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hxt1b · 3 years

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Isn’t It Lovely All Alone

Masterlist

If would like to send a request please take a look at my Prompt List, I have a list of ideas that you could use if you’d like whilst sending in the request.

Yuta x Reader (Some Doyoung x Reader)

Genre: Angst, CollegeAU (HockeyPlayer!Yuta)

Warning: MATURE/DARK CONTENT. Mentions of drunk driving, death, swearing, cheating, (by NO means do I condone cheating, this is a story based around fictional events so please in the real world don’t do this.) Mental Health. SMUT. (Unprotected drunk sex, use a condom dudes seriously.)

WC: 9.9k

Accompanying Story: As Long as I’m Here

A/N: Please excuse the grammar, I read it over but still some things may have slipped through. The accompanying story is not something that you have to read, this can be read as a standalone. However, if you guys do want to read it, I’d recommend reading it first. Thank you for taking the time to read this, I hope you guys enjoyed it! P.S. If you do read this without reading As Long as I’m Here, Taeyong’s girlfriend is unnamed due to her being the main character of the other short story. P.P.S. As I wrote this, I realized it was getting very long and I still had a lot to get through, so I decided to split it into two parts. So please be patient I will have the second part up soon, and I really hope you guys enjoy this part. PLEASE let me know what you guys think feedback is much appreciated!

Part One. Part Two.

Her breathing was laboured, her eyes closed shut as he moved his hips against hers, his cock throbbing as her walls clenched around him. His breathing mirrored hers. She was a sight to be seen underneath him, her hair fanned out on his pillow as she moaned his name.

“Baby,” He moaned as his thrusts became more erratic. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

“Look at me Yuta.” Her voice even, the pleasure gone from it, her moans faded, confused he opened his eyes and looked down at her. Her eyes were red, a huge cut on her forehead oozing blood into her eyes, more blood poured out her mouth onto his white sheets. He struggled to move out of her as she wrapped her cold arms around him and pulled him down to decaying skin,

“Look at what you did to me.”

Yuta sat up abruptly in his bed, quickly moving off of it as his breathing staggered, he moved his hand to his throat looking down at his bed only to see clean white sheets. His breathing only worsened as his brain reeled from the nightmare, it’s not your fault Taeyong’s voice said, but Yuta pushed it to the back of his head. You couldn’t have known that that was going to happen man. That was Johnny. He pushed both voices out of his head his hands shaking as his eyes blurred. He was going to puke, charging out his room he slammed into the shared bathroom door before hunching over the toilet and letting out the contents of his stomach.

That’s what they thought because Yuta didn’t have it in him to tell them the truth, he knew that the moment he told them the reassuring words would stop and they would see him for the monster that he was. They would see him as the guy that let the girl die.

“Hey, Yuta, are you okay?” It was Taeyong’s girlfriend. Her concern blatantly showing on her face, but he didn’t deserve her concern or her kindness. She would hate him the most if she knew the truth seeing as she was Ara’s best friend. The same Ara that was dead. His stomach turned again, and he puked again. His throat burning, his mind suffocating from the pain that he was feeling. I deserve it.

He couldn’t look at her, he didn’t want him to see her face, his face was wet from sweat and the tears that had flown down his face. Kicking the door closed towards her he didn’t say anything. The act was enough to let her know to leave him alone. He stayed on the floor pulling his knees up to his chest as he tried to calm down his breathing. Yuta ignored her as she knocked on the door again.

“Just go away.” He finally said to her, his voice rough. “You’re the last person I want to see right now.” He didn’t have anything against her, he just couldn’t stand being around her she served as a constant reminder, in the beginning, he’d lied to himself and believed the boys when they told him that it wasn’t his fault but the more time she was around the more time he spent with her the more Ara came back to his head, the more that night haunted him. Now she was always around, and he couldn’t stand it. He felt like he was drowning in his head, he needed to get out. He needed to go to a place where she was not, but for now, the bathroom was enough.

He listened as her footsteps retreated, minutes later heavier footsteps came towards the bathroom. Yuta moved to flush the toilet and stand up as Taeyong got to the door of the bathroom.

“Yuta?” His voice was soft like he was talking to a toddler, “You good man?” He asked. Turning on the faucet Yuta stared at his red and splotchy face, he quickly closed his eyes and looked down plunging his hands under the cold water. He couldn’t stand to see his face.

“Yeah man, I just drank too much last night.” Another lie flowing past his lips as he bent down to splash the water in his face. Before grabbing for his toothpaste.

“Do you need anything?” Taeyong’s voice was full of the same concern that his girlfriend had. Yuta’s head spun they wouldn’t be this concerned if they knew why he was in this state.

“No, I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t sleep after that afraid of what he’d see if he closed his eyes. Four hours later the sun rose allowing Yuta to make his way to the rink for practice. Last night’s game hadn’t gone well for them, it was their third loss of the season and their coach was pissed. Yuta smiled at the fact that today’s practice would be gruelling, it would help him numb his brain from the thoughts that invaded his mind. He wouldn’t be able to see past the tiring pain of the training their coach would outline for them.

He arrived at the rink just as Doyoung and Jaehyun did. The younger boys welcoming him as they walked into the arena.

“You didn’t come with the captain and Johnny today?” Jaehyun asked, Yuta shook his head.

“Nah the Captain was a little preoccupied with his girlfriend and Johnny wasn’t awake yet.”

Both the boys nodded, and they walked into the arena silently, Doyoung letting out yawn after yawn as they got to the locker room.

“Did you not get enough sleep?” Yuta asked him, and Jaehyun snickered.

“His girlfriend doesn’t let him sleep.” Yuta chuckled at the younger boy as well as he let out another yawn following which his face turned a deep shade of red.

Yuta got dressed in silence after that, as the younger two joked with each other. The practice would run two hours from five to seven leaving the boys that had an eight-thirty class just enough time to shower and head to their classes.

The scent of the fresh ice helped Yuta to keep his mind centred as he got into his gear focusing very hard on every task he had before heading out to the ice.

An hour into the practice Yuta’s head was spinning, he was slower than everyone else and though his brain felt calm on the rink his body wasn’t keeping up with him. He coughed harshly as he slammed into the side to grab his water from the bench.

“You’re slacking today Nakamoto.” His coach barked at him. He didn’t respond as he swished the water around his mouth, just chucked the bottle back at the bench before going back skating back to where everyone else was in standing in a line.

“You okay dude?” Johnny asked from his left.

“Yeah.”

“Apparently he’s just hungover,” Taeyong said from his right, Yuta could hear the sneer in Taeyong’s voice. Luckily the coach blew the whistle before Yuta could say anything and the line of Hockey players took off down the rink towards the first line before skating back to the start. Yuta kept up for the most part but his heart was pounding in his ears and he was feeling faint. The practice finished off with him skating off the rink behind everyone else.

“Dude, are you actually drinking on a Thursday night?” Johnny asked him as they walked over to their cubbies to rid themselves of their gear before taking a shower.

Yuta didn’t get a chance to reply before Taeyong scoffed from his side.

“He was puking his guts out at two in the morning.” Yuta rolled his eyes and kept his mouth shut.

“Where the fuck did you drink?” Johnny asked again, his voice low not wanted the others to hear him.

“My room.” Yuta lied.

“You’re drinking alone in your room?” His voice was full of judgement. Yuta shrugged and walked away from them heading towards the showers. It was easier to let them think he was just being an idiot that drank on weekdays then to let them know what was actually happening in his head.

---

You fucked up; you left your entire bag in Doyoung’s car. Pulling on your jacket over one of Doyoung’s hoodies you forced yourself to run to campus. You had a meeting at eight with your group mates and needed your bag for it, seeing as all your work was in it. It was already seven you only had an hour to get your stuff and get ready in your dorm. You’d told Doyoung to wake you up and take to campus with him when he’d be going to practice, but you’d only been asleep for three hours before he was up again shaking you, and you just didn’t have it in yourself to get up. Now here you were suffering in the cold November air as you jogged your way to the arena. Lucky for you it wasn’t too far but it was still torturous. One, you didn’t run or partake in any physical activity at that, and two, it was cold as shit you could feel your nose start to run. Huffing out clouds of air you made it to the arena, slamming through the front doors and into the warmth of the heated entrance, you put your hands on your knees and took in large breaths to normalize your breathing. You needed his keys, checking the time on your phone you realized he was probably in the shower he had an eight-thirty as well, but you couldn’t wait for him to come out you needed your bag now so that you could get into your dorm and get ready and be at your meeting.

Taking in a large breath you charged towards the direction of the men’s locker room. Bracing yourself before you became too embarrassed to do what you were about to you slammed your hand into the door as stumbled your way in. Looking around you came to face boys in different degrees of dress in their practice gear.

“Y/N?” Jaehyun squeaked looking at you naked from the top half.

“Where is Doyoung?” You asked as the boy rounded the corner.

“Babe what are you doing here?” he asked crowding into your space towards the door.

“I need your keys I need to grab my bag.” He nodded his head not asking any questions. He quickly made his way to his cubby and back to you shoving the keys into your palm.

“Keep them with you I’ll see you after my first class.” He pressed a kiss to your lips before pushing you out the door. You didn’t have time to react to what he said or what he did you just booked it to his car.

---

Yuta was stuck in his spot staring at the door Doyoung had just pushed you through, he was shocked, that was Doyoung’s girlfriend. Yuta shook his head, he didn’t mean anything rude by it, actually, he didn’t know what he meant by it he just knew that he was amused by what had just happened.

He saw you again at lunch, you were in a black turtleneck that clung to your skin and was tucked into a pair of ripped jeans, you had subtle makeup on your face and your hair was curled. You looked amazing. Yuta was stuck staring until Johnny slammed his bottle onto the table dramatically turning everyone’s attention towards him as he slammed his ass into the chair next to Yuta’s.

“I fucking hate History man, why the fuck do I need to know what some old fuck did in 1718.” He grumbled.

Taeyong laughed at him, “Told you not to take History as your elective.”

“I thought it would be easy.” The table laughed.

“You thought remembering an insane amount of dates and the names of dead guys was going to be easy?” You asked from across the table as you stole food from Doyoung’s tray. Yuta’s eyes followed your hand as you put the French Fry into your mouth, your white teeth biting down on it. Yuta held his breath as you chewed. Doyoung chuckled at you as you took more fries from his plate. Yuta watched from his side of the table.

“Dude you’re staring,” Jungwoo said shoving his elbow into Yuta’s side. Yuta roughly swallowed before turning his gaze to Jungwoo. He was staring he realized. His hands flew to his water quickly opening the cap before chugging half of it. Why was he staring at you? He had no clue who you were, today was the first time he’d seen you ever and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off you.

“Who is she?” Yuta asked Jungwoo.

“Y/N. Doyoung’s girlfriend.” Jungwoo answered through a mouthful of food. Yuta scowled at the first year as food flew out of his mouth.

“How long have then been dating, how come I haven’t seen her before?” Yuta asked.

“They’ve been dating for about six months, she transferred here this semester.” Yuta nodded, it made sense why he’d never seen you before, the semester had only started three weeks ago and lately, he was so in his head that he missed everything.

“So, you guys still throwing that party at your house today?” Johnny asked Jaehyun, the latter nodded his head shoving food into his mouth.

Doyoung answered for him, “Yeah we are, come help set up please?” Yuta took the opportunity to watch you as you tapped away at your phone.

“Sure, Yuta and I will come by at seven.” Yuta snapped his head to Johnny who was avoiding looking at him.

“Yeah, we’ll be there.” He said, going along with what Johnny had said.

Johnny dragged him out of his room at six-thirty throwing the keys at him as they got to his car.

“Your gonna DD today my dude.” Yuta stared at the keys in his hand then up at Johnny’s car.

“With your baby?” He asked shocked. Johnny didn’t let anyone else touch his car.

Johnny sighed but nodded.

“Yes, I trust you.” Excited Yuta rounded the car and got into the driver’s seat of the black Mustang, it could seat five uncomfortably and only had two doors and was ass to dd in but damn if Yuta passed up the offer to drive the magnificent beast that was Johnny’s car. Shifting the gear as Johnny fastened his seat belt Yuta ripped out of the drive, the engine letting out a roar as he bolted down the street towards the younger boy's rented house.

Yuta knew why Johnny was letting him dd with his car. He didn’t want him to drink, turning left down the boy’s street Yuta laughed letting his foot push the accelerator as he went faster, but the thing was Yuta hadn’t drank for months now. Not since that night. Typically, he just grabbed a beer and lugged it around not taking a sip everyone around him was usually drunk enough to even notice that he wasn’t.

Pulling into the driveway he placed the car in park, “That was fucking awesome.” He smiled over at Johnny who laughed back at him.

“Have fun, today buddy, just don’t get pulled over,” Johnny replied as he got out of the car. Yuta sat in the car for a second longer talking in the smell of the mustang before he got out himself and followed Johnny into the house.

Johnny didn’t knock he just barged in, so Yuta followed him. Yuta regretted it the moment he saw the scene in the living room, his eyes landing on your bare back as Doyoung trailed his hand up to your head. Doyoung kissing the life out of you on the living room couch.

“Holy, you guys don’t have a room?” Johnny asked a loud laugh following his words. Doyoung abruptly pulled away from you as you dug your head into his neck. Doyoung scrambled to grab the blanket beside him to cover you. Yuta turned his eyes away, the laughter not coming to him. He forced a smile to his face and kept his face turned away from Doyoung and you.

“You guys are early,” Doyoung stated pulling you into him. Johnny only laughed in turn.

“We’ll wait in the kitchen then.”

Yuta followed behind Johnny to the kitchen his head muddled. He was confused and irritated, why was he so affected by you hell he literally saw you for the first time this morning and he knew you were Doyoung’s girlfriend so why was he pissed. He hadn’t even spoken to you himself.

He felt crazy, crazier than usual. He didn’t need this as well, not on top of his daily dose of unstable. He didn’t need to be pining after his teammate’s girlfriend. Shaking his head Yuta ignored the fact that you were on the other side of the wall with no top on.

He didn’t even look at you when you rounded into the kitchen fully clothed in Doyoung’s hoodie again. He didn’t look at you as everyone started setting up the party. Didn’t even glance at your face when you handed him a knife to cut open a huge box of beer. He didn’t look at you when you said bye so you could head to the dorm to change, but he had to look at you when you bound back in through a front door and took off your winter coat to reveal a black dress that fell to your midthigh it was a turtleneck dress; simple but it looked amazing on you. You wore a lot of turtlenecks Yuta noticed; a sneer adorned his face once he realized why.

He didn’t comment just turned away from you as Doyoung slammed through the front door carrying a huge bag of ice.

“Let’s get this shit started!” Jaehyun said as he bound down the stairs a huge smile on his face. He flashed Johnny a joint before moving towards the back door. Johnny followed out after him. Yuta’s phone went off in his pocket, he let out a large sigh as he read the text on his screen.

Taeyong: Could you pick us up from our house?

Sighing again as he typed back a ‘yup’ he dragged his face towards the front door.

“Hey, where are you going?” His hand froze at the front door, your voice floating towards him. Slowly he turned back to face you, you were looking at him with your head tilted to the side. You’d put on a darker shade of lipstick and had rimmed our eyes with black winged eyeliner. All of it was making Yuta feel some type of way as he looked at you.

He cleared his throat and pointed towards the driveway.

“Got to pick up my roommate and his girlfriend, I’ll be back.” You smiled at him and nodded.

“Okay see you later then.” Your smile was stuck in his head as he took the mustang back towards his house. His mind was reeling with you, and he was beyond confused. He pulled into the driveway and parked pulling out his phone and texting Taeyong to come out.

As he waited, he realized that he was losing his shit. He hadn’t hooked up with a girl since the summer, not since her. He hadn’t even looked at a girl with remote interest since then actually, so he was beyond confused by his reaction to you. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening inside him, he just felt unhinged. Why were you in his head?

Taeyong and came out of the house holding his girlfriend’s hand tightly, Yuta frowned your face leaving his mind quickly. He didn’t say anything as Taeyong pulled up the door and moved the seat forward getting into the back himself. Yuta didn’t look at the girl that slipped into the passenger seat, he just nodded at her when she greeted him.

His hands clenched the steering wheel tightly as he made his way back to the other house. His eyes were glued to the road. The car was filled with suffocating air, maybe he was the only one who felt it. He didn’t want to look at the others faces to see if they felt it too.

Pulling up to the house he quickly put the car in park and ran into the house, letting the two of them get out at their own pace. He could lock the car from inside. The boys in the house were getting loud as Johnny and Jaehyun came back inside with clouded eyes. Drinks were started to move around as games began to be played and more people filed into the house. Loud music poured from every corner of the house as Johnny began to play his party playlist. Yuta sighed, as realization dawned on him today, he couldn’t leave whenever he pleased. He was stuck here in this house until every last one of the people were out.

Yuta moved around the house before the air became too stuffy for him and he decided that sitting outside on the porch would be the best bet. He only sat for a couple of minutes before you barrelled out the house, your face red and angry and you were drunk he could tell from the way you stumbled down the stairs, Yuta moved to get up and help you down but before he could even get up from his chosen spot on the railing Doyoung came flying out the door. His face was just as red and angry, just as drunk.

“You’re gonna walk away from me?” He asked. You threw your hand up in the air waving him off as another drunk boy came out of the house behind the two of you. Nobody noticing Yuta as he sat and watched.

“I’m done with this conversation Doyoung, I’m going to my dorm find me when you're done being a prick.” You were staggering down the driveway. The other boy less drunk than you two but still evidently struggling to walk properly pushed past Doyoung and followed you.

“I’ll drive you back.” He exclaimed. You paused in your spot and turned around looking at him.

“Didn’t you drink?” yes, he did. Yuta was standing up straight as he waited for the boy to answer.

“No.” He lied. Yuta clenched his teeth and went to stand next to Doyoung.

“I’ll drive her home.” He told Doyoung. Doyoung only rolled his eyes and shrugged at Yuta.

“Let her do whatever she wants. I don’t care.”

Yuta sighed and made his way to you quickly. He grabbed your wrist as you made your way towards a red Camry.

“You’re not going with him.” You whipped around and faced him. The anger back on your face and it didn’t soften when you looked at him.

“And you are?” You asked your head tilting to the side. Yuta laughed and pulled you towards him.

“Go back in the party dude you’re not driving anywhere today. Give me your keys.” The boy scowled at Yuta. Yuta raised his eyebrow at him feeling like he was talking to a toddler. “Your drunk kid, give me your keys.” He held out his hand to the boy, the boy stumbled back slightly grumbling but gave the key over to Yuta before stomping back into the house.

You stared after the boy as he disappeared back into the house.

“He’s drunk? Men are scum.” You grumbled and turned away pulling your wrist out of Yuta’s hand.

“I’ll drive you home,” Yuta repeated motioning to the car. You just nodded and made your way to the car pulling the door open as Yuta unlocked the door.

“So, dorms, right?” Yuta asked once he was on the road. You nodded again staring at the stereo system.

“You know Doyoung right?” You asked, Yuta laughed at how drunk you were.

“Yes, I do, we play hockey together.”

“Well, he’s stupid. Did you know that?” Yuta wasn’t able to reply before you started talking again. “He told me that I’m so forward. Like wanting to kiss him is a crime. He was so embarrassed by earlier today. Tried to kiss his cheek in the kitchen and he told me to calm down.” You hiccup once, finally taking a breath. Your face was red from the annoyance and anger you felt towards your boyfriend.

“Would you let your girlfriend kiss you in public?” You asked turning your head to Yuta.

Yuta’s hands tightened around the steering wheel.

“Probably.”

“So, my boyfriend is just a prude.” Yuta laughed. You leaned forward in your seat and turned the music louder, then turned to stare out the window.

You were drunk, he told himself. You’d be over this fight with Doyoung by tomorrow.

Yuta didn’t see you again until Monday when all the boys had piled into his house to watch movies. Yuta hadn’t slept again the previous night and he was hanging on by a thread, he decided to forgo the movies and tried to sleep.

---

Loud pained grunts flowed out of his room. You didn’t know why your feet had taken you to this door. You didn’t even know whose door it was you’d just come upstairs to go to the bathroom. You flinched when a loud thud came from the other side of the door followed by a curse. Not knowing what came over you, just the words open the door repeating in your head you slightly pushed the door open.

Yuta was on the ground by his nightstand hunched over a broken lamp. He was bleeding, his eyes frantic and his breathing erratic.

“Yuta.” You said softly, but he didn’t hear you.

“I didn’t know.” He muttered quietly; you didn’t know what he was talking about. Slowly you took a step into the room moving closer to him. “I didn’t know.” He repeated as he roughly ripped out the broken piece of glass from his hand making more blood gush out.

“Oh my god, don’t do that!” You were on the floor beside him in a second taking his hurt hand into yours. He was shocked when you grabbed him. His eyes widening, his breathing became worse as he pulled his hand away from you. He wiped the blood onto his black sweats while he took in loud pained breaths.

“I -I can’t breathe.” His face was flushed and sweaty. He was looking everywhere but at you.

“O-okay okay, breathe with me.” You said, breathing in slowly and out slowly. After doing that a couple of times Yuta began to mirror your breathing, his eyes finally latching onto yours. You realized how tired he looked. Like he hadn’t slept properly in days. You helped him until he calmed down until his breathing was normal.

“Y/N, Doyoung is looking for you. Plus, I need the bathroom.” Taeyong’s voice carried into the room from the hallway. Followed by a knock on the bathroom door. You looked up at Yuta his eyes glazed over again as he stared at the wall.

“Yuta.” You said his name softly, “Look at me. We need to clean your hand.”

“I got blood on you.” He said. His eyes glassing over with unshed tears.

“It’s okay. Come on let me help you.”

“Y/N?” Taeyong called for you again.

“In here.” You replied loud enough for him to hear you. Seconds later Taeyong was in the room.

“Fuck what happened?” He asked coming to your side quickly.

“I found him like this.” You replied to him quietly.

“I got blood on her,” Yuta said again.

“Yuta?” Taeyong said putting his hand onto his shoulder moving past you so that he was directly in front of Yuta. “It's okay man, it's okay.”

Yuta’s head slowly moved towards Taeyong’s and he nodded.

For the rest of the week, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You didn’t see him at the table you all ate lunch at, or anywhere on campus. You asked Taeyong if he was okay, he’d only told you not to worry about him before moving past you and going to his class. But you couldn’t get his eyes out of your head, the tormented look on his face had your brain in a frenzy.

You hadn’t told Doyoung about what you had seen, deeming it not your business to spread, but as you got into your bed sliding in next to Doyoung you couldn’t help but ask.

“Have you seen Yuta lately?”

“Yuta? Yeah, why?”

“I just haven’t seen him for a while I was just wondering.”

---

That Friday you were laying on Doyoung’s couch in a pair of tight jeans and a crop top, ready to drink and have fun at the small ‘gathering’ as the boy were calling it. You tapped away at your phone, your mind drifting off to Yuta again. You’d tried very hard to listen to Taeyong especially after Doyoung told you that Yuta was around just not around you. You understood that maybe he was embarrassed but for some reason, it bothered you. Especially since there was nothing to be embarrassed about if he was embarrassed.

The door opened loudly snapping you away from your phone Johnny strolled in laughing with Jaehyun. Yuta trailed after them, your eyes narrowed in on his lowered head as he dragged his feet into the living room. When he looked up his eyes caught yours his skin wasn’t as pale as the last time you saw him, but the dark circles, the tired expression it was all still there.

You sat up on the couch smiling at Jaehyun and Johnny as they passed you and went into the kitchen. Yuta remained having moved towards the wall he leaned his shoulder onto it, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Thank you for that day.” He said, his gaze had moved to the floor letting his hair fall over his eyes as he spoke to you.

“You don’t need to thank me.” You got up and only hesitated for a second before walking over to him. “Are you feeling better today?”

He only shrugged in response.

“Were you avoiding me this week?” Your voice was soft as you asked the question. He turned his head away from you.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked, “We barely know each other, and you saw me like that.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I’m sure you would’ve done the same with me. Heck, you kind of did when you drove me home after last week’s party.” Yuta still wasn’t looking at you and you really wanted him to. You held your breath as he pushed off the wall and walked towards you.

“Yeah, well don’t worry about it anymore.” He walked past you and into the kitchen, you watched his back as he rounded the corner.

For some reason you felt dejected, you couldn’t explain why but that was not what you wanted to hear from him. Somehow Yuta was under your skin and you couldn't help but want to be around him. He looked so broken when you saw him on the floor, you couldn’t just not worry. You couldn’t not think about him.

“Hey babe,” Doyoung said wrapping his arm around you before nuzzling his head into your neck. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing. Just zoned out.” You said turning your face towards the boy. Your mind was in the kitchen though, following Yuta as he stood silently with the others listening to their laughter.

As the night went on more people showed up, but it was small only close friends of the team, girlfriends, and obviously the team itself. You found yourself watching Yuta throughout the night. Your eyes constantly finding him, he was withdrawn from the group he’d laugh when appropriate, but you could tell he didn’t know why he was laughing.

After a couple of hours, you watched him walk out the front door, you watched from inside as he sat on the porch alone staring out at the night sky. Looking around you, you got up. Doyoung was emersed in a game of beer pong with Jaehyun, Jungwoo and Kun.

You pushed the front door open yourself and stepped out onto the porch. Yuta was sitting on the railing; you knew he saw you come out his head had tilted towards you but he’d quickly looked away.

“The night sky is pretty.” You said coming up to lean onto the railing next to his. He didn’t reply, your gaze fell from the sky to his face. He was clenching his jaw; from your spot, you could see it flex as he ignored you. “You can’t just ignore me.”

“Can’t I?” Yuta asked in turn, his words cold. “I don’t need your pity.” You froze at his words. You didn’t pity him, you were concerned. You didn’t feel bad that he was going through something, everyone did at some point. You just wanted to, for some reason, be there for him.

“I don’t pity you.” You replied. Yuta jumped off the railing and in a second had you caged in between his arms as he leaned into you. Your back pressed against the wooden fence.

“Don’t you?” He asked his breath fanning your face, “I see the way you look at me. I’m not something to be fixed.” You harshly swallowed, you’d never been this close to Yuta. Heck, this was your second real conversation with him, if it could even be called that.

His eyes darkened as you leaned away from him.

“Leave it alone, Y/N.” He pushed off the railing and began to walk away from you, but like it had a mind of its own your hand reached out and grabbed the back of his shirt.

“I don’t want to fix you. I just want to…” You trailed off. Be there for you. But it felt weird to say because why did you want that, you two barely even knew each other. Yuta looked at you angling his body towards you again. His eyes softened as he saw the expression on your face, your face was open, your eyes telling him the words you couldn’t say.

“Let’s go inside.”

You followed him into the warm house, Ten and Kun were yelling at each other as they played a game on the PlayStation, you followed Yuta past them and into the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of water.

“You’re not drinking?” You asked. He shook his head in reply.

“Nope, not today.”

“You didn’t last week either.” He just shrugged and took the cap off the bottle before chugging it.

You watched his adam's apple as he swallowed, his throat becoming more exposed as he tilted his head back and drank the water.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He said turning his face away from you. You snapped out of your daze and narrowed your eyes at the side of his head. “You have a boyfriend.” You furrowed your eyebrows as he looked at you. His own eyes dark, you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

You didn’t see him the next day and your brain tumbled into a spiral of questions, the biggest one; was he avoiding you again? The entire day he was on your brain and you didn’t know what to make of it, he confused you the way he made you feel. You made your way up the steps to Doyoung’s house, your boyfriend following behind you.

“Y/N are you okay? What are you thinking about?” He asked stopping you before you went into the house. “You’ve been off all day.”

You looked up at his concerned face and you didn’t know what to say. Your brain was riddled with Yuta, taking in Doyoung’s face a sense of guilt punched you in the chest. You couldn’t understand what was happening but as you stood on the porch in front of your boyfriend the only person you could think of was Yuta. You shook your head softly muttering nothing as you turned away from him and opened the door walking into his house.

You stopped in your steps; Yuta was sitting on the couch laughing with Jaehyun. Both the boys turned to you as you stared at Yuta.

“Hey,” He said, you nodded back to him and waved to Jaehyun before going to the kitchen. For some reason, your heart was beating in your chest erratically. Doyoung followed behind you as you pulled open the fridge and grabbed a water bottle.

“Y/N.” His voice was soft. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

You only nodded, you couldn’t talk to him about this, you didn’t understand this yourself.

“I’m going to take a nap in your room is that okay?” you asked. He nodded and you left the kitchen and quickly passed through the living room not looking at the boys on the couch and bound up the stairs to your boyfriend’s room.

The room was dark when you threw open his door, and you left it that way as you moved towards his bed to lay down. The room smelled of him, you were surrounded by the scent that you use to crave when you needed comfort, but today it wasn’t comforting you. Your brain kept on flashing to the way Yuta had looked at you in the kitchen yesterday, the way his eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn’t handle. And emotion directed at you. Doyoung didn’t even look at you like that. Guilt radiated through your body; it wasn’t like you cheated on him so why did you feel like you did?

A small knock pulled you from your thoughts.

“Yeah?” You answered, assuming it was Doyoung. The door slowly opened, and Yuta moved into the room. You abruptly sat up, moving back on the bed for some reason trying to create a distance between the two of you. He closed the door behind him and didn’t notice your abrupt reaction.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You fiddled your fingers as he moved closer to the bed, his presence taking up the room, you swallowed as he sat down. Your body going into overdrive as he looked at you. This is insane, your brain screamed as your heart pounded in your chest.

“I met you only a couple of weeks ago.” You said, Yuta’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you, confusion clouding his eyes.

“Yeah, I kn-”

“And I’m dating Doyoung.” You clenched the sheets at your side, your hands fisting into them as you looked away from Yuta.

“Yeah, you ar-”

“I also don’t know anything about you.” Your blood was rushing in your head as your thoughts scattered, he was so close to you, he was at the foot of the bed, but you felt like he was too close to you. “Why do I want to kiss you this bad.”

---

Yuta froze, that was the last thing he expected you to say. He came after you because you looked awful, upset, and he felt like he owed it to you to check on you because yesterday you showed that you cared enough to check on him. He thought you were moving towards a form of friendship, he was hesitant at first but accepted it, he even reasoned out that whatever small puppy crush he had on you would dissipate if he could treat you as a friend.

Your words were echoing around his head, and his hand itched to pull you to him, but he couldn’t. He got up from the bed and didn’t reply to you. He couldn’t, if he opened his mouth he would say the wrong thing. He couldn’t do that to Doyoung, he couldn’t do that to you.

You looked so small on the bed, your knees were pulled up to your chest, and your eyes closed. Yuta’s breathing shallowed as Ara’s face flashed into his head, the bloody body that he never actually saw but somehow haunted his mind switched places with you as he backed up towards the door.

He couldn’t do this. Quickly turning he stormed out the room, down the stairs and out the front door. He ignored the calling of his friends as he got into his car and drove home. His hands were trembling on the steering wheel as he drove the short distance back to his house. He felt like he was going to puke, his heart was beating loudly against his ribs his head was spinning.

Too many emotions coursed through him as he pulled the car onto his driveway threw it into park, clambering out of his car he ran towards his house door. Wiping the sweat that was gathering onto his palms he opened the front door and came face to face with Taeyong’s girlfriend.

“Yuta?” She asked her eyes showing him that concern that he didn’t want again. Is head only spun more from seeing her, Ara flashed in his head again, a smiling girl standing next to the woman in front of him, Ara laughing with her best friend. He felt like he couldn’t breathe again, his back hitting the wall next to his front door. She called his name again but he barely heard her and his hand flew to his throat.

“I can’t,” He muttered letting himself fall to the ground, she followed him.

“Breathe with me.” She said, Yuta shook his head, his mind unhinging as he pushed her hands away from him.

“Stop. I killed her okay!” He was frantic as he pushed her away from him, “I don’t need your concern or your pity. I killed your best friend.” She was looking at him with wide eyes, she shook her head softly.

“No you didn’t Yuta, that wasn’t any of our faults. That wasn’t your fault.” Her tone was soft, and he could tell that she wanted to move closer to him again as her hand heisted in the air. Yuta only chuckled as he pressed his back into the wall. His breathing still not in his control

He was losing it. He needed her to understand. He needed her to go away from him.

“You don’t know anything. I fucked her over, I killed.”

“Yuta yo-”

“I knew she liked me. Do you think I didn’t know how much she liked me? I took advantage of it, I was good at doing that with other girls too. I fucked her, left her in my bed and went to make out with another chick. She found me like that, rightfully got mad and asked me to take her home, but I was drunk. So, I asked a friend of mine, he drove her and they both died. He told me he wasn’t drunk, but I should’ve known. I should’ve known!”

Her face wasn’t shocked at the words that poured out of Yuta’s mouth, she was still looking at him softly.

“You made bad decisions Yuta, but you didn’t kill her.”

He shook his head, only realizing now that his cheeks were wet from tears, he didn’t realize he'd shed.

“Why aren’t you mad? You should hate me.” She only sighed and carefully moved closer to him.

“She was grown, she could’ve also checked if he was drunk. He could’ve said that he couldn’t drive because he was drunk. You didn’t kill her.” She was kneeling in front of him, her hands hesitated but he didn’t push away so she pulled him by his shoulder into her. She held him tightly until his breathing calmed down.

---

He was ignoring you again, you understood why this time. You were embarrassed, the last words you said to him rattling around your brain as you sat across from Doyoung in the library. You couldn’t look at him, you’d been ignoring him for the past week as well. Feeding him lies and excuses about how busy you were. In reality, you’d buried yourself under your covers and sulked. Your brain was a mess.

You couldn’t ignore him anymore though, so here you were sitting across from him at a small table not meeting his eyes as you tried to work on neglected schoolwork.

“Babe, are you coming over today? The boys are coming over again and we’re just gonna drink and hang out,” Doyoung asked putting his pen down and stretching as he asked.

You said yes without thinking, your brain not having heard what he asked. When your brain processed you panicked, Yuta would be there.

----

You were drunk out of your mind by the time Yuta and the others came to the house. Jaehyun was next to you cursing as he played Mario Kart, giggles leaving you as you watched. You were sticking to Jaehyun and Ten today, that way you didn’t need to worry about being alone with Doyoung or wandering off to Yuta. You were worried about what you would do if left to yourself, which made you feel like shit because Doyoung didn’t deserve that.

So here you were drunk out of your mind, sitting next to your boyfriend’s teammates giggling mindlessly feeling like shit because you wanted to kiss a man that wasn’t your boyfriend, oh yeah and he ran away from you when you told him that.

You laughed out loud.

You managed to succeed with your ignoring them plan for most of the night until you had to go to the bathroom. Stumbling your way up the stairs you gripped the railing digging your fingers into the grooves to help your balance.

You made it up the stairs without falling and took a break at the top your drunk body exhausted from the trip.

“You're really drunk today.” Your head snapped to Yuta, he was leaning on the wall in front of you. You quickly looked away from him, your heart already doing fuck shit in your chest from being near him.

“Don’t judge me, you sober saint.” You retorted.

“I’m not sober, I was convinced into doing some shots.” Your eyes wandered back to his face, you cursed when you saw his smirk, his eyes laughing at you.

You didn’t reply just straightened out and made to walk by him, but you stopped in front of him a random bought of anger slamming into you, who did he think he was? Why was he toying with you? Why did he make you feel this way? Why did you still want to kiss him?

“Don’t laugh at me!” You snapped at him, his eyes widened when you looked at him. “You ran away from me.”

“You have a boyfriend.” He replied. Before you could think anything, your hands were on his shirt pulling him into you, your lips slamming into him. He only hesitated for a second before his hands were gripping at you, turning you both around and pushing you into the wall. Your drunk mind was swimming, you knew this was wrong, but you couldn’t stop, your hands moved into his hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against your lower lip you moaned softly and opened your mouth letting his tongue into your mouth, another moan leaving you as his tongue brushed against yours.

“Wait fuck,” He abruptly pulled away from you. You looked up at him, eyes wide as you realized what you had just done. Yet you didn’t move away from him, he wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were pressed shut.

“The last girl I hooked up with died. I’m fucked up in so many ways that I can’t count. I’m trying to the right thing here but fuck it’s so hard.” His hand on your shoulder tightened. He opened his eyes and looked down at you, his breath fanning your face, you stared at his swollen lips. Somewhere in your mind, you thought about how wrong what you were about to do was, but in the moment your brain couldn’t think properly.

You didn’t reply to what he just said, and you didn’t move away from him you stood in his grasp until he lowered his mouth to yours again.

“I’m not a good person.” He said quietly just before he pressed his lips against yours again. You stumbled as he pulled you with him, not taking his lips off of yours. Your hands fisted into the front of his shirt holding onto him tightly as he led you into a room. You only stumbled slightly as he pulled you onto the bed. Your lips leaving his as he let you fall.

You stared up at him your breathing shallow as you mirrored his. His eyes were dark and filled with lust mirroring your own. You bit your lip as you waited for him, he closed his eyes taking in large breaths. You watched. When he opened them again any conflict in them was gone, you were beyond rational thought.

Taking his shirt off he tossed it to the side before climbing onto the bed and hovering over you. His lips returned to yours in a fast kiss, one that stole your breath away again. From there everything moved fast, everything was done in a hot haze as your shirt joined his on the ground then your pants and underwear followed by the rest of his clothes his mouth leaving yours and kissing down your body. You were so wound up that you couldn’t take the teasing, fisting his hair you pulled him back up to your face.

“Please, now.” You breathed before kissing him roughly. You were a moaning mess underneath him as he thrust into you, your walls clenching around him. He grunted as he moved, his hands gripping your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. Your hands were on his arms tightly holding on as he fucked into you. Taking one hand from your hip he rubbed fast circles on your clit as you came close to your climax.

You came, his name flowing out of your mouth before he slammed his lips back onto yours keeping you from saying anything else, keeping you quiet. His hips continued to thrust into you, his lips never left yours, until he finished himself.

---

You couldn’t look at Doyoung, you couldn’t speak to Doyoung, your heart would break every time he texted you. You were awful and you knew it yourself he didn’t deserve what you had done, but as guilty as you felt for knowing how much it would hurt Doyoung your mind couldn’t accept the fact that it was wrong. It was wrong, but the way it made you feel couldn’t be wrong. Your head was hurting from all the arguments you had in your mind.

You were locked in your dorm, you had been for the past three days. Doyoung was calling and texting you non-stop, but you couldn’t reply. You heard nothing from Yuta, and you couldn’t help but let that fact hurt you. Your phone rang again, you knew who it was before you even looked at the screen. Sighing you grabbed it, you had to answer.

“Hey,” His voice was cautious.

“Hello.” You replied, your hands fisting into your blanket.

“Are you okay? Why aren’t you answering me.” He didn’t sound angry, he sounded concerned. Your eyes filled with tears, you knew you didn’t deserve that, you deserved to be yelled at for ignoring him at the least. You couldn’t reply you knew that if you opened your mouth, you’d tell him what you did, but didn’t he deserve to know.

“Y/-”

“I cheated on you.” And you hung up.

You were a coward you couldn’t listen to whatever he had to say after that, you couldn’t take the yelling that you deserved, you didn’t even deserve to cry. Wiping angrily at the tears that streamed down your face you broke down, sobbing into your pillow. You felt like shit for what you did to him, you felt like shit because Yuta was ignoring you as much as you were ignoring him.

You didn’t understand Yuta, the last thing he said before you slept with him. Telling you about his last hook-up didn’t even register until you woke up the next day in your dorm alone. The heavy words rattling around in your head. You could put enough together to know that he was fucked up about it, you felt worse when you realized that you added onto his self-image of being a bad person.

Curling up into yourself you couldn’t stop crying. An hour passed and there was a loud banging on your door.

“Open the door Y/N,” Doyoung said through the door, his voice loud and angry. You rolled onto your back in bed. You’d expected this from the moment you hung up, but you couldn’t get off the bed, you listened to the pounding on the door, you listened to his angry words turn to begging and you cried again. You cowered away from him, from the world, because how could you face it?

---

Everyone was in his house, every guy on his team was crawling around. When the hockey season was airing this was a normal occurrence for everyone to pile into a house and watch together, but this time Yuta dreaded the full house especially since he was ignoring so many people this time.

Taeyong’s girlfriend, still, not because he felt awful when he looked at her which he still did but less so but now also out of embarrassment, he’d cried in front of her and that made it hard for him to look at her.

He was also ignoring Johnny for the past three days because after he fucked up and fucked you, he ran to Johnny and told him what he did. Johnny was mad but then felt sympathy after Yuta explained that he liked you, but he couldn’t look at Johnny now either not after he’d sobered up and realized how pathetic he sounded trying to explain that he liked his teammates girlfriend a lot even though he’d known her all of five seconds and didn’t know jack shit about her it was just an inexplicable feeling. Johnny had tried to talk to him twice since then, but he’d ran away.

Doyoung too, but that was obvious, he couldn’t face his friend and teammate, practice this morning had been awful, Doyoung was complaining about Y/N going M.I.A. on him. He looked so distressed Yuta felt shitty.

He climbed down the stairs slowly, staring at his phone as he went down, he didn’t want to make any eye contact. He didn’t want anyone to speak to him, but he couldn’t hide in his room that would only draw everyone to him and then everyone would be looking at him.

Yet he couldn’t stop his head from snapping up as the front door slammed into the wall and Doyoung stumbled in. His eyes were red, and he looked drunk.

“Well,” he said loudly looking directly at Yuta, “I am a fucking loser. I’m pathetic and I’m a loser.” Yuta flinched with every word that spilled out of the younger boy’s mouth. Taeyong was instantly at the door as Doyoung struggled with his shoes.

“What are you talking about?” Taeyong asked him as Johnny also filtered into the entryway, taking a spot on the last step on the stairs.

“She cheated on me,” Doyoung replied and then shrugged, “she won’t even tell me who. She actually won’t even let me into her room.” Johnny glanced up at Yuta, but Yuta kept his eyes on Doyoung. He watched the younger boy hold on to Taeyong as his face twisted in anger.

“I don’t understand,” he said his face going red. “I just want to know who it was.”

Yuta’s hand moved to the railing as he bit his tongue, He could feel Johnny throwing glances at him as they all watched the boy break down. Yuta’s gut twisted with guilt as Doyoung stumbled over a pair of shoes and hit the wall. He watched as Doyoung began to cry and Taeyong tried to grab onto him. Yuta’s head was twisting into a tunnel of thoughts that he couldn’t control, all he knew was that he did that.

“It was me.” The air in the room left as the words left this mouth, Taeyong’s head snapping up to him his large eyes widening before anger flashed in them. Yuta turned his gaze back to Doyoung he could barely breathe as under the three pairs of eyes on him.

Doyoung was frozen staring at Yuta. Yuta could tell he was processing the words that had just left his mouth. Slowly Doyoung straightened up before he looked up and met Yuta’s gaze, Yuta could see the blatant hatred that had formed behind Doyoung eyes, but he didn’t look away.

I deserve this. Yuta thought.

Doyoung shook himself out of Taeyongs grasp and was up the stairs and in front of Yuta in a second. More boys had gathered into the small entryway. Yuta snapped his eyes shut as Doyoung grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slammed him into the wall.

“You fucking douche bag!” His words were angry, his hand twitched at Yuta’s shirt but Yuta couldn’t look at him anymore. Doyoung was gonna hit him, Yuta could tell. He expected it. But it didn’t come.

“Look at me!” Doyoung yelled shaking Yuta, slowly he opened his eyes. The boy's face was so red, his cheeks stained with tears, more tears flowed out of his eyes as his face broke.

“Why?” Doyoung asked as he shook Yuta.

Yuta’s heart ached; he didn’t know how to reply. What could he even say? I’m not a good person. Were the only words in his head. Doyoung repeated his question before completely breaking down, his head falling onto Yuta’s shoulders.

“I looked up to you,” Doyoung muttered into Yuta’s shoulder.

Yuta froze, his mind going numb. He couldn’t move as Doyoung cried onto him. The words on repeat in Yuta’s head only got louder, until they were screaming at him. Until he couldn’t see anything but the fucked up person he was in his head. He could never do anything right.

“I have to leave,” Doyoung said lifting his head off Yuta, shoving him as he did so.

“Why?” Taeyong asked, his voice cold. “Why should you leave? Yuta should.”

Yuta couldn’t look at Taeyong, he knew what the expression on his face would be because he was looking at himself like that as well with pure hatred.

I deserve it.

Yuta didn’t disagree he would be the one to leave, but for a second he couldn’t move. No one did.

“You’re right.” he finally said. He moved past Doyoung in a rush feeling the heated eyes of everyone on him as he bound down the stairs and shoved his feet into shoes before leaving out the door. He had to leave, he deserved to be alone, to be the one kicked out. He couldn’t do anything right. He was fucked up, he wasn’t a decent guy to girls, and he wasn’t a good friend. With each step that Yuta took away from the house, he realized that he was indeed a bad person. Because good people didn’t hurt the people they loved.

And they definitely didn’t deserve to be loved themselves.

A/N: Please look forward to part two, I will have it up as soon as I can. PLEASE let me know what you think!

318 notes · View notes

hobiwonder · 4 years

Text

mission impossible | (m)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Smut, crack.

Warnings: Oral, dirty talk, unprotected sex, overstimulation, slight degradation. dom/sub themes (jungkookie being a good boy and then... not so good lol)

Words: 9k+

Summary: When you find out that your groupmate is whoring it up on tinder instead of handing in his part of the project, you go on a mission to teach him a lesson. And maybe get him to finish his part.

A/N: hello!!!! thankyou all for waiting patiently. or maybe you’ve just forgotten about me lol. it’s been a while since i uploaded anything!!! I hope you enjoy this crack as much as I enjoyed writing fuckboy but still a movable baby!jungkook. please don't forget to tell me ur thoughts. feedback keeps me going :)

If it was something strange, it would happen to you. You were not just saying that because of the hint of narcissism in your personality that made you think that everything was about you. Oh no. You never seem to catch a break these days. And quite honestly, you should’ve expected your dose of absurd to be handed to you soon. It had been a week too long without any fatuous incidents and/or people happening to you. Was this just a y/n thing? Was every girl with your name cursed? Maybe it had something to do with your astrological sign. That always seemed to be the explanation of a lot of your friends who did not want to admit to their faults that would land them in hot water. The usual “oh it’s because i’m insert-star-sign”.

Were you really becoming that girl? Though it was hard to blame yourself for this one. Currently staring at your phone. More specifically, the defined abdominals of your group mate. A group mate who has not shown up to a single meeting. After a whole day of slaving away at your study desk, deleting and rewriting your discussion and evidential analysis to conclude whether or not it was a plausible inference that the movies, Whiplash and Black Swan were excellent cinematic representations of the ‘Obsessed Performer.’

Yeah. That was a mouthful. And you bet your right ass cheek that you were the only one out of yourself and Jungkook who had even watched the said movies. In the group of four, Jungkook and yourself were given the discussion and conclusion to write. The three of you who had been present at the initial group meeting had chosen your parts as was decided in the group chat prior. When all of you had received a text from Jungkook cancelling last minute, you’d snagged the conclusion as well as half of the discussion to write as just the conclusion would be a little too easy. And you had wrongfully assumed that your peer had been in some sort of ‘emergency’ since he always sounded like he was in a hurry to do something incredibly important.

You’d pitied the seemingly sweet looking boy and told him that you’ll work together on the last two sections of the paper. And his bastard self had always been all smile emojis and ‘yes :)’ and just all around misleading. Sounding like he was diligently working on his part by himself and definitely will turn everything into you by Thursday. Thursday was yesterday and you had not received even a single message from Jungkook about where he was in terms of progress on the 1000 words he needed to write. Message after message, you weren’t even being left on read. And in concern you had messaged your group chat that maybe he was facing some real life crisis to be so MIA. Until this.

Until you had picked up your phone about half an hour ago to mindlessly scroll through your instagram feed and then in the last 10 minutes had decided to also go on to tinder just to humour yourself. You were well aware that tinder was a cesspit of weird and unhinged men who would only be a good enough to make a youtube video about or a horror story texted to your best friend. You were speaking from experience. Decent men on tinder was like finding a luxury vintage dress in half good condition at a thrift store.

So when you’d swiped left for the 30th time - you’d finally come across the perfect face of someone very familiar. You’d almost swiped left on reflex before you’d brought the phone almost too close to see why the face looked so recognisable. Even without having actually ever met Jungkook face to face - apart from that first lecture - it was hard to miss that this definitely was him. Your mouth had fallen open, jaw just shy of touching your soft bedsheets. You’d found Jeon Jungkook on tinder. His perfectly coy smile staring right at you, the first few buttons of his black shirt open wide to capture your attention back to his smooth, muscular chest. Hastily dialling Momo’s number, you can barely contain your shock and anger and annoyance. All of it wrapped up in one powerful burst of dialogue that you subject Momo’s ears too.

“Bitch!!!” You can’t help screeching, mind boggled.

“What happened now? Jungkook finally reply to you?”

“No oh my god. I found his tinder. I found his tinder Mo. I found his tinder!” You were screaming again but you couldn’t help it.

You were missing a Jeon Jungkook to rightfully scream at so poor Mom was bearing the brunt of your anger and maniacal laughter because your brain was having a hard time believing your luck.

“Wait, seriously? Did you match him?” Oh wait. Of course. There was still another step.

Wordlessly you swipe right, hard skipping a few beats in anticipation. And when the screen shows that he swiped you right as well and that you could now message him, you’re laughing once more.

“So he did. Wow. What a piece of shit.” She’s also laughing albiet much more like a normal human being.

“I cannot believe this Mo. This fuckhead doesn’t read any of my messages for the last week and I find him matched to me on tinder?”

Just then, your phone vibrates. Telling Mo to hold on, you don’t want to believe that this is actually happening. You had just received a message from Jungkook. It had barely been a whole minute of you matching up with him on this app and he had already messaged you.

Jungkook: What has 36 teeth and holds back the Incredible Hulk? My zipper.

This must be a bad dream. Were the cameras of Punk going to start showing up form under your bed? Were you being punked? Not only was Jeon Jungkook just the worst partner out of all the group projects you had been in, he was most definitely a fuckboy. Who used terrible pick-up lines. Did he really not recognise you? Granted that your pictures were not the ones you had put up on facebook - it was still quite discernible that this was definitely you.

“Mo, he just sent me a horny pick-up line oh my god. I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Of course he did. I always thought he was a bit of a player. What did he say?”

When you read out the message, both of you are coughing from the laughter. This was too ridiculous and just very much like something that would happen to you. You had a group project due in less than two days and your group mate had turned out to be a bit of a horny bastard that was more concerned with getting his dick wet than messaging you back.

“You need to message him back, y/n. Pour the cold water on him already and tell him how badly he fucked up.”

“No way! I bet you he’s going to never message me back. At least on tinder i’m going to get a reply. Just how the hell do I ask him about the paper that he should’ve emailed me, like, yesterday? Ugh.”

“Just message him back, firstly. Or lose the only communication you just got. Do you know what dorm he’s in?”

“No idea.” Typing your reply and deleting it - much like your assessment that you were working hard on. Unlike him.

You: Hulk always was my favourite Avenger :)

“You did not just say that! Grossssss.” Yeah. Humouring fuckboys was exclusively for post 6 tequila shots Y/n.

Chuckling at your own response, you’re trying to keep your cool while trying to keep Jungkook’s attention so he doesn’t stop messaging you.

“Mo, wait. I just had an idea.”

“Please, y/n, violence is not the answer.”

“I won’t hurt him you knob. Okay talk to you later!” Not a lot anyway.

“I’m telling the police I don’t know you if they come around tomorrow! Bye!”

Making a face at your phone for good measure - you go ahead with your plan. There was no way you were letting Jeon Jungkook get away that easily. You’d been working so hard this semester. Harder than you have ever tried and you would not let his sloppy self to bring down your grade on an assessment that was worth 40% of your grade. Nearly half. Neither did the people in your group deserved it.

“Just you wait, Jeon. I’m going to kick your horny ass.”

Jungkook: let my Hulk destroy any traces of bad fucks you’ve had.

Your eyes are almost bulging out of your head at his brashness. Did he really just ask you to fuck? This is the second thing he has said to you and it’s him asking to fuck you. You can’t believe how much of a textbook fuckboy he was. When you haven’t responded for a few minutes, you get another message form him.

Jungkook: if that was too forward ^-^

Jungkook: then what i said was a lie lol.

Jungkook: I'm probably the best fuck you’ll ever have.

You cannot believe your eyes. With each message, Jungkook is either confusing you or making you shake your head at how exactly like all the other boys on tinder he is. This was hands down, the longest conversation you have had with Jungkook directly. In the group chat he generally adressed everyone, shooting haphazard apologies right before meetings. Saying he would not be able to make it. It had frustrated you to no end as the date for submission got closer and closer. And to see him reply quicker than you, on tinder no less, was beyond infuriating.

You: Well then. Prove it.

You: Where do you live?

You doubted that Jungkook would be reluctant to give you his address. That’s just not something you see happening. Maybe he preferred to go to the girl’s place? That wouldn’t matter to you either. Though convincing him to bring his laptop with him would be a challenge but you were fine to let him work on your own. There was no way you were letting him go without coughing up his part.

Jungkook: you sure?

You: wanna fuck. Hurry up.

Jungkook: you’re so sexy :)

You were going to literally lose it. Not sure why you were biting the inside of your cheek so hard to stop yourself from laughing at his messages. Jungkook was the epitome of a snapchat fuckboy. It was much more hilarious than you anticipated. You were expecting to be feeling the singular emotion of sheer hostility. But you were having too much fun with this. Especially when you weren’t going to actually fuck him but seeing how eager and self-assured he was, this was all the more pleasant.

Jungkook texts you his address and you let him know that you’ll be there in around 20 minutes. He lived surprisingly close. Though him staying in an all male rich residential college was definitely not a surprise. Only kids with a lot of disposable income and no worries of being evicted avoided doing any actual school work. The rest of you were not privy to such luxury. The more you thought about it the more you knew how gratifying it will be to show up at Jeon Jungkook’s door with a pile of notes and your laptop. He was in for a treat.

Dressing in that one little black dress you had was only part of the plan. An attempt to fool him one last time before you handed him the checklist of what he had to do. You shrug on a large jean jacket that fell below your bottom to conceal your provocative dress, grab your bag after stuffing all the necessities and then set out the door. Dialling Momo’s number, you let her know where you will be incase anything happens. You could never be too careful.

“Yo, I’m going to Cornell college. Jungkook apparently lives there so I’m going to meet him.”

“Are you serious? He told you his address?!”

“Sure did.”

“I pray for his soul.”

“He made me suffer far longer! Whose side are you on, traitor?!”

“Yours but knowing you, he’s in for a LOT. Okay stay safe.”

“Yeah yeah. He needs to be safe not me.”

“Yeah that was what I was saying. Anywhore. have fun.”

“Bye.”

The closer you get to the college, you are starting to hear loud music. Was this even allowed on colleges? Were there not any volume restrictions given what time it was and the fact that it was managed by onsite staff? Arriving on the level Jungkook told you his room was, 4th, the music is even more noticeable. The sign pointing to the common room was where most of the bass was coming from and you guess maybe there is a function going on. Though the closer you walk, you realise that this was not just any event. This was a party. The cracks in the door gave away to the activities happening inside the large hall. Deciding not to wait any longer, you text Jungkook again. Being as serious as you can be to get him to meet you outside instead of carrying your backpack with you inside.

You: I’m here to fuck, not party.

Jungkook: it’s a good party tho. We can slowly take it back to my room ;)

You: I’ll find someone else.

You hope he takes your bluff.

Jungkook: love it when you order me around baby.

Jungkook: don’t forget who’s in charge. Me.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, still smirking at your phone. No matter what your initial intentions were, you had to admit that playing with Jungkook was fun. He was unacceptably attractive and looked like the type of guy you would reduce to tears. But none of that tonight. You had to stay focused. You’re about to type another message to speed him up but he beats you to it.

Jungkook: room is unlocked. go in. i’ll be there in a minute.

Letting out a whoosh of air you’d been holding, you head down the hall, further away from the heavy bass and the party music. Somewhat hesitantly, you open the door to the room number he gave you. Nothing out of the ordinary. His room wasn’t messy. It was tidy. No sign of books. Just a bunch of sketches and film negatives strewn about on his study desk. Shamelessly, you snoop around, trying to find any evidence that he studies at all. So far, you’d only found an industry grade recording mic, two different types of cameras and some more unused camera reel.

Getting out your notes and the checklist you were going to hand to Jungkook, you get everything ready for when Jungkook arrives. You were not going to let him get away with this. Just another minute later, you can hear the footsteps getting closer. And for a moment, so does your heartbeat. You were quite confident in yourself but there was always a chance that Jungkook was more than a harmless oversexed college boy. All of the very rational fears are thrown out the window, however, as soon as the black mop of hair comes into view. Jungkook was incredibly handsome. Even moreso than his pictures. His hair was longer than the last time you saw him months ago. The long strands of inky black hair fell endearingly in his face, just to the middle of his eyes, parted right in the middle and curling slightly. He wore a long sleeved shirt with hip-hugging jeans that almost made you drool visibly. The saliva was positively pooling in your mouth but you swallowed it quickly to avoid embarrassment.

Now, you were angry. You really were. You needed this assessment finished so you could start on other projects and without Jungkook finishing up his part, there was no way you would have finished yours on time. But you would be a bold faced liar if you didn’t admit that you were oh so tempted to abandon your vendetta and not ride him like a bronco. You could tell that unfortunately, unlike other men who strutted about with empty words - Jungkook would be the best you would have in a while.

And when he smiles, it’s not any easier.

“Hey you.”

“Hi.” Desperately trying to keep your voice even, you smile coyly.

Jungkook locks the door, running a hand through his hair before he stalks towards you. Confident as ever. You bite your lip, baiting him even further before you strike. Just when he gets close enough to you, you hold out an arm to keep him from touching you.

“God, you’re even more sexy in person.”

“Uh-uh, be patient.” He’s blissfully unaware, just smirking in return as he watches your hands roam his chest before going up to his face. Taking a step closer to him, you rake your nails up his neck, leaving little white lines from the scratches.

“Close your eyes, Jungkook.” Jungkook, ever the obedient boy, closes them quickly. Awaiting your next move.

You can’t help yourself when he looks like this. Completely immersed in the feel of your hands. He was a good few inches taller than you but your platformed sneakers made it easier for you to teach him a lesson. His dark eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks, face so relaxed you would think he’s sleeping. You deserved to play a little at least, right? Leaning forward, you stop with the internal rationalising and just make the move.

Your lips meet his in a fiery kiss. His stoic figure melting as soon as your lips lock, hands grabbing at your waist while his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Jungkook is moaning in the kiss like he’s taking his first gulp of water after roaming the desserts. Momentarily, you forget your purpose for even being here in the first place. Wrapping your hands in his tempting long tresses and pulling, making even more sweeter noises to spill past his lips. He’s panting and restless. Moving his body against yours like he’ll die without it. Moving him backwards, you push him agains his swivelling study chair that was conveniently faced the right way.

His hands are all over you as soon as he’s down on the chair with your legs straddling his thighs on either side. All you can feel are his lips and his tongue and his hands. All over you, sliding your jacket off your shoulders to travel his kisses down another path. The desperate intake of oxygen is enough to bring your head back in the game, barely. With Jungkook nipping away at the now exposed skin of your shoulders and neck, it’s hard for you to stay focused. Especially when the hard tent in those sinfully tight jeans is now pushing against your softest part. He’s impossibly hard and you’re impossibly soft down there. It’s a lethal combination because neither of you can live without the other being pressed against each other. When you push down on him he pushes his hips up with even more ferocity, moaning louder with every illicit rub of the thickness between his thighs.

You’re addicted to the feeling and not sure how you’ll centre yourself enough to do what you actually came to do. God was really making you eat your words, huh? You were so close to ripping all his clothes off and fucking his brains out. You bet he’ll make the prettiest sounds when you ride him. His whimpers and moans just from gyrating up against you were enough of an indication. Sliding your hands back up in his hair, you yank it back from your neck to see his sweaty, glistening face looking up at you. He looked slightly inebriated. You had tasted the traces of vodka in his kiss but you had a feeling that a lot of his current state had to do with you and not the liquor.

“Jungkook?” He shamelessly rut his hips against yours, not fully hearing you, lost in his own lusty haze.

“Yeah?” Your lips close around the soft cartilage of his earlobe, tugging and flicking with your tongue, illiciting more salacious noises out of him.

“How’s the assignment coming along?” It takes him a few seconds to respond but the urgency with which he was pawing at you has slowed to a halt like a broken down car.

“Huh?” Pulling back completely, you stare him right in his twinkly eyes that look like a deer caught in the headlights.

“The paper you’re writing on modern cinema?”

“How... how do you know about that?” You smile at him sweetly. Before you flick him across his forehead.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“I should be saying that you harlot!”

“Harlot? really? You were all over me just now. You are all over me!” You’re surprised he knows the meaning of the medieval insult.

“Don’t try and weasel out of this! I’ve been waiting for your finished part since yesterday!”

“Wait... you’re y/n, y/n?”

“Took you long enough.”

“With your tongue down my throat? I wonder why.” You cannot believe you are arguing with a boy whilst still in his lap with his hands holding on to your waist.

Jungkook is trying his hardest to deflect and make you seem like the desperate one when he had been the one to want to fuck you from the get go. Getting off his lap, you fix your dress, tugging it down a little since the assault from Jungkook had almost bared your ass. Jungkook is still sitting in his study chair, dumbfounded.

“Finish your part of the discussion Jungkook. I have to write the conclusion and submit the paper.”

He is still staring. And now your eyes are travelling down to his thighs. Particularly the large bulge a little further up. A very substantial bulge that makes your mouth water once more.

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry, what? I just had a dream that a crazy girl tried to get me to do my homework right before we were going to fuck.”

“Listen here you little shit,” You grab Jungkook’s chin, gently despite his theatrical reactions, tilting it up to look you in the eyes. His reactions are so comical you almost laugh. “I’ve worked too hard for you to just give me piss poor, last minute effort. I’m here until you finish it.”

“You cannot be serious.” Letting go of his chin, you step back, folding your arms against your chest for good measure. Raising an eyebrow for him to challenge you.

“You expect me to write a thousand something words with this,” He points between his legs, you roll your eyes, “still here? No way.”

“I don’t remember giving you a choice, pretty boy.”

“You think I’m pretty?” So pretty. But he didn’t need to know that. You swivel his chair around back to face his desk.

“Less talk and more work!”

“Y/n, you can’t- can’t make me!” He’s throwing his hands around like a child and it’s a little too cute for an annoying boy like him who’s put you through so much anxiety. Sitting on his bed, swinging your legs as your eyes look around at the paintings, you let him huff and puff.

“Oh yeah? Guess I’ll have to call the cops because of the weed you have.”

His nose scrunches up adorably. “I don’t have any weed.”

“But I do. Who will they believe?” His eyes widen once more as he realises what you’re saying.

“Are you seriously blackmailing me?” You nod, smiling brightly. Jungkook turns back around, head in his hands as he mutters to himself how his tinder hookups are always crazy.

“Hey! I wouldn’t be here if you did your work! or replied to any of my messages.”

“Um, I was going too? I was busy.”

“Taking vodka shots? Yeah I could tell.” The mention of the kiss is bringing a rosy flush to Jungkook’s cheeks. Such an uncharacteristic reaction for a guy with his looks and his confidence.

He was that much more appealing to you because of how he contradicted his own personality. You knew he was one of those boys who acted all tough but secretly wanted to be bossed around. Told to do this and that. Made uncomfortable and maybe slightly humiliated. They lived to please. And the way Jungkook had melted into your body almost as if asking for guidance earlier, you knew he was exactly like that. He may not even know it yet but you could have him in the palm of your hands in a matter of minutes.

“What do I get in return?” He’s still grunting his disapproval, but looking through the notes you put on his desk anyway.

“A good grade and a life longer than 22?”

“You’re crazy.”

“All the more reason for you to be quiet and work!” He pouts at you before quietly looking through the notes and logging into his laptop.

When you’re satisfied he’s actually working, you lay down on his bed, making yourself comfortable knowing that it will take him at least an hour to finish his part. You had practically handed him all the points, he just had to write his own opinion and synthesise the evidence you had collected. The part of discussion required each student in the group’s own thoughts and thus you couldn’t just make them up on Jungkook’s behalf. Nor did you want to. You were done doing two people’s work back in your freshman year. These were advanced level classes and you weren’t going to ruin your grade because of one person.

Thirty minutes later, you’re almost about to doze off when you see Jungkook getting up from his chair in your periphery. Sitting up in a flash - though a little dizzy - you point an accusatory finger at Jungkook. Said boy has stopped mid-standing up.

“Don’t you dare Jeon! Get back in that chair and finish your work.”

“Jesus.” He’s holding his head in his hands once more before he starts whining again. “Y/n, please. Can’t I just do this tomorrow and send it to you then?”

You think about it. You do. “And have you go off the face of the planet again? No way.”

“Please.” He drags out the syllables, pouting and blinking up at you and it almost works.

“No. Not a chance. Just finish it ASAP and I’ll edit it. But finish writing it. The sooner you’re done the quicker I’ll be out of your hair.”

He glares at you. And not the scary, tough man glare that might make you slightly nervous and fidgety that you’re getting on his nerves. It’s a glare a kid gives you when you tell them no more TV or no more xbox. It’s the most adorable thing you’ve seen Jungkook do tonight. Or maybe you’re just sleep deprived. Either way, you wanted to kiss the hell out of him. But you turn your head away, faux annoyance ebbed into your features as you wait for him to start writing again.

It works for another half hour, Jungkook now actually typing more than he’s complaining. It was only a thousand words that he had to write but there was a lot of information that needed to be condensed in those thousand words which meant he was typing and then deleting, repeating the process again and again until he looked to be halfway through. You were impressed at how much he was getting done. Maybe it was your watchful gaze that was making him perform at his peak. You were now just hoping that whatever he wrote was actually plausible and not just rubbish to get you out of his room.

“I can’t believe you’re making me work with a boner. You could’ve at least gotten me off.” His pout his still there as he types casually.

“Stop being a brat and keep working.”

“Yeah? You’re going to make me write lines? ‘I am a brat’.” He chuckles to himself like he’s burnt you to a crisp with that one comment.

Taking your hand off of your face, you sit up. You watch the way his biceps bulge under his shirt as he types away at his laptop, legs splayed wide under his desk as he supported a semi. It was still a sizeable dent but nowhere near as daunting looking as before. But none of that diminishes your desire for him. You watch him talk to himself quietly as he types, but now stuck somewhere as he types and deletes and then types a sentence again.

You’re not sure what sets it off. Maybe it’s your frustration or that you think he owes you something more than just this. Maybe it’s the way he’s sitting? There are a lot of reasons you can use to justify your serious and formidable attraction to him. But you cannot deny that it was him from the get go. Just him in all his submissive glory that made you attracted to him. And that attraction was now getting the best of you. Maybe it was time to torture him in another way.

“No. I’ll do something much more to your liking.”

His head turns back around fast, fingers halting at his keyboard while he inspects the drunken look in your eyes. Slowly, you spread your legs, hands bracing yourself as they clutch the sheets on either side of you. Your heart is racing at the look in his own eyes. Primal and needy.

“Get on your knees Jungkook.” His chest is rising and falling much quicker than yours. Like he’s holding himself back.

You patiently wait for him to listen to your instructions, watching him. Never breaking eye contact. You know it’s new to him. It’s too obvious for you to deny it. But you relish the look of surprise every time you say something he doesn’t expect. Slowly, get’s up from his chair. Never taking a step further as he drops to his knees, crawling forwards until he’s right infant of you. The room is not that big at all so it doesn’t take him long. Now, his wide, doe eyes look at you. Inquisitive and aroused and it turns you on even more. He’s all man with hard ridges and bulging muscles but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you feel like at the centre of his world.

“Are... are you going to- to make me eat your pussy?” the explicit question sends your nerve endings on fire.

You’re a second away from grabbing his hair and shoving him right between your legs but the way his soft mouth says the dirty words - it makes you feel a very different kind of way. Now it’s you who can’t stop staring at him. Thinking about what else he has up his sleeves. You expected him to be vocal but never this. He is bold and shy all at the same time.

“Would you like that, Jungkook?” His eyes drop between your legs again, watching the way your panties cling to your increasingly wet folds.

Jungkook is moving between your legs more, eagerly nodding so the strands of his fringe rustle up and down in his face. His arms are going under your thighs, gropping them for good measure before he looks up at you with those eyes again.

“Please.” He’s almost whispering, longing lacing his every word. “Please, y/n. Please let me taste you. ‘wanna taste you.”

His words have turned into pleas and the pleas turn into kisses alongside your inner thighs and then any place Jungkook can get his lips and tongue on. Everything else is forgotten. It’s just you laying on his bed while Jungkook tries to get a taste of you anyway he can. His lips travel up to your covered mound, never daring to move the piece of fabric holding him back from his destination. Opting to only kiss over it, lick his way up your clit through the thin cotton that’s now moulding to your swollen folds.

“Do- do you deserve it, Jungkook? For putting me through so much h-headache? Oh.” Your moans accompany almost every word. Fingers laced into Jungkook’s luscious hair as he continues his hurried tasting of your arousal.

His response is mumbled between your legs. You watch his veiny hands repeatedly grab at the flesh of your thighs. Kneading it desperately like he’s trying to distract himself from doing something else entirely. A yelp leaves his mouth at your tug on his hair. Pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He looks like an addict when he is looking at you like you’re giving him his fix and God, you want to kiss his swollen lips.

“Answer me, brat. Do you deserve anything from me?”

“N-No.”

“Right. Yet you’re still begging to taste me like the needy little slut you are. Hm?”

Jungkook is whimpering, his lids fluttering. He doesn’t expect the smack across his face, a little too hard for what you had originally aimed for. The surprise is evident and for a moment you’re worried he’s going to be upset. Instead, his breathing is picking up even further.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-Yes... Noona.” The breath is almost sucked out of you at his timid tone. And it only makes you want to push him further.

“Good boy.” His eyes are lighting up at the praise like hundreds of little galaxies called them home.

Sliding down towards the edge of the bed, you let your legs hang off, letting your toes touch the floor. Jungkook is still on his knees, watching you manoeuvre yourself around his bed before you reach for the hem of your dress. Watching his every facial expression as you strip. He looks up at you wide-eyed, taking in your soaked underwear and the thin black bra where your nipples pointed right at him. You can see his hands twitch by his side. You’d pushed them off you when you’d changed your position and were surprised at how calm and obedient Jungkook was being. Contrast to how much of an argumentative brat he was. But you had a sneaking feeling that he liked it when you called him that.

You were trying to remain calm yourself. Not give too much away on the dilemma you held inside your head. Thinking if you should take this any further. Though it was a little too late now, you guess. You were practically naked, wetter than ever before as Jungkook watched you with his wide doe eyes. Hunger evident with every flit of his gaze. You would feel cruel if you stopped at this point. So you let the rational part of your brain take a backseat and letting the consequences of tonight berate you in the morning after. Sliding your palms down your stomach, straight inside your soaked panties, you stroke yourself ever so slowly. Holding his heated gaze with cloudy eyes.

“Noona...” It sends another jolt of arousal throughout your already overheated body. He’s biting his plump bottom lip, sliding his hand up and down carelessly on to his erection that had grown considerably in the past fifteen minutes. Jungkook looks like the embodiment of desperation and it makes you rub yourself a little faster. Every time your fingers come in contact with your sensitised clit, you bite the urge to buck your hips brazenly.

“Yeah, baby? You want to see?” You hold out your wet fingers to him and in a flash, you feel his warm mouth around your digits. He moans loudly like he’s been relieved after years of drought.

“M-More. Please, Noona. I’ll do anything please, please.” Now that didn’t take long. Chuckling at his agonised face, you throw your head back, enjoying the relief your own fingers brought.

But you were torturing yourself too at this point. You wanted to replace your small fingers with Jungkook’s bigger and more vascular hands. You remember the view of his body from the glorified hookup app. Knew what he was hiding under the baggy shirt. The sweet whimpers and ‘please’ sounds coming from him were a delicacy on their own.

“Take my panties off then. With your mouth. Don’t use your hands... or else.” Your tone is stern enough to give you that satisfying flash going through his eyes.

In seconds, he’s leaning forward on his hands and knees, eyes never leaving yours as he bites the cotton on your hips, dragging it down. The act itself is a little clumsy. In his haste, Jungkook is taking twice as long should he use his hands. But something about his complete compliance, his willingness to be accepted by you and his utter devotion to pleasing you is the ultimately your undoing. This may be a power trip but you were thoroughly getting ruined during it.

At last, the cotton has reached your ankles. Quickly, you shrug off your dress as well, completely naked. He’s placed small kisses in greetings before he takes them off completely. Out of breath and out of his mind. The glazed look has taken a permanent vacation in his eyes and you were getting high on it. Jungkook was a communicator. If it wasn’t his mouth relaying the naughty words to you then his eyes were holding yours hostage, smouldering.

Bracing your hands behind yourself and never breaking away from his eyes, your ankles part. Jungkook’s eyes are automatically falling on the mess between your legs but he doesn’t dare move. Awaiting your instructions. Jerking your chin towards his general direction, you silently bring his attention back to his overly dressed self.

“Lose the pants.” His hands make fast work of his jeans. Falling back on to the ground to push them off.

“Uh-uh. Keep them on.” His eyes widen at your command to keep the underwear on. You weren’t about to just let him have it.

Not yet.

“Noona...” The high pitched noise of protest only makes your nostrils flare. You wanted to live out your every dirty fantasy with him if he sounded this sweet with just watching. The desire was making your head spin and your palms sweat.

“Yeah?”

“Please... I’ll do anything.” His eyes twinkle in the dim light as he kneels infant of you.

“I’ll eat you out for hours, let you sit on me face until I can’t breathe. Let you ride my tongue until you can’t cum anymore. Just please... fuck me.” The last two words leave him in such agony that for a second it truly sounds like he’s in pain.

Which is ridiculous given the ted talk he just gave on the Perfect Words To Say to Ruin Y/N and Her Panties. You’re the one currently in pain from clenching your jaw so tight. Resolve like a skinny rubber band about to snap. Dirty talk was the chink in your armour. And by the way Jungkook’s face lit up and his words became a lot more sure and confident, you knew that he was weaponising his skill to control you fully. And you needed to put him in his place before you gave up your pride and rode him until you ran out of stamina or died from your body overheating. Whichever happened first.

“Get up.”

“Fuck yes-“ Jungkook’s blubbering about how you’re the hottest person he’s ever seen and that he knows he can blow your mind while you push him back on the bed and straddle his meaty thighs. When he begins to push down your panties, you push his hands off and rest them on his sides.

“Keep them there or you won’t be coming. Understood?”

His curls bounce around his face as he nods, chest heaving when he looks at your hips move over the biggest bulge you’ve felt under you. You would’ve thought that he’d stuffed his underwear with socks if you couldn’t feel the burning heat his cock was pressing in to you, even through his boxers. Each roll of your hips pressed him to your every crevice like two puzzle pieces fitting in to complete the picture.

“Oh fuck-... You feel so good noona. I-I’m going to cum if you keep going.” He’s resorted to use his hands at his sides to push him upwards, pressing himself with every gyrate of your hips downward on him.

“Yeah? you’re gunna cum from just this? Is noona making you feel really good?”

Jungkook is lost in soaking up every sensation like a drunkard. Gaze not leaving where your hips met. Furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration as he thrust his hips up, rocking you off balance slightly. Your hands slide into his sweaty curls, pulling them hard enough to yank his beautiful face up and close to your own.

“Answer me what I ask you a question.” And he whines. Or moans. Nevertheless it’s a lethal mixture of the two and you’re about to kiss him senseless.

“Yes. I-I feel really good. Noona is- oh fuck- g-gunna make me cum.”

“And are you going to?” He looks up at you nervously, trying to speaking amidst every roll of your flaming core onto his dick. It was getting harder and harder for you to speak as well.

“N-No?”

“Good. Because only good boys get to cum. Not needy sluts like you.”

Now Jungkook whimpers like a wounded animal. Because you’ve upped the ante. Holding onto his shoulders while you grind down on his throbbing cock just the right angle so your clit is receiving the mind-numbingly pleasurable stimulation. You were going to cum any minute and it looked as if he was too.

“F-Fuck. I’m going to cum Jungkook. Your cock feels so good.”

“Noona please. Please s-stop. I-I’m going to cum-“

“That’s not my fucking problem. If you want me to fuck you then you better not. Understood?”

He looks utterly panicked. Torn between letting himself go to the unbelievable pleasure of this act alone and wanting to hold back and obey your every command. Jungkook’s lip is bitten red, chest heaving and eyes watering as he watches the erotic sight of your brazen bouncing on his lap. You’re putting on a show just to make it that much more difficult for him to hold back. But he somehow does. Watching your face contort with pleasure as your head is thrown back. Your moans are loud and lewd. Designed just to rile him up to the point of breaking.

“Oh god. I’m- I’m gunna cum baby.” With a shout, you’re riding out wave after wave of the liquid pleasure running through your veins like molten gold.

It takes a solid minute for your eyes to focus on a singular object. Or a person. More specifically, an incredibly handsome, glistening, starry eyed, muscular, put-micheal-angelo’s-david-to-shame, strikingly adorable man. Jungkook looked on the verge of losing his sanity. Yet, he didn’t stop watching you collect yourself, flicking the stray strands over your shoulder before you pressed your mouth to his.

You brought your mouth to his and kissed him hungrily. When your lips met, you heard him make a tiny sound. His body went rigid, and he wasn’t reciprocating. You think it might have been down to shock, though, because when your tongue slid past the seam of his lips, he opened them willingly and trembled against you.

Your fingers dug into his thighs, and he pulls you closer. You were on fire, felt like you were melting into him. Never before had a single kiss gotten you so worked up. She tasted like chocolate and strawberries. Jungkook rocked forward, and then you felt his tongue move expertly against yours. Of its own accord, a groan emanated from deep in your chest. When he brought his hands to your neck and massaged your throat, you whimper. He was hard as a rock and you finally wanted to reward him for holding out this long.

He’s chasing your lips when you break away, sliding his kisses down your neck as if breaking the contact will be fatal for him. “You did so good baby. Such a good boy.”

The praise seems to rejuvenate his body. Not that he needed to. He was bursting at the seems with testosterone. The longer he went on without a release, the more unhinged Jungkook seemed. The incongruence of his raw masculinity with his alarmingly meek behaviour towards you was something you didn’t understand but it affected you the most. He surprised you with every move and you wanted nothing more than to own him completely.

Jungkook makes a noise in his throat at the praise, sliding his hands down to caress the globes of your ass. “I’ve been a good boy. Now fuck me.”

His words are steady, deliberate and to the point. Scratch everything you said about Jungkook being meek. They send shudders down your spine where his hands reside. This was a man who looked on the verge of tearing something apart. And judging from the current situation, he was going to be tearing you apart. You’d let him, gladly. But being the cocktease you are- you push him even more.

“And if I don’t, little boy? Gunna beg?” A heartbeat later, you’re the one on the soft mattress and it’s Jungkook that’s hovering over you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Then I’ll fuck you noona.”

You’re not too mad because you’re wetter than before and the change in his demeanour has you besides yourself with the need to feel him inside. Jungkook’s teeth are tugging on your hardened nipples. Circling them with his tongue before sucking the puffy buds tenderly. The pressure of his suction is so delicious that you might just cum from this.

“God! Jungkook, b-baby please. Fuck your noona.” He grins around a nipple, hands sliding inside your soaked core.

“I don’t know. Maybe I should make you wait like you made me. Hm?”

“Don’t be a brat. I’ll stuff your mouth next time with a sock Jeon J- oh fuck!”

He’d slid down your body, his kissing every inch. Your stomach, your hip bones, your thighs.

“I’d rather it be your pussy.” He whispered, bringing his mouth to your wetness, and then licked.

“Ahhh,” you cried out, clutching a handful of his hair. Jungkook chuckled and went at you in earnest. You were so soft and silky beneath his tongue. He met your gaze from below and came up for air. Jungkook watched you for a second before dipping his wet mouth lower again. The noises of your arousal pornographic. He saw you fist the sheets in your hands, your hips rising up off the bed when he sucked your clit into his mouth and flicked it with his tongue. He added some fingers to the equation, savoring the hot, tight feel of you.

“Please,” you murmured. “More.”

So he gave you more. He gave you everything. Before he knew it, you were touching your breasts, pinching your nipples as he devoured you, and you swear you could have come from the sight of Jungkook between your legs alone. he was simply glorious. Your voice was starting to get hoarse. Getting close to the edge before Jungkook ripped his mouth away.

“No! Jungkook, please.” You’re frustrated and angry and horny that he would do that. Even if you did the same thing to him.

He was testing you once again but the raw need in his eyes told you that you were testing him too.

“I’ll fuck you now noona. Nice and good. You want this cock right?” He’s holding his straining erection heavily, sliding down his boxers to discard them besides his bed.

You moan out your answer, opening your legs wide in invitation.

“Just fuck me before I change my mind.”

“Yeah?” His tone is mocking. His eyes twinkling with a cheeky grin on his face. You almost get up to kiss him because he looked so fucking adorable and hot and sexy at the same time.

Thankfully - or not? - he’s pulling you to the edge of the bed and in seconds, he has pulled you close to his chest. He circles the engorged head of him in your slit before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust. The sheer girth of him has you yelping, needing to adjust to the length of him as well. But Jungkook doesn’t allow you the courtesy of that.

His legs are spread in a powerful stance as his hands grip your legs from behind the knees. And then he’s thrusting. He’s fucking into you so deep, you can feel him in your throat. You must look like a fish at this very moment with your mouth opening and closing without any real sound. He feels hot and thick, like molten lava in your veins. you’re finally finding your voice when angles his hips slightly to the left - biting a spot that has you blinking up at the ceiling full of stars.

“Jungkook! Oh god. Oh f-fuck. You’re so good baby. S-So good.”

“Yeah? You like how deep I am in your pussy? Answer me noona.” He’s quickening his pace, snapping his hips punishingly making you release a guttural scream.

“I love it. So much.”

You watch the sweat drip off his forehead, the dimples in his cheek now very prominent as his tongue peeks out the corner of his mouth. He’s a sight you want to imprint on the back of your eyelids. You can see his lose his resolve, the creases in his forehead slowly deepening as the pleasure becomes too much for him.

“God you feel so wet and tight n-noona. You look so hot when you cum. I w-wanna make you squirt.”

Your eyes bulge out of your head at his admissions. It seems like he’s lost all his filter, chasing the mind numbing pleasure he felt earlier. His words are bringing you even closer to the edge and your throat now begs for relief when you let out another yell as he pushes you up the bed while still fully seated inside you.

“I’m gunna cum noona. I j-just need to... to- I don’t. I don’t wanna h-hurt you-“ His sweet face is contorted with worry, still thrusting steadily. You finally understand his point after a few seconds. Taking you twice as long to comprehend anything with the plethora of feelings your body was feeling right now.

Cupping his face, you told yours upwards to place a small kiss on his wet lips. “It’s okay baby. You won’t break me. Just let go.”

Jungkook’s eyes are glassy and he stares in yours for a moment too long because your heart is doing summersaults, heading straight for your mouth. Too much emotion crammed into his big eyes and you just wanted to strangely hug him close to your chest. This day has been strange enough - so you do. You Pull Jungkook close to you. His face tucks itself in the crevice of your neck, whining and moaning. His breath tickles and sends shivers down your spine. And then he circles his hips against yours.

From the hard and deep fucking, Jungkook circles his hips into yours. Slowly at first, his pelvis rubbing against your clit in just the right way before he speeds up. His hands find their way down your back again, pushing your hips up into his own, making your centres feel everything. You can feel him in every fold of your core and it’s all too much.

“Oh god.” Your hands scratching down his back, head tilted back, legs closing around his waist tightly.

“That’s it noona. Cum for me. Please, please. ‘Wanna feel you around my cock. ‘Wanna feel y-your cunt devour me. Cum.”

You scream so loud that you can hear a ringing in your ears. Vision flashing white as the indescribable pleasure starts in the pit of your stomach and coarse through your limbs all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes. It’s all consuming and breathtaking. Unexpected.

“I-I can’t hold it anymore. Can I-“ You’re unable to speak.

Still reeling from your orgasm, twitching from the sensitivity, but you nod anyway. You wanted Jungkook to let go inside of you. Wanted to give him the same pleasure he gave you. He was incredibly ethereal atop you. You wanted to see him come undone. And Jungkook was too far gone to think twice before hitching one of your legs up, the other arm grabbing the headboard as he thrust up inside you once again.

“Fuck, yes. God, you’re so good you’re so good. I could fuck you forever noona.”

His eyes are watering, tucking his face back into your neck again before he pistons his hips against yours rhythmically. The only sounds in the room being the tacky noise of skin slapping against skin, the obscene squelch from the steady arousal leaking between you both. You’re so delirious from the mix of pleasure and the deliciously addicting pain. AT some point, you’ve stopped screaming and only whimpers leave past your lips, legs falling lax around Jungkook and hands fisting the sheets.

“Cum Jungkook. P-Please baby. Cum for n-noona.”

“‘gunna cum. Am I good noona? your good boy?”

“You’re the best Jungkookie. Cum for your noona.”

“Fuck! Y/n, f-fuck.” He’s shouting something you can’t properly hear because of the ringing in your ears from your own release. Filling you with his hot release. The intense pressure that had been building between you has snapped the frail rubber band in your stomach again. And seems like Jungkook’s had too.

Moments pass, both of you trying to suck in air like it’s the last supply available. Then, Jungkook’s flushed face appears in front of yours with his signature cheeky smirk. He’s glowing.

“You squirted.”

“Shut up!” Your ears must be the shade of a tomato now as you swat his back for the comment. He lays besides you, cuddling up to your side with his leg laying on top of yours. Clinging to you like a koala and it’s too damn adorable. Damn it.

“It was hot. You’re amazing.” Your heart flutters a little too violently at that and you have to suck in another breathe, pulling the sheets off of him and completely bundling them on you.

“Hey!”

“Hm? You’re going to finish that assessment.” You grin innocently at him and try your hardest to not start howling with laughter when you can see his face fall almost in slow motion.

“Are you serious?” You just sent him a kiss before settling in his bed for maybe a 12 hour nap. Just a tiny nap.

“Noona!”

“I’ll give you head when you’re done. Be a good boy.”

With the most adorable pout you’ve ever seen on a grown man, you watch Jungkook pull up his boxers, stomping away to his study desk.

“Wake me up when you’re done Jungkookie.” Your sweet tone does little to get the pout off his face but he does smile the whole time he’s typing.

Of course, not that he let you see that

a/n: liked it? hated it? let me know!!

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #hope u like it!!!

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welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Three Strikes [you're out]

It was his fault, really.

Wearing that jersey at Citi Field practically required Nina to hate the mass of muscle sitting in front of her on sight. Plus, he didn't know how to score a baseball game. So, honestly, it made sense. To hate him. Ardently, even. To push buttons, metaphorical or otherwise. A game within the game.

And, if, she found herself having fun, well, that was neither here nor there.

———

Rating: T, with sports and kissing because of who I am as a person Word Count: 9.1 K, also because of who I am as a person AN: I don’t know, guys. I got thoughts. I got feelings. The only way I know how deal with either of those things is to write about them with sports and kissing. Did I suggest that being a Mets fan was a bit like being Grisha? Perhaps! Perhaps, I did! If this is out of character just...don’t tell me.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

———

The suggestion that an idea was capable of boiling a person’s blood, even in the most abstract and metaphorical sense, had always appealed to Nina. Not in a particularly violent way, of course. More in regards to the visual.

Conjured up all sorts of possibilities.

Little bubbles beneath her skin, searing emotion through her veins that inevitably led to tufts of smoke pouring out of her ears. Like one of those old cartoon characters, she could now only dimly remember. In moments like this, especially. When she wasn’t quite boiling, but certainly racing toward the vast and admittedly surprising precipice of abject hatred. Directed almost solely toward the mass of muscle who dared to wear a Chase Utley jersey to Citi Field on a Thursday in May.

He needed a haircut, she thought.

The muscle. Not Chase Utley. She couldn’t possibly care less about the state of Chase Utley’s hair. Unless he was choking on it, somewhere. Obviously. Then Nina cared very much. About Chase Utley. And this guy. With too-long strands that she was starting to believe fell almost artfully across the back of a vaguely golden-skinned neck, as if they existed solely to torment her.

On a Thursday in May.

Sitting there, with a seat digging into the middle of her spine and her frustration threatening the enamel on the back of her teeth, Nina was loath to admit, even to herself, that she couldn’t stop staring at him. Partially because of the hair. Which looked very—pushable, really. As far as her finger’s potential went. But mostly because of everything else. Watching the muscle was a bit like watching a statue at the Met, waiting with bated breath for it to actually surge to life because when she was that same kid who watched cartoons on weekend mornings, she rather strongly believed that the statues at the Met were wholly capable of smiling and turning and living. Artwork prone to the mystical and potentially magical.

She blamed Ben Stiller for that, honestly.

Amy Adams to a slightly lesser degree.

Robin Williams would suffer no criticism in this argument, naturally.

The muscle shifted.

Twitched just a hint in his seat. Altered the angle of his, frankly, impressively wide shoulders. Rolled his neck between them. The seat was too small. He was too big. That jersey must have been ancient.

And, really, when it came down to it, Nina hated him most for the pencil. Tucked behind his right ear, it looked comically small whenever he pulled it between his fingers, scratching across a legitimate scorebook because in the thirty-seven minutes or so she’d spent observing this fascinating specimen of humanity, she’d noticed it was, in fact, a scorebook.

Not a piece of paper.

Not a printout.

Not even the one she was only vaguely confident they handed out in the rotunda downstairs.

An actual scorebook.

That he brought with him to Citi Field.

She glanced down to make sure she had not actually burst into literal flames in section 205. Row F. Seat 27. No such luck. Weird.

The pencil was back in his hand. One leg crossed the other, leaving his knee propped in the air, and there was just so much of the muscle that it was a rather small miracle of an exceptionally narrow field of science that it didn’t collide with anyone around him. Instead, it provided a built-in desk, that stupid scorebook propped up against jean-covered skin and even more muscles, pushing against fabric like they were personally offended by the concept of the blue-colored prison.

Nina bit her lip.

Tried to keep breathing. Because fires required oxygen, and there could be no boiling without fire and—

“‘Scuse me, ‘scuse me, ‘scuse me, just trying to—” Blood flooded Nina’s mouth, making it impossible for her to open that same mouth and let out the laugh already pushing against her lips. There were at least four little wrinkles pinched across the small expanse of Jesper’s nose, two boxes of popcorn clutched in either one of his hands and a soda between the slight bend of his elbow. He tiptoed his way around disgruntled fans, glaring at a few red jerseys for good measure. As if he actually wanted to be there. Nina kept biting her lip. “Just trying to get back to my seat,” Jesper finished, “won’t bother you again, rest of the game, absolutely, one-hundred percent guaranteed.”

Nina’s lips tilted up.

Scrambling to her feet, she couldn’t quite balance on the edge of the seat that immediately swung back up. Something sticky stuck to the bottom of her shoe and eventually, she would find herself wondering why she didn’t simply move into Jesper’s seat. For a myriad of reasons, she assumed.

Some of which might have mystical and potentially.

Goddamn, Ben Stiller.

“Accommodating sort of group, isn’t it?” Jesper mumbled, pushing past her and Nina had to applaud his dexterity. Not a kernel lost in the battle.

“Should have waited ‘til the middle of the inning. This is just bad form on your part.” “And miss all—” He waved an imperious hand toward the field. “What am I missing, exactly?”

Opening her mouth, Nina was certain she’d come up with a reasonable explanation for the romantic nature of baseball, only she was a little busy. Keeping her head connected to the rest of her body.

Snapping to the left, her breath caught. In that dramatic sort of way that always seemed like the perfect soundtrack to any great sporting moment. Eyes wide and fingers digging into her palm, hope mixed with the bubbles and the boils, and she barely noticed the awkward angle of her bent knees. Or just how close she was to—

Him.

The muscle.

She heard his pencil drop, she swore.

Oh, Gods, but he had blue eyes. Sharp and staring right at her, Nina resisted the very real urge to let herself melt right there. In section 205. Row F. Seat 27. Well, in front of seat 27, technically.

Pulling her knee back did not do that same knee any favors, muscles almost audibly objecting to the force of Nina’s split-second reaction, but then she forgot about the pain and the concept of depth perception. The yell tore itself out of her lungs, found its way to the rest of the noise circling the stadium, wrapping its way around people until the hope of that one, singular moment settled on the tips of her eyelashes and the backs of her heels and she wasn’t sure if she heard him at first.

No one should be capable of possessing a voice quite so gruff, that’s why.

“Not going to make it.”

Glaring at the monstrous mass of muscle and questionably good hair wasn’t so much as a decision as something far closer to instinct, pulling her brows together and letting her tongue push at the bottom of her teeth, and he—

Looked. Right at her. And her tongue.

Shoulders tensing, a hint of nervous energy appeared in those same ridiculously blue eyes, gone almost before Nina had a chance to realize it was there at all and she didn’t see the play. Heard it, though. The groans and the grunts, complete despair, and the first shreds of desolation drowning out the hope and pulling it from a grip that was always a little tenuous.

No home run. No hit. Just a run-of-the-mill fly ball in center field.

One side of the muscle’s mouth tugged up.

“Told you.” “Oh, fuck off.”

Surprise, she thought, was a very good look on him. Most of them would be, she imagined. But right then, on a Thursday in May, with two outs in the bottom of the fourth, Nina relished the surprise.

And sat back down.

To be a Mets fan, was to believe in the impossible.

The amazing, even.

It was right there in the slogans. The advertising campaigns. On a variety of shirts, both legitimate and those sold at the bottom of the 7-train stairs. To accept the amazing, to wish for it, even, was part and parcel of the history of an organization that relished its underdog status. Thrived in its role, the second team in a city that toed the line between excess and restraint.

Winning with this team was unexpected and unpredictable. Came without much pomp. Certainly no circumstance. Only a few trades that drew national eyes and back page headlines. More often than not, this was a team that discovered amazing when it simply should not exist.

Misfits who created something wonderful. Who sparked something among people who, at least for nine innings, believed orange was a worthwhile color to wear. Who smiled at a mascot with a massive baseball for a head. And his wife, who sported some rather impressive eyelashes, actually.

To be a Mets fan, was to understand heartache.

To accept being the butt of jokes across decades.

Every year, the knowing smiles came. Paying goddamn Bobby Bonilla. Cracks about pyramid schemes and owners who couldn’t find their way out of a money-based paper bag, team antics that occasionally drew those headlines, and players who fell in wayward ditches on their farms, ending their season before it ever really began.

Winning didn’t come often, but it was loud when it did. The crack of a bat and a ball finding the back of a glove, shoulders slamming into the left-field wall with its massive M&Ms ad. Feedback from a microphone as David Wright thanked the Seven Line Army, in all their orange-clad glory, memories of that near-perfect October and what could have been imprinting themselves across a generation.

To be a Mets fan, was to live and die with each pitch. Each hit. To hold your breath and wait for magic that lingered beneath skin and forced its way into bloodstreams.

To be a Mets fan, was to hate anyone wearing a Chase Utley jersey.

“Stew, stew, stewing, a rather hearty beef stew.” Nina narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?” “You are stewing,” Jesper said pointedly, as if it was an obvious affliction and they both hadn’t casually descended into madness caused by extra innings. Putting a runner on second was supposed to help avoid all of this. Runs were meant to be scored in extra innings. Nothing had happened yet. “Any more and that little divot between your eyebrows is never going to disappear. Then what will we do?” Answering would only acknowledge that the divot was more like a rather obvious ravine now, and the little half-moon circles left by her nails were going to be permanently etched into Nina’s palm.

He was still keeping score.

How he hadn’t run out of columns in his scorebook was beyond her, but Nina figured if the muscle was someone willing to purchase a scorebook, he probably made sure it was one that also included, like, fifteen innings on each page.

If they made it to the fifteenth inning, she would cry.

It would be embarrassing.

Jesper probably wouldn’t come back for the rest of the series. If she cried, that was. And she needed him to come back for the rest of the series. Sitting anywhere else wasn’t all that appealing, even if it might have been warmer up there now.

She wrapped her arms around herself. Better to stew with, that way.

“Do games normally last this long?”

Nina shook her head.

Jesper groaned. Loudly, complete with his head thrown back for extra emphasis and even clearer frustration and she didn’t think she imagined the way the muscle tensed. Staring at him was becoming something of a pastime in the middle of a more acceptable one. Light didn’t quite reflect from the hair she was starting to become just a hint obsessed with, but it certainly appeared determined to try, and his ability to hold so much tension in the region directly surrounding his jaw would have been impressive in any other circumstance.

As it was, Nina was a little concerned about the state of the muscle’s back molars.

It was why she didn’t react as quickly as she should have. Or so she would argue for the rest of time.

Once she got the popcorn off her feet.

A waterfall of butter-coasted kernels landed on her shoes, a few bouncing as she did, thrust out of her seat like a canon. Whatever bit of her heart that existed solely to document the ebbs and flows of the New York Mets success flew into her throat, where it immediately took up residence directly in the middle. Wide eyes immediately started to water, which brought her straight back to the entirely metaphorical cliff of her potential embarrassment and the muscle was leaning forward.

With his own brand of emotion.

No obvious tension, just that steady sort of hope born among the din of baseball-type sounds and, even more importantly, baseball-type feelings and Nina was mumbling.

“Turn ‘em, turn ‘em, turn ‘em, two, two, two, two, get the—” Suggesting she screamed made it seem as if she weren’t in complete control of her faculties. And despite the potential of extra innings insanity, Nina was just as lucid as ever and just as capable of throwing her hands in the air, while also screaming.

Undeniably so.

As soon as the ball jumped over the outstretched glove at short, Francisco Lindor’s lanky and overpaid body stretched out across the infield grass. Curses flowed from Nina’s mouth, some of them sharp enough to make even Jesper choke on whatever bits of oxygen he was able to gulp down, and she didn’t stop. Kept screaming and shouting, increasingly mobile hands and dexterous shoulders, miming her own throw home because whoever was playing left field was not moving quickly enough for her.

He didn’t make the throw.

Not in time, at least.

Dirt flew into the air as a leg stretched over home plate and the umpire’s arms were nearly as impressive as Nina’s. Marking the runner safe and giving the Phillies their first and only lead of the night.

Frustration mingled with out-of-place despair, far too early in the series and the season to be feeling quite as desolate as Nina suddenly was and, really, she wasn’t sure why she looked. Something about magnets, or simple curiosity, but her eyes drifted and her head tilted and she felt her jaw drop as his stupid, little pencil scratched out E6 in his scorebook.

“What the hell, man?”

He didn’t turn. Figured. Screaming was becoming her base setting, so Nina wasn’t entirely surprised that the muscle didn’t acknowledge it, but then she was moving and leaning and tapping on a shoulder that somehow seemed sturdier when she had kneed it several innings earlier.

“That’s not an error.” Moving in slow motion only made sense if the man was, in fact, a piece of marble. Strands of hair stuck to his forehead, acting as little paths toward his eyes and they were still blue. Good, that was good. Bad, that was bad.

Jesper wasn’t even trying to contain his laughter.

“Excuse me?” “Not an error,” Nina repeated, careful to pause between each word for emphasis. The muscle didn’t flinch. Stared at her incredulously, though. “Did you not see that hop?” “I saw your multi-million dollar man throw his arm out without much regard to actually making a routine play. Is that what you’re talking about?” “How is that possibly an error?” He lifted a shoulder. She was boiling over. “Should have made the play.” “It was impossible!" “C’mon now,” he chuckled, and the good fought with the bad. A symphony of contradictions blaring between Nina’s ears. Neither of which were steaming, it seemed. “Nothing is impossible in baseball.” “That was!” “Might need to come up with a better argument.” “Home scorer is not going to give Francisco an error on that. He had to dive!” “Maybe he should have been in better position, to begin with.” “The shift was on.” “Well, the shift is ruining baseball, so—” Nina gagged. Let her tongue push between rows of teeth that she couldn’t believe were going to survive the rest of the night if the acid churning in her esophagus was any indication. He looked. Again. Whatever heat lapping at the base of her spine was only marginally distracting. “A baseball purist cannot possibly wear the jersey you are wearing.” “I wasn’t aware of the rules, but, please, go on.” “Fuck. Off.” “Getting less and less creative.” His eyes hadn’t moved. As if he was documenting each twitch of her lips for his own personal posterity. Nina found she didn’t mind the idea as much as she should.

Jesper was going to crack a rib.

“Chase Utley is an asshole who doesn’t know how to slide.” “Ok.” “An asshole!” “I heard you the first time,” he said, losing the war with his lips. Curled up, they cut across the serious mask his face had become in the world’s least serious conversation. It was nice that Jesper ended up crying before Nina, honestly. “And he wasn’t a Phil when he hurt your guy, so I don’t think that should count at all.” Nina did not know what noise she made. Wasn’t human. Hurt a little. “Did you just call him a Phil?” “Guys,” Jesper mumbled, but she couldn’t be bothered with something as menial as the bottom of the inning when the muscle in front of her kept doing that thing with his eyes and his hair and—

Reaching out, she managed to bypass his rather impressive reaction time, grabbing the pencil before he could stop her and the crack of it between her fingers was as loud as any grand slam this slightly ugly ballpark had ever witnessed.

Not that Nina would ever admit she thought Citi Field was slightly to moderately ugly.

It was the color scheme. Way too much green involved.

She gave herself exactly seven seconds to relish the look of pure amazement on the muscle’s face.

“Use a pen,” Nina sneered, “at least stand by your scoring convictions.” “Chase Utley is going to be in the Hall of Fame.” “As a Phil?” “World Series champion.”

His ability to emphasize words with meaningful pauses was far better than Nina’s. “It wasn’t an error.” “You’re paying that guy more than anyone in the world deserves to get paid, if he’s going to lay out for a liner, then he should be able to make the play, don’t you think?” Nina bit her lip. Boiled. Stewed.

Ah, damn.

Her silence was an answer in the middle of a sea made up of equally disheartened fans. Who all suddenly remembered how terrible they looked in orange. Always worse after a loss.

The muscle nodded. Once. Exhaled. Through his nose. As if he’d won, and not just his team, and Nina didn’t offer to replace his pencil.

On a Friday night in May, Nina genuinely believed that he wouldn’t come back. Hoped for it, even. And something else almost akin to the exact opposite.

Both were very strange feelings to feel contained in one human, body. Draped, even as it was, in blue and orange and New York City’s less famous pinstripes. With PIAZZA splashed across her back, Nina felt as if she were obligated to sit a little straighter. As if slumping in her seat — by herself tonight because Genya was not at all interested in sitting in the stands and Zoya would have laughed at the suggestion, and Jesper had to get back to the Crow Club — would somehow tarnish the reputation of a name that didn’t belong to her.

Didn’t it, though? Just a little. Wasn’t that how sports worked? Throwing yourself into the camaraderie with both feet and occasionally flailing arms, willing to sit in an uncomfortable seat that she’d have to mention to Nikolai at some point because these were starting to feel a bit like torture devices masquerading as plastic, and a piece of paper floated onto her lap.

He’d folded the piece of paper.

The muscle. Not Nikolai. Who was sitting in the owner’s box, in fact. Nina assumed those seats weren’t rising up in revolt against him.

The muscle wasn’t wearing a jersey this time. A cup of what smelled like over-brewed coffee, though, was held tightly in his left hand, while the right clutched his scorebook as if it were made of gold. Nina’s tongue swiped her teeth.

He watched.

Documented.

Kept track.

“What the hell is this?” “Is that your favorite curse, you think?” “Why are you throwing paper airplanes at me?” Lifting shoulders appeared to be his default form of response. “Felt just quirky enough not to be overtly threatening.” “Because of the guns generally associated with fighter planes?” “What do you know about fighter planes?” Rolling her whole head did not get her a smile. Or even a hint of such a thing. It did get him a few grumblings of frustration from those whose view he was blocking. Because there was so goddamn much of him. Imposing, that was the word for it. Taking up space and settling into the seat with a near amazing amount of grace, practically folding in on himself, like he was made of smooth lines and crisp edges, capable of soaring through air in a way that belied that flimsy nature of paper airplanes, and there was that word again.

“Always liked the ones that had painted teeth on them,” Nina said, somehow fully prepared for the huff of laughter that fell out of him. He pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket.

To hand to her.

“You would.” “What is that supposed to mean, exactly?” “It means,” he said, nodding at the pen when she kept gaping at it, “that in my limited experience with you, Ms. Met—”

“Thought we covered lack of creativity last night.” He ignored her. Eventually, it might be a good idea to learn his name. Where that might also be the worst idea in the history of the world. Maybe Nikolai could track him down. Like through ticket sales, or something. That seemed like a breach of power, though.

“You do have a rather impressive set of teeth on you, yourself.” “Oh, that’s an insult.” “Should unfold the paper airplane.” Most of her wanted to crumple up the piece of the paper, toss it back in his face and then possibly stab him with his own pen. But Nina also didn’t know the muscle’s name, and cold-blooded murder on a Friday night in May required a certain sense of personalization that they hadn’t quite reached yet. So, there was no crumpling. Her fingers didn’t shake. Her heartbeat held steady in her chest.

Unfolding the paper with his eyes on her, Nina did hold her breath. For eight straight seconds, approximately. Until it all rushed out of her, entirely amazed and perpetually annoyed because the paper airplane left creases between the boxes of what was very clearly her own personal scoresheet.

With provided pen.

“This is a trick.” “That not being a question gives me pause,” he said, but it sounded like an admission. One tinged with regret. Presumably for Chase Utley’s tendency to be a complete and utter asshole. Prone to injuring Mets’ middle infielders.

“Is it not?” He shook his head. And the pen in his hand. “Get to stand by the convictions of your scoring actions.” “Errors occur only on routine plays.” “Yuh-huh.” “You’re here by yourself.” “Also not a question.”

“Or an answer,” Nina pointed out.

“Where’d your friend go?” “What do you put in your coffee?” “Nothing,” he answered, “seriously, where’s the friend?” Something lingered on the edge of the question. Something Nina didn’t want to notice, but couldn’t possibly ignore. Not when it came with concave shoulders, curling toward her like they were preparing themselves to block wind and glares in equal measure. The second of which was really a more pressing problem at the moment.

“Had to work.” “As a stand-up comedian?” “Hardy har har,” Nina grumbled. Leaning back against the force of his ensuing smile was as natural as wearing a Mike Piazza jersey and searching for the prize at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. What she was less prepared for was the ability of that same smile to twist its way between her ribs, lighting another new and imaginary fire and if her mouth dried just a bit, then that was neither here nor there.

Between her and the baseball gods, fickle as they were.

“You don’t put anything in your coffee?” He shook his head. “Sugar makes me nauseous.” “God, what a depressing way to live life.” “Eh, there are things that make up for it.” “Chase Utley?” “I think you might be obsessed,” he said, dropping into his seat so as to avoid being pelted with cheese fries from Shake Shack. The guy three seats away looked real serious. “Going to write him a letter asking for a game of catch?” “You’re making pop culture references.” “Not a question, either.” “No, a stunned statement of fact.” She wanted that laugh on loop. Wanted it to play as the soundtrack for the rest of the night and the rest of the series and quite possibly the rest of her life, lingering softly in the background of everything she did for the rest of forever.

Matching in perfect rhythm to the predisposed nature of her blood to boil.

“Where are all your friends, then?” Nina asked, almost desperate to change the direction of the conversation and her internal dialogue. The blue evolved. Right there in his eyes. Darkened until it looked like the sky before a storm and that was ten-thousand times worse than any other drivel she’d come up with so far.

Licking her lips was idiotic. Naturally, that’s what she did.

“Not here,” he replied, “but I know the hitting coach.” Strictly speaking, that should not have been quite as awe-inducing as it was. Nina hadn’t paid for her tickets, after all. Had no intention of paying for tickets ever again, if she was being honest. So, really, seeing how caution swept the muscle’s face was kind of a dick move.

On her part, specifically.

“Should I be impressed?” Shoulder lift, right on cue. “I knew him in college. Was, uh—” “—Wait, did you play baseball?” Color didn’t rise on his cheeks. Not in any romantic way. Nothing about it was swepping, which was good because the Phillies had won the night before, meaning any sweeping would also guarantee Mets losses. It arrived in splotches. Bits of pink and nearly-red, tiny pinpricks of unregulated emotion that immediately affected the ability of Nina’s pulse to stay even.

She grinned.

Wide and honest, ignoring the strands of hair that fell in her eyes when she let her head fall.

He didn’t look away.

She’d think that was important, later.

“You contain multitudes, Muscle.” “Insulting,” he grumbled. “Quite possibly the tallest man I’ve ever encountered in the flesh.” “That can’t possibly be true.” “You don’t look like a baseball player.” Back to the correct shade of blue. Just for a moment. Disappearing in the haze of a 90 mile per hour fastball. Right up the middle. But Nina had always been fairly good at tracking pitches, and she might not have been a former baseball player, but picking out the slider amongst a never-ending stream of heaters was like her personal superpower.

“So I’ve heard.” “From scouts?” “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Of the professional variety?” “Every now and then.”

Letting out a low whistle, Nina’s spine relaxed. Tension that had taken root between her shoulder blades loosened, watching the face in front of her and the mask it was so obviously clinging to. Kept slipping, though. While staring directly at her.

It was, she would argue, why she did what she did. Without mumbling.

“You wanna sit?” “With you?” “Rude. You threw paper at me.” “It was a well-constructed airplane,” the muscle argued, “so you could also score the game. This was a nice thing I was doing.” “Past tense.” “Am doing,” he corrected. “Currently.”

“That mean you're going to sit?”

She counted. Seconds. Moments. Breaths. Dug her teeth into her lower lip. Against the side of her tongue. He nodded.

And climbed over the seat.

So, that was only going to marginally mess with her brain.

“Alright then,” Nina said, doing her best to flatten her paper against the bend of her knee, “tell me everything about your baseball tale of woe.”

He didn’t.

At least not at first.

It took until the fourth inning for them to begrudgingly agree that mowing patterns in the outfield was an abstract art form that did not often get the credit it deserved, before deciding, in no uncertain terms, that the NL East boasted some of the better uniform options in all baseball, even if that was mostly because of the Marlins and—

His hand moved to his shoulder.

The right one. More than once. Gently massaged the muscle there, a slight grimace that Nina only noticed because she was sitting squarely in the middle of objectification and she didn’t even know his name. Yet, she reminded herself.

They’d get there.

They didn’t. Not in that game, anyway.

A Saturday afternoon in May didn’t present the same sort of chill that required scalding hot coffee with absolutely nothing else in it, but Nina was playing with hope and resting on her not-so-cautious expectations. Seeing how wide his eyes could get was extra.

Sugar on top, if you will.

They got very wide. Frozen, even. Stuck halfway down the row, still no jersey, just his dropped jaw and slumped, possibly injured shoulders, ignoring the jabs from nearby season ticket holders who were starting to believe this mountain of muscle existed solely to block their sight lines.

Nina figured that’s what it was, at least.

He smiled.

That smile. Her smile. When she’d begun to claim it, she couldn’t begin to pinpoint, but it might have been six and two-thirds innings into last night’s game when his left arm had bumped her right, just enough warmth wafting off him to be noticeable. To leave goosebumps in his awake, too.

“There’s no sugar in it,” she promised, “so you don’t have to worry for the state of your stomach.” “I didn’t once think you were trying to poison me.” “High praise.” “Deservedly so.” She flushed. Ducked her eyes. Tried not to chew her tongue in half, or allow the burning-hot blood racing through every single one of her extremities to burst its way out of her skin. That would be off-putting. And traumatic.

“Here,” he added, tugging another folded piece of paper out of his back pocket, “for you.” “Are you printing these off in the hotel?” “Should be a private investigator, Ms. Met.” “Did your coach make you stay in Queens, Muscle?” The hand that landed on her waist — to move her, just to move her — was warm and blistering and those were two very different words with a pair of very different meanings and even more jarring consequences, and he sat down next to her.

Huh.

“Been taking the train in from Grand Central.” “Ugh, he’s making you stay over there? There’s no good food in that part of the city.” “Quiet, though.” Sticking her tongue out when she gagged continued to be one of Nina’s less impressive traits. “I blew my shoulder out my junior year of college.”

One of Nina’s knees buckled. Only one. The right one, actually. She refused to believe that was a sign. From baseball gods, or otherwise. “Hitting?” “Throwing. Probably because of the hitting, but the blowing out actually happened on what was considered by most in the know to be a pretty routine throw from left field. Hurt like hell.” “Yeah, I bet.” “I don’t remember a ton of what happened right after. Might have yelled? Quite possibly blacked out. Definitely heard something snap, which admittedly terrified me, but then there were a bunch of people talking and walking me down the tunnel and more lights and tests. The phrase never the same again was thrown around with alarming regularity.”

Cold. Nina was cold. Freezing beneath a mid-afternoon sun, one of those May days that tease of summer yet to come. They smell like cotton candy and potential, of a distinct lack of responsibility and SPF 70.

She had sensitive skin.

“Were you by yourself?” Asking questions she somehow already knew the answer to was equal parts cruel and unusual, particularly when asking it of a man whose name never got to back pages. Or her ears, it seemed. She swallowed whatever was sitting in the back of her mouth.

“Brum was there,” he said, but it sounded like an excuse. A practiced line that had started to reek of insincerity. “My—well, my parents had been gone for a while. Same old sob story you always hear, y’know? Kid loses everything, finds salvation in the dogma of sports, gets pretty good at it, and then—” “—Loses it all again?” Nina finished. She thought she did. Whoever was talking didn’t sound like Nina. Sounded like someone who had painstakingly refolded her paper airplane the night before. To keep on the nightstand next to her bed.

“Some of it, yeah. They wanted me to stick around. Stay on staff. Coach. But that was—” He clicked his tongue. Distant eyes stared past that goddamn M&Ms ad, and Nina didn’t think. Wasn’t that how the best athletes were, though? All instinct and lightning-fast reaction times. Responding to a situation before the rest of us mere mortals could even begin to fathom the circumstance.

He didn’t push her hand off his.

The coffee was going to go cold.

“Very maudlin way of approaching things.” She chuckled. Tried not to cry, for entirely new reasons. “Impressive vocabulary for a jock.” “Keep workshop'ing your insults, Ms. Met.”

“Brum, he just got hired by the Phillies, right?” She knew that answer too. “Is this the first game you’ve been to?” His eyes slid to hers. In that same slow motion as before, and that couldn’t possibly have been less than seventy-two hours ago, but life had a tendency to be weird like that and good like that and, well, you can’t predict baseball, Suzyn.

“Why the Mets?” It wasn’t the question she expected. Felt far too big and more than a little terrifying, jumping into the deep end of the pool from the highest diving board. But that same pool was always crystal clear, the sort of blue they wrote songs about. Summertime and the living was easy. That sort of thing.

“Because there’s something wonderful in a team that defies every bit of sports conjecture. That breathes in the chaos and spits out something that, every now and then, is absolutely beautiful. That lets me be bigger than myself for nine innings and a minimum of one-hundred and sixty-two games. That takes all my shortcomings and accepts them because one time this team claimed there was a raccoon fighting with a rat in the dugout tunnel. Because they don’t play The Imperial March during lineup announcements.” Something, something—she needed better sunscreen.

So as to not get burned by the force of his sun-like smile.

“I think a raccoon could probably take a rat, don’t you think?” “I don’t know,” Nina wavered, “I own a fair amount of Staten Island Pizza Rat merch.” His hand flipped. Fingers curled around hers and held on with an ease that settled her acid and cooled her blood, finally finding that middle ground between frigid and fission.

“Explain the single seating.” “I had a friend here on Thursday.” “And he had to go back to work. Where does he work?” “Bar in Jersey.” Curiosity flashed in the blue, but then it was gone and Nina must have imagined it, looking for more common ground and mutual understanding. Her fingers looked minuscule between his.

“If I told you that I know the new owner of the Mets,” Nina started, “because I went to college with his girlfriend, and he’s been listening to me talk about this team for the better part of a decade now, so he decided to spend some of his inherited millions to buy it, and now that same girlfriend is sitting up there perpetually confused why I like to be out here, do you think you’d hate me on principle?” One blink. Two. Head tilt. Jaw clench. His lips popped when they opened.

“No.” “No?” “No,” he echoed, “Nikolai Lantsov shouldn’t have spent so much money on your shortstop’s contract.” “Wasn’t an error.” Both shoulders lifted.

“Nina Zenik,” she said, a tardy greeting that should have happened well before the hand holding. The hand holding continued.

“Matthias Helvar.” “Did you bring a pen?” He pulled another one out of his jacket pocket.

They disagreed on no less than half a dozen calls. Impressive, since they didn’t actually start paying attention to their separate score sheets and books until early in the third inning after Nina had barely cleared the cheese sauce off the corner of her page.

Introducing themselves made it feel as if they’d crested another level in whatever the proper term for this not-quite relationship was.

Jabs weren’t nearly as sharp, but elbows brushed and noses scrunched. Makeshift disdain blurred against subtle infatuation, sunshine in his hair and pressing against the barrier of Nina’s consistently reapplied sunscreen. They talked. Laughed. Shouted and screamed, standing at different times. Much to the chagrin of everyone around them.

She didn’t bother asking about the Chase Utley jersey. Knew that it was as much a part of Matthias’s fandom as the Piazza jersey was to hers. Connecting him to something that was only partially his, because no matter how much this sport might be capable of sweeping over them, of bringing them along with the current, there was a riptide always threatening just below the surface. Capable of drowning and filling lungs, leaving them both taking on water and hastily constructed metaphors.

Plus, they both hated the Yankees. So, they talked about that.

Talked about places in the city they liked to go, Nina’s knowledge of hole-in-the-wall restaurants leaving his eyes as wide as she’d hoped they could be, tiny pools she was more than willing to dive into. With perfect form.

Laughter became the new normal for the pair of them, chancing glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking. They always were. As if those magnets were real and forceful, leaving them both grinning like idiots whenever they were caught in the act.

Once an inning, then.

Matthias didn’t sing during the seventh-inning stretch, but Nina was loud enough for the pair of them. Especially when she was standing on her seat, a hand flat on the small of her back.

“So you don’t fall,” Matthias explained, and the words immediately branded themselves on that corner of her brain where Nina kept good things.

They shared a plastic helmet of swirl ice cream. With rainbow sprinkles.

He called them jimmies.

She made fun of him.

And then—

It was over.

No drama. No walk-off hits. No extra innings. Just a Mets win that didn’t require the bottom of the ninth. And she was happy with that, she was. Less so with the way her stomach dropped as soon as her knees bent and her chin lifted, barely tempered hope and the sort of want that did not require magnets to direct her gaze.

Matthias loomed above her, casting shadows and the desire to finally push her fingers into his hair was nearly too much to ignore. Nina did. In favor of what came next because she knew what came next, and this was not that serious. Sitting on opposing lines of a flimsy at best baseball rivalry did not mean she couldn’t push up on her toes and catch the mouth of someone who no longer felt like a stranger. Until that same mouth inevitably opened and she got to do whatever she wanted with her tongue.

Only—

One of the season tickets started grumbling, and the sea of fans pushed forward and the only way Nina stayed upright was because of the arm around her waist. Matthias’s nose ticked her skin along the back of her neck.

“Told ya,” he mumbled, and if he saw the goosebumps, he didn’t mention them.

That was nice.

He was nice.

She was—

A mess, at best.

Mostly because there was no kissing. Almost like they were nervous of what would happen if they did. Of shattering this tremulous understanding and shaky alliance, but Matthias’s fingers squeezed Nina’s hip before he said, “See you tomorrow.”

She did not see him tomorrow.

When tomorrow was tonight and now and Zoya and Genya kept doing circles around the room.

Sunday Night Baseball on ESPN required a certain amount of protocol and it was the first broadcast with Nikolai in the owner’s box, which meant plenty of shots at the owner’s box, and Nina sat in her very plush, decidedly warm seat, with only minimal argument.

There was champagne, so. That helped.

Plus, she figured she’d— “Is it a guy?” Genya asked without preamble, propping her chin on her hand. “Is that why you don’t want to hang out?” Nina sighed. “You know me better than that.” “Sure, sure, sure, looked real cozy down there, though.” “Are you spying on me?” “Nah, Zoya was.” Frustration clawed at Nina’s consciousness. Surprise did not. This was par for the course and several other out-of-place sports cliches.

Zoya finished her drink before adding, “I didn’t leave this suite all afternoon, yesterday, the security guards that Nikolai knows in that section though…” “That’s splitting hairs,” Nina argued. “And they were just doing their job,” Nikolai added, shouting in a way a multi-millionaire absolutely should not. Zoya rolled her eyes.

“Whatever they were doing,” Nina said, “they didn’t need to be doing it. What if someone got robbed while they were watching me?” “You think people are getting robbed in broad daylight inside this stadium?” “Maybe!” “Were lots of Phillies fans here,” Genya pointed out. Laughter clung to her words, quiet snickers from the rest of the assorted peanut gallery. Before they noticed that Nina wasn’t lacking. Might have paled, if the matching expressions she was met with were any indication. “Oh,” Genya exhaled, “good looking Phillies fan, huh?” Nina grit her teeth. “He knows Brum.” “The bastard,” Nikolai sneered.

“Most people don’t like him.” “Because he’s a bastard, yeah.” “How’d the Phillies fan know Brum?” Zoya asked, and it wasn’t like Nina wanted to tell them. Words poured out of her all the same, excitement carving its way into the conversation because even if she could rationalize the lack of kissing after a three-day conversation and occasional argument, none of her friends could understand how she didn’t get his number.

Neither could she, quite frankly.

“This is either disgustingly romantic,” Nikolai said, “or it’s exceedingly dumb. Of both of you.” Genya clicked her tongue. In agreement, Nina figured. “Second one, for sure. Do we have to go arrest him for something? Bring him up here, nervous and scared—” “Same sentiment,” Nina mumbled. “—Only for him to see you, awash in a sea of moonlight and outfield lights, and then you live happily ever after despite your baseball allegiances?” “He hates the Yankees too.” “Something, at least,” Zoya said, but it was missing the edge. The acid. The anger Nina had almost prepared herself for. “You going to go down there, or….”

Finishing the sentence was pointless when Nina was already standing, Nikolai’s laugh ringing in her ears as she did her best to push her finger straight through the elevator button. She bobbed on the balls of her feet, impatience skittering up her spine and there were too many buttons and too much laughter, but that was likely a good thing, and the security guards didn’t stop her.

From running into the section.

Only to find two sets of empty seats. His and hers. A weird, depressing, matching set.

Nina waited. Stood at the top of the section stairs, waiting for a flash of familiar hair or those eyes that she probably hadn’t dreamed about the night before. Never came. The goosebumps did, for an entirely new and even more depressing reason.

The security guard asked her to leave. Twenty-eight minutes after the last out.

Matthias hadn’t been at the game.

To be a Mets fan, was to wait.

For wins. For David Wright’s body to heal. For that same rush that came in 2015, only this time, it also came up with a World Series championship attached to it.

Nina wasn’t very good at waiting.

Summer crept forward. As it was apt to do. Going back to the ballpark was second nature to Nina, but the Mets were on their West Coast swing, and spending a week and a half with Zoya and Genya touring the greater California coast wasn’t entirely appealing. So, she was in New Jersey.

Leaning against the bar of the Crow Club, Nina watched the crowd. Most of them saturated with fruity alcohol, drinks that never came with those little umbrellas because the thought of such a thing would have set Kaz’s teeth on edge, but this was Atlantic City and that required a certain level of nonsense to be met consistently.

Plus, Nina knew Inej liked those drinks.

And that was that, for Kaz. As they say.

Heads turned at tables while she watched, conversations that only occasionally acknowledged the baseball games on TVs hanging above them, others recounting beach exploits from that afternoon and plans for the rest of the evening, a steady din of noise and humanity that somehow made it easier for Nina to breathe.

It smelled like salt when she did.

“Looking awfully thoughtful,” Inej said, appearing out of nowhere to grin knowingly at Nina. “Give you a nickel for them.” “They’re not worth that much.” “What about one of those tokens from the casino down the boardwalk?” “Does Kaz know Jesper went to play there again?” “Absolutely.” “And?” “And what?” Inej parroted. “Who are you looking for, exactly?” “No one.” It was the wrong answer. A telling answer. An answer Nina didn’t realize she was capable of providing until the very moment those five letters in that specific order passed between lips in desperate need of ChapStick. And kissing. Gods, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t kissed him.

“Our dear, darling Nina is pining,” Jesper explained. Drink in hand, the soft clink of casino tokens was as absurd as it was not, a mix of youth and age and responsibility and not. The perfect blend of summertime status.

Nina took a sip of his drink before he could offer. She assumed he would offer.

“For that,” Jesper hissed, “I’ll tell Inej the rest of the story.” He did. Spared no expense, really. Recounted scorebooks and shouting matches, although some dramatic license was taken at that point, drawing a small crowd that included a guy Nina had never met before, staring openly at Jesper like he’d hung the moon. She’d make fun of him for that. Maybe. After the story. Probably.

Inej was a rapt audience, taking in details and occasionally letting her eyes flit toward Nina. Who never once disputed anything. There was nothing to dispute. The goddamn paper airplane was still sitting on her goddamn nightstand.

“And you just never saw him again?” Inej asked. Nina shook her head. “That’s tragic. Not—maybe not grand scheme, world level, but tragic all the same.” “No kissing either,” Jesper added.

Nina’s heart dropped. Shattered at her feet. Like one of those plates, you could shoot at in the arcade. “How do you know that?” “I didn’t, until right now. Simple assumption, though. Who could pine at your level if there’d been previous making out?” “Two different things,” Inej murmured.

Jesper hummed in agreement. “And Nina wanted both. Fraternizing with the enemy.” “He hated the Yankees, too.” “So, what? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? My good-looking friend?” “He was good-looking, right?” That earned her another hum — and got Jesper a look of passing consternation from the guy at his side. Nina desperately needed to learn names in a more timely fashion. Determined to remedy at least one situation, she took a deep breath and immediately, very nearly died.

It was very dramatic.

Sweeping, even.

Because the door opened and she knew the music didn’t stop and the Earth didn’t pause mid-rotation, but it felt like her center of balance had been inextricably altered and that wasn’t the bad thing it should have been when Matthias Helvar took his first step into the Crow Club.

Not falling over really was a rather monumental miracle.

If she decided to move, Nina did not remember it. Could not bother with something as menial as cognitive reasoning or the ability of the neurons in her brain to properly fire, not when she was twisting around tables and reminding herself of all the very important properties oxygen possessed. In regard to continued consciousness.

He didn’t move. He waited. Watched. Documented her, it felt like.

She wasn’t entirely opposed.

Their shoes nearly brushed.

“Huh,” Matthias breathed, slumping slightly to get into her eye line. Or just closer to her. The specifics didn’t matter. “I was right, then.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “You said your friend worked at a bar in Jersey.” “This is a bar in Jersey.” “Yeah, we might be going in circles, actually.” “What are you doing here?” Nina was dimly aware of Jesper shouting something, but the buzz between her ears was far too loud and even the concept of pulling her gaze away from Matthias’s made her want to grit her teeth together until she ground them down completely.

She licked her lips.

He smiled. “After I got hurt,” Matthias explained, “I didn’t know what way was up. So, I went...up. Best as I could, really, up the Shore.” “Is that a joke?” “No, I thought your friend looked familiar. Was driving me nuts, honestly.” “How?” “Twenty questions, Ms. Met.” “Matthias!”

Her voice cracked. Her foot stomped. Air crackled and the world very likely did shift because the hands on Nina’s cheeks were warm and perfectly sized to pull her that much closer and she was legitimately proud of herself. For not stepping on his feet. He didn’t really give her the chance.

Rocking against each other, there was a joke about tides and current to be made and Nina pushed them back, down or up, and direction didn’t matter and time didn’t matter. Sports allegiance was the least of her worries. Not when Matthias’s arm found her waist and there was something to be said for the stretch of his upper body. Capable, as it was, of lifting her up and he was ten-thousand times better at any tongue thing than she could have possibly imagined.

Tracing her lips and twisting around her own, like he was taking a very personal and detailed inventory. One of his thumbs brushed against Nina’s cheeks, but she honestly couldn’t figure out which one. Everything was sensation and feeling, a bases-clearing double that kept the rally alive and the roar in the background wasn’t the crowd at Citi Field, but Inej perched on the edge of the bar and Jesper balanced on the rungs of a rickety stool, and they only broke apart to fall back together.

Nina closed her eyes.

Better to remember, that way.

To let her breath catch whenever Matthias’s neck dipped again, the sort of angle that sonnets were written for, and epic romances documented. Right side up and cross dimensions and Nina’s eyelashes fluttered. Open, closed. Once, twice.

He was still there.

“You go down the Shore, everybody knows that,” Nina whispered, still somehow sounding like herself. Good, that was good. And only good, that time.

“I think you’re getting paid by the disagreement.” “I liked shouting your name.” His eyes—

Sparkled, maybe.

She didn’t even hate herself for thinking that.

“Probably about as much as I enjoyed hearing it,” Matthias said, “and I’ve been here before. Spent that summer drinking at,” his head jerked toward the corner where Inej waved, “that corner. This was as far away from school and baseball and everything I thought was gone as I could find.” “Ah, the scorebook makes sense now.” “Does it just?” “You know baseball isn’t often predictable nor nearly that organized. That’s the appeal, so people claim.” “They do,” Matthias admitted, “but I—is that demon-looking guy still working here?” “Kaz owns this bar.” “Of course he does. You know everyone, don’t you Ms. Met?” “Impressive like that.” Humming wasn’t really her favorite of the audible, non-word responses, but Nina heard something different in that sound than she ever had before. Almost like hope and something worth waiting for, if only because the waiting found her first.

She kissed the bottom of his chin.

It was all she could reach.

“I really wanted you to be here, Nina,” Matthias said, “and I’m sorry I wasn’t there Sunday. For that game, I—that wasn’t part of the plan, but...well, Brum had set up this whole interview with a college team in the middle of nowhere, thinking I’d be good with that and—” “You weren’t good with that?” His hair shook when his head did. “Not really, no.” “Did he kick you out of your hotel?”

“Smart too.” “Total package.” “Yeah,” Matthias said, a note of awe that made Nina’s skin prickle, “anyway, I’m pretty much in New York full-time now, but trying to find you there seemed impossible.” “So you figured you’d try a bar in the middle of Atlantic City?” “I leave a very strong impression,” Jesper yelled, practically jumping off the stool when Kaz glared. Inej’s smile was hypnotic.

“Something like that,” Matthias agreed, “so this is the part where we actually give each other our phone numbers and then—” His arm tightened again, finding a bit of space that certainly hadn’t been there twelve seconds before. Just enough to make sure Nina heard him mumble I like you before he kissed her. Or she kissed him.

Either or, really.

They went to Yankee Stadium on Labor Day weekend.

Nikolai pulled some strings to get them suite seats with complimentary well drinks and never-ending popcorn and both Matthias and Nina wore wholly out of place jerseys. Supporting neither of the teams on the field. Just each other, maybe. At least without much argument. They had better things to do, anyway. Fingers laced together, Nina shouted at the field and Matthias stared at anyone who dared glance in their direction and it was weird and wonderful and exactly what sports was supposed to be.

Caring about something beyond reason, something bigger and better than any one person was alone.

#matthias x nina #helnik #helnik fanfiction #nina zenik #matthias helvar #soc fanfic #insert shrug emoji here #every now and then i have these like...five hour bursts where i write all these words at once #this is the product of one of those

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captain-josslett · 3 years

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Broken Melody - Part One

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven,

Summary: Grammy Award winning Emma Danvers is the first to say she has a pretty good life. But what happens when it implodes around her and it looks like things will never be the same again?

Words: 10k+

Warnings: None... yet...

Pairings: Emma Danvers x Lena Luthor (Eventual)

Right! I wrote the beginning of this fic months ago. It’s going to get angsty so be ready. But the purpose of the first part is to introduce this version of B!D, a well known singer in a grammy award winning band. I honestly had a great time writing this first part!

Thank you for reading and let me know if you wanna be tagged or any general feedback will be greatly appreciated.

For @thewitchandtheassassin, @natasha-danvers, @life-is-hella-unfair, @finleyfray, @supergirl-writingz,

The screeching of Emma Danver’s alarm makes her hazel green eyes shoot open. Normally on a Saturday she wouldn’t have her alarm set and would laze in bed. Especially when she is home from her latest world tour. However, today was going to be a day filled with the Superfriends, and she can’t wait!

Emma had mentioned at the latest game night that she wanted to check out a beach over an hour away from the city and how they could make a day of it. Kara, her Supergirl sister, instantly accepted the idea while bouncing up and down with excitement. Mostly everyone else agreed, happy to know the summer sun would be in full force that day.

Well they still had to persuade a few people, mainly Lena and Alex. But when Emma and Kara both knelt in front of the women with their identical Danvers pouts they were forcibly won over.

Emma smiles as she stretches and runs her hands through her wavy blonde hair. She quickly gets out of bed and opens her curtains. Sighing happily and just enjoying the sunshine blazing into her penthouse bedroom. Emma can totally see how Kara gets her Supergirl powers from the sun, how it recharges her and makes her the Woman of Steel.

After a few more minutes Emma turns and grabs her phone. While making her way to her ensuite she messages the group chat.

Emma: Gooooooodd Mmmoooorrrrnnnniiiinnnngggg!!! How’s everyone? Seriously can’t wait for today!

After having a quick shower Emma wanders back into her room and decides what to wear. She puts on her turquoise surf bikini with her tight black surfing shorts. She wears her blue jean shorts over the top, and a white tank top. She finishes her outfit off with her many bracelets, her apple watch and a layered necklace that has a star, sun and swan pendant. Symbolising each of the Danvers sisters. Alex is the star, Kara is the sun and Emma is the swan.

Swan became one of Emma’s nicknames in school due to there being a lot of Emma’s in the class. Her friends joked she was a swan princess due to doing ballet when she had asked them to come to a recital. Which they did and were in awe, but you know. Emma happily accepted the nickname, taking it as a compliment. Emma smiles as she looks at her ballet shoes strung over her mirror. ‘Another thing I need to get back into.’ Emma thinks wistfully. She still loves dancing, especially the latin styles like samba and tango. But she doesn’t have the time.

As she draws her attention to her reflection she definitely looks like a surfer chick, lean, toned and sun kissed. Which she was happily going for. She’s been dying to surf for ages but just hasn’t had the time. Her band had recently returned from a sell out world tour. And sadly most of the places they played at didn’t have beaches or the right surf. She felt sorry for her neglected surfboard in the back of the tour bus.

Her phone pings drawing her attention away from her musings. Emma laughs when she sees a few messages have already been sent.

Kara: Good morning sunshine! I’m sssoooooo excited too! Did you need me to bring anything else? I got all the food ready!

Kelly: Of course you’d have the food Kara!

Kelly: And good morning Emma! Shall I bring my swimsuit? Anyone going for a swim?

Kara: Ooo I am! And I think Emma is going to surf?

James: Why are you guys texting this early? I could have had at least another hour or more of sleep.

Alex: I agree with James… Emma, I hate you.

Emma chuckles at Alex’s message while she gets a bag ready with a change of clothes.

Emma: Love you too Alex!

Kara: Ahem… What about me?!

Emma: Love you too Kara!

Alex: You love me more though right?

Emma: No I love you both the same!

Kara: *Wink Wink*

Alex: Hey!

Nia: What am I just decoration?

Emma: No of course not Nia! I love you too!

James: What about me?

Kelly: And me!

Emma: Yes James and Kelly I love you both too.

Lena: Do you love me?

Emma pauses before she responds to Lena’s text. Honestly, she’s had a crush on her since the moment they met. But Lena is way out of Emma’s league. A CEO dating a musician and artist like Emma wouldn’t work. She’s not clever or brave like Kara or Alex.

Once when Lena had met her for lunch, Lena had explained what being a CEO entailed. Emma’s mind melted; it was so complex. Lena just laughed at her exasperated expression trying to figure it all out. “And that, my darling, is why you are an artist and I am a CEO.” Emma practically melted at Lena’s smile from across the table.

But that’s one of the things she loves about Lena, her passion for her work and drive for making the world a better place. And her smile. To Emma, Lena’s smile lights up the whole room.

Sighing Emma looks back down at her phone.

Emma: I love you the most… *Delete*

Emma: Yea I love you too. :)

‘Somewhat truthful…’ Emma thinks as she puts her phone in her pocket, grabbings her backpack, guitar case and placing it by the door. Kneeling on her sofa she pulls her surfboard up from behind, giving it a quick hug. Excitement surges through her veins at the thought of surfing the waves.

‘Rao I hope the waves are good today!’ Emma wishes as she swings the board around and accidentally knocks her recent Grammy on the floor. “Shoot!” Emma yelps and quickly drops her surfboard to pick up the award. Emma sighs in relief when she turns it over in her hands, seeing it wasn’t broken. Out of all her awards, this year's Grammy meant the most to her. The album had been a real breakthrough moment for her and the band, Axis, and they swept away the competition. Emma remembers the feeling of pride and honour when their name was called. How she and the rest of the band rushed to the stage in unison and linked arms as each said a thank you.

Emma carefully places the Grammy down and picks up her surfboard. Grabbing the rest of her stuff she locks the door behind her and takes the elevator down to her beloved yellow VW beetle. Which she affectionately calls the ‘bug’. Emma puts her stuff in the car and carefully straps the board onto the roof rack before getting into the driver's seat.

Taking her phone out she sends Lena and Kara a quick message to say she’s on her way to pick them up. Alex and Kelly are picking up Sam. Who did try and persuade Ruby to come but now as a teenager, Ruby has better things to do then hang out with her Mom and her Mom’s friends. James is giving J'onn, Nia and Brainy a ride.

Emma quickly plugs in her phone and chooses to blare out her playlist of her favourite songs. As she pulls out of the underground parking garage she starts singing and making dramatic hand movements as she dances along. Not caring if people see her.

Soon she’s outside Lena’s apartment building and as she turns the music down Lena Luthor herself was exiting the building. Emma’s mouth drops open with how beautiful Lena looks. And how different she looks too! Gone were the suits and smart wear of a CEO. Instead Lena was wearing a thigh length red patterned skirt that matched her red lips with a black crop top. To finish the look off she wore a black bowler hat.

When Lena opens the passenger door Emma quickly closes her mouth.

“Hi Em!” Lena smiles brightly at the blonde and leans over to place a kiss on Emma’s cheek. Making the blonde blush and causing her brain short circuits.

“Hi Lee!” Emma says more high pitched than normal.

Lena grins at her in amusement. ‘Rao I could get lost in those green eyes.’

“Er, Em… We gonna go?” Lena teases causing Emma to jump and pull away from the pavement. “So, how has your week been?”

“Fine. Got a commission to complete before Thursday but I’m almost done. I actually have to thank you, it's the lovely couple we met at the recent gala we went to.”

Whenever Emma is back in the city Lena always invites her to the gala’s. Surprisingly Emma finds she enjoys them, especially when it's one of Lena’s charity events. Lena and Emma are both thrilled to find Emma has a talent in being able to persuade the rich attendees to donate their money. Even from those who have never donated before. “It’s the Danvers charms!” Emma would laugh and wink at Lena when the raven haired women would be dumbfounded at the cheque in her hand from a rival.

“Mr and Mrs Green?” Lena asks, remembering how the couple were enthralled with Emma’s work as an artist and musician. Their donation had been one of the biggest of that night. ‘No surprise there.’ Lena smirks.

“Yea them.” Emma nods while concentrating on driving. She does love the city life but driving through it can be such a pain.

“What did they ask for?” Lena inquires while picking at a loose thread in her skirt.

“Mainly a seascape of a view they had back in the UK. Thatchers rock… I think.” To be honest Emma had been surprised by the Green’s enthusiasm when she showed them her portfolio. How they were willing to wait for Emma’s tour to finish before getting their commission. It had been made easier that there was a reference to work on. Even though she has never been to that part of the UK. Mainly the cities dotting around the island. And even though Emma doesn’t need the money she enjoys doing something different. Her art gives her another escape.

“What style are you doing it in?” Lena asks as she bobs her head along with Emma to the music. Something she’s never done before until getting rides with Emma. Something about the blonde’s carefree attitude rubbing off on her.

“I’m using oil this time. I think it works better with the layering and it can really make the sea look like it’s moving you know? Well… If I get it right.” Emma realises she started to ramble and quickly cuts herself off. Certain Lena wouldn’t want to hear the techniques Emma has been using. “If all goes to plan the painting should look different with the different lighting of the day.”

“I am sure you will darling.” Lena smiles widely at her.

Emma smiles back. Feeling butterflies zoom round her stomach at the term of endearment.

“Thanks Lee.” Emma taps her thumbs to the beat while they wait for a light to turn green.

“How-”

“How’d-”

They both stop when they realise they both started talking.

“You go.” Emma motions Lena to continue.

“How’s everything going with the band?”

“It’s going really, really well! We are already writing songs for the next album. But we’ve also really benefited having this time off too.” Emma grins thinking of the other band members.

In some ways they’ve become another little family to her. The four other guys were already formed and were looking for a female influence. Emma saw the flyer and thought ‘why not!’ before calling them and doing an audition. The guys were blown away by her voice and talent. Unanimously they agreed she can become a member of the band and ultimately making her the lead singer. That was over eight years ago when Emma was eighteen and Axis were well known in certain areas of America but when Emma joined their popularity skyrocketed.

However fame didn’t matter to Emma, but she loves performing and writing music. Especially when she gets fan messages about how her songs have helped someone get through a difficult time and gave them hope. She always makes sure to save those messages.

“Sounds exciting.” Lena agrees, nodding her head.

“Speaking of deals.” Emma pauses to concentrate on the traffic. “How’d the deal with the Japanese go?”

Even though Emma wasn’t looking at Lena she could feel the big eye roll the raven haired beauty did.

“That good huh?” Emma jokes but feels for the CEO.

“Honestly it was a nightmare. They kept going around in circles and I’m just getting over the migraine!” Lena dramatically rubs her forehead. Which Emma misses from looking at the road.

“Ah no.” Emma frowns as she quickly looks at Lena. “Are you sure you’re okay to come to the beach?”

“Yes I’m fine.” Lena smirks at Emma’s concern.

“Okay, I am glad you’re coming.” Emma smiles brightly back.

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Did I have a choice?” Lena teases.

“Yes! But it would have made me very sad if you hadn’t.” Emma pouts dramatically and pulls off her best puppy dog eyes.

“And that’s why I said yes.” Lena chuckles at how adorable Emma looks.

Soon they pull up to Kara’s building and she’s already waiting outside. Piles of bags by her feet. Both Lena and Emma laugh at the sight. “Joys of being Supergirl I guess!” Emma jokes about Kara’s metabolism.

As she parks Emma can’t help but remember the day Kara became a part of the Danvers family.

Emma had taken to the alien quicker then Alex, especially as there was only a year age difference between the two blondes. She also found she became the bridge between Alex and Kara. Over time the three learned how to live with the new dynamic and would soon enjoy each other's company. Kara and Alex would laugh when little Emma would cheerfully yell that they were the three musketeers as they played with wooden swords or practically any activity that involved the three of them. Even making hot chocolate together.

When Kara became Supergirl Emma almost had a fit. She’d been in New York for a sold out week of gigs when she had seen the news in the early hours of the morning. Frantically she called Kara to see if she was okay and getting even more frantic when she realised Alex had been on the plane too. The two sisters were eventually able to calm her down after a lot of sobbing and panic from her end. When Emma returned to National City she held onto her sisters a lot tighter that day. Eventually the three ended up falling asleep together on the sofa. Emma in the middle of the two as they wrapped their arms around each other.

Emma’s musings were interrupted when Kara slammed the car boot down hard. Causing the car to bounce.

“Careful Kara!” Emma yells, knowing full well her sister would hear her.

“Sorry little one! I’m just so excited!” Kara squeals as she opens the backseat door before leaping in.

“Hey I’m only a year younger than you!” Emma frowns into the rear view mirror to glare at her sister. Who just sticks her tongue back at her while clicking in her seat belt.

They continue the hour long drive to the beach, chatting and singing along to Emma’s playlist. Lena watches on in amazement as Kara sings the melody and Emma does some beautiful harmonies around her. They all laugh and cheer when Queen’s ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ comes on.

“Come on Lena! Join in!” Emma yells while she puts the volume right up. So Lena does. When the rock part of the song comes on all three of them dance and headbang along. Lena laughs as she feels so carefree. She pauses when Emma starts singing passionately to the next verse.

So you think you can stop me and spit in my eye So you think you can love me and leave me to die Oh, baby, can’t do this to me, baby Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

Honestly she could listen to Emma’s voice for hours. Which is probably why she secretly went to as many of Emma’s gigs as possible. But every time she would go to reveal herself to Emma she would back peddle and leave. Knowing that someone as talented as Emma was way out of her league. Her pride for her friend as she watched with the Superfriends at Kara’s apartment as Axis won Grammy after Grammy, award after award. How they screamed with joy and hugged each other after each announcement. Plus Lena thought someone as pure and happy as Emma wouldn’t do well with someone broken like Lena. So she keeps her feelings to herself and tries to be content with being Emma’s friend.

Lena’s heart warms as she remembers meeting Emma for the first time over 3 years ago. She had been at one of her first game nights with the Superfriends when a knock sounded on Kara’s door. Everyone had looked at each other in surprise as no one was missing. Lena watched Kara bounce towards the door and as she opened it a continuous scream of surprise and happiness escaped Kara’s mouth. This caused Alex to rush over in response and suddenly scream as well. The two sisters practically tackled the blonde beauty out into the hallway where they fell into a laughing heap. Kara kissed the blonde’s head over and over while Alex held onto her like a koala bear and kissed her cheek over and over.

Finally they untangled and Kara dragged the other blonde into her apartment. Excitedly introducing everyone to her little sister, Emma. The Superfriends each individually greeted the newcomer and when it came to Lena’s turn Emma had stepped forward and gave her an affectionate hug. Laughing that Kara has told Emma so much about her that she feels she already knows Lena well. When Emma stepped away from the hug they both ignored the warm feelings racing around their bodies. Lena had to agree as both the Danvers sister’s spoke of Emma fondly and how proud they were of Emma’s success. Lena hadn’t told anyone this but she bought all of Emma's music to listen to it after Kara gushed about her sister. She instantly fell in love with the voice coming through the speakers.

Kara soon asked why Emma was in National City and Emma excitedly revealed that Axis was moving to National City. Lena again ignored the feeling of excitement that shot through her. And again Emma was tackled to the floor as both Alex and Kara leapt towards her in celebration.

“Lena?” Kara’s voice breaks through her thinking and Lena turns to look back at her best friend. Listening intently as Kara excitedly explains a new prototype Brainy is designing to help Kara not be so affected by Kryptonite.

“Maybe I can help with it?” Lena offers kindly.

Kara’s smile brightens up even more. “That would be swell!”

Lena gives Kara a small smile before turning back to the front. To be honest it still stings that Kara didn’t tell her Supergirl secret to the CEO. It had been two years after Emma had moved back to National City when Lena and Kara were having lunch but Kara was being called away. Again. Lena couldn’t stop herself and blurted out she knew Kara’s secret. She will never forget how Kara’s face fell and the promise of talking about it after she’s finished. Lena’s face grew cold as her walls shot up. She told Kara not to bother and stormed out of the restaurant to her penthouse apartment. She refused to see anyone or answer her phone. Allowing her past hurts and hatred to simmer and boil.

That was until a knock sounded on her door. She chose to ignore it but the knocking persisted.

“Come on Lena, please open the door. Let’s talk about this.” Emma’s muffled voice sounded through the door.

“Why should I?” Lena spits out as she draws closer, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Because you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

Lena scoffs. “And why not?”

“Because you’ll allow your demons to lie to you and it will eat you up.” Emma had experience with this herself.

Tears fill Lena’s eyes and against the screaming in her head she reaches out and opens the door.

“Hey you.” Emma gives Lena a small smile before stepping into the apartment. Placing the takeout bags on the floor and pulling Lena into a tight hug. Allowing Lena to break down as she sobs into Emma’s shoulder. All her past hurts rushing forward and spewing out.

After she was spent Emma gently led her to the sofa and reheated the food. Making sure Lena ate. They talked long into the night and when Lena started rubbing her eyes from exhaustion Emma helped her get ready for bed. As Lena slid between the sheets Emma leaned down to give her a goodnight hug. But stopped when Lena wouldn't let her go. “Stay.” Lena whispered. So Emma grabbed a pair of her spare clothes she left for times like this and got in next to her. Lena shifted over to her and rested her head on Emma’s shoulder. Emma wrapped her arms around Lena and held her close. They don’t say anything more but drift into a peaceful sleep.

“We’re here!” Emma sings out, causing Lena to jump slightly. They pull into a car park right next to the beach.

“Oh wow!! Look at the sea! It’s so beautiful!” Kara gasps as she presses herself against the window and like an excited child she unbuckles and races towards the beach. Having already spotted Alex, Kelly and Sam setting up.

Emma snorts at her sister’s behaviour while she unbuckles her seatbelt.

“Er… She will help us with the food? Right?” Lena looks back at the overflow of food bags in the back of the bug.

“Yea as soon as she realises she will shoot back up here.” Emma chuckles while getting out of the car. And Kara did just that as Emma went to pay for a parking ticket she watched Kara race back up to them, in human speed. “Glad to see you helping.” Emma raises an eyebrow at her sister as Kara reaches the bug.

“Sorry! I just got really excited! It’s so beautiful here!” Kara bounces like a puppy.

“Now you understand why I dragged you here instead of going to the beach at NC?” Emma says while carefully unstrapping her board before lowering it and leaning it up against the bug.

“Yes, yes.” Kara keeps her eyes on the beach.

“Hey.” Emma smirks at her distracted sister.

“Yea?” Kara tears her eyes away to look at Emma. Smiling when Emma opens are arms and they hug. “Haven’t been able to give you one yet.” Emma says in her ear. Kara buries her face into Emma’s neck, enjoying the warmth and feeling of home whenever she hugs her sisters.

The car door closing makes them break apart. “Okay I think that’s everything.” Lena says while looking at the small mountain of bags.

“Thanks Lena!” Kara sings as she grabs half of the bags before Emma can tell her to only take a few. Hopefully no one will question how a slim woman can carry that much weight. Lena catches Emma’s eye and they both roll their eyes at each other.

“Jink!” Emma yells causing Lena to do another eye roll. Before Emma can reach down for her stuff Lena steps forward.

“Can I have a hug too?”

“Sure you can Lee.” Emma opens her arms wide and Lena almost tackles her with her enthusiasm. They both sigh happily as they hold onto each other a bit longer than necessary. Emma breaks the hug and steps back, grabbing her backpack, placing a few food bags on her shoulders picking up her guitar, and securing her surfboard under her arm. “Oh Lee don’t take that many, Kara will come up and get the last few.”

“Okay.” Lena nods while swinging a food bag on each of her shoulders and they start walking towards the beach. “Kara is right though, it’s really beautiful here.”

Emma smiles at her, happy Lena approves. The sand was a beautiful white which made the sea clear and looked like a gorgeous turquoise and teal. The richness of the colours makes Emma want to weep with happiness. They could pretend like they were in the Caribbean or on the Hawaiian islands.

“Hey Peanut!” Alex yells as Emma approaches her.

Peanut has always been Alex’s nickname for Emma since their parents told three year old Alex she was going to be a big sister. Alex had been fascinated about it all and when her Mom had told her the baby was the size of a peanut the name stuck. Even when Emma grew and was the size of tennis ball Alex would still refer to the baby as Peanut.

“Hey sis!” Emma yells back, dumping her stuff on one of the picnic blankets. Alex comes over and pulls Emma into a tight hug, quickly followed by Kelly and Sam. “Been a long time Sam, how are you?”

“I know I’m sorry!” Sam says as she takes a step back. “Life’s been hectic!”

“Oh don’t I know it.” Emma laughs. “Maybe you can ask your boss to allow you to have a life?” Emma teases while giving Lena a pointed look.

“Not my problem she wants to work longer hours then she is contracted!” Lena places her hands on her hips.

“Maybe she’s following her boss's example? And maybe the boss needs to cut down too? Maybe relax a bit?” Emma stalks towards her crush.

“Maybe-” Lena stops what she was going to say and tilts her head as she watches Emma approach. A smirk on her face. “What are you doing?”

Suddenly Emma reaches out and starts tickling Lena who laughs loudly and tries to swat the blonde away.

“Lena! She’s ticklish too!” Alex snickers as she goes through the food bags.

“Traitor!” Emma yells as Lena starts her own assault. The two women fall to the sand in fits of giggles as they wrestle. Before Emma can gain the upper hand Lena straddles her and continues tickling her. “No! Lena!” Emma kicks out trying to shift the woman on top of her. But Lena was not budging. “Argh! I surrender! Please!” Emma wheezes.

“I win?" Lena stops and gazes down at Emma triumphantly.

“You win.” Emma coughs and when Lena moves off her she instantly misses the feeling of Lena’s weight on top of her.

“Are you ladies done or are you going to help?” Alex raises her eyebrow at them as they catch their breath.

“Yes ma'am.” Emma salutes before getting up, rubbing the sand off herself and reaching out to help Lena up. They smirk at each other and set to work getting the rest of the blankets and chairs out for the Superfriends.

Soon the other group arrives and they all sit chatting and relaxing. The men start setting the BBQ up, insisting they can do it, much to the amusement of the women as they try to do it without looking at the instructions.

Alex, Kara and Emma smile at each other as they share a look before giggling. The Danvers sisters have barbecuing in the great outdoors down to an art. But if it keeps the men happy they stay quiet. Sighing Emma turns away from the entertainment and looks out to sea, watching the waves and the surfers riding them.

Alex shuffles up to her, resting her head on Emma’s shoulder. “You can go if you want.”

Emma rests the side of her head on her sister’s. “I know, but the waves aren’t quite right yet.”

“Okay.” Alex wraps her arms around Emma, who returns the gesture and holds onto Alex. Emma moves her head and kisses Alex’s head before resting her own on Alex’s again.

Alex smiles and kisses Emma’s hand that's holding her close. At first Alex wasn’t too keen on the idea of coming to the beach, too much work to do at the DEO and an hour travelling seems like an eternity. But Alex is glad she came. They sit content.

“How can you tell if the waves are not right?” Brainy asks, having left J'onn and James to sort out the BBQ.

Emma looks up at him. “I don’t know, you just can. It’s a feeling.” Emma runs a hand through her hair trying to think of a better way to explain it. “Like when you are out there you know a big wave is coming, the wave. You just got to be patient and take the moment when it comes.”

Brainy tilts his head at her. “I think I understand.”

“Well I’m glad you did.” Alex snorts and yelps when Emma playfully slaps her bare arm.

“Oh come on I didn’t slap you that hard!” Emma laughs but rubs her sister’s arm.

“Anyone wanna play rounders?” Lena asks the group as she picks up one of her bags. She pulls out a rounders bat, which is shorter than a baseball bat, and ball.

“Rounders?” Kara asks, confused. “Don’t you mean baseball?”

“No, I mean rounders, it’s what we played at my boarding school. It’s the game that baseball came from. The first known account of it was in 1744 with the Tudors.” Half of the group look at Lena blankly, while the other half look interested and know who the Tudors are. “Basically you still have four bases, home runs etc. The bowler must do underarm, though we can do overarm…” Lena pauses. “It’s just different okay?”

“Sounds good to me!” Sam leaps to her feet and starts setting the four bases up. Everyone else follows suit and splits into teams, Lena and Sam being the captains of each team. On Lena’s team is Kara, James, Alex and Emma versus Sam’s team which has Kelly, J'onn, Brainy and Nia.

After a coin toss Lena’s team bats first with Sam being the bowler, or pitcher, as Alex yells out.

“And can we make a rule of no powers? We don’t want the ball getting batted into space!” Sam jokes as she jogs to bowler base.

“Sounds fair.” Kara says looking at J'onn who nods in agreement. She gets into position to bat. She hits the ball no problem and starts to run, but she hits the ball too high and Brainy is already waiting to catch it.

“Out!” Sam yells as Brainy holds the ball in his hand, causing Kara to skid to a halt. She turns and walks back to the team, kicking the sand as she goes.

“Hard luck sis.” Alex rubs Kara’s back when she comes back to the line up. Pouting all the way. Emma gives her a hug and kisses her cheek.

“You’ll do it next time.” Emma reassures her.

They watch James get into position and hit quite a good ball. He manages to get to third base before having to stop when Nia catches the ball while on 4th base.

Lena is the next to go and Emma can’t help but watch as she sways her hips getting ready to strike. Her ball goes low and far. She sprints off and her team screams and cheers when she manages to do a home run.

“Nicely done Lee!” Emma holds her hand out to high five the out of breath CEO.

“Thanks.” Lena smiles brightly at the blonde while holding onto her hand longer than necessary.

Alex is up next, feeling the pressure of going after Lena’s home run.

“You got this babe!” Kelly smiles from the 2nd base. Alex smiles back at her before readying herself. She misses the first ball.

“Strike 1!”

Huffing Alex gets back into position again. And misses.

“Strike two!”

“You got this Al!” Emma claps and encourages her sister.

Taking a deep breath Alex readies herself and watches the ball. She manages to hit it and sprints to 2nd base.

“Nice to see you Alex!” Kelly teases the red head causing Alex to gently shove her girlfriend.

“Right you’re up Emma!” Sam calls as she catches the ball.

Emma picks the bat up, wiping the sand off it and stands in position. Noticing the opponents are standing mainly to the left, Emma decides to trick them. When Sam throws the ball she quickly turns her body and whacks the ball to the right side of the field far away from the group. She runs half the way and seeing Brainy is still running to the ball she walks the rest of the way, dancing and blowing kisses. She starts sprinting the last few feet as the ball is being thrown towards Nia. The team celebrates her home run and they play a few more rounds, having a few collisions and lots of laughter. They have two more goes each and swap over. Lena takes over as the bowler. “Pitcher!” Alex yells as she runs to man 2nd base.

The new batting team does just as well and Sam’s team are one point behind. J’onn is up as the last batter, it’s all on him. If he gets a home run Sam’s team has won the game. Emma watches the ball carefully as Lena throws it and in a split second it's coming right at her. She reaches out her hand and catches it. Everyone stares dumbfoundead before yelling in surprise and either excitement from winning or groans for losing.

Emma’s team crowd her and she laughs at the attention.

“Emma?” A voice says behind her.

Emma’s head shoots round and she smiles when she sees her bandmates standing there.

“Guys?” She rushes towards them. Emma had told them of her plans and had invited them to join. They had said they were busy so it's a huge surprise to Emma that they stood in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“We are… Wanted to talk to you.” Jack, the guitarist and other singer, says before he looks at the Superfriends behind Emma, watching them intently. “Alone.”

“Sure.” Emma shrugs, she turns back to Lena and throws her the ball. Emma walks with her bandmates along the beach until they are far enough away. Though Emma is sure Kara can still hear them. “So, whats up? Everything okay?”

“Er… So about that-” Danny, the drummer, starts but rubs his neck. Feeling very awkward. Frankie, the keyboardist, doesn’t make eye contact with Emma and shuffles his feet in the sand.

Mick interrupts. “We want to leave the band.”

Emma’s mind screeches to a halt. “Leave? All of you?”

“Yea Em. Just with Jack getting engaged, Frankie’s Dad being ill and Danny’s baby is due. We just don’t have the same drive like you do.” Mick looks sadly at her. “We are a great team, but it’s just not the same. After moving to National City we realised we want to settle, have families, the whole white picket fence thing.”

Emma places her hands on her hips, biting her lips to stop the tears threatening to fall. “What about the new album? We’ve already written most of the songs.”

“You don’t need us Em. You are the front runner and can do this with anyone.” Jack tries to reassure her.

“But they won’t be you.” Emma’s heart starts to break when she looks at the finality in each of their eyes. “And… And nothing I can say will change your minds?”

Her four bandmates shake their heads.

“Okay.” Emma looks up at the sky, taking a deep breath before looking back at the men in front of her. “Well, can we do a farewell tour?”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Danny smiles sadly at her and the other three nod.

“Can we give you a hug?” Jack asks quietly, hating seeing Emma so defeated.

Emma nods and they go in for a long group hug. But as the tears start to spill Emma breaks the hug and rushes back to the Superfriends. Ignoring any questions, she throws off her clothes and jewellery and grabs her board. Sprinting to the surf and diving into the sea.

She paddles quickly, still hearing voices, most likely Kara and Alex, calling after her. But she drowns it out by duck diving under a wave as it rolls over her and she resurfaces. Emma continues further out past the swell where she can stop and just lie there. Letting the board bob as she gazes at the horizon. Emma allows her tears to fall. Her face distorts with her disappointment and hurt.

‘What am I going to do?’ Emma thinks. She gets why the guys want to leave. Knowing this would happen one day. Or at least a break, but it still hurts. ‘Since when did it change for them?’ Emma stays like this for a while, lost in her own thoughts.

Some time later splashing behind her makes her turn her head and she sits up. A wet laugh breaks through her lips when she sees Kara and Alex balancing on a paddle board trying to reach her. Alex particularly looks like how a cat would look in this situation. On her knees and very tense having come to a very deep part of the beach. Alex doesn’t like not being able to touch the bottom, or see it. Kara is using the paddle, obviously using a bit of her super strength with how quickly they are going.

“What you laughing at?” Alex snaps.

“Nothing.” Emma smiles sadly at her while wiping the tears from her face. She swings her legs around and places them either side of the board. When the paddle board comes alongside Emma’s, Kara moves to sit down. Causing Alex to shriek as the board rocks dangerously. Emma reaches out and steadies it while trying not to laugh.

“Sorry Alex!” Kara apologises before turning her attention to Emma. “You okay?”

Immediately Emma’s smile drops and her eyes fill with tears again. She furiously rubs her eyes to stop them. “Yea fine.”

“No you’re not.” Alex sighs, hating seeing her sister look so unhappy.

“Guessing you heard?” Emma looks at Kara who nods sadly. Crinkle on her forehead evident of her concern. Emma looks down at her hands, not able to look at her sisters anymore. “I just… I get why…” Emma exhales deeply. “It just hurts you know. We are so in sync with each other and I honestly can’t imagine having to restart all that again.”

“But you will.” Alex reaches out and touches Emma’s linked hands. “Because your voice, your music needs to be heard Em.”

“Yea it's one of my favourite sounds, like ever.” Kara agrees. “But you know you will always have us, right?”

Emma nods, allowing a few more tears to fall.

Alex reaches out and wipes the tears from Emma’s cheeks. “And yes it sucks right in this moment but you will get through this. We will both help you through this.”

“Totally.” Kara agrees.

“Thanks.” Somehow Alex manages to hug Emma without falling in and Kara joins them.

Right on queue Kara’s stomach rumbles. “Oh and lunch is ready.”

“Uh oh the monsters coming.” Emma smirks as she looks at her alien sister.

“Race ya?!” Kara jumps to her feet making the board rock dangerously and had Emma not been holding Alex the red head would have fallen in. After making sure her sisters were okay Emma waves them off.

“Nah, you go on ahead, I’ll be right behind you.”

Emma watches her sisters go, hoping Kara has enough control not to cause Alex to fall in too far from the beach. She keeps her eyes fixed on them, slowly following in case Alex needed her. But when they reach the shore Emma lets out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding. Emma chuckles when Kara returns the paddle board they borrowed to get to her.

Shaking her head Emma starts slowly paddling into the swell and waits, her board moving with the ocean. Suddenly she feels a shift. Emma lies on her stomach and starts paddling hard. She smiles as her board gets picked up by the huge wave. Whooping as her board flies through the tube, she reaches out and skims her hand along the break. She comes out the other end and using the momentum turns her board, shooting her closer to the beach. Until finally her board slows down and she jumps off, wading the short distance to the shore.

“Hey!” A surfer approaches her, smiling flirtatiously. His brunette hair slicked back from the sea.

“Hi.” Emma responds while picking up her board.

“That was a sweet wave you just did!” His enthusiasm makes Emma smile.

“Thanks, kind of wish it went on forever.” She admits, cause really there was nothing like going through the tube of a wave. The colours and sounds were breathtaking.

“Ah man I know right?!” He laughs. “So, I was wondering if I could have your number?”

“EMMA!” She turns to look at Kara who is waving her arms about wildly. Most likely due to Alex saying she can’t eat until Emma joins them.

“Thank you but I’m kind of not available. Sorry.”

“No worries at all.” He looks slightly disappointed but still smiles.

“EMMAAAAAA!!!”

Emma laughs at how Kara’s yells got even louder. “Well I better go, don’t want my sister getting any more hangry.” Emma starts to walk back to the group.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Emma.” He calls after her.

Emma swings round but continues walking backwards. “You too.” She turns back around, smiling and shaking her head.

As soon as Emma gets near, Kara is loading her plate up at top, human, speed. Emma chuckles at the sight and digs the end of her board into the sand before taking the leash off and flopping onto the picnic blanket.

“Who was that?” Kelly asked across from her. Lena pretends she isn’t listening in as she gets some food.

“Oh just some guy congratulating me on my sweet wave.” Emma imitates the guy's accent which makes them laugh.

“And he wanted her number!” Kara teases while she sits next to Emma.

Whistles and ooo’s sound around the group. Alex watches bemused as Lena purses her lips before going back to a neutral expression.

“So where’s the number?” Sam asks excitedly, not missing Lena’s rigid posture.

“Meh, not my type.” Emma tries to play it off cooly while she grabs her top and shorts to change into again. Not minding that they will get a bit damp as the sun is out in full blaze. She also applies her suncream handing it around and reminding everyone to keep it topped up.

“Since when has hunky surfer boy not been your type?” Kara asks confused as she focuses on the surfer. “Honestly I could grate cheese on his abs!”

“Kara!” Emma laughs loudly while she dishes up a plate of food.

“You also said you weren’t available,” Kara presses on, missing the looks Alex was giving her. “Who's the lucky guy or gal?” Emma had come out as bisexual when she was a young teenager. Her Mom and sister’s supported her and Emma was glad she could do the same for Alex when she came out to her. Alex had even flown out specially to where Emma was gigging to tell her. At first Emma was really worried when Alex avoided eye contact and was nervously fidgeting in her seat. When Alex finally blurted it out Emma held her sister close. Saying how proud she was of her and her love for her sister hadn’t changed.

“No one, I just wanted to get him off my back.” Emma says nonchalantly but inside she was freaking out. She’d said it because yes she wasn’t available because her heart belonged to Lena.

Kelly gives Alex a look and watches as Emma settles in-between Lena and Kara under the umbrella they were sitting under. Alex doesn’t miss how much closer Emma sits to Lena than her sister.

The Superfriends continue talking and when everyone has finished eating they split off to do their own thing. Alex and Kelly go for a walk, mainly to come up with a plan to get Emma and Lena together. While Kara, J'onn, Sam, Nia, Brainy and James play volleyball. Girls and against boys. “Original.” Emma mutters causing Lena to snort.

Lena and Emma opt to stay with everyones stuff. Lena is happy to sit back against the pile and read a book she’s been wanting to read for months but never had the chance.

Emma sighs as she looks at her guitar case. Twiddling her thumbs for a moment she draws her knees to her chest and watches the waves. But not feeling quite ready to get back in.

After half an hour Lena puts her book down and focuses on Emma. “Something on your mind?” Lena asks, nudging her shoulder into Emma, causing the blonde to sway.

“Guessing Kara told you?” Emma keeps her eyes fixed in front of her.

“Yes, she was relaying what was being said.” Lena says apologetically.

“It’s okay. Makes it easier in a way.” Sighing heavily Emma turns to look at Lena. Who is watching her with concern. “I just don’t know what to do. I need to look for new bandmates, but that just seems so daunting. Can I really go through that all again?” Emma runs her hands through her hair. Huffing she looks back into emerald eyes. “Okay if we don’t talk about it? Just enjoy what we have right now?”

“And what do we have?”

“Great company, good food and a wonderful view.” Emma motions to the beach around them.

“Yea, I can do that.” Lena keeps her eyes on Emma.

“Go back to your book Lee. I’ll be fine.” Emma tries to smile reassuringly.

Lena doesn’t buy it but starts reading again. She watches Emma from the corner of her eye as she shuffles over to her guitar case, opening it and pulling the guitar out, making sure it is in tune.

Emma gets her songbook out of her case, opening the page to a song she had started writing. Making sure she doesn’t hit Lena with her guitar Emma settles back down. Grabbing her phone she hits record and starts plucking. Softly singing to herself.

Tell me somethin', girl Are you happy in this modern world? Or do you need more? Is there somethin' else you're searchin' for?

Emma pauses as she remembers a chorus of a song she’s been working on. She quickly flips to that page and moves her fingers to find the chords. She continues to play. Not realising her soft singing has steadily got louder.

I'm falling

Emma sees Lena in her mind as she sings. Her pain at falling for her friend and not having the courage to take it deeper.

In all the good times I find myself Longin' for change And in the bad times I fear myself

Sighing Emma looks at the sea before turning her head slightly to look at the raven haired beauty. Whose focus is on the book in front of her. Returning her attention to her notebook Emma keeps playing and singing.

I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in I'll never meet the ground Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us We're far from the shallow now

Lifting her head she focuses on the sea again.

In the shallow, shallow

In the shallow, shallow In the shallow, shallow We're far from the shallow now.

Emma pauses and stops the recording. Running a hand through her hair which starts getting more wavy from getting wet.

“Wow Em.” Lena breathes out.

Emma turns to Lena who put the book next to her. “You like that?”

“Yes, seriously… I don’t have the words.”

“Thanks, it’s not really finished. It needs another verse…” Emma goes through her notebook but comes up empty. Replaying the first verse Emma closes her eyes to figure out the words for the second verse.

Tell me something, boy

“What rhymes with boy?” Emma mutters to herself. “Toy? No… Void?”

Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?

Emma sighs as she remembers friends she has lost due to depression and addiction. Knowing how hard it is to feel whole and get out of the pit.

Or do you need more? Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?

She sings through the bridge and the chorus again, making sure it all fits. But to her horror she realises she stopped the recording.

“Crap!” Looking down her phone wasn’t where she left it. Instead it's in Lena’s hand.

“I could see you didn’t press record so I did it for you.” Lena answers Emma’s questioning gaze as she presses the button to stop the recording.

“Thanks Lee.” Emma takes her phone and grabs her pen, listening to the recording and writing the song out in full with the chords.

Lena watches Emma. “Do you usually write songs that quickly?” Lena asks, fascinated.

Emma laughs in response. “No, not usually. I guess I was more inspired.” She shrugs, placing her guitar back in the case with her notebook. She shuffles back over to Lena. “Can I?”

Lena looks up and nods, letting Emma lean down, resting her head in Lena’s lap. They do this quite often and it always makes Lena’s heart skip a beat. Slowly she puts her book down beside her and runs a hand through Emma’s hair. Looking at the view and doing what Emma said, enjoying the moment.

Time passes on and Emma watches the group playing volleyball. Kelly and Alex have joined them, Kelly staying with the girls while Alex went over to the boys side. Emma smirks when Kara would not so sneakily use her powers to gain an advantage.

But Emma’s attention diverted back to the sea, the tide was coming in and the swell had gotten bigger. Turning her head to look up at Lena Emma pauses. Her eyes linger on Lena’s chest before taking in her profile. ‘Rao she’s so beautiful.’

“Okay if I catch a few more waves?” Emma asks, finding her voice.

Looking down Lena smiles. “Sure.”

“Thanks Lee.” Emma sits up and presses a kiss to Lena’s cheek. As Emma takes her clothes off she grabs her board and runs to the surf. Lena touches her flushed cheek and smiles softly.

Soon the volleyball group end their game, the boys team winning by a few points. They head back to their set up, laughing at how both J'onn and Kara leapt for the ball, only to miss it completely.

“Hi Lena!” Kara says while sitting next to her best friend. “How's the book?”

“It’s…” Lena looks down at the book and realises she’s only got through part of the first chapter. Her attention had mainly been watching Emma surf. “Slow.”

“Ah I hate it when that happens!” Kara hands Lena a drink while they sit and watch Emma. Who had just gone through another tube, much to the excitement of the surfers watching in the shallows. “I don’t know how she makes it look so easy!”

“It’s one of her many talents.” Lena agrees, though there is always a feeling of anxiety whenever anyone she cares for is in any body of water.

“Totally.” Kara says before sighing sadly.

“Kara?” Lena asks concerned for the Super.

“I just… She’s worked so hard. I know she will come back from this, but when Alex and I got to her she… She just looked so broken.” Kara sighs again. Worry filling her eyes as she watches her sister.

“She didn’t want to talk about it. But said how daunting it is to find new bandmates. Which I can understand.” Lena knows how hard it is to make friends in general.

“Yea it’s not the easiest of processes. She needs to click with them, for them to become in sync with each other and then get on with them. How they managed to drive around in that tour bus all over America and later the world is beyond me!” Kara says with wide eyes, she had joined Emma for a few gigs and thankfully the venues weren’t too far from each other. But Kara found the journey long and boring.

“Kara, anything slower then you flying is beyond you!” Lena's teasing causes Kara to laugh loudly.

“True!”

They continue watching Emma who attempts a few aerial tricks. The spray of the sea flying high above her. “She wrote a really beautiful song just now.”

“Really?” Kara perks up and Lena nods. “Think she’ll play it for us?”

“Maybe.” Lena hopes Emma does. She really wants to hear it again.

While Emma still surfs the Superfriends play UNO. Laughing at how competitive Alex is getting and only getting calmed down when Kelly gives her a gentle kiss.

As the sun starts to slowly descend Emma finally gets out of the sea. Waving goodbye to a group of surfers she had been talking to.

She notices a fire has been built in the centre of the Superfriends circle and a few of them are roasting marshmallows.

Emma’s body is completely shattered but she smiles at the feeling. Making a note to come back here as much as she can. Even if the weather isn’t perfect like today.

The Superfriends greet her while she grabs her stuff to change. Alex stands and uses one of the blankets to block anyone’s view of Emma. Kara joins in and goes to the other side. Emma scoffs knowing full well she can change without showing anything and there has been no paparazzi bothering her.

Finally dry and feeling much warmer Emma sits next to Lena and places her head on her shoulder. She can’t help but yawn and let her eyes drift.

“Tired Em?” Alex teases from across the circle and smiles at Lena whose cheeks are tinged with red.

“Uhmm.” Emma confirms. “Do we have any more food?” She asks, keeping her eyes closed. “Or has Kara eaten it all?”

“Hey!” Kara swats Emma playfully but causes Emma to jump and glare at her. “Sorry! Did I hurt you?” Kara asks, panicked.

“No, I was just surprised.” Emma sighs before resting her head back on Lena’s shoulder.

“Well I did see a pizza place as we drove in. Maybe we can order?” Nia asks.

“Sounds like a good plan to me!” Emma gives a thumbs up. Pizza is one of her favourite foods.

With the joys of technology the friends order and half an hour later a pizza boy with a mountainful of pizza boxes comes towards them. They thank him and dig in. Emma grabs Lena and her pizza, two cans of soda and some salad left over from lunch.

“M’lady.” Emma holds out the cans which Lena takes. “I got some salad too.” Emma places the container in front of Lena.

“Thank you Em.” Lena says touched that Emma thought about her. She opens the lid and wonders how she can eat it. Looking up she sees Emma holding out a knife and fork for her and she smiles.

“You may need this.”

Lena grins back thanking her and takes the cutlery from the blonde.

Emma happily munches away at the pizza, rolling her eyes when the debate about Hawaiian pizza is brought up.

“Personally I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Sam defends laughing at Brainy’s stunned face.

“But to have a fruit on a savoury dish… it just does not compute.”

“Brainy.” Emma gets the alien’s attention. “Have you actually tried it?”

“No I have not.” He looks appalled that Emma would ask that.

“Then how’d you know if it doesn’t work?” Emma tilts her head.

After a moment of thinking Brainy nods. “Fair point.”

“Next game night I will order one and you can try it!” Sam says happily while winking at Emma, who smiles back.

“Just keep it away from me.” Alex says, shivering at the thought.

“Sorry to change the subject, buuutttt, Emma.” Kara says making Emma freeze while her last pizza slice was near her lips. She lowers it slightly while looking at her sister, who is beaming from ear to ear.

“Yea?”

“I saw you working on a song, wanna share it?”

All the Superfriends turn to look at Emma expectantly. Always appreciative of hearing anything Emma is working on. Taking a deep breath she lowers the slice back to the box and wipes her hands on a napkin.

“Peanut, you don’t have too.” Alex says glaring at Kara. Emma would do anything to make her sisters happy, Alex knew this. So did Kara. And yes, they would both exploit it sometimes.

“No, it’s okay. Would be great to get everyone's opinion.” Emma grabs her guitar and notebook. Reminding herself of the chords. “So… This… Well…” Sighing heavily, Emma closes her eyes to control her nerves. “I kind of imagine this as a duet, but with, well, the band breaking up. I may have to rethink it a bit.” Emma focuses on the fire in front of her, feeling too embarrassed to look at anyone.

She starts playing the chords and sings. Allowing the music to wash over and for her voice to carry with the wind. Emma adds the new verse but as she nears the end she feels her emotions take over, her frustration at her situation and the need to release it. She improvises. Closing her eyes and allowing herself to go with it.

Whoa-oh-ah-oh-ahh

Emma belts out, slamming her fingers into the guitar strings as she increases in passion and volume.

I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in I'll never meet the ground Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us We're far from the shallow now

A smile graces Emma’s face as she lifts her head.

In the shallow, shallow In the shallow, shallow

Emma softens her voice, allowing the natural end of the song to take place.

In the shallow, shallow We're far from the shallow now.

Emma allows the last chord to hold longer than necessary. She keeps her eyes closed and waits.

A huge roar around her causes her to jump and open her eyes. A crowd has gathered round the group and are applauding her. The Superfriends all clap wildly too, Alex wipes tears from her face and Kara beams as brightly as the sun. Emma turns to look at Lena and her smile is as bright, if not brighter then Kara’s. Her green eyes simmering with tears. Emma watches as one falls and she gently reaches out and wipes it away with her thumb.

She then acknowledges the crowd with a small wave and thanks them with a bow of her head. They soon disperse, returning to their own groups and Emma sighs in relief.

“So, was the song okay?” Emma asks while picking at a chipped bit of wood on the base of her guitar.

“Okay?” Alex's voice booms causing Emma to quickly look at her sister. Alex’s eyes are wide. “Okay? Em that song… Wow I don’t have the words!”

“That’s what Lena said.” Emma smiles at the two women.

“Well it’s true.” Lena grins back, nudging her shoulder into the blonde’s.

The other Superfriends nod and agree.

“It really moved me.” Sam says smiling at Emma who blushes in response.

“Yes.” Brainy adds. “Very- touching.” Nia smiles at him. Emma grins too, happy Brainy was able to express himself.

Emma plays a few more well known songs and the Superfriends join in. But as the sun dips slowly into the horizon Emma stops and hands the guitar to James who continues playing. Not as well as Emma but enough.

Emma heads back towards the surf, wading in up to below her knees. Taking deep breaths she watches the colours change, memorising the rich reds, oranges and yellows. Lena comes and stands next to her. They watch in comfortable silence and Lena links her fingers with Emma’s. They smile softly to each other before watching the sun dip under the horizon.

(Part Two)

#supergirl #supergirl imagine #supergirl tv #supergirl fanfic #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl baby danvers #lena luthor x baby danvers #alex danvers x baby danvers #kara danvers x baby danvers #lena luthor imagine #alex danvers imagine #kara danvers imagine #b!d #baby danvers

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beecherdrysdale · 3 years

Text

Project Partners - Brendan Brisson

Hey guys, so here’s a fic I started like a month ago and then kind of forgot about. Please send feedback bc I’m trying to improve my writing skills! Also, covid doesn’t exist in this.

warnings: language, underage drinking, that’s all i think?

///

“Y/L/N and Brisson.” You groan as you hear your professor name your partner for the term-long project. Of course you know who Brendan Brisson is. You had grown up as a huge hockey fan, so of course you had been watching the draft when he got drafted by the Golden Knights, and of course you had seen him playing for Team USA at World Juniors. From what you could tell of him, he seemed like the kind of guy who would make you do all the work and use hockey as an excuse as to why he couldn’t help. That’s too bad for him though, because he’s not the only varsity athlete, and swimming takes up just as much time, if not more, than hockey. Your professor continues to drone on about the project requirements as you contemplate why you even decided to take this course in the first place.

Finally, class ends, and you see Brendan walking toward you. “Hey, you’re Y/N, right? I’m Brendan,” he introduces himself.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. Guess I’m stuck with you for the rest of the semester, huh.”

“Yeah, so I just wanted to let you know I have hock-” he started.

“Save it, Brisson,” you cut him off, “you’re not the only athlete here, OK?”

“Wow, someone really woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just really tired of having to do all the work in group projects. I did it enough in high school, and I’m just so done with everyone’s excuses y’know?”

“Well, what I was trying to say is that I have hockey a lot so we should coordinate our schedules to work around it.” He pauses a second, then adds, “And whatever sport you play.”

“Swimming,” you supply.

“What?” He looks confused.

“Swimming is the sport I do,” you clarify. “Anyways, does the library at 8 on Tuesdays and Thursdays work for you? Besides when you have games or I have meets obviously.”

“Yeah that works.”

“Ok, see you tomorrow then,” you reply, turning to leave.

“Wait!” he stops you. “Can I get your number or snap or something in case I need to talk to you?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, quickly typing them into his phone.

“Thanks! See you tomorrow at 8,” he says before jogging to catch up to his friends.

///

The next day when you get to the library, the first thing you hear is, “You’re late. Where were you?”

“Sorry we got out of practice late and then I had to shower cuz chlorine and then I couldn’t find my hat and I didn’t want to go outside without it cuz my hair would freeze...” you begin to ramble.

“Hey, calm down, I was joking. You’re literally only like 2 minutes late.”

“Ok but I lowkey still feel bad.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he says, “Come on, let’s choose our topic.”

“Ok,” you respond, “so I don’t know if you have any ideas but I was thinking maybe we could do the effect of hockey on the Cold War? Cuz like you play hockey and I watch it all the time. Plus, I did a research paper on it in high school, so we could pull info from that and it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, seeming distracted. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you’re a big hockey fan?”

“Ummm, cuz you never asked? You’ve literally only spoken like 3 words to me before yesterday so I don’t know why I would tell you.”

“Ok, I guess that’s true,” he responds. He then proceeds to quiz you about hockey, seemingly trying to make sure you’re an actual fan and not just trying to use hockey to get to him like some other girls he knows. You seem to pass his test, because it’s not long before the two of you are messing around, making fun of each other’s taste in hockey teams. Two hours later, the two of you have gotten to know each other a lot better, but you haven’t even started your project.

“Shit,” you say, checking the time on your phone, “I gotta go. I still have to help my friend with her math and I have morning practice tomorrow.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” he says. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be late.”

“Omg shut up. You’re not funny,” you say playfully, as he laughs his ass off.

“You know I am,” he shoots back.

“Sure, Brisson, whatever you say. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as you leave.

///

After a few more library sessions, the animosity between you and Brendan which, you admit, was your fault had completely dissipated. The two of you quickly learn you actually have a lot in common, like your love of sports and your music taste, and despite his fratboy vibes you quickly grow to trust him. That’s why you don’t hesitate to say yes when he asks if you can meet at the hockey house to work on your project instead of in the library.

When you arrive at the house, you are greeted by the sound of the entire hockey team arguing over whose turn it is to make dinner. “I have to work on my project though,” you can faintly hear Brendan.

“It’s OK Brisson, sounds like you have more important things to do. We’re somehow ahead of schedule anyway,” you say, entering the kitchen.

“Seriously Y/L/N?” he groans. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“Sorry,” you say, shrugging.

Your apology is interrupted by Cam, “Hey Brisson, who’s this? Wanna introduce us to your new girlfriend?”

“Funny,” you say. “We’re just friends. We got assigned to work on this project together. Isn’t he wheeling like 3-4 girls a weekend anyways?”

“Hey,” Brendan protests. “You make it sound like a bad thing. I only do what they want.”

“Beside the point Brisson,” Johnny jumps in. “Just introduce us to your new friend.

“Fine,” he groans. “Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are the guys. Now,” he says, grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the stairs, trying to make his escape, “let’s go work on our project.”

“Not so fast, Brisson,” Nolan cuts in. “You’re making dinner. Y/N said it’s fine.”

Brendan sighs in response.

“C’mon,” you say. “I’ll help you. I promise it’s not that hard.”

Brendan begrudgingly follows you back to the kitchen as the rest of the guys scatter. You begin to pull the ingredients to make tacos, which thankfully they have, out of the fridge. “Here,” you say, tossing Brendan a tomato. “Can you dice this?”

The two of you work in silence for a few minutes before you decide to turn some music on. As you turn to reach for your phone, you glance over to see Brendan’s pile of tomatoes. “Seriously, Brisson?” you ask, staring at the haphazard pile in dismay. “Have you ever cut a tomato before? I had better cutting skills than that in preschool.” You hear a few guys snicker from the other room at that. After showing him how to cut it properly and turning on your Spotify, you continue to work, chirping Brendan occasionally. Once you and Brendan finish making dinner, you call the rest of the guys back into the kitchen to come eat.

As the guys eat, they drill you with questions, trying to find out as much as they can about Brendan’s “project partner.” You answer all their questions, and by the end of dinner you fit in seamlessly with the boys, even joining in their good-natured chirping of one another. Eventually, you have to leave, but the boys are quick to let you know you’re always welcome back whether it’s for your food or your company, you don’t know before you go.

///

As soon as you leave, all eyes are on Brendan. “So Briss, you wanna tell us about your new girlfriend?” Nolan asks.

“She said it herself, we’re just friends. We’re working on a project together,” Brendan is quick to reply.

“Sure...” Cam counters. “Friends don’t look at friends like that Brisson.”

“Like what?” Brendan asks.

“Like she hung the stars in the sky or some shit like that,” Johnny responds. “Look Briss, just go for it. It’s not like she’s gonna say no, she literally looks at you the same way.”

“But she would say no,” Brendan protests. “She’s the one who said we’re just friends first so obviously she doesn’t like me like that. Why should I go for someone who’s gonna reject me when I an go to a party and pick up whatever girl I want, like she said?”

“Because you can’t get whatever girl you want, Brisson. She’s the one you want. We can all see it,” Johnny replies.

“Ok you know what, fuck off. Leave me alone. The two of us are just friends,” Brendan reaches his breaking point. At that, the guys let it drop, Brendan’s outburst giving them all the proof they need.

///

Meanwhile, you are back in your dorm chastising yourself. Why did you have to say you and Brendan are just friends? You know any chance you had of him liking you back is now gone, because he thinks you only think of him as a friend. You debate what to do, even going so far as to pick up your phone and tap on his contact, before changing your mind and getting ready for bed. Guys like him don’t go for girls like you anyway or so you think. You’re sure he wants one of those perfect girlfriends who are always put together and dress cute, not some athlete who always walks around in sweats, and the last thing you want to do is fuck up your friendship by confessing. You ignore the feeling of jealousy that rises in your chest when you think of Brendan with another girl and force yourself to go to sleep.

///

It’s not even two days before you get a snap from Nolan asking if you want to go to a party with all of the guys. You agree immediately because you don’t have morning practice tomorrow and your plans with friends got cancelled and you’ve secretly been looking for an excuse to see Brendan outside of working on your project.

That night, you try to dress extra cute, even going so far as to ask your roommate to help you choose your outfit as she seems to have no problems picking up guys. You finally settle on an outfit and hurry out the door, wanting to make sure you get to the party on time so you can meet the guys outside and not have to walk in alone. As you walk out the door, you hear your roommate call, “Have fun! Be safe! Use a condom!” You flip her off as the door closes.

When you get to the party, you see the guys outside waiting for you. “Hey Y/N,” you hear a couple guys say.

“Heyyy,” you reply, as you guys start heading toward the house. Brendan lags behind the group, eyes trailing down your body. As much as he loved the fact that you wore what you wanted read: sweats and didn’t try to be a Barbie doll, he had to admit seeing you like this was hot. He hurries to reach the rest of the group, deciding you were standing just a little too close to Cam for his liking. He may not be able to be with you, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna watch you date one of his teammates. He catches up and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey Brisson,” you greet. “What’s up? You learned how to cut a tomato yet?”

“Haha, very funny Y/L/N,” he responds.

“Oh come on, you know it was,” you protest.

As soon as you guys enter the house Johnny says, “I’m going to get a drink. Anyone want one?”

“Yeah, can you get me a Natty?” you’re quick to respond. “But please make sure it’s closed.”

A couple other guys request drinks, and Johnny goes to get them while the rest of you head further inside. You stay with the guys pretty much the whole night, not wanting to get separated because you know what happens to girls who are at parties alone.

At some point in the night you guys end up near the beer pong table, and when it’s Brendan’s turn he makes you be his partner not that you’re complaining and drags you over to the table. The two of you quickly get on a winning streak and you end up winning the tournament you got pulled into. At this point you’re pretty drunk, so you don’t hesitate to go along with it when Brendan hugs you, the two of you stumbling a little bit. Both of you are reluctant to let go, reveling in the feeling of each other, as each of you thinks the other doesn’t like you back so you’ll never get to experience the feeling again.

You and the guys stay at the party a little longer before they realize how drunk you are because you had had more beers than any of them and decide its time to leave. All the guys come with you back to your dorm in order to make sure you get back safe, a gesture both you and your roommate thank them for before they leave.

///

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re hanging out with the guys, as has become usual for you, when Johnny ask, “Hey Y/L/N, how come you never come to any of our games? I thought Brisson said you’re a big hockey fan.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, “I just usually have swim when you guys have games. Plus you guys never invite me so...”

“Well we kinda assumed you already knew you were invited,” Nolan says. “You’re always welcome at our games, and if you tell us you’re coming we can probably get you good seats.”

“OK, well we actually don’t have swim practice on Friday for some reason, so I can probably come,” you say. “I’ll try to drag my roommate to come with too.”

The boys groan, “Really, Y/N? You want us to get two tickets? Do you know how much work that is?” before quickly revealing that they’re joking and telling you that of course they’ll get you two tickets.

///

True to the boys’ word, when Johnny sits next to you in your class together on Friday, he hands you an envelope with two tickets. “What are you wearing to the game tonight?” he asks with a plan up his sleeve.

“I don’t know,” you respond. “Probably my Michigan swimming hoodie.”

“You wear that everywhere though,” he protests.

“Yeah, so?” you fire back. “It’s a Michigan hoodie. School spirit.”

“Or you could wear this,” he says pulling something out of his backpack. He unfolds it to reveal that it’s one of Brendan’s hockey hoodies.

“Doesn’t he need that for the game tonight?” you ask.

“No, he has two,” Johnny replies. “Now stop trying to get out of wearing it. You have to wear something hockey related to support us.”

“Ugh fine,” you give in, knowing Johnny will be persistent.

///

That evening, you arrive at the arena with your roommate, begrudgingly wearing the hoodie with “Brisson” boldly stamped across your back. You are not enjoying yourself, because knowing what it feels like to wear Brendan’s sweatshirt and smell his cologne makes you all the more aware that this will never be your reality. Nevertheless, you force a smile on your face as you and your roommate sit down to watch warmups. You can feel the energy in the arena even now, before the game begins, as UMich is playing rival school Ohio State.

Once warmups are over you and your roommate go to use the bathroom and get snacks. The line for the bathroom is so long you don’t think you’ll make it back to your seats before the game starts, but thankfully you get to them just a second before puck drop. The game gets off to a rough start, with Ohio State scoring twice early, but by the end of the first the guys have picked up their pace, and you hope that they’ll be able to tie it up in the second.

After intermission, the boys come out guns blazing. Brendan scores just 30 seconds in to the period off an offensive zone face-off win. As he cellies, he makes eye contact with you up in the stands. “He is so into you!” your roommate squeals when she notices.

“No he’s not, shut up,” you reply, turning your focus back to the game. The guys stay on the forecheck pretty much the whole period, and it finally pays off when Johnny scores with 5 minutes left to play in the second. When the period ends and the guys head back to the locker room, the game is tied 2-2.

The third period begins with an Ohio State faceoff win, and they quickly get off a shot attempt. Thankfully, the shot goes wide and play continues. The teams go back and forth all period getting good scoring chances, but neither team is able to capitalize. It looks like the game is going to go to overtime, but then Brendan scores again with just 43 seconds remaining. Once again, he makes eye contact with you and smiles as he cellies, and once again your roommate freaks out and says that he definitely likes you. You make her shut up and start to grab your stuff as the final seconds wind down.

“Woah, slow down. Where are we going?” she asks.

“The guys told me to meet them outside the locker rooms,” you say, beginning to lead the way.

///

When you get to the hallway outside the locker room, you lean up against the wall and start scrolling through Insta as you wait for the guys to come out. Eventually the guys slowly begin trickling out of the locker room and heading over to their various girlfriends gathered in the hallway as all the single guys congregate around you, but you ignore them so you don’t get dragged into one of their arguments.

Finally, you see Brendan come out of the locker room so you put your phone away and push your body away from the wall. He starts to make a beeline toward you and does a double take when he realizes you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts. The guys had been bugging him for weeks to ask you out and he had been thinking of maybe doing it tonight, but seeing you in his sweatshirt has finally given him the confidence to make a move. As he reaches you, you say, “Hey Briss.”

“Hey,” he replies, and then his lips are on yours, and you don’t know where this is coming from but you’ve been wanting it for a while now so of course you kiss back, and it just feels so right you don’t ever want to stop. When you finally break apart, all the guys are cheering and whistling and you hear a couple guys mutter “finally”.

As the guys quiet down, you ask Brendan, “What was that for?”

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have done it,” he panics, thinking you were mad, even though you kissed back so you obviously weren’t.

“No, I liked it,” comes your reply. “It just kinda came out of nowhere.”

“Oh,” he calms down. “Well I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but I was kinda nervous so I kept putting it off. But then you looked really hot in my hoodie, so I just went for it.”

“Yes,” you say.

“Yes, what?” he asks, looking confused.

“You said you wanted to ask me out. I said yes,” you explain.

“Ok, so do you want to go get Chipotle or something tomorrow then?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” you reply. “But for now let’s go out and celebrate with the other guys.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk with the team, and you are finally content.

#brendan brisson #umich #brendan brisson fic #brendan brisson imagine #brendan brisson x reader

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jayjaydawn · 4 years

Text

Secret Ingredient: Love

Summary: When you bring food for your boyfriend and his group members to practice and baby them.

Pairing: Seungcheol/S. Coups x Reader

Genre: Fluffffff

Words: 877

A/N: I have just started writing, would love some feedback

“Food is symbolic of love, when words are inadequate”

It was late thursday evening. The day had been quite exhausting, spent within the four walls of your university library, trying your best to complete your assignments before time. Procrastination was something you were, unfortunately, way too good at.

After finally submitting your last assignment 5 minutes before the deadline, you close your eyes and rest against the chair. Suddenly you remember that you were supposed to meet your boyfriend, Seungcheol for dinner. Surprised that he never texted to ask where you are, you check your phone.

Received 2 hours ago

I’ll be late, practice is still on and will probably go on for a while. Sorry baby, you can go ahead and have your dinner, ill make it up to you soon :*

You sigh as you read the message. His practices are so tiring and he tends to forget to eat under stress, you wonder if he’s eaten at all. You check the time on your phone; 9:33pm. Hmm, not too late, you can totally grab some food for him and the rest of his members and rush there.

You have known Seungcheol since pre debut days and started dating him during his debut. You know the man inside and out along with all his members who were your friends too. Being the oldest hyung and leader’s girlfriend made all the other members respect you and at the same time made you extremely protective like a mom even though you are a ‘96 liner. They often came to you with all their problems, even when those problems involved your boyfriend. It never made him insecure or jealous, they all just saw you as a sister.

You made your way towards one of their favourite food joints. Picking up enough food for all the members, you headed towards their agency building. Walking in, you greeted some of the staff you recognized. As you were walking, with all the packets in your hands, you heard someone call you from behind, “Noona wait! What’re you doing here at this hour”. You turned around to find Mingyu jogging towards you.

“Where are you coming from? Aren’t you supposed to be practicing?”

“Yah, I went to take a call. What have you brought? Is it for us? Kimchi Fried Rice?” He questions as he grabs the packets from your hands and starts walking ahead of you.

“I can carry those mingyu! And yes, it is. I figured out you all wouldn't have eaten anything because you all love giving me stress, especially Seungcheol!”

Mingyu laughs, “What are these arms for huh? Stop worrying so much all the time. But you know us too well noona. Thank god you showed up, I was starving” he says as we both walk side by side towards the practice room.

As we arrived, I pushed open the door, “Hey guys”

“Noona brought us food!” Mingyu shouts as all of them push each other aside to grab at the packets in his hand. “Calm down and eat well” You say as Seungcheol approaches you. He hugs you tight, “Eww, you’re all sweaty. Gross.” you laugh. He looks down at you with his cute gummy smile that you love so much. “Thank you baby, you didn’t have to, you know? How are you feeling? Done with your work?”

“Of course I had to, I just knew you all would have forgotten to order yourselves food. And yup, I did finish my assignments, Finally. I can have the next two days off. How is practice going?”

“That’s great! Practice is going okay as you can see. We are all so tired but as soon as we get this choreography down and Soonyoung is satisfied, we can ease down a little and get a little free time in the evening” He says as he leans down to peck your lips. You pull him down by his neck as you kiss his lips, his nose, his cheeks, his forehead and any place you can reach. “My hardworking baby, I know you’ll do so well. Now c’mon let's eat.”

“You both are disgusting” Jeonghan comments as you walk towards them. You stick your tongue out at him as you both sit down with the rest of the members.

You serve yourself and Seungcheol while he tells you to stop putting food on his plate. You know that he doesn’t eat properly till the rest of the members have served themselves and taken enough. You make sure the rest of the members have taken enough.

“Chan, I can see how little you’ve put on your plate, you better take more unless you want me to get angry” You threaten him jokingly. He laughs as he says, “yes noona, I don't want more”

While you eat, you feel someone staring at you, you turn your face towards the right as you Seungcheol staring at you with a mouthful of food, “I love you so much, you don’t even know”

“I love you too” you laugh and say as you kiss his mouth with a loud smacking sound.

“When do you think they’ll stop with the PDA” you hear Vernon softly whisper to Seungkwan.

“They haven’t stopped in 4 years, what makes you think they’ll stop now”

You smile as you continue eating.

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

How Wonderful Life Is (While You're in the World) (Rosnali) - Athena2

Summary: Rosé has the perfect plan for proposing to Denali. If only she could get the plan to work.

A/N: So this idea came into my head and wouldn’t leave until I wrote it! I wish I had the same motivation for my homework honestly. It’s basically pure fluff and a little chaos. Thank you so much to Writ for beta-ing and helping my pull the final scene together. Please leave some feedback if you’d like, I really appreciate it!

Title from Your Song by Elton John.

Rosé has had the ring for two weeks now. The plan, however, she’s had even longer. It’s carefully organized, each step written on the checklist (which Lagoona’s been teasing her for) in Rosé’s prim-and-proper handwriting (which Jan’s been teasing her for since they were kids). But she needs this proposal to be perfect, everything Denali deserves and more. Denali deserves the world, but even with her promotion at the fashion magazine, that’s out of Rosé’s price range, so this has to be special.

She sits with an eye on the door, waiting for Denali to come in and fling her bag on the couch. Then Rosé will spontaneously-but-not-really-spontaneously suggest they go eat at the Thai place where they had their first date. After dinner, she’ll develop a sudden desperate craving for ice cream–hey, she might as well put those old acting classes to good use–and they’ll go on a walk to get said ice cream. But not any walk—a path Rosé created herself, one that takes them to the same ice cream place where chocolate and pistachio sweetened their first kiss, past the art museum where they officially became girlfriends in front of a Monet, and finally into the park where they first met years ago, where Rosé will get down on one knee and pull out the ring burning a hole in her pocket.

A perfect full circle moment, one she knows Denali will love.

Her leg bounces as she waits. She knows Denali will say yes, but this is still a big step, even bigger than moving in together. But that had turned out so well, letting her be around Denali all the time, learning new parts of her girlfriend that she could tuck inside herself. Like how Denali still has a battered Nike shoebox of her old Pokémon cards. How her early rising for skating still lingers, inviting warm sunrise cuddles. How she’s so brave and fearless, yet still shrieks and throws random objects across the room when she sees a spider. It’s a step that let them create a home together, with fluffy blankets on the couch and cheesy photo-booth pictures on the fridge and both their favorite chips in the cupboard. A home in each other, hugs and kisses and support all the time. A step that became amazing, and this one will be even more so.

Until the door flies open and in comes a slightly limping Denali with a scowl on her face.

“Well, today fucking sucked.”

Rosé jumps off the couch, easing Denali’s skating bag off her shoulder. “What happened, baby?”

“First one of my design clients decided they wanted to change their costume right after we settled on the original design. Then this minivan mom screamed at me outside the rink for like ten minutes because I said her kid needed more practice before moving to the next age group. And then I was so distracted from everything I fell on my knee when I was practicing.”

“I’m sorry, Nali.” Rosé winces, one hand steady on Denali’s waist, the other rubbing her back, soothing Denali with gentle touches, reminders that she’s here. “Is it bad?”

“Nah, it’s just a bruise. I’ll put some ice on it and it’ll be fine.” Denali flops down on the couch, leaning back and sighing. “Can we order pizza?”

Rosé’s heart sinks as she realizes the proposal is off for the night. Denali’s stressed and exhausted, clearly not in the mood for having dinner out or going for a walk. Rosé doesn’t blame her, and she isn’t going to push things. Part of her is disappointed, her perfect plan in ruins, no chance of them going to bed giddily planning a wedding. But Denali needs comfort after a bad day, and that’s something Rosé will always love to give her.

“Of course,” Rosé says. “Anything else you need?”

Denali shakes her head. She’s tough, and after some food and sleep, she’ll be ready to take on the world. But that won’t stop Rosé from giving her anything she wants tonight, making sure she always has a soft place to land.

“I’ll order it and get you some ice. You just relax.”

It doesn’t have to be today, Rosé reminds herself as she settles next to Denali, careful not to bump her knee. She’ll just propose another night. Everything is fine. And when Denali falls asleep with her head in Rosé’s lap while Rosé gently strokes her hair, everything really is fine.

—

Rosé waits a few days before her second try, giving the universe time to let out all its bad, proposal-killing vibes. The ring is secure in her nightstand drawer, nestled between her vanilla lotion and melatonin gummies, and Denali is secure in her arms when they wake up. Tonight’s the night. Rosé can feel it.

Until the rain starts.

And not just any rain, but heavy, pouring rain, pounding on the roof and destroying umbrellas. The kind that soaks you through in seconds and leaves you shivering the whole day. No one would want to spend five seconds in that rain, let alone go for a romantic walk in it.

But it’s only morning, and these heavy storms never last. By tonight, the sun will shine and the world will glisten with leftover rainwater. A perfect setting for a proposal.

But when the rain is still screaming down when Rosé leaves work, rattling the windows as she and Denali curl up under a blanket with hot chocolate, she has to give up on this one.

—

Third time’s the charm, everyone says that, so Rosé’s optimistic when Attempt Three rolls around. Hope follows her all day at work, as she arranges photos of models and meets with Michelle to discuss next month’s issue, and there’s a spring in her step when she leaves her desk and strolls to the elevator with Symone.

“I can’t wait to see your layout tomorrow!” Symone says, adjusting her purse and closing the door.

“You mean Friday.”

“Tomorrow is Friday.” Symone’s excitement becomes concern. “You feeling okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine,” Rosé stammers, batting away the hand Symone extends toward her forehead. “I just mixed my days up for a minute.”

Symone nods, and only when they’re both out of the building does Rosé allow herself to exhale, frantically checking the date on her phone and swearing when it confirms that today is, in fact, Thursday. She’s been so focused on this round of the proposal that she missed a day somewhere. Her layout is due at midnight, and even though it’s almost done, she puts so much care into each one there’s no way to do the proposal and the layout tonight without hurting the quality of one of them, and she can’t do that. It’s not fair to give Denali anything less than her full attention, and she can’t submit half-assed work weeks after her promotion either. The proposal will have to wait.

Again.

The hope turns to lead as she drags herself into the apartment, sprawling out at the kitchen table with her laptop, massaging her temples to ward off the looming headache. She doesn’t even hear Denali come in until she drops a kiss on the top of her head.

“Deadline?” Denali guesses.

Rosé sighs, leaning back to chase another kiss, which Denali gives her. “Yeah. I got my days mixed up and it’s due tonight. I’m gonna be here a while. I’m sorry.”

Denali nods in understanding, brushing Rosé’s hair off her face, calming the stress buzzing in her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make dinner and then I can keep you company. I have some costume sketches to work on.”

Rosé nods gratefully, heart swelling with love as she returns to her work. She faintly registers Denali moving around the kitchen, swaying and humming whatever her favorite song is this week, until she sets down two plates of grilled cheese.

They eat their sandwiches, and Denali replaces the plates with their floral coffee mugs–pink roses and blue forget-me-nots–a comfortable silence spreading between them as they work. They didn’t need to talk, didn’t need much of anything, but liked knowing the other was there anyway. There’s always been this connection between them, the way they were completely attuned to each other’s moods, knowing when to give space or comfort or talk things through.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Rosé says, stretching her back and jumping as it cracks. “You can go to bed.”

“I’m staying,” Denali says, stubborn as always. “Besides, I don’t sleep as good without you, which makes no sense because you’re always kicking me.”

Rosé sneaks glances as Denali works, sketching a blue skating costume. Denali’s been teaching skating lessons for years and started making outfits for clients last summer, and it’s really taken off lately. Rosé loves watching her sketch, the way her tongue curls over her lip, the way her dimples peek out, the way her dark eyes narrow in focus. She’s absolutely beautiful, hair in a messy bun, sweatshirt that Rosé is pretty sure was once hers sloping down to reveal the curve of her shoulder. The woman Rosé’s going to marry. Denali grins as she finishes, and finally catches Rosé staring at her.

“What?” Denali asks.

Ask her, Rosé thinks. Ask her right now. And she almost does, plan be damned. But she doesn’t want it to seem like she’s just blurting it out for the hell of it, like it’s thoughtless. “Nothing,” Rosé says quietly.

“I’m on to you, Rosie,” Denali says.

Rosé’s heart skips a beat. What if Denali found the ring, what if she knows–

“You were just so dazzled by my smile it made you speechless,” Denali says, flashing her dimples again.

Rosé grins, trying not to sigh in relief. “You’re right, baby.”

It’s 11:03 when Rosé sends her layout to Michelle, slumping back in her chair and letting her exhausted eyes slide shut.

“Come on, Rosie. Let’s go to bed.” Denali’s hands help her up, and Rosé leans into her. Denali stayed with her this whole time, refilling her coffee mug and rubbing her shoulders, showing her funny videos she was watching on her phone, letting out soft encouragements when she got frustrated. Rosé knows how lucky she is to have Denali, and she nuzzles against her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she mumbles sleepily. “For stayin’ up with me.”

“Of course.” Denali presses a kiss to her cheek.

They collapse into bed, and Rosé falls asleep with her arms full of love.

—

Attempt Four doesn’t go wrong right away. In fact, everything is fine–no bad work days, no rain, no deadlines.

And then Jan calls.

“What do you mean your sitter cancelled?” Rosé demands into the phone.

“I mean my sitter cancelled. It’s not a difficult statement,” Jan says on the other end.

“And why does this involve me?” Rosé plays dumb, but she already knows where tonight is going, and it doesn’t include a ring.

Jan sighs. “Because Jackie has this work dinner tonight, and I want to be there for her, but we can’t leave the baby. Please, Rosie, pleeeease?”

“All right.”

“You’re a lifesaver!”

Rosé sighs, adding another tally to the failed proposal column.

She tries to make the most of the night, not wanting Denali to suspect anything’s wrong. She’ll know if something is off with Rosé, and Rosé doesn’t want Denali to get suspicious about what’s bothering her, or think she’s hiding something. Well, technically she is hiding something, but not in a bad way. So she happily takes baby Joey from Jan and rocks him slightly, smiling as he smiles. Denali leans over and tickles him, giggling as he giggles, and there’s something about her smile, about the overjoyed the-baby-likes-me gleam in her eyes, that makes her even more adorable.

“I bet I can make him laugh harder than you.” Denali sticks her tongue out to prove her point.

Rosé gives into her competitive side and twists half her mouth up and crosses her eyes, cheering when Joey shrieks with joy.

“All right, that’s enough. You keep making those faces and you’ll scar the kid for life,” Denali mumbles.

Joey sleeps most of the night, but they watch the whole Disney movie anyway, snuggled together, Rosé softly singing in Denali’s ear.

—

Over the next few weeks, Rosé tries, refusing to let the universe take her hope away. She tries again and again, each time thinking that this will finally be it, the day they finally become engaged. The ring glares at her every time she reaches for her melatonin, because as the failures pile up, so do her hours of tossing and turning. Attempt Five is crushed by the dump truck the city brings in to clean the park. Denali catches a cold from one of her skating students and Rosé makes soup and fusses over her on the night of Attempt Six, and when Rosé wakes up sneezing two days later, that’s the end of Attempt Seven. The ice cream shop posts on Instagram that they’re closed for the day due to electrical outages, and Attempt Eight melts away like ice cream in the sun. By this point, Rosé’s tempted to make a damn bingo card for the next thing to go wrong.

“I see I still don’t have a sister-in-law,” Jan says as she enters the apartment, Lagoona trailing behind her.

“Why do you want another sister? You have us.” Lagoona throws an arm around Rosé and flashes Jan a cheesy grin.

“That’s exactly why I want another one.”

Rosé sighs. “This is what I wanted to talk about, actually.”

Jan and Lagoona must sense her seriousness, because their bickering stops, faces attentive like every time Rosé has gone to them for help. They were there when she failed a math test, and when she realized she wanted to kiss girls the way other girls kissed boys, and when she was getting ready for her first date with Denali. They’re always armed with hugs and decent advice and (usually) decent fashion tips, and Rosé loves them for it.

“What’s going on?”

Rosé fidgets with her sleeve. “It’s just–every time I try to propose, something goes wrong. What if …” Rosé pushes on despite the crack in her voice, “what if it’s a sign I shouldn’t propose? That we shouldn’t get married?”

She’s been trying to stay hopeful. She and Denali have been together for four years, after all, and if a few mishaps delayed their proposal, well, they’d get there eventually, and laugh about everything later. But that was about four mishaps ago, and Rosé can’t shake the feeling tightening around her chest that they’ll never get to the laughing-about-it stage, that Denali will never wear the ring. A few mishaps are a coincidence, but how many coincidences can you have until they become something more, something you can’t ignore?

“Don’t even let yourself think that,” Jan says softly.

“Jan’s right, and I’ll probably never say that again, so stop analyzing and listen,” Lagoona says. “You’re trying too hard to make this perfect. Stuff just goes wrong sometimes. It only feels huge because you’re putting so much pressure on yourself.”

“And it doesn’t need to be perfect,” Jan adds. “I know you want to give her the best proposal ever, but Denali knows you love her. She wouldn’t want you to be this stressed. You could propose in a dumpster and she’d say yes.”

Lagoona nods. “Look, your plan is amazing, but maybe it’ll help if you lose the plan and just propose when it feels right. Then you don’t have to cancel it every time the smallest thing goes wrong.”

“But how will I know when it’s right?” Rosé asks. “I don’t want it to seem thoughtless, or disappointing.”

“Nothing you do would be thoughtless, and you’d never disappoint Denali, first of all.” Jan pulls her into a hug. “And honey, I think it already is right. That’s why you bought the ring.”

Rosé nods, every doubt immediately pushed away. Instead of clinging to the plan the way she would cling to her script and run lines over and over at theatre camp, she can let go of the plan, of waiting and waiting for every single factor to be ideal. She loves Denali, and any time to propose to her is the right time. Rosé knows it’s right, just like she knew moving in together was right, just like she knew asking Denali out in the first place was right. Denali has always felt right to Rosé, someone she can show herself and her heart to, and she’ll know when to do it.

—

Rosé has taken to carrying the ring around in her purse, just in case she’s pushing her luck keeping it hidden in the apartment, but also in case the moment hits her while she and Denali are out somewhere. She likes having it close, touching the black velvet box and assuring herself of the promise inside.

Even with her new plan of not having a plan, she still struggles to get the words out. There have been some close calls–a weekend morning half-asleep in bed together, sunlight making Denali’s face gold, or having coffee in a cozy cafe, Denali tilting her head back to laugh at something Rosé said. But she always stumbles over exactly what she wants to say, or hesitates just a second too long, and the moment passes, or Denali moves on to something else.

Tonight, she’s flipping pancakes while Denali tends to the eggs.

“Why do you love breakfast for dinner so much?” Rosé mumbles, dodging Denali as she throws salt and pepper on the eggs like they’ve personally offended her.

“Breakfast food tastes better at night. You’re having a certain food at a time you’re not supposed to have it, so it’s like all sexy and forbidden and shit, and it tastes better. Same rule applies to pizza for breakfast.” Denali shrugs, like it’s common knowledge.

“I’m sorry I asked.” Rosé adds chocolate chips to the pancakes, Denali’s favorite.

They dig in to eat, and Denali jokes that she should make a skating costume based on breakfast foods, with a waffle skirt and ruffles that look like bacon, and Rosé can’t stop laughing, torn somewhere between amusement and horror.

Denali is laughing too, arms swinging around as she pretends to model the garment, her eyes sparkling, and it hits Rosé all at once in that moment. God, I love her so much.

“Marry me,” Rosé says.

Denali stills at once. “What?”

“I–hang on.” Rosé sprints to her purse, digs out the ring, and lowers her knee to the kitchen floor. Her heart throbs in her chest, but a smile from Denali shows she has nothing to worry about. “Denali, I … I had this perfect plan of how to propose to you, but every time I tried, something went wrong and stopped me. But the plan doesn’t matter. You matter. You matter more than anything to me, and this might not be perfect, but it’s you, and you’re always perfect to me. Will you marry me?”

Denali’s eyes glisten with tears. “Of course I’ll marry you, Rosie. I love you so much.”

The ring fits perfectly when Rosé slides it on her finger, and Denali fits perfectly in Rosé’s arms when she pulls her in for a kiss.

“So you did that little speech on the fly, huh?” Denali asks when they pull apart and sit back down.

“I am an improv queen, you know. Got the theatre camp certificate to prove it.” Rosé laughs. “But yeah. Instead of writing what I wanted to say, or thinking too much, I just … said it. And it’s all true, because I love you.”

Denali smiles, reaching out to take Rosé’s hand, stroking her thumb across the back of it. She gets a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So, how many times did you try to do this? I just want to know.”

“I think the official count is eight.” By the time Rosé finishes telling them all, they’re both crying tears of laughter and clutching at sore stomachs, splitting the bottle of champagne they opened.

Denali looks at her after she’s done, and Rosé knows she’s crying for real now.

“You’re not disappointed, are you? The plan was way better, I was gonna–”

“I don’t need to know what the plan was,” Denali says firmly, “because I love the proposal you did. You could never disappoint me, Rosie. Never.” She sniffles. “I’m crying because I just–I can’t believe you tried that hard to do this for me. You’re basically the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

“I love you,” Rosé says simply, and even if she couldn’t do the perfect proposal, she’s glad Denali knows how much she loves her, how she would do anything for her.

“I love you too,” Denali says. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll get to do that proposal some day after all.”

But Rosé doesn’t care if she does or not. Because she and Denali are getting married.

—

One Month Later

Rosé has a new checklist (which Lagoona’s been teasing her for) in her prim-and-proper handwriting (which Jan’s been teasing her for since they were kids). It’s a notebook, really, stuffed with all the things they have to do for the wedding–check out venues and finalize the guest list and then look at menus and decor and about a hundred other things. But Denali commanded her to leave it home today, because they both need a break.

“Can we get lunch?” Denali asks.

“We didn’t even shop yet.”

“But I’m hungry,” Denali whines.

“Okay, okay.” Denali’s hanger can level a city block, and Rosé knows she needs to get some food in her. “How about that burger place?”

“Too far. We’re only a block from that Thai place, let’s just go there.”

They get to their table just before the lunch rush hits, and Rosé thinks of how she’d been so sweaty before their first date that she had to put on extra deodorant in the bathroom. She’s calm and peaceful now, Denali slurping noodles across from her, their feet brushing without any thought of whether a first date was too early for that.

“I think those noodles gave me heartburn.” Denali rubs her chest as they walk out.

“Maybe it was the fact that you ate a giant bowl of them–”

“Oh, hush, Rosie. Oooh, you know what my mom says cures heartburn? Ice cream!”

Rosé doesn’t think that’s medically accurate, but she’s not going to challenge her future mother-in-law; even if the woman is miles away, her hearing is excellent, and it’s just not worth the risk.

She follows Denali into the ice cream place, helping her sort through all the flavors for her massive cone with extra rainbow sprinkles (‘what kind of lesbian would I be if I didn’t get rainbow sprinkles, Rosie?’ Denali demands, and Rosé gets extra on her strawberry cone too).

“Okay, I officially ate too much.”

“Again, you literally had three scoops of ice cream and a waffle cone.”

“Don’t remind me.” Denali looks slightly green, and Rosé just hopes this day doesn’t involve vomit. “I just gotta–I gotta walk it off,” Denali says, trying to nod convincingly, easing her hands off her stomach.

“If you throw up, please don’t do it on my shoes.”

“Noted.”

As much as Rosé hates barf, she can’t stop keeping a close eye on Denali as they walk, one steady hand on her back in case she needs it. Denali’s taking measured, trying-not-to-throw-up breaths as they walk, Rosé so focused on her that she barely notices where they’re going.

Denali comes to a sudden stop, her breathing back to normal in an instant, and Rosé finally notices they’re in the park.

And then it hits her.

They had Thai food.

They had ice cream.

They went on a walk together.

And now they’re in the park.

“I think you have something to ask me.” Denali grins smugly, but Rosé’s brain is still lagging, trying to piece together how Denali executed the plan perfectly.

“How did you—I never even told you what the original plan was!” Rosé stammers.

Denali’s smile stretches to her ears. “No, but Jan and Lagoona were more than happy to tell me.”

“Those two and their big mouths.” Rosé shakes her head, but she can’t believe how they teamed up with Denali and went through all this so the proposal could happen the way she dreamt.

“Yep. They also said they were gonna hide in the trees and watch, and I think they were joking, but you never know.”

Rosé cackles. She wouldn’t put it past the two of them to abuse the internet and order those fancy camouflage hunting suits to hide in, and when her quick look at the trees reveals nothing, she wonders if they really did.

“You—you really did all this for me,” Rosé says in wonder. “Lunch and ice cream and pretending to be sick so I was distracted and wouldn’t figure it out.”

As much as she told herself things ended up okay, part of her still wanted to do it, express her love the best way she could. She’s always been one for big, meaningful gestures where she could let out the love bursting inside her. And now she gets to, because of Denali.

“You’re not the only actress in the family,” Denali teases. “I know how much the proposal meant to you, Rosie. I wanted you to be able to do it.” Denali slips her ring off and offers it to Rosé. “Go on, ask.”

Rosé takes the ring and carefully gets down on one knee. Her body is warm from the sun and from love, and the words she finally says are a combination of her planned speech from months ago, and everything bursting in her heart right now.

“Denali, the first time we met was right in this park, at the skating rink. I bumped into you, and when I saw you, I was so glad I’m a shitty skater.” She grins. “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. I love your passion, and your talent, and your kindness. I love you when you’re screaming over video games, and when you’re in your sad blanket burrito, and even when you drink too much coffee and get too hyper. And you love me too, even when I’m grumpy or I won’t stop singing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I promise that I will never, ever stop loving you, no matter what. Denali, will you marry me?”

“For the second time, yes, I will.”

She slides the ring on Denali’s finger for the second time, and as she pulls Denali in for a kiss, she knows that, plan or no plan, her life as Denali’s wife will be infinitely perfect.

#rpdr fanfiction #s13 #denali foxx #rosé #jan sport #lagoona bloo #rosnali #lesbian au #fluff #athena2 #concrit welcome #submission

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mylovelies-docx · 3 years

Text

Kid Krow - Heather

Chapter two is here! I’m going to try and post updates on Mondays, Thursdays, and Sundays until it’s finished!

The angst train is beginning its looooong journey, so be prepared!

Feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open for questions or comments.

Trigger warnings for this chapter: angst, pining, jealousy, hurt, sadness, allusions to smexy times, friendship. (Zorii is a good buddy)

Tagging the ones that liked the last post: @lil-lex1 @star-hoes @greendagger15

Word count: 3k

Link to the song inspo! x

Everyone had been drinking heavily by this point. Poe had his arm slung over your shoulders, drawing you into his heat to ward off the chilly night. Everyone was celebrating the success of your last mission.

It was successful in terms that nobody was injured. The exchange, on the other hand, could have gone better. But when your friends get the urge to party, there really is no stopping them.

You were the pilot of this little group that made up your circle of friends. Poe had taught you everything he knew about flying, and you had the patience that went along with being friends with a very… Poe… type of person. Therefore, you were the best pilot the group had. You could sit in the pilot’s chair all day waiting on the others to come back from their rendezvous with criminals and politicians alike, and be perfectly happy reading stories on your holopad.

You and Poe had been with the Kijimi Spice Runners for more than a few years now, ever since he had turned 16 and pestered you until you went along with his little escape plan. Everyone in your squadron was a decent being – as decent as smugglers and criminals can be, anyway – and you and Zorii were the best of friends when Poe wasn’t busy shoving his tongue down her throat.

And sometimes even when he was.

It killed whatever was left of your heart every time they wandered away from the group, running off the make out and fuck the adrenaline still thrumming through his veins out after a successful drop. But Zorii wasn’t drawing him away at the moment, so your heart was safe.

For now.

You were gazing up at Poe, enraptured in the way he was telling the story of one of your many adventures before joining up with the Spice runners of Kijimi. Your fellow runners were all laughing boisterously at your expense, as Poe was describing the time you wiped out in a pile of Bantha dung after trying unsuccessfully to tip one over while it slept.

You were laughing along because it was hilarious in retrospect, but you still shoved at Poe’s chest in defense of your younger self. He laughed harder, bringing himself back towards you and placing you directly against his chest with both arms draped over you, cradling you against him. (x)

His touch was more intoxicating than the Alderaan Ruge Liquor someone had stolen for tonight from the depths of a collector’s cellar.

You shivered at the delicious feeling of Poe surrounding you. You lived for moments like this, where you were both safe and happy and together. Poe’s laughter faded and he glanced down at you, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you cold?” he asks, his hands now rubbing up and down your arms. You blushed, unable to bring yourself to admit that it was more a shiver of pleasure than from the cold.

“Just a little, but I’m alright,” you said, smiling up at him.

“Well, we can’t have that.” Poe released you and started taking some of his layers off. Even with the fire you were all gathered around, multiple layers were necessary.

“Poe, no! Put your clothes back on,” you giggled, pretending to peek through the fingers you had placed over your eyes in mock chastity. Your flush building as he removed one of his sweaters and his undershirt rode up enough to expose a strip of tan skin.

“Nonsense, my princess is cold and I’ve got plenty of clothes to share.” Poe grinned, tugging his freshly removed sweater over your head and smoothing the hair away from your face where his actions had mussed it. “Besides: it looks better on you, anyway.”

You hugged your arms around yourself as you watched Poe zip up his outer layers. Your heart was full to bursting in your chest, and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

Once Poe was situated again, you clung back onto him. You wrapped your hands around his arm and tucked them up where his arm met his chest. You gave your fingers a little wiggle and looked up at Poe, a mischievous grin on your lips. Poe’s face was playfully stern.

“Don’t even think about it, (Y/N). You know what will happen,” Poe warned.

“I’m not doin’ anything,'' you shrugged, looking away. Poe didn’t believe you, so he took your hands away from him and gripped them in his own, rubbing them gently to keep them warm.

You were in a great mood, enjoying the evening with friends and getting progressively more intoxicated.

“What a sight for sore eyes!” came Zalos’s bellow from beside you. He was gesturing for Zorii to come closer to the fire and join in on the fun you were all having. She had just come from talking with another group of Spice runners at the party, all of them watching her go and murmuring appreciatively to each other. Whatever deal she had just struck was going to do great things for your little troop.

“No thanks, I think I’m going to head to my quarters; big day and all,” Zorii threw a meaningful look Poe’s way and walked off towards the ship.

You watched his eyes as she walked by. There was a hunger in them that hadn’t been there before. You knew what was coming next.

“I think she’s right; I think I’m going to pack it in for the night, too.” Poe released your hands and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you all in the morning.”

With a small wave and a smile on his face, he rushed after Zorii. Off to offer his warmth to her for the night and well into the morning.

“About time,” Arle muttered, taking another swig of liquor, “they’ve been dancing around each other for weeks now.”

“I wouldn’t call it dancin’ as much as foreplay. It’s always hotter when you’ve gotta work for it,” you said, pretending that your heart wasn’t breaking. “She’s had him mesmerized for a while now. I’m just surprised it took you all this long to find out they were together.” You upended your glass and downed the last of your drink. You stalked over to the bottle for a refill – you’d be needing it tonight. “I thought you three were more observant than that?” you teased.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mille groused.

“Good for them, though. Someone on this team needs a little action,” Arle mentioned, quickly looking to and dropping Mille’s gaze. Looks like Poe and Zorii weren’t the only ones that would be coupling up for the night.

“You’re all weak-willed; sex is the antithesis to rational thought. It drives you all mad with desire and detracts from what’s really important,” Zalos ranted, not for the first time.

“We can’t all be as lucky as you, Zal. Us lesser creatures crave a sweet release every now and again,” you joked. If you could have been as uninterested in relationships as Zalos was, you wouldn’t be in the situation you were now. You could be genuinely happy for Poe and Zorii, your two best friends, for finding joy in each other.

“I’ll teach you anything you want to know, little one. It’s all about meditation,” Zalos supplied, bringing his hands together in an imitation of a meditative position.

You chuckled and took a deep gulp of the Alderaanian liquor, hoping it would provide a deep enough sleep that you wouldn’t hear Poe’s moans through the walls tonight.

_____

“I don’t want to know,” you chuckled.

You were nursing a killer headache, and the stars shooting by the transparisteel were making you nauseous. Zorii was as composed and pretty as ever, having not taken part in the flowing alcohol last night.

Why would he ever kiss me when I’m not even half as pretty as she is? you wondered to yourself. You turned your neck so that your head was lying against the pilot’s chair, providing an unimpeded view of Zorii in her morning-after glow.

“All I’m saying is that you need to find someone that can do that to you; I promise you won’t regret it.” Zorii looked at you with a devilishly satisfied smile. You rolled your eyes at her antics, having already planned on finding someone to spend a few hours with at the next fuel stop.

“I don’t need to know how good of a lover my best friend is, thank you very much. I’m perfectly content not to know.” Because if you knew how much you were missing out on, you’d feel even worse than you already did.

“Fine; it’s your loss. I’m just trying to give you some new things to try out.” Zorii smiled into her caf, happy that she had made you squirm. She thought that you were anticipating trying out whatever she had been explaining, but you had tuned her out when the thoughts of Poe grinding into you from that angle left you hot and unable to focus on what else she was saying.

“Whatever,” you joked good naturedly, “just try to keep it down next time, yeah? Even in a liquor induced coma, I could hear you guys.” You had woken up to Poe’s groans echoing in your ears; both from the quarters next to yours and from inside your dream.

“Okay, princess. We’ll try not to mess with your beauty sleep,” she grinned.

“That’s all I ask.”

The conversation ended.

You both sat there staring as the stars passed by. You couldn’t focus on any one thought for long, so you were glad Zorii was tuned in enough to notice your inability to function that morning. She just provided the silent company you craved.

After a while, the quiet was broken when the cockpit door hissed open. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Poe walking in. You threw him a tired smile and looked back out the windscreen.

Poe sauntered up between the chairs, ruffling your hair and placing a kiss on Zorii’s lips. He squatted down between the two of you.

“So, where are we heading, princess?” he questioned.

“Wherever Mille tells me to go; it’s their turn to pick the destination.” You explained. Mille hadn’t woken up yet, being a notoriously late sleeper. You’re sure it didn’t help that Arle and they had left the fire together last night, either.

“Sounds like a plan.” Poe turned to Zorii, some clothing in hand. “I thought you would be a little cold, so I brought you my sweater,” he said, pulling it open and placing it over her head, much the same as he did for you last night.

You sucked in a quiet breath, trying not to flinch. It was the same sweater you were given last night.

“And who says I wanted this?” Zorri snarked, hands on her hips and a faux-affronted expression on her face.

“I say you wanted this,” Poe returns. He placed a kiss on her forehead and threw you a wink, then strolled back out of the cockpit with a smile on his face.

“What a sap,” you commented. You don’t think she noticed the sadness that lingered in your expression after Poe gave her his sweater. You grew colder at the knowledge that Poe cared for her just as much, if not more, than he did for you.

You definitely knew that he cared about her in a different way than he did you.

“Yeah…” she breathed. She fisted her hands in the sweater and pulled it up to her nose, taking in the smell of Poe.

The sweater he had given you last night had been spread out on your cot, infusing the blankets with his scent. A terrible way of trying to get over your crush, but one of the only ways you could stand not having him there. It’s excruciating that Poe had taken it from you to give to her.

He must like the thoughts of her in his sweater more than he cared about your feelings on the matter. But you had told him you were over it, so over it you pretended to be.

The last time you and Poe had gone off alone together had not gone your way, and you needed to keep the promise you made to him that day.

“When we stop for fuel, do you think you can stall every one for a couple of hours?” you asked Zorii.

“Oh yeah? Did I give you some ideas?” she teased, reaching out her arm to pinch your cheek.

“And so what if you did?” you smacked her hand away and rubbed your cheek. “It’s been a while since I was off the ship and having some fun away from you nerfherders.” Your tone was playful and you threw a knowing look her way.

“You know it’s not me keeping you from having fun; I encourage you as much as I can. I think Poe’s just jealous that when you’re gone you give me control and not him.”

Zorii was right, but it hurt to think that the only reason Poe didn’t want you to be with somebody else was because you didn’t give him the pilot’s chair. It had started out as a joke, you giving Zorii – arguably the worst pilot out of all of you – control while giving Poe your stuck-out tongue.

You liked when he begged you to stay, begged you to keep everyone up in the air and on the way to the next Spice drop. But you only gave him a cheeky smile and a promise of being back after a few hours. Sometimes you told him about your plans to find someone just to see if he was jealous for a different reason when you got back late.

He never was.

____

You were sat with your feet propped on the console, careful to avoid pressing any buttons. You had a leather bound tome on your lap, enjoying the story’s plot. The main character reminded you of Poe: brave, brash, and beautiful. You were so enthralled that you didn’t hear the chatter of the trade end, so when you resurfaced at the next chapter you were at a loss as to why everyone was laughing amongst themselves.

“Did I miss something?” you asked, hand to the comm link in your ear. “I wanna be in on the joke.”

“It’s nothing, princess; we were just wondering why you zoned out on us,” Poe replied. You could hear the smile in his voice. “Another one of your stories take you away from us?”

“Of course. None of you are heroic enough to prevent an extinction-level event. You’re actually quite boring in comparison,” you said airily, grinning through your lie. They were some of the best people you knew-- illegal activities aside-- and they knew that.

“Okay, little book-worm.” Zorii was chuckling at the exchange. “We’re heading into the next cantina we find; are you going to join us this time?” she asked sarcastically, already knowing your answer.

“And waste what precious little alone time I have? Not a chance, Rii. You guys have fun out there, but I’m staying right here.” You made yourself more comfortable in your chair, preparing for at least a few more hours of immersion.

They heard you wiggling around, and laughed at your refusal to join them once again.

“It didn’t sound like you wanted to be alone the other night,” Poe said slyly. “We all heard you and that bounty hunter outside of the ship; you seemed to be enjoying their company.” Poe was chuckling to himself. “What was that? The fifth one in the last few weeks?”

Everyone was laughing and joking along, but you were horrified to know that they had all heard you. That Poe had heard you. And that he thought the way in which you had decided to keep your promise was a joke to be laughed at.

“Shut it,” you growled. Everyone was still having fun and chatting back and forth, but Poe went silent.

You heard music in the background, signaling that they had finally made it to a cantina. You were relieved that the conversation was ending and that you had time to calm your anger before they came back.

You said goodbye to the group and started removing your comm link when Poe’s voice came over the private channel.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he apologized, sighing heavily into the line. “That was uncalled for; I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“No,” you said, rage and hurt evident in your voice, “you shouldn’t have.”

“I know you’re trying to work through some things--” he began, but you cut him off.

“Seriously, Poe: don’t mention it. I’m working through it and making progress, so you don’t have to worry.” Your anger was morphing into a melancholy ache that was burning a hole in the middle of your chest.

“I’m always going to worry about you, (Y/N), that’s what friends do.” Poe was trying so hard to apologize, but everything he said was only making it worse.

“I know,” you choked, “just try not to mention my little indiscretion again, yeah?”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Poe joked, trying to console you.

Poe, please stop laughing at me, you begged internally.

You stared up at the controls above your head, willing the burning behind your eyes to go away. You needed a subject change and to get Poe to leave you alone for right now.

“Hey, could you bring me back some food? I’m not in the mood for anything we have onboard.”

“Yeah, sure. The usual?” Poe asked, thankfully having taken the hint and backing off.

“You know it.” You forced a neutral tone to your voice, hoping to get him off the line quickly. “But no rush; you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll just be here.”

“Okay, (Y/N), we’ll see you soon.”

“Okay.”

You ended the link and tried to go back to your story, but the male lead reminded you too much of Poe again and you had to put it away.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe x reader #poe dameron/reader #poe dameron x you #star wars #star wars fan fiction #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron x y/n #sequel trilogy #Kid Krow (A Poe Dameron Story)

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lightanddarklove · 4 years

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Connverse Week Day 2: Singing

Singing while Sloshed

Rated: Teen | Tw: Drinking/ Drunkenness

This is obscenely long for what was supposed to be a drabble so I'm just going to link @susoftjockau, they’re incredibly wholesome and cute.

Edit: I may have gotten a few things wrong because I posted at 3 am, & this is an unbeta’d work. Also, being that I am not affiliated with the SJ AU, I don’t know if Fiona’s personality at all fits within its standard. If there’s another cheerleader character that her actions would make more sense for, I can totally change it. Its Connverse focused after all.

The first song Steven's riffing on is "It's Only Love" (though you may know it as Michelle) by The Beatles. The second song is "Love Like You," Steven Universe's extended credits theme.

I am continuing this for thursday’s prompt, together, as I orginally wanted them to have a conversation in the morning but at 3 am I had to call this done. I wrote over 4k words in one day that I was off from work and I can’t be doing that again, or staying up later, haha.

Lastly, the idea that Steven only likes sweet alcoholic bevs is hardwired into me, as someone who hates beer and wine, I think he wouldn't like them either. I mean he doesn't like energy drinks for stars sake (he makes a face when drinking one in Kevin Party), what about beer would be appealing when he can have wine coolers and ciders?

Anyway, feedback makes me smile, even if you tell me about typos or that I could be doing something better. Please let me know of I neglected any tags I should mention. Thanks for reading!

Edit 2: Tumblr mobile ate this post so when I got back home and tried to fix i the format didn’t have my readmore, so if you reblog it won’t be as much of a wall of text anymore. Sorry!

A night at a party for College-age Steven and Connie results in one too strong drink, a clumsy walk home, and embracing each other through the tears. Hurt-Comfort in the Soft Jock AU. Established relationship, but no significant physical intimacy. Rated T for drinking and one use of mild language. Some depression talk and self esteem issues too. Teen.

Steven had been sitting at a table, enjoying the music and sipping a soda in a red plastic cup until all that was left was ice. He was waiting for Connie to finish her conversation with Natalie across the room. He bobbed his head lightly to the music playing from the speaker by the doorway. He was smiling at Connie until Fiona came to sit down in front of him. He sat up a bit straighter and looked at her.

“Hey Fiona,” he said.

“You sticking around, Universe? Or you itching to get out of here,” asked Fiona.

“I wouldn’t say I’m itching to get out of here,” he replied. “But Connie and I were looking to leave soon.”

“Do you want another drink before you go?”

“Well, I did already have 2 wine coolers earlier, so I think I’m done for the night.”

“Really,” she asked. “I mean, how long ago was that? Like 10?”

“10:30,” he replied. “But I have to get home soon, anyway.”

“That was almost 2 hours ago.” She said. “You can have another drink. I’ll be right back, wait here. You like soda and orange flavor, right?” She began to stand and he tried to wave her back.

“Don’t trouble yourself for me, Fiona.”

“If you like soda and fruit juices, you’ll like it. You can barely taste the alcohol, the way I make it. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll make one for each of us.”

“Well, ok.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, just past the speakers. He tapped his foot and glanced back to Connie, who had leaned into Natalie as their conversation continued. Natalie had on a wry expression as she finished telling Connie something, and Connie threw her head back and laughed. It was nice to see Connie be more comfortable with herself after a few years in college. To see her laughing at a party and not have himself be the cause of it was a good feeling. Steven can’t help but feel his chest swell with pride. He smiled at her but didn’t try to get her attention yet.

With a clink, a glass was set down in front of him, Fiona sliding in from his peripherals. The drink didn’t look bubbly, a brown-orange tone with a few ice cubes and a lemon wedge hung over its rim. The glass looked like a juice glass, not designed to hold over 10 ounces, and it wasn’t full, so he assumed it was about a 6 to 8 oz drink. Fiona had her glass in her hand as she sat next to Steven with smirk.

“Ready to try something new, Steven?” Fiona asked. “Take a sip without the lemon first, then squirt it if you want it more sour.” She raised her glass, waiting to have him give her a cheers with his.

He lifted the drink and clinked hers, quietly saying “Cheers,” before bringing it to his lips. Sweet and sour was the first flavor he noted, and then mostly orange, with some cola blending in and a minor alcoholic tang. He was pretty sure the base of the liquor was tequila, but there were other flavors he couldn’t identify, since he was pretty new to trying drinks. He nodded and smiled after the first sip. “It’s good.”

“You like?” Fiona replied, voice coy.

“Yeah,” he said, and with two gulps his drink was almost gone. She snorted, seeing how quick he had downed the cocktail. He gasped quietly, the burn in his throat stronger than the flavors had made it out to be.

“Careful there, Universe, or you’ll be on the floor,” Fiona remarked. “You aren’t a lightweight, are you?”

“Its fine,” he replied, downing the last sip. His eyes drifted back to Connie who was quickly approaching from across the room, brows knitted in concern, and Natalie behind her. He moved to stand from the stool and stumbled slightly, not expecting to be feeling the alcohol so quickly. Connie moved her arms to steady him.

“You ok?” she asked, eyeing him over. Steven gave a dopey smile and leaned on her slightly.

“Heeeeeyyyy Connieeee,” his voice turning sultry and mellow. His lowered pitch sent a chill up her spine, but she pushed the feeling that thrilled her down and rounded on Fiona, glaring.

“What did you give him?” Connie barked.

“It looked like a Long Island Iced Tea,” Natalie said from behind Connie.

“I call it…” Fiona replied, pausing for effect and waving her half-finished drink in one hand, “a Strong Island Iced Tea. It’s got more tequila and sours than the standard.”

“A Long Island Iced Tea,” Connie half-shouted, exasperated. “Are you kidding me, Fiona? That has 5 kinds of alcohol in it!”

“Whoa,” Steven remarked quietly but with his lowered tone it made Connie feel warm in the pit of her stomach. “I didn’t know that. You’re so smart, Connie.” Her cheeks burned with blush as he said it with such adoration.

“He’s hammered,” Natalie crooned, half-way hiding a chuckle, before straightening up and gesturing her hand out. “Gimmie his keys. He shouldn’t be driving anywhere tonight.”

“I’m not hammered, jus’ a lil’ tipsy.” He slurred. He swayed slightly as Connie fished through his Jacket pocket. “Gimme an hour and I’ll be fiinnneee.”

“Definitely not,” she replied firmly, but not harshly. She handed Natalie Steven’s car keys. “You can stay with me tonight, ok? Sleepover?” He gasped with excitement.

“Sleepover!” he warbled hazily. “With Connie. You’re so sweet.” Her face felt hotter, as she gripped his hand in hers.

“Thanks for this, Fiona,” Connie said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “See you later.” Fiona grinned and waved.

“Don’t dare take advantage of him,” Natalie called, starting to walk back toward the party-goers. “I’ll find out. And make sure he hydrates.” She took out her phone and sent a group text to Steven and Connie, I have your keys, come get them after you’ve slept it off.

“I got this,” Connie replied, exasperation clear in her tone. She looked back in his face at his reddening eyes and put on a plating smile, trying to speak more kindly. “Let’s go get some rest, ok? You look tired.”

“You’re the best, Connie.” He said, glowing with inebriation. She began to lead him out when he started to serenade her, causing her mild blush to spread to her ears, face beet red. The tune was recognizable, a reworked Beatles cover.

“Connie, my sweet

You have made my heart feel joy complete

My Connie.”

“He doesn’t normally do this in front of others,” she called, voice slightly shaken with embarrassment to the partygoers as she led him through the entryway. “Please ignore us and have a good night.” They passed through the main doorway of the off campus housing as he continued his song.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble”

His French pronunciation was faltering. She knew he was at an intermediate Italian level. But in trying to speak French, it sounded like he had tried Duolingo for an hour and was making a fool of himself pretending he had been doing it his whole life. He pitched forward again and she had to nearly dive to keep him upright. She hoisted as much of his broad shoulders and chest over her smaller frame without attempting to carry him outright as he sang sweetly in her ear, legs stumbling behind her.

“I love you, I love you, I love you

That's all I want to say

Until I find a way

I will say the only words I know that you'll understand”

She lead him on sidewalks, trying to take the most direct route to her dorm and avoiding uneven surfaces as best she could. Her blush had died down, mainly because other people weren’t watching them. The way his warm frame leaned against her dragging the thrilling feeling out of her again, making her heart pound firmly against her ribs. Still, she tried to keep focus and lead them out of the chill night air as quick as she could.

“Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

I need to, I need to, I need to

I need to make you see

Oh, what you mean to me

Until I do, I'm hoping you will know what I mean

I love you”

“You’re so sappy,” Connie replied, voice quiet. “I know that you would do his sober, but I just wish this kind of thing was just for the two of us, you know?”

“I want you, I want you, I want you

I think you know by now

I'll get to you somehow

Until I do, I'm telling you so you'll understand”

She leaned against him as she held his hand outside of her dorm, fumbling with her keys as she kept her left hand gripped tight to his right.

“Connie, my sweet

Sont les mots qui vont tres bien ensemble

Tres bien ensemble

And I will say the only words I know that you'll understand

My Connie.”

He faltered a bit as they came through the doorway, smacking his left arm just above his wrist as she lead him upstairs to her room. Connie winced at the sound. She was grateful her roommate Carly was out of town for the evening. She still probably will hear about it, the rumor mill ran strong on this campus, but at least Connie was spared from more embarrassment this evening.

“You done now?” she asked. She sat him down on the bed and dug through her closet for his spare pair of sweatpants she kept there.

“Uh-huh,” Steven replied, voice thick and alluring. “Thanks for takin’ me back, Strawberry, I know you always lookin’ out for me. I’m lucky I have someone like you. Love you.”

She shivered at the praise, avoiding his eyes as she set the pants down on a clean patch of floor.

“You need to drink some water and take some aspirin before bed.” Connie ordered. “Stay put, I’m going to get both of those things.” She pulled her own pajamas from the corner of the bed and closed the bathroom door behind her. She grabbed the aspirin bottle from the cabinet and set it on the counter. Glancing back to ensure that the door was fully closed, she peeled her outfit off quickly and tugged her PJs on. Grabbing her hairbrush and two pills from the bottle of medicine, she backed outside. Steven still sat on the bed, swaying lazily.

“Hiiii Connnniiieeee.” His voice had drawn back up to its usual tenor as he greeted him. She smiled.

“Hi Steven, stay here for a minute, ok?” She replied. “I’m going to the kitchen, and I want you to wait because I don’t want to risk you falling on the stairs.” She placed the brush on the pants she had set out and kept the pills clutched to her palm by her ring and pinky finger.

“Yooooouuuu got it!” He gave a thumbs up.

She darted out of the room after he confirmed he would stay, and hurried down the stairs. She pulled 2 water bottles from the fridge, both eco-friendly bottles that she and Steven had shared before. After grabbing clean reusable straws from the drying rack to put in the bottles, she marched back upstairs. She left her door open and found Steven had taken his shoes and jacket off in the time she was gone. He laid on his stomach, feet crossed and head propped up on his arms across her bed diagonally.

“You’re cute in your PJs, Connie.” He caught her off guard with that compliment. But she crossed the room anyway and sat next to his head. Despite how lucid he sounded, it was best he got some water in him before going to sleep.

“Thanks, but can you sit up for me? I have some medicine I need to give you and then I’ll brush your hair.”

“Yay! Sleepover activities!” He propped himself up onto his elbows and stuck his tongue out, leaning his head back for the aspirins. She was glad he trusted her this much, but it was a bit worrying that he was so lax. She hoped he would always keep himself safe as he dropped the two pills into his open mouth and pressed the straw of the bottle to his tongue. He leaned on one hand as he took the bottle from her in the other, sipping the water through the straw. If he was always this trusting while drunk, someone could take advantage of him, and that thought scared her. She wanted to think about anything else, so she gently took his curls in her hand and gave them a gentle stroke. A chill went along his back and shoulders and he made a little excited noise.

“I want to brush your hair,” she offered. “Can I take your hair tie out?”

“Mmm-hmm,” his response came around the straw. With a gentle tug the hair tie was out and his curls came loose, framing his maturing face. She stood, watching him as she moved toward the brush on the floor. He finished his sip and let out a contented sigh. “I hope I haven’ been too much trouble, Berry.”

“What?” she asked as she got the brush and came back to sit next to him.

“I’m all loopy, an’ you’ve been takin’ care of me.” His response was quiet but mostly coherent.

“I know you would do the same for me, drunk, sick or whatever, Biscuit,” she replied. “I’m not upset that you need help. It’s ok to ask. Now I’m gonna ask that you sit in front of me so I can brush your hair.”

“Kaaay.” He called, setting the water down on her end table. She gasped as he suddenly rolled off the bed and landed on his left forearm and knees, not reacting quite fast enough to catch himself with his hands. It was still impressive he hadn’t fallen onto his face.

“Steven-“Connie scolded.

“Huh?” he sat up and scooted his back up against her knees.

“Don’t be so careless,” she replied. “You scared me. And drink your water, please.”

“I can do that,” he said. He leaned over to grab the bottle and then rested his head touching her knees. She flipped his hair up onto her thighs, accessing the ends and began brushing. He hummed contentedly. “You’re great, Connie. I’m glad that this all didn’ go badly.” Her brows furrowed with concern as she worked through his tangles. “Was scared, ya know? If you weren’ keeping me calm, I might’ve been the angry drunk type, an’ made a mess of things.”

“I-“ Connie felt her hands shake slightly as she tried to muster a response. “That could happen to anybody, you shouldn’t worry too much…”

“Buh my powers, if ‘m not careful, I could hurt somebody, then I’d get expelled, or arrested, fer sure.” She gripped the brush tightly and accidentally pulled back on a knot. He hissed quietly through his teeth and she dropped the brush. His shoulders trembled slightly and she heard a sniff. She dropped down onto her knees, hugging him from behind.

“No Steven,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion. “I know you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.” He sniffed again, putting his water down and scrubbed at his face.

“Turns out… I’m actually a sad drunk,” he joked, and turned to face her. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears and he gasped. “Oh nooooo… now I’ve made you sad. I’m sorry. ‘m so sorry. So so sorry.” He turned around fully, kneeling and held her tight to his chest. Fat tears dripped down his cheeks. She clutched to his shirt, resting her head on his shoulder and let her own tears fall.

“You don’t- you shouldn’t feel like it’s- it isn’t your fault,” she stuttered.

“I made you cr-cry,” He bawled. “I’m always hurting people, even wh-when I don’t meeean to.” She took a steadying breath, trying to defuse his turbulent emotions.

“You’re allowed to forgive yourself, Steven,” she replied, looking up. Her eyes still shone with wetness, staring into his face as he looked away.

“I- I- embar- rrassed you, I made you cryyyy, and- nd I burdened you with my prob-blems,” he hiccupped. “I shouldn’ be here- I need to-“He moved to stand but Connie held tight.

“No.” she ordered. “You should stay. You’re upset and you’re allowed to be. You can talk to me about anything. Please don’t go. I’ll worry if you leave.”

“B-B-but…”

“Please,” she repeated.

That was convincing enough. He wilted into her touch, resting his head on her shoulder. Any sign of resistance melted away into fatigue. A few trace sobs shook his frame before they quieted. She kept one hand on his shoulder and grabbed Steven’s water with the other. She pulled away long enough to press the drink into his hands. He nodded, sitting down fully and drinking quietly. She sat in front of him and ran one hand through his hair, and gave him gentle strokes on his upper arm with her opposite arm.

“You look like you’re stewing.” She remarked gently. “Having a few drinks doesn’t make you a bad person. Asking for help doesn’t either. I’ll gladly have a few embarrassing stories about me if it means you get to go home safe tomorrow. Letting you leave by yourself and get hurt would have been far worse than anything else that could have gone wrong. You deserve to be safe, ok?” He nodded meekly, finishing the drink with a loud slurp. “You aren’t asking too much to be here. You don’t deserve to feel like a burden, and no one I know would ever say that about you.” He quietly leaned forward, dropping the empty bottle to the space between his thighs and went to press his forehead to hers. She obliged him.

“Thank you,” he half-whispered.

“Now, are you steady enough to stand, or will you need help getting changed?” she leaned over to where the sweatpants she had put out for him earlier sat and pulled herself close to him after grabbing them. He opened his palms to her and let her place them in his hands.

“I think I got it.” His face was tinged with blush at the suggestion. He pressed his right palm to the floor, moving to stand. She pulled herself to her feet first and offered him a hand up. He threw his pants over his shoulder and took his hand. She smiled gently at him. He fondly returned the gesture, steadily making his way to the bathroom door.

“Oh wait, I just want to grab something out of there,” she called, hurriedly stepping in front of him. She snatched the aspirin off the counter and put it away, grabbing makeup wipes and a compact mirror from her medicine cabinet. She stepped out, gesturing behind her. “It’s all yours. Please be careful, maybe sit on the toilet to get changed? I don’t want you to fall.”

With a sigh he nodded. He stepped through the doorway and closed it behind him. She leaned against the wall next to the door and took a make-up wipe out, swiping her mascara streaked eyes before opening the compact. As she worked the wipe across her face she herd Steven’s gentle singing come through the door, just over the sounds of him changing.

“If I could begin to be

Half of what you think of me

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love

When I see the way you act

Wondering when I'm coming back

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you”

She recognized the song as being something he had said the gems had sung for him when he was young. It stung that he might think these kind of thoughts about himself. She swallowed hard.

“Love like you

I always thought I might be bad

Now I'm sure that it's true

'cause I think you're so good

And I'm nothing like you”

“Steven, I promise that isn’t true…” She called through the wall. She heard him stand and move toward the door.

“Look at you go

I just adore you

I wish that I knew

What makes you think I'm so special…”

She stood as the door opened and embraced him. He leaned forward into her and sang quietly into her neck. She held him close and rubbed soothing circles into his shoulders. He swayed gently into her touch as he crooned.

“If I could begin to do

Something that does right by you

I would do about anything

I would even learn how to love

When I see the way you look

Shaken by how long it took

I could do about anything

I could even learn how to love like you

Love like you

Love me like you…”

They stood in silence for a moment and just enjoyed being held by each other. After a bit, she lowered her hand and took him by the wrist, leading him to the bed. After he sat, she took her garbage and placed it near the head of the bead and cleared her night stand.

“You’re going to be on the outside of the bed tonight.” She remarked quietly. “I’m the big spoon this time. Just let me know if you start to feel sick. I don’t care if I’m sleeping, I will hold your hair back.” He nodded. “How do you feel right now?”

“Not great, but, better than before,” he muttered.

“Well, I’m going to try and make it better. Lie down, ok?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He obliged without protest. She grabbed the comforter, tucked him in and crossed the room, shutting the light off. She stepped over him and lied down by his left shoulder. She untucked that side of the bed to get herself firmly snuggled into the weighted blanket, and nimbly re-tucked them both in.

“Night, biscuit.” She murmured. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He replied. “Night.” He turned to face away, pointing his face toward the trash bin in case his stomach lurched in protest while sleeping. She rubbed few more gentle circles into his back and let herself be comforted with his warmth beside him. He heard her breathing even out before long, hoping that sleep would come easier with her beside him. It wasn’t long before the heaviness in his heart was outweighed by heavy eyelids, and drifted into slumber.

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

Morning came, as it always did, a bit too soon for Connie’s liking. She gave a quiet sigh through her nose and lifted her head to check on Steven, who she could hear was snoring quietly. He had turned in the night to lie on his back, and his calf draped over her lower legs. His expression looked peaceful, but dark circles still showed on the pale skin beneath his eyes. Craning her neck, she could see the bathroom had looked as she had left it, as did the trash bin. It was unlikely seeing these two things in place that he had gotten sick in the night and not woken her.

She laid back down, pressing her face into the soft skin of his upper arm. He smiled contentedly but stayed asleep. It was a Sunday, so no pressing commitments for either of them. She could let him rest and deadlines for Monday be damned. She draped her arm across his torso, and let herself melt into the bed. She told him he deserved to be safe, and she never felt safer than with her next to him. Hopefully, the reverse was true, and she could help him to feel safe and loved. For now, what he needed was sleep, and she wouldn’t deny him that peace. He gave her joy and that was precious to her. So she would help however she could, and that meant staying in bed. She would take it any day.

#Connverse Week #Fanfiction #JambudWeek #Connverse #Steven Universe: Future #SU Fanfic #Steven Universe #Connie Maheswaran #SU Soft Jock AU #my precious gem child #drunkfic #hurt/comfort #non-betad #my writing

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7-wonders · 5 years

Text

Blame It On My Youth

Summary: You’ve seen enough of Michael’s world to last you three lifetimes. Now, it’s time to show him some of your world.

Word Count: 4907

A/N: Did that sound a bit like the Little Mermaid? Yes. Do I care? No. Hope you guys enjoy, feedback is always appreciated and, if you feel so inclined, I would love if you reblogged, liked, and commented.

Out of all of the fantasy books that you read as a child, none was more frustrating than Lewis Carroll’s classic Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland. It was a fine book, filled with whimsy and adventure, all things that a child can devour like candy, but one particular passage captured your attention and warranted your problem-solving abilities for an entire week after you first finished the book. The famous question of “why is a raven like a writing desk?,” posed by the Mad Hatter to young Alice at their tea party, drove you nearly as mad as a Hatter in trying to solve it. It’s not as if there was an answer; the protagonist, herself, declared that “I think you might do something better with the time than wasting it in asking riddles that have no answers,” but you were determined to be the first to solve this unsolvable riddle. Obviously, you didn’t solve the riddle, and the answer still eludes you to this day. You haven’t thought about that old riddle for quite some time, but your current predicament, and the amount of time spent thinking about it, gives you an odd sense of deja vu and reminds you of Lewis Carroll’s question with no answer.

It’s been two weeks since your trip to the Murder House, and your mind has spun with hundreds of questions that seem to have no answer. Michael, of course, hasn’t been any help at all. The man seems to be a walking paradox; when you don’t need him, he’s impossible to get rid of, and on the rare occasion that you do need him, he can’t be reached. You’ve been able to talk to him, your weekend visits to his mansion forcing you to make some conversation, but Michael has diverted every question you’ve shot at him. He doesn’t get mad that you’re constantly coming up with questions that, to you, have no answers, which only confuses you even more. Although you shouldn’t be pushing your luck after his show of mercy at his childhood home, you feel that you’re entitled to some answers.

Michael, the infuriating, confounding, caring husband that he is, has patiently reminded you time and time again that your finals are more important than any questions you may have. You hate it when he’s right, especially when he pulls out the contract and points out that it was you who made it a point to refuse dropping out of school. Your questions, he tells you, can be answered after you’ve finished the semester and gotten the grades you know you’re capable of. If you’re being honest, at this point you would take a year of being trapped in the Murder House over a week of finals (“Your dramatics truly never get old,” Michael commented dryly when you complained to him during a study break on Sunday). Finals week, you’ve decided, is certainly the work of Michael’s father.

Regardless of your opinions on the week of tests that largely decide your grades, the feelings of joy and relief that flood through you upon walking out of the classroom in which your last final of the semester was held. You have a high enough grade in the class to be able to keep your ‘A’ even if you flunk and, if you were brave, you would have just completely skipped the final. Worst-case scenarios, however, prevented you from doing so and made sure that you actually studied for this test. No matter how you did on the tests, you walk across campus feeling like you’re floating on air. No more school for an entire summer! The bliss that accompanies a last day of school does not, thankfully, fade with age.

Part of you wants to literally put the school in your rearview mirror and stay at least a mile away for three months straight, but you’re also a good person who promised to meet her friends for lunch and isn’t about to back out of a commitment. College dining halls, contrary to popular belief, are not nearly as clique-y as high school lunch rooms. Although there’s a few tables that everyone knows the athletes sit at, the rest of the tables are up for grabs. This can make things difficult when you’re one of the last to an already-packed dining hall and you have to awkwardly stand in the middle of the room while you search for your ‘group.’ Having friends like yours makes this move a lot easier, waving at you to get your attention once they notice that you’re looking around for them.

“You had finals today, right? How’d they go?” Kate and Brennan sit across from you, a bowl of cucumbers sitting between them. You grab at one when you take your own seat, deciding a water-based vegetable is better than nothing.

“They went okay, especially considering they were my last finals,” you reply, glancing around the table to catalogue who is and isn’t here. It’s the usual crew, but you take note of a new face. Shooting Kate a glance, she quickly picks up on your question.

“Oh yeah, you two haven’t met before! (Y/N), this is Mallory. She’s in my Russian Lit class, her other friends have already left for the summer so I invited her to come sit with us today.”

Mallory’s beautiful, her large doe-like eyes and golden leaf headband nestled in her brown locks giving her the appearance of some sort of angel. She’s wearing a black dress that’s cinched with a belt that matches the headband, her outfit looking like it costs as much as a couple of textbooks.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N),” you smile warmly, Mallory returning your smile and waving at you.

“It’s really nice to meet you, (Y/N),” she says.

“Why haven’t I seen you around campus before?” Although it’s a large and populated college, you’re sure that you would have remembered seeing someone as unique as Mallory.

“Oh, we must just run in different circles.” The buzzing of your phone draws your attention from the conversation, sending Mallory an apologetic look before checking the notification.

“How did your tests go?” You can’t help the smile when you see Michael’s message, thumbs flying across the keyboard to type a reply.

“I think they went really well, thanks!”

Barely thirty seconds pass before Michael’s responded, and you stifle a laugh at the mental image of Michael sitting at his desk and just waiting for you to check your texts.

“You should call me when you get a chance, maybe we can go out and celebrate?” After the Murder House escapade, you had become a lot more lenient with your “two phone calls a week” rule. Sometimes it’s actually you that calls him first, much to the shock and surprise of both of you.

“Wow, our second date? Amazing, maybe we can even go steady after this lmao,” you can’t help the sarcasm, especially not when the opportunity is right there.

“-and--(Y/N),” Kate whines, drawing your attention back to the people in front of you.

“I was listening!” You unconvincingly insist.

“Really? What was I talking about, then?”

“Um...Brennan?”

“No, but nice try. I was talking about the end-of-year party at Colin and Noel’s.” Colin and Noel are two best friends who live together and, at least once a month, throw the type of parties that are the stuff of legends. The first, and only, time you went to one, Noel got so drunk that he body slammed himself onto the pong table, somebody tried to crowd surf, and multiple people ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning.

That was on a regular Saturday in January.

“I don’t know, Kate, I’m still trying to recover from Thirsty Thursday at the Stadium House.”

“That was almost a month ago.”

“That’s the point,” you say jokingly. “But really though, I don’t like crazy parties, and I’d rather not deal with the cops.”

“They’ve scaled their parties back so much since the last time you came to one! No hospital visits related to events at their house, even!”

“Really?” You can’t help but be skeptical at her claim.

“Really. Listen, you don’t even have to stay for long, but I’d really like to hang with you one last time before I go back home for the summer.” Kate smiles when you sigh, knowing she has you. A good chunk of your friends are all going off to the far corners of the country for the break, and this will probably be the last time that you’re all together for three months.

“Alright, let me talk with, uhh--yeah, I should be able to swing by for a bit,” your friends don’t know about Michael yet, and you’d prefer to keep it that way.

“Yay!” Kate squeals, drumming her hands on the table in excitement.

“I should get going.”

“I’ll see you tonight though, right?”

“...Right.”

“Are you going to the parking lot? I’ll walk with you if you are,” Mallory says, a twinge of guilt running through you at the realization that you practically forgot about the poor girl.

It’s impossible for you to say no, and you find yourself walking side by side with Mallory towards the parking lot. It’s a bit of an awkward silence, as it usually is when two people who don’t really know each other are left alone.

“Seriously though, how have we not met before? Are you a freshman?” You ask.

“No, but this is my first semester here. I transferred from a school in New Orleans.”

“Oh, I love New Orleans! I went there for a week last year, it was amazing.”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Mallory looks down towards her heeled shoes, nodding, “I miss it a lot.” Your heart aches at the sudden look of homesickness on your new friend’s(?) face, causing you to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Well, at least the school year’s over and you can go home now.”

“Actually, I think I’m sticking around for the summer. My aunt thinks it’s good for me to get out of New Orleans and out of my comfort zone. My best friend Coco’s letting me stay with her.” Mallory’s phone starts to ring, and she laughs when she looks at the caller ID. “Speak of the devil; it’s my aunt.”

“I’ll see you at the party tonight?” Mallory nods.

“See you tonight, (Y/N).” Mallory watches you continue towards the parking lot, only answering her phone when you’ve rounded the corner. “Hey, Cordelia...Yeah, it’s her alright.”

////////////////////////////

Michael, as per usual, is in his office when you arrive at his home. Even though he has no logical way of knowing that you’ve arrived, the opening of his office door before your hand even makes contact with the knob gives you the sneaking suspicion that his Antichrist powers give him an advantage. You stroll in, Michael looking a little too nonchalant as he reads through some papers on his desk.

“Some serious Cooperative business?” You ask, falling into a chair on the other side of his desk.

“You could say that,” he looks up at you, smiling. “How was your last day of the semester?”

“It was fine, finals were fine, it’s all fine, fine, fine.” You spin yourself in the chair, head falling back as you watch the blur of the ceiling above you.

“That’s a mood.” Stopping suddenly, you look at Michael in surprise before laughing loudly.

“Look at you, catching up on your slang!”

“Figured I’d try and actually learn what you were talking about.”

“Speaking of ‘moods,’ I might have something that would help to raise both of ours.” Michael raises an eyebrow, urging you to continue. “Some...friends of a friend are throwing a huge party tonight for the end of the year. Would you wanna go? I know you had talked about celebrating, but maybe we could celebrate this way?”

“You want me to go to a...college party? The same type of party that you drunk-called me from and where I had to get you from?”

Your face heats up at the reminder. “I’m not even going to be drinking at this party, I learned my lesson last time. Look, I know that you didn’t have the most normal upbringing, so maybe this could be your chance to experience some of the things you missed out on. You can’t tell me that you’re perfectly fine with going from a child to running your father’s army and planning the apocalypse practically overnight.”

Michael’s thinking about what you’ve said, which you’re not sure is good or bad yet. You know that you’ve made some good points, and he knows that you’ll go to the party even if he doesn’t. Maybe this is a question with no answer, like so many that you’ve encountered lately. Michael and parties don’t seem like they’d mix, and it’s impossible for you to read his mind like you can read his.

“Will I be out of place there?”

“Michael, there’s going to be so many people there that nobody will even look at you twice.” A lie; Michael’s far too beautiful for just one look.

“What time?” You aren’t even aware that you were holding your breath until he sighs and looks at you again.

“Really?” Michael nods. “Uh, probably nine or ten?”

“Is there not a set time for these parties?”

“Not really, just whenever people show up.” You stand up, smiling widely at Michael’s sudden apprehension and choosing to leave before he can change his mind. “I’ll leave you to your work!”

The good thing about being at the home of your Antichrist husband is that your wardrobe is limitless. A red satin top and a pair of black jeans (tightened with a Gucci belt, because how are you not going to take advantage of that?) is dressy, yet casual enough to be worn at a college party. When you trek down the stairs at a quarter to nine on a quest to scrounge around the kitchen for a quick meal, you’re not at all surprised to see Michael standing at one of the counters.

“You haven’t gotten dressed yet?” You ask, hopping up on the counter next to him and tearing apart a bread roll before popping a bite in your mouth.

“I figured I could just wear this to the party.” Michael’s expression sours when you laugh.

“I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t mean to laugh! It’s just--if you don’t want to attract a bunch of attention, then I wouldn’t suggest wearing a cloak, a suit, and a pair of red bottoms.” He looks down at his outfit, as if suddenly realizing how overdressed he is.

“But...I don’t know what else to wear?”

“C’mon, I’m sure we can find something in your closet for you to wear.” Michael hesitates when you grab his hand, obviously unsure of what to do next. “Kind of need you to lead the way, since I’m assuming your closet is in your bedroom that I’ve never been to before.”

“Right! Let’s go.”

The uncertainty that you feel at the threshold of Michael’s bedroom holds you back like a tether. It’s not as if anything unscrupulous is going to be happening, but the idea of invading the sanctity of your husband’s private bedroom is a little jarring. Peeking into the room, you’re reminded of a conversation you had with Michael during your first weekend here.

“Does every room look like this?” An unspoken question dangles in the air: does your room look like this? Michael grins widely, but it’s devoid of any of the emotions that a regular smile would accompany. It’s the smile of the devil.

“Guess you’ll have to find out for yourself, won’t you?” He chuckles at the withering glare you give him, loping back towards the door and resting a hand on the silver handle.

“So, every room does look the same,” you comment with a smirk, finally getting over your sudden fear and following Michael into his room.

“I had to have a little mystery surrounding me.” Michael smiles. “Are you going to help me or not?”

////////////////////////////

“Everybody here is in khaki shorts and printed shirts,” Michael hisses in your ear. Your hand grips Michael’s firm bicep, and you give it a teasing squeeze.

“Yeah, and you look a thousand times better than them. You always do.” Cars were already inconspicuously-but-not-really parked up and down the block, and you have to maneuver through at least fifty people just in the entryway and the living room. “College guys don’t really have a sense of style.”

“So I won’t lose you to one of these ‘boys,’ then?” Michael’s style, in your opinion, is timeless. You managed to work with his formal wardrobe, finding a white t-shirt and pairing it with an unbuttoned black shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows (although that part may be totally self-serving), and his black jeans are cuffed into a pair of boots. He still looks more formal than everyone else, but it’s way better than him showing up in a goddamned cloak.

“You never even had me in the first place,” you chuckle, shooting Michael a playful wink. “C’mon, let’s see if we can find any of my friends around here.”

There’s coolers set up in the kitchen to keep the different cans and bottles cool, as well as an array of liquor on the kitchen island. Michael looks like a fish out of water, standing around awkwardly while you start peeking into the coolers.

“I thought you said you weren’t drinking,” Michael comments.

“I’m not, I’m just trying to find some soda or water.”

“(Y/N)!” You turn around, smiling when you see Noel standing before you.

“Hey, bud.” Noel, one of two party throwers of legend, is a shorter guy who makes up for his lack of height with his absolute insane stockpile of never ending energy. His black hair is always carefully gelled and combed into place, and he dresses like a middle-aged rich dad who’s going boating for the weekend.

“Who’s your friend? If he’s a part of Sig Tau, he needs to get outta here before Colin sees him, because Colin still has a huge problem with--”

“No, don’t worry, he doesn’t go to our school.” Noel nods, drumming his hands on the table and picking up a bottle of tequila.

“In that case, can I get you two some shots?”

“I don’t know, Noel, I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.”

“C’mon, (Y/N), one shot’s not gonna get you fucked up. I’ve seen you drink before, you’re barely even gonna get buzzed.” He winks, already knowing that you’re going to say yes when you sigh.

“Two shots, then.”

Noel expertly pours two shots, sliding them your way with a friendly “enjoy” before leaving to continue his hosting rounds.

“What’s Sig Tau? Is that some sort of a cult?” Michael asks once Noel’s gone.

“It’s a fraternity, so close.” You slide a shot to Michael and pick up your own, downing it with a grimace. Michael just stares apprehensively at the clear liquid in the shot glass. “Are you not going to drink that?”

“What is it? It looked like you were drinking gasoline.”

“It’s tequila, which is kind of the same thing.”

“If I die, I’m holding you responsible.” Michael throws his own shot back, coughing and hacking as you cheer. “Satan, that was terrible. Why do people drink that?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, grabbing two bottles of water from a cooler and tossing one to Michael, “quick little buzz, palate cleanser, there’s a million different reasons.”

Michael grabs your hand and pulls you out of the way when a girl, clearly already drunk, nearly bumps into you on her search for another drink. She mumbles an apology, choosing to take the whole bottle of Jack Daniels with her instead of pouring it into one of the hundreds of red Solo cups stacked on the counter. His blue eyes meet yours and you both chuckle, silently agreeing to move out of the cramped kitchen and somewhere with less people. While the living room’s not any better, you do manage to run into Kate and Mallory.

“You made it!” Kate exclaims, pulling you from Michael to hug you. Her eyes are wide while also managing to droop at the same time, and you can almost guarantee that she’s crossed.

“I told you I would be here,” you say, giggling when Kate affectionately boops your nose. Mallory’s standing awkwardly to the side, eyes flickering between you and Michael. Kate also seems to pick up on her friend’s sudden change in demeanor, and smirks when she notices the man trailing behind you.

“And just who is this, (Y/N)?”

“Oh, this is my--uh, my friend Michael.” ‘Friend’ seems like a good term to settle on; you can’t explain your true relationship, Michael is not your boyfriend, and ‘acquaintance’ would be weird to say. Kate wiggles her eyebrows at you, sticking her hand out for Michael to take.

“Helloooo, (Y/N)’s friend Michael.”

“So, do you two have the same classes?” Mallory asks politely.

“No, Michael isn’t in college. He...well, he does--”

“I work for my father,” Michael interjects, smiling down at you. “I’m learning the ropes before I take over for him.” It’s technically not a lie, and you’re impressed until you remember that this must be one of his Antichrist powers. Mallory nods, but you can see a hint of something--doubt, or maybe suspicion?--in her eyes. Kate gasps before anymore words can be exchanged, grabbing yours and Mallory’s hands excitedly.

“I love this song! Dance with me, please!” You don’t really have a choice, the small woman amazingly strong when she wants to be. You look back at Michael apologetically, but he just smiles and gestures for you to go with.

The familiar bass that underlays all hip-hop songs thumps loudly through you, acting as some sort of an electric charge. Where you had once been bored and ready to quietly slip out of the front door, you’re now controlled by the beat of the song. The congregation of partiers who have also decided to dance grows larger with each passing second, enveloping your trio in the middle. While the dancing isn’t so much dancing as it is bouncing in time with the rhythm, it’s carefree in a way that you didn’t know you needed until now. Mallory takes your hands, both of you laughing as she spins you in a circle.

Michael leans against the wall, head tilted as he watches the dancing college students. More specifically, he intently watches you dancing with your friends. He’s intrigued, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile as you move in a way he’s never seen you move before. While you’re more relaxed around him now, you’re still so reserved in your mannerisms. Here, Michael sees a glimpse of who you once were before he dragged you into his life. You smile widely, singing the lyrics at the top of your lungs along with everyone else in the group of dancers. Your hair flows freely around your face, and he finds himself enraptured by the movement.

Would things have been different between you two if Michael wasn’t the Antichrist? Maybe, in another life, or another universe, you both would have attended the same college. The image pops into his head like it’s burned there; Michael sitting next to you on the first day of some nameless class, becoming friends with you first. Slowly but surely, your bond would only deepen, and from friends would spring lovers. Michael shakes his head imperceptibly: a fantasy. He can’t dwell on these silly theoretical questions that have no answers. It’s a fruitless pursuit, and nothing good will come out of fixating on the ‘what if’s.’

Michael jumps in surprise when you’re suddenly in front of him, being too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice the song ending and you making your way back over to him. You laugh, obviously delighted at finally catching him off guard.

“I let you startle me that time,” he jokingly argues.

“Uh-huh, if that’s what makes this crushing defeat easier for you. Anyways, do you wanna get out of here? Kate and Mallory are the only ones I really came here to see, and if we’re not going to drink there’s not really any reason to be here.”

“I’m ready to go home if you are.”

“Actually, I might have a little detour for us…” you trail off, smiling conspiratorially.

“Oh?” Michael’s not sure if he should be excited or nervous for idea of yours, something that you easily pick up on.

“I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting on opposite sides of a booth in a small diner that you frequent with friends during the school year. A basket of french fries sits in the middle of the table, two tall glasses that are already beading with condensation standing guard next to the food. Amidst the fluorescent lighting, scratchy country music, loud ceiling fans, and run-down booths, you’re struck by how out of place Michael seems here, in your world.

He had stuck out like a sore thumb at the party, his uncomfortable posture and expensive clothing practically screaming that he did not belong in that small house. Here, in a restaurant with patrons ranging from a young family to an elderly couple, a middle-aged businessman to a homeless woman, he looks like some far-away traveler who landed in the wrong town. He’s a Renaissance piece of artwork, something far too beautiful and celestial for the eyes of these mere humans who couldn’t begin to comprehend the masterpiece that is Michael Langdon.

“Just what are we doing here?” Michael asks after the waitress, an older busty woman with red hair straight from the box, sets your order down and leaves.

“We’re enjoying a late-night snack,” you say simply, grabbing at a fry and savoring the first bite into the just-fried food.

“A late-night snack consisting of french fries and--are these milkshakes?” Michael picks up one of the glasses, investigating its contents.

“Uh, yeah? Have you never had a milkshake before?”

“(Y/N), my grandmother hid me away and refused to let me out of the house. Of course I’ve never had a milkshake before.” Your face falls, proving that you’re still not good at hiding your emotions like Michael is. Pushing the other glass towards him, you lace your fingers together and place them under your chin.

“I’m honored that I get to be a part of your first milkshake experience, then. There’s vanilla and chocolate; try them both, and then you can have whichever one you like best.”

Michael looks uneasily between the two glasses, as if trying to decipher if one is poisoned. “Which one do you prefer?”

“I like them both,” you shrug.

Finally, he takes a cautious sip of the chocolate. You’re mildly disappointed when he doesn’t have any sort of reaction, silently cataloguing his opinions on the flavor before taking a less-cautious drink of the vanilla. Without any fanfare, he pushes the chocolate back towards your waiting hands.

“They’re both good, you’re right, but I like this one better.” You smile, sliding the glass towards you and sipping the shake that he’s rejected.

“Um, Michael…” you trail, not sure how to phrase what you’ve been thinking of for the past week.

“Yes?”

“Would--is the offer to move in with you still on the table?” Michael smirks widely, and you rush to explain yourself. “It’s just that my rent is going up next month and it’s not worth it at this point, and your place is closer to campus. Plus, my cat likes you better than she likes me.”

You’re not sure why you’re nervous, since he’s obviously going to say yes to your request. You living with him was one of the only things he desperately wanted during the contract negotiations. When you think about it, you just don’t want him to get the wrong idea. It seems as if you’ve finally reached a comfortable relationship with Michael, a place where you tolerate him and could even see him as one of your friends. But an actual romantic relationship is so far down the list of things that you and Michael are, and you don’t want him to think that you’re finally going to be the loving wife that Satan wanted you to be. For lack of better wording, there’s no way in hell that will happen.

“Only because I like your cat better than you, and I wouldn’t want her to go homeless.” Your mouth drops and you laugh, picking up a fry and throwing it at Michael who, of course, deftly catches it in his mouth.

“You jerk!”

“You said it first, not me!”

“Fine,” you sit back against the booth and cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep your best poker face on, “but you should know that we’re a package deal.”

“Hmm, I suppose I can cope with that.”

“Do we have a deal, then?” Yet again, you’re struck by the irony of making a deal with the Devil (well, the Devil’s son, but close enough). Michael picks up his glass and waits for you to do the same, clinking your milkshakes together in agreement.

“We, my dear, have a deal.”

////////////////////////////

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#michael langdon #michael langdon imagine #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #american horror story #american horror story imagine #american horror story apocalypse #american horror story imagines #ahs #ahs imagine #ahs apocalypse #ahs apocalypse imagine

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ourlady-ofsorrows · 4 years

Text

A Shot Across The Bow

(gif credit to the creators)

Part 1 - Blank Space

Masterlist

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x OFC Word Count: 1,848 Warnings: language, cigarette smoking A/N: First part to what could possibly be the best AU I’ve ever written. I’m so stoked for this story you guys have no idea. Title/song in this part is Blank Space by Taylor Swift. If you want to be tagged, let me know. Also, feedback is cool :)

Caroline’s POV

It was so unbelievably hot in my room and the fan blowing on me as I sat on my bed wasn’t helping one bit. I still couldn’t fathom why in the middle of June my parents hadn’t brought out the air conditioners yet. I tried not to worry about it as I strummed my acoustic guitar with a notebook open on my lap. I had been trying – and failing – to write a new song for the better part of three hours and not much was coming to me. I had a show that night and I wanted to perform some new material, not like it mattered. No one really came to the small bar gigs that I was doing, but hey, you’ve gotta start somewhere.

I put my guitar down, sighing as I did so. I ran my fingers through my long brown hair before throwing it into a bun on the top of my head. I decided to attempt to find something to wear in hopes that inspiration would strike. I had graduated from high school a few weeks ago and I was hoping that so much free time would be helpful for my song writing. I was very wrong. I hadn’t written a new song in months and it was beginning to stress me out. All of my friends were preparing for college and I was sitting here not getting anything done that I was planning to. I had the strong feeling that basically all of my friends leaving were what was causing my block, but I couldn’t be too sure.

I glanced at the clock and realized that I had less than an hour to get ready and be at the bar for an early sound check. I guess song writing was just going to have to wait for today. I threw on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top and called it a day. I knew I didn’t really need to fit an image when it came to these bar shows. I fixed my makeup and put my guitar in its case before heading down stairs to leave for the bar. As I was walking down the stairs I saw my brother, Rick, walk in the front door. He looked exhausted and was obviously just getting home from his late night shift. He nodded in my direction and I flashed him a small smile before running out to my car.

I opened the door to my beat up pickup truck after putting my guitar in the bed and climbed into the cab. The truck was sweltering hot and I rolled the window down before starting it up. I let the car run for a minute while I fiddled with the radio and finally put it in drive before heading over to the bar. I glanced at the clock when I pulled in and noticed I had five minutes to spare before I had to be inside. I walked into the small, dimly lit, bar and went to find the manager to check in. I went through my sound check and had about an hour or so before I had to play.

I walked back outside and climbed into the bed of my truck and sitting on the edge, lit a cigarette. The sun was just starting to set and I had a pretty good feeling about tonight. Rick said he was going to come watch me play and so did my best friend, Michonne. Just knowing that they would be in the crowd eased the mounting tension growing inside me. As I sat there smoking I was watching the people entering the bar. I was always curious about who was watching me play. I was scanning the crowd and it just seemed like the normal Thursday night bar crowd. I flicked my cigarette over the edge of my truck and lit another one. I always chain smoked before shows to help calm my nerves. It was just as I was lighting it that I saw him. He was climbing off of a motorcycle in the parking spot directly across from where I was sitting. He pushed his black sunglasses onto the top of his head and he glanced in my direction. He walked past my truck and smirked at me and I felt my breath catch in my throat. I took another drag of my cigarette to give myself something to do as I tried to figure out where I had seen him before.

If I spent any more time sitting in the back of my truck I would have missed my time slot. I threw my cigarette out and hopped down off the back of my truck before heading inside. I sat down at the bar and ordered myself a club soda with lemon and watched the band playing finish up their set. As I sipped on my drink I tried to mentally prepare a set list. Once I finished my drink I left some money on the bar and went to grab my guitar from the back room and made my way out to the stage. I stood up in front of the bar and scanned the crowd. I spotted Rick in the back by the bar with his best friend, Shane, his girlfriend, Lori. I cleared my throat and tuned my guitar and as I greeted the crowd I noticed Michonne sitting at a table off to the side. She smiled at me and I smiled back. I started playing and felt as though nothing else really mattered.

Nice to meet you, where you been? I could show you incredible things Magic, madness, heaven, sin Saw you there and I thought Oh my God, look at that face You look like my next mistake Love’s a game, wanna play?

I scanned the crowd again as I played and noticed the guy I saw outside playing a game of pool with a group of people. New money, suit and tie I can read you like a magazine Ain’t it funny, rumors fly And I know you heard about me So hey, let’s be friends I’m dying to see how this one ends Grab your passport and my hand I can make the bad guys good for a weekend

He glanced up at me and I locked eyes with him. I could tell that he was only mildly interested in my singing and turned back to continue the game of pool.

So it’s gonna be forever Or it’s gonna go down in flames You can tell me when it’s over If the high was worth the pain Got a long list of ex-lovers They’ll tell you I’m insane ‘Cause you know I love the players And you love the game

I couldn’t stop looking at him and had to force myself to glance around to the rest of the crowd. 'Cause we’re young and we’re reckless We’ll take this way too far It’ll leave you breathless Or with a nasty scar Got a long list of ex-lovers They’ll tell you I’m insane But I’ve got a blank space, baby And I’ll write your name

My eyes kept finding their way back to him though and I wasn’t even sure why. Cherry lips, crystal skies I could show you incredible things Stolen kisses, pretty lies You’re the King, baby, I’m your Queen Find out what you want Be that girl for a month Wait, the worst is yet to come, oh no

I looked back over toward him and he glanced up at me again but this time he smirked at me. I could feel my heart rate quicken and I couldn’t even begin to fathom why this random stranger was having this affect on me.

Screaming, crying, perfect storms I can make all the tables turn Rose garden filled with thorns Keep you second guessing like “Oh my God, who is she?” I get drunk on jealousy But you’ll come back each time you leave 'Cause, darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream

I had to once again force myself to look away from him and look in the general direction of anything else. I chose the spot at the bar where Rick was sitting. So it’s gonna be forever Or it’s gonna go down in flames You can tell me when it’s over If the high was worth the pain Got a long list of ex-lovers They’ll tell you I’m insane 'Cause you know I love the players And you love the game

I could feel his eyes burning into me and I chanced a look at him.

'Cause we’re young and we’re reckless We’ll take this way too far It’ll leave you breathless Or with a nasty scar Got a long list of ex-lovers They’ll tell you I’m insane But I’ve got a blank space, baby And I’ll write your name

As I glanced over at him he looked down at his drink. Boys only want love if it’s torture Don’t say I didn’t say, I didn’t warn ya Boys only want love if it’s torture Don’t say I didn’t say, I didn’t warn ya

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him and he started walking away from the pool table. So it’s gonna be forever Or it’s gonna go down in flames You can tell me when it’s over If the high was worth the pain Got a long list of ex-lovers They’ll tell you I’m insane 'Cause you know I love the players And you love the game

I followed him as he moved through the bar and ordered another drink. 'Cause we’re young and we’re reckless We’ll take this way too far It’ll leave you breathless Or with a nasty scar Got a long list of ex-lovers They’ll tell you I’m insane But I’ve got a blank space, baby And I’ll write your name

I finished my song and looked down to make sure the tuning of my guitar was correct and kept my mouth shut because I didn’t trust what could possibly come out of my mouth if I decided to speak. I played through the rest of my set and made my way off the stage and out to my truck. I placed my guitar into the bed of the truck and lit a cigarette. I leaned against my truck and tried to calm my nerves. It was starting to bother me that this random stranger was having this effect on me. I wasn’t even entirely sure what was attracting me to him so much, but sure enough as I was putting out my cigarette and going to light another one I saw him walk out of the bar with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He lit it and then looked over in my direction. Before I could even think to say anything to him Michonne and Rick came out of the bar to, no doubt, congratulate me. Hopefully this was the signal to the end of the confusion of this night.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

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gb-fics · 4 years

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Art Class - Friday (5)

AU Fanfiction:

Kiryuuin Shou x Kyan Yutaka (Golden Bomber)

Note: Read Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.

“So”, Utahiroba Sensei said and looked down the lined-up pictures resting against the wall. “We have one sketch of flowers. Twelve paintings of flowers. One painting of a trash bin. And one painting of a toilet. Interesting.”

Shou could see that the corners of his lips were slightly twitching. He was trying not to laugh.

The students were standing in front of the paintings, too, finally studying the results of what the others had been working on.

“As you know, I am forced to grade your work for project week”, Utahiroba Sensei said. “Although I believe the system of grading goes against the spirit of artistic expression. It is important to me to give you all some detailed feedback, though. A grade tells you nothing about your strengths and the ways in which you still need to improve.”

Shou looked over at Yutaka.

He was standing closest to the wall, several students between them. He hadn’t been ignoring Shou, it really wasn’t like that. He had greeted him friendly in the morning. He had even cracked a half-hearted joke about Shou’s painting looking like trash when they put it up in line. But instead of standing next to him now and trying to make Shou laugh with his comments, he had put some distance between them clearly on purpose.

Shou didn’t know why it made his chest hurt like that. Maybe it was because he felt like he had lost another friend. But then maybe they shouldn’t be friends after what had happened last night. Just thinking of the way, he had kissed Yutaka yesterday in this very room, Shou felt his whole body grow hot with a weird mixture of excitement and shame. He wasn’t sure if he felt ashamed of having kissed Yutaka or because of what had happened afterwards.

Yutaka’s face right now was rather expressionless. Shou still thought that he was painfully handsome.

For some reason, he couldn’t even spare the energy to be nervous about his date with Sakura. He was too busy wishing Yutaka would talk to him like nothing had happened. If they could just go back, Shou could have it both. He could date a cute girl and have fun hanging out with Yutaka.

“I will talk to each of you personally and in private”, Utahiroba Sensei went on. “You know my office right on the other side of the corridor. Please, come there one by one. I hope we will be through by noon and then you can all go home. Alright? Then I’d suggest it is ladies first. You’ll agree on an order on your own.”

He walked out the door, leaving it open behind himself. The girls around Shou started chattering until they had worked out, whose name came first in an alphabetical order. The winner followed Utahiroba Sensei to his office.

Shou looked at the pictures. He looked at Sakura’s sketch, too. She wasn’t untalented, but Shou really wished she hadn’t drawn flowers.

“Why would anyone paint a toilet?”, a girl behind him asked so loudly that the entire class could hear her. Shou recognized the voice. It belonged to Sakura’s friend.

Some of the girls giggled.

Shou looked over to Yutaka. He expected him to defend himself. He expected Yutaka to pick a fight, because that seemed to be what he was best at. He always had a witty remark at hand and he didn’t take shit from anyone. Shou admired him for that, because he himself suffered from the inability to speak up too often.

Yutaka’s jaw was clenched tight. It was the only indicator that he had heard the comment at all.

“It’s just gross”, Shou heard Sakura’s quiet voice behind himself. It was almost a whisper.

And somehow, that whisper made Shou feel really upset. If she was talking badly about someone else, she should at least have the courage to say it out loud. Yutaka would have blurted it out for sure.

And how did she dare to judge Yutaka’s painting anyway?

Shou looked at the toilet. It was bad taste, yes, but it was also original and pretty funny in its absurdity. Among the row of flowers, it looked even more hilarious.

Shou looked at Sakura’s sketched flowers. They were pure and beautiful. There was nothing gross about them, nothing vulgar. They were drawn way more skilfully than anything Shou or Yutaka would have been able to produce. But they were entirely boring.

He tried to imagine what it would be like to lead a relationship with Sakura. Not just the dating, where you were still nervous whenever your arms brushed and you chose your words carefully. She was cute and Shou would be excited. But he tried to imagine not only their next 3 dates, but the next 30 ones. He thought of how she would let him hold her hand and how the silence would probably stretch out between them eventually, because they didn’t really have anything in common. He thought of how Sakura would never laugh at Shou’s dirty jokes and he would have to watch his language constantly. He thought of having to speak quietly always and having to strain his ears. He thought of a group date at karaoke, where she would sing boring songs with her boring friends and Shou would start to feel boring himself.

And he thought of how Yutaka would not just let him hold his hand. He would grab it tight and pull him along. He’d joke around with Shou in the worst kind of way and make him laugh extremely hard. He thought of going to karaoke with him in a group and how Yutaka would surely put on the most ridiculous performance of all times, shouting off-key instead of singing and how Shou would start doing an overdramatic dance and he thought of the fact that people would look at them and sneer and he thought, that when Yutaka grinned at him in that mischievous manner, Shou would not care what anyone else thought at all.

He imagined touching Sakura and he felt excited, but he knew that he would be hesitant and clumsy and never sure how far he was allowed to go. And he thought of touching Yutaka and he felt excited, too, just the same. But in his imagination, he wasn’t awkward and shy. Not because he thought that Yutaka could handle his greed better than Sakura, but because with him Shou wouldn’t feel ashamed for that greed. Not because he thought it would be easier with a guy in general. If Shou imagined being with another guy – even if it was someone really handsome such as Darvish Sensei – he knew he’d be nervous and awkward, too. Just with Yutaka, he would be alright. In his presence, Shou felt genuinely comfortable.

Shou stared at the toilet painting and realized he had been a liar.

He had told himself that he couldn’t be with Yutaka romantically, because he wanted someone to talk to and someone to take along on group dates. But truth was, that he could talk to Yutaka far better than he would be able to talk to Sakura, and he’d have more fun with him at group dates, too.

What Shou had honestly wanted was the easy way. He had wanted social acceptance without it getting difficult in the slightest. He hadn’t wanted love. He had simply wanted a girlfriend.

He swirled around on his heels.

He thought of how proud Yutaka had looked when he finished the painting yesterday. So proud, that Shou had wanted to kiss him. Because the painting was a symbol for Yutaka’s personality. It was dumb and it was funny and it did not care what people thought of it.

Love could be found in strange places. Shou might just have found it in a toilet bowl.

“Sakura?”, he said. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He had known when he kissed Yutaka last night. He had known when he had thrown the paint at him. He had known when they gazed at the stars. Truthfully, he had known when Yutaka dropped the lighter.

Sakura cast her eyes down and threw a shy glance over to her friend as if waiting for some kind of permission.

“Sure”, she said quietly.

Shou nodded over to the door and they stepped out onto the corridor. The door to the classroom stood ajar and Shou could still hear the other students chat loudly.

His face was burning again; not with nervousness but with shame. It was the same feeling he had had when finding the paint brush Yutaka had dropped on the floor yesterday. It was the knowledge of having made a giant mistake and no one else to blame. He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, yet he was going to do it again.

“Sakura, I’m sorry”, he said.

He was speaking loudly, not hushing his voice this time. The words were sitting in his mouth uncomfortable, but he had to get them out.

“I know we wanted to go out today”, he said. “And I’m so, so sorry, but I can’t.”

Sakura peeked up to him through her lashes.

“It’s alright”, she said. “We can go another time.”

Shou hesitated. He wanted to take the easy way out badly. If he just said “sure, another time” and then never got back to it, she would certainly just forget about it eventually. It would remain something that just hadn’t happened due to the circumstances, but that was absolutely not Shou’s fault at all.

He knew that this solution was cowardly, though. He needed to take responsibility. He would need to take responsibility for kissing Yutaka last night, too.

“I’m sorry”, he repeated. “I feel like the last asshole asking you out and then cancelling. I think you are absolutely cute and I really wanted to go out with you for a while now.” The words came easier now that they didn’t mean so much anymore. “But I think there is someone else I like. I tried to ignore those feelings, but …”

Next to them, the door to Utahiroba Sensei’s office opened and a girl came out, giving them a curious look as she walked over to the art room. Shou kept quiet while the next girl came out to disappear into the office. She was openly staring at them, too. Sakura did not speak either.

Only when the door to the office was shut tightly again, did Shou inhale deeply.

“I didn’t mean to change my mind so quickly”, he finished. “I was just stupid.”

Sakura nodded; her expression set tightly.

“Thank you for telling me honestly”, she said.

She did seem a little hurt, but Shou didn’t know her well enough to tell for sure. But she didn’t get upset and Shou thought that maybe they would have gotten along indeed. She seemed to be nice and if only he gotten to know her better, she surely wasn’t all that boring. They would have found something they had in common.

But if he was honest, Shou currently didn’t care enough to find out.

He thought of going back inside where Yutaka was. His heart beat more violently instantly. He’d have to tell him, too. Somehow, it made him more nervous than turning down Sakura.

“We should go back inside”, Sakura suggested. She spoke rather formally.

“I’ll be there in a bit”, Shou said and remained standing alone in the corridor as Sakura went back to class.

He needed time to prepare. He needed to think about what he wanted to tell Yutaka. That he was sorry for kissing him? That he wanted to kiss him again? He wasn’t sure Yutaka would forgive him for practically toying with him. He wasn’t sure Yutaka would trust him to have changed his mind for good now, either. Maybe he wouldn’t even believe Shou if he confessed now.

The office door opened once more and caused Shou to flinch. The next girl crossing the corridor was Sakura’s friend. She shot Shou a deadly look as she walked by.

Shou realized that Sakura had told her. He realized, too, that Sakura would tell her other friends as well. Shou would forever be the guy who had asked out a girl to dump her the very next day for someone else. He was marked as untrustworthy now. He was scorched earth now. None of the girls from their year would go out with him for a long time now. He really hoped it would be worth it.

He stared down the hall absent-mindedly.

He wondered what Yutaka was doing right now. If he had overheard that Shou had cancelled the date? Probably not. Yutaka wasn’t one to care for what the girls were gossiping about. But wasn’t he wondering why Shou didn’t come back inside after Sakura had long returned? Somehow, Shou wished Yutaka would check on him. He wouldn’t be able to approach him in front of everyone. Asking Yutaka out to talk right after telling Sakura he liked someone else might cause rumours, too. Shou wasn’t sure he was ready for that. But walking in and just ignoring Yutaka until class ended and everyone left didn’t feel like an option, either. He really wished Yutaka would just come out to check on him.

With a sigh he gave in and walked back into the classroom.

Sakura was sitting with a small group of friends.

Yutaka was standing next to the paintings, explaining something to a girl with sweeping gestures. The girl laughed. Shou felt furious.

He walked over to the window and sat down on one of the desks alone. It felt impossible to approach someone and talk to them. He realized that this was what his week would have looked like, if it hadn’t been for Yutaka. Surrounded by pretty girls, Shou would probably have managed to not talk to even one of them for the entire week. Without Yutaka looking at him, Shou would have remained invisible.

Instead of watching Sakura, Shou was trying to watch Yutaka now without attracting attention. Yutaka was still talking to the girl. Shou wondered if he was flirting with her. He probably was. Flirting came easy to Yutaka. He felt bitter that their kiss had obviously not affected Yutaka much. He had just moved on to the next person. Shou didn’t even have the right to blame him.

He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen to pretend he was busy while the girls left and entered the room again. He wasn’t doing anything on his phone, though.

Finally, the last girl came back, Utahiroba Sensei by her side this time.

He cleared his throat to draw attention.

“Now, we are only left with our two gentleman artists”, he announced, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Since it is quite late already, I’m not sure we will finish in time, but both of you are already used to staying late by now, aren’t you? Everyone else, I kindly ask you to stay inside the room until the official bell, so we won’t get in trouble. Feel free to leave at noon, though. Shou, would you come to my office first, please?”

Shou jumped up from the desk and followed Utahiroba Sensei over to his office. It had a desk in it and not much more. Utahiroba Sensei sat down on the desk chair and gestured for Shou to sit down opposite to him.

Shou stared onto his lap. Although Utahiroba Sensei was friendly and even funny at times, Shou never felt comfortable in the presence of his teachers.

“So, Shou, tell me, did you enjoy project week?”

Shou looked up in surprise and shrugged awkwardly.

“I’m asking this question to anyone. It’s not a trick question”, Utahiroba Sensei soothed him.

“It was fun at times”, Shou admitted. “But I’m no good at drawing.”

“I was surprised you signed up for my class”, Utahiroba Sensei said. “I heard from your music teacher that you’ve got quite the talent in other fields.”

Shou shrugged once more.

“It’s good to try out new things, too, isn’t it?”, he asked defensively.

Utahiroba Sensei nodded gravely. Shou wished it would be possible to ask him about his relationship with Darvish Sensei. He had wondered a lot if Yutaka’s assumption was true. He didn’t want to be rude, though. Also, there was a fair chance that Yutaka was going to ask himself.

“Absolutely”, Utahiroba Sensei confirmed. “And project week is also about learning teamwork. I have to admit that you showed up for your partner, staying after class with him yesterday to restore his painting.”

Utahiroba Sensei paused.

“I’m just worried Kyan Yutaka might be a bad influence on you. You seem like a quiet and reasonable person. He is a troublemaker. You should be careful about picking him as a friend.”

Shou bit down on his lower lip hard.

Utahiroba Sensei’s judgement made Shou angry. Yutaka seemed like trouble, but he had done his best to support Shou in any way.

“Yutaka is a good person”, he said between clenched teeth.

“He is the Antichrist”, Utahiroba Sensei said with a sigh.

“He is just trying to fit in”, Shou insisted.

Utahiroba Sensei nodded.

“He hasn’t found his place yet”, he agreed. “He thinks he has to claim it. He’s angry at everyone for not accepting him. But he has to learn that he can’t fight the entire world.”

Shou was surprised at the deep insight. Utahiroba Sensei seemed to know exactly what Shou had been talking about.

Shou knew perfectly well, that if he dated Yutaka, it would mean Yutaka introducing him to all of his friends, even if they had a problem with two men dating. He would also insist on holding Shou’s hand in public, even if people would stare. Because Yutaka never backed off from a fight. He wanted to show people far too hard that he was right. He acted like he didn’t care, because he truly cared a lot.

“Yutaka can’t fight the entire world”, Shou said quietly. “But he sure as hell is going to try.”

Utahiroba Sensei chuckled under his breath.

“What about you, though?”, he asked. “What do you want?”

Shou stared down onto his lap again.

He wanted to hold Yutaka’s hand with no one staring at them. He didn’t want to put his energy into convincing people who were going to judge him anyway.

“I want a quiet piece of the world”, he said. “Where nothing is difficult and I’m happy.”

Utahiroba Sensei exhaled loudly.

“I’ve always wanted that, too”, he confessed. “But things are always difficult when you stand out. I saw your painting. You definitely need to improve your skills, but I can see what you were trying to do. You wanted to be different from the others. And it worked. Your painting isn’t the best one in class, but it stands out because of its difference. It’s a good way of achieving that, but it’s also going to cause you trouble.”

“Wanting to be different, you mean?”, Shou asked.

Utahiroba Sensei nodded.

“It makes you unique, but people often don’t like it when you are different. You’ll have to make a choice. You are not a fighter like your friend.”

Shou swallowed. He had the feeling that Utahiroba Sensei was trying to give him some advice that had nothing to do with painting.

Once more Shou wondered if Yutaka had chosen his class because of that. Utahiroba was a watchful teacher. He’d make a good role model for someone who seemed as lost as Yutaka.

“Is it worth it?”, Shou wanted to know. “From your experience, is it worth being different if people will be against it so much?”

Utahiroba Sensei turned his head so he was looking out the window. It looked out onto the sports field. He was smiling.

“Yes”, he confirmed. “It usually is. But I think you have made your decision already anyway.”

Shou looked out onto the sports field as well. He thought of Yutaka trying to take a nap beneath the stairs.

“Yes, I do”, he said.

“So”, Utahiroba Sensei concluded and clapped his hands. “The execution of your painting still needs to improve, but the idea was original and you did a good job on the teamwork exercise. You get a B for project week.”

“Thank you!”, Shou exclaimed, somewhat surprised. He hadn’t expected to do anything better than pass.

“Now, get out and send that troublemaker in”, Utahiroba Sensei commanded and Shou got up.

Just when he left the office, the school bell rang out. On his way into the classroom, students were spilling out. He had to wait to let a group of them pass.

“Yutaka, your turn”, he called out.

Yutaka had his bag ready and took it with him as he left for the office. Shou took his time to collect his things and put on his jacket. He was the last person in the room.

Finally, he left, setting up tent in front of Utahiroba Sensei’s office. He put his school bag onto the floor and leaned against the wall. Then, he waited.

Yutaka stayed inside for a long time.

Shou wondered what they were discussing. He assumed Utahiroba Sensei had some advice for Yutaka as well. Probably, talking openly was a lot easier for Yutaka than it was for Shou. Maybe Yutaka had asked about Darvish Sensei. If he had, maybe he had told Utahiroba about Shou’s kiss as well. Shou really wondered if Utahiroba was that kind of consultant teacher. But then, Yutaka somehow seemed to be his favourite. He seemed to care. And Shou figured there weren’t a lot of adults around to talk to about this kind of issue.

After a time that had lasted far longer than with any of the other students, the door to the office opened.

“Thank you again, Sensei!”, Yutaka shouted, his voice cheerful, but somehow Shou thought his profile looked a little troubled nonetheless.

Only after shutting the door did Yutaka turn around to the corridor and spotted Shou. For a second, his expression seemed unable to settle for a definite emotion. He looked confused.

Then he beamed at him.

“B minus!”, he announced proudly. “Told you Utahiroba wouldn’t give us a hard time.” His cheerfulness sounded a little fake.

“Good”, Shou said and smiled nervously.

“But what are you still doing here?”, Yutaka asked and furrowed his brow. “I thought you’d be long since off with your little girlfriend.”

He said it in his usual, joking manner, but Shou thought his words sounded mean anyway. He couldn’t blame him.

“I, uhm”, Shou said. “I cancelled the date.”

“You messed up with the reservation at the restaurant, didn’t you?”, Yutaka asked, sounding angry now. “I knew you’d ruin it somehow. After we tried so hard.”

His anger seemed unjustified to Shou. He probably was still pissed at Shou.

“It’s not that”, Shou interrupted him, before he could go on. “I didn’t want to go out with Sakura.”

Yutaka’s expression softened instantly. It was hard to tell what it was that suddenly looked gentler. Maybe it was the angle of his eyebrows, maybe his jaw that wasn’t clenched so tightly anymore.

“You didn’t?”, he assured, rather calmly now.

Shou shook his head.

“I don’t want to date someone, just because it’s easy”, he said. “Especially not when there is someone I actually like.”

Yutaka licked his lips. It looked as if he was trying to buy time.

Shou realized that he looked scared. Fearless, carefree Yutaka looked scared of what Shou was going to say next. Yutaka looked down onto the floor and for a moment, Shou thought it seemed as if he wanted to punch a hole right through it.

“About yesterday”, Yutaka said softly. “I need something real, Shou. You can’t just …”

“Shh”, Shou interrupted him and Yutaka looked up.

He could see all the things Yutaka was afraid of written across his face. He was scared that Shou would ask him for more secret kisses, for meetings late at night on the rooftop when no one else was around. He was scared that Shou would try to hide him, where he wanted so desperately to be seen.

“Just one question”, Shou said and managed a smile, although his stomach was revolting. After this, there would be no going back. “Kyan Yutaka, do you like Italian food?”

For a moment, Yutaka just stared at him blankly. Then he realized what Shou had just said. His face lit up and Shou thought his grin was as blinding as staring right into the sun.

Because Shou wanted to see Yutaka make a mess out of his face and out of the tablecloth while eating spaghetti. He wanted to hold his hand on their way back home. He wanted to slap his head when he said something stupid and he wanted to throw stuff at him when he made him feel embarrassed and he wanted to kiss him when Yutaka made him laugh. He didn’t want just another adventure. He wanted love.

“Tell you what”, Yutaka said and turned his head to look down the corridor to their left and to their right. They were the only students still around.

Then he took a step towards Shou, dropping his schoolbag. It sprung open and spilled its insides across the floor. Yutaka did not pay attention to it.

He put his hands against either side of Shou’s face. Then he kissed him. Not gentle and not heated, but goofy and full of enthusiasm.

When Yutaka pulled back, his face wearing the typical lopsided grin was still close.

“Kiryuuin Shou”, he said. “I really like all kinds of food.”

#Golden Bomber #Kiryuuin Shou #Kyan Yutaka #kirikyan #fanfiction #fanfic #utahiroba jun #somehow I can only think of silly plots currently so I hope you are ready for more along those lines to come ^-^

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sensationalscenarios · 5 years

Text

Sleeping Dogs: Chapter IV

AU: Based on my SF9 as Mafia au found here

Chapter Four TWs include: N/A.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: hello i know its been well over a year since i’ve updated sleeping dogs but things got hectic and well, i graduated from university! now i just work full time so i should have more time to write hopefully.

i never forgot about sleeping dogs though, and i dont think i would ever be able to fully abandon it either. i dont know if anyone still even remembers this story but if you do, thank you for supporting it and thank you for waiting. it truly means more than anything to have others enjoy my sf9 mafia verse.

so without further ado: sleeping dogs ch 4; as always any and all feedback is welcomed!

+ admin L

III | V

iv. liar

Octagon is the hottest club in Seoul, situated in the cultural hub of Gangnam-gu, and the heart of Seven Star’s territory. The three story club offered a dance floor and entertainment hall on the main floor, three bars, an open kitchen, mezzanine private VIP bunkers, a VIP lounge, a second stage lounge, silent room, a swimming pool and women's powder room. While most building spaces in Seoul were small and cramped, Octagon was a spacious club, and despite only being open Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, provided a hefty profit for Namjoon and his boys.

As Youngbin walked through the club, he felt himself falling into the rhythm of the music and lights. All around him people moved in a hypnotic state, laughter bubbling from their chests as their drinks sloshed around in their cups. Youngbin often forgot how powerful Seven Star were, given he was always occupied by his own business, but he was happy knowing Namjoon was doing well, that he was able to succeed thus far. Weaving through the crowd, Youngbin led Inseong and Dawon up the stairs to one of the VIP bunkers where Namjoon was waiting for them. The bunker of choice was separated from the others, in a corner that overlooked the octagon shaped hole, which provided the perfect view of the main floor of the club. Two guards stood outside, merely nodding as one held the door open for them. Inside a white, wrap around couch lined the walls, with a table in the center. The members of Seven Star were situated on the couch, their glasses all filled with varying alcoholic beverages. Their exterior reflected nothing but the attitudes of calm professionals, yet from the way in which they grasped their drinks, Youngbin knew there was nothing but anger bubbling beneath their skin.

“Where’s the rest of your boys?” Namjoon asked, eyebrow raised as Youngbin, Inseong, and Dawon sat in the chairs across from him.

“They got caught up at Syndrome so unfortunately they won’t be able to join us. They’re working on finding answers to our problem right now.” Youngbin replied, hyper aware of the rest of Seven Star’s eyes on him. It was risky, bringing only Inseong and Dawon here, but Youngbin knew Namjoon would never summon him like this if it weren’t dire.

“Seulbi dear, why don’t you bring some refreshments for our guests? I’m sure they could use a drink as well. Mr. Lee and Mr. Yoo, the two of you may wait outside with the other guards. This is to be a private conversation between us and the Red Dragons. Do not let anyone disturb us. Understood?” A striking young man ordered as he straightened up in his seat beside Namjoon. Kim Seokjin, as Youngbin knew, was the son of one of the most influential couples in all of Korea. A family with so much power that even the police dared not question them. Octagon had been a gift from Seokjin’s parents to him, allowing him the freedom of running his own business. How much they knew about his activities with Seven Star Youngbin didn’t know. Seokjin acted as Namjoon’s second in command, much like what Inseong did for Youngbin.

“Any weapons on you?” Yoongi asked, wary as he observed the three of them. Youngbin always felt pity when he looked at the other, knowing full well that it was his actions which divided Yoongi and Juho. He knew that was who the former was looking for when they first walked in.

“Just our pistols. We left the rest of our toys at home unfortunately.” Dawon replied.

“If you’re lying, I’ll put a bullet through your head myself.” Taehyung spat.

“Please, as if you could draw your gun faster than me.” Dawon scoffed, arms crossed as he glared at the other. There was a certain rivalry between the two, which Youngbin attributed to their skills as snipers.

“You wanna bet you piece of sh-”

“Boys!” Namjoon and Youngbin called out in unison. Both Dawon and Taehyung closed their mouths, sitting back in their seats and seemingly sulking. They would’ve been great friends, Youngbin was sure, if the circumstances were different.

“This is not the time for your petty disagreements, we have a serious matter to discuss.” Namjoon sighed, before looking at Youngbin. “As I side over the phone, there’s been another murder on our territory this time. One of our runners. He was a good kid Youngbin, a good, loyal kid.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about his passing. I...I didn’t think this man would strike again so soon, and at you guys no less.” Youngbin said.

“Yeomna.” Namjoon said. “That’s what the man calls himself.”

“He gave you a name?!” Inseong pulled out his laptop from his bag, typing rapidly on his keyboard.

“Yeah, gave us a friendly phone call and said if we didn’t join his game someone else is going to die soon.” Yoongi replied grimly.

“Just like the call we got. Interesting.” Inseong looked up from his laptop. “So, I didn’t find anything in police records that matched Yeomna meaning they have no idea a new serial killer is out there. However, I looked up the origin for the word and it means ‘The God of Death’. Whoever we’re dealing with has picked quite a name for himself. Yeomna is said to judge the dead and rule over the afterlife, punishing souls for their wrongdoings in life.”

“So you’re saying we’re dealing with a lunatic playing God? Fucking hell.” Yoongi muttered.

“I think we’re dealing with an entire group. The night when Yeomna called us, our boys were all being watched at three different locations at nearly the same time. We thought it might have been a low tier gang trying to rank up in the Underground but I don’t know. Now I feel like they’re connected. I mean think about it, there’s no way one person could orchestrate this entire thing right? He must have others working behind the scenes and if so, what worries me is that Yeomna might not be the one in control.” Inseong rubbed his chin thoughtfully, before diving into police records one more time.

Silence settled over everyone as the gravity of Inseong’s words hit them. Youngbin hadn’t thought about the possibility of someone higher up pulling all the strings from the shadows, and it made him wonder if they had been watched this entire time. The sudden realization that his boys were scattered hit him like a wall of bricks and he shot up in his seat. “Inseong get Juho and Chani on the line, check in with everyone and make sure they’re alright. Check the cameras outside our home and Syndrome and see if any of those guys are watching them again. Namjoon-”

“On it.” Namjoon cut him off before he could finish, motioning for Seulbi, who had just returned with drinks. The latter quickly set the glasses down, before moving to a side compartment in the room, pulling out a laptop from it. She handed it to Namjoon, and bowed, before exiting the room once more. Namjoon typed just as quickly as Inseong, bringing up footage from all the cameras in Octagon.

Youngbin held his breath as he watched Namjoon’s face, heart racing as he noticed the other’s change in expression. “They’re here aren’t they?”

Namjoon nodded. “We can’t tip them off that we know though. This could be our only chance to get information. We need a game plan and quick.”

“The way I see it we have two options: either we...question one of them, or we slip a tracker on one of them. Personally, I think we’d benefit more from the second option.” Yoongi said.

“Well, that route’s not as fun but you make a valid point good sir.” Dawon leaned back in his seat. “So which one of you is going to do it?”

“Pfft, lazy piece of shit.” Taehyung grumbled.

“Listen jackass, there’s a chance they don’t know that Youngbin, Inseong, and I are here. As far as Yeomna knows, and everyone else for that matter, the Red Dragons and Seven Star are still at each other's throats. I think it’d be in both of our best interests that it stays that way.”

“Dawon’s right. It’s better if no one knows about our...temporary alliance. Besides if word spread in the Underground about this we’ll only have more problems.” Namjoon rubbed his temples. “Jimin you’re up.”

“Sure. I like the easy stuff.” Jimin shrugged, setting his wine glass down on the table as he got up. Namjoon signaled to Seulbi, who brought over a case from another one of the drawers in the room. Two soft clicks were heard before Namjoon opened it, revealing an assortment of devices. He removed a USB and a small, circular piece of metal, about half the size of a penny. Plugging the USB into his laptop, he tossed the small device towards Jimin, who caught it effortlessly. The two of them turned on their bluetooth earpieces, testing the connection twice.

Straightening his clothes, Jimin left the room and made his way downstairs to mingle. All eyes in the room turned towards the security cameras, watching as Jimin weaved his way among the clubbers. Occasionally he would stop and greet a few regulars, hugging some and directing others to the bar. He ordered a couple of drinks, and situated himself with his back facing the counter. Resting his head in one hand, he casually sipped his drink, smiling at girls who looked his way. All in all Jimin looked as relaxed as anyone could.

“There’s a guy in the room to your left. When you walk he’s going to be on the right hand side. His back is turned so that’s as good of a chance as you’ll get.” Namjoon said.

Without responding, Jimin got up from his seat and made his way towards the designated room. Once inside Jimin glances to his right as he takes another sip. It’s now or never. He takes a step towards the man, before “stumbling” forward. The drink in his hand spills over the other, who jumps and spins around, just as Jimin is falling forward. Jimin’s giggling, though the others in the room can’t hear him, and he starts apologizing to the man quite dramatically. The man tries to help Jimin regain his balance, as the latter clings on, saying absurd things.

“You might want to lay off the alcohol kid.” The man said.

“I’m sooo sorry mister.” Jimin giggled again, arms still wrapped around the other’s shoulders for support. “I’ll be juuuust fine. Don’t you worry. Byeee.”

Jimin stumbles out of the room, and for a moment, the man contemplates following the boy, but shrugs off the idea once his body disappears into the intoxicated crowd. Instead, the man pulls out his phone, typing a quick text as he makes his way towards the exit.

“Alright he’s leaving, you can come back up.” Namjoon grinned. “Nice acting.”

“I try my best.” Jimin replied.

Youngbin was quite impressed to say the least. If he hadn’t known better he would’ve thought the kid was completely shitfaced. He hadn’t even noticed whether or not the boy had successfully slipped the tracker onto the guy.

Within moments Jimin slips back into the room and into his previous spot, picking up his wine glass as if nothing had happened. “Well I slipped it under his collar. It’s ready to go.”

“Alright, let’s see what we can get.” Namjoon brought up a screen filled with oscillating waves as the tracker picked up various sounds from the streets outside. “Inseong can you get us visuals while I work with the audio.”

“Sure.” Inseong typed quickly, his laptop splitting into four screens, each with a different view of the street. The cameras changed every minute or so as he hacked one camera after another, doing his best to follow the man’s movements. There were two others with him, and they appeared to be whispering amongst one another.

Namjoon pressed a few keys on his laptop, trying his best to isolate their voices only. After a moment or two, he was finally able to enhance the portion of audio that he wanted, and he turned the volume up so that everyone could hear what was being said.

“...at Syndrome. Kang Chanhee isn’t with them. We need to find the kid.”

“There were only three of them at Syndrome. The rest could all be together, we might not be able to separate the kid from them.”

“Well we gotta think of something, otherwise Boss won’t be happy.”

“Dawon call the others. Now.” Youngbin said, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles were turning white.

Just as Dawon was about to call Rowoon, the sound of Youngbin’s phone rang through the room. Pulling the device out of his pocket, Youngbin frowned at the unknown number. “It’s him. It’s Yeomna.”

Setting the phone down on the table, he answered, tapping the speaker button. “Hello?”

“Hello again, Kim Youngbin.”

“What the hell do you want now?”

“Ah, straight to the point I see. I was merely wondering if you’ve spoken with Seven Star recently. I hear they have suffered a tragic loss.”

“You should know we don’t fuck with Seven Star.”

“I disagree. You and Namjoon seem to have quite the past. Very messy indeed.” Yeomna tsked. “Two once dear friends, nearly inseparable, were at war with each other. But now it seems as if the two of you have set aside your differences for the time being.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Namjoon and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.” Youngbin glanced over at Namjoon, who seemed just as concerned as he is.

“You can’t lie to me. I know you’re working together. I know he must’ve told you my name. In fact, I even know you’re with him right now. Am I wrong, Kim Namjoon?”

Youngbin shook his head at the other, urging him not to speak. The latter nodded in response, choosing to say nothing. After a moment of silence passed, a sigh could be heard.

“No matter. I have other things I wanted to discuss with you all.”

“Such as?”

“Player three has chosen to play.”

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

Dance Sessions

Summary: When Hakyeon first heard you were teaching at Jellyfish, he doubted your ability. Now, he was attending private dance sessions where he was learning a whole lot more than just dancing.

Pairing: Cha Hakyeon x reader

Genre: friends to lovers au

Warnings: none

A/N: requested by the wonderful @chellolaa! This story was a lot of fun to create… there’s nothing better to me than imagining/seeing Hakyeon dance. So it was fun to write it for a change!

Word count: 1846

It was Hakyeon’s favourite time of the day. For many, being up this early in the morning would seem unfathomable. Frankly, if Hakyeon didn’t have a reason to be in the studio at the crack of dawn, he wouldn’t be either. Yet he hadn’t missed a single session with you, and as he stretched his limbs to loosen up for the dance session ahead, he glanced at his image in the mirrors. He looked as excited as he felt.

When you first started dance lessons at Jellyfish, he had been dubious. Of course, he had a lot of admiration for choreographers and within his line of work; he had worked with many of them. Although Hakyeon boasted a career with a lot of self-composed dances for both his team and individual projects, he knew his artistry had been inspired by the talent of others that supported him and VIXX.

Yet you weren’t trained. You hadn’t attended any dance schools or held any credentials either. Hakyeon had wondered why management would hire such a rookie, let alone allow them to teach the idols and trainees within the company. Sure, some of his style had been self-taught but he had been serious about dance from a young age and had put in the long gruelling hours in training facilities. He probably held more certificates in dance than you did. Hakyeon had always prided himself as being someone who accepted all walks of life in improving his career. But he couldn’t fathom how someone like you could benefit him in the slightest.

“Just give Y/N one session,” Ava, his senior coordinator, suggested with a smile. “I think you’re judging too harshly before you know how good she is.”

“I’m all for self-taught styles, but inexperienced choreographers can expect too much and be the answer to injury. Do you really want any of the idols or trainees to be injured?”

Ava smiled knowingly. “I said Y/N is self-taught, not inexperienced.”

That sentence had played over in his mind all day long until he stepped into the studio where your first class was to be held. He greeted the other students in the room before stretching and warming up. By the time you arrived, Hakyeon’s curiosity was piqued. A couple of the students had mentioned they had seen someone dancing in this room earlier on and hoped they were the teacher. And when you placed your things down, he heard the excited murmurs that they were correct.

“Shall we dance?” you asked everyone in the room and smiled brightly. Hakyeon’s doubt eased the longer you smiled at everyone and he even felt himself nodding along.

By the time the class ended, he was exhausted and felt like he’d have to drag himself off to his next appointment with how gruelling it had been. You stopped him on the way out and smiled cheerfully. “I heard from Ava you weren’t expecting much. Today was just an introduction to my style so I went easy on you all. You’ll be back on Thursday, right?”

“That was easy?!” he uttered and you giggled. Something about the sweet tone of your laughter softened his shock. Hakyeon was nodding along before he realised it again. “Sure, I’ll see you on Thursday.”

Over the next month, Hakyeon had attended all the classes you held. There was something refreshing about the way you taught everyone. You were tough on technique and repetition, and he’d always leave your classes dripping of sweat. But he had noticed the improvement to his accuracy as a dancer, and he had even learned several new ways of doing difficult moves in a way that was less taxing to his body. The classes were fun, but they weren’t enough. And when you had suggested the early morning sessions on Fridays before everything else in his day, he had jumped at the chance. Even if it meant he missed out on extra sleep.

It was definitely worth it.

“Good morning, Hakyeon,” you greeted as you entered the studio, looking bright as usual. He never understood how you could radiate so much energy from the get-go. He had seen Ava in the mornings and she was definitely not as alert as you were when he met with you every Friday morning. You placed your bag down and turned to him. “I have a new routine for you. Want to give it a try once we’re warmed up?”

“Oh, did you hear about my next concept dance piece?” he wondered and you nodded enthusiastically. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”

After the warm-up, you went into great detail explaining the dance concept you had thought of, even having drawings to show him of some of the moves. You were a hands-on teacher and he could easily visualise what you had come up with before he even saw it in person. And then when you were satisfied with your explanation, you turned on the music Hakyeon had been given last week to plan his choreography to, and started to show him a loose interpretation of what you had envisioned. It was a masterpiece. He watched in awe, knowing that with his stylist moves leading the dance, the feedback from the public would be very positive.

“Let me add to it,” he mentioned confidently and for the next half an hour you both tweaked the plan until it seemed to satisfy you both.

You grinned as you sat down for a water break, reaching up to high five Hakyeon as he came to sit next to you. “We make a good team. This will be a great dance.”

“An even better one if you perform it with me.”

“What?” you asked, your eyes flashing with panic as you laughed hollowly. “Oh no, I’m the dancer behind the scenes, not the one in front of the camera.”

“You just said we make a good team,” he reminded, smiling encouragingly at you. “Y/N, you’re so talented. Sure, I disregarded your skills in the beginning from lack of knowledge but you are by far one of the best dancers I know. Come on, it’ll be fun! You can’t keep denying my requests to dance together.”

“I’m fine with dancing together with you like this. I don’t need the spotlight.”

Hakyeon frowned. “Why not?”

“Some people don’t aspire for it,” you told him and the smile you gave him was genuine. “I like helping put the pieces together but not being in the final image. That’s where you come in. You breathe life into my ideas and make them happen.”

“I can’t convince you, can I?” he asked sadly and you nudged him playfully whilst shaking your head. “So stubborn.”

“It’s called being happy with what you have, Hakyeon. Besides, if I was to go on stage then I would have to travel and commit myself to just one group.”

“And you like the diversity of other people?” he surmised and you shrugged. It made him curious. “Or do you have a fear of travelling?”

“Everyone has a weakness, mine is flying. I’ll keep my feet firmly on the ground unless I’m dancing, thanks.”

“This dance piece won’t require you to travel, though,” he persisted and you groaned, shooting him a pleading look. “There’s more to it?”

“Promise you won’t laugh.”

He zipped his mouth closed and then smiled at you reassuringly. You let out a short breath before speaking. “When I was younger, I was scouted. I was told I would have my dreams of being a talented dancer recognised. I was thrown into a school for dancing first. They said before I got to the stage, I’d have to improve and listen to others on how I needed to dance. I didn’t like that. Being on stage means I have to do what others want. Dancing is my identity and I like to be in charge of how I move my feet.”

Hakyeon was in awe by your honesty and stared at you for some time, even after you had finished talking. You shot him an awkward smile. “Why won’t you stop staring?”

“Every time I think I couldn’t admire you any more than I already do, you say something that makes me like you even more.”

You flushed with colour and got up, putting space in between you and him. You then glanced at him warily. “Like or admire?”

“Both,” Hakyeon confirmed, getting up and joining you back in front of the mirrors. He watched you through the reflection and smiled. “Does it bother you?”

“A little bit,” you admitted, your cheeks still coloured. You shook out your arms. “I worry it may affect our working relationship.”

Hakyeon dove in behind you as the music started back up, dancing expertly to the moves you had both created together. Halfway through the song, he reached for your hips and brought you closer. It was part of the dance but with the way he was watching you in the mirror, your eyes widened with surprise.

But your feet kept in sync with his.

“I don’t think it’s going to affect how we dance together, Y/N,” he said into your ear and you sighed involuntarily. “It might actually improve our connection.”

“All those weeks ago when you walked into my classroom, you doubted everything about me because I didn’t have fancy credentials. I’m wondering if I relaxed my boundaries too much around you because you were a good challenge for me.”

You spun around and faced him. Hakyeon stopped dancing and waited for you to speak. You didn’t, simply staring at him for some time. He tilted his head to the side. “Am I no longer a good challenge?”

“You’re still a challenge,” you announced softly, chewing on your bottom lip. “It’s hard for me to not make you the face of all my dances I create. It’s frustrating that I can’t picture anyone else.”

“Are we still talking about dancing?” he asked, shifting closer. You eyed his movement but didn’t choose to step back. Hakyeon reached for your neck tenderly, resting his hand on the side of your face. “Or something else?”

“You never needed private dance sessions, Hakyeon. We both know I came up with the idea so we could dance together like this, without anyone else interrupting us.”

“You don’t actually think I’d give up precious sleeping hours just to dance with you, right? I’m definitely not here every time just because I can learn moves from you.”

“What have you come to learn then?”

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “The Y/N behind the dance moves.”

“And what do you think of her?” you asked breathlessly, watching him avidly. “Is she worth continuing these sessions with?”

“I’m no expert in love, but I’m pretty sure we could both figure it out together.”

“Well,” you mentioned airily, stepping away from Hakyeon and going to grab your belongings. “I guess I’ll see you next Friday morning. I’ll leave it up to you what we dance to next time.”

Hakyeon grinned. “I’m looking forward to it.”

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