#it's 4am I grabbed my laptop just to type this all out
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The facial acting of these two is soooo good. Their "let's work together to catch Kira" handshakes, except one is Light with his memories of being Kira (on the left) and the other is him without (on the right).
There's a silent declaration of war going on between the two on the left. L is grinning. Light's smile doesn't reach his eyes. An unspoken "I know you know that I know" passes between the two of them.
On the left, that undertone of animosity is gone. Light's expression is genuine, and L can clearly tell. L is searching Light's eyes for Kira. He's not smug anymore because he can't find him.
It's the exact same scene shot-for-shot and yet it's totally different in almost every other way.
#death note#death note drama#death note jdrama#l lawliet#death note tv drama#light yagami#yamazaki kento#masataka kubota#guys I love the jdrama soooo much#idk man they just get it#I have my issues with it for sure but it's things like this that make me appreciate just how much they UNDERSTOOD#not just yamaken and masataka whose acting absolutely devoured in the last half but everyone else too like they just GOT IT YKNOW#I am of the opinion that of all the adaptations it's the musical and the jdrama that understand the source material best#the jdrama isn't for everyone yadda yadda but as someone who's been into dn for over a decade now#I just really feel how much it loves and respects the og story while also exploring new things to make it a unique experience#GOD i love the jdrama#it's 4am I grabbed my laptop just to type this all out#I'm so glad I decided to rewatch
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Study Date & Kisses
Masterpost || Bones Masterlist
Vincent Nigel-Murray x Fem!reader
Summary: Y/N’s having trouble with their uni assignment, luckily the classes Fun-Facts guy has decided to help. The same guy Y/N may or may not have a crush on..
Warnings: Swearing, some of info may not be 100% accurate.
Notes/Anything Else: Another repost, I promise I’m gonna other stuff ! I really like this fic, but be warn that Y/N comes off pretty pissy in this fic, but for good reason ! I’m promise Y/N still nice. I love this series so expect some more fics of them in the future <3
° Tagging — @topguncultleader
The times currently 9:30pm, your eyes check tiredly to the screen of your laptop. The library closes in an hour and you’ve barely gotten half way in your assignment that’s due tomorrow afternoon.
The idea of going home makes you smile, but you know well that once you shut the front door your heading straight for your bed and sleep for the next two days.
That’s why your pushing through, multiple sickly sweet energy drinks as your right hand companion and the will to past this last assignment for the month, but this is just tedious. You much rather work directly with bones and the now of technology, than the history of how scientists and doctors discovered and identify bone parts from the 17th century. A fact you’ll never dare tell Dr Brennan.
So you’ve been putting this off. A dumb idea on your end. Making more time at the Jeffersonian was great, but breaks should of been made for finishing off these rather than chatting with Hodgins or watching Angela reconstruct the victims face while she talks about what type of past they might of had. You look back to the clock. 9:45pm. “Just great.” You whisper to yourself. Seconds felt like minutes.
You looked around the library. Barely anyones there. It’s quiet, besides soft footsteps, paper flipping and tapping on keyboards from other students. Your screen went black, so you pressed the on button to re-type your password. Soft footsteps were coming closer behind you. Your head snapped towards the sneaky stepped behind you.
“Woah! Hey, Y/N, don’t give me that look.” A British voice said, his hands in a defensive pose.
You quickly, tried to, soften your face while you pinched your nose. You sighed and looked back at him.
“Sorry Vincent. I’m just tired..” you yawned and looked back at him. “Do you need anything? Do you wish to trade my shift with Dr Brennan again?”
“Uhh… did you know the timing of our need for sleep is based on two things. The first is how long we have been awake. The second is our bodies clock. If we stay awake all night we will feel more tired at 4am than at 10am. Scientists call the time between 3am and 5am the ‘dead zone’. It’s when our body clock makes us ‘dead’ tired.” Vincent smiled, making a small pointing jester with his pointer finger.
You raised your eyebrow. It’s not that you hate his facts, knowing that is his way of communicating comfortably (for some reason), but it’s currently 9:52 and you feel like your eyes are getting darker by the second.
“Can we skip to your point, Vincent? If I’m not mistaken you are usually in bed at this hour.” It came out harsher than you wanted, making Vincent subconsciously grab onto his laptop cases strap. Twisting it in his hands, making you cringe a little.
“Um, well, you see.. I notice that you hadn’t completed the latest assignment—“
“—What gave that away?” ‘Stop being pissy’, you think to yourself.
Vincent bit his lip, and nodded.
“Yo-your laptop is open and your in the library at 9:59pm on a Thursday. Our Assignment, that we’ve had two weeks to complete, is due tomorrow.” You gave him a weary look.
“Right… you were being sarcastic.” It was almost like he was shrinking in his shoes at that point.
You’re about to punch yourself at this point. The Brit’s obviously here to help, but because your tired ass is deciding to be mean he’s melting from nerves. Vincent was always the one to ask questions on any part of the project he didn’t understand or just wanted extra info on. His hand is always up during lectures to the point where the teachers just tell him to write all the ones he has down and than hand them a list at the end.
After all the questions he asked got answered he would hand most of the class pieces of paper with those answers. “Just in case I had asked something that you wanted to know and you didn’t write it down quick enough!” His normal answer when you ask.
You sigh at those memories, and point towards to the seat next to you.
“You may help Mr Nigel-Murray.” You smile as his eye light up a bit. Vincent went to sit down, pulling out the chair when he stops.
“Are you sure you want me to help you, Y/N.” His cheeks are a bit rosey red, it stands out from his pale, British, skin.
You chuckle a bit and shake your head. “Your not only here to help, I’m about to lose my sanity with my fourth energy drink. I could use the company.”
“Alrighty, Mrs L/N. I’ll keep you the company you need.” Vincent sits down and puts his laptop case on top of the table, pulling his laptop out before placing it on his chair like a bag. You smirk as you turn back to your laptop and re-enter your password once again.
“How far have you gotten?”
“Up to when the Andean Villagers strung up their dead’s bones like some festival decorations. This part is really boring honestly—“
Vincent slaps down a piece of paper, louder with how quiet it was.
“You find them boring? I rather find them very knowledgeable in the history to those people.” Vincent says, taking out two papers, fill to the brim with writing, and set them besides you. You grin as you take hold of a half empty can of a strawberry energy drink and take a swift. Before taking it back from your lips and turning it a bit in your hand.
“You all enjoy those things, well maybe besides Colin, but I don’t really. I study criminology so I can work on the front lines of a case. I take this class to help better my understanding, but some of this stuff kind of ticks me off. You know?” You finish your tired speech and place your can back down, facing towards Vincent.
You look up to see him with red cheeks again, but he’s staring straight at you. Your own cheeks heat up a bit, because god those eyes. His bluish-grey tinted eyes are just cute.
You shake your head. ‘Not when I have work to be done, Y/N!’ You angrily thought to yourself. Crush later, work now. ‘God..’
“I completely understand! I have certain things I do not enjoy others may. But when it comes to work I believe it’s best you priorities it. Even if it’s to your distain.” He smiled, god that smile. And god that accent. You never thought an accent could suit someone, until you heard Vincent Niguel-Murray.
“Well, as you Brits would say, let’s crack on.” You say, placing your hands on your laptop.
Vincent laughed.
It’s currently 10:47 pm on a Thursday night.
You and Vincent are packing up the paper, books and your laptops so you could leave quicker. You’ve completed the work, a little half-assed, but it’ll make sure you pass.
As you both start walking to the door Vincent turns towards you.
“Hey, um… Y/N, if you’ll like, I mean, if you have any more trouble, you can always send me an email. I wouldn’t mind helping you out more.” His voice goes up one octave as he asked. You internally scream as your heart starts picking up pace. You both reach the front door to the Library, Vincent opens it and lets you walk through first. God your cheeks must been bright.
“I could just give you my number, so if you just wanna hang out that’s alright with me.” You say as you turn and stop. Taking out your phone from your pocket.
“That’ll be alright.” Is that another octave higher?
Vincent shuts the door and takes out his own phone. Opening the message app, you gently go and take his phone. You quickly put in your number and text it to your phone and hand it back to him. He looks down and his face turns beet red in an instant.
“Uh, Y/N, why did you save your name as ‘Y/N: Needer of help’?” He laughs a little as he looks up. You smile and walk up to him, getting inches to his face, you’re about the same height, and give him a peck on the cheek before stepping back.
“Because I’ll call you whenever I need help with anything.” You give him a wink and turn to start walking away, smirking while your heart thumps like crazy.
Vincent watches as you walk away, your bag bouncy a bit and your ponytail swinging. He reaches up and touches the spot you kissed him and his face becomes redder than fresh blood on a corpse.
#loo fics#bones tv#bones x reader#bones tv x reader#bones tv x y/n#bones tv x you#vincent nigel murray#vincent nigel murray x reader#vincent nigel murray x fem!reader#vincent nigel murray x you#vincent nigel murray x y/n#fem!reader#squintern!reader#university fic#study date#swearing#y/n#x reader#x you#oneshot#x reader oneshot
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no taking back
summary: it was only fun and games. but steve had other plans.
warnings: modern au, tooth-rotting fluff i guess, little but of swearing
+ olivia rodrigo’s sour album (stream besties), the movie tangled at the end because it just radiates as a comfort movie
yes a modern au !!! i just saw this on tiktok (the sour part, but the rest was my idea!) and thought it was so cute so it gave me an idea to make it as a fic, enjoy !!!
steve harrington x fem!reader
olivia rodrigo’s new album just released and you were thrilled to listen to it and stream it the whole day.
when you finally got to listen to it, you asked your friends—robin, nancy, and the party, if they listened to it and which ones were their favorites.
robin told you that her top three were hope ur ok, jealousy, jealousy, and brutal.
nancy said she really loved favorite crime.
max said hers was also brutal.
el told you that she played good 4 u and traitor on repeat that hopper had to go into her room to turn it down.
when mike comes over to the cabin he can assure that el does indeed play them on repeat and get pissy about it (but he secretly loves the album, but he wouldn’t let her or anyone know that).
and lastly lucas and dustin are fans of deja vu and 1 step forward 3 steps back. max even told you that they would sing the bridge of deja vu on the top of their lungs.
you slightly laughed at the memory of them telling you about it.
however, there’s one more person that you haven’t talked to about it yet.
steve.
your smile faltered and faded when he came across in your mind.
your feelings for him had deepened over the time and listening to the sour album made it feel like you two had broken up, which in fact, is not true because you were never together in the first place.
suddenly, an idea popped in your head. instead of being sad about steve, you thought about texting him, although it’s almost 1AM, you knew he’d still be up.
Sailor Man
You: hey
You: u up?
Sailor Man: duh
Sailor Man: this has been our nightly routine u always bother me when i’m about to go to sleep
You: fuck off
You: don’t pretend that you’re not binge watching outer banks until 4am
Sailor Man: i’m not?!?
You: yeah right
You: anyways
You: can u do me a favor
Sailor Man: will i get free pizza afterwards
You: no
Sailor Man: k
You: what the fuck
You: fine
Sailor Man: hehe
Sailor Man: what’s the favor ;)
You: dont get me started with that winky face i swear ure so dead when i see you at the wheeler’s house tomorrow
You: have you listened to olivia rodrigo’s new album
Sailor Man: ohh the bitter album?
You: ITS SOUR DUMBASS
Sailor Man: I DONT KNOW?!?
You: I CANT DO THIS HJAGSK
Sailor Man: shut up
Sailor Man: i’ve heard some of the songs but i haven’t fully listened to them
Sailor Man: why
You: can you like
You: ask me to be ur girlfriend then break up with me right after so i can experience and actually feel the whole sour album
Sailor Man: what
You: just do it !!
Sailor Man: you’re so funny (y/n/n)
Sailor Man: okay
Sailor Man: will you be my girlfriend?
You: yes !!!
You: ...
You: hello
You: dont tell me u fell asleep
Sailor Man: i’m not doing the last part you might as well forget about it
You: wjat
Sailor Man: :D
You: wtf
You: okay steve cut it out i’m not doing this anymore u’re not funny
Sailor Man: nope
Sailor Man: go to sleep we’re dating now that’s how this works
Sailor Man: okay i dont know if you’re still reading this now and i am terrified to say this to you in person like TERRIFIED. might piss my pants if i did. so (y/n/n), my favorite dumbass, my favorite person to talk to at night even if it interrupts my binge watching marathon, you make me so happy to the point that even when i sleep you’re still in my dreams. i like you. i have like the biggest fattest crush on you. and thank you for doing that sour album thing or whatever, because of that i get to finally ask you out
you rolled on your back after you read the message, facing the ceiling as your mind processed what just happened. was he playing with you? was he actually serious about asking you out?
Incoming video call...
Sailor Man
you took a deep breath before tapping the green button and placing it back down on the bed.
“hey,” you can tell that he was tired based on his voice. “can you show your face, please? i miss you.”
ignoring the butterflies in your stomach, you hesitantly lifted the phone and shifted your position to lay on your side. “hey.”
“hey yourself.” steve grins. that stupid grin that makes your stomach turn, that grin you always want to see everyday.
“what’s..up?” you avoided looking at him and started to admire your surroundings and the posters placed on your wall. this was the only time you were glad you weren’t with him in person.
“i just wanted to see if you’re okay.” of course he will ask that. he's steve. he cares about other more than himself.
“i am, thanks.” you showed a smile that doesn't reach your ears and steve knew something was bothering you. “hey, look. i'm sorry about my confession- if it made you uncomfortable i'm sorry-”
“no,” you cut him off, looking back at his face on the screen. “i’m fine, really. you don't have to apologize. i was just, surprised.”
there was silence between the two of you for a few seconds, before you spoke again. “did you mean it?” you voice was only above whisper but steve managed to hear them. “of course,” he answered almost too quick, without any hesitation. “i've been trying to find the perfect opportunity and had been asking god for signs because i can't make a move myself-”
“asking god?” you chuckled and steve smiled hearing them, glad that he somehow lightened the mood. “well, more like begging.” he continues and you giggled.
once your laughter died you both fell into silence again. you still couldn’t believe that out of a fun joke, it would turn into a whole another situation. “so, um.. just so you know, i’m not mad, or upset, or anything. i really was just surprised. it felt like a dream because i didn’t know that you like me back and all i did was just supposed to be a fun joke but—”
“hold on, back?”
“what?”
“like you back. you said i like you back.” steve sat up on his bed and fixed his hair as his eyes widened. “i did...” you said slowly, not catching up.
“does that mean you..”
then it hit you. “oh, right. yeah. i- i like you..too.” you waited for his reaction and once you saw him smile you couldn’t stop yourself from doing the same.
“i knew it. and well, i guess that confirms it. we’re dating now. no taking back.” he smirks then laughs when your rolled your eyes. “don’t flatter yourself, harrington. i did not say shit.” you pointed your index finger on the screen, barely containing your giggles.
“based on your beautiful smile i think you don’t need to say it. i like you, and you like me. we’re dating.” steve gives you a teasing smile. you tried keeping your serious face but it won’t last longer so you finally smiled again. “alright, fine. no taking backs. we’re dating.” you said then laughed as he whisper-yelled ‘yes!’ while fist pumping the air.
he soon joined your laughter and you stayed like that until your jaw was pretty much in pain because of your smiles. when it was all quiet again, you both just admired each other’s presence through the screens of your phones. “i wish i was there with you.” he mumbles. “yeah, me too.” you hugged your cold pillow beside you, closing your eyes for a moment and imagining it as steve.
“are your parents home?”
you snorted at his random question. “i’m actually alone right now, they’re out because dad got promoted at his work so he and mom and i think a few friends went out to celebrate. they should be home by an hour or two. why?”
“nothing.” was all he said before hanging up. you were left confused but then he’s your best friend after all, so you knew right then and there that he’ll do something stupid. after you turned your phone off you suddenly felt watching a movie so you went to the kitchen to make some popcorn.
when it was finished and had been put in a bowl, that’s when you heard your doorbell rang—in a pattern which you recognize, and only one person does that.
you let out a quiet laugh when you realized who it was and set the bowl on the counter before opening the door.
“hi!” steve greeted you with a smile. “uh, hi?” you laughed nervously and stepped aside for him to go in. “i smell popcorn, are we having a movie night?” he says as he steps inside and shrugged off his jacket. “actually yeah, i’m planning on watching—”
“tangled.” he finishes off, you subconsciously smiled upon hearing your favorite movie. “how’d you know?”
steve snatches a few popcorns from the bowl as you both arrived in the kitchen. “(y/n), you have watched that movie 7 times this week and always gush to me about it.”
“well, you’re the only one that is around my age that i can talk to with that movie. robin and nancy aren’t that into it.” you replied, grabbing the bowl and making your way back to your bedroom, steve following your heels. “and you think i’m the best option to talk to about that?” he asks, plopping down on your bed and resting his back on the headboard.
“you’re not complaining.” you shrugged as you grabbed your laptop and sat beside steve.
“yeah, probably because i like you.” it came out of his mouth casually. you froze in place and felt your cheeks heat up, finally nodding your head slowly, “..probably.” as you typed in the movie in your laptop you felt steve scoot closer, making your breath hitch.
you were both in a comfortable silence while watching the movie, except for a few jokes and comments that steve makes and him explaining how similar he was to flynn rider.
“you know, since i’m eugene, you could be rapunzel.” he suddenly says. you eyes were still on the screen but your eyebrows furrowed. “why? i’m nothing like her.”
finally looking at steve, you almost screamed how he was already looking at you. “oh, you are so rapunzel. you may not have the longest hair in the world, but you are pretty much similar.” he replies, smiling and not taking his eyes off of you.
you paused the movie and shifted your body towards him, intrigued by his explaination. “how so?”
“well, first off,” steve starts, resting his hands on the soft mattress. “you’re both sweet, you’re both a huge ray of sunshine, have gorgeous eyes and smile, and eugene is head over heels over you — and since he doesn’t exist in real life, i’d like to be the substitute.” he finished with a confident smile.
after about three seconds, you burst out of laughter. you laughed. as much as he loves the sound of your laugh, he can’t help but pout. “(y/n), i’m trying to be sweet here!”
“i’m sorry!- it’s just- i can’t help but laugh at your flirting.” you managed to say between your laughs. you know he’s kidding but he looked at you like he was offended.
your laughter died down and held steve’s face. “it’s cute, sorry.” you mumble with a little laugh. when he finally smiled you turned to your laptop and continued the movie.
steve gazes at you for a few more seconds before watching the movie with you again. “thank you.” you whisper, glancing at him.
“you’re very much welcome, my rapunzel.” he says smiling before he slides a bit down on the bed so his head could reach your shoulder and rests it there.
you giggled as you heard him whisper,
“thank you, olivia rodrigo.”
#steve harrington#stranger things#steve harrington fluff#fluff#imagines#stranger things imagine#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things fic#cute fic#i hope you enjoyed help#fluff fic#steve harrington x reader imagine#sour#sour olivia rodrigo#tangled
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✮ electric love | part 2 ✮
Harrison Osterfield x fem!reader | fwb!roommates au
|| Masterlist || Series Masterlist ||
Summary: Living with your best friends Tom and Harrison is all fun and games until one drunken night alone with Harrison, you give in to your attraction to him. You tell yourself you should leave it at that, forget about the night you spent with him and move on to not ruin your friendship, but neither of you can stay away from each other. So without considering the possible consequences, you make a deal. But how are you supposed to keep your shenanigans from Tom? And how are you supposed to not break the number one rule of an arrangement like this: do not fall in love.
Words: 3.8k
Warnings: SMUT 18+ [fingering, protected sex, riding], a smidge of angst, reader and Haz being horny idiots again, but this time sober.
A/N: For the record, I know pubs aren’t usually open that long, but my favourite Irish pub in Brighton is open until 4am on the weekends. so I imagine Tom working there :D
Hope you like it!!
Feedback is always appreciated ❤️
It’s still dark out when you wake up, and it takes you a few seconds to realise where you are. You blink a couple of times and when the coffee table still littered with cans and empty bags of crisps comes into view, the evening before comes back to you, and you realise that Harrison is still laying behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist.
Panic starts to creep up your spine, and suddenly you feel like you’re trapped. You sit up quickly, not even bothering if it wakes Harrison up. The blanket falls from your frame, and you realise you’re still naked.
This can’t be happening.
You pull the blanket back up to cover yourself as Harrison starts mumbling incoherently. Patting the coffee table, you try to find a phone, you don’t care if it’s yours or Harrison’s, you just need to know what time it is.
“What’s going on?” Harrison asks, rubbing his eyes as you finally feel the sleek surface of a phone display underneath your fingertips. You lift it up to see the time, it’s just after four in the morning, and if you were slightly panicked before, it’s kicking into high gear now. Tom will be back any moment, and there’s no way you’ll let him walk in on this if you can prevent it.
“We fell asleep.” You stand up, dragging the blanket off of Harrison’s body, but he doesn’t seem to mind. For a moment, you’re distracted by the sight of him in his boxers. His pecs and abs illuminated by the moon shining into the window. With a small shake of your head, you turn around and start to scramble your clothes together. “Tom will be back soon, we need to get out of here.”
Harrison finally gets moving and, for a while, all you’re able to hear is the two of you shuffling around and your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You rack your brain as to how to handle this situation, what to say to him.
You’re still standing there, the blanket wrapped around you, as Harrison pulls on his sweatpants, his shirt hanging over his shoulder.
And then you just stare at each other for a long moment.
“I’ll just—“
“So do we—“
You both start talking at the same time, the air around you filled with awkward tension. And you hate it. You can already feel a headache coming on, and you want to just fall asleep and forget what happened.
Not that it was bad, that’s not it at all. It was amazing. But you don’t want this to change anything between you and Harrison. You love your friendship the way it is, you won’t risk ruining it with sex. Except… maybe you’ve already done that.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” You mumble, and without waiting for a reply, you dash towards your room and quickly close the door behind you.
You let out a deep breath before getting rid of the blanket and finally putting your clothes back on. You know that you need to get some sleep to counteract this hangover, but there’s no way you’ll be able to.
You feel disgusting, you’re covered in dried sweat, Harrison’s scent is all over you, and it does nothing to ease your anxiety. You contemplate taking a shower, but when you hear the front door close softly, followed by Tom’s footsteps moving around the flat, you know that will have to wait until the morning.
It’s been a week since you slept with Harrison and you can’t stop thinking about him. While you caught yourself fantasising about him every now and then before you crossed the line, now you know what it feels like to be touched by him. To be completely consumed by him. And with every day that passes you crave his touch even more.
Getting a taste of him did nothing to soothe your longing for him. On the contrary, it made it worse. So now whenever he’s close, whether that be him waiting for his toast to pop out of the toaster while you’re making a tea, or him sitting next to you on the sofa, your mind goes places it shouldn’t while thinking about one of your best friends.
It’s frustrating. You don’t have the time or the energy to find someone to hook up with to fuck Harrison out of your system. That’s probably what got you into this predicament in the first place, to be honest.
And the fact you still hadn’t really talked about what happened was eating away at you. There just hadn’t been the right time to bring it up. It’s been a stressful week for both of you with work and uni assignments, and if you had a few hours of spare time Tom was always around. You couldn’t just say ‘Hey Harrison can we talk about that thing that happened?’ Without Tom getting suspicious. And the last thing you wanted was him finding out that you and Harrison had sex on the sofa while he was at work.
It isn’t really awkward between you two. You still act normal around each other, it’s almost like nothing changed if it wasn’t for that underlying tension that always fills the air when you’re alone with him.
You delete the last paragraph you’d written for your essay with a groan. It didn’t make any sense anyway. Taking an English Lit class for extra credit sounded good when you first started the semester because with Harrison being an English Lit major you had someone you could ask for help right here living with you.
The irony of your situation makes you laugh. You contemplate quitting the class altogether, but there are only a few weeks left in the semester and all of your work so far would’ve been for nothing.
So you push all your confusing feelings to the side, close your laptop and pick it up. You don’t have to look far to find Harrison. He’s sitting in the living room, feet on the coffee table while scrolling through his phone.
He looks up when you let yourself fall next to him on the couch. The corners of his mouth lift into a smile and he locks his phone as he turns his body to you.
“What’s up?”
This is the first time you actively search out Harrison’s company since that night and you feel a little guilty that you’re doing it because you need his help.
“Can you help me with my essay?” You give him your best puppy dog eyes. “It’s for English Lit and everything I write seems dumb.”
The look in Harrison’s eyes gets a little softer as he nods his head.
“I’m sure it’s not dumb” He reassures you “Let’s see what you’ve got” He reaches his hand out for your laptop and you give it to him after unlocking it. His eyes flit over the screen as he reads over the measly excuse of an essay you’ve written. You can’t help but think how pretty his profile is.
“When’s it due?” He asks casually and you have a feeling he won’t like your answer.
You glance at the time on your laptop display, almost ten at night. “In two hours?” you press your lips together as Harrison’s head whirls over to you.
“Y/N! Why didn’t you ask for help sooner?”
You obviously can’t answer that question honestly, so you shrug your shoulders and say, “I wanted to do it on my own, but I’m incompetent so it didn’t work”
“You’re not incompetent!” He insists. “Look, what you’ve got so far is pretty solid, we just need to build on it.” His fingers fly over the keyboard as he starts to work on your essay.
As he types, he explains what he’s doing and occasionally asks a question. And an hour later your essay is ready to be handed in.
“Thank you so much for your help,” You say after you successfully sent the essay to your professor.
“Don’t mention it” He places his hand on your knee, giving it a squeeze and your breath catches in your throat. Images of the night you spent with Harrison start flashing through your mind as your eyes lock with his. He looks as taken aback as you feel, but neither of you dares to move.
The warmth of his hand is burning into your skin and you hate that just one touch from Harrison is enough to get you so worked up.
You clench your thighs together subconsciously and when Harrison's eyes leave yours for a second you know he noticed. The air around you is tense, thick with anticipation as his hand slowly moves up your leg. His eyes are boring into yours and you try your best to keep calm but your breathing is already heavy.
You don’t dare to say anything. As unsure as you are about what Harrison is thinking right now, you don’t want to ruin this moment.
His hand slowly moves further up your leg until his fingertips reach the hem of your shorts, then he pauses. Your heart is beating out of your chest and you know he’s giving you the time to say something. To tell him to stop. But you don’t want him to stop.
Biting your lip you give him an almost imperceptible nod and then his fingers slip under the fabric. You spread your legs a little allowing him to move closer to your heat and when his fingertips brush against your panties both of you take in a sharp breath.
“You’re soaking,” Harrison whispers, almost in awe.
“Been thinking about the other night a lot.” You say and lift your leg that’s closer to him until it’s laying on top of his, giving him more access.
“Yeah?” he asks, his thumb gingerly pressing against your covered clit. “Me too”
A moan falls from your lips and you reach out your hand to grab his forearm. Harrison stops his movements for a moment until you squeeze his arm.
“Keep going” Your voice is already hoarse, the pulsing between your legs almost unbearable. Harrison licks his lips, then gently moves your underwear to the side. And then his fingers are moving through your slick folds.
You throw your head back with a groan. You’ve been dreaming about his touch for the past week and there was nothing you could do to satisfy that craving. Nothing but being touched by Harrison again.
“That feel good?” Harrison murmurs and places a kiss on your shoulder.
“So good” you breathe, you’re hot, your blood rushing through your veins and you can already feel beads of sweat starting to build on your forehead. “More” You mewl, tightening your grip on his arm.
Harrison hums and then you feel him entering you with his fingers, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit and it’s almost enough to make you cum right then and there.
Harrison starts slowly moving in and out of you, his fingers slightly crooked, looking for that one spot. When you let out a moan and dig your fingers deeper into his forearm he knows he found it and continues to rub against it.
Your whole body is covered in goosebumps, your muscles tense as you throw your head back and lift your hips in an attempt to get closer to him. Harrison starts trailing kisses up your shoulder and neck and when he starts sucking on your sweet spot there, you’re a goner. Your pussy starts clenching around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you. You barely make out Harrison humming against your skin.
When you come down from your high, Harrison’s fingers are still inside you, moving ever so slowly as to not overstimulate you. You’re a long way from overstimulation though.
“Need you” You press out between groans, while you enjoy Harrison’s kisses and his fingers pleasuring you, it’s not nearly enough.
Harrison removes his hand and you find yourself pouting, but then he lifts his hand, your arousal shining on his fingers along with his ring. And then he puts them in his mouth, licking them clean with a hum, his eyes fixed on you and it might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.
“Let’s take this somewhere else.” He whispers against your skin before scooping you up. You let out a small squeal and wrap yourself around him tighter. “Your place or mine?” His hot breath hits your ear and while waiting for your answer he trails some more kisses on your neck.
“I don’t care.” you manage to say and moments later Harrison kicks a door shut with his foot and lays you down. You’re surrounded by dark blue bedsheets and Harrison’s scent. Without any hesitation, Harrison gets back to covering your neck with kisses. His hands moving under your shirt pushing the fabric up your body. With one swift movement, you get rid of the shirt, now laying in front of him in your bra and shorts.
The way Harrison is looking at you makes shivers run down your spine.
“You’re so fucking sexy, Y/N,” Harrison mumbles, his fingertips trailing over your newly exposed skin. Arching your back, you push yourself closer to him, your need to feel him reaching a new high.
As soon as Harrison’s taken off his shirt, you run your hands over his toned torso until you reach the waistband of his grey sweatpants. He tenses for a second and lets out a shuddering breath when you tease your fingers under the fabric. You need to bite your lip to keep in the giggle that’s threatening to fall from your lips at his reaction. You never thought he’d be this responsive to your touch.
While Harrison leans down to nip at the soft skin of your neck and collarbones you reach into his boxers and wrap your hand around his cock. Harrison lets out a low groan, his hot breath hitting your skin.
He’s hard and heavy in your hand, and the thought of him inside of you again makes warmth pool between your legs. Harrison curses when you slowly start to stroke him. He rests his forehead against your shoulder as if to collect himself, his soft curls tickling your skin.
And then he lifts himself up enough so he can look at you, his eyes dark.
“You sure about this?” A tiny voice in your head is aware that sleeping with Harrison again, this time sober, is crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed. But haven’t you already crossed that line last week when you told him to fuck you? Right now, you don’t want to think about that, though. All you want is him.
Your mind is quickly distracted from all of these thoughts when you take in the sight of Harrison on top of you, and you nod eagerly.
“Yes. I need you.” As if to emphasise your words you tighten your hand around him a bit, making Harrison groan.
“Fuck”
You let go of his cock and place your hands on his chest “Are you sure about this?” As much as you want this right now, you won’t do anything he isn’t willing to do. You don’t want him to feel pressured just because you need a release, and you need it from him.
“Yes. Fuck yes. Just… gimme a second or I’ll cum way too soon” He lets out a strained laugh and you can’t help but chuckle as well. While Harrison hovers above you, you bury your hands in his hair, slightly scratching his skull with your fingertips, causing him to let out a low moan. It’s not the first time you’re doing this. Whenever you feel like he’s stressed or upset about something it’s a sure way to make him feel better.
“I love it when you do that.” He hums before leaning down to bury his face in the crook of your neck.
He starts placing kisses on your neck, his hands moving back between your legs. Your hips buck up the moment his fingers touch your clit.
“I think a second is over” You pant out while he draws lazy circles on your sensitive bud. You can already feel the coil in your stomach tightening again.
Harrison lets out a laugh before pulling his hands away to take off your shorts.
It doesn’t take long for both of you to completely undress and him to put on a condom and then he’s positioned between your legs.
You run your hands over his arms, his biceps bulging as he hovers over you. Has he always been this muscular?
You have no time to further think about that because in the next moment he’s placing his hand on the back of your knee, spreading your legs wider before lining up his cock and pushing into you.
You throw your head back at the feeling of finally being filled again, digging your fingertips into his back as he bottoms out.
“You feel so good.” He murmurs and then starts rolling his hips into you. One of his hands is holding your hip as he picks up his pace.
“Fuck, I love your cock.” You mewl out, causing Harrison to chuckle darkly.
“I know you do. The way your pussy was dripping just at the thought of it spoke for itself”
Your walls tighten around him at his words and you arch your back, spreading your legs further.
“I wanna ride you.” You say, and it only takes Harrison a few seconds to react. He pulls out of you and easily rolls over so you’re on top of him.
Harrison’s hands are on your hips, helping you balance as you sink down onto him, before moving to your waist as you try to find the best angle for yourself.
You gasp when the head of his cock strokes a particularly sensitive spot and, just like last time, your reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Harrison. His face breaks out into a smile and his hands cup your breasts, playing with your nipples. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you groan.
You feel the tingling sensation start to spread through your body, getting more intense with each of your thrusts.
“I’m close”
“Yeah? Need me to make you cum?” He has the nerve to smirk up at you, his curls falling into his flushed face. You can’t help but notice how beautiful he is like this. He would be even more beautiful if he wasn’t being such a tease right now, though.
“Yeah, I’d appreciate it” You grind out. It’s not like you couldn’t take matters into your own hands (literally) but you know Harrison is able to take you there. If he can do it drunk he shouldn’t have a problem sober. Hell, he did it earlier on the couch. And you’re going to take advantage of someone else making you cum for a change. Who knows when you’re going to get the chance again?
“I’d love to watch you make yourself cum while riding my dick, though.” He grins. When you glare at him he bites his lip and returns his hands to your hips. “Maybe another time.”
And then he tightens his grip on you, holding you in place as he starts thrusting up into you, still at the perfect angle. You have to place your hands on his chest to support yourself as he pumps into you, your tits bouncing with every movement and then suddenly he wraps his lips around one of your nipples.
Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, you’re only seconds from finally being pushed over the edge. And then his finger finds your clit and you’re done for.
Words that don’t even make sense fall from your lips and you just barely notice Harrison’s words.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy like that. Coming around my cock.” His words are strained as he keeps fucking into you, chasing his own release “Look at you. So good. Fuck.”
And then you feel him twitch inside you before he releases into the condom with a guttural moan.
Spent, you fall onto his chest. Both of you breathing heavily. After a few moments of catching your breath, you pull off him and let yourself fall next to him.
“So, that happened again.” You say, staring at the ceiling while Harrison disposes of the condom. Now that the fog of desire has lifted and you can think, more or less, clearly again, you realise that this was probably not the smartest thing to do.
Harrison lets out a chuckle as he joins you back on the bed. He’s laying on his side, his head propped up on his hand.
“It did. How are you feeling about it?”
You turn on your side as well to face him.
“Not to blow up your ego or anything but I don’t remember the last time I’ve had sex that amazing.”
“You don’t remember last week?” There’s a smirk on his face, so, with a roll of your eyes, you throw a pillow at him.
“I remember.” You narrow your eyes at him. “But I mean before that. It’s been so long.”
“Yeah, same.”
You never thought you’d find yourself in bed with Harrison. Have you thought about it? Yes. But you never thought it would actually happen. Let alone twice. And you never in your wildest dreams would’ve thought you’d be so… compatible? Even in long-term relationships you had in the past, it took a while for you and your partner to get to know each other's bodies.
But with Harrison, it seems like everything just comes naturally. Your bodies so in tune that it just works.
An idea starts forming in your head.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Harrison is your best friend for a reason. Sometimes, he can read you like a book.
You bite your lip. “I don’t know. You might think it’s stupid.”
“I won’t think it’s stupid.” He pauses for a moment. “OK, maybe I will, but I promise not to laugh.”
“That’s not really reassuring.”
“I’m sorry.” He smiles. “Please tell me.”
You play with your fingers, plucking up the courage to tell him.
“So we both agree that the sex is good, right?" Harrison nods. "And we both don’t really have the time or want to, like, hook up with random people, right?" Another nod from Harrison. "So wouldn’t it be… convenient if we—“ You wave your hand between the two of you.
“If we—?” He raises his eyebrows. He’s gonna make you say it, isn’t he?
“Sleep with each other. A friends with benefits agreement if you will. No strings attached. No obligations.”
“Just sex?”
“Just sex.”
You hold your breath waiting for Harrison's answer.
A/N: Oooh, what will Harrison’s response be? I think we all know lmao. I hope you liked it! I’d love to hear your thoughts!
electric love taglist: @blueraindrops // @spideyssunshine // @defensive_sarcasm17 // @captainbucky13 // @frenchfrostpudding // @the-fan-18 // @hotforharrison // @osterfieldvol6 // @castawayclaires // @littlebookbengal // @bigbootyjudys-blog // @abcxrandomx // @74limelight // @lolooo22 // @justsayk // @mountainsforwords // @t-hollanderr
everything taglist: @spidermanlondon // @duskholland // @tutuabby28 // @missevrythingg // @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh // @thenoddingbunny-blog // @emilykjh // @clara-licht // @hollandfanficlove // @calltothewild // @crybabyalexxx // @hazardosterfield // @calsthomas // @quaksonhehe // @sinisterspidey // @thirzaholland // @tombrina // @outshineallthestars // @serendipitous-amor // @soincredible // @trustfundparker // @writertoo18 // @viagracex // @skamlover200 // @wonderlandfandomkingdom // @wehavetomakeourheartssitstill // @thearchersupremacy // @itstaskeen // @camimndess // @allyz // @technosoot // @fanficscuziranout // @parker-hollandx // @givebuckyhisplumsnow // @dangerouslovefanfic // @ertherealrose // @i-married-a-pineapple // @miraclesoflove // @bi-girlwrites-2000 // @seasidetom // @katcontrreras // * * // @fallingforfics // @destinedbooklover // @parkerpeter24 // @selfcarecap // @moonphoric // @just-a-littlebit-of-everything // @emistrash // @badreputationlove // @turtoix // @haloxmendes // @anjalika03 // @iamsherloki-wholocked // @the-fan-18 // @white-wolf1940 // @aidinniram // @heyhihellowhatsup0 // @blackbat2020 // @keithseabrook27 // @annathesillyfriend // @hoodpankow // @practicallylivesonline // @keithseabrook27 // @millennial-teenybopper // @beautifulrose0809 // @parachutepanties // @jamiealenaa // @hallecarey1
harrison osterfield taglist: @hjoficrecs // @lolychu // @hazardosterfield // @hollandbroz-n-haz // @emilyg453
series taglist: @softholand // @svturtles // @cloverrover // @goodgirlgonetom // @justafangirlduh // @thegirlwiththediary // @beyond-the-ashes // @parkerbunny // @bearsbeetsbarnes // @keithseabrook27
#harrison osterfield x reader#harrison osterfield fic#harrison osterfield smut#harrison osterfield series#harrison osterfield#harrison osterfield scenario#harrison osterfield fanfic
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Seeking Arrangement - Rosé
Part 1
The pitter patter of the rain served as background noise for Y/N and Lisa who was sat on their couch munching on some cucumbers, eyes glued to the Kdrama playing on the TV. Y/N let out a dramatic sigh as she watches Ko Moonyoung and Moon Gangtae lock lips for the first time. The sound was not lost on her best friend who shot her a grin.
“Are you going all soft again, Y/N?”
Y/N rolled her eyes at the teasing tone in Lisa’s voice. This was not new as she was always on the receiving end of Lisa’s jokes about her being such a hopeless romantic. Though Lisa found this amusing about her best friend, she thinks there is strength in Y/N’s ability to believe in love after the shit her ex-girlfriend Suzy put her through. Could you really blame her? Being in love was without a doubt one of the best feelings in the world in Y/N’s book. For her, it was an overwhelming yet warm feeling that stretches throughout your whole body once it enters your life and leaves you feeling like you’re on top of the world (but its all fun and games until your partner cheats on you).
Despite this though, she was not in a hurry to find love. In fact, after the tragedy that was her last relationship, she just wanted to lie low and have fun for a while.
“Shut up. You’re lucky you’re in a stable relationship,” Y/N scoffs.
Lisa and her girlfriend Jennie have been together for 2 years now (3 years next month) and Y/N envied the love shared between the two.
“Don’t worry, Y/N. No one can resist you for too long,” Lisa tries to reassure her best friend, wrapping an arm around her.
Y/N grimaced, “Eh…I don’t really want anything serious at the moment. Especially after Suzy.”
Lisa pretends to gag at the sound of Y/N’s ex-girlfriend’s name, “I agree. Have fun and take it easy. You should like…I don’t know…find a sugar daddy or something.” They both chuckle at Lisa’s words, knowing she would never even think about it.
•
It was hours later on her bed while typing out a reply to some guy she matched on Tinder that she realizes how hard it was to find a worthy candidate to waste her time on. These boys lacked substance and were coming at her with the same pick-up lines. She wonders if they all got them at the same Fuckboy Convention. It didn’t help that she rarely matched with girls either.
She groans at the reply that came through.
Wyd tho? U tryna fuck?
“The audacity of these boys,” she mutters under her breath, closing the app.
As she stares at her ceiling zoning out, she remembers Lisa’s words from hours ago. A sugar daddy. She laughs at her best friend’s ridiculous idea. She could never.
Unless? No. It’s stupid. She doesn’t wanna give out any sugar AT ALL.
But she was bored out of her mind. For the past 3 months, she has been cooped up in her bed wallowing in self-pity while listening to the very suspicious sounds coming out of Lisa’s room. There were also only so many pep-talks she could give herself until she grew tired of her own words. It was this that fueled her to sit up and turn on her laptop. After all, she considered boredom as an invitation for her to find something that would raise her serotonin levels. And what is the value of life without a little fun? She owed herself the first few months of her breakup to relax and take care of herself after all the mental damage, but now she needed a little play. She needed both the loud and quiet joys of life, peace with a little bit of wild mixed in. It was needed to feed her soul.
She also couldn’t lie that she craved some sort of human connection and validation. Yeah, she definitely was not proud of that last one.
Y/N stared at the keyboard, not believing what she was able to type into Google.
How to find a sugar daddy?
What she found out during her deep dive in the wondrous world of sugar daddies and babies was the number one site to find one was called Seeking Arrangement.
So that is where she found herself, blinking at the statement written in bold.
100% Free to Join!
To hell with it, she thinks as she begins to fill out the application.
30 minutes later, she nods in approval as she scanned through the photos she chose. She would totally hit herself up if she was a sad middle-aged man desperate for companionship. As she hits submit, she was met with pictures of men – and surprisingly women, although there were considerably more men – complete with their basic information.
Looking for a woman to spoil.
Looking for love.
Looking for a loving companion.
Looking for a good time.
It was nothing she didn’t expect to find at a sugar baby site but it was the net worth of the men and women displayed on her screen that caught her eye. She was almost tempted to message one of them but couldn’t find it in herself to do so. She rolls her eyes at the thought.
She spent hours researching and signing up for a sugar baby website and she still finds herself being stubborn about making the first move.
Glancing at the clock, she realized that it was almost 4AM. She decides that she was going to wait for someone to message her first instead. Besides it gives off the vibe that she’s hard to get and that’s always a little bit sexy, right?
•
"Y/N! Wake up! I made banana pancakes.”
Slowly opening her eyes and stretching, her foot meets a hard surface. The cold metallic feeling on her foot was enough to remind her of her antics 7 hours ago. She hides her face on her hands, sighing. Why did she think that was a good idea?
Once she was out of her room, she was met with the sweet smell of banana pancakes and nutella. She dragged herself to where the smell was most present and found herself in the kitchen where both Lisa and Jennie sat on the counter. Jennie threw a gummy smile her way while her best friend simply nodded at her presence, busy stuffing herself with her girlfriend’s banana pancakes.
“Vas happenin’, love birds?” she greets them with a faux British accent.
“What kind of dollar store Zayn Malik am I hearing right now?” came Lisa’s reply to which Y/N’s response was to smear Nutella all over her best friend’s face.
“Yah, Y/N!” Lisa whines as she hits Y/N on the shoulder.
Y/N gasps as she prepares to retaliate.
“Children! Stop it.” Jennie scolds the two. She was used to the duo’s playful fighting but she also knew it could go on for hours if she doesn’t put a stop to it.
Both were quick to stop but stuck their tongues out at each other.
Y/N grabbed her plate to return to her room. She glanced at the couple making sure they were preoccupied enough not to notice what she was up to.
You have 11 unopened messages!
A loose grin formed on her face at the notification. Not bad. She hurriedly opened her inbox to find the different men who deemed her worthy to reach out to.
It was all pretty tame, it being the typical greeting. She sighed, already bored. It wasn’t until she reached the bottom of her inbox where a small gasp came out of her. She sat up and read the sender’s name.
Rosé Park. A woman.
She excitedly clicked on the woman’s profile.
It only took the woman’s profile picture for Y/N to realize that this Rosé Park was the type of woman she fantasized about. For starters, she was a brunette and the woman was a blonde. She was a sucker for blondes. Who could resist a good brunette and blonde wlw duo?
Santana and Brittany. Rose and Rosie. Clarke and Lexa. Piper and Alex. Need she say more?
Basically, Rosé Park was a dreamboat. Something radiated from her pictures that Y/N knew rendered her irresistible to both men and women. She could outshine any of these men on the site any day. It also only took her profile picture to realize that the woman was a big deal. Her outfit looked straight out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Why would gorgeous and rich 25-year old Rosé Park want to talk to a normal and boring 23-year old like her?
Y/N composed herself, fighting back a smile, before returning to her and Rosé’s chat.
Hi, gorgeous. I passed by your profile and knew I had to talk to you. Looking forward to your response x
Y/N’s blush seared through her cheeks and for a minute she thought her face was on fire. She suddenly felt awkward, demure, and coy; even going as far as attempting to hide her rosy features behind her slim fingers even if no one else was around to see her. She blames it on the fact that an insanely beautiful woman complimented her. So naturally, it took her at least 5 minutes of over-analyzing every possible response for her to actually send one.
Hi there :) You’re one to talk. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.
To her surprise, three little dots indicating Rosé was typing appeared beside the woman’s picture.
Haha, cute.
Hmm what brings you to this site, Y/N?
The woman’s question made her pause. She doesn’t even know the answer to that. Was she supposed to make some shit up?
Um I was bored.
She facepalms herself as she hit send. Really? Your brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to come up with a more interesting response, Y/N?
Y/N thought she blew it as 45 minutes has passed and no response from the blonde bombshell came. She internally cursed herself for her boring response to the woman. Rosé probably thought she was an airhead.
•
It was 10PM after binge watching another Kdrama with Jennie and Lisa that she remembered being left on delivered by Rosé. Her mood quickly sours as she realizes she ruined her chance at getting to know the beautiful woman. Thinking to distract herself with the depressing fact, she goes to check if any of the men messaged her back. Sure, a man could never fill the void of a woman but she really needed to talk to another human being besides Lisa and Jennie.
Y/N was apparently in for a surprise because what awaited her was a message from the woman.
Well, I hope to provide some sort of entertainment for you ;)
I’m not one to beat around the bush Y/N. I think you’re stunning and a good lay in bed. That’s a really good source of entertainment for the both of us, no?
Jesus Christ. She was not expecting that.
Y/N knew what being a sugar baby entailed but she was still brought to a shock at how blunt Rosé was being and so early on into the conversation. The thought of being with Rosé like that, being able to feel her skin against hers, the godly sounds that it would elicit…
Her private thoughts made herself blush. It seems like if there was anything Rosé was good at it was making Y/N blush. But her unholy thoughts about the woman didn’t create a cute soft pink tint on her cheek like a healthy outdoors glow, it was beet red. Y/N figured that Rosé was probably highly practiced at the art of seduction. Rosé’s looks although a masterpiece sculpted by all the deities that exist… well, nothing so pretty could possibly harm you, right? But it was that combined with Rosé’s choice of words that had anyone she chose to even focus her attention on jumping through hoops to please her. So, she swallowed her pride and forced herself to play it cool, putting on a mask that she thought would appease the woman she really wanted to impress.
I like the way you think, Rosé. I like to think I make great company in bed too ;) Give me a time and place and I’ll be there.
•
That message was what lead Y/N to the 21st floor of Seoul Forest Trimage Towers, one of Seoul’s most luxurious and exclusive apartment complex, standing outside of Rosé’s penthouse two days later.
All the reasons not to go through with it and just leave came flooding in. Y/N can feel the soft panic growing inside her body as she wills herself to breathe in and out, not quite ready to ring the doorbell just yet. But before she could finish her fourth exhale, the door was opened to reveal the woman who has not left her mind ever since signing up for that damned site.
“I grew tired of watching you hyperventilate so I thought I’d do you a favor and open the door for you.”
Y/N almost choked on air as she looks at Rosé for the first time. The pictures on her profile did not do her justice at all. The woman could have graced every billboard or magazine in the city and she wouldn’t even question it.
Y/N did not say anything - did not know what to say. She was conscious of the smirking woman standing before her, dressed in a white dress that stopped just above her knees.
“Do you wanna come in, Y/N?” Rosé’s voice was dripping with amusement, eyebrows raised. Shyness wasn’t usually Y/N’s gig so what the hell was going on?
“Yeah, sure.”
Once she entered the threshold that Rosé called home, she immediately noticed how fancy and expensive everything was. She was immediately drawn to the large window overlooking the whole city. The glass was so clear that it looked like a high definition screen at the movie theatre.
Rosé quickly picked up on her fascination, grabbing hold of Y/N’s hand and leading her to the glass window. “Cool, huh? I picked this unit because of the view. The city below is so far away it's like another world. This penthouse is my cocoon and the window, well, the window shows me as much detail as I want to know.”
Y/N could only stare at their joined hands and then to the woman beside her, intoxicated by her words. “It’s beautiful, Rosé. I’d kill to wake up to this every way. You have great taste.”
“Yeah I do have great taste huh?” Rosé looked her up and down, biting her lip before chuckling. (Y/N swears she saw the gates of heaven open at the sound)
•
A few hours later after a candle lit dinner prepared by Rosé herself and a bottle of wine, Y/N finds herself straddled in the living room couch being kissed roughly on the neck as pure pleasure runs through her entire body.
“Fuck,” she pants as she feels Rosé grind on her. Unable to control herself anymore, Y/N holds Rosé’s head in her hands and pulls her into a fiery and passionate kiss.
“Someone couldn’t wait,” Rosé smiled against their lips.
With a laugh, Y/N pushed Rosé down on the couch, switching their positions, not breaking the kiss. Y/N’s hands slowly work their way around her body, tugging on Rosé’s dress.
“Off.”
Rosé sat up slightly, allowing Y/N to pull down the zipper of her dress, feeling skilled fingers unhook her bra. Rosé tears it off herself before reattaching their lips. Immediately, Y/N’s hands found itself on Rosé’s breasts as she tugged on her nipples.
Rosé gasps against her lips causing Y/N to pull away, making her way down and sucking on the skin surrounding Rosé’s breasts before soothing it out with her tongue.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you but I’m not complaining,” Rosé giggles but whimpers midway as she feels Y/N’s tongue latch onto her nipple.
“Probably the wine.”
Y/N couldn’t help but think that their bodies fit together as if they were made just for this, to fall into one another, to feel this natural rhythm.
Y/N’s hands drop to Rosé’s thighs, caressing her from above her panties. Rosé moans at the feeling of the soft silk rubbing against her as Y/N’s mouth still busied herself with her nipple.
“Oh my god.”
Rosé grips her hand tightly onto Y/N’s hair as she feels the wetness between her legs. “Take your clothes off. I wanna see you.”
Y/N stops devouring her nipple to pull her shirt off. Rosé drops her hands to the zipper of Y/N’s jeans pulling it down and slipping her own hand in.
“Good to know I’m not the only one dripping wet,” she teases.
Before she could begin her sweet torture on Y/N, she feels hands finally moving inside her panties and her mind went blank.
Fingers toyed with her nub making Rosé bite down on Y/N’s shoulder. Thumb continuing to rub Rosé’s nub, Y/N slipped two fingers in. Rosé moaned so loud that Y/N swears it was enough to get her off.
Pumping her fingers around Rosé, Y/N felt a smirk making its way on her face. She couldn’t believe she was on top of the godly woman seeing her face all scrunched up in ecstasy. She feels Rosé pulling her in for another heated kiss as she picks up her pace inside the woman. With every moan and whimper coming out of Rosé’s mouth, Y/N feels her own wetness.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Y/N mutters under her breath.
She could feel Rosé getting close as the woman’s grinding on her fingers became sloppier and her breaths became more uneven. Burying her face on Y/N’s shoulder, Rosé tries to stifle her moans as she finally comes undone.
Y/N slowly leaves feathery kisses up and down Rosé’s neck as she waits for her to come down from her high.
“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” she hears Rosé trying to catch her breath. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you to take charge tonight.”
“Maybe I’m just full of surprises,” Y/N grinned, pressing a kiss on Rosé’s temple.
Rosé slowly sat up as Y/N leaves her place on top of her. “I guess you are.”
They both sat in silence as they picked up their clothes scattered on the floor before putting them back on. Rosé was the first one to break the ice as she reaches for her purse on the wooden table. It was at that moment Y/N remembered why she was even there in the first place. Disappointment stabbed through her like a knife. Somehow during the duration of the night, she made herself forget that she was there because of an agreement made online. As if she was there spending the night with a new lover, both milking the feeling of a love that just arrived. The night started out like a sweet melody of a blackbird -- full of promise, freshness, and newness to come. Now it sat like a cold cup of coffee waiting to be drained away. All of a sudden, she felt dirty and used and all she had to blame was herself. Rosé’s words from a few hours ago during dinner echoed through her head.
I signed up because I have no time for relationships. I’m just too busy for that. It saves me the hassle of meeting new people and having to get to know them, y’know?
And truthfully, no, Y/N didn’t know. She remembers Lisa telling her she loves like a puppy - devoted, playful, and trusting. So, no, Y/N didn’t know. She just didn’t roll the way Rosé rolled.
“Here you go,” Rosé reached out with a wad of cash in her hand. “Go treat yourself. You deserve it.”
It was the way Rosé said it, so confident and smug, that Y/N knew that she was not Rosé’s first rodeo. The woman sounded like she does it so often that she just didn’t care anymore.
“How many girls receive this same amount of cash?” Y/N laughs quietly and she hopes it didn’t sound as bitter as she felt.
“A couple a week,” Rosé grins so nonchalantly it makes Y/N stomach churn. “Why?”
“Nothing,” Y/N awkwardly shifts in her place on the couch. “Um, you really don’t need to. I’m not looking for cash.”
Rosé actually looked shocked at the girl’s statement. “I’m a little bit lost here.”
“I signed up because I was bored and curious not because I’m low on money,” she laughs keeping an unamused tone. “I really didn’t expect to reach this far ahead. So, you can keep your money Rosé.”
Y/N got up and started walking towards the door. She was halfway there when she felt Rosé grab her wrist.
“Why do you sound angry? Don’t act as if you didn’t know why I invited you here, Y/N.” Rosé looked at her confused. “We met through Seeking Arrangements for god’s sake. I thought we had a good time.”
Rosé did have a good time. Aside from the mind-blowing sex, she was impressed by Y/N’s ability to be present during a conversation, always having her own two cents to offer, which lead to a lot of fun and meaningful discourse all throughout dinner. She had never met a woman through that website as enchanting and beautiful as Y/N. Y/N was a smart woman who was good at sex and Rosé liked that. A lot. So why is she being difficult?
Rosé saw different emotions flash through Y/N’s face before settling on a look of defeat. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I did have a good time.”
Y/N stepped closer to Rosé. “I loved being here with you and money was never on my mind tonight. Maybe that’s why I reacted that way. I’m sorry. I joined Seeking Arrangements for fun because honestly…I was lonely and bored and looking for some sort of human connection and that’s what you gave me tonight. I just got lucky that you reached out. That was all I needed I promise.”
She offers Rosé a genuine smile before turning to leave once more. “Have a good rest of your night, Rosé.”
Y/N hears footsteps behind her as Rosé opens the door for her, a smile planted on her face. “You’re something else, Y/N.”
Before the door closes, Rosé speaks once more. “It’s Rosie now by the way.”
The last thing she saw was the woman throwing her a wink before the door finally closed.
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Bad Dreams
requested/dedicated: @misspygmypie
prompt: “You come into my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”
pairings: clay jensen x reader (romantic) justin x reader (platonic)
warnings: cursing, nightmare description (being chased/falling), comfort, sharing a bed, justin teasing you 😜
—☆—
You bolt up, eyes wide and heart racing. You clutch your hand against your chest and try to calm your heavy breaths. Looking around, eyes darting from object to object, you remind yourself that you're at the Jensen's, safe. You take a deep breath and sigh, palming your eyes to rub the sleep away.
—
You were being chased by someone in your dream. They were coming at you fast, and you seemed to be slowing down. Their face was a blur; you couldn't make out any details or features that might tell you who it was. The person had reached out at the last minute, grabbing your arm and tugging you down. Then you fell. The mixtures of bright, swirling colours made you feel sick as you just kept plummeting towards the ground. It felt like it would never end. That is, until you saw the mystery person again, a few feet below you. This time, they reached up with their hands, ready to catch you, and just as you were about to make contact with the figure, you woke up.
—
You frown and shake your head, wondering what could have brought on the strange dream. Thinking back, you remember sitting with your two best friends, Clay and Justin, watching memes together and laughing before you had gotten tired and bid them each goodnight. It was a normal evening. Nothing happened that would have lingered on into your mind and caused such a terrifying nightmare.
You look around the room for some paper and a pen, and when you find them, you quickly write down the events of your dream. Maybe they would make for a fun, interesting read in a few weeks, or maybe Clay could turn it into a comic. You fold the paper a few times when you are done, then slide it into the pocket on the back of your phone case.
"Shit." You whisper, when the screen lights up, revealing the time. 3:05AM.
—
You really, really tried to fall back to sleep, but everytime you got close, you'd remember the figure, chasing you.
You think maybe you should just load up a game on your phone and pull an all nighter. Maybe you could watch a movie on your laptop; it wouldn't wake the boys if you borrowed Clay's headphones.
You look over at Clay's bed, then up to the shelf his headphones are laying on. You'd get them if you didn't think it would disturb him. You didn't want to be rude and wake him.
Or... maybe you did.
Your think about Clay... your best friend... your secret crush; about how you always feel so safe around him.
Clay was always the type of friend who tried to protect his loved ones; from everything and anything. He was always the first person to text a friend if they expressed that they weren't feeling great that day. He was the one who checked up when friends werre sick at home, or had any kind of injury, minor or serious.
He was loyal, and protective, and there was an aura around him that radiated safety and security.
These thoughts are what lead you to your next couple of actions.
You walk as quietly as possible over to Clay's bed. "Clay?" You whisper.
He's a light sleeper, when he's not having bad dreams, and clearly he isn't tonight; his eyes pop open instantly. He slowly sits up and glances over at his sleeping brother, rubbing his tired eyes and searching for the voice who called his name.
"Clay." You wave. "Hey. Right here."
He looks up, blinkly slowly as he takes you in, standing at the foot of his bed in the dark. "Uh... hey? What's wrong, you okay?"
"I..." You fold yours arms, scratching the back of one of them. "Had a really weird dream."
"Oh, sorry about that? Was it a nightmare?" You nod and he does the same. "Hm. You... wanna talk about it?"
"Uh— not really, but..." You can't believe you are about to ask your best friend — no — your crush, if you can sleep in his bed... with him. "Can I— uh— um—"
Clay is so patient as you stutters out the words, it makes your heart ache in a good way.
"It's just— the dream was really bad, and I keep trying to go back to sleep but then I see it again. And I just thought... you know, you always make me feel so safe, and—" You suck in a breath, closing your eyes and hoping Clay doesn't react badly. "Can I sleep with you?"
Clay's brows lift. "Um— I don't think—"
"Like, next to you, I mean. Not with you. I didn't mean with you... as in... you know... Sorry—"
"Hey, chill. I was just gonna say there's not a lot of space." He lifts his covers and pats the mattress. "But if you don't mind being all squished up, then s-sure."
I really wouldn't mind, you think, tingles running over your entire body at the thought.
You sit on the edge of his bed, and while you shift each leg under the duvet, Clay tuts, making you pause.
"Wait, but... let me get this straight. “You come into my room and wake me up at 4am, to cuddle?”
You shrug, looking up again. "I mean, I guess... maybe. But, uh, it's just past 3am, and I was already in your room... on the couch."
Clay stares for a moment, blinks and then lies back down, getting comfortable against his sheets and pillows. "Come on, then. Get cosy."
You try to, but it's like he'd said, there isn't much space. You stay frozen for a while, and then eventually sigh and move to stand up. A hand catches you before you can step away.
"Where you going?" Clay whispers, still being careful not to wake Justin.
"Back to the couch, this was a bad idea, I'm sorry."
"Wait, I don't— why is it a bad idea?"
"It's just... weird."
He tugs on your hand a little, and you plop back down with an annoyed huff. "Because of me?"
"Yes. Uh, I mean, no. Shit." You turn around quickly, "...yes. Okay? Yes, it's weird because I like you, Clay."
"Oh. Is that all?"
There's a long pause and then all of a sudden you are being pulled down next to him. Clay pulls the covers over the both of you and then says something you really didn't expect. "It's not weird, because I like you, too."
You can't stop the shy smile that forms on your face. You feel heat on your cheeks, and feel your shoulders become less tense as you start to relax. "Really?"
Clay nods and looks down at his hand that hovers over your side. "Is this okay? If I... hug you like this?"
You nod, and then a couple of minutes later, you're finally beginning to doze with Clay's arm wrapped around your waist, his back a hairswidth away from contact with your back.
You know there's going to be a conversation to be had between the two of you at some point tomorrow, but for now you enjoy his little puffs of breath against the back of your neck, as you drift into a much more peaceful sleep this time around.
—☆—
The next morning, you wake up and are immediately met with the sound of Justin chuckling.
"Hey there."
Your eyes widen and you turn to Clay, but he's still sleeping, his arms still in place around your stomach.
"Sleep well, hm?"
You roll your eyes, but Justin continues to tease. "I was awake, you know? Heard your cute little whispers." He snort-laughs. "Never thought he'd finally grow the balls to tell you he liked you, though."
You open your mouth to speak, but Justin is already jumping down from the kitchen counter and leaving before you can say anything.
"See you later, lovebirds!"
With that, Justin slams the Outhouse door shut, causing Clay to jolt behind you. He squints in the morning light, then smiles at you.
"Morning. Did you sleep better?"
"Heck yeah, you did!" Justin yells from where he's still eavesdropping outside.
Clay grunts, but you start to laugh and eventually he can't help but join in with you.
—☆—
Taglist: @mockerycrow
13 REASONS WHY MASTERLIST
#my writing#my gif#requested#@misspygmypie#clay jensen#clay jensen fanfic#clay jensen x reader#clay jensen imagine#13rw#13rw fanfiction#13rw fic#13 reasons why fanfic#13 reasons why#cute#fluff#crush#cuddling#nightmares#jensensjensen*
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a very earthling question (onkey, 2min - teen)
summary: 'their names are jinki and minho. minho's the one in blue. jinki's out back trying to fix the ship. they crashed.'
'you talked to them.'
'no, they're telepathic. just - beamed it. right into my head,' taemin says, his eyes sparkling with mockery. 'yeah of course. i even introduced you too.'
(earth girls are easy, onkey (and 2min) style.)
pairing: onew/key, taemin/minho
notes/warnings: some fluffy alien romcom for this valentine’s day.
can be found on ao3 here.
———————————————————————
there is a spaceship outside of kim kibum's salon. it was not there last night, and it has no right to be there now.
this is, coincidentally, the least of kim kibum's problems. he is a colored-in shade of human misery, from breaking up with his on and off (permanently off) boyfriend, and ritualistically categorizing all the places in his life he has yet to cleanse of his presence; to the impending foreclosure of his business; to the sniffing bloodhounds of the other competitors in the area, ready to acquire his, frankly, absurdly sizeable space.
(it is absurdly sizeable, to taemin's key observation, because there's hardly ever customers. it's a hard market to break into, temperamental and not temperamental enough, in equal measure.)
the apartment he occupies above the space is tiny, made tinier with taemin's form crowding the couch, and kibum is mulling the utter dead end that his life has become, when a great collision rocks the dumpster.
and. it is a spaceship. it is definitely a spaceship, almost cartoonishly so. it's about the size of a parade float.
it's probably a parade float, is the second thought. some idiot drunkenly taking it for a joyride down an alley. look, there's an opening, light beaming out before it's blocked out by one body, then another. two figures that are probably human, beneath their bobbled helmets, their thick, stuffy jumpsuits.
this neighborhood gets all sorts of characters. it's why kibum chose it a little over a year ago, taking a chance on the already crowded area, the unfriendly lease agreement, the questionable landlord. these are just two more characters, talking in a garbled tongue that kibum just isn't hearing right.
it's 4am, anyway, and kibum doesn't have time for this. so he throws on his headphones, viciously tugs off taemin's socks in a pique of spiteful vengeance, and heads to his bed to mull over ways to make his bank account stretch even thinner.
--------------------------------------
'hey kibum, there's someone banging on the door. hey. hey, kibum.'
kibum is sleeping, he would be horrified to recognize, halfway on his laptop, lodging a canyon of a line across his cheek. when he scrambles up, his joints aching from the unnatural position he had dozed off in, he finds the time on his phone - 7:17 am.
'do you mind? i'm trying to sleep.' taemin says, nonchalant.
'god you are just the worst,' kibum says. he is looking down at his phone, checking his email when the reminder comes up - bank visit 730.
FUCK. SHIT. goddamn it. the bank, his loans for the space, seeing if he's using the space as intended and isn't secretly - something? insolvent? incompetent? kibum is certainly something, something sharp and biting and near-poisonous in proximity, as he throws on his clothes and tries to arrange his hair into something presentable. taemin holds up his bar of deodorant as he passes and kibum grabs it and pauses to apply it, unwilling even in his panic to let the stink of body odor be his signature scent.
he hurtles downstairs, his shoes sliding off at the heel as he careens down the stairs. in the salon he can see the banker (? is that even the term - auditor? realtor? pain in the ass, really) standing outside the door. whoever it is, is an actual asshole, because it's only 7:27 and he's been at the door for 10 minutes, chomping at the bit to rob kibum of his pride and joy. what a miserable bastard.
he is flipping on the lights, and taking one last duck into the bathroom when he spies them. the aliens. the parade floaters. whoever. they're just standing there, one of them a good 4 inches than the other, helmets still on like they're robbing him. one of them has a device in his hand that looks halfway between a smartphone and a gun.
holy fuck he's being robbed. he has literally negative to give, and he's being robbed.
or
or
he's desperate, is his excuse. he puts his hands together, and extends them out.
'look. i will give you anything you need, if you can just let me pretend you are customers for 15 minutes. just to get his asshole off my back? alright? just - ' he nods, looking between the two of them. the shorter one on the left, clad all in yellow, makes a jerky motion that might be a nod? he'll take it, especially when he moves to put away his gun phone. kibum makes a reckless motion to grab his hand and lead him out. the other one in blue is following when kibum glances over the top of the yellow-tinged helmet. the one whose being tugged along, his grip is loose, almost skittish, but kim kibum is not a quitter. he maneuvers both of them into chairs and holds out his hands again.
'just - stay there. and play along. please.'
before they can respond, or decide kibum's meager wealth is worth the charade, he turns away and schools his features as he strides to the door, popping it open with a cool, professional 'good morning'.
'mr. kim,' the bank asshole says, like he's the one being inconvenienced in every aspect of his life. 'am i interrupting?'
'actually, you are,' kibum replies, opening the door wider. 'i had some urgent client requests to handle this morning, so we'll have some company. i hope that helps you make an informed determination on our operations.'
he's impressing even himself with his handling. the asshole is looking at the two, weird as they are, like they aren't random intruders. which, no, of course not. of course. kibum moves forward to make the case more persuasive.
'i think we're ready to take that off now, sir,' he says to the one in yellow, whose gripping the ends of the chair like he's terrified. still, he doesn't make any motions when kibum moves towards the - neck latch? of the helmet - where it clicks into his get-up. when kibum fumbles with it, he gently moves his hands aside to do it himself, releasing the catches and lifting it up off his head in a smooth, practiced motion.
and, well. shit. kibum doesn't really have time to dwell on how gorgeous one of his assailants is, with sweet, expressive brown eyes. there's a discoloration to his cheeks, a yellow blush brought out by the vibrant tones of his clothes. his nose is thick, straight, and sharp cheekbones and jawline that together are really affecting his ability to make this whole thing believable. he clears his throat and meets those eyes with his own eyes wide, encouraging and asking for forgiveness as he moves to run his fingers through his hair.
his purple hair. it's one of the nicest dye jobs he's seen in a while, perfectly and naturally applied like it had grown out of his scalp like that. if his robber is from one of his competitors, coming in here and scaring the hell out of him, he's going to be monumentally pissed, but at that point he'll have to concede he's outskilled. it's not even fried out, it's almost inhumanely soft. perfect styling, too, framing his face - jesus, that face - like art.
he plays with it for a moment - a half-second - too long, but hides it with a murmur of consideration.
'excellent, i think this is about what you were expecting?' he turns the chair around to face the mirror and the man growls, like he's surprised, or scared, by the motion - like he's never been in a spinning chair? goddamn everyone loves these chairs, it's weird. but it tapers off when kibum steadies it at the stop, his black-painted fingernails resting at his shoulders.
(he can feel them shift slightly beneath his touch, and he's keyed up on panic, chalking his noting of that up to panic)
the man is just staring, silent now, at his reflection, and the asshole is still watching them. his (gorgeous, awkward) robber must have stage fright, so kibum smiles wide in the mirror, meeting his eyes. after a moment he follows the silent instruction, crinkling his eyes, breaking his face into an all new level to kibum's panic, with a wide, warm smile that feels like sunshine. he looks like sunshine, all in yellow, like a lavender flower blooming.
'great!' he says, chirpy in a way that sounds unbelievable to his own ears, but he's moving onto the other one, who is already moving to take his helmet off.
well, fuck, they're both good-looking. this one is a hell of lot less tolerant of kibum's performance, spinning himself around, moving away from his hands as he goes to check out his hair (black, surprisingly close to standard, especially in comparison). it's short in the nape of the neck and when he makes a motion to get up, kibum pinches, hard, giving himself a moment of surprise to push down, his hands full-weighted against his trapezius muscles.
at that point, he goes with the program; his smiling motion is a little quicker, but kibum has already picked his favorite and it's too little, too late, robber asshole.
'we can settle up after we're done, okay, guys? thanks again!' he hates his customer service voice - he doesn't even use this voice for real clients - but bank asshole seems like the type of guy who says 'the customer is always right' so he rubs it in extra sweet. he takes his time settling in, setting his shoulders down and back, lifting his chin high as he plays the part.
'these were just two of the clients we have booked today. actually - they were multi-day appointments, follow-up to ensure all their services were to their exact requests. performers, you know?' he knows he doesn't know. and he knows that bank asshole knows he doesn't know, that he has no idea what's trendy, or stylish, or experimental. helmets for protecting hair? why the fuck not. he'll sell that line all day long if he has to.
he doesn't have to. bank asshole is taking photos - without even asking! - and making notes on his phone. he made the case that he could make, and it was better to have someone here than not. even if they were a little difficult and a little criminal.
'well, thank you for your time,' bank asshole says suddenly. he moves to stand and shakes kibum's hand. when he turns, the two - instead of waiting in their chairs - are standing shoulder to shoulder, their helmets at their hips, expressionless, like a low-rent daft punk. he squares his shoulders like everything's normal here, and sees the asshole out with a cool nod.
as soon as he leaves -
he exhales, letting his shoulders and his head drop, releasing a moan to start, and then turning it into a yawn as the adrenaline starts to settle. the lack of sleep, the push to herd his brain into performative professionalism, on top of negotiating his own robbery.
oh. right. he's being robbed.
giving less than a fuck (but not zero fucks), he turns and resigns himself.
'thank you,' he says firstly, pointing it towards the one in yellow. 'ironically you probably saved my ass.'
the one in blue rumbles, like a whiny drunk, before it turns into a questioning 'ass?' the one in yellow turns to him, sharp, an obvious look of dismay on his face. he gestures, hurky, at his gun-phone - kibum tries to take a look at it, but suddenly takes several steps back as the one in yellow - not blue, it would have been easier if it were blue - raises it and aims it at him.
'whoa whoa, just - wait, i can get you - i can get you whatever money, i just have to go upstairs - ' and he squeezes his eyes shut as the one in yellow squeezes his hand, and it fires -
nothing happens. well, not nothing - there's some odd, light noise, like chimes, like the rounding noise of a balloon being blown up, and kibum dares to open its eyes and there are bubbles, iridescent in a way that doesn't quite look right, black and purple and green and red, stringing from one color to the next in a rhythm that's shifting, like it's looking for the perfect hue to settle on, shrinking and expanding out with little explorative tones that feel, inexplicably, like sticking your tongue out to taste the air, except with sound.
it doesn't look real, so jury's out if he's now suffering visual hallucinations, but he glances at the other two and finds the one in yellow is looking at him, with increasing levels of horror.
he opens his mouth and shrieks, incomprehensible syllables that make kibum want to cringe in on himself, but he's also still looking at him long enough to see his eyes shift, from the human brown to an alien orange.
alien.
spaceship.
he's not proud of it, but he passes out. at least in unconsciousness, he doesn't have to worry about dignity.
--------------------------------------
when he comes to, he's propped up in one of the salon chairs. across from him, taemin is sitting on the counter, playing with a pair of scissors. honestly, it's one of the most disconcerting things he can think of, and that's before the blue alien walks into view. taemin beams at him, and gets a smile in return, more tentative than earlier, more genuine.
'taemin,' he says, urgent and undecided about whether or not he needs to risk his life for his worst friend. 'what are you doing?'
'waiting for you to wake up. eating cereal.'
he doesn't have cereal. he ignores this discrepancy and slowly starts to get up. the one in blue doesn't stop him from steering taemin away so they can have this conversation slightly more privately. he still doesn't know where the one in yellow is.
'this is going to sound crazy. but these guys - they're not human - i don't think so, anyway.'
taemin puts his finger on his lips to shush him - to actually shush him, like he's a child and not the most rational, most human individual in the building.
'i know. they showed me their ship outside. it's pretty cool, actually.'
he turns to retrieve a box of cereal from behind the nearest mirror. this would explain kibum's ant problem. his arm goes elbow-deep as he takes a handful and starts eating it dry, talking around it.
'their names are jinki and minho. minho's the one in blue. jinki's out back trying to fix the ship. they crashed.'
'you talked to them.'
'no, they're telepathic. just - beamed it. right into my head,' taemin says, his eyes sparkling with mockery. 'yeah of course. i even introduced you too.'
'kibum,' says a new voice behind him. taemin keeps munching his cereal. kibum turns.
jinki looks infinitely more composed from earlier, which is impressive considering he looks like he's been actively rooting around in an engine, dark smears across his forehead, his gloves covered in something undeniably gooey. unfortunately nothing has really changed the actual look of him, and kibum - who will need therapy - chokes around his first 'hi' like an idiot.
the second one comes out a little smoother. it's hard to hear himself over taemin's chewing.
'kibum,' jinki says again.
'what?' he asks.
'that's all we've managed so far,' taemin says from behind him. when kibum turns to look, he shrugs and puts the box down, licking his fingers clean. 'but it's impressive, right? i'm probably going to be in history books.'
'lucky us,' he hisses. 'you don't even know they're peaceful.'
'um, you've been passed out for at least 30 minutes. and they left you alone and put you in that chair. i was up for leaving you on the floor. they're better than me.'
'low. fucking. bar.'
minho has moved to their side, looking between them like he's unsure whether to intervene or not. kibum turns away in a huff. so now he gets to handle aliens. he can't just leave them to taemin.
with a start, he realizes how much brighter it is outside, and, checking his phone, realizes he's near to the opening hours. he can't afford to leave the little he has, to take up recreational alien-babysitting. he also has, like, an obligation as a member of the human race to not have their ambassador be taemin.
he takes what he thinks is a discreet glance at the other three, and finds jinki looking back at him, patiently waiting. he flashes a nervous smile and looks back down to his phone.
ok.
plan.
small kernel of a plan. jinki is working on their ship. he can keep an eye on him from the salon, with the back door popped open. and he'd rather keep both aliens handy, but if he has them both down here, then taemin will undoubtedly lurk around too. so.
'go back upstairs,' he orders the pair of them. minho doesn't understand him, but he jabs his finger up to communicate the general spirit of it. taemin shrugs, but grabs minho's hand all the same.
his human-looking hand. he must have taken off his gloves at some point, which means that jinki's hands are probably similar.
it's traitorous or selfish or maybe just horny if he wonders what the chances are of the rest of their bodies being human like.
anyway.
jinki turns to follow them, but kibum reaches out to grab him by the sleeve. jinki looks at him, confused, and then takes his own gloves off - and, yes, they are human-like too. he clips them to his belt and grabs for kibum's hand, his grip still as light as earlier. outside of the glove, his hand feels terribly small and delicate, easy to dwarf in kibum's.
'your ship,' he starts, then falters. taemin has already disappeared up the stairs. he starts moving back towards the alley, prattling about taemin's ability to preoccupy people, for lack of anything else; jinki keeps pace beside him, his eyes kept trained on kibum's face, dipping down to watch his lips move. kibum tries valiantly to ignore what that does to him.
he pushes out into the alley, where the ship is opened up, a couple pigeons perched on its antennae.
'you can work on it,' he says, semi-helplessly gesturing towards the ship with their still-joined hands. 'and i'll be inside - ' he puts his free hand to his chest and then nods his head towards the path they just took. ' - if you need anything.' he lets go of jinki's hand and tries to reiterate with slightly more smooth motions.
jinki seems to get the gist of it, at first, but he grabs kibum's hand again and brings it up between them. bizarrely, kibum thinks he's about to kiss the back of it, he just has a gentle, warm look in his eyes that doesn't belong at all - but he doesn't. instead he meticulously opens his fingers, one by one, and then puts his gun-phone against his palm, and wraps his hand around to close it again. he maneuvers kibum's fingers into a series of motions, clicking a switch here, and there, until one of the screens lights up, with a series of lines running seamlessly from left to right.
jinki meets his eyes seriously and brings the device to his mouth. he speaks, clear and decisive: 'jinki'.
then, he moves it back to kibum and nods encouragingly.
'um, okay,' he says. he leans in, and clears his throat. 'kibum.'
jinki nods again and releases his hold. he clutches his hands together in mimicry of kibum's own posture, and mouths silently.
'you want me to talk into this,' he holds it closer to his mouth again, and, in doing so, notices the lines from earlier spiking with each syllable. oh. okay. translation device. or recording device. or... communicator? either way, it's not like it can do any harm. probably, anyway. his life is suddenly full of probabilities, when he had felt dead set on the certainty of failure.
'okay,' he says, deliberately slow, into the device, and is granted with a wide, happy smile from jinki.
he starts backing away from jinki, out of his own preservation instincts and the need to get the salon opened on time. he keeps his eye on the alien, on the off chance he has misunderstood, but jinki is also turning away, casting one last glance back at kibum, and nodding encouragingly when kibum clicks the button and says 'goodbye' into it. if it sounds a little sappy, well, there's no one here to call him out on it.
when he steps back into the building, he takes a few deep breaths and buoys himself up to start the day. everything else before this moment won't count for a good 10 hours.
--------------------------------------
he can't hold it the entire time, it's just not possible. but he does keep it on whenever he has one hand free, from greeting customers and employees as they arrive to clock in. he puts it aside when he's intent on a cut, or a wash, conscious at all times of when he's left it alone, peeking more often down the back way. occasionally he catches a glimpse of yellow, and once he saw jinki staring upwards towards the sky, lost in thought.
it twangs something in his chest, that he has to push aside.
he manages to get through the majority of his day like this, when his stomach suddenly and angrily growls. one of his stylists is nearby, and quirks an eyebrow at him.
'don't even start,' he says, and she sticks her tongue out, making him laugh. why not, he has to take a break at some time. he'll run upstairs and make sure minho and taemin are fine, and drag jinki along with him, and make sure he has something to eat to.
the question of what aliens eat is a good one, and kibum doesn't know, but he can at least ask. they're aliens, they can probably figure out if something will kill them.
'jinki,' he calls as he heads outside. there's a great clatter from the spaceship and jinki pops up, his lips parted and he lets out a pleased bark. kibum, fighting his own smile, motions for him to come down and simultaneously says 'let's eat some lunch, okay?' into the device.
'okay,' jinki repeats amiably, and kibum is positive he doesn't know what he's saying, but he isn't about to object to his sweet agreeability. especially considering they're going upstairs.
he waits semi-patiently for jinki to come down and then sneaks them both inside after looking, shooing jinki up the stairs.
'taemin, minho, have you guys eaten anything yet?' kibum calls out as he turns the key - there's no click, taemin didn't even bother locking - and enters. he waves jinki inside and takes a quick scan to make sure everything is in order. it looks like there's plates in the sink, the TV is loud from around the wall, but neither taemin or minho are anywhere to be seen. but, if they ate, then that speaks positively towards jinki being able to eat something. he clicks the button and starts talking.
'i'm going to give you some water. food...normally i'd just run out to GS25 and grab something, but i should have some packets here...taemin! what did you eat, i'm trying to feed for four here....' he trails off as he realizes he hasn't heard much of anything since coming in except the TV. he abruptly turns and jinki senses the sudden change in his mood, setting his shoulders back and walking with more caution into the underlit apartment.
it's a small place, with a hole of a bedroom and a bathroom split off from the hybrid kitchen/sitting area. there's only so many places for people to lurk. kibum throws open the door to the bedroom, half-expected taemin to have taken over his bed, and minho resigned to the small desk in the corner, his helmet a pillow. but no such find waits for him there. which means they've either left, and they're altogether fucked, or -
jinki, following kibum's example, apparently is already turning the handle on the bathroom, and when he opens it he jumps back with a noise kibum can't even properly describe - it's like a gasp, gurgled through a mixer of soju and rock salt. when kibum takes the three steps necessary to arrive at his vantage point, minho is turned away, shoulders hunched in, his right arm in an all-too-human motion, and taemin is wiping his mouth and looking exceedingly - exceedingly - unapologetic.
'tell me you did not just suck an extraterrestrial dick, taemin, jesus!'
jinki makes some more noises that kibum trusts has the same energy.
kibum has always known about taemin's hobgoblin-esque exploratory promiscuity. he only asks that his friend be safe, perfectly unbothered that his metaphorical line in the sand is the human race.
he, understandably, never expected to have that sanguine understanding stress-tested.
while he's been busy engaging in a one-sided staring contest, jinki has pulled minho out into the hallway, and is having a furious conversation that sounds halfway between static and muzak. kibum has to consciously tune them out, has to do something to communicate that this cannot happen again, and also - how the fuck did this happen?
'how the fuck did this happen?' he yells. 'i left you alone for a morning, and you put him in your mouth? you don't know where he's been!'
'space,' taemin says. 'and this apartment.'
'you don't even speak the same language, you - you asshole - how can you even call that consensual?'
'hey,' taemin looks genuinely offended. 'i gave him some porn first and showed him how to turn it off and turn it back on. he found a blowjob one and had a boner. i asked and made sure he was good with it. c'mon, hyung, i'm not that guy.'
'fine. you are still the guy who just sucked a dick without having any idea of what it could look like, or what - what it was like when he came - or if the - if it was okay for you to swallow.'
'i didn't swallow,' taemin looks incredibly pleased with himself for his foresight, and holds his hands up in the universal sign for obviously. 'it's fine.'
'it is no way fine,' kibum hisses. 'you are such a dumbass.'
as he lets out the invective he turns and faces the other pair, who have stopped their own discussion and are now looking at him with expressions of apology and confusion - jinki - and...resolve? consternation? whatever. minho doesn't look nearly apologetic enough for kibum's mood.
'you're a dumbass too,' he hisses, stabbing a finger at minho.
'dumbass?' he parrots tentatively, pointing at himself, and then taemin. kibum rubs his temples.
'yes, exactly. both of you. glad we're all on the same page.'
'dumbass?' jinki asks, quieter, and pointing at himself.
'....no,' kibum responds, shaking his head. he can't even be bothered to try to explain, he just heads back to the kitchen. 'c'mon let's eat something. taemin, you are gargling and brushing your teeth first.'
'ok, but that means i have to use your toothbrush.'
the only respite kibum can take is that jinki helps him as best he can in the kitchen, monitoring the water he sets to boil and handing out the chopsticks when the convenience store ramyeon is done cooking.
--------------------------------------
he doesn't have much of a choice except to leave minho and taemin again. jinki seems much more opposed to it, pausing in at the bottom of the stairwell. he gestures towards kibum's pocket, where the edge of his device is poking out. at the motion, kibum pulls it out.
'sorry, i forgot to use it upstairs. don't think you'd want to remember much of it, to be honest.'
jinki shakes his head, and silently holds his hand out. kibum passes it over, watching as he holds it up to the side of his head, and presses a smaller button. the device says 'jinki', then 'kibum', and the rest of all the little pieces of conversation kibum has had throughout the day, speeding up until it's completely unintelligible, spitting noise into jinki's waiting ear. when it finishes, jinki nods, a small smile.
'thank you,' he says, clearly, carefully watching kibum's face.
'oh,' he replies faintly. 'you're learning? that helps you speak?'
jinki narrows his eyes in effort, and kibum realizes it's limited just to what has been recorded. has he talked about learning today, with the elderly mrs. park, or the chatty server from down the street? probably not. 'thank you' is thrown around so much in customer service, no wonder it's the first thing he picked up.
'you're welcome,' he says back, and jinki's smile is a quickly blooming thing that smacks kibum right across the face. he takes a step closer and presses it back into kibum's hand.
'use it more,' he asks softly. 'please.'
--------------------------------------
it's stupid, but he does. he memorizes the feel of pressing it just enough so it activates, and what it's like when his finger slips. he finds a little clip and fashions an attachment to his apron, so it's sitting on his collarbone. when there's an odd question about it, he says he's taking better notes of his day for record-keeping, and that seems to work well enough, though one or two stylists keep giving him odd looks. he doesn't acknowledge them.
at the back of his mind, he knows he's doing this for more than just improved communication, that he likes the way jinki smiles at him, the cadence of his voice when he says his name - the proud look in his eyes when they managed to exchange just a few words. he likes his steady, reserved presence. he has a sweet temperament that smooths down kibum's rough edges, just by being.
it's a crush. kibum brooks no self-deception. it hasn't been a week since he's broken up with his last boyfriend, and jinki is an alien, an actual alien, preparing to leave the planet, that he's known for all of nine hours. and he has a crush on him.
maybe when they lift off, he'll get burned up in the rocket fumes. frankly it's the only satisfiable outcome kibum can see from this.
he has one last appointment for the day, an older lady of the neighborhood who likes to talk, even when kibum doesn't. for once, this anticipated division doesn't bother him much, because it can be put to good use. he makes sure the button is pressed down and secure and leads mrs. choi to the chair, nodding along as she starts laying out her day, her impending anniversary, her entrenched drama with the other salon down the street (the cause for her patronage of kibum's location). it's all much formless noise to him, to be certain. luckily for him she doesn't need a partner to have a conversation, and he's lost in the focus of trimming when there's an unmistakable 'kibum?' from his right.
both he and mrs. choi turn to find jinki standing there, lavender hair a stringy mess, coated through with goop. kibum almost swears in dismay, stopping himself only in the nick of time. he looks down at mrs. choi and, before he can say anything, she swats up at him like they're friends. important to note that they are not friends, but kibum needs the money, and also needs jinki to stay undiscovered.
'jinki,' he says cautiously. 'what's wrong?'
visibly uncertain on how to proceed, jinki raises his shoulders, and lets them drop.
'it's a mess,' he says, and, yes, kibum did call a few things a mess today. 'i need to clean up. upstairs. okay?'
'oh honey,' mrs. choi says, feigning an unwarranted level of camaraderie. 'you really do. are you kibum's boyfriend?'
'friend,' kibum hastily corrects. he doesn't need to get himself into a fake-boyfriend scenario for further emotional torture. he looks square at jinki and nods. 'okay. take my key and go upstairs. wash.'
jinki nods, and kibum is grateful, glad that he managed to phrase it in a way he could understand. he excuses himself to go to the desk and pulls out the key ring, wiggling out his apartment key. jinki saw him use his key earlier, right? he should be able to figure it out. he takes a moment to send a text to taemin too to warn him.
'thank you,' jinki says again, and kibum dips his head back, oddly formal, and familiarly warm with pleasure when jinki turns with a small smile.
mrs. choi should go back to her old stylist, he'll lose her business gladly, because she greets him with a loud 'how handsome your friend is! you must be close, to let him use your shower.'
she says the last part with a relish to her voice, and god, kibum could kill her so easily. he laughs, hollowly, and she continues on.
'he's very polite too. have you known him long?'
'no.'
'mmmm, well. if you don't mind me saying, you shouldn't let him get away. and he seems to like you too!'
'well it doesn't matter who we like. can't really help that he's leaving town soon,' he says tightly.
she lets out a hiss of disappointment. he could give her a terrible asymmetrical cut in return.
'well, that's too bad. he seems to like you well enough, and well enough could be, well, enough to get him to stay!' she laughs gaily.
'ha ha,' he says.
--------------------------------------
'hey, it's me,' he calls through the door. knocking on his own door is just the way to end this day, tired and more emotional than he ever cares to disclose. 'let me in already.'
he hopes taemin hasn't gotten so far as to fuck minho. or let minho fuck him. or let minho suck his dick. if there's any chance they're incompatible, then spitting could hardly have been the apex of protection. taemin could be rotting from the mouth in, or minho from the dick out.
a small, tiny part of him thinks they'd deserve it. a larger part says if that happened, his crush on jinki would have the shit topper of misfortune it deserves. just to round it out perfectly.
he knows jinki must still be up there - because he checked out back before locking up, and the ship was half-dissembled, with jinki nowhere to be seen even when kibum called out - but he did not expect it to be jinki opening the door. he also did not expect jinki to be wearing some of his clothes, an oversized sweatshirt that makes him look like a college student.
'hi kibum,' he says, and he beams when he says, 'welcome back.'
it's so cute, is the thing, so exceedingly domestic and homely that kibum may not survive its cruelty, knowing it won't last.
'i washed,' he continues as kibum sets down his things blindly. 'taemin gave me clothes.'
'good,' he croaks. he fishes out the device before he can forget, hands it over to jinki's obvious pleasure. he holds it up to his ear, and kibum just watches his face, his eyes closed, as he learns. it's not fair, is it? life's not fair, is what they always say, but they're talking about things like losing your job, being left behind by the people you thought were you friends. not being teased with happiness, with love, and having it literally leave for the stars.
well, maybe there's an astronaut or something who can relate. whatever. kibum isn't about to argue technicalities with his own feelings.
'where's taemin and minho?' he asks, instead, when jinki has finished and is setting the device back down in the table. kibum presses the button before he asks, leaning back against the couch. he might as well keep giving his words, it's all he can do.
'they went out,' jinki says. 'for food.'
'okay,' kibum says. he's tired, but jinki looks like he's on the precipice of a question, and kibum knows he's going to have to say goodbye, so he doesn't wave it off.
'earlier,' he starts. 'taemin and minho. what are they doing?'
trust him to ask the hard question.
'sex,' he says. he hasn't said it at all today, it's not something you talk about with your customers. he's open, but he's not that open. he casts his mind back to some of the idle chatter from the afternoon. 'they kissed. taemin was making him happy.'
'oh,' jinki says. he sounds unfinished. he brings his fingers to his lips, and asks in confirmation. 'kissed?'
kibum nods.
'okay,' jinki says, then repeats it to himself. 'kibum?'
'yes?'
'does kissing make you happy?'
he snorts.
'sometimes.'
jinki tilts his head, his brows gone quizzical. there isn't enough vocabulary between them to explain it, but something in his eyes feels compassionate, and - kibum is just sunk. there's no way he's getting out of this without some damage.
'you're good,' he says, plain and honest. kibum flushes and turns away, but jinki continues speaking. 'you're good to us and to others. you should be happy.'
'i want to be,' kibum confesses to his hands. 'i want to be happy.'
jinki moves to his side, the couch arm between them.
'"sometimes"', he says back to him. he touches his lips, and then reaches out, stopping short of touching kibum, but pointing towards him all the same. 'tonight?'
kibum looks at him, and considers a thousand things that don't matter, because he's already saying 'yes', already watching jinki go down on one knee, then the other, folds his arms across the couch until his hands are resting on kibum's upper arms. he smells like his soap, but in this light his brown eyes spark orange once more, and there's a buzzing beneath his touch that hasn't been there before, and then he can see every star in his eyes, can see countless worlds in every freckle, and he surrenders at the first brush of jinki's lips against his.
it's only a momentary touch, but it lives past its occurrence. isn't that a thing? like the light shining down well after the sun had exploded, kibum can still feel his lips after he moves away.
jinki asks.
'are you happy?'
the light is blinking out.
kibum shakes his head, manages to smile a little.
'not tonight.'
--------------------------------------
he closes the salon the next morning, contacting the few appointments by phone call to make sure they get the notice. minho and taemin both slept on the couch overnight, wrapped up in each other, while jinki slept on the floor. the blanket kibum had lent him wrapped tightly around his form. it turned out his bathroom was hosting their suits, the helmets on the floor of the shower, so kibum just washed up the best he could with the sink, brushing his teeth with his finger on the recollection of taemin's earlier use.
apparently minho had also lent his device to taemin for a similar purpose, so the morning was filled with a lot more korean than he was used to, most of it full of minho's innocently profane conversations.
'you had to corrupt him,' he had wearily warned taemin after minho had given an enthusiastic definition of a rimjob to jinki.
'it was educational,' taemin retorted, and in a way, it was. it was certainly more straightforward than anything kibum had given jinki. but still, jinki had cast him his own looks, alternating between amusement and confusion. kibum shrugged helplessly and tapped their shared device reassuringly.
for now, it was much of the same as yesterday, minho and taemin keeping each other company while jinki worked on the ship. kibum was stewing over his business, trying to think past today, or tomorrow, to the return to his regular life.
it was much easier when jinki wasn't calling him out, excitement laced through his voice.
'kibum! come here!'
he gets up and heads out to the back. the ship looks great, with jinki perched atop the cockpit, half his body hidden inside.
'good news?' he asks, careful to have the button clicked.
'yes! very good!' he yells joyfully back. 'come here!'
'how?' he asks, because he doesn't feel like possibly cracking his back from falling onto the pavement. jinki laughs, the slightly alien rhythm of it, and extracts himself, climbing down with no problem at all. when he meets kibum, he turns to present his back and leans forward slightly.
'get on,' he says.
'it's called a piggyback ride,' kibum says uncertainly. he reaches out to touch the broad expanse of his back, before retracting. 'are you sure?'
'yes!' jinki says.
well, when it's said like that, kibum does his best, hopping awkwardly up and wrapping his legs around his hips. jinki grabs at his ankles and starts up, so that kibum is sitting further up on his back. he still smells like kibum's soap, even back as he is in his suit, and it's making the whole experience that much more surreal as jinki clambers easily back up to where he was.
'um, jinki, it's a little small,' because the entry is. looking into it, he's not sure how jinki expects both of them to fit, when he must have just had enough room to squeeze his lower half into the porthole-sized space. jinki shakes his head.
'it's not small,' he explains, without explaining. 'watch.'
he starts squeezing himself in, getting to his earlier position of being cut off at the waist. when he moves to slide down further, his upper half disappears in a blink, leaving the gap empty.
'what the fuck - jinki!' he yells, looking down and also watching his own step, now paranoid about being transported god knows where.
'it's okay!' comes his voice from - inside? kibum peers closer and can't see him at all. anxiously, he dips one toe into the space, but nothing happens. as though entering a cold pool, he starts to clamber in, toe, foot, knee, then the other. all of the sudden he can feel a grip around his ankle and shrieks in fear, starting to kick out before jinki's voice calls out again.
'it's me, i'm here.'
'okay,' he says, chanting it to himself, once, twice - on the third time he bends his knees to go lower, and just as the metal siding brushes his belly button he can feel something wrap around him, like a squeezing flash of warmth, and then he really is being squeezed, by jinki's solid arms, the alien smiling at him reassuredly.
'not small,' he says, and releases him so kibum can see he's now inside a spaceship a good three times bigger than it was on the outside.
'yep. you're right,' he concedes. 'not small.'
'i want to show you something,' jinki says, and he takes him to the front. out of the window he can see the entry into his salon, and beneath it is an expanse of controls. on the far left, there's a screen with another alien, his helmet off, pink hair almost cartoonishly bright.
'jonghyun,' jinki says, with clear affection in his voice. 'kibum.'
'hi,' kibum says, waving. jonghyun waves back, but doesn't speak, clearly turning to look at jinki to translate.
he's gotten so used to jinki talking in korean that it's disorienting to hear him let out those indiscernible noises again, and to hear jonghyun respond back in kind, but he doesn't want to interrupt the clearly happy reunion. jinki is smiling wide, and jonghyun's a bit softer, but obviously genuine.
they're talking about his coming home. kibum wraps his arms around his torso and waits, because what else can he do? this was an accident, after all, and accidents get fixed.
they are talking for a while, it seems, their tones shifting into something more serious - as best kibum can tell - so he takes a step back and begins looking around. the ship is bigger than outside, but clearly was only ever meant for two - two seats, two beds towards the back. there has to be some food for their journeys, kept somewhere, or maybe they were fed nutrients, like in the matrix, until it was time to wake up. it's a big universe, and jinki is meant to be somewhere else in it. not here. not with kibum.
'done,' jinki says, cutting through kibum's thoughts. when he turns back, jinki is looking at him, so he comes forward. from the screen, jonghyun looks pleased to have jinki (and minho, but - you know - fuck him, he goes in the same bucket as taemin) coming back soon.
'done?' he asks and jinki nods, pleasure evident on his face. he performs a complex little signal with his hands that jonghyun reciprocates, and then reaches out to turn it off.
'can we go outside?' kibum asks, because he doesn't think he can stand to be in this ship anymore, with its two seats, two beds, and engine ready to leave. he moves aimlessly back towards where jinki caught him, and jinki lets out that alien laugh, richer for having talked to jonghyun, high off of his happiness.
'there,' he guides kibum to one of the circles decorating the floor, hand gently clutching at his elbow. 'wait.'
that bright, warm flash and kibum is on top of the ship, with taemin and minho looking up at him from the blacktop. before he can make an excuse for his expression - because he can feel it - he can feel the pressure of tears at the corner of his eyes, jinki appears as well. he turns and leans forward again, inviting kibum to ride his back once more, and kibum - he's not proud of this at all - he clutches jinki in a hug from behind, before jumping up into the piggyback.
they climb down together, kibum burying his face in jinki's neck. he's sure he can feel a snotty tear or two, and wipes it across his yellow suit before sliding off.
'ready?' minho asks, anticipation evident in his voice.
'ready,' jinki says. in unison they make that hand signal jinki just shared with jonghyun, and kibum clears his throat.
'thanks for - thanks for crashing into our planet,' he offers, with a respectable command of his voice.
'it was our pleasure,' jinki says.
'literally,' taemin interrupts, elbowing at minho, and the taller alien blushes with a greenish tint. he steps forward to be side by side with jinki, and they each bow forward to taemin and kibum, from their waist, in perfect form.
then, jinki turns to minho:
'i've spoken to jonghyun about the return, and he is prepared,' and he turns to taemin, who - kibum is now noticing - has a bag over his shoulder. 'i have marked all foods that can be eaten. do not stare at the stars too long; you will burn your eyes out.'
'what,' says kibum.
'i brought sunglasses,' taemin argues.
'that's not enough,' minho says, and jinki is handing him his helmet, and minho is moving to place it over taemin's head, and jinki is taking off his suit, revealing one of kibum's old t-shirts, and some sweatpants, and -
'what,' says kibum.
'i want to stay,' jinki says. as he steps out of his suit, he stumbles, and minho catches him with long practice. he moves forward and kibum instinctively turns away from minho and taemin's gazes, trying to find some privacy, to find some equilibrium, because jinki is talking like -
'i like you,' he says.
'you don't know what that means,' kibum says, but jinki smiles.
'yes, i do,' he says, gentle, always gentle. 'i'm not leaving town.'
mrs. choi, and kibum's fingers on the button, keeping it on. jinki pressing the device against his ear, listening carefully and telling kibum he should be happy.
'it's not fair to you,' kibum says again, because he is selfish, he has always wanted more for himself, and in his experience what he wants, doesn't agree to be had. 'your planet - '
'my planet doesn't have you.'
jinki closes his hands over his.
'kibum,' he says. 'will kissing make you happy today?'
'yes,' he whispers, and jinki smiles. there are stars in his eyes.
the space between them closes, their lips pressed together, the world is shaking, rumbling like it never has before and jinki is holding him close as the ship lifts off, taemin pressed against the window like a bug. behind him, minho waves, the light bouncing off his helmet.
jinki is pressing another kiss to kibum's hair as he watches the ship become smaller and smaller, until it's little more than another dot of white among the clouds.
and kibum -
he's happy.
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What Would You Do If I Gave You My Number
Pairing: Lin x Reader
Request: “Hello I was wondering if you still are doing requests and if so can I ask for a imagine of Lin-Manuel Miranda where the reader meets him in New York City while they are visiting a friend and they are a huge fan and they get together” - @galaxy-nerd
Word Count: 1.7k
“Lucia, it’s too early. Why are we awake?” I groaned, as I heard my best friend’s alarm go off. “Because this is the best coffee shop in New York. But they sell out too fast so they’re only open from 4am to 7am. It’s only 5:30am right now, I could have woken you up early” Lucia told me.
Lucia was my best friend, we had met when we were eight years old and had been close ever since. She lived in New York City and I was visiting her for a week and she was determined to show me all the best spots in the city.
“Ugh fine, but when we get back, I am taking a nap” I said, as I rolled out of bed. “That’s fine, you just have to taste this coffee. It’s like liquid gold” she explained. It was still dark, but I could imagine the look of joy on her face.
I put on some leggings and a hoodie and grabbed my phone. I finished getting ready and then waited for Lucia in the living room. “Are you ready for this cultural experience?” Lucia asked, as she walked in the room.
“I’m ready for caffeine because I can barely keep my eyes open“ I complained as we started to walk there. “You’ll survive” she said, laughing.
We didn’t really talk the whole way there, it was too early for full sentences. We walked up to the coffee shop and Lucia opened the door for me. I could feel the warm smell of coffee flood my senses.
We walked inside and the atmosphere felt so inviting. No wonder everyone came to this coffee shop, it felt like the perfect quite spot. I looked over the menu for a second and then we both ordered. I looked around at all the decorations while we waited for our drinks.
They had fairy lights behind the register and a bunch of bookshelves. Every table had these leather couches instead of boring, uncomfortable chairs that every other coffee shop had. There were paintings with inspirational sayings all around the shop.
Then the barista handed us our drinks. “Thank you so much” I said, smiling. We walked over towards the table and found a table with a couch on each side.
“Finally, sweet caffeine” I mumbled under my breath, as we sat. I took a sip of my drink and it was magical. I was shocked, I pulled away and stared at my cup. “I told you it’s that good” Lucia said, in a I-told-you-so kind of tone.
“Yeah, but I didn’t believe until right now” I told her. I took another sip and then I happened to glance across the shop. I saw a very recognizable face and I choked on my drink.
“I know it’s good, but you’re still shocked at how good it is after already tasting it?” She asked, mocking me. “No Lucia not the drink. Look who it is” I whispered to her.
Across the coffee shop, I spotted Lin-Manuel Miranda. He was sitting and typing away on his laptop. To say I was a fan of Hamilton, was a bit of an understatement. I had memorized all the lyrics and listened to the album probably one hundred times.
Lucia subtly looked over her shoulder and saw Lin. She wasn’t a Hamilton fan, but she knew exactly who he was. I mean he was a Broadway legend.
“It’s that the Hamilton guy that you have a crush on?” She whispered back. I instantly blushed and shushed her. “Shhh, he could hear you” I whispered. “So I’ll take that as a yes, that you do you like him” she said, smirking. “Of course I do, he’s gorgeous, but you have to be quiet” I said, trying to get her to stop.
It would be the most embarrassing moment of my life if I met Lin-Manuel Miranda because he overheard my best friend talking about how much I loved him. He was my biggest idol and I couldn’t risk making a fool of myself in front of him.
Lucia was still smirking and I could see mischief behind her eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, no absolutely not” I warned her. “Oh don’t worry, I’m not thinking anything” she said, pretending to be innocent.
She set her coffee cup down and then stood up. I was expecting the worst, but praying for the best. She started to walk over towards him and I felt my heart drop.
If you want a Hamilton reference to reflect how I felt in this moment, I felt like Eliza in Helpless when Angelica walks over to Alexander.
I was terrified. What would she say? How would he react? What if he thought I was some crazy obsessed fan?
He looked up at her when she got over to his table. She started to talk to him, but she was too far away for me to hear her. Then she pointed over at me and I felt my face blush bright red and it felt like the room was 200 degrees warmer. He looked where she was pointing.
He smiled and waved at me as we made eye contact, and my face only got redder. I put my head in my hands, in shame, praying this was just a dream. I pulled my head out of my hands and they were both walking over towards me. I just hoped that she hadn’t brought up my crush.
I couldn’t believe that this was happening.
They got to the table and Lucia said “Lin, meet Y/N”. I felt so nervous, I was suddenly forgetting how to act like a normal human being.
“It’s nice to meet you, your friend told me you’re a Hamilton fan” Lin said, holding out his hand to shake mine. I gladly shook his hand and smiled at him. Lucia sat back down, across from me. Then, Lin sat down next to me and I started to panic.
“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m sorry, I’m just a little shocked. I didn’t exactly expect to meet a Broadway legend this morning” I said, and I instantly regretted. Why did I call him that? He was going to think I was creepy, obsessed fan.
“No, you don’t have to be sorry. You’re doing great. So have you seen the show?” He asked, making polite conversation because I was blanking and couldn’t come up with anything to say.
“No, I haven’t. You’ve got yourself an international phenomenon of a show. Tickets were sold out in like two minutes. I wasn’t nearly fast enough” I explained.
Now that we were having a conversation, it felt more natural and I was less nervous. “How about you come see the show tonight?” He asked me. I was completely taken aback. He had to be kidding, right? That was the most exclusive show in the world, and we had only met three minutes ago. “You’re kidding” I said, completely in shock
“Not at all, come see the show” he said, clearly he was being serious. “You don’t even know me, we just met” I said, confused. “Well you’re a fan and you’ve supported me, so this is me repaying you for that” Lin said, placing his hand on my forearm as he talked.
“Well alright, I’m not going to turn down a chance to see the musical of the decade” I said, smiling. “I’ll be right back” Lucia said, smirking as she left to go to bathroom.
Even though she hadn’t been talking, she was my safety net. If I ran out of things to say, she was there to change the subject and avoid awkwardness. But, with her gone, it would just be awkwardly silent if I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“So I guess I’ll be seeing you again tonight” Lin said, smiling. “I’m looking forward to it, thank you again. It was really kind of you to invite me” I said, thanking him sincerely.
“It’s not problem, really. So your friend, Lucia, was telling about you” Lin said, smirking. “That can’t be good” I said, with an unsure tone. “No no, don’t worry. It was all good things. She mentioned that you really liked Hamilton and she said you were visiting New York. She told me that you were really nice, so far she’s been right” he explained.
I felt my cheeks heat up. At least, he didn’t know about my crush. “She also mentioned something about a little tiny crush, do you know anything about that?” He asked, smirking.
My heart dropped and I felt my heart start to race. I couldn’t believe that she had told him, that was going to make everything so awkward.
“She told you that?” I asked, exasperated. I put my head in my hands, I couldn’t even look at him. Now I knew why he gave me tickets, he clearly thought I was crazy and felt bad for me.
“Yeah she may have brought it up” he said, chuckling to himself. Clearly, he was enjoying how distressed I was. “My life is over” I muttered to myself. He moved my hands away from my face. Then he continued to hold my hands as he looked me in the eyes.
I could tell that my face was bright red. I felt like I was going to just explode at any moment. “Can I ask you something?” He said, staring into my eyes.
“Uhhh...sure” I said, nervously. “Don’t be nervous” he said, rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand. “Okay, what is it?” I asked him.
“What would you do if I gave you my number?” He asked and my heart stopped. This was officially a dream and there was no way that this was real life.
I didn’t know what to say, nothing I could think of sounded like the right thing to say.
I leaned in and slowly kissed his lips. It was a short, sweet peck. I don’t know what made me do it. Maybe I just couldn’t think of anything else to do. Maybe it was the years of feelings for this guy that I idolized.
I felt Lin kiss me back softly and then I pulled away. I had the biggest smile on my face. “So I’ll take it that you would be okay giving me your number” he said, smiling. “Of course” I said, holding his hand.
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Home: Chapter 2
Sam Winchester x Reader (F)
Y/N has become much closer to the younger Winchester brother. But just as their relationship is beginning, Y/N is called back home for a family emergency.
CHAPTER 1
You couldn't sleep being so close to Sam. You could feel the rise and fall of his breath lightly tug against the sheets, hear his gentle snores and feel his leg shift against yours. You tensed at the touch and shifted away, lying on your back and staring up at the ceiling. It's swirling textures gave you something to look at, but they quickly became tediuous. Your phone buzzed from the floor, making you jump a little at the sudden noise. It was your brother. With a quick glance to make sure Sam hadn't woken up, you snatched the phone and motel key, slipped on your trainers and went outside.
"He-" Before you'd even managed a hello, Collin started talking.
"You need to come home, Y/N."
You drew a breath in and attempted to keep your voice from panicking, "what's wrong?”
His voice cracked and you heard a faint quick breath, "It’s Isaac...he's in hospital...in a coma."
You felt the world slow to a halt and let your back rest against the cold harsh wall of the motel, sliding to the floor. "What happened?" You didn't know what else to say.
"He was in a car accident. Y/N, they don't think he's gonna make it..." Collin sobbed and shook.
You held back a cry and brought your spare hand to your mouth in shock. Just breath.
"How-" You could barely get the words out to ask, "how long does he have?"
"A week," Collin whispered faintly, "maybe days."
"Oh God..."
You felt your body shake against the wall and rubbed your hand over your knee, trying desperately to bring your focus elsewhere.
"Okay," your voice was shaking, but it had sincerity to it, "okay. I'll get back as soon as I can, okay? Tell him I'm coming."
"Okay. Tell me when you're close."
"I will, sweetheart."
You pressed the hang-up button and let yourself sit on the floor. Your arms were covered in goosebumps and the breeze was sending chills along your spine, but you hardly noticed. You sat there for quite some time. A tense jaw, blinking away tears and just trying to breath. You were a hunter, you were trained to deal with emergencies. So you fored yourself to think like it was a case. Just a regular case. So, you had to get home. You stumbled up from the floor and crept back inside. The alarm clock on the windowsill blinked '4am' at you tantanisingly. Sam was still asleep, having rolled over to his side. If it was any darker it would look like he was staring at you. You crept over to your bag and started packing your essentials, taking shakey pauses to catch your breaths. Just breath.
You began to shiver a little, aware how cold the nights were when there was no duvet cover to warm you. You heard Sam shift in the bed and froze, praying he was only moving in his sleep.
"Y/N?"
---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----
Sam's voice was hoarse when he said your name. You felt your breath hitch in your throat and had nothing to say that wouldn't mak yourself break down. Sam shifted in the bed, sitting upright and flicking the lamp on.
"Hey, what's going on?"
You sat down on the floor, your back leaning against the side of the bed and looked up at him through teary eyes.
"I have to go." You whispered.
Sam blinked his tiredness away and gently knelt down next to you, his expression was heavy with concern, "what's wrong?"
"I have to go home." You said, your voice breaking as you trailed off.
"Has something happened?" He asked. He then placed a gentle and steady hand over yours and the other on your shoulder.
"My brother," your breaths were uneven and your voice trembled, "he's in hospital. I have to go."
Sam's shoulders drooped in empathy and he curled his arms around your body, hugging you close to him. You rested your head on the dip between his chest and shoulder, "they don't think he’ll make it. Not even a week."
"Y/N, I'm sorry..." Sam held you close, his breaths a steady beat for you to practice against and centre yourself with. You nodded meakly against him and wiped the tears from your eyes, "I'm gonna get on the next flight...sorry I can't finish the case."
"Hey, no. Don't worry about that, okay?" Sam looked you in the eye, his expression caring and sincere, "I'll help you get home. You want me to come with you?"
You were a little taken back at his offer, having not expected it.
"Oh," you said in surprise, "you should, uhm...you should finish the case, Sam. I'll be okay."
You sat back up and looked at your bag, trying to see if you could figure out whether it would be allowed through customs. You thought over all the hunting gear that you’d taken out.
"Screw the case," Sam scoffed, as though it was meaningless compared to your situation, "I don't want you on your own, Y/N."
"Sam. People are dead. People are dying. The case needs solving." You huffed, not meaning for it to come out so aggressively.
Sam nodded slowly to himself, "I'll call Dean, then. Or Jody. But I'm not leaving you. When's the next flight?"
"I don't know..." You admitted, realising how insane this whole situation was.
"Okay," Sam gave your hand a squeeze, "I'll look up flights. You should get some rest."
You shot Sam a look, how in God's name did he expect you to catch up on sleep with all this going on? Sam looked a little sheepish and sighed, "you need anything?"
You shook your head, leaning back on his shoulder and sighing. He pressed a kiss to your head and you thought how in any other situation you would have been over the moon for him to kiss your head. But you couldn't care less.You stared at the wall as Sam typed away on his laptop. God knows where you'd be without him. You'd been texting back and forth with Collin and everything was the same so far. You were the eldest sibling and so had mostly spent the texts trying to reassure your brother, depsite your own state. But that was how it had always been. You were there for your brothers no matter what.
"There's a flight midday. We could probably make it if we head out now?" Sam suggested.
When he looked up he saw your deadpanned expression and softened his voice, "Y/N?"
"Let's go then." You said, grabbing your things and throwing your jacket on.
Sam watched as you left the room and scrambled after you.
CHAPTER 3
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Everyone Deserves Love chapter 5
A/N: They have met! And now they are stuck together! Will Barba be able to not be an asshole to Devon? Will he stop rolling his eyes? Tune in to find out!
Just kidding; this chapter starts off on the next day. About halfway through, it jumps, so watch out! I do put the dates, so they are kinda important. But in case you miss them, I think I also generally put in a sentence explaining the jump. I also totally head cannon both Barba and Fin as super not-morning people. Also also, I spent...too much time looking up knife wounds for this to be as accurate as it is. Triple also, obligatory straddling/pinning down scene while training >.>
Shoutout to my friend Adrian in Colombia, who translated Spanish phrases for me. They are in English in parenthesis next to the Spanish.
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Tags: blood, stab wounds, knives, fighting
Words: 11k+
Apartment of Rafael Barba
Friday, January 28th. 4:00am
Devon was the first awake—not something new to her. Actually, it was incredibly rare that she wasn’t the first up; ever since taking the UC in California, she had trouble sleeping, exasperated by the time difference. There was just too much going on in her mind, especially now, having to protect someone for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Plus, the root of the problem (that she refused to admit, even to herself) was that she was always on alert, always afraid of resting, even for a few hours at night. She never felt safe, even when she wasn’t working a job. Her place in the FBI was one that she loved, but it also put her in harm’s way often. She knew that she had enemies out there: cartels, mobs, gangs. But she never had anyone come after her directly. She had buddies in high ranking FBI positions, and even in the CIA, that would routinely check if they had heard about a hit on her, but it has only happened a couple times in the past, and always a one-person vendetta. Not a whole gang, like what Barba now faced. Even so, Devon was always on alert, even when simply walking down the street.
So, when she woke up at 4am to a quiet loft on this Friday morning, it was no surprise. She got up, stretched, then got on the floor. She did pushups, sit-ups, stretches, lunges, and every other exercise she could think to do when in the living room of a loft—no chance for a run, and even less of a chance to hit the gym. Barba didn’t look like the “gym” type. Devon chuckled at the thought as she worked. Once finished, she snuck into the bathroom in the hallway, praying that Barba was a heavy sleeper; waking him up early was probably not a great start to the day. She stripped quickly and hopped in the shower. She had shampoo, conditioner, and soap in her grip, plus deodorant, toothbrush and paste, and a variety of perfume.
She prided herself in being prepared for anything that fate threw at her; she collected perfumes and outfits for her job as a chameleon. She was damn good at blending in, and she planned on doing that today. She knew that Barba was…less than ideal as a victim; he was abrasive, spiteful, and seemed to dislike having her around—last night seemed like fatigue took out some of his bite. But she could play into that; she planned on wearing neutral colors, wearing natural-colored makeup, and donning a soft perfume. She wanted to look as plain as possible, wanted no one to notice her. Wanted to just be another face in the courthouse. The only thing that gave her away was the badge and gun on her waistband—though her jacket hid them unless at the right angle—and a knife strapped to her upper thigh. The sheath, straps, and hilt of the knife was black, which blended in with her black slacks. Ever since the UC in California, Devon kept the knife on her at all times—well, maybe not while sleeping.
Dressed and feeling refreshed, Devon tiptoed out of the bathroom. There was no sound from Barba’s room, so she assumed he was still asleep. She opened her laptop and wrote up her report from the day before; she’d have to have a report for every day for Olivia, plus a report for her boss, Jenkins. Even though she wasn’t technically working for the FBI for this, she knew that he’d want a debriefing at the end of this. Soon enough, she heard Barba’s muffled alarm go off, heard him haphazardly slap it until it turned off. He let out a groan and the bed creaked as he stood. A couple moments passed, and then the tale tell sound of a shower starting up filled the loft. Devon finished Olivia’s report at the same time Barba opened his bedroom door, walking quickly to the living room. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, bright blue tie bringing out the green of his eyes. He wore a strong cologne, his hair slicked back; he looked handsome, but his face showed that he was not quite awake yet.
He looked at his watch; he was running a little late today. He sighed, then jumped when he saw Devon sitting on the loveseat, fully awake and dressed. He had forgotten in his rush that she had stayed the night, had thought it might have been a dream.
“Good morning~!” she sang out, closing her laptop. She packed it into a small computer bag, then went to disable the screaming doorstop. Once disabled, she placed it on the coffee table.
“Morning,” he replied, groggily. He grabbed his briefcase and went to open the front door. Devon cut him off, opening it and poking her head out, checking the corridor. Barba caught himself rolling his eyes; he remembered that he resolved to be a “good victim” for her, no matter how ridiculous her safety precautions seemed. Once determined clear, they both made their way to the elevator. His phone went off and he looked to see who was texting him this early. Oh, Olivia. Of course.
Fin and Rollins are outside your loft, ready to take you to work
Barba couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes this time as he responded. I agreed to having one babysitter, not three
Liv wrote back almost immediately. Just get in the car, Barba
The elevator doors opened, and Devon took the lead again. Barba informed her that they had an escort this morning and who to look for.
Devon let out a giddy laugh at some unknown joke, and Barba wondered how someone could be so perky in the morning. “How Liv got Fin out of bed this early, I will never know.” Barba smiled at the fact that someone was as grumpy as he was and followed her over to the detective’s car. They greeted each other, and Barba saw Devon struggling to hide a smile as Fin was downright nasty. He said nothing as he waited for them to get in, Rollins not nearly as successful as Devon in hiding her smile at Fin’s expense.
1 Hogan Place
Friday, January 28th. 7:30am
Fin dropped them off in front of the DA’s building and barely waited for Barba and Devon to get out of the car before he peeled away.
“I know that some people aren’t morning people, but jeez,” Devon chuckled.
“And I thought that I was moody in the morning,” Barba replied. Devon turned to the doors but stopped when she saw Barba turn the opposite direction.
“Trying to ditch me already?” Devon admonished, whipping around to face the same direction.
“Of course not; I just want some good coffee before I have to deal with shitty office coffee,” Barba said. He looked both ways, then did a little jog across the street. Devon, seeing the only coffee stand across the street, kept up with the ADA easily. She looked around on high alert, looking at everyone who even glanced their way. She had her gun on her hip, like normal, but realized two things; 1) it would be too slow to reach for it if someone came at Barba with a gun already drawn, and 2) it probably wouldn’t look good to the public if she did have it drawn. Instead, she opted for the knife she kept strapped to her outer left thigh. It was over her clothes, but it had a button release so that it couldn’t be drawn without hitting the button. She hit that button now and kept the short throwing dagger in her left hand. She was ambidextrous when it came to hand-to-hand combat, including with knives; they were her specialty. She actually felt more competent with a knife than with a gun, but until recently, she hadn’t been given the OK to use them in the streets.
“Did you want something?” Barba asked, pulling Devon’s attention to him. She realized that they were standing at the window, Barba having already ordered. The barista was looking at her expectantly.
“Oh, sure, sorry. I’ll have a large mocha, please.” She looked at the menu really quick, realizing that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning, and added, “and a poppyseed muffin, please and thank you.” The barista nodded and went to grab the muffin. “Thank you,” she said to Barba as he pulled some bills out of his wallet.
“No problem,” he gave her a puzzled look. “Where were you just now?”
Devon gave another quick glance around their surroundings before answering, “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t die right now.” She said it as a joke, but the realness of it settled on Barba.
“Well, I’m glad you’re the one staying on top of it. I’m not even awake enough to consider throwing a punch right now,” he smirked, grabbing their coffees, and thanking the barista—Jordan, if memory served. Barba tried to hand Devon hers before realizing that her hands were taken up. He knew that she had a muffin, but he was shocked to see a knife glinting in her left hand. Devon hesitated a moment before sheathing the knife at her side—he didn’t even notice the holster strapped to her leg, it blended in well—and took the coffee.
“Thanks again,” she said before taking a sip. Barba opened his mouth to warn her; Jordan may run the best coffee stand in town, but his coffee was also notorious for being incredibly hot. But Devon was able to take a sip, not even flinching. She lowered the cup from her mouth, clicked her tongue a couple times, tasting the coffee, before swallowing and saying, “this coffee is hot as hell.”
Barba laughed at that; a nice sound, Devon noticed. She was glad that he seemed a little looser today than yesterday. Maybe it was just nerves that made him that crabby the day before. She couldn’t blame him; the flood of adrenaline and emotions that come from narrowly avoiding death can sour anyone’s mood, especially twice in as many days. At least this smoldering coffee would make for a good weapon, since she didn’t have the hands for a knife right now.
They quickly made their way back across the street, into the DA’s building. Barba was shocked when Devon didn’t insist on leading him; instead, they walked side by side. It was only once inside that he figured out why; the building was bustling, even this early. Attorneys, police officers, and other general people moved in and out of hallways, ducking into their offices. Barba and Devon weaved their way through the throng, quickly making it to his office. Once there, Devon ripped into the muffin while Barba prepared his first court case for the day. Devon offered him some of her muffin—“you should really eat something before going and standing all day”—but he declined; he had a stash of snacks in his desk. He pulled out a small package of nuts and ate them while he made sure his case was solid, or as solid as it was going to be, going over every little detail that he could think of. Once it was 8:30, Barba gathered his things, mentally aligning himself with his work self; he was in no way a saint outside the court, but he was downright devilish in the courtroom, and he knew it, prided himself on it.
Devon had since finished her muffin and mocha and stood when she saw Barba gathering his things. She made a last-minute decision, leaving her laptop behind; she wouldn’t be able to work in the gallery anyways. She muted her phone and followed Barba out of his office. What had always seemed like a short, easy walk from his office to the courthouse now seemed to take forever. Devon’s head was constantly on a swivel, watching the crowded street, marking every person who looked a little too long, who gave a weird look. One man reached into his pocket and Devon’s heart leapt into her throat until she saw him simply pull out his phone and start typing. This is going to be a very, very long job, she thought.
It was a relief when they made it to the stairs leading into the courthouse. If Barba felt any of the anxiousness that Devon did, he showed no sign of it. Instead, he seemed calm, collected. He took the lead up the stairs, and Devon let him. He knew the courthouse better than she did, so she let him lead her through the winding hallways, keeping an eye open to the people around. They made it to the courtroom, and Barba went up to his normal table, while Devon sat directly behind him, turning to look at everyone who opened the door behind her, just in case. She still didn’t particularly enjoy being in a courtroom, but her fear was much more manageable, thanks to the time she spent with ADA Casey Novak. This quickly became their routine for the whole day; they walked together to whichever courtroom Barba was assigned, He went to the table while she sat and watched from the gallery as he destroyed the defense’s case over and over again. Devon was impressed with how well he conducted himself in court, glad to see he was just as capable, even more so, than the past ADAs she dealt with. Then they would leave, sometimes going back to his office, but more likely, heading to another courtroom. They broke at around 2pm; they hid in Barba’s office and ordered takeout while he worked on some papers and she trolled the FBI database for information on the Aces. They barely got their food by the time Barba was called into the DA’s office to ask about the attempt on his life the day before. Devon was honestly shocked it took that long for his boss to mention anything. She strong-armed her way into the DA’s office with Barba, much to his chagrin. The DA—Jack McCoy—wasn’t too pleased about it, but she knew how to deal with his type. She let Barba relay in brief detail what had happened, and then explained that she was there to protect him. Seemingly satisfied with that, McCoy kicked them both out of his office. Afterwards, they hurried back to Barba’s office, and got a couple of bites in before it was time to go back to the courtroom.
“I’m sorry about this,” Barba said, indicating the food. “Don’t get much time to eat in this profession.”
“Don’t be, it’s fine. Work is work,” Devon smiled. She knew what it was like to not have a moment to yourself, let alone to eat. And the last thing Devon was, was a complainer. So, they went back to the courtrooms, the cases, the defense vs. the prosecution. It wasn’t until 6pm that they made it back to his office. Only two of the cases had ended in convictions today, but they were in Barba’s favor. Devon marveled at how well-spoken he was in court; she may be a negotiator, but she wanted to learn some of his tricks. Maybe she’d pick them up if she watched him work enough.
Barba put the takeout container down, sighing contently. “I promise that most days aren’t this intense. Maybe a week or two every other month. I’m not normally in court this often. I’m usually in here, prepping,” he gestured at his office.
“Why the big case load?” Devon asked. She was genuinely interested; she had never worked closely with a lawyer before, especially an ADA. She didn’t know the ins and outs, but if she learned, maybe she could add that profession to her repertoire of fake jobs she took while undercover.
Barba sat up a little straighter in his chair. “Besides the one case that got moved to today from yesterday, there was a huge sex trafficking bust a couple months ago. A lot of the people involved took a plea, but the ones who didn’t are finally getting processed. Those two cases from today will be continued tomorrow, but after that, it should slow down.”
Devon nodded. “I forget how long the courts take, sometimes. I’m actually surprised that their being processed only a couple of months after the fact.”
“Through some legal maneuvers, and with urges from the mayor, the DA was able to speed up their trials.”
Devon gave Barba a knowing look; she knew how the Big Bosses pushed around things that they wished to. Liv complained about 1PP all the time, and she had experienced it every now and again with the Feds.
“Well, I don’t mind; running around so much means time goes by much quicker.”
Barba smiled at that, “sometimes, too quick. Speaking of,” he looked at the time, “I think that’s it for tonight.”
Devon looked at the clock on the wall. 7:05pm. “Wow, calling it early, eh?”
“I try and not spend my whole life trapped here, as much as it appears otherwise,” he replied. Devon grinned, standing up. Barba stood as well, grabbing his things. Devon swung her laptop bag over her shoulder, unsheathed her knife—she wanted less conspicuous tonight, and her gun still felt heavy in her hand--and made her way to the door. Barba waited behind her, without prompting today, as she cracked open the door and made sure the coast was clear. It wasn’t until after the elevator doors opened, letting them off, that they noticed how many people were still around. Devon kept the knife by her side, though she kept her arm loose, flexible, ready to defend. But they met no obstacles as they made their way outside. Devon was shocked to see that Fin and Rollins were once again parked outside, readying to escort the two back to Barba’s place.
“Liv said she texted you,” Rollins said as an explanation. Taken aback, Devon took out her phone and noticed that there were a couple missed texts from Olivia. Then it dawned on her; her phone was still muted from earlier. She’d have to remember to keep it on vibrate from now on. She sent a quick apology text, promising to call once they were secured at Barba’s place.
Apartment of Rafael Barba
Friday, January 28th. 7:30pm
“Today wasn’t so bad,” Devon commented after hanging up her call with Liv.
Barba had been working on the coffee table again and looked up. “No, it really wasn’t. I hope I’m not being lulled into a false sense of security, what with no attempt on my life today.”
Devon was going to joke about how the night was still young but thought better of it. She realized that she still didn’t really know this man; she didn’t know his humor, and she didn’t want to worry him. Besides, today really had been pretty good; she didn’t notice anyone tailing them, or anyone threatening. But that just seemed to add to her anxiety; they went from back-to-back attacks to nothing. They could be taking this time to plan. She was going to have to be more alert the next day.
After a couple hours of work, they both said goodnight, and made their separate ways to bed. And with a full day together done, this became their framework for every day afterwards, never really deviating from the norm.
Apartment of Rafael Barba
Monday, March 16th. 9:36pm
“When did you join the FBI?” Barba asked. They were eating pizza for dinner in Barba’s loft. It had been almost 2 months since he was shot at, and Devon took on the job of bodyguard. There hadn’t been an attempt since, which only made Devon more nervous; her head was on a swivel, eyes never settling on anything for too long. Sleep had been becoming harder and harder for her, eyes snapping open at every creak. If Barba was feeling nervous, he didn’t show it; he just went about his day as if nothing were different. At least Liv had called the day before to tell them that 11 Aces were now in jail; the only good news they had gotten. But none of them were talking to the SVU detectives about the hit.
Devon thought about how much she wanted to say. She chose a simple answer. “I was recruited when I was 20.”
“Recruited? How do you get recruited to the FBI?”
Whoops, wrong use of words. “Carefully,” she said, smirking.
Barba knew her enough to know that he’d get nowhere if he pushed the subject. There were only a couple subjects that Devon avoided, mostly her childhood and family. Barba couldn’t tell yet if she locked her past away because of her training in the FBI, or because it was painful to revisit. To be completely fair, he dodged the question about his parents, too, when she retaliated after he asked her first.
After a pause, Devon asked, “why ADA?”
This was how almost every night went when they weren’t absorbed in their own work. One of them would break the silence with a question, and then they’d get sucked into hours-long discussions. They were slowly getting more comfortable with each other—easy to do when they were stuck with each other all day, every day. Devon had even followed Barba into the men’s restroom at the courthouse, to his embarrassment. It took some arguing, but she eventually checked every stall and left, not allowing anyone else in until Barba had finished and come back out, still red in the face.
“To be honest, it wasn’t my first choice…or a path I even considered until my last years in high school.” Barba thought back to his high school years, to his past career choices. He never had a “dream job;” he actually felt like he was living it now, even if it wasn’t something that had crossed his mind as a child. “I had no idea what I wanted to do as a kid. I played around with some stupid hobbies, but they didn’t pan out. So, in high school, I just started taking classes that sounded interesting. I ended up taking a criminology course and fell in love, as cliché as that sounds.” Barba smiled at the memory. “I did well enough that I got a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”
Devon nodded; she liked hearing stories of people finding themselves, finding their passions. She was glad that Barba seemed motivated; he actually loved his job, instead of being forced into it by his parents. Though, she was curious what his idea of “stupid hobbies” was.
Barba thought a moment, then asked, “you said you joined the FBI at age 20. Does that mean you skipped college?”
Devon grimaced. “Uh, yeah, I never even applied.” She tried to shut out the memories from that part of her life, but the familiar knot formed in her stomach.
“Say you quit the FBI; you’ve had enough, and you’re done with all of it. What profession would you go into?”
Devon thought for a long time. It had been so long since she even considered doing a different job. “I’m not sure, actually. I’ve been in the FBI for nearly two decades. They don’t exactly teach job skills outside of my profession.”
Barba scoffed, “come on, you must have had a dream job when you were a child, right? What would you have done if you never joined the FBI?”
Devon knew the answer to the latter, but she knew she couldn’t tell him. I’d be in jail. Instead, she answered, “I didn’t really have a dream job lined up. When I was in high school, I only ever thought about college as just a way to get away from my parents; I had no long-term goals. I honestly didn’t even see myself as attending college, not that I could’ve afforded it, anyways.”
Barba was at a loss for words. He tucked the small nugget of information about her family into his mind, which answered an earlier question; she didn’t talk about her family because it was painful. He could certainly understand that.
Both of them seemed to be content with letting the conversation die there. It was getting late anyways, and Barba had yet another early morning the next day, though not as early as that first day. They went through their nightly routines before saying their goodnights and heading to bed. They both had a little trouble sleeping that night, stuck in memories of past lives, both good and bad.
Apartment of Rafael Barba
Tuesday, March 17th. 4:00am
The next morning, their routine hadn’t changed. Devon was up first, showered, and ready for the day. She had a weird feeling in her gut, so she made sure she packed some gauze and an extra shirt in her laptop bag. She didn’t believe in superstitions, but she did know to listen to her gut; it’s saved her ass before. By the time she was ready, Barba was up and showering.
“Morning,” he grumbled when he came out, voice thick with sleep.
To the untrained eye, he didn’t look any different than normal; sharp suit, sharp hair, sharp cologne. But Devon could see the exhaustion in his expression, in his slightly stooped shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep?” A tired huff was his only reply. “Why don’t I make us some coffee? Carmen won’t care if you’re a little late today. ‘Sides, you don’t have an arraignment until 9:30—we got time.”
Barba was too tired to argue. He sat heavily in the armchair while Devon flitted about the kitchen, scooping coffee into Barba’s French press—something she had teased him about the first time he showed her how to use it (“how can some kid from the Bronx be such a coffee snob?”). While the water heated up, Devon examined Barba’s resting form; his eyes were closed, his breaths were soft. It was almost as if he had fallen back asleep. But he opened his eyes when he heard Devon move to pour the water into the pot. After a couple more minutes, letting the water seep into the coffee the perfect amount, Devon poured them both a healthy amount in to-go cups, pouring in the small amount of sugar she knew Barba liked, and the copious amounts she liked herself.
“Thanks,” Barba said with a small smile, standing and taking the cup from her. She smiled back, then headed for the door, checking the corridor like normal before leading him down to the street.
“What took so long?” Amaro said by way of greeting, though there was no real anger in his voice. Rollins made eye contact with Devon and raised her eyebrows. Devon, oblivious, shrugged and got in the back with Barba.
“Made some coffee this morning. We were up late working,” Devon replied. Rollins’s smile grew, and even Amaro made eye contact with Devon in the rearview mirror.
“Oh yeah? Working on what?” Amaro asked accusingly.
“Get your minds out of the gutter, detectives,” Barba spat before taking a long sip of coffee. If Devon didn’t know any better, she’d swear she saw a blush on his cheeks. But why is he blush—oh, Devon thought, feeling her own face turn red. Is that what they thought they were doing last night? She took her own sip of coffee, attempting to hide her face. They sat in silence for the rest of the car ride, trying to ignore the tension in the backseat.
1 Hogan Place
Tuesday, March 17th. 8:30am
All of the detectives have learned to drop Devon and Barba off across the street from the DA’s building at this point, so that they could get their morning coffee. Even though they both had a cup in their hands, the habit was hard to break, and Amaro dropped them off in the normal spot.
“Idiots,” Barba mumbled as they drove off, and Devon didn’t think it had anything to do with where they were dropped off. Her face was still red, and she couldn’t look at Barba directly. Glad to see SVU is still a gossip ring, she thought.
“Let’s at least grab some breakfast,” she suggested, walking towards Jordan’s coffee stand. Those muffins really were delicious. She heard Barba sigh and follow her.
The tension in the air was still tight, and Devon desperately wanted to say something to change the subject, but nothing came to mind. She looked down at the coffee in her hand, coming up with a weak topic.
“Hey, feeling more awake now?” she asked sheepishly. When Barba didn’t answer, she chanced a glance at him. His mouth was slightly ajar, eyes wide in shock and fear, locked on something over Devon’s right shoulder. Instinct took over, and she threw herself in front of him, coffee flying out of her hand. She had her forearm pushed across his chest, shoving him against the coffee cart, her face inches from his. She felt a pressure that turned to pain in her right shoulder, but adrenaline had taken over, and the pain was soon forgotten. Without missing a beat, Devon whipped around and saw one of the men from the night in the alley—Rogelio Olivera—looking shocked and backing away slowly. His arm was raised, but nothing was in his hand, which seemed odd to her. But she had no time to think about it as she used her momentum, turning towards him to punch him in the face with her left fist. Rogelio went sprawling onto the ground.
Movement in the corner of Devon’s eye caught her attention. Jose, the younger brother and the other man from the alley, was trying to use the diversion his brother set up to attack Devon, knife gripped in his hand. He swung it towards her gut, but she blocked, throwing her right forearm haphazardly into his hard enough that he dropped his weapon. She pushed down on him, letting his momentum carry him downwards, and she punched him hard on the spine with her left, dropping him to the ground. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out one of her pairs of handcuffs and cuffed him before he could regain his composure. She couldn’t get a grip on his wrists with her right hand, though—there was so much blood on her hand, it made everything slippery. In the rush, Devon didn’t think about where the blood came from, nor the fact that the muscles in her right hand weren’t working correctly. Instead, she pushed a knee between his shoulders, forced his hands together with her left, and somehow cuffed him with the right.
“Stop resisting,” she said. Shockingly, he laid still, turning his attention to the right. Devon saw the movement and followed his line of sight to his brother.
Rogelio, who was just getting to his feet, gave his brother a guilty look. He was just out of reach of Devon, so she instead reached for her knife on her thigh. Rogelio saw his chance and took it; he turned and ran. He only made it a couple steps by the time Devon had cocked back her left arm and threw her knife. It twirled through the air perfectly, blade over handle, before embedding itself into his left calf. He stumbled to the ground, yelping in pain.
Devon looked to Barba, who’s mouth was agape in shock and awe, and commanded, “call 911 now. Tell them we need a bus and an officer.” With that, she sat Jose up, telling him not to move, and then made her way to Rogelio. He was clutching his calf, which was bleeding but not gushing, and looked like he was going for the knife. “Leave that there; you’ll bleed out if you don’t,” she advised. She felt like handcuffs were kind of unnecessary at this point, so she half helped, half dragged him to where his brother was sitting quietly, possibly in shock as he stared at the knife protruding from his brother’s leg.
She looked up as Barba hung up his phone, his hands shaking, eyes still wide. “Are you okay?” she asked. In the madness, she never looked to see if he was injured or not. Mentally, she berated herself for even letting this two get close enough to attack, getting distracted by some idiotic rumors. Stupid….
“I’m fine; are you okay?” His voice was full of concern. When Devon squinted in confusion, he continued, “there’s a knife in your shoulder.”
As if he had spoken it into existence, pain shot through her right shoulder. She looked and was able to make out the hilt sticking out of her back. That…explains a lot, she thought, remembering the pain she felt earlier after shielding Barba, the blood, and not being able to use her hand while cuffing Jose. She looked at her right hand, now covered in red, flexing and closing her fingers. At least those still worked, albeit weakly, but she was unwilling to test the full motion of her arm, at least until the knife was removed.
“Never better,” she tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. Sirens were going off in the distance; the ambulance was coming. Devon looked around at the gathering crowd, noticing that most of them had phones out, filming everything. Great; if the Aces didn’t know Barba had protection, they did now. With any luck, they wouldn’t hire anyone outside the gang to take him out; hopefully, it was a personal enough hit that they wouldn’t outsource. Either way, Devon was going to have to make some calls, keep an eye on known hitmen. She ignored the people murmuring about police brutality, and just tried to focus on the next steps. No one looked like they were about to take a shot at Barba, but she still hovered near his side, just in case. The pain in her shoulder hurt, but it wasn’t extreme; she’d had worse before. Though, the blood starting to pool at her feet, dripping off her fingers, wasn’t a great sign. At least she had extra gauze and an extra shirt. Always follow those gut instincts.
The ambulance arrived a few moments later, three cop cars right behind it. One set of cops took Jose into custody while another set took Rogelio to the back of the ambulance. Devon followed, handing the EMT her card and asking for her knife to be returned to her after it was taken out. The EMT looked a little disgusted with her priorities but took the card anyways.
“That was a little tactless,” Barba said.
“That was a really good knife,” Devon replied.
The last two cops came to check on Devon and Barba, get their statements. Once they saw the handle sticking out of Devon’s shoulder, though, they called an EMT over. Devon had lost enough blood to feel woozy, but not enough that the EMT could convince her to go to the hospital. Being a torso wound, the EMT could dislodge it right there, after discerning that no major arteries were hit, though he did so begrudgingly, saying that she should really go to the hospital. After the knife was removed, and Devon received 8 stitches, she went through the whole range of motions that she could; it seemed like the knife had missed the important stuff, though she couldn’t raise her right arm above her head. The EMT gave her a look before forcing her to sit still and wrapping her in gauze. Statements given, and all patched up, Devon led Barba into the courthouse and away from the growing crowd. With the time wasted, they were now running late for Barba’s first arraignment of the day.
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You should go to the hospital,” Barba said once away from the peering faces.
Devon focused on walking straight, one foot in front of the other, trying to block out the pain, the wooziness. “I’m fine, really. This isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed.” Barba whipped to look at her, trying to find out if she was joking or not. “Besides, how are you feeling? You’re due in court”—she looked at her phone—“2 minutes from now. Are you feeling up to it? Should I convince the judge to give you a continuous?”
After the attack, Barba’s hands had been shaking. From fear, adrenaline, or worry, he didn’t know; maybe it was a mix of all the above. But with how long it took to give statements to the officers, to remove the knife and get Devon patched up, and then her fighting with the EMTs to not go to the hospital, Barba’s nerves had calmed down. At least a little bit; better than nothing.
“I’m fine; it’s only arraignments,” he replied. She shot him a skeptical look; they didn’t have time to eat their breakfast and they didn’t have time to make any coffee in his office. He was going to say more to try and reassure her, but they had arrived at the courtroom he needed to go preach law into anyways. Barba had a sudden thought, looking at Devon, or more importantly, the state of her clothes; her shirt, though black, was sticky and turning hard from dried blood. Sitting behind her, one could even see the stab hole in the fabric, the white of the gauze peeking through. In the craziness of the attack, Devon had dropped her laptop bag, and had completely forgotten to change clothes. Barba took the overcoat he had been carrying and held it up for Devon to put on.
“Here, wear this,” he prompted.
Ever sharp, even with her woozy mind, Devon understood immediately, slipping her arms into the sleeves and shrugging the heavy coat on. The winter jacket was way too hot to be worn in the courtroom, but it was better than having a bloodied Federal Agent in the front row of the gallery. Plus, it was only arraignments; they didn’t take long. It also smells like his cologne…she thought, wistfully, mind drifting.
“You’re late, Mr. Barba,” Judge Barth admonished when they both finally walked into the courtroom. He had some snappy comment that Devon missed; she spent all her attention on making it to the bench on wobbly legs.
Devon dutifully sat in the front row of the gallery, right behind Barba. He gave her one more once-over, noticing how her eyelids drooped and how pained she looked, sweat on her brow, before switching his mind into ADA-mode. He could worry about her injury later.
Luckily, it was only a couple arraignments, so after 2 hours, they were headed back to Barba’s office. Devon seemed alert, but not like normal; it was almost as if she was relying more on instincts than on thoughts. Her eyelids were still drooping, her footsteps seemed heavier, and she wasn’t looking around as much as she usually did. But she still hung close to his side protectively, uninjured hand resting on her gun hidden under Barba’s jacket that she was still wearing. They made it quickly to his office, Devon making it through the door first, to make sure no one unexpected was occupying his office. Once cleared, she all but collapsed onto the short couch against the wall, letting out a grunt of pain.
“No calls or visits, please,” Barba said to Carmen. She nodded, and he closed the door, throwing the lock. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance for you?”
Devon turned to shoot him a glare, but in this state, it fell flat. “If you ask me that one more time, you’re going to be the one who needs the ambulance.”
Barba would have laughed at that, but he was too worried about her to manage it. He went over to the little water cooler he had put in—sometimes he needed something besides coffee, only sometimes—and filled a cup. He forced it into Devon’s hand, the left one, the uninjured one. She drank the whole thing gratefully, and he went to refill it.
While he did, she shrugged out of his coat, grimacing at the motion. “Thank god I brought an extra shirt. Though, I don’t think I can put it on,” she chuckled softly, then winced as her mirth cause her body to shake her shoulder painfully. Oh, this was going to suck.
Barba handed her the second glass of water then said, voice barely above a whisper, “I can help…if you want, of course.” She sipped at the water this time rather than chugging it, shocked that he’d offer. Normally, she wouldn’t care if someone she counted as a friend helped her put on a shirt while she was injured. And she did count Barba as a friend. But the conversation with Amaro and Rollins came flooding back, making her hesitate. Did he think of her as a friend?
“Go for it,” she replied drily, trying to play it off as nothing. As if it were just another work thing. As if she didn’t care. Barba nodded, going to where her bag was on one of the chairs, digging through it until her found the extra shirt she had packed that morning. Grabbing it, he came back over to her. Devon moved to sit on the arm of the couch, feet on the cushions. He sucked in a breath as he stood behind her, preparing himself for what he was about to do; he’d never helped dress someone before…well, besides maybe shoving discarded clothes into someone’s arms after a night together. He was glad that her back was to him, that she couldn’t see the blush on his face. Devon grabbed the hem of her shirt and raised it as high as her hurt arm allowed. Gently, he unstuck her shirt from her shoulder—it was still caked in dried blood—and pulled it off of her, left arm first, then over her head, then off her right arm.
He found himself caught staring at the patch of gauze, stark white against Devon’s otherwise tan skin. There was a little bit of red, only a little, to show that some blood had seeped into the material but had since stopped. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to check; he knew that the EMTs already did, but deep down, he had to know for himself, what he had narrowly avoided. And how much she was now hurt because of him. This was all his fault, he knew; if he had warned her, if he made them go to his office instead of out in the wide open, if he didn’t have a target on himself, then Devon would be fine. She would be enjoying her time off after three years of whatever hell she had endured in California.
His gaze wandered from the patch on her shoulder to the rest of her broad back, starting with her other shoulder, than travelling down her spine, then resting on where the waistband of her slacks rested on her hips. She was littered with scars, most of them thin lines of white, but others that were longer, thicker, some that were straight, some curved. One of them even looked like a bullet hole down by her hip. Barba fought the urge to trace the markings along her back, wondering how she had gotten them all.
Devon had winced as Barba removed the ruined shirt from her—a part of her was shocked with how gentle he could be. But she resolved not to make a noise; she didn’t want to seem weak to him, to seem too injured. Besides, sitting and drinking water was already helping her wooziness and nausea, though she knew that she needed food. After what seemed like forever of him being silent behind her, she cleared her throat.
“Sorry,” Barba murmured, shaking himself, ripping his eyes away from a particularly long, thin scar across her spine. He moved to scrunch the shirt up to the right sleeve, slipping that over her injured arm, before helping it over her head and other arm. She fixed the hem while he checked her glass of water, which was still half-full, before sitting at his desk. He pulled out his phone and called in an order from his favorite Chinese place—he already knew Devon’s order after spending this much time together. While he was doing that, Devon felt like she should warn Olivia about the encounter. Devon knew it would get back to her eventually, better to get in front of it.
Just so you know, I was able to subdue and arrest two Aces in front of the DA’s Building
Olivia wrote back immediately. Good work. Is Barba okay?
All business with her, like usual. He’s fine, no injuries. I’m sure it’s already viral
There was silence for a couple minutes before her phone lit up. YOU WERE STABBED? Are you alright? Are you at the hospital? Is Barba with you? Devon laughed, knowing Liv must have seen one of the many, shitty phone videos of the attack.
I’m fine; Barba and I are safe in his office, ordering lunch. An EMT stitched me up; no worries. I’ll call you tonight with more details.
Devon put her phone away before she could see Liv’s reply; she didn’t have the strength to fight off both Barba and Olivia worrying about her health. Barba hung up shortly afterwards.
“Thank you, by the way. That’s twice now that you’ve saved my life,” Barba said.
Devon waved him off. “All in a day’s work,” she smiled, then grimaced in pain.
It looked like he was going to ask if she was alright again but thought better of it when he saw the glare she shot him. He instead changed the subject. “How did you throw your knife so accurately?”
She grinned at some inside joke, then answered almost sheepishly, “many, many years of practice. I’m still practicing.”
Barba looked impressed. “It was pretty amazing to watch. It was like something in a James Bond movie; I never thought I’d see something like that in real life, with my own eyes.”
Devon smirked to herself; the fact that Barba even watched James Bond was weirdly funny to her. “Wanna know something stupid?” Barba perked up. “I started teaching myself to throw knives when I was 13, because I thought it would make me look cool. Then, when I joined the Bureau, I thought that it was a great skill to master. So, I could be a cool, super-agent like some shitty action movie.”
“You’re right; that is stupid,” Barba replied. A beat of silence, then they were both laughing, at least until Devon’s laugh turned into a groan and she grabbed her shoulder. Barba went straight into worried again, launching out of his chair. He made it halfway around the desk before Devon waved him off.
Once the pain subsided, Devon said, “well, it may be stupid, but it has come in handy plenty of times. I think that it’s the element of surprise; no one actually predicts someone to throw a knife at them. Not in real life, and not accurately.”
At that moment, food had arrived. Devon still didn’t know how Barba got lunch delivered so quickly, and he refused to give away his secret. They both hungrily scarfed down most of their food before a thought occurred to Devon, something that she should have asked the day she took this job.
“Do you know how to defend yourself? In anyway besides that mouth of yours?”
Barba finished chewing and swallowed. “I think the last fight I was in was when I was 15. And it wasn’t really a fight. It was more a kid beating me up until my friend chased them off.”
“So, no. Awesome. We’re going to fix that, starting tonight.”
“Tonight? Did you forget that you were stabbed today? You are going to take it easy tonight.”
Devon shot an annoyed look at him. “Is Mr. Never-been-in-a-real-fight trying to boss me around?”
Barba shot a glare right back. If looks could kill, then Barba would at least have some sort of self-defense training. “Damn straight I am. Early night tonight, and you’re going to sleep in a bed. That couch cannot be comfortable.”
“Oh-ho, really? You’re not the only one who relies on spite, Barbs. Besides, injured shoulder or not, I could still kick your ass. And the couch is fine.”
Barba was taken aback by that; not so much the threat, but what she had called him. Barbs. As far as he knew, she didn’t call anyone by a nickname, except for Fin and Liv. And anyone who called Fin by his full name was either not a friend or would not be around long.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it. But I’d feel better if you were at 100% before hurting yourself on me,” he looked at her over his takeout box, “and yes, the bed. This isn’t a negotiation.”
“And I’d feel better if you knew at least basic self-defense,” she countered, “and you’re right; this isn’t a negotiation. I will sleep where I want.” Stalemate, how most of their arguments ended. She knew he was done talking about it as he rolled his eyes and stabbed what remained of his lunch.
The rest of the day went normally, or as normally as it could; Barba only had the arraignments in the morning, so they hadn’t left his office until 5pm on the dot. Early night indeed. Devon still went through the motions of checking the hallways as they left, keeping Barba behind her, even though he was pretty sure she couldn’t do much in way of protection, though Devon disagreed (“I only need one working arm to use a gun, Barbs”). They met no resistance and made it to the street. They hailed a cab—the detectives were in a flurry after the attack today--and made it to the loft promptly.
Apartment of Rafael Barba
Tuesday, March 17th. 5:42pm
Devon still insisted on Barba placing his hand on her back as she cleared each room. He tried to touch her gently, keeping to her left. Devon thought it was sweet, but she was getting a little annoyed by the kid-gloves he was treating her with.
Once the nightly routine was done, Devon said, “you know I’m still teaching you some self-defense tonight, right?” Barba started to argue, but she overrode him, “nothing too physical. More positions and motions tonight. We can practice them in full when the stitches come out. Deal?”
He huffed; there really was no way to win an argument with her, was there? He may be a successful lawyer, but he could not outtalk the agent when she had her mind set. Stubborn, like him. “Deal,” he replied begrudgingly. They moved the furniture to the walls, giving them enough room to move comfortably. Barba discarded his suit jacket and tie, rolling up his shirtsleeves to the elbow. Devon shed his winter jacket—he let her wear it again for the ride home—and gun, placing them on the table. She then went through the most basic ways to break someone’s hold, whether they were grabbing an arm, a wrist, or the torso from behind. Surprisingly, Barba picked it up quickly. He had some muscle despite being an attorney.
“Ha-ha, very funny,” he said when she commented on it.
“That’s a good thing, promise,” she laughed. Her shoulder was hurting, but it was more of a dull thrum in the back of her mind. Plus, she knew if she mentioned it, or winced at all, that he would call the exercise to and end, and she didn’t want to stop this night yet. She was enjoying teaching him something, his eyes bright with focus, and then watching him recreate the steps. Maybe she’d retire and teach self-defense classes one day, if she was lucky enough to have the chance to retire. “Last one for the night, then we can stop.” Barba nodded and she taught him how to flip a person that grabs him from behind over his shoulder, then mount them, ready to attack the face and chest of his attacker. Simple.
“We’re not going to actually flip each other,” Devon said when Barba started to protest.
“Better not,” he replied. “Now show me the steps again.”
At this point, Devon had almost completely forgotten about the pain in her shoulder; it was a constant throb, but it blended into the background as she focused on the steps. She grabbed Barba by the arm gently as she demonstrated, without actually throwing him, what to do slowly. Barba found that he enjoyed having her teach him things, especially if it meant that she could ease up on her vigilance. It was also a plus that she was touching him, not in a sexual way, but her strong hands on his sweaty skin was enough to make his heart beat faster. He could feel the strength in her powerful form; her hands, arms, back, legs. Every bit of her was muscle.
“May I flip you over my uninjured shoulder? I’ll put the sofa cushions down first. You’ll be safe, I promise,” Devon asked. “But it’s important to teach you how to go from leaning over a prone attacker to on top of them.”
Barba sighed and reluctantly agreed. She always got what she wanted. “But only if you use your left.” Devon nodded and they both stripped the couch of cushions. Barba felt nervous as he stepped up behind her. The thought of flying through the air was exhilarating, but not something that Barba ever thought he’d be doing on a weekday evening in his loft with an FBI agent. He forced himself to breath, to keep his eyes open so that he could pay attention, as he wrapped his arms around Devon’s torso. She pretended to elbow him in the gut, like she showed him, and he let go. She then grabbed him by the arm and threw him over her left shoulder. His world spun until he landed flat on his back, Devon didn’t move, waiting for him to lock eyes with her.
“You okay?” she asked.
He grinned back up at her, feeling oddly alive. “Never better,” he parroted her words from earlier back to her. She smiled back, then went through the next steps slowly, narrating as she went, until she was straddling his hips, knees pinning his hands into the cushions by his sides, hands raised as if she were going to punch him in the face. He fought to keep the blush from creeping up his neck, hoping that Devon would attribute his red face to how hot he was from the workout.
“Got it?”
“I think so.”
She got off him, held out her hand. He took it and she helped him up.
“Now it’s your turn,” she announced. The thought of him straddling her was enough to get the blush to fully infiltrate his face. He turned away, nodding as he did, hoping that she would miss the redness creeping around his ears and neck. Instead, he stood at the cushions, facing away from her.
Devon came up behind Barba and wrapped her arms around his torso. She smelled his cologne, mixing with his sweat, and felt his rapid breathing against her body through his back, matching her own breathing. She hoped he couldn’t feel her heart fluttering in her chest. They’d been doing this for a couple hours and were both slightly out of breath. Bracing herself, she tightened her arms, signaling the start of the exercise. Barba positioned his feet the way she showed him, fake hit her, and bent forward. Devon felt weightless as she was thrown over his shoulder, then slammed into the cushions. Pain shot through her shoulder and she whimpered in pain. Barba, though, was already following the motions that she had shown him, straddling her hips, fist raised above her head in mock-fight. It took him a moment to recognize the pain in her face, to realize what he had done.
“Ah mierda, estas bien? (Holy shit, are you okay?) Did I hurt you?” he asked, dropping his hand from fist to cupping her cheek, searching her eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she breathed, heart fluttering and not entirely from pain. Barba leaned down closer, scanning her face for any sign of a lie. “Good form.”
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Both of them whipped their heads to look at the door. “You expecting company?” Devon asked. Barba shook his head, then scrambled off of her. Devon pushed herself off the floor with her left arm—her right buckled in pain when she put pressure on it--grabbed her discarded gun and aimed it at the door. She moved slowly, carefully, towards the door. Another round of knocking rang out.
“Dev? Barba? It’s Olivia,” Liv’s voice called through the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, Devon made it to the door and looked out the eyehole; it was indeed Liv. Not taking any chances, Devon kept the gun aimed as she unlocked the door. She motioned for Barba to stay put, well away and out of line of sight of the door. Devon opened the door, pushed past the shocked Olivia—she did have a gun in her face when the door opened—and checked the hallways.
“Clear,” she called out, beckoning Liv inside.
Once the door was closed and relocked, Liv took in the pushed aside furniture and cushions on the ground, before asking, “what happened today? Are you alright?”
Devon spent the next couple minutes going over the ordeal from that morning, Barba interjecting a couple of times with his point of view, but otherwise staying silent. Devon then spent the next half hour convincing Liv that: yes she was okay, no she didn’t need to go to the hospital, yes she could still protect Barba, no she didn’t need backup. Barba had surprisingly backed her up, saying that she seemed completely capable. Devon was slightly touched at the gesture, her heart clenching with his support.
Olivia sighed. “Well, the other reason I wanted to stop by was to give you an update on our side. The NYPD have collectively caught another 8 Aces, putting the total at 21 incarcerated. If that number of 65 gang members is accurate, then there’s only 44 left.”
“Only 44?” Barba commented, incredulous.
“Better than 65, yeah?” Devon shot back. Barba rolled his eyes but didn’t answer. She did have a point; 44 was less than 65. But 44 people with the potential to kill him left a twisting feeling in his gut that he fought to ignore.
Liv nodded. “We have patrols working around the clock to pick up members. But they know we’re on them; a lot of them have gone into hiding. And those videos of you taking down two of them in front of the DA Building isn’t doing us any favors.
Devon shrugged. “As Munch would say, good ol’ Big Brother looking out for the gang members in that sense.” They talked for a few more minutes about a couple of known hideouts before Olivia excused herself. Devon locked the door after she had left and stretched. Once her right arm was level with her head, she grimaced and dropped it.
Barba was instantly by her side. “Let me see it; I may have pulled the stitches when I flipped you.” Devon didn’t object as he pulled back her shirt, being even more gentle than when he examined her in his office. “Can I take the gauze off? The EMT said that we should change it out tonight.”
“Let’s get the replacement ready, first,” Devon replied. As Barba went to grab gauze from her grip, she struggled to get out of her shirt.
Gauze in hand, Barba looked up to see her struggling to get her shirt over her head. They locked eyes for the briefest moment before Barba quickly adverted his eyes, cheeks turning red.
“Oh, stop playing choir boy and come help me,” Devon huffed, hiding her own face in the fabric of the shirt she was tangled in. Barba made his way over, his ears turning bright red. He grasped the cloth and gently pulled it up and over her head. He discarded it on the back of the armchair, moving to stand behind her once more. He didn’t know why he was so embarrassed by this—he helped her change earlier today. And while he was struggling with his emotions then, too, this seemed more…intimate. Maybe it was because Devon was essentially stripping in his living room rather than his office. Either way, he needed to get his mind out of his pants. Though, his eyes still got pulled from the white patch of gauze to the scars painting her back. Unlike in his office, Barba wasn’t able to stop himself from touching the longest scar on her back, his fingertip ghosting over the white line that stretched from just under her left shoulder blade and leading to under the gauze. Goosebumps sprung up under his finger, and Devon’s breathing hitched.
“What caused this?” Barba breathed, voice barely a whisper. He wasn’t actually expecting an answer, so he was shocked when Devon cleared her throat.
“I believe that one was a leather belt,” Devon muttered. They sat in silence, Devon unwilling to continue, and Barba unwilling to ask for more. Instead, he set about changing the gauze, questions swirling in his mind…though, he was pretty sure he was starting to get an answer.
He slowly pulled off the old gauze on her shoulder. The stitches were still intact, and there was no new blood on or around the wound. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. How could he be so stupid? He knew she was injured, fought against training tonight. But still, he lost focus, he let her call the shots, and it got her hurt. He chastised himself for hurting her; she saves his life, takes a goddamn knife for him, and he slams her onto the ground. If he hadn’t distracted her this morning, if he hadn’t relaxed his guard, then maybe—
“You alright back there?” she asked, pulling him out of his self-hating spiral. He gently placed the new gauze over the wound, pushing it down against her warm skin. Devon sucked in a breath through her teeth, straightening her back at the pain.
“Let me get you an ice pack,” he said over his shoulder as he walked to the kitchen. He needed a moment to collect himself, to get away from the heat in the room, and to also let her get dressed...if she could on her own. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the blood rushing through him, and grabbed the ice pack from the freezer before coming back out to her. She had, thankfully, got into her oversized, pajama shirt by herself.
“Sit,” he ordered. Devon obeyed, sitting in the armchair. Barba had her lean forward, then placed the ice pack between the chair and her shoulder—she jumped at the coolness seeping through her new shirt and gauze--and ordered her to lean back into the chair, holding it in place. She relaxed into the chair, eyes closed at the comfort she felt almost immediately; she hadn’t noticed how hot her skin was in that area...compared to the rest of her that was on fire from his touch. Barba sat on the arm of the loveseat and watched her face. All the tension left her features, making her look younger. He never noticed how much stress she had around her eyes until this moment, something that he noticed with others in this line of work. He was shocked he hadn’t noticed until now, when she was relaxed; her attitude, her…liveliness often exuded off her, making her seem much more jovial than the stress on her face showed. He suddenly wondered how much hardship she had gone through in her life, as an agent and otherwise.
Devon sat like that for a couple moments, and Barba felt like he could stare at her in comfort forever. Memories came flooding back to him; that first night when they sat so close to each other on the armchair, her smile and perky “good morning~!” every day, her eyes and body language when she was alert—dangerous, protective—Amaro and Rollins having their fantasies about why they were late, him straddling her in his living room, hand cupping her face as he made sure she was alright. The scars covering her back like a living tattoo proving that she had lived a full, hard life, yet still found a way to smile.
Oh…he thought before he mentally shook himself; he would not allow those feelings to manifest. He’d learned long ago that that path wasn’t a viable option, that it was his lot in life to be alone, and he’d be damned if his resolve would break after only a couple months with this woman. So, he locked away those memories and feelings, shoving them in a tight little metal box in his heart and throwing away the key.
“I’m fine, really,” Devon finally said, opening her eyes. She looked at Barba, found him staring at her, eyes boring into hers. “That was just a stupid mistake; I got carried away in our training. I’m sorry to put you in that situation.”
“It’s my fault; I knew that you were hurt, and I still went along with it.”
Devon chuckled. “We’re going to get nowhere in a conversation if we keep hogging the blame and self-deprecation. Let’s just say that mistakes were made and leave it at that.”
Barba agreed verbally, but he didn’t really believe it. He knew better, needed to be better. After waiting the allotted 30 minutes that the EMT advised, Barba stood, taking the icepack from her and returning it to the freezer. “We should both go to bed,” he said.
Devon nodded, moving to the loveseat. She knew that she’d be up for a couple more hours doing work, but she couldn’t tell him that. She learned early on that he’d get annoyed if she stayed up half the night working—whether it was a worry about her not being alert the next day, or just a concern for her sleeping habits, she didn’t know--but she just couldn’t force herself to go to sleep. She couldn’t turn her mind off. It was hard enough to sleep at night as it was, and with the attack that happened earlier, tonight was going to be even harder.
“You’re sleeping in the bed tonight, remember? I’ll take the couch,” Barba reminded her.
Devon chuckled and made a big show of stretching out on the couch. “It’s so funny when you think you can order me around.”
Barba gave her a look. “You order me around all the time.”
“And you obey, like, 60% of the time. I appreciate that. Now, off to bed with you,” she gave him a little wave towards the hallway, dismissing him.
He shook his head in disbelief. This woman really knew how to push his buttons. “I’m serious; this couch isn’t good for you. You’re injured.”
Devon pretended to be deep in thought, finger on her chin, before saying, “nah, I like the couch. Goodnight, Barbs.”
This was getting him nowhere; if she wanted to sleep here, then fine. He tried to be polite, gentlemanly, but if chivalry really was dead, then she’s the one who killed it. As he started making his way down the hallway, he stopped, looking over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “Barbs?”
“It’s quicker than saying Barba; only one syllable. Does it bother you?”
He could tell by her tone that she did actually care if it bothered him; if he said yes, then he knew she’d never use it again. But, if truth be told, he rather liked it; a name for him that only she used. It was kind of…cute, in a way. “It’s fine,” he replied, turning back to his bedroom door, a small smile on his lips.
Once he was closed off in his room, Devon pulled out her laptop. She started in on her daily report for Liv, but soon enough, her mind started to wander. She learned something new tonight, something that she didn’t want to admit to herself. But she knew that now, while alone, was the best time to go through it; she had to take the thought out, examine it, understand it, and then lock it away.
She couldn’t deny the feelings and thoughts that she had when Barba had straddled her, or when he touched her back, feelings that had appeared briefly that morning in his office, while he helped her change shirts. The heat that had flooded her face, among other places. And sure, pain was one of those feelings as well, but even that went away when he had cupped her face, had looked at her with such concern in his bright green eyes. It was as if time had stopped; she didn’t even hear what he said to her, though his mouth was moving. That was the moment she had noticed; she had feelings for him. How the hell that had happened, she wasn’t quite sure. Now sitting and thinking about it, she realized that she liked quite a bit about him. She liked how he dressed, his smell, his vocabulary, how he worked, his mannerisms and little quirks. She liked that he tapped his pen when deep in thought. She liked that he mumbled to himself while doing paperwork. She liked how his eyes lit up when he was focused, or when he thought of the perfect argument for a case. She liked the brief, accidental touches, just a brush of a hand, when they were both working on his desk. And the longer, less accidental touches, like when she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the coffee stand, or when they smushed too close in the crowded elevator, his cologne strong in her nose. Maybe it was because she had never spent this long living with someone before. Maybe it was because the past three years have left her emotionally drained, vulnerable. In any case, there was no chance of…whatever they could be from happening. 1) She had a strict no-dating rule with victims, whether he played a victim or not. And 2) she didn’t “do” relationships. She didn’t have the time, energy, or patience to dedicate herself to someone else. Sure, she had taken out some stress in someone’s bed before, but she never had repeats—one and done was her motto. She refused to let someone have that part of her; she kept her heart locked in a stronghold. So, how in the hell did Rafael Barba make his way through the drawbridge when she had thought it was up?
#everyone deserves love#edl#edl ch 5#everyone deserves love chapter 5#law and order svu#law and order svu fanfic#rafael barba x oc#fanfic#my writing#amaro and rollins totes gossip#all the time#about everyone
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options | han jisung
genre: angst
warnings: cursings, neglect of own’s health [please don’t forget to take care everyone!]
members: skz han jisung + mentions!rest of the members
words: 1.9k
requested: yes!
a/n: to anon who requested this, i hope this is on par with what you requested, jsjssj, i tried my best. thank u for requesting! - this is unedited.
for request, please send them on my asks/requests [if u want to interact, that’d be great too!!]
jisung, i’m sorry. but, you knew this, you knew it was risky from the start and we can’t let you take that risk. you have to make your choice.
jisung has been staring straight at the wall in the studio for hours, lost in his own thoughts, in confusion, in heartbreak.
he can’t let you go — you have grown to be the person that he can’t bear to lose.
chan sighed as he watch the young man blankly stare at nothing. standing by the door with changbin behind him, they both feel conflicted at the situation.
they knew how hard the situation is for jisung, and eventually, for you too, when jisung finally break the news to you.
but, it’s something that they don’t have any control over — this is between jisung and you. the only thing they can do is to make sure that the both of you are okay and support whatever decision you will all come to.
closing the door to the studio, chan and changbin left the room. snapping back to reality, jisung pulled up your contacts on his phone. for a while, his thumb hovered over your name, his heart breaking over the prospect of losing you.
“y/n, are you free tonight?” his thumbs shook as he typed the words in his message bar.
he got a reply from you almost instantly, “yes, i guess, the usual place then? :)”
he put his phone in his pockets after replying to you. he stood up and ran his hands through his hair, before shaking his head and trying to breathe through the chaos that he is feeling right now. he began to walk out of the room and convinced himself that everything will be alright. for now, i’ll have to focus on the team, he thought to himself.
—
you skipped your way through the park. this is your usual meeting place with jisung; roaming your eyes around, you figured it’s fairly safe and quiet to see him and spend time with him in this place. there’s no other people around.
not long after, jisung came. however, his slumped shoulders and bowed head alerted you. you knew instantly that something is wrong.
“sung, you okay?” you asked, standing up from your seat. you took a step closer to him but jisung faltered.
somehow, this gesture made you freeze.
“y/n...” he started. silence followed, you can hear your heart starting to beat faster in unknown fear. taking another step closer to you, jisung wrapped you in a tight hug, burying his face in your neck.
“i’m sorry,” when the words left his lips, you felt your heart break. somehow, even without the explanation, you knew what prompted him to say those words. you knew what it meant.
taking a sharp breath and letting it out shakily, you comforted the distraught boy in your arms, “it’s okay.”
“i can’t let you go, y/n,” his voice came out in ushered whispers.
“i can’t let you go, i don’t think i can do that. maybe it’s selfish of me, but —“ his voice grew more anxious as if whatever he’s about to say will be the final straw and you’ll end up leaving him.
“can you hang on for a little longer? just for a little while. maybe stop seeing each other for a while, just until everything settles down,” you feel like everything around you stopped.
somehow, you felt at ease even if there’s a certain pang in your chest because of what he’s requesting. it’s better than losing him completely.
hugging him back, you agreed even if your heart feels heavy and even if you have no idea on how to comply what he’s asking without hurting for the whole duration.
you knew it’s not just you who’s hurting, and you knew this is his dream and the dream of seven other boys on the line.
“okay, i understand.”
—
“hi,” you whispered, smiling softly at nothing. the voice on the other line was enough for you the corner of your lips to curve upwards. it’s been a few weeks since you stopped seeing each other physically, however, you still continued to talk over the phone.
“hi,” jisung repeated, smiling himself as he leaned back on his pillows.
“how is everybody?” you asked him, while trying to fix your bed and getting ready to turn in for the night.
jisung hummed on the other line, mulling over his words, “good, a bit stressed out but it happens, so...”
you nodded your head, “i see, are you taking care of yourselves?”
he chuckled, leave it up to you to worry about them 24/7, “yeah, we are.” he likes it though, it’s one of the reasons why he loves you.
“i love you, sung,” you breathed softly, wishing that you can at least hug him right now.
“i love you too, y/n. hang in there, alright? it’s gonna get better soon,” jisung encouraged, even though he wasn’t so sure if that’s the case.
you groaned when another one of your calls went through his voicemail, this is probably the 10th phone call that went unanswered by jisung. it has been two weeks since you last talked to each other. the fact that he hasn’t been answering any of your text messages either are throwing you off the loop already.
you knew this could happen, damn, this happened even before. so, you at least knew that something important must have taken place for him to not touch his phone.
except, this feels wrong, like that time when you thought he was breaking up with you.
gently dropping your head against your table, you sighed out of frustration. there’s a lot to work on from the office files. i should focus on that, you talked to yourself before pulling out the pile you brought from your office.
fuck. fuck. what the hell? what is happening? you muttered to yourself as you pace around your room. it’s been weeks since you last talked to him. you let him be at first, but, this time, there’s literally no way to talk to him. your calls aren’t even going through anymore. it’s driving you crazy.
plopping down the sofa with your phone in your hand, you let the tears fall. maybe it’s never gonna work out, after all, you thought. your heart aching at the thought.
to distract yourself, you ended up burying yourself with work. even on your free time, you’d ask your team if you can help with anything, just so you won’t be left unoccupied. with busying yourself comes social detachment, you started to bail out of every single dinner your colleagues would invite you in, citing that you have a lot of things to do. on days that you’re unlucky, you’d end up staring at your ceiling, thinking about the million possible ways that could have gone wrong. you’d lose sleep to overthinking, along with your appetite, and most days, it drains every single energy you have just to keep yourself functioning and trying to will the tears away.
jisung, on the other hand, is not far behind. comeback preparations has started— between the rigorous schedule, practice and music production, he’s always tired. not to mention, he’s strictly prohibited to talk to you, and this broke his heart more than he’ll let the team know.
in between the tiredness and heartbreak, he began neglecting his health. this sparked the worries of his members.
“hyung,” he muttered. the practice room is almost empty besides him and chan who’s perched on the couch with his laptop.
chan looked up from his laptop screen and to the boy who lay sprawled at the floor staring at the ceiling.
“... fuck, i don’t know what to do anymore,” he said, chan fixed his position on the couch, putting his laptop aside and leaning his elbows on his knees. he stayed silent as jisung began crying.
“... am i really running out of options? is the only way out of this is... by losing her along the way?” he continued, the room remained silent, but his sobs reverberated around the room. chan sighed, his heart dropping whenever he sees one of his teammates struggling.
when jisung’s cries began growing louder, chan stood up and approached the younger boy. he sat beside him and stared at the mirror that covers almost the rest of the room.
“there’s nothing wrong with loving a person, sung. i guess, it’s just harder for some people,” his gaze went down to the other boy in the room, throwing him another gentle smile, “besides, you knew the answer to that, don’t you? you have options. you don’t have to lose her along the way. you just need to get through some certain circumstances.”
there are options, they gave him options. it was either break it off or wait it out — wait until everything turns out alright. but, jisung doesn’t know when or if things will ever fall into place for the both of you.
he chose to wait it out, he asked you if you’re willing to make the same choice. but, none of you thought it’ll be this hard, that it’ll be weeks of radio silence and growing uncertainty, of doubting that your love for each other will never be enough to withstand the situation.
jisung’s cries slowed, “yeah... wait it out,” he mulled over.
“you guys just have to be extra careful and well, i think things will eventually fall into place for the both of you. the both of you needs to have faith on each other, that’s all,” chan advised, nodding to himself.
“come on, it’s 4AM, let’s go grab some breakfast. y/n would chew my arm off if she founds out you aren’t exactly taking care of yourself,” jisung took chan’s outstretched hand, lifting himself into a standing position.
jisung wished it’s not too late when he finally get the chance to come back into your arms.
—
“OH MY GOD, SUNG!!! THAT WAS AWESOME!!” you exclaimed when jisung dropped by your apartment, after the first broadcast of their comeback schedule.
you wrapped him into a tight hug, as if the tightness can make up for all the weeks you haven’t seen each other. jisung hugged you back just as tight, before pulling away and peppering your face with kisses.
“god, i missed you. i’m sorry for not contacting you,” he placed a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose.
“i asked too much of you by asking you to wait for me,”
you suppressed your chuckle, “please don’t apologize, i understand. i’m sorry i was close to giving up on us,” your hand gently touched his cheek.
“besides, if it weren’t for your phone call, we’ve be entirely on a different scenario right now. so, thank you for explaining it to me that night,” you smiled at him, dropping your hands on his shoulders.
“now, come on, a little birdie told me about how you’ve been missing meals, and we don’t allow that in here, remember?” you teased him before you were rewarded with his bashful smile.
looking at you and your smile, jisung is glad that everything worked out, for now. it’s a long journey ahead the two of you, but for now, he has you in his arms, and he intends to never let you go.
jisung walked up to you, before calling your name softly. your walk slowed to a stop before turning to face him. “i love you,” he whispered against your lips before turning your head for a kiss.
#stray kids angst#stray kids au#stray kids blurbs#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#skz angst#skz han#han jisung angst#jisung au#skz jisung au
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Chapter Six
Louis jumped when his phone started ringing and he looked at it to see a facetime request from Harry. He grinned and answered it leaving the living room to enter the kitchen. Harry was outside in sunny Los Angeles with Hollywood hills behind him from a patio.
"Do you realize the shitshow you have caused on my picture?" Harry greeted him clearly amused, letting Louis know he wasn't upset at all. "I woke up on Christmas Day to this. You have the nerve to comment on my picture and not follow me then you turn your profile on private so I can’t stalk you? Really? I have to have permission to look at your modeling pictures. You're a dick. An absolute dick." Louis laughed covering his mouth with his hand that was currently covered in Harry's pink merch sweater. "You didn't even follow me."
"I'll follow you I promise. I'll do it now, look I’m grabbing my new fancy macbook and logging in.
"You better. Jerk. I'll follow you after you follow me. Some boyfriend you are." Harry said, making Louis shake his head as he logged in and got on his Instagram account, then he went to his notifications and his eyes widened.
"I have 147 follow requests." Louis told Harry before he clicked on one of the notifications of a reply on his comment. "Holy shit. They're crazy."
"Yeah no kidding." Louis went to Harry's profile and followed him, "finally." Not a minute later Harry sent a request to follow him that he accepted immediately, "there's my hot boyfriend."
"Stop it." Louis said blushing as he commented on Harry's newest picture from a few days ago. It was of the view from his plane as they flew over the ocean to California. He commented "When I asked you to send pics this was not what I was talking about.👀.". Harry looked off to the side from the screen to his mac-book that was beside him on a side table, he frowned for a second then he laughed.
"Louis! No.." Harry said laughing as he turned a deep red, "you're gross." He said even though Louis could see him typing on his laptop. Louis waited then he got the notification and he laughed as he read the reply from Harry reading,
''This is a family friendly account. Go away.
.
.
.
.
.
I'll send some more later. I'll be sure to wear that hat you like.🤠"
"I think we broke your fans." Louis said laughing
"We should get off before you go and get a ship started."
"A ship?"
"Just wait."
~~~~~~~~
It took a few weeks for it to really sink in for Louis that he was dating Harry Styles. That he was dating an international award winning popstar. He was dating a Gucci model. He was reminded of this when he had stumbled upon a few of his photos. He and Harry talked daily and even facetimes for both of their New Years Eve, Louis had to wake up for Harry's but it was worth it. Recently on occasion one or both of them could be caught looking longingly at the screen, but they always did something to cheer the other one up.
Louis had a countdown on his phone so anytime he looked at it, it would tell him how much longer until Harry was back in the UK. Harry would still be busy and have things to do until March when his tour ended, but he would be here and Louis couldn't wait. Harry often talked about missing home, especially when it got to the last leg of the tour, said it always got harder, but it was even worse now.
After a lot of talking Louis and Harry finally made the decision to make Louis profile public after many flirty comments to each other in Harry's posts. Louis had even made a Twitter account just so he could attach a photo of their facetime one day and tell Harry how cute he looked when he had eye crud. Harry hadn't liked that picture at all and told Louis there would be payback.
The payback had been a video of Louis when he was drunk in January and was shaking his ass on a table. Liam had recorded it laughing his ass off as he, Zayn, and Niall kept men away from him. Louis had been wasted that night and didn't remember it at all, but there was video evidence and now it was all over twitter. That video has caused a lot of fans to talk about his ass which had Louis bushing as he read the tweets.
So Louis made his Instagram public and posted a picture of him in Harry's lilac sweater standing in front of his floor length mirror. The sweater fell to his thighs, just long enough to cover everything that needed to be covered since he didn't have anything else on. It was a side view so his ass curve was visible and he made sure to stick out just a little bit more. In the caption he wrote,
Okay, but why do I have thousands of teen girls asking about my ass? 👀
Harry was the first one to like the post and commented,
👀 that's a nice sweater. Mind sharing? It's a bit chilly over here.
Send me new ones and we can discuss potentially sending you this sweater.
You realize my house has a closet full of sweaters. And my laundry detergent. As well as my cologne.
👀...You don't say...and for no particular reason...what's your address?
😂 I've conveniently forgot.
🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻
LEWIS! How dare you. This is a family friendly account
Yours is family friendly. Mine is not.
~~~~~~~~~~
Since October Louis' Instagram had been filled with a lot of things that involved Harry in some way. Most of it was pictures of the gifts Harry sent, now it was of their screenshot facetime calls or pictures Harry sent through texts. It was also of Louis posting his new flowers biweekly that was delivered to his house by a florist employee.
Occasionally it was regular things like a selfie or a picture of him and the lads flicking the camera off on a group shot. His middle finger apparently became a "thing" that Harry's fans loved, he didn't exactly know why nor did he really care. His family had taken the news to him dating Harry Styles pretty well all things considered as did the lads.
"So I've been thinking." Louis was pulled away from his phone by Liam speaking
"You didn't hurt yourself did you?" Louis asked
"Ha ha. I was thinking we all have vacation time and Valentine's Day is next week. How about we fly out to Orlando, Florida to see your boyfriend." Louis tensed, "if that is something you two are ready for."
"You want us to fly out to Orlando for Valentine's Day so I can meet my international popstar boyfriend for the first time? While he just happens to be in one place for a week."
"Without telling Harry. Yes. He gave you the address to his Orlando home to return the sweaters didn't he? Just bring them in person."
"But what if-"
"No what ifs. Come on Lou let's be impulsive one last time." Zayn said, "let's go to Orlando and have fun and meet your boyfriend."
"Alright. How much is a flight-"
"Nope. Not happening. We are all pitching in to buy your flight. It's our gift to you." Niall spoke this time grinning. "Besides thanks to you and your paranoia we all have a few thousand in our savings."
"What? No. I am buying my own-"
"No you're not. We got this. Now call your boss and tell her you need vacation for next week."
Louis grinned and went to his contacts thinking about how he got so lucky to have three amazing best friends. They have noticed that lately the distance has been affecting Louis more than he was willing to admit. The few times they all facetimed with Harry Louis knew they could see the longing in Harry's face too whenever he and Louis looked at each other. After getting the vacation he had until Saturday at 4am to keep it a secret from Harry.
Departure was 4am Saturday (11pm Friday Orlando time), the flight was 9 hours long so they would stay up all night Friday and sleep on the plane. Landing will be 8am Orlando time (1pm Manchester time). However since they were sleeping the flight down they were going to be adjusted to Orlando time. It was genius the way the lads had planned it, the return flight was the same, flying during the night so they landed in the morning at Manchester. Louis didn't know how he was expected to keep it a secret. He was terrible with secret keeping.
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College drop-out? I think not (Steve x reader)
@writersonicfan91
Request: Here’s an idea for you: Steve x Reader. The reader is in college and is worried about failing a class/exam. Steve does everything to help cheer her up.
Another sleepless night, sitting with your legs crossed on your bed at 2am, racing to get an assignment done with the due date at 4am tonight. You were almost done, you just needed about 8 more pages to type. You sighed while rubbing your eyes for the hundredth time and yawned.
“Why do I leave this stuff till the last minute?” You mumbled to yourself. Steve was an early riser and automatically woke up every morning at 4. But tonight he had to get a glass of water so on his way to the kitchen, he noticed a faint light coming from your room. He decided to take a peek to see what was going on and his eyes softened as he saw your exhausted form, almost falling asleep while typing.
“Hey, n/n.” He stepped further into your room and went to stay in front of you. You had been so focused on your work you still hadn’t noticed him enter until he lightly shook your shoulder.
“Oh! Hey.” You sighed and put the laptop to the side. Steve say by you on the bed and lovingly rubbed your back.
“You Okay? You look exhausted.” You sighed and covered your face with your hands.
“I am. I don’t know if I can keep this up, Steve. I’m just so tired of this. I get no rest, I’m always sacrificing my time for this, and I can’t even pass the classes anyway. What’s the point?” You complained.
Steve sighed and pulled you closer. “I know it can be tiring most times, and the classes can be hard to pass. But, you’re surviving. That’s the important thing. But remember, you’re the one who wanted to go to this school so bad.” He smirked.
“I know. You don’t have to remind me.” You groaned, making him chuckle. “I just didn’t know it would be this hard. I should just give myself a break and just drop out. I’ve given this enough of my time.”
Steve leaned back to look at you. “Now, although I agree with you giving yourself a break, and getting that it’s difficult, but I’m not too fond of you dropping out of school y/n. You’ve gotta finish strong.”
You groaned. “But Steve, it would be so much less stressful, and I’d be able to devote my time to more important things.” You pleaded. You knew it was a dead end but it didn’t hurt to try.
“Now, you know what my point of view on those things are y/n. We don’t drop out of school, or skip classes, or do whatever rebellious things maybe others are doing. You know that. But I do encourage you to stop stressing so much over school. Just give it your best. And if the best you can do is a 65 then accept it. There’s nothing you can do because you have it your best. But if you didn’t, then there’s a reason to be upset about it because you could’ve done better.” You sighed and looked down. “Okay?” He asked.
You slightly nodded, barely visible to him. “Oh, boy. Are you upset cause you’re not gettin your way again?” He teased. Steve has known you since you were 8 years old and since then you would always get salty when you didn’t get your way. Steve expected you to grow out of it eventually but it’s still going on strong as one of your biggest personalities. You shrugged and sighed again, making Steve chuckle. “Well, I suggest you change your attitude before things get crazy in here.” He mused, trying to make you laugh.
“What do you mean.” You mumbled. Steve shuffled closer to you.
“Well, remember what I used to do to you when you got punky?” He poked your side as a reminder and your eyes widened.
“No. Steve, no.” You stood up from your place on the bed.
Steve’s smirk widened. “Steve, yes!” He grabbed your arm and pulled you into a tight bear hug and launched his attack, zeroing in on your ribs first.
“Ahahahaha! Steheheheve! Yohohou know I hahahahate thahat!” Steve ignored you and blew a raspberry on the crook of your neck, making you melt into giggles. “stohohohohop!”
Steve squeezed around your sides and hips having to pin you down from all the bucking you were doing. “Stop being a brat then and maybe I’ll let you go.” He teased.
“I’m nohohot a brahahat!” You sunk down to the floor hoping he would leave you there but he only followed you down.
“It’s not gonna be that easy to get away n/n. You still need to get out of that mood you’re in.” He lifted your shirt and scribbled his fingers on your belly. Every time you’d try to grab his hands, he’d dodge them and find another spot on your belly to torture.
“Hahahahaha stohohohop ihihit!” You wanted to try something but you didn’t know if it was gonna work. But if it did, maybe the odds would be in your favor. You reached out to scribble your fingers on his sides and sighed of relief when he flinched back. However, the look he gave you made your stomach drop.
“Oh, you wanna play dirty now?” He chortled. You immediately started begging and pleading but he wasn’t having any of it. He bent down and blew a big, fat, slobbery raspberry right under your belly button. The scream you let out was unnatural and faded into silent laughter. He blew 2 more raspberries on your side and below your ribs and finally sat back to observe the puddle of giggly mush he made you. “So, are you done being bratty?” He started poking at your ribs for persuasion.
You arched your back and nodded frantically. “YEHEHES! Ihihihim sohorry. Really sorry.” You giggled. Steve pinched your belly once more and finally got off of you.
You rolled to your side to catch your breath better. “That was so unfair. I wasn’t even being that bratty.” You glared at him.
Steve chuckled and carried you to place you on the bed. “I know. I just needed a reason to cheer you up quickly.” He rubbed your back affectionately.
“Thanks Stevie. As much as I hate to admit it, I do feel better.” You smirked.
“I’m glad,” he chuckled. “Now get some rest. Leave this there,” he said, taking your laptop and putting it on the table. “And sleep. You deserve it. And tomorrow I’ll see if I can find a nice ice cream place we could go to. You’d like that?” You nodded and settled into bed.
“Yeah. Goodnight Steve.” He got up and kissed your forehead.
“Goodnight.” He left and closed the door, getting a glass of water and going back to bed himself.
#ticklish!reader#tickle fluff#tickle prompts#tickle fight#ticklish#ticklish marvel#marvel tickle#marvel mcu#marvel#avengers#captain america#steve rogers x reader#steve x reader#captain america x reader#avengers tickle
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Bad to Worse
A very poorly written thing because I’m tired and tried to finish this for today. It also is probably not going to get used in the final version, but I wanted it written anyway.
Anyway, meet Tomasz! I have @cirianne to thank for the creation of this kind boy. I’M SORRY I HAD TO GET THIS OUT OF ME OK.
WIP: Angel
POV: Tomasz
Date: Monday, May 4th 2026
If exam preparations have taught me one thing, it’s that I really should listen to past me when they say go to bed on time, because it is now 8:52am, and I am going to be late for class if I don’t hurry up.
I look a mess, I know, I’m wearing yesterday’s jeans, a t shirt I found on the top of my clean clothes pile, and my backpack is slung over my shoulder as I hurried to grab it on my way out of the halls. I hadn’t even had the chance to grab anything real for breakfast yet. Urgh, I can’t be like this. Not when I have an exam tomorrow. I should be better than this.
It’s fine, calm down. I think I’ve still got that chocolate bar in my bag from yesterday. That’ll do until I can grab something else later.
The journey from halls to my lecture hall isn’t that far, about a 10 minute walk at most, but if I run like I am now, I can probably be there for just about 9am. I hope.
I had been awake until almost 4am this morning, so I’m running on nothing but will power at the moment. I’ve been so carefully diligent with my work this year, I don’t know why I thought studying at 3am was a good idea. I know that it isn’t an option tonight, not when one of my final exams is tomorrow morning. 9am sharp!
I make it into the lecture hall with barely a minute to spare, and find my seat with my friends, already seated and waiting.
“Running late, Tomasz?” Heidi smirked as I practically threw my bag down beside my seat, panting like a dog.
“I am not late, thank you very much,” I replied. “Class hasn’t started yet, has it?”
“Close enough,” Bruno nodded in the direction of the door, tapping his pen against his notebook, where the Professor was just coming into the room. “What did you do, sleep in?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’m here, and that is what matters,” I pulled out my laptop, turning it on and tapping it impatiently. I really need an upgrade for this, but it’s all I can afford at the moment. It does its job well enough, just when I am a little more punctual.
I settle into the rhythm of the lecture quickly enough, sat with the friends I’ve come to know and learn with for the past seven months.
The time does pass ridiculously quickly during these formal-informal study sessions in preparation for our exams, but even I was surprised that Heidi actually looked at her phone when it buzzed.
Heidi was a student from southern Germany, somewhere bordering Austria I think. She’s a lovely girl, even if she is easily distracted. I can’t fault her though, she does well in classes and tests.
Bruno is quite the opposite. He is normally the one telling us to stop slacking and get studying. He’s technically German, but his family lived over in Kosmos for a few years when he was younger. I have to say, it’s very comforting to have someone from home here, even though he and his family left a few years ago.
She passes her phone aside to me, whispering aside “Look, Tomasz. You’ve still got family over there, right?”
The screen was a breaking news report, something that had happened in the last ten minutes.
Terrorist attack in Kosmosian capital.
I took it from her, skimming through the article. An explosion rocked the main street in the capital city as the citizens partake in their independence day festivities… there are dozens of confirmed casualties and at least 7 deaths…
Explosion. Casualties. Deaths!
Oh, no!
Terrorist attacks in my country are virtually unheard of. I don’t think there has been one, ever! At least, in my lifetime. What is going on there? I had totally forgotten that today was the Flower Festival, especially since my attempts at staying up until the early hours of this morning, but that’s a despicable strategy in order to ensure a lot of victims. Everyone is out in the streets today, it’s tradition for many of them.
“Not… in the capital, thankfully. But that’s awful.” I whispered, being careful not to distract the other students here.
That’s not entirely true though. I don’t have family there, true.
“I’ve got a friend there, in the capital.”
“Maybe you should give them a call?”
“She won’t have her phone, she’s not allowed it during the day,” I tell her as I pull out my phone, scrolling through my instant messages to find her contact. Słoneczka, I have her noted as, the picture is of her smiling back at me, taken the day she left Obokplaży before she started her shiny new job.
“Not allowed? Why wouldn’t she be allowed her phone?” Bruno joined in.
“She works for the Royal family. It’s kind of, a rule. She’ll see it later, I’m sure.” I told them as I started typing my message. Hey, Słoneczka. I saw the news, I hope everything’s okay over there. Stay safe.
I feel awful that I don’t try and call her, but I know it’s useless to even try. She just won’t be able to answer the call, so there’s no point. I hope she’ll see my message later, though. Maybe she’ll be allowed her phone to call her parents when things have calmed down, and she’ll see my message then.
“Oh yeah, I remember you saying. She’ll be fine. They’ve got tonnes of security, though, right?”
“Yeah, yeah…” I murmured, waiting for the confirmation that the message had been successfully delivered. It had.
I sent a message to my parents too, even though they’re home in Obokplazy, so I know they’ll be safe, but I wanted to be sure. It’s a terrible thing to happen.
“Tomasz, if you need to go, just go,” Heidi whispered to me, obviously aware that I hadn’t been paying attention for the last few minutes.
“No, I’m fine, I’ll be fine.” I said dismissively, putting my phone away and finally getting back to my lecture.
---
Date: Monday, May 4th 2026
By the time our morning break arrived, it seemed more frightful news reared its ugly head.
Something had happened at the castle, it seemed, due to the sudden arrival of the military and the total communication breakdown. One of the most unifying days in our calendar and it’s chaos over there, it seems. The last update was over an hour ago, and we had heard no more.
All I can think about it Matylda, over there in that castle. Whatever’s going on, she’s in the thick of it. I find myself staring at the message I sent her – still unread, and I just wish she would answer me. The rational part of my brain knows that if something is going on inside the castle, her last priority will be returning to her bedroom to fetch her phone and answer a half-hearted text from me, sent when I wasn’t aware that this had happened. I am also aware that even if she had her phone, the chances of her calling me are slim. I know what she’s like, she’ll call her parents first. In fact, should I call them? Should I just let them know that I am thinking about her? Ask them to let me know if they hear anything from her?
No, I shouldn’t. It would be rude and presumptuous of me. She’ll let me know in her own time, I’m sure. Besides, what Bruno said earlier is true. They’ve got the best security they could possibly have against any potential threat. She will be fine.
I still can’t shake the feeling, though, that something catastrophic has happened there. The radio silence is not helping either.
And of course this is happening around exam time.
There was one other Kosmosian national beside myself in our class, and she was shaken by the news, but her family live in Wgórach, so they’re safe from all the chaos. I’m thankful all the same that my family aren’t involved in any way.
Hey Słoneczka – I begin typing again – I hope you read this soon, and that everything is okay where you are.
I send the message before I even process what I wrote, and I am aware that the message I sent is probably… not the best way to end that.
I mean, I know it’s not. But I hope you and everyone else is alright. Let me know when you can.
The messages are still left unread, marked “Delivered”. It seems like an insult, mocking me, that I don’t know any more. Damn it, I’m worried about her. I haven’t seen her in almost a year, and I hope that the events over there haven’t taken her away from me. Of course I’ve spoken with her, and had conversations with her, but it’s not the same.
I don’t want to say there was something special in that kiss she gave me, because I am probably thinking too much into it, but there was something. The way she had stood on her tiptoes just to reach my cheek, and how scared she looked afterwards. I remember being stunned by her action, and could do no more to make her feel better than to return the kiss.
It was wonderful to share that with her. I just hope she’s okay.
---
Date: Monday, May 4th 2026
By the time 4pm rolls around – a whole 6 hours since the first reports of a terrorist attack – things have gone from bad, to very bad.
The headline this time is simple.
Kosmosian monarchy overthrown.
---
Date: Tuesday, May 5th 2026
I tried to focus on my exam, I truly did, but I knew it was a lost cause all the same. I was too distracted from the task at hand. I had hoped that my endless studying would prove an effective enough way to keep me occupied until things had calmed down, but it’s not working. It’s a plague eating at me, and I can’t help but worry about the implications.
Heidi thinks I shouldn’t even try the exam, not when all this is going on, but I wanted to give it a try anyway, hoping that the distraction is enough.
But it’s not, it’s really not.
Things were bad, over there. I promised myself that I wouldn’t read any news articles until after my exam, but that was a fruitless endeavour from the start. Someone who had read the news this morning said that the only airport in the entire country had been closed. No flights in or out. Same with the ports, no boats leaving the country anymore. Total radio silence too.
What is going on? It’s been totally closed off.
I really shouldn’t have tried to do this exam. I can’t think clearly. My mind is filled with these painful thoughts. I previously, naively, stupidly thought that my family would be okay because they aren’t in the capital, but now I am not so sure. Total isolation, and I haven’t heard a thing from them. Not even since yesterday.
The worst part of this is the implications for me now. I am a student here, yet still a Kosmosian national. I am expected to return home for the summer after term has ended, but that seems unlikely. That headline last night made sure to strike that fear into me, well and truly. How am I supposed to get home if they’ve closed the borders? Will I be allowed to stay here? Just what can I do from here, when my country is in turmoil just across the sea? Barely a two hour flight from here?
What about my parents? My friends? Matylda? I have no idea if they’re even alive. Matylda was there, she must still be in the castle, at best. She could be dead right now, if that takeover was as violent as the article sounded –
Stop it. Don’t think like that. She’s fine.
But it’s still sickening to think about. I can’t be here, but if I miss this exam I doubt I will have the student visa to allow me to stay. I have to at least try. Heidi and Bruno seem certain that I could have missed this exam with zero repercussions because of what’s happening, the turmoil, but as I said to them – I want distracting whilst everything calms down.
I don’t think that will be happening.
I should probably just admit to the professor what a terrible piece of work this essay is becoming. We’re barely an hour into this exam and it feels like I have been here for almost a day. My head is throbbing, and I can’t focus anymore on this.
I somehow managed to make it to the end of the exam, not that I am proud of the little I did write, but when I turned my phone back on, what I saw made me physically ill.
Someone had livestreamed what was going on, and a news reporter had picked it up. Just two hours ago, whilst I was still in that hall, was the live, public execution of the King.
The news station couldn’t show the actual regicide, of course, but it was more than enough for me to be sure of one thing.
Matylda is probably as dead as he is.
#my writing#my OC's#WIP: Angel#POV: Tomasz#can you tell I'm tired#it's not great#I can't write articles can you tell#but yeah#Tomasz is the previously (at one point) mentioned sweetheart of Matylda#he's a student studying in Germany atm#and things are........... bad#i think I'll post the wholesome stuff I have wrote for the two of them#they're precious and innocent and WHOLESOME DAMN IT
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true love sings
Description: y/n hates singing and opposes the idea of lessons until Seungmin reveals who exactly is going to be the singing tutor.
Genre: Fluff
Relationships: fem!reader x Woojin & fem!reader x Seungmin (platonically)
Parts (2 in total): Part Two (Part One here)
Word Count (this part): 1758
Author: Admin Lia
It had been a month since that first day you'd met with Woojin. You still hadn't had any official lessons - you'd only been to one, and that time you'd gone to give him money he'd looked at you funny. He claimed it was a "trial" lesson. You had shrugged and happily kept your money to yourself. However, you'd said that it was fine for him to be your singing teacher and that next time you'd definitely be paying.
You don't know what had changed your stubborn mind about singing. When Seungmin had questioned your grin after your first lesson, you'd muttered some half-assed excuse about liking the song Woojin was teaching you. However, you knew it was more to do with the teacher than with the song. Not that you'd ever admit it; he was just a singing instructor, after all. A very attractive singing instructor, at that.
Today was your second lesson. To say that you were excited would be the understatement of the century. Much to your annoyance, the only thing you had been able to think of the previous night was a specific blonde hair's melodic voice.
You were still confused about your mind's preoccupation when you opened the door to Woojin's office. He was actually with some entertainment company and trained the idols that the company produced, but taught other people in his spare time. You figured it must be a very busy life.
"Ah! Y/n!" Woojin greeted, sounding cheerful.
"Hi," you said, waving back. You weren't really a social butterfly. More of an introvert, your mother had told you.
"I was wondering if you were coming," Woojin said, sounding off-hand. You checked the clock in his room, noting that you were most certainly on time. You tilted your head, conveying your confusion to Woojin.
"You were very... unenthusiastic your first week here." That much was true, you supposed. Although last time you'd definitely still thought Woojin was cute - no, handsome - you were still furious with Seungmin for dragging your ass to some place that you only partially wanted to go to.
"Sorry," you blushed. "It's just that no one's really commented on my voice before, and never have I received a compliment for it."
"I'll have you know I've never heard such timbre from someone so unpracticed before," Woojin replied, turning around to grab a the same sheet of music you two had been discussing last week.
"My voice is nothing compared to yours," you stated truthfully. Woojin snorted, but you couldn't tell whether he agreed or not since he was still facing away from you.
The whole lesson went like that, with you getting flustered every time Woojin congratulated you. You were somewhat thankful when he finally announced that your lesson was over.
You stepped outside his office and took a huge breath of relief. As much as you'd love to stay wit Woojin, you didn't want to stay with him when all you were doing was being a foolish mess.
Woojin greeted another girl who'd been waiting outside his room, probably for a singing lesson also.He didn't noticed when she shot a dirty look at you for absolutely no reason.
You left the building, feeling somewhat down. What had you done to deserve an icy glare? However, you told yourself you wouldn't let that darken your day
For some reason, you started a discussion through text about singing before Seungmin asked you how it went. You rolled your eyes when he responded immediately with a keyboard smash and an all-caps text saying "SEE I KNEW YOU LIKED SINGING!" You sent back an emoji ticking its tongue out. You didn't necessarily like singing...not yet, anyway. You just liked your instructor. You weren't even going to deny that fact anymore - not to yourself, anyway.
Your next lesson was another week later. This time, Woojin started by singing a piece he'd created himself. It was exactly as you would have expected; soft, sweet. His voice swept over you as if it were honey, or silk. You thought you'd be able to listen to it all day. He sung a song about being surrounded by people, yet feeling so alone. When he was finished, you found yourself wiping away a small tear. His song was beautiful, but honestly, you weren't sure if you were crying because of the song or because of his voice.
It only took you are few more lessons for you to realize that Woojin was the work of an angel. He was always kind and never got frustrated, even if you had to repeat the same few bars over and over because you couldn't quite hit that one high note.
He'd ask you how your day was and you'd even have small conversations about difficulties in each other's lives. It was mostly you complaining about your flatmate who never would shut the front door after they went out, but still. You felt like you were possibly moving into Woojin's "friend" zone.
After your first month of lessons with Woojin, you met for the first time outside his office. You'd called him and asked him to meet you at a nearby cafe to check through a song you'd randomly made at 4am the last night. You wouldn't admit it to Seungmin, but you'd actually somewhat developed a passion for music. And it wasn't entirely because of Woojin, either. You genuinely enjoyed how it could influence one's emotions so well.
Although you might admit that you liked your singing tutor and that he was hot, you definitely wouldn't say that you liked him as in a crush-like, even though you were well aware that that had certainly developed over the month. And because you weren't admitting that, you definitely did not describe this coffee-shop date as a date to Woojin. You were conscious of the fact that that's pretty much what it was, though - a coffee shop date.
Apparently Woojin knew that too. There was an awkward moment when you'd both received your coffees and Woojin said, "Thanks for paying for the date." He'd corrected himself immediately, saying, "I mean, for the food today. That vanilla cake was really good."
You smiled but couldn't help wonder if he liked the idea that this was a date. However, you didn't have the courage to ask him that.
"I know. I come here a lot. The eclairs are better, though," you said instead.
It was what Woojin said next that really shocked you. "I'd be willing to share one with you next time."
You sat there for a good ten seconds, you mouth open, trying to form a word but your brain failing to put together a sentence that made logical sense and wasn't embarrassing as hell.
"I mean, if you want a next time," Woojin said, looking uncomfortable.
"Yes! Yes I do!" You said that a little too excitedly and people in the adjacent tables looked at you funny.
"Haha, well we've still yet to listen to that song of yours," Woojin commented, tapping the laptop in the spare seat next to you. You pulled out the computer and typed in your password. You'd forgotten that you'd been listening to music with headphones in before, so a random song blasted out.
You quickly shoved headphones into the slot and turned the offending music off, flipping to your music app. Sure, it had cost you a good twenty dollars, but you were certainly putting it to good use. Who would've guessed that you'd become this obsessed with music in just a month?
Woojin's face was thoughtful as he listened to your song. It was slightly lame, you realised. It was about love, but not the romantic kind. It was about lacking physical touch. Really, it was just your way of saying "I WANT CUDDLES MY FLATMATE HATES ME". Your flatmate was the only person who you saw on a daily basis, yet they were cold towards you. Sure, you were best friends with Seungmin and you guys talked a lot, but you were just missing that bit more. You were missing someone to cuddle up with when a movie was playing.
When Woojin asked you what the song was about once it had stopped playing, you explained this to him.
"I'd be willing to be the flatmate substitute," Woojin had joked after. Or at least, you think he was joking.
"Please? I'd love a cuddle." You pouted and Woojin laughed. Suddenly you wondered how this had happened; Woojin was your singing instructor, not your boyfriend. He shouldn't be sitting in this coffee shop with you, heavily hinting that he'd enjoy a movie date with you.
"Y/N? What's wrong?" Woojin had immediately noticed your mood change.
"Ah..nothing..." An awkward moment followed and you gave up, choking on the mouthful of vanilla cake you'd been inhaling. Yes, you were sharing the vanilla cake. Woojin claimed he'd had a big lunch and couldn't bear the thought of eating a whole slic eof cake by himself. Really, it was cute.
"Do you think it's proper for us to hang out like this?" you asked. "I mean, you're just my tutor, and as much as I enjoy this...I dunno." You frowned.
"Why wouldn't it be?" Woojin asked, holding your hand and allowing his warmth to envelop you. "It's not like I'm your teacher at school or anything, we're both legal-"
That had you frowning at him. You'd meant "is it proper for a tutor to be friends with their students", but if Woojin was going to take it the way meaning "is it proper for a tutor to be boyfriend to a student", then sure.
"So you'd like to do this with me more often?"
"Y/N-ah, get to the part where you ask me out."
"Hey! You don't know I was going to do that!" You persisted on being annoying in situations like these.
"Fine." He pouted cutely.
"Well okay, maybe I was going to ask you ifyouwouldliketogotothemovieswithmenextsunday?"
"Y/N, you're stubborn but you're also funny and never fail to make my day every time you come to my lessons, yes I'd love to."
You looked into Woojin's shining eyes and knew he wasn't lying. His eyes, they were shining because you'd made them shine.
And you couldn't wait to make them shine every day from there onwards.
"Wait, what the hELL?" That was Seungmin's reaction later that day. He'd barged into your flat ten minutes later, demanding answers.
"I love Kim fucking Woojin," was the only explanation you'd provided, flopping happily onto the bed behind you.
~Admin Lia
#stray kids fanfic#stray kids#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagine#stray kids scenerios#stray kids seungmin#seungmin#woojin#kim woojin#kim seungmin#woojin fluff#fem!reader#kpop fanfic#woojin x reader
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Small World: Joseph/OC Part 24
The search for Jacob continues and Joseph gets a shock.
Warning: Sexual Scenes.
(3 Days Later: John is sitting on the sofa with his laptop perched on his lap. He is sipping coffee and frowning at the screen. His cell phone rings and he picks it up holding it to his ear. It’s an old acquaintance of his. He smiles as the city official on the end of the phone relays the information that he asked for.). John: Thank you. (John grins like a Cheshire cat before letting out a small chuckle.). John: Of course. Your dirty little secret is safe with me. (He ends the call and returns his attention to his laptop. He types away furiously. He then rubs his eyes and downs the rest of his coffee. He’s been up since 4am. Joseph left early to continue his search for Jacob. John spent most of the morning on the phone calling old friends and several police officers that he knows. Until he thought of an old acquaintance who he was sure would know something. John knew his dirty little secret. His weakness for prostitutes and drugs and he used it to get information. John can usually get anyone to tell him anything. He hears footsteps behind him and turns to see Lillith sit down next to him. She looks tired despite having slept in. It’s now nearly lunchtime. John decides not to say anything. He doesn’t want to ruin all the progress she’s made recently. She is wearing a baggy black top and a pair of shorts. She smiles at him. He smiles back. She runs a hand through his hair.).
Lillith: How long have you been sat here? John: Since about six this morning. (She sighs.). Lillith: I didn’t think you’d come back to bed. I waited but... John: I’m sorry. Joseph got up early and woke me. He asked if I would help him look for Jacob. I told him he could take my car and continue his search while I sat here on the phone asking lots of questions to lots of different people. Lillith: Do you need more coffee? John: That would be nice. I’ll have some crack in it too. Lillith: That’s not even funny. All you’re getting is coffee. John: Understood. Lillith: Good. Don’t make me get ugly with you Mr Duncan. John: Now I wouldn’t want that would I? (He grins at her and she finds herself smiling back. She never can resist Johns childlike grin. She gets up and picks up his mug going to the kitchen. She makes two coffees and brings them back to the lounge sitting back down next to him. She places the mugs on the table then leans against him.). Lillith: So are you any closer to finding Jacob? John: I’m not sure. I’ve found out a few things about him. Lillith: You have? Well that’s great. John: I’m not sure. It says here that he was remanded at a young offenders institute. That was around the time we left our foster parents and we were split up. Lillith: Because Jacob set light to their house. John: Yes. I don’t remember much of what happened back then. Lillith: You were only a baby. Maybe it’s just as well you don’t remember. John: Maybe. Jacob enlisted in the army. Lillith: He’s in the army? John: He was. He was discharged several years ago. He stayed at a military hospital for a time. But the hospital shut down. After that...Jacob just...Disappeared. Lillith: Disappeared? John: He has no driving licence, no current address, no job that I can find. His pension sits untouched. Lillith: He never claimed his pension? John: No. But then most people don’t cash their pension until they retire. So maybe he has a job somewhere. He could have a job. Or...He could be dead. Lillith: Don’t say that. John: What other reason could there be as to why he’s disappeared? There’s no record of him anywhere after the military hospital. Lillith: Is there a death certificate? John: I haven’t found one. But then it might not be online. I’ll have to go knock on some doors and see if I can access records. I’ll have to go to Rome though. It’s our hometown and Joseph is sure he’d have gone back there. Lillith: Maybe he’s there right now. Looking for you. John: Maybe. Lillith: Didn’t you say that Joseph has been looking at homeless shelters? John: He’s been to a few yes. Lillith: Well maybe that’s where he is. If there’s no current address for him and no death certificate then maybe he’s staying at a homeless shelter. I mean if he has no money or job then maybe he’s been taken in by a shelter. John: Maybe. Lillith: Don’t lose hope. You’ll find him. I know you will. You just haven’t looked in the right place. (John smiles at her.). John: I don’t deserve you. Lillith: No you don’t. (He chuckles.). John: You’re supposed to say of course you do John. (She laughs then leans over and kisses him. He turns off his laptop and puts it on the coffee table. He then pulls her closer to him and kisses her. She slides herself onto his lap straddling him. He slides his hands over her ass before sliding them underneath her top.). Lillith: I love you. (He groans and deepens the kiss sliding his tongue into her mouth. He lifts her top up and she pulls away from him lifting her arms up so that he can pull her top over her head. He throws it on the floor then unclips her bra while kissing her neck. She lets out a sigh. He slides her bra off and tosses it on the floor. She leans down and kisses his neck while she undoes his shirt sliding her hands over his bare chest. He lets out a breath. She slides his shirt off his shoulders and he shrugs out of it. She throws it behind her then leans down and starts placing kisses all over his chest as she undoes his jeans. She then starts sucking and nipping his chest which makes him groan. She then gets up and tugs on his jeans. He lifts himself up making it easier for her to pull his jeans off. She then yanks his boxers off. He leans forward and grabs her tugging her shorts and knickers down. She steps out of them and straddles him again kissing him. He runs his hands through her hair then reaches down sliding his fingers in between her legs. She gasps then lets out a moan. She clings to him as he moves his fingers expertly circling all the right places. It isn’t long before she’s sighing his name.). John: You’re so beautiful. (She loves it when he compliments her. She grabs his wrist and pulls his hand away from her. She then lowers herself onto his erection and kisses him again.). Lillith: Beautiful huh? John: Yes. Lillith: I love you. John: Ummm. (God how she wants to hear him say it. To hear him say it without her asking him to say it. She starts to move and he groans gripping her hips.). John: Fuck. (It isn’t long before they are both breathless and panting. She runs her hands through his hair then pulls it hard. John groans and tilts his head back. She leans down and bites his neck making him cry out in pleasure. He arches his back and lifts his hips rutting himself up into her. She cries out and grabs a fistful of his hair as she kisses him. He slides his tongue into her mouth as his hands slide over her back then over her ass. He slaps her ass hard making her shriek. He chuckles and slaps her ass again. She leans down and bites his nipple hard. He groans.). John: Yes. (He wraps his arms around her pulling her closer and biting her shoulder as she continues to move. She buries her head in his hair and grabs a fistful of it again. John is panting hard. She cries out loudly and clings to him digging her nails into his back and tugging on his hair. He groans and kisses and licks at her neck.). Lillith: I love you. John: Um. Yes. (John looks up and sees Joseph walking into the apartment. Joseph stares at them in shock before turning away.). Joseph: I’m sorry. I didn’t- Lillith: Oh my God. (John laughs.). John: Busted. (Lillith knows that she is blushing. She has never been so mortified in all of her life. She gets up and grabs the black silk throw wrapping it around herself. John picks her up and turns heading to his bedroom. He turns his head back to look at Joseph.). John: Back in a minute. (John disappears down the hall and Joseph hears the bedroom door close. He sighs and goes to the kitchen. He opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of water. He then takes a list out of his pocket and a pen. He crosses off the names of several homeless shelters. He looks at the ones that remain and wonders if he will find Jacob in one of them. He wonders if he would even recognise him now. A few minutes later John enters the kitchen. He is now wearing a pair of black jeans and no shirt. He opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of wine. He pours two glasses.). John: Wine? Joseph: No thank you. John: I found out that Jacob was in the army. Joseph: He was? John: Yes. He was discharged due to medical issues and hospitalized. However he was discharged from the hospital a couple of years ago. That is where the trail ends. He just...Disappeared. (John sighs.). Joseph: I searched more homeless shelters today. John: Hm. He might be homeless. I couldn’t find anything about him owning a property. He doesn’t even have a drivers licence and his pension is untouched. Joseph: We will find him. John: Will we? Joseph: Have faith John. (John takes a sip of wine.). Joseph: When are you back at work? John: Tomorrow. I’m meeting with a new client. Neighbour dispute that has turned nasty. Joseph: Hm. I wonder why people can’t just live together in peace. John: Because that’s not how the world works. Joseph: No. It is not. (John picks up the other wine glass.). John: I’m going to take this to Lillith. I think she’s still embarrassed. (John chuckles.). Joseph: Have you set a date for your wedding? (John stops dead and turns back to Joseph.). John: No. Joseph: Why not? John: I haven’t really had time to think about it. Joseph: John- John: What? Joseph: You should set a date. John: Well maybe I don’t want to. It’s none of your business. Joseph: You’re my brother. Of course it is. I want you to be happy. I like Lillith. She’s a lovely girl. John: Yes she is. And I am happy. Joseph: No. You’re not. (John turns and disappears back down the hall. Joseph sighs.).
#Far Cry 5#My Writing#Writing#Joseph Seed#Homeless Joe#original character#Small World#Chance Meeting#Rome Georgia#Atlanta Georgia#John Seed#John Duncan#Lillith Duncan-Seed
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