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linorachas · 3 years

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sunday's best. | bang chan

⁍ pairing — bang chan x reader ⁍ genre — fluff and smut ⁍ word count — 11.2k words ⁍ details — established relationship, domesticity, producer!chan, choreographer!reader, lots of cuddles and kissing (again), you're both really in love (again), hard smut | details under the cut ⁍ notes — part 2 of for the weekend is here! thank you so much to everyone who supported part 1 and asked for more. it gave me so much motivation to start and finish this one and i maaay have gotten a little bit carried away considering it's almost triple the size. and the smut... yea.... this could be read as a one-shot, but there’s a lot of elements from pt. 1 that i referenced in here, so please check that one out first! and also please please lmk if you enjoyed! ♥️ ⁍ summary — Day 2. Holding up your end of the deal, strawberry ice cream, and Ugly Cat bowls.

⁍ smut specifics — dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, one mention of the word "daddy", possessiveness on chan’s part (but not the asshole kind), a smidge of oral (f. receiving), orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, choking (but not really? just hand on throat), reader talks about liking the pain a lot, dry humping, slightest bit of cum play ⁍ little side note — please practice safe sex u guys. wrap it up. these guys are not good role models at all. be safe. also always pee after sex. plz. also this isn't proofread god bless

Saturday, 3:20 pm

“Time to fulfill my part of the deal so we can get on with yours.”

You hold your breath, stunned at the determination in Chan’s eyes. You’re distracted at the way his lips curl and at how his dimples pop out, your eyes following the line of his broad shoulders. You eye the ridges of his arms, down to the veins in his hands, parched throat swallowing when you get to his defined abs.

God, he was sexy.

You follow his happy trail, down and down until-- ah. Right. He was still naked. In the kitchen.

Your face scrunches up comically, desire disappearing as you hop off the counter and shoo him away.

“Go get some clothes, what the hell. Do you know how unsanitary it is to be naked in here? Gross, Chan.”

Staring at you in disbelief, Chan gapes, “after you just blatantly checked me out? I saw that!”

You walk past him, rummaging through the cupboards for food. “Unless you want me to come near you with a pair of scissors close to your-”

“I’m going, I’m going!” Chan shouts, as he rushes back to the bedroom, the panic in his voice making you laugh.

You’re just starting to fill up a pot with water when arms sneak around your waist and a very clingy but now fully dressed Bang Chan nuzzles his face into your neck, humming.

“What do you want me to cook for you, baby?” He asks excitedly, ready to do anything.

You snort. “Unless you can magically conjure up some groceries, I don’t think you can cook me anything at all.”

Chan freezes at that, releasing his hold on you so he could open the refrigerator and cupboards, mouth dropping in shock when he sees that there really was no food. You’ve both been so busy this week, spending most of your meals at that company, that you both probably forgot to do mini-grocery runs.

“Though we do have like, 4 packs of ramen left and half a can of spam.” You call Chan’s attention back to you, gesturing towards the food on the counter. Chan, the big eater that he was, deflates at the sight, looking exactly like a kicked puppy.

“Aw, I know that’s not enough for you, baby.” You coo, shuffling over to Chan to pinch his cheek. It starts gentle at first, but then you put a bit of pressure, narrowing your eyes. “But if you eat more than your share, I’m biting you.”

Chan yelps, nodding rapidly as your pinch his cheek harder, “okay! Okay! I won’t steal from your share, I promise, baby- ow!”

You relent soon after, pressing a sweet kiss to Chan’s reddened cheek as he scowls at you. “Good. Now let’s get cooking, because if I don’t have food in me in the next 3 minutes I really might start biting you.”

Chan jumps out of your reach at that, and you watch him with a smile as he bustles around to prepare your food. You get a bowl each after it cooks, perfectly equal in portion size. There aren’t any words being shared as you both settle on the couch, your thighs pressed together as you slurp on your noodles, putting on a drama you were both invested in. Chan doesn’t notice when you slip your one last remaining piece of spam into his bowl, too busy berating a main character for being stupid, but he does let you finish off the soup in his bowl.

You and Chan start working on chores after that, because when you were looking for the remote control under the couch, you’re greeted with a cloud of dust, making you sneeze thrice.

Chan laughs at you, but then he’s cut off by his own sneeze too. You share one look before you’re both scrambling towards the cleaning supplies.

It takes you both hours just to clean the whole apartment and do some laundry, the sky already dark when you settle back down on the couch.

Considering you literally had no ingredients to cook with, you decide to order for dinner, and there’s a small dispute as to who has to get up to accept the food and pay the delivery man. The fight is resolved with a quick game of rock, paper, scissors; Chan winning fairly, but you still complain on your way to the door.

“We should work out,” Chan pipes up suddenly when you’re both lying on your sides on the couch, him being the little spoon. Dinner was a quick affair, and now you’re both just basking in the happiness of having a full stomach.

You make a face. “Was that not enough of a workout?” you ask, referring to your spotless apartment.

Chan snorts, turning around so his front was facing you. But he slides down, making a sound akin to purr as he buries his face in your neck. “I mean, like. Yoga. Leg day reps. Jogging?”

You groan, pinching his side. “I dance for a living. You go work out. Let me rot on this couch for tonight.”

Chan laughs at that, but doesn’t pester you about it anymore. You let him rest on your clavicle as you focus on your attention to the drama that was currently airing on the TV, slightly interested now.

You’d have thought Chan was asleep if it wasn’t for the kisses that he presses on your neck, harmless little pecks that soon have a bit of teeth in them. You lean your head back, finding the action more comforting than anything, but then Chan’s tongue suddenly darts out to lick at a spot near your jaw, and you shiver.

You sigh, but you don’t push him away. Instead, your fingers card through his hair, making Chan groan happily. He stops pestering your neck then, enjoying your fingers massaging and scratching at his scalp.

But your first mistake was thinking you were safe, because suddenly, there’s a thigh slipping in between your legs, pressing against your covered mound.

“Ah,” you moan, surprised, but Chan doesn’t do anything else after that, just lets his thigh rest there. You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “I thought you were going to work out.”

“This is my workout.” Chan whispers, and when you feel his devilish smile against your skin, you knew you were doomed.

Chan presses his thigh against your clothed pussy more insistently, making you squirm. The thin material of your panties and sleep shorts barely provided any layers between you, heightening the pleasure.

His thigh flexes, and the feeling of your clit grinding down on the hardened muscle was simply too good to ignore, and you’re humping Chan’s thigh before you could even think twice about it.

“Good girl,” Chan praises when he notices your hips gyrating, leaning up for a second to press a sweet kiss to your lips. He continues to adjust, helping you find the best position for your pleasure. “Keep rubbing that pretty pussy on me, baby, that’s it.”

You moan when a hand slides under your shirt and brushes against one of your nipples, Chan rolling the slowly hardening nub between his fingers. You feel yourself getting wet embarrassingly quick, and you knew you could cum like this. Chan has made you cum multiple times before just from clitoral stimulation alone, and dry humping was no exception to that.

You’re just about to ask if he was really going to let you cum, but then Chan pulls his thigh away, and the knot in your stomach disappears.

You groan for an entirely different reason now, upset at your orgasm being taken away from you. But Chan busies himself with tugging at your shirt until you get the idea and take it off, and he immediately latches his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking.

You suck in a breath through gritted teeth, pressing his head closer to your chest as he paid attention to both your nipples, licking and sucking and biting. You were getting uncomfortably wet now, your panties damp, and you convey this to Chan in hopes that he would speed things up.

You should have known that it would just spur him on.

“You wet for me already?” Chan asks once he stops marking your breasts, facing you with a grin.

You nod rapidly. “Yes, so if you could fuck m-”

“Ah,” Chan tuts, “let me feel first.”

You don’t even get a chance to protest because Chan’s hand is already disappearing, slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties to slide two of his fingers between your folds. You jolt at the contact, moaning as he uses those two fingers to rub circles on your clit gently.

“Chan,” you moan and he hums distractedly, leaning down to suck more marks on your skin. He slips in a finger without warning, but since you were so wet and ready for him, you took his finger in easily.

Chan curses, testing the waters by slipping in a second finger slowly, and though there was a bit of a sting this time, his second finger slides in just as easily.

“God, baby, you’re soaking.”

Chan crooks his fingers, brushing against your g-spot almost immediately, making you jolt and whine. He picks up the pace, fingers fucking in and out you fast despite your underwear and shorts restricting most of his hand movement.

He comes up for a kiss, your mouth opening automatically for him to slip his tongue in. He groans into your mouth at your obedience, free hand gripping your jaw tight. He sucks on your tongue just as he adds a third finger, and you pull away to hiss.

Chan’s fingers were long and filled you up nicely, and with how he was rubbing at your g-spot insistently, it wasn’t long before you felt your orgasm climbing up again.

“I’m prepping you, but it looks like you don’t need it with how you’re sucking my fingers in, baby.” Chan shakes his head, playful disbelief coloring his tone. “Did you think about my cock in you all day? Wanted me to fuck you that bad?”

“Yeah, yes, I- ah,” you gasp, nodding at his words rapidly. Chan leans in to kiss you again, but you manage to stop him with a shaky hand pressed to his chest, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“You held up your end of the deal,” you whisper, already breathless, “it’s time I hold up mine.”

Chan’s eyes darken, and you squeak when he suddenly sits up on his knees, free hand yanking your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion. He leans back down to get the kiss you stopped at before, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and making you moan.

“But first,” Chan murmurs against your lips, voice leaving no room for discussion. “You cum for me now.”

Now that there was no clothing to restrict his hand movements, the pace of Chan’s fingers picked up faster, driving you crazy and making you squirm on the couch. Chan pins your hips down with his other hand so he could drive his fingers into you easily, and the wet sounds of his fingers thrusting inside your cunt was so lewd you felt yourself blushing.

It only takes a quick brush of Chan’s thumb against your clit to have your body snapping, trembling in Chan’s arms as your hole convulses against his fingers. Chan groans like he was the one having an orgasm, eyes appreciatively staring at the way your head was thrown back, chest heaving up and down.

Chan pulls his fingers out carefully, planning to just wipe them on his shirt, but then you make a noise, catching his attention. He looks up, confused, but then sees the way your gaze was trained on his fingers— which were slicked with your juices— and his cock got so hard, it started to hurt.

“Fuck, you’re filthy.” Chan whispers, but he brings his fingers up to your lips, letting you lick and suck to your heart’s content. Chan swallows as you look up at him through your lashes, cleaning his fingers thoroughly with long swipes of your tongue. For each glimpse he sees of the wet appendage around his finger, his dick jumps in his sweatpants.

You pull off slowly when you finish, eyes still locked with Chan’s. The both of you were breathing hard now, gazes intense as you stared each other down. At first, you felt like both the predator and the prey. Chan could destroy you with his fingers alone if he wanted to, but he was easy to fluster as well.

But then Chan tilts your head up with a single finger, leaning down to press a soft, slow kiss to your lips, a kiss so full of intent, lust and— love, that it leaves you breathless, eyes wide.

Chan lips quirk. “Bedroom?”

Saturday, 10:41 pm.

“Arch for me, baby.” Chan orders, breathless, hand smoothing down your lower back. You were truthfully too weak to hold yourself up already, mind numbed with pleasure, but you do your best, legs shaking with the effort to present yourself. But the pleased grumble that immediately comes out of Chan definitely makes the grueling position worth it.

You were both naked now, having shed Chan’s clothes as soon as you stumbled through the bedroom door, after you spent a good ten minutes just making out against it. Chan had shut the door with a quick kick, carrying you on the way to the bed even though it was only a few steps away.

But you didn’t complain, not when he dropped you in the middle and immediately manhandled you to your hand and knees, tugging your hips close to him with a grunt.

“That’s my good girl,” Chan leans down, whispering the words against the nape of your neck as the tip of his cock slid between your folds.

You start whining, because you were much more exposed in this position and you were being good but Chan wasn’t doing anything about it and you just wanted to be fucked. You convey your displeasure by pushing back against Chan’s cock, trying to get it to slip in you without his help.

“Want it inside, sweetheart? Hm?” Chan mumbles against your ear, teeth nipping at the lobe teasingly. “I can feel your greedy little hole twitching against me. Shit, you want it that bad?”

You nod rapidly, uncaring of how desperate you looked. Mostly because Chan liked that look on you. He liked knowing that you let your guard down around him, that nobody in the world could bring you to your knees and have you begging to be filled like he does.

Chan never explicitly shows how much he likes thinking that you belong to him, because he really does believe you’re your own person and not an object to be owned. But here, like this, with your throbbing pussy against this cock and your teary eyes pitifully looking up at him to do something, anything— it brought out a sense of possessiveness in Chan that he never knew he had.

These were the kind of feelings that only you could bring out of him. You were the only one who ever made him feel like this, and the rush of both excitement and fear over it admittedly has him going crazy at times.

But there’s nothing in the world he loves more than knowing you feel exactly the same.

He sees this in the way you tilt your head up, begging for a kiss. It has him breaking out of character, lips tugging up into a fond smile, since he’d planned to be mean and tease you for a bit. But he doesn’t resist when he leans down to kiss you, not when the urge is so strong. Especially not when your smile against his lips felt like the world’s most addicting drug.

Ah, how lucky was he to have fallen in love with you?

“Channie,” you hiccup once he pulls away, and he presses kisses down your shoulder, hiding a smile. This is why he could never be a hard dom with you. One kiss and he’s weak.

“Mhm, I got it, I got it. Just relax for me, yeah? I’ll fill you up real good, sweetheart. Just relax for me.” Chan soothes, pulling back to sit up on his knees.

He grabs a hold of his cock so he could line it up and push in, but then he can’t stop the groan that comes out his throat when the contact eases the pressure on his cock. He hasn’t been touched since you started, and with how wet you were when he pressed against you, he didn’t even need lube. His hand slid up and down easily.

You bit your lip. You were torn between enjoying the godly image of Chan jerking off to the sight of you bent over for him or finally enjoying the feeling of being filled up. Chan pleasuring himself was always a sight to see, veiny arms flexing every time his hand moved.

His eyes fluttered close, and your eyes greedily followed the line of his jaw and the long column of his throat, mouth dry with how much you wanted to suck marks on it.

But you were once again reminded why you can’t, and you were in this position for a reason.

“My end of the deal,” you start, catching your boyfriend’s attention, “was to let myself be fucked six ways to sunday.”

You pause, your hand sliding behind you to slip your own fingers into your soaking pussy. You moan when one finger slips right in, bright eyes meeting Chan’s dark ones.

“Should I have just done that myself?”

Nothing could have prepared you for the way Chan yanked your finger out, gaze hard as he locked both your arms behind you back. He was only holding your arms back with one of his hands, but the grip felt as tight as a rope.

You shiver in anticipation.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby.” Chan hisses, finally pushing his cock inside, easily slipping in with how wet and stretched you were from his fingers.

He moves slowly, determined to make you feel every inch and ridge and vein of his cock against your clenching walls. You squirm and gasp as he pushes and pushes, filling you up so well until his hips are finally flushed against your ass.

“I’ll fuck you so well you’ll feel it here,” he slides his free hand down to your lower stomach, pressing down until he almost feels his cock bulging in you, “and you’ll feel it until next weekend.”

Then he pulls back and thrusts inside again, this time slamming in hard.

You choke on a breath, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Chan goes in deep and fast. The position allowed him to reach inside you deeper than ever, and you almost swear you feel him in your stomach.

He finds your g-spot again in no time, knowing your body better than you do. You jerk in his hold when he does and a scream gets stuck in your throat, and the fact that you could feel Chan’s amusement from your reaction just made it even hotter. You had no time to breath from how hard and fast Chan was fucking you, let alone make a sound.

God, you loved it.

It’s what has you cumming in no more than three more thrusts, mouth gaping like a fish out of water as the knot in your stomach finally snapped. Chan seems to have noticed, given that you were clenching around him like crazy, and the laugh he lets out is so attractive that you feel yourself clench again.

“Aww, already, Y/N?” He teases, making you flush. He sounded smug, and you made a mental note to kick him for it later.

And though he seemed to have noticed your orgasm, Chan doesn’t stop. In fact, he shifts his position and somehow finds a way to push himself in deeper, forcefully pushing a long, drawn out moan from your throat. He makes you ride out your orgasm, eyes staring intently at the way his cock slid in out of you, covered in your juices.

“Shit, Channn,” you groan out his name, voice breaking as he continues to drive his cock into you. “I- ah, ah, Channie, please, I can’t-“

“You can,” Chan grunts out simply, as if he knew your core was already tightening for your second orgasm in a row.

You open your mouth again to plead— for him to stop or keep going? you didn’t know— but then Chan slows down, and you finally manage to suck in the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Keeping his cock in you, Chan lets go of your arms, both of his hands now sliding under your torso to pull you up. You gasp at the sudden change in position, now sitting back on your knees as Chan’s arm wrapped snugly around your waist.

“Fuck,” Chan grunts in your ear, inhaling through gritted teeth as he thrusts into you again properly. His fingers trail down your hips and up your stomach, hands brushing up and down your skin like he was mapping it out. It tickled, and with every brush of Chan’s hand against a sensitive part of your body, you clench.

He moans lowly, the sound right by your ear and making you shiver. “You open up so well for me. You always do. So perfect for me, beautiful.”

Chan presses heated kisses on your shoulder, hands now gripping your waist tight so he could position you in a way that was pleasurable for both of you. When Chan’s lips trail higher, you subconsciously bear your neck to him, making him smile.

“Please,” you breathe out, your eyes stinging from the almost painful knot in your stomach, back so soon even though you’ve just calmed down.

“Again.” Chan exhales against your ear, hips picking up that demonic pace again. “Cum for me again.”

You moan, nodding mindlessly as Chan pulls you back onto his cock at the same time he thrusts forward. His big cock fills you up in all the right places, brushing against your sweet spot constantly and driving you crazy each time.

Since you were now being held up by Chan himself, you didn’t know what to do with your hands at this point, nails digging into your palms and creating indents.

But Chan, as attentive as ever even when he’s fucking you into oblivion, notices your hand situation and guides your arms upwards, pushing them back until your hands tangle in his hair instead.

The new position worked well for the both of you, because your back was arched to accommodate your arms, and Chan could drive his cock in that good kind of deep again.

Chan’s grunts by your ear just get you even hotter, along with his hisses every time you clench around him. He murmurs dirty praises in your ear, telling you over and over again how good your cunt felt around him and how you were taking him so well and how he’d love nothing more to be buried in you forever, so you’d never feel empty again.

The last straw is when his free hand comes up to your neck, fingers closing around your jaw so he could tilt your head up. You gasps noisily at that, tugging on his hair in surprise. You and Chan have talked about choking before, and though he wasn’t really cutting off your air, the feeling of his hand around your throat was more than enough to get you locking up around him.

Chan coos, lips brushing against your cheek as he talked you towards your orgasm. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. Let me feel you cream around my cock again,” he grunts, pushing through the tight vice-like grip your walls had around him, “Come on, gorgeous. Let me feel it. Want you to cum for me again.”

You sob out Chan’s name, unaware of the tears slipping down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and came for the second time in a matter of minutes. It was too fast, too sudden, still too sensitive from your last orgasm—

—and it was everything you ever wanted.

Chan immediately slows down when you start spasming around him, letting you ride out your orgasm slowly this time. He continues to murmur praises in your ear, pressing open mouthed kisses on the shoulder nearest to him.

You’re hiccuping and gasping his name, fingers tugging on his hair desperately. You were so lost in pleasure that you don’t notice him slowly pulling out and sitting back on his knees, pulling you back with him. He untangles your hands from his hair gently, and your arms limp at your sides now that you’re slumped over.

Chan brushes your hair back from your sweaty face when your head lolls back, and you easily accept the searing kiss that he presses on your lips. Though you were barely kissing back, breathing too hard to move your lips, you refused to let him pull away.

Chan’s kisses were like air for you during times like this, and you drink them in greedily.

“You were so good for me.” Chan praises once he pulls away, eyes bright as he stares down at you lovingly, thumb brushing against the tear tracks on your cheeks. “My good girl.”

Slipping an arm under your knees, he rearranges your positions so you could lie down on the middle of the bed. Chan lies on his side next to you, one hand propping his head up while the other hand intertwines with yours, squeezing every few seconds.

You were in a limbo, somewhere between still being conscious of your surroundings and feeling floaty, but Chan’s murmured praises and constant touches bring you back to the ground fully.

“Good?” Chan asks, sounding genuine, but you catch the smug look in his eyes.

You laugh quietly in response, eyes rolling good-naturedly, hand coming up to punch him playfully. Chan grins wide, leaning down so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

And when he pulls away, he brings your intertwined hands up to his face so he could place a kiss on the back of your hand too. You shudder from the sudden wave of affection going through you, feeling so lucky to be taken care of by someone as caring as Chan.

But. There was one issue.

“Channie,” you exhale, shifting to your side so you could plaster your sweaty body close to his, burying your face in his neck and breathing in his scent.

“Hmm?” He lets go of your hand so he could tuck your hair behind your ear, wanting to see your face.

“You didn’t-“ you start, indicating to the hard-on pressed against your thigh. You hear the breath he sucks in when you grind against it, but then there’s a hand stopping your hips from moving any more.

“We don’t have to.” Chan reassures, referring to your fucked out state as nicely as he could. It made you chuckle, until— “I already made you cry, anyway.”

You swat at his stomach, making him groan and laugh at the same time. He falls back onto the mattress, giggling as he shielded his torso away from your hands.

He was right, though. Your legs were already shaking, and you couldn’t even begin to imagine how sore you would be tomorrow. Not to mention the different bite marks around your body. You look like you’ve just been mauled by a wild animal.

But—

“I want more.” You whine softly, knowing it got to Chan whenever you vocalized what you wanted. You crawl up his body slowly, watching as he licked his lips. You hips lower, sitting right on Chan’s cock and grinding, and you relish in the way his teeth grits.

You lean down, letting your lips brush against his ear before whispering, “Want you to cum in me.”

“Shit,” Chan curses, hands coming up to catch your hips in a bruising grip, halting your movements again. He was definitely holding back for your sake, but you didn’t want that. You had a deal to uphold.

“Come on, daddy.” You purr in his ear, grinning when he tenses again. “Don’t you want to fuck me full of your cum?”

You squeak when Chan flips your positions, him now on top of you and your arms pinned above your head. You breathe heavily, watching as his glazed eyes rake over your marked form, like he was taking you in. Carving the way you look into his memories.

He leans down then, arms caging the sides of your head. “You drive me crazy.” He admits, voice fond despite his heated look, and you blush all the way to the tip of your ears.

“Crazy enough for you to fuck me into the mattress?” You ask, voice tilting up hopefully as you flush, but you’re cut off by your own moan when Chan suddenly spreads your legs and ducks down, tongue licking a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck!” You gasp at the sudden attack to your sensitive pussy, head throwing back and hands immediately coming down to grip Chan’s hair. “You- what are you- oh, fuck me.”

You could feel the puffs of breath against your clit as Chan laughed, and you hit him on the back using your foot, annoyed that he was laughing as you lost your mind. He ignores you, swirling and flicking his tongue around the sensitive nub, before continuing to dip his tongue inside you.

The moan he lets out rivals your own, and you gasp as Chan eats pussy like he’s a starved man and it's his first meal, the slurping noises he makes sounding lewd even to your own ears.

You chant his name like a prayer, squirming on the bed as you tug on his hair hard. That only serves to make him moan, which in turn also made you clench again.

“Baby,” you sob, “please. If I don’t get your cock in me, I’ll- I- please.”

Chan finally lets up at that, pressing one last kiss to your swollen clit before he kisses his way up your body.

“Yeah? You need it?” He asks, breathless, but it was clear he wasn’t waiting for an answer. He must be as worked up as you are, because there was no more teasing this time, and you gasp when you feel the head of his cock brushing against your slit.

“What the hell was that,” you demand, voice clipped because Chan was pushing inside you again, testing the waters with miniscule thrusts. You jerk each time.

“Wanted you to shut up.” Chan chuckles, but he’s cut off by his own groan when he feels your hot, velvety walls clamp around him in response. He sucks in a deep breath, feeling how wet you were from both your juices and his spit.

“Shit, baby, how are you still so tight?” Chan sighs contentedly, pressing open mouthed kisses to your cheek. He’s got his upper arms on either side of your head, and you’re so close together that your breasts press against his chest, making you jolt with every brush of your nipples against his pecs. “You fit my cock so well, got me so hard-“

“It’s cause- ah, I’m made for you, shit, right there-” you slur mindlessly, head thrown back from the pleasure as Chan drove straight into your g-spot again and again. The way he hit it so precisely each time should have freaked you out, but you were far too out of your mind with pleasure to think about it.

Chan’s hips falter at the words.

“What did you say, baby? Say that again.” Chan demands, sounding desperate, and you gather all the strength you had left to pick your head up and look up at him. With how close you were, you were pressed nose to nose, Chan leaning down even further so your forehead pressed together. You meet eyes, and you shudder at the intensity of his gaze, suddenly looking much more animalistic than before. Ah.

Bullseye.

“Was made for you.” You murmur again, clearer now, arms coming up to wrap around Chan’s shoulders for leverage as he used you to get to his own orgasm. “I take your cock well because you’ve ruined me for anybody else, Chan,” you admit, eyes shaking. “Nobody’s ever— ever going to make me feel like this. Like you do- oh, fuck!”

You feel Chan bristling at the mention of someone else, and despite your fuzzy mind, you rush to placate him. “I’m yours, baby. Just yours.” you swear, cupping his cheek and forcing him to focus his gaze on you. You needed him to understand. “Any way you want. All of me. I’m all yours.”

Chan’s hips stutter, and he leans down to press your mouths together again. He’s moving too much to have your lips locked in a proper kiss, but he nibbles your lips, breathing heavily as he whispers, “Mine.” over and over again against your jaw.

Your legs come up to wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind him. The pleasure and pain was so blurred that it was making you tear up again, but you pull him closer and beg him to go harder.

There’s a certain urgency to his thrusts now, more frantic and more desperate now that he’s let himself go, and you relish in his unrestrained groans and moans mixing with your own.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice guttural, and just the sounds of his fucked out voice saying your name has you tightening immediately again, making both you and Chan gasp. “Shit, baby, wait, I’m close- where-“

“Inside.” You beg, now nose to nose to Chan as he leaned his forehead on top of yours, eyes searching frantically. “Inside. I told you earlier, didn’t I?”

Chan groans, a loud and raw sound that vibrates against your chest, especially when he ducks his head down to the side so you were cheek to cheek now. You feel his teeth nip at your earlobe, low moans loud in your ear as his thrusts get more sloppy and uncoordinated.

“Y/N, are you-“

“I’m sure, Chan.” You turn your head, and your lips brush against his ear when you beg, “cum inside me. I want to feel it, want you to fuck your cum back into me. Please.”

Chan grunts, cock pulsing inside you at the thought. He was so close— teetering right at the edge as you continued to clench around him and whisper filthy things in his ear.

The last straw is when you tug his head back just in time, forcibly making your gazes meet when you whisper,

“Please, baby. Remind me that I’m yours.”

Chan’s jaw clenches, teeth grinding together as he finally stills and pumps his cum into you. The first spurt has you gasping noisily, clutching onto Chan tightly as he fills you up. You maintain eye contact for one glorious moment, but Chan’s eyes eventually flutter shut due to the overwhelming pleasure. You watch as his head lolls back, throat working out grunts and moans, complete bliss on his face.

The look is what triggers your fourth and final orgasm; dry and painfully, painfully good.

When he picks his head back up, your lips meet in a bruising kiss, tongues sliding against each other and teeth clacking as you both ride out your orgasm, him milking his cock inside you.

If you were filled before, you were bursting at the seams now.

Chan doesn’t pull out for a couple of minutes, the both of you catching your breath. But when he does finally pull out you immediately hiss, clearly oversensitive.

You clench unconsciously, but it’s no use, because you’re already shuddering from the feeling of Chan’s cum trailing out your hole.

Chan swallows, eyes staring intently at the way you clenched and unclenched with his cum dripping out of you, and he curses when his spent dick gives an interested twitch.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you croak out, shaking as you stretch your legs out. “If you so much as touch me right now, I might pass out.”

Chan’s lips quirk at the playfulness in your tone, but he knew there was some truth to your words. So he asks you if he can go get something to clean you up, only moving when you give him a clear response of yes. He’s back with a clean, damp cotton towel a minute later, as well as a bottle of water.

You groan in thanks when he makes you drink, patiently waiting until you’re finished to call your attention.

“Baby,” he calls, and you turn your head to face him. He holds the towel up as a form of a question, and you sigh, knowing it was better than nothing. You weren’t in any position to shower right now.

“Be careful, pl-“

“Shh.” Chan smoothes, starting by rubbing a thumb on your thigh. You were so high-strung that even that simple touch startled you, but Chan takes his sweet time and doesn’t rush you, distracting you with kisses every time you spasm.

He finishes cleaning you up soon enough, doing all the work and refusing to let you lift even a finger. You end up cuddled together after, just basking in each other’s warmth and your post-orgasm glows.

Sex with Chan was always amazing, because no matter how slow or how hard and fast you two went, it always ended in sweet kisses and cuddling. Chan never takes his hands off you, not even for a second, always attentive to your needs and wants. You wouldn’t trade it for anything in the whole wide world.

In the background, a phone pings, jolting you out of your daze.

“Babe,” Chan calls when he unlocks his phone, chuckling under his breath. “I really did fuck you six ways to sunday.”

You prop your head up on his arm, peering up at his phone lazily. The first thing you see is a picture of you on the lockscreen, taken from when you were napping on his studio couch. The second thing you see is the time and date.

Sunday, 1:34 am.

You snort, turning away from the harsh glare of his phone to bury your face in his bicep. “That wasn’t even six. That was like— three. Or four at most. I don’t know. I blacked out.”

Chan snickers, locking his phone and tossing it on the nightstand. He’ll deal with the notifications tomorrow. For now...

He turns back to you, lips tugging into a smirk as he trails the tip of his fingers down your back, making you shudder.

“Wanna make it six, then? We still have time.”

You immediately yelp, slapping his hand away and rolling off him. You wiggle under the covers, tucking it around you to shield your body away from Chan’s hands.

“Are you crazy?! I can’t even feel my lower half!” You squawk, glaring at him from where you’re peeking behind the covers.

Chan laughs, that squeaky loud laugh you love that has his whole body shaking and eyes crinkling. He crawls over to you and nuzzles his face on top of your head, giggles pressing against your hair.

“Babyyy,” he whines, still laughing. “Let me in. I’m cold.”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “What will you trade me?”

Chan’s eyebrows wiggle. “Your blanket for my body.”

You groan in disgust, turning your body away from your laughing boyfriend. Chan usually thinks he’s soooo hilarious, and he believes you do too.

Hiding, you bite back a smile.

“Yah,” he complains now, wrapping his lanky limbs around your burrito looking form from behind. “Come out already. I wanna cuddle.”

You wiggle out the covers soon enough, because you truthfully wanted to cuddle too, and plus, Chan’s pecs were nice to lie on. He welcomes you in his arms easy, huffing out a laugh when you smooch one of his pecs lovingly.

“I’m kinda hungry.” You admit after a few minutes, making Chan groan in disbelief.

“You’re insatiable. There’s no end to that stomach, is there?” Chan asks rhetorically, and you open your mouth to answer because you want to annoy him, but Chan catches you before you could. His hand comes up to cover your mouth, though his hand was so big that he ends up covering your nose as well. “Nope. Shut up. Quiet now.”

You laugh behind his hand, squirming and struggling until he finally relents when you lick his palm. And as if he didn’t just fuck his cum into you earlier, Chan scrunches his face and says, “Gross.”

You scoff. “You fuck me well into the next day and you’re expecting me not to get hungry?!”

“But this kitchen is so far,” Chan whines, even though you didn’t really ask him to get food for you. You’re just about to tell him that, when he adds, “-but fine. I’ll miss you for all the time that it takes you to get food.”

Chan flops back on the bed, eyes shut and clearly expecting you to leave. You squawk, pretending to be offended and swatting at his chest. “You’re just going to let your girlfriend go out into the night like that?! When I can’t even walk?!”

Chan opens one eye, amused. “The night is just 15 steps away.”

“Fine.” you huff, scooting back to your position. You drop your head down on Chan’s chest-- hard-- making him yelp. “I wasn’t even that hungry anyway. And we don’t even have food.”

He laughs, hand automatically finding its way to your hair. “I’ll get you whatever you want tomorrow, I promise. We’ll get brunch on the way to getting groceries, okay? How about that?”

You sniffle. “I want chicken.”

Chan rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it, just fondness. “Then we’ll get chicken.”

“‘kay.”

You sigh happily, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Chan’s fingers carding through your hair. His pecs were the perfect pillows, and combined with your post-sex exhaustion and Chan’s warmth, you were sure you were about to fall sleep. Dreamland was one step away, and you’re just about to fall into the waiting arms of a deep sleep when suddenly--

Chan’s stomach growls. Loud.

You burst out laughing, body curling up and shaking as you turn to Chan, who was hiding his face behind his arms in embarrassment.

“And I’m the insatiable one?”

“Not one word.” Chan huffs, refusing to meet your eyes as he grabs some clothes to throw at you. They land on your face, a move you knew was deliberate because you were still giggling.

Chan was the cutest when he was flustered, and even in the dim lighting of your room, you could see how red his ears were.

So you both bundle up— in only a few articles of clothing since it was an unusually hot night— just for the sake of looking decent. Chan wiggles in some sweatpants, and you slip on his shirt and boxers.

When you get up from the bed, Chan-- ever the gentleman that he is-- genuinely panics when you flail due to your legs buckling, and his arms are around you holding you up before you could even blink.

“You really can’t walk?” Chan asks, sounding hilariously horrified.

“No-” you laugh, “don’t look so scared. You didn’t break me, idiot. I can definitely still walk, just let me get used to it.”

But Chan seemed to think otherwise, because suddenly, your feet are off the ground and you’re being carried bridal style. You yelp, arms coming up to lock around Chan’s neck so you don’t fall.

“What.” This is the second time you’ve been carried to the kitchen in under a day, courtesy of your muscly boyfriend who seemed to think picking people up was something you can do casually.

“It’d take too long. I’m hungry.” Chan huffs, and you roll your eyes, amused. Chan could be a baby when he was hungry, and this was evident in how he rummages through the fridge with little huffs after he sets you down.

“There’s nothing to eat.” He sighs, as if the both of you didn’t already know that.

You groan, leaning against the counter. “I’m pretty sure we have ice cream?”

“That’s not very healthy.” Chan frowns, but opens the freezer door anyway and grabs the tub when he sees it.

You only turn around for a second to get a spoon, but when you face Chan again, he’s already sitting cross-legged on the floor, brows furrowed as he attempts to use the lid to scoop out some ice cream. You huff out a breath, exasperated and fond at the same time.

He looks up at the sound, then grins when you meet eyes. He opens his arms then, beckoning you over, and you carefully sit between his legs. Chan shifts a little bit to the side, hooking his chin on your shoulder. You move your hair to the other side so it won’t bother Chan, and he presses a quick peck to your now exposed cheek in thanks.

You yelp when Chan places the icy tub on your bare thighs, then glare when he just giggles. Chan’s shirt was huge on you, so he pulled it over your knees, giving the tub of ice cream a blanket of sorts to sit on and sparing your thighs.

Then, he takes the spoon from your hand, stabbing it through the iced treat with all the strength of a man who works out.

It barely pokes through. The ice cream was too frozen.

But you still wow exaggeratedly in an attempt to boost his ego, squealing when Chan digs his free hand on your side and tickles you. The spoon still gets a tiny, tiny bit of ice cream though, and you hate that you still blush when Chan feeds it to you.

“I think we have to wait for this to melt.” Chan says, blowing on the tub. Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, giggling.

“Why are you blowing on it, then?”

“Why am I- oh.”

You laugh at the dumbstruck expression on Chan’s face, finally realizing he was unconsciously blowing on frozen ice cream. Your laugh echoes throughout the apartment, and it’s only at that moment that you realized how quiet it was. The refrigerator hums beside you two, but other than that and some cars passing by outside, it was complete silence.

You realize how dark it was too, the only light sources coming from the refrigerator, and your bedroom.

“Shouldn’t we turn on the light?” You ask, and Chan looks up from where he’s violently stabbing the ice cream.

“Eh. Fridge works. Plus it’s hot, so I’m not closing this.” Chan shrugs, then pauses when he sees the look on your face. He chuckles, pulling you closer to him by the waist. “Don’t be scared, baby. I’m right here, remember?”

“I’m not scared,” you scoff, but scoot closer to Chan anyway.

The ice cream eventually melts enough for the spoon to dig in, and you and Chan take turns feeding each other. Chan had his back against some drawers, while you were tucked between Chan’s legs, head on his shoulder and ice cream tub on your stomach. The condensation was wetting your shirt and making the cold seep to your stomach, but you didn’t mind. You were too comfortable to move.

Chan was making a habit of kissing you after he fed you a spoon, and you liked the feeling of his cold lips tasting like strawberries more than you’d like to admit. Some tongue slips in after a while, but it doesn’t go any further than that, both of you too exhausted.

The dim light of the fridge casts a yellowish hue on yours and Chan’s lower halves, creating shadows. You play with that for a moment, wiggling your legs and making shadow puppets of animals with your hands. Chan watches you silently, so silent that you think for a moment that he’d fallen asleep.

But then he drops the spoon into the tub— and all while keeping his other arm around your waist— reaches a hand out to the light so it creates a shadow, and shapes his hand into…

...half of a heart.

You grin stupidly, and the way your heart rattles inside your chest shouldn’t be normal. At all. You had to get checked out. This was the type of cheesy things Chan loved to do daily, yet you reacted to each and every one of them like it’s his first time doing so.

He loved leaving heart doodles on the whiteboard by the fridge that had your schedules in it, particularly hearts that were next to your name. He dedicates songs to you, writes about you, and even sings to you when you want him to. He stops by the practice room when he knows you’re inside, slipping in quickly to say hello and kiss your forehead, uncaring of the loud teasing from trainees.

But if you couldn’t say hello, if you were in the middle of something, he always, always made sure to leave a heart on the mirrors that were fogged up from intense dancing. Sometimes it would just be a heart, sometimes it was a doodle. Other times it was a message like; good luck, or see you at lunch, or hey sexy with a winking face.

Most of the time, it’s three simple words.

I love you, it would read.

“Yah,” Chan complains, jolting you out of your sappy stupor. “Are you going to leave me hanging?”

He’s frowning now, wiggling the little half heart around impatiently. You grin at that, muttering about how he was being a baby and making him huff. But then you finally reach forward, painfully aware of how your heart jumped from doing this one simple action.

You complete the heart, and you both watch the shadow that it forms.

Chan sighs happily, turning his head to press a quick, cold kiss to your cheek. You knew the heart wasn’t going to stay for long, since your arms would get tired, but Chan doesn’t break the heart to pull away.

Instead, he intertwines your fingers, letting the shadow from some weird version of your hands together, and it’s only then that he brings your hands back. You grin as you lean back against him again, Chan wrapping both arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head.

At 2:04 am, you sit with Chan on the kitchen floor, the refrigerator both illuminating and cooling your bodies, empty ice cream tub beside you.

2:08 am, Chan carries you back to your bedroom. Not because you couldn’t walk still, but because he loved the feeling of you in his arms, head tucked safely into the crook of his neck.

2:09 am, you and Chan slip under the covers, and you giggle when he scolds you about kicking off the blanket in your sleep. You placate him with a kiss and a promise to keep him warm.

And at 2:16 am on a Sunday, after a couple more kisses and hushed sweet nothings, you end up with your ear pressed against Chan’s chest, the beating of his heart combined with his quiet breathing lulling you sleep.

Chan stays awake for a couple minutes more, ensuring you were comfortable and finally resting. He wraps his around you when you shift in your sleep, hand automatically cupping the back of your head. Keeping you close, right where his heart was. He knew you weren’t going anywhere, but every second with you was something he knew he had to treasure.

“Y/N,” he sighed, burying his face in your hair. “I love you. So much. Too much, I think. Sometimes I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” he pauses, swallowing. “Honestly… just saying it doesn’t feel enough anymore. How can I show you I love you? At this point, I want to grab every person in the street and list out all the reasons why.”

He snorts at the mental image, shoulders shaking with quiet laughter. “That sounds a bit crazy, isn’t it? I have an infinite number of reasons… so if I do that to every single person, how long would that take me? Huh. Should I really do the math on that?” he pauses, then: “God, even in your sleep you’re driving me crazy.”

You murmur something in your sleep, catching his attention. You were mumbling nonsense, but when his hand cups your cheek, you quiet down.

Smiling wistfully, he adds, “but... I don’t care. Really, Y/N, I’ll give you all my love if it means staying like this with you forever.”

Pressing one last kiss to your forehead, Chan finally gets comfortable and closes his eyes.

He’s much more vulnerable when he knows you’re asleep because he’d be too flustered if you replied, but the responding snore you give him a few seconds later makes him laugh again. Maybe you were unconsciously trying to respond to him, maybe you were just really deep in dreamland.

Either way, Chan falls asleep with a smile on his face, and the love of his life in his arms.

Sunday, 12:47 pm.

The brunch Chan had promised turns into a late lunch, because by the time you both woke up the next-- the same?-- day, it was already quarter past noon.

True to your predictions last night, you were sore. Chan runs you a hot bath, genuinely looking worried now, but you assure him that it wasn’t something that a few painkillers couldn’t fix. But he still looked uneasy, so you raised an eyebrow.

“What, you’re gonna regret the way you fucked me until I cried?”

Chan turns as red as a tomato, and you laugh as he spins on his heel and leaves you in the bathroom, shouting something about getting the medicine.

It did hurt, but you kind of liked it, considering the reason why you were sore. Chan frowns and questions why you were red in the face when he gets back, worried you were getting a fever, but you just flush even more and shoo him away.

When you get out of the bath, the first thing that greets you is the smell of chicken. Chan must have ordered while you bathed, and your heart warms at the thought of your boyfriend remembering your hunger and craving for chicken.

That is, until you find Chan on the couch already munching on a drumstick. He looks up at you in alarm when you walk in, face guilty.

“God, you’re insatiable.” You mock with your best impression of Chan’s voice, and the attempt makes him laugh too much to be mad about it.

You gorge yourselves on chicken and soda, some reruns of an anime you both love playing on the TV. You’re barely paying attention, more focused on the fan you had turned on blowing cool air on your face and the feeling of Chan massaging your feet.

You don’t even notice that you drifted off, jolting awake to the sound of an explosion coming from the TV. You must have been asleep for a while, because the table was clear of any takeout boxes and soda cans. At that moment, Chan comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered. He smiles when he sees you squinting at him, disoriented and half awake.

“Come on, baby. Time to get groceries.”

You didn’t bother to dress up much, considering it was hot out and you were not about to put fashion first and experience a possible heat stroke. So you steal another one of Chan’s shirts, ignoring his half-hearted protests.

He had plenty of other shirts. He could use those.

Chan gives you a look when you come bounding out of the bedroom in his shirt, but you knew he liked his clothes on you. The pink tinging his cheeks was more than enough proof. Plus, you had a diversion.

“Help me?” You ask, and Chan tilts his head, confused. But then you bring out a box, velvet and rectangular and blue.

It was the box that holds the necklace Chan gifted you for your birthday, and considering your profession, you couldn’t wear it everyday, hating the thought of it being drenched in sweat or god forbid, breaking while you dance.

So you wear it on your off days, keeping it in the box most of the time to be safe. Chan chuckles, smiling stupidly as he takes the necklace out the box, snorting when you scold him to be careful with it.

“Alright, alright. Just turn around, will you?” You huff, but turn around obediently, moving your hair away so Chan could do it easily. The cool metal of the necklace settling against your neck has you shivering, but so does the soft kiss that Chan presses on your exposed nape and shoulder. The pendant— a compass— sits between your collarbones, and you hold it between your fingers gently, feeling giddy.

Chan watches you with a soft smile for a few seconds, taking you in. It’s only when he notices the time that he regretfully bursts your bubble, grabbing your attention with a kiss to your cheek and taking your free hand in his.

“Ready?” he asks, eyes shining, and your heart flutters.

“Yeah.” You smile, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Let’s go.”

And though your diversion had worked for a moment, you knew yourself that it wouldn’t last. Chan still complains as you walk down the street, intertwined hands swinging between you, talking about how he had nothing to wear.

“You should just walk around shirtless then.” You suggest, winking, and you barely manage to stop an embarrassing shriek when Chan pretends to trip you. There was no way you were going to fall though, because Chan had a tight grip on your arms, but you still punch him on the shoulder for it.

Chan reacts dramatically, exaggerating his yelp of pain, as if he didn’t have hard muscle surrounding his entire body. You roll your eyes, leaving him on the sidewalk, ignoring his calls of your name mixed with his laughter.

You laugh and stumble on the way to the grocery store like idiots, and the time it took for you to get there probably took twice the time than it originally would, with how much you two were goofing off. But you do eventually get there in one piece, albeit breathless and giggly.

You guys had no specific routine for grocery shopping, just that there was a limit to snacks, and it was 5 for each of you. No more than that.

(This rule is usually never followed, but you guys keep it and remind each other of it at the entrance, just for the sake of acting like you were responsible adults who could control their cravings and knew how to stick to their budget.)

Thus, grocery shopping with you was always an experience, because you and Chan were both very passionate about food and would sometimes have different opinions. It would end in tiny fights, but it gets resolved just as quickly as it starts.

Either Chan relents because you looked cute and he secretly wants it, or you relent because Chan looked cute and you secretly want it.

So more often than not, other shoppers would find two people disputing in the middle of some aisle, and it’s just the two of you hissing back and forth about the pros and cons of a certain product.

Like now.

“We don’t eat that cereal. You don’t even like how it tastes.”

“You don’t like how it tastes. I ate the entire bag when we last bought this.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “And did you do that willingly?”

“Well, no, but-” You stomp your foot, frustrated. All the tantrum does is bring a smile to Chan’s face, which wasn’t what you wanted. You weren’t being cute. You needed him to understand. “Ah, you know I don’t like wasting food!”

“So, why, pray tell, do you want to buy that?”

“Because-” you start, and Chan flicks his gaze down to the cereal in your hands, confused. But then you turn the box around and-

Ah.

“Look,” you point at the bowl stuck on the back of the box, grinning excitedly. “They have an ugly black cat now.”

Simply put, the box that you were holding was a brand of cereal that was for kids, and the taste of the actual cereal was too medicine-y for you and Chan. However, the sole reason you had bought one before is because of the freebie the cereal came with, a small plastic bowl with a white cat painted on it.

To be honest, the cat was kind of ugly and terrifying looking, but you were drawn to it for inexplicable reasons. Chan, who was unknowing of the taste of the cereal at that time, simply nodded and let you take the box home.

The cereal itself was crossed out from the very first taste, but you’ve both grown fond of the ugly white cat bowl, sometimes using it for non-cereal things.

(Like wine, after a long, long day at work. It typically consists of the bowl being passed back and forth between you two, instead of just chugging the entire bottle down like animals. You both had too much class for that.)

Chan sighs exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. But your excitement was infectious, and he finds himself smiling at the ugly little thing too.

Still, he tries to be the responsible adult and reasons, “you’re already 3 snacks past the limit. Plus, don’t we already have a bowl at home?”

“I know we do! But look at this black cat, Channie. Ugly White Cat can get a friend, plus if we get another bowl, that means we can match. Matching ugly cat bowls.” You explain, holding the box up to his face and wiggling it. “Think about it.”

And Chan did think about it for a moment. You really didn’t need another bowl, having plenty enough for the two of you and possible guests, but the prospect of matching with you…

And ugly white cat did look kind of lonely...

Fuck. He was getting too weak for this. You look at him with wide eyes, pleading and seemingly innocent, but you knew what effect that had on him.

He sighs, but there’s a smile on his face when he grumbles. “Fine.”

You cheer, pressing a long kiss to his cheek before you scramble away again, mentioning something about juice boxes.

Chan watches you skip down the aisle, grinning at the way your arms clutched the cereal box close to your chest, as if someone was going to take it away from you. He watches until you reach the end, crouching down at the selection of juice boxes.

He knew you took your juice box selection very seriously, evident in the way you were frowning and reading label packages. You looked kind of ridiculous, Chan’s old shirt bunched around your waist and a cereal box with some toy for kids tucked in your arms.

His shirt, which was entirely too big for you, starts sliding down your shoulders due to your crouched position. This reveals your neck, and he flushes when he sees memories of last night blooming on your skin.

And even from this distance, he sees the necklace and the way it glints, making you look much more ethereal.

After a few seconds, you apparently read something you didn’t like, because your head snaps up suddenly, catching Chan’s attention just so you could point at a box and make a disgusted face.

Chan laughs, despite not knowing what the hell you just pointed to. But you seem to be satisfied by his response, because you grace him with the prettiest smile, the one that he loved among your many other smiles— the one that makes your eyes crinkle and your cheeks bigger.

Chan’s breath catches in his throat at the sight. Something in his heart sings.

He loves you. He was so in love with you that it hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by your side. To sleep with you, wake up with you, argue about groceries in pajamas with you, have matching ugly cat bowls with you, and come home with you— all of that. Always.

So when you turn back to your juice boxes, Chan hurriedly pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contact list quickly and tapping the call button on a familiar name.

Chan and you meet eyes again when you hold up two juice boxes of different flavors for him to pick. He knows immediately that you picked the orange one because he likes it, but Chan also knows that you couldn’t stand the orange flavor. So he tilts his head to the right, choosing apple.

You blink in surprise, but he could tell you were trying to hide the fact that you were giddy he picked apple. He smiles softly, heart singing again.

On his phone, the call he made finally picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hey, Bin? You busy? No, no, we’re fine. Yeah, I just-- remember the jewellery shop we went to last month? Do you still have their address? Yeah, that one. I threw mine out because I didn’t want Y/N to suspect anything.”

A pause, then he snorts, “I’m aware I just bought her a necklace, yes. But I’m not buying a necklace this time. Really. Yeah, um. Well, I think I—“ Chan swallows, eyes nervously going back to you.

You had both the cereal and juice box in your arms now, seemingly on your way back to Chan, but then you get distracted by free samples of cheese. You pretend to reject the offer for a moment, but falter in your step when the saleslady tries again. Chan snorts softly when you take five samples unashamedly, heart singing louder.

Will you wait for me? / Of course. You know I always will.

You were the only one who ever made him feel like this.

Honestly… just saying it doesn’t feel enough anymore. How can I show you I love you?

I’ll give you all my love if it means staying like this with you forever.

Your eyes meet again. You’ve balanced the plate of cheese on top of your boxes, face looking all too proud and excited as you gestured to the cheese, beckoning him over. He nods, indicating he’ll be there, and you go back to talking animatedly with the saleslady.

“Hyung?” Changbin’s voice on the other line calls, waiting for him to continue. “You think...?”

“Ah, no… I’m sure.” Chan smiles giddily, heart now creating symphonies in his chest. He’s never been more sure in his life.

All of this. Always.

“A ring. I’m buying a ring.”

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids smut #storiesatsea #me: scared of commitment #also me: indicates a wedding in 2/4 of my fics #chan i have feelings for u #stray kids #bang chan as a boyfriend #stray kids as boyfriends #stray kids fluff #stray kids au #skz au #skz imagines

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spnsisterimagines · 3 years

Text

Mario Kart

Summary - Y/N decides to engage her brothers and Castiel into Mario Kart, not realizing what she was getting herself into.

Pairings - Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader, Sam Winchester x Sister!Reader, Jack Kline x Platonic!Winchester!Reader, Castiel x Winchester!Reader

Word Count - 1,911 words

"Let's get it!" Y/N squeals, claiming her spot on the middle of the couch. She was practically bouncing up and down, waiting impatiently for everyone to join her. The Dean Cave had brightened considerably since she had added a few redecorations. While Dean initially denied her, she had forced him to allow her to put up LED lights, several polaroids from her camera(they were mostly of herself smiling widely at the camera while Sam and Dean looked mildly annoyed with fake smiles. There was also a real funny one where Sam was unconscious on a hunt and Y/N decided to pose beside him), as well as posters from their favorite bands. Not to mention the added dock to the TV stand to hold her Nintendo Switch that Sam had bought her for her previous birthday.

She supposed he regretted it now, since she was forcing him to play a game he'd never even heard of.

He entered the room first, holding a big bowl of popcorn and a soda. Dean followed close behind, Little Debbie packages hanging from his mouth since his arms were occupied with pillows from their bedrooms and a pack of beers for himself. Jack was the only one to come empty handed. He happily took the spot beside Y/N, waving merrily as Castiel also appeared with two sodas(both of them for Beth because he was just so considerate), taking the spot on her other side.

"I'll give this an hour before we switch to movie night, Y/N," Dean warned as he occupied his armchair, which was to the left of the couch. She had discovered this old thing at a garage sale. It had been a rather stressful day because Dean had refused to strap it to Baby and they had to hound what little friends they had for a truck. Since most of their friends were dead, Y/N had hot wired one outside of a bar and returned it before the drunk redneck inside could notice it had even left. She was sure the dent in the bed was there before they put the couch on it. Sam had not been happy about that.

Sam took his own armchair, which was to the right of the couch.

"What is it, again?" he asked curiously.

"Is the only thing in the media you've ever heard Facebook? You've seriously never heard of Mario Kart?" Y/N asked, happily accepting one of the sodas from Castiel. "Dad really did a number on us. I was introduced to this through Charlie." She got up to grab the number of controllers necessary for four. Jack was eager to try the game, but he was always open to trying new things, something Y/N could appreciate.

After connecting them to the Switch, she handed them out to her brothers along with Jack before returning to her spot on the couch between the angel and nephilim.

"If I remember correctly from what you've told me, it's a racing game, right?" Castiel asked.

"Exactly, except with a few quirks to make it interesting. Like, um...I could throw a shell and hit one of them and vice versa. Or a banana peel. I'll give them a trial run before we actually get into it. Are you sure you don't want to try it, Cas?"

Castiel shook his head. "I have seen how you play with Charlie, and I don't want to be on the receiving end of your anger. And I rather like watching you in your element."

Y/N smiled, blushing, before playfully pushing him.

"I need to get drunk to stomach this," Dean said, offended as he popped one of the beers open and took a gulp. "Keep the PDA to a minimum guys, you've got a kid next to you. Alright, what buttons do I push to hit Sam?"

"What the hell?" Sam scoffed.

"What?"

"We haven't even started and you're gunnin' for me?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"Alright, alright! First we gotta pick our player," Y/N mediated, pressing the buttons to get them to the screen full of Mario players. "I already got mine." She moved her icon until it landed on Wendy, before selecting her. "Obviously the best character, hands down."

The three boys maneuvered their icons over different characters, for some reason taking it a little too seriously on who they would choose. Sam selected his first.

"Luigi?" Dean scoffed.

"You got a problem?" Sam asked.

"No, but...why Luigi?"

"Who cares, I just chose him."

"You have to have a reason, man." Dean shook his head, before selecting his own.

"Why'd you choose Bowser, then?"

"Because he's a badass. And he'd beat the holy hell out of Luigi if the games lost their PG rating," Dean shrugged.

Jack hummed thoughtfully, still scrolling. "I choose him!"

He selected Toad.

"Why him, Jack?" she asked.

"I like his hat."

Y/N snorted, but it was a valid enough answer. Once everyone was ready, she selected the settings for the game and then decided to use the time to explain to them how the controls worked and anything else they were curious about. After a few trial races, they were ready for the real thing. Castiel was sitting patiently, his hands on his lap.

"You assholes are going down," Dean declared, bringing his remote closer to him.

"So much for being appropriate in front of the kid," Y/N sneered, but she was just as ready.

She set the game to go through ten races with a random select for the roads.

And with that, they were off.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" Dean yelled, nearly jumping to his feet. His first empty beer bottle slide across the floor from his rapid movement. "I DIDN'T EVEN TOUCH IT! I DIDN'T GO NEAR THE GODDAMN PEEL!"

"That might've been mine," Sam stated, smugly. "But Bowser also takes up half the road, so avoiding it was probably impossible anyway."

Dean squinted. "You callin' me fat, Sammy?"

Sam shrugged. "Luigi's doing just fine."

Y/N hid her smile as she hit her own item, snatching that smile right from Sam's face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, incredulous, the red shell sending Luigi off the edge of the map.

"You got in my way!" Y/N sang.

It only seemed to get worse from there. What was supposed to be an hour of playing turned into four with the bowl of popcorn thrown across the room at Dean when he had decided to hit Sam three times with three separate shells before snagging first place and doing a lewd dance as a way to declare his victory. Y/N's hair had bristled up, becoming bushier almost as though it were alive. Her right eye was twitching, and her hands were cramping by now.

Jack, however, was having a good time. He has gotten last place the entire time, but he was still having fun, and that's what truly mattered.

Castiel, on the other hand, seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack, not knowing whose side he should take because all three Winchester siblings were completely out of their minds, including Y/N.

Finally, it was the last race. Everyone's nerves were shot. Sam's hair seemed even more raggedy than Y/N's, and his shirt was stained with soda because Dean decided to take vengeance by chucking his pillow at him when Sam was taking a big gulp. They had to pause the game for several minutes while Sam fought for his life coughing and wheezing because the soda went down the wrong pipe.

"I'm afraid I must at least attempt to deter you guys from participating in another race. There aren't any weapons in the Dean Cave, but I'm sure you three will find a way to kill each other," Castiel said, worried. "Jack, are you okay?"

Jack nodded enthusiastically. "I'm having fun!"

"I will let it be known if I lose, someone is dying tonight. I will call Billie to fix it, but someone has to die tonight if I lose," Y/N threatened.

"Good luck with that, I'm kicking all of your asses, and you can kiss mine when it crosses the finish line," Dean said.

"I don't even care if I win, as long as you guys lose. And I'll make sure it happens." Sam jeered.

With that, the race began. Aside from Jack and Castiel, everyone was bloodthirsty. Surely no matter who won, someone was gonna be pissed off. Castiel was making a mental note to grab Jack as soon as possible and escort him out of the room while the siblings brawled.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Y/N shouted, jumping to her feet. "WHO DID IT! WHO DID IT?"

"I did!" Sam happily announced, moving to and fro with the turn of his controller, as though he were in the game himself.

"I'm gonna get you, Sam," Y/N snarled, pressing hard on the buttons, trying her best to catch up to her brother, collecting any items she came across, but none of them were good enough, so she kept using them without thinking until she heard Dean curse and also jump to his feet.

"THAT WAS ME, JACKASS!" he yelled, completely distraught. "I didn't even do anything this time!"

"You probably deserved it anyway!" Sam shrugged, continuing to maneuver through the AIs to get to the front.

By that time, Dean and Y/N had caught up, and with all they had, they used their items to completely screw each other over up until every kart had passed them. In the end, they were the bottom three with Sam first, Y/N second, and Dean in dead last. And for a moment there after, nobody said anything. They were completely beside themselves in utter shock at what just occurred.

"What just happened?" Y/N asked, deflating considerably.

"We lost..." Sam mumbled.

"Screw you guys, I lost overall!" Dean scoffed.

"I won!" Jack suddenly cheered, leaping to his feet and jumping up and down. "I won!"

"You what?" Y/N asked, shocked as her eyes trailed to the top. Sure enough, Toad was in first place. "You're kidding!"

"I can't believe I won!" Jack said, smiling as he high-fived a proud Castiel.

"I want a rematch," Dean commanded, sitting back down and retrieving his controller.

"Yeah, me, too!" Sam agreed.

"I'm down!" Y/N eagerly agreed, about to grab hers when Castiel snatched it. He went around the room, taking up all the controllers.

"Given that it's five in the morning, and just a couple moments ago you three were ready to quite literally rip each other's throats out, I'm going to recommend everyone get up and get to bed instead," he instructed curtly. "I think we should postpone a future night of games indefinitely, at least for a little while until you three can learn to control yourselves."

"What-but-you can't-" Y/N sputtered.

"Quite literally, I can shut off whatever is necessary so you can never play the game again with just a snap of my fingers," Castiel warned. "Shower and get some sleep. Jody already told us she needed to discuss something at noon tomorrow, and it would be rude if we were tardy. C'mon, let's go!"

With a grumble, everyone got up and cleaned their mess, ignoring each other vehemently as they walked out. Except for Jack; he was practically skipping.

There was another good thing about tonight that he knew about. He was the one that triggered the lightning item that really stumped the three siblings and put them at the bottom three.

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Rainy Days

Spencer x Reader

Request: @starwithoutdarkness - Hey! I heard you were looking for requests! Maybe Spencer Reid x reader fake dating fluff? Combined with Request: @paulaern - Hello! What about Spencer Reid x reader when they realizes they love each other? Like reader makes something for Spencer and he thinks like "I can't deny anymore, I'm completely and hopeless in love with her" or something like that (G!neutral if you want)

A/N: Thank you so much for sending in requests! Hope this makes you smile!

Warnings: Swearing, moderate BAU violence, creepy men, fluffiest fluff, intense headache description. Set randomly post prison Reid but Hotch is still there because he should have been! WC-2,488

Spencer was staring at the geo-profile he had been working on all day, very glad to be inside. The weather in Seattle had stayed consistently rainy for the two days the BAU team had been in town assisting in catching a killer, who had been committing serial robberies/murders with no apparent rhyme or reason. And while Spencer didn’t mind the rain, he did mind loud, busy cities. Combined, they usually led to a headache that would take a day or two to recover.

The door to the conference room he was working alone in burst open and slammed shut so suddenly he nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to see-

You.

Spencer hated it when you appeared without warning, catching him entirely off guard and presenting the risk that you would notice the visible effort it took for him to compose himself around you.

While he’d noticed how beautiful and hilarious and empathetic you were the moment you joined the team, he’d fallen in love with you when you had your first case with them. Spencer had begun to ramble about the specifics of casinos, and how ‘beating the house’ was nearly impossible, when the rest of the team had tuned out. A temporary member, Agent Seaver, had sneered ‘I’m sorry I asked.” Effectively shutting him up. But then you had turned in your seat next to him and, after shooting Seaver a look had asked him to continue. And though he didn’t have that much more to say, and it wasn’t all that interesting, you listened to every single word and thanked him.

It had been years since that had happened, your friendship had blossomed into best friends, something Spencer cherished immensely. This was partly why he shoved his feelings down. The relationship did not need to change for Spencer to remain happy; as long as he got to spend time with you at work, or watch movies and make tent forts in his living room. And visit his mom (who adored you and always gave you book recommendations that you would be sure to read the moment you could), or go to comic conventions and museums...yes, as long as he could always do those things with you, he was happy.

No need to risk changing a perfect thing.

Now though, you were shutting the door and giving him your most panicked look, wide-eyed, with your hair damp from the rain you no doubt had run through to get inside, accounting for your breathlessness. If it weren’t for the worry that had sprung up inside of him upon seeing your expression, he would have fixated on how beautiful you looked at that moment.

“Spencer, you’re my boyfriend.” You whisper yelled at him, quickly stepping closer and setting your bag down on the conference table.

“Wha-“ He began, but you cut him off frantically.

“I’ll explain-just, oh fuck-“

Spencer stood frozen to the spot as the door reopened and one of the senior detectives sauntered in, a friendly smile somewhat overshadowed by the almost predatorial glint in his eyes. You awkwardly stepped closer to Spencer, raising a hand in hello.

“Agent (Y/L/N), great to see you’re back, I was hoping to catch you before the end of the day!” He said merrily, placing two hands on the back of the nearest chair. Something about the way his hands gripped the chair made Spencer feel...on edge.

You gave the fakest little giggle Spencer had ever heard from you, “Oh, nice to see you too Detective! Just had to catch up with Agent Reid here...”

When his eyes moved from you to assess Spencer briefly, he felt a protective force rear up, instincts entirely at alert. Without hesitating, he casually draped an arm over your shoulder, brushing some hair back as he did, and replied, “And you promised we could get some coffee from the Starbucks down the road, hon.”

He enjoyed the way your cheeks flushed and noticed the pulse in your neck pick up. You glanced up at him, trying to look coy but he knew you too well and could see you were partly surprised, and also trying not to laugh.

“Um, of course, I nearly forgot, babe, let’s go in about 5-unless, did you need something specific, Detective?” She broke off to glance back at the now scowling man, who gave an annoyed jerk of his head before stomping back out of the room.

Once the door banged closed behind him, you let out the biggest sigh of relief, raising a hand to your face in dismay.

Spencer hadn’t removed his arm yet, “I’m assuming I just helped you avoid being asked out, but why-?”

“Uhg, Spencer, I’ve already turned him down TWICE since we’ve arrived! He’s literally the kind of dude who doesn’t take no for an answer unless another man has some fucking misogynistic claim over the woman!” You exclaimed, before moving to stand right in front of Spencer and lean just your head to his chest, staring down at the floor, “I hate everything.”

Spencer laughed, patting your back softly, but internally making note that he wouldn’t be letting you go anywhere alone for the rest of this case-that detective gave him the creeps. And while you were beyond capable of protecting yourself, he just knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything if he thought you could be hurt.

“Well, just so we’re clear I would never want to be called ‘babe’ in a relationship.” He joked and the desired effect was his immediate reward when you lifted your head and giggled-your genuine, beautiful little giggle-and then grinned.

“Spencer, you called me ‘hon’ like we were 70.”

Spencer considered a moment, “We could be, you’ll be Gladys and I’ll be-“

“Winston!” You supplied eagerly, and he frowned at you, trying not to laugh.

“Winston?”

“It’s really very dignified, the kind of name where people call you ‘sir’.” You replied cheekily, and while Spencer grinned, a part of him felt a swoop of pleasure when your lips formed the word ‘sir’.

He decided very quickly that he liked the idea of you calling him that. And then, just as swiftly dismissed that train of thought and chastised himself.

As you both stood together and laughed, the door swung open and Hotch and the team followed him in, all in various stages of the results of exposure to the rain, looking equally grim. Spencer and you abruptly stopped when you saw their expressions and launched back into work mode seamlessly.

———

Two days later, the team was closing in on the unsub and everyone was on high alert. Taking the profile and applying it to the geo-profile he had been working on, Spencer had narrowed down this grubby old apartment that sat above a nightclub as the most likely spot the unsub was staying at. Of course, they were arriving at night which meant the club was busy and loud, people lined up out the doors waiting for their chance to enter, pay too much for a drink and grind their bodies against strangers.

Spencer’s headache from the unforgiving rain was thrumming now with the music that seemed entirely unencumbered by the walls of the stairwell, the team slowly climbing. It was bad enough that his eyes narrowed somewhat, but he didn’t lose focus.

You were behind him, watching his six as Hotch and Morgan approached the door ahead and prepared to breach. Spencer slipped a hand behind his back and, on cue, you’re pinky wrapped with his. A brief promise to each other, ‘I’ve got you.’.

They had anticipated violence and heavy arms, so when their announcement was met with silence and the door was kicked open, the tactical response was to secure positions and carefully proceed. Agents and SWAT members lined the building and were, at that moment, securing the club below to ensure the unsub couldn’t flee into a room full of potential hostages.

Spencer and you were the third pair to enter, quickly moving ahead of the others to secure more rooms, eyes peeled for movement. The floor was covered in litter and random spots of dirt and dried substances. It smelled like body odour and axe body spray-which immediately went to Spencer’s headache and caused it to throb in protest.

“Freeze!”

You had shouted right as Spencer noticed the movement from a back room down the hall, as the unsub leaned out and, not abiding by the command, opened fire. Spencer grabbed you and swung you both behind the wall of the kitchen, out of the line of fire while he shouted the unsubs location.

You recovered quickly, dropping to the ground and leaning out to return fire as Hotch and Morgan ran across to the living room to join the battle. It only took a few moments after that before Morgan managed to get a shot to the suspect's shoulder and he fell with a cry of anguish.

You popped up from the ground, watching as Prentiss and Rossi moved forward to secure the man, and barked into your radio for medics to come in.

Spencer, meanwhile, was reeling. When the shots in the room had all joined together in a cacophony, sound and noise piercing his skull, it had converted to pain and panic in his skull, overwhelming him. He had used his own body to shield yours when he pulled you with him into the wall, and the caution he took with you meant he hadn’t caught himself carefully enough, his head bouncing lightly off of the stone wall.

Which, on a normal day would have simply been annoying. But today, with a headache so severe he was beginning to get spots in his vision, it was detrimental. The scene was secure, so he allowed his eyes to shut, a meagre reprieve but at least it was something, at least he didn’t have to see the beams from the flashlights or the pulsing of the neon signs outside of the windows...

“Winston, take my hand.” Your voice was so, so soft. Spencer let his mouth open slightly, a small rush of air all he managed, trying to say ‘I can’t-it hurts, make it stop’ but you grasped his hand tightly and pulled and he followed, his other hand reaching and grabbing that back of your vest, he let you lead him.

He knew from the reduced foot traffic of agents and crime scene workers that you were taking the rear exit, a stairwell that was narrower than the main. He peeked through his lashes to take the stairs, and then suddenly, the cool night air hit him and the door was closing behind you both.

You kept walking with purpose, leading Spencer further away from the loud building. The rain spattered his face but with each step the noise reduced and after a short walk it became relatively quiet.

“Sit.” You murmured, halting. Spencer opened his eyes and saw that you had led him to the farthest spot in the parking lot from the building, where trees lined the lot along a community park that was probably utilized by vagrants and drug dealers more than families. But there was a bench, and you were waiting for him to take a seat. You had pulled out a compact, expandable emergency rain shield from one of the pockets on your FBI utility belt and tossed it on the bench, protecting you both from soaking your underwear.

Spencer sat, setting his elbows on his legs and leaning forward with his hands pressed to his face. He took deep, steadying breaths as you joined him, your hand on the back of his neck. At first, he thought you were just resting it there because his FBI vest would have prevented him from feeling your hand on his back, however, a moment later it was joined by your other hand and a very cold object.

Resisting the urge to pull away, he gasped at the contact, “What-?”

“On-the-go cold compress, Doctor.” You explained, leaving it in place and then rummaging again. Spencer wanted to look but the compress, combined with the quiet, was already doing wonders. He continued to take deep breaths.

“When you’re ready, try this.” You said softly, pressing something to his hand. Opening his eyes, he saw a mini flask that had his name written on the side.

He turned his head slowly so as not to move the compress and met your eyes, which were assessing him with concern. “(Y/N), when did we start drinking on the job?”

You giggled quietly, “It’s just water mixed with this like, vitamin powder that’s supposed to be good for rehydrating you quickly. I did some research on how to help headaches like yours on the go, just in case, and I made this ‘Spencer’ care bag.” You rambled a little when he didn’t reply.

Spencer looked back at the flask and opened it, quickly downing the contents. It tasted pretty fruity and he realized he was thirsty, this taking the edge off.

“Is it okay?” You asked. Spencer raised his head and met your eyes, searching them.

He was overwhelmed, the headache already fading, in its place an intensely warm feeling building inside of him as he considered the time and effort you had taken to care for him. He hadn’t asked you, or hinted, you had just taken it on to find a way to help him and you were right there when he needed you the most.

You had always been there when he needed you. When he had been shot protecting Blake, when he struggled to care for his mother, when he had gone to prison, when he was freed, you were there.

The words tumbled out, unable to be contained a second longer.

“I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Your mouth opened and closed in surprise, taken entirely off guard. Though he worried what you would say, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt having finally said it out loud. He watched patiently as your mind processed his confession, holding his breath.

“I-Spencer,” And then suddenly your lips were pressing into his and the pain from his headache ceased entirely. Spencer was consumed by the feel of you against him, of your hands holding his face and the hum of content you gave when he returned your passion, dropping his flask and sliding his hands up your neck, gripping tenderly.

After what could have been hours, weeks, or years, you both broke apart, pulling back just enough to make eye contact without your eyes crossing. Neither of you let go, your breath puffing out in wisps in the cold night air.

“I love you too,” You breathed, “I could grow old with you, Winston.”

Spencer laughed, relief and happiness swooping through him at your words, “Gladys, I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.”

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

You grinned back at Spencer, and then he kissed you again.

#spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #bau x reader #fluff #fake dating #requested #fanfic #reader insert #friends to lovers #best friend #love #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 7)

(chapter 1) (chapter 2) (chapter 3) (chapter 4) (chapter 5) (chapter 6)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind. you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: almost 3k?

warnings: slight breeding kink (but only if you speak romanian aksjghakgjhg), angst, violence (in the form of a fistfight, which the reader isn’t involved in)

Just as you always did, you woke up to sunlight streaming in through the lace curtains, and a cool breeze blowing by. What was peculiar was Sebastian next to you, sleeping peacefully as his chest rose and fell with relaxed breaths. You let yourself watch him for a moment before you decided to try to sneak out for a cup of coffee. Problem was, the bed was sort of creaky and it was very difficult to move without making sound. Your plan was to move as slowly as possible, keeping your weight evenly distributed over the mattress, and it worked rather well— right until the last second, of course, when a loud shift of the boxsprings beneath you made Sebastian stir and blink open his eyes.

You were about to apologize for waking him, but he grinned and slipped his arms around you, bringing you back to where you started and surrounding your body with his warm, muscular form.

“Bună dimineata,” he hummed as he pulled you closer, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than normal.

“Bună dimineata,” you did your best to repeat it back, making him smile even though your pronunciation wasn’t great. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he replied softly, heavily accented and clearly more a recreation of the sounds you’d made than real English, but still intelligible and so painfully adorable as well. “A fost uimitor aseară.”

“Last night…” you began, but you didn’t even know where to begin. What could you possibly say about that? Would it even matter, if he can’t understand it. “God, you’re fucking amazing,” you blurted out with a soft laugh.

“Sa o facem din nou,” he growled as he pulled you closer and kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth instantly. A more self-conscious you— as in, you yesterday— would’ve worried about morning breath, but you now couldn’t taste anything but him and couldn’t feel anything but his lips on yours and couldn’t do anything but weave your fingers into his hair.

You moaned when his kisses trailed down your neck, and you wanted nothing more than to melt into his body one more time, but you had other things to attend to.

“I need to get up,” you announced as you tried to escape from his grasp, but he held you tighter and brushed his lips over your shoulder.

“Nu, nu, nu te dice,” he cooed, making you laugh and squirm. “Stai in pat, fă dragoste cu mine toata ziuă.”

“I have to get up, I’ll be right back,” you tried to explain but he stayed ever vigilant as he held you tight and licked over the shell of your ear. Finally you managed to get him to stop, as much as you didn’t really want him to, allowing you to slip out from under the covers and find your robe where it had been discarded on the floor.

He watched you as you crossed the room and popped into the bathroom for your bag, pulling your birth control pack out of it and using a handful of tap water to wash down your morning pill. “Ah,” Sebastian seemed to have a realization from the bed, and you giggled.

“Told you it was important,” you grinned.

“Probabil cel mai bine să nu ai un copil cu un străin,” he nodded, “dar nu sunt sigur că m-ar fi deranjat atât de mult dacă te-aș fi însărcinat.”

Following suit, he stretched briefly before getting out of bed and searching for his discarded jeans and boxers. You made no effort to hide your ogling as you watched his cock swing between his legs. Even soft it was thick enough that you couldn’t figure how it ever fit inside you (the delightful soreness between your legs reminded you that it was no easy feat). He took note of your staring and grinned devilishly, leaning against the wall to give you a better look. “Îți place ce vezi?” he purred.

“Should’ve known this would all go straight to your ego,” you chuckled. “I’m gonna go downstairs for some coffee. Do you want some? Cafea?”

“Da,” he nodded, as he slipped his clothes back on, “mulțumesc.” Funny how his idea of getting dressed still left him half-naked.

Foolishly, you expected him to let you pass, since you were both going to benefit from your trip to the kitchen; but of course he had to slip his arms around you from behind and give you just one more embrace, making you sigh and relax your head back against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head and you hummed happily, letting your eyes open to look up at him before taking a moment to look out the window you happened to be standing right beside.

You were just hoping to appreciate the countryside scenery, meaning that you were rather shocked and confused to see a car pulling up. When it stopped and the driver stepped out, your eyes went wide and your back suddenly straightened itself.

“...Michael?” you gasped. You wrenched yourself out of Sebastian’s grasp and started to run down the stairs. He called after you but you ignored it.

Barreling down the stairs and out the door, you found your husband walking up the driveway.

“Honey,” he frowned when he saw you, “I’ve been trying to find you since you left— what the hell is going on? Why are you wearing a robe?”

“It’s hardly nine in the morning,” you defended before you realized there were much bigger topics at hand: “Michael, what are you doing here?” you asked, after a few seconds of confused stuttering.

“I’m taking you home!” he replied, as if it were obvious.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, “don’t play stupid. Do you think I’ve been here against my will, or by accident or something?”

“No, I saw your letter,” he sighed.

“And you saw the part where I said not to look for me, and that all future communication would come through my lawyer?”

“You’re my wife,” he replied coldly, “I think I’m within my rights to talk to you directly.”

“You shouldn’t have come here. I was actually happy before you showed up.”

With perfect timing, Sebastian stepped out the door behind you, looking to you and to Michael, and back. “Ce se întâmplă?” he asked you.

“Who the fuck is this?!” Michael asked accusingly.

“I’m gonna give you a chance to ask me that again, in a way that doesn’t make it seem like you have any place to judge what I might be doing alone with a man,” you hissed. “He’s just the groundskeeper, Mike.”

“Then why is he shirtless?” he exclaimed.

“I don’t know! He… does that a lot!” you exasperatedly shouted back.

“Look, I’m not angry,” Michael sighed. You laughed bitterly.

“Good, cause you have no right to be.”

“But I think it’s fair if I’m worried about you spending months alone with strange men.”

“Oh, strange, is that the problem? Strangeness? Would some more familiarity— perhaps a familial relationship— between you and these men make it easier on you, Mike?”

“Honey, please—”

“Don’t call me that,” you grimaced.

Michael stormed towards you, and you felt Sebastian step closer to you as well, wrapping an arm around you. Having him by your side made this significantly more awkward, but it made you feel safer, too.

“Hey man, get your hands off my wife,” Michael growled, pointing a finger at Seb.

“He doesn’t speak English,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sure you do either— otherwise you would realize that we’re still married, and you need to come home.”

“Just because you won’t sign the papers doesn’t mean we’re still together,” you reminded him sternly as shook your head.

“I’ll end it with your sister, is that what you want?”

You laughed, because you were afraid if you didn’t that you would cry. “Jesus, Michael! Are you hearing yourself? This sounds like a greek tragedy, or fucking EastEnders! Next I’ll be discovering I have an evil twin, and you’ll bang her too!”

He was a lot more offended by that than you expected. “It was never just sex. I love her. But I love you more,” he clarified, suddenly getting serious.

You chuckled weakly, hardly believing what you were hearing. It’s not that he was ever particularly nice, or romantic or anything, but at some point in his life he had been incredibly intelligent… and now he barely made sense at all. “Wow, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special.”

He frowned, clearly losing what little cool he’d had at first. He had always had a bit of a temper. “For better or for worse, we’re still legally married— damn it, we’ve been together for how long now? And you’re ready to throw that all away?”

“No, but you were,” you spat back.

“But I wasn’t, and I’m still not. You’ve gotta hear me out—”

“I don’t have to do anything—”

“No, you’re not listening to me—” he talked over you, again.

“I don’t owe you any more of my time—”

“Damn it, why won’t you just listen!” he growled, grabbing you by the arm suddenly. Instantly, Sebastian stepped forward and pushed him back.

“Sebastian, it’s okay,” you tried to soothe him.

“Hey, could you maybe tell your boytoy to keep his filthy hands off me?” Michael demanded at the same time.

“Mai bine ai grijă,” Sebastian hissed, also at the same time.

“I literally can’t,” you answered Michael. “I told you he doesn’t speak English.”

“Yeah, well, I think some things transcend language,” Michael bit back. “Tell me something, pal,” he addressed Sebastian, “did you fuck my wife?”

“Sper că nu spui ce cred că ești,” Sebastian shook his head, clearly on the end of his rope.

“Mike, leave him alone,” you demanded, but it came out sounding so much weaker than you meant it to.

“Did you,” Michael pointed to Sebastian, going so far as to poke him in the chest condescendingly, “fuck—” he mimed thrusting his hips, and you grimaced— “my wife?”— finally, he pointed to you.

Sebastian certainly understood that; and, in lieu of an answer, he socked Michael right in the jaw and sent him straight to the ground.

“Oh my god!” you yelped, dashing over to where your husband was crumpled into a ball on the gravel and kneeling beside him.

“What the fuck?!” Michael gurgled, holding his face in shock and pain.

“Are you okay?” you asked anxiously, spinning to look at where Sebastian was standing and looking much too proud of himself, shaking out the hand he’d just hit Michael with. “Sebastian!” you scolded, making him give you a defensive look.

“Ce?” he shrugged flippantly, though he clearly felt a little guilty when it became obvious that you were irritated with him.

And that was how you ended up here, standing in the living room and tapping your foot quickly, staring at the couch where Michael sat with a bag of ice held to his jaw, Sebastian beside him (though as far away as possible) resting with another on his hand.

“You had no business coming here,” you informed your husband coldly.

“You wouldn’t know about this place if it weren’t for me,” he reminded you. “Did you think I wouldn’t find you?”

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” you corrected.

His silence was stern, and he gave you one of those looks that used to scare you but now just made loathing and pity sink down in your chest. It was ambiguous if he was too angry to reply or if he really had no defense. After all, what reason did you have to believe that he would care about your leaving?

"If you're here to make me rescind the divorce order, it's not going to happen. I'm not leaving with you. I'm not forgiving you. Please just go," you sighed.

"That's not why I came. None of that is why I'm here," he mumbled. "I came here…" he straightened up slightly, raising his voice confidently. "I came here to tell you that I love you. I need you. And I want you back."

Now that he was looking right back at you, suddenly you couldn't take it anymore and turned your gaze away again.

"Whatever you need me to do to fix this, I'll do it. We'll get through this. Isn't that what marriage is? Fighting for each other, struggling together?" He stood up and approached you, reaching out to rest his hands on your shoulders; you almost flinched when you felt his touch, but resisted the urge, glancing up at his face before looking over at Sebastian whose injured hand was twitching as he looked away with a tight jaw. "Tell me how to make this right, please."

You tried not to look as Sebastian as you processed Michael's request; similarly, it seemed he was trying not to look at you. But even if you ignored this new, peculiar romance in your life, your marriage was still broken beyond repair and you couldn't imagine anything that could change that. "I'm sorry," you finally whispered, watching Michael's face fall, "I don't think there's anything you can do."

He released you from his grip, less angry than you expected; more somber. "I want to stay and work this out," he explained. "Better yet, I want you to come back to London— come back home— so we can be together and discuss everything there. But I'm only going to ask you one more time before I leave: stay with me. You don't need to forgive me, or even love me again, at least not yet… just give me a chance to try to earn everything I took for granted."

You'd imagined this moment so many times: cursing him out, making him grovel, kicking him to the curb. To be completely honest, you'd even imagined potentially taking him back. But now that you were here and it was, somehow, real, your desire for vengeance was fading along with your desire for reconciliation.

"I have something I need to give you," you whispered, walking upstairs and going back into your room, getting on your hands and knees to search the floor. Finally, discarded in a dusty corner with slightly uneven floorboards, you found the ring you'd tossed aside the night before. Fighting back against the tears welling in your eyes, you picked it up and came downstairs, holding it outward for Michael to take.

"I'm not taking that back," he refused, shaking his head. "You keep it for a while longer, until you're sure this is really what you want."

"I'm sure. I'm moving on. Take it back," you demanded. He sighed but reached out and plucked it from between your fingers, pocketing it though still wearing his own golden band. "Besides, my sister might want it."

He scoffed, turning as he began to walk away. "You're cold."

"Frozen solid," you agreed. "Goodbye, Michael… drive safe."

He shook his head and made a sharp exhale as he walked away, nearly slamming the door behind him. You stared off into space as Sebastian silently watched you; you didn’t want him to see you cry, but it was starting to seem unavoidable as your lip quivered and your eyes grew wide with tears.

“Shhh,” he soothed gently, standing up and stepping forward to pull you into his arms. “Nu plânge, e în regulă.”

"God, I'm so stupid," you whispered between sobs muffled against his chest. "I'm so fucking stupid…"

He whispered to you and kissed the top of your head, repeating one thing over and over that you couldn't make out well against the sound of your own crying filling your ears.

But even without knowing what he was saying or what it meant, it made you feel better.

As evening approached, you realized a new predicament had arisen: would Sebastian stay in your room again? Would you go to his? Or would you sleep separately, maybe even drift back to just being essentially housemates after a unique one-night stand?

Your questions were answered suddenly when Sebastian suddenly came to the couch and scooped you up into his arms, making you squeal a little before you relaxed and let him carry you to his room. He all but threw you onto the bed, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply as you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck.

Already you felt more comfortable with him than you sometimes felt with people you'd known most of your life; you didn't feel self-conscious when he ran his hands over your body, you didn't try to suppress your moans when he kissed your neck for fear of sounding ridiculous— and maybe that was just because it was such a fantastical situation, so unlike yourself and so far from home, that it was easy to feel like a different person with him.

Or maybe it was that you'd spent so long trying to be somebody that people liked, and now you were being yourself for the first time in decades.

You couldn't really be sure. And since your brain short-circuited every time Sebastian whispered something in your ear that just sounded filthy regardless of what it actually meant, you didn't have the time to think about it.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fanfic

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kaashiboo · 3 years

Text

haikyuu boys reacting to you not saying "i love you" back to them

┇ oikawa, bokuto, and tendou

【warnings: none】

gn!reader

➢ general note: inspired by a tiktok!

oikawa

oikawa is definitely the clingier one— if not, then he turns it into a little competition between the two of you to see who would be clingier.

he would 101% deny the fact that he's clingy.

but this time, you decided to do a little prank on him.

"y/n! i'll be heading to practice now~ don't miss me too much, okay?" he leaned against the door frame of your room, arms crossed as he waits for your response.

"whatever." you laughed, gesturing for him to go but instead of actually leaving, he walked to you and hugged you tightly.

"I don't feel like going today." he whines, "babe, you should really go. i wanna go back to sleep already— besides, you wouldn't want iwaizumi to scold you again, right?" you held his shoulders, gently pushing him off you.

he sighs, unwillingly standing up away from the bed and finally deciding to leave the room. you listened to him rambling something about how the other pair of his shoes is missing again and so you took the opportunity to quickly take out your phone and place it in the bookshelf to be covered by the books.

"i'll leave now, y/n! see you later, i love you!" you heard him shout, followed by the sounds of his keys.

"take care, tooru!" you replied back, stifling a giggle to yourself as you try to make yourself look busy by randomly picking out a book as you were actually reading its content.

"babe?" you were startled when his head suddenly popped up, "yeah?" you asked.

"i said i love you." He frowned a bit.

"i know, i heard you the first time." you smiled, diverting your attention back to the book.

"that's all?" and there he is again, standing beside your bed.

"was i supposed to say anything else?" you tilted your head.

"you were supposed to say something like 'ohoho i love you too my wonderful boyfriend, tooru!'" you physically cringed at him, "ew, i don't sound like that." you playfully roll your eyes. still refusing to give in to him.

"y/n babe, just say it back, please? i really need to go." he pleads, snatching away your book.

"and besides, what are you even reading when the book is completely upside dow— is this one of your pranks again, y/n?" he exclaimed as soon as he finally caught up to what you were trying to do and you couldn't hold in your laugh.

"took you long enough." he exasperated a sigh, reaching out to your hand and pulled you to stand up.

he cups your cheeks, squeezing it which forces you to pout. "now, say it back." he demanded.

"i love you too, tooru." your words came out muffled.

"y/n-chan~ you're making me not want to leave." you had enough of his childishness and pushed him out, he was about to protest but just in time, he received a text from his best friend.

"oh." he mutters, staring blankly at his screen and you didn't even have to look before figuring out who it was.

"now go."

tendou

it was almost impossible to describe your relationship with tendou, like literally—

you two would be fighting then a few minutes after that, you two would be seen making out again.

the whole team was honestly tired but oh well, you treat them food on a daily basis so who are they to complain?

however, the word 'boring' would never be a suitable adjective to explain your relationship. you know what word would perfectly describe the both of you?

'petty'

"i'll buy snacks for us for our movie night, wait here." tendou happily said, getting his coat that you neatly folded.

you pulled your gaze away from the t.v and looked at your boyfriend who was standing right in front of the door.

"but babe, isn't our movie night tomorrow?" you quirked a brow at him, eyeing him suspiciously which earned a laugh from him.

"i know i know. i didn't forget about it. i just wanted to spend the whole night here tomorrow." he said.

"you're just gonna meet up with someone." you joked and of course he did not take that seriously because the trust you have in each other is too much.

but no jokes would stop him from leaving, especially if it involves food so he opened the door but before completely leaving, he turned to your direction.

"i'll go now! i'll be as quick as i can. i love you~" he waved energetically and by energetic, we all know that his whole upper body would be swaying along.

"take care, satori! make sure to buy my favorite drink." you reminded him before facing the t.v again.

the way his brows furrowed at you failed to be unnoticed by your peripheral vision but he shrugged it off and left.

true to his words, he came back shortly after. placing down the paper bag on the counter before sitting down right next to you.

"do you wanna pick the movie now?" you pointed at the remote that was placed between the two of you but he continued to just observe you.

you turned your head to him in confusion, "is there something on my face?" you ask but he didn't budge and so you snapped your fingers at him. still no response.

but he took that opportunity to grab your wrist that was formerly in front of his face and leaned in closer.

"i love you." he muttered.

"t-thanks?" you stammer out, leaning back on the couch until you were completely laying down while tendou is still on top.

his lips tugged upwards, "i hate you." he blurted, you were almost offended but you didn't want to give up yet.

"the feeling is mutual." you said, trying to sound as sincere as possible but the two of you just burst out laughing before going back to your original position a while ago.

"you could have chosen any other prank but you picked the most basic one?" he snorted before continuing," i'll show you what a real prank is. just so you wait."

well, good luck surviving the whole week.

bokuto

now why the heck would you prank this boy

probably because you can but anyway–

pranks don't happen often in your relationship because bokuto would rather cuddle with you instead!

but you decided to pull a harmless prank on him that you saw on your FYP this morning, but before that, you realized he wasn't beside you the whole time so you stood up to find him in your house.

"BAAAABBYY!" you slightly yelped and saw him come out of the bathroom, apologizing profusely as he approached you for a hug.

"sorry~ did i scare you?" you nodded and he backed away from the hug, his eyes staring at you lovingly.

"it's unfair for you to be this pretty!" he pouted, cupping your cheeks in his big hands and you chuckled. "i think akaashi's prettier though." your statement made him dramatically gasp.

"y/n baby! don't tell me you like MY best friend?!" you immediately pull him into a hug once again. your hand reaching out to his hair and ruffling it.

"of course not! i was just joking. besides, you're the only person i would date." you heard him whisper an 'oh' before he pulls away from your touch.

"that's good then! i thought you were gonna leave me."

"i would never." you smiled at him, giving him a reassurance tap on his shoulder.

he glanced at your wall clock before turning his gaze back to you and pouted. "as much as i want to stay, i promised konoha to help him with something so i might have to leave now."

"it's okay. stay safe out there." you reached for his hand and walked him to the door, knowing well that he won't bother moving so you had to force him.

"i love you!" he kissed you on the nose and waited for a response. "bye, kou!" he waited again for a few seconds, hoping for you to say it back but you didn't.

"did i... do something wrong? i won't leave if you don't want me to!" he insisted and guilt washed over you.

"wait, no! it was just a prank. i'm so sorry, kou. i love you too. i'm not mad at you, don't worry." he was still skeptical but he noticed how you were slowly closing the door so he sighed in defeat.

"i love you." he tries again.

"i love you too." and with that, he finally felt relief and finally left.

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wrathandgreed · 4 years

Note

(I hope requests are still open) So ive been thinking. How about the brothers reaction to MC taking a large step away from them when ever one of them raises their hand up. It could be as simple as a high five. MC used to be in a abusive relationship and is paranoid about getting hit

Note: (For the record, I don’t know if you sent me this on purpose - I’ve never done requests; I’ve literally just put out my very first OM headcanons. But I figured I could try. I’ve never been in an abusive relationship, but a number of my friends have. I really hope I can do this one respect - if anything about this is not on the level, please let me know! Also, if I missed a trigger warning in the tags, or tagged this wrong, let me know. Also, for the record, I tend to like soft!Brothers and I really wanted them to try and be better - not put the onus on MC to “get over it” or anything.)

Second note: After writing this, I’m not sure that most of these guys would be a good choice for an abuse survivor!

Third note: I am NOT good at keeping things short and, as usual, I went overboard with Asmodeus. Like, it should be its own fic at this point. But write what you want to read, right?

Warnings: references to domestic abuse, both physical and verbal. References to suicide baiting. Uncensored swearing.

~5K words

Lucifer

A strange choice; his perfectionism and exacting behavior sometimes make you remember how it was back in the human world; everything had to be JUST SO….or else.

And he’s threatened to kill you. Twice.

But there’s something inherently decent about him - and you live for the rare moments he laughs.

His perfectionism usually isn’t even about you, so you just kind of….ignore it.

You’re doing some of your RAD homework in Lucifer’s study.

It’s quiet there.

And, while he won’t do the work for you, he’ll definitely help when you’re stuck.

Also you can give him tea and soothing when he (inevitably) gets upset at his paperwork - Mammon’s bills, Asmo’s bills, Satan’s bills (hey, dark magic books are expensive).

You start hearing the shifting and muttering that herald the beginning of the rant.

You gather the tea and walk towards his desk.

“Devil’s sake!” Lucifer suddenly snaps out, slamming hand on his desk as he reads yet another ridiculous piece of paper.

It’s not at you, the anger isn’t at you, you KNOW it’s not at you, but you freeze anyway.

Slammed hands on desks, punched holes in walls, hands on you, always hands -

The cup of tea hits the floor and you’re out of the room before Lucifer can even look up.

He’s seen it all in your paperwork - the police reports, the restraining order, the lists of injuries - so he puts it all together before his study door closes behind you.

He knows better than to go after you immediately. You’ll want some solitude, some quiet on your own, to steady yourself a little.

If he goes after you now, it might frighten you more. Looks like hunting.

You need to know he’s calm, that he’s not acting or reacting out of emotion.

He takes his time cleaning up the spilled tea, straightening his papers.

When he shows up at your room, he has a mug of hot chocolate.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out before he can say anything. You made a mess in his study, and he’s such a stickler for everything being neat. He was angry before, but he’ll be even more angry now.

“No, I’m sorry,” he returns, and offers you the chocolate.

(You blink once. Has the Avatar of Pride ever apologized before? If so, it was never in your hearing.)

The two of you talk quietly for a time. He insists that you don’t need to apologize - ever. He insists that, while he appreciates the tea-and-break routine, it’s 100% not your responsibility to control his anger. It’s his. He says that his anger isn’t good for him anyway (just look at Satan) and he needs to take a break when that hot feeling starts.

Maybe he should start scheduling breaks; setting timers on his D.D.D. so that he no longer works long enough at once to let it all get to him.

He doesn’t want you afraid of him.

Mammon

Mammon is pretty much the only demon who HASN’T threatened your life. He often sounds irritated, but he’s never even sounded angry at you.

If anything, he’s a mush and an abuse victim himself. So he gets where you’re coming from, and tries really hard.

So you shouldn’t be afraid of him.

But….he moves too quickly. He’s constantly jumping from one idea to another, one topic to another, one emotion to another. And that’s just emotionally.

You can’t trust where his hands will be. Ever. And that’s not a sex thing.

Sometimes, his protection of you makes you feel safe. If anyone hurts you, Mammon will hurt them a thousand times worse.

He’s funny, and his hands on you are gentle, and once you tell him about your past, he tries really hard not to go back to his “stupid human” habit, because it hurts your feelings.

But sometimes, his protection feels like obsession. Why were you talking to that guy? C’mere, you’re MY human.

Then, inevitably, the tug on your hand or arm or waist, pulling you closer.

It starts simply enough.

You’re playing video games in his room. He’s not as much of a gamer as Levi, but he enjoys them.

Especially ones where you can be competitive or drive cars really fast.

He’s been getting more and more excited, coiled like a spring. And it’s from enjoyment, not anger, but that level of energy, in your experience, explodes at some point.

You get quieter, but that only makes him more boisterous. He wants you to join in the fun! C’mon MC, did you see that?! It was awesome!

After a really impressive win, he shouts in triumph and suddenly his hand is in front of your face for a high-five.

You recoil and hit the floor, crab-crawling backwards before you can stop yourself.

His look of complete confusion, in different circumstances, might be funny. He actually looks at his hand like he doesn’t recognize it.

He drops to the floor too, “Babe? What’s wrong? Y’okay?” And he reaches out a hand towards you.

When you flinch, he gets it.

He sits on the floor, stuttering out apologies, not even finishing one sentence before starting another. He makes sure he’s cross-legged, leaning back on his hands - non threatening, leaning away, hands not hidden, but not prominent, and in a position it would take him time to move from.

When you start crying, he can’t maintain that pose and crawls towards you, pulling you into a hug.

If you resist, you know he’ll let you go. And that’s why you just curl into him instead, crying out on his shoulder while he holds you close - but not tightly.

“I jus’ need ya to talk to me….let me know if I’m gettin’ to be too much. I know I’m loud. Just….. jus’ remind me, I’ll never be mad.”

Leviathan

Boy already has anger problems.

Envy’s kind of prone to it, you know?

On the one hand, he literally attacked you over a piece of TSL memorabilia.

On the other, he’s generally harmless the rest of the time.

He’s meek and shy and terrified of touching you - so, 95% of the time, you feel super safe with him.

When you wake with a nightmare, when something jump-starts your fear response, he talks you through it, easily abandoning whatever game or anime he’s involved in.

He’ll only touch you when you ask, or when you reach for him first.

But then there’s the MMOs.

You know you should leave when he starts getting mad. Not in a victim-blame sense, but for your own mental health it’s probably not a good idea to be around him when he raids.

He ALWAYS gets mad.

You’re sitting in his room, so involved in your handheld that you forget it’s his raiding night.

(Usually you make study plans with Satan, or shopping plans with Asmo on his raiding nights. You don’t want him to give them up; he enjoys them, but it’s not good for you to be around.)

After finally completing a tough level, you pop your headphones off just in time to hear Levi swear loudly.

You go still as a string of swear-filled trash talk fills the room. Things you’d never expect shy, needy Levi to say.

You know it really is just trash-talk - the threats of violence are just too absurd. Rip off their arms and use their own fingers to bowl their skull like a bowling ball? Really?

Also this is LEVI. Levi? The demon who needed you to taunt Mammon about his credit card because he couldn’t do it himself? He might be Admiral of Hell’s Navy and all, but he’s not exactly threatening.

You get to your feet, a little shaken but ready to just walk out of the room. It’s raid night, and this is why you don’t hang out on raid nights. You’re not comfortable around other people’s anger.

You’re halfway across the room when Levi suddenly shouts in frustration and throws his controller on the floor.

And you’re out the door.

Levi just glimpses you as he’s reaching to pick up his miraculously-unshattered controller from the floor.

“Henry?” He calls out, just a second too late.

With only one moment of hesitation, he logs out of his raid and goes to follow you.

You had less than ten seconds head start, but it takes him almost twenty minutes to find you, sitting out in the garden, gazing at nothing.

“MC?” He calls quietly. He doesn’t want to sneak up on you.

A single blink, and the tiniest flash of fear - he left his game to follow you.

Calculation: extreme concern - or extreme anger.

Conclusion: Undetermined.

So you wait.

“Are you ok?”

Okay, so not mad. “Aren’t you raiding?” You ask, instead of answering. You’re not ok, but you’re also not in the mood to talk about it.

“I, uh, h-had a, uh, power outage?” Even he doesn’t sound convinced, and you snort. Levi only has three modes: simple, stuttering, and verbose. Thankfully he goes with simple. “You ran out. I was worried.”

You debate brushing his concern off, but he deserves better than that.

“I’m not good with anger. Even if it’s not directed at me.”

“Oh.” Levi pauses as he considers. He knows the basics of what’s happened. “I - I mean, I could, you know, NOT - “

“No,” you say quickly and lean in to kiss his cheek. “You don’t have to change anything. Do your raids, make stupid threats to stupid players. Just….warn me to leave first?”

Levi nods, but he skips the rest of his raid to stargaze with you in the garden, arms wrapped around you from behind as he points out different Devildom stars and constellations to you. You get a lecture on how Devildom stars are used in Devildom sailing. It’s actually kind of interesting.

Satan

Okay, seriously? The Avatar of Wrath? Author speaking here, I literally can’t picture a worse combination than an MC who’s still recovering from domestic abuse to date the AVATAR OF WRATH.

Like, yeah, he has good control over himself, but he also loses his temper in a moment’s notice.

He has CANONICALLY tortured people for calling him strange.

He flips out with no warning and destroys parts of the house and his brothers just let him do it because he’s too powerful to control when he rages.

I can absolutely see MC falling for the quiet intelligence, the consideration, and so forth, but witnessing one (1) single rage should be enough to tell them that this relationship won’t be good for their mental health.

Let’s not even talk about the (again, canonical) desire for domination, power play, pet play, etc, that kind of defines our boy.

I mean, I love Satan. Out of all the bros, he’s the only one I could imagine legit dating in real life.

But I’m a little ball of rage myself, and I have no problem with anger, mine or anyone else’s.

And the fandom (including me) can totally play cute and love on their “soft little angy boi” all they want, and he definitely has soft, sensitive sides, and I may actively choose to ignore the whole domination/power play/etc when I fic or headcanon because I really love soft!Satan….. but he’s not.

I can’t even make a headcanon, because I cannot picture a situation in which this is actually GOOD for MC.

Because no matter how hard he’ll try and control it, and how much his rage probably won’t be directed at them, I just keep picturing “It won’t happen again” except it will, and it’ll just wind up being flashbacks to the number of times “It won’t happen again” ended in black eyes or an ER visit back in the human world.

And MC walking on eggshells for eternity to avoid setting him off, and how is that healthy?

Asmodeus

Another decent choice for MC, at least on the surface.

King of consent over here, at least how I picture him. Especially for someone he cares about.

Always accepts “no” about literally anything. Don’t want sex? We’ll cuddle. Cuddling a little confining? Holding hands is cool. Really don’t want to be touched at all right now? Gossip and tea!

You were coming to really care about the Avatar of Lust, and you believed what Simeon said about him - how much he desperately needed love and affection. You got it; you needed some, too.

I mean, even if he’d been a bit of a jerk, he’d warmed up significantly since the pact, so new that it still burned on your skin, was formed.

But even Asmodeus wasn’t without faults. However much he focuses on love, he can sometimes, really be….mean.

You’re standing on a balcony in Diavolo’s castle, having escaped for a few moments.

He’d always been catty, gossipy, filled with drama, but the genuine affection and likability of him sometimes made you ignore it.

His constant mocking of Luke you could put down to the whole angel/demon conflict.

His occasional snapping or poking at his brothers you could put down to being stuck in the same house with the same people for literal eons.

The only thing that might make up for your awful existence is if you just ended it.

The words haunt you as you stand looking up at Devildom’s endless nighttime.

How many times did you hear similar words yourself? How useless you were, how much of a burden, no way you’d survive on your own without him, and he didn’t even want you that much. Why didn’t you just go kill yourself?

Dammit, you think to yourself as Asmo steps out on to the balcony.

“Darling! Why are you out here all alone? Or are you waiting for some company?”

When he goes to put his arms around you, you just say “no.” Simply, quietly, emotionlessly.

Asmo circles around to look at you. “Something wrong, sweetness?”

You take a breath. Another. You consider swallowing it, again, don’t want to start a fight. Back down, put on a smile, ignore it.

But realize you can’t. You spent years dealing with this crap, and you’re not going to do it again.

“You’re mean, Azzy.” Your voice is quieter than you expected. You look up into the demon’s eyes. To his credit, he looks deeply confused and, as you take a step away from him, hurt. Before he can open his mouth, you continue, “How could you say that to Mammon?”

“Are you defending MAMMON?” He asks, torn between incredulity and anger.

“Right now? Yes. But also Luke, Lucifer, and everyone else you talk shit to. Or about. He’s your brother. Do you have any idea how much it hurts to hear that out of someone you love?”

Dismissively, “Oh, if it actually bothered him, he’d - “

“What? Beat you up? That’s not like him. So he takes it. And takes it, and takes it, until, because it’s all he hears, he believes it. And then why fight back? Why defend yourself, if you’re such a piece of shit? You deserve it, after all, right?”

You don’t even realize it, but you’re crying by this point. And you’re mad. All the mad you couldn’t fling at your abuser before is filling you now. You don’t even know if you’re talking about Mammon or yourself anymore. Maybe both of you.

“And even though he’s beaten down, you keep going. When he won’t respond to the usual anymore, when that doesn’t seem to hurt him, rile him up, you go worse. You told your brother, who you claim to love, to kill himself. We’re barely even friends. So what happens when I annoy you? Should I just go die now, save you the trouble of telling me to do it later?”

You step right up to him, into his personal space, almost nose to nose, and stare directly into his red-yellow eyes. “Is this who you are, Asmodeus?”

Asmo has gone from defensive; incredulous and angry, to baffled, hurt and worried in just a few minutes. But at your last, pointed question, he jerks his head back as though you slapped him. Not knowing what to say or do, he reaches for you again, but you dodge his hand and brush past him back into the castle.

You get Solomon, the only one who won’t ask questions, to switch rooms with you. (Luke is thrilled; teaching him to play gin rummy actually cheers you up a little.)

For a few weeks, you and Asmodeus pass each other in the House without speaking. Then, one evening, there’s a knock on your door and Asmo slides into your room.

He looks….well, not awful; he could never look awful. But the glow is gone from his skin and, unless you’re mistaken, he hasn’t bothered doing his hair. He looks like he’s missed some sleep.

You look up from your homework and watch him. Silently. It’s not your job to fill the silence anymore.

More than most of them, Asmo despises being vulnerable. But it’s fix this or not, and the pact is pushing him to be on good terms. At least, he blames the pact. It’s easier than acknowledging how much the weeks of silence have worn on him. How awful it was watching you walk to class with Mammon instead of him.

And no matter what, he values honesty in his relationships, no matter what kind of relationship. So he would be honest.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly.

Lean back in your chair, hands folded. Waiting.

“I don’t know….if that’s who I am. Maybe it is.”

“Why are you here, Asmo? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop ignoring me!”

Steady face. “I spent too many years having someone talk to me the way you spoke to your brother. The rest of it - the gossip, the side comments, the cattiness…. it’s not your best side. In fact, it’s pretty unattractive when it’s mean, but I could handle it. But I can’t handle cruelty. I don’t want to be around it anymore.”

A pause. “What is my best side then?”

Disgusted, you chuck a pen in his direction. “Fuck’s sake, Asmo. Get out.”

“No! Not, not that. If that’s my bad side, the **unattractive** part, then what’s the other half?”

You search his face, but he doesn’t seem to be fishing for compliments. If anything, he looks….lost. Confused. And you wonder if anyone’s ever said anything to him, good or bad, about who he was; not what he looked like or how he fucked.

It’s not your responsibility to psychoanalyze a demon, you think to yourself. But you’re not someone to walk away. You wonder how it’s possible for someone to be thousands of years old, and know less about themselves than you know about yourself in just a few decades. And you have nothing to lose by being kind.

“You can be wonderfully kind, Asmo, and generous. You want to see the beauty in everyone and everything. As nasty as you can be with it, I’ll give you points for honesty. You connect with people, and the times you’re actually genuinely interested in them is….charming.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. Then he nods, as if he’s made a decision. “Okay. Tomorrow, after RAD, do you want to go for bubble tea?” At your confusion, he just smiles and continues, “It’s like skin care, isn’t it? Attractiveness requires effort, darling, until it becomes habit. If I want to be attractive inside as well as out, I’ll have to practice the good things, so they outweigh the bad. I can’t do that alone. I need a practice partner who won’t tolerate failure, right? At least until it’s habit.”

You feel your entire brain have to reboot before you can give a coherent response.

“Tomorrow. One hour. I have papers due.” You wait until he leaves your room before you smile.

Beelzebub

Probably the best choice for this MC.

The most emotionally intelligent of his brothers.

Also the most sincerely kind and gentle.

But also, like Satan, prone to sudden outbursts and rages. They’re all food-related (or, rather, lack-of-food-related), but they’re there.

A smart MC always carries snacks while dating Beel. Phone, wallet, keys, fried bat wings.

Strangely, though, the food-induced rages don’t really bother you. It’s not anger, really, and it’s never once been directed at you. And, unlike back in the human world, there’s a concrete way to help: feed him.

Today you have a whole backpack full of snacks.

You’re with Belphie, watching one of Beel’s games at RAD.

(You’re not sure Belphie wants to be there, but you’re not allowed out alone, and Belphie decided to take you - keep you safe and support his brother. Two birds, one Belphie.)

Belphie tends to nap against your shoulder any time the ref goes to make a call, but he’s somehow always awake to clap for his brother.

(You stand on your chair and cheer, but that’s you.)

The game is a close one; double overtime. Even Belphie is too tense to sleep towards the end.

And at the end of double overtime, Beel manages the single extra goal that results in victory.

You cheer yourself hoarse for your demon boyfriend.

The whole stadium is crazy, so you hang back and wait. Belphie hates crowds and you’re not keen on them yourself. It’s going to take awhile for Beel to make it through the crowd to you anyway.

You’re standing in the aisle, scrolling through your phone, when suddenly there’s a loud shout and arms wrap around you from behind and lift you up.

You gasp, and your scream strangles in your throat so what comes out of you is nothing more than a squeak. Your phone goes flying.

You’re frozen for a moment as panic surges. You want to fight and you’re fighting your own brain to push the panic into your limbs so you can fight for yourself.

You vaguely feel a tugging and you hear someone - Belphie? - insisting that you be put down and then your feet are on the ground but there’s no such thing as your legs and you start to fall before the same arms help you gently sit. The ground is gross, but you’ll only care about the damage to your skirt later.

Everything is fuzzy and confusing; you’re not even sure of what you’re looking at until your vision is filled with blue and violet.

You know that swirl of color. That’s a SAFE color, and you start feeling your poor brain start to work again.

You blink into your boyfriend’s blue-violet eyes; you realize he’s cupping your face with his hands and the weird underwater noises start to sound like his voice. You realize, very belatedly, that what probably happened was Beel lifting you up in a victory hug.

“M’okay,” you say, but it sounds robotic. It takes a few more seconds - you don’t know how many - for all of your senses and brain to actually begin working in sync again. You start hearing the sounds of the crowd departing the stadium, and you hear Beel continuing to say your name and trying to get you to answer questions. You almost smile; but smiling wouldn’t make any sense.

“I’m okay,” you say, and you must sound a little more convincing this time because Beel looks relieved. He shoots a few more questions at you, and you realize they’re the kinds of questions people get asked when someone thinks they have a concussion or head trauma.

Your answers satisfy him, so Beel helps you to your feet.

“What was that?” He asks. “Low blood sugar? Are you hungry?”

You have to smile at his very-typical diagnosis. A little sugar wouldn’t hurt, though. For some reason, eating grounds you after something like this. You dig a chocolate bar out of your Backpack of Snacks (Snackpack?) and hand the rest to him.

He impatiently takes a bag of chips out of it but doesn’t open it. He looks at you expectantly and you realize he won’t eat until you do. So you take a bite of the chocolate and he looks more relieved.

“So what the fuck WAS that?” Belphie asks as the three of you move towards the exit.

“Later.” You haven’t yet found a reason to really tell Beel (and, by extension, Belphegor) about everything. You do later that night.

Beel swears he’ll never surprise you like that again. He’s a lot more cautious about touching you for a few days, but eventually things go back to normal between you.

Belphegor

Author note: Dude fucking murdered you, deliberately, in cold blood, and taunted you for your gentleness and desire to help as you died. But let’s say you can get past that - or try to. Probably the second-worst choice, after Satan, for this reason.

You started dating Belphie for the strangest reason: you could trash-talk the shit out of him.

He kept trying to be around you after you made the pact (which, let’s face it, you made so you could MAKE SURE he never hurt you again). Until, after politely dodging him wasn’t working, you told him to take his emo-boy routine and fuck off somewhere else.

You flinched, waiting for retaliation, but he just blinked at you and told you to stop being a brat.

And he was smiling.

But it wasn’t a mean smile - it was a smile that shared the joke.

Your lips quivered into a returning smile, and you threw another insult at him.

He topped it, and hurled one back.

Before you knew it, the two of you were screaming obscenities at each other in the middle of the common room and laughing like hyenas.

For some reason, Belphie calling you a dumb bitch wasn’t an insult. It was a mark of endearment. And it didn��t hurt your feelings or make you afraid.

It was empowering to call him a dickhead if he did something you didn’t like and have him simply laugh and amend his behavior. Nothing bothered him.

He didn’t move quickly; in fact he didn’t move at all if he could help it.

But you would remember, sometimes, the way his hands felt on your throat, or how cold his eyes had been. And you couldn’t say it was a momentary madness, because he’d planned it. He’d been imprisoned because he wanted to kill humanity.

You put it out of your mind. It was something you were good at, after all.

Until the two of you sat down to watch a movie one evening. A simple plot hole sparked a discussion that wound up being….not an argument, but definitely a difference of opinion.

As usual, insults were flying fast and furious when suddenly Belphie laughed and smacked you with his pillow.

It wasn’t an angry move, and it wasn’t hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t a hard blow at all! But the surprise had you falling back on the couch. And the fear had you curling into a ball, arms wrapped around your head protectively, legs curled up to guard your middle.

There is dead silence.

“Hey, Brat?” Belphie asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name instead.

You slowly, very slowly, begin to uncurl yourself from your position. It takes time for the residual fear to leave, but enough is gone to leave room for embarrassment.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“I get it,” is the answer.

Cue awkward silence.

“I figured you were still afraid of me.”

“I’m not!” When he just stares blandly at you, you sigh. “Okay, a little. If you wanted to hurt me - again - you’ve had a ton of opportunities. So I don’t think you want to. But…..”

“It’s a hard thing to get over.”

“Yeah. And not just you.” Hesitantly, you start to tell him. You want to just give him the basics, but once you start talking, you can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t interrupt, barely seems to blink, just watches you. A blank vessel to help you empty the poison that fills you sometimes.

You see his jaw tighten as you go on, but you know the anger isn’t at you.

When you finish, he’s silent for a few moments. Then he gathers you up to him. “I’ll never hurt you,” he says.

You look up at him with the same bland look he gave you a moment ago.

“Again,” he amends. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

You let out a watery laugh and he hugs you a bit tighter.

“You’re still a brat, though.”

609 notes · View notes

justimajin · 3 years

Text

Whac-A-Headstone

Pairing: Game Owner Jungkook x Employee Reader

Genre: Fluff & Humour

↳ (10k) BTS Village AU

Summary: Working at the arcade can be downright miserable and it doesn't help that your boss isn't, well, the brightest lightbulb in the world. Add to this his extremely dramatic and prideful ways, you're left wondering why you even choose to work at the place anymore. You fortunately receive the answer in the form of Richman V one day, who has been eyeing your boss's pride and joy for quite some time.

Warnings: pg13 rating, some major spoilers for BTS Run ep. 120-121 (watch them before reading this), everyone in this fic literally has no chill (WHAT!?)

A pair of two small feet come to a stop.

Across from the road are multiple posters and signs, from large cardboard cutouts to cliche and cheesy slogans scribbled on paper. There’s a string of colourful lights hanging from above, ranging from a neon yellow to a dark blue. It’s extremely noisy, but the boy’s feet tread closer, round eyes enamoured from the over the top appearance.

The door is cautiously pushed open, the sound of his feet slowly shuffling against rough carpet echoing.

The boy’s eyes widen, peering around in puzzlement.

The shop appears nowhere near what its display offers. The walls are painted with a hue of dull beige, and there’s no intriguing lights with huge signs compelling him forward. Instead, there’s a large bookcase that he barely acknowledges, alongside a set of bright machines that remind him of its exterior.

As if in a trance, his attention is drawn away instantly and he doesn’t hesitate to stumble across one of the machines, eagerly eyeing it down. After struggling to sit on one of the high stools, an innocent smile spreads across his lips once he eyes the multiple colourful controls within his reach. He presses a button in curiosity, but the screen in front of him doesn’t change.

His smile drops into a pout, and he attempts again, only to be met with the same result. He then presses multiple buttons, frustration only building up at the blank screen.

A shadow lurks behind him.

“Hey kid.” He jolts, spinning around instantly. “You have to pay to play games here.”

The boy stares like he can’t comprehend those words, his eyes big and naive. You cross your arms, a scowl lining your lips and expression void of any amusement.

His shoulders deflate and the corners of his mouth downturn with disappointment. You continue to stare at him, gaze not wavering.

A long exasperated sigh leaves your lips and your eyes quickly survey the empty arcade around you. Taking a step forward, you rummage through the pockets of your uniform pants and out emerges a shining coin that has the boy’s eyes lighting up.

The coin slots into the machine and you turn around to face him, features still impassive.

“You owe me for this one.” You mumble underneath your breath, but he simply retaliates with a gigantic smile on his face.

The game immediately turns on as the boy begins playing, eyes eagerly sweeping across the bright screen as his fingers hurriedly tap against the multiple buttons. You watch from afar, the corner of your mouth lifting into an amused half-smile.

The sound of loud footsteps echos through the walls.

An annoyed exhale leaves your lips and it isn’t long before the back door is being ripped open, a young man emerging within seconds. You’re unfortunately painfully aware of who he is and it’s probably high time to clarify who you exactly work for.

Jeon Jungkook ‒ or simply your boss, if you actually took the liberty to address him as one ‒ is the person in charge of your employment. You’ve been working for him longer than you imagine and as you eye him from the corner of your eye, you can only contemplate how you’ve managed to even stick around for so long.

He pushes the big glasses on the rim of his nose back with his fingers, his eyes wide and practically boiling with vigor. He’s dressed in his usual attire, a button up shirt with a subdued green print on it and tight fitted black trousers. There’s a jarring amount of gel in his hair that only seems to increase with time and if anything, he looks more like some kind of mafia boss running an organization rather than the owner of an arcade.

His gaze is targeted on you, barely acknowledging the child that was excitedly playing one of his games and who is now staring between the two of you with wide eyes. You presume the boy is having the same thoughts running through his head that everyone has when they meet Jungkook, and it could be summed up with simply calling him a‒

“Y/N!” He abruptly yells, a muscle in his eye already twitching, “I heard one of the machines being turned on?!”

A nutcase.

You work for an absolute nutcase.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s how arcades work, you know? The machine has to be on for you to play an‒”

“You know what I mean!” Jungkook snaps, waving off your sarcasm.

“Oh.” You say, pointing towards the boy, “The kid wanted to play a game, so he paid for it and now he’s playing it.”

“Actually…” The boy suddenly speaks up, voice quiet and hesitant, “The nice lady paid so I could play.”

His eyes sparkle, like he holds you in high regard. Although he warmly smiles acknowledging your kind deed, your eye twitches and you mentally make a note to never to help out a child in your lifetime ever again.

Turning around, your eyes meet Jungkook’s and he’s fuming.

You internally sigh, already aware of what’s to come.

“Y/N, how could you do such a thing?!” He dramatically says, pressing a hand against his temples, “To take away from the money I could have had….just how? How?!”

“I was bored.” You honestly retort, unfazed in the slightest as you shrug, “And our only customer was a kid, besides‒”

You raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes at Jungkook, “Are you losing money or something? Why are you so worried about one kid that I paid for?” A spark resides in your eyes, “Is the business shutting down?”

Jungkook gasps, like you’ve offended his whole entire being. “What?! NO!” He shakes his head, “H-How could you even suggest something like that?!”

He leans against one of the machines, tightly wrapping his arms around it. You roll your eyes, watching him have a semi-crisis over the fact that you suggested his business is going down the drain.

“I’ll never give my business up!” He yells it out like it’s a statement he wants even the neighbors to hear.

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing, boss.” You retort as you slide over an extra lollipop to the kid that you were saving for later. He beams at you and you smile, but then Jungkook complains you aren’t listening to him enough and you let out a sigh, turning around to coax him.

***

After playing a couple of rounds on the machine before it shuts down, the boy bids you both a goodbye and sincere thank you. You tell him not to forget to bring some coins next time with a mumble and his eyes light up, followed by a very cute nod.

Closing the door behind him as he leaves, you spin around with a lengthy sigh. Digging into the pockets of your uniform, you yank out your phone and begin to scroll through the contents with tired eyes. The entire store is empty, save for you and the supposed boss of yours that you presume is lurking around somewhere.

The sound of a loud ding startles you, phone nearly slipping onto the ground. Your eyes are wide and on alert, sweeping around the vacant room.

“Aha! TAKE THIS!” There’s a loud thud that echoes through the room, and your eyes instantly narrow. You tuck away your phone, shuffling your hands in your pockets and nonchalantly walking towards the source of the sound.

Although puzzlement strikes you first, it quickly morphs into amusement as you reach the doorframe. Jungkook stands before the whac-a-mole machine, practically slamming the hammer against the poor plastic mole pieces in an effort to increase his score.

Which is nearing a hundred and fifty by the way, the highest score one can achieve in the game.

Your brows knit together as he keeps striking the popping moles, only for the machine to brightly light up seconds later with large digital letters saying WINNER in red across the board.

“I DID IT!” He suddenly shouts, spinning around and spotting you instantly, “Y/N, I beat my own record!”

You cross your arms, “Congrats.”

There’s a spark of smugness in his expression as he crosses his arms, cockly staring at you, “Looks like my score is officially unbeatable now.”

Although you know it’s practically bait that he’s throwing out, your lips move faster than you can register.

“It’s still beatable.” His irises light up in an instant and you want to curse at yourself for falling into the trap, but the look of challenge in his eyes is enough to spark your own fuel, “I can beat it.”

“Oh, really?” Jungkook questions, offering up the hammer, “Let’s see you try.”

You grab it from his hold without hesitation, gesture for him to turn on the machine. It lights up within seconds and with a deep breath, you brace yourself as much as possible.

The moles pop up within seconds, your eyes darting and flickering all over the platform. The hammer in your hands is soaring, hitting as fast as possible as quickly as possible. At one point, your hands mismatch and you catch an empty one, something that makes Jungkook snort but only increases your competitive streak even more.

Sweat has begun to fester at your temples, but you pay it no mind once the last mole is hit and your eyes are glued to the scoreboard. In giant bulging letters, your score is displayed before you.

5 points away from Jungkook’s score.

You can already hear the cheers of ecstasy leaving his voice, or the daunting smugness leaking from the words that he’s aching to sprout in your direction. But when you turn, there’s this annoying magnified smile plastered onto his face that’s somehow even worse.

You let out a huff and before Jungkook can start running all over the place in excitement like a child, a knock sounds from the door.

You straighten up immediately, raising a brow.

Customers don’t usually knock.

“Were you expecting someone?” You immediately wonder. A groan leaves Jungkook and he mutters underneath his breath, something along the lines of ‘this guy again’.

Dragging himself to the door to answer, your features contort into surprise once it’s yanked open.

A young man stands before you, his arms crossed behind his back and gaze scrutinizing. He’s dressed far too fancy for an arcade, a fine white collared shirt with a black tie and vest that hug his body. His bronze locks are long and perfectly curl at the front, but their rich appearance is muted from his piercing eyes, which at the moment are gawking all around your workplace.

Jungkook is first to speak up, clearly annoyed with the stranger’s prolonged ogling antics.

“Hey!” The stranger immediately turns to him, “Are you going to keep staring at my game room or are you going to say something?”

He stares at Jungkook, completely unfazed and apathetic to his loud exterior. It throws you off for a moment, wondering if there was even someone aside from you that possessed the ability to do so.

His words are sharp and discrete, straight to the point. “I want to buy it.” He tilts to his head slightly to the side, “Have you made up your mind yet?”

Your head snaps in Jungkook’s direction at the inquiry, appallment crossing all over your features. Jungkook looks like he’s ready to explode at any minute, hands balling up into fists.

He mimics the stranger’s tone, gritting the words out, “It’s not for sale.”

“I think there should be enough space to rearrange the front.” The man continues to speak as if he didn’t hear Jungkook, “These will have to be destroyed in order for a counter to be placed.”

He’s examining the machines already, frowning at their appearance and that’s when Jungkook ticks. Pacing forward, he wraps his hand around the stranger’s arm and begins to drag him out, even as he continues to survey the area like a thousand thoughts were running through his mind.

“Okay, now that’s really nice.” Jungkook cheekily says, but you can still hear the lingering anger in his voice, “How about you go redesign the neighbor's place? I hear they have a hairstylist who loves to gossip so it’d be nice for the two of you to chit-chat.”

The posh man looks composed and you’re beginning to question if he was potentially holding onto a facade to not be able to hear Jungkook. It’s not long before he’s politely escorted out the door, with Jungkook practically lunging for the opportunity to shut the door behind him.

He spins around, pressing his back against it as a sigh of relief leaves his lips. You can only stare at him in confusion as silence lingers, eventually breaking it with your own inquiries.

“What just happened?”

Jungkook’s wide eyes snap up, like he had completely forgotten you were in the room with him.

“Oh that,” A strained chuckle leaves him, “He’s been coming around here often, usually in the early mornings when you’re not around.”

He sits down on a chair that’s in front of the cash register, continuing to explain, “That’s Richman V, the guy nearly owns every property here in BTS Village.”

Jungkook continues to meekly laugh, but it only serves to draw out concern from you. “So...what? He wants to buy the arcade?”

“Well, uh,” He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah…”

A deep frown settles on your features as you stare at Jungkook, who’s smile seems to be fading by the moment.

“And like…” You begin, trying to wrap your head around the situation, “What? Are you going to sell it and hand it over or something?”

You’re the one laughing now, staring at him in amusement. Jungkook’s smile is completely gone, his eyes fixated on the ground.

“And what if I just did?”

For a moment, you could have sworn he was joking. But Jungkook’s tone is completely different ‒ voice having dropped a couple of octaves with no hints of humour present.

It only drills in deeper when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, a certain glint of anguish residing in there that you haven’t quite seen before.

You struggle to come up with words, “Y-You can’t be serious…”

“And what if I am?” Jungkook rests his hand against his cheek, leaning against the front counter. A sigh leaves him and your brows contort together, lips pressing together into a firm line.

You scoff, “B-But I would be unemployed....”

Jungkook’s gaze is fixated on the counter as he shrugs, “Then just find another job.”

“It wouldn’t be the same!”

His head snaps up, lips falling agape with the sudden outburst. You immediately avert your eyes, letting out an awkward cough.

In the midst of the silence, you ponder again, “Have you made up your mind then...? To sell it?”

“Sort of.” Jungkook mumbles, gaze drifting to the ground, “The game room hasn’t been doing too well financially and even though Richman V is kind of annoying....I’ve been thinking about his offer.”

Your eyes narrow at him.

His tone sounds like he’s already been defeated without a full fight, giving in without any resistance.

The boss you know would have to be physically dragged out of this arcade, his loud protests probably being capable of deafening those that want to take away his prize possession.

“Wait, just like that?” For once, you’re the one that’s more upset, “You love this place.”

His features twist, “Well yeah, but‒”

“This is coming from you, the same person that tried having a disco day at the arcade to attract customers and forced me to wear a rainbow coloured wig with roller skates because ‘it goes with the flow’ and ‘the entire vibe would be ruined’ if i didn’t!”

Jungkook stares at you wide-eyed and you scoff in disbelief, gaze connecting with the bookcase stationed in the corner of the room, “At one point, we even hauled in that giant thing together when you were convinced that the youngsters are ‘reading too much these days’ and that we’ll lose popularity to a hair salon next door that was giving out free magazines in their waiting room!”

“You seem to remember a lot of the things I’ve done....”

“I’m not done!” You wave a finger at him, ignoring his astonished expression and continuing with your rant, “There was even a time when you used me to distribute flyers and made me shout that ‘there’s no place I would want to work at beside Jeon’s arcade’, which by the way, is pretty much the opposite of how I feel!”

Jungkook lets out a snort at that, to which you direct an angry glare in his direction. Your rambles continue as he fondly watches you, somehow managing to spur up a spark of hope that was diminishing by the minute inside him.

“So you’re telling me that the same person that was responsible for all that is willingly going to give up his arcade?” You plant your hands on your waist, raising a challenging eyebrow at him, “Are you sure you’re my boss?”

“You’re right.” Jungkook honestly confesses, “This place means a lot to the both of us and we can’t let it head down under because some posh guy wants to own it.”

He raises up a fist, looking more determined as ever, “I’m not letting anyone take it from me without a fight.”

You cross your arms, a smirk rising on your lips.

“Now that’s the boss I know.”

“Jungkook, this is stupid.” You protest, the icy breeze from outside already nipping at your skin. Your boss spins around on his heels, his determination still overflowing.

“How is having some faith stupid?”

“It’s stupid when you drag me out at 7 in the morning without a coat to make a damn wish.” You bite back, barely able to feel your toes as you walk behind him through the village.

“I don’t feel cold.” He proudly announces.

“You’re shivering.” You point out, his chattering teeth and quivering form already being a dead giveaway thanks to his need in retaining his weird get-up out of the arcade.

“Shivering? That’s nonsense, I don’t feel the c-c-cold.” You let out a sigh, unraveling your scarf in the midst of his protests. Instead of handing it to him, you toss it over his head and he whirls around, frowning at you.

“Take it.” You mumble, not noticing him eventually wrapping it around himself as if it was desperate to retain some heat. You walk ahead of him, halting your steps and glancing around confused.

“So where’s this headstone you’ve been obsessing about?”

Jungkook squints, “It should be somewhere her‒OH!”

You whip around, watching Jungkook jog over to a small landmark at the side of the trail. Treading cautiously after him, you notice a structure made up of granite, appearing like a round ball that was placed on a stick.

You tilt your head, “This is the ARMY headstone?”

“It protects the entire village!” Jungkook chides, “Don’t you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, it protects us and we protect it in return.” You wave away it’s history. Unlike others the stone simply just existed for you, not being as ‘special’ or ‘glorious’ as it was for the other villagers.

“We need to make a wish to save the arcade.” He firmly states, eyeing you for an answer. You let out a sigh, eventually mumbling out the words in the most monotone voice.

“Please save our arcade.” You turn to Jungkook, “There, happy?”

There’s a smug smile on Jungkook’s lips and you scoff, glancing around as he makes his wish. Your eyes roam around the expanses of the village, landing on an individual scurrying around with bright teal hair and dressed in a uniform.

Your eyes instantly light up, “Namjoon!”

He notices you right away, jogging over in an instant.

“Y/N?” He says astonished, “I haven’t seen you around in a while, how have you been?”

“Ah, just the usual.” You shrug, “I’m always at the game room these days.”

A laugh slips from him and you smile, but you don’t notice the gaze Jungkook throws in your direction.

“Find any new auditions recently?”

“Ah no, I’m still trying though.” He professes, “I’ve been saving up in case I actually manage to get one.”

“You’ll find one soon, I’m sure of it.”

Namjoon sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, a dust of pink on his cheeks, “You know...there’s this new movie playing in the theatre….”

He rummages through his pockets, pulling out two tickets. “I’ve heard really good things about it.”

Your eyes spark, reaching out for them, “Oh, that would be so ni‒”

The tickets are instantly snatched away from you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders.

“That does sound lovely!” Jungkook smiles, “Thanks for the tickets RM!”

Namjoon glances between the two of you, “O-Oh…” He meekly laughs, “I-I hope you guys enjoy….”

He takes a step back, waving at you. “Guess I’ll see you around then Y/N....”

You watch his fading back in dismay, barely able to say goodbye to him as he rushes away.

The moment he’s gone, you spin around and glare at Jungkook. “What the hell?! I wanted to go with him!”

“Too late.” Jungkook cheekily smiles, “Now you have me~”

A deep frown settles on your features, “Perfect. Just perfect.” You shake your head, “Not only do I have to see my boss at work, but now I have to go watch a movie with him.”

“I know right?” Jungkook leans forward, “Who is this boss of yours by the way? He sounds like an incredible person.”

“Oh, he’s great ‒ great at being annoying.” You huff as Jungkook laughs at your silly taunt, practically skipping behind you as you return back to the arcade.

In the midst of your banter though, you don’t notice the particular pattern Jungkook’s shoes leave in the soil.

***

Upon returning, you and Jungkook get to work right away.

“What about a slogan?” You suggest, “Something that catches people’s eye and gets stuck in their minds?”

Jungkook places a contemplating finger against his mouth. It’s not long before his fingers are snapping, a bright glint sparking up in his eyes.

“Jeon’s arcade is the best.” His pupils are wide and there’s a giant grin spread on his features, but it clashes with your muted expression.

You raise an eyebrow, “Jeon’s arcade is the best…?”

He snaps his fingers again, shaking his head, “It’s great, I’m telling you. It’ll catch on within days.”

A dreary sigh leaves your lips, “How about something less...prideful?” Your eyes twinkle, “Like come down to Jeon’s arcade for a brand new experience?”

Jungkook scrunches up his nose, “That sounds awful.”

“It’s better than declaring you have the best arcade.” You mumble.

“It is the best arcade!” He pursues his lips, before finally muttering in defeat, “And technically the only one here…”

You’re about to suggest that maybe rearranging things in the game room would help for better promotion, but the lights begin to flicker.

“Wha‒” You’re unable to finish your sentence, the entire room plunging into complete darkness.

“Jungkook?” You question in concern, carefully shuffling your feet around. There’s a slight movement that brushes by your arm, your head spinning instantly.

“I think it’s a power outage.” He confirms, and you can hear the soles of his feet pacing around the room, “Let me see if I can find the backup generator…”

You hear some scrambling and shuffling around, until it’s accompanied by a loud thud and a sharp “ow!”.

“Are you okay?” You ponder, only receiving a dismay groan from him.

“I’m fine, but why is your voice coming from the machines?”

You blink, “Because that’s where I’m standing?”

“What?” Jungkook says in disbelief, “I could have sworn‒”

In an instant, light floods the room. Your eyes are rounded as they finally peer around, noticing Jungkook at the other end of the room with his eyelids screwed shut and holding onto his foot.

His lids flutter open, taken aback with your appearance. A sudden thump resonates against the floorboard.

You and Jungkook can only stare at each other petrified at the sound of feet moving about while both of you remain stationary.

Swallowing down his unease, Jungkook places a finger on his lips, gesturing for you not to let out a peep. He carefully steps forward, keeping the silence in the room intact to peer over at the counter.

A man suddenly pops his head out, a pout resting on his plush lips.

Jungkook staggers back, placing a hand against his racing heart.

“What are you doing here?!”

The man tilts his head to the side, looking down and then dusting himself off. There’s a black beret sitting on his head, a white-collared shirt overlapping with two suspenders that connect to his brown trousers. He continues to pout, eyes glancing around the counter until they stop on a circular object.

“Ah, there it is!” He excitedly whispers, wrapping his fingers around the large magnifying glass. Jungkook’s eye twitches, strutting up and grabbing onto the man’s shoulder.

“Hey! I asked what you’re doing here!”

He frowns, “Are you always this rude to people?”

Jungkook scoffs, but you interject, voice confused.

“Jin?”

His eyes snap up to you, “Oh, hi Y/N.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Investigating.” He immediately says, raising his magnifying glass. He begins walking around the room, a curious look to his eyes. “How long have the two of you been here?”

“Since the power went out.” You answer.

“Fascinating.” He continues his stroll, only faltering when Jungkook pulls at one of his suspenders from behind.

He appears annoyed from the former barely acknowledging him. “Why are you in my arcade trying to investigate, Jin?!”

Jin spins around, smacking his instrument against Jungkook’s head.

“Ow!”

“That’s Detective Jin to you, Mister.” He shakes his head in dismay, “Seriously, where have your manners gone, Kook?”

He glances at Jungkook, “And to answer your prior question, there’s been a recent crime in BTS Village. I’m here to solve it.”

“A crime?” You cross your arms, “What makes you think the arcade has anything to do with it?”

“Well, it’s not so much the arcade that has something to do with it…” He suddenly twirls around, pointing his giant magnifying glass at Jungkook who looks baffled, “But someone that might play a hand in the crime.”

You peer over his shoulder, noticing him narrowing in on Jungkook’s eye as the latter stiffens.

A scoff leaves your lips, “You’re drawing an absurd conclusion.”

“Oh really, Y/N?” He spins around, nearly whipping you in the face with the glass, “Perhaps you were at the crime scene too then?”

He begins scrutinizing you, and you uncomfortably shift from the glass being pointed at your eye this time.

Jungkook huffs, straightening up his clothes. “Don’t you use that magnifying glass to see how big your mouth is half the time?”

Jin raises his head, suddenly feeling offended. A snort leaves you, further fueling his dismay.

“Trying to use a personal connection on a detective now, are we?”

Jungkook plants his hands on his hips, “Well, this detective showed up at my arcade out of nowhere and is interrogating the hell out of me and my employee without any proof.”

Jin smiles, “Proof! Of course!”

He moves at the speed of wind, racing around the game room as you and Jungkook hurriedly trail after him. He stops right at the front, a small shoe rack capturing his interest immediately.

He starts tossing them aside one by one.

“Hey, stop!” Jungkook scrambles to catch them before they land on the ground, “Those are expensive!”

“Timberlands?” Jin questions, eyeing one certain beige pair before tossing it away too, “You need better taste, kid.”

Jungkook practically shoots out his arm in efforts to catch it, but it slips from his grasp and you dive forward, grasping onto it instantly.

“This is ridiculous.” You huff, “Jungkook hasn’t done anything, Jin.”

He hums, rising onto his feet. “Is that so, Y/N? Then how about you explain this?”

Whirling around, he points towards the base of one of Jungkook’s slippers, the same ones he hastily put on when he pushed for you to come with him to the headstone.

You narrow your eyes, not grasping onto his dramatic revelation, “It’s a slipper. You know, people use them for their feet…?”

“Not just any slipper!” Jin waves it in the air, far too close to your face as you grimace, “But evidence! Evidence that was at the crime scene during the time of the crime!”

He pulls out a photograph, showing a footprint that matches up to the shoe, “Someone knocked over and broke our precious ARMY headstone and that person is standing right in front of me!”

Jungkook looks as much at a loss of words as you do. You can’t deny that Jin is wrong, the picture in his hands and the slipper looking similar. The problem is you know what events transpired, having been with Jungkook as he pushed you to make a wish before speaking with Namjoon.

There’s no way he could have done anything.

“I-I…” Jungkook begins.

“You did it! Mystery solved.”

“What?” You snap, stalking up to Jin, “This is prosperous, you need more evidence than just a footprint!”

“Oh? Is that denial I hear?” Jin cheekily questions, cupping his ear and leaning closer to you. Your lips settle into a firm line, teeth gritting.

“Not denial, but facts.” You place a hand against Jungkook’s shoulder, “I was with Jungkook when the footprint was made and I know he’s innocent.”

“A counteract argument!” Jin says in excitement, “Fascinating!”

You let out a groan, “Jungkook is innocent, Jin.”

“I am.” He hurriedly says, hoping it would do something to diminish the detective’s accusations. Jin’s eyes sink down, puzzlement crossing his features.

He keenly eyes you, voice no longer childish, “He’s going to be the prime suspect.”

“He’s innocent.” You press forward again, causing the detective to stare at you for a moment before letting out a long exhale.

“Prime suspect.” Jin announces again, pretending to write down on an imaginary clipboard. His voice morphs, spiking up in volume, “I won’t stop until I catch who it is! Even if it’s you!”

The door is yanked open and Jin struts out, closing it on his way. You let out a relieved sigh, pressing a hand against your temples.

Jungkook being a prime suspect means that Jin doesn’t have the power to turn him in and he’s given you some time to figure out things as well.

He hasn’t taken his suspicions away, but at least he’s given you some leeway.

Jungkook’s desperate eyes connect with yours and you know what you have to do.

Your boss is innocent, and you’re going to prove it.

A loud bell dings as the door is shoved open, a huff leaving your lips. The shop is close to being semi-busy, a couple of customers planted down in seats and facing elongated decorated mirrors. Save for a couple of heads that turn in your direction, your eyes rake around.

Your brows are furrowed, a crease forming in between them.

A flash of white whizzes by your sight, your hand instantly snapping out and grabbing onto their collar.

A scream leaves the man’s lips, his eyes wide and petrified. They lock immediately onto yours and within seconds he’s slipping away from your hold, trying to make a run for it.

His voice screeches as he runs around the salon with a pair of scissors, “The culprit is here! The culprit is here!”

The showcase sends his customers into a frenzy, voices spiking up into the mayhem and a handful staring at you in horror.

“Hey, Chatterbox!” You scoff, “Come back here!”

You chase after him as he wails, bumping back and forth into his clients with no regard. You eventually grab a hold of his shoulder, a squeal leaving his mouth.

“NO!!” He cries, “Spare me, please!”

He tussles around within your grasp, “Hoseok!”

Abruptly freezing, he stares at you from behind his giant glasses, “Y-Yes?”

“I need to talk to you.” You profess, noticing the way his scissors are still held up in defense, as if they possessed enough of an ability to scare you away.

The sound of shutter snaps your attention away, your head whipping around to see a particular lens pointed towards you. It’s pulled down, a man with keen cat-like eyes and a resting pout examining its contents.

“Picture of the culprit.” His deep voice hums, seemingly satisfied. You tug away the camera from his hold, still keeping a tight grasp on Hoseok before he flies away from you.

“For ARMY sake‒” You scowl, noticing the apparent ‘frightening’ angle of you in the picture. Shoving it back at him, you hiss, “Delete it now, Yoongi.”

His eyes narrow, clearly not enthusiastic with the suggestion. You glare right back at him, suddenly realizing why you don’t swing by Hoseok’s salon or his photography shop often.

With a sigh, Yoongi deletes it and you let go of Hoseok, crossing your arms.

You hold up a finger, “First off, I’m not the culprit, and neither is Jungkook. Let’s get that straight from the start.” Hoseok opens his mouth like he wants to interrupt, “I’ll take questions at the end.”

He closes his mouth, a ㅅ shape taking over. “Second off, I’m here because I want to know who the true culprit is.” You take a step forward, eyeing Hoseok, “And I think the local gossiper can give me the details I want.”

Hoseok’s eyes are wider than before, his hands fumbling around with his scissors. Although he doesn’t care to admit it, you know the village folk feel extremely comfortable around him, willing to spill out all their secrets and desires with no mind over the naive and tender boy’s head.

Even to the point of professing some oh so good reasoning about a particular headstone.

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, clutching onto his camera, “How do we know you’re not trying to cover up your own tracks from the crime?”

Hoseok’s irises sway from you to him, growing only larger in size. You shake your head with a sigh, aware of the latter’s protectiveness towards his childhood friend.

“Because the crime was committed during a power outage….while me and Jungkook were at the arcade…..”

The truth sounded a lot better in your head. You can see Yoongi’s gears turning, his gaze becoming more and more scrutinizing.

To your surprise, he suddenly clears his throat, taking a step back.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“What?” He raises a brow, “Do you want me not to trust you?”

“No.” You deadpan, “I just thought you would ask more questions.”

Yoongi shrugs, “You barely pay any attention to the headstone in the first place. Plus Jungkook isn’t the type to break something he’s been making wishes to since being a kid.”

You blink, astonished with the analysis. Yoongi turns to Hoseok, nodding his head as the latter hesitantly begins to speak up.

“T-There’s a rumour…” He whispers, causing the two of you to lean in, “I-I didn’t mean to spread it! I-I just thought it was interesting and my clients like to hear stories of the village while I-I’m cutting their hair‒”

“What is it, Hoseok?” Yoongi wonders as you hum.

His pupils oscillate on the ground, hands fumbling with his scissors.

“Treasure.” He heaves, glancing up at the two of you, “There’s a rumour of the headstone housing treasure.”

He tilts his head to the right.

The giant magnifying glass in his hand follows the direction, inflating the image of the remains from the headstone by tenfold.

Planting one of his hands on his hips, the other comes forth to stroke his invisible beard. His legs swing, about to turn back to head towards the arcade again.

“Find anything yet?”

A scream escapes him.

Jungkook stands before him, covering his ears as Jin places a hand against his racing heart.

“You frightened me!” Jin scolds, narrowing his eyes, “What are you doing here?!”

Jungkook frowns, “I’m not the culprit.”

“Sure, that’s what they all say!” Jin begins walking down the trail near the headstone as Jungkook closely follows behind.

“So….”

“What?”

“Did you find anything yet?” He questions hopefully, doe eyes twinkling at his elder. The man before him sighs, aiming his glass piece at the trail before him.

He suddenly crouches down, scrutinizing another footprint.

“I’m not telling you anything, Kook.”

“But why!” He practically whines, childishly clinging onto Jin’s arm, “Come on, you’ve known me since I was a kid. Does this look like the face of someone that would break the headstone?”

He gestures to himself as Jin stares, purposely widening his eyes and putting on a pout.

Jin smacks the back of his tool against his head, causing Jungkook to wince. “Stop getting cute with me.”

Jungkook’s eyes sway, “I-I’m not getting cute….”

“Uh-huh.” Jin reminisces, looking around the headstone carefully again. There’s a furrow between his brows as he picks up a chuck of the stone, bringing it up to examine.

“Find anything?”

The stone piece nearly slips from Jin’s fingers as Jungkook peers over his shoulder wide-eyed, appearing more like a naive child than the owner of an arcade.

“Will you stop doing that?!” Jin scolds, growing irritated by the moment with Jungkook’s interventions. The latter pouts, desperation leaking into his irises.

“Then tell me something.” At Jin’s withering gaze, Jungkook pulls out all sorts of cuteness he wouldn’t be caught doing in daylight, “Please.”

Jin rolls his eyes, sight landing right on top of the headstone.

“Blue Village..…”

It’s so incredibly faint, but Jungkook’s ears catch onto it right away.

“What?”

“Blue Village.” Jin says louder this time, his brow twitching. Clearing his throat, he lowers his voice again, “I think someone from Blue Village did it.”

Jungkook’s eyes are instantly enlarging, features contorting into a sudden epiphany.

“Now leave me alone!” Jin says, pushing him away, “I have mysteries to solve!”

Jungkook nods in an instant, a smile curving on his lips at the new piece of information.

It’s not long before you’re pacing towards the arcade, surprised to see Jungkook already there and buzzing with energy. His eyes light up with your presence, lips moving immediately.

“Treasure!”

“Blue Village!”

You stare at each other for a moment, confused with the notion. “Wait, Blue Village? What about them?”

“Jin says that someone from Blue Village might be responsible.” Jungkook explains, scrunching his brows together, “What do you mean by treasure?”

“Hoseok told me that there’s treasure underneath the headstone.” Your eyes sparkle, “That means someone who needs money probably broke it.”

Jungkook grimaces, “Shoot.”

“What?”

“I need money.” He honestly states. Your features twist up with the fact, acknowledging that your tidbit on the situation wouldn’t work well in his favour.

Shaking the thoughts away, you pursue more information, “Who do you think did it?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond to you, instead he stares outside the arcade’s glass exterior. Puzzled, you turn around to see what he’s staring at, only to see a young boy dressed in a yellow shirt and blue overalls walking by.

He appears to be within his own world, a dreamy smile curving up on his cheeks and a colourful lollipop in his hand. His eyes instantly connect with yours, crinkling up into half moons as he waves over to you and Jungkook.

You return his gesture with a smile, but Jungkook had a sneering look in his stare.

“I hate that guy.” He spits out, drawing out perplexment from you.

“What?” You spin around, pointing to the oblivious boy. “Leader Jimin?”

Jungkook hums and you shake your head, watching an angelic smile take over the boy’s features. “How could you possibly hate him?”

Suddenly, something sparks within his eyes. He turns to you, determination spiking his gaze.

“He’s the one that broke the headstone.”

You let out an exhale of dismay, “He didn’t.”

“He’s from Blue Village.” Jungkook says, as if all the clues finally made sense, “No one know where he came from or what his background is. It makes perfect sense!”

“You’re starting to make up conclusions like Jin now.”

“He could use the money!” Jungkook snaps his fingers, “I heard that he’s been living at the village doctor’s house and pays rent!”

At your look of disbelief, he smirks, “Rent gets expensive, Y/N. Don’t you know that?”

“He’s innocent.” You protest, shaking away his accusations, “He’s a happy person that just wandered into our village one day. He looks like he can’t even hurt a fly!”

At the moment, Jimin lets out a giggle, one of the village kids smiling brightly up at him.

Jungkook narrows his eyes, a hum leaving him.

“Wait, you’re right.”

“See‒?”

Jungkook deadpans, “He’s an idiot.”

“He is not an idiot.” You’re about to list more reasons as to why, but you notice Jimin walking away to ‘lead’ the children behind him, not realizing that one of them has stolen his lollipop and the rest are trying to fight the child for it.

He breaks out in a daze of giggles, happy to be their leader.

Your features scrunch up, “Okay, maybe he is, but‒”

Jungkook smirks like you have no option but to agree with him. Before you have the chance to prove him wrong, there’s a knock outside the arcade door.

A trail of goosebumps spike up on your arm, the look of annoyance on Jungkook’s features telling you enough of who's at the door.

However, this time there’s no intrigue, just a simple big white label possessively planting against the wall.

“I heard you’re not doing so well financially,” Richman V states, “This arcade should be mine soon.”

Jungkook’s jaw drops at the man’s blatant actions, orbs following him around as he continues to plaster his labels all over his precious arcade.

You beat him at the chance to intervene.

“This arcade isn’t yours.” You tug at his sleeve, only for Richman V to spin around and plant a label smack against your forehead.

“Everything I label, I possess.” He interjects, “This arcade will be mine, and so will everything that comes along with it.”

He passes by you and begins sticking on more labels. You huff, ripping off the label and smacking it onto a nearby wall. “I am not going to work for you.”

“Yes, you are.” He states, like it shouldn’t even be in question. “You work in this arcade. The arcade will belong to me. Your services will be mine.” A smile curves on his lips, “You should be happy. I’ll at least be a proficient boss.”

Your eye twitches and Jungkook looks like he wants to interject, but you scramble around, locating a pen.

Taking one of his possessive labels, you scratch out his name and scribble on Jungkook’s before sticking it back onto one of the machines.

“You can’t take this arcade because it doesn’t belong to you.” You huff, grasping his attention. “And I already have a great boss, thank you very much.”

Jungkook blinks wide-eyed as Richman V stares at you, clearly annoyed with your meddling. Turning around, he leans closer, looking at you eye to eye.

“I own every property in BTS Village, and this arcade won’t be an exception.”

Without another word, he leaves, a clutter of his labels all over the walls and machines. Your eyes are sharpened, lips twisted with suppressed fury as you pluck off the flimsy pieces of paper that demand its ownership.

“Who does that guy think he is?” You rant as Jungkook silently watches you, “I mean sure, label all your things. Your toothbrush, your comb, whatever.”

Kneeling down, you narrow your eyes at the one he’s managed to stick behind the counter before tearing it off, “But a place he doesn’t even own? Talk about really wanting to possess stuff.”

“Did you mean it…”

Jungkook’s voice is soft, near quiet.

You turn around, bafflement crossing you. “Well yeah, he seems like kind of a jerk and wanting to possess an arcade after all he has seems like a petty list of things a person would want to own‒”

Jungkook shakes his head, stopping your ramble. “Before that. About me being a great boss….”

You stare at him like a deer in headlights, clearly caught off guard. Freezing in place, you open and close your mouth a couple of times, no words managing to come out.

Instead, a pink hue dusts over your skin.

“Well, I...I-I did say that…” You attempt to begin, “And I...well‒”

“Fascinating.”

Your eyes snap up at the sound of a third voice, noticing Jin leaning behind the counter as he listens into your conversation. Jungkook immediately swivels around, placing a hand against his racing heart.

“Can you call or something the next time you show up?!’ He angrily retorts, only for Jin to completely ignore him and step forward.

He walks straight towards the shoe rack, plucking up the pair of slippers Jungkook wore to the headstone. He drops them with a hum, walking over to the counter again to flip through some paper sheets, something that has Jungkook scrambling forward.

“Why are you looking at my accounts?!”

“It all makes sense now.”

Jin finally speaks up, pointing an accusatory finger towards Jungkook, “YOU DID IT!”

“I’ve already told you that I’m not the culprit!”

“Really?!” Jin challenges, “We found your footprint. You’re the one in need of money and tried to get the treasure underneath the headstone.”

He suddenly glances around, like he was still collecting proof against Jungkook’s case.

His eyes land onto the battered mallet used for Jungkook’s whac-a-mole machine, raising it in the air.

“Aha!” He exclaims, “This is what you broke it with!”

“Actually he broke that mallet because he’s ridiculously competitive and was prepared to win at any cost.” You interject, arms crossed.

“Oh….”

Jungkook deadpans at Jin’s dwindling resolve, an impassive and unimpressed expression spreading over his features.

“You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

“Of course I do!” Jin protests, grabbing a small book from his back pocket. He vigorously flips through the pages, eyes twinkling, “I told you about Blue Village being involved!”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, “Leader Jimin did it!”

You attempt to hush him down, but Jin cocks up a brow, baffled with the suggestion.

“What? That kid?” Jungkook nods, “Nah, he’s an angel. Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Offense is written all over Jungkook, “Then what am I?!”

“A greedy game owner!” Jin accuses, only for Jungkook to sigh.

“I’m innocent, Jin.” He desperately glances in your direction, “Just ask Y/N!”

“She’s probably plotting with you!!”

“Excuse me?” You scoff, about to give your two cents on the ridiculousness of the conversation until the sound of small ding resonates through the room.

A pair of two small feet come to a stop, wide eyes staring at the three individuals in front of him.

You recognize him immediately as the boy that came to your game room the day you had barren business.

“Oh, it’s you.”

Jungkook perks up, “The kid who Y/N paid for!”

Jin whips around, narrowing his eyes at Jungkook and prepares to write in his book. “Excoriating money from our employee’s now, are we?”

“I willingly paid for him.” You correct right away, aware that Jin seemed to be on Jungkook’s tail no matter what. Spinning around, you crouch down to view the boy, “What are you doing here?”

“I saw the headstone marked as a crime scene.” He speaks, peeking around with wide eyes. “I wanted to see the Detective.”

Jin immediately pushes forward, adjusting his hat and leaning down with his notebook.

“Do you know anything about how it was broken?”

The boy nods, “I was on my way to school when I saw two people walking to the headstone. One of them was dressed very fancy and the other one had blue hair.”

“Richman V and RM!” Jungkook exclaims, only for Jin to hush him down.

“It’s too early to draw conclusions!”

Jungkook scoffs, “So drawing conclusions about me without evidence wasn’t too early?!”

“Did he have bronze hair?” You immediately question, and the boy nods, “Was the other one wearing a box office uniform?”

He nods again, “They were talking to each other but not in a nice way. I think they were fighting.”

“They were fighting?” Jungkook wonders, staring at you in disbelief.

“Hold it!” Jin exclaims, moving towards the boy. He points towards you and Jungkook, expression keen, “Did you see these two near the headstone?”

He places a finger against his chin, a spark lighting up in his eyes, “I did!”

“AHA‒”

“But they were making a wish together when the headstone wasn’t broken.”

“….oh?” Jin whispers, his pen freezing in place. The boy smiles, gazing at you.

“I hope your wish came true.”

You return his smile, “Thanks for coming by, kid.”

He nods, waving at Jungkook and Jin before you open the door and let him rush home.

Silence reigns heavy in the arcade room.

Jin eventually clears his throat.

His voice is considerably quiet, nowhere near the loud and dramatic tone you were accustomed to hearing.

“It seems like I’ve made a mistake…”

“Seems like?!” Jungkook angrily shouts, but Jin coxes him right away.

“Mistakes can happen! Someone can look guilty and end up not being…”

Jungkook has a “are you serious?” expression and Jin cheekily smiles, before racing towards the door.

“Oh wow, would you look at the time?? I’ll catch up with you guys later!” The door is shutting close before you can even utter another word, your eyes rolling at the man's catastrophe.

This just in!

Famous Property Owner and Dealer Richman V and Box Office Employee RM caught for destroying one of the more treasured possessions of BTS Village!

Thanks to the testimony of one boy, more eyewitnesses were found and several pieces of evidence led to the duo facing charges. It is said that RM needed the money to attend an audition and had tried to negotiate with Richman V for help near the headstone. Richman V, who was facing the displeasure of not obtaining a particular arcade in the village, wanted to know about the mysterious treasure hidden deep beneath the stone. Sources suggests that two were baffled about the broken headstone and attempted to cover up the accident by‒

“Oh, would you just get to the good part already?!” Jungkook slams his fist against the counter, desperation leaking into his voice.

You let out a sigh, scrolling through the newspaper until you find the excerpt. Clearing your throat, you mimic your best anchor voice again.

Initially, Detective Jin from BTS Village had suspicions on a certain game room owner that goes by the name of Jeon Jungkook, but with further investigation done, it was found that he was at the crime scene prior to the incident and was deemed innocent.

“Well, it’s nice hearing someone say I’m innocent.” Jungkook remarks, leaning against his hand on his cheek.

The newspaper is yanked down, “I said you were innocent.”

“Of course you did!” He proclaims, “Why else would you want to turn your innocent boss in?”

“I can think of a couple of reasons.” You mumble underneath your breath, only for Jungkook to pout. “What?”

“I’m still broke as hell.” He shifts his attention to his account book on the counter, lazily flipping through the pages. “Business has been better, but I’m still not making enough money.”

You roll your eyes, aware that business truthfully has been better thanks to your combined efforts and that it would take time for some stable revenue to roll in, as long as Jungkook’s dramatics don’t manage to interfere.

“Maybe you should hire a different employee instead of me.” You sassily retort, “Let’s see what happens to business then.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes, “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because you’re ‘losing’ money.” You exaggerate in the same tone he used.

“Nah, I’m never going to get rid of you.” He softly says, “You always have my back.”

For a moment, you just blink your eyes. Turning around, you’re expecting a cocky smirk on his lips or a teasing raise of his brows.

Instead, you’re met with sincere eyes and a genuine smile, something that nearly has the newspaper in your hands slipping from your hands.

You slowly open your mouth to respond.

“Why are the two of you having a staring contest?”

Both you and Jungkook whip around, watching Jin poke at one of the machines with a frown on his face.

Jungkook’s jaw drops down, “What are you doing here?!”

Jin looks at him taken aback, the anger in his voice prevalent. “What? Were you two having a moment or something?”

You avert your eyes as Jungkook’s brow twitches.

He shakes his head, a whine escaping him, “Why are you here, Jin?”

“Oh!” He pipes up, “Are you hiring at the moment by any chance?”

“What?”

Jin cheekily smiles, “So my reputation as a detective kind of went sour with this recent case, you know, with suspecting and falsely accusing someone innocent and‒ what are you doing?”

He’s being effortlessly lifted by Jungkook, before being planted right outside of the arcade.

Jungkook closes the door shut, sending him a friendly wave with a strained smile as Jin scoffs.

“Oh come on, JK!”

“Come back when I really am innocent!” He childishly laughs as Jin throws a fit of anger from the display.

Jungkook glances in your direction almost as if to gauge your reaction to his antics, but you simply smile and shake your head with a roll of your eyes.

Jungkook snaps his fingers.

“This entire place should have a makeover!” He springs up from his seat from his revelation, pacing around the room, “We can take out the bookcase and maybe add more machines, we could even paint the walls maybe like a royal blue, put some speakers here‒….”

You lounge on one of the chairs as you watch your boss continuing his ramble, eyes follow along with the speed of his legs as he practically pounces around the place.

It’s been a while since the ARMY headstone mystery has been resolved, and aside from helping Detective Jin with getting a job after Jungkook’s refusal of hiring another employee, you’ve come to terms with yourself.

You have feelings for your boss. It’s plain obvious.

The problem lies in the fact that you work with him, meaning that no matter what you do and say, he’s naturally inclined to believe that you’re simply doing him a favour as an employee.

A sigh leaves your lips as you lean back in your chair.

Jungkook whirls around, childlike excitement sparking in his large doe eyes, “Well?”

You abruptly blink, realizing that you hadn’t caught onto a single thing he said because you were too caught up in your own head.

Standing up, you pat his shoulder and walk over to the counter, “Let’s discuss this later.”

“What?” Jungkook watches your fading form, a crease forming between his brows, “A-Are you sure? You seem to be really out of it these days, Y/N.”

At the hint of concern in his voice, your eyes widen, “Uh, yeah!” You nervously laugh, “I seriously doubt we’ll figure it all out in one day.”

Jungkook pursues his lips, “Hm, that’s true.”

He smiles and you wipe away the sweat from your temples, a relieved exhale leaving you.

***

You have to confess to him.

You’ve been thinking about it all night long, and as soon as the sun rose this morning, you were determined to tell Jungkook how you felt about him. You’ve already come up with a bunch of ways to convince him that yes, you like him in case he dips into his notorious denial, and even were prepared for any spouts of panic that might burst out from your dynamic abruptly shifting.

There’s nothing that can surprise you now.

Your feet immediately slow down, mouth falling agape.

In front of you is the arcade, and at the same time, you wonder if you’ve even arrived at the right shop.

Gone are the large advertising and attention drawing signs, cardboard cutout replaced with navy blue and black speakers. The yellow and blue lights have been replaced with midnight black and white ones, soft music radiating out from the door.

You continue to stare at it in puzzlement.

The arcade you knew was loud and bold, noise drowning through into your ears and strobe lights nearly blinding you.

Cautiously, you open the front door, your surprise simply magnifying with every step you take.

The walls are coloured with a shade of dark blue, replacing the dull beige completely. The bookshelf has disappeared, replaced with new gaming machines instead of similar ones linked up in a row.

One of them consists of a brand new whac-a-mole machine, your eyes flickering over the colorful display and shining mallet.

“Y/N?!” A voice suddenly calls out, snapping you out of your awe-filled daze. Turning around, you don’t see your boss in sight.

“Jungkook?” You call back out, only for the sound of boxes shifting resonating from the back room.

“Just give me a minute!”

You hum, picking up the mallet with a smile as you walk closer to the door.

“What have you done to this place?”

“You like it?”

You inspect the instrument in your hand, “Yeah, it looks amazing….”

His laughter seeps through the door, “That’s great! I just thought the place needed something different, you know? Almost like a re-opening.”

The corner of your mouth lifts up, “From now on, Jeon’s arcade is a new experience for all!”

You snort at the slogan, placing the mallet back down on the counter. That’s when your eyes focus onto the small bottle on the counter, the words ‘hair dye’ causing them to enlarge with size.

As you grab onto it, the back door room opens and Jungkook emerges out, his blonde strands bright and damp with drops of water.

He beams at you, doe eyes crinkling and a giant smile breaking out onto his features.

“What do you think?” He eagerly asks, “Doesn’t it help with the new experience in here?”

The hair dye bottle slips from your hands, no coherent words forming from the tip of your tongue as your mouth drops wide open. Jungkook can only stare in confusion as pink rapidly scatters across your features and it’s in that one sole moment you realize.

No matter how hard you try, your boss always finds some way to surprise you.

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animationnut · 3 years

Text

Of Broken Spirits and Renewed Hope

Spoilers for True Colors.

Rating: K+ Summary: Three human girls arrived in Amphibia. Only one made it back home. Note: If Google has any degree of accuracy, นางฟ้า is Thai for angel.

“Home.”

Anne felt her vocal cords vibrate in her throat, felt her tongue curve around the syllable of the word, felt her lips as they moved to accommodate her vocal cords and her tongue. But she was speaking from instinct, not intent, as her brain swam in a haze of mixed colours—green, pink and blue, and the orange glow of a blazing sword—

Anne could feel herself wavering on the edge, practically see the black abyss threatening to swallow her whole, but three harsh coughs interrupted her dark spiral.

“What’s that smell?” rasped Polly, covering her nose as she wheezed. Her gags racked her small form and Hop Pop quickly whipped a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to cover Polly’s face.

The buzzing in Anne’s ears stopped and the world exploded with sound and sensation.

Dozens of horns blared from commuters who were impatient and annoyed with traffic that should have been as familiar to them as the back of their hands. Heat seared Anne’s exposed skin as the metal of the vehicle they were lying on burned from the exposure to the Californian sun. Exhaust rose in black clouds, sour and noxious, burning Anne’s nose and making her eyes water.

There was the click of the car door opening and Anne snapped her head around. The portly man gazed blankly at her as his mind struggled to comprehend what he was witnessing. With a boggled expression, he looked between the girl wearing an armoured chest plate and the three large, anthropomorphic frogs sitting next to her.

“Hi,” chirped Anne, managing to sound upbeat and cheerful. “Sorry, dude. We’ll just be on our way.”

“Where did you come from?” he asked. Anne couldn’t identify his dialect, but his accent coupled with the maple leaf-shaped air freshener and his outfit screamed ‘tourist’. “And what the heck are those?”

Sprig opened his mouth, no doubt to introduce himself, but Anne seized the Plantars in a one-arm hold, squeezing just tightly enough for speech to be difficult. “Sorry,” she repeated, using her free hand to snag the strap of her backpack.

She slid down the hood and if it weren’t for months of walking over sticks, stones and hard, uneven ground, the hot asphalt seeping through her worn-out sock might have crumpled her. But she ignored the pain as she swung her bag over her shoulder. The weight of Frobo’s deactivated head nearly sent her sprawling, but she regained her balance and took off running.

She weaved her way through the bumper-to-bumper traffic, climbing over vans and sports cars and SUVs, ignoring the shouts and curses aimed her way by the disgruntled owners. She reached the metal barrier that separated the embankment from the freeway and she hoisted herself over it.

They tumbled down the grassy slope and Anne sprinted through the trees. The sounds of human civilization eventually quieted and Anne halted her sprint when she registered Sprig smacking at her arm.

She quickly let them go and they dropped to the ground. Anne’s knees buckled as the adrenaline drained right out of her. Her mind was a mess of thoughts and her lungs felt like they were going to collapse.

The flaming blade piercing through Marcy’s chest. The stunned expression in Marcy’s eyes, the way all colour faded from her face. The tears that spilled down her cheeks, and the final words that tumbled from her mouth as her eyes rolled back into her head.

“I’m sorry. For everything.”

Anne’s agonized scream was promptly choked by the vomit that filled her mouth.

Hop Pop was by her side in an instant, hands gripping her shoulders as she hunched over and hacked into the grass. Her throat burned and her limbs trembled, the sight of Marcy falling lifeless and the sound of Sasha’s horrified howl haunting her.

The sobs that pealed out of her came from somewhere deep inside the girl. They were filled with pure loss and devastation and it echoed amongst the towering trees. Tears poured down Anne’s face, snot leaked from her nose as she cried and her fists pounded into the grass as emotion overcame her.

“Marcy!” she wailed. “Marcy, nooooo! Maaaaarcyyyy!”

Hop Pop wound his arms securely around her neck and pulled her close. Sprig and Polly clung to her, and all of his grandchildren were in a state of grief, tears glimmering on their skin and their small bodies shaking.

Hop Pop swallowed back his own sadness. As traumatizing as it had been to see a child slain in front of his eyes, he had to be strong for his family. He stroked Anne’s hair, patted Sprig and Polly’s heads, and gave comfort not with words but his presence.

Anne cried herself hoarse. When she found she had run out of tears to shed, she weakly sat up and wiped at her face. “It’s not fair,” she said croakily. “Hop Pop, it’s not fair.”

“I know, kiddo. I’m so sorry.” Hop Pop rubbed his thumb gently over Anne’s knuckles.

“She sacrificed herself to save us,” said Sprig, squeezing his eyes shut against the swell of despair. “Her and Sasha.”

Anne gave a distraught moan, her head bowing slightly as the weight of two worlds crushed against her shoulders.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” ordered Hop Pop, and Anne reluctantly lifted her chin. “We don’t know what happened to Sasha. She’s a tough one. I’m sure she’s fine.”

“We don’t know that!” shouted Anne, her voice cracking. “Marcy should have been fine, but she isn’t! She’s dead, and Sasha might be too! This isn’t how it was supposed to go! We were supposed to come home together!”

She began to dry heave, stress and panic and grief clenching tight around her heart and making her feel sick. Hop Pop grabbed her face with both hands and stared steadily into her wet eyes. “Breathe with me. In and out.”

Anne’s first attempts resulted in strangled gasps, but eventually she gained control of her breathing. “I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered.

“We worry about that later,” said Hop Pop firmly.

“But what about Andrias? And if Sasha is still alive—”

“Anne, right now, none of us are in a state to do much of anything,” said Hop Pop calmly. “To be honest, I don’t know if we can do anything.”

Anne blinked at him before realization hit. “The music box is still in Amphibia.”

Polly was crestfallen. “Does that mean we’ll never be able to go home?”

“What about Bessie and MicroAngelo?” asked Sprig desperately. “And Ivy! I didn’t get to say goodbye to Ivy!”

“Hush,” said Hop Pop soothingly, pulling Sprig and Polly into his arms. “The townspeople will take care of our snails, and I’m sure Ivy will understand, Sprig. As for going back home, I don’t know.” He let out a heavy sigh, feeling every year of his existence weigh down his bones. “Maybe we can figure something out. But if we can’t, we have each other. Home is where we are, even if we aren’t in Wartwood.”

He swept his eyes over his grandchildren, biological and adopted, and saw the words provided little peace in the moment of intense sorrow. But he knew they would come to appreciate how fortuitous it was that they returned to Anne’s world as a family, even when the losses they suffered hung darkly over their thoughts.

Anne was staring numbly at the ground and Hop Pop tugged lightly at her elbow. She fell easily into his embrace, as if she were made of nothing but feathers, and her forehead rested against the top of his head. For a moment they just stayed there, Anne’s body radiating warmth and causing Polly and Sprig to nestle closer to her, seeking her familiar heat.

Polly was the first one to hear the musical twinkling. She blinked over at Anne’s backpack. “Anne, your bag is singing.”

Anne slowly turned to follow Polly’s gaze, and it took her several seconds to register the noise. Suddenly it was as if a live wire had touched her and jolted to action, shrieking, “My phone!”

The Plantars were jostled as she dove for her bag. She ripped Frobo’s head out and Polly said furiously, “Hey! Don’t treat him like he’s junk!”

But Anne barely heard her. She plunged her hand into her bag, the bristles of her brush and points of her bobby pins sticking her flesh. Her fingers wrapped around her phone and she yanked it out.

Her text alert, which she hadn’t heard in months, was jarring to her ears. The notification center on her phone was being flooded by dozens and dozens of texts, missed calls and voicemail alerts. They poured in so fast Anne was only able to glimpse the names attached before they were replaced by another batch of notifications.

The majority of the texts were from Sasha, Marcy and Anne’s parents. There were a couple from the local police station, which caused Anne’s stomach to grow cold with fear. She hadn’t even considered the consequences of literally disappearing off the face of the Earth.

And then her phone froze, unable to keep up with the backlog of messages coming in all at once. Frustrated, Anne stabbed at her screen with her finger, but it was no use.

Her eyes fell upon the last text to make it to her notification center. It was from her mother.

Oh, นางฟ้า, your father and I miss you so much. We pray for a sign that you and the girls are alive, and that you will return home soon.

“Oh, Mommy,” whispered Anne, her fingers digging into the rubber material of her phone case.

Hop Pop approached and set a hand against her back. “Let’s go see your parents,” he said softly.

“But I don’t even know what to say to them,” she said helplessly. “I don’t know if they’ll understand. It’s…the things I’ve been through, the things we’ve been through, they don’t happen here. Not ever.”

“Well, we’re here to help you explain things,” said Sprig earnestly.

“Yeah, I’m…I think I might need some time to prepare them for you three,” muttered Anne. “They are so gonna freak out.” She glanced back at her frozen screen, and her heart plummeted as she read the most recent message from Marcy’s father. “Oh, how do I tell them?” she said in despair. “How do I tell Sasha’s parents that I had to leave her behind? How do I tell Marcy’s parents that their daughter is…is…”

Her voice wobbled and her eyes started to sting once more. Anne wanted to cry, but she didn’t have the energy nor the water for proper tears. Hop Pop gently set her phone back in her bag, which Anne allowed without protest. He laced his fingers with hers and said, “We’ll tell them the truth, Anne. That’s all we can do. We’ll tell ‘em how brave their daughters are.”

Anne gave a sniff. She tugged her hand free from Hop Pop’s grasp so she could rub at her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, for sure.”

She took a few minutes to gather herself, to try and clumsily sort through the heavy emotions swirling in her chest. She wanted to mourn, but there wasn’t time. She had to see her parents, had to tell them what happened.

“So, how long have you been gone?” asked Polly in a small voice, embarrassed by her earlier outburst. “Does time work the same way here?”

“Um…I don’t know.” Anne gestured to her pink backpack, where her phone was once again nestled safely inside. “It froze on me, so I can’t check the calendar or anything. And I didn’t get to see the dates on the first few rounds of texts.” She looked over to see the pollywog nuzzling Frobo’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Polly. I shouldn’t have thrown him around like that.”

“S’okay,” mumbled Polly. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m just really sad and upset right now.”

“Me too.” Anne leaned over and brought Polly into her arms, pressing a gentle kiss against her head. “I’m sorry, Polly. Maybe we can fix him.”

“Yeah,” piped up Sprig. “He just needs a new body, right? When we get home, we can go back to that weird machine place and get him a fresh one.”

Polly perked up at that. “Yeah…yeah!” she said. “If we keep his head safe, we can rebuild him!”

There was hope in her eyes. It glimmered and shone and Anne found herself hypnotized by it.

Something flickered in her heart.

“Until then, we’ll do what we can here.”

Hop Pop, Polly and Sprig looked at her in surprise. The teen’s chin was set, her mouth settled in a determined line. “Anne?” ventured her best friend. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not just going to sit here and wait,” said Anne. Her own hope ignited, and the spark soon blazed throughout her whole being. “I’m not gonna just do nothing.” She set Polly down and stood, her fists clenched by her sides. “You’re right, Hop Pop. Sasha’s fine. Marcy…Marcy made the mistake of turning her back to Andrias, but that wasn’t her fault. Sasha won’t do that. She’ll find a way to take the box from that monster and open the portal again.

“But until she figures that out, I gotta do my part. That music box came to Earth somehow. The thrift store where Marcy found it, they had a wardrobe with the Amphibia symbol engraved into the wood. And Marcy knew what the box could do, which meant she found some information about it somewhere.”

She thought about Wartwood, her home away from home. She thought about Wally, Mrs. Croaker, Archie, Bessie, MicroAngelo, Toadstool, Toadie, Loggle, Ivy, Sylvia, Felicia, Stumpy, Maddie and the rest of her friends from the humble country town. She thought about Sasha, who despite her need for control and her habit of lying to get what she wanted, came through for her friends in the end.

She thought about Marcy.

She had tricked them into leaving their parents, their lives, and trapping them in a world so beyond imagination that Anne never in a million years would have dreamed it up. She had done it because she was so scared to lose the friends she loved most, so desperate to stay with Sasha and Anne forever.

She had been inconsiderate. She had been selfish.

So had Anne. So had Sasha. Marcy didn’t deserve to die for her mistakes—none of them did. They were just three teen girls who sometimes did stupid, stupid things.

But they cared about each other—Anne believed that. Even if it was misguided, even if it was manipulative, she knew Sasha and Marcy cared about her—they sometimes just went about it in all the wrong ways.

And even though Marcy was the reason they were in this mess in the first place, and even though Sasha’s trickery was the reason Anne didn’t initially believe her about Andrias, she cared about them, too.

Right now, it didn’t matter if she wasn’t sure if she still wanted to be friends with Sasha after all she had done. It didn’t matter that she still stung over Marcy’s own manipulative scheme to take her friends away from everything they ever knew.

However complicated her emotions currently were, it didn’t mean she couldn’t still care about the two girls she’d shared her most precious memories with.

She was going to find a way to get back to Amphibia. She was going to save her friends. She was going to bring her frog family back home. She was going to save Amphibia and countless other worlds from Andrias’ tyranny.

She wouldn’t let anyone else she loved die by his hands.

“We’re not helpless!” she said fiercely. “We won’t let him make us helpless! We’re gonna stop him!”

Her pupils and irises illuminated a bright blue.

“They did it again!” exclaimed Polly.

Anne blinked and the colour of her eyes returned to normal. “What?”

“Your eyes! They did the funny light-up thing! Are you gonna turn blue again?”

Anne flexed her fingers, but she didn’t feel numb or tingly, like she had when Andrias had thrown Sprig out the window. “No, I don’t think so.” She glanced down at her hands, brow furrowed. “To be honest, I have no idea how that happened. I don’t even really remember it? I mean, I know what I did, but it felt like I wasn’t in my body while I was doing it.”

Sprig looked between Polly and Anne in confusion. “I clearly missed something when I was falling to my death.”

“Oh, it was so cool, Sprig! Anne went all glowy, and she was using blue magic, and she was flying! She nearly beat the snot out of Andrias!” said Polly excitedly.

The words reverberated through Anne’s mind; She nearly beat the snot out of Andrias.

She could beat him. She was still connected to her stone, and that fact seemed to cause Andrias great unease.

“Do you think you’d be able to use those powers again, Anne?” asked Hop Pop, following her same train of thought.

“I’ll learn,” said Anne firmly. “I’ll figure it out. Once I get control of my powers, Andrias won’t stand a chance.”

There was no question of whether or not she’d be able to gain control of her newfound abilities—she had to. It was her best bet to defeat Amphibia’s king.

Sprig tilted his head to the side. “Do you know what activated them in the first place?”

Anne regarded him, intense warmth and adoration bubbling in her stomach, and she gave a soft smile. “You. When he threw you out the window, I thought you were dead, and I was so angry.”

At a momentary loss for words, Sprig’s eyes filled with touched tears and he jumped into her arms. “Oh, Anne.”

“I love you,” said Anne passionately. She lowered to her knees and brought Hop Pop and Polly into her steel embrace. “I love all of you. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”

“We love you too,�� said Hop Pop tenderly, lightly running his fingers through her curly hair. “That’s what we’ve got over Andrias—love for one another. Pardon the sappiness of it, but that’s what we’ll use to beat him.”

“It’s not sappy at all,” said Anne. “It’s the truth.” She gave them one more tight squeeze before setting them back down. She grabbed her backpack, swinging it over her shoulders, and she picked up Frobo’s head. “Come on. I’ve kept Mom and Dad waiting long enough. I can’t wait for you guys to meet each other.”

They headed back to the freeway, where Anne hoped one of the stuck commuters would be willing to lend her their cell phone so she could call her parents to pick them up. As they made their way up the littered slope, Anne closed her eyes briefly.

Hang on, Wartwood. I’m coming back for you. Do what you can until I get there, Sasha. I know you can do it—you never give up.

A lump swelled in her throat, and she swallowed back a sob.

We won’t let him win, Marcy. I promise we won’t. You saved us, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t return the favour.

A breeze kicked up, ruffling her thick, curly hair, and in the caress of the wind she swore she could hear a carefree giggle and a sweet summons of Anna-Banana. She let out a slow breath, and a lone tear spilled from the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek.

I forgive you, Mar-Mar. I forgive you.

#amphibia #amphibia spoilers #true colors #amphibia fanfic #true colors fanfic #anne boonchuy #sprig plantar #hop pop plantar #polly plantar #grief #mourning #angst #hurt/comfort #byanimationnut #tw death #death

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goodgirlofglory · 3 years

Text

Three times Steve defended you, and one time you defended him / One-shot

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 5,5k

Warnings: 18+ content, Explicit sexual content, Explicit language, light descriptions of smut, light descriptions of injuries, light descriptions of violence, some description of blood, kind of slow burn but not really at all.

Summary: Three times during your initiation into the Avengers agents program where Steve came to your aid and defended you, and one time you defended Steve. Along the way you find each other.

Author’s note: This one has been a personal pleasure to write. I love thinking of Steve and Y/N as having a hank for banter with each other, at the same time as they appreciate and admire each other. I’m just a real sucker for respect, y’all<3 (Not been proofread by anyone but me, so all mistakes are mine)

Part 1

Fire was raining down around you, the blood pumping in your ears as fear and adrenaline coursed through your body.

You had told them it was far too early to bring you on a mission, but Steve had insisted after you’d done so well in training, quickly climbing the ranks despite being just a recruit.

Besides, this should have only been an intelligence gathering mission, in stealth, during a time of which no goons were supposed to be on the drug cartel base.

Clearly not, you thought as you crouched behind a pillar, bullets chipping away at the stone.

You could hear the fighting around you, but panic clouded your mind in a hazy fog so you couldn’t pinpoint where, your body stiff as you curled in on yourself.

This was all wrong. You were going to die on this hellish mission, and more horrifyingly, disappoint Steve, who’d put his trust in you.

Actual tears blurred your sight as you clutched the gun in your hand.

“There’s one left, he’s coming towards you, Y/N,” you heard Steve call through your earpiece

Then, through your tears you saw a figure peer around the corner, gun in hand.

You knew you needed to shoot him, but your body didn’t obey you.

You heard your name shouted as the goon pointed his gun toward you and the ear thrumming sound of the gunshot jolted your body. Your eyes shut tightly as you saw your life flash before you.

But the pain you expected didn’t come, and instead you heard the distinct zing of Captain America’s shield flying through the air. A few grunts followed before you tentatively opened your eyes.

The goon lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless, and before you Steve was kneeling, dressed in the stealth suit that made his baby blue eyes pop. He was looking at you with worried eyes.

“Y/N, are you alright?” he asked, breathing hard.

You nodded, about to answer when you noticed the bullet hole in his suit. Your hands shot out in panic, forcefully groping at his abdomen, going to apply pressure.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, not that

“Oh my god, Captain, no, no, no,” you rambled, thoughts racing, eyes wide.

He gently took your hands in his and caught your wild eyes with his, gentle and calm.

“Don’t worry. Bulletproof, remember,” he said, nodding calmly, and you nodded furiously, your mind trying to calm itself through your panic.

He smiled fondly at you, and you noticed how everything was silent around you, the fighting finally over. Then it hit you.

“Steve, you took the bullet for me!? You shouldn’t, you idiot! I-I’m just a recruit, I..” you rushed out, guilt screaming inside your head. If Captain America died on some pointless mission protecting you, some no-name recruit, you would never forgive yourself.

He was chuckling now, your hands still in his.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. I think I know what I’m doing, I’ve been doing this for a while, ya’know,” he said, not sharing any of your worry, but looking profusely amused by it.

“Plus, I was the one who pressed you into this mission. I am responsible for you,” he added seriously, and your stomach flipped at the words. You tried to swallow the fluttering of butterflies.

He was your mentor and your trainer, nothing more, but his words still lingered on your mind for days.

Part 2

The earth-shattering explosion ripped you from your dreams of baby blue eyes, and a split second later, the floor gave out under you.

It took a moment to remember who the hell and where the hell you were.

It was in the middle of the night, and you’d been sleeping peacefully in the recruits lodging area of the compound, in the room you shared with four other girls.

You fell down, the floor crumbling and falling with you. The bed hit the floor beneath your level with a thud that had your head whipping backwards painfully. You had fallen down into the recruit sparring gym, empty at night.

The wooden bed split in half with a loud shriek, and you slumped down the crack, only cushioned by the mattress, your cover having been blown away by the force of the explosion.

Another searing jolt of pain shot through you as a heavy piece of concrete landed on your leg, and you screamed in pain. Above you, you heard your roommates shout your name, but the rumbling of the building verging on collapse was overwhelming and deafening.

“GET AWAY! GET OUT!” you shouted up at your friends, tears in your eyes now.

They disappeared and you tried with bloody hands to move the boulder. It wouldn’t bunch even a bit. Around you the whole building shook and rumbled. You could feel that it wasn’t long until it would crumble.

You realized you were stuck, bleeding and about to be crushed by a thousand tons of concrete.

“Y/N!” you heard a familiar voice from above shout.

Looking up at the hole in the ceiling above, you saw Steve standing, his shield on his arm.

You weakly protested as he jumped down, landing on the bed beside you, carefully avoiding the boulder pinning your ankle.

You could feel your mind blurring over in pain and shock, barely registering as Steve knelt down close, a warm and steady hand on your shoulder.

“Stay with me, Y/N, I’m gonna get you out of here,” he assured you hurriedly, his voice the most worried you’d ever heard him.

“Steve,” you sobbed, trying to reach out to him. He grabbed your hand in his, and in a move that was so surprising it snapped you back to consciousness, he kissed it. It was quick, barely there and kinda panicked, but you were sure he did it.

The deafening rumble of the building dying snapped you back to urgency.

“I’m sorry, this is gonna hurt,” he said as he released your hand and reached down to the boulder squeezing your leg. He heaved it off, and a scream ripped itself from your lungs.

He was quickly on you again, dragging you by the arm from where you lay squeezed between the two pieces of your cracked bed.

You wrapped your arm around his broad shoulder, noticing for the first time that he was shirtless, only wearing a pair of grey joggers and his shield, barefoot. He wrapped a strong arm around your waist, his body a soothing, warm presence against yours.

“Hold on,” he shouted as the ceiling cracked open, and then he was jumping through the window to your right, glass shattering around you.

You hurled through the chill, night air, Steve landing gracefully on his feet on the ground, one story below where you’d jumped out. Your feet dangling in the air, he held you close to his body as he ran across the lawn, and you heard the building crashing down behind you, the noise getting alarmingly close.

He threw a look back before stopping to a halt. Disposing you on the ground, you landed on your ass, looking up at his standing form. Behind him you saw a dust cloud charge at you. He kneeled down, holding his shield above his head as he curled you in against him with an arm around your shoulders.

He was shielding you with his naked upper body as the cloud enveloped you, and deep in your chest, through the shock and fear, astonishment and a whole lot of admiration bloomed.

You curled into his embrace, putting both hands up to support the shield as stray rocks and debris hit it.

You stayed like that for a while as the building settled in a collapsed ruin behind you, the dust cloud slowly dissolving. Your faces were so close, panting at each other, chests heaving. You remembered suddenly, you were only wearing a tiny tank top and panties, and despite the situation literally being a life or death matter, you blushed.

Steve put down his shield, throwing it on the ground as his arm released its grip around your shoulder.

You locked eyes with him, and in that moment he was everything. Tears of gratitude spilled forward as his hands held your shoulders, your own hands spread out on his naked chest, feeling his heart hammer against his ribcage.

“You saved me,” you whispered, “thank you. I don’t know how to thank you, Steve, you saved my life, ” you continued, whimpering.

“Are you alright? We need to get that leg looked at immediately,” he said, averting his eyes slightly, the tips of his ears pink. But that’s probably due to the exploding building, you reminded yourself.

As soon as he said it, the pain in your leg shot to the front of your brain, and you looked down to find a long, bleeding gash along the front of your ankle. You tried to move it and a startled, pained cry left your mouth.

Steve flinched at the sound, before quickly scooping you up, one arm under your knees and the other under your shoulder. You moaned in pain as he got to his feet.

“Your shield,” you said weakly as he started walking towards the compound again.

“It’s not important,” he said without a beat, catching your eyes in an intense look that had your heart fluttering.

You later found out Bruce Banner’s Hulk had caught him off guard as he’d worked in the lab two stories under the gym, which had led to the entire wing of recruit lodgings collapsing. There had been no casualties, though, miraculously - you and Steve being the closest.

Again he had saved your life, ridiculously risking his own in the process. You had thanked him over and over as they wheeled you into surgery, grabbing his hand and kissing it like he had yours, hoping he understood how grateful you were.

Your friends giggled as they huddled around your hospital bed. It was your eighth day in the med bay.

“You know he came straight to our room, right?” Helena said, giving you a giddy smirk.

“Oh come on, he was certainly checking on everybody,” you dismissed.

“No no, Dean said he saw him sprinting up the hall, barely even telling people to get out before he reached our room,” Sandy corrected, and the girls giggled again.

You were blushing profusely, trying so hard to fight the thought that Captain America, Steve Rogers had come specifically to check on you once there was danger. You were kind of a special protegé, as you’d earned the privilege of sparring with him one on one, but he had been nothing but professional towards you. Suffice to say, you didn’t feel like that justified him coming for you and only you in times of danger.

“Yeah, and I saw how he threw himself down that hole to you. Like nothing else mattered,” Cindy added dramatically.

“You guys, stop it, now you’re just hyping the story up to something it wasn’t,” you tried, but you were giggling with them. “Our room was at the end of the hall, closest to the lab. He probably just figured that was the part that would collapse first,” you added, forcing yourself to believe it.

“Oh well, I don’t know, he’s been here every day since you were admitted, right?” Sandy pushed, and now you were the one giggling, glancing at the flowers in the corner that he’d brought you the day before.

“Yes,” you admitted, “so you better scatter, for he usually comes around this time,” you told them pointedly, swatting Helena’s ass.

They kissed you on the cheek before skipping from the room, but you heard them greet “Captain” up the hallway.

Your heart fluttered as Steve Rogers appeared around the corner, smiling fondly as he let himself in.

Part 3

The music was loud, the room cheery and filled with talk and laughter.

Your recruitment was finally over, and you were officially agents-in-training, which was cause for a huge, fucking party.

Everyone was there, including several members of the Avengers. Natasha was sipping on a beer in the corner, surrounded by a crowd listening intently to a story she was telling.

Sam was playing pool across the room, crushing every guy that tried him on.

But most importantly, Steve was there, wearing a ridiculously gorgeous blue button up, the two buttons on the top undone, making your mind raise with promiscuity. You had finally bitten the bullet and admitted your feelings. To yourself, that was, and no one else.

Your eyes met three times over the crowd before he finally came over.

“Good evening,” he greeted you cheerfully.

“Hi,” you answered, suddenly all hot and bothered.

“Great party,” he said as he took a stand next to you, looking out on the sea of happy partiers, drunk off their asses.

“Yeah, I’m surprised you’re here. Isn’t Golden Girls having a rerun tonight?” you teased.

He looked at you with playful annoyance.

“Yeah, and I suppose it’s past your bedtime, young lady,” he answered and you threw your head back in a surprised laughter, not expecting him to banter back.

He was looking at you with a fond smile when your laughter turned to a giggle. A moment passed as you looked at each other, and you felt yourself glowing under his gaze.

“Did you get my flowers?” he asked then, and you blushed at his abruptness. You’d been nervous about bringing it up.

“Yeah, and you really don’t need to keep sending those. It’s been a while since I got out from the med bay now,” you said, trying not to reveal how flustered you were.

“I know, I know. I just seem to keep getting you in trouble,” he said, looking down at the beer in his hand.

“Steve, you’re the one who’s always saving me from trouble,” you said, putting your hand on his wrist to catch his attention again, “I hope you know how grateful I am,” you added, trying to convey how genuine you were.

His eyes met yours with such emotion, your breath caught in your throat. The room suddenly felt empty, the music fading to a lull.

You swore he inclined his head slightly before you abruptly removed your hand, straightening yourself. He snapped back to himself, clearing his throat awkwardly before looking around. You did as well, relieved when you saw no eyes on you. You did miss Natasha's knowing eyes peek at the two of you from the corner of the room.

“Excuse me,” you murmured as you stepped away, flustered, your heart hammering in your chest.

You found the balcony out from the party empty, the cold autumn air cooling your suddenly flushed skin.

Was he about to kiss you?!

You stood by the railing, enjoying the fresh air when you heard someone come out on the balcony. Your heart skipped a beat.

“What do we have here?” a slurring voice shouted, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head when you realized it was Jason, a fellow recruit from your year; mediocre fighter, arrogant asshat.

“And how are you tonight, Jason?” you asked, not bothering to mask your annoyance at his presence.

“Checking out the meat, sweetcheeks,” he answered, smugness dripping from his voice.

Before you managed to turn around and give him your best death stare, a hand reached up your bare thigh, pushing the flimsy black fabric of your minidress up. You yelped and spun around, smacking his hand away.

“Oh, don’t be like that, pretty girl. I know you were checking me out earlier,” he said, pouting sarcastically as he moved to pin you against the railing.

You squirmed at his intrusion into your personal space, mild shock settling like a sting in your chest. His breath stunk of booze, the rest of him of sweat and a nauseating amount of body spray.

“Jason, back off. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I’m not interested,” you tried to tell him authoritatively, but you sounded so small. This had never happened to you before, and your head swam with thoughts about what you should do.

“Then why are you looking so sexy tonight, teasing me in this little dress,” he said with a sneer, ignoring your discomfort completely.

You were about to lash out when a hand on his shoulder had him pausing, his hands trying to pull yours away from where they were covering your chest.

“She said back off,” you heard Steve say, and the tone of his voice told you he wasn’t pleased.

Jason chuckled bitterly, turning on stumbling feet to look up at Steve, towering above him with a scowl on his face. His expression sent a cold shiver down your spine. You had never seen him this angry before.

“Why don’t you back off and let a brother get some,” Jason answered, seemingly stupidly unaware of the deathly aura emitting from Steve’s looming form.

“I’m only going to say this once: Get lost or you’re out,” Steve said, stare cold as ice, tone dead serious.

Jason seemed to get it then, and with a pathetic huff, he scurried away.

“Whatever,” you heard him mutter as he entered the party again. A few eyes from inside were on you, paying attention to the perceived standoff happening between a simple recruit and THE Captain America. Over you.

You released the breath you were holding as soon as the door slid closed behind Jason, and Steve’s expression softened to one of mild concern.

“You okay?” he asked, and you could barely look in his eyes as you collected yourself.

“Yeah. Thanks, Steve. I could have taken him though,” you tried to lie. Steve let you keep the lie.

“I don’t doubt it, but somehow it didn’t feel right that you should,” he said gravely.

“Maybe, but that’s life,” you stated.

“Well, not when I’m around,” he answered after a moment, and you lifted your eyes to his. They shone with something akin to protection, and you felt warm again under his gaze.

“You wanna get back to the party?” he asked, breaking the building tension. The air seemed so intense between you two tonight, sizzling with something new.

“No, actually, I think I wanna turn in. Kinda tired,” you excused, but really you were burning inside from a new found hunger for Steve you knew you couldn’t keep in check much longer.

He nodded, biting his lip slightly.

“Walk you back to your room? I don't like the way Jason looked at you,” he said, voice heavy with suspicion, and before you could think, you nodded.

You were sort of panicking as you trekked the empty hallways together. Everyone had seen you leave together, and you were sweating bullets as you walked in silence, Steve’s broad figure a sizzling presence to your left.

He kept the smalltalk sweet and light, and you knew you were being irrationally nervous.

Outside your new dormroom, the tension grew thick again.

You bit your lip, looking up at Steve as he bid you goodnight with a charming smile.

“Eh, Steve,” you called out as he turned to walk away.

He turned back with a quizzical look.

You stepped up to him, and he seemed acutely aware of your presence as you came close, your hands landing tentatively on his forearms as they hung at his side.

“What’re you…?” he started, but trailed off when he looked into your eyes.

You inclined your head slightly, not even knowing what you were doing anymore.

He inclined his head just the tiniest bit in response, and then you were both leaning in.

Your lips met in a gentle, tiny kiss, your eyes falling shut as the breath was stolen from your lungs.

He was actually kissing you.

Slowly, so slowly, his hands reached up to cup your face, and then we was deepening the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

A small sound escaped you as his tongue swept into your mouth, mingling eagerly with your own. He pulled his lips away suddenly, but kept your face in his hands as his eyes scanned yours.

“Is this alright?” he asked intently, but he was panting, and his eyes were blown so far there was only a small rim of light blue around the pools of black.

“Yes. God, Steve, yes,” you panted, hands coming up to clutch the shirt on either side of his torso, twisting the fabric with desperate hands. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” you added despite embarrassment burning on your face at the confession.

“Glad I’m not the only one,” he chuckled against your lips.

He was back on you in a split second, and you stumbled into your room in a fierce liplock. You suddenly remembered what a mess you’d left your room in earlier as you’d tried on everything you owned before the party. Plus, you still lived with four other girls, but they were thankfully still at the party, and judging by your knowledge of them, they probably would be for hours still.

You straddled Steve’s lap hurriedly when you’d led him to your bed, and he kissed his way down your neck as you fumbled to undo his shirt, longing for his bare skin. The last time you’d felt it, a building had fallen on your ass, so you hadn’t really taken the time to relish it, though it had been at the back of your mind ever since.

He fucked you sweetly that night, and then roughly, and then sweetly again as you took a shower, going down on you as he knelt between your legs.

You’d never felt such pleasure before, Steve plucking orgasm after orgasm from your body with deft fingers and a wicked tongue, before his honest to god thick as fuck cock fucked you raw. He sounded like a god when he groaned his release. You were sprawled out limp on the bed by the time he pulled his clothes back on with a quirk in his step, looking at his watch a bit nervously.

“Should probably get out of your hair before your girlfriends return,” he said, bending over your spent form, giving you a sweet peck on the lips. You gripped his hand as he straightened, and pulled him down again to devour his lips with your own possessively. He hummed appreciatively in response.

“What if I told you I never want you to leave?” you asked against his lips, knowing you were pushing your luck.

“Then your poor friends would never get any sleep, and neither would you, missy,” he said matter-of-factly, booping your nose with his finger as he tore himself from your grip. Your core clenched at the notion.

Then he looked at you, and you could see the wheels turning in his brain.

“What?” you asked.

He glanced at the door before he sat on the edge of the bed, a hand coming up to lovingly stroke your cheek. You hummed at the touch.

“Are you sure about this? It isn’t forbidden, so we won’t get in trouble. But I’m afraid the rumours can be pretty bad around here. It won’t exactly be easy,” he said mournfully, and you knew he expected a rejection.

You sat up and grabbed his hand in yours.

“Fuck what anybody else says. I’m sure, Steve. I adore you, and I want you by my side from this day on,” you said. The shining, relieved devotion in Steve’s eyes was all you needed to be sure of your choice. Not that there ever was a choice.

You’d go to the ends of the earth for the man.

Your phone buzzed on your nightstand, and you peeked over at it.

“Coming back now. You better get loverboy outta there ;)” the text message from Helena read. The girls were gonna have a field day with this.

“Except for now. The girls are coming back, you better go,” you said as you pecked him once on the lips before pushing him off the bed.

He huffed an amused laughter, looking back over his shoulder one last time as he slipped from the room.

Part 4

“Hey, what did you just say?” you called out at him as he sauntered away.

“Y/N, don’t, it’s not worth it,” Steve said tiredly, trying with a gentle arm to turn you away.

You swatted softly at his hand and looked in his eyes. You were fuming, and his grave expression only fueled your fury. You could see Jason’s words had gotten to him, and that made you see red.

“Steve, I won’t let him talk to you that way,” you said lowly before taking a few steps forward.

“Why don’t you repeat yourself, Jason. We all know how much you like to hear yourself talk,” you called at him. He paused. Of course he would, you knew which buttons to push.

There had gathered a crowd around you now, mostly recruits from your own year, but also some from the year below, plus an odd officer here and there. In the far distance you spotted Natasha Romanoff sipping on a coffee mug as she leaned on a pillar.

He turned around with that ugly smirk. “I’m not sure you can handle it, Y/N,” he called back.

“No, come on, I wanna hear you say it again.“

He started sauntering back, arrogant ass fuming with cockiness.

“I said; the old man goes for the recruit. That’s what happens when the only pussy he could get is a hundred years old and dead,” he repeated, puncturing every word with a tone he would use for a child, seething with his arrogance.

“I’d rather have an old man than a boy, Jason. Funny how you come down on Captain Rogers when you haven’t gotten laid one, single time since we started. How many of us are there? 3000? Well, it does make sense, I mean, look at you,” you said, hearing the crowd around you gasp and “oooh” quietly.

Oh, you were just getting started.

A flicker of self-doubt flashed behind his eyes and you revelled, adrenaline flooding your system. In truth, Jason was a pretty easy target. Just tackle his weak masculinity and give him a taste of his own medicine, and he would crumble easily.

“But that’s not why no one likes you, Jason. It’s because you act like a child. A child who hasn’t gotten his candy, and is throwing a tantrum in the grocery store for everyone to see. And it’s not that we don’t feel bad for you either, Jason. We pity you in fact, as we witness you embarrassing yourself and your mother,” you stated calm and slow, walking up to him, standing a few inches away now.

He tried to speak up, but you easily interrupted him.

“And I get it, it must feel kinda bad to realise no one respects you. Not your peers, not your superiors, not even those inferior to you. Because we all see through this display for failing masculinity,” you continued, gesturing to him vaguely.

He was about a foot taller than you, but had steadily shrunk in on himself as a mortified panic settled in his eyes, fists clenching at his side.

You stepped to the side and stretched out an arm towards Steve, who stood where you’d left him, brows furrowed, arms crossed over his chest, a neutral expression of his face.

“That is a man, Jason, and quite frankly, the opposite of everything you are. Now I know you suffer from the extreme lack of balls, but I actually had no idea you lacked brains also. Because if you had the cognitive ability above a fucking cockroach, you would see that man as the ally and mentor he so gladly offers to be - not that you deserve it - and you wouldn’t be in this situation.” You patted his shoulder twice with your hand before stepping away.

Your senses tingled suddenly, and you dodged the swing of his arm as it came from the left. The crowd around you gasped.

Oh no, he didn’t. Did he really think he could take you on after having trained personally with Captain fucking America? He wouldn't catch you off guard again…

You spun around, dodged his right arm, and gave him a clear slap across the cheek with a flat hand. The smack was crisp, making the crowd around you draw in a collective breath. He grunted and swung again, keeping up the same, predictable move. You dodged easily, spun around him and gave him another slap, this time on his ass. The crowd laughed. He gave a pathetic roar before spinning and lunging on you. You bowed and flipped him easily using your back, and he landed with a hard dunk on the concrete floor of the hallway. Getting up to his knees, you gave him a closed fist punch across the face for your own enjoyment (you knew Steve would reprimand you later for being unnecessarily callous).

That’ll do it for now, you thought as you quickly immobilized him by tripping him over on his stomach on the floor, straddling his ass and pinning his arms on his back. He groaned in frustration as you kept him in the tight grip, not relenting. The crowd around you cheered, and peering over your shoulder you could see the clear amusement shining in Steve’s eyes, along with his pride. You almost giggled.

Bending down, you whispered in Jason's ear.

“Cause if you keep up this little class-act caveman thing, this is all you’re gonna see for the rest of your life. Disgust on the faces of the women in your life, and pity on the men’s. Now kindly fuck off, Jason, I’m tired of looking at your face.”

You let him go and he grunted weakly at you.

Deciding this was your mic drop, you returned to Steve and you fell into step as you resumed your walk up the hallway. Steve let you lead in your victory as the crowd kept cheering loudly behind you. It was exhilarating, but what felt best was knowing you had defended Steve for once.

As you rounded the corner at the other end, Steve abruptly and quickly pushed you up against the wall, his mouth attacking yours. You yelped into his mouth, but melted into his body as it pinned you to the wall. He pushed his thigh between yours and you felt the rock hard bulge in his pants press against your belly. He was frantic as his hands roamed your body, possessive and hungry.

You broke the kiss in amazement, seeing his lust blown eyes.

“Did you like that?” you asked, and you knew you had the most doofy smile on your face.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, panting a bit from his kiss. “I had to fight myself to not take you then and there, God, you’re so fucking sexy when you’re fiesty,” he said, admiration and lust clear in his voice and you bit your lip as his words sent sharp sparks of arousal down below.

“You know I was right. He’s a man-child, and a dick, and has nothing on you,” you said, needing to know Steve wouldn’t take what he said to heart.

“I mean, there’s a reason I didn’t break it off. The guy has had it coming for a long time, I’m just glad I got to watch,” he chuckled, and you laughed with him, still pinned between his body and the wall, your hands running up his back.

“And because it was me, right?” you asked teasingly, a hand coming down to cup the prominent tent in his pants.

“Yes, but strictly for pedagogical reasons. I needed to see if you’ve mastered the tricks I’ve taught you,” he said, trying to be nonchalant and failing as the last words ended in a groan. You were moving your hand steadily over the bulge now, eliciting soft pants from the man.

“I want your feedback on some tricks in the bedroom, Captain Rogers. Could you oblige me?” you asked, giving his chin a lithe kiss.

He groaned deep in his chest, and for a split second you actually got nervous someone would find you if he kept those noises up.

“Lead the way,” he whispered against your lips.

You did, almost running.

Author’s note: God, this one cheers me up. It was exhilarating to be able to live out my childhood dream of beating up bullies through this text lmao. Sorry if your name’s Jason lol<3

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x Y/N #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x you

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darlingpetao3 · 3 years

Text

House of W (Multiple!Wells x Reader, Chapter 5)

Rating: T

Summary: After having to deal with the deaths of an infinite number of Harrison Wells in the Multiverse, you, a magic-wielding meta, have a breakdown and unwittingly create a happy, fictitious sitcom life with some of your favourite men. In a world of comedy and cameos, can Team Flash and an out-of-town magician break through your powers to save you? And what if you don’t want to be saved...?

Tag List: @fandomdancer @bluesclues-1234 @crissymadlock @firstofficer-tilly @disneyoncerlover815 @marvel-lady10 @thecaptainsgingersnap @noctvrnalmoth @alexxlynn @dontbedumb3 @heyl0lwhatsup @ryou-cosmos @arianalilyblack @sonnensplitter @imagine-yourself-happy @stuckysdaughter

PROLOGUE | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4

“Honeyyyyyyys…?” you call out in the house. Naturally, four handsome men come running.

“What’s happening?” Nash, in his jean shorts and Hawaiian themed shirt, asks you urgently.

“What’s happening is I am the worst mother ever!” you yell. Cue four sweet and simultaneous denials of your belief. “But I am—I can’t find the twins!”

How can someone lose two tiny babies? You had only looked away for thirty seconds and poof—Liberty and Belle were gone! They couldn’t even so much as crawl yet!

“Everyone, spread out,” a suspenders-wearing H.R. conducts the family, “they can’t have gone far.”

Harry moves closer to you to rub your back with small circles. “It’s going to be okay. You’re a wonderful mother. We just have a couple of troublemakers on our hands, it seems.”

You give a slight nod and begin to scour every place you haven’t already checked in the house. Everything is going to be fine, everything is going to be fine…

A pair of foreign giggles come from the closet by the alcove. How strange. You follow the sounds, and sometimes you’ll hear a “Shhhhh!” followed by more snickering. When you open the door to the closet, you’re entirely shocked to find two little girls who look to be five years old—one in overalls and the other in a dress.

“Libby, Libby, Libby! I told you to be quiet!” Belle scolds her sister.

“But your hair was tickling my face!” Liberty tries to explain.

Meanwhile, you’re still stunned to see your babies have grown in such a short amount of time. It really should be such a surprise considering the shortness of the pregnancy, but still!

You try to find your voice by beckoning your husbands. “I-I found them!”

“Hi, mommyyyyy,” they say in such adorable unison. Their perfect little faces look up at you and you feel like you’re staring into a mirror-time-portal. You crouch down and open your arms.

“I was so worried,” you tell the girls. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Sherloque, H.R., Harry, and Nash soon appear behind you and gawk at their rapidly aged daughters.

“How are they five?” H.R. whispers his question to no one and anyone.

“A very good question…” Sherloque, in his white trousers and blazers with a sharp purple shirt underneath, strokes his chin.

You wipe a tear from your eye and clear your throat. “Why don’t you two hooligans help your Pops with something in the garage?”

“You got it, dude!” Belle shoots you adorable finger guns before grabbing her sister’s and Nash’s hand. And then, in a flash, they’re gone. Indeed so quick that your voluminous hair flies every which way—books and papers suddenly strewn all over the house.

“Did Belle just…?” Harry starts to ask but falters.

“Run Mach one in my house? Yeah, I think she did…” you reply, figuratively and almost literally blown away. “Oh!”

H.R. holds your hand in comfort at the sound of your weepy noise. “What is it, Honey Bear?”

“I can’t believe it. I missed their first steps, their first words. So many firsts. They’re five!”

“There will be plenty more firsts that we won’t miss,” Harry soothes, “together.”

“If ma Belle ‘as the ability to run vitement,” Sherloque wonders to the rest of you, “what does this mean pour ma Liberté?”

This makes you think—remember things that you’d rather not remember. But, what if…?

You take quick strides towards the garage through the kitchen, your remaining husbands following closely behind. Peering out the window, you spot Liberty using her glowing purple hands to float a socket wrench over to Nash from his toolbox. His eyes are wide, but happily so, at the magic presented by his daughter.

“Little chips off the old block, aren’t they?” H.R. notes, putting an arm around your shoulders and Harry’s (the latter picks up and drops his doppelganger’s arm off of him).

“Yes, I suppose they are.” You sigh in contentment. “What do you three say to a little quiet time on the couch?”

The men don’t even need to voice their approval of the idea, only follow you devotedly out of the kitchen. Sherloque pulls up the rear but stops short at the refrigerator. The appliance is strangely already covered in artwork, with barely any free space available on the appliance. And then… there’s something else that sticks out amongst the vibrantly coloured scribbles.

He leans in a little closer to inspect a piece of paper. Sherloque notes the hurried scrawl of the letters:

You’re on a TV show. This isn’t real. We’re trying to help you.

The puzzled detective continues to analyze the strange message. What does this mean? he wonders.

He tries his best to remember what his life was like before he married you. What was life like? It takes every ounce of brainpower to attempt the recollection, but Sherloque unfortunately comes up short with answers.

Something he is both not known for and hates.

He checks around the room to see if anyone is watching him, but no one is in sight. Regardless of his lack of findings, he waves in the direction of one of the kitchen walls as if someone was watching. Sherloque then marches into the living room where you’re snuggled up with Harry and H.R.

“What is this?” he demands of you, flashing the note in front of your face. You, of course, have no idea and voice as such.

Harry snatches the piece of paper and proceeds to study it. “This is a joke, right?”

“I think someone must be playing a prank on you, my love,” you tell your suspicious French husband.

“And I think you are lying to us, ma petite,” he replies. Sherloque turns his attention to the other men on the couch. “Dites-moi, what is your earliest memory?”

Harry and H.R.’s foreheads scrunch in thought.

“The first thing I ever remember is showing up here for dinner a few nights ago,” H.R. says slowly. “But it feels much quicker than only a couple of nights…”

“And you, (Y/N),” Harry adds, “I feel like I’ve known you my entire life, and yet my first memory was the same as this jackwagon.”

“Aww, Harry, I feel like I’ve known you my entire life too,” you say sweetly. “All of you!”

Sherloque squints at you. “Stop that. You are hiding something. Eet is the way you swallow with difficulty and perspire. Aussi the tapping of your foot.”

“I am not hiding any-”

“-You lie!” Sherloque raises his voice. H.R. and Harry stand up from the couch and face you with crossed arms, pulling his blue plaid shirt tighter against his chest.

“Is it true?” H.R. asks you, looking ever so much like a puppy dog. It pains you to see him look so hurt. They both seem to take Sherloque’s word for it. And over yours?

“Is any of this real?” Harry finishes his opposite-self’s question, then points in the direction of the garage. “Are they real?”

“Of course our daughters are real!” you find yourself shouting at the notion otherwise. “They’re parts of us!”

“Then what have you done to our memories? You’re keeping secrets!”

At this point, Nash enters the room with Liberty and Belle, clearly not expecting an argument from their idyllic family unit. His hands on their shoulders. They must have heard the fighting…

“Listen,” you try calmly, “I did this for us. You don’t want to know what happened before our lives together here. You just don’t.”

“You do not get to choose for us,” Sherloque counters sternly.

The tension can be cut with a knife, and the proverbial knife that does the cutting comes in the form of a sound—the doorbell.

“Who is that, (Y/N)?” Harry asks you.

“I don’t know. That’s not me, I swear it,” you tell him, very much confused yourself. Each of your husbands stands with their arms still crossed, waiting. It hurts you to see them so upset with you. This was supposed to be perfect. This was supposed to be easy.

Your feet that feel like lead somehow manage to carry you over to the door. Twisting the doorknob, you open the door to reveal another extremely familiar face…

“How’s it hangin’, Miss (Y/L/N).”

What? No… It can’t be him?

Looking the epitome of cool—dressed in stone washed jeans, a yellow button-down shirt with a black leather jacket thrown over top—stands the man you never thought you’d see again. Especially in your own safe little world.

Eobard Thawne.

The man walks right in the house like he owns the place with an incredible amount of swagger.

“So, what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”

#reader insert #harrison wells x reader #harrison wells imgaine #harrison wells fanfiction #harry wells x reader #harry wells imagine #nash wells x reader #nash wells imagine #sherloque wells x reader #sherloque wells imagine #hr wells x reader #hr wells imagine #the flash imagine #the flash fanfiction

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ao719 · 3 years

Text

Full Disclosure: The Beginning

Full Disclosure: The Beginning (Part 13)

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Summary: A look back at Charlotte during the social season and engagement tour.

A/N: This is the last chapter for this little series (and it’s loaded - I’m so sorry. I just didn’t want to split it up into 2 parts). Thank you to @burnsoslow for prereading! And also @sirbeepsalot for prereading and taking your machete to it! And thank you for all of your wonderful comments, kind words, and love for Charlotte. I’m going to miss writing her story, but I’m sure some shenanigan filled one shots will occasionally pop up.

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Charlotte watched the clouds blur by as the plane prepared to land. She was anxious about returning to where her and Liam’s story began … and where it could very well end.

Liam had told her a few nights ago that he learned from Bastien that Constantine was the one behind the scandal. The news left her trying to wrap her mind around why the former King sabotaged her and Liam’s happiness. Now that the court was arriving in New York, they didn’t have much time left to clear her name, but they had a plan: they would confront Constantine themselves.

****

Charlotte stood in her hotel room after getting ready for the welcoming luncheon at the hotel’s rooftop restaurant. She was on edge, knowing she and Liam would finally be confronting Constantine. She wanted answers as to why he did what he did, and she wanted him to clear her name.

A soft knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts. She opened it to reveal Liam on the other side; he quickly stepped inside, wrapped his arms around her, and leaned down to kiss her as the door latched shut behind him. “Hi,” he whispered against her lips as they parted.

Charlotte closed her eyes and smiled; being in his arms at that moment was the first time since leaving Paris she felt some sense of calm. “Hey.”

Liam looked at her, brushing his hand across her cheek. “Are you alright?”

“A little nervous,” she admitted.

“Me too. But it’s going to be alright. We’re going to do this together. And just think … all of this will be over afterward.” Liam smiled at the thought of clearing Charlotte’s name, ending his farce of an engagement, and being able to be with her, the woman he loved.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“We’ll get to the luncheon; I’ll be sitting at the table with my father and Regina. I’ll ask him to speak privately. When we get up to step out of the room, you follow.” Charlotte nodded as she let out a breath; Liam cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. “It’s going to be alright, love.”

****

The restaurant on the hotel roof was encased in windows, giving an uninterrupted view of New York City around them. Charlotte sat at her table with Maxwell, Bertrand, Olivia, and Drake, but her eyes were fixated on Liam and Constantine across the room. Liam kept glancing over, meeting her eyes, while he waited for the right time to pull his father aside.

“You okay, Brooks?”

“Huh?” Charlotte tore her eyes away from Liam.

“You seem distracted, Lady Charlotte,” Bertrand noted.

“Oh … I’m fine.” Charlotte and Liam hadn’t told the others Constantine was the one behind the scandal or of their plan to confront him. Liam thought it would be better to wait until they got some answers.

“How’s it feel to be back home?” Olivia asked.

“Honestly, it feels a bit weird. Don’t get me wrong, I missed the city, but my life feels so different now than it did when I left six months ago.”

“It feels like just yesterday when we met you in the bar,” Maxwell grinned, and Charlotte smiled at the memory.

“Remember when Liam first came into the bar while she was taking our order, and she hit the table and almost fell over?” Drake laughed. “And the menus went flying all over the place.”

“And then she fell behind the bar,” Maxwell chuckled.

Charlotte giggled. “I fell a lot that night.” Literally and figuratively, she thought.

“At least you haven’t changed that much, Brooks,” Drake laughed.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Liam and Constantine both rise from their seats. She glanced over, meeting Liam’s eyes; he gave her a subtle nod before heading for the doors that lead to the private outdoor terrace. “I’ll be right back,” she said as she stood.

“Where are you going?” Bertrand asked.

“To talk to Constantine.” Everyone’s brows furrowed. “I’ll explain later. Just … act normal.” Charlotte walked towards the terrace, careful not to draw any attention to herself. She slipped out of the door and could hear Liam and Constantine just around the corner, out of view from the others.

“So, what’s this urgent matter you needed to speak with me about, Liam? So urgent that you had to interrupt our meal.”

Liam could hear Charlotte behind him. “The matter is this.” He stepped aside, revealing her to his father.

“Lady Charlotte? What are you doing out here?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “I’m here to make you face what you did to me.”

“I-” Constantine broke off, coughing. Liam instinctively took a step toward him, but he held out his hand; he coughed again before looking back to Charlotte. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really? I beg to differ.”

“Liam, honestly, what is the meaning-” Constantine began to cough again, clutching his throat. He doubled forward, trying to take a breath before he suddenly collapsed to the ground.

“Father!” Liam shouted, both he and Charlotte dropping to his side.

Just then, Regina appeared outside. Her eyes widened when she saw her husband on the ground. “Liam! What happened?”

“He started coughing and then collapsed! Call an ambulance!” Constantine’s complexion paled; he continued to violently cough and gasp for air as Regina quickly pulled out her phone.

****

Liam and Charlotte stood in a private waiting room at New York-Presbyterian Hospital, listening to the doctor explain that Constantine was resting comfortably. “The coughing fit was due to the cancer. I wish I could say it would get better, but …” Liam nodded in understanding at his words. “We’re giving him some oxygen and fluids. You may go see him.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Liam shook the man’s hand before he stepped out of the room.

“I’ll let you go see him alone.”

“No. You’re coming with me, and we’re going to talk to him.”

“Liam, it can wait. Really.”

Liam shook his head. “No, it can’t. Because, as much as I don’t want to say this -- despite the horrible things he’s done -- who’s to say that we’ll get another chance? He’s dying, Charlotte. And I refuse to allow him to take the truth to his grave.”

Charlotte took a breath and nodded as she let it out. “If you’re sure …”

Charlotte and Liam walked down the hall and stopped outside of Constantine’s door; they shared a look before entering the room hand-in-hand. Constantine lay in bed and opened his eyes when he heard them come in. His eyes widened upon seeing Charlotte with Liam. “Father …”

Liam stared at him, feeling a wave of conflicting emotions. He was angry for what his father had done to him and more furious for what he had put Charlotte through. But despite that anger, there was a sadness he felt seeing his father that way. He was pale and connected to wires, IV tubes, and oxygen.

For the first time in Liam’s life, the former King -- someone he once admired, respected, and thought was untouchable -- looked weak. And in more ways than one.

“What is she doing here?” Constantine rasped.

“Your Majesty, I know this isn’t the best time, but we need to talk to you,” Charlotte answered as they approached the bed.

“We know what you did,” Liam added, looking down at him. “You set Charlotte up.”

“Liam …”

“You owe me an explanation,” Liam spat. “You knew how I felt about her … you knew, and yet you sabotaged her. Do you realize what almost happened to her that night?” Constantine struggled to take in a deep breath. “And you dragged others in to do your dirty work. Lady Penelope. Bastien.” Constantine continued to stare at them, and Liam shook his head in frustration. “You really have nothing to say for yourself?”

“I just want to know why,” Charlotte said. “What did I do to make you do this to me? To your own son?” Constantine’s breathing became slightly shallower, and he looked away from them, fixating his eyes on the ground. “You know, after everything I’ve been through because of you, the least you could do is answer me!”

Liam noticed his father’s hand waving as he stared at the ground; he followed his gaze to his and Charlotte’s feet. “Charlotte,” Liam pulled her back.

Charlotte glanced down; her eyes widened, and she cupped her hand over her mouth. She had been standing on his oxygen tubing, temporarily cutting off his air supply. She then snapped her gaze back to Constantine when she heard him inhale a relieved breath, and she tried to push the laugh that she could feel coming back down. “Sorry!” she squeaked, then her expression turned. “Actually, you know what? No, I’m not! Ok … I am, but only a little bit sorry. Not like, fully sorry. I do need you breathing.” For now. Liam nudged her with his arm, and she cleared her throat. “You owe us answers.”

“Liam, now is not the time,” Constantine replied, his words dulled by the mask he was wearing.

Liam’s jaw tensed as his expression hardened. “We are not leaving until you give us an explanation for what you did.”

Constantine knew Liam wasn’t going to budge, and he let out a defeated breath. “Very well.” The former King shifted to sit up a bit more; he pulled the oxygen mask away from his face just enough so his words wouldn’t be muffled. “After I received the cancer diagnosis, and my health began to decline, I knew I would be unable to rule much longer.” Constantine glanced at Liam. “The last thing I ever wanted to do was place the burden of the crown on your shoulders so soon, Liam. But I didn’t have a choice. I wanted you to be prepared because these are difficult times for Cordonia. We’ve always had our share of enemies, but throughout my reign, I’ve seen them grow bolder. Once I realized I wasn’t going to be around much longer to help you face those threats, I had to secure Cordonia’s future.”

“By sending a man into my room? By having a photographer invade my privacy? And by letting the press tell lies about me while you sat by, knowing the truth the whole time?!”

“It was obvious from the night of the masquerade ball how Liam felt about you. I saw the way he looked at you. As the season progressed, those feelings for you did too. I knew given a choice, he would choose you to be his Queen.”

“Why would you sabotage that for me? Do you not want me to be happy?” Liam asked.

“Of course I want you to be happy, Liam, but this is bigger than just you and the feelings you have for some girl!” Constantine looked back at Charlotte. “I must admit, you impressed me. While your behavior and personality are rather … uncouth, you proved to be resilient and intelligent. And both Regina and I noticed how happy you made Liam … how he smiled and laughed more in your presence than he has in a very long time. But still … you couldn’t compete with Madeleine. She has been preparing to become Queen her entire life. You are an outsider. Yes, you could have learned … but inexperience is seen as weakness, and weakness, even in appearance -- especially in appearance -- is fatal. And you, Lady Charlotte, proved to be my son’s weakness. I’ve already lost so much to our kingdom’s enemies, and when I’m gone, there will be no one left to protect Liam from them.”

“Did you blackmail Olivia as well?” Charlotte asked.

“Yes. She is far too rash to be sitting on the throne, but I knew Liam would choose her over Madeleine, simply because of their friendship and her friendship with you as well. I had to eliminate her from the competition to ensure Madeleine was chosen.”

Charlotte shook her head in disgust. “My name and reputation have been ruined. You tried to tear me away from Liam and my friends … but that isn’t even the worst part. You would have forced your son to marry a woman he doesn’t love just because you think you get to decide what’s best for not only Cordonia but for him. And if we hadn’t uncovered the truth, Liam would have had to live with that for the rest of his life!”

“It was my duty as Cordonia’s King!”

“You have a duty as his father!” Charlotte snapped back.

“And you’re not King! Not anymore!” Liam added.

Constantine looked at him, surprised by the tone in his son’s voice. “Liam, please … I know I’ve hurt you, but this is the price of wearing the crown. I couldn’t afford to put your happiness, or Lady Charlotte’s, above our people’s future. And one day you will come to understand when you have to make similar sacrifices of your own and-”

Liam squared his shoulders and held up his hand, cutting his father off. “No.” Constantine’s brows raised in surprise. “You sit there and act as though you didn’t have a choice. But you decided what you were willing to do, what you were willing to sacrifice. What kind of King -- what kind of father -- you wanted to be. So here is mine. I love Charlotte. And had you not interfered that night, I would have asked her to marry me. I would be on this tour with her right now, actually enjoying myself. I may not have been able to stop you from hurting her, but I can still try to make this right. As King of Cordonia, I am placing Charlotte under my protection. I will help her right the wrongs that have been done to her by you. And I am commanding you, as your monarch, to help us in any way that you can.”

Constantine had never seen his son with a more fierce look in his eyes, nor had he heard him speak with such promise. He let out a breath, knowing he wasn’t going to change his mind but also that he wasn’t going to be able to help. “Very well.”

Charlotte eyed him suspiciously, not trusting how quickly he agreed. “How do I know that I can trust you after what you’ve already done to me?”

“My word is all I have to offer, Lady Charlotte. But unfortunately, I’m afraid I won’t be much help.”

“What does that mean?” Liam asked.

“I can’t come forward to clear Lady Charlotte’s name myself.”

“Why the fuck not?” Charlotte bit out, ignoring the taken aback expression on the former King’s face at her language.

“Admitting my involvement would shake the Cordonian people’s faith in their rulers. Past and present. So while you may not care what they think of me, be aware that they will question Liam, his motives, and how far he would be willing to go, as I have, to protect his throne. So unless you want that to happen …”

“Enough,” Liam growled, knowing his father was trying to intimidate Charlotte with his words.

“Is he right?” she asked, looking at Liam.

“Yes, it could happen, but I don’t care about that, Charlotte. I want your name cleared. I don’t care what happens to my reputation because of it.”

“And you’ve just driven my point home that she is your weakness,” Constantine said; Liam snapped his gaze over, glowering at him.

Charlotte shook her head, feeling frustrated. As much as she wanted her name cleared, she wouldn’t do it at Liam’s expense. “No … I can’t do that to you, Liam.”

“Charlotte-”

“One of us being ruined is enough. I won’t take you down with me. We have to find another way.”

“The only way is to find Lord Tariq. You need to get him to come forward and make a statement admitting that nothing happened that night. But even I don’t know his whereabouts. I encouraged him to leave in light of his … disgrace. I’ve had no contact with him since.”

“Fucking perfect,” Charlotte scoffed.

Liam took her hand in his. “We’ll figure it out.” Just then, the doctor knocked on the door, asking to come in to assess Constantine. “We’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in touch if I need anything.”

“Liam … I am sorry …”

“I don’t accept your apology.” With that, Liam turned and led Charlotte from the room. As they walked down the hall, Liam pulled her back into the private waiting room they were in before; he shut and locked the door behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Are you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Charlotte. I want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m … I don’t know!” Charlotte threw her hands up in frustration. “I mean … what the hell are we supposed to do now? He’s saying he can’t come forward, and we have to find a man that hasn’t been seen in months!”

“I told you I didn’t care what would happen if my father came forward. Let him do it! Let him face what he did to you.”

“I care, Liam! I am not about to let you go down for what your father did to me. No. It’s not an option.”

“Then we find Tariq.”

“How?”

“I … honestly, I’m not sure.” Charlotte looked down, shaking her head; Liam stepped forward and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look back at him. “But we’ll figure it out.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. “We will.” He whispered the promise against her lips before kissing her again.

*******

The following morning, Charlotte stepped out of the shower in her hotel room. She had the day free before she would need to attend the UN Gala that evening. She wanted to work on locating Tariq, but there wasn’t much they could do until they learned of his whereabouts. They had told Drake, Olivia, and Maxwell about their talk with Constantine, but even they were unsure how they were going to find Tariq.

Stepping out of the bathroom, Charlotte looked at her phone on the nightstand, seeing a voicemail alert from an unknown number. She hit play before bringing it to her ear.

“Lady Charlotte, it’s Countess Madeleine. I have an absolutely vital task I need for you to complete. I simply have no time to pick up mine and Liam’s wedding bands before our return to Cordonia. I must insist that you be the one to do it as a thanks to me for allowing you to remain present on this tour and in Liam’s life. I trust you will retrieve them and bring them to me later.”

Rage coursed through Charlotte’s veins as she pulled the phone away from her ear. “Who the fuck does she think she is?” She clenched her hand into a fist before hurling her phone across the room.

****

Charlotte took the elevator to the first floor, practically stomping through the lobby as she mumbled obscenities under her breath. “Whoa, where ya going, Brooks?” Drake asked, coming back from breakfast with Maxwell.

“Out!” she answered before pushing her way through the revolving door.

Drake followed, knowing that she was pissed off. He knew Liam wouldn’t want him to let her go off alone, at least not without figuring out what was bothering her. He quickly caught up to her on the sidewalk. “You going to tell me what’s wrong? And where you’re off to so heated?”

“Madeleine sent me on an errand to pick up her and Liam’s goddamn wedding bands,” she spat.

“Wait, what?” Drake asked incredulously. “You realize you could have told her no, right?”

“Yes, so she could cry to whoever will listen about how awful I am. Sure!” As much as Charlotte hated it, she found herself being much more cautious with so little time left to clear her name. She was on edge, picking and choosing her battles, not wanting to get worked up over trivial things when something much bigger was at stake.

“Alright, well, I’ll come with you. You won’t even have to look at the rings.”

“Fuck her and her stupid rings. They’re probably ugly and gaudy as hell, just like her face!”

****

Charlotte stood in the jewelry store with her arms folded across her chest as she waited impatiently for the jeweler to come back from the back where he was grabbing the rings. She just wanted to get them, bring them back to the hotel, and try and forget that she was ever asked to do this.

“Here you are, miss.” The jeweler returned, carrying two black velvet boxes. “Let’s take a look.”

“No need for that.” Charlotte would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit curious, but at the same time, she didn’t want to see the rings, one that Madeleine would wear, one that Liam would wear, tethering them together. Forever.

“I’m sure they look fine,” Drake said. “Just bag them up.” The jeweler offered a curious look before placing them in a bag and handing it to Drake. “Thanks.”

Drake guided Charlotte out of the jewelry store. “You ok?”

“Peachy.”

Charlotte’s eyes kept glancing down at the bag Drake was carrying. He noticed. “You’re a little curious as to how gaudy they look, aren’t you?”

“No!” Charlotte scoffed. “Ok … maybe a little.”

Drake reached in the bag, blindly pulling out one of the boxes. He handed it to Charlotte. “Let’s see.” Charlotte took the box and opened it; it was Liam’s. It was a thick, plain gold band. “Well, that’s kind of bland. It’s very Liam.” Drake reached inside the bag and pulled out the other box, handing it to Charlotte. “How’s hers look?”

Charlotte held Liam’s and opened the other box. She scrunched up her nose. It was a thinner gold band with diamonds spaced out around its entirety, but nothing about it was appealing. “I thought she would have better taste than this.”

“It looks like a vending machine ring,” Drake chuckled. His eyes widened with a smirk when Charlotte plucked it from its holding spot and slid the ring onto her finger. She held her hand out to get a better look at it. “Yeah, you could do better.”

“I’ll say. Well, knowing she’s going to walk around with this ugly thing on her finger makes me feel a little better.”

“She’s only going to walk around with it if she makes it down the aisle, Brooks. We’re not going to let that happen.”

“I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high, Drake.” She plucked Liam’s ring from the box and handed it to him. “Here.”

“Aw, are you proposing, Brooks? Sorry, you’re not my type.”

“I’m blonde.”

“Too clumsy, though.” He took the ring and put it on his finger. “This feels weird as hell.”

Drake immediately removed the ring and handed it back to her. Charlotte hooked it onto the end of her finger while she slid Madeleine’s off. Suddenly, Charlotte stepped in a dip in the sidewalk, twisting her ankle, and her body lurched forward onto the hard concrete.

Both rings flew out of her hands.

Charlotte’s eyes were wide, watching as the rings went airborne, feeling like it was happening in slow motion. They both landed with a bounce and rolled … right into a sewer drain.

“Ohhhhhh, noooo!” Charlotte gasped.

“Brooks! Are you alright?”

“Drake! The rings! They … FUCK!” Charlotte shouted as passersby glanced down at where she was still lying on the sidewalk. She scrambled to her feet and rushed to the sewer drain where the rings had disappeared. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh my God!”

“Honestly … serves her right for asking you to get them,” Drake said calmly as he crouched down next to her. “Just think … there’s going to be some blinged-out rats strutting around New York.” He heard a sniffle, and his head snapped over. “Are you crying?”

“This is terrible, Drake! She’s going to say I did this on purpose! And as hideous as her ring was, it probably cost a fortune because Madeleine is nothing if not materialistic!” she wailed. She bowed her head, covering her face with her hands.

“Brooks, calm down. The rings can be replaced. Liam lives in a literal palace. That ring was probably pocket change to him. And Madeleine can most definitely afford another ring. It was an accident.”

“I need to call Liam,” she cried as her breath hitched. She pulled out her phone and dialed Liam’s.

“Hello, love. I was just thinking about-”

“Liam! The rings -- in the drain! They flew -- and now the rats have them!” she cried.

“Rings? Rats? Charlotte, what the hell are you talking about?” Drake took the phone from Charlotte, explaining to Liam what had happened. “Wait … Madeleine asked Charlotte to go pick up the rings?”

“Yeah, I figured that would be the only thing you’d be upset about. But Brooks … well, she is here kneeling in front of a sewer drain crying, and we’re getting some pretty strange looks, even for NYC.”

“Just get her back to the hotel. I’ll deal with Madeleine.”

Drake hung up the phone and tossed it into the now empty bag he was holding onto. “Come on.” He pulled Charlotte to stand. “Stop crying, Brooks. He’s not mad.” He knew the rings weren’t the real reason she was crying. It was everything else that was happening since her and Liam’s conversation with Constantine. The rings were just what set off the waterworks. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her away from the sewer drain, guiding her back towards the hotel. “You’d make a terrible ring-bearer.”

“Shut up,” she sniffled.

****

That evening, Liam stood on the balcony of his room, nursing a scotch while he waited to leave for the UN Gala. His mind went through the events of the day before. He had told Charlotte they would find Tariq, but he honestly wasn’t sure how. Tariq hadn’t been seen in three months, but he made a promise to her, and he had every intention of keeping it. He had two days and needed a plan.

Liam still wanted to let his father answer for what he had done, regardless of what it would do to him. But Charlotte was entirely against the idea. She said she wouldn’t allow him to sacrifice his reign and reputation, and that was the end of it.

Liam tossed back the rest of his drink before heading inside. Just as he grabbed his suit jacket, a knock came on his door. He walked over and opened it, narrowing his eyes at his visitor. “What the hell do you want?”

“Sir,” Bastien bowed. “May I?”

Liam hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to let him in. “Whatever you’re here to say, say it, then get the hell out.” Liam turned to face Bastien; his eyes landed on his now-healing split lip, a reminder of what happened in Paris. “Well? What do you want?”

“Sir, I spoke with your father earlier after he called me to his room to reprimand me for telling you I was working for him. He told me about your conversation …”

“Ok? Is that all?”

“No. After what happened in Paris … I began to look for Tariq myself.”

Liam perked up at his words. “So you know where he is?”

“I’m still waiting on a few calls, but I wanted to come by and offer my assistance to you again. You don’t have to accept it, and regardless of what you decide, I will turn over anything I find, but … I just … it’s the least that I could do for both of you.”

Liam saw the guilt in his eyes, and he felt his anger begin to let up. “Look … I’ll accept your offer to help Charlotte clear her name. But it’s going to take some time for me to trust you again, Bastien. You’ll need to earn it, and it’s not going to be easy. Not after what you did.”

“I understand, sir.”

Liam eyed him for a moment before nodding. “What have you found?”

****

Charlotte stood in the ballroom at the UN Gala with Drake and Maxwell. Liam had messaged her just before she arrived to tell her he needed to speak with her about Tariq. The gala was almost over, and she had yet to talk to him. Madeleine -- when she wasn’t shooting Charlotte dirty looks for what she assumed was over the ring debacle -- had latched onto him and pulled him around the room all night to speak with different dignitaries and guests.

While standing at the bar to get a drink, Charlotte felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Liam, offering him a smile. “Hi.”

“Hello.” He was fighting himself not to wrap his arms around her. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to get away until now.”

“It’s okay. What did you need to tell me?”

“Not here.” Liam glanced around the room. “Now that I’m free, I had a thought of sneaking out, getting some fresh air. Would you like to join me?”

“Like you even have to ask,” Charlotte chuckled.

Liam smiled. “I’ll slip out the back entrance and meet you outside.” Charlotte nodded, and Liam turned, casually making his way through the crowd to the back door.

Charlotte followed, making sure not to draw suspicion to herself. She slipped into the stairwell and made her way down the steps. She came to another door at the bottom and pushed it open, stepping into a small alleyway at the side of the building. She yelped when a pair of arms wrapped around her. She turned in Liam’s arms, and he leaned down, capturing her lips in his as he backed her against the brick wall.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Liam whispered; Charlotte chuckled and shook her head. “You’re breathtaking,” he said before kissing her again. Liam moved his lips to her neck, and Charlotte softly moaned, feeling his teeth and tongue trail along her skin.

“Are we going to talk? Because if not, I have some really amazing ideas of how we could waste time in this alley.”

Liam laughed against her neck. “Care to share with the class?”

“Well,” Charlotte began, “one of them involves you hiking the skirt of this gown up and taking me right here, against this wall.” Charlotte laughed as Liam let out a low growl; he found her lips again, kissing her deeply before he reluctantly drew back. “So what did you want to tell me?” she asked. He began to explain how Bastien stopped by his room earlier, offering to help find Tariq, and that he took him up on the said offer. “Did he tell you what he found?”

“He knows that Tariq arrived at the airport the morning after the jamboree and flew to the States. He was waiting for a call to find his trail from there.”

“Does he have family here?” Liam shook his head. “Well … at least it’s something, I guess. It’s better than nothing.”

Liam watched Charlotte glance down at their intertwined hands. “What is it, love?”

“We only have two days,” she whispered. “What if … what if we don’t-” Liam’s lips cut off Charlotte; he kissed her slow and deep, making her head fuzzy and her knees weak.

“Don’t say it,” he whispered against her lips. “We can’t think like that, okay?” Charlotte nodded. She was still thinking about it, though. How could she not? Sure, they had something to go on, but that was merely a crumb at the moment. How fast could Bastien find what they needed?

Suddenly, the door they had snuck out of burst open, causing Liam and Charlotte to jump apart. Maxwell, Drake, and Bastien came barreling out. “There you are!” Drake called out as the three of them rushed over.

“What’s going on?” Liam asked.

“He went to LA, sir,” Bastien answered. “I have an address to the apartment building he was staying at.”

“Get the-”

“The jet’s already being prepared, sir.”

Liam and Charlotte’s expressions flickered with hope as they looked at one another. “Well, come on, kiss goodbye. We got a flight to catch, Brooks,” Drake chuckled.

“We’re leaving now?”

“Red eye, baby!” Maxwell grinned. “It’s a six-hour flight. We need to get there and back before the shower tomorrow evening. I’ll grab you some clothes, and you can change on the plane.” Charlotte nodded and pulled her room key from her clutch, handing it to Maxwell. “Meet us out front in a few.”

The three of them rushed back inside, and Charlotte faced Liam. “That was fast.” Liam grinned and leaned down to kiss her again, feeling the excitement course through him. “This is really it? Do you think he’s still there, in LA?”

“I’m hoping so, love. But yes … I think this is it.” They smiled at one another before Liam kissed her once more. They stayed locked in that kiss for a few blissful moments before Liam drew back. “You should head out front.” He cupped her face in his hands and smiled. “I love you, Charlotte.”

“I love you too.”

*******

After the overnight flight on the royal jet, Charlotte, Maxwell, and Drake had landed in LA. They had left New York at midnight, arriving at LAX at 3 am. They stayed on the jet in an attempt to get some sleep while they waited for a decent hour to look for Tariq.

Charlotte couldn’t sleep, however. She was feeling a wave of emotions. She was anxious, nervous, excited, and scared all at the same time. This was her last chance to fix this. The court would be heading back to Cordonia tomorrow, and Liam would be making the final preparations for his wedding to Madeleine unless Charlotte showed up with Tariq in tow to clear her name. Everything was at stake.

Maxwell had woken Charlotte up at 8 am; the three of them changed and went to grab breakfast before heading to the address Bastien had given them, where he learned Tariq was staying. “Ready?” Drake asked as they got out of the car.

Charlotte looked up at the building and let out a breath. “Yeah.” They entered the building and went to the elevator. Once on the ninth floor, Charlotte stepped off the elevator with Drake and Maxwell following behind her. Her heart was racing as she quickly made her way down the hall, scanning the numbers on the outside of the doors until she stopped in front of one. “This is it …” Her heart was now pounding as she raised her hand and tapped her knuckles to the wood.

A few moments later, a man opened the door; it wasn’t Tariq. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“Uh, hello,” Charlotte smiled tentatively. “Is … is Tariq here?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Oh, sorry. I may have the wrong-”

“No, he was here. This is my apartment; he was subletting from me while I was in Europe.”

Charlotte could feel the hope slowly beginning to dwindle. “Do … do you know where he is, by chance?” she asked.

“I don’t, I’m sorry. I got back about three weeks ago, and he left. I haven’t seen him since. He didn’t even leave a forwarding address for his mail.”

That sliver of hope she had been clinging to like a lifeboat in a storm was gone at his words. “Oh … okay. Thank you …”

Drake and Maxwell shared a worried look. They could hear the defeat in Charlotte’s voice, and both wondered the same thing: Now what?

****

Back on the royal jet, Charlotte settled into her seat. She hadn’t spoken a word since they had left the apartment complex. If she opened her mouth to talk, she wasn’t going to get out more than a few words before the tears would start, and she was trying like hell to keep herself together.

Charlotte stared out the window as the jet rolled down the runway and lifted into the air. Everything seemed to be crashing down on her at that moment. This was her last chance to find Tariq before it was too late. She had failed. And now she had a tough decision to make. The mere thought of it made her heart feel as though it was being ripped apart. As her mind became jumbled, she could feel the lump forming in her throat; the clouds outside of her window became blurred by the tears that began to well in her eyes.

“How are you holding up, Brooks?” Drake asked as he sat next to her. Charlotte didn’t respond; she continued staring out the window with her knuckles pressed against her lips. Drake decided to try and make small talk, although he was sure it wasn’t going to help. “I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to worry. We’ll talk to Liam when we get back and figure out what our next steps are.” He watched her subtly shake her head, and he knew exactly what she was thinking: What’s the point? Drake sighed, wishing she would say something. “Charlotte …”

At the use of her first name from him for the first time since her first night in Cordonia, Charlotte slowly turned her head and looked at Drake; the sadness in her eyes was palpable. She covered her face with her hands, and Drake wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest as he heaved a sigh.

She completely broke down.

“Brooks,” Drake whispered, rubbing her arm. He glanced up when Maxwell approached, and they shared a look before Maxwell knelt down in front of Charlotte’s seat. They watched her cry, knowing there was nothing they could do to make this better or right for her at that moment.

****

Drake, Charlotte, and Maxwell arrived back in New York with just enough time to get back to the hotel to change and make it down to the wedding shower.

Charlotte entered her room, feeling completely drained. She stared at the dress hanging on the door that she was supposed to wear to the wedding shower, and she let out a slow breath. She decided at that moment that she wasn’t going. She just didn’t have it in her to attend.

It would only make things more difficult.

A few moments later, a knock came on her door, and she turned to open it; Drake and Maxwell stood on the other side, both dressed for the shower and adjusting their clothing. “You’re not dressed,” Maxwell said as he looked at her.

“I’m not going to go. I think … I think it would be for the best. I need to get some air … try to clear my head.”

“Are you sure?” Drake asked.

“Yes. I’m just going to go for a walk. If Liam asks … you can tell him I’ll be in Central Park …”

****

After calling an old friend to make some arrangements for herself, Charlotte had left the hotel and walked through the city before making her way down to Central Park. She stepped onto Gapstow Bridge and looked down at the water below, seeing in it the reflection of the city behind her. She wasn’t there 10 minutes before she heard her name being called; she glanced over to see Liam making his way towards her on the bridge.

“Hi,” she said quietly as he approached. Liam immediately wrapped his arms around her, and she sank into his warm embrace.

When Drake and Maxwell arrived at the shower, they went straight to Liam to tell him what had happened in L.A. Liam tried to hide the heartbreak in his eyes when they told him that Tariq wasn’t there and how upset Charlotte had been on the plane. When they told him she had gone to Central Park, he snuck out of the hotel within minutes. He didn’t care if anyone was looking for him. Charlotte needed him.

“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Liam whispered against her hair before kissing the top of her head. They drew back, and he cupped her face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“I just feel … defeated and drained.”

Liam sighed as he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I know it’s disheartening.”

“I’m sorry … about not coming tonight, I just …” Charlotte trailed off as she let out a breath.

“I know. I understand …” He moved to the railing and leaned against it.

“I just feel so lost, and I’m not sure what else there is we can do. He vanished. No one knows where he is …”

“I know,” Liam sighed. “We leave early tomorrow morning. Once we get back to Cordonia, we’ll figure everything out.”

“Liam, I …”

Charlotte swore she felt her heart stop as she cast her gaze downward, fighting back the tears that were already threatening to form over what she was about to tell him. It was a decision she’d spent the last three months coming to: what she was going to do should they not clear her name. Knowing what Liam was going to have to do when he returned to Cordonia left her with no other choice but to figure out her next steps.

Liam looked over at her. “What is it, love?”

“I … Liam, I’m … I’m not going back.”

Liam’s heart started to race, and he could feel the color drain from his face as he stared at her with his brows knitted in confusion. “What?” Charlotte stared at him, finding this conversation even harder to have than she already knew it would be. “What do you mean you’re not going back?”

“I mean … I’m staying here … in New York. I’m not going back to Cordonia with you.”

Liam shook his head vehemently. “Charlotte, no.” In one long stride, he was standing in front of her again. He slid his thumb under her chin, tilting her face up to his. When she met his gaze, a tear trickled from the corner of her eye; Liam leaned down to kiss her cheek, catching the briny tear on his lips. “I’m going to figure this out,” he whispered. “I’m going to find him. I’m going to make him come forward, and we’re going to clear your name and be together.”

Charlotte shook her head, her lip trembling as she spoke. “Not in time. I can’t … I can’t watch you parade around with her anymore. And I can’t go back … and watch you marry her.”

“Please, Charlotte, please give me more time. I promise you, I’m going to find him.”

“I can’t go back on a promise that you might someday find him.”

“But we’ve come this far … I just … I just need a little more time! Please … give me more time.”

The pleading look in his eyes and voice was slowly breaking her. “I need you to try and understand, Liam … and not make this harder than it already is.”

“Charlotte … you can’t give up …” Liam’s voice trembled. “We can’t give up.”

“I don’t want to give up … and I feel weak for doing it, because I love you, Liam. I love you so much … and you’re not supposed to give up on the people you love,” she spoke; her voice broke and rose an octave with each word as she tried and failed to fight back her emotions. “But I think it’s clear now that you were only mine to love … never mine to keep. And as much as it’s going to break me … I have to walk away … I have to let you go, Liam …”

Liam let out a shuddered breath as he looked away from her, attempting to blink back the tears, but like her, he failed to keep himself together. They came anyway. He didn’t want her to stay there. He didn’t want to give up on clearing her name or on them being together. He didn’t want to let her go or for her to let him go. But he knew it would be selfish of him to ask any more of her. Charlotte had been through enough over the past six months; first the Social Season and then the hell of the Engagement Tour. It had been hard on him, and he knew that whatever he felt over everything that happened, her feelings were beyond that. He couldn’t ask her to return with him on a possibility. She needed -- she deserved -- absolute certainty. He couldn’t put her through any more heartache.

No, Liam didn’t want to let Charlotte go … but he loved her enough to do it because he knew that she deserved better than him. She deserved a chance at a happy future, even if that meant that he wasn’t a part of it.

“Please … please don’t think this is a reflection on you, Liam. It’s not. I know that you tried. We tried. I know that you never meant for any of this, and it’s not your fault. I know who’s to blame … and it’s not-”

Charlotte was cut off as Liam cupped her face in his hands and leaned down, capturing her lips. They both tasted the salt from their tears. And they both felt their own hearts shatter just a bit more, knowing this was goodbye.

They parted, and Liam rested his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as his breath hitched in his throat. “I’m so sorry that I failed you, Charlotte. I’m sorry that I couldn’t protect you … and that I couldn’t be the person you deserve …”

“Stop,” Charlotte cried. “You’re more than I deserve … and you didn’t fail me, Liam. I got to love you … and that means everything to me.”

Liam’s brows furrowed as he pressed his lips to hers once more. When he pulled back, he lifted his head and kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment. Charlotte felt a tear fall from his cheek onto her own, and she squeezed her eyes shut as he wrapped his arms around her.

This was goodbye. And they weren’t just saying goodbye to each other; it was so much more than that. It was goodbye to the happiness and laughter they brought to one another. It was goodbye to their inside jokes and the ones they never got to make. It was goodbye to all of the what-ifs and plans they had made. They were turning this page, knowing they wouldn’t be in each other’s next chapter.

It fucking hurt.

After a while, Charlotte opened her eyes, still in Liam’s arms, as her tears continued to fall. “I want you … to try and be happy, Liam … because you deserve that. You deserve to be happy.”

Liam subtly shook his head as he looked up at the night sky. How the hell was he supposed to be happy with anyone but her? He wouldn’t be. Not ever. “You deserve that too …” he whispered. “Where … where are you going to go? What are you going to do?”

“I made some arrangements for now. But you don’t need to worry about me … I’ll be okay.” Hopefully. Maybe, someday. Liam’s arms tightened around her. After a long, tearful embrace, Charlotte finally stepped back and wiped her cheeks. “I, uh … I should probably go.”

If she didn’t go now, she wasn’t going to be able to walk away from him. Charlotte swore she could feel her heart break in two as she looked at him; the pain, hurt, and longing in his eyes matched that of her own. She reached up and pulled Liam down, giving him one last powerful kiss, pouring everything she was feeling into it as his arms wrapped tightly around her. They slowly parted, and she stepped back, looking up at him.

It took her a moment to utter the words, knowing once she did, that was it. It was over. This was by far the hardest thing she ever had to do. And the worst part of it all was standing there, watching his heart break as he tried to hold onto the shattered pieces of hers.

Finally, she took a breath and held it as she forced herself to say the words. “Goodbye, Liam.”

Liam looked down, unable to look her in her eyes as he replied, “Goodbye, Charlotte.” He heard her turn and listened to her footsteps slowly fade away. He glanced up a moment later, chewing the inside of his cheek, feeling more tears fall as he watched her disappear.

They parted with nothing but the memories and the solace that maybe one day their paths might cross again.

*******

•Four Months Later•

Charlotte sat in the living room of her apartment, staring at the television; the movie If Only was playing on Netflix. She had a plethora of snacks next to her on the sofa and a container of ice cream in her lap as she scowled at the screen. Why do I even watch these? It is such a load of crap.

The sound of her phone ringing pulled her from her scathing thoughts. She reached over, seeing her friend Sonia’s name flashing across the screen; she hit the speaker button before turning her attention back to the television. “Yello?”

“Hey, loser! Me and some of the girls are going out. Wanna come?”

“Oh, see, I’d love to, but I can’t. I have a date with sweatpants, Netflix, and a container of Chunky Monkey.”

“That sounds absolutely pitiful.”

“It really is,” Charlotte let out a sigh.

Sonia could hear the television in the background. “Whatcha watching?”

“If Only.”

“A sappy romance movie in your state?”

“My state is just fine, thank you very fucking much. Oh, here comes this part …”

“I have to tell you this, and you need to hear it. I loved you since I met you, but I wouldn't allow myself to truly feel it until today. I was always thinking ahead, making decisions soaked with fear. Today, because of you … what I learned from you, every choice I made was different, and my life has completely changed … and I've learned that if you do that, then you're living your life fully … it doesn't matter if you have five minutes or 50 years. If not for today, if not for you, I would never have known love at all. So thank you for being the person who taught me to love … and to be loved.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” Charlotte hollered, grabbing a handful of chocolate chip cookies and throwing them at the screen. She spooned a large portion of ice cream into her mouth as her eyes, stinging with tears, stayed locked on the movie.

Sonia chuckled, “And you say your state is fine ...”

“Hush.”

“You need to find an outlet for this pent-up anger and sadness. You know what you need? You need to get laid! It’s been months! Which is why you should come out with us tonight! We’ll find you a nice, suitable bachelor to take you home and just dick you down real good!”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to be dicked down, Sonia.”

“Okay, well … write it out then.”

“Huh?”

“You’re a writer! You write something, get everything you’re feeling out. Then you toss it away. Hopefully, those pent-up thoughts and feelings will go with it.”

“Write what, though?”

“Whatever your sad little broken heart desires. A book. An article. A letter to yourself … to him. Whatever you feel like having it be. It’s not like it will ever see the light of day. You’re supposed to throw it away with all those feelings when you’re finished.”

“Look at you being all therapeutic.”

“Well, take what you will from it. I did have four glasses of wine already,” Sonia chuckled. “Okay, I’m heading out. I’ll be at Kismet if you change your mind!”

Charlotte ended the call and stared back at the television. She scowled again. Watching a movie about fate, destiny, and what-ifs was probably not the best idea. She had plenty of what-ifs, should-haves, and could-have-beens of her own.

In the four months since deciding to stay in New York, Charlotte had gone through what she assumed were the typical stages of a bad breakup … if that’s what she could even call what happened between her and Liam. She went with it.

First, she was sad. Just fucking miserable all the goddamn time. She cried a lot. Her heart physically hurt, something she didn’t even know was possible. She felt constant regret. She questioned if she made the right choice to stay behind and not to fight harder. But it was too late now. What was done was done.

And she missed Liam.

To create a distraction for herself, determined not to be a walking blubbering mess the rest of her life, Charlotte re-enrolled in school. She didn’t need but a few credits to finish; one semester and she would be done. Once school started, her sheer heartache turned to gloom. She was the walking, human version of Eeyore. That ass. She was still sad, but the tears had stopped. Mostly.

And she still missed Liam.

With her graduation on the horizon, Charlotte started interning at the Herald. Her gloom then turned to this. Charlotte had turned into a slightly angry, bitter, and salty bitch who ate her feelings in the form of various sweets and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, generally paired with a few full-to-the-brim glasses of wine. She wasn’t angry with Liam, just the situation. She was absolutely angry with Constantine and Tariq, however, wishing them both very graphic and detailed harm inside her head.

And … she still missed Liam.

Charlotte let out a breath as her eyes settled on her laptop sitting on her coffee table; Sonia’s suggestion rang in her head. Write it out. She moved the half-eaten container of Chunky Monkey off her lap and grabbed the laptop, opening it up and going to a blank document.

The cursor blinked, taunting her for a good 30 minutes as she struggled to decide what to write. She had so much that she wanted to get out, thinking about everything that happened from the moment she stepped foot in Cordonia. She was the only one who came out of that experience damaged, even though she did absolutely nothing wrong. Her name and reputation were still tarnished. And the longer she let that sit with her over the months, the angrier she became. She had wanted to blow the lid off the whole story on more than one occasion, wanting to let everyone know who was really to blame, but thought better of it each time the idea arose. It wouldn’t help anyone. Not her. Not Liam. And it certainly wasn’t going to bring them back together.

Suddenly, that same idea struck her again. She could write that out. Her side. She could merely pretend to blow the lid off the story by writing her personal experience. She wasn’t sure it would release everything she was feeling, but it was worth a shot. She was just going to toss it when she was done anyway, just like Sonia said.

It would never see the light of day.

Charlotte’s fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she finally began typing. After a few moments, she reached over and grabbed the carton of ice cream, scooping another spoonful into her mouth as she read over what she had already typed out:

A nobility social season refers to the traditional annual period when it is customary for members of a social elite society to hold balls, dinner parties, and charity events. The social season has always played a role in the political life of the countries that host such events. But the season also provides an opportunity for once of age women to be formally introduced and presented before the men of nobility. Take, as an example, the small country of Cordonia that lies in the Mediterranean.

I was fortunate enough to be asked to travel to Cordonia to compete for a Prince’s hand during his social season.

Or so I thought …

**********************

If you want to see Charlotte and Liam get their happy ending, you can read it in the original Full Disclosure story.

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mrslilyrogers · 4 years

Text

Fall into Love

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Awkward and cute reader ahead! Nothing but sweet and soft fluff :)

Summary: What’s an awkward scientist like you gotta do when you develop a crush on America’s national treasure, Captain America? Recruited by Bruce and Tony themselves to work at the Avengers Compound, you try your best to keep your cool. But how could you when Steve is always popping up to help you?

Author’s notes: It’s my birthday today!! Yay!! And to celebrate, I want to share this super fluffy piece I wrote for @hopingforbarnes 250 writing challenge. Thanks for letting me participate! I got the prompt, “This is why I fell in love with you” which will be in bold below. I absolutely loved writing this and being a fan of chick flicks, I went with that vibe. I hope you guys enjoy and please, let me know what you think! Reblogs are very much appreciated :D

There he was sipping his cup of coffee, one hand holding today’s newspaper as he read. You thought it was beyond adorable that he insisted on getting actual newspapers delivered to the compound when he could literally read it from a tablet. You even offered to install the apps for him but he declined, saying he was too old for it. And in that moment you just knew, with his winsome smile and his deep blue eyes, you were utterly done for. So there you were, surreptitiously stealing doe-eyed glances at him from your perch by the kitchen counter, your laptop propped up on the island. His eyebrows were knitted as he brought the newspaper down, jotting his answers for the crossword puzzle. When he beamed at himself, you knew he got it right. Cute, so damn cute.

“Ugh,” you groaned at your own patheticness. When his head shot up to look at you, you immediately cleared your throat and looked to your laptop, ignoring the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“Y/N, you okay there?” Steve asked, pencil in mid-air.

“Yep, just working on something!” You replied a little too cheerfully, your gaze not quite able to hold his. You were always this way with him, tongue-tied, flustered and all fidgety. It was embarrassing.

Come on, Y/N, pull yourself together! You have two PhDs under the age of 30. Unfortunately, that was also probably one of the reasons why you were so freakin’ awkward but you really didn’t have to dwell on that now. Shaking off that snide little comment from the back of your mind, you continued your pep talk. You’re a badass scientist, graduated at the top of your class, and working with the Tony Stark and the Bruce Banner, your freakin’ childhood heroes! He’s just a 100 year old man! You’ve got this.

You looked at him with a bright smile on your face, straightening your back to make yourself seem taller. More Confident. Mature. Womanly. Typing into your laptop, you pretended you were in the midst of a scientific research that would change the world. Except, it came up empty, the screen completely and irrevocably black. Oh, shit.

“Ugh, Y/N. I think your laptop is turned off,” Steve awkwardly told you, pointing at it with the pencil in his hand.

“Oh, yeah. Well, uhm, yeah it is… so, ugh, gotta go and charge this,” You flashed him a quick smile before you scrambled to your feet, your chair creaking as you pushed it back, grabbed your laptop and ran out of there as fast as you could. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Steve watched you, a perplexed look on his face. When you nearly stumbled out the door, he almost got up to help except you shot up faster than a speeding bullet. An adoring smile crept up his lips. Cute.

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

It wasn’t always like that. It all started when the science geniuses offered an advanced intensive program at the university where you were finishing your second doctorate degree. It meant extra work and more late nights but you didn’t even think of that, you had jumped at the chance from the second you heard of it and the rest was history. You aced their classes with flying colors and by the time you graduated, they had already offered you a full-time position at the Avengers compound, to assist them with whatever scientific endeavor they needed. You would become their resident biochemist/engineering physicist, equipped with your very own office and given free reign to create, tinker or even upgrade their weapons and computer systems.

What you didn’t expect was how cozy living in the Avengers Compound would be. You thought they were a bunch of stuffy soldiers and spies with no time to deal with regular people like you. But as soon as you were introduced to the team, that all changed.

They had all been in the common area when you first arrived. The men along with Nat were huddled at the TV, concentrating on some sports game as they drank their beers while Wanda and Vision were laughing and cooking in the kitchen. It was all so surreal, your jaw had dropped to the floor. Who knew the Avengers could be so domestic?

“You’re starting to drool, kid,” Tony commented at your side, immediately stopping you from staring. You mumble out a sheepish apology, your cheeks starting to flush. He flashed a smile at you before turning his attention to the team, “Everyone, listen up,” he shouted at them, clapping his hands twice before continuing, “This is our newest scientist, Y/N! She’ll be working with me and Bruce mostly, helping us with weapons and equipment so be nice! Piss her off and you’re toast,” he teased, winking at you. You didn’t think you could get any redder than you were at that moment. You let out a nervous chuckle, giving a little wave to everyone,

“Hi! Don’t worry, I won’t do that. I don’t think I can even if I wanted to, look at all of you!” you joked and looking at their smirks and empty faces, you realized just how inappropriate that was.

“Not that I would want to of course! I mean, who would wanna kill the Avengers?” you continued to your own mortification, your mouth running on its own. You could feel prickly sweat down your back and you suddenly wished there was a hole that would just swallow you right that instant. Letting out a huge exhale, you tried again.

“Uhm, what I mean to say is that I’m very happy to be meeting all of you and I’m glad that I’m given a chance to work here and help in any way that I can.” you finished sincerely albeit sheepishly, shifting your weight between your feet and hoping you didn’t totally muck up their first impression of you.

Black Widow’s narrowed eyes eased up, arms still crossed at her chest, she gave you a little tilt to her chin as she smirked, “You’re adorable,”

You let out a huge sigh, beaming at everyone. Captain America nodded at you as if to say ‘well done’, and you felt your heart drop to your stomach. Damn, if that man didn’t spell out dreamy.

Tony finished the introductions and once you’ve shaken everyone’s hand, he was already moving, directing you to your designated room to drop off your bags so you guys could finish off your tour early and get to work. You were just about to carry your duffle bags, ready to drag your suitcase across their pristine marble floor when Captain America appeared by your side, “Hey, you need some help with those?” he asked, looking at your luggages. You had almost completely blanked when he stood so close to you. You could hear Tony’s voice getting softer and softer as he walked ahead, talking as he went. You nodded, not able to find the voice to speak. When he draped both duffel bags over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing, and pulled the handle of your suitcase higher, you objected, “Let me at least get that,” you tried to grab your suitcase from him but he swiveled it out of your reach, already moving to follow Tony. “It’s fine. This is nothing,” he said, smiling down at you.

“Thanks Captain. I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep up with him,” you replied, shyly smiling back at him and pointing at the man walking in front of you. He chuckled before letting out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, you’ll get used to it. And just call me Steve,”

Tony suddenly turned around as if just realizing you weren’t following at his heels. “Would you look at that?” He teased when he saw both you and Steve lagging behind him. “Chivalry’s not dead,” shrugging, he continued on, prompting Steve to shake his head at his friend.

When you both arrived at your room, You tried not to gawk but Tony Stark was definitely not cheap. They let you take it all in, practically feeling your excitement off your skin. Steve dropped your bags off on the floor before turning to take his leave,

“Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys for dinner,” his voice cut you out of your wonder.

“Thank you, Steve,” you beamed at him before he left the door.

“You’re welcome, Y/N,” he replied, flashing you a genuine smile. You watched his retreating figure out the hallway, your heart hammering in your chest.

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You had been working for the Avengers for two months now and you must admit you had easily become friends with all of them, jokes and easy conversation flowing with everyone except for one. Steve freakin’ Rogers. Oh, you were friends with him, you talked but the easiness was only one-sided. Every time you had a conversation with him, you felt your heart leaping out of your chest. Every single smile from him sent butterflies to your stomach. It was becoming a problem, your school girl crush making you look less professional and on top of that, you just knew the spies figured it out. Why else would Nat and Clint suddenly make up excuses and leave you and Steve alone again for breakfast?

You tried to ignore the fluttering of your heart as Steve made his coffee. Acting as normal as possible, you reached for the flour on the highest shelf of the cupboard, your hand coming up short. Uh-oh. Maybe, if you could just go on your tiptoes, you could get it, right? Wrong. You had been dead wrong. You wiggled your fingers, hoping you didn’t look like an absolute idiot. Oh God, have I been reaching for this too long already; past the point of asking Steve for help? If you turned around now and asked him, wouldn’t it be too awkward? But if you suddenly changed what you were going to make just because you couldn't reach the flour, wouldn’t that be too petty? Oh god, why do you have to overthink everything when he’s around?

Steve suppressed his laugh as he leaned on the counter, watching you struggle. How long was it going to take for you to give up? You were so different from any woman he’s met since waking up in the future, always so happy and cheerful with no guise whatsoever. You were a breath of fresh air, real, and so unlike all the other spies and agents he’s worked with, with their cold manner and calculating eyes. It didn’t take long for him to trust you. He considered you his friend and now, you were just beyond adorable. A crooked smile formed on his lips as he waited some more, enjoying the show far too much, his eyes involuntarily moving down to check your ass out in your sleep shorts. When he realized what he was doing, he blushed, and immediately straightened up to help you.

A huff fell from your lips as you decided, enough was enough. You turned around, ready to call for him, when you came face to face with his solid chest. His familiar masculine scent warmed your senses as blood crept up your cheeks. “Got it,” he said, holding the jar between you, a playful smile splayed on his perfectly luscious lips.

You cleared your throat, your eyes on his lips as you tried to find your voice. “Thanks Steve,” you replied just a little too breathily.

“Anytime, Y/N,” he smiled softly down at you, bringing his hand up to ruffle your hair. And just like that the romantic atmosphere was ruined. It was just on your part. Again.

______________________________________________________________________

Months later

You were dancing carefree to the beat of the music blasting from your headphones as you cooked your dinner. It was late, you were sure everyone had gone to sleep so you were safe to boogie and shake your hips while you celebrated. You had finally figured out how to calibrate Black Widow’s newest weapon. It took you the whole night for the finishing touches, making you forget to eat but it was all worth it. You were on a high as you piled the pasta on to your plate, grabbing the still-too-hot garlic bread from the oven too early, making you wince as you put your thumb between your lips to lessen the burn. You didn’t hear the tired chuckle from the doorway when you shook your hips to turn around, refusing to let the scalding garlic bread shake your mood. You let out a tiny squeal when you saw Steve leaning against the doorway, decked in all his Captain America glory minus the mask.

“You’re back?” you shrieked, a hand flying to your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart, thanking god you didn’t drop your plate. “You scared the shit out of me,”

Steve had the audacity to look ashamed as he straightened. “Yeah, sorry about that, couldn’t help it. Please don’t stop on my account,” he teased, laughing, before a wince escaped his lips.

“You okay?” you immediately dropped your plate on the table and walked over to him, losing your nerve to even get embarrassed when he clutched his rib.

“It’s nothing, doll,” he replied, shaking his head, a faint flush casting over his cheeks as the endearment slipped.

You couldn’t help but be taken aback too. His voice had been soft and unconvincing unlike his usual steely, determined self. You laid your hand over the one still clutching his waist.

“What happened here? Are you hurt?” Concern seeped into your voice as you looked at him worriedly.

“It’s fine, really. It’ll heal fast,” he stepped away from you, making light of his injury. He didn’t know how to deal with anyone fussing over him.

“Let me see it,” you said, your voice firm for once in his presence, putting your hands on your hips.

“What?” he chuckled again, poorly hiding his hiss.

“Come on, Rogers, I’m a doctor. Let me see it,” you nodded to his injury, determination steeling your stance.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he said, “Yes ma’am,” and gave you a mock salute.

“But didn’t you say you weren’t this type of doctor?” he continued, teasing, as he unbuckled his utility belt.

“Don’t get sassy on me now, Rogers,” You rolled your eyes until he started to peel off his uniform, then you lost your breath. You felt your cheeks flush at the forced intimacy of the situation, your resolve withering as you shifted your weight between your feet, crossing your arms at your chest. Should you even watch him take his top off? You didn’t want to look like a creep so you focused on the wall behind him.

When you heard him wince, your eyes shot back to him as he struggled to lift it over his head. Your hands moved of its own volition, gently helping him. Once that was over and done with, you looked up at him, his chest panting.

“May I?” you asked, your slightly shaking hand gesturing to his undershirt. He nodded and you let your hands lift his shirt off gently, but what greeted you made your jaw drop open. The skin on his right rib was marred with a big dark patch of purple and blue, almost appearing black. Around it, littered lighter and smaller versions of it, a few cuts here and there. On his arms, his pecs, on the side of his jaw that you didn’t even notice awhile ago.

“Steve, what the hell! This isn’t nothing! Can you even breathe properly?” You asked worriedly, running your hands over the cuts and bruises.

“Yes, Y/N. I told you this is normal. This happened just a few hours ago, it’s already healing. I’ll be fine,” He once again explained to you stubbornly, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Sit down, you need to put ice on that and I need to clean your wounds,” You rushed off to get the things you needed before pulling up a chair beside him. He watched you as your hands worked practically over his injuries, pride swelling in his eyes. There was a strange fluttering in his chest that he didn’t dare acknowledge. He wouldn’t admit it to himself but he only objected more to your ministrations because it made you double your fussing.

“All done,” You cheered to yourself as you started tidying up.

“Congratulations to you,” he replied jokingly, moving to help you before you swatted his hand away. “Stop, just keep that ice on your rib,” you told him seriously, getting up to bring back the first-aid kit to the cupboard and throw all the used up cotton. He was the worst patient there ever was, complaining and whining all the way through.

“Yes, boss,” he deadpanned, loving the blush that tinted your cheeks.

“Hey, have you eaten dinner already? You hungry?” you asked him, washing your hands.

“Dinner? Y/N, it’s 2 am, how have you not eaten dinner yet?” This time it was his turn to be indignant.

“Well, I was working,” you replied matter-of-factly as if it was the most normal thing in the world to forget to eat.

“Jesus Christ, I ended up taking down a terrorist base camp and I still had time for dinner,” he huffed, furrowing his eyebrows.

You scooped up a plate for him anyway, making sure to double the serving. When you dropped it in front of him, you noticed he had put his shirt back on again much to your displeasure. What can you say? The guy was chiseled like a greek god. It didn’t hurt to look at him.

You both started to eat in peace, the awkwardness settling in. You had no idea why he wasn’t talking. He was usually cool as a cucumber while you were a blubbering mess.

“So how was--”

“I didn’t know--”

You both started at the same time causing you both to pause then laugh heartily. When he winced and clutched his rib again, you quickly apologized before he shushed you. “You go first,” he said, drinking water as he tried to hide his pain.

“Do you want to get an x-ray? Make sure there’s no broken bones?” You asked, worry seeping into your voice again.

“Doll, I told you. This is normal for me, part of my job.”

“But I thought you said this was a simple covert mission, no fighting involved. They should’ve added more guys to go with you,” you frowned at him which made him chuckle lightly, his heart flipping in his chest at your concern.

“That rarely happens. Really, you should see the other guys,” he made a joke of it to calm you down. Unconvinced, you smiled tentatively at him, thinking if you should still push the subject when he steered you to a different topic, asking about your work. You had explained to him animatedly about the progress you’ve made so far that you didn’t even notice how easily you guys had flit to different topics, talking about any random thing that popped into your minds, smiling and joking like it wasn’t almost four in the morning.

When you went back to your room that night, you snuggled into your blankets, giggling. You had finally been able to talk with Steve without acting like a love-sick teenager. And it was everything you thought it would be.

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After that night, you guys formed an unspoken ritual. Every time you were working late and forgot to check the clock, Steve would bring you food to your lab, reminding you of your much needed dinner break. The first time it had happened, he walked in on you snacking on some m&m’s while you continued to work. He had groaned and lectured you on about how m&m’s and any form of chocolate was not considered dinner food. So after that, he took it upon himself to make sure you had something substantial to eat, often bringing his own cooking. You had talked about everything and nothing, some deep conversations that could only be shared through trusted friends while others had you both laughing deep from your belly with tears brimming your eyes. There were times when he had been relentless with his training too, even the rest of the team had left him alone to it, and you had to drag him away. Those days you had to remind him there was no war anymore and a little break was fine. You dragged him to watch movies, listen to music he had missed and, tried out those hole-in-the-wall types of restaurants where people wouldn’t recognize him.

Steve had just gotten back from a mission with Sam and Bucky. Both boys grunted as they sat at the kitchen table, clutching their drinks.

“Man, I could really use a shower right now but I’m too tired to move,” Sam quipped, massaging his neck muscles.

“I’m gonna order us a pizza,” Bucky said and eagerly whipped his phone out. Ever since he got off the ice in Wakanda, he’d been obsessed with all the “new” technology he’d been catching up on. He sure didn’t look it but he was a science geek at heart. Often going to you for help with everything he’s missed. The guys both looked to Steve questioningly, expecting him to butt in. He usually had a lot of input after a long mission. They were greeted by silence as he had his back to them, retrieving the first-aid kit from the cupboard. When he continued to ignore them as if he hadn’t heard anything they had just said and walked to the direction of your lab, both Sam and Bucky looked at each other, knowing smirks on their faces as they nodded their heads. America’s golden boy was whipped.

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Tony and Steve had been arguing in their usual banter at the lab. The super soldier looked like the worn out parent between the two while the genius billionaire gloated at his misery. Steve was wearing a black long-sleeved sweater that did nothing to hide his muscles despite its regular fit. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him from your station with Bruce, the two of you working quietly with an occasional chuckle or two thrown at the bickering men in front of you.

Bruce cleared his throat when he caught you staring far too long at the golden-haired adonis, not paying attention to the question he was asking. You quickly averted your gaze and asked,

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” you felt your cheeks warm as he looked at you with an endearing smile.

“I said, could you please pass me that sample?” He pointed at your hand clutching the petri dish.

“Of course!” You replied, handing it to him before hiding behind your laptop to record the results of your experiment.

“Will you quit acting like a grandpa for just a second and ask Sharon out? You guys clearly hit it off at the last mission. I don’t know what the hell is taking you so long,” Tony muttered as he tinkered on.

You and Steve’s eyes snapped to each other, almost as if on instinct, before you quickly lowered yours and hid your hurt behind your laptop screen. Bruce didn’t miss the subtle exchange and tried to distract Tony off from the subject but still, the man was oblivious.

“Tony, would you just quit it?” Steve complained exasperatedly, a sigh escaping his lips.

“I’m just saying, Cap. You’re a hundred years old, you aren’t getting any younger, pal,” he continued on.

Before Steve could say anything else, you made a show of stretching out of your chair.

“Oh boy, I need some coffee, do you guys want any?” you asked as cheerfully as you could, looking for an escape.

“Oh you just read my mind! Didn’t I say she was the best?” Tony asked rhetorically, his hand gesturing to you as he looked at the men in the room. You missed the way Steve’s eyes had softened when they landed on you. The only reason he was even here.

“I could use one right now, angel. Thank you!” Tony continued, using the nickname he had given you since you started working here, giving you a quick smile before going back to work.

“I could use one too, thanks.” Bruce nodded at you.

“Alright. How about you, Steve?” you turned to him, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as he looked at you, an endearing smirk playing on the corner of his lips while he shook his head no.

“I’ll go with you, help you carry it.” He said, already standing up.

“What? Pssh. No. It’s fine, I got it.” You dismissed him playfully, leaving the lab as fast as you could, a weight in your chest as Tony continued to berate him into asking Sharon out on a date.

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You decided to get Steve coffee anyway. You knew he was only being a gentleman because he didn’t want you having a hard time carrying all of it back to the lab. Grabbing some snacks too, you made your way back, a tray balancing on your hands when you heard Tony scream your name. Uh-oh.

You opened the door to see Bruce and Steve laughing their asses off while Tony looked at you with murder in his eyes. “Did you just hack my playlist and change it all to spice girls?” he bellowed over the music, hands on his hips. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. It was supposed to be a prank between the two of you. He said you couldn’t hack into the system he created and you just had to prove him wrong. You thought you had put a timer on F.R.I.D.A.Y to just change it when he was alone. Guess you weren’t as good a hacker as you thought you were.

“Sorry,” you shrugged sheepishly.

“You don’t even look sorry. You could at least tell me you saved my old playlist,”

Uh-oh. “I think so?”

“Oh, come on!” he whined.

“Sorry, but you questioned my hacking skills!” You replied indignantly.

“Because you’re not a hacker!” he emphasized each word, making you giggle.

“I really am sorry! Look, I’m sure if there’s anyone here who could get it back, it’s you.” your sickly sweet voice belied the trick you still held up your sleeve.

“Damn right, I could,” he replied arrogantly, typing into his hologrammed board as he gave instructions to F.R.I.D.A.Y.

You sipped the coffee in your hands, hiding the smirk on your lips. Bruce thanked you for the wonderful prank and you gave him a little curtsy in return as he grabbed an extra cinnamon roll, still smiling. All the while Steve looked down at the tray, his insides warming at your thoughtfulness, you had brought him his favorite yogurt and fruits knowing he’d prefer those over the sugary treats. He was suddenly pulled out of his reverie when Celine Dion’s haunting voice rang out, almost making him spit his coffee out of his mouth as he burst out laughing, watching Tony’s face get flushed. He turned to you as you carelessly threw your head back, laughing. Anyone who could take Tony down a peg, he admired, and knowing that it was your brilliant mind that had the genius sputtering in annoyance made him love you even more.

“Oh doll…” he exhaled. “This is why I fell in love with you.”

Everyone in the room suddenly stilled. Tony’s audible, “Oh” popped in the background making Steve screw his face up in confusion. What the heck? He saw your eyes widen, your cheeks turning beet red. Oh crap.

He said that out loud, didn’t he?

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #hopingforbarnes250writingchallenge #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x awkward!reader

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forthehpfanboys · 4 years

Text

You're An Idiot

Pair: Draco Malfoy x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Draco is being a brat.. Again. No one's surprised when you run into him after getting back late from Hogsmeade. Also, the reader is Hermione's older brother.

Warnings: SMUT (MDI). Just- get the holy water. Swearing, oral, Sassy Hermione?? Still doesn't follow the movies or the books or anything. If I forgot any, please dm me.

Note: Requested! And Bottom Draco-I was up all night typing this. God, I am so sorry for the grammar and crap when I first posted this. I fixed it up, so it should be better!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

Being Hermione's older brother meant you usually had to deal with a lot of shit, especially since she'd drag you on adventures with the Golden Trio. She'd always use the promise you made to your parents in your face. Yeah. You had sworn you'd protect the younger Granger when she first started going to the school. At the time, you didn't know that'd mean every single bloody year.

Since you were a year older then the Golden Trio, you ended up resolving problems and fixing some of their mistakes and reminding them to sleep during particularly stressful days. You could've swore the four of you just attracted problems better than magnets attract metal. Of course, you wanted them to be safe and healthy, but one little bleached ferret always made it hard. That ferret, of course, was Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.

Stupid Draco Malfoy who always managed to look top notch in anything he wore and Godric what you'd do to get that ferret on his knees, ruin his pretty hair and- You probably shouldn't be thinking this in the dinner hall, especially since you were sitting next to your sister. Speaking of your sister, she turned to you, a smile on her face.

"So, (Y/n). I was curious if you wanted to come with us to Hogsmead this weekend? Harry got Sirius to sign for him and Professor Magonagall accepted it under the circumstances." Hermione's voice rang through your skull as she spoke, your head already nodding up and down. It'd be a nice little break, especially during your 7th year.

"Of course I'm down, Mione!" you wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to her side. "You know I'll use any excuse to be with my favorite bunch of idiots." you messed up her hair, causing her to smack your hands away and almost shove you off the bench.

You let out a laugh, completely oblivious to the Slytherin staring at you from across the room with the most desperate expression on his face. You shoved your sister back, a smirk growing on your face as she fell from the bench.

"Haha! Payback!"

"Not funny, (Y/n)!"

"Yes it is, Mione! You should know by now I'm always gonna get revenge!" you ran a hand through your hair, shooting her a smile. The two boys who sat across from you nodded in agreement.

"He's right, Herman. (haha, reference-) It is pretty funny." Ron smiled, holding his fist out for you to bop.

The week seemed to pass with ease, allowing the weekend and it's snowy fun to arrive without hesitation. You trudged out in the snow, leading the trio of 6 years to Hogsmead. You hummed a muggle Christmas song deep in your throat as you walked, looking up at the snow covered signs.

"Where should we go first, children? Hogs Head? Honeydukes? What ya kids feeling?" One thing you absolutely ADORED was teasing about the age difference between you and the trio.

"We're not children!" Ron shouted, his arms crossing over his bulky winter jacket.

"Yeah! Besides, even if we weren't totally responsible adults, we'd wanna go to the Hogs Head, right guys? Get a butter bear or two?" Harry spoke up, moving his scarf down to speak properly before putting it back over his mouth and nose.

"Uh Huh. Sure." You snickered, your hands shoved in your pocket of your pants. You'd given Hermione your jumper, leaving you in a scarf, fingerless gloves and your long sleeve t-shirt.

The four of you got interrupted by a line of people literally blocking your path. It was none other than the stupidly pretty Draco and his 'gang' stood in front of you, arms crossed like a bunch of wanna be badasses.

"Well, well, if it isn't Potter and his 3 little blood traitors." Draco spoke, his voice filled with smugness and his face dragged in a cocky smirk.

God, did you wanna get revenge against that stupid smirk.

"Oh, please Malfoy. You do this almost every week. Just admit you have a crush on Harry and move on." You spoke, taking a step toward him. The ferret's smirk faltered and turned into a scowl.

"Oh please. As if I'd stoop low enough to like someone like Potter." Draco all but gagged at the idea of dating the messy haired rival and you wondered what he'd look like gagging on your stick. It suddenly became a little warmer in the winter atmosphere.

"Then you have an unhealthy obsession, mate." Ron spoke up, his arms crossed. "Might wanna get that fixed and leave us be."

"Yeah, Malfoy. We're trying to have a good day and you're ruining it with your ugly mug." Hermione spoke up, causing you to feel nothing but pure pride. She'd changed a lot from the shy girl she used to be in 1st year.

Crabb or Goyle, you didn't care to learn their names, stepped forward, causing you to instinctively step in front of your friends. Malfoy scoffed again, looking you up and down before turning his head.

"Whatever." the blonde pureblood spoke as he began walking away, his posse turning to follow, but not without shooting you one last glare.

"Yeah, you... You better leave?" You spoke, confusion clear in your voice. Usually you'd be inches from his face, shouting about the shit antics his father pulled before he backed down. Turning to the other three, you shrugged and led them to Hogsmead, hoping to escape the cold.

Once inside, you all ordered a warm glass of butterbeer as you picked a table by the fireplace. Taking your first sip immediately warmed you up, a sigh leaving your lips.

"Godric Gryffindor. I haven't felt warmth in what felt like forever." You said cooly, smirking to your sister. "I wonder why I would be oh, so cold."

"Ok. We get it. I forgot my jacket. Stop it." The brunette responded, causing Harry to almost choke on his drink and for Ron to snort. You faked a gasp, your hand going to your chest in mock shame. You'd been teasing her about it almost the entire way there.

"Such sass!" You shook your head. "What would mom and dad say?"

"They'd say you deserve to shove it."

"Oh, come now, sister of mine! Don't be a stick in the mud!"

The two friends sitting across from the Granger siblings sat in silence. This was some of the best entertainment they get during the week and they always savored it.

"I'm not being a stick in the mud, you're just being a dick."

"Well you know what they say. You are what you eat-"

Ron and Harry didn't even miss a beat. They broke out laughing together as Hermione shouted, her face a pinkish color.

"(Y/N)!!"

"What? We all know it's true!"

"Merlin's beard you suck."

"That's the point, sis."

"Go- stop. Please. I'm begging you."

"Ok! Ok." you chuckled out, raising your hands in defeat.

You and the trio managed to keep up the conversation easily, but as time went on, it was time to go back, well, that's what you told them. It was time for the kiddos to go back and finish their homework so they had tomorrow to actually relax. Of course, this caused Harry and Ron to groan and whine, but Hermione finally convinced them, saying she'd help.

You let out a sigh and leaned back in your chair, your eyes falling closed. The stupid blonde hottie has been raging in your head for what felt like forever, so you weren't surprised when he popped up behind your eyelids again.

You truly didn't want to admit it, but you'd liked the jerk since he popped up randomly in your second year. He was a twat to your sister and her friends, but somehow he slithered into your heart and head all the stupid time.

Over time like turned to crush, crush turned to yearned, yearned turned to lust, because it certainly wasn't love. That's what you convinced yourself as you tossed your head back, swallowing the last of your fourth butterbeer.

You sat in front of the fire for a few more minutes before you stood up, placed some coins at the end of your table to pay for the drinks and left the restaurant, venturing out into the snow.

It was colder before, thanks to the sun setting over the castle. Shrugging off the cold, you walked down the familiar path back to Hogwarts. You tightened the scarf around your face as a particularly cold breeze blew past you. Once the entrance of the castle came up, you all but jogged to the door, ripping it open. The inside was warmer, thank Merlin.

You were suddenly grateful for the 7 years you'd spent at Hogwarts. You were able to mindlessly walk the halls and make it to the staircase leading up to the Fat Lady's portrait. As you were trudging up the steps, you noticed a A flash of a shadow duck past a knight.

"Oh, ok. Cool. Filch’ll just kill me. Awesome." you grumbled, hurrying up the stairs as quietly as you could, but we're quickly halted. The shadow wasn't Filch or his crazed cat. It was Malfoy.

Of course it was Malfoy. We gotta get to the good stuff somehow, right?

...

Anyway, you sensed he was up to no good considering he should be in the Slytherin Common Room probably sleeping and not sneaking around by the Gryffindor one. You crossed your arms over your chest, watching the blonde keeping his head turned to watch his back as he climbed the same steps you were on.

"Malfoy."

"AAH-"

You all but lunged to cover his mouth with one hand, the other going to the back of his neck to keep him still. "Shut it, you git! Do you want to get caught?" your eyebrows furrowed together as you pressed him to the stairs railing, trying to intimidate the younger male.

What you didn't know was that this was waayy to hot for Malfoy to comprehend. His back went rigid at your touch and his breathing all but stopped as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

"Well, do you?"

Your hushed voice snapped Draco out of his trance, causing him to shake his head.

"Good, then keep your voice down. What are you doing out here anyway?" you spoke, moving your hands away from him, much to his dismay. He was just grateful you didn't back away. He liked your body against his.

"I was uh-well, I was trying to.. Find the bathroom." He usually kept his composure, but he was failing miserably. He usually kept it together so well but now.. Now Draco was struggling. He was not going to admit he was on his way to sneak into the Gryffindor common room and leave you a love note. No. Why would he do that??

"The bathroom? It isn't up this set of stairs, ya idiot." you grabbed his arm, leading him down the stairs. "Besides, you should have a bathroom on your side of the school, so what are you really doing here?"

"What does it matter?" he spat out. "You obviously think you know everything." you rolled your eyes at his brattiness and walked over to the corridor glancing down it before pressing your back against the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Shut it Malf-"

"No. I don't ha-"

"I said shut it or I will gag your mouth with your own fucking tie." you covered his mouth again, pressing him back against the wall. "Godric. Just put your ego away for 2 seconds."

Draco desperately wanted to say 'Make me, Granger' but he was lost in the idea of your threat coming true.

Satisfied at his silence, you watched one of the patrolling professors walk down the corridor and right past you two. Not spotting anyone or anything, they continued on before you swept him down the entrance.

"Ok. Come on." You whispered to him as you walked down the corridor. You were taking him to that one girls bathroom that no one goes into, ya know, with Myrtle. You were just hoping she was gonna be literally anywhere but that bathroom.

"Where are we going?"

"You said you wanted a bathroom, idiot. I'm taking you to one where you can piss in peace and leave me alone."

"I.. What?"

"Forget it, Malfoy." You took one more turn and finally saw the opening off the bathroom. "Ok. We're here." Of course Blondie had a problem though. He shot the (h/c) male a glare before scrunching up his nose.

"This is the girls lavatory."

"Oh, you think I care. Funny." you grabbed him by the shirt covering his shoulder and pushed him inside, following after his stumbling form.

"Don't touch me, Granger. I don't want whatever germs mud bloods carry." Draco scoffed, fixing his shirt and brushing off his shoulder, as if dirt was there.

"Call me that again and I won't hesitate to ruin that pretty face you cherish so much." You growled out, grabbing his shirt by the collar and pulling him toward you. "One day that silver tongue of ours is going to get you in a lot of trouble." Pushing him away from your figure, you turned toward one of the many mirrors lining the wall.

You looked at your reflection and fixed a strand of hair, then took off your scarf. It was warm in this bathroom. You folded the scarf and looked back into the reflective glass to see Malfoy smirking in the background.

"What?"

"You called me pretty." He had his arms crossed over his chest. Your aggravated tone did nothing to his smirk.

".. You're dumb as hell, ya know that?" you turned to face the male and his confidence seemed to shrink a little bit. You advanced toward him and he stepped backwards. He wanted to keep distance between you two in case a fight broke out. He'd seen you fight other people bigger than you and remembered how they were sent to the Hospital wing. "You're a twat. You're a self centered brat who thinks he rules this school."

He gulped when he felt his back press against the wall. "Yeah? And what are you going to do about it Granger?" Draco could feel the blood rush to his cheeks. You must've noticed his face turning Gryffindor red because next thing he knew, you were pressed up against him, pinning him to the wall. He felt his breath catch in his throat when your eyes glanced at his lips for a brief second.

"I might teach you a lesson." Your hands came at either side of his head, a dangerous smirk drawing across your lips. You leaned forward, your lips ghosting over his. "You have been such a brat lately. A punishment is in order, hmm?"

Draco's hands tried to grip the wall, his nails scraping against it. Fuck, the way your voice dropped sent blood from his cheeks to his dick almost immediately.

With that, you slammed your lips to his, causing a breathy whine to escape Draco's throat. You tilted your head, your tongue grazing across his lips as your hand slipped through his hair. The blonde wrapped his arms around your neck as he opened his mouth, his tongue meeting yours. With teeth clashing, your bodies pressed together and a hand in his hair, you easily gained dominance.

You pulled from the kiss, causing Malfoy to let out a protest.

"Shut it, brat." You grumbled, a hand covering his mouth as you planted a kiss to the side of his neck. "Besides, we're out past curfew. Would hate to get caught."

He could feel you smirk against his skin, your hand in his bleached locks tugging his head to the side so you had more room. He jumped a little when he felt you bite down on his neck. The younger man's eyes fell shut as you attacked his neck with love bites and hickeys.

Your hand covering his mouth moved to his cheek as you placed a kiss on a particularly big hickey.

"You ok?" your voice was soft and sweet against his ear. He nodded quickly, not wanting this to end, which only caused you to snicker. Draco blinked a few times in confusion when you placed your hands on his shoulders and began to push him down to his knees.

"I'd rather not kneel on the floor."

"Why not?"

"It's filthy!"

You stared at Draco for a few seconds before rolling your eyes and you shoved him down to his knees.

"I don't care if it's filthy. You have magic, don't you? Clean your knees when we're done. Simple." you smirked down at him, joy filling your heart. God, it genuinely felt good to see the cocky pureblood on his knees, his head turned in a silent protest.

One hand stayed on his shoulder, the other moved itself to the bulge between your legs. The groan that left your lips caught his attention. The hand against your bulge grounded down, causing you to groan.

"Oh, now I've got your attention?"

"Shove it, Granger."

"Now, now. That's no way to talk to me, I am older."

Draco rolled his eyes so hard you were sure they were gonna roll straight out of his head. But since this whole event was anything but straight, you figured it wouldn't happen that easily.

The man on his knees swatted your hand away and wasted zero time unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down around your knees. He stared at the bulge in your galaxy themed boxers, the tips of his ears turning a bright pink. He noticed the damp spot right by the tip and realized it was from him.

Suddenly, his confidence came back, and the blonde quickly began mouthing at your erection. With a rough groan, you rested your hand on top of his head and used the other stabilizing you against the wall.

"Go on, then. Don't be shy." You chuckled, gently ruffling his hair. The 6th year reached up, quickly pulling down your boxers to reveal your hard length.

"I'm not shy." When he finally met your eyes, you noticed his blue ones burning with a lust that you'd only wished to see in your dreams.

"Uh huh, then why aren't you sucking my dick, hmm?" You smirked, pushing your hips forward.

"I might bite it with the attitude you hold." The blonde spoke as he leaned forward, licking from the base to the tip in one, long swipe. You let out a sigh, your head slowly tipping backwards as his tongue grazed over the tip of your wood.

"You love my attitude. I bet you always have."

Draco wanted to mock you or laugh at you or something, but he knew you were right so instead, he sucked on your tip like it was a popsickle. He hallowed his cheeks and kept eye contact with you as he slowly took you into his mouth.

You let out a gasp at how hot it was. Visually and physically, it was so damn hot. Your grip tightened on his hair when his tongue ran along the vein on the bottom.

"Fuck- Ah, Draco-" You tried not to move your hips. After all, you didn't know how much experience he had, but it felt like he was pretty well off.

Draco, however, was focused on the way you said his name. It dragged a moan out of him. This might've been the first time he heard you say his first name and your gravely voice made it so wonderful.

The blonde on his knees suddenly wanted to hear you say it again. He closed his eyes, pulling back to take a breath before he pushed forward. The pureblood focused on trying to take you down his throat. His eyebrows furrowed together when he gagged and chose to ignore his tears.

"Oh shit!" you hissed out, your jaw dropping when you felt his nose press against your pelvis. "Draco, how the hell-?" you bucked forward when you felt him try to swallow around you. "Ooh, Godric!" you tossed your head back, your hand against the wall curling into a fist.

Draco pulled back and slowly went down on you again, a breathy whine leaving your throat.

"You are far too good at this, baby."

All too soon he was pulling off you completely, which causes you to whine and look down at him. He was looking down at his hands that rested in his lap.

"What? Did I say something wrong?" You asked, your head tilting to the side a little bit.

"No!" his head shot up to look at you, his eyes wide. "I mean.. No... No, I've just never been called something so.. Soft."

This caused your eyebrows to furrow together. "Huh. Well, let's change that. Come on." You stepped out of the pants pooled at your feet and held a hand out to him, which he took.

You gently led him over to the sinks, turning him around to face his reflection. "I got you." you whispered in his ear, causing him to shudder.

He nodded his head, looking down at the sink in front of him. The pureblood rested his hands against the porcelain. The 6th year's heart was pounding in his ears, his bottom lip becoming trapped between his teeth.

The blonde felt your hands run from the back of his neck, to his shoulders and down his back before finally landing on his hips. The wizard felt a heat pooling in his belly when he felt your hips press against his ass.

You reached around to his front, undoing his belt and slowly pulling it free from the loops before tossing it off to the side. He finally looked up at the mirror, taking in the reflection of his messy hair, swollen lips and your hands coming back to his front.

"I got you, Draco." Your voice was soft. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about anything." You smiled at him over his shoulder and winked before popping the button of his trousers open and allowed gravity to pull them down.

Malfoy gasped when you cupped his bulge, his hips automatically pushing forward. He'd been hard since you pinned him against the railing.

"(Y/n).." he whispered out, his mouth falling open when your thumb ran across the head of his cock.

"Yes, babe?" Your smile has turned into a knowing smirk. Blue eyes bounced between your hand and that devious smirk, Draco's brain conflicted on which sight was better. "Do you need something?"

He nodded his head, blonde locks bouncing.

"Please." his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Please? Please what?" Your fingers slipped past the elastic of his boxers, a false sense of innocence laced in your voice.

"Move- touch me- damnit, Granger, please."

You finally pushed his boxers down, your hands running along the front of his thighs before finally landing on what he wanted you to focus on. The blonde let out a sigh of your name when your hand finally wrapped around his dick.

A small smile stretched across his face once your hand started moving. The pleasure wasn't new, but was oh so welcomed. He was glad he finally got you.

You gave him a few pumps, allowing his precum to build up on your hand, making everything easier.

"There ya go, baby. So sweet." You whispered, kissing the back of his ear.

Draco brought a pale pink lip between pearly white teeth again, his hips pushing forward to get more.

The hand still resting on his hip came around to the front, gathered a bit of precum off the tip before slinking back around to the back. He used the pre like lube and pushed a finger into Draco's tight hole, causing him to emit a squeal and arch his back a little but.

"Oh, Godric. I'm so excited to wreck you, baby."

"(Y/n)!" he squeaked out as the finger went deeper. He bit his lip harder, the pain slowly dying out and being replaced with a burning pleasure.

You loved hearing your name being moaned like that, just like he enjoyed hearing his when he was suckin' on your lolli. You added a second finger, slowly thrusting them in and out to try and speed this along. You could only jerk someone off for so long anyway.

You licked your lips, a determined expression event on how badly you wanted him. Maybe eating his ass would've been more effective.

"Please hurry, I don't know how much more of this I can take-" his voice was higher in pitch, his hips pushing back against you. "Please-"

"Ok, baby, ok. No need to beg." you chuckled, removing your hands from their working positions. Gently rubbing your hand over one cheek, you spread it open enough to spit in it, just to be safe. "Ready?" your free hand grabbed your own dick pumping it a few times for good measure.

"I wouldn't be asking you to do it if I wasn't, now would I?" the blonde snapped back, glaring over his shoulder. How did he go from so innocent he's almost choking from one finger in him to being a demanding brat all over again?

You rolled your eyes and lined yourself up, carefully and slowly pushing in until you made it past the first ring of muscle. Both of you moaned at the feeling, your hands coming to rest against his hips as his head ducked down, his chin pressed against his chest.

You slowly pushed in deeper, a whine leaving his throat as the twisted pain came back. You reached around to grab his dick again and jerked him off a little bit more to try and counterbalance the pain.

Once you were all the way in, you just let him adjust. You kissed across his still clothed shoulders and neck, whispering encouraging words of praise.

The hand on his hip dragged itself upward, your eyes following it in the mirror. Once it made it to his chest, you cupped one of his pecs through the shirt, feeling his perky nipple pressing against your palm.

Grinding your palm down against his nipple and continuing to rub his dick, you slowly pulled out almost all the way before pushing back in with one sweep.

You literally left him breathless. He was staring at you through the reflection in the mirror, his mouth hanging open, his eyes glazed over with need, his hair a mess.

You built up a pave easily, deep and hard but slow and Draco loved every second of it. His toes curled in his boots, his back arched into your hands while his hips fought to figure out if they wanted to go forward into your hand or back into your dick. It truly was a conundrum for the twink.

"Such a good boy for me, aren't ya?" You spoke up after a while, your voice gravelly and rough and right in his ear. You let out a breathy laugh when he shuddered and moaned from that alone.

The two of you weren't concerned with the sound of skin hitting skin or your moans echoing around the hallow bathroom. You were busy, I don't blame you.

Soon enough, Draco was begging you to speed up, his release starting to creep it's way around. You nodded your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you spend your hips up, a grunt leaving your lips.

Draco let out a loud whine when your fingers pinched one of his nipples, his hands clawing at the walls as pleasure coursed through his veins.

"I'm gonna cum in you." You groaned against his back. "I'm gonna mark you as mine and you're gonna sit there and enjoy it."

Fuck yeah, he was.

Draco was nowhere near complaining. He'd been fantasizing of this and so much more for years. He, of course, blamed his hormones, but he knew the effect ran deeper than just lust.

Draco nodded his head. "Please-" he moaned out your name, his thighs trembling from the pleasure. He was getting closer and, honestly, so where you.

The pureblood was so warm and hugged you so right in all the right places and Albus mother-fucking Dumbledore where you getting more of this later.

This stupid cute blonde was so intoxicating it almost made you feel pathetic. Keyword is almost.

You sped up, chasing after your own release as it also reared its head around the corner.

"G-gonna cum-" Draco stuttered out, his voice cracking. One hand fell from the wall to the porcelain sink at his waist. "I-I'm.. Gonna-" he called out your name, loud enough for it to probably be heard by the Gryffindors, as he came.

He tightened and spasmed around you, his legs shaking and tiny moans leaving his throat as you helped him ride out his orgasm.

"Are you good?" You asked, rubbing his back and soon letting go of his soft dick when he deemed it was sensitive. "Do you want me to pull out?"

Draco shook his head, his ears noticeably red from behind him. "I want you to keep your promise."

He did not have to tell you twice. You went back to thrusting into him, both hands on his waist as you sought after your own orgasm. A few moans and groans from you later and you were cumming inside him.

You leaned into him, riding it out until his tight, hot ass became too much. You pulled out carefully, causing him to whine and twitch.

"Let's get you cleaned up, ok, Draco?"

The blonde nodded his head and allowed you to carefully and gently clean him up with a wet paper towel. It wasn't the lost romantic thing used to clean partners, but it was what you had.

After a few minutes of silence once you were cleaned and dressed you spoke up.

"So what.. Where are you doing by Gryffindor Tower, Blondie?" your hands ended up in your pockets again.

"Well I.." The pureblood reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out an envelope. "I was going to..."

"Draco, babe. I saw your 'o' face. Just tell me. You shouldn't be embarrassed." You snickered, obviously teasing the younger man.

He took in a deep breath and shoved the letter toward you.

"IwroteyoualetterexplaininghowIfeltaboutyouandhowIwassorryforhowItreatedyoursister-" he was going way too fast for you to understand anything.

"What? I can't.. I don't speak whatever this is."

"I.. Just read the letter!"

With that, you tore open the envelope. It was the love letter Draco was gonna leave by your bedside table.

The letter stated how he fell in love with you from a far over the years by watching you dominate in Quidditch, bringing light into the world with the Twins (let's be honest, imma throw them in this) and just.. Being you. Plus bickering with you was one of his favorite pastimes.

It also stated how he was sorry for treating Hermione so poorly and the citation with his dad and how he was raised.

The Slytherin was nervously wringing his hands together, a nervous expression on his face. "Umm.. Are.. You gonna say something?" his mental fingers were crossed.

You smiled, tilting your head a little bit.

"You're an idiot." You pulled him into a gentle kiss, your hand entangling with his. You casted him a genuine smile. "I like you too, Draco."

The blonde's face broke out in a matching grin and he all but jumped on you to give you another kiss. Once the two of you broke apart, your voice echoed in the bathroom once again.

"There's only one problem."

"What is it?"

"How do we tell Hermione?"

#draco malfoy x male reader #draco malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #male reader #x male reader #hp imagine #hp x male reader #hermione granger #harry potter #ron weasley #Ronny Writes #fic #hp male fic #hp fic

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fanficimagery · 4 years

Text

The Imprint Saga pt. 1

Summary: Imagine finding out the supernatural exists. You manage to keep a level head and even give the whole Imprint business a go, but your poor wolf had no idea just how stubborn you could be when you felt he or anyone else was in the wrong.

Words: 8.2K Warnings: This is absolutely ridiculous. I wrote it, loved it, edited it, and now I hate it. But I wrote three goddamn parts (currently writing pt. 3) and I refuse to delete any of it. With that said, the Reader gets a bit confrontational with those she doesn’t like and punches someone.

Moving to Forks for the start of your Junior year was not ideal, but your mom was in need of a better paying job and it just so happened that Forks General Hospital had a few open positions that needed filling. So after she gave you a week to pack up your room, the house, and have your high school transcripts transferred, your mom hired a moving truck to follow you over two hundred miles to your new home.

Everyone was curious about you and your mom, and it seemed like everyone knew everyone else's business so it was only a matter of time before the waitress at the local diner told everyone what she learned when she had made small talk with your mom. The town was also pretty dreary, but the beach in the next town over made up for it.

The first day of school has you waking up earlier than usual so you can drop your mom off at work before taking the car for yourself. Then after checking in at the main office to get your schedule and a slip of paper that needs to be signed by every teacher before being turned in at the end of the day, the day starts off exactly as you expected.

Every stare is immediately on you as you park your car, the murmurs starting as soon as you exit. Glancing around, unimpressed, you put your arms through the straps of your backpack and secure it snugly to you. Then pulling up the hood of your jacket, you head straight for the double doors.

Only halfway there, a student jumps out in front of you and snaps a picture of you. "You're Y/N Y/L/N," he grins, fiddling with his camera. "I'm Eric Yorkie, the eyes and ears of this place."

"Cool," you deadpan.

"Anything you need?" He then asks, clearly excited to be talking to you. "Tour guide, lunch date, a shoulder to cry on?" You can only blink in response and he readily continues on. "I'm on the paper and you're news, baby. Front page."

The clearly excitable and gossip go-to are people you tend to steer clear of, but something about this boy has you cracking a grin. He takes notice, practically shaking with excitement. "So long as you never call me baby again, I'll let you run whatever story you come up with."

"Yes!"

"And you have to dial down the eagerness from about a thirteen to a three. Take a breath, dude. I'm not that interesting."

"Nice." He tries so hard to seem cool and collected, but it's clearly not working. "Can I use that as a headline."

"Whatever." Eric keeps staring, almost like an eager puppy, and you sigh. "I'm gonna go. I want to acquaint myself with my locker and make sure I know how to follow this map. See you at lunch with those questions you no doubt are going to ask for that paper of yours." He seems like he's going to ask you something else, but you make a quick escape and leave him behind.

Finding your locker is fairly easy so long as you follow the numbers, but it's the classes that are a bit tricky. You're used to having all the classes in one building, either upstairs or downstairs, but the classes here are located in various buildings that make up the entire school.

You're not sure exactly sure which exit to take to find building E since apparently one side of the map ended up being cut off, so you walk up to the first couple you see standing by their lockers. The guy is pretty burly and the girl is ridiculously pretty for being a high school teenager. "Hey," the two teens tense, but you pay it no mind, "sorry to bother you, but can you tell me which way to go for building E? My map was cut off," you explain while showing them said map.

The burly boy blinks owlishly at you and the girl glares, but the only thing that pops into your head is that they have the most exotic eyes you've ever seen. "Oh. Uh sure." The boy takes the map from you, turning around to place it against a locker and finishes the map for you. As he hands it back, he says, "Just keep walking straight and take a left. Building E is that way."

You offer him a tired smile in return. "Thank you." Then glancing at the girl, your gaze falls to her feet. "Huh. Nice boots." Her glare softens, but you don't see it before you take your leave.

Classes then proceed to go exactly as expected, you getting your slip of paper signed before each class and then giving your name, the place you moved from, and a random fact for each teacher that asks you to introduce yourself to the class.

Lunch rolls around and you find an empty table, happily setting your tray down and tearing your hamburger to bite size pieces before eating them. That's where Eric finds you, Angela Weber in tow. The girl is someone you're most likely to befriend with her soft spoken nature and laid back personality. They ask questions about where you've moved from, your family, and your hobbies. You easily answer them, tossing in a crass joke or two that has Angela snorting milk from her nose and Eric taking a picture of the aftermath as you smirk at the poor girl.

Lauren, Tyler, Mike, and Jessica make their appearance at your table then, and you immediately dislike them. They're loud, rude, and obnoxious. The girls clearly have jealousy issues of some sort and the boys are only interested in what your dating life is like. But through them you learn about the Cullen clan.

"Oh my god," Jessica suddenly muses. "Don't look now, but Alice Cullen is staring at you!"

You frown when you realize she's addressing you. "Who?"

"Alice Cullen? Don't you know who they are by now?!"

"Uh no?"

Lauren smirks, leaning forward in her seat as if she's preparing to tell you the juiciest piece of gossip. "The Cullen and Hale twins are pretty much royalty around here, even if they don't give anyone the time of day." She gestures to the table in question and it's then you realize two of the so-called royalty are the couple you approached earlier that morning. "They've all been adopted by Dr. Cullen and his wife since she can't have any kids."

"Wow. Okay one, rude. All you had had to say was that Dr. Cullen and his wife adopted them. There is no need to tell anyone about Mrs. Cullen allegedly being infertile." Lauren, Jessica, and the boys gape at you, but Angela hides her smile behind her cup. "And two, why should it matter if they're staring? Are you really that starstruck over a bunch of teenagers?"

"B-Because they're the Cullen’s!" Jessica practically whisper shouts. "They're like together-together- Rosalie and Emmett, and Alice and Jasper- and they never pay attention to anyone, and- oh god, now Edward is looking over here!"

Jessica is on the verge of swooning and you roll your eyes, sighing. "Jesus Christ," you mutter. "You really need to pull yourself together. They're kids like you and I, albeit better looking, but still kids nonetheless. It's like you're desperate for their attention."

"Well yeah," Lauren scoffs. "You should feel lucky they're even looking in your direction."

"Gross," you utter. Jessica and Lauren are now looking at you in disbelief and annoyance, and the boys have clearly busied themselves with gossip of their own when the Cullen’s were mentioned. Lightly clearing your throat, you stand up and pick up your tray. "Well it was nice talking to you, Eric and Angela. I'll see you around. Maybe."

You dump your tray and then make your way out of the cafeteria building, easily finding your next class since Emmett Cullen had fixed your map. You then proceed to have a class with Edward Cullen- he nodding in greeting when you catch his gaze, a nod which you return- and a class with Alice Cullen who is practically bouncing in her seat when the teacher sits you next to her. She's a little too perky for your likes, so you merely grin before immediately pulling out your spiral notebook and taking notes from the board.

Your last class of the day is your history class which you end up sitting next to Jasper Hale. He's very tense and quiet, and seems both interested yet terrified of your presence, so you don't pay him much mind after nodding at him when you take your seat.

All in all, your classes are decent and you've literally only spoken to one person in the entire that you can find yourself wanting to spend time with outside of school. Angela.

It doesn't take long for the teens of Forks High to realize you're not afraid to speak your mind when they annoy you, and you found yourself only ever seeking out Angela. And out of all the Cullen’s it's Alice who seemed most interested in befriending you, but you weren't really interested. You were polite when she approached you, but you never really offered to hang out with her or take her up on her offer to go shopping. And while every other student found it offensive that you've turned her down, her family found it rather amusing.

Jasper eventually slightly warmed up to you since your teacher had partnered you up with him for a project, so you found it rather easy explaining to him that you weren't really the type of girl Alice needed in her life. He chuckled at your explanation of cheery people not being your cup of tea, but that you didn't have the heart to tell Alice yourself, and promised to let her down easy for you. You sighed in relief, thanked him, and then got back to taking notes.

Fortunately for you, Bella Swan came to Forks and Alice found a new girl to set her attention on.

It's the weekend, and you and your mom are feeling up to spending a day on the beach. And since it's chilly out, your mom makes a few phone calls to La Push to make sure that you won't be getting in trouble if you were to make a fire on the beach. So after purchasing a small shovel and some easy to light wood that would keep your fire going, she drives the two of you down to La Push Beach.

You find the perfect place to have your fire, next to a rather large piece of driftwood that appears as if it'd make the perfect backrest. You dig a shallow hole while your mom makes a teepee of wood before lighting it, and then the two of you plop yourselves down and just breathe in the salty ocean air.

"So how are you liking school, darling?" Your mom asks as she pulls forward a bag of snacks and drinks. "We haven't really had time to sit and talk."

You shrug. "School is school. Met a few people I can actually call friends."

"That's wonderful!"

"But I also made more enemies, so.."

"Y/N," she groans and you laugh. Eventually she grins at you. "What'd they do?"

"They were either too chipper for me to handle or they let their insecurities get the better of them which turned them into snarky assholes."

"Anything in particular you didn't like?"

"Oh. Loads," you say, "but I would rather not get into it. It's done and over with, and I'm perfectly fine with having Angela and Jasper as my only go-to friends."

"If you say so."

"I do. How's the hospital?"

"Oh I love it," your mom suddenly gushes. "I honestly think this might be the place we finally settle down. The only complaint I have about the hospital is that the staff is ridiculously obsessed with Dr. Cullen and his good looks."

You snort. "Seriously? Everyone at school, some teachers included, are freakishly obsessed with Dr. Cullen's adopted children."

Your mom giggles. "Are they pretty too?"

"Very pretty," you sigh. "I'm on pretty decent terms with all of them. Jasper, however, is the only one I tend to seek out if I'm in need of sitting in silence with someone. He's quiet, but he's got a wicked sense of humor when he's comfortable enough to show it."

"Oohh. Do I sense a future boyfriend?"

"Oohh," you tease back, "no." Your mom frowns and you laugh. "Dr. Cullen's children are all seeing each other," you then admit. "Jasper and Rosalie Hale are Mrs. Cullen's niece and nephew, and Edward, Alice, and Emmett were adopted by Dr. Cullen. Jasper and Alice are dating, as are Rosalie and Emmett. Edward's got this weird thing going on with the other new girl Bella."

"Oh. Um that's a bit-"

"Weird? I mean yeah, but they're not actually related so it's legal. I think." You chuckle, shaking your head and tossing a pringle at your mom.

The two of you lapse into silence, you eventually retrieving your polaroid camera from the car to take a few pictures. You both decide to dip your feet into the ocean water, squealing not even a second later when it proves to be too cold. Then when you and your mom have finally had enough of the beach for the day, she starts gathering your trash while you prepare to turn out the fire.

But before you can throw the first batch of sand on it, a voice calls out to stall you. "Wait! If you're done with the fire, do you mind if my fiancée and I use it?"

You turn around to find a rather tall, muscular and tan individual. The woman at his side barely comes up to his shoulders and she smiles timidly, her hair hiding some pretty fresh facial scars. "Not at all." You dump the sand off your shovel, smiling in greeting. "We just put some wood on, so it should still burn for a bit."

The man smiles. "I'm Sam. This is Emily." The woman waves, a wave which you return.

"Y/N. And the crazy lady who has yet to speak up is my mom [enter mom's name here]."

"Hey!" You smirk, glancing over your shoulder as your mom joins you. "I'm not that crazy." She winks as she joins you, introducing herself to Sam and Emily.

"So you guys new to town?" Sam wonders.

"To Forks," she says.

"Yeah. We moved here about two months ago now. But I love the beach, so we decided to make a day of it." Sam and Emily nod in understanding. "But we should be going now. You guys have a fire to enjoy. It was nice meeting you."

"You as well," Emily softly says. "I hope we run into each other again."

"You will," your mom says. "I swear Y/N was a mermaid in another life. She loves the ocean."

"Either that or a wild animal. I'm kind of drawn to the forests around here. It's.. peaceful."

"They can be," Sam says, "but they can also be very dangerous. If you go hiking, go with a friend. A group is better."

"Duly noted, my dude."

"And on that note," your mom says, "we really should be going. Hope you two have a nice night."

"You as well," Sam replies as you and your mom take your leave.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months.

Your friendship with Angela had ended up leading you to being introduced to Bella, and you surprisingly found yourself with someone else you could call a friend. She doesn't tend to gossip or talk about anyone's insecurities, and she somehow manages to pick up on your moods pretty well. So when your mom can't make it to your beach trips, you tend to take Bella and/or Angela.

And on the days you go alone to the beach or your with your mom, Sam and/or Emily manage to find you.

The start of your Senior year is exciting and you're already looking forward to graduation. But not even two months into your Senior year, the Cullen’s decide to move away. You're sad to see Jasper go, but you completely understand and tell him and Alice to send postcards or knick knacks from wherever they make stops at. Healing crystals are your favorite just because they're pretty and you like to line them on your shelves, and Alice promises to send some really pretty ones.

Bella, however, seems to take their absence really hard. No amount of talking to her helps, so you give her some space. And in distancing yourself, you find yourself visiting La Push Beach more and more, and spending time with Emily.

It's there with Emily that you first meet Paul Lahote, Sam's newest friend.

"Hey Em, Paul and I are going to grill some burgers. You need anything from the market?"

"No, honey. I'm good."

"Y/N?"

Looking up from the crackling fire, you say, "Yes, Samuel?" Sam's friend snorts and you turn glittering eyes on him. "Hi. I'm Y/N."

Sam's friend looks right at you, his posture and expression going lax by the second. Your expression falters, even as you do your best to keep up a smile. Sam notices, frowns, and then smothers laughter as he elbows his friend. "Oh. Um, I'm Paul."

"Nice." You look back at Sam, grinning. "Can you bring some hot Cheetos?"

"Sure thing." Paul seems perfectly content looking at you, so Sam has to grasp him by the shoulder. "Let's go, Lahote. If Y/N doesn't get her hot Cheetos soon, she'll get cranky."

You don't deny his statement, only grinning wider and shrugging a shoulder. Paul huffs a laugh, but joins Sam, and you refocus your attention on Emily who's smiling a little too wide. "What?"

"So Paul, huh? Was it just me or did he seem a little too interested?"

You roll your eyes, chuckling. "Do all Quileute boys look like that? Because if so, I'm in trouble."

"I'm surprised you didn't bite his head off for staring."

"It's La Push, Em, I'm telling you," you chuckle. "There's just something about this place that makes me feel at peace. I feel.. connected almost, if that makes any sense."

"It does," she grins knowingly. "Believe me, it does."

Eventually Sam and Paul return to Emily entertaining you with changing the color of the fire by tossing driftwood into it, and they grill up some burgers on a small portable grilling pit. Sam and Emily are side-by-side, laughing as you suck in air between clenched teeth because you ate too many hot cheetos yet again. Nearby, Paul looks torn between laughing or getting you something to drink.

You can't explain it, but you immediately get on with Paul. He's talkative, which normally annoys you, but you find yourself relaxed around him. He's sort of a touchy-feely person, but you don't mind and even relax when he sits next to you and slings an arm around your shoulders when you end up laughing a little too hard at one of your own jokes. You don't see it, but Sam and Emily stare at you and Paul with fond expressions.

The night soon comes to an end and you leave the beach with a few new polaroids to hang on your wall, some of which you having departed with because Emily and Paul wanted them.

Another few weeks pass which leaves you looking forward to Christmas vacation after the shit day you've had at school. Your mom's already been informed of the altercation which took place, and after spending all day in In-School-Suspension since she couldn't leave work to pick you up you're more than ready to go home and nap the rest of the day away.

However, when you get home, you're all too aware of the grumpy mood you're slipping into when you're left alone with your thoughts. You feel mentally drained, you wish you didn't, and all you want to do is get away. So after tossing and turning in the comfort of your bed, you grab your cell phone which was lying next to you and scroll down to Emily's name.

The phone rings a couple of times before she picks up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Em, you busy?"

"Not at all. How are you?"

You gulp. "I've been better. Today was a shit day and I just- I need to get out. You busy this weekend?"

"Nope. What did you have in mind?" She chuckles.

"It sounds pretty juvenile," you say, "but I was wondering if you were interested in a girl's weekend? Starting tonight preferably? Obviously Sam will be there because we'll be at your house, but I much rather deal with you and him than anyone here in Forks."

"That sounds wonderful," she says. "Will your mom be okay with that?"

"Yeah. She understands how I get sometimes and she'll be happy that I'm taking the initiative to put myself in a positive atmosphere rather than sulking over what happened for the next three days."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not necessarily."

"Tell you what. Paul is actually in Forks on a job for Sam. I can call him and have him pick you up if you want to leave the car with your mom."

"That sounds perfect, Em. Thank you. I'll call my mom right now to let her know what the plan is."

"Okay. See you soon."

After hanging up with Emily, you call your mom. You tell her that you need a breather and that Emily's offered to let you spend the weekend with her starting tonight. Your mom agrees to the plan and assures you that she has a ride home after work so she doesn't need you to wait for her to get out or for you to drop the car off.

Your mom ends up keeping you on the phone a little longer than expected to talk about what went down at school, so you've only just hung up with her and made it downstairs to the hall closet to search for a duffel bag when there's a knock on the front door.

Opening the door, you're met with a rather sheepish Paul. "Hey, Lahote. You got here fast."

"Yeah. I was already done with my errand when Em called."

"Oh good. I haven't packed my bag yet, so come on in."

Paul enters your house and you shut the door behind him. "Emily mentioned a girl's weekend starting tonight. Don't you have school tomorrow?"

"Yeah about that," you chuckle nervously as you lead him upstairs, "I'm actually suspended tomorrow and have been instructed to cool off over the weekend."

"Suspended?" Paul snorts. "What the hell did you do?"

"Shoes off at the top step or you wait there," you quickly inform him. "The whole top floor is carpeted and I don't like shoes on the carpet." Paul hesitates, but he kicks off his shoes in the end. "And I might have punched Bella Swan."

Paul barks out a quick laugh as he follows you. "What did Bella Swan ever do to you?"

The whole upstairs level is a loft which your mom gladly let you have and you've fixed it to your liking so you're not hesitant to let anyone see it. You move to your dressers to grab three sets of comfortable clothes to lounge around in, underwear, and then grab a pair of jeans from your closet. "She, uh, she's been hanging out with that Jacob Black kid that keeps going on and on about Sam being in a cult," you say while setting your clothes into the duffel bag.

You walk over to your bathroom, quickly grabbing your toiletries and carrying them out to drop on your bed. "I don't know how she knows we hang out, but she had the goddamn nerve to tell me that I needed to stop hanging out with you because you and Sam were bad news. I laughed it off at first because she's a friend, but she kept pushing and I just- I snapped."

You plop down on your bed and when you look up, you find Paul standing in front of your book shelf which houses only two shelves of books while your healing crystals take up one shelf and geodes of various colors on another. "You really like rocks, don't you?"

You shrug. "They're pretty and most of those are from a friend who just moved away. I don't actually believe they have healing abilities, I just like the aesthetic of it all." Paul picks a couple up, examining them. "I was gonna learn how to make a necklace with some of the smaller ones, but then I got lazy. Maybe I'll learn soon."

As Paul moves on from the crystals to standing in front of the polaroids stuck to your wall, you smile and fix the contents of your bag. "Sam and Emily are in a lot of these," he says while grinning over his shoulder.

"Because I like them. It feels like I've known them for ages rather than a few months." Just as you've pulled the blanket from your bed to fold and take with you, Paul plops down on the edge of the bed. "No, no, don't!" Paul freezes and then his eyes widen, and you sigh. "Don't you dare get comfortable, Lahote."

"Jesus Christ," he groans. "What is your bed made out of?" He scoots up your bed, laying back fully. "If we ever get to that point in our friendship where we have sleepovers, I'm definitely sleeping in your bed."

You snort. "Keep dreaming."

"Oh I will." You're thankful his eyes are closed because his words make you blush.

You quickly get yourself under control, and once you have everything Paul takes your bag while leaving you to take your blanket and pillow. He easily slides his feet back into his sneakers and you follow him downstairs where you put on your own shoes. Then outside, Paul opens the passenger door for you before handing you your bag.

"All set?"

"Yep. All set."

Paul shuts the door, smirking, and you roll your eyes at him as he saunters in front of the truck to get to the driver side door. He chuckles as he settles himself behind the steering wheel and your thoughts the entire way to La Push are centered around how screwed you are if Paul keeps up with the flirty behavior.

Thursday night at Sam and Emily's proved to be exactly what you needed. You had attempted to help her in the kitchen, but she pushed you into the living room to find something on tv. Sam and Paul had left to run some errands, so instead you made yourself comfortable at the kitchen table and kept Emily company while she cooked.

The boys had reappeared with a friend in tow, all shirtless and barefoot. You were introduced to Jared who couldn't stop smirking at you and Paul, and you only had to threaten him once when he made a crass joke directed at you. It almost sounded like a growl had come from Paul, but Emily had distracted you soon after.

When Sam and Emily had found out why you didn't have school on Friday, they seemed rather amused but it was Emily who had lightly scolded you about violence not being the answer. You assured her you knew and that your mom had already gotten on your case about it, and then proceeded to help Emily around the house and do a bit of grocery shopping since it seemed she fed not only Sam, but also Paul and Jared. Then Friday night you and Emily watched movies as the boys ran some more errands, and the two of you barely complained when the boys crashed it.

Saturday morning, you and Emily had been making some breakfast when Paul showed up. He had greeted Emily with a kiss to her cheek and when he turned to you, you raised an eyebrow at him. He had huffed, but gave you a brief side-hug before joining Sam at the table. Then just as you were taking the coffee to the table, a heart stopping howl had ripped through the air. You shuddered, Sam and Paul perked up, and Emily attempted to distract you.

But before she could, Sam spoke up. "There's nothing to be scared of. The wolves don't go anywhere near our homes."

You had startled at the hand Emily laid on your shoulder and then realized you had frozen when you heard the howl. "Oh. I'm not scared." You had set the coffee down and then took a seat. "I actually like wolves. I just never heard one outside of a wolf sanctuary."

Paul choked on his bite of food. "W-Wolf sanctuary? You've been to one of those."

"Yeah." You had started to make yourself a plate when you explained. "When I was younger, I was really obsessed with wolves. Before my dad passed, he would take me every summer to the sanctuary. I visited so much that one wolf in particular remembered me. She would knock me down to greet me and then follow me around for as long as I was there."

Not long after you had shared that memory, Jared rushed in through the back door and Emily made him sit to have breakfast before he whisked Sam and Paul away. Then before Sam had left, he had told you and Emily to dress warm because there was a bonfire with Quileute Elders that he had wanted you to attend later that night. Paul had become apprehensive at that, but your interest had been piqued immediately.

Then later that night after you had dressed warm for the beach, Sam had driven you and Emily. Paul was waiting for you at the beach and you noticed he seemed almost nervous, so when he reached for your hand you let him take it without a word. There were a handful of people on the beach, sitting around a fire, and you smiled and shook hands with everyone Paul introduced you to.

Eventually, Harry Clearwater called for everyone's attention. He spoke of the Quileute legends- of the men long before their time and spirit warriors who chased away threats. Everyone listening was hanging off his every word, and you found yourself enthralled with the tale of the Cold Ones and the Quileutes magically shifting into wolves who hunted the Cold Ones down after one slaughtered half their village. He spun a beautiful tale that you left shivering when a woman sacrificed herself for her husband and something about the somber atmosphere afterward left you feeling off. It was almost as if everyone present believed in the legends.

Harry went on to explain that the Quileute legends were passed down from generation to generation, and that it was of the utmost importance no outsiders hear them. And that- that confused you because you were the very definition of an outsider. Yet it also didn't slip your mind that everyone you had met welcomed you with warm smiles.

Back at Sam and Emily's, Emily has instructed you, Sam, and Paul to take a seat at the table while she whisks up some hot chocolate.

But your earlier thoughts are still sticking with you. "Not that I don't appreciate being invited out tonight, but why was I?" You hesitantly ask. "I'm clearly not of Quileute blood."

Paul's gaze immediately darts to Sam. He and Paul share a look, the elder man nodding. Paul promptly stands and heads out the back door, and you frown as you watch him go. "Special circumstances made it so that we were able to bring in you in on the secret."

"Secret?" You wonder. "Your legends are really that secretive?"

"They have to be," Emily carefully explains as she makes her way back to the table, hot chocolate forgotten. "If not, the wolves would be hunted down."

"The wolves?" You quirk an eyebrow, grinning, but your amusement falters when a howl pierces the air. You gulp and your eyes immediately dart to the back door. "That was a coincidence."

Another howl echoes back. "Should someone go get Paul? That sounded awfully close."

Emily smiles sadly and you find yourself climbing to your feet to follow after her. Sam follows behind and you can't help the sharp inhale when a large gray wolf stands in their backyard. "That's no normal wolf," you mutter, shocked at the sheer size of it.

The wolf seems antsy, whining as it shifts it's weight from front paw to front paw. You can't take your eyes off it, nor it you, and you find your chest aching with how hard and fast your heart is pumping.

"The wolves protect our lands from the Cold Ones. Vampires," Sam says and you flinch, startled. "The Quileute legends were just that- legends that we were told growing up. But then a coven of Cold Ones settled in Forks and their proximity started to trigger our shapeshifting abilities."

"O-Our?"

Sam smiles sadly before walking off the porch and towards the gray wolf. Your eyes widen and you reach out for him, but Emily pulls you back. "It's okay," she tells you. "Watch."

From one moment to the next, Sam bursts out of his clothes and in his place is an even larger black wolf. You choke back a sob, your mind trying to wrap around what it is you're seeing. Emily tucks you under one of her arms, but you hold yourself tense. "I- I don't- what?"

"They're our protectors."

"But- but how?" You shakily point at Sam, then towards the gray wolf. "And who?"

Emily squeezes you a little closer. "I think you know who, sweetheart."

The gray wolf whines and takes a step closer, but the black wolf lowly growls at him. Your mind is going a mile minute and part of you is wanting to go searching for Paul. But surely if Paul had heard the howl, he'd have come back or called or something. And then it clicks. "Paul?" the wolf whines louder and lowers itself to its belly. You exhale harshly, breath stuttering as you try not to freak out. "I- I need-"

"Shh," Emily shushes you. "Let's get you back inside and-"

"Home. I need to go home," you say as you start walking backwards. The gray wolf whines louder, standing up and running towards the woods. The black wolf watches him go before looking back at you and Emily, huffing once before sprinting after the wolf himself.

"Come on, Y/N. I'll get you home."

You collect your belongings in a daze, meeting Emily by the kitchen. She smiles sadly at you, a smile which you return, and you follow after her to Sam's truck. Just as you've set your bag and blanket down, and are about to hop into the truck, a heart shattering howl rips through the air. You freeze and turn towards the woods, your heart aching at the sorrowful howl.

The drive is silent with the exception of the static-filled airwaves and all too soon Emily is parking outside your house. Your house is empty with your mom being at work, so you're in no rush to get out and Emily is in no rush to kick you out.

The seconds seem to drag on until eventually you ask the question that's been nagging you since Sam let the wolf out of the bag. "Why me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why me, Em?" You sigh and turn in your seat to stare at the woman. "What were the special circumstances that Sam deemed it appropriate for me to know all this?"

She fidgets in her seat. "This is something you should be really talking to Paul about, Y/N."

"But I'm asking you. I don't- I need time. But I also need to know why you guys let an outsider in when it's clear outsiders aren't welcome."

You stare at Emily long enough that she finally caves. "The wolves have something that they call Imprints. Long story short, imprints are the wolves' soulmates. They live, they breathe, and they'll do anything for this one person."

"Okay..?"

"I am Sam's imprint," she breathes out a little too quickly, "and you-"

"And me?" You ask when she trails off. She looks at you, almost as if pleading with her eyes to not make her say it. Your chest aches with realization. "And I'm whose? Paul's?" At her hesitant nod it's like all the air is sucked from your lungs. Your eyes tear up and a noise that's a mixture between a laugh and sob escapes you. Emily continues to stare and you shake your head, sniffling. "I think I should go."

"Y/N."

"Please don't," you mutter. "This is a lot to take in and I just need-"

"Time," Emily finishes. "I understand."

As you grab your blanket and pillow a little tighter in one arm, you grab the strap of your duffel bag with the other. Getting out, you then stand by the opened door. "I'll talk to you soon, Em. I will," you assure her. "I just need to sleep on it."

Just as you're getting ready to shut the door, Emily stops you. "I know it's a lot to take in. Believe me, I know," she huffs a laugh. "And when you come back around, remind me to tell you all about how Sam and I first started out."

"Do you- would you mind telling me now?" You meekly ask. "My mom will still be gone for a few more hours and in all honesty I would rather learn of everything from a fellow imprint."

"A-Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay then. I'll just call and leave a message for Sam."

Shapeshifting wolves, Imprints, and Cold Ones. It's a lot to take in, especially learning just who the Forks coven was, but a lot easier to digest coming from Emily. Hers and Sam's story was heartbreaking, but watching the love and affection she held for him eased your mind and heart some.

You had Sunday all to yourself, not doing anything at all but lounging in bed and watching the cheesiest rom-coms you could find on tv. Your mom had lured you downstairs with some meatloaf and gravy, and then you had proceeded to shower and get in bed early for school the next morning.

Monday morning had a good morning text and an apology from Paul, and you did your best to pay attention in school. People were still talking about how Bella got her black eye, but they were let down when you and Bella ran into one another and all you did was nod before moving on. She was still in a slump since the Cullen's departure and it took everything in you to keep from telling her you knew about the Cold Ones. But you figured in doing so, she'd want to know how you found out and you couldn't tell her about the wolves. So you kept quiet and tried to figure out exactly what you were going to do about Paul.

Emily had explained that the relationship between a wolf and his imprint wasn't necessarily romantic, but more often than not that's how it usually played out. She tried her best to not persuade you into anything, so you assured her she had nothing to worry about. Things between you and Paul weren't exactly normal, but you were comfortable enough with whatever you and him had going on.

Then by Monday night the loneliness started to kick in and you couldn't hold back for much longer. So Tuesday morning, after dropping your mom off at work, you decide to skip school and head down to La Push.

It's not long before you're parking in front of Emily's house. You've only walked up the steps when the screen door opens and Paul steps out. His expression is stoic, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jean shorts.

"Can we- can we go for a walk?" You ask. Paul nods and you turn to head back down the steps. He follows after you and you cross your arms over your chest as the two of you walk down the road. "So wolves," you drawl. "And imprints."

Paul huffs, smothering his amusement. "Yep. Emily told us she told you everything."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I just figured it'd be easier to hear from her rather than anyone else." You kick a stray rock, sighing.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Hmm? Oh. No. I just wanted to see you."

Paul stops and you continue a few steps more before turning around to face him. When you meet his gaze, you roll your eyes at his smug expression. "So you're not going to freak out?"

"That's what Sunday was for," you tell him. "And then I moped around a bit on Monday and caved this morning."

"So what are-"

"We?" You finish for him. He nods. "I'm not sure. I was just hoping we would take it day by day. If something happens, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't. So what do you say?" You ask, holding a hand out for him.

He glances at your hand, grinning. "Sure. Why not." Taking up your hand, you and Paul then head back towards Emily's.

Christmas came and went, you spending the day with your mom since she had the day off. Then New Years came and you spent the day on the Rez since your mom had to work. You learn about the pack dynamics since more wolves had started to phase and then raised the question about why they were phasing if the Cullen coven had moved away. It was Paul who reluctantly admitted that they didn't know why.

Then Jacob Black joined the pack and Bella fell back down the slippery slope into a state of depression. But something about this time around seemed different and you just knew it was going to be bad. And sure enough you were right. Mostly.

You're finishing up an English essay when the doorbell rings. You ignore it since your mom is downstairs, grinning when you hear her greet Paul. She had met him on Christmas Eve and if you hadn't called dibs, you were pretty sure she would have jokingly tried. Your mom stalls Paul for just a little while and then you hear him climbing the stairs just as you cross your last t's and dot your last i's.

"Hey there, smarty pants."

You smile and close your binder, capping your pen and turning in your seat. "Hey, wolf boy. Done with patrol?"

"Yeah. Sam gave me the night to cool off."

"Cool off?" Paul sheepishly pads barefoot over to your bed, falling in and scooting towards the wall. You get up, clicking off your desk lamp and plugging in the fairy lights above your bed. "What did you do?" You ask, falling into bed right next to him.

"Black got around Sam's gag order and that leech lover of his found out about us."

"Leech lov- Bella? Bella knows about the Quileutes?" You ask, eyes wide and voice lowered.

"Yep." You finally settle down, head pillowed on his outstretched arm while you drape an arm across his abdomen. "Bella punched me and-"

"She punched you?!"

"Yes." He chuckles at your outrage. "And I shifted in front of her. Jacob and I got into a fight, and Bella was let in on everything. Turns out that redheaded leech is after her because her leech killed her mate and now she wants to return the favor."

"Jesus Christ," you groan. "Bella's a magnet for them."

"Yeah. So until we get a handle on the situation, please be careful. Don't do any unnecessary wandering in the woods and definitely don't go anywhere with Bella fuckin' Swan."

You snuggle deeper into him, snorting. "Aye, aye, captain. You staying the night?"

"Yeah. Your mom wants the car in the morning because she has to pick up a friend. I'm taking you to school and picking you up."

"Sounds good."

And within minutes, with Paul idly tracing patterns on your back, you're fast asleep.

Waking up the following morning, however, is a lot harder when Paul's cuddling you. You have to drag yourself out from under his arm and then grumble unflattering words at him as he snuggles down with your pillow while you get ready for school.

There's coffee waiting for you downstairs courtesy of your mom and a note of thanks from her to Paul for not defiling you under her roof while she was sleeping downstairs. Paul's cheeks turn red and you giggled the entire drive to school.

The staring reminds you of your first day of school, but this time it's because of Paul. You roll your eyes at the females who seem a little too interested and scoff at Mike and Tyler who frown as you pass by. One stare in particular, however, catches your attention.

"You can let me out here," you say. "I wanna talk to Bella real quick."

"About?"

"Girl stuff." You grin at Paul, quickly rattling off the time you get out of school. Then when you hop out, you make your way towards Bella who's standing by her red monstrosity of a truck. "So I hear you learned about the boys on the Rez."

She blinks owlishly before jerking her head in a nod. "Yeah. You knew?"

"Yep. Since before Christmas."

She frowns. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Excuse me?" The nerve of this girl really grates on your nerves and your hand tightens its grip on the strap of your backpack. "Because it wasn't any of your business." She opens her mouth to no doubt explain her right in knowing, but she wisely shuts her mouth right away when she notices your white knuckled grip. "A word of advice, Bells, you touch Paul again and I'll blacken your other eye. Are we clear?"

Her eyes widen and when you quirk an eyebrow at her, she gulps and quickly nods. "Y-Yeah. Crystal."

"Good. Now let's get to class."

When you turn around, your curse under your breath when you realize Paul is still sitting there in his truck. He's smirking right at you and you just know he's heard what you told Bella. So after quickly flipping him off and grinning when you hear Bella snort in amusement, you and your sometimes friend head towards the school buildings.

You do your best to tune out those who would call themselves your friend, ignoring the questions about your mysterious morning companion. Bella, when around, had smirked through it all and only shrugged when the questions were then directed at her, she only telling them he was a guy from La Push.

Then when school lets out, you and Angela are walking side by side. She's going on about an upcoming article she's going to write when Paul catches your attention, he leaning on the tailgate of his truck. But when he catches sight of you, he pushes off and stalks towards you. You grin, Angela trails off when she realizes you're no longer paying her any attention, and Paul smirks just as he comes toe to toe with you.

"What are you doing, Lah-" Hands cup your jaw and feverish lips press against yours. You gasp before your eyes flutter shut, your hands grasping the front of his shirt as you lean up on the tips of your toes to press back against him. Angela giggles from beside you and you only pull back when a whistle pierces the air. You fall back so you're flat on your feet, gulping before licking your bottom lip. "So, uh, so we're doing that now, are we?"

"You started it when you threatened to blacken Swan's eye."

Angela snorts as you purse your lips to keep from laughing. "Whatever. Paul, this is Angela. Ang, this Paul. My.. Paul."

"Smooth," he chuckles, then glances at Angela and nods in greeting. "Hi. It's nice to meet one of Y/N's friends. She doesn't like to introduce me to any of them."

You punch his shoulder. "Not true. Most of my friends are your friends. Angela is the only one outside of La Push that I consider a friend and this is the first time you've literally come here. Don't be a dick."

Paul merely grins down at you, bringing you to his side and turning you so his arm drapes along the back of your shoulders. Angela smiles. "You two are adorable. No wonder none of the boys here caught your attention."

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. "Yeah, yeah. This idiot had me hooked early on. No one in Forks even stood a chance."

"And on that note," Paul muses, far too smug, "we really should get going."

After telling your friend you'd see her tomorrow, you follow Paul to his truck where he proceeds to open the door for you. Then once he's settled behind the wheel and starts to carefully drive out of the school parking lot, he holds his right hand out in between you and you barely glance at it before grasping his hand with your own left. "So we're really doing this? No going back?"

He grins. "No going back."

#paul x reader #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #twilight imagine #new moon imagine #paul lahote #sam uley #emily young #angela weber #bella swan #twilight #new moon #fanficimagery #imagine

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seventeenwrites · 3 years

Text

Catharsis - Chapter Two

-> Group: The Boyz

-> Type: Short Series

-> Member(s) of Interest: Sunwoo

-> Word Count: ~2.9k

-> Genre: angst, fluff, apocalypse au

-> Warnings: alien apocalypse, guns/weapons, blood, violence, death, cursing, female MC

-> Playlist: Hold You in My Arms by Ray LaMontagne; All Right Now by Angel Olsen; Saccharine by Atta Boy; Love & Hate by Michael Kiwanuka

-> a/n: Hey guys! Here's chapter two! Again, I want to emphasize that my goal with this series is to portray a kind of love which transcends any kind of labels we’ve assigned to love (romantic, platonic, familial, etc.). It may seem a bit hard-and-fast, but I think that is a reflection of the world around these characters. When you don’t know if you will live to see another day, when you are surrounded by death and tragedy, you live and you love without regrets, or at least you try your damnedest to.

Catharsis.

And then, fortunately, my eyes opened. Now, this wasn’t fortunate because I was alive, but rather because of the way I was alive. The fire that had separated Sunwoo and I the night before had died, but the coals were still glowing, so that they could easily be re-ignited. Just beyond the pit lay Sunwoo, still sleeping. One of his shoes had been thrown six feet away in the middle of the night, and his left arm was almost completely smothering his face.

Before I had time to laugh at him, a voice interrupted me.

“Oh, Ari! I’m assuming Sunny filled you in last night.” I whipped my head in the direction of the voice, to find the same man who had yelled at us the night before. Jacob, right? When not puffy-faced and half-asleep, he was much better-looking. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes popped out and his cheekbones were raised nonetheless, in a way that reminded me of my mother's face in her youth. Next to Jacob was another man, who I could immediately tell was the leader of whatever this place was. His nose high on his face and his brow heavy, he was reminiscent of a Renaissance sculpture, elegantly beautiful, yet intimidatingly powerful. He was also impressively clean; everything from his ears to his nail beds were devoid of even a single smudge of dirt.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. I think so,” I said, sitting up and wrapping the blanket around myself, suddenly self-conscious of my dirty T-shirt and basketball shorts.

“Good. Sangyeon and I are gonna go collect more firewood. There’s berries and nuts in those if you get hungry.” Jacob pointed to a collection of miscellaneous containers by the centermost tent. Wooden crates, mason jars, old metal lunch boxes decorated with superheroes and princesses, even a piggy bank. Resourceful. Smart, I thought to myself. I turned back to the two men, to find that Jacob had already started walking away. Sangyeon still stood before me and assessed me for a few seconds, slightly nodding his head and furrowing his brow.

“We’ll be back,” he said before slinging a backpack over one shoulder and following Jacob out of the camp. I didn’t blame him. If I was running a camp and one of my members suddenly showed up with a random girl, I would be suspicious, too.

As the day got brighter, more of the members woke up and came to greet me, and I got to know more about who these people were and how this place worked. There was Kevin, who came out of the same tent as Jacob, and who was a self-proclaimed genius chef, but judging by the defined musculature on his small figure, he was useful for more than his culinary skills. In the next tent there was Changmin and Chanhee, who seemed to be attached at the hip; they were both lean, perfect for long-distance running. The next tent housed Eric and Haknyeon, who were both robust and muscular, obvious fighters. The last tent was home to Juyeon, Younghoon, and Hyunjae, who entered last and were all visibly athletic, with their long and sturdy physiques. I had finally figured it out. This place was a powerhouse. No Echo would be a match for these boys.

“Always tardy, huh, sleepyheads?” Changmin jested towards the last three to join our circle around the dead fire.

“SHHH!” Eric suddenly play-whispered, “You’ll wake the baby.” He pointed towards Sunwoo’s still-sleeping figure.

“Eric, you’re literally younger than him,” Kevin laughed while trying to catch berries in his mouth, and failing. Hilariously.

“By like eight months!” Eric shouted, a slight pout donning his face.

“That’s pretty significant, if you ask me.” We all looked down at Sunwoo, whose arm was still covering his eyes, but whose mouth was visibly quivering to maintain a laugh. He peeked out beneath his arm to see what Eric’s response would be, but Haknyeon was already holding Eric back.

“Okay, babies. Let’s calm down. Jacob and Sangyeon will be back soon and I’m sure they’ll have food.” Juyeon hushed-- his voice had a way of calming the boys down that could only have been achieved through years of trust and reliability. His voice and the mention of food seemed to lull the pretend conflict, and pretty soon, side conversations enveloped the entire group. I sat and watched Sunwoo. He was chatting with Kevin who was right next to him, and he was laughing at something, his head thrown back. I found myself smiling. Two smiles in 24 hours. That’s gotta be a record.

Sunwoo’s eyes met mine and I felt my heart leap. He excused himself from his conversation and walked over to sit next to me, placing his hand on top of mine. Again, I noted just how soft his hands were. And warm too, compared to the frigid morning air. As if feeling his warmth made me colder, a shiver traveled down my spine.

“Cold?” Sunwoo asked. I nodded in reply. “Let me in there, then,” he said, pointing at my blanket. I opened it and he stuck himself into my arms, grabbing them to close on top of him. He was warm. Physically, but he also warmed me from the inside, like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after playing in the snow, or getting a hug from your mom after your first piano recital. He felt like home.

-------

When Jacob and Sangyeon came back, they were dragging a deer behind them, backpacks chock full of firewood. The boys all scrambled up excitedly; I could only make out random interjections and complaints about hunger from the younger ones.

“You’ll finally get to see me in action, Ari,” Kevin quipped, gathering random tools and ingredients to cook the deer with.

Sangyeon walked up to Sunwoo and I, placing his bag by his feet and looking me up and down, just like he had before he left. Still suspicious of me, I guess. He turned his eyes to the boy next to me, looking him up and down as well, and started, “Go get some water from the stream, will you?”

“Sangyeon, come on! It’s been three weeks already, surely I can do something else?”

“Sunny, I’m sorry, but your legs obviously just not healed yet.”

Sunwoo looked as though he was going to protest again, but Jacob cut in before he could: “Doctor’s orders, bud. I’ll take a look at it again later today.”

Shoulders slumped, Sunwoo dramatically sighed and grabbed my hand, dragging me along with him.

“I’ve been on water duty for three weeks, now. I mean, I understand. They care about me; they want me to be safe, and the path to the stream is clear and short-- almost impossible to get hurt. But like, come on. Three weeks of getting water. I’m sick of this damn path!” He joked, swatting a vine out of his way.

“What happened to your leg, anyway?” I asked. “If you don’t mind sharing,” I quickly added, suddenly afraid that it was too personal.

Sunwoo stopped in his tracks, looking at the ground. I could see the wheels turning in his head, as if he was trying to figure out how much of himself to reveal to me. He sighed and let go of my hand, turning to face me. His eyebrows were furrowed as he looked at me, the morning sunlight shining only on the right half of his face.

“It was about two months ago. A few of us were out looking for clothes and other essentials. We figured we’d go about ten miles east and get to the city that used to be there, hit all of the convenience stores and shopping malls. But we strayed too far from camp, and we got lost on our way back. By sundown we were in the middle of the woods with no shelter, no food, nothing.

“We were ambushed in the middle of the night. Those bastards were wearing our own faces. We couldn’t tell who was real and who was an Echo. Hyunjae did this to me,” he said, referencing his injured ankle, “Pushed me into a big tree trunk. I forgive him, obviously. It was crazy, and he was trying to protect himself. That same night…” he trailed off.

I could tell that he was about to cry, since he was starting to choke on his words, “That same night, I-- I killed one of our guys. Didn’t know it was him until it was too late, until he was already bleeding red. I shot him. He was flailing around all crazy-like with his knife. I didn’t know if he was him or an Echo, so I shot him. I should've-- I should’ve shot his foot, or his hand, to see his blood. But I didn’t. I got him right underneath the heart. Missed it by a hair. So I held him as he went. For thirteen minutes, I held him. I looked him in the eyes as the life left ‘em and I held his hands as they went limp. That poor fucking bastard, I’m so sorry to him.”

Sunwoo was crying. It was a cry I had never seen or heard from a human before. It was absolutely, heart-wrenchingly tragic, and the only thing I could do for him was hold him. I didn’t tell him that it wasn’t his fault, because he knew that already. I didn’t tell him that he was still a good person, because he knew that already. I didn’t tell him that I loved him, because he knew that, too.

I didn’t tell him that his member was in a better place, because we both knew it wasn’t true.

-------

When we got to the stream, we were holding hands again. Sunwoo was still wiping tears off of his face with his free hand, but he was smiling again.

“Whaddya say, Ari? Care for a little dip before we head back?” Sunwoo teased, rocking his shoulders as if to say I’m joking, but if you’re down, then I’m really fucking down.

“Fine, kid,” I chortled, “but only because that water looks deliciously crisp right now.”

I turned away to place all of the water buckets on the ground, and when I turned back, Sunwoo was standing a yard or two away, facing the water. He reached down and took his shirt off in a swift and seamless motion, one which seemed to me only men were capable of performing. The sunlight kissed his skin, illuminating its smooth and tanned surface. The shadows of his shoulder blades danced across his back as he attempted to balance on a stepping stone. The gentle slope of his neck blended seamlessly into the crease of his spine which traveled all the way down his back, like a book that I never wanted to stop reading. His arms, outstretched in a balancing act, were lean, yet capable and sturdy shooting arms, slightly different in size as a reflection of his right-handedness.

He turned around to look at me, a wide smile on his face. His eyes were still bloodshot and puffy from crying, and his face still splotchy, but his smile-- his smile was brighter than the light of any sun. I didn’t think I had ever seen anyone or anything so beautiful in my life. I smiled back at him, and I felt my own eyes start to well up with tears.

“Come on, Ari! This stream isn’t gonna skinny-dip itself!” Forgiving his slightly awkward--yet adorable--phrasing, I accepted his challenge, jumping in with him.

As our heads both emerged, we held hands under the water, my thumb rubbing the soft skin of his. He leaned in and placed a kiss on the top of my ear, before settling his face into the crook of my neck. And then, again, we felt like nothing more than an extension of the earth below our feet and the sky above our heads.

Catharsis.

-------

Sunwoo and I arrived back at camp and we were met with ten horrified faces. To be fair, we looked an absolute mess. Our clothes were sopping wet, hanging off of our bodies like rags. As our feet had been too wet to put our shoes back on, we walked back barefoot, as evidenced by the dirt, mud, and scratches littering our ankles and calves. Our hair, like something out of a horror movie, dangling in front of our faces in stringy and curly sections.

“Sunny! What the heck, dude?” Jacob cried, staring in shock at Sunwoo’s now dirty and tattered bandage on his ankle. Sunwoo half-smiled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Sorry, Cobie. You should’ve seen the stream today! It was so beautiful; we just had to swim in it!” He replied, a slight pout on his lips.

Chanhee was sitting at the fire a few feet away, a sly smile engulfing his face. “Oh sure,” he teased, “Swimming. I bet that’s all you two were doing.” He puckered his lips and wrapped his arms around himself, a type of mockery I hadn’t seen since high school. I couldn’t help but giggle at him, even if he was jumping to conclusions, and incorrect ones, at that.

Sunwoo and I hadn’t kissed. We didn’t need to, and maybe we never would. We only needed to hold each other. And frankly, that’s all I wanted to do for the rest of my days.

As Jacob unwrapped the bandage from Sunwoo’s ankle, his smile faltered for a second before he replaced it. I knew that look. I grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“What is it?” Jacob looked at me, contemplating, then turned to Sunwoo and sighed. He resumed his faux angry persona from earlier, resembling a loving parent.

“This is why I told you to be careful, Sunny! The wound must have reopened at some point, and you got it dirty when you were out there. It should be fine if we wash it and dress it with herbs, but you’re gonna have to stay off of it for longer-- and no more playing in dirt, for Christ’s sake, Sunny.” Sunwoo looked like a child getting scolded for tracking dirt into the house, but I could see the twinkle of mischief still ever-bright in his innocent eyes.

Sangyeon walked over to us, still as reserved and stoic as ever. He looked me over as he always did, eyes filled with suspicion and piqued interest. He turned to Jacob, who I had figured out was something of a second-in-command.

“We’ve received word of a pack about a mile west. We should head out now, while it’s still bright out,” he turned to look at Sunwoo, still talking to Jacob“This is sort of an all-hands-on-deck situation. Is he okay to shoot?”

Sunwoo replied for Jacob by standing up, still young and eager to prove himself, “I’m fine, I promise! I’m not in pain, and my ankle won’t affect my shooting if I’m sniping. Sir.” Sangyeon looked Sunwoo up and down, slightly nodding his head, then reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

“Don’t get hurt again, buddy. We can’t lose anyone else.” That was the first time I had seen Sangyeon let his guard down, and I even saw a tear slip out of the corner of his left eye. Sunwoo bit his lip in an attempt to suppress the tears he had already let go that morning. Sangyeon was quick to wipe it and resume his cold air, though, and he turned to look at me, unsure of what to do with me.

“What do you mean you received word? And why are you seeking out Echoes? Shouldn’t we be, like, hiding from them?” I asked.

Sangyeon stared at me again. “I hear you’re good with a knife.”

“Not good. Excellent.”

He nodded and walked off, leaving my questions unanswered, to which I looked at Sunwoo in disbelief.

A slight smile spread across Sunwoo’s face and he started walking towards one of the smaller tents, expecting me to follow him. When I walked in, I saw more radios than I had ever seen in my life. Old ones that couldn’t have been less than 60 years old, the ones that were built into flashlights, walkie talkies, even old car radios.

“Kid, what the hell is this?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“This, Ari, is anything that can send or receive signals through the next hundred miles. Over the year and a half we’ve been here, we’ve found all of them.”

“B--But why?”

“So we can get them before they get us. There are lots of us out there, we send word to each other if we see or hear of Echoes that we can’t get ourselves.”

The wheels in my head were turning so quickly, and I still couldn’t understand it.

“So-- So you guys actually… hunt Echoes? You don’t just run from them?”

“That’s right. And we’re gonna keep hunting them. Until every one of those bastards is six feet under.”

It all finally made sense. How organized and resourceful they all were. How skilled they all were at fighting. The hierarchy and positions they all assumed, with Sangyeon at the top. This wasn’t a camp.

It was a machine. An Echo-hunting machine.

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