly, something dark manifesting in his eyes. Not until he was within arms’ reach of you did he whisper, “I love you with my heart and soul and every fucking breath in my body.”
Your eyes widened.
Then, he condescended, “But right now I’m not in the mood to deal with your self-righteous ass. Yugyeom will take you to dinner. Use my damn card.” And with that, he turned and proceeded to leave.
Rooted in place, you shouted after him, “Jinyoung!”
He kept walking away, no hesitation in his step.
Spiteful, you continued to shout, “It’s my turn to ignore you for three days!”
Still stomping off, Jinyoung raised a hand and waved, retorting, “Be my guest!”
You practically snarled, clenching your hands into fists as he hopped into his car, Jaebeom behind the wheel, and drove away.
Pivoting on your heels, you faced Jackson and Yugyeom and they turned their heads in opposite directions, pretending they hadn’t seen your petty lovers’ quarrel. Saying nothing, you trudged toward them and jumped into the backseat.
The moment you were concealed behind tinted windows, your lips spread into a wide smile that reached your eyes.
Jinyoung said he loved you.
Pulling out your phone, you texted him shamelessly, You said you love me.
A return text chimed not a minute later. Who is this?
You laughed aloud, propping your head in your hand against the window. The love of your life, you replied.
I see three days went by fast, was his retort.
You sighed. Don’t keep me away too long this time.
The next text took an extra minute to deliver, Come to the penthouse after dinner.
You smirked wryly and typed, I think I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight, Mr. Park. Goodnight.
Jinyoung looked down at the screen and pursed his lips. Sensing he had lost this round, he texted back, Goodnight, baby.
Jaebeom pulled a vibrating phone from his pocket and handed it to Jinyoung, saying, “Mark confirmed it.”
Jinyoung looked at the image and frowned. It was from a surveillance camera, captured in black and white. Jiwon and Seokjin; a seemingly harmless photo of two men talking on the street.
“He’s getting closer,” Jaebeom commented under his breath, speeding through a yellow light.
Jinyoung’s phone chimed with another text. The number was unknown and Jinyoung’s eyes widened in disbelief at the image attached.
It was you, standing on the deck of the parking garage, watching Jinyoung walk away only moments ago. The sunset was a clash of colors in the background and you had never looked more radiant.
She’s so beautiful, read the text beneath. Shall I take her away or shall I make her hate you, Jinyoung-ie?
Jinyoung stared at the text, reading it over and over. “Too fucking close,” he finally murmured.
← previous chapter | next chapter →
a/n : this story was previously Lacuna on my old blog, minheoney. I’m really excited to finally finish it! This fic was my baby for so long and I’m ridiculously happy to give it a new home :)
Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya
This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.
{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }
#got7 fanfiction#got7#park jinyoung#got7 smut#jinyoung smut#park jinyoung smut#got7 fanfic#jinyoung fanfic#jinyoung fanfiction#got7 scenario#got7 imagine#jinyoung scenario#jinyoung imagine
518 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 23 -- Perfect Harmony | Charlie Gillespie
Summary: Emily Fox is a talented 17-year-old with a passion for all things music. Her dream is to become a successful singer-songwriter one day. But to achieve that dream, she needs to get into one of the most prestigious music schools in her district – it’s all been part of her plan since she was six. Sadly enough, those schools cost a ton of money that her parents don’t want to invest. They don’t even want her to pursue her dream. So, now Emily’s hustling, working at the music store to save up to get into college. That’s until she meets Charlie, an annoying seventeen-year-old boy with the same dream as her. The only difference is, he’s just doing it. He doesn’t need a fancy college to pursue his dream to become famous with his band. He just writes his songs and books small gigs here, there and everywhere. Will meeting Charlie defer her from her dream college, or will he actually help her achieve the dream?
Pairing: Charlie Gillespie x OC (Emily Fox)
Warnings: mentions of death, sexual assault
Important note: the characters of Charlie, Owen, Jeremy and Madison are based on the characters they play on the show and i do not own their names, only OC are mine. The songs aren’t mine either, they’re all from the show except for one.
~|Charlie Gillespie|~
“Since when do we go shopping?” I ask them as we enter a clothing store.
“We’re not, I just need to pick up a sweatshirt I saw online,” Owen replies and goes straight to a clothing rack, picking out a light pink sweater. He holds it up for us to see. “Nice, huh?”
“Pink really is your color,” Jeremy compliments with a smile, then turns to me, “Don’t you think, Char?” I’m aware they’re only trying to keep me busy and happy, but it’s not really working. It somehow feels like I see Emily everywhere I go.
“Yeah, it’s a cool sweater, Oh.” Owen offers me a sympathetic smile before heading to the cash register to pay for it. While I look around, shoving clothes back and forth on the rail, pretending to be interested in any of it, Jeremy looks at me. I can feel his eyes burning on the side of my neck. “You okay, buddy?” My question startles him a little.
“Uhm, yeah… Just really unsure of what to talk about with you…” I raise my eyebrows at him, fully focusing on my best friend now. He draws in a deep breath. “All I can think about is Emily and how we can get her back, but I don’t know if I can even mention her to you or talk about her because you get all sad and teary-eyed,” he points at me, “Like that! But I miss her so much, bro. Like, I get she was your girlfriend, but she’s become my best friend and I really do miss her.” I manage a smile and pat him on the shoulder.
“We all miss her, man,” I wrap my arm around him and start leading him towards the exit, knowing Owen has wrapped up and is in tow. “I swear, if I knew a way that could get her back, I would. But I went over there Saturday, and Mitch said she really wasn’t up for any visitors. I even texted Madi and she told me to leave Emily alone for a little while. I’m sure that, once we come up with a good idea to get her audition back, she’ll talk to us again.” I take a deep breath. “And if we don’t, I guess I’ll just be sad forever.”
“And if we don’t,” Owen chimes in, “We’ll take the time to heal. You’ll take the time to heal. Even if that means no band rehearsals for a while until you find your love for music again.” I take in a deep breath. He’s not wrong, and I know he isn’t, but it’s still hard to believe.
“I think I left my love for music with Emily,” I say, which earns me a pained expression from the boys. “Where to next? Anything else we need to pick up?”
“We could head into the Music Shack?” Jeremy points at the music store at the mall. Everything revolving music reminds me of Emily, but I nod anyway and follow the boys to the store. All three of us walk around separately for a while, and I find myself at the pianos without even noticing. I press a couple of the keys, a soft melody bellowing out until my fingers subconsciously start playing Emily’s song Wake Up.
“So get up, get out, relight that spark
You know the rest by heart,” I sing out the lyrics I know by heart now. Her voice even resounds in my brain. I wish she were here to sing it for me but instead I’m faced with the reality again that Emily is angry at me and hasn’t talked to me in almost a week. I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on without her. The fire in my heart has been snuffed out.
“Hey, bro, ready to go?” Jeremy asks, suddenly seemingly nervous. He fiddles with his flannel again, not even daring to look at me. They probably heard me and are now sad Emily wasn’t the one singing the song. Even though it was just one line.
“Uhm… Yeah, let’s go!” I step out of the shop and want to go left, but the boys grab my arm and pull me into the other direction. “We came from there, guys,” I tell them as they push me further.
“Yeah! I uh… I forgot something!” Owen says, and I can tell he’s hiding something.
“Coffee! We forgot coffee!” Jeremy chimes in, pointing to the coffee shop a few feet further. “Let’s go get some coffee, Char!” He grabs me by the hand and pulls me with him into the coffee shop. I look at Owen, who’s looking at something behind him for a moment before following suit. We stand in line for coffee, my two best friends fidgety and nervous. It makes me wonder what’s gotten into them. I want to ask when Owen’s eyes grow wide.
“I-I forgot my wallet at the music store,” he says, “How stupid!” And rushes out of the store. I glance at Jeremy, hoping he’d give off some explanation, but instead, he’s looking at the menu, trying to figure out what to pick.
“What are you going to drink?” he asks, “I think I might go for a Frappuccino,” he blabs nervously, and I find him still fidgeting with his flannel.
“I think I might go for a black coffee,” I reply, suspicion rising within me. “Are you guys okay?”
“What?!” Jeremy suddenly sounds offensive. “Of course we’re okay! Just a lack of coffee, is all.” I blink a couple of times. Both of them had coffee this morning. I turn my head to find Owen walking back this way and another guy walking the opposite direction. With his ginger hair and small posture, he looks exactly like Uncle Mitch.
“Hey, was that Mitch?” I ask when Owen joins us again.
“What? No! I wasn’t—I wasn’t talking to anyone.” He immediately breaks eye contact with me and looks up at the menu now too. “I’m going to go for a cappuccino. What are you guys going for?” Jeremy and Owen have always been weird, but this is topping everything. They’re hiding something from me, and I want to know what.
“You’re hiding something from me,” I blurt out. Owen and Jeremy look up at me, both looking like deer in headlight. I busted them and now I’m waiting for a response. “What’s going on?”
“Next,” the barista says, and Jeremy steps up to order, dropping the conversation. I will find out what they’re hiding from me, even if it’s the last thing I’ll do.
“What are we going to do about this audition thing?” I ask the boys when we’re walking away from the coffee shop. The conversation in there has been stilted, neither of us knowing what to say. I did ask for an explanation for their weird behavior, but neither of them ever answered.
“I don’t know, man…” Jeremy replies, “I mean, I would do anything to get Emily in that school, but they’re pretty strict. Guidelines are guidelines…”
“Yeah, they’re guidelines. Not actual rules,” I mumble, fidgeting with the bracelet around my wrist, not even looking where I’m going. “It just frustrates me we can’t do anything.” Owen’s hand comes up to my chest, stopping me. When I look up at him, his eyes are wide, staring at something ahead of him. I turn my head slowly, and when I find what they’re looking at, everything instantly makes sense. Emily’s sitting at a table, eating ice cream with her uncle and Madison. She’s the only one with her back to us.
“We’re sorry, Charlie, we tried to keep you away from her when we saw her earlier,” Jeremy apologizes, but I barely hear him. All I can see and hear is Emily. She’s talking about something to Madison. None of the words seem coherent. Then a soft laugh erupts from her body, warming the fire in my heart just slightly. Madison’s eyes meet mine, and they grow in shock.
“I think we’ve done enough shopping for the day!” I hear Mitch say and the three of them get up. Mitch grabs their shopping bags while Madison wraps an arm around Emily and guides her away. The girl turns around, mouthing a ‘sorry’ my way.
I didn’t think seeing Emily would hurt me so much. Maybe it’s the not being able to talk to her or sing with her. Or maybe it’s the not being able to touch her or tuck a strand behind her ear. It kills me to see her. Because all it reminds me of is the fight we had in the parking lot.
“Can we go now?” I ask, my eyes pooling with tears. Both Owen and Jeremy offer me a sympathetic smile before putting their arm around my shoulders and guiding me out of the mall. There’s no way I’m ever going to get over Emily. We need to figure something out.
Taglist: @parkeret @lukeys-giggle @gingerxarmy @lovesanimals @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg
@thequirkybookaholic @ashleyleblancx @calamitykaty @lolychu @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @siennanoelle01 @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @luckylouiebug @kiss-themoongoodbye @camiladelrio98 @myfriendscallmebeans
#julie and the phantoms#julie and the himbos#jatp#charlie gillespie#charlie gillespie x oc#charlie x oc#charlie gillespie fic#oc emily fox#luke patterson#reggie jatp#jeremy shada#Alex jatp#owen patrick joyner#owen joyner#julie molina#madison reyes#flynn jatp#jadah marie#carrie wilson#savannah lee may#nick jatp#sacha carlson#jatp fic#perfect harmony#jatp fandom#fantoms
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mind, Body, and Soul 4
Authors note: Sorry for being MIA for a bit. I was going through a lot of things with my family, school, friends, etc. I got in a terrible funk and I had no motivation to write. I’m doing much better now and I’m going to go back to posting regularly. Another thing I know in the show Spencer drives a Volvo, but for this story, he drives a station wagon like mgg.
Content warning: A brief mention of a drug deal and medication and… teeth rotting fluff if that counts.
Word count: 4.6k
You can find part three here
Chapter 4: My Safe Place
I wake up to the smoke alarm going off. It takes me a second to realize what’s going on but as soon as I realize I make a mad dash to the kitchen. In my haste, I slip on the rug in the living room that connects to the kitchen. My morning couldn’t be more chaotic. Both of my roommates are coughing up a lung from the smoke while opening windows and fanning out the area. Turns out that they decided to make breakfast but somehow they can’t even make eggs and toast without almost burning the place down. I quickly gather myself from off of the ground and join Tweedledee and Tweedledum in cleaning up their mess. It takes thirty minutes to clear the smoke and to clean up the kitchen. After all, is said and done I look over at the stove and see that it’s already 9:30.
“Shit shit shit!” I shout while running towards my bathroom trying to get ready. Stella and Raven follow me into the bathroom wondering what I’m freaking out about.
“What’s the freak out for?” Raven says before peeking her head in the bathroom door. I’m already stepping into the shower as they both lean up against the bathroom counter exchanging confused looks.
“I uh forgot... I made plans with Penelope that have been a month in the making.” I stammer out from behind the shower curtain. In my mind, I’m debating telling them what I’m actually up to. Their two of my best friends and we’ve been friends since elementary school. I tell them practically everything, but on the other hand, I enjoy spending time with Spencer without it being a big deal. Of course, my friends would be happy for me but at the same time, they also tend to treat me like a child because I’m a year younger than them and I’m their “innocent” friend. I almost feel like I’d be disappointing them if I break from that title. I love them both so much but I think for now it’s better to keep those parts of my life separate.
“Well tell Pen that we said hi. Oh, and don’t forget about Daisy’s birthday on Saturday.” Stella reminds me before walking off with Raven. Daisy is a girl that Raven and I used to study with our freshman year of college. Raven, Daisy, and I had the same psychology class, and Raven and I clung to her pretty quickly. Raven and Daisy both happened to be going for forensic psychology, but I’m getting my degree in social work, so our sophomore year I didn’t have classes with either of them. My point is I haven’t seen her in two years but Raven and Stella are both close with her still and for some reason Daisy also invited me. I’m not complaining because she was really sweet, and I distinctly remember she was the type of person who showed their love through touch. If you needed a hug she was there, if you needed a shoulder to cry on she was there. I just feel like I’m intruding now because I haven’t seen her in two years and according to my roommates you wouldn’t even recognize her anymore, so I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to talk to her without awkward small talk. I’ll have to worry about that later now I have to worry about being late for a date... an outing. I’m not sure what to call whatever Spencer and I are doing today.
I rush to blow dry my hair, put on a little bit of makeup, I throw on a sublime t-shirt and a pair of jeans. Just as I slip on my vans, I get a text from Spencer.
Spencer (pain in my ass): I’m out front :)
me: okie dokie I’ll be down in a minute!
—————————- Time Skip —————————
We’ve been driving and listening to music in comfortable silence for the past 30 minutes. Soon enough though, we pull in front of a small café. The place seems oddly familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. No matter how many times I asked Spencer he would never tell me where we’re going. He called me boring, yet our first stop is a café. I’m not complaining at all, but it seems a little more mundane than I would expect from Spencer. Either way, I’m excited because I’m seeing him again.
“You ready?” He turns to look at me with a big goofy grin on his face. It’s nice seeing him smile I could get used to seeing it more. No. No. No. Don’t think like that this isn’t a date he’s simply keeping a promise that he made to me. This definitely isn’t a date right?
“Of course, but where are we?” I asked still not sure what I’m walking into. Despite me asking him he doesn’t answer, he just unbuckles his seatbelt and steps out of the car. I follow in his footsteps because I don’t want to look like a dork just mindlessly sitting in his car.
“We’re just popping in for some coffee don’t worry about it.” Spencer says while basically pulling me into this building. As we step in the smell of coffee brewing fills my senses, as I try and take in my surroundings I hear the sounds of cats purring and meowing. I turn my head and see that this isn’t any regular café, it’s a cat café. I remember some of these cats because this is the cat café that has adopted some of the cats from the Humane Society the Pen and I volunteer at. That’s why this place seemed so familiar.
“I asked Penelope what you did in your free time. She mentioned you volunteer and you’re a big animal lover, so I figured this was a fun way to ease you into today’s events.” He turns to me with a smile on his face while we wait in line for coffee.
“This is amazing Spencer. Seriously this is perfect.” As we're waiting in line we watch the cats in the next room over through the large window. We watch as some kittens chase after one another. A couple of the older cats are either sitting on the windowsill purring or sitting in someone’s lap instead of playing like the kittens. As we go to order Spencer insists on paying, after a while I concede. He pulls out a large wad of cash from a money clip, which I wasn’t expecting, I mean I didn’t expect him to be broke, but most college students don’t have that kind of money lying around. Maybe he gets money from his parents, or he happened to have a really good paying job. Instead of being lost my own thoughts and mental gymnastics, I focus on the cats in the room that we’re walking into.
About five minutes later we both get the iced coffees that we ordered. Spencer got enough sugar in his to give somebody a heart attack. With the coffees, we got a small little bag of catnip. A chubby orange cat immediately starts to take a liking to Spencer, the cat is sucking up to him because he’s the one with the catnip. About half an hour later we get ready to leave, but not before I watch Spencer trip more than once over himself while entertaining the cats and inevitably everybody else in the café that started watching. We decide to call it quits before falls, and he cracks his skull open. As we get back into his car he announces now that I’ve dipped my toes in the “fun pool” it’s time to kick it up a notch, but once again he won’t tell me where we’re going.
—————————— Time Skip —————————
I find myself mindlessly tapping my fingers to Kid Cudi, while looking out the window I feel a pair of eyes on me. I turn and see that he’s watching me with a big grin on his face.
“What?” I ask before he shifts his eyes back to the road momentarily.
“Nothing, I’m just lucky to be hanging out with you today. I honestly thought you were going to be sick of me by now.” He confesses, and he looks sad as if he could ever burden me.
“Spencer’s I know it’s only 11:30 and the day just begun, but I don’t think I’ve relaxed and had this much fun in a long time. Don’t think that I’m ever going to get sick of you. I promise that I’m having a really fun time.” I feel like I almost convinced him, but there’s this small little part of his brain that wouldn’t believe me regardless of what I said.
“You say that now, but I’m pretty sure after this you’re gonna hate me.” he says while gesturing to what’s in front of us. As he puts the car in park I look straight forward and see that we’re at a skate park.
“Uh, I don’t know how to skate... like at all.” I say hoping he doesn’t expect much coordination or skill out of me.
“I figured that much. I thought I could teach you, still wanna give it a shot?”
“Why not that’s the whole point of today right?”
“That’s the spirit!” He says before jumping out of his car and quickly grabs a skateboard out of the trunk. He looks like a kid in a candy store while we walk to a section that’s not occupied.
I’m glad I wore vans and jeans because I have a feeling in any other outfit I would have a very unfortunate wardrobe malfunction. He shows me two or three times how to properly kick off without falling. Then he asked me to give it a try or to at least try and find my balance on the board first. As I step on he holds my waist, so I don’t go anywhere, but that doesn’t stop me from wobbling a couple of times in the process.
“Make sure you put your back foot towards the front of the board when kicking off, if not the board will fly out from underneath you. Don’t worry about falling though I got you I promise.” He says while slowly loosening his grip on my waist. I start to learn to push off and eventually with Spencer‘s help I can go a couple of feet before I chicken out.
“Don’t worry about it. You’re not going to get it all at once, a lot of people can’t learn how to skate in a matter of hours.” He tries to cheer me up and coax me out of my embarrassment because I’m not fully understanding it.
” Yeah, I think I want to try it all by myself once maybe I’m having trouble because I’m using you as a crutch.” This is where I made my mistake because I got a little too cocky, and instead of getting it like I thought I would I fell. When I fell, I fell hard and I scraped both of my knees. Of course, this would be the day that I wear jeans with rips in the knees. As soon as I hit the ground he booked it towards me, and when he reached me, he crouched down in front of me with his hands on my shoulders searching my face to see if I’m okay.
“Are you okay? You didn’t break any bones, did you? Do you need to go to urgent care?” He asks a couple of ridiculous questions with panic very present in his voice. I’m obviously not hurt that bad, but that doesn’t stop him from freaking out momentarily.
“I’m okay Spence I promise. I only fell off of a skateboard I didn’t get shot.” I say before chuckling, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m glad you’re okay, but you scraped your knee bad. We’re going to have to get that cleaned up, you don’t wanna know how many germs are in that cut now, let alone the various infections that you could get if you leave it alone.” He says before standing up in extending his arm out to me. He collects his board, and we make our way back to his car. We go to a drugstore around the corner, and he runs in to get Band-Aids, alcohol wipes, and Neosporin. Again I insist on paying because this is my fault, but he brushes me off and leaves me in the car. He comes back and asks me to sit on the side of the seat, while he kneels in front of me in the parking lot. He cleans my knees off while reeling off facts either about the products he’s using or about all the germs in my wound. He finishes his nervous ramble by putting a Band-Aid on my knee before placing a gentle kiss on that knee. I blush at the small bit of contact, while he collects all of the products off the ground and puts them back in the plastic bag.
“Change of plans were going to take a small detour. I got a good idea while I was in the store.” He says climbing back into the driver’s seat and starting the car.
“Let me guess I don’t get to know ahead of time just like before,” I asked hoping that he would at least give me a little hint.
“That’s correct.”
It’s 2:10 by the time we arrive at the mall. I have no clue what would make him think of going to a mall and what we're even here for. Either way, it doesn’t stop me from blindly following him right into the mall. For someone who’s a bit of a germaphobe Spencer hasn’t seemed to mind holding my hand everywhere we’ve been today. The first two times I thought he was grabbing my hand, so he could just pull me to whatever activity I had in store for me. This time is different though because as we enter the mall our fingers intertwine together as if it was second nature. He still led me but this time we’re walking side by side. He stopped me very abruptly right in front of a store that I haven’t even seen since I was eight years old.
“Spencer, mind telling me why we’re at a Build-a-Bear?” I ask while we enter the brightly colored store.
“While I was in the drugstore I saw teddy bears and it made me think of this place. Also, we need to kill a little bit of time before we make our last stop of the night.”
Turns out we’re not the only adults who had the same idea as Spencer. Two other couples looked lovingly at each other while making a bear. This seems like a date night activity and not whatever the hell Spencer and I are doing. We end up picking a light brown teddy bear and just about every employee that we came in contact with told us we were a cute couple, but Spencer nor I corrected them. It didn’t seem to bother him so it didn’t bother me either. When it came time to pick out clothes for the bear he insisted that he had “impeccable style”, and he knows what he’s doing.
”Spencer’s you’re wearing a baggy sweater, jeans, converse, and mix-matched socks. I don’t think that your style is peak fashion.”
“Hush you’re ruining my vision.” He jokingly said while staring at the clothing with his thumb and forefinger gripping his chin. We both crack jokes and make fun of each other‘s sense of style before we inevitably end up basically picking the same thing that Spencer is wearing. We dressed the bear in a red sweater, black jeans, converse, and only because Spencer insisted on mix-matched socks. Yes, we did pay for two pairs of socks, so we could mix-match his socks. Spencer finally let me split the cost on something when it came time to pay. After we made our way out of the store with our fingers once again intertwined and our son that Spencer jokingly called the bear in the store. Our poor son doesn’t even have a definite name because he insisted on naming the bear Spencer Jr. or Sativa, but I told him there’s no way I would ever let him name the poor bear Sativa and Spencer Jr. is on the fence. As we’re about to walk out of the mall Spencer gets a call and then three texts in a row. He tells me he’s just gonna wait to open his phone once we're in the car. Once we get in the car, and he checks his phone his face drops.
“Is everything alright?” I ask because of his shift in demeanor.
“Yeah, everything is good I just need to take this call quickly.” He says before stepping out of the car and closing the door.
Spencer’s POV
When I get three texts and a call from my mom‘s doctor saying that there’s a problem my heart automatically sinks. I mean she’s all I have left and my mom is the one person who’s ever been in my life consistently with unconditional love. I call my mom‘s doctor as I step away from the car a couple of feet. I ask what’s the issue and it turns out it’s her treatment, her doctor tells me that because of her recent change in medication as well as the increase in dosage I’m going to have to start paying more for her assisted living. The situation is a lot better than what I was thinking. It’s a minor problem that I can easily solve. After I talk to my mom for a couple of minutes and make sure that she’s doing okay before making my way back to the car. As if my prayers have been answered I had an old friend text me and asked if he could buy two grams of weed off of me. I hurry up and tell him I can meet him right after he gets off work. This way I can kill two birds with one stone because he works at a gas station not too far away. While I am there I can pick up snacks that I’m going to need before we go to our final destination tonight.
Readers POV
Spencer never addressed the phone call when he got back in the car, but instead just turned on music and placed his hand on my thigh. The mood totally changed from calm and relaxed to now very awkward with tension. We only talked for a couple of minutes before it went back into an uncomfortable silence. Something seemed off about Spencer as he told me that we need to go to a gas station before wherever we’re going next. It’s not because I think stopping at a gas station is odd, but it’s because he insisted on this certain one, but he wouldn’t tell me why. He also was digging through a bag in his backseat for a bit before shoving something in his pocket and walking into the store, and as much as I wanted to snoop I didn’t because I respect his privacy. I trust him a lot, probably more than you should trust someone who you haven’t even known for a week, but my mind keeps wondering as I’m sitting in the car alone once more. That’s another thing that I thought was odd because he asked me what I wanted and insisted it was pointless for me to go in as well. He’s also taking a really long time I’m trying to brush it off, but there’s some part of my brain that can’t help it profile his body language and everything he is saying. I try to never profile people because it seems unfair, but having a dad as a profiler that would always profile me every time I saw him made reading people's body language second nature to me.
I’m glad when Spencer returns he seems a lot more happy and relaxed. When he gets back in the car he has a huge smile on his face as he puts the snacks in the backseat. I ignore the change in mood for the second time because it’s probably something he didn’t want me knowing about right now. In the little bit I’ve known Spencer he’s been pretty much an open book, so for him to not share something it must’ve been very personal.
“So we have one more thing planned for today and it’s very special to me. Are you ready?” He asks sounding genuinely happy and finally his normal self.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
————————— Time skip ————————-
Before we get to this secret special location it’s already dark out. Tonight the stars are shining so bright and the sky was so clear. Since I am not even paying tension I don’t realize that we’ve arrived until I hear Spencer turn off the car. He quickly hops out of the car without any explanation whatsoever. I try and take in my surroundings and realize that we must be at some park. I see a few benches, signs leading to different walking trails, and a cute little playground.
“Stay there.” He says while opening the trunk of his car. So, I comply even though I have a feeling this is how dumbasses like me get murdered. He tells me not to look at what he’s doing, so instead, I go on my phone for a bit. He announces that he’s done and I need to come look, so I hop out of his car and see that he’s cleared out his trunk, and collapsed his backseats. He also has a lot of snacks set up with soft pillows and fuzzy blankets. He smiles proudly at me, and all I can do is chuckle because I think this is the absolute sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. I tell him thank you while giving him a tight hug.
“You’re welcome.” He says, well rubbing my back with one hand and cradling my head with the other. Before we break from the hug he plans a gentle kiss on the top of my head. After we both crawl in the back and slip under the blankets.
“Do you mind me asking why this place is so special?”
“Well… it’s because I lost my virginity here...” He tried to keep a stoic face before busting out laughing.
“I’m just kidding obviously!” He says before laughing once more. After our laughter died down a bit his face becomes actually serious. He draws in a deep breath to prepare himself for what he’s gonna tell me.
“In all honesty, this place has given me a lot of solace since I’ve moved here. Back home in Vegas I never really fit in much, so I learned to create my own safe space. When I moved out here this park became my new safe space. It’s also really special because I’ve never taken anyone here before. Mostly because that way I could just slip away from everything and no one would know where I’m at, but I also never found an occasion special enough to share something personal like this.” He admits while adverting his attention away from me and more onto his fingers. He fidgets with them as if he were nervous to open up like this, as much as I want to know everything tonight is not the night to push the envelope.
“I’m glad you feel that you could trust me with this. Spencer in all honesty who you seemed to be when I first met you is a complete 180 from who I know now. I love the side of you and I want to see more of it.” I say while taking his hands in mine commanding his attention. When I finish he looks up at me with those sweet puppy dog eyes. He moves his hands from mine and rests one of his palms against the side of my face. He stroked my cheek with his thumb before we start to lean in. He puts his other hand on the side of my face and snakes his fingers into my hair as my eyes flutter shut. I hate saying something cheesy like there were sparks, but that’s the only way I can describe the fire that was lit inside of both of us. He pressed his soft lips to mine and we moved in perfect synchronization as if we’ve done this a million times before. He swipes his tongue across my bottom lip asking for access. I wrap my arms around his waist in attempts to pull him and impossibly closer. As things start to heat up Spencer slows the pace and eventually pulls away entirely. After he presses his forehead to mine as we both pant. He grabs the side of my face with one of his hands once more before moving to grip my chin and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“I care about you so much. I get it’s stupid to say because this is all of a sudden, but you’ve brought so much joy into my life and I don’t want you to leave.” He confesses with his hand planted on the side of my face and his other resting on my waist.
“Trust me I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.” I promise him.
“Plus splitting up would not be good for our son.” I joked trying to lighten the mood from the serious turn it took.
“Yeah, I don’t need to add child support payments to the list of bills I already pay.” He says before laughing and removing his hand from my face. We talk a bit more and get comfortable under the blankets before he grabs his laptop out of his bag and hands me the snacks I asked for. As we’re falling asleep he says just one word to me.
“Atlas.”
“Huh?” I ask him, trying to keep my eyes open long enough to finish this conversation.
“I just thought it was a cute name, for the bear I mean. In Greek mythology, Atlas was a titan that was called upon by Zeus to carry the heavens on his shoulders. It means the one who bears a heavy burden. I feel overcoming a huge burden or even carrying a burden that you don’t need to makes you strong and courageous.” I can tell that this story meant something to him. Something that I didn’t know about yet.
“It’s perfect.” I say before shutting my eyes as he grips me tighter.
By the time that the credits were rolling, we were both sound asleep in the back of his car. Our arms wrapped around each other and my head on his chest. I fell asleep to the sounds of a small breeze whistling through the trees and the soft thumping of Spencer’s heart.
.
.
.
.
.
Taglist: @rexorangecouny @haylaansmi
#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#spencer reid#spencer reid au#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x y/n#plug spencer#plug!spencer#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you
34 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dearselfxoxo
‘Happy days are here to stay huh?’
warriorwhiip
petra
drpreetityagilecturers
Untitled
hargahandsanitizer
Harga Handsanitizer
heerasweets
Untitled