#took me probably 8 of those years to finally get past FIFTEEN
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#something is happening inside of me and i don’t know why#< american psycho reference sorry everyone#wtnv#happy 11 years fellas. i’m just now finally finishing it#took me probably 8 of those years to finally get past FIFTEEN
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Best friends, right?
Hello and Merry Christmas everyone! Just thought of something quick for you all after that long while of ironing out Karina.
Though as you’ve noticed, I’ll just continue upkeep of this account to crosspost my work between here in AFF, in hopes of reaching a wider audience.
4,487 words of Luda.
In case I don't see you: Good afternoon, good evening, and good night! Merry Christmas, and may God bless you all.
Saturday day-off is a clause coated in cookie batter for the newly minted working man, dipped in sugar, and drizzled with honey. Driving up the spiral ramps at the mall parking lot with Luda on the passenger seat at 8:45 in the morning was pretty much an ideal way to catch up on an otherwise quick weekend. Going to the cinema this early was a bit odd, but then being the better man, I can only remain stubborn for so long and not go at all.
“Wow, nobody here,” I said as I exited right on the top floor. The morning light gave a somewhat expansive view of the near-empty lot, knowing for myself that most of the time it’d have rows upon rows of cars any time of the day - but not this early, save for the few tenants that pulled up much earlier than us. Being a relative opportunist, I decided to forego the big yellow arrows to cut some rows of parking to get a sweet spot on the edge of the lot.
“Wow, big brain, huh?” Luda said as I made a left turn and cut through diagonally through two rows of unoccupied parking. Before returning with a right turn and stopping at where I intended us to be.
“Not like they’d care, even at uni, the guard doesn’t give a shit if I pulled this,” I replied, pulling the parking brake up.
We can’t get out of the car either way, so I just left everything as is as I reclined, leaned forward, reached down to pull a cold lever, and pushed back my seat. Stretching and fishing my phone from my jacket as I laid down lazily. I had been unable to check my notifications as it pinged, again and again, earlier that day while I was eating, in the shower, and dressing up. Only to find out it was some things that I forgot to do and kept on bugging me. It was pretty much a bummer.
“How long do we have to wait?” Luda said, turning the knob and turning it down a notch.
“Just turn it off,” I said, referring to the radio, “An hour I think? An hour and fifteen minutes to be sure,” I continued, answering her question.
After that, we spent ten or so minutes catching up on what we had missed. It’d only been a year since we graduated, but things always feel different when jumping to a new chapter. There’s that idea of feeling like not sticking in your new environment, but in reality, I probably just don’t know that I’m one of them already - the only catch is I’m still stuck in the past. My friends dearly reminded me of that past.
It was a slow start, but later on, I was at the same pace we both shared when we talked with each other. It was reminiscent of the school cafeteria, just dropping everything and talking, joking, and talking again. Soon after that yellow brick road, we were back talking about our hobbies; Luda with her postcards and calligraphy, and I with my photography.
"So, when are you going to be my portrait model?” I asked, “You know, I've been looking for someone to practice my shooting skill on,” rubbing my hands around, a bit nervous, “You can be a nice model, you know."
"I don't know,” Luda said, averting her eyes down, “You know I'm not really that pretty to be a model, nor do I have a supermodel body," she continued.
"Hey, you've always been a cutie. It’d be great to see your eyes smile in my camera roll."
Luda gave a glance, then scoffed at the compliment.
"Fine, as for the body part,” I said, taking a glance to her chest, “I guess you're somewhat right.”
"Hey! It’s not like you’re big anyway," she replied, coming at her defense.
"Well, I can say yours is true, but there's no way you can tell it for me," I replied, cackling as I enjoy my victory in our little argument.
At least that’s what I thought. Then, a bolt of lightning.
"You sure about that?" Luda said as her arm darted out and ducked between my shorts, quickly grabbing, and worse, squeezing my member with her fingers. Surprised, I swatted her hand away, closing my thighs on instinct.
“Yah!” Missing her hand as she reeled it back.
“Ah, so I was right after all,” she said.
“Ha?!” I replied with an eyebrow raised and sounding agitated. However, my brain was sifting through whether or not I was to be pissed off, surprised, or aroused.
“I guess we’re equal now, you are not that big either..,” Luda said, as she looked at me with a mischievous face while pinching her finger.
Then the thunder struck.
“But it seems like it is getting bigger.., are you actually having a boner for your best friend?”
Luda's face was as blank as a statue before erupting into awkward laughter.
“Ha! I guess all men are the same!” Luda said.
“Bullshit!” I scoffed, “Well, this is the natural reaction! I can’t control it, plus, you touched where you shouldn’t be touching!” I replied, now growing even more confused by the situation, unsure whether I should get angry or just get over it.
Then lightning struck, the thunder of primal instinct along with it.
“You know… I’ve always wondered how it’s gonna be like. Can I touch it again?” Luda looked at me with her puppy eyes.
What? That’s all I have in my mind - What did she just say?
“If you’re shy, you can just let me have a look,” Luda kept her gaze at me with a naughty expression as she spoke.
“I’m not shy, but this is a public area,” I stressed as I looked around, “Plus, you sure this is what best friends do?” I replied.
“I’m not sure that is what best friends should do, but I’m sure,” she said, “I want to touch it again. Please?” Luda asked again, and no, it’s not what friends typically do.
It is those eyes again, I swear. Those puppy eyes just make me put my guard down.
“Just once,” I said, holding a finger up, “And you’re not going to do this again,” I finally gave in to her unusual request.
“Just relax. I know we’ll both keep quiet,” Luda said, leaning close. I was expecting to have to spend more than I should today, or that maybe we’d go home a while after the mall closes in the evening. I wasn’t expecting to get head from one of my best friends.
Luda's small palm hovered over the slight bulge on my shorts before her long, spindly fingers grabbed my bulge and squeezed me again. Going tighter as my blood slowly tensed my muscles on her grip. Her hands then slid up and unbuttoned me.
“Ya!?” I asked her, though not acting on her hand this time. She just giggled a bit.
“I only said touch, not see,” I said
"I just wanted to have some extra fun," Luda replied as she giggled again.
"That's not how friends have fun, and you know we are still in a public area, right?" I said as I held onto her hand.
"Yeah, in between 2 empty cars in a far corner of an unopened mall, what could go wrong, right?" Luda said, a bit sarcastically, as she freed her hand away from mine.
“Fine, fine, I’m not supposed to let you have it, but I guess this is the benefit of being a friend for a decade, just a peek, I’m not expecting you to do anything more stupid than this,” and there I gave in again, for whatever reason that is.
“You know I never expected to see my best friend’s dick, but this feels really fun,” Luda replied as she’s giggling and unzipping my pants like a happy little child that is unwrapping her Christmas present.
“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this too,” I sighed as I’m still in a state of disbelief, looking at my best friend that is now trying to dig my member out of my pants.
And the thunder struck again, like one that came off a grade 5 hurricane.
"Do you remember that you said we might end up together if no one wants us? At this rate, both of us nerds are gonna be single forever," She said as she started to lean closer and closer.
“Why not just let me practice what is bound to happen to us anyway? Luda replied as she stared at me from below.
Feeling uneasy as I feel like she’s gonna do something worse or better, I just stared blankly at her and sighed.
“Are you trying to do what I think you’re going to do?” I said as I got more and more intrigued by the situation.
“I guess best friends think alike?” Luda looked at me and slightly adjusted her specs as if she’s giving out a hint.
“Fine. I wasn’t expecting this, but fine, just do whatever you want to do, at least make a good job out of it,” I spoke my mind. All but a human still with the warmth of her fingers over me, waving my white flag up.
“Wasn’t expecting to do this on a movie day, but don’t you worry, I’ll help you fix your boner issue,” Luda said with a slightly naughty expression as she took her hands out, pulled down my shorts, and swatted it off as it hung on my shoes.
Her spindly fingers grabbed my cock again through my boxers, then rubbing the cloth with her palm. Glancing at her, one that caught her eye as she bit her lip. I could feel she was ready to back out, but it was too far for either of us even then. I don’t know why I got hard faster than I thought I would’ve as Luda rubbed her fingers on where my tip was.
Thinking it was a bit uncomfortable for her to be leaning over from her side just to suck me off, I told her to stop as I pushed my seat the furthest it could go.
“Get over here. We only have 45 minutes,” I beckoned her. Luda looked around a bit as she moved to my side of the car, giving one last look at her cute face before she’d defile the sight of it forever as she knelt before me. Her hands continued to rub me over my underwear, her fingertips pressing slightly harder as she traced my shaft and closing together as she rubbed my tip. I guess being a calligrapher helped how she hadn’t choked me yet. I was surprised to feel her grabbing my balls and squeezing them a bit. She did her homework, I guess.
She giggled again, covering her mouth with her hands before she let out what was, by now, the obvious.
“Ah, this is so dirty!”
I mean, if you’ve been friends for ten years, since the wee days of just starting in high school. After all that time, we’ve seen each other grow as individuals. Add to that, after an ex-boyfriend. It really would be dirty for her to be in front of me and just one pull away from seeing my cock.
“Fuck it.”
Luda just said, darting her hands into the hem of my boxers and pulled it down. My cock sprung, half-hard, as she grabbed it. Luda quickly began stroking it with a hand as the other crept up on my thigh. It took her wrists a while to get it right, leading me from there, with a girl’s pale white fingers pressing against the brown foreskin, trapping it in with her soft palm as she went along with her hand job. Her thumb kept on sliding up the underside of my tip, which only helped my veins hoist my shaft up with her stroking.
I could slowly feel my brain turn to mush as Luda's soft hand made quick work of me, making it worse as she switched from her right to left palm. Being a leftie, she instantly ended up being much more in control; her touch felt beautiful. Slowing down as she moved her palm out of the way, keeping her fingers around my cock as she opened her mouth, her tongue emerging between her teeth.
Luda then stopped stroking, pulled my cock close to her tongue, and licked it, not just once, but twice. Stroking back again as she glanced up, giggling as she looked down, and giving another glance as she stuck her tongue and licked the whole way upward. When my ex would do this, I’d already let out at least a whimper by this time. It was still odd with my best friend giving it to me, but as she repeated the touch of her tongue on my shaft, she was showering that away.
Twitching once the first time her tongue licked around my tip, she just gave me a look of “I told you so” before throwing back as if to insult me for what my body was telling her.
“I told you, all men are the same.”
Luda said as she wrapped her lips around the tip, rounding her tongue around it a few times before a wet smooch followed as she pulled back. It was a sight straight out of an adult video.
“Where did you learn that?” I asked.
“Ex,” She replied, stroking me a few times. Her tongue was licking upwards. It was clear she was trying to woo me over. Hearing a few giggles here and there as she knew this sudden change of plans was neither on our mental checklists for today.
“Relax, just relax,” Luda cooed at me as she wrapped her lips around the tip before pushing forward and taking me into her mouth. It was warmth. It was bliss as her tongue slid under, her small lips parted open as an inch-and-a-half was inside her mouth. She slid her fingers through her dark brown hair and kept them down her left side as she went down another inch.
Luda looked up at me and still had her large specs on, her small mouth enclosed around my cock, and her tongue playing around. When I met her years ago, I couldn’t tell myself that I would’ve wanted this to happen.
She closed her eyes, then pulled back just to the tip before pushing down, taking an inch or two in as she bobbed around for a bit. She took me off from her mouth as she made herself a ponytail, leaning in and playing around with my tip using her lips as she did. As soon as her hands were off her hair, she quickly dived down, not stopping until I felt my head knock the back of her mouth. Luda furrowed her eyebrows a bit, hearing a gag as her mouth contracted around it. Before pulling back with a gasp, saliva all over her lips as she licked them, a few falling down the side before she caught me by the tip again.
Making sure I felt at home as she kept her gaze at me, lips sucking around my tip and making me twitch a bit as that electrifying feeling ran through my nerves. Though now, her gaze was very much different. It was less unsure and more seductive. Showing me how she has gained her footing as her tongue licked into my slit, making my jaw drop and my cock throb slightly in her lips. Hearing her giggle before she pushed down again.
Watching as Luda knelt, bobbing her head on my cock, seeing my shaft glisten while listening to her small moans as she became more daring. Always a few inches in, but never taking it deep down her throat. She tried earlier, though now she wanted to prove herself well to her friend - and she was doing it excellently.
By now, my cock was turning from an ordinary pink to a darker pink shade, aside from how it glistened with her saliva on it. It reflected what I couldn’t tell my best friend; that she was making me feel good.
Luda moaned as she kept her pace halfway down on my cock. I thought it would be appropriate to return at least half of the pleasure she’s giving now, sitting up a bit with my hand sliding down her collar, fingers searching for the garter of her bra, following it down and sliding my hand into her bra, grabbing hold of one of her soft tits. They were small, but they were still soft. She whimpered a bit as I squeezed it, taking me deeper inside her in return. The feeling of getting sucked deeper made me bite my lip and groan; it just felt too good.
Luda's cheeks and small mouth didn’t struggle too much. Judging from how good and warm she’s making me feel, getting an involuntary throb from my cock a few times. Though now she wanted a bit more as she started getting louder, my nerves feeling the seal of her lips wrap tighter around my base, and even more so around my tip. This forced her to lean forward, and in turn, upward. I was lying down as she made a slight list, still allowing me to reach for her bra.
Now that the light was able to shine on how Luda's pink tongue made circles, then her lips kissed, took in, and then dived on my cock. A loud slurp followed as she rounded off at the tip of me, hearing a giggle as my legs shook a bit. Flashing that eye smile as she slowly took in all the inches I could give as I slid atop her palate to the back of her mouth. The tension throughout just had my toes curled as she did it again and again, and when she saw how my neck was beginning to sweat bullets because of it, that’s how she carried on.
“If you’re gonna keep playing around like that, just deepthroat me already,” I told her.
“As you wish then.”
Luda went up top, her tongue flashing a bit as she rounded my tip, before her lips wrapped around the head as tight as she could and went down to the base. Hearing her gag as it hit and went past the back of her mouth, that feeling of her mouth contracting as the pink tip of my cock went the deepest it could go. Her cute face scrunched up as her throat got tighter and another gag before she reeled back, a huge gasp following as my cock sprung out of her little mouth.
Fuck, Luda mouthed.
Before the first drip touched my crotch, Luda's lips wrapped around my head and went back down to the base in what was an unpredictable move. She rose back up halfway and pushed herself down again, with a gakt! as her throat gagged, her eyes and nose scrunching too as she got to grips with me being this deep. I thought the worst of it and her making a mess of us before our day has even started.
Luda then looked up to me as she pulled back; Give it to me.
Closing her eyes as a series of gags filled the air, each gritter than the last before she stopped and gasped just as I watched her tongue swipe left to right, before leaning in and licking my tip as I throbbed.
I thought about going harsh on her, living a wild fantasy I only had seen before in porn. As she put her lips around my cock again, my hands got to the back of her head and pushed her down, and for the first time, I thrust my hips up into her throat. A loud gag from Luda followed as her fingers dug into my thighs. I looked down to see my friend; saliva dripping down the sides of her lips, her dark hair looked like a mess, her eyes only said one thing; get on with it.
Putting my fingers where I could get a good grip on Luda's head, I pushed her back against my crotch again. Groaning weakly as I began to fuck her throat. Her hands held onto my thighs as I relished in the feeling of pushing down against the depth she could go, while I was beginning to reach cloud nine as I kept hitting the back of her throat. The struggle being heard in her gags slowly turned from her coping with my tip spearing down her throat, her gags becoming moans as I used her mouth for myself.
“You like that?” I asked as I pushed her against me, though my grip held her tight as she began to gag on it. Realizing she can’t talk and only giving a muffled response, she just nodded.
Sitting up a bit as I got a fistful of Luda's hair, she gagged the whole time until I pulled her away from my cock. Wet lips and a thick trail of saliva dripped off her mouth as she held her mouth open.
“You like that?” I repeated.
“Love it. I wished my ex did the same to me too,” Luda replied, moving onto my cock despite the fistful of hair above her head. She wanted it so badly, though, of course, we were still best friends after this.
She then caught my cock again, her saliva and my precum dripping once or twice from the tip as it throbbed. It still was throbbing as Luda wrapped her lips around it, her tongue playing around my tip before I pushed a little deeper and her tongue laid under my shaft, and once that was done, I forced myself into Luda's mouth.
The squelching sound came off her lips as I bit my lip. Looking at Luda and reflecting on how she immediately flashed a smile as she got on the passenger seat almost an hour ago, with only a plan to catch up and see a movie. But now, as I looked down again to see the same eyes, with her lips wrapped around the smuttiest part, as I had a fistful of her hair as her cheeks bounced every time I smacked my crotch against her face and down her throat.
Feeling that familiar weight coming on as I edged closer to my release, I had ought to rush it. After all, this was just supposed to be quick. I was locking my legs up as I prepared to blow it down Luda's tight throat. I was pushing her faster against my crotch as her gags got louder and prominent. I was close to sending cum down her throat, and I wasn’t going to have her back out now.
I heard once that “A day with a blowjob from a good friend is always a great day,” and needless to say, I scrubbed it off as some crude porn joke. Though now, with Luda at the mercy of my loins, and how my cock was probably turning red with how fucking good it feels using her throat to let my cum out after a long, busy stint at work, perhaps it is a fact.
Her eye smile disappeared and almost begged me to finish as she forcibly closed them, gagging loudly as I throbbed near uncontrollably down her throat. The grip her throat gave as it contracted, seeking both pleasure and withstanding the pain of her best friend’s dick shoving itself down her throat. I just relished at the sight of her both in the throes of pain and pleasure. She knew that by how my fingers gripped her hair tight, and my shaft throbbing down her neck.
“Fuck, Luda,” was all I could say as that final throb came, and the surge of cum shot out of my tip, the first, weak shot, followed by the thick spurts of hot semen that left my loins and shot down into Luda's throat. Feeling myself crumple as I bit my lip and moaned behind it. My cock twitched as I moved and let out another spurt of cum as it slid back from her tight throat, now splattered white and trickling with cum after I just blasted all over it.
Letting go of her hair, and as soon as it hit her shoulders, Luda quickly pulled back; my cock plopped out of her mouth, dripping from all that saliva and cum it just let out. She just gasped, swallowing her saliva as her fingers rubbed her neck, wiping her lips with her wrist, before showing her tongue out with whatever cum she could bring up. She just giggled as she pulled herself back and reached for her purse.
“Fuck, that was something,” Luda said as she wiped her lips with the tissues she had in her bag.
Now I was vulnerable, and our day hasn’t even started. Luda just remained there, knelt before my now limp cock and cleaning herself. Only then, as she dabbed the tissue down her neck, clearing away whatever precum and saliva dripped down that, I knew I’d done her well.
Sliding a finger and flicking my cock, playing with it, though, in honesty, I was surprised that it wasn’t even my girlfriend who gave that, but one of the last persons on my list to make that move, less ask for it themselves. Luda just chuckled as I looked in awe at my own.
“Too bad I can’t clean that up for you. No worries, it’s all down my throat anyway.”
“Whatever,” I just replied. Both of us quickly molted back to being friends. Even after she had just sucked her best friend’s dick, and mind you, with par excellence, it wouldn’t change anything for us. It was just some fun banter that turned sexual, and now that’ll remain a truly closeted moment for us. We wouldn’t even have gathered an ounce of the gut, let alone think of it, and to ask this lewd favor just a few years ago.
“Do you think anybody saw us?” Luda said as she jumped back to her seat.
“It was none of their business,” I said, laughing, “They should’ve just wished it was them instead,” I continued, smirking.
“Ah, so you did like it?” Luda asked, although just moments earlier, while I gripped her, it had been obvious, “Besides, that’s the first time I got deepthroated, so thanks?”
“Yeah, right, my pleasure,” I replied sarcastically. Luda stood her ground and insisted, but I guess she already knew that I didn’t like it - I loved it.
“So, how long until it opens?” She asked, looking around again before focusing on her phone.
“15 minutes.”
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Ah, I love your series with Kevin and Eric so so much! It's so good. Now that you said about prompts, I kind of would like to see Kevin talking with Jean about Eric (and maybe Jean talking a bit to Kevin about Jeremy). Of course you don't have to if you think it wouldn't belong to the plot/series but, if I'm being honest I would like to see your take on this! :')
Hello! Thank you for taking time to send me your request! For some reason, the most asked prompt both here and on insta was Kevin/Jean and their discussion about Eric! So I'll start with this one (and you were the first to send me it).
The one where Kevin Day falls in love with an ice hockey player.
Extra Content Part 2
Ghosts
Anything included in this head canon takes place the semester after the Foxes won the championship against the Ravens.
Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about varsity teams in the United States so excuse any false information. Head over to the directory to find the previous parts, and follow this link for the fan fic version.
Kevin still rarely talks about Jean Moreau and everything cruel that took place in the Nest. He touches very briefly upon that subject, and even when he does, he hardly ever mentions the former Raven backliner.
He knows that Eric won't push it but it becomes clear that, as the final match between the Foxes and the Trojans approaches, Kevin is more jittery and nervous.
Usually, he expresses these emotions through being extra snarky. It's also the match that will declare the champions of the season, which only adds to his demands on court.
The Foxes can hardly stand his behaviour, so they let Eric do damage control. He seems to be the only one able to tame Kevin after a total of seven hours of practice per day.
Eric has managed to find a few of Kevin's buttons that help the other relax and ease off the tension, but it doesn't always work.
It does nothing when the day of the game finally arrives.
This year, it's a home game for the Foxes, so they are saved from the trouble of travelling across the country. They can hardly accommodate the crowd this match will attract, but they know they will still have the support of their loyal fans.
Eric takes a seat fifteen minutes before first serve. He can see from the stands that, even during warm ups, Kevin is unusually silent for someone who can't stop talking about the Trojans or about game tactics.
The game finally starts and it reminds the ice hockey player of a death match. There is violent collision of bodies, curses and fights, but it's apparently all fair game. It surprises Eric, but not enough to make him take his eyes off of Kevin.
The way he moves on court, brings about a wave of pride that overwhelms Eric. He can't help the smile on his face nor the way he cheers every time Kevin scores.
However, much to the Palmetto students' dismay, the Foxes lose 8-10. The 'renovations' the Trojans did to their lineup last year and the addition of perhaps the best Class I bakcliner on their team, is enough to create the small point gap needed to secure them a victory.
Eric can already tell Kevin will not be happy about it. He decides to give the team time to process the loss and waits outside of the Foxhole Court.
Which means that the Foxes have to deal with Kevin taking their ears off about everything that went wrong. Only few of them could tell, however, that Kevin was probably judging himself the harshest for every lost opportunity.
No one wants or has the guts to tell him that many times, Kevin would hesitate simply because his offence was met with Jean's defence.
The only one who decides to do something about it is Neil. Jeremy Knox seems to agree to his plan and the two of them manage to persuade both teams to help.
And that's how Kevin finds himself facing his former teammate as he comes out of the showers, dressed and ready to leave.
The number three on the other's cheek makes Kevin want to reach for his own tattoo, to look in the mirror and see if the '2' is still there.
"Jean," he says and walks over to his locker. "What are you doing here?" His voice comes out somewhat empty and void of emotions, even if there is a whirlwind of them in his head.
"That was a good game. Your hand seems to have almost fully healed," Jean says instead.
Kevin flinches. He remembers the night he left and he is sure Jean does too. He is sure that Riko took all of his rage out on the one left behind.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," he finally says.
Jean says nothing at first. He simply stares at the other. They are obviously both still haunted by ghosts of the past. And Kevin is still weighted down by the guilt of thinking only of himself that night, no matter how injured he had been.
"It doesn't matter now. That's in the past. We have both gone our own ways."
Kevin can see that. Jean looks... healthier. He has gained weight and his light skin looks less ashen than it did the last time Kevin saw him.
"The Trojans-"
"The Trojans have taken me in and have helped me stand on my own two feet. It was the best thing you could have done for me."
Kevin nods. He had known that the two of them would never be able to play on the same court together again, exactly because of their shared past.
"And I thank you for it. I know the Foxes are right for you too."
Kevin is not so sure about that sometimes, but he knew that if Wymack had not taken him in, he wouldn't be here now.
"Are you happy?" Jean finally asks. It sounds almost absurd; the two of them, happy. They had never even been allowed to make such thought in the past.
But he thinks of Eric, he thinks of his father, he thinks of all the victories he has shared with the Foxes, and nods.
"I am."
"So they were right. About you and that hockey player."
The last thing Kevin expected out of a conversation between him and Jean was to talk about his love life. But eventually, he nods slowly in confirmation.
"Yes. They were right. We are together. We have been for several months now."
Jean crosses his arms on front of his chest and watches Kevin carefully, as if calculating what to say next.
"If he can tolerate you for months now, then I suppose it does work out."
Kevin could hear the meaning behind those words. 'Don't screw up'. But he has already done so once and he isn't planning on doing it a second time.
"It does. My boyfriend comes to all my games and is there when I need him. That's enough."
Jean nods, and there is a far off look that tells Kevin that he is thinking of something similar.
"Give Jeremy my thanks. Tell him that tonight's game was good enough that it almost doesn't feel like a loss."
The small laugh that comes out of Jean catches Kevin off guard. He supposes that the Trojans have done a lot more for Jean than he had expected.
"I'll tell him. He seems to value what you have to say," he says and Kevin scoffs, grabbing his duffel bag from the locker before closing it.
"And of course you would know." Normally, someone would perceive this as teasing, but Kevin is very clear about the meaning behind his words and is sure that Jean has also understood.
"I spend a lot of quality time with my Captain. I've gotten close with him, as it's expected."
Kevin just nods, walking besides the other towards the exit.
"We will see each other again on court next year," he finally adds once they are a few feet away from their awaiting teams. "You better be prepared."
"Don't worry about that, Day. I'm sure we will get to talk again before that," is the last thing Jean says before leaving.
Kevin watches him until he feels an arm being wrapped around his waist. He turns to look at Eric, with a characteristic scowl.
"It was a good game, if that's any comfort to you," the goaltender says and chuckles as he presses a kiss to Kevin's temple.
Kevin rolls his eyes but despite tonight's loss, he somehow feels lighter in his chest.
#all for the game#aftg#andreil#andrew minyard#neil josten#the foxhole court#kevin day#the raven king#the kings men#matt boyd#kevin day x oc#OC: Jiang Eric#nicky hemmick#aaron minyard#dan wilds#renee walker#allison reynolds#aftg fic#aftg headcanon
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On the Loose - Chapter Three
Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Four Chapter Five
The coffee in my system helped me wake up a bit, but I was still pretty tired considering that I had been shaken awake at around 5:00 in the morning. I yawned and rubbed my eyes again as Jay pulled up to our newest scene. I stepped out of the truck and glanced around to see police vehicles everywhere, along with a few crime scene investigators waiting for us to view the scene so that they could gather all of the evidence. The bright blue and red flashing lights of the police cars clashed with the light color of the barely morning sky, giving the street an almost unsettling look.
“Uh, hey. Detectives Halstead and L/N. Is Sergeant Voight here yet?” Jay asked the nearest officer, who nodded and pointed to the direction of the house we had appeared in front of. Jay thanked him quickly and started off towards the front door with me following behind him. It didn’t take us long to find the body because as soon as we stepped inside, we were met with a blood trail leading to the bedroom. And when we entered said room, I was greeted by a crime scene that looked very similar to the others. Except this time, something was different. There wasn’t a letter for me in sight, and instead, on the foot of the bed, right below the victim’s body, was a huge book. A photo album.
“Anybody open it yet?” I question. My voice caused Voight, Hailey and Adam, those in the room from the team, to look up at the sound of my voice.
“It’s addressed to you,” Adam responded. “Forensics dusted for prints and found nothing, so it’s safe for you to touch.”
“I’d rather not touch it, but I don’t want to offend the killer,” I counter and take a huge step over the puddle of blood in front of me. It hadn’t had time to dry yet, which meant this kill was fresh. Recent. Perhaps very recent. “Well, lets see what my admirer has to give to me today.” I reached forward and slipped my fingers under the front cover of the album, flipping it to the side to reveal the first page. The first page’s pictures were all of our first victim. One showed our victim bound and gagged, but still conscious on the warehouse floor. And the second showed her dead with dozens of stab wounds on her body. The second half of the page was of our second victim, the one found in her house, which was also where we found our first note. Again, the first picture was of our victim alive, this time unconscious. The second, the dead body. I then flipped the page and came to our third victim’s photos taken when she was alive, and when she was dead. On the other half of the second page was a letter.
“Terra Bretton was my first victim. I remember the first time I saw her. She looked so much like you, Y/N, that I was transported back to the time when you destroyed my life. Everything was taken away from me just like that. When I saw Terra that day, I got angry, so when she was closing up her bakery, and no one was around, I kidnapped her and then I took her to an abandoned warehouse on the other side of town. That’s where I killed her, stabbing her so many times to rid my body of the hatred it held for you. Killing made me feel better, and so, when I saw my second victim, Addison Reed, I knew I had to do it again. She was a lot feistier than Terra, and when I broke into her house, she fought back. I didn’t want to kill her while she was unconscious because I wanted to see her squirm, but she wouldn’t stop talking, so I chloroformed her. A few minutes after the chemicals had set in, I struck. Again, I used my method of choice; stabbing. My third victim, the one lying dead in front of you, is Luci Denton. I saw her around a lot, and every time I caught a glimpse of her, I was reminded of you. I followed her home one night, and when she got out of her car, I was ready for her. I placed my knife against her throat and led her inside of her house where my attack began. I stabbed her once in the stomach, breaking the skin easily. As she bled, I dragged her body into the living room where I stabbed her a few more times, and finally, to the bedroom, where I ended her life with a knife to the heart, the blow that killed her. You may think that because you’ve got a whole team of police officers to back you up during the day and a detective for a boyfriend sleeping with you at nights that I won’t dare to come for you. But I will. I won’t stop until I kill you, and be warned, you’re next.”
“Well, that was comforting,” I murmur and close the album.
“Sarge, I think this is getting too far. Y/N’s life is in danger. We need to catch this bastard,” Jay exclaimed.
“And I understand that, but we’ve got nothing. There hasn’t been any forensic evidence at any of the scenes, and we’ve got almost no leads. The best we can do is continue combing through all of the cases Y/N has worked on and hope we find our guy,” Voight spoke.
“Um, hey. Do you mind if I keep this?” I ask the nearest CSI. She shook her head, and I thanked her before grabbing the photo album, holding it against my side.
“What do you plan to do with that?” Hailey questioned.
I shrugged. “Maybe something will jump out at me.” We left the crime scene quickly and headed back to the district to start working. Kevin and Kim were already in the bullpen going through files when we arrived. I slid into my desk chair and got straight to work. The first thing I did was re-read the note that came along with the photo album, and something jumped out at me. Our killer had said that he saw Luci around a lot. That could either mean he was always near where she worked or her house. That’s when I got an idea. I dug deeper into Luci and discovered where she worked, a book store out in Humboldt Park. Then, I started searching for PODs that might have a view of that building. After searching for a bit, I finally found a camera that was on the same street as Luci’s workplace, but the problem was, its view didn’t quite reach where Luci worked. I could see part of the store, but not the entrance. I guess that would have to do. I started scanning the footage, trying to remember as many faces as I could, but it didn’t do me much good because there were so many people passing by, and many of them could have fit the description of our killer. By now, it was 8:00 in the morning, and the bookstore’s website said that they were open, so I figured I’d head down there to see if there were any cameras that actually had a view of the bookstore’s entrance, and maybe see if anyone who worked there could ID our killer. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the team and stand up, grabbing my coat as I did.
“Where are you going?” Kim asked me.
“I just need some fresh air,” I lie. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Y/N,” Jay started.
“I said I need some air,” I repeat. “So just give me a few minutes, okay?” And with that, I pulled on my coat and exited the bullpen. It was about a fifteen minute drive to the bookstore, and when I climbed out of my car, I spotted someone sitting at the front desk inside. I pushed the door open gently, and a bell jingled above me, signaling that I had entered the store. The woman at the desk looked up and gave me a small smile, which I returned, and set down the book she was reading.
“Can I help you?” the woman, whose name tag read Lila, asked.
“Yeah,” I reply and show her my badge. “I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me.”
“This is about Luci, right? I saw it on the news this morning,” Lila confessed.
“Were you guys close?” I question.
Lila shook her head. “We never spoke outside of work. As soon as we both left after closing, we went our separate ways. She texted me a few times, but they were all work related texts. Things like she’d be late for work or couldn’t come in because she was sick or something.”
“Okay. Uh, this past week, have you seen any guys around here: blonde, green eyes, thirtyish, on the taller side?” I ask. Lila hesitated, meaning she probably knew what I was talking about, but she didn’t answer my question and looked out the front window. “Lila? Have you seen the man I described?”
“I don’t believe I have,” Lila responded. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
“Lila, you’re impeding a murder investigation, and by lying, you’re committing obstruction, which means you’ll get up to three years in prison along with a pretty expensive fine. And I know for a fact that you won’t be able to pay it off with the salary you get from working at a bookstore. So tell me what you know,” I demand.
“H-he said he’d kill me,” Lila stammered out, tears brimming the corners of her eyes. “He said that if I talked to the police, he’d find me and kill me.”
“When was this?” I question. Lila didn’t answer the question and looked down at her hands. “Lila, I promise that you’ll be kept safe, okay? I just need you to tell me what happened.”
Lila sniffled and wiped at her eyes. “A man came in this morning right as we opened that fit your description. I had seen him around a lot. He came in a few times asking to speak to Luci, but she told me that someone who looked like him and been following her the past few days, so I always told him no. When he came in this morning, I somehow knew he had killed her. I just knew. He threatened me, said he’d kill me and anyone I loved if I told the cops that he’d been stalking her.”
“Okay. Did you happen to catch his name?” I ask.
Lila nodded. “He said his name was Jeffery something.” That’s when something hit me. Or should I say, someone.
“Was it perhaps Jeffery Smaldor?” I question.
“Yeah. That’s it,” Lila responded.
“Okay. Um, I think it’s best you take the day off. Head down to the 21st district and say Detective L/N wants you in witness protection. Thank you for the help,” I tell her before leaving the store. As I got back to my car, I had the feeling that someone was following me, but when I turned around, no one was there. The whole street was empty. I pulled out my keys to unlock my car, and that’s when I felt a pinch in my neck. I reached up, my hands brushing against a needle, and suddenly, my whole body went limp. I then collapsed against my car, my keys falling to the ground. Hands grasped at my waist and turned my body around, and that’s when I saw him. Jeffery Smaldor. The man I was after.
“Hey, Y/N. I heard you were looking for me. Looks like I found you first,” Jeffery spoke and smirked. And with that, my eyes began drifting close, and after a few seconds, I fell unconscious into Jeffery’s arms.
_______________________
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It’s You and Me - Chapter 8
It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic
Series Masterlist
PREVIOUS //
Buy me a ☕
Character Pairing: Clint Barton x F!Reader
Word Count: 1724
Rating: E
Warnings: Mentions of past abuse
Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back. Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you. For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.
When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.
Fifteen years later he tracks you down. Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father. Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?
A series told in flashbacks and current day.
Chapter 9: Then
“Welcome to the ring, the man who can’t miss - Hawkeye!”
The crowd cheered and Clint cantered his horse out into the ring, he climbed up, so he was standing and waved to the crowd as he did a lap.
“And the girl he can’t seem to hit, Sugar Snap!”
You rode out, first flipping off the front of your horse and then back on again, before bringing your horse up beside his, so the two of you were riding, standing up, side-by-side. “Ready?” Clint said.
“Always,” you replied.
You sat back down and spurred the horse on. As you took the lead on Clint, you collected your bow and an arrow from one of the clowns standing at the side of the ring. Clint did the same as he passed them and watched as you got into the handstand position on your moving horse. The crowd went deadly silent as you knocked your arrow with your feet, Clint got into the same position. You loosed the arrow as you passed the target, hitting it dead center. The crowd erupted in applause but before it even reached its peak, Clint loosed his arrow with his feet and it hit yours, splitting the shaft right down the middle.
The crowd went berserk. You and Clint, both vaulted off your horses and landed side by side in the middle of the ring, your arms raised. You bowed together, first to one side of the crowd and then the other, soaking in the applause.
You were 18 now, and the act was flawless. The ringmaster always had you opening these days, and it had been a long time since anyone had approached either of you about doing any of their criminal dealings. There had been an incident a year back where Clint had discovered Jacques with a load of stolen money and when he’d gone to turn the swordsman in, Jacques attempted to kill him. Clint had ended up with two broken legs, and his brother Barney had left the circus to go to college to get away from everything the circus was not long after that. He had asked Clint to go with him, but Clint had been so high on this rush of what he could only call fame, that there was no way he could let it go now.
Besides, he had Eden and he knew that if he left the circus it would mean leaving her too and he was not willing to do that.
Some of the clowns brought the rest of the equipment in and Clint put his quiver on his back and grabbed his bow. The next part of the act was about precision archery, acrobatics, perfect timing, and making sure he selected the correct arrow for each shot.
He turned and aimed an arrow so it looked as if it was aiming at you, but was in fact aiming at a small target stuck to one of the tent poles just next to the audience. Close enough that they could all see how he hit the target and that it would feel like they were at risk, but not so close that there was in any risk at all.
You ran backward and did a backflip, just as you launched yourself up off the ground, Clint loosed the arrow and it sailed under you, hitting the center of the target with a thud as you landed back on your feet. You began to run around the outside of the arena, and he loosed arrow after arrow in front of you, and you flipped over each one again and again, to the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the crowd while each arrow hit the target perfectly.
When you reached the target board, Clint changed the arrows. He began to loose them so each hit about a foot apart and a foot higher than the last, forming steps up the board. You climbed them as they hit, so it appeared as if you were stepping into the air and he was catching you with the arrows. When you reached the high wire platform above, Clint moved into a different routine.
He hit moving targets, including pinning three small targets that swung down from three different directions and pinning them together with one arrow. He hit targets while he was flipping from one platform to another. All the while soaking in the attention from the crowd. Above him, you were getting into a harness that would only be visible to the keenest of eyes.
When you were secure, you began dropping things on him. He started by quickly loosing arrows, sometimes three or four at a time, and pinning each item you dropped to a different target around the tent. Then he switched, dropping his bow and arrow and picking up a sword, as each item fell from above he sliced it in half.
A few of the clowns came out with big trench coats on and carrying umbrellas. You began dropping water balloons on them and while everyone was distracted, Clint put on his special trenchcoat and hat. It was the one designed for the finale of the routine. It had a locking mechanism in the arm that allowed him to catch you on the blade of a sword without his arm jerking on impact.
A huge bag of confetti dropped and exploded, queuing the clowns to scatter. You dropped a few more things down on him, letting Clint use his left arm to slice them in two, to show the crowd that the sword was real and not blunt.
Then you jumped. You spun in the air, corkscrewing down toward him, he brandished his sword, and when you hit the springboard, you jumped up and flipped. Clint switched hands and lunged forward, the elbow mechanism locking in place so the flat of the blade was facing up. You landed on it, sending a shock through his arm. Everyone clapped and you curtsied while standing on the blade. Clint moved to grab you in a large over-exaggerated way and you backflipped catching the brim of his hate with your toe and flipping it off his head. You landed and ran forward, catching the hat on your head.
The crowd erupted, everyone getting to their feet and cheering for you both. You helped Clint off with his coat and both of you bowed as your horses cantered back into the ring. You each ran to your horse and vaulted onto it’s back, taking a lap. Maynard entered the ring with his whip and took his spot on a podium in the middle as the clowns rushed in and cleaned up. “Let’s hear it again, for Hawkeye and Sugar Snap!’
The crowd applauded more and Clint followed you out of the ring. “And now, our very own Garden of Eden!” Maynard called, and Eden ran out past Clint, winking as she passed him.
Clint got off his horse and rolled his shoulders as you approached him. “I think I need to work on that first jump. I felt that arrow,” you said.
“You always say that, and I always tell you it’s in your head,” Clint teased. He walked over to the lip of the curtain and looked out at Eden as she did her contortion act. You stepped up beside him.
“Just before I came out, Jacques approached her and said something about some art job,” you said.
Clint bristled. He’d been hearing rumors about an art job for the past few days. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, mostly because he just tried to steer clear of all of that. There had definitely been a meeting with some art guy and the Ringmaster. Clint had remembered seeing the bald man with his black turtleneck and rectangular framed glasses talking to Tiboldt about the circus performers coming to some art museum as part of a charity gig. “She’s probably going to be part of that charity gig.”
You shrugged. “Yeah, maybe.”
Clint turned and looked at you. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” you said, though he wasn’t convinced.
Clint had managed to get you to legal age without any more explicit photos being taken, but he knew Jacques still had a habit of sniffing around you. Barely legal wasn’t as good as illegal, but it would still make him money, and you had other things to offer now. The ability to parkour was a huge advantage to them, and you were very good with a blade. Clint knew that while the act was as good as it was, Jacques couldn’t threaten to have you kicked out, but he could offer you things and Clint wasn’t totally sure if you would always say no. Not if it was something like breaking and entering, and if this was some scam being organized by Tiboldt, then he was the boss, and if he said jump, you jumped.
“Sugar?” Clint pressed.
You huffed. “Wanted me to help him break in and help them steal some art. Said Tiboldt wanted everyone on the job.”
“Sugar!” Clint yelped.
“I said no!” You said. “Who wants a bunch of dusty old paintings anyway?”
“You think he’s trying to recruit Eden?” Clint asked.
You shrugged again. “Probably. Or Tiboldt already has and he was just passing on a message.”
Clint sighed, he wanted to believe that she wouldn’t be involved in anything like that, but love and trust were not things that were linked very strongly for him. “She wouldn't, would she?” He asked.
You shrugged again. “I dunno, Clint. You know her better than me. I do know that just about everyone else here would.”
He shook his head and stepped away from the curtain. “I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You nodded and didn’t say anything. Just as he moved away he looked back at you. “Hey… thanks… you know…? For letting me know.”
You nodded and folded your hands over your chest. “Anytime, Clint. You know that. It’s me and you.”
Clint wasn’t so sure about that. He’d believed it before about other people who had let him down. But as he sized you up, he thought maybe of all the people in this circus he was supposed to think of as family, you might be the one that fit the description best.
// NEXT
#clint barton#clint barton x reader#hawkeye#hawkeye fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#reader insert#it's you and me
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The Arrangement Chapter 3
Series Summary: Desperately in need of money, you answered the questionable ad. AKA-Arranged marriage AU featuring Y/N and Yoongi.
Chapter Summary: Interview Round 1 and our first encounter
Previous chapter here
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You bartended through the weekend without incident. You had honestly kind of forgotten about your strange encounter with Mr. Rude Dimples as you geared up for another work week. You arrived at your office job early Monday morning and headed to the breakroom. You loaded up on coffee and some fruit someone had sat out and went to your desk. At exactly 8 am you opened up your emails. You scanned through the work correspondence answering a few quick questions and queuing up some to answer after you checked on a few things. You then opened up your personal email and almost fell out of your chair when you saw **Google Calendar invitation: Job Interview. Very Personal Assistant. BTS Corporate Accept/Decline**
You opened it and lo and behold there was an invitation to a job interview this Thursday at Grindhouse Coffee Shop. You shook your head, so maybe it was a real job. Maybe. You were relieved to see the interview was in such a public location. You went into your work calendar and marked yourself out of office for an hour and half. You never took any time off so it wouldn’t be a problem. How does one prepare for a job interview for a personal assistant? You wondered.
You opened an incognito window and started researching job interview questions and also looked into what exactly BTS Corporate was. It was a media company who seemed to dabble in everything from modeling to music. You recognized two of the models immediately, JK and V. They were both well known in the modeling world and graced the covers of many magazines. Ok so this was a legit company. Cool. Cool. Oh my God, you thought. What if the position was to be an assistant to a model who was as hot as those two? You remained calm. You had bartended and been around hot dudes before. It would be fine. You would be fine. You kept the incognito window open as you returned to your actual job and continued to email and message colleagues about your projects. You also skimmed through BTS Corporate’s website to learn more about the company and spy on some of the other models and talent who they employed.
The rest of the day went by without incident and you were excited for two reasons: one, you had a job interview at a place that paid more than your two of your current jobs combined, and you had Monday night off from bartending. You headed home, looking forward to spending time with your family.
You rarely got to see your brother, who was in his second year of high school, and your sister, who was finishing up elementary school. You walked into the apartment, slipping off your shoes and work bag.
“Hey everyone!” You yelled and headed into the living room. Your sister and niece were doing their homework on the coffee table side by side. “Hey girls. How was school today?”
You got some noncommittal “goods” out of them and left them to their schoolwork. Your brother would be at cram school for another two hours. You walked into the kitchen where your aunt was preparing some food.
“Hello Aunt Vi,” you said, scooting around her towards the refrigerator to make yourself useful. “How can I help?”
“Hello [y/n]. If you could get the rice cooker ready and prepare the chicken that would be great.”
“You got it,” you responded, dutifully beginning the tasks you were assigned. You loved your Aunt Vi and were so grateful she was able to take the three of you in. The apartment was cramped and she did her best to make sure you all never felt like you were imposing. But, it was hard not to feel that way given the circumstances. You found your mind wandering back to the job interview. With that much money you could easily afford to either pay for a larger apartment for all of them, or pay for your brother to live at the school’s dormitory. You tried not to let yourself get too excited about it, you still weren't sure if it was a real job. And you had already had more disappointments in the past 5 years than you could deal with. You tried to keep it from making you pessimistic, but it definitely made you wary of most situations. Especially ones that seemed too good to be true.
“Suho called this afternoon,” she said quietly while chopping green onion.
You involuntarily flinched. “Oh? I’m sorry. I didn’t give him this number.”
“I know I know. He asked for you and wanted to talk to your sister.” She paused, “I told him to go to hell.”
It was always weird for you to hear your very proper aunt curse, but when it came to Suho, there was no escaping the rage she felt. And rightfully so.
You nodded your head. “Good. I’ll see about getting our number changed again.” You said, feeling like it was your responsibility.
She didn’t say anything in response and the two of you continued to make dinner together silently.
--------------------------
The rest of the week flew by. Office job, bartend, check on your siblings’ homework, check your bank account, pay your aunt, skillfully balance every cent in your checking account, sleep, caffeinate, repeat. Before you knew it, Thursday afternoon had arrived.
You walked into the coffeeshop. Grindhouse Coffee was across the city, near Club Tokki, so you had to watch your time carefully. You immediately noticed a large concentration of very attractive women with perfect faces and perfect tits. Damn. Were they here for the same position?
“Tokki,” you heard a voice call towards you. You turned and saw Mr. Rude Dimples walking towards you with a tablet in hand. Oh God, you had a nickname? “Rich Asshole.” you waved, smiling “It’s nice to see you again.”
He guffawed, clearly not expecting that. “I am conducting your job interview Tokki,” he loosened his neck tie. “You should watch your mouth.”
You raised your eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure my mouth is what landed me this interview since it clearly wasn’t my good looks” you gestured to the space around you. “And it’s ‘[y/n]’ not Tokki.”
He swiped his tablet. “Got you all checked in. I’ll let you know when it’s your turn.” He shook his head as he walked away.
Yoongi sulked at a booth in the cafe, his delicate lips pressed firmly into a pout. He refused to take part in the interviews or look at the resumes, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him. So far he was unimpressed. It was like walking around work: a bunch of models who all looked the same. Who the hell would believe he would marry one of these women? He sighed. You shouldn’t judge someone based on their looks, he reminded himself. He kept one earbud in, lazily eavesdropping on the people in the cafe. A group of three women were sitting in the next booth over.
“I wonder what kind of job this is. It sounds like an escort service but like also a secretary.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“I wonder if it’s for one of the models.”
They continued to prattle on about the job, how Namjoon has approached them, and stuff like that. Yoongi scanned his phone and looked over, Namjoon was interviewing one of the girls right now. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking out over the cafe again. Maybe he would grab a coffee. He pulled out his other earbud and got up to order his usual iced Americano.
“I totally think that’s what it is. What kind of loser has to pay for someone to date him?”
“Yeah. And it’s definitely not that guy,” she gestured over to Namjoon. “He’s hot. This guy is probably hella ugly. Like rich and ugly. Which I guess I could get over for the price tag.” The girls all laughed.
Yoongi felt his face grow red. That’s what all these women thought about him. Some rich loser idiot desperate for their attention and willing to sell themselves off for his and BigHit’s attention. He didn’t even want this. He didn’t need this shit. He headed towards the door. Fuck this place. Fuck these girls. Fuck Namjoon.
You looked up from your seat by the door to see a man around your age walking over quickly and pushing the door open hard. You shrugged, he must have realized he was late or something. You looked back to where he had been sitting and saw he had left his earbuds sitting on the table. You got up and walked over and saw that he had actually left his very expensive earbuds. Shit. You could probably catch him if you tried. You picked them up and headed for the door.
“Where are you going Tokki?” You heard Namjoon say as he got up from the interview table, clearly done with his latest interview.
“I’ll be right back.” You yelled, “Probably!” You amended. You had been spending the past fifteen minutes talking yourself out of the interview. You knew your office skills were mediocre, your mouth got you into trouble all the time, and you were so not as pretty as every other girl in there.
You peered out onto the sidewalk looking for the black hat and black outfit. Damn it. Wait. Across the street. You waited for the traffic signal to change and then ran across the street. By the time the signal had changed he was far ahead of you. “Hey!! Hey you!” You yelled, ever so inelegantly across the sea of people. There was no way he was going to hear you from where you were. His head was down and he was definitely in the zone. But, you were running and he was walking so you finally caught up with him by the next block. “Hey, you,” you pulled gently on the back of his jacket. “You…”
Yoongi turned to see what was happening. He had heard a woman yelling but assumed she would have been talking to someone else. He saw a girl around his same age and height standing there, panting slightly like she had just exercised. He was still upset from the whole cafe incident, leaving him short tempered and just wanting to get somewhere private. “What?” He asked tersely.
You stood eye to eye with him. This guy was good looking. And kind of rude. Oh well, you thought he had been in a hurry when you started chasing him. “Here,” you held the earbuds out in their case. “You left these on the table.”
He looked at you for an extra second, suspicion in his eyes. “Thanks.” He took them from you and relaxed slightly. “At Grindhouse?”
“Yeah.” You fan your face. Running in office clothing sucked. Ok. Well your business here was concluded. You stood there for another few awkward seconds.
Yoongi looked at the girl who was standing in front of him. He hadn’t seen her in the cafe, and he couldn’t believe she had run the few blocks to return the headphones. He tried to think of something to say. Small talk was not his strong suit. “Do you work near here?”
You huffed and puffed a little, still recovering from your unexpected jog. “No. I work across town.” You thought for a second. “Well during the day anyways. I do actually work near here at night though at Club Tokki.”
Yoongi put the earbuds in his bag. “What brings you to this side of town then? The coffee’s not that good.” He deadpanned.
You shrugged, “Eh, I’m supposed to have a job interview. I don’t know though. It seems shady and that place was populated with models who I think are also going for it. I think I’ll just get some of that coffee that you don’t recommend and head back to my day job.”
Yoongi stood there putting the pieces together. You were there for that interview. Normal-looking you who apparently already worked two jobs. He sighed, feeling like a creep for knowing more about the job than you did and knowing that it would be working with him. He rubbed along his jawline with his hand, “I don’t know. I think you should go for it. Maybe you’ll stand out.”
You laughed, “Because I’m ugly and sweaty?” You teased, you knew you were normal looking and could be pretty if you did your hair and make-up.
You thought you saw the tiniest hint of a smile as he replied, “Yes. Take your ugly face back there and apply for the interview and do better than those models.”
You rolled your eyes, “That was the shittiest pep talk I have ever had in my life but ok. I’ll march back in there sweating like a pig and do my best.”
“I wish you luck. Thanks again for the earbuds.” He said, giving you a polite wave as he turned and started to walk back to BigHit’s headquarters.
You laughed a little bit and decided, what the hell, you might as well go for it. You returned to Grindhouse, to the seeming annoyance of Rude Dimples.
“Finally Tokki, I was getting ready to give your time slot to the fucking barista.” He gestured to the table.
“Oh my God, you are so immature. How are you the one in charge of this interview?” You asked as you took a seat in the chair.
“I’m the boss of the company Tokki, if you don’t like it you might want to leave now.”
“One: From my research, as President and CEO, Hitman Bang is the boss of the company. You’re the CIO. Two: I’m guessing this isn’t an interview to be your assistant or I definitely wouldn’t be here. Three: it's [y/n]. So let’s get to the part where you ask me questions and I answer.”
Namjoon sat there for a minute, opening and shutting his mouth a few times in shock. He spread his hands out along the table. “Huh. I’ll give you that you actually did research on the company. Well done. Let’s begin.”
NEXT CHAPTER
#bts fanfic#bts fanfction#bts au fanfic#bts yoongi x reader#bts suga x you#suga x reader#suga x you#yoongi x reader#yoongi scenarios#bts writing
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Open Door Policy || Shawn Mendes
Description: You and Shawn Mendes have always been best friends, neighbors and cowriters until you start feeling something more. But how do you tell the guy you write love songs with that you think you love him?
A/N: OK this is another one of those fics that came from a day dream and spun together really quickly. I honestly don’t have much to say and I feel like I usually do but I hope you love it :)
Word Count: 4.5k
As time ticked by so did your patience.
It was nearly 11:00 pm on a Friday, and the last place you wanted to be was in the studio with an up and coming singer-songwriter who thought he was a lot better than he actually was.
You sighed as you leaned back in your chair, watching Hayden scribble something down from the other side of the glass before looking up at you and motioning for you to turn on your mic.
“I got something,” he said with a big grin.
That phrase usually meant you had at least another hour of work to do.
“Shoot,” you said as you grabbed your notebook, prepared to fix the line however you could.
He pointed at his notebook with his pen before saying, “we’re meant to be, but we haven’t figured that part out yet.”
You cocked your head to the side and nodded, the line showing that maybe he was making progress.
“It’s supposed to be you and me, we haven’t figured this out, but I know somehow we’re meant to be?” You said with questioning in your tone as you switched words around to make it rhyme and flow.
“I like that,” Hayden said, jotting down the line again and erasing other things.
“Um, not to rush you, bud, but how much longer are you thinking of working?” You said carefully.
He glanced at his phone propped up next to him.
“Maybe just fifteen minutes? Finish the chorus, and we can finish it and record it next time I see you?” He asked.
You nodded your head as you took note of that.
“Next Tuesday still work?” You asked.
“Perfect,” he said as he hung his headphones up to sit next to you and finish the chorus. It just needed a line or two, or the start of a line or two, and then you could just go home.
“Alright, well, dig into that line you just said,” you started as you turned towards him as he pulled up his chair. “How do you know, but still don’t know?”
He sighed and leaned back, looking at the ceiling and turning his chair in circles slowly.
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.
You tried not to sigh and hang your head, knowing his one line wasn’t going to carry through to a whole chorus.
“I’m just thinking of, like, two friends. And they’ve been friends for a while and there’s this looming feeling that they’re going to end up together, but they just don’t know when or how, and honestly, have kind of been avoiding that feeling without even realizing they’re doing it,” he tried to explain.
“So, everyone knows, no one wants to say it?” You offered.
“Exactly,” he said as he rested his elbows on the table.
You looked through some lines you had written before, trying to see how you could alter them and fit them into the song to convey what he just told you.
“Stuck between something we can’t see…” you trailed off, writing it down in your notebook. “What if we never know what this is really about?”
Silence floated between the two of you as you both wrote them down.
“Man, I was thinking of going towards a happier ending with his, but I like where you’re going,” he said as he closed his notebook.
You shrugged your shoulders, following suit as you put your notebook in your bag along with a few of your other things scattered in front of you.
“Guess that’s just the feelings that want to come out of me right now,” you said with a soft smile.
Hayden looked at you for a moment before standing up.
“I’m not giving up on that happy ending of the song,” he said as he walked to the door, he leaned against the doorway for a moment before continuing. “And neither should you.”
Once he left, you leaned your head against the edge of the chair. He may be a pain in your ass sometimes, but he was always really good at reading you. Which is why you worked well together. And why you were the cowriter on most of his songs.
You finally picked yourself up and gathered your things before locking up the studio. Once you got in your car, you glanced down at your phone for the first time in the past few hours.
5:12 - Shawn: When do you get home? Pizza night?
6:36 - Shawn: Maybe Chinese?
7:04 - Shawn: You know, at this point I might just eat cardboard.
** Missed call - Shawn Mendes - 8:47**
8:48 - Shawn: [Y/N], I’m starving.
9:15 - Shawn: Ok, so I ordered pizza and ate, like, half of it. But stop over once you get home and eat the rest, please.
9:57 - Shawn: I know you don’t like that Hayden guy…is it because he’s been planning to kill you? Are you DEAD?
10:51 - Shawn: FINE, this is my last text, but actually please call me on your way home, so the pizza can be heated up and ready for you :)
You smiled down at the multiple messages before shaking your head and wiping it off your face. You pressed on his contact and put him on speakerphone before pulling out.
“Thank God. You’re not dead,” he answered.
“What do you expect when I’m with Hayden? We never finish anything in a timely manner,” you said through a laugh.
“You finish things in a timely manner. He does not,” Shawn reminded you.
You heard him rustling around as you assumed he was getting the pizza.
“I got pepperoni by the way, and my door is unlocked,” he said.
“You’re a lifesaver,” you said as you made the final turn into your apartment complex. “I just pulled in. I’ll be up in a minute.”
“See ya,” he said before hanging up.
You gathered your things and locked your car before heading into the building. You stopped by the front desk to grab a package that was delivered before taking the elevator to the top floor.
There were only four apartments on the top floor. One of them was owned by you. Two were being taken up by rich couples who traveled for a living and were never really there. And the last one was Shawn.
You’d met him through James when you started writing with him when he was on tour with Shawn at the beginning of their careers. You were young and inexperienced, as was James, so you made a good duo. You had no idea Shawn lived in the apartment across from you until after you started moving your things in almost a year after you first met. Shawn kept an eye on your apartment when you were gone, and you did the same for him. But if you asked anyone, it was more like the two of you lived together with how often you’d just walk across the hall into the other’s place.
The elevator dinged, and you made your way to Shawn’s door. You opened the door, and Shawn peaked his head past the wall to see you.
“There you are!” He said with a big smile.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m here. Alive,” you said as you set your phone on the counter. “Lemme run this stuff over.”
You crossed the hall, not bothering to close Shawn’s door before you opened your own, also not bothering to close it, and set your package just beyond the door before going to your room to change.
You heard Shawn’s footsteps outside your bedroom before he said, “Do you want a Coke with your pizza?”
“You shouldn’t have to ask that,” you said through a sigh as you opened your door, this time in sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
Shawn rolled his eyes. “It’s almost midnight.”
“You can’t have pizza without Coke,” you reminded him.
“Alright, fine,” he said as you followed him back to his kitchen, closing both doors behind you.
Shawn had your pizza set out for you with a glass of Coke next to it. He sat down across from you as you took your first bite.
“Write anything good today?” He asked, sipping at his water.
You nodded your head and swallowed. “Yeah, he actually came up with some pretty good lines today. I don’t know if it’ll be a single, but it’ll make the album.”
“What’s it about?”
“Being friends with someone, and kind of knowing you’re going to end up with them, but not really knowing when or how or how to even convey those feelings,” you said slowly.
“Sounds complicated,” he said.
“You bet,” you mumbled before taking a sip.
“Have you ever felt that?” Shawn asked.
“Felt what?”
“You just described it,” he said with a small smile.
You returned the smile and took another sip.
“Yeah, but I need you to explain it another way, so I can use it for the final verse.”
“Do I get a writing credit?”
“That’s up to Hayden, so probably not.”
He laughed as he leaned his elbows on the table and cocked his head to the side.
“The questioning,” he started before pausing and looking out the window behind you. “Like you’re with this person and one moment, you think, this is it. This person is the one you’re going to spend forever with. And then the next…” he trails off. “You’re doubting everything you’ve ever known about them. About love. About the two of you. And you don’t want to screw it up. Because you’d rather ignore the love you feel than screw up this beautiful thing you already have.”
You stayed quiet as he described it. You didn’t notice you hadn’t responded until your eyes met his, and you nodded your head.
“Yeah,” you whispered. “I get it. It’s complicated.”
“Exactly,” he said just as quietly.
It went quiet again as you finished your slice of pizza.
“Did I just give you your last verse?” He said through a smile.
You shrugged as you grabbed your notebook from your bag and scribbled down a few of the words and phrases he used: questioning, moments, doubt, beautiful thing, screw it up.
“We’ll see. Hayden wants a happy ending, but with where we are now, I don’t know if that’s going to happen,” you said as you looked Shawn in the eyes.
“Never know,” he responded.
“That’s what he said.”
“I think he’s smarter than we give him credit for.”
Shawn took your plate from you and put it in the dishwasher as you kept sipping at your drink and adding notes to the words you just added.
“So…I know you’ve been writing all day, but-“ Shawn started before you cut him off by holding your hand up.
“No ‘but’s. It’s almost midnight,” you said.
“[Y/N], I already owe you my life and my firstborn child. Please, for the life of me, just look at the verse I’ve written so far,” he begged.
You groaned as you rested your head on the counter in front of you.
“Do I get a writing credit?” You mumbled.
“You have a writing credit on half the songs on my new album,” he said as you lifted your head up. “And you’ll have it on this one, too. Like always.”
“You’re too nice to me, Mendes,” you said as you stood up and walked towards his piano in his makeshift studio.
Shawn sat down at the piano, and you leaned on the side of it.
He started playing softly and humming along to the song inside his head. You got lost in how his hands moved across the piano and how his body moved when he pressed down on a pedal, watching the expression on his face as he sang.
“So, what do you think?” He asked.
You hadn’t even registered anything he just sang.
“Um,” you said softly as you sat down next to him to look at the lyrics jotted down on his notebook and quickly read over them. “Well, I like the music.”
“That was the most backhanded compliment you’ve ever given me,” he said through a laugh. “Do you like any of the lyrics?”
“Don’t say, ‘I’m falling in love,’” you said as you took the pencil out of his hand and crossed out the line. “There are so many better ways to say that and falling in love is a made-up term by The Bachelor.”
“It is not made up,” he defended. “You’ve never felt that feeling? That feeling of knowing you’re going to be in love with someone, but not quite there yet?” He asked.
You shrugged as you looked down at the keys your hands were laid on.
“I just think there are better ways of saying you’re falling for someone,” you said quietly.
“Enlighten me,” he said as he turned to look at you, leaning his elbow on top of the piano.
“Feeling something I’ve never felt before, the start of something worthwhile, the beginning of what could be,” you rattled off.
“None of those fit in the other lyrics,” he said. “And I write what I feel, and this is what I’m feeling right now.”
“You’re falling in love? How are you so sure?” You asked, not even wanting to know who it could be.
He shrugged as he tore his eyes away from you to play the notes again.
“You just know,” he whispered before looking at you. “And that’s how I know you’ve never felt it.”
Your hands slammed down on the keys as you let them loosen up.
“I had a boyfriend for over a year before I came out here,” you reminded him. “And I loved him.”
“But were you in love with him?” He asked.
“There is no difference.”
“There is definitely a difference.”
“Well, then I guess I don’t know it,” you said a little louder than expected. “Happy?”
Shawn didn’t say anything as he stared down at his hands. You ran your hands down your face before staring at the lyrics jotted across his notebooks and your harsh line drawn through them. It was safe to say that you weren’t feeling the love songs.
“I’m sorry,” you said, still not looking at him. “I just haven’t really been in the right headspace to write happy love songs.”
“Why?” He asked.
You shook your head softly. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s always complicated.”
“Yeah.”
Silence filled the room again as you both sat facing the piano, your legs almost brushing up against each other.
“I should go to bed,” you whispered.
“Yeah, yeah, me too,” he said back.
Neither of you moved, still staring at the piano or the notebook or the wall behind both.
“I have a question,” Shawn whispered.
You didn’t respond and instead turned to look at him.
He cracked a smile as he looked at you and said, “How do you write the best love songs I’ve ever heard when you’ve never experienced being in love?”
“Talent and a romcom obsession,” you said with a smile.
Shawn laughed and leaned his head back for a moment.
“Well, you got me there.”
You both stood up at the same time, and Shawn followed you out of the room. You grabbed your phone and bag off the counter before making your way to the door.
“I’ll see you later,” you said with a smile before Shawn nodded at you and you left.
Shawn sighed and hung his head back as he nearly punched the wall in front of him. But instead of having to explain that to your building manager again, he went back to his studio, playing the same notes over and over again, not getting what you said out of his head.
Meanwhile, you willed yourself not to cry as you climbed into your bed and pulled your covers up over your head. You sighed and laid on your back, staring at your ceiling.
You couldn’t blame Shawn for anything. He loved everything he encountered.
You just couldn’t do it as easily as him, which is something he couldn’t really wrap his head around.
Because how were you supposed to write love songs about the guy who was writing them about someone else?
You could hear his piano still playing softly. Your phone lit up before you could text him.
Shawn: You were right. “The beginning of what could be” sounds way better.
You smiled softly before quickly typing back.
[Y/N]: Go to bed, rockstar.
—
You heard rustling just moments before a pillow hit you in the head. You groaned and rolled over, burying your head underneath the covers.
“Get up,” Shawn said as he kept hitting you.
“No,” you mumbled as you glanced at your watch. “We didn’t go to bed until nearly 1:00 am, and you’re waking me up at 8:00? What have I ever done to you?”
“You said you’d work out with me this morning,” he said with a tinge of sadness in his voice as you turned to look at him.
“I thought you meant around 11:00.”
“That is not the morning.”
“It most certainly is.”
“Please, I’m hanging out with Brian and Connor at noon, and you promised me,” he begged.
“I have never broken a promise with you,” you started.
“Exactly.”
“...and now’s the perfect time to start,” you finished, turning over again.
“What? No,” he said, yanking your covers off you and off the bed completely.
This made you shoot up and glare at him.
“Are you going to be the one to make my bed now?” You asked.
“No, now get dressed. Let’s go,” he said as he walked out of your room.
Ten minutes later, and you were walking out of the building for a run with Shawn, still cursing him that you were up this early on a Saturday. But once your music started playing and you started running, you weren’t threatening his death any longer.
You followed closely to Shawn as he lead the way through your usual route to a park down the street. The plan was to run there, hike and then run back.
You made it to the park and slowed to a walk as you followed a path that Shawn picked.
“Any chance you’re available to head to the studio at some point this week?” Shawn asked with a pleading smile.
You rolled your eyes at him before you answered, “I’m pretty booked, so it depends. I think Thursday morning is the only thing I can do unless you want to do it at midnight.”
“I can make Thursday morning work,” he said, dodging a branch. “I’m going to need help finishing that song then because you were definitely right.”
“I always am,” you said with a smile as he bumped his shoulder into you.
“Also, I’m sorry about last night. I went too far with the love thing,” he said quietly.
You nodded your head, not wanting to look at him.
“It’s fine. I guess no one’s ever really asked about it. I just wasn’t prepared,” you paused. “And you know I’m not as good at saying things as I am as turning them into a song.”
“You and me both,” he replied. “How come you don’t write a song about it then?”
“About never being in love?”
“Yeah, it’s real feelings. It’s what you’re feeling right now. And maybe for once, you could keep it for yourself,” he said.
“I don’t sing. I write,” you reminded him.
“You can definitely sing.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to do it in front of people.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m just saying it could help to write about it since you don’t want to talk about it. I know how you are,” he reminded you. “I know this would be a lot easier than talking about it. Even if you just trash the song after, and it never sees the light of day.”
“Maybe I will,” you said with a nod.
“I won’t be home until late tonight, so the piano is all yours,” he tempted.
“You really know how to get me,” you said with a laugh.
“Better than you’ll ever realize.”
—
You heard Shawn’s apartment door slam as he left to go see Brian and Connor. You took that as your cue to grab your notebook and laptop and head over to Shawn’s apartment.
The door was unlocked as usual, and you grabbed water from his fridge before going to his little studio. You set your things down on top of the piano before making yourself comfortable.
You didn’t even know where to start. You weren’t used to writing something like this. You didn’t even know what things you said in songs about not being in love.
You pressed a few keys, trying out a melody you had come up with a few days before. You hummed slowly to it, writing down words that came to mind.
“But maybe I’m wrong,” you sang quietly. “Maybe it’s been in front of me all along.”
You wrote it down before sitting back again.
“Maybe my front door has always been open, maybe you’ve always walked through, maybe it’s always been you,” you sang louder.
“I’ve never felt like this,” you paused. “But with you, I wouldn’t mind.”
You wrote it all down quickly as it flowed out of you, taking Shawn’s idea and mixing it with how you’ve been feeling about him lately.
You tapped your pencil along your notebook as you thought of the next verse, getting lost in what time it even was as you finally felt like you were being honest about what you were feeling.
—
He heard it before anything else. As the door cracked open, the soft noise of the piano and the hum of your voice came rushing out of the room as if it had to get out. As if it had to be anywhere but with you. As if it was looking for Shawn and trying to pull him in.
Shawn didn’t make a noise as he walked into his apartment and made his way to the studio to see you still sitting at the piano, putting your whole body into the keys of the piano and into the words you were singing.
He almost spoke up until he listened.
Your voice sounded so delicate yet powerful as you maneuvered into the chorus of the song, singing about feeling things you’d never felt before. The subtle references to a neighbor and unlocked doors didn’t make it past Shawn. He could feel his cheeks heating up as he didn’t know whether to walk out and act like he hadn’t heard it or just sit down next to you.
Before he could make the decision, you made it for him as you turned to grab your water but froze when you saw him standing there. You could see his pink-tinted cheeks from a mile away.
“Shawn,” you said softly, feeling your heart beat out of your chest, stuck between hoping he’d heard it and hoping he didn’t.
“Hey,” he said back just as soft.
“You’re home early.”
“Yeah.”
Silence filled the room as Shawn finally moved to the piano bench to sit next to you, your legs pressed against one another as both of you tried to calm your breathing.
“It’s a beautiful song,” Shawn finally said, letting his hands land on the keys and looking up at your notebook with scribbles and lyrics.
“Thanks,” you choked out.
“Sounded like you were really saying what you felt,” he paused. “What you truly felt?” He said in a questioning tone as he looked at you from the corner of his eye.
“Uh,” you paused, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this one. “Yeah,” you said through an exhale of breath.
Shawn played the notes you had written out, the only noise being the music he was playing.
The music you had just written about him.
“It’s beautiful.”
“You said that already.”
Silence filled the room again as Shawn stopped playing.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said quietly.
“You don’t have to say anything,” you said quickly after. “You really don’t.”
“But I want to,” he said slowly as he turned to look at you.
“What do you want to say?” You asked.
“What’s this song about?” He asked in return.
You went silent, turning away from him and back to staring at your notebook.
“About not knowing what love is until you think you’ve found it.”
“And did you find it?”
“I don’t know. That’s the whole point of the song.”
“Open doors and something that feels like it could be more,” he sang softly.
“Please just say something,” you finally said.
Shawn stayed quiet and your head told you to run.
You grabbed your notebook and laptop with one swoop as you stood up and walked out of the room. You heard the screeching of the piano bench as Shawn stood up quickly to follow you, catching you as you left his apartment.
He grabbed your wrist to stop you before you made it to your door. You didn’t turn around and willed yourself not to cry as you gripped onto your things with all the life you had left in you.
“They’re about you,” he said as he let go of you. “Every song I’ve written for the past year. They’ve all been about you.”
Your heart beat out of your chest as you turned to look at him. His cheeks were just as pink as before and he was breathing heavily, his chest moving just a little too quickly as he just stared at you.
“It’s funny. It’s really actually really funny because you help me write most of my songs. You’ve been writing songs about yourself for over a year now and -“
Before you could overthink it, you took a step forward and pressed your lips to his to shut him up. After a moment of shock, his arm held onto your hip and pulled you closer to him as his other hand held your chin up. Your left arm stayed around your laptop and your right one found its way to his cheek. You only stopped once you thought you were about to drop everything, but even then, your forehead stayed settled against his as you both breathed heavily.
“It’s about you,” you whispered. “You said to write it into a song. About never being in love. But you were right. I think falling in love is more real than I gave you credit for.”
“How so?” He said as a smile graced his face. “You falling in love or something?”
“Don’t make me say it.”
“Maybe you can just sing it for me sometime?”
“My door is always open.”
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Prompt 8: Adroit
Content Warning: Mentions of Torture
School sucked.
That was the conclusion Esredes came to for most of his childhood. He was never the biggest fan of many aspects of it, of sitting indoors and listening to lectures when he could be out in the world. Writing in particular was never fun. So many rules had to be drilled into him, on how sentences and grammar worked and what the proper words to use were. So many hours collectively he must have spent, pouring over dictionaries and definitions, scolded and given a bad grade if his writing did not match the expected standards.
He never did quite get the hang of it. Even as an adult, he found himself back in the same loop of dictionaries always being out on his desk when he had the brilliant idea to accept a House of Lords members’ offer of being an assistant and look over and write letters and speeches and proposals for the man. Some nobles he knew could write flourishing and beautiful things with ease, but he always had to stop and get fixated on words, if this or that was spelled right or flowed correctly, only for the end result to be something he always felt resembled a noble’s writing, but if one were to observe it more carefully and pick it apart, it would come undone at the seams.
At least all those failed drafts were simply put in the trash. His war journal stayed locked away in his home nowadays, not only for the particular out of the ordinary pages like the time he wrote a full page of I’m sorry, but the few times in his life he tried to write poetry lines in it on a whim.
It was awful, and he regretted it the moment after he finished trying. The page was almost intelligible with crossed out words, but it read like a madman’s disjointed ramblings trying to sound pretty. How the hell did poetry work? He had no idea, and it was an embarrassment to take to his grave, or else truly no worse fate would await him.
He was mediocre at mathematics. No excuse of simply being a child of less artistic disciplines- he found nothing significant for himself in pretty much any part of schooling except history. He liked reading about the past, and it took to his memory much better than equations or the different forms of the same word.
Seraphiaux always did better, even when he neglected studies. There he was, the little child prodigy learning alchemy and healing at age seven with all his books, and Esredes was trying to understand semicolons at fifteen. He was going to be a healer, Esredes would be a Temple Knight- and only one of them had any progress towards it at all. His parents did not allow him to play or practice with swords or weapons of any kind. “Not until you enter training,” they said. “It’s too dangerous.”Most noble children would probably be far better off coming from two parents who did not fight in the war, who did not try to push and train them to be soldiers from an early age. Esredes was an exception to that, as he thought. Instead, he was stuck in the increasing realization that he had little talent for anything. It only made sense to him later why- a soldier could not have other talents, or else they would be distracted from their purpose and not want to fight. But he did not know yet he was one, for sure, and all he could do to escape was funnel into his little wish.
It wasn’t the easiest journey to finish schooling, but he managed it. Right into training he went… and there came a breakdown soon enough.
The shield. That stupid goddamn shield. He hated carrying it and no matter what he did, he could not get the hang of using it. I’m going to fail, he thought for sure. He would have to go back to his parents and accept he had no passion to pursue, and then work extremely hard every day to be good enough to be head of house, when he knew in his heart he was not enough for it.
Yet it all passed as he funneled himself solely into the sword at the instruction of a superior, and once more he had something.
Combat. He was right all along. Combat was his answer to everything, his shining star of purpose and ability. Day after day after day, he threw his entire body and soul into training. Nothing could match that ecstasy of true purpose and being. The day he was knighted was the best of his life. Superiors took notice of him, sometimes for the bad but more often for the good, especially as time went on. The ecstasy eventually faded as the harsher realities of battle came to be, but still in those moments of promotion and praise from the higher ups, when people spoke of his accomplishments and even, increasingly as time went on, his bouts of strategy in battle, it surged back up in a lesser form.
When he was twenty two, an opportunity came to him like no other. A captured heretic who had the blood of dragons in him which his squadron had apprehended.
“Let me interrogate him alone before the Inquisitors come,” Esredes asked his superior. He had done just enough questioning people in the past that he was confident an answer for his curse could be found.
Alas, as he carved into the captive repeatedly and shouted at him about his affliction, he ended up empty handed. His one shot at answers had been blown in a bout of overconfidence, and questions raged on in his head.
It got easier when he returned to the art of interrogation after the law no longer held him down. As he realized how important it was to get into their heads, slithering up through their ear canals with a tongue increasingly coated in silver, and pull it apart from inside.
Then came civilization again, and Esredes was left constantly wondering why people kept spilling their lives’ stories and turmoils to him when they barely knew each other. Why did people constantly look at him like he had just trudged up and told them something they never realized about themselves, when he had just stated the obvious anyone could figure out from dealing with people for thirty three years? Why did he seem to calm some people down so easily just by opening his mouth- that half when he wasn’t inciting them to anger as he always did?
Well, being the Keeper of Secrets was not easy, but as he left for Dravania to maintain a fragile peace as a diplomat some days, and looked over his list of clients and his near perfect record others, he smiled about it to himself in the comfort of the blue walls.
Yet it was never enough. He had climbed to a Temple Commander before he fell, climbed in much less time to the top of the Disciples and then their leader, managed to pull himself out of being a wanted criminal to multiple people offering him jobs in areas he never expected to take, and yet the same internal monologue repeated.
I can’t do this, he said as he tried each new job far outside of his perceived, singular combat ability.
So many others could do this better than me.
There would be a shining and perfectly talented Ishgardian, one who hadn’t fought in the heretic’s side of the war, who was merely open minded and far more likable, and he would finally be fired from his diplomacy job and replaced by them. Ferrant would never replace him, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t still constantly stressing that he was not meant for the work and couldn’t be enough help. And while he was no longer at a risk of firing since going independent on his side job, and he did not expect all his clients to stop showing up, it never eased that anxiety every time that he could mess it up and do everything wrong in a heartbeat, and ruin everything. But if another counselor like him ever showed up in the same circles, and just proved to be so much better than him
At least he still had combat, he told himself. As stupid incompetent children fought primals, ended the war, and got all the peoples’ admiration and praise, he still had combat.
As he continued to make critical errors here and there in his ventures, and get in trouble with the Inquisition for vigilantism, forced only to stick to the law enforcement of the wilderness and the expeditions his friends would not take to the system, he still had combat. Not every day anymore as he stuck to his civilian tasks, but he had it.
What would a talentless soldier be without the purpose of combat? Of dying, of sacrifice, or usefulness? The disgraced Temple Knight who would never officially and legally fight for anything ever again, only forced to emulate ability in areas he was never built for?
The answer found itself in bars. Former Dragoons, it was almost always Dragoons. The ones who started fights just to feel anything, screamed at and insulted people because they truly felt they had no purpose in life anymore, and refused to move on to do anything productive.
Esredes sighed to himself every time when he saw them. Perhaps he was not a man of talents, but he would continue to blend in and pretend. If not only for being above making an even bigger disgrace of himself.
He always hated too much attention.
-----
@heartofthefury Seraphiaux/Ferrant
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𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓..? [𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 8]
fandom: ATEEZ
characters: prince! park seonghwa
reader: fem! knight
word count: 3.5k+
summary: It was time for another Selection. No- not a Selection for a bride but rather a well-trained knight to keep Prince Seonghwa safe after a failed assassination attempt. You, a blacksmith’s daughter, manage to make it to the elite group of knights worthy and skilled enough to protect the crown prince after months and months of training. This alone catches Seonghwa’s eyes- in more ways than one
a/n: yAAAYY it’s finally here! part 8! it’s still a long ride so please forgive me if updates are getting slow ;^; school is really kicking my ass. plus there were flooding and typhoons that happened in my country so I lost internet for a few days. But thank you again for those who stuck by ;^;
taglist: @iwanttohitmyself @barcelona-sergei @minihongjoong @i-purrple-u @taetae123094 @jeonartemis @jibaxja @theoinkypiglet @sparklychangbin
↞previous ♛ next↠
Seonghwa walks alongside Hongjoong as they head towards the Queen’s parlor in the East Wing of the palace. Sometimes he wondered why the palace had to be so big- it was quite a walk to get from one place to another.
“How was Hae-seong’s class?” The shorter asked after a long moment of silence.
The Prince looked over to his friend with a bit of a hesitant look. “It looks fine... Although I think he was in a bad mood today.”
“Oh please; when isn’t that old fart in a bad mood.”
Seonghwa guffawed at the term his friend used on the Duke, clasping a hand over his mouth at that.
“You needed me, mother?” He asks as soon as he enters the Queen’s parlor.
It wasn’t a very large room but it was no less grand than the others. Paintings of past ancestors and the recent royal family hung in golden frames along the mauve-colored velvet walls of the parlor. A white marble fireplace was built in the center, a wide mirror hanging above it. In front of the fireplace were two plush couches, of course in a mauve shade, with a white and silver table placed in between the couches.
His mother was quite picky with color combinations.
The Queen turns her attention from her Ladies-In-Waiting and to her son, beaming a rather large smile and patting the space next to her on one of the couches. “Come sit.” She invites him.
Seonghwa greeted the other ladies in the room and sat next to his mother. As soon as he does that, the Ladies-in-Waiting, save for the eldest one, take it as their cue to leave the room and give some privacy for the mother and son.
“Seonghwa,” The Queen starts taking her son’s hand into his. “Your father and I have been planning something for you.”
Another thing?? When will these surprises end?
“Since your father planned something similar to a selection for your personal guard, we decided that we won’t be holding a selection for your bride.”
That caught the young prince off-guard. It has been a tradition that dates back several centuries that their family line would have a selection for the spouse of every royal offspring. That was how his mother met his father. His father came from the kingdom near the oceans and the docks and managed to win the Queen’s heart amongst all the suitors.
But it made sense for them to forgo that tradition. The assassin that slipped into his room came from a different kingdom. His parents were just taking precautions by calling the whole thing off.
Sure it would cause some small (or maybe even large) disputes between the allying kingdoms but ties were already shaky the day Seonghwa was meant to be assassinated.
“Then I suppose I’ll be marrying someone within the kingdom?” Asked the Prince to which he was answered with a nod.
The Queen took her son’s hand in hers and ran her delicate thumb against the back of his knuckles. “We’re still deciding on who you will marry but so far, we think Hae-seong’s daughter would be a good match for you.”
Oh, her.
Hae-seong was blessed with three children, his middle child being his only daughter: Ayeong. She and Seonghwa were around the same age, with him being just a few months older.
It wasn’t that Ayeong was mean or anything, it’s just that he didn’t have the best memories growing up with her. He remembered taking a massive liking to her when they were younger. He was around fourteen or fifteen years old when he confessed his feelings to her, right under the large oak tree that grew in the prairie at the back of the palace.
To his dismay, she didn’t return his feelings. She fancied one of the young knights-in-training then. Despite the unrequited emotions, he still respected her and tried not to look so heartbroken around her. But ever since then, he’s been avoiding her around the palace.
He wondered if what took place back then would affect his parent’s plans for both of them.
“Oh.. does Hae-seong know about it?” Seonghwa prompted.
“No, not yet. We plan on telling him. I don’t think he would be opposed to it though. And besides, you’re good friends with her, I’m sure you don’t mind.”
He gives a slightly strained smile at that and just bowed his head. “Whatever you think is best, mother.”
“Thank you, my dear.” She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Well, that’s all I wanted to tell you. You may go back to where you were.”
“I think I’d like to stay here with you for a while, mother.”
The Queen smiles fondly at that. She couldn’t help but take his cheeks in her hands and give them a pinch, making her son protest in slight pain. He may have grown up to be a strong, intelligent, and handsome young man but in her eyes, he will always be her baby: wide curious eyes and a spirited laugh tumbling from his crooked-toothed smile.
~
“That’s all for today. You may head down to the dining hall for lunch before going to the courtyard for your lessons with Byron.” Hae-seong dismisses the class.
It’s only been a few minutes since the class had ended and they were already drained. Hae-seong talked too fast for their liking. At first, he would stop and go back to something they missed when someone pointed it out but eventually he grew tired of that and kept speeding through the lesson despite the class’s protests.
“I just want a break,” Raviv sighs, rubbing his temple to soothe his incoming migraine. “That was so much information to absorb.”
“I think he’s purposely trying to make us fail.” You say in a hushed tone.
Your friends nod in agreement. They suspected that the duke didn’t want them there but this kind of attitude coming from him furthered that suspicion. Lunchtime went by in a blur and now the whole group was standing in the middle of the courtyard, awaiting for Byron to come.
Though you were hesitant when it came to academics, you felt much more confident in this area. You’ve never really fought with swords but your brother had a habit of play- fighting with you, so you knew a thing or two about having to defend yourself.
You glance over to the quarry-workers from your village and other mountain villages. A few of them were joking around and showing off their strength by butting into each other. You couldn’t blame them, some probably did that to shake off their nerves. But you knew there were some that just really liked to show off.
Like Michael. He was… nice when he wanted to be but he caused a lot of trouble back in Trelark. He always found himself in a kerfuffle and never really learned to back down even when the situation called for it. He was the type of guy who bets his pride with high stakes.
Others seemed apprehensive; one of those people was Amihan. She wrung her hands together in anxiousness, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt. People from the mountain were deemed as tough- especially since the living conditions there were less than ideal. But Amihan grew up in the lowlands, she was afraid she didn’t live up to those sayings.
“Hey,” You call out to her in a quiet voice. She turns to look at you, her brows creased. You offer her a gentle smile and a nod before mouthing the words, It’s okay.
Her shoulders relaxed a little but you could see that her whole frame was still tense.
A few minutes later, Byron arrives with a few other knights who were pushing two carts of sturdy wooden swords to be used in your lessons. The group of delegates grew silent at the sight of the practice weapons before them, reminding them that this was real and it's not just fun and games anymore.
“I hope you all had a good lunch,” Byron says with a warm smile.
His welcoming deposition was enough to lessen the heavy tension in the area. It was such a contrast to the cold and annoyed aura Hae-seong displayed earlier. It was, albeit abrupt, a nice change.
“In case you all forgot my name, I am Byron. You don’t have to call me sir, or anything. My name is enough,” The man said, his voice loud and clear over the courtyard. “Most of your training here at the palace will be held with me so you don't have to worry about Hae-seong breathing down your neck.”
A few delegates sighed and chuckled in relief at that, eliciting an amused huff from Byron.
“Although it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t do well in his class. Always strive for the best no matter what situation. Now, I think I’ve talked too much. Find a partner- preferably someone your size or strength- and we can begin our lessons.”
You glance around to find a suitable partner for the lessons. Usually, in situations where you need a partner, you would ask Siyeon to go along with you or vice versa. But in this particular situation, you had to look for someone else.
It’s not that you were incredibly strong as a person but you packed a harder punch than most girls your age. You didn’t want to hurt your best friend.
“Hey Raviv,” You call out to your other friend. “Do you have a partner yet?”
“Not yet. Do you want to be partners?” He asks as he approaches you.
You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “That’s why I asked you if you had one.”
You bumped your shoulder with him, a little greeting for him, as soon as you reached each other. He slings an arm over you and ruffles your hair, only for you to end up swatting his hand away.
Siyeon was paired with another girl from your village, Gahyeon was her name if you remembered correctly, while Amihan was off to the side with one of her friends from the lowlands.
As soon as everyone was paired, the other knights that came with Byron started handing out the training swords. It was much heavier than it looked but not as heavy as the weapons you handle back at the smithy.
Your fingers curled around the leather-wrapped handle as your other hand held the “blade” part of the sword. You couldn’t help but admire the craftsmanship of the sword, even if it was wooden. You gave it a couple of bounces and twirled it a little to test out its weight. You look up when you hear Raviv give an impressed whistle, looking at you with pride in his eyes.
Your face immediately heats up in embarrassment, dropping the sword to your side after.
“Try not to kill me later, please.” Your friend teases as he knocks his sword with yours.
Before you could respond, Byron calls out for your attention, making all of you turn to him. He had a training sword of his own in his hold, his sword pressed into the gravel beneath his scuffed boots. “We’ll start with the basics today. I hope by the end of our lessons for the day, you all get to learn a thing or two. And don’t get too discouraged if you can’t get it right today. You still have a month to learn before the grading.
“Anyway, let’s start.”
~
The sound of wood crashing against wood and several shuffling feet echoed around the courtyard and floated up the palace walls. It could be heard from inside the palace although muffled by the layers of stone that made up the walls.
Seonghwa walked down the hall, curious to see how the training was going when he saw a young man curiously watching the delegates train rigorously through a large window, peering down into the courtyard. He could see Byron walking around with calculating eyes as he takes note of each delegate’s stances.
“San,” The prince calls out with a grin, making the young man jump in surprise.
San’s cat-like eyes turn onto him. “Prince Seonghwa, you scared me.”
“Oh please, you can drop the formalities. It’s just us.”
San shrugged with a chuckle, allowing the older male to stand beside him. “I’d rather be safe than sorry, hyung. Especially after Duke Hae-seong gave me an earful when he heard me address you so casually.”
San was the son of one of the earls in the king’s court. It was only natural that he and San would end up as friends since San practically grew up in the palace.
“I guess,” Seonghwa hums as he watches the delegates.
Their swords clashed against each other as they practiced the strikes Byron had shown them earlier. Many of them looked like they could hold their own fight, pushing on despite the fatigue they felt in their arms and the sweat that slid down their skin. But there were also several of them that flinched and cowered when the training swords came towards them.
“They look promising,” San says, pulling the prince out of his thoughts. “Especially the ones from the city-towns.”
And it was true. Usually, city-towns like the Capitol had Fencing as an optional part of the curriculum in their education only because they were able to afford the materials and maintain it. Other regions weren’t as fortunate to be blessed with this kind of lesson; although, technical skill can be outmatched or be on par with street smarts.
Seonghwa’s gaze landed on a particular person. It was the woman from the day before. She still had that intense look in her eyes as she brought her training sword against her partners. Her movements were strong yet fluid, albeit less graceful than the other knights but no less powerful.
He watches as she shuffles away from blocking her partner’s strike only for her to come swiftly at him. He notices how her once concentrated expression shifts to a more joyous one when she finally intercepts her friend’s attack and strikes the air near his vital spot
“She’s good.” He blurts out, making San quirk his head in curiousness.
“What was that hyung?”
Seonghwa’s eyes widened when he realized that he’s said his thoughts aloud. His cheeks flush a bright red, spreading all the way up to his ears. He clears his throat to clear the awkward air around him, the smirk that San was sending him didn’t help.
The younger male follows his gaze and his smirk grows wider. “Ooohhh, her. Oh yeah, she’s definitely good. I think she’s better than you, hyung.”
“Oh haha.” Seonghwa laughs dryly with an amused roll of his eyes.
San chuckled in return and kept his gaze on the woman Seonghwa seemed so interested in. “I think she’d last long with this training,” he remarks. “I’m going to bet she may even be your bodyguard.”
The prince hums in acknowledgment. “You think so?”
“I know so, hyung.”
Seonghwa glances again at the woman and lets San’s words sink in. He could never really tell if she would really end up as his protector but he had a good feeling about her.
~
By the time the delegates were done with their first day of training, the sun was starting to set. The sky turned from a bright blue to the crisp rose-gold color of the evening. The usual sounds from the Capitol quiet down as the day comes to an end.
Several people were sitting on the ground, catching their breaths while their swords lay on the dirt beside them. Others were leaning against the pillars of the courtyard. The air around them felt heavy as every ounce of energy drained out of the delegates.
Byron chuckled at the sight. “You did well, all of you.” He says as he watches them pick themselves up from the ground. “I hope you don’t feel so disheartened after today because this is just the beginning.”
You groan in exhaustion along with the other delegates. Right now, using the word tired to describe what you felt would be an understatement.
“We’ll continue again tomorrow. Make sure to wash up before you eat, you’ll be measured to have uniforms tailored for you.” Byron dismisses you all.
As you all line up to return the training swords to the racks, Siyeon stumbles in line behind you. “My arms are gonna fall off.” She mumbles into your shoulder while her arms wrap around your waist.
“At least you’re alive.” You reply and lean your head onto hers. “But at this point, I just want to eat and shower.”
“Oh, you said it.”
You feel so worn out as you allow your feet to drag you back to the girls’ quarters to wash up and change for dinner. Your mind grows blank and the rest of the evening happens in a blur. You didn’t even realize how late it was into the evening until the smell of food stirred your senses.
You didn’t eat in the dining hall this time. You were led to a smaller, more simple room. It wasn’t as grand as the dining hall but it was large enough to fit all of you.
“Are we really going to eat here..?” You hear Michael grumble to his friend. “I was really enjoying the dining hall..”
“Well of course we’re going to eat here. We aren’t of the royal family or part of the court,” Someone from the city-town sneers. One of the girls looked at everyone else like they’re worms to grovel at her feet. You never really liked her- and how she was acting right now giving you all the more reason not to. “So I suggest learning your place. Don’t get comfortable yet.”
That successfully managed to keep Michael quiet. But the tone that city-town dweller used ticked you off. You were never really confrontational unless pushed, so you kept quiet. You opted to just offer Michael a sympathetic smile before walking over to an available seat.
“Fucking highlanders..” She mumbled to herself as they passed by you.
You turn over to her, glaring daggers in the back of her head. You hope that one day karma gets to her and she’d eat up the words she tossed at your friends.
As dinner comes to an end, Mina enters the dining hall with a few people carrying some fabrics and measuring tape trailing behind her. You turn your attention to her and give her a small wave to which she responds with a bright smile and a slight bow.
“If I may have your attention, delegates.” She calls out in her clear voice. The hall becomes quiet and all attention is focused on her. “You’ll be having your fitting for your uniforms today. Expect the uniforms to arrive in two weeks.
“Now if you’re done eating, kindly line up. The tailors and seamstresses shall be measuring you.”
Half of the delegates stood and walked over to where Mina was, awaiting their turn to be measured. You wondered what kind of uniforms you’d be provided- and why it would be made so fast. Siyeon always told you that making one shirt alone took quite a while. Aside from that, the type of fabric and the design of the clothing would affect the process too.
“I hope they don’t put us in super stuffy uniforms like some royal guards,” Amihan says from across you as she finishes up her meal. “I feel like I’ll suffocate.”
“Oh yeah like the ones with the neck collars. Those seem stuffy.” Raviv adds, mouth halfway full with his mashed potatoes.
You hand him a napkin to wipe his mouth with before speaking up. “I think those types of uniforms are just for show.”
“Goodbye, practicality hello death,” Siyeon smirks, earning a playful shove from Amihan.
Little by little, once they were done being fitted, the delegates filed out of the dining area and went back to their rooms. Your friends went ahead since they were tired and you were one of the last people to be measured.
You waved goodbye to Siyeon, shouting after her to not leave her wet towel on your bed again, and walked up to the seamstress. Once you were done, you thanked her and walked back to your room.
Luckily the dining area wasn’t too far from your rooms so you didn’t get lost on the way back. Although, you did take your time walking. The palace was so different at night, especially with how the torches that lined the walls cast a shadow against everything (or everyone) in the hall.
It was a little eerie with the silence and everything but it also held some sort of ambiance to it. The soft golden glow from the torches made the enormous palace seem warm and cozy, especially on a night as cold as this.
By the time you reached the girls’ quarters most were already in bed and asleep. Very few were awake, sitting on each other’s beds and whispering away. You go through your usual nightly routine and crawl into bed, a relieved sigh escaping you when your tired muscles relax.
You blow out the candle on your bedside table after pressing a quick kiss to the pendant your father gave you and let yourself drift into sleep.
#ateez#kpop#ateez x reader#ateez imagines#ateez imagine#ateez scenario#ateez fic#park seonghwa#park seonghwa x reader#kim hongjoong#choi san#seonghwa x reader#prince!seonghwa#prince park seonghwa#royalty au#royal au#ateez royal au#ateez royalty au#fandomsonrequests#regiis#ateez smut#ateez fluff
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Hermione doing everything to seduce Ron but fails miserably. A hilarious Valentine's day fic. XD.
Hi anon! At first you had me stumped, but the idea started to unfold, and I enjoyed writing this one in the end. Please enjoy their first Valentine’s Day together
Warning: Implied Smut, but no actual Smut.
**************************
Valentine’s Surprises
She’d read the books. She’d gotten special permission from the Headmistress. Hermione was fully prepared to give Ron the best Valentine’s Day surprise. This was the first Valentine’s Day that they were actually together and could celebrate properly, and she’d have to make it extra special because she probably wouldn’t get to see him for his birthday since it fell during the week this year.
It’d been six weeks since they’d seen each other over Christmas hols, and this whole long distance thing was getting old pretty quick for Hermione. She looked in the mirror and observed herself. Demelza had helped with her makeup, and she’d managed to tame her hair down a bit using Sleakeazy’s. It had a nice waviness to it, and was pulled back into a side plait. She smiled as she stared down at her overnight bag. Massage oil, sexy red lingerie and a silk robe, the fuzzy throw blanket that was wrapped in decorative paper, rose petals and bath bombs...and a change of clothes for class tomorrow.
If Hermione had planned everything out properly, Ron would be in for the surprise of his life. She knew he and Harry always went to the Burrow for Sunday dinner, normally arriving at four and getting back around seven. It was 4:30 now, and Hermione was heading to Professor McGonagall’s office, where she was planning to floo to Grimmauld Place. She had two and a half hours to bake biscuits, and set things up before setting herself up in his bed for him to come home and find her.
Upon arriving at the Headmistress’ office, she was reminded that she needed to return at 8:30 the following morning, and Hermione profusely thanked her again for allowing her to leave. She stepped into the fireplace and in a few short moments found herself in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The boys had really done a fantastic job updating the home, making it brighter and more welcoming.
Hermione set her bag down and began summoning the ingredients she needed to bake his favorite biscuits. Molly had shared the recipe. She only bothered with checking the ingredients because ‘if you could read, you could cook,’ right? Hermione quickly set to work preparing all the ingredients per the directions until she hit step seven.
Wait...how was she even supposed to do that? She understood mixing the dry and the wet ingredients together normally, but there was a spell written, and having never read any magical cookbooks, Hermione was at a loss for what to do. She began panicking, looking around the kitchen for some sort of ‘how to’ book to help her through this. Of course the boys didn’t have one! She was opening and closing every cupboard she could find as she became more and more frantic. Then, she opened one particular cupboard, and a memory flashed before her eyes.
Would it work? She had no idea, but she had to try. She was desperate for this night to go perfectly. “Kreacher?” she asked softly. At first nothing happened, but then a loud POP echoed through the kitchen and Kreacher stood before her.
“Hello, Miss. What is you doing in Masters Potter and Weasley’s home?”
“Oh, thank goodness it worked!” Hermione said with a rush of relief. “I’m here to surprise Ron tonight, Kreacher. It was my intention to bake his favorite biscuits, but I’m afraid I- I don’t know how to get past step seven. Could you help me?”
Hermione was crestfallen. She wanted to do this all herself. She didn’t want to have to ask for help, but she couldn’t leave a half attempted recipe out for Ron to see when he got back.
“Yes, Miss. Where is the recipe?” Hermione pointed to the counter.
“Thank you, Kreacher! Do you mind if I watch?” Hermione tried to hide the disappointment in herself.
Kreacher gave a grumbled sigh and a curt nod as he set to work. Hermione should have known that the elf would use nonverbal magic on the recipe, so it was partially a waste of time to watch him work. He made quick work of the rest of the steps, and magically placed perfectly round balls on the baking sheet. “Miss forgot to turn on the oven.” He took care of it. “Would you like me to take care of the rest?”
“No, no, thank you Kreacher, I can take it from here. Thank you again!” Hermione said as Kreacher fell into a low bow and then disapparated out of sight. Hermione figured she had about fifteen minutes before the oven was heated to temperature, so she grabbed her bag and set to work upstairs. Somehow it was already after six.
Hermione opened her bag and pulled out the bag of rose petals when she got to Ron’s room. She scattered them on the floor and over his bed,placing the package on the end of the bed and the massage oil on his nightstand. Satisfied with her work, she went back downstairs to find the oven was ready and she placed the cookies in the oven. Mrs. Weasley’s note said they needed to be baked for exactly ten minutes. Hmm, I wonder why so exact? Hermione thought.
She set a timer for herself as she went back upstairs to draw the bath water and change into the lingerie and robe, keeping an eye on the timer. She’d gotten the top on, but was struggling with the bottoms when she got the minute warning. Giving up on them for now, she threw the silk robe around her and turned the water off, casting a quick warming charm over it as she hurried downstairs.
Hermione opened the oven door just as the timer went off and pulled them out. They looked perfect on top, but the bottoms were tinged a bit dark. It’s okay, at least you didn’t burn them! She turned the oven off and transferred the cookies to a cooling rack. Hermione magically washed the cookie sheet and double checked the recipe once more. Ugh, not another charm! She realized Mrs. Weasley had one more charm to set the cookies with at the end. I’m sure it’ll be fine without it, she thought because she did not want to call Kreacher back again.
Hermione left the cookies to cool, and hurried back upstairs to figure out the mess of straps that were the bottom half of her outfit. It took a good ten minutes to get everything situated properly, and she checked herself in the bathroom mirror. She smiled softly and hoped she’d drive him mad with desire upon discovering her like this. Hermione didn’t often care what she looked like, and she wasn’t exactly one for seduction, but she wanted to do this for Ron.
She checked to make sure the warming charm was still intact on the tub, and dropped one of the bath bombs in. Then, Hermione hurried into Ron’s adjoining bedroom, shut the door, and hung up the robe. She carefully climbed under his covers. Now, we wait.
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Harry and Ron finally flooed home from the Burrow just before 7:30. Ron knew they were later than normal, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do on Valentine’s Day. He cursed again because he should be able to spend it with Hermione, but she was at bloody Hogwarts. Harry had invited Neville and Seamus over around 8:00 since they all might as well be alone together on this particular holiday.
“Uh, Ron,” he heard Harry say. “You didn’t bake biscuits before we left, did you?” Ron looked over and saw, were those his favorite biscuits? He didn’t even realize the sweet scent until Harry had said something.
“Er, no, mate..that’s odd,” Ron said. Harry made to pick one up, but having been poisoned before, Ron stopped him. “Harry, no! Better check with Kreacher first. We don’t have any bezoars lying around.”
Harry called Kreacher who appeared with a POP. “Kreacher, did you bake these while we were gone?”
“I helped, but it wasn’t me,” Kreacher croaked.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked him.
“Surprise...doesn’t know how to bake with magic,” Kreacher muttered as he shook his head.
“Kreacher, is someone else here?” Harry asked as Ron did the homenum revelio spell. Kreacher nodded as the spell did in fact reveal a third person.
Ron looked back down at the cookies, which were his favorite. He looked at Harry, who said, “You don’t think…”
“If it is, you’re on your own with Nev and Seamus,” Ron said as he sprinted up the stairs. His bedroom door was shut, and he definitely hadn’t left it that way earlier. He opened the door to see Hermione, scantily dressed and laying in his bed. His heart damn near stopped. “Bloody hell…” was all he could manage.
“It’s about time!” Hermione couldn’t help herself. She’d been waiting over a half hour and was starting to get nervous that he wasn’t coming home.
Ron shut the door and cast a quick lock and silencing charm on the door. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said as he met her on the bed and wasted no time in pulling her in for a passionate kiss.
“Wanted to surprise you,” she said.
“Reckon it worked. You’re bloody gorgeous, you know that?” Ron couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She was stunning. He’d never seen her in lingerie before, only dreamed of it. He was basking in the glory of having her here, when he saw the look of disappointment on her face. It was subtle, but it was there. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s- it’s nothing,” she said as she looked away.
“Tell me, ‘Mione. Please?” Ron reached out and touched her chin, directing her face back to meet his.
“It’s just, everything I planned has gone wrong! I couldn’t even bake your favorite cookies! I needed Kreacher’s help and I still missed that there was a spell at the very end, so they’re probably ruined. I planned for you to be home around 7, so the bath water is probably cold, and I couldn’t go anywhere to check because I didn’t want anyone seeing me in this. I probably should have just told you McGonagall let me off for the night. Then you would have known and we could have had more time.”
Ron chuckled. “Hermione, we have the whole night ahead of us, and I'm so glad you’re here. And it’s a good thing you didn’t leave the room in this because I want you in this all to myself, though I’m about two seconds from ripping it off you,” Ron gave her a dark, wanting look then. Six weeks was way too long.
He always knew how to instantly make her feel better. “I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, giving her best seductive smile. Ron was on her in an instant, hands exploring her body and relishing in the feel of her against him. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she said against his lips.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, love,” Ron returned, becoming lost in the sexiness of his girlfriend.
#romione#ron weasley#hermione granger#don't eat that it could be poisoned!#Honestly Harry have you learned nothing??
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Title: A Tale of Two Slaves (1/17)
Summary: "Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything is a choice." At that moment, Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."
Reincarnation AU. Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.
Note: This has been sitting on my computer untouched for a while, along with the timeline I prepared for a multichapter fic. Will probs go back to it soon. Feedback is very much appreciated.
Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14
Link to cross-postings: AO3
In dreams people only see faces they already know.
It was an interesting fact Levi had probably come across, lazily scrolling through his social media timelines or opening countless tabs after getting into some Wikipedia blackhole in between the long days of schools and the short nights asleep.
He spent a fair amount of time on the internet, reading up about whatever bullshit politics came up with, controversies and bathroom reader fun facts. During his first year of college, it had stuck to him for a time. Maybe because it just seemed too unrealistic, too unbelievable.
After all, ever since he had started college, he felt like he had been dreaming of more and more unfamiliar faces. It could have been attributed at least to the fact that he was exposed to more people in a crowded city than he had been in the small town he grew up in. As time went by, these faces he barely recognized though, had become the main actors in his dream.
The long haired boy with the elvish features. The man with the clean cut appearance and a glint of mischief in his eyes. The oriental girl with subtle European features. The cheeky girl with a beat up pair of glasses and unkempt hair.
They and many others had been regulars in his dreams and Levi had come up with names for them already, names he remembered muttering, names he screamed multiple times in his head. By the time he woke up to the four walls of his bedroom a few hours before his first class, they were vague memories, only as intelligible as his view of the world right after waking up.
Some mornings, he had found himself more exhausted than when he had slept. Some mornings, he found his throat sore from screaming. Some days, his eyes were swollen from crying.
He lived alone in a dormitory and he had wanted to infer that it had been homesickness that had made those nightmares possible. He had never really abhorred being alone though, in fact he liked the privacy that came with having his own room.
He quickly shot down that theory and did not think too much about it soon after. His daily life did not give him too much time to ponder such fleeting and abstract of a concept as dreams in between lessons and training.
The dreams never left him, some days they were more vivid than others. After a few years of navigating academics, trainings, and obligations, Levi had gotten used to brushing off that one tear he’d get as he woke up, taking a lozenge to soothe the sore throat or just leaving the lights off in his room to alleviate the pounding headache he would get some mornings.
Daily life and obligations never did allow him the time and space to ponder too much on those dreams. Levi chalked it up to stress and unexplained trauma, easily soothed by ten minutes scrolling through social media or hours reorganizing his room for the third time that week.
Financial and time constraints made it impossible as well to even consider consulting about it and Levi found himself compartmentalizing those dreams into those few hours of sleep he got at night and the one hour he allowed himself each day to adjust to the waking world.
The line blurred one night though when one of those names was nonchalantly mentioned among others.
"Hange Zoe..."
It was just one name in a list recited by their coach before they were all dismissed for the evening. Sandwiched between a few other names before and after it, it wasn't supposed to stand out like that. Oddly, it did.
As Levi rode his bike to his dormitory room after a tiring day of training, he found himself repeating that name again and again. He tried to make sense of the odd familiarity which came with a name he could have sworn he had never heard before.
A family friend? A childhood friend?
Levi entertained those possibilities. Having grown up in a small town, his family friends and childhood friends consisted of everyone in that tight knit community and he could have listed out all their names then and there. She wasn’t part of it.
To at least, satisfy his own curiosity, Levi had sent a message to his parents before going to sleep. Just in case he had met her before.
Levi woke up the next morning, his throat a little scratchier, his body a little more tired. The first thing he did was check his phone.
Hange Zoe wasn’t a family friend.
Levi put the covers over himself and closed his eyes. His head was pounding and his chest was heavy. He had only noticed a moment later that his eyes were wet, his breaths were coming out in heaves.
What did I dream about this time?
Levi needed the whole morning to recover.
A Tale of Two Slaves
Levi managed at least to drag himself out of bed for afternoon training. By then, others have already started warming up. Levi wondered if he would be able to carry his body through a warm up jog, given his state only a few hours ago.
In the end, getting the jog done became a matter of discipline more than anything else and he had finished well above everyone else.
He had always been faster, given his smaller build and he had the natural muscle and athletic skill to be versatile as well. That was what made him stand out as the best athlete in the track and field team. He never cared too much either way about the admiration many of his teammates held towards him.
The recurring nightmares and the aftermaths of these though had left Levi averse to human interaction. Ironically, as he moved away from his small town and into the bigger city, his world had gotten smaller. Levi found himself keeping his world only wide enough to win track and field events and pass classes.
No man could really ever be an island though, no matter how much they try. Levi soon found that out when he saw that aforementioned Hange Zoe on the side of the track, talking to one of their coaches.
“This is Hange Zoe.”
“You can call me Hange.”
Levi did not need that quick introduction his coach had just given him. Somehow, the name and the face just clicked inside him. He looked expectantly at his coach and back at Hange.
Hange held out her hand to him and smiled. “I heard you’re the best one in the team. Coach Greg spoke highly of you.”
Levi narrowed his eyes at her. “What's she doing here?”
“Didn’t I tell you last time? Some of the premed students wanted to do case studies on athletes here for their final thesis. If you could help them out?” The coach turned to Hange. “Levi here is one of our best jumpers. He holds a pretty good record for sprinting, hurdles and throwing events as well.”
“Your jogging form looks amazing! I’d love to see you in action.”
Levi was not prepared for the invasion of privacy that came a second after. Hange held both of his hands towards her and leaned closer towards him. Before Levi could even stop himself, he had pushed her away and ran, the screaming of his coach to come back had become mere muffled screams in the background.
The only reason Levi did drag himself to training was for the fact that it was still one of the few hobbies he found complete calm yet complete liberation in. Those few moments after launching himself up in the air, those magical few moments high up in the air with only the empty sky above him, Levi felt free.
As Levi powered through, he found within him a burst of energy, built up from an idle morning cooped up in his room.
He had done those same drills so many times before. The excitement he got from flying through the air and running easily took over whatever exhaustion and rattledness plagued him only a second ago. He let his body memory guide him through each drill, concentrating his consciousness on other things like the cool wind on his skin as he shot through the track and the purple sky that stretched above as he performed horizontal jumps.
If Levi had been any more aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed his teammates leaving the track one by one. Maybe, he would have noticed as he started moving to the hurdles that the purple sky was slowly turning into a dark blue and the scenery around him was becoming just a little more than shadows.
It was nothing new. Levi had stayed behind to work on other skills multiple times and his coach and teammates had just learned to leave the club room open. Levi would leave an extra thirty minutes to an hour later than his companions,
At that training though, with little incentive to break away from that small bubble he had built for himself, not a lot of things could have broken his concentration. Fifteen minutes into his hurdles exercises, the distraction came. Levi was raising one leg, positioning himself to jump a hurdle when he caught a shadow from his peripherals.
Someone had been watching him in the dark.
He was alone. Or he was supposed to be alone at least.
The combination of those realizations and the exhaustion that threatened to take over Levi only caused Levi to stumble on the hurdle in front of him and fall forward onto cold ground.
“Hey! You okay?”
It was that same voice from that same conversation Levi had walked away from just an hour ago. The voice was as loud and as annoying as it was an hour ago that even when his shadow was still a good few meters away, Levi remembered how it felt with her forehead once again pressed on his and her grip on his two hands.
Levi was frozen on the ground, his body still in shock at the sudden loss of control and the whiplash of what he had just imagined.
“That looked painful.” Her voice was softer than it was a second ago. Hange put her hand on his.
Levi pulled away instinctively, and winced as his palms protested the quick action. Levi looked at his palms. In the dim light, he could see three long gashes lined up in the middle. Blood was starting to come out as well.
Levi was exhausted. The impact and the aftermath of falling on the ground, front first and the friction burns that followed, only further drained what was left of his energy.
By the time Hange helped him up by the shoulders Levi was almost motionless, the small movements he made were carefully calculated for fear of aggravating the dull pain.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
A Tale of Two Slaves
“Sorry about a while ago… People say I’m just a little too intimidating but I just get really excited about these types of things. You had such a good running form. You jump so high. You get a really good height above the hurdles… “ Hange gave him a consoling look. “Except that last one.”
Hange was closer to him than what Levi would have preferred at first. Oddly, he had gotten used to it quickly enough, particularly because he had no other choice.
The gashes on his palms were bloody and painful. With little to no means to bandage them himself, he was left to rely on the only person there and as Levi soon found out, she had problems with maintaining a comfortable social distance from people.
And she never stopped talking.
“Are the bandages too tight?” Hange asked, in between other ramblings Levi had tuned out.
“‘No.” The only words Levi had said since they had arrived in the club room fifteen minutes ago.
“Okay, let’s move on to your knees.”
Levi had not surveyed the damage himself but he guessed it was probably worse than his palms from Hange’s concerned frown.
“You’re gonna need stitches for this. The clinic probably isn’t open so you might have to go to the hospital… We could call a taxi and---”
“You’re a pre-med student, can’t you do it yourself?”
Hange blushed. “You trust me to do it?”
"A trip to the hospital will just be a waste of time." Levi admitted.
Hange rummaged deeper into the first aid kit. "This is gonna be painful though."
Better than taking a trip to the hospital now. Levi braced himself for it and decided to distract himself from the discomfort of the whole ordeal.
“How does it feel? Flying in the sky like that?” Hange asked. At that point, Hange had started to talk more purposefully, as if she wanted to get a point across to him.
Levi guessed that it was all an attempt to distract him from the mini operation she was giving him. From his angle, Levi could not see the extent of the injuries, nor did he want to. The pain was bearable, although it was still much worse than what he would have considered a discomfort.
“I’ve always wanted to take a sport like that, maybe gymnastics, maybe figure skating or track and field? That’s the closest people can get to flying right?” Hange was asking too many questions but it was obvious she was not expecting answers.
Her words flowed as smoothly as the movement of the needle and thread he could see from his angle.
Something about the way she talked to him was comforting and eventually Levi had almost completely relaxed, the pain of needle to torn skin a distant memory. He lay back on the bench and closed his eyes, focusing not on her words but instead on the familiar warm tone as she spoke.
The sensation of needle to skin, the burning pain, the dizziness that followed. They were all too familiar. All accompanied by that familiar warm voice.
Maybe we should just live here together. Right Levi?
If we keep running and hiding, what will that get us.
Hange's voice tore into his daydream. “What do you mean? Are you running from something?"
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Fall to Pieces
Rafe Cameron x Y/N
An unexpected and unnecessary part 2 to Lists, though it can be read as a stand-alone.
Y/N helps Rafe get sober after he told her what he had done. She’s conflicted because now she’s getting glimpses of a better Rafe but she can’t forget or forgive him so he makes it right the only way that he knows how.
WC: 5,308
Warning: smut, mentions of shooting the sheriff (but he did not shoot the deputy), mentions of jail, mentions of drugs and withdrawals, mentions of funerals (they think Sarah and John B are dead), spoilers, unprotected sex, mention of birth control, mentions of anger, mentions of parental unit dying/going to jail, mentions of PTSD, mentions of nightmares, y/n pulls a knife out on Barry and regrets it immediately, mentions of drugs
A/N: Hello! Thank you for taking the time to even look at this fic, I worked really long and hard on it and I had a great time writing it. It was my first time ever writing smut so if it sucks, I’m so sorry. I’m also running on no sleep because I’ve been editing this all night. That being said, I tried my best to proofread, I’m sure that there are tons of mistakes anyway. Again, thank you for reading my fic! I ended it the only way that felt right to me. Oh, and it’s inspired by Fall to Pieces by Avril Lavigne
It’s been 7 months since Rafe showed up at your door and ripped your heart out of your now gaping chest. 6 months and three weeks since his family held a funeral for his sister in which he couldn’t attend because he was going through withdrawals. 6 months since his friends and family started asking you about his whereabouts. You’ve lied to everyone you knew back on the Outer Banks, telling them that you haven’t seen him since that summer.
You’ve convinced yourself that you were okay with taking care of him even if you weren’t together but for the first three weeks while he was at his worse, every time you had to touch him, you wanted to throw up (most times you did). You just can’t help but picture him killing Peterkin, sometimes you have dreams where you see it happen and you didn’t do anything to stop it, then you’d wake up next to him and have to move to the sofa just from the disgust. Though you’re not exactly sure what really happened that day, and he wouldn’t tell you, your overactive imagination filled in the blanks for you every night for those first few weeks.
The fifth week was better, in the sense that your disgust was slowly being taken over by hate. You hated that he had put you in this situation. You hated that you allowed yourself to care enough to take care of him. You hated that you love him but most of all, you hate his father for screwing up his children so much that one would rather die than go back to him and the other couldn’t stay sober long enough to know right from wrong.
You were also able to convince your parents to help you co-sign and move into a house near the school instead of staying in the dorms. You said that it’s because of all the teens partying around you and that you couldn’t concentrate on studying but really, it’s because of the noise complaints that you’ve been getting. It’s been hell studying for finals while sleeping next to someone going through cold shakes or nightmares. You’ve told yourself multiple times that Rafe was going through withdraws while also suffering from PTSD but it didn’t make you feel any better when you started missing classes or came home to your living room completely destroyed because he had a rage fit due to the cravings. You’ve offered to send him to rehab but he wanted no trace of where he could be so you complied.
A month after getting everything straightened out, you were finally moving out. You were happy that you could go further into the city where Rafe could go out more, spend more time around other people than surround himself with his mistakes, and four walls. Though the process wore on him, you could tell that he was becoming a better person. He was more patient and understanding. It would be a lie to say that his fuse wasn’t still just as bad when someone would trigger it but it seems you’ve been doing a lot of that anyway—lying.
Seven months into living together and him finally being sober, you want to say that he reminds you of the old Rafe but he doesn’t. He’s much more mature, his sad eyes tell a story that he’s seen way too much, too soon. Some days, you wish that you could take his pain away. Other days, you wish that he’d drown in it…at least you wish you thought that.
Renting a U-Haul, and maybe to fill your own fantasy of moving in together like a normal couple in college, you had Rafe help you pack. Was it a good idea? Probably not. Most of the time you ended up yelling at him for packing the bedroom things with the living room items. When you saw him put the dishes in with the DVDs, you had banished him to the house for the rest of the day, telling him that you’d pack the kitchen away by yourself. You were happy that you’d actually done that though because it gave you the excuse to give the two of you some space. You had found yourself getting close to him again. Leaning in when you laughed, touching his arm to show him something on your phone or when you window shop. You didn’t want to give him mixed signals but how could you not when you’re confused yourself?
So, you left Rafe unpacking all the boxes of clothes and moving around the furniture while you came back and tackled the kitchen. You almost wished that you had asked him to come along just for his company but after waking up in his arms last night, groggy from being tired, you figured that it was best to put some distance between the two of you.
A soft knocking sounded from your door and the smile that appeared on your face should’ve been criminal. You were almost too happy to see him. You couldn’t—wouldn’t let yourself forget what he did, though it was hard to remember when you’ve never seen Rafe in that state. Pushing your thoughts aside for the millionth time, you yanked the door open, your smile immediately dropping. You tried to shut the door as quickly as you opened it but a hand lands in the middle of the door and pushes it open the rest of the way.
“Now, that’s no way to greet an old friend,” Barry said, as condescending as ever.
“You’ve lost that title the minute you started selling drugs,” you narrowed your eyes at him.
He was right. Barry and you go way back, back before you were considered a “kook”, before you even knew what it meant to be a part of figure 8. Well, technically your moms go way back. You two were destined to be friends since you’ve come out of the womb. You shared secrets, scars, heartbreaks, skinned knees, all the same. You held him when his mom died and invited him over to your place every single day, unknowingly introducing him to his future clients. Your mom loved him like a child and if you ate, he ate. Until, of course, you started dating Rafe at fifteen and Barry started finding new friends. About a year later, the friendship was over. One night you walked in on him selling drugs to Rafe. You told them both that you wanted nothing to do with either of them if Barry kept selling and Rafe kept distributing but neither of them listened. Barry continued selling but stopped coming around, breaking your mother’s heart. As for Rafe, well, we know that story.
“Yes, of course. Big, bad, naughty, Barry,” he rolled his eyes and though his words had a hint of humor, his eyes did not. He shoved past you and made his way inside your apartment.
“What do you want?” You said in a clipped tone, eyeing his figure to see if he has any visible weapons on him or not because last time he showed up at your apartment, he was not so kind.
“Rafe,” Barry said matter of factly with a bright smile. As if he wasn’t talking about someone who supposedly dropped off the face of the earth seven months ago.
You stared at him and shrugged, “your guess is as good as mine.”
“Y/n, I’m not going to ask you twice and I don’t exactly do well to being lied to, where is Rafe?” He leaned against the refrigerator with his arms crossed in front of his chest, eyeing you.
“I haven’t seen him,” you lied through gritted teeth. You backed yourself into your kitchen, feeling comfort that there was an exit behind you while Barry was in your line of sight.
“Baby, if you only knew what he’s done, you wouldn’t be protecting him right now,” Barry chuckled as he took a step towards you, “he owes me a debt and I’ve given him long enough. Now, I’m here to collect. Listen, it’s either me or the SBI, it’s your choi-,” he didn’t have the time to finish before you found your hand wrapped around your kitchen knife bringing the blade down on the sink beside you.
You tried to speak between breaths, “Stop it! Stop!”
Barry’s irritating smile has finally dropped from his face. His hands out in front of him as if he was prepared for you to lose it and charge at him...and maybe you might. At this point, you’re not really sure what you planned to do. You just needed to protect Rafe.
“He’s mine,” you breathe out a declaration you haven’t let left your lips since the night of Rafe’s confession, “you don’t get to take him, the SBI doesn’t get to take him, fucking death doesn’t get to take him from me without my permission. Now, get the fuck out of my apartment right now because I do not know where he is and if I did, I would never tell you,” you said with an eerie calm washing over you. You keep taking steps toward Barry who hasn’t moved back once.
“Come at me, baby, I have nothing to lose,” Barry said with his arms at his side, faking vulnerability while his shifty eyes were telling another story.
“Yes, you do,” you assured him, “We both do, but the difference between us is that I’m willing to lose it all. Are you?”
“You think I’m going to just forget what his little sister did? She stole from me. Now I have leverage over my best seller— my best thief, and you want me to let that slide because a chick with a knife who can’t even keep it steady enough to point at me wants to threaten me? I’ll come back every single day if I have to.”
“His little sister is dead, haven’t you heard? Her and John B got washed away in the storm and you still have the nerve to talk about her? You can come back every day if you want to. I’ll give you the keys to the place. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t live here anymore.” You gestured toward the empty living room and the boxes beside the two of you.
For the first time, Barry let his guard down long enough to take a look around the apartment.
“I left him,” you continued your half-lie. You did leave Rafe, at your new house, “when I found out what happened, I left him and I couldn’t handle being on campus where I knew he could find me,” where you knew anyone else could find him, “so I’m leaving.” You shrugged, feigning indifference. Setting the knife down on the sink as if that wasn’t the most insane thing that you’ve ever done. You dug into your purse. “Here’s something for your troubles, yeah?” Your mother always told you to have cash on you and finally, it has come in handy, you pulled around about three grand, almost 1/3 of what you got for selling your car.
“Take it,” you shoved the money against his chest. With no hesitation Barry’s clammy hands landed on yours, pressing both your hand and the money against his chest. The contact instantly brought you back from your previous panic. You couldn’t even believe that you had pulled a knife out on him, what were you even going to do with it? It’s not like you were…it’s not like you were Rafe. At the realization, you met Barry’s eyes with so much sadness, “this is the last thing I’m going to do for you, Barry. For your mom, I hope you can get a real job one day,” you said sincerely.
“Always had a thing for the bad boys, huh, y/n?” Barry said, the joking tone in his voice disappearing as he took the money from underneath your palm, letting your hand fall.
“Just the lost ones,” you admitted, “goodbye, Barry.”
He pocketed the cash, giving you one last look before turning around and leaving you to the boxes.
The house was surprisingly mostly unpacked, except for the two new boxes that you had brought back with you, though in your defense, you didn’t have a lot of things to begin with. After a long-needed shower—more so on Rafe’s part since you left him to do the grunt work all day, you had fixed up dinner for the both of you.
Something had shifted inside of you since the talk with Barry. You could no longer ignore your feelings now that they’re right in your face but you’re still so conflicted. You love Rafe. You love him so much and he’s sober and trying for the first time. You’re seeing him in a new light but today, after picking up that knife, you can’t get over the horrible things that he’s done and it’s tearing you apart inside.
From the archway of the kitchen, you can’t help but look at the boy on your sofa. He’s probably watching some dumb show, his long legs stretched out in front of him while he’s nursing a bottle of water, the sadness in his eyes looking more and more permanent. Your fists clenched up beside you as tears threaten to fall as you made your way in front of him. You can’t count the number of times you’ve seen him like this, the number of times you’ve fantasized about him like this but with your children crawling all over him as you’d laugh and sip a cup of coffee. Now that’s really all it’ll be, a fantasy.
Rafe had set the bottle on the coffee table in front of him as if sensing a confrontation coming on and it fueled your anger even more. You hated that he knew you so well and that you two were so well connected that you could both feel the shift of the energy between the two of you without saying one word. You finally made it in front of him, your knees touching, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his.
He waited, looking back at you as your tears fell from your face and his hands twitched like he wanted to reach out towards you but thought better of it.
“I hate you,” you said pathetically as your shoulders slumped. You angrily wiped away your tears as you shook your head at him. The boy who once was your dream. Rafe didn’t even flinch at your words, he knew it already. He hoped that you’d change your mind about him but he knew from the very first night that things would never be the same.
Without saying a word, Rafe reached for your fists, kissing your knuckles knowing that you’d never use them against him. As if apologizing for even causing you to form them.
“I hate you so much and I can’t forgive you for what you did; I’ve tried,” you said through your tears, “but I also love you so much,” you whispered your confession. His head snapping up at you, searching for your lies and finding none.
Before you could even think, one of his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you down to straddle him as the other came up to your face, forcing you to now look up at him.
“You still love me?” Rafe finally spoke, brushing away a few of your tears with the pad of his thumb.
“I’ve always loved you but you make me hate you,” you said as you leaned your face against his palm, missing the feeling of intimacy with him.
It was almost like something had changed within him, as if he was arguing with himself and finally made up his mind when he leaned in closer to your face, his lips brushing against yours, “Don’t. Tonight just, just love me, okay?”
How could you say no to that? You nodded and it takes him all but a second for his lips to touch yours, knowing that the minute you gave him an inch, he’d take a mile.
The kiss was electric. It was something that you had no idea you were even craving until his were on yours and you couldn’t get enough. Your tongue swiped at his lower lip, taking it in between your teeth and giving him a soft bite, using his gasp as an invitation for your tongue to enter his mouth. Rafe didn’t deny you as his hands worked his way to your hips that’s been subconsciously rocking against his. You worked your hands up his shirt, lingering on his abs, feeling them expand and contract with every breath he takes before removing your lips from his just to pull off his shirt.
Heavenly. It was the only word that came to your mind when you looked at his body. Rafe didn’t give you much time to marvel at the sculpted figure that is his body before pulling your face towards his again, “fuck, y/n,” Rafe breathe and it sent a shiver down your spine. You can already feel the wetness pooling between your legs, knowing full well that the thin layer of your pajama pants is doing nothing but allowing him to feel it, too. Just like how you can feel him grow underneath you, making you whimper when you rock against him the right way. You made your way down his neck, kissing and biting him, marking him like you were teenagers again. Rafe growled at you when you bit a little bit too hard into his shoulder.
“Y/n, baby,” Rafe rasped, trying to get your attention but it was useless, “princess,” he said almost inaudible as you were about to rub out your own orgasm against him. Suddenly, his hand came down hard on your backside, and instead of yelping, you moaned for him to go harder which all but caused him to pull you away from him. Your arms suddenly empty and your chest heaving, you looked at Rafe’s plump lips and eyes that are dark with desire. He stood up and didn’t waste a moment, he allowed you to jump onto him, supporting your weight with his arms around you.
You quickly yanked off your top, allowing your breast to press up against him when you wrap your arms around his neck, “I need you,” you admitted against his neck. More than he knew. In more ways than he could give but for now, you could accept him like this. You felt your back slam against the wall as he fists your hair in his hands, forcing your head back so he could kiss your neck and leave some marks of his own. By the time he reached your bed, you needed your release. He had set you down on the bed, almost too gently. You reached for his pants but his fingers wrapped around your wrist, “I want to taste you first,” he said with what you thought was supposed to be a smile but he was already preoccupying himself with pulling off your shorts. You were almost sure that he moaned just by the sight of your spread legs as if he hadn’t already seen you like this a hundred times.
You laid back and spread your legs further, reaching for his head with his hand but instead he interlocked his fingers with yours saying, “don’t rush me, princess, I want to remember this.” It felt like an eternity before you felt his lips on your inner thigh, causing your body to shudder. Slowly, you felt his tongue delve into you, flicking your clit just right enough for you to buck your hips against him. He wrapped his lips around your clit as his tongue worked it just the way you liked until your nails are leaving marks on him as you scream, “Yes, Rafe, right there, please don’t stop!” Your words along with your moans, giving him the confidence that he still remembers how to make you cum; and you did. Hard. You could’ve sworn that you went cross-eyed for a moment as your thighs attempted to shut around his head. He brought his hands up to hold them back as he continued, bringing on another shaking orgasm.
“I need you in me, Rafe,” you said as this point, almost delirious but you needed the closeness. “I need you to fuck me like you just—like you hate me,” you said but you weren’t sure if you meant it. Granted, in your state, you’d take him any way that he’d come but you just thought back to all the times you’d slept with him in that last month before everything went to shit. When he was at his worst with drugs that most times, he couldn’t get it up, and when he could, it would be rough and fast.
Rafe crawled up your body, using his thumb to wipe his lower lip and then sucking it clean, causing your eyes to flutter. You pushed down his pants until they were around his knees and he kicked them all the way off himself but he didn’t pounce on you and started drilling you. He almost seemed…hesitant.
“I know you hate me but I don’t,” Rafe started, slowly as he began inserting himself into you, inch by inch, “I can’t fuck you like I used to right now. I can’t fuck you like I’m angry, I need to-,” he stopped himself with a moan as you clenched around him, “I just need you to fuck you like you love me okay?” He rasped, looking more vulnerable then you’ve ever seen him. You nodded, grabbing a hold of his hair as you wrapped your legs around him, you kissed him deeply before looking at him in his eyes, “I love you Rafe,” you breathe and that was all it took for him to lose his control.
After basically wrestling around in the sheets, you both came multiple times. Each time with whispers of promises of forever that you both knew was just something said in the heat of the moment. When you both felt spent, though not nearly having enough of each other, Rafe had gotten up to go to the bathroom and get a wet cloth to come and clean you up. You haven’t been this reckless since you two were sixteen and had a pregnancy scare, so you were thanking the heavens for your birth control right now.
Rafe had put the towel away in the bathroom again but didn’t bother to put on his clothes as he laid next to you in bed. You rested your head against his chest as his finger started trailing your spine.
“I saw Barry today,” you said suddenly.
“Yeah?” Rafe tensed, pulling you closer to him as if he could protect you, “What did he want?”
“Other than a trip down memory lane?” you offered, “you.”
Rafe didn’t say a word as he kissed the top of your head and you drifted off to sleep.
The sun was evil, you were sure of it. The blinding light had awakened you and all you tried to do was burrow deeper into the hard body next to you. Only except, the body wasn’t there. Blindly, you reached out beside you, almost in a panic when you couldn’t feel anything other than the cold sheets, indicating that it has been vacant for some time. You finally opened your eyes and sat up; your body deliciously sore but you couldn’t even enjoy that right now. You walked into the living room, naked as the day you born, only to see a small duffel bag by the door.
“Rafe?” You called out, only to have him appear from the kitchen with an orange juice in his hand. He took a look at you and his eyes lingered on your body, the marks that he left on you. The marks you left on his neck and chest, obvious as well, but you couldn’t concentrate on that, “I can’t believe you,” you spat out as you turned on your heel and made your way back into the bedroom.
You didn’t make it past the door frame before Rafe’s arm snaked around you and pressed your back to his front, his lips coming down to your ear, “stop,” he said, his tone was almost like an order but you knew it was a plea, “whatever it is that’s going on in that head of yours, stop it.”
You turned around in his arms, willing yourself not to cave when his face was inches from yours. Willing yourself not to cry when his bag is inches away from the door, “you’re leaving me,” you stated.
“I’m not leaving you,” Rafe corrected, “last night was just…amazing but it did remind me that being sober isn’t the only thing that I had to get done. I have loose ends, y/n. I have things that I need to make right. So, yes, I am leaving but do not think for a second that I’m leaving because of you. I’m alive because of you.”
“Nice speech,” you said bitterly, crossing your arms across your chest as you stepped out of his grasp, “you’re leaving right after we had sex. It’s still a douchebag move to make.”
“Y/n, I told you. I had a realization. Trust me, if I didn’t-,” he stopped himself, watching you as you pulled his shirt over your head, “if I didn’t have to go, I wouldn’t but I need to like, I don’t know. Clear my head or find myself or whatever the fuck it is. I need to go back to my dad and show my face. Fuck, I need to visit Sarah’s grave.”
“And you can’t do all of that with me? Here I am again, re-arraigning my whole life for you and Rafe Cameron can’t eve-,” he cut you off by lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around his waist. His kiss was hard and bruising.
“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe parroted the line he said seven months ago, only this time, he whispered it with a smile ghosting around his lips.
“I love you,” he said as he caressed your face with one hand, the other still holding you up, “I love you and you do not fully love me like before. I can see it in your eyes, princess. We laugh and we might’ve fucked yesterday but it does not change anything. You don’t trust me so I need to go and make things right, okay? You told me that I needed to love myself before you can be with me again, before you can love me again. So, that’s what I’m going to do. Okay?” he said as he set you down on your feet again.
You nodded, you understood. You weren’t dumb enough to think he’d stay here forever anyway, no matter how much you took care of him and he was right. There are still days where you can’t look at him and having sex last night might’ve made it clear where you both stood with each other but it doesn’t change the fact that sometimes you still hated him-you were just too drunk off sex to act on it.
“Yeah. Okay,” was all you could say. Though you gripped onto his hand like a child as he walked to the front door, picking his bag off the floor and effortlessly resting the strap on his shoulder. He turned to you and reached into his pocket, leaving a small gold chain necklace in the palm on your hand. A lame replacement for his own hand, you thought, but you willed yourself not to grab onto him again.
“Thank you. For literally everything. For changing your whole life for me. For stopping everything. No amount of thank you will ever be enough,” Rafe said sincerely and though it looks like he wants to, he doesn’t kiss you.
“Will I see you again?” You asked, your voice small. You gripped the necklace to your chest.
“I don’t know. But I fucking hope so, y/n,” Rafe said before turning around and walking out of your door.
Epilogue
“It’s been two years, dad,” you fidget on the bar stool in your parent’s house, you were finally back in the Outer Banks for the first time since Sarah’s funeral. A small simple gold chain hangs from your neck. You don’t remember the last time you took it off.
“A lot of things have changed, y/n. He might not be who he was anymore,” your dad warned, his eyes trained on yours and even though you know he meant that maybe Rafe isn’t like the boy you fell in love with when you were fifteen, all you wished for was that he wasn’t like the boy he was when he was nineteen.
You held up your glass of water, as if you’re making a toast, “then here’s to changes,” you smiled as your dad shook his head.
When Rafe had left your house, two years ago, he had come back to the Outer Banks like a boy on a mission. You weren’t exactly sure what had happened but rumor has it, he reached out to JJ, Kiara, and Pope to help put his father in prison. From there, they had recruited the help from Mrs. Lana Grubbs, who somehow had enough information to put Ward away for good. Of course, in the midst of getting his father in jail, he had to come clean about his involvement in the murder of Sheriff Peterkin—something that should’ve been a capital offense, but with the help of a very good lawyer (thanks dad) and being involved in the arrest of Ward Cameron, it was brought down to voluntary manslaughter. Rumor also had it that Ward Cameron could’ve gotten away, he could have stuck to his original story, seems like the police bought it anyway but once he heard that Rafe was basically selling himself out for this, he complied, knowing that his son would get less time. By all means, Ward was not a good father and even a worse excuse of a man but you’d like to believe that that was his way of telling Rafe that he loved him enough to do this, especially since he’s lost Sarah.
You sat outside of the prison, in your car. You saw the barb wires and the guards and almost got cold feet. You wrapped your hands tightly around the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white and took a deep breath. You didn’t know why you were so nervous but you felt like if you exit your car, you’d turn into a puddle of goo. After a couple of breathing exercises, you’ve gathered enough courage to walk up to the gate, giving the officer your ID, hoping that you’re still on Rafe’s visitations list. After a couple of minutes, just enough to make you sweat, they led you back to a room. Metal chairs had lined up against the glass, a phone at the side of each divider.
Reminding yourself to breathe, you sat down on the cold steel. You picked up the phone, eager to hear Rafe’s voice. As the rows of inmates started filling up each seat, sitting in front of their loved ones, your eyes searched for him. All the orange jumpsuits looking the same but then you felt it. That connection, that energy that you once shared with this man who was once the love of your life and now almost a stranger. He sat down across from you as you looked up at him, a grin painted on his face, and for the first time in a while, his smile reaches his eyes, “hey princess.”
tags: @millyelliot @snkkat
#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x y/n#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron#drew starkey#HAAAAAAA DID I SLEEP? NO#DID I CRY? YEH#FUCK THIS IS LONG#outer banks#my drabbles#outerbanks#outer banks fic#outerbanks fic#my writing
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Idk if this has been sent before but imagine like baker jin and forgetful y/n like she needs to get a cake for yoongi asap bc she forgot his bday and jin is completely okay w working at supersonic speed for this cute little teary eyed person who seems to be in big trouble
➺ pairing; kim seokjin x reader
➺ genre; baker!jin duh, fluffier than jin’s popular angel food cake!! jin and y/n are a couple of cuties :’)
➺ wordcount: 3.9k
➺ what to expect; “okay! that’s easy. a birthday cake is doable! see? nothing to get teary-eyed over, darling!”
➺ note; i’m not going to lie the one thing that motivated me to finALLy write this request was the phrase ‘cute little teary-eyed person’ i am soFT! I AM SOFT! okay bye i love baker!jin
»»————- 🍰 ————-««
you’ve been sitting in your car for the past twenty minutes trying to remember what exactly it was that namjoon asked you to do for yoongi’s birthday
you know it wasn’t to get everyone to sign his birthday card because that was your job lasT year and also jungkook is in charge of that this year because last week he literally asked you to sign yoongi’s card
and it definitely wasn’t to decorate the venue because namjoon always takes care of that (because he likes things done a certain way and doesn’t trust anyone else with the important job of whEre to place the balloons)
and it also wasn’t to wrap his birthday gifts because according to jimin your wrapping skills are awful and you have the cutting skills of a toddler using those play scissors
it certainly wasn’t to pick yoongi up from his apartment because if that was your job then yoongi would be in the car with you right now (it’s hoseok’s job this year)
and taehyung was the one who curated the invite list aNd took care of the music playlist so you know that wasn’t your job either
so what… in the world… did namjoon ask you to do?
your memory has always been pretty shitty so you probably should’ve written it down
actually you dID technically write it down the day namjoon asked you to take care of it because you remember vividly using your pen and writing it on the back of your hand and then you remember namjoon scolding you and delving into a lecture about the dangers of ink poisoning
but then you washed your hands
and once it was wiped away from your hand it was wiped away from your memory
and that was two weeks ago
so now
here you are
in the parking lot of the venue (you guys are celebrating yoongi’s suRPRISE party at his favourite video game arcade) sitting in your car in complete silence hoping that whatever task you were supposed to complete will just naturally come to you
the party starts at 8 and it’s 7 right now so you still have an hour left to think
you came early to help namjoon set up but then the whole ‘i feel like i’m forgetting something’ thought creeped into your mind and now here you are
and you’re a little afraid to go in and ask namjoon about your mystery task because you feel like he’s going to skin you alive if he finds out that you have noT completed the mystery task
but then again he’s namjoon and namjoon wouldn’t hurt a fly!!!! he’s a sweetie pie!!!
hm
whatever your task is it probably wasn’t that important because namjoon should know better than to send you off with completing something that is integral to the success of yoongi’s surprise party
“you have three seconds to tell me that you’re kidding before i actually lose it.” namjoon presses his lips together before exhaling slowly
okay
so
quick breakdown of what happened after you decided to leave the safety of your car
you came in
said hello to everyone
complimented jimin’s gift-wrapping skills
snuck one of the mini cheeseburger off the foods table
asked tae if he could add dancing queen on the playlist because no party is complete without some ABBA
snuck a mini corndog off the foods table
and then wandered over to a busy namjoon to say hi but before you could say hi namjoon asked you where ‘it’ was, to which you responded with “what… what is ‘it’?”
“by it, i mean the birthday cake. yoongi’s birthday cake. yoongi’s birthday cake that you were supposed to take care of this year because of the revolving system that i- y/n, i need you to say something and stOP staring at me like you don’t know what i’m talking about-“
“oh, the birthday cake!” you snap your fingers before putting your hands on your hips “god, thanks for clearing that up for me. i was literally scratching my head over it for like an hour.”
well there we go!
the mystery has been solved!!!
now you know what namjoon asked you to do for yoongi’s birthday
you were supposed to get his birthday cake!
…
…
…hollup
the smile immediately drops from your face
YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GET YOONGI’S BIRTHDAY CAKE
“oh my- oh my goD-“ your eyes practically pop out of their sockets when it finally registers that you were supposed to order a custom birthday cake for yoongi and you definitely did noT order anything for yoongi
“y/n, i asked you to do one thing-!” namjoon groans and throws his hands up into the air
“i know, i know!!!!! it’s okay, i’ll fix this!” you reassure as you rummage through your purse for your car keys “what flavour should i get??? classic birthday cake?? lemon curd??”
“lem- leMON CUR- oh my GOD i want to hurl you into the middle of a busy intersection-“ namjoon feels like he’s about to have a stroke christ almiGHTY
LEMON CURD????
yoongi’s not turning EIGHTY
“lemon curd??” your voice is turning piTchy and that’s an indicator that you are PANICKING “was that a yes for lemon cur-“
you freeze in fear when namjoon suddenly reaches forward and squiSHes your face in between his hand
“shut up and listen to the words that are about to come out of my mouth.” he says lowly and you swallow thickly before nodding
you’re not sure if you like this namjoon
“a four layer cake. alternating layers of chocolate cake and confetti cake. light blue buttercream frosting in between the layers. dark blue buttercream frosting all around. black sprinkles around the cake - not the top, just around the cake, it’s crucial that there are no sprinkles on the top. in black buttercream frosting, ‘happy birthday yoongi’ in block letters.” he almost growls and you feel like your heart is about to fall out of your ass
if anything will teach you to nevEr forget anything again it’ll be this version of namjoon
he’s like bridezilla except instead of a bride he’s a self appointed party planner
“four layers. chocolate. confetti. light blue in between. dark blue all around. black sprinkles all around, not on top. happy birthday yoongi. block letters. black letters. block black letters??” you probably look like a crazy person muttering things to yourself as you huStle back to your car
namjoon said that if you don’t get back to the party with a custom birthday cake by the time the clock strikes 9:00 he’ll kill you and you beLIEVE him
since you’re not going to be there when the party starts jimin said he’ll come up with some buLLshit excuse about you running late so that yoongi doesn’t get too suspicious about your whereabouts
he mentioned that he didn’t really want a cake this year but all of you know how much yoongi loves cake
and you love seeing him make that ‘i’m pretending i’m surprised but in reality i knew this was going to happen all along’ face
it’s so cute!!
you slam the front door shut and hurry to buckle yourself in as you type ‘custom birthday cakes near me’ on google maps
it’s fine! you’ll be fine
you wiLL definitely be able to find some bakery to put together a suPER last minute custom birthday cake
more specifically, a four layer cake with alternating layers of chocolate cake and confetti cake slathered with blue buttercream frosting and covered with sprinkles around it (not on top! just around! very important!) and also it should say ‘happy birthday yoongi!’ and the writing should be in chunky letters using black buttercream frosting
“why do bakeries close so early???” you wonder out loud as you continue to scroll through the results
literally everything is closed
if there’s one thing you’ve learned from this it’s that bakers are noT night owls
c’mon come oN
you’ll take anything at this point
you nearly scream in joy when you see that there’s one bakery that a) specialises in custom cakes and b) is still open for another thirty minutes and c) is not that far from you!!!!
according to google the place called sweet kimfecjins
oh dear god
what the heLL kind of a name is that???
whA-
and it is far from you!!!! it’s a twenty minute drive away from you!!!
under these circumstances that’s not close at aLL
you need a place that’s at the most thirty seconds away from you (you are noT kidding you really need this cake right here right now)
what other options are there
well
there’s a mcdonald’s near you
maybe you can just buy a bunch of those apple pies and use the oreo mcflurries to glue them all together to buiLD a cake
sure, it’s literally the farthest thing from what namjoon told you to get, but it’s a cake!!!!!
…okay you can’t do that to yoongi
if you were presented with an apple-pie-mcflurry nightmare as a birthday cake you would be pretty bummed out
so this means one thing
sweet kimfecjins here we come
surprisingly enough you make it to the bakery in twelve minutes time without running any red lights oR running any pedestrians over
you did honk at a couple crossing the street but you made sure to shoot them an apologetic smile
they still flipped you off but the point is you made it to the bakery with like fifteen minutes left to spare until they close up for the night
and-
“oh- oh no- nonONoOnONONO-“ your eyes are as wide as saucers as you practically slam yourself up against the glass doors right as the (presumable) owner is flipping the sign to ‘closed’ “oh, please- please, google said that you’re not closing for like another fifteen minutes, please, you haVe to help me i nEED a cake-“
namjoon is going to have your head on a stick if you don’t get this cake so you are going to have to beg like you’ve never begged before
jin sighs to himself as he watches the clock tick tock tick tock
it’s been a slow day today
he had a couple people in this afternoon but they only bought like one strawberry turnover to share in between the two of them
who shaRES one single strawberry turnover???
psychopaths, that’s who
and also he had some tourists come in and they bought a box of his carrot cake cupcakes so that was pretty good
he also managed to convince them to buy another box of red velvet cupcakes >:-) it was actually pretty easy because he just had to flirt with the two girls and they immediately were like okAY more cupcakes won’t hurt
…what???
he has to make a living!!!
yoU would do the same if you had to make money
but other than that business has been a little slow
last week he had a bachelorette party cake request and he spent five hours moulding a penis out of fondant so that was pretty exciting
they even gave him a bonus tip because they said it looked very realistic
what can he say?? his hands are magical
but now he’s bored out of his mind and honestly he wouldn’t even mind if he got another request for a penis cake
he just wants to maKE something!!!
he made a couple cakes this morning and put them in the display cases hoping to lure people in to buy them but they’ve been untouched!! so he’s just going to pack up all the leftovers of the day and deliver it to the food bank
hopefully they’ll enjoy all his delicious treats.,.., that they’re getting for free.,,.., even though he would much rather prefer getting compensated for his hard work
do you SEE how beautifully braided the puff pastry is for his apple tarts???????
since no one seems to be buying baked goods at this hour jin decided to close up a little earlier tonight
he’s going to clean up a little bit and do some prepping for tomorrow (his secret to the best chocolate chip cookies is chilling the dough overnight) and then he’s going to pack up all the leftovers and deliver them and thEn he’s finally going to go home and maybe order some dinner or something
as he flips the sign to ‘closed’, he-
“jeSUS fuCJK-“ jin jumps thirty feet in the air when someone suddenly slams up against the glass doors
goD
“oh- oh no- nonONoOnONONO- oh, please- please, google said that you’re not closing for like another fifteen minutes, please, you haVe to help me i nEED a cake-“
thank god the doors are locked because whoever you are you seem INSANE
“i’m sorry, i’m closing up for the night!” jin replies and gives you a shrug “come back tomorrow! i open at 7am sharp-“ jin immediately stops talking when he notices your eyes starting to well up with tears
oh god
he didn’t mean to make you cry!!
why are you crying????
is 7am not early enough for you??
“i- um, i mean i guess i could open at 6:30 but to be honest i might pass out while frosting your cake that early because my beauty sleep is-“
“no, you don’t understand- it’s my friend’s birthday tonight a-and we’re throwing him a surprise party and i was supposed to get the cake for him because that was the task that namjoon- he’s another one of my friends - that he assigned to me but i- well, i wrote it down on my hand but then i washed my hands and then i kinda forgot about it but that was two weeks ago and now i have to get yoongi - that’s the birthday boy - i have to get him his special cake otherwise namjoon’s going to be so upset with me and-“ your mouth is running like a motor and jin can barely keep up with this story because you keep throwing in new details and also it’s hard to hear you through the glass
something something birthday cake something surprise party something bukjoon something something
okay
you know what
you made a fair point
he iS technically still open so he’ll let you in
(and also you’re…,,. kind of cute so there’s that)
a fat tear threatens to roll down your cheek as you continue to blubber and jin holds a finger up
you immediately shut up and jin offers you a smile before opening the door “i’ll help you if you stop crying.”
you nod quickly and reach up to wipe at your drippy eyes
your nose has gone a little pink and your eyes are glossy and jin can’t help but find that even moRe endearing
“now - what did you need?” jin asks calmly as he leads you towards the front counter
“a birthday cake.” you sniffle before clearing your throat
“okay! that’s easy. a birthday cake is doable!” jin claps his hands together after he makes his way behind the counter “see? nothing to get teary-eyed over, darling!”
okay woAh
he’s not sure where the pet-name came from
it just rolled off his tongue so naturally!!!
you hiccup and your nose twitches and jin feels his heart pit-a-pat in his chest
o boy
“but i- it has to be four layers and it has to be chocolate confetti chocolate confetti and then i need blue- light blue buttercream frosting in between the layers and… and i think dark blue buttercream around- or maybe it’s dark blue in between and light blue around-“ you start to ramble again and jin’s eyes widen
chRist
this birthday cake might not be that doable after all
usually he just has to write ‘happy birthday ____!’ on top of a cake and maybe make some pretty frosting roses on top and that’s it
“how about-“ jin interrupts you agAin with a gentle smile, “how about i get you a pen and paper and you can list out all the requirements for this special cake? in the meantime, i’ll heat up a cup of my homemade strawberry milk for you and- are you a fruit person or a chocolate person?”
“chocolate?” you pull a chair out from a table and drag it over so that you’re sitting right by the front counter “i like milk chocolate.”
“lucky for you, i use milk chocolate for my chocolate mousse cake. do you like whipped cream?” jin asks as he slides a notepad and pen over to you
you nod before offering him a shy smile
okay
so far so good
your cake actually isn’t that complicated! it just has a loT of different pieces that have to be put together
and it’s a good thing jin still has some pans of cake that he baked this morning (usually he bakes the cakes in the morning and then lets them rest for the night and then he frosts them the neXt morning so that it’s ready for his customers)
unfortunately he didn’t have any confetti cake so instead he replaced it with plain vanilla cake and then in the blue frosting he threw in a whole handful of sprinkles
and the buttercream frosting is easy to make because he makes them by the buCket so all he had to do was dump food dye in it
and he knows about your time limit so he’s working as quickly as possible
he really wants to strike up a conversation with you but a) he needs to focus and b) for some reason he can’t seem to turn his usual boyish charm on with you because you seem so… delicate?
and you seem to have calmed down from earlier
you’re still working through the chocolate mousse cake and-
jin’s lips press together in a poor attempt to suppress his smile when he notices whipped cream on the corner of your mouth
you seem to be enjoying the cake which is a good thing
“this whipped cream is like, really good-“ you look over at jin (you asked for his name when he first started putting the cake together and just like that the name of his bakery suddenly made sense) ((and now that you think about it it’s actually a pretty clever name so braVo to him!!)) “what brand is it from?”
“oh, it’s- i actually make my own whipped cream, so it’s my own recipe.” jin smiles proudly and stands up a little straighter
“what do you put in here that makes it so good??” you wonder out loud as you scrape some off the top of the cake before sucking it off your pointer finger
“it’s easy, i pretty much just-“ jin suddenly stops whipping the frosting before narrowing his eyes at you playfully “actually, that’s for me to know and for you to nEver find out. how do i know you’re not from some rival bakery??”
“-if i was from a rival bakery i think i’d probably be able to make this cake on my own. instead i came to you and started crying when you said you were closed for the night.” you raise a brow before narrowing your eyes baCk at jin
“touché.” jin snorts as he starts to pipe the message on the top of the cake “so, um-“ he clears his throat and glances over at you briefly “this yoongi - he’s your boyfriend, you said?”
“yoongi?” you laugh lightly before shaking your head, “no, no way. yoongi is not my boyfriend. god, that’d be…. nO, yoongi is not my boyfriend.” you wipe your mouth with a napkin before dropping it on the plate
“right, right- and namjoon is-“
“namjoon is dEFINitely not my boyfriend- i don’t have a boyfriend, so-“ you lean back against the chair as you watch jin slowly piping out yoongi’s name
“ah, i see, i see.” jin nods in understanding
a moment of silence goes by
…he doesn’t know how to continue this conversation
when did he get so awKWARd at flirting????
maybe if he tries to sell you a box of cupcakes like he did with those tourists he’ll become charming again
“do you have a- is there, like, a mrs sweet kimfecjins-“
…and it’s just hitting him that yoU seem to be just as awkward as him when it comes to subtle flirting
“well, if you play your cards right you might just end up with that title, darling.”
your cheeks immEDiately go bright red and jin can’t help but smirk to himself
he’s still got it
“thank you so much for doing this at the last minute, you’re a literal life saver-“ you gush as you dig through your purse for your wallet
there are approximately 18 minutes left until the clock strikes niNE so if you drive as crazily as you did when getting hEre then you should make it back to the party before namjoon gets the chance to bite your head off
“oh, you know what?” jin shakes his head as he makes sure the cake is secure in the box “you can just take the cake - i feel like you’ve been through enough, so this one’s on me.”
“what?? no, i can’t do that to you! it’s such a nice cake!! i can’t just take it-“
“how about-“ jin stops you before you can get into another one of your five minute rambles (you seem to do that a lot) “how about in return for the cake, you let me take you out on a date?”
you blink owlishly at him and jin beams when he sees colour rising to the apples of your cheeks once again
“you- you want to take me out on a date?”
“the journey to becoming mrs sweet kimfecjins has to start somEwhere-“ jin jokes lightly before shaking his head “if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, but i’m still going to give you the cake on the hous-“
“no, i want to!” you blurt out a little toO enthusiastically before clearing your throat and rEELing it way back “i mean- yeah, a date sounds nice… or whatever.”
“or whatever?” jin teases as he slides the box over to you “i wrote my cell number on the back of the receipt, so… text me, or whatever. let me know when you’re free and we can sort something out.”
good lord
jin seems to know the way to a woman’s stomach aND her heart
‘i scrape fresh vanilla beans into the whipped cream - that’s what makes it so yummy! there’s also another ingredient but i’ll tell you what it is on our date. see you soon, darling. -your favourite very super unbelievably handsome baker, jin’
help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)
requested drabbles masterlist
#requested drabbles#jin drabbles#jin fics#jin fic recs#jin writing#jin fluff#jin fluff recs#jin#kim seokjin#seokjin fics#seokjin fic recs#seokjin fluff#bts#bts fics#bts fic recs#bts drabbles#bts fluff recs#bts fluff#bts smut#bts smut recs#jin smut recs#bts jin#bts seokjin#bts au#seokjin au#kim seokjin au#jin au#jin x reader#seokjin x reader#reader insert
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REACTING TO S/O WITH SOCIAL ANXIETY
↳ pairing: bokuto kotarou x gn!reader, iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader
↳ genre; fluff
↳ tw/cw: (social) anxiety, mention of insecurities
a/n: hiii omg first post ???!??!?//- kinda new to this “fic writing” scene so sorry if my writing seems inconsistent with the grammar n shit… anyway i love reading these types of scenarios/one-shots ahh it comforts me sm hahaha. social anxiety is something I personally deal with and I just felt like writing what i’d think the hq boys would do with a s/o also dealing with this. hope y'all like it! :)
Bokuto
He didn’t really find out about your social anxiety until a few months into your relationship.
While knowing you for about six years, you were pretty good at concealing your anxiety at school and other social events, so nobody could really tell.
His ass noticed you pursing your lips while nibbling on the inside of your cheeks while in a long ass line for the cafe you guys had been waiting in for over 15 minutes.
You noticed the street was extra crowded today for some reason, with many people walking past you guys and giving you weird stares.
You assumed it was probably of the short, flowy dress you were wearing that exposed a lot of your legs and thighs.
You were hesitant about wearing it out, but Bokuto claimed how it looked really good on you and eventually convinced you to wear it.
You started feeling a heavy sensation in your chest as your breathing became deeper.
You looked around nervously while starting to aggressively chew on the inside of your cheeks.
Bokuto thought you were trying to make the toddlers behind you laugh by making weird faces at them (himbo moment).
As you were about to explain to him what was on your mind, he eventually caught on.
“Ugh, I don’t know Bo…” you sighed hesitantly while examining yourself in the mirror.
“Babe! It looks so good on you! You look sooooo cute!” he cheered, walking up from behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.
You didn’t struggle that often with body insecurities, but this dress seemed a bit off. As much as it did flatter you, you thought it was really short, since it had been a while since you wore it.
“You don’t think it shows too much of my legs?” you asked your boyfriend for reassurance.
“No!” Bokuto replied with no hesitance. “.. And if any guys end up staring.. Well.. sucks for them, cause’ I’ll be there to show' em that you already have a boyfriend!”
You looked up at the cheeky smile on his face which then made you smile.
“Okay babe” you chuckled and turned to kiss him on the cheek.
-
You guys get out of the car and fall in the line for the cafe that Akaashi had recommended to you guys. There were only three parties in front of you so you figured that the wait to get seated inside wouldn’t take too long.
Unfortunately there was a large gathering of people in the cafe that took up a lot of the chairs and tables. So, one of the hostess’ informed you guys that the wait was going to be a little longer.
You simply nodded your head and decided to patiently wait with your boyfriend.
Time was passing by slowly and it was nearing 3:30 pm, meaning that you guys were in the line for more than fifteen minutes. Bokuto had his arm around you just simply taking in the fresh Spring air, while you were just scrolling on your phone.
You started hearing footsteps on your right as more people were walking by the cafe. You noticed almost every person walking by took their time to meet your eyes and glance at your legs.
You shook it off and didn’t let it bother you. It was until a group of teenage boys walked by you and your boyfriend and looked you up and down in unison. One of them smirked and winked at you.
This made you very uncomfy and reached for Bokuto’s hand, squeezing it tightly.
He noticed that and took it as a random gesture. That was when you started sucking in your cheeks and chewing at your gums and lower lip, while constantly looking around you. Your breathing became fast and heavy, but you tried your best to calm it down to a regular pace.
Bokuto looked down at you as you were looking behind you. Bokuto then peered his eyes over at the two little kids that were in line behind you guys with their mom. His gaze shifted between the odd look on your face and the two toddlers gazing at you.
“Aw babe! That’s cute that you're entertaining the kids behind you!” he whispered to your ear.
You turned quickly to face him and relaxed the muscles on your face. “Oh. Babe. Um.. No, I wasn’t trying to make them laugh..” you awkwardly chuckled.
“Then what were you making that weird face for?”
His genuine confusion put a smile on your face, making you laugh.
“Uh.. it’s just that…” you hesitated, while looking down at your legs. “I-”
Right as you were about to explain the sudden self-consciousness and discomfort you were feeling, the hostess called the next four parties up to come inside, which included you guys.
You decided to drop the issue and followed the people in front of you inside the cafe. Bokuto followed, with a pondering look on his face. Until it finally hit him, remembering how hesitant you were to wear that dress today.
You followed the hostess to a table in the center of the seating area, indicating that that’s where you and Bokuto were going to dine at.
You thanked her as she walked off to get you guys glasses of water. You took note of how the cafe was packed to the brim and the surrounding tables were full of conversation and laughter, making you feel more anxious.
You became lightheaded and your heavy breathing picked itself up again. Even though no one was particularly staring at you, you felt every glance towards you was a piercing glare. You needed to sit down immediately to rest your head on the table.
As you were about to sit down, Bokuto pulls your head into his chest and whispers in your ear, “It’s okay babe. You’re alright, I’m here.” He kisses your temple and pulls out your chair for you to sit in.
Before you could even speak, he takes off his sweater and places it on your lap; large enough to cover your thighs and legs, leaving only your ankles exposed.
You gave him a soft smile and held his hand on the table. “Thank you, Bo.”
“Of course babe. Just let me know if you feel uncomfy again and we can leave right away. I love you.”
You wanted to tear up on the spot from his response, but resisted and just replied back. “I love you too.”
-
Iwaizumi
You absolutely dread public speaking. (more than anything)
Especially when it's in front of a class with over 30 students.
Today was the day, where you had to present your English poem analysis to the class.
You were lucky that presentations like this weren’t thrown at you all the time, but you unfortunately had a few projects that needed to be presented every now and then. This poem analysis being one of them.
You felt anxious from the moment you woke up to the second you sat down in class.
But before class, you met up with your boyfriend, Iwazumi.
He is very observant and will call you out on any strange behavior and that morning was one of those instances.
Then he saw the papers in your hands and remembered the English presentation that you had told him about a few weeks prior.
The day you had been fearing the most for the past few weeks had finally come. You sat up on your bed, already feeling queasy. The grumble noises your empty stomach made filled the entire room.
You cringed at that sound and started getting ready for school. Taking a quick shower, brushing your teeth, and putting on some light makeup all were things that you enjoyed since getting ready was one of your favorite things to do. But today, you couldn’t help but groan every minute that you were in the bathroom.
You went downstairs and looked inside the pantry. Normally, you’d easily go for a bowl of cereal or a banana and an oatmeal cookie. But, you were too nervous to eat something that morning.
So, you just grabbed a granola bar and a bottle of water, stuffed it in your bag, then made your way to school.
-
As you were nearing the school front gates, you kept your head down, twiddling your fingers around. Your mind was occupied with all the ways your presentation could go wrong.
What if you stutter too much? What if you forget everything? What if you don’t speak loud enough?
Those overbearing thoughts were interrupted as your spiky-haired boyfriend stopped in your tracks with a small grin.
“Hey!” he said, arms out to pull you in for a hug.
His sudden appearance caught you off guard as you let out a hesitant “Oh.. hey”
His upturned smile immediately turned to a frown. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern.
“What’s wrong baby?” he asked while grabbing both of your hands that you had been previously fiddling with.
“Oh uh… nothing!” you said, putting up a fake smile to dismiss his follow up questions you felt coming. You pulled out your phone to check the time. 8:04 AM.
“Ooh, uh gotta go babe! Need to meet up with a friend!” you said as an excuse to ditch your boyfriend to head to the bathroom to hide.
You bolted from his sight so quickly that he wasn’t able to make out which direction you went. He walked inside the building, walking to your locker to hopefully find you there. But, you weren’t.
You sped-walked towards the girls bathroom on the second floor across from the library. Luckily, no one was in there except for two girls who were making their way out. You sighed in relief and walked to the empty stall in the corner of the bathroom. You locked yourself in and leaned your back against the wall. Your heart started beating at an abnormally fast rate and you felt the sudden urge to just bawl your eyes out right then and there. Then, your phone buzzed with a notification from your boyfriend.
Iwa-baby <3: babe! where are you? tried looking for you around your locker and your friend’s classroom but you weren’t there? what’s wrong???? you okay?
You stared at the text and realized that maybe your boyfriend could help you ease your mind if you explained what was up.
You: hey, could you meet me at the library?
Your complete disregard of his questions left him in a confused state. Nonetheless, he rushed through the crowded halls to get to the second floor. Once, he reached the final step, he saw you nervously pacing around outside the entrance of the library.
He rushed to you, tapping your shoulder. “Y/n? What’s up? Everything okay?” he said with a genuinely concerned look on his face.
You were unable to blurt any words out and instead you tightly wrapped your arms around his waist and lightly let your tears flow, face pressed up against his chest.
“Y/n…. What’s wrong baby?” he asked hugging you in return, one hand on your lower back and the other gently patting your head.
“I’m so fucking nervous for my presentation..” you sniffled. But you quickly lifted your head off his chest and wiped your tears away. You felt pathetic crying over a simple presentation, but you just couldn’t help but overthink the possibilities of everything going wrong. “I know it’ll last like five minutes max, but still I-”
“Baby. Hey… look at me.” he cut you off while lifting your chin up to face him. He cupped your cheeks and pulled you close, inches away from his.
You blink at him with watery eyes and a soft smile falls upon his lips. “You’re amazing, you know that? It’s okay to feel nervous. But, I got you okay…” he said while rubbing away your remaining tears with his thumb.
His comfort made you feel warm. But, that didn’t take away the fact that you were still tense about your presentation in 30 minutes.
You didn’t give an answer, but instead let out a sigh.
“Hey, you got this okay. If you want I’ll ask to use the bathroom during class, so I can just stand by the doorway of your class and watch you. Just look at me if you’re stuck” he suggested.
You met his eyes. “Would you, please?”
“Of course.” he replied, then kissing you on your forehead. “Then, after school I’ll take you out to eat. We have no practice today anyway. Sound good?”
Your eyes widened as you enjoyed the sound of that. “Yes! Thank you Haji” you said as you pulled him back for a hug.
You said goodbye to your boyfriend when the bell for class rang. You took a deep breath and entered your classroom. After about 25 minutes of watching others present, it was finally your turn. Your friend smiled and gave you a thumbs up.
You walked to the front of the class, palms sweating and shaky breathing. You clutched onto your papers as you began reading. You paused for a brief moment, swallowed to prep yourself for the next wave of words that you were going to read. You began to feel tense all over again, until you looked up from your papers to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorway of your classroom, along with Oikawa. They both gave you the brightest grins and lightly jumped up and down whilst silently cheering you on.
You resisted chuckling from this dorky act. You smiled at them and brought your attention back to the poem. Somehow, their support from a distance made you speak fluently, make proper eye contact with your teacher and fellow classmates as you explained your well-written analysis.
Once you finished, the class applauded as you quickly walked back to your seat. You finished in time to see Iwa and Oikawa waving you off and walking back to their classes. Your teacher complimented your analysis which gave you a small sigh of relief, that you had finally gotten over it.
You felt a silent buzz from your phone in your pocket and you pulled it out, trying not to make it obvious.
Iwa-baby <3: YUUHHH BABYY YOU DID THAT SHIT I'M SO PROUD OF U !!!!!!!!! sooo.. where do you wanna eat later?? :)
You were about to reply until you received another text notification from someone else.
Oikawaaa: you sounded so intelligent y/n…. that was really good!
You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet praise you were receiving, this time not holding back.
---
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader#hq#hq x gender neutral reader#hq x y/n#bokuto#iwazumi x reader#haikyuu iwaizumi#haikyuu bokuto#hq fluff#omg first post asf#ahhh
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Through the Ages || JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader
Words: 1870
Warnings: Super toxic relationship, underage drinking, smoking, weed
Summary: The development of your relationship with JJ, from when your first met aged eight to adult life, MAJOR ANGST
A/N: okay i know i havent written anything in WEEKS but im watching obx and im obsessed... i really wasn’t expecting this to take such a dark turn?? contact me if you wanna request anything or make friends :)
masterlist
8 years
You’re eight and when you meet John in front of the school to walk home, he has a friend. You know your brother’s friends - most of them, at least - but this boy is new. He is tanned and blonde and tall for his age, and a girl in your class had told you about how he’s always getting into small playground scraps. You eye each other warily on the way home, your brother between you, oblivious to the hostility.
It wasn’t that you didn’t like him - how could you dislike someone you knew nothing about? - it was that John had promised to stop bringing his friends on the way home, because he would end up ignoring you, and now there was a friend walking with them.
When the boy finally leaves, John looks at you as if he forgot you were there. You watch as the boy goes through the front door, catching a glimpse of a dark, cluttered house. You wonder where his parents are.
John coaxes you into a race - who can get home first - and he wins. He always wins. A year older, stronger, faster. Your dad greets you, asking about your days, and laughing as you complain about how John ignored you on the way home.
The next week, the boy walks with you again. His name is JJ, and he’s funny. He gives you a twinkie as a peace offering, saying that he wants to walk with you and John from now on. You shrugged, and took the twinkie, telling him it was for the food, and only the food.
11 years
You’re eleven, in your first year of middle school, and you and John ride home from school everyday on your bikes. On the days when you’re not surfing or hanging out with friends, you cycle home with John, JJ and a new member of the gang, Pope. You and JJ, while still at a twinkie-incited truce, are growing more competitive and show-offish around each other. You race your bikes to his, and if you stop at the corner store on the way home, you see who can chug their cola faster. John fights with you when you get home because they’re “his friends, not yours!”
You have your own friends, and sometimes you cross with your brother’s friends in town, sass thrown between the groups like a tennis rally, the twinkie-truce fading into the past. You can’t stand the tall blonde surfer, but you can’t wait to argue with him on your way home from school.
14 years
You’re fourteen, and after a year long break from your brother’s friends, you’re, once again, at the same school. You’ve changed, filled out more over the last year, puberty having hit you like a tonne of bricks since you last hung out. The three pogues now have one female friend, Kiara, and you become fast friends. You can tell your brother has a thing for her, and you wonder if he’ll ever bring her home to meet your dad.
JJ sees you differently now. You seem less like the eight year old he met six years ago, but you’re still very much yourself. He pulls your ponytail as you pass him in the hallways at school, and you flip him off in return. You sometimes go to the same parties, and your drinking races have switched from cola to beer. John hates you being at parties, claiming your too young to drink or party, as if he wasn’t the year before. John can see how JJ looks at you, and he hates it. He hates seeing how guys look at you now, how they flirt, hit on and catcall his baby sister. He also hates how in your efforts to compete with JJ, you get into fights and run your mouth. He hates how JJ shows off around you, and vice versa.
Despite his frustrations with JJ, he’s also the only guy who’ll stand up for you when you or John can’t do it yourselves. He hopes you don’t grow up too quickly, and he knows that his friends will always have your back, so he’s not worried.
15 years
You’re fifteen, and you go to a kegger for the first time. You get drunk quickly, flirting with too many guys and giggling at every little thing. You share a blunt with JJ, and the pair of you practically piss yourselves with laughter when John tries to reprimand you. The night is fun, and you can’t wait for the next one.
The next one is much worse. You’re one or two drinks in when you see JJ flirting with a touron. In retrospect, that’s probably when you first noticed your feelings, but at the time you have no idea why you’re so angry about it. By the end of the night, you’ve had half a bottle of vodka and two spliffs, and you’re way far gone. You might even have blacked out - but all you remember is the pure rage, and how you spent ten minutes throwing up by the front porch when you got home.
You saw JJ the next day, and you’re both hungover. He checks on you, and neither of you really understand why you’re so cold towards him, but he leaves pretty quickly.
You cry that night.
16 years
You’re sixteen, and your dad is missing. You lost all your friends when you fell into a depression after it. Nine months later, and you feel happy again. You’re the final member of pogue crew, and you spend the summer surfing and swimming and settle into the routine of summer. You surf first thing in the morning, as dawn breaks, often with JJ, competing over who’s a better surfer (he is). You spend your afternoons on the HMS Pogue, competing with JJ over who’s the better swimmer (you are). The group of you drink and smoke and live your best lives. On the days where you’re not on the boat, you work.
You know you love JJ, and you flirt constantly. He kisses you at a kegger, barely twenty minutes before he pulls the gun on Topper. You have your first serious argument that night, and it ends with him kissing you.
You wear your heart on your sleeve, and assure him you love him. He doesn’t say it back, but he shows it. You learn about his Dad and his work and how he learnt to surf. You sneak around, and, miraculously, don’t get caught.
16 ½ years
You’re sixteen and a half when John and Sarah go missing. Kie and Pope try to help, but you don’t pay them any attention. You and JJ struggle, with yourselves, each other, and your relationship. You’re on the rocks, you’re up against the wall. You don’t think you’ll last, and you fight constantly.
Your relationship is toxic, taking your own angers out on each other, fighting and screaming in each others faces only to make up for a honeymoon period that lasts a week, max, and the cycle repeats. You’re both miserable.
17 years
You’re seventeen, and he breaks up with you. You were too alike - both too impulsive, angry, broken for it to ever work. You apply to out-of state colleges, hoping to escape the islands you used to love.
You wait for an acceptance letter, and watch as the people you call family try to rebuild their lives.
18 years
You’re eighteen, and you get the letter. UCLA, on the other side of the country. You say your goodbyes to Kie and Pope, and eventually, JJ.
He looks broken, when you tell him. He asks you what you’d do if John came back and you weren’t around, but you had resigned yourself to John’s death long ago. You fight one last time. You fuck one last time. You love one last time.
You wonder if you’ll ever return.
22 years
You’re twenty two, and you’ve got a degree. You fly home the day after graduation, and everything has changed.
Kie runs the Wreck now, and she gives you a free meal and you talk for hours when you first arrive. She invited you to her and Pope’s place.
They have a nice place. Not on Figure Eight, but on that side of the island - Pope’s got a high earning job in marine biology research. They’re happy.
You smoke a blunt with Pope, for old time’s sake. He tells you to see JJ, and gives you a slip of paper with the address. You don’t know if you want to throw it into the ocean or treasure it forever. You do neither.
It takes you a week to psych yourself up to it, and then you knock on his door.
His house is small, but not tiny, not like his childhood home. He welcomes you in, a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen in years. He sits you down at the dinner table, and you take in the pictures on the mantel shelf, and the mementos stuck to the fridge.
You see the ring on his finger.
You enter a state of stasis. You were sure he was it for you, but the circumstances were wrong and you were too immature. Right person, wrong time, or something along those lines. No, apparently not. He moved on, he built a life without you, a happier, healthier life.
His wife is lovely, everything you’re not. She’s patient and kind and soft-spoken, the opposite to him, bringing balance. She stabilises him, and gives him what he needs.
You think of how you would argue with him, the screaming, shouting, throwing plates and vases. Your love was so naive, but so passionate. Everything that happened while you were together, everything that went wrong, happened because your tempers and stubborn natures and impulsivity was destructive.
You fly back to California a week later.
You sit on the plane and reminisce. The night you and JJ broke up, the house got wrecked. You had been standing inches apart, but screaming at the top of your lungs. You had lost your temper and overturned a table, smashing all the crockery left on it. He had thrown a vase at the wall, and you had fought until your voices broke and you were too tired and sore to keep throwing shit at walls and each other. You had sat next to each other, leaning on the wall by the front door, an uncharacteristic calm washing over you.
You had looked at him, heart aching, and told him that you needed to split up. He had nodded, and eventually, the pair of you had drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a world where you could be together without all the hate in the way.
When you woke up in the morning, he was gone, but the mess had stayed. You had had to tiptoe over thousands of shards of broken crockery and glass to get to your room, a reminder of how you were destined to self-destruct.
You watched out the window as the plane landed, and vowed never to return again.
Outer Banks was no longer your home.
#outer banks#obx#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks fanfic#obx fanfiction#obx fanfic#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x routledge!reader#jj x reader#jj x you#jj x y/n#jj x routledge!reader#jj obx#jj maybank obx#john b#john b x sister!reader#john b routledge#john b routledge x sister!reader#pope outer banks#pope obx#kiara#obx kiara
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Elevator Meetings (Part One) - Reader POV
Pairing: Musical Actor!Lee Seokmin/DK x Academic!Reader
Word Count: 3,167
Warning: Small mentions of alcohol
Genres: fluff, slice of life, neighbors, a few Minghao and Mingyu scenes
Part Two (Seokmin): [Part Two]
Part Three (Final)(Reader): [Part Three]
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Synopsis: You’ve just moved into a new high-rise apartment with two of your other friends. You are scheduled to move in first within the week, while the rest of your two friends will catch up the following week. It was a tough decision to make to live away from your family, but your work demanded you to live in a closer place. One day, as you were trying to move all your things, you meet a particularly kind man named Lee Seokmin who decides to help you out.
READER POV
You huff as you take out one last box from the trunk of your brother’s car.
“Are you sure you’re going to be able to do that all by yourself?” He asks you.
You give him a firm nod, but deep inside, you were already wondering if you could actually do it yourself. You had to take up ten boxes of your belongings up to the 7th floor of the building. The building is relatively new and has a fully-functioning elevator, but you weren’t so sure how you could bring the boxes from the lobby to the elevator in one go.
“Yeah, I’m sure I can find a way.” You say to your brother. “I mean, you’ve got a clinic to go to. I don’t want you to be late, either.”
Your brother looks at you in thought before nodding and driving away. Once you see his car disappear around the corner, you let out a deep sigh. There goes your help. You probably won't be able to finish moving all your things into the apartment before you have to go to work. You are left with no other choice but to do it the hard way.
You try to look around if there’s anyone else who could be of help, but there’s no one. After all, most buildings nowadays rarely require people to physically do work. Any information you need is on a screen, and you just happened to come at a time when most of the people are out of their homes.
"Strategy over strength, you can do this." You say to yourself.
You take two boxes at a time, opting to carry the boxes in pairs to the elevator. It takes about fifteen minutes, but you’re finally able to carry all of the boxes to the front of the elevator arranged in two stacks.
You press the button of the elevator going up, taking these few seconds to catch your breath. In a few seconds, the elevator doors open, and you see a man wearing a black cap and a black face mask. You give him a small greeting, and he gives you a small nod in return.
You knew that you needed help, but at this point, you were honestly too shy to ask a stranger to help you. You quickly begin moving the boxes one at a time into the elevator, making sure that they’re all in a corner. The man steps outside the elevator and looks at the stack of boxes waiting outside.
“Excuse me, do you need any help?” He says, voice slightly muffled by his mask.
You look over to him, sweat forming on your forehead from the physical work and the embarrassment. “Hm? Well, yes, but if you’re busy it’s alright.”
“No, it’s fine, I can spare a few minutes.”
Just like that, he helps you load the boxes into the elevator, easily moving them to form two stacks over at the corner.
“Which floor?” He asks.
“The 7th.” You reply, giving him a small bow of both thanks and apology.
He takes out a card and taps it on the sensor just below the elevator buttons. After a small beep, he presses the button for the 7th floor and the elevator doors close momentarily.
“I’m sorry--I mean, thanks. For helping me out.” You say quietly. “I just moved here, my name is y/n.”
“No problem. My name is Lee Seokmin, I live over on the 10th floor.” He pulls down his black mask, revealing the mole at the center of his cheek. “Must be tough, having to move all of those things by yourself.”
“Well, kind of my fault for trying to do it on my own. I have other roommates that could have helped me, but they won’t be arriving until next week.”
Just then, the elevator doors open and he helps move the boxes from the elevator to the hallway. “Which room?” Seokmin asks after all of the boxes have been successfully taken out.
“7-25, just at the end of the hallway.”
With a small nod, he helps you move all of your boxes. He takes three boxes at a time while you take two. In just five minutes, you were finally able to reach your apartment with your things in one piece.
“Thank you so, so much.” You say to him.
He simply smiles and waves as he walks away. “See you around.”
You take out your own keycard and unlock your apartment door. Swinging the door open, you see a moderately-sized living space. There’s a couch over at the right side and a kitchen set on the left side. Over at one end, there are two doors, one for the smaller room that you’ll be staying in, and another for the larger room that your two other roommates would be sharing.
Energized by the fresh start, you take your boxes in and begin to unload.
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You plop down on your bed after hours of unpacking and arranging. It took a while, but you’re completely satisfied with the look of your room. You have all your books neatly arranged on a shelf over at one corner, with a desk right next to it. You take out your phone and begin telling your friends about your day, and about the guy you met at the elevator, who happened to be your savior of the day.
All of the sudden, one of your friends send you a call.
“Hello--”
“You met Lee Seokmin?!”
“Was that his name? I think it was. Why?”
“Do you--do you really not know who you just met?! Lee Seokmin, played the lead role in many local musicals, hello?”
“Oh, he’s a musical actor? That’s nice.” You say, trying to find what else to say. You’ve really just been focusing on the papers you have to pass and the studies you have to do for the past few years. “Is he famous?”
Over at the other line, you can hear your friend sigh. “It’s fine, you don’t have to know. Once we move there next week, I’ll be meeting him more often, anyway.”
After a long chat about her day, she finally hangs up.
You think about looking him up, but your exhaustion overtakes you and you decide to sleep instead. Although it’s interesting to have someone famous as a neighbor, you can’t really be bothered enough to spend too much time on it.
You fall asleep, your lamp remaining on for the duration of the night.
You wake up the next morning with the sunlight hitting your eyes. You check the time, it’s 6:45 AM. You quickly get up and get yourself ready for work. You quickly shower and put on a long skirt and a sweater, perfect for the cold weather. Stuffing your bag with your laptop and a thick book on botany, you head out of your apartment. Breakfast will have to wait until you’re at the university.
You make your way to the elevator and quickly press the button. In a few moments, the doors open, and you are met with a familiar face. Seokmin stands in the middle of the elevator, wearing a tucked-in white shirt and blue jeans.
“Oh, hello.” You say as you get into the elevator.
“Good morning, y/n. Heading off to work?” Seokmin asks with a smile.
“Yeah, my first class starts at 8 o’clock.”
He raises his eyebrows in interest. “Are you a teacher?”
“Kind of. I work part-time as an instructor, and the rest as a research assistant. Not really the most exciting line of work, but I do enjoy it.” You say with a shrug. You’ve always enjoyed working with plants, but it’s been tiring the past few weeks with all the deadlines you have to catch up to.
“Well, that seems pretty interesting, don’t you think? The natural sciences seem pretty hard to me.” He says with a smile. “Which university?”
The elevator doors open and you go out together.
“The one downtown, SC University.” You say, slightly flustered at the thought of someone getting excited over your field of work. “Well, it is interesting. It’s just that, I don’t really hear it that often.”
In an attempt to draw the conversation away from yourself, you act as if you didn’t know about him. “How about you, what kind of work do you do?”
“I’m a musical actor. I’m on my way to rehearsals, actually. We’ll be having a show tonight.” He says, looking down at his watch. “If you’re available at 8 PM, would you like to go?”
He looks up at you with an innocent expression, making you just a little bit flustered. This is the time when you would usually come up with an excuse to stay home and have some time alone, but somehow, a different answer slips out of your tongue.
“Sure, where is it going to be?”
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You stand outside of the cultural center with a ticket that Seokmin gave you in your pocket. You take it out and look at it once again. The show is meant to start at 8 PM, but you’re already here an hour early. The doors don’t open for 30 minutes, so you decide to head over to the nearby cafe. With a latte in hand, you sit down at one of the tables.
To be honest, you weren’t as free as you initially thought. After your morning schedules, you found yourself with papers to check and a report to finish. Yet, because you told Seokmin that you’d be there, you skipped lunch and managed to finish all your work in the afternoon. Just by this, you knew that you were going into your hopeless crushing stage again.
For goodness sake, you’ve only met him yesterday, get a hold of yourself.
You decide to message your friends to try and at least bring one of them over so that you wouldn’t have to go in there alone. Despite your best efforts, all of them either have other plans or are too tired to go out at this hour. You decide to scroll past different articles to pass the time.
You take a sip of your drink and observe the crowd in front of you. Just across the cafe, you see the crowd starting to form right in front of the cultural center. Most of them were university students, some of which you even saw around the campus.
After a few minutes, the doors open and the people start streaming into the building. You quickly finish your drink and head over to the back of the line. You pass over your ticket to one of the staff, who cuts it in half, giving you the piece with your seat number on it. Inside, you see just how many people are looking forward to the show. Almost half of the seats are occupied, mostly near the front. You try to navigate through the rows, searching for a seat until you finally reach a seat in the 2nd row.
You find yourself sitting beside two other guys, one of which was tall and tan-skinned, while the other was smaller with more subtle features. While waiting for the play to start, you catch a bit of their conversation.
“The others can’t come, but they said they’ll eat dinner with us after.” The taller one said, looking down at his phone. “It would have been nice if everyone came, it’s Seokmin’s first lead role in a while.”
“That’s just an excuse for them to go out and drink.” The other one said.
With a small pout, the taller of the two puts his phone back in his pocket. “I don’t know, everyone’s just been getting a bit busy with the schedules. Must be a sign of old age, everyone just wants to stay home and sleep. Unless it comes to drinking.”
Their conversation is cut off as the lights begin to dim. Music begins to play in the background, signaling the start of the play. You’ve been to a few small school plays before, but this was your first time seeing a live professional play in person. You cross your legs, heart beating fast as you look forward to the performance.
The story starts in a small village, the opening song ringing through the entire hall. As the story progresses, you find yourself looking forward to the moment when you’ll see Seokmin on the stage. After the opening song, the stage dims, and a lone figure steps out from the darkness. There he is, wearing clothes befitting a king, a glimmering crown over his head. He looks completely different from the neighbor that you constantly meet in the elevator--he looks royal, strict, and menacing. He moves around with hectic steps as if he’s desperately looking for something. He shouts out commands, sending shivers down your spine.
Although you know that it’s all an act, you can’t help but feel as if his emotions are really true. No wonder your friend is a fan of him--he’s an immensely great actor.
For the rest of the performance, you’re at the edge of your seat. Every time he’s on the stage, you can’t take your eyes off him. When he’s not in the scene, you eagerly wait for him to get back on. It’s not just his acting that’s great, but also his singing. You’ve never heard such a full and clear voice before.
The next hour passes by in a flash. The entire play ends with a curtain call of all the actors, with Seokmin as the last one to come to the front. When he takes a bow, loud applause erupts from the crowd.
“Ah, he really did well this time.” Says the taller man from earlier.
“He really did, didn’t he?” You reply unconsciously. It was too late for you to take back what you said. From your peripheral view, you see the both of them look at you, but you keep your eyes forward as your face heats up.
Eventually, the curtains close, and the theatre lights turn back on. You quickly make your way out of the room, too embarrassed to stay any longer with the two other guys.
Still, you can’t get the light feeling off your chest. He was so good--no, he was great. He’s the kind of actor that can get you completely engrossed in his performance. You peek through the doors of the theatre, wanting to catch a small glimpse of him. The crowd has begun to thin out, with only a few people left inside. Even outside, there are only a few people left, most of which are staff members cleaning up the area.
“Y/n? You made it!” You hear a voice from behind.
You look back and see Seokmin outside the theatre, still wearing his costume from earlier. This time, he’s back to his bright and innocent look, completely different from his persona from earlier.
“Hey, Seokmin.” You pull away from the door. “You were really, really great!”
He gives a wide smile, eyes nearly closing. “Really? Thanks! It was my first lead role after two years. I thought didn’t do as well as I thought.”
You furrow your brows. “You need to give yourself more credit for what you do.”
He looks a bit taken aback, and you quickly put your fingers over your mouth. You had gotten a bit too excited, so you immediately blurted out whatever came to mind.
“I’m sorry, I mean that I thought that what you did was already excellent.”
He quickly shakes his hands. “No, it’s okay. It’s just... thanks.” He says, sounding completely genuine. “If you enjoyed it, would you like to watch our other performances? We’ll be having more in the next months, maybe you’d want to you know...”
“Absolutely!” You say immediately. “I mean, I would love to.”
He smiles and takes out his phone. He creates a new contact and hands his phone over to you. “If you don’t mind, you can also give me your contact details, and I’ll send you a message if we have something new coming up. If you need any help doing some moving again, you can ask me any time, too.”
You take his phone and fill in the boxes. You feel your face heat up, so you make sure to keep your head low as you type. You can’t believe it--you’re already crushing on someone this bad after a day of meeting them.
You hand his phone back to him with a small smile.
“I better get going, I have a few more papers to check when I get home.” You lie, wanting to get out of the situation before you become any more obvious. “See you next time, then?”
He gives you a small wave. “See you.”
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When you get home, you immediately head over to your bed, still not over the stage play. Even though it was an impulsive decision, it wasn’t something that you regret. You got to see him act up close, and somehow, you found yourself even more attracted to him.
You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and you take it out. It’s a message from an unknown number.
“Hello, y/n, it’s Seokmin ^^ Are you home?”
You roll over on your stomach and start to type, “Yeah, I just got home. Rest well and take care”
“Wait, is that too much?” You say to yourself. You ponder over it and erase the second sentence before hitting send. “But wait, don’t I don’t too cold?”
Without time to think about your decisions, another text arrives.
“That’s good to hear. Well then, rest well and good night! :)”
Just like that, the conversation ends. You bury your face in your pillow, wishing you had sent a friendlier message. You sit up and look outside your window, the full moon shining through over the clear sky. With a surge of courage, you send over a photo of your view and send it over to him with a message.
“Good night, rest well too 🌻🌻🌻”
The moment you hit send, you feel a surge of embarrassment. You know that it was meant to be something friendly, but now you’ve become all self-conscious and you don’t know what to do with it. You hurry over to one of your friends to send them a call before seeing Seokmin’s message popping up from the top of your screen.
“Haha cute”
You sit there, frozen. You didn’t want to overthink it--you know that these kinds of guys exist, the friendly and unintentionally flirty ones. You two are friends that just met yesterday; now really isn’t the time to be falling head over heels.
You take a deep breath and put your phone on the table beside your desk. You try to sleep, but you can’t help but think of him--Lee Seokmin, the musical actor with a smile that outshines the sun.
Maybe moving in a week early wasn’t so bad after all.
Part Two (Seokmin): [Part Two]
#svt fanfic#DK#seventeen fics#SVT x reader#Seventeen x reader#DK x reader#Lee Dokyeom x reader#Lee Seokmin x Reader#Seventeen scenarios#Seventeen fanfiction#kim mingyu#xu minghao#seo myungho#Lee seokmin#lee dokyeom
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