#*slapping my son like a used car* this man can fit so much angst in him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

themusicplayedherlife · 3 years

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to love is the greatest gift

3. The Child

pairing: obi wan kenobi x f!reader (past!din djarin x reader | past!obi wan kenobi x satine kryze) characters: f!reader, din djarin, baby djarin obi wan kenobi, anakin skywalker-amidala others word count: 6k+ warnings: angst, fluff, death, longing, slow burn, guilt summary: au! It has never been the right timing for you and obi wan, but maybe this time will be different. a/n: so, this was planned and partly written before we knew grogu’s name, and there’s actually a reason why baby’s name is baby, but probably won’t come up lol — now we’re just upping the ante and I’m not sorry lol if you have any questions about this story or requests, send them my way and I will try my best to answer ☺️

Then.

The loud noises of the bar were swallowed alive by the cars that rushed by and the occasional helicopter that flew overhead—faint music thumping from all directions; neon lights so bright like artificial stars, fading headlights moving in all directions.

Pretty. Picturesque, but not what you focused on for too long.

You moved fast, hand pulsing with pricks of pain and refusing to listen to Obi Wan, who followed closely behind, pleading for you to stop and—will you listen to me? Your determination to get away from him, the bar, and find his stupid piece of junk car in the packed parking lot drove you forward. He already dragged you out, might as well leave altogether—if only Anakin and Padmé would hurry!

“What were you thinking?” he asked after you, voice thick with worry and indignation as he kept up with your quick pace.

“He was being an asshole!”

“So you decided to punch him?” He heaved a sigh, grabbing your wrist and keeping you from continuing (or from running away from his impending lecture). “A man twice your size?”

You jerked away from his hold, refusing to meet his gaze and find disappointed blue eyes staring back at you. “You didn’t hear what he was saying—”

“Oh, I heard perfectly, my dear, but I wasn’t about to engage with some drunkard.” He said it so dismissively and judgmentally that you recoiled, the anger you managed to release earlier coming back tenfold, but this time for a different reason.

Why did he always have to be so non confrontational, so unlike Anakin and his hit-first-think-later personality? Why couldn’t he allow himself to get angry even for only a moment? Why did everyone else have to get angry for him? More importantly, why did you have to get angry for him? You don’t understand!

“How are you not mad then?” you outcried, throwing your hands up in the air. “He called you—”

“Why would I be?” He smiled, like he knew something you didn’t, and it only made you more frustrated. “I have you to defend my honor.”

“That's—Obi Wan! Seriously?” Maker, he was too much! “Take this seriously, will you?”

He chuckled and reached for your hand, the same one that had glocked the giant’s jaw. It hurt, a lot, much more than you were willing to admit, but in Obi Wan’s hands, the pain felt nonexistent.

“I didn’t expect you to hit him.” You wished he looked at you, showed you what he was thinking. He squeezed your hand in his, inspecting it gently. “Could’ve gotten hurt.” He sighed again. “I wanted to—needed you safe.”

“I wasn’t going to let him get away with saying those things about you,” you murmured, the cold air harsh in your throat, hard to swallow, but his hand was warm—he was warm.

“I know.” He ran his thumb over the area, careful to not cause you more discomfort—always so careful and sweet with you. But there was something swimming in those eyes of his, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place as they followed the movements of his thumb.

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” you murmured.

“You could never.” He lifted your hand higher and you allowed him to—let his warm breath fan over your stinging skin. “My little warrior.”

Lips connected with your knuckles—soft, plush, delicate, and your breath hitched—he was never this bold with you, always keeping you at a certain distance for as long as you could remember—his darling, but never truly his.

“I am envious of the person you will choose to spend the rest of your life with,” he said, hesitant—barely breaking through the blood rushing in your ear—wanting to say more than what he was allowing himself to; hand dared to push back a stray piece of hair that couldn’t stay in place, choosing to dance with the wind. “Your future family will be lucky to have you.”

Now.

Din’s love can be powerful and kind. But he is also a man with too many layers and shields up to protect himself from the onslaught of cruelty life can gift to one human being.

Someone once told you (joked really) that loving him was like the age old question of how many licks did it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop. It was a stupid analogy then and it’s still a stupid analogy now, but it didn’t make it any less fitting.

Anakin never understood your relationship with Din, seeing only the surface level of the man you were once in love with. Padmé saw beyond the gruff and tough exterior, but she grew worried that you’d expend too much of your love and energy to get to where he could finally return it with equalness.

And she was right.

Sometimes, it was too much, and the selfish part of you wanted to walk away many times; wanted to give up the patience that you had thought you’d nurtured and grown over the years. But you’d fought against that selfish part of you, stood strong and tall as you worked through all of his layers of armor. Loved him and his toddler that you saw as your own (because he was, he was much more yours than the mother that left him on Din’s doorstep a couple of years ago).

It was Din who gave in first, the struggle of having someone wanting to be part of his life, wanting to give their all to him was so foreign to the poor man that sometimes he didn’t know what to do other than fight against it—against your love.

Even if he was the one to end it, there was no denying he had loved you, loved you in ways that were intimate, kind, and sweet. He made you feel things that no one else had, made your mind and body sing in ways that you sometimes search for in other partners.

Although the love you share now is different, like friends that have seen each other grow and blossom into who they are today, you don’t regret the time you spent learning and loving each other. He’s the first real, adult relationship you have ever had (and in a way you’re his first too), after all. You don’t regret any of it.

You don’t think he does, either.

“Are you sure you can watch Baby?” His fretting is still as cute as ever, worried that he’s asking too much of you. He knows Baby is yours as much as he is his, but his insecurities always get the best of him.

“Yes, yes!” You wave him away, too busy focusing on your little one with his chubby hands grabbing at your necklace. Maker, how you adore him. “I don’t have any meetings today”—thankfully—“I only have to go over the checklist for the Winter Charity Gala.” You finally spare him a glance as he hovers by the door. “Besides, people love babies, and if they don’t we could just switch guides or kick them out—either or, isn’t that right, my little womp rat?”

Baby giggles, slapping your chest gently in excitement, his little legs squeezing your middle as you balance him with one hand holding him and the other holding his leg. “Yes!”

He sighs heavily, muttering your name like he used to when you “sacrificed” nights to help him when Baby was teething and wouldn’t let him sleep.

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Stop it, Din. It’s fine. My work is flexible and besides, I've been wanting to spend more time with Baby during the week, anyway.”

His expression falls and his eyes fill with remorse, and stars are you a horrible person. You didn’t mean to make him feel bad!

“Din, I didn’t mean it like that.” You would never blame him for spending time with his son. The fact that he even lets you take him on weekends or even spend days with him during the week is such a huge thing. You’re not Baby’s mom, but Din lets you be his mom. “I just meant I love spending time with Baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks.

“Don't be! You do more than enough,” you assure him, berating yourself for even making him think you don’t appreciate what he does for you. “You don’t need to let me spend time with Baby, but you do. You make sure I do.”

“Of course, I could do no less,” he says, soft and warm, like the blankie you and Din bought Baby when he turned one. “You are Baby’s buir. Blood or no blood.” He closes the distance between you and wraps his arm around you and Baby, pressing his forehead against yours. “We are family.”

You look up at him with glassy eyes, and he smiles down at you, kind and tenderly. His own eyes glassy and the area around his eyes red. “Family,” you repeat, heart bursting in your throat.

“Family!” Baby exclaims, making you and Din burst into wet laughter.

“That’s right, ad’ika,” Din says, rubbing Baby’s back. “Who am I?”

“Papa!”

“And who am I?”

“Mama!” It never gets old hearing him call you that.

“Our Baby is so smart,” you coo, kissing his chubby cheeks loudly, making him giggle and lean into you for more kisses that you’re willing to give. “So, so smart!”

There’s a knock on the door and Din moves just slightly to where you could see the door as you ask who it is.

“It’s, uh, Obi Wan.” Your breath hitches, the hold you have on Baby tightening slightly—I’ve missed you, my dear. I will see you soon; warmth on a cold night, hands brushing hair away from eyes and tears away—shit.

“Who?”

Glancing at Din, you realize you haven’t told him about Obi Wan’s sudden return… visit… whatever this is, not two nights ago when you showed up at his apartment and asked if you could spend the night or yesterday morning when you woke up with puffy eyes and made them a breakfast too large for a family of three.

His eyebrows furrow in question, trying to figure out who Obi Wan is on his own. He practically knows everyone you work with or are friends with except for Obi Wan, whose picture he has definitely seen and name he has definitely heard offhandedly from Anakin and the others but can’t quite place.

“Come in, Obi.” It’s a slip of the tongue, an affectionate nickname that you can’t quite stop yourself from saying even in the presence of an ex-lover.

“Obi?” Din mouths.

You really owe him an explanation.

“I’m sorry about my sudden intrusion, darling. Anakin”—of course Anakin has something to do with this—“had hoped we could have lunch together. He’s sent me—” The door opens slowly and Obi Wan peers into the room, almost as if afraid to enter. And with good reason, when he sees Din and Baby his mouth falls slightly agape at the unexpected sight and he trails off. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had company, if I had known—”

“It’s fine, Obi Wan,” you interject softly, hiking Baby higher on your hip. He’s getting bigger and heavier now, harder to hold, but it doesn’t stop you from carrying your little one. “You’re not interrupting.”

“I was just leaving,” Din follows, glancing at you with intrigue and the silent question of—who is he? You exhale softly.

“Din, this is Obi Wan Kenobi, an… old friend of mine and Luke and Leia’s godfather.” Recognition flashes in his eyes. “Obi Wan, this is Din Djarin.”

“It is nice to finally meet you.” Din moves away from you to offer his hand to Obi Wan, who accepts it. “I have heard a lot about you.”

“As have I,” Obi Wan says, stern and firm, guarded and completely unlike the Obi Wan you once knew.

Din raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything while you groan internally. What exactly has Anakin been feeding Obi Wan?

“What about Baby?” The little one in your arms squirms indignantly and you laugh, finding him looking at you with a scrunched up face, displeased that you haven’t introduced him, yet.

“I’m sorry, honey.” You nuzzle his little button nose with yours, closing some distance between you and Obi Wan. “Obi Wan, this is Baby Djarin, Din’s son.”

“Our,” Din corrects, shooting you a look.

“Right.” You bite your lip to hide your wide smile, ducking your head before nodding. “Our son.”

Obi Wan blinks, taken aback by the sudden information, and you don’t blame him. You’ll have to explain this situation to him, since apparently Anakin and Padmé chose to omit this part of your life from him, at a later date. (You ignore the fact that you have as well, but then again, you weren’t the one that kept in touch with him after he left the second time, and it’s not like you’ve had a chance to tell him since he got back either.)

He clears his throat and a smile settles on his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It is a pleasure to meet you too, little one.”

Baby is absolutely delighted that Obi Wan is offering his hand, practically jumping out of your arms to shake his hand. Din quickly balances him and you by placing a hand in your back and another on Baby’s tummy.

“Careful,” he murmurs, which makes Baby pout and mutter, “No, thank you,” even though he’s straightening up. Chuckling, he ruffles his son’s curls. “I should get going.”

“Good luck,” you tell him, watching him lean down to kiss the top of Baby’s brown curls. “There’s no doubt you’ll get the job.”

He sighs, a corner of his lips lifting into an unsteady smile. He’s nervous. “I hope so.”

“Hey, you’re going to do great,” you assure him firmly. “You know all the ins and out, and have Cara and Greef vouching for you. You are more than qualified for this position.”

He cracks a small smile. “Yeah, you’re right.” He doesn’t sound super convinced, but he still manages to nod resolutely and picks up his sling bag, but then he pauses. “You sure this is fine?”

You roll your eyes again. “Yes, Din. It’s fine. Baby being here is no trouble at all. The team loves him.”

“Okay. Okay. Just—I’ll try to head back as soon as I’m done.”

“Take your time and don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

His head tilts slightly, but then he nods, finally relenting. Turning to Obi Wan, he says, “Again, it was nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Obi Wan supplies back, it’s still tense and stern, but there’s something else too, something detached and unfocused.

Din doesn’t let it bother him, instead focusing on his son. “Bye, Baby.”

“Bye, Papa!”

“I’ll see you both later.”

“Yeah, yeah, go!” you urge. He shoots you a look and you laugh. “Go.”

Din finally slips out the door but not without another kiss to Baby’s head.

“Son?” Obi Wan breaks his silence as you put Baby down.

He’s quick to run to his bag and pull out a blanket, handing it to you to place for him on the floor, in front of the blue, grey loveseat. Din and you always place it on top to make it easy to take out, and after seeing you and his dad do it so many times, Baby just knows his ground blanket is always on top.

“Yes.” You spread the blanket out, smoothing it, and Baby tries to help by grabbing the corners and tugging.

“How old is he?”

“Hey, Baby,” you faux whisper, “wanna tell Obi how old you are?”

Holding up four fingers in Obi Wan’s direction, he practically yells, “Thwee, almost four!”

Obi Wan chuckles, thoroughly amused at how excited Baby is to share his age and his inability to truly say the letter r. “Wow! You’re so big.”

“Yes,” Baby says, dropping himself onto his bottom once he’s satisfied with how you’ve laid out the blanket. “Very big!”

“He’s turning four in a month,” you inform him with a smile, sitting down next to your little one. “It’s why he’s starting to put up four fingers. Luke and Leia have been teaching him.”

“So Anakin and Padmé know?”

“Of course they do. Why wouldn’t they?”

His eyebrows furrow and he looks away from you for a moment. “They didn't mention it to me.”

“Oh.” Probably because Anakin didn’t think they’d be part of my life after Din and I broke up. But that’s not what you voice, instead you say, “I figured they hadn’t with how you reacted earlier.”

“Baby is from a previous relationship of his?” He wasn’t, not exactly, but Obi Wan doesn’t need to know what isn’t your information to give. “And you and Din are co-parenting?” He raises an eyebrow, a perfectly arched eyebrow, and it reminds you so much of the young Obi Wan Kenobi that you’d try so hard to impress with your ever growing knowledge.

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to sound like he’s being judgmental, but it sure as hell sounds like it when he stares at you like that—like he’s questioning your choices. You don’t like it. Never did.

“Baby was only a few months old when he came into our lives.”

“You have grown attached.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, a heavy loaded statement, one you don’t know if you even want to begin to decipher.

You sigh slowly and say, “Yes, Obi Wan. I am attached.” Baby slaps his hands on your thighs, grinning toothily, and you smooth his hair away from his wide, brown eyes. “How could I not be? We are family. Blood or no blood.”

“I see.” He wants to say more, you can tell by the way he speaks his words slowly, with restraint.

Something bubbles in your stomach, nothing pleasant. It's anger and frustration and this need to yell at him like when you were both younger and less mature. It only ever happened when he wasn’t listening to you, treating you like you had no idea what you were doing or saying. It was rare those moments, mostly born from lack of sleep from all-nighters focused on essays and exams, or sometimes born from nothing at all, just bad luck and circumstance.

It makes you want to push, just like then; to force him to tell you exactly what he wants to say. It’s never stopped him before, so why now? But Baby babbling in full sentences to himself while trying to pull his toys out of his bag reminds you that you are not that person anymore, haven’t been that person in such a long time. And maybe it’s for the best.

“Wed truck?” Baby asks, showing off the newest toy in his collection, and when you place your hand out, thinking he wants to give it to you, he stands on his two little feet and walks over to Obi Wan, careful to not trip over the blanket. “Cheer up, pwease. Wed truck will help!”

Any hint of anger or frustration or hurt that may have remained, dissipates as Baby looks up at the standing man, his little hand holding onto his pant leg and the other holding up the truck.

Obi Wan stares down at him, and that earlier aloofness, that stern way he regarded Din, and even you with, is gone, replaced by something tender, warm and soft. “Thank you, Baby,” he says, dropping to his eye level and gingerly taking the truck from chubby hands—the toy that seems so big in Baby’s hand completely swallowed by his larger one.

Baby lets out a pleased giggle and tilts his head, grabbing onto Obi Wan’s knees. “You're very welcome!” With a random smooch to Obi Wan’s nose, he moves away from him and makes his way over to you, grinning proudly.

Obi Wan stands, watching the little boy fondly as you ruffle his hair, giving him a wet kiss to his cheek that makes him laugh loudly. “You’re raising a wonderful boy, both you and Din.”

You pause your onslaught of kisses—Baby managing to slip away from your grasp—and you watch him closely, love filling your chest. “I like to believe we are.”

Baby moves to his bag and pulls out his learning tablet, immediately plopping down with it and opening up the case to pull up one of his many learning apps. It had taken you and Din a long time to finally give in and get him the darn thing, but Padmé had vouched for the item. Now Baby can’t have enough of it, always curious about everything and waving the thing in your face occasionally to ask you a question.

“I always knew your future family would be lucky,” he says, far away look in his eyes and smile barely lifted—there, just not wide. Your breath stutters. “You and Din make a lovely couple.”

Did he not know? Is this why he didn’t know about baby?

“Obi—” Your eyebrows furrow and you find yourself standing, tentatively reaching for his hand—and why do you feel like easing whatever turmoil he is in?—“Din and I… we care for eachother, deeply. He is my friend, the father of my child, but he and I—we haven’t been together in such a long time.”

“Maker.” He breathes in and out, squeezing your hand and lifting it to his face. “I have no right to be—I have been gone for too long, haven’t I?” He rests it against the slope of his cheek, nuzzling into your palm. “Missed out too much on your life. You’ve grown so much.”

“So have you,” you whisper, allowing him to press kisses to your palm, wanting nothing more than to weave your hands into his hair. You repeat the words, because it’s true. You can see it in his tired eyes, how they don’t shine as they once used to—the lines that have appeared at the edge of his eyes and the beard he’s starting to grow out, keeping it nice and trim.

“Not as much as you think, my darling.” He chuckles, kissing your wrist one last time and just allowing your hand to cradle his cheek. “Appearance wise, maybe. But mentally…”

“That can’t be true. You wouldn’t be here if it were.” Even if it’s only for a couple of days.

“Perhaps.”

Baby giggles and you briefly glance at him. He’s perfectly content, mouthing words and sounding them out.

“If I,” Obi Wan starts, stealing your attention from your baby, “if I told you I wanted to stay, what would you say?”

Your throat swallows—dry, like sandpaper, eyes wide as they study him, searching for a semblance of uncertainty or lie in his words. Perhaps for a confirmation that this isn’t a cruel joke meant to tug at your heartstring and pull them apart until you’ve become undone. There is nothing in his clear, blue eyes that tells you it is.

But you know that Obi Wan wouldn’t say something like this without it holding some truth.

He waits patiently for you, eyes searching yours just as intensely—but he’s worried, eyes wavering, unconfident.

This isn’t you. This isn’t him. This topsy-turvy, unstable relationship where you’re trying to figure out the other person, learn who they have become in the years lost without asking or finding a reason to talk. No, your relationship was always about comfort, knowing the other by watching and observing, of making the other feel safe—at home.

You know how to respond, “I would say: welcome home, Obi Wan Kenobi.”

“I’m home,” his voice hoarse and thick, “my little warrior.”

Your mouth falls open—the words, the question: “are you truly staying?” stuck in your throat and trying to form on your tongue, but you’re in disbelief. “Obi-Wan, what—”

A small arm slivers around your leg, and you stumble forward from the startle and momentum, knocking into Obi Wan. Strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you upright and steady against his chest. Your eyes lock onto blue ones in surprise and he mumbles a soft, “Hello, there.”

You huff under your breath, mumbling your own, “hello” and he smiles at the sound. Ignoring the flutter in your tummy and chest (blaming it on the stumble you almost took), you glance down to find Baby with an arm wrapped around Obi Wan’s leg and yours, hugging you both tightly.

“Welcome home, Obi,” he exclaims when you both glance down.

Obi Wan laughs loud, head thrown back and hair falling over his eyes—your heart constricts at the sight. When was the last time you saw him laugh like this—not in pictures or videos but in person?

Too long, your heart supplies in a broken whisper.

“Why thank you, little one.” He slowly untangles himself from you and crouches down in front of Baby, brushing his curls away from his face. “Would you like to see a magic trick?”

“Magic?” Baby claps, letting out an excited chirp of agreement, ready to be wowed by whatever Obi Wan was about to show him. “Yes, please!”

Warmth takes over you as you watch how gentle Obi Wan is with Baby, which doesn’t surprise you. But it hits differently when it’s your own child he’s being sweet to. Is this what it would’ve been like if he had given you both a chance? Kids of your own? Marriage?

Your phone rings, pulling you out of a spiral of thoughts you would rather not go down when he’s present. You thank the maker for the timely call and answer without a thought—“Anakin.”

“Where are you?”

You sigh, turning away from Obi Wan and Baby to focus on your shelves full of astronomy books. “I’m not coming to lunch.”

Baby squeals in delight and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as he grabs the quarter Obi Wan produced from thin air.

“Is that the little womp rat I hear?” You hummed in agreement, briefly explaining why Baby is with you and not his father. “That usually doesn’t stop you from coming out to lunch with me.”

Baby shows you the coin and you mouth an excited, “Woah, that’s amazing!” He laughs giddily and returns it to Obi Wan, asking him to do it again.

You briefly glance at Obi Wan and Baby and lock eyes with the former. You offer him a small smile before quickly turning away. “You have something to tell him, don’t you? You said you would.”

“I—I know.”

“Not so easy, is it?” you murmur, trying to make a joke out of it, but it falls flat, and you know it does when he sighs.

“I’ll do it. I will,” he affirms. “Rip it off like a bacta strip.”

“Ani, you don’t have to.”

He’s quiet for a moment and when he breaks it, his voice does too, “I owe him this much.”

This much. Clean—the air was too clean when there was blood and death and—stop!

You shake your head and your heart drops to your stomach. Stars. You should’ve figured this had nothing to do with Obi Wan but everything to do with Anakin. Maker, how stupid could you have been? You were so worried about you and Obi Wan that you neglected Anakin completely!

“Ani—“ your breath stutters.

“Darling?” You turn around, and Obi Wan stands only a few steps away from you, Baby sitting on his forearm as if weighed nothing—blue eyes watching you worriedly. “Everything all right?”

No.

“Yes.” You clear your throat. “I think Baby and I will be joining you for lunch, afterall.” Anakin says your name, and you cut him off. “We’ll meet you by the pendulum.” Anakin once more says your name, but you hang up on him.

“Shall we get going?” You meet Obi Wan’s gaze with a shaky smile, pushing your hair away from your face.

There was never a dull moment when it was you, Padmé, and Obi Wan. Your headmistress used to call you and Padmé trouble, wondering how it was possible you two could influence each other so badly and still keep up with your grades—as if sneaking out and fooling around occasionally was so blasphemous.

Things only got livelier when you graduated and Anakin moved to Coruscant. Thankfully for your headmistress’ blood pressure, you were long gone, starting university and finally moving into the apartment your parents had promised you would be yours (and Anakin’s). Instead, you were giving Obi Wan headaches and Padmé heart palpitations.

Much to their dismay and your amusement.

“Remember when you punched the guy?”

“Don’t remind me!” You groan, clutching your hand. “My hand still hurts whenever I think of that night.”

“If I remember correctly, Anakin also punched him,” Obi Wan says pointedly in Anakin’s direction. “And that ultimately got us banned from the bar.”

“To be fair, he was asking for it.” Anakin shrugs. “I only finished the job she started.”

“Go!” Padmé yelled, louder and with much force than Anakin.

“What?” You didn’t even get to finish the word as the large man you had punched emerged from the bar, blood caked to his face and eye swollen beyond belief—which you know for a fact you didn’t do. And he wasn’t alone; four other men with menacing mugs followed after him, heads whipping in different directions—until they landed in your direction.

Your eyes widened and your heart dropped to your stomach—that’s not good. “Kriff!”

Without waiting for the others, Obi Wan took your hand in his and began to lead you away from the parking lot, ignoring your sudden yelp at being tugged in the opposite direction of where you were positive he parked his car.

“What did you do, Anakin?” Obi Wan yelled back at the twenty year old, who looked far too amused by the situation than he should’ve been.

“Gave him a little taste of what he deserved!”

Padmé yelled something, voice drowned out by a motorcycle rushing by you, but it was followed by laughter so loud it overpowered the sounds of the ever alive city.

“What was it that Padme said while we were running?” you ask, trying to remember with narrowed eyes.

“That they couldn’t take us anywhere nice,” Anakin says with a shit eating grin.

You scoff, muttering, “That’s right,” while turning to Baby to make sure he was finishing his soup.

“And she was right.” Obi Wan shakes his head. “Having to pick up my car from the tow yard was a nightmare the next morning.”

“Hey! Padmé and I thought you two were already in the car.” Anakin gestures between you and Obi Wan. “I was kind of chancing on our getaway car being ready, but no, instead you two were just standing there in the middle of the parking lot.”

Lips connected with your knuckles—soft, plush, delicate and your breath hitched—he was never this bold with you, always keeping you at a certain distance for as long as you could remember—his darling, but never truly his.

The corners of your lips drop and you try to pick them up again as best as you can, hoping it doesn’t look like a grimace. It does. You know it does with how Obi Wan’s smile wavers and Anakin glances between you with a raised brow.

“Well,” Obi Wan starts, hoping to remove the uncomfortable veil that has fallen over you, “it’s a birthday I’ll never forget.”

“It was a good one, wasn’t it?” Anakin takes the bait, recalling that night fondly. “But nothing beats turning 18 and finally moving to Coruscant, for me.”

You laugh under your breath and Obi Wan chuckles, both sounding a little strained, but Anakin doesn't seem to notice. Probably for the best.

“All done,” Baby suddenly celebrates, raising his arms with glee in your direction.

“Good job, you little womp rat!” Anakin reaches for Baby and cleans his face with a napkin, your little one allowing him to do so, unlike when you try to do it. While Anakin might have some thoughts towards Din, there was no denying Baby holds a spot in Anakin’s soft heart.

“I’ll get the check,” Obi Wan offers, waving to get the attention of your waiter. You’re about to refute him, but Anakin nudges your shoe and shakes his head. Sighing softly, you close your mouth and watch him give up his card to the young man that had been serving your table.

“Thank you,” you whisper gratefully and he smiles at you.

“It’s my pleasure, darling.”

With your meal paid and Obi Wan’s card returned to him, you exit the restaurant with Baby holding your hand and walking, refusing to be held and carried to the trolley. It means you’ll be walking slower, but maybe this is exactly what you need to be able to tell Obi Wan—more time.

You and Anakin exchange looks and he gives you a little nod while you let out a sigh—it’s now or never.

Rip it off like a bacta strip, little one.

“Obi Wan,” you start slowly, “there’s something we need to tell you.”

He pauses mid walk and steps aside to leave an area of the sidewalk free for people to walk by. It’s a busy day, even for a weekday, but it’s not surprising. The plaza and park near the Observatory are always busy on bright, sunny days.

“We’ve been—we’ve been having—” Anakin lets out a growl of annoyance, struggling to be able to form the words. His eyebrows scrunch up and he scowls, and you gently pull him back with a squeeze of his shoulder. He glances at you and you tilt your head to the side.

He sighs and steps aside, taking Baby from you and leading him over to the grassy field to distract him for a few minutes.

“Is everything all right?” There’s a hint of panic in Obi Wan’s words and you quickly nod to try and dispel it.

“Yes!” He’s taken aback by the volume of your voice and you soften your next words, “Everything is fine. There’s just something he’s—we’ve been wanting to tell you for quite some time.” Now that your hands are unoccupied, you wring them and keep your eyes leveled with his chest. “Every year, for the past few years, we—we’ve been visiting your father’s resting place,” you whisper, afraid of what speaking these words aloud might do to him. Last time you tried telling him, he shut down the idea before you could even bring it up completely.

“I—I see,” he answers with trepidation, unsure.

“Everyone gets together to clean the area and replace the flowers we leave for him when we visit.”

“I—I appreciate it.”

“And when we’re done we go home and we—”

“You honor my father,” he says hoarsely, finishing it off for you.

“It’s what he wanted,” you murmur. And it was. He knows this. He was present when Qui Gon said so. “We would—we would like it if you joined us, Obi Wan. Everyone brings a dish and we have live music, and we share stories—”

“I—I see… and when is this happening?”

“The day before—”

“The day before he passed,” he once again finishes for you and you nod hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze, and although he’s already looking at you, his eyes are glazed over, not exactly focused on you.

“Obi—”

He takes a step back and clears his throat. “I’m sorry, darling. I—I need to go.”

Not again. Please, not again!

“Obi—” you try once more, reaching for his hand, but he jerks away and your hand falls, grasping the empty space between the two of you—again.

“Please tell Anakin I will speak to him soon.” He turns on his heels and swiftly walks away—shoulders tense and never once looking back.

“You must let go when the time comes, little one.”

Your shoulders sag, letting out a shaky breath as Anakin comes to a stop beside you. There’s no need to look at him to know he’s been hurt by Obi Wan’s reaction, because you have been too. But what is there to expect of a person who doesn’t want to let go of the dead?

Obi Wan was right, he hasn’t changed at all, and you were a fool to hope otherwise.

“Let’s go,” you break the silence, taking Baby from him and placing Anakin’s hand—that hand—in yours, not missing the way it trembles in your hold.

Mando’a translations

Buir = parents/son/daughter

Ad’ika = my child

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #reader insert #obi wan kenobi imagine

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Soldier Boy (Part 2)

Summary: The reader spends the day with Dean getting to know him some more when she catches him in a lie and discovers one of his most dark secrets...

Masterlist

Pairing: Superhero!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

____

“So how old are you, Solider Boy?” you asked the next day as you walked around the park.

“Thirty,” he said with a smirk.

“Solider Boy’s been around since the second world war. So. How old are you really?” you asked.

“I was eighteen when I was injected. I’ve aged very slowly. I do age, but it’s slow. They...I shouldn’t talk about this stuff,” he said, kicking at the ground with his boot. “Ah, fuck it, it’s in the news anyways.”

“The compound V?” you asked and he nodded.

“First successful try right here. I was still going through puberty so it took,” he said. “I guess. The science is very complicated they said. They just said you want to serve your country and I signed up.”

“What year were you born?”

“January 24th, 1926,” he said. You paused and he chuckled. “I know some women aren’t into older men.”

“I must seem like a child to you,” you said, walking again and crossing your arms.

“You’re twenty nine. I’m thirty. What’s such a big deal about that?” he smiled.

“You’re sweet,” you said. You dropped your hands by your sides, Dean taking one of them in his. “Old man ain’t wasting his time.”

“Keep it up, kiddo,” he laughed. You laced your fingers together with his hand and smiled as you looked at him. A flannel and t shirt. Jeans and boots. A baseball cap on his head. He looked so ordinary and yet he was the first superhero in existence. “I’m sure you’re wondering if I ever had a family.”

“A bit. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you said.

“No, I want to. I don’t talk to anyone anymore. Aside from the people at Vought to try and get in The Seven but that’s like beating a dead horse at this point,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently I’m too similar in the market sector as Homelander. Go ‘merica and color scheme and that shit. I didn’t ask to be the leader or anything. I just...want to get off the kiddie squad, go do real shit out there, help people, not the stupid stuff I do now.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t fit on The Seven. You want to help people, you don’t care about the photo op,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep trying,” he said. “But to answer your other question you didn’t ask, no, I never had a family. I had parents and a brother but they’ve all passed away. All my friends are gone. It never seemed right to love a girl and have a family and watch them all grow old and...honestly I didn’t want to watch my children grow older than me and die. I can’t imagine anything worse than outliving them.”

“You’re a good man, Dean.”

“I had the occasional acquaintance, don’t get me wrong. But it was always casual, no titles, nothing formal.”

“Is this casual?” you asked. He shook his head and you bumped his shoulder. “What’s different this time?”

“A chemical made me this way. Maybe a chemical can unmake me this way. We are so advanced now compared to back then. Maybe I can age normally with some other combination. Maybe I’m stuck like this forever. I just know that the numb pit inside of me woke the fuck up when I met you and it has been quiet for a very, very long time.”

“My mom’s quiet a bit older than my dad. Age gaps don’t scare me,” you said. He chuckled and you held onto his arm. “You don’t sparkle like the twilight guy though right?”

“Oh my God, no,” he laughed. “No sparkles here. I do make sparks when bullets bounce off of me though.”

“Well now you’re just bragging,” you said. You rested your head on his arm, thinking back to a movie you used to watch as a kid, Solider Boy the lead in the thing. “Dean.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you just lie about not having a family?” you asked, pulling away from him. You knew you could have let it go, should have let it go for the sake of the mission but damn you were pissed off at him for lying to you. You crossed your arms and he frowned, going over to a nearby bench. You sat down next to him, Solider Boy rubbing his hands together. “You were in this movie my brother loved so I watched it all the time. He was a huge fan and he would never shut up about you. I never paid much attention but I remember. You had a wife and kids once.”

“You’re gonna leave after I tell you this part,” he said, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m gonna leave if you don’t tell me the truth right now. You will never see my face again. You promised you would not lie to me. Out with it Dean.”

“I wasn’t always a good person. It’s very...difficult to stay good when there’s so much bad around you. When there’s no consequences.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“My son and daughter died hating me, thinking I was a monster. They died because of me. That was the breaking point for me. I walked away after that, I started over. I’d turned into this thing I didn’t recognize. I became Soldier Boy. Dean Winchester...he died back in that war. Not until the nineties did I realize what had happened to me. So I left. Went away from the world. Brought Dean back to life and Soldier Boy came back but different. Good this time. Greed, corruption. It’s not happening this time. Then you said...you made that comment about me being naive, that I’d turn eventually into an asshole supe like the rest of them. I’m terrified of that happening to me again. Maybe that’s why I like you, cause you’ll remind me not to be a monster again.”

“Why do you call yourself a monster?” you asked quietly.

“The first time I killed someone, I was mortified. The last time I did it, I laughed. It made me happy. I hurt him before I did it even. I stopped caring about people. My wife wanted a divorce. I thought she was hot, she fit my image. I told her I didn’t want one so she took some pills and told me she’d rather die than live with the devil. My kids were young adults, late twenties. I snapped at them when they blamed me for their mother’s death. My son hit me so I pushed him and he hit his head. My daughter ran out, afraid of me and was hit by a car. They died because I didn’t want to lose my image. I wasn’t even that upset at first. I thought a widow superhero, that’ll boost my numbers.”

“If that didn’t…” you said, Dean running his hands over his thighs. “What made you change?”

“I found a drawing my daughter had made me when she was small,” he said. He took out his wallet and unfolded a laminated sheet of paper holding it out to you. It was done in crayon, a few stick figures with one of them wearing a superhero outfit and the word “daddy” written above it. “She loved me once. I ripped it away from her. I found that cleaning out the house and I realized what I’d done. I’m worse than any bad guy there ever was for doing that to them. I stopped caring. When you stop caring is when you lose those bits of your soul. They break off until there’s nothing left. I am a monster, Y/N. Nothing I ever do can make up for it and save whatever shattered pieces are in there. But I owe it to my kids to be good and stay good.”

You handed the sheet back and he tucked it away, his wallet going in his pocket as he stared out at the trees across the path.

“I understand if you would no longer like to see or speak to me again. Or if you want to slap me in the face. That’s also acceptable,” he said.

“What year was all of this?” you asked.

“They died in ‘92. Then I ran away to Kansas, worked as a farmhand for a while,” he said. He rubbed his palm and stared down at his lap. “Just...be careful at night and try to stop walking down alleys for me, okay?”

“Why are you saying that?”

“I’m never going to see you again after you get up from this bench.”

You stood up and he let out a sigh. You took a step to your left and sat down closer to him, turning your head as Dean looked so horribly confused at you. You couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t an option. But while you knew you couldn’t walk because of the mission Butcher had you on, you didn’t want to. There was so much self-hate inside of Dean he hid well and part of you ached that he considered himself sub-human.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Dean. What happened to your family was horrible but they were accidents. Your daughter, your son. Your wife, did she even let it sink in for you before she did that? If I was married to someone and they suddenly asked for a divorce my gut reaction would probably be no too. I’m not saying you didn’t play a part but those were her actions that trickled down and affected the rest of you. Letting yourself become corrupted means you’re human. We all make fucking mistakes. Yours are a little big, I admit that. But you try to make up for it. All you can do after the fact is try and you’re doing that. There’s a soul in there Dean. If there wasn’t this wouldn’t be eating you alive. Cut yourself a break. I gotta process everything you said but I’m not walking away. Promise you will never lie to me again and I can promise you that I won’t judge you, no matter what you’ve done.”

“I’ve been around 95 years and I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said. “That’s a good thing. I will never lie to you again. I swear. I’m sorry. I was...frightened of telling you who I was deep down. I like you. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s the first bit of happiness I’ve felt in a long time and I don’t want it to go away just yet.”

“It’s okay that you were scared. Maybe on our third date we can have a less intense conversation. We can talk about how you’re older than sliced bread,” you teased.

“You youngin’s don’t know how good you got it,” he chuckled. You took his hand into your lap and he smiled. “Not a monster to you?”

“No. Just be a good guy and I’ll be happy,” you said. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, Dean looking you up and down.

“I wish I knew you when I was a dumb kid that let them shove that stuff in me. I never would have said yes if I had a girl back home.”

“Well, from now on, maybe just ask if you think I’d be proud of what you were doing. If the anwer’s no, maybe don’t do it,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep that one,” he said. “Also did you subtly drop that I’m getting another date despite all of that?”

“You told me the truth, even though it was hard. That’s why I like you too,” you said. “Plus you’re really old so you must have like, sex down to perfection by this point.”

“Gonna blow your fucking mind,” he teased. “Eventually. I know things are different nowadays but…you’re special. You’re not a hookup.”

“When you’re ready, you let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a hug, Dean hesitant at first but he quickly relaxed into it. “You alright?”

“Been a long time since I had a hug is all.”

“You need one, just come to me,” you said. You sat back and he smiled. “So. Let’s go do something fun. You look like you could use it.”

“Night,” murmured Dean as he kissed you at your doorstep that evening.

“Night,” you said, not moving away from him just yet. His ears perked up and he forced himself away. “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Nothing major. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Bye Dean,” you said, watching him take off running far faster than any human man could. You smiled as you locked up, a loud thud coming from your kitchen. You unlocked the door and looked around. “Hello?”

“For such a nice house you have an incredibly small kitchen,” said Butcher as he walked out with the bottle of your nicest bourbon.

“Oh come on, that was a housewarming present,” you said.

“I swipe you some more,” he said, taking a long swig. “How’s it going?”

“Good. We got close today but Butcher you seriously can not come back here again. Dean was this close to coming inside tonight.”

“Dean. I thought he was Solider Boy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You want to wind up like his last broad did? You give him the puppy dog eyes and then we make a move,” he said.

“I’m starting to think we might get further with sugar over spice. Billy he wants to make up for his past. If he gets into The Seven he could be a serious asset.”

“Are you going soft on me?” he asked, an edge in his voice.

“Let me work him the way I know best. Trust me,” you said.

“Don’t forget what this is for. You call when you’re ready,” he said. “Don’t take too long.”

He left out the back and you sighed, running your hands over your face. Sure, Dean had done some bad things in the past but who hadn’t? He wasn’t playing you, he had no reason to. The part of you that wanted revenge was still there but he didn’t cause your brother to die, not really. He was simply a prime target at the moment.

You swallowed and went to the kitchen, taking the bottle of alcohol to the family room. You sat on the couch and took a swig, letting it burn your throat.

You didn’t want him to get hurt. You liked him. A lot. Maybe you could convince him to go away, be someplace safer. Your head turned when you got a text, the alert saying it was from Dean and him asking you if you wanted to get out of the city and go hiking tomorrow.

Maybe that’d be a good time to tell him the truth. He was bound to find out eventually and if he got mad, at least you’d be the only one in danger. Billy’s voice was at the back of your head but you ignored it. He’d been angry for too long, couldn’t see the good in people anymore. Dean wasn’t what you thought he was at first. He was good deep down.

You’d tell Solider Boy the truth tomorrow and hoped you lived to see the next day.

______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #au!dean x reader #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #superhero!dean x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction

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hopekiedokie · 3 years

Text

The Dreaded First Day of School (single dad!jimin)

SUMMARY: On his son’s first day of school, we learn that the badass, leather jacket wearer, and tattoo clad single dad might not be so tough after all. Or maybe, his soft little son isn’t as pure as he ought to be. (In short, Jimin’s baby is growing up and he’s not prepared for it.)

GENRE: fluff, humour, maybe angst if you squint hard enough

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

NOTES: So Jimin isn’t supposed to be a mean or awful dad here. He’s just still not totally equipped to be one even after five years now. This might become a mini series with Ms. Y/n being Haneul’s teacher in the future. Who knows? Also, the photo is not mine.

POSTED ON: 26th March, 2021

What the actual heck is this??

Jimin has seen a lot of crazy things in his life but this, whatever is happening in front of him, is something he truly cannot believe.

You see, today is his son's, Haneul, dreaded™ first day of school.

The kid was up until 3 in the morning, crying his eyes out. He kept begging Jimin to not let him go, saying things like “I’ve been a good boy.” or “I don’t know those people.” or “Please, daddy, I don’t want to go!”

Half of the time, Jimin didn’t even understand what he was saying because he was crying so much.

The worst part is that Jimin had half the mind to give in to all these excuses and to just let Haneul attend school next year.

Contrary to popular belief though, he’s not entirely an awful example of what a father should be. In general, yes, he’s done a lot of questionable things. But in particular, as a father, he does like allowing his son to eat whatever junk food he wants, watch whatever is on the tv, or letting him up way past his bedtime (as late as 4am).

BUT he still has a smidge of decency left in his being and he actually wants his son to grow up decent.

(Which for the most part, is going along fine since Haneul is probably one of the sweetest and softest kids he’s ever seen. How though? Jimin has no idea.)

So with tired eyes and barely 4 hours of sleep, he dragged his son to school.

Even during the drive, Haneul was still adamant about skipping school and all the while, he kept using his cute crying voice that ALWAYS turns Jimin into mush.

Not this time though.

“It’s gonna be okay. You’ll meet a lot of friends and you’ll play with them! It’s gonna be fun, I promise.” This is one of the many things he said to lift his son’s spirits up.

All his efforts are still not enough to pacify Haneul as the tiny boy kept throwing a tantrum. Jimin even had to carry him after getting out of the car and during the entire walk to the school gymnasium where the assembly is, Haneul held his arms tightly around his neck.

To be completely honest, Jimin thought that it would be embarrassing but actually, he found the entire thing quite endearing.

Maybe it’s the narcissistic prick inside him that’s talking but seeing and hearing his son say that he’d rather spend time with him makes him feel like perhaps he’s not so bad of a dad after all.

Which brings us to the present.

To reiterate, Jimin cannot believe what’s happening.

One moment, his son is clinging to him for his dear life, then in an instant, he watched him grow up right in front of him.

In the worst way possible.

Not to be dramatic, but it was like watching his entire life slip away from his grasp.

The beginning of the end started when Jimin pointed to these three boys and insisted Haneul to introduce himself.

Boy, oh boy, oh boy, BIG mistake on his behalf!

He probably should’ve pushed his son to the “nerdier” looking kids. That would’ve helped him in the long run, as well!

At first, he watched in awe from a far as Haneul progressively turned less tense and more comfortable with those boys. They started with cute small smiles but it quickly turned into wildly animated gestures while comparing their Paw Patrol themed trolley backpacks.

“That’s my boy! Already making friends and it’s only been 5 minutes.” Jimin proudly thought to himself.

Okay, maybe Haneul is going to be fine. All that crying thinking Jimin did the entire night was for nothing! His cute soft son can totally do this.

Now, Jimin’s life altering moment comes. The time to actually say goodbye is here.

A teacher announces that they’re taking the kids to their respective classrooms and even if they cry or make a huge fit about it, the parents or guardians should stay where they are. They should refrain from “babying” their child.

Alright, now’s the time for Haneul to cry again! There’s no way he doesn’t cry even just a tiny bit…....Right?

Jimin makes eye contact with Haneul and, without any second thoughts, proudly mouths “I love you” while pointing to him.

Normally, Haneul is quick to return the gesture. Heck, he even goes as far as drawing a huge heart with his tiny pointer fingers!

But today, he doesn’t do that. No no no no no!

Instead, Haneul discreetly looks around him to check if anyone is watching him then……….

He shakes his head towards his father then faces back to his new friends.

Gasp! What is this???

Jimin has never felt so betrayed in his entire life! Not to mention, by his OWN son too.

This irks him so much.

So much so that he stands and gets close to his son, opposing the teacher’s instruction of letting their kids be.

Bitch, no. He’s getting his “I love you” from his son no matter what.

As he walks towards Haneul, it’s apparent that the kid had somehow done a complete 180 from his mood 10 minutes ago.

How can this be? How is he suddenly so cold towards his own man?

When he finally gets to Haneul, he literally, no joke, had to call his name 4 times to get his attention. The actual audacity of this kid!

“Hey, Haneul. Daddy’s gotta go!” Jimin says with his world famous “no eyes” smile.

Haneul’s face drops.

Bingo!

This kid is about to get a huge reality check or so Jimin thinks he is.

He’s waiting for any signs of despair, a sniff or maybe some glassy eyes but nothing happens.

Come on, where are the water works?? Where are all the hugs and kisses???

Haneul is like (・-・) to Jimin.

O-okay…….

“...”

Nothing???

“There’s a lot of scary strangers here……”

Okay, so that was really mean for Jimin to say bUT HE ONLY WANTS TO SQUEEZE EVEN JUST A DROP OF AFFECTION FROM HIM. Sue him!

Haneul finally opens his mouth.

Jimin quietly anticipates his son to return to his warm and loving self that he still doesn’t quite know where he gets from...

“So what, daddy? I’m a big boy! I don’t need you.”

(´⊙ω⊙`)?！

Uhm exCusE mE, but W H A T??

Needless to say, that statement hurt Jimin like a buttcheek on a stick.

However, he’s not gonna break away from his badass persona in front of all these people, especially around these little shits that they call “children”. He has an ✨𝓪𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓽𝓲𝓬✨ that he strictly abides to, people!

And frankly, he’s not gonna let his son walk all over him.

So without any word, Jimin leans down to give Haneul a kiss. If he’s not gonna receive any affection through words then fine! He’s gonna get it through a different way.

Jimin’s lips are almost in contact with Haneul’s plush cheeks. They are literally a hair away that Jimin can feel the heat emitting from it but all at once, that heat is gone.

You know why?

Because Haneul is quick to do that matrix shit where he bends his back to avoid his father’s lips.

Then he saunters away, leaving Jimin hanging.

(๑´⊙ ₃ ⊙`๑)

Jimin calls him a couple times but again, he did not look back.

S I G H

Alright, then. He doesn’t normally raise his voice towards his son (nor disciplines him tbh) but oh boy, oh boy! This kid is practically asking for it.

He doesn’t give a fuck if he’s five, no son of his is gonna be allowed to treat him like that!

“HANEUL! GET BACK HERE. NOW!”

Well, that got him looking back towards his father.

Jimin points in front of him to which Haneul begrudgingly complies after taking a peek from his new found friends.

Haneul hears the other boys snicker behind him as he trudges towards his slightly pissed father.

When he’s standing right where his father wants him, Jimin leans his cheek down again for him to kiss.

Now, the other boys are blatantly laughing at him.

Maaaaaaaan. He can’t be a laughing stock on his first day of school! He needs to be as cool as his daddy!

As Haneul contemplates his life choices, Jimin patiently waits for his kiss. There’s no way Haneul is gonna reject him for the third time in a row within a span of two minutes!

Within a few seconds, he feels Haneul’s lidol babie hand against his cheek.

O M G

How 😭 cute 😭 is 😭 this 😭 ??

This has got to be one the softest moments they have shared together. AND it’s in front of all these people!

Take that Namjoon hyung for saying I can’t be a gentle and tender loving father!

Jimin is about to place a hand over Haneul’s small one to caress it but then Haneul pushes his face away.

“Just go, daddy!”

Before Jimin is able to process what just transpired, Haneul is already strutting towards the other kids, feeling like a king or a boss for bitch-slapping his own father.

This little fUqer!!!

Who does he think he is to act like this towards Jimin iN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE??

This is what happens when he lets his son spend too much alone time with his Uncle Jungkook and Uncle Taehyung.

But to be fair, Haneul is still Jimin’s son at the end of the day so…..like, maybe he shouldn’t be too surprised??

Yet, still, he truly cannot believe it.

All it took was 5 minutes and a rowdy set of friends, then his kid has grown up.

He apparently “doesn’t need him” anymore, according to the kid.

To think that Jimin got up early to make him those cute bento boxes. He even specifically made them look like various pokemons that Haneul fancies!

Wow. Just. WOW.

Excuse him, but he’s just gonna get in his car and crank up “Slipping Through My Fingers” by ABBA while he ugly sobs.

#bangtan #bts #bts scenarios #jimin #park jimin #jimin x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts humor #bts au #bts drabble #jimin drabble #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff

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choco-mark · 4 years

Text

A Marriage of Inconvenience (2)

overall pairing: mafia!jeno x mafia!oc

overall genre: angst | smut | fluff

warnings: language, mentions of violence + death, y/n wanting to kill jeno, jeno being an asshole, oppression of women, murder/homicide, jeno wanting to kill y/n

summary: when two mafia gangs decide to end their family feud after decades, your mother decides to give your hand away to marriage of their son, lee jeno. he seemed to hate you from the moment he laid his eyes on you, but could the resolution lead to something much more than a bride and groom?

words: 4.8k

masterlist

requested by 🤡 anon

18 April

It had been a few days since you blew up on Jeno, and thankfully he found you scary enough to stay away from you for a while. Mark had been visiting your room every now and then to send you messages from your fiancee (one of which had been ‘don’t go to the training room tomorrow,’ which gave you an extra reason to stay there longer than usual).

Today was the day of the mission, or at least, that was what Mark had told you this morning after handing you a box of battle clothing. You took one look at the color of the uniform, repelling it immediately before you realized the expense of the actual fabric and how protective it would really be.

Even the thin overcoat armor was bulletproof, as it was marked on the inner side of the jacket. The boots were heeled, making you a bit annoyed as you would’ve rather stuck with your own classic ones, but you couldn’t pass by the chance to step on someone’s very nice face for being an asshole.

As you were slipping on the last of your clothing, Mark came bursting in, nearly causing you to throw the nearest object at him. His eyes were blown wide open, darting around the room until he focused on you. “Is there anyone else in here?”

“No?” You placed down the glass vase back on the bedside table, walking towards him. “It’s just me. Are we leaving soon?”

Gulping, he nodded. “Yeah—we’re just missing a few people. They’re probably in the training room, or still getting ready. Um, you can come with me, though—Jeno wants to talk to you.”

You scowled at the sound of his name, wanting to do literally anything other than listen to the blond guy boss you around like he needed you to convince himself that he had power. You weren’t sure if he would ever get it; there was no way you were going to listen to anything he said, ever.

You walked down with Mark anyway, making sure to pocket your phone alongside you. Jisung had called you earlier, telling you quietly how he missed you and wanted to see you as soon as he could, and you had just chuckled, saying it would happen soon. It had hurt your heart, hearing your younger brother sound so broken over the call, but there was nothing you could give other than the empty promise of ‘maybe.’

Once you had reached the lobby, you noticed there was a line of Lee fighters, that were all (so surprisingly) male. Almost each and every one of them watched as you walked down the steps beside Mark, looking you up and down like you were some kind of specimen. It made you feel unknowingly self-conscious, having so many men stare at you without an ounce of remorse in their blood.

Jeno was in the corner, sitting next to an elderly but sharp looking man, talking intently with him until the man’s eyes fell on you. You wished you could have spat in his face from the way his eyes skimmed your body, a man who looked old enough to be your father. As you came closer, he stood up, giving you a slight bow, which you returned.

“Thank you for joining us, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, looking from Jeno to you, and then to Mark. “We’re glad to have one of the best soldiers in NCT Park for this mission, who is, I’ve heard, you? It’s an honor.”

Jeno gave an incredulous look to his father, looking at you with huge eyes that you thought they’d better burst from his sockets any moment soon. “Would you take a seat next to my son, miss?”

You cocked your head at the sound of formality, nodding slightly before sitting down stiffly beside Jeno, not feeling the man in front you had good intentions at all. Glancing over at your fiancee, you said, “I appreciate the deal you have fixed with my family; that is why I am here.”

The man nodded, looking up at Mark. “Your brothers are already on their way to the hideout, Mark, there’s no reason to go looking for them any longer. Get the cars ready, and make sure the system is set up before we arrive there. Okay, son?”

You had already found out from Mark that he himself was not a fighter, but a hacker instead. It explained why he always had an electronic device in his hands and why he had a notepad on deck every time he came to visit you; he was always ready, and dedicated to the cause. It reminded you of yourself.

He nodded, scurrying out of the room being followed by a few of the men. Jeno’s father leaned over, completely disregarding his son as he spoke to you. “We’re having you join Jeno’s team for this mission, so please effectively cooperate with him. Proper equipment is supplied in the van you’ll be taking alongside with the team, and if you need any assistance with weapons, my son will help you.” Jeno grumbled softly at the mention of himself, leaning back against the sofa.

“We are infiltrating the hideout for today, so we’ll only be providing blades for this mission. There shouldn’t be many people other than guards outside, and it will be an easy in and out mission for the treasure. Understood?”

You nodded. “And what of the mission? Is there anything I’m required to collect?” Jeno’s dad clicked his tongue at the sound of your voice, almost as if he disapproved of you talking. “Excuse me?”

“I understand you are a Park,” he continued, disregarding your question completely as he looked over to Jeno, who was sitting beside you. “And I am aware that your people raise their women as fighters, and I have nothing against it; any family shall wish to raise their children in any way they please. But in the Lee household, we do not condone any of the sort. You may have already realized that women are of a scarcity to the public eye, we like to keep it that way.”

Explains why your guys look at me like they want to eat me. You raised your eyebrow, scoffing internally at where this was going. What year are we in? Or rather, what century?

“Of course, I am sure my son has already informed you of your duties as his future wife, I believe?” The man pursed his lips, focusing steadily on Jeno. “And how to properly address all men with—well-deserved respect, of course?”

There was a flash behind your eyes, telling you that if you killed this man right now, everything coming out of his disgusting mouth would cease, but you had seen it coming anyway. The misogynistic nature of the palace, the way men looked at you like you were some kind of prey that should kept away like gold, it was very obvious.

But you plastered a smile onto your face, stopping Jeno as he began to speak. “Of course, sir. I am a Park after all, as you mentioned, so I believe it will take me some time before I can become accustomed to their new—expectations. My intention here is—well—to serve as you expect.”

Jeno’s father laid out a bright smile, showing that he believed your obedient antics as he stood up with a clap of acceptance. “I expected a bit of retaliation, as you are a Park, but you seem to have understood your position. I am glad, Miss Park, that you are able to fit our high standards.”

High standards my ass. You stood up shortly after, giving a small bow as he left, walking out of the room, presumably back to his office. With a roll of your eyes, you looked back at Jeno, who was standing next to you. “You assholes really are living in the 19th century, aren’t you?”

He ran a hand through his blond hair, glancing over at you in shock of how you had just spoken to his father versus himself. “You—what the fuck? You literally just said you’d listen!”

“Ignorant Lees,” you scolded, letting out a sound of pure disgust, thinking of the way his father had just spoken to you about women as if they were an object. “No wonder we hate you. Oppression of women like this is something you all should die for.”

But I can’t kill him yet. Jeno sighed at the sight of your defient figure, knowing that you weren’t about to give into the Lee ways. “You’re in our house now, might as well just act like a Lee too. Might make your life a lot easier.”

I need to know what they want from me first. I have to find out what their obsession with me is. “Life isn’t simple, Lee, and especially not mine. I will not ‘act’ like a Lee, and I will not hesitate to slice your ears off for being ignorant.”

“Can’t you just,” he rubbed at his temples, wondering how he was even going to control you during the mission, “act like a lady? Like a girl? Be nice and shit, you know?”

With a soft growl, you jabbed sharply at the man’s stomach, making him fall back into the couch with a loud thud, gaining the attention of the other fighters. You gave them all a little smile, waving them away as you turned back to the man you were supposed to call your fiancee. “You’re fucking crazy—”

You slapped both of his thighs, making all of the others look back at you as you straddled his lap, grabbing his neck between your hands. “Lee,” you said in a hushed tone, pressing a finger to his windpipe as he attempted to speak. “You’re young, you’re handsome, and you’re an absolute idiot. Use that brain of yours to think for a bit, just a little. Think of all the time women treated you so good, listened to you like you were their master.”

Jeno’s breath hitched as your grip on his neck tightened, his surprise turning to anger and then...arousal? “They were all on their knees for you, weren’t they? Giving you exactly what you wanted, when you wanted, making you feel like you were so in control. You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Women are not any less than men,” your tone was so soft now, but harsh in his mind as your hands grew hotter and hotter in his skin. “We never were. You are the same age as me, I am not any less important that you are and most certainly not because I am a woman.”

He didn’t know if he was supposed to be finding all of this so very hot, but he couldn’t help but want the grip around his neck to tighten. Jeno watched you with as steady eyes as possible, but you could see him faltering with your movements, letting you know silently that you had won this time.

“Watch your mouth, Lee,” you spat, a little louder as you got off of him, turning away to where Mark reentered the room, calling everyone out. “It could cause you some trouble in the real world.”

“I don’t really get it either,” Mark said, gaining your attention. “I mean—I heard you talking to Jeno. I don’t really get why my father’s always so—stupid about the whole gender thing.”

You were sitting in the back of the van, beside Mark as he attempted to show you his interesting gadgets that he had set up very intricately. It wasn’t that you were necessarily interested in whatever he was showing you, but rather that there was a less likely chance of you wanting to kill him over the other Lees or Jeno.

You nodded slowly, glad that at least one person had a bit of common sense. “I haven’t—seen any women around other than my servant. Where even—are they?” The question was more to yourself than to him, the curiosity of where they were hidden in the palace intriguing you.

“There are women in the house,” he continued, typing into a laptop that was showing some corrupt-looking software. “I—have sisters. They’re in the east wing, though, away from everyone else. They aren’t allowed out of their rooms unless they want to talk with the others, and there’s an old drawing room where they all gather.”

“Men aren’t really allowed in the east wing,” Mark glanced over at you, shining remorse in his eyes. “Not unless they’re married to them. Or if—it’s their mother. I visit my mom sometimes, but I haven’t seen my sisters since—well, a long time.”

“I mean, I used to sneak up there when I was younger to talk to my sisters—and Jeno actually used to come with me, but our father found us one day and—he wasn’t happy. He gave us a long lecture about how men and women weren’t equals and whatnot, it was basically just bullshit.”

“I still go though,” he let out a short cough, avoiding your gaze. “I see my sisters in my mom’s room all the time, but other than that—I really can’t.”

Your eyes widened at his words. They don’t allow siblings to see each other? What kind of—oppression is this? Isn’t it too much? You thought back to your home, where you had grown up alongside your baby brother your entire life, caring for him so deeply.

It hurt to even think about not having a relationship with Jisung; he was probably the only other person that you truly loved other than your mother. “Are you—serious?”

“Yeah,” his voice was smaller, the clash of the keyboard masking the pain as he gulped. “Um, we’re almost there. There’s—blades in the front, and like—other weapons and stuff. I don’t think you’ll need that many, anyway, we aren’t expecting much resistance anyway.”

“I will slice your arm off,” you hissed at one of Jeno’s teammates, scowling as they eyed you as if you were candy, but then widened their eyes at your harshness. “Which one do you want? I take requests everyday, you know.”

Jeno watched the scene from behind, stepping in to grab your arm and pull you away from them, sheathing the knife you had out back into the safety of your boot. You yanked yourself back, cursing at him for having such a tight grip, wanting to punch this man as well.

You looked so—confident, in Jeno’s point of view. Maybe a little too confident from the way you always stood straight and held yourself up as if you were more powerful than any other one of the Lees in the crowd currently, and he wanted to test it. He wanted to test to see if you, a woman, were just as confident as you portrayed yourself to the people.

“Why doesn’t Park go in first?” Jeno suggested out of nowhere, the sound rattling through everyone’s ears as they looked at him. “Unless, anyone else would like to volunteer themselves? You’re free to go.”

Silence rang through the air, making you look back at the men with an eyebrow raised, surprised that no one offered themselves. Mark scurried over to where Jeno was, whispering a short few words into his ear before his brother pushed him away, scowling. “I don’t really care.”

“—Is your friendly chatter over, Lee?” You asked with an amused expression, titling your head sideways at him as he glanced back over to you. “Shouldn’t you take the lead, as well, the leader of your unit? Or would you rather pass it down to a measly little Park?”

The last word was mockery, allowing a small smirk to break from your face as he stepped closer to you. “No, I’d rather test you. As the leader, I think I’d like to see what kind of skills my future wife supposedly has.”

Future wife. The title burned a fire inside your bones, urging you to move a step forward and stab him. Future wife my ass, fucker.

“If you insist,” you continued, turning around to avoid his stance. “I’ll move in first then, if it’s such a game for you Lees. The rest can follow.”

“Don’t order my men around.”

You clenched your teeth, shooting a sharp gaze to the blond man. “The rest can follow.” Disregarding his want to start another argument, you left him behind, moving past from behind the van to where the hideout was, guarded nicely by large guards.

You wished you had been given another weapon, because the knife inside your boot was not going to kill the two of them without adding suspicion to the other. Fuck Lees and their stupidass policies. They’re gonna get themselves killed.

Well lucky for them, they had you. The blade went soaring straight into the back of the first guard, a pierce to the heart as he fell a silent thud, making the other unaware as he was turned around. You made your move them, whipping your head back once before creeping towards the man, pulling the knife out as quietly as you could.

It didn’t seem to be completely quiet, however, since the other guard had whirled back to see you crouched over the now-dead man. He raised his glock, moving to shoot at you and missing as you sent the blade into the flesh of his shin, making him fall down.

Crawling over to the other man, you wrestled the gun out of his hands slipping it into your belt as you slit his throat with a quick motion, making sure to look away as you did so. As much as you had fought and killed all your life, the one thing you could never get over was the sight of a person loosing their life, no matter how horrible their deed was.

You stood up, looking back to where you had been hiding to see no one, your eyes rolling annoyingly. Jeno has most likely ordered the rest of his fighters to the back of the hideout, giving you absolutely no backup. Eithier he had full confidence in you, or he wanted you to die, and you knew it was the latter.

Moving past the gate, you scanned the area with a quick eye, realizing that there were no other guards to be seen. It was weird, even though Mark had told you before that many weren’t going to be there, but it was odd for a hideout to have less than ten guards. Perhaps, there were more in the back?

As you moved closer to the building, you hid on the side, pressing yourself against the wall as you eased closer to the door. Just as you did so, you felt a hand pulling the glock out of your belt, making your heart jump for moment before you put a hand over the gun and swiped with your other hand, hoping to get the person in the neck.

But a tight grip was met with your wrist instead, your eyes focusing on Jeno’s as he smirked in pride. The motion made you growl, twisting your hand out of his and raising your leg up quickly, giving him a hard blow to the abdomen.

“Fucking asshole,” you watched him collapse, groaning slightly as you stepped closer, and then took a step back. “Trying to play with me? Dangerous game, Lee. Stick to your gun play, maybe, I have better physical skills.”

Just as you turned your head, a hand was on your ankle, yanking you down harshly on top of the man. It was a slight miss, the knife skimming the end of his ear as you took account to what he just did. “Physical skills? Bullshit, Park. You’re weak.”

This wasn’t the place to do any of this, but you sat up hastily anyway, wrapping one hand around his throat as you did so. Judging from the way he liked it so much earlier, you expected that he would go limp when you did that, and the assumption was correct. Your knife pulled up from beside him, coming close to his face instead.

“I’m weak? You’re the one trying to kill me when we’re here for other purposes.” You were tempted to nick his gorgeous face, let just a drop of blood trickle down those sharp features. “All you have is strength, Lee. No brain, no logic, not even a bit of skill.”

Climbing off him, you watched as he shook himself back to his senses, the huge eyes being replaced by his rough ones. “Are you admitting to not having strength then, Park? Because I’ll have to agree with you on that.”

“You’re such a child,” you said for the second time, the words hitting him with a roll of his eyes. “No wonder all you Lees are so competitive, it must be a hereditary disease. The need to be the best, what a joke.”

Jeno’s eyes flashed with your mockery towards his family, his eyes moving quickly to a new guard standing behind you, aiming with a glock towards your head. He wasn’t sure if the guard even noticed him, but he definitely thought he didn’t when a bullet went through his head, marking his death immediately.

“You talk to much but do so little,” he looked over at you, grabbing you by the arm and shoving you forward. “You haven’t proved shit to me yet, then, and I don’t care if you think my family is competitive. We fucking are, and we like to win.”

“Start boasting about skill when you’re the highest family of NCT,” he nudged you towards the entrance. “I haven’t even seen the Parks on the chain, and you know why? Because you cannot win.”

The two of you were now inside the building, pressed against the wall as you tried not to screech back. “Not everything is a game, Lee.”

“Wrong,” the both you were now at the end of the hallway, his breath hot in your ear. “The entire world is a game, Park. We’re all just a bunch of players.”

The last syllable of his word ended with a loud clink to the front of the two of you, a grenade being thrown to end of the hallway. It burst almost immediately, and surprisingly, smoke covered the area instead, the disgusting scent filling up your lungs fully.

Jeno gave out a violent cough, covering his mouth as he attempted to see through the dark colors, his eyes straining as smoke filled his vision. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone inside, it was just the drugs that they were here for, stocked high in the hideout which was barely guarded.

But he knew something was wrong, when he reached forward with his hand to feel nothing but the air, your presence completely gone. “Park? PARK?!” Jeno stretched out both his arms, feeling around him as his heart sped up, his skin only meeting the cool brick of the wall.

Fuck, he had messed up. He had one job, and that one job was to make sure you were safe. It was supposed to be easy, a way to mock you through this whole mini mission, and he had promised his father that he would look after you. You, of course, were the prize after all.

Even Mark’s warning with bright in his head from earlier, the ‘she can’t get hurt, or else you know what’ll happen’ that he had ignored with a thought of ‘nothing will happen.’ “Park?! Fuck, Park! Where the fuck are you?!”

His voice was loud, almost an imitation of himself as he heard it echo through the hallway, not a person in sight or feeling distance. “Jeno!”

Jeno whipped his head back at the sound of his name, the sound being all too familiar as he saw a light at the end of the hallway, the door being wide open as he moved closer, his vision covering him from seeing anything. As he got closer, his knees bucked, almost making him fall before the owner of the voice yanked him out, pulling him back outside.

“Did you see who set it off?” Mark pulled his brother up, his eyes scanning the other’s as he coughed out the rest of the smoke. His mind was going haywire right now, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the smoke or from the fact that he had completely lost you— “Jeno!”

He pushed off Mark from his body, making the other man stumbled back as he took a seat against the wall, leaning back as he rubbed at his eyes. “I fucking—”

Jeno closed his eyes again, thinking back only seconds ago to where he had just murmured into your ear, the bomb going off right as he finished. There was no way you had gotten out, he would’ve been able to at least see you make your way back.

Your presence had gone almost as quickly as it was there, like you had vanished in a single moment, as if you had never existed in the first place. He grabbed his hair in his hands, letting out a low snarl. “She was fucking—right there! Right there, Mark! She was right, fucking—in front of me. I w-was talking to her, and the bomb went off and she literally vanished.”

“You lost her?”

If only he had been more aware of what they were actually doing there, and the mission they had to finish quickly, maybe he wouldn’t have taken his time to mock you. But it wasn’t true, he would’ve done anything in his power to prove that you were less than what you seemed, and it was exactly what he tried to do, while loosing you in the process.

The smoke had dissipated after a few minutes, and a few of Jeno’s team came out the door, hands full of suitcases and bags. Even when inquired by him, they swore that it wasn’t them that set off the bomb, and that it must’ve been a trap that the owners of the hideout set up. But it didn’t make sense, when they told him that they searched the whole building and found no one; there was no fucking way that you could’ve gone away that easily.

“Maybe she ran away?” One of the men whispered to the other, making Jeno perk up to them. “That’s all girls can do anyway, fucking run away from problems like the filthy sluts they are. She should’ve stayed inside like a good girl.” The sound of degradation going to your name set something off inside of him, making him step closer to the batch of men as they chuckled heartily.

“Watch your mouth, soldier,” he grabbed the first one by the collar, pulling him up to his face. “I’ll make you bleach your tongue clean if I hear words like that coming out of you again, hear? You’re talking about Park Y/N, one of the highest ranked soldiers of NCT, and I expect some respect would go to her. Hear?”

Jeno shook of the guy, pushing him back as he turned to Mark, who was watching the scene with wide eyes. There was no way he had just defended your name, no fucking way he had just told his men to respect a Park. But that was what he did, and it had to be done; there was no denial that you were a better fighter than any of them there, even though he wouldn’t have admitted that only a few minutes ago.

And there was no way that you had run away, and he knew it. A Park never ran away from a fight, and regardless you, you were beyond any of the other Parks that he had met in the past. You sounded like you were of a higher breed, so much pride in your body that you wouldn’t have fled like a lower clan member. It was just all in the matter of where you had gone, or rather, who had taken you.

“Jeno, we have to go back,” Mark finally spoke up, his eyes trailing his brother’s as he looked up at him. “I know, I know, but we have to. Father will get—suspicious.” But he would get more suspicious when the team came back, the prized woman he was supposed to watch, gone from their hands in an instant.

He was right, the entire world was a game play, just filled with every human as tiny pawns that were unknown to the common world. But you weren’t a tiny pawn to the Lees, especially not to Jeno’s father, you were the queen on the large chess board, protecting yourself and everyone you. Yet he was wrong, wrong about your weakness, but his heart was bursting inside of him as he looked towards the ground.

“Let’s go, then.”

previous | next

well, part two!! so jeno’s not a COMPLETE asshole this time, but i think he still fits the POV. this took a while as well, so i hope y’all enjoyed and be rrrready for the next (and maybe final?) part!!

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markftmingi · 4 years

Text

the mc pres : johnny seo

SUMMARY: an au in which two people run into each other after 5 years but they aren't the same people they used to be...

PAIRING: mafia leader!johnny x teacher/single mom! reader

GENRE: angst, suggestive themes, and some smut.

WARNING(S): this isn’t fully written ok this is a unfinished piece i did like almost two years ago so its kinda bad and skips around but i wanted to post it anyways lmao, swearing, slight smut but it’s more of like a flashback of when it happened(?)

WORD COUNT: 2797

"okay everyone, class dismissed," you announced, smiling.

the class, individually, walked out of the classroom. your assistant and best friend, qian kun, stood by the door to say goodbye to the students. some said goodbye to you too, some didn't. you were too tired to notice who said what. you did notice your favorite two students walk in once everyone left.

one of two being mark lee. mark has been one of your students for the past 3 four years. you didn't know many of your students' personal lives but he had a public reputation. he's a member of the biggest motorcycle club in all of south korea. you didn't know much about the gang but you heard the roar of the motorcycles go by your apartment everyday. mark's feared by everyone here... except yourself, kun, and lucas. you all knew he was too much of a goofball to really hurt anyone. then there was lucas. he's the same age as mark so you had him as a student for 3 years too. he was taller than mark and a lot more scarier. the 6'0 young man was a selective mute who glared at everyone who even glanced at him. lucas gained a reputation as fighter in his freshman year after he nearly beat a senior to death when he was being made fun of. the next day, lucas walked in with mark sporting matching leather jackets with NCT stitched across the back. when kun came in two years ago, lucas tried to scare him off. luckily, kun wasn't the kind of person to be easily scared. they were both chinese, shy but had horrible tempers. after a heart to heart with him, he let his guard down around you and kun.

“you look horrible,” lucas said once he fully looked at you.

mark slapped his shoulder, “she doesn’t look horrible... the bags under her eyes do.

"leave her alone guys... they're designer bags." kun joked, making the two boys laugh.

"i'm convinced you all hate me." you said playfully, undoing your hair.

it had been pinned into a tight bun all day, giving you a headache. you also kicked off your heels as well - the daily ritual after school.

"i don't get how you deal with kids all day." mark questioned taking out his homework.

"you're one of those kids i have to deal with all day."

he rolled his eyes, "not me... i don't count. you love me."

"yeah yeah, back to work." you smiled, as you began to plan for the next day.

that's how you spent your afternoons. the four of you would stay after school until your daughter got out of school too. lucas and mark doing homework and projects while kun and yourself planned what you would teach next. if they wanted to talk or vent to you, they would... especially lucas.

the two hours went by and you were now walking out the school.

"you two need a ride?" kun offered them.

lucas shook his head and nodded towards the parking lot. you turned around seeing a small group of bikers staring back at you.

"o-oh." you stuttered.

you couldn't see their faces clearly due to face masks and sunglasses but you were intimidated. three tall, muscular men with motorcycles staring at you was not something you’re used to. they both said goodbye before walking towards the group.

"i couldn't even see their eyes but it still feels like the one in front was staring into my soul,” you mumbled to kun as you walked to his car.

he shrugged casually, "maybe he was."

"kun, this isn't funny."

"relax", kun pulled you closer, "they have a bad reputation but they're not randomly going to jump you or kill you. they go after those who cause problems or mess with them. you're innocent… well some nights you are."

you ignored the smirk on his face and got into his car. kun's apartment was right next to yours. he's heard your moans and screams plenty of times due to your previous relationship. he swore he wasn't that bothered by it but it was still embarrassing.

"kun?" you turned towards him, “what are you doing later?”

he thought for a moment, "well... we still have to finish wednesday's lesson plan. so i will be over to cook my god-daughter dinner and then we're going to work."

you let out a long, dramatic sigh as you got out the car. it was going to be a long night.

•••

the next day was uneventful. classes were boring and you wanted to leave. you loved teaching. it's always been your dream job but some days, you craved a vacation.

you currently didn't have a class right now so you were printing notes of today’s lessons. the door opened slightly, making you sit up. it was only kun.

"so you have a visitor." he said, with an unsure look on his face.

"why the face? who is it?"

"it's one of those bikers from yesterday. apparently he's also legally lucas's guardian." kun admitted.

lucas' guardian? you both knew lucas never mentioned his parents but you didn't assume he was adopted either.

"you can send him in. i'll be okay."

kun nodded before disappearing again. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. you were nervous. why did he want to meet with you? was it strictly about lucas?

a knock on the door made you sit up again. the door opened and it was the last person you ever expected to see.

johnny smirked slightly, "hey, y/n.”

"oh you have got to be kidding me." you mumbled to yourself.

johnny seo. a man you met back in your hometown of chicago. his mother lived next door to your family. you remembered her telling you that her son was finally coming home. when you saw the then 20 year old man, you knew he was trouble. yet you were still so eager to trust him and give yourself away. but that was five years ago. back when you were in college. back when you were dumb and naive. back when you fell in love for the first time.

back before he left you pregnant without a word.

"i came here yesterday to pick lucas and mark and i was very surprised to see you walk out with them." johnny said as he walked closer to you.

"there is no way this is happening right now." you laughed but there was no humor in your voice.

johnny ignored your remarks and openly checked you out, "you look as beautiful as ever... how've you been?"

you scoffed and looked up at him fully for the first time since he walked in. he looked as beautiful as ever too. his hair was longer and lighter than it used to be. he was more fit and had a few more tattoos. those beautiful brown eyes were what changed the most. they were much colder and didn't hold that same sparkle that they used to.

"i don't know why my well-being should concern you but as lucas' guardian, you should focus on mentioning him." you said, folding your hands gently in your lap.

johnny leaned on your desk, "mark always mentioned a ms. y/n that him and lucas stayed after school with and i just knew it couldn't have been you... i should've known though. y/n isn't a common name here. you always talked about how much you wanted to be a teacher and help kids and how much you wanted to come to seoul."

"if you're not here about lucas, you can leave, mr. seo." you stated before getting up.

this whole situation was insane. you never thought you’d run into johnny again. your life was going great. now all of the sudden, he's in your classroom, making your heart beat out of your chest. you erased the chalkboard and wrote the date in the top right corner. when you turned back around, johnny's arms trapped you against the board.

"why are you ignoring me like this?" johnny mumbled.

"there's nothing i have to say to you anymore. when you have to talk about lucas, then i'll talk to you." you said, pushing him away.

he sighed, "i want to talk about us, sweetheart. lucas is 21. he can handle himself. as far as i know, his grades are good. well, that's what mark tells me. that kid doesn't even talk."

you raised an eyebrow, "he doesn't talk to you?"

"no, he only talks to mark... does he talk to you?"

"yeah," you held back a laugh, "looks like i have more of a connection with your gang than you do and you're the leader."

johnny shrugged, "you might have more of a connection with mark and lucas than i do... but you and i have a better connection than anybody."

"had... had a connection. a one-sided one at that."

"i cared about you. just not how you cared about me. i never loved you. you were just supposed to be a fling. although i will admit i called my mom to see how you and the baby were doing. crying into your pillow for two weeks? that's a little pathetic, don't you think?" he asked, leaning against the board.

"fuck you, johnny. you left me. how was i supposed to feel?"

"i told you. you meant nothing to me."

"obviously if you left me as soon as i said i was pregnant." you whispered but you knew he heard you.

the door opened, making both of your heads look towards it. kun.

"am i interrupting something?" kun asked, setting a pack of papers on his desk.

"no, i was just leaving." johnny announced as he walked towards the door, "see you soon, sweetheart.”

as soon as johnny left, you let out a big sigh.

"what the hell happened?" kun asked as he began to separate the papers.

"that man... was johnny as in the same johnny who left me in chicago... jasmine's father."

kun knew everything. being that you only had three friends, two of them being your students, you told him your life story.

"no way... did you know he was that motorcycle president back there?"

you shook your head, "when i first met him in chicago, people around the city had warned me that he was no good. that he only came back to chicago to avoid getting into trouble in korea. i didn't know he was in a motorcycle club at all. i was too blind to see all that."

"too blind because your face was being pushed into his pillow?" kun slyly asked.

you scoffed, "keep stapling papers, qian."

your mind flashed back to what johnny said before he left...

see you soon, sweetheart.

•••

johnny sighed for the nth time this evening. he couldn't get you out of his head now. the woman he thought he left for good. when he met in you in your shared hometown, he thought you were perfect for his needs- beautiful and naive as fuck. you were a really good person. really nice, caring, the total package. he ruined that... almost every night. you didn't deserve that. you didn't deserve for johnny to ruin your innocence just for you to fall in love and have him leave months later.

one day you told johnny you were pregnant. the next day, he was on a plane back to south korea. johnny wondered how the kid was doing. she or he would be about 5 years old. maybe 6. did they look like him? did they look more like you? were they a perfect combination of you both?

"why the fuck am i thinking about this shit now? i didn't give a fuck before." johnny mumbled to himself.

it was roughly 12:30am. johnny wondered if you were still the night owl he remembered you to be. most of that coming from when he used to keep you up all night. he wondered if you’d been with anyone since him. who was he kidding? you were gorgeous and your body was perfect. you could easily have men crawling at the sight of you. the thought of another man touching you bothered johnny. he knew no one could make you feel like he did though. you always felt so tight and wet around him…mouth always ready to take him whenever he asked… the sinful screams and scratches when he’d fuck you real good. johnny could feel himself getting hard at the thought.

he got up and headed out the door. he knew he would end up regretting this later...

•••

you gasped when you opened the door, "johnny, what the fuck are you doing here?"

"i told you that i was going to see you soon,” johnny said quietly as he took in your appearance.

you crossed your arms, "when you said soon, i didn't think it'd be a day later. i also didn't think it would be at 1:38am... or at my house."

"maybe i missed you,” he smirked slightly.

"bullshit. seriously johnny, why are you here? how'd you even know where i live?"

"let me in and i'll tell you."

you looked up into his eyes before opening the door further. johnny smiled at you as he walked in.

"okay, so answer my questions." you demanded walking into the kitchen area.

"i am here because i was thinking about you." he admitted, staring at the marble counter.

"thinking about me for what?"

"well... i was actually i was thinking about how it felt to be inside of you then i got hard and decided to visit you."

you rolled your eyes, "at least you're being honest now."

"what do you mean 'now'? i was honest before." johnny questioned, slightly offended.

"no, you weren't johnny... not to me."

"i couldn't be honest to you. what did you want me to say? 'hey i'm only here until it’s clear for me to go back home. i killed a few people and had to lay low in chicago. you're a beautiful woman and all. i love hanging out with you but i love fucking you more. don't get attached though because i'm going to leave you.' is that what you wanted me to say?" he asked.

you threw your hands in the air, "yes! i would've loved to hear that. it would have saved me from heartbreak and trust issues. i was 20 and naive but if you told me that you just wanted a fuck buddy, then i wouldn't have gotten attached and i definitely would've kept condoms around!"

johnny looked taken back. he’s never seen you this mad before.

"who the fuck are you yelling at?” his words sounded cold but he was more intrigued than mad.

"i'm not yelling at you. i am talking loud. i'm tired of you already and it's only been two days! when you left, i blamed myself, wondering what i did wrong. i was stressed about having to carry a child for nine months and raise it all while being a full-time college student. it was your fault johnny! you and your shit communication skills!" you ranted, breathing heavily.

"momma." a small voice called out.

johnny’s head quickly turned towards the door. your little girl was standing there in a matching pj set. just one look at her and anyone could tell she was johnny’s daughter. you could see that jasmine had his eyes, nose and lips but had your hair and skin tone. your daughter was beautiful.

"yes, baby?" you replied softly, "did i wake you?"

"a little... who's he?" jasmine asked.

johnny crouched down to her level, "i- i'm johnny. your... mother's friend."

she tilted her head at him, "i'm 5 but i'm not stupid. you're my daddy. you look just like me."

"if anything, you look just like me." johnny corrected her.

"nope! you copied me first!" she shot back,

"wait. momma, you're crying."

johnny turned around to see you quickly wiping your tears away.

"i'm fine, jasmine, go and lay back down okay?”

she nodded and skipped off into her room.

johnny cleared his throat, “i know you don’t want to hear this… but i have to be in her life, y/n. i know that i fucked up but she deserves to have a father in her life.”

you scoffed, “wow. now the mafia leader wants to tell me what MY daughter needs. that’s funny.”

“it’s OUR daughter and you know i’m right.”

he was right. you didn’t want your daughter to grow up without her father, but you’d never admit that to him. you knew all the trouble being in the mafia brought to johnny and you feared the same thing would happen to your little girl.

987 notes · View notes

oureuphoria · 4 years

Text

Liars, Humans and Werewolves, Oh My.

Synopsis: Your father (a werewolf) and your mother (a werewolf) were concerned about your friend-making skills so they made deal with Jungkook to befriend you (a human). He knew he shouldn’t have agreed, he knew from the moment he spoke with you that it would blow up in his face but he genuinely believed what you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. It was a friendship founded on lies but to Jungkook it was the realest thing he knew. or “I don’t study fictional characters for fake friends, Y/N.”

Genre: fluff, angst, crack

Pairing: werewolf!jungkook X human!reader

Word count: 7.9K

Warnings: I don’t think there is any but lemme know if I’m wrong.

Note: Hiiiii!! Okay, so this oneshot was long overdue I am so sorry but I hope you enjoy. I’m not American and I’m not a werewolf so if any information is inaccurate I sincerely apologise. I proofread but there's a chance there might be some mistakes because I am a fool.

You approached your father as he was loading the car. “Why do we have to go?” You whined while also sluggishly lugging extremely large bags into the car to help him. “It’s a learning experience Y/N. Stop whining.” Your face fell at your his stern exclamation but the second he turned around you stuck your tongue out at him. “I just don’t understand the fundamentals of going to New York for 2-weeks just for a stupid party where you, mom and Miri have loads of fun while Henry and I suffer.” He ignored you as he closed the trunk and told you to get in. You were not making the car ride easy and your dad had to threaten to leave you on the side of the road to get you to stop complaining.

You were fully aware that werewolves were often stigmatised and misunderstood but you couldn’t help but panic a little when you were stuck in a room full of them. Sure, your fear was foolish since both humans and werewolves had been at peace for centuries but for some unrecognisable reason, all knowledge of the peaceful history left your mind the moment you entered the huge hall. Your dad was a human but turned before your mom gave birth to your eldest sister, Miri. She came out a werewolf, you and your younger brother Henry, however, didn’t. Although your sister was considered a full-blooded werewolf (and thanks to your mother an extremely prestigious werewolf at that), you and Henry were outcasts. It was uncommon for human-turned-werewolves to reproduce humans ‘lacking the wolf gene’ and being dragged to this party with your family just reminded you of the fact that you were in retrospect, a failure. At least you had your 14-year-old failure of a brother by your side.

While everyone coexisted in tranquillity, it was unorthodox for a human to know about werewolves unless they were a werewolf’s mate or in your rare case, a failed human child of two werewolves. You were sure you could never be any werewolf’s soulmate or anyone's soulmate for that matter, your heart was sworn to Netflix and 50 cats. The unorthodoxy of your situation meant that there was always an impenetrable tension between you and werewolves, one that made you extremely uncomfortable.

Despite all the weird stares and snarls that were hurled your way, your dad was optimistic. He always thought that being a human was great and that these parties were just simply learning curves that you needed to get past. “Henry, if you eat one more cupcake you’ll turn into one. Slow down!” He mocked you before shoving the other half of the cupcake in his mouth. You rolled your eyes and walked away to find him a napkin before you were kidnapped by your father. “Dad, what-“ “Y/N, say hi to the Jeons.” You didn’t really remember the Jeon family that much. All you knew was that your father and Jeon Songwook used to be super close. You also knew that when Songwook later married his beautiful wife, he had 2 children. Junghyun and Jungkook. Junghyun was the eldest and graduated with your sister, he was standing there clad in an expensive suit next to his girlfriend who’d you’d met at the last extravagant party. Jungkook was standing there also clad in an expensive suit with his eyes trained on your sister. You mustered the best smile you could though you were sick and tired of being the family’s pity show and tell story.

“Y/N, I’ve heard a lot about you, you’re the same age as Jungkook right?” You nodded subtly, unsure where this conversation was going. “I heard you got a perfect score on your SAT.” You saw Jungkook’s face morph into one of anger in the corner of your eye. “Dad-“ Before Jungkook could finish his father put his hand on your shoulder. “Walk with me, Y/N?” You looked at your father for help but he just shrugged. Your mother mouthing ‘don’t fuck this up’ at you as you walked past her. “Jungkook, he’s very athletically talented but he’s not the most academically inclined. He got into Princeton but purely on sports and I’m concerned that if he doesn’t get his grades up, he won’t have a back-up plan.” You nodded understandingly, he seemed like a genuinely nice man from what you could tell so you listened to him.

“What are you asking me to do, sir?” He chuckled at your worried eyes. “Just call me, Songwook, Songy if you want, that’s what your dad calls me.” You let out a small laugh, fighting back the urge to yawn. “I know that you’re going to Princeton too and I also know you’re taking a class in photography. Your dad showed me a couple of your photos, they really are beautiful.” Before you could even begin to thank him he continued. “My son is majoring in corporate law, like you, and I just thought it might be easier for him to start off if he had the support of someone as intelligent as you.” “Sir, I’m really not that smart-” He cut you off with a wave of his hand. “Nonsense, every parent in this room wishes they had a child as smart as you.” You laughed a little harder than last time. You wished that was true but you knew it was quite the opposite. Everyone here was just glad they weren’t raising two humans.

“So, do you want me to tutor him?” He nodded with a smile and you smiled back half-heartedly. You were already on bad terms with the werewolf society and now you were about to get on the bad side of the human one. Jungkook went to your high school but it was big and you never really talked to him. He was popular, naturally, and the attention that he generated was mostly from girls, also naturally. He was seen as untouchable though, he was nice, polite and a true charmer but he never stayed with a girl long enough to call her his. It felt weird to call him a fuck boy because he didn’t fit the image. He wasn’t reckless or cruel and he wasn’t a complete boneheaded idiot with a lack of morals. He was admirable, truly and from what you had known there was not a single person who hated him. You had a theory that he was emotionally unavailable because he was waiting for his mate but you never spent too long on it, you never really cared enough to.

Songwook walked you back to the cluster that was your merged families and once your family was alone you were bombarded with questions from your parents. “What did he say to you?” You gave them a pointed look to which they gave you a playful slap on the arm. “Hurry!” You took a deep breath creating suspense before ruining all their hopes in one sentence. “He just wanted me to tutor his son.” Your dad elbowed you slightly before letting out a long sigh. “We were worried he was going to ask you to marry Jungkook or something.” You started laughing uncontrollably before stopping abruptly. “What’s Miri doing with him, she knows he’s just into one night stands.” Your father shrugged before your mother interfered. “We warned her but your sister is old enough to make her own decisions.” You scoffed before turning to face them with crossed arms. “So, she can have sex with a guy that you know is going to leave after but I can’t buy a Nintendo Switch? She’s only 2 years and 7 months older than me!” Your parents just blinked at your outburst before they floated away to go impress another family.

You went to find Henry but he was nowhere to be seen and you literally searched everywhere. He was probably hiding in the men’s room on his phone watching Netflix but you couldn’t just go in there. You saw Jungkook leaning against a wall on his phone so you approached him without really thinking about what you were going to say. “Jungkook!” He looked up from his phone and gave you a tired smile. “This might be a little weird but do you think you can go into the men’s bathroom to see if my brother is in there?” He looked at you with widened eyes, he nodded slowly before making his way to the bathroom, you trailing behind him, he turned around and scratched his neck sheepishly. “Uh…what’s his name again? Sorry, I forgot.” You let out a laugh that you were trying to suppress before letting him know that his name was Henry.

Once Jungkook made it out, your brother next to him, you gave him a huge beaming smile. “Thank you!” He just nodded in return before making his way off to the bar. “Oh shit, you have a crush on Jungkook!” You turned around to look at your brother with a face of confusion. “What?” You gave him a good slap on the back of the head but he was undeterred. “You totally find him cute.” You rolled your eyes before putting your arm around his shoulder. “Everyone finds him cute. Now, I think I found a way to convince mom and dad to let us buy a Nintendo Switch.”

You had spent hours with Henry, even though he was 14, you were closer to him then you’d ever be to Miri. That wasn’t her fault though, it just turned out that way. “So, are you going to buy the new Resident Evil game?” You already knew where this was going. “Yeah, so that you can play the entire game before me.” He groaned at your stubbornness, refusing to let that one incident go. “How many times must I say I am sorry?” He was swinging your arm back and forth while exclaiming dramatically. Eventually, though, your parents came back and let you know it was time to go back to the hotel.

You were moving to New Jersey in 3 days and Henry did not like that. “Take me with you, I can fit inside your luggage if you make a little room.” Henry had been attached to your hip ever since this week had started. “I told you, I’ll kidnap you after I leave so it doesn’t seem suspicious.” He laughed, flopping down on the couch next to you. “I’m going to miss you. I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive as the only person of culture in this household” You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “Dad’s okay sometimes.” He gave you an all-knowing look and you sighed. “Okay so you’ll have to be the only person of culture for a bit but I’ll be back before you know it.”

Jungkook had avoided you the first week there. Whenever you tried to approach him he’d pretend he was busy or blatantly ignore you. You called your dad for help and he just said he’d talk to Songwook about it but it had been 2 days and he still made you feel like a plague-infested rat. You were in the library, reading over your schedule and trying to make sense of it. You were horribly bored but there was nothing better to do so you sat there and played games on your phone.

“You’re a snitch.” The voice scared you so much you threw your phone and lost at the game. “And you made me lose a chance at beating my high score!” You picked up your phone and looked up to be met with an angry Jungkook. “Yikes, who hurt you?” You went back to your phone but he snatched it out of your hand. “I don’t need your help.” You put your arms up to ‘surrender’ though you had no idea why he was so angry. “I didn’t know, your dad-” “My dad doesn’t care about my grades, just my reputation. You’d know all about damaging your parent's reputation though so no wonder he asked you.” You gulped, that was unexpected. “Gee, thanks.” You packed up whatever you had out on the table as quickly as you could and left. “Fuck…Y/N wait I didn’t mean that!” You heard him yell after you but you didn’t care, this was the one place where you thought you could escape it but your image followed you everywhere as long as a werewolf was there.

You rented an apartment alone, not wanting to deal with the havoc of dormitories or live with your sister and her chaos. You had saved up enough to maintain yourself for a while, doing small jobs at your dad's law firm sure helped but now you needed a real job. You weren’t too stressed about finding a job yet because you had some time and you were a master procrastinator. What really stressed you out was college. If anyone found out about your ‘background’ everyone would think that you bought your way in and that was the last thing you needed, all you had to do was avoid anyone you knew and remain unnoticed. Which would be hard considering your sister and Jungkook were around.

Thinking about Jungkook was starting to make you mad again so you got up and stretched, ready to unpack the few boxes that now contained your entire life. The apartment came furnished and you had already been up there to get the bulkier stuff settled with your family’s help so now you just had to sort through smaller things which you did with a frown. Once you were done, you expected to feel a sense of completion, excitement even, but you felt nothing. If anything you felt scared.

It was a Wednesday in your second week of college. You desperately hoped it would go better than your first week though you can’t think of a way for it to go any worse. But of course, the world is full of surprises. “Y/N!” You turned the other way when you saw Jungkook jogging towards you. You tried to walk with as much speed as you could muster but he was an athlete, you should’ve known better. “Y/N, I’m sorry, what I said was horrible.” He stopped in front of you while you looked at your feet. “It’s okay, I won’t snitch. I already forgot about it.” You tried to reason but he clearly didn’t believe you. “Why’d you turn around the other way then?” You stayed silent because you had no good excuse. “Let’s meet for lunch, my treat, I owe you.” You shook your head quickly. “I already ate lunch.” He looked at you weirdly before laughing. “Y/N it’s 8:30, I believe we call that breakfast.” Your face morphed into an embarrassed smile as you wished desperately for the ground to swallow you whole.

“So, you’re an alpha?!” Jungkook gestured for you to quieten down as while he looked around cautiously to see if anyone overheard. “No way, you totally don’t seem like an alpha.” He looked at you with an offended face which you just shook off. “Come on, alphas don’t run after people just to apologise, Jungkook.”

“Well, they can.” He retorted with just as much spite as you. “Evidently.” You looked him up and down while you said it and he flicked your forehead in response. You tried to take a bite of your burger but parts of it started slipping out. “I don’t know why they say Miri is the better sister, you clearly have so much class.” He said this while you were trying to eat your now deformed burger but you were not enjoying the scrutiny. “You’re so funny.” You replied mockingly which just made him laugh in return. “So, why the sudden change of heart? You used to look at me like I ran over your dog.” He winced at the memory before putting his fork down. “It was embarrassing, I never asked for help before and it was weird for me. Besides, I didn’t actually need help my dad was just paranoid.” You nodded understandingly because you sure did understand, you hated asking for help just as much as the next guy but you weren’t as well-rounded as Jungkook was, you definitely needed help in some areas.

“If I was a werewolf, I’d be an alpha, right?” Jungkook gave you one look before laughing obnoxiously, you put a hand on your heard feigning offence. “You’d be a beta.” You were now genuinely offended but pushed that back for the moment to provide room for your curiosity. “Why?” When he looked at you with a playful gaze you were prepared for a snarky comment. “Because people who want to be alphas are automatically betas. You don’t choose your role, your role chooses you.” You gave him a playful nudge into the wall as he was walking you home. “Okay Gandalf, when did you get so wise?” He laughed harder than he should’ve and you gave him a questioning look. “Who even is that?” Your eyes widened in shock. “Gandalf, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit?” When he still looked at you with the same blank stare you shook your head disappointingly. “Only a nerd like you would reference something from Lord of the Rings.” You nudged him a little harder this time but he was more prepared. “Y/N, I really am sorry about what I said.” You waved him off. “Admit I’d make the best alpha and I’ll forgive you.” His eyes met yours in an annoyed glare but they still seemed so beautiful to you. You had to tell yourself to stop staring before it got awkward. Maybe Henry was right, maybe you did have a tiny crush on Jungkook, but in reality, who didn’t?

“You’re late.” You quickly sat down in front of him, 15 minutes after you’re appointed time. “I know, I’m sorry. The lecture ran over schedule.” He shook his head in fake disappointment and you sighed before playing along. “A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.” Jungkook looked at you blankly, blinking far too much in an attempt to make you realise how random your references were. “Gandalf, again.” He muttered ‘nerd’ under his breath and went back to his papers. You hit him with your pen. Despite his father’s word, Jungkook was doing well but you had to admit that he was trying a lot harder than he did in high school.

“Thanks for joining me, I didn’t want to study alone.” You peered over your shoulder to look at the group of girls that were staring at him and giggling. “Could’ve asked someone from your fan club.” When he looked up at you in confusion, you cocked your head to the side that they were on and he sighed heavily. “They do that to every guy, trust me.” You nodded your head with a teasing look which he didn’t find amusing but he didn’t say anything after and you grew worried. “Hey, do you mind covering for me for tomorrow’s 2pm class? I have a wolf thing I have to deal with, just tell the professor that I had a meeting with my coach.” You nodded hesitantly, concerned about what had been stressing him out so much but you didn’t press. It had been 2 weeks since your lunch with him and since then you’d found out a handful of things about Jungkook. He was a competitive swimmer, he had a fear of microwaves, he did not hook-up with your sister and he didn’t like sharing information about himself.

When Jungkook showed up the day after the 2pm class he had to miss, he looked horrible. He had a cut on his lip that was healing and scattered bruises on his face. With how fast werewolves healed, you assumed this was far better than what it had been last night. “You look like roadkill.” You wanted to ask what had happened and if he was okay, but you knew where that would have gone so you skipped the small talk. “Shit, really?” He seemed panicked about what you said which made you even more concerned, it was obvious you were kidding. “No, you look fine just a little beaten. Are you okay?” He didn’t face you so you grabbed his shoulder to make him though when you did you felt a bandage through his shirt. He winced at the contact and you pulled your hand off like it was a hot stove. “Sorry. Jungkook, what happened?” He turned to you and smiled, pulling you by the forearm to your morning class. “There was already a pack here and you can’t have two alphas so I had to fight him. But I won and I’m fine. Trust me, he looks even worse.” You laughed but it seemed half-hearted, you were glad he shared this much though, it was more than you hoped for.

“So, recap on the class. Professor lost his shit at Daniel because he kept swinging on the chair and fell. We discussed conflict of interest in workplaces so shit got gory and someone walked in drunk. Welcome to Ivy League, huh?” He chuckled but it seemed fake and you wondered if he was even listening. You didn’t press further, you thought he had done enough sharing for that day. “Anyways, I have my photography class now so I’m going to go.” He nodded absentmindedly and you walked away with a clouded mind and a heavy heart. You worry made you realise that you definitely liked Jungkook in a completely non-platonic way. You were royally screwed.

You had made a friend in your photography class, his name was Berlin and he approached you for help at first which you didn’t really mind, you needed friends anyway. He asked if you wanted to join him after class to take some pictures around the college to help him with his new DSLR. You agreed with a little hesitation, unsure of how he got into the class with that little knowledge about cameras but you didn’t think much of it, his parents were probably rich. He had a black eye too but he told you it was from his martial arts classes and you believed him because it seemed like a genuine excuse. You had explored almost every surface of the giant campus and surprisingly had a lot of fun, it was refreshing to find someone with the same hobby as you. You called it a day at around 6pm, your class having finished at 4pm. You said goodbye and went home, determined to eat the cereal you had been craving. After saying goodbye, you went home to your eerily quiet apartment, you missed Henry.

“So, how’s college going?” You were eating with your sister who had finally found time for you in her extremely busy schedule. “It’s fine, I hate Professor Golden though.” She laughed, almost choking on her food so you passed her the cup of water. “Thanks. I totally remember hating Professor Golden too, we all made jokes about his last name.” You laughed a little before returning to your food. A thick tension grew in the air, your talks with her were always silent and awkward. You had very little in common.

“I can’t believe my baby sister is already a college freshman.” She cooed at you and you couldn’t help but laugh. She was almost 3 years older but sometimes she made it feel like 13. “Any college guys you find cute?” Your brain stopped working for a moment and you were unsure if you should tell her. “Come on, you can tell me.” She tried to pry it out of you while you just nervously smiled, trying to avoid her questions. Eventually, you gave up because it wasn’t like her to give up on gossip. “I think I like Jungkook.” Her face dropped dramatically and it made you panic a little. “Miri, what’s wrong?” She held your hand and looked at you sympathetically. “Y/N, he’s a werewolf.” She said something that wasn’t new to you. You’d repeated this to yourself far too many times to count. “I know. I’m not expecting anything to happen, I didn’t even expect this to happen it just did. Besides, I’m not in love with him, I’ll get over it.” You felt judged under her stare but you knew she meant well, no matter how harshly she came off sometimes. “Well, he rejected my advances so I really don’t think he’d be interested in you. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Miri said stupid things often. She lacked the emotional filter behind her words and offended people a lot. You grew thick skin thanks to her but this was where you drew the line. Your entire life you felt lesser than her and she promised you that she’d never do anything to make you feel that way and yet here she was, making you feel like you’ll never amount to her prestige. “Sorry, I need to get back I forgot I had a paper due by 5.” You left a $50 bill on the table and left before she could say anything else to potentially worsen the low blow she just gave you. You felt bad for walking away so abruptly, but you were not in the mood to argue with her, not again.

Unfortunately, your plans of moping on the couch all day were ruined when Jungkook had come over after hearing about the failure of a lunch with your sister, however, you spared him the details. “I bought a bag of junk food, McDonald’s and a whole pack of banana milk.” You smiled at him thankfully from your sad position on the couch which you were sure you were chemically bonded with now. “Did you get popcorn?” He was sorting through the bags before turning to you. “And risk dying via microwave? No thanks.” You laughed before getting up to join him. “Wait till I tell your pack that their alpha is scared of microwaves.” He gasped before clasping his heart dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.” He started chuckling straight after, an adorable smile on his face.

You watched like 3 movies already and Jungkook was yet to feel sleepy, you, however, were seconds away from passing out. You were both on the couch, legs intermingled under the blanket, your head on his shoulder. It was your first time being this intimate with him and you hated how good it felt. “Jungkook, I’m sleepy.” You looked up at him and he smiled sweetly, forcing you to immediately look away. So, much for ‘getting over it’. “I’ll get going then.” He stood up to stretch, you following him. He grabbed his things off of your coffee table and walked to the door.

“Jungkook, wait!” He turned around as he watched you come towards the door with the pack of banana milk. He fought back a smile as you dropped it into his arms. “Take it, you like them more than I do now.” He chuckled as he watched your eyes intently. “Thank you.” You smiled back at him before realising he was staring at you. Your smile fell as you stared back. “What? Is there something on my face?” You moved your hand to go over your face and he shook his head through hushed laughter. “Goodnight, Y/N.” He had just opened the door when you called out his name and once he turned, you kissed him. He didn’t pull away, just stood there in shock, you first to pull away actually and a flood of regret came crashing into your head immediately after. “Jungkook, I’m so sorry-” Before you could finish he was out the door and you cursed yourself for your spontaneous impulses.

Jungkook had ignored what had happened miraculously, even during your apology he seemed unbothered. He probably felt bad for you but you were just glad he wasn’t mad or upset, besides, now you could truly focus on trying to get over him. You spent most of the day working on your study notes, trying to memorise stuff as best you could. By the time you stopped, it was already 8pm and you had skipped both lunch and dinner. You scavenged your fridge to look for something edible and settled on a pudding cup. College Y/N was doing great.

At around 9, you got a knock on your door which you cautiously went to answer, after seeing that it was Jungkook through the eyehole you opened the door to let him in, strangely, he was really angry. “What the fuck is this, Y/N?” He held out his phone of you to show a picture of you smiling, the sender being Berlin. “It’s a picture of me, how do you know Berlin? Are you friends?” Your lighthearted tone made Jungkook realise it wasn’t your fault that Berlin decided to get to you and that there was no way you could have known. “Y/N, Berlin is the alpha of the pack I took over, he’s messing with you to get to me.” You were mostly shocked but you also felt a little upset. You genuinely thought he was your friend. “I don’t want you anywhere near him, he’s dangerous.” You shook your head a little. “Sure he may be a little mad at you but we’re friends, I-” “I mean it, nowhere near him.” You held your hand out for him to pass his phone over so you could double-check that it was Berlin. You compared the number to the one on your phone to realise that it was indeed him. “You have his number already, fuck Y/N.” Your face hardened before you turned to him. “Sorry, I don’t have a ‘wolf’s intuition.’” You added air quotes for effect which he didn’t quite appreciate.

You noticed his wet hair and his gym bag. “Did you just finish training? Jungkook it’s nearly 10pm.” He shrugged, grabbing his phone back from you and crash landing onto your couch. You couldn’t help but wonder how he could look so beautiful all the time. Sure, you always knew that he was good-looking but it felt like you were looking at a completely different man than high-school-Jungkook. He had endearing eyes, they could look so wide at moments and so closeted in others. His lips were soft, perfectly contrasting his sharp jaw, complementing each other beautifully. He was incredibly alluring in so many ways and it was impossible to escape it, no matter how hard you tried.

Jungkook held onto his shoulder, seeming like he was trying to soothe it from pain. You got up from your seat across from him and moved to stand behind him, taking over his hands and rubbing his shoulder for him. “Fuck, you’re good at this.” You hummed in agreement before laughing jokingly. “I am, right? They should call me Dr Bones.” He leaned his head forward to give you more access, ignoring your joke. You could physically feel how tense his muscles were and it made you worry a lot. Jungkook was the type who could work himself to death, stare at his dead body and still claim that he didn’t work hard enough. “Stop, or I’ll fall asleep. Thank you though.” He got up and grabbed his bag from the floor and made his way to the door. He turned around right before he left. “Y/N. I mean it, stay away from Berlin.” You nodded but you weren’t sure how you were supposed to just start avoiding him without seeming suspicious, besides, he was your only photography friend.

“Hey, Y/N!” Berlin took the seat next to yours like he had been this past week, you didn’t say anything about it because you thought it would be fine but you did begin to regret it when he started whispering to you. “Why so quiet?” You gulped while playing with your camera bag. “I just didn’t get much sleep.” He nodded though you were sure he didn’t believe you. “Meet me behind this building after class. It’s important.” You probably shouldn’t have agreed and you probably shouldn’t have followed through with it but you did because you were an idiot. “You’ve been quiet. Jungkook told you, didn’t he?” You were playing with the sleeves of your jumper when you nodded, he sighed in return. “He took away my pack, my position, it seemed only right that I take something of his.” You gave him a pointed glare, staring at him without a wave of newfound anger.

“I’m a person if you haven’t realised. Not a pawn in your stupid scheme for vengeance. Whatever you have with Jungkook is between you and him, don’t drag me into this.” You were about to walk back but he stopped you, blocking your way with his arm. “Y/N, don’t make me hurt you. All I want is for you to tell Jungkook to back down from my pack.” You smiled with feigned innocence. “Why don’t you tell him? I thought alphas were supposed to be brave…or did Jungkook take your balls too?” Berlin pinned you against the wall, his hands around the collar of your jumper. “You don’t wanna fight me, Y/N.” You pushed his arms off of you, straightening out your clothes. “You’re right, I don’t but since you so gracefully shared with me your perspective, I feel like I have to.” He laughed mockingly before leaning down to stare directly at your face. “And how do you plan on beating a werewolf?” You smiled again, so sweetly it made Berlin sick. In all honesty, you were terrified. If he called on your bluff this would turn into a complete shit-show, you had no fighting experience, you were all bark and absolutely no bite.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Before you could decipher where the voice came from Berlin was leaning against the wall against you in pain after the fresh punch to his face from Jungkook. When Jungkook’s eyes locked with yours, he cocked his head to the side. “Go.” You would have protested but his face kind of scared you. You walked away, looking over your shoulder every few steps to make sure no one was dead.

“What the fuck were you thinking? Y/N has nothing to do with this.” “But she does, doesn’t she…?” Berlin started and Jungkook eyes narrowed. “She’s going to find out eventually and then she’ll hate you for not telling her.” Jungkook grabbed him by the collar while he was still against the wall. “If she finds out, it won’t be from you.” He let Berlin go roughly and glared at him before walking away. “She’s going to hate you, you know!” Berlin screamed but Jungkook continued walking away, unsure of how Berlin even found out about Jungkook’s secret.

“Stripes or no stripes?” Jungkook was making you choose between his endless collection of ties and you were so bored you started counting the dots on a polka-dotted one. “Y/N!” You snapped back into reality and faced him with a sheepish smile. “Sorry…no stripes, makes you look more mysterious.” He nodded before putting his stripped ties to the side. “Why are you so stressed about this dinner, anyway? It’s just my family and your family in some fancy restaurant talking about the same boring things over and over.” Jungkook desperately wanted to tell you what had changed but he couldn’t, not yet. “No reason, I just want to impress your parents.” You gave him a scrutinising look and he just avoided it. “Since when do you care about impressing anyone?” He sighed before snatching his polka-dot tie out of your hands. “Go get ready, we’re going to be late.”

“Take the next left…and the destination should be on your right.” You spoke while mocking the navigator which just made Jungkook stare at you weirdly. “I’m bad with directions, I live off of this thing.” You held up your phone to gesture to the navigation app before getting out of his car. “Do I look okay?” He asked nervously and you looked at him, he looked much better than okay. He was clad in slacks and a dress shirt, no tie to your distaste. You remembered arguing with him after he had chosen to not wear a tie after all your efforts. His hair was getting longer but you loved it, especially the way he had styled it that night, not to mention the fact that he had his sleeves rolled up and his top few buttons open. You stopped yourself from staring too long by nodding. “Do I look okay?” Your eyes morphed into offended ones when he winced. You scoffed out loud but he just laughed at your reaction. “I’m kidding, you look great nerd, now move it, we’re already 15 minutes late.” You rolled your eyes, mumbling as you walked in. “Maybe if you didn’t make me spend 40 minutes helping you choose a tie…” He elbowed you slightly, reaching the reception desk and asking about your reservation, once you had taken a seat everyone, including Henry, had their eyes on the two of you.

“Sorry, we’re late,” Jungkook commented, shaking your parent's hands as he sat down. “Wardrobe malfunction.” You joked as you secretly pointed at him. Everyone laughed a little and you were glad you had relieved some of the tension. You saw your brother the day before and boy did he have a lot to tell you, he seemed so excited about this dinner and you were still yet to know why. Now that you were here it seemed like everyone knew something you didn’t.

“How’s college going, made any friends?” Jungkook’s mother asked, directing it at you. You choked because of the sudden question and scoffed down half the glass of water. “College is fine, I haven’t really been focused on making friends.” She nodded, Songwook laughing before joining in. “I wish Jungkook was the same. He befriended half the entire campus on the first day!” Everyone laughed while Jungkook shook his head jokingly, your mom suddenly called your name. “Y/N, could you grab me another napkin dear, I already spilled wine on mine. Clumsy me!” She giggled but it seemed fake, you wondered why she didn’t just ask a waiter to do it. You stood up to grab one from the desk nonetheless.

The moment you left your mother leaned in. “Tell us, Jungkook, does she know?” He shook his head, his father joining in. “I’m glad you suggested we make Jungkook befriend her, otherwise we would have never found out.” “Found out what?” Your mom gasped when you were behind her, napkin in hand. The entire table was silent. “Wait...you forced Jungkook to befriend me? Do you think I’m that intolerable?” Jungkook rubbed his palms over his face, the inevitable was coming. “Y/N, we just know how you struggle with making friends and we thought it would be better to start you off with one,” Miri spoke this time with a tantalising tone.

“So the whole tutor thing, that was a part of this as well? That’s why you were so mad at me about telling my dad that you were ignoring me? Because you didn’t want to fake being my friend?” You directed the question at Jungkook that time and he tried to apologise but you stopped him. “This isn’t about my social skills, is it? You still pity me for being a human so you gave me a werewolf to make me feel better!” You were speaking in a hushed tone so you wouldn’t warrant any unwanted attention but internally all you wanted to do was scream. “Henry, did you know about this too?” When he didn’t reply you scoffed, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Y/N, darling, we-” Songwook had spoken this time but you were quick to cut him off. “Forget it. I’m leaving.” And with that, you grabbed your bag and left. “Y/N come back, I’m your ride.” Jungkook tried reasoning but you were still walking away, your pride clearly getting in the way of your rationality because walking 30 minutes in heels was not rational.

You stared at your sore feet in your Iron Man pyjamas as you cried to Spongebob, this wasn’t your proudest moment but you liked to think there were worse ways you could’ve handled the situation. Your family (Henry and your dad) kept blowing up your phone so you turned it off and sat not-so-peacefully on your weirdly comfortable couch. You heard a knock on the door and you didn’t open it, already knowing who was behind it. “Y/N, let me in please, I have your food.” The idea of opening the door to Jungkook seemed painful but you were also painfully hungry so you opened it anyway, snatching your food out of his hand. You tried to close the door but his foot jammed it and he pried it open with ease despite you using all your effort to keep it shut. You needed to start bulking.

After he got in, you gave up and went back to your couch where you wrapped the blanket back around you and continued watching TV, now with food in your hand. “Y/N, I’m sorry but you have to believe me, I genuinely wanted to be your friend ever since we had that first lunch together, I promise.” You didn’t reply, in fact, your reaction (more so the lack thereof) had him thinking he didn’t even say anything at all. He grabbed the remote from your table and turned off the TV. You gave him a fleeting glare but didn’t say anything else. “Y/N.” You didn’t react once again, eating your pasta with aggression. “Y/N, look at me.” He grabbed both of your shoulders so he could turn you to face him. “I mean it, I’m sorry about how it started but I promise I wanted to be your friend.” You put your foot down, your sadness overpowering your hunger. “Wanted is past tense, should I be worried?” You joked but the tear that slid down your face taunted you straight after. You wiped it quickly but before you knew it more were springing down. He moved his hand to softly wipe your tears away and let out a breath of relief when you didn’t flinch away.

“I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil. But these are so stop crying, nerd.” You darted your eyes up so quickly the blood rushed to your head. “Gandalf!” He smiled at how excited you were. “I don’t study fictional characters for fake friends, Y/N.” Your excitement fled a little but you smiled at him slightly. “There was a reason we had that dinner tonight.” Your smile fell and your face looked puzzled. “Why?” Jungkook took a deep breath before continuing. “If I tell you, you can’t get mad at me. I kept it from you because we all wanted to tell you tonight.” You nodded a little hesitantly, scared about what he was going to tell you.

“Y/N, remember that night you kissed me and I walked out?” You nodded, wincing at the memory. “That night, I found out you were my mate.” You inhaled so quickly you started choking. Jungkook pat your back though it seemed useless. Once your cough calmed down, you punched Jungkook on his arm harshly. “You asshole! I spent that entire night sulking because of you.” He laughed but your glare made him stop abruptly. He took both of your hands in his. “I panicked, I wasn’t expecting it to be you.” You thought he was disappointed so your smile turned into an apprehensive one. “Oh…” He grabbed your face by the chin and made you face him. “I wasn’t expecting it but I was so fucking glad it was.” You started feeling bashful under his gaze so you tried to avoid his eyes. “Is that why Berlin was so adamant on dragging me into your issue, did he know too? I let that bitch use my good camera!” Jungkook sighed at the memory of him but he nodded nonetheless. You jumped up from the couch quickly. “Wait, that means I can turn and then people can stop looking at me like I’m an alien!” Jungkook nodded, laughing at your random outburst. “Only if you want to though, you don’t have to decide that yet, we have time.”

He pulled you back to the couch, this time you landed on his lap. He wrapped his arm around your waist and you leaned your head on his chest. “You’re an ugly crier.” You sat up to frown at him but he just pulled you back to his chest. “I lied, it’s just because I never want to see you cry again.” You pinched his arm and he exclaimed loudly. “What was that for?” You laughed before cuddling into him again. “Insulting me for your selfish desires…wait I have pasta!” You sprung out of his lap to go back to eating your food, turning on the TV in the process and Jungkook wondered how he managed to get paired with someone quite as unique as you.

“I think you’re half-fish.” You said once you saw Jungkook after the swim meet. “If I was would you still love me?” You stopped walking to ponder before shaking your head. He cocked his eyebrow at you before you nodded in agreement with yourself. “I hate fish so, no. Unless you were like a merman, that would be hot. Wait but what if you turn into an actual fish then how-” He pulled you by the arm to continue walking to his car. “I was kidding, Y/N.” You were still stuck in thought. “Yes, but the premise is interesting.” He pinched your cheek in a surprise attack. “Remind me why I’m dating a nerd?” You shrugged before interlocking your hand with his. “Remind me why I’m dating a fish?” He gave you an unamused look which you instantly matched before laughing at him.

“Can I drive?” You asked, mustering the most convincing face you can create, already in the passenger seat. “No,” Jungkook replied sternly, hoping you’d let it go because his resolve was quick to disappear with you. “Please, I need to practice.” He frowned before whining childishly. “Y/N, this is a Mercedes Benz can’t you practice on a Toyota or something?” You rolled your eyes at his dramatic rejection but you came up with a better plan. “I don’t know anyone who drives a- wait, do you think your friend Hoseok would teach me? He drives a Toyota.” Jungkook gave you an annoyed look before begrudgingly exiting the car. You got out excitedly as you rushed to the driver's seat. “You’re evil, you know that?” He asked angrily and you nodded, giving him a kiss on the cheek which forced a smile out of him.

The second you started the engine he began tutting in disappointment. “What?” You turned to him annoyed but he just moved over you to grab the seatbelt, clasping it in place and giving you a kiss which you had to pull away from before it escalated. “I did that on purpose because I knew you would do it for me.” Jungkook just hummed in fake agreement but you paid it no mind. You always felt obnoxiously happy each time he kissed you and you were almost sure you’d never stop. “Jungkook?” He turned to expectantly before you gave him a beaming smile. “I love you, fish or human.” He turned away from you, annoyed at your random confession. “Just focus on the road, okay?” You nodded dutifully and about 5 minutes into your drive home, he randomly called your name. “What, did I turn 0.3 seconds too late?” You joked but he just stared at you.

“I love you too, nerd.”

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #bts #bts fic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #werewolf jungkook #bangtan #bangtan fics #jungkook fics #bts fluff #bangtan fluff #bts angst #jungkook scenarios

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ve1vetyoongi · 4 years

Text

better with you | ksj - 01

Chapters: index

Pairing: Seokjin x female reader

Genre: fake dating/arranged marriage!au, smut, angst, humour.

Word count: 19k

Summary: A part time job as a chef at Paradise Resort seems like the perfect way to spend your summer and save up some spare cash to open your own restaurant back home. That is until you cross paths with the CEO’s son who threatens to fire you if you don’t help him inherit his trust-fund-baby-fortune. How? By making you his fiancé. Well, his pretend fiancé at least.

Warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, spanking, semi-public sex.

A/N: uwu hello and welcome to the first chapter of better with you, part of the paradise series! i hope you enjoy reading these characters as much as i enjoyed writing them because they’re some of my favourites 🥺💘 p.s. im honestly not happy with the pacing of this chapter, but i really wanted to share, so bare with me if it sucks!

Paradise Resort and the people in it are nothing like how you imagined them to be.

Sure, Paradise is a picturesque gated community with sparkling lake views surrounded by pear trees and sprawling green lawns and white stone fountains like the website described. And sure, everyone here drives foreign cars and loiters by the pool on weekdays and drinks bubbly for breakfast from fine China beneath chandeliers which glisten in the morning sun.

But you quickly realise there is something off; something that doesn't quite fit the expectations you had when you arrived here at the start of the summer, wide eyed and excited.

And that something is you.

You aren't one of the balding golfers leisurely steering carts across the perfectly pruned Paradise grass, flirting unashamedly with pretty young women in tennis skirts as they pass. And you aren't one of their wives, leaving lipstick stains on crystal wine glasses in wicker chairs on balconies as they giggle over finger food and afternoon tea and ignorance of their husband's infidelities.

And you certainly aren't the type of girl to spend her summer's horseback riding or wielding badminton bats or sipping copious amounts of white wine, paid for a la daddy's credit card.

No, because you are a culinary major. Nothing more nothing less. And lucky for you, Paradise was hiring - at least for the summer, anyway, and who better to work overtime in the kitchens at the expense of rich dudes other than broke students, right?

While most people came to Paradise to unwind and celebrate another year of prosperity, it was simply your job to watch from the kitchen window, grit your teeth and save enough cash to put towards opening your own restaurant back home.

Which is exactly how you find yourself slaving away over a plate of scallop sashimi on the stickiest day of August as the kitchen gets ready for the biggest event in Resort history — at least according to your fellow summer employee and designated dish washer duty-man Park Jimin, who seemed to be a constant fountain of gossip -- a trait which you secretly liked him for, despite feigning disinterest in his tittle-tattle.

"Do these people even know what good food is?" You frown at an underwhelmingly small plate of goat cheese salad as you wipe the edge of the plate with a cloth. "They can't seriously want to eat this. Don't they ever just, like, want a burger or something?"

"You're just noticing this place is bonkers?" Jimin snickers behind you, hoisting his weight onto the counter and pulling a grimace of his own when he lay eyes on the limp pile of lettuce leaves they dare to refer to as a meal here. "I saw someone order dessert for breakfast yesterday. Rich people have no rules, Y/N. Besides, it's not like we can serve burgers once Mr Kim arrives."

"Mr Kim?" You ask curiously. "Who's that?"

Jimin's eyebrows furrow, like he can't actually believe you're asking him such a question. Ever since you got here at the beginning of the summer he's been diligently keeping you up to date with the latest Paradise gossip, so you aren't sure why he's surprised you're as out of the loop as ever.

"Mr Kim. The founder of Paradise’s son?" You shrug, blinking at him cluelessly and Jimin shakes his head with a pained expression, lowering his voice like he's utterly appalled at your ignorance. "You haven't heard anything about the guy who is gonna take over this place once his father retires? Kim Seokjin?"

Ah, so that's who the infamous Seokjin is. His name has been buzzing through the kitchen for the last week, much to your confusion, and apparently he would be dining in the restaurant tonight.

You heard the senior chef's were working over time to perfect the cherry clafoutis he personally requested (despite not being an on-the-menu dish) and his impending inheritance of his father's dynasty seemed a topic of hot gossip, spreading in hushed whispers from the bar girls out front to the janitor, everyone seemingly desperate to get a glimpse at the Kim Seokjin. Meaning there are only two possible reasons as to why: he is rich or he is filthy rich.

"So what's the big deal with this guy. Is he some sort of celebrity or something?" You nudge Jimin in the ribs as you return to your station and start to sauté a fresh batch of onions.

"Nah, just filthy rich." Jimin indulges and you nod. Just as I thought. "And goddamn hot if I should say so myself." He adds, returning to his dish washing station with a sigh, wrinkling his nose when his hands plunge into the soapy suds.

"Still, I don't see why I need to work over time for him." You grumble. The clock had chimed five o clock ten minutes ago and usually you'd be on your way to have a shower and shampoo the smell of grease and garlic out of your hair but instead you were still on the clock, orders lining up for you to prepare and stat. "What’s so special about him dropping by for dinner. Everyone here is rich."

"Well I was talking to one of the big guys," Jimin nods towards the senior chefs. "And apparently his parents have been trying to get him to marry his girlfriend for, like, ever." Jimin's voice dips to a whisper. "But get this. He broke up with his girlfriend last week when his parents suggested they get married!"

You narrow your eyes. "Right. So I'm working over time because some rich dude decided to throw his toys out of the stroller?"

Jimin rips off his pink rubber gloves and shakes you by the shoulders, like he’s trying to knock some sense into you. "Just shut up for a second would you? We're working overtime because his parent's have set him up on a date!"

You slap a hand over mouth, letting out an exaggerated gasp. "Not a date!"

"I know right!" Jimin shakes his head as if this is the scandal of the century, not quite sharing your sarcasm. "Can you believe it?"

"Is he talking about Kim Seokjin, again?" Jungkook, one of the summer buss boys, emerges from the restaurant through the double doors in his familiar black uniform. Jimin quickly smoothes down his hair, mentally chastising himself when soap suds coat his blonde locks, face burning as red as the tomatoes you chop beside him. It's common knowledge that Jimin has the biggest, all consuming crush on the oblivious chestnut haired waiter who flashes you an ever cheeky bunny smile now as he scoops up the dish you prepared onto the tray balanced on his forearm.

He shoots Jimin an eye roll. "All he talks about is Kim Seokjin this, Kim Seokjin that." Jungkook shrugs. "I really don't see what the big deal is about this guy."

Jimin crosses his arms sulkily and you have to stifle a laugh at the pair. "The big deal is that this date has to go well - no, perfect - because Seokjin needs to marry someone "parent approved" or else his father will reject him as the heir of his dynasty."

You want to ask him about his impressive eavesdropping abilities but you have to admit, this is pretty big news - especially around here where the latest hot gossip was Han Seojin's husband's gambling problem when he hit up the casino after a few too many brandy's.

"So basically, the fate of the resort lies in his hands tonight." Jimin adds excitedly as he slams the dishwasher closed with a triumphant grin.

You roll your eyes. That is surely a bit dramatic. The guy was probably too blinded by the riches he would be inheriting to care about the poor girl he was getting hitched too. "You're invested in this, huh?"

Jimin nods eagerly. "Like I said. He's hot. Like sex on legs hot."

If you weren't watching carefully you may have missed Jungkook's eyes narrowing slightly or the way he tenses and puffs out his chest. "Pfft. He is not."

"So is!" Jimin pouts. "You're just jealous you're not as inhumanely gorgeous as he is." Jungkook raises a brow and Jimin rushes to smooth over his words. "Not that you're not gorgeous! No, that's not what I mean—"

The awkward moment is interrupted by the sound of a ladle banging against a frying pan, and you let out a groan when you hear the unmistakable yell of the head chef. "Attention everyone!"

"Speaking of crazy people." Jimin mutters with a roll of his eyes, rolling up his uniform sleeves and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as all the employees gather in the centre of the kitchen. "Looks like Hoseok got out of the wrong side of bed again."

You stifle a giggle when you find that Jimin is in fact correct, head chef Hoseok rounding the corner with an ever serious expression on his face. He has always been the stern type, mouth constantly fixed in a permanent frown as he criticises your dicing skills or catches you burning another steak, but you can see by the bluish bags under his eyes and the furrowed lines etched into his forehead that he means business today and a hush quickly falls over the kitchen apart from the gentle hiss of frying onions.

"As you all know, today is a big day for Paradise." He begins. "Each and every one of our future's here as employees depends on it. Mr. Kim has chosen us to cater for his dinner date and I need each and every one of you to do everything you can to make sure it goes smoothly. Capeesh?"

Dang. Is head chef Hoseok himself nervous? He's usually irritatingly confident in his cooking abilities. Maybe this was more serious than you thought...

"I'm counting on you guys to prove our worth, you hear me? It's already an honour that he picked us to host such an important event, and if we fumble who d'ya think he's gonna fire first once he takes over as CEO?" Hoseok interrupts your train of thought, waving a wooden spoon now like he's conducting an orchestra. "Which is why I expect zero funny business. I'm looking at you Jeon Jungkook! Now scram, we have customers to feed."

A unanimous groan fills the room as everyone gets back to work, and the kitchen falls into a state of turmoil as the clock ticks away, Seokjin due to arrive in a few hours and you haven’t even started on his appetizer yet.

"This better be worth it." You grumble to yourself, suppressing a smile when Jungkook bounds like a Labrador puppy into the restaurant fit with an armful of salads yelling "Rabbit food coming up, y'all!", despite the stern look Hoseok sends his way.

You turn to Jimin, rolling your eyes at the hearts in his eyes for Jungkook as he strains his neck to get a glimpse of the chestnut haired boy's ass through the kitchen's window. He blushes when he notices you looking, but not before he’s flashing you a grin.

"Just wait until you see him," Jimin calls cheekily as you rush to the stove you had abandoned earlier. "Then you'll be glad you worked over time."

As it turns out, you are not glad you worked overtime. Kim Seokjin is late. Unfashionably late. So late that you are considering eating the dish you slaved over for nearly an hour to perfect to his preferences only for him to let it go limp and cold.

At least you could add another trait to the list of what you now know about Kim Seokjin: filthy rich, (allegedy) goddamn hot, heir to the resort and most importantly douche bag who can't make it on time to the first date with his future wife.

To make matters worse, the level of unrest in the kitchens is unlike anything you have ever seen before as everyone nervously awaits his arrival. Jungkook has been out front to polish the wine glasses at the private table he set up and lovingly adorned with candles and a bottle of iced champagne of the expensive kind because it would "create sexy vibes" more times than you can count. Hoseok took extra care with the placement of the parsley on top of the steaks he grilled and you even saw Jimin fixing his hair in the reflection of a shiny pan.

When the clock ticked over to eight, everyone had gathered around the small kitchen window, eyes beadily trained to the door.

"He'll be here any minute now, I can feel it." Jimin whispers as he sidles up beside you, practically vibrating. His excitement for the date has started to rub off on you, a funny fuzzy feeling settling in your chest — all this Kim Seokjin talk has you itching to see the guy in the flesh, even if it is just from behind the kitchen window.

Sure enough, Jimin's Kim Seokjin senses must be somewhat accurate because a hurried hush falls across the kitchen as a black car pulls up outside, a unanimous gasp filling the room as you watch him emerge from behind the tinted glass windows in awe.

You were waiting for a tight lipped guy in a suit and tie to step inside; a younger clone of all the middle aged men who frequented the resort when their "model" children got busted bunking off from golf games or whatever rich kids did to rebel. Except the guy that strolls through the sliding doors like he has time to waste is so far from the average Paradise resident that you are almost sure you're hallucinating. Or have onion in your eyes. Surely you aren't seeing this clearly?

The guy who crosses the threshold and takes a seat at the table Jungkook graciously guides him to is clad in a vibrant Hawaiian shirt, the floral a stark contrast to the luxe interior of the resort. The garment is unbuttoned lazily and draped across his broad shoulders, a pair of round,humorously large sunglasses perched on the end of his nose, and if you weren't so shocked by his...impressionable entrance you might find the whole situation comical.

"This is Kim Seokjin?" You splutter, unable to stop the giggles that leave your lips at the sight of him bobbing his head unnecessarily hard to the monotonous classical tune that carries through the restaurant, blatantly ignoring whatever words Jungkook (who looked completely starstruck) was stuttering.

The situation becomes even more ridiculous when you see the disgruntled look on the pretty girl who traipses behind him awkwardly, dressed in a floor length gown and pearls, face turning sour when Seokjin neglects his manners and forces her to pull her own chair out to sit while he zones in on the bottle of alcohol in the centre of the table.

They look like characters out of two separate worlds. Jewels glitter on her fingers as she taps them agitatedly against the table, clearly as dumbfounded by the situation as you are, especially when she offers her glass to Seokjin to pour her a drink, only for him to thrust the entire bottle of wine in her face.

Your attention is drawn away from the unfolding scene momentarily when Jungkook flies back into the kitchen in typical Jungkook fashion, except this time with an extra bout of zealousness if the stars in his eyes weren't already obvious.

"I take it back!" He puffs, slipping his empty tray beneath his elbow, hands now free to swing Jimin around in circles. "He's the most beautiful human I've ever seen!"

You cross your arms with a sneer. "Looks like a goof to me. That shirt? Not a good look on anyone."

"But his face!"

"Yeah, his face, covered by those obnoxious glasses."

"You didn't see it." Jungkook whispers, pulling your hands into his own. "He could end mankind with that kind of face! And I bet he has a monster dong too-"

"Okay, jeez." You push him away, scrunching your nose in disgust. "No discussing customer's monster dongs in the kitchen."

"So you admit he probably has one?"

"Shush!" You hiss. The kitchen huddle lets out a synchronised gasp and you elbow your way back to the window, peering past a tall chef's hat to fix your attention on the scene which had somehow escalated ten fold since you'd left it.

Seokjin's body is wracked with laughter, hand slamming down ferociously against the table, making his date wince every time the fine china jumps on the table cloth. Her hands are placed carefully atop the napkin in her lap, food untouched as Seokjin takes the liberty to pour himself another glass of wine. He looks utterly uninterested in anything she has to say, and she seems embarrassed by his mannerless behaviour, glancing around anxiously. The tension between them is suffocating, even from your safe distance, and you swear you could cut it with one of the knives hanging from the utensil rack.

Then, Seokjin leans in towards her. He removes his glasses, carefully tucking them neatly into his shirt pocket before resting his chin in his palm to stare at her intently.

Maybe he was finally taking an interest in her? She seems to think the same thing, a small smile creeping onto her face despite her awkward demeanour.

Until it slips from her face nearly as fast as it appeared, replaced by an expression of pure appalled horror when Seokjin whispers something into her ear. You can only see the back of his head so lip reading is out of the question; but if the way her chin drops into her lap was anything to go by, you have a feeling whatever he said was not something you wanted to hear on a first date and probably not from your future husband, either.

Without further ado, the girl throws her cutlery down with a clash, gathering the fabric of her dress and storming out of the restaurant in a manner that suggests the date went badly to say the least.

A ruckus has broken out in the kitchen by this point; Jimin and Jungkook stopping mid monster dong debate to gawk, a rumble of chatter erupting as everyone processes the events you had just witnessed.

What did he say? Do you think it was the steak? What does this mean for Paradise? Is he still gonna marry her?

The last one came from Jungkook and you couldn't help but bite your lip in an attempt to smother the laughter that threatened to spill at his question. "Somehow I don't think he proposed to her just then, Kook."

Your eyes zone in on Seokjin again. He is slumped back in his seat now, knuckles pressed to his eyes. He looks exhausted, a sudden change in demeanour considering this is the same guy who was shooting finger guns at his date a few moments ago. Now he just seems defeated

For a moment you think he is going to get up and leave. That is until he twists in his seat, motioning towards the kitchen window with a crook of the finger. Dessert? He mouths.

The kitchen staff disperse hurriedly, a tinge of red creeping up Hoseok's neck at being caught spying, although it is clear by the smirk on Seokjin's face that he knew you were watching him all along. There is something in his eyes that even has you wiping the amused expression of your face, though. An authority.

"Could this night have gone any worse?" You ask Jimin, referring to Seokjin's debacle. Except Jungkook is quick to interject, thrusting two black bags in your face with a grin.

"For you, yes. Your turn to take out the trash."

You blink at him a few times before reluctantly taking the bags from his grip. They were heavy, nearly making you stumble. How had Jungkook held them so easily?

"Fine." You manage to get out between gritted teeth, struggling to balance with the extra weight in your arms. "But you owe me."

"Oh believe me," There is a glint in Jungkook's eyes that you can't quite put your finger on. What was he up to? "I'll make it up to you sooner than you think."

It's dimly lit when you stumble out back armed with a pile of trash bags, the only light source some fairy lights strung around the palm trees lining the restaurant. It takes all your strength and three tries to haul the heavy trash bags into the dark mouth of the dumpster and you're out of breath by the time you're finished.

Finally satisfied with your work, you wipe your hands on your apron and turn to stalk back inside and flick Jungkook's forehead - except a loud ringing from somewhere in the shadows stops you dead in your tracks.

You stiffen, hand reaching for the door handle as a precaution, head snapping towards the direction of the sound. You can't help the small gasp that leaves your lips when you take in the figure of a tall man leaning against the kitchen wall just a few meters away, the ringing ceasing when he lifts a phone to his ear with a frustrated groan.

Shit! As soon as you realise you're not alone and before you can think better of it you're scrambling behind the dumpster, crouching so that you're just out of view but still in earshot as the figure starts to murmur into the microphone.

"Yeah, dad, I know she flew all the way from Morocco to be here tonight. It's not my fault we weren't compatible!"

Huh? A voice squeaks on the other end of the line, and though you can't work out what they say exactly the frustrated sigh that leaves the man a few meters away tells you it wasn't exactly friendly.

"What makes you think you know what's best for me? I never wanted this stupid engagement in the first place!"

Intrigued and against your better judgement, you brace your hands on the edge of the dumpster and pull yourself on top of a cardboard box discarded beside it to get a better view of the scene. If you strain your neck you can just about see the shadow of a tall figure pacing back and forth just around the corner and you can't help but lean in a little closer to hear his harsh words more clearly, curiosity getting the better of you.

"Because it's my life! I'm sick of you and mom always telling me what to do with it." You raise an eyebrow, ever intrigued when the voice lifts from a hush to a yell. "Fine! I'll go on another date, but you'll see. I won't end up like you. You owe me big time for this, dad."

With that the phone call is cut off with a monotone beep and you see the shadow of the man pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing sharply, before the soles of his polished loafers crunch against the gravel in the direction of where you crouch, eavesdropping. You had enough experience with the residents here to know they wouldn't take this lightly — you had to sign a handful of NDA's before you even got the job, so naturally your eyes widen with panic when you realise you're about to get busted listening in on a confidential call. But before you can dive behind a trash bag and take cover, you lose your footing and find yourself hurtling head first into the dumpster, landing with a crash.

A few seconds pass, the footsteps ceasing as you squeeze your eyes shut and pray your beating heart doesn't give you away, before a voice calls out.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

"No!" You squeak hurriedly, slapping a hand over your mouth when it's already too late and flushing a deep shade of red when you hear a sharp intake of breath and you realise you've blown your own cover

You silently hope the guy will give up and leave, but then you hear someone climbing the outside of the dumpster and you open your eyes to see a puzzled pair of eyes peering down at you from beneath a cocked eyebrow, followed my a loud snort. "You need some help down there, sweetheart?"

This guy might be a total stranger, but any questioning words die on your tongue when you look around and remember you're literally trapped inside a dumpster and your upper arm strength is definitely not enough to get you out of this thing alone and — hold up, there's probably rats in here, right?

You scramble to your feet, brushing your messy hair from your eyes with a nervous laugh. "Uh...yeah. I guess I do."

A steady hand emerges over the edge of the dumpster and with a weak and embarrassed smile you grasp it, suppressing a squeak when the guy unexpectedly launches you over his shoulder so that he can pull you out in one fell swoop and set you safely on the ground.

"Uh, thanks." You manage to get out when you find your balance, awkwardly brushing some dirt from your apron. "Good thing you walked by when you did..."

"Yeah, guess you could call me your knight in shining armor, huh?" The guy chuckles, long and smooth like velvet. A laugh you've heard before, just moments ago in fact. That's when you battle through your embarrassment to look up and face him for the first time, flushing at the involuntary gasp that passes your lips.

The man before you has the deepest eyes you've ever seen, sharp yet soft around the edges beneath the sparkle of the low light and you shiver when they finish looking you up and down to stare into yours directly. Your eyes slip down to the familiar Hawaiian shirt draped over his broad shoulders, eyes widening when you look between your bodies to find his fingers still clasping your own as he eyes you with a curious interest.

"S-Seokjin?" You splutter. He nods, letting out a deeper chuckle this time as though he could hold it back no longer. "What are you doing out here?"

"I could ask you the same question," He counters, letting you go so he can reach into his pocket to retrieve a half pack of cigarettes and a lighter, ironically just beneath the unmissable NO SMOKING sign. "What's a pretty girl like you doing out here hauling trash at this hour?"

"I...work here."

He nods and you just stare at him like an open mouthed idiot. He must think it's because of the way he fiddles to spark a light at the end of his cigarette, drawing his eyes from the stick back to your surprised expression. "What? Oh these? I don't smoke. Stole these from my father's coat pocket." He shakes the box back and forth with a smug grin. "Nothing pisses him off more than loosing his Lucky Strikes. Besides, I own this place, I can do what I like."

You shrug. "Well, your father does." You are speaking too quickly, mentally pinching yourself for not being able to bite your own tongue. "He owns this place I mean. Right?"

A blush creeps up your neck under his gaze which narrows as he draws closer to you. His eyes are a deeper brown up close, like a pot of warm hot chocolate - soft at the edges where they crinkle into a smile at your rushed words. Nothing like the steely glares you usually got from residents here.

"Correct," The toe of his shoe kicks at the gravel beneath your soles while he strings together his next words carefully. "For now. I'll be proud owner of Paradise before the year is out, though."

"Ha." You can't help but snort under your breath, Seokjin's head simply tilting in response with an almost amused curiosity. "I don’t know about that. Didn't look like your fiance wanted to marry you very much."

"Word spreads quick around here, huh?" He lets out a dark laugh, grimacing at the cloud of nicotine that floats away into the nigh from the cigarette between his fingers that flutters to the gravel before it’s even reached his lips. You wince when he uses the toe of his Balenciaga’s to stub it out into a pile of smoldering ash before reaching for another one that he lights in the same way as before. "She wasn't my fiance, actually.To be honest, I hadn't even met her before tonight."

You let out an awkward laugh. "I take it the wedding's off then?"

"Ha ha," You practically hear the roll of his eyes. "At least one of us finds this funny, because my father sure as shit won't." His tone is suddenly chilly and for a moment you think you offended him, though a quick scan of his face reveals a turn up of the mouth that says otherwise. He kicks off from the wall, slinging his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans and you swallow thickly as the safe distance between you grows ever smaller, so close you can smell his woody cologne. "It was never on, per se. And it never will be if I have anything to do with it."

You can't help but scoff at the way he tightens his jaw and throws his arms across his chest like a toddler in time out. Sure, you hardly knew the guy but something about his attitude rubs you the wrong way. This is the guy who has everything, yet he's trash talking his lavish lifestyle to a summer employee?

"You're kind of an asshole, huh?"

"Can't say I haven't heard that one before." Seokjin agrees with a smirk. "But you don't seem like much of an angel yourself. First I find you eavesdropping on me, save your ass from a dumpster and then you choose to insult me?"

You shift awkwardly under his intense gaze, worried you might have overstepped, mouth dry as you spit out a response. "I...I didn't mean it like that—"

"God, chill out would you? I’m kidding. You're so stiff it's stressing me out." His tongue snakes out to lick his lips thoughtfully. "You're different, y'know."

"Huh?"

"I can tell you're not like everyone else around here. You're honest." Seokjin explains, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt to allow him some more breathing room as he continues. "Everyone around here is either a liar or a cheat. Or both."

"You don't even know me." You huff.

"You don’t know me either, princess.” Seokjin smirks. “So what makes you so sure I'm an asshole?."

He blinks at you eagerly, and you realise he's serious when he arrogantly waves his hand for you to go ahead and indulge him, like he's somewhat amused.

Well damn. If this guy wanted honesty you'd sure as shit give it to him

"You want the truth?" You suck in a deep breath. "I don't know what I expected when I heard the buzz about you but it certainly wasn't a rich guy who wears hawaiian shirts and makes girls cry on first dates. I don’t need to know a single thing about you to know that you’re an ungrateful asshole, just like everyone else at this resort."

A few seconds pass, Seokjin's eyes widening in momentary surprise like he wasn't used to people telling him the truth, before his face breaks out into a beaming grin. "I have a feeling we're going to be good friends." He glances at your name tag. "Y/N, is it?"

You half nod before you register his words. "Friends, what do you mean—?"

Just then the phone in his grip starts to vibrate violently, and he holds it up so you can see the bold DAD that lights up the screen.

"Sorry to cut this short pretty, but I need to take this. Better get back to work before I cut your pay check, sweetheart." You must look visibly nervous because he bursts into laughter. "What? I'm kidding, remember?"

You roll your eyes, hiding the way your face heats up by spinning on your heels and storming back towards the kitchen, pausing briefly before you can turn the handle when you hear Seokjin call your name.

"Hey. Wait up! One piece of advice. Don't let this place, get to you, okay?" Seokjin calls with a smile. "I like your honesty, it's...refreshing."

And with that he lifts the phone to his ear, disappearing around the shadowy corner with an irritating smile and a finger salute.

For some funny reason, Seokjin's words ring out in your head for the rest of the night. I have a feeling we're going to be good friends. Something tells you that isn't the last time you're going to see Kim Seokjin, and you can't tell if the way your heart skips a beat is a good thing or not.

Much to your surprise, that isn't the last time you see Kim Seokjin.

The next night he returned equally as late and equally as eccentrically dressed and left his date, blonde this time, (though equally as pretty as the last one) flustered and red in the face as she stormed out of the restaurant with glassy eyes and crushed dreams

The night after that you spot him arguing a little too loudly with a feisty lady outside the restaurant, the way he doesn't even stay long enough to finish his champagne a clear indication that the date went less than perfect.

Night after night, the same scenario played out with different unimpressed women, until finally, they just stopped coming. No more girls. No more dates. No more of Seokjin's signature laughter permeating the entire restaurant. Sure, the guy was a complete asshole, that much was clear; but you his absence left the restaurant feeling even more lifeless than before.

Obviously Seokjin's fucked up dating life wasn’t anything to laugh about. But you had to admit his antics put a smile on your face, something which had been few and far between as of late. Even when Hoseok was working you overtime, you found yourself biting your lip to suppress a grin every time Seokjin waltzed through the door. And now he was gone, and with it your small escape from reality.

"Do you think his parents finally gave up?" Jimin sighs one late evening, shaking his wet hands in the face of Jungkook who bats him away playfully.

"Nah, he probably just found a girl he likes." Jungkook reasons. "Made his parents see things from his point of view."

You snort. "They don't sound like the type of parents who would give up that easy." After more dates than you could count on one hand with various suitors deemed good enough for their son, it was clear they were prepared for him to rebel. You doubted they would give in without a fight.

"You might be right..." Jungkook trails off, rushing to smush his face against the window. "Unless...wait! I think he's back!"

"He's back?" You breathe, elbowing Jungkook out of the way and ignoring his ow! of protest, your own breath fogging up the glass now as your eyes dart from table to table in search of a familiar face.

You let out a breathy laugh. Sure enough, there he is. Hair gelled back tonight you noted, bouncing his skinny jean clad knee beneath the table with an impatience you can't quite put your finger on.

Wait...

"Ha!" You almost do a double take. Seokjin is sat alone tonight. No nearly-crying-twenty-something across from him. Just Seokjin with a single flute of champagne in his hand opposite an utterly empty chair.

Well. This is new.

"I think he's been stood up!" You lower your voice to a whisper when your burst of laughter gains a few strange looks. "There's no girl with him this time."

"What?" Jimin splutters, standing on his tip toes in an attempt to see over your shoulder. "No girl?! Let me see!"

You budge over and Jimin lets out a gasp of surprise when he takes in the scene for himself. "The Kim Seokjin got stood up. I can't believe it!"

"Maybe he's getting a taste of his own medicine." You muse.

A mischievous look crosses Jungkook's features and then he is pulling on his black apron and scurrying towards the door. "Let's find out!"

"What? — Jungkook!"

You watch open mouthed as Jungkook approaches the lonely table, fingers quivering around the order notebook he clutches like a safety blanket, with nerves or excitement you can't quite tell; before he exchanges a few words with Seokjin who barely even glances up, lazily folding a napkin in his lap. Jungkook nods vigorously before he speed walks back to the kitchen like his life depends on it, a smug grin appearing on his lips as he thrusts the order slip towards you.

"Two orders of sirloin steak, medium! Pronto!"

"Two?" You and Jimin splutter in unison.

Jungkook looks amused. Too amused for your liking.

"Yup! And guess what?" Jimin is hanging off his every word, desperate pleas of what? making Jungkook chuckle harder. "He wants the chef to serve it."

You narrow your eyes. "Hoseok? Why?"

Jungkook scoffs as if you're being clueless on purpose. "Not Hoseok, idiot!"

"Then who?"

"You." Jungkook points a finger right at you.

"Me? Wait! Jeon Jungkook, you get back here!" Before you can ask questions he is already bounding into the restaurant like a labrador on crack.

"Have fun!" He yells over his shoulder with a wink. "You'll thank me later, Y/N."

Half an hour later and you're stood with two steaming plates balanced on your arm. Why are you so nervous? All you have to do is go out there and serve the food. It's not like he was asking you to kill someone.

But every time you muster up the courage to go out there you remember your encounter with Seokjin outside the kitchens, and you instantly feel weak at the knees.

You smooth down your apron one last time, filling your lungs with the stuffy kitchen air before Jimin's hands clamp onto your shoulders and steer you towards the door.

"What are you—?" One forceful push later and you're stumbling out into the restaurant. "Jimin!"

"You can do this!" You hear Jimin call, the exasperated look you send over your shoulder in response prompting a not so reassuring thumbs up. The way your eyes downturn into a dark glare makes him collapse into a fit of gasps and giggles as he nods for you to keep going.

I'm going to get him back for this...

The table Seokjin liked to frequent is closest to the window, view casting out over the lake which the resort surrounds like a half moon, terribly modern in all it's white pillared glory in contrast to the natural beauty of the clear blue water. The lake is darkened now with the reflection of the midnight blue sky, the soft glow of lanterns lighting up the path around it and illuminating the picture of weeping willows which ripples across the water's surface, disturbed only by canoeists tying up their boats for the evening.

Seokjin doesn't seem interested in the quiet goings on of the resort. He has probably seen them a hundred times before. His back is facing you but you can see how his eyes are transfixed on the sliding entrance doors in the windows reflection. It was late evening and most people would be returning to their suites for the night by now, but Seokjin's steely gaze remains unwavering, like he's expecting it to zip open any minute. Is he waiting for someone?

Some part of you feels sympathetic. It doesn't look like anyone is coming to join him any time soon. Poor guy is about to get a taste of his own medicine and look like a fool sat opposite an empty chair harbouring a plate of uneaten food.

Ha. It's exactly what he deserves, you think. Karma.

Every step towards him feels heavier than the last until eventually you find yourself stood with knees knocking right behind him, food probably going cold with every second you spend coaxing yourself to man up and face him. You silently pray he won't hear the pound of your heart over the low hum of chatter and scrapes of cutlery against china plates that seem to fall away to silence in this corner of the restaurant where it's just Seokjin and you.

You're debating spinning on your heels and making Jungkook do it instead when Seokjin's unrelenting stare at the door snaps up to meet yours in the window's reflection, the authority in his eyes enough to have you hiding behind your hair in shame at being caught dwindling like an idiot.

"I wasn't expecting you to actually come." His voice is a deep hum that makes you jolt and nearly drop the plates. A heat burns your cheeks when Seokjin swirls the champagne in his glass amusedly, facing you with his forearm on the back of his seat and beckoning for you to set the plates down with a nod of his head. An order.

You narrow your eyes, unable to curb the irritation that laces your sigh as you obey him. You set down the dishes, one in front of him and the other in front of the seat still empty of whomever he is expecting. "I wasn't exactly expecting to be serving you tonight either. I usually just prepare the food."

Seokjin doesn't miss the roll of your eyes, snorting at the shake of your hand that gives away the anxiety beneath your front when crystal beads of champagne splash onto the immaculate table cloth as you try to top up his glass.

"Yeah and here's a reason for that. You're a shit waitress."

The way you slam the bottle down onto the table top is a little too aggressive, the legs shaking violently and drawing the eyes of a few of the surrounding diners who wipe their mouths with a delicate astonishment and flash you dark looks at the disturbance.

"Are we done? If I'm so bad then why did you call me out here?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." His fingers fold the napkin in his lap carefully. He settles back into his chair with a grin laced with mischief while you practically hop from foot to foot with nerves. "Would you sit for a second?"

"I'm an employee." You raise a brow. "I don't think that's appropriate..."

"Please?" He rests his chin in his palms.

You hug your torso and self consciously glance side to side. With a roll of your eyes you sink down into the chair, if a little reluctantly, when you're sure the couple at the table directly opposite are too deep in conversation about the crème brûlée to notice the strange encounter happening beside them.

"Fine! But make it quick or Hoseok might actually shave my head."

Seokjin gets straight to the point. "I need you to do something for me."

There is a glint in his eye as he snatches up the glass intended for the rightful occupant of the leather cushion you perch on, pouring a small amount of champagne into the flute and pushing it towards you with an encouraging nod. You observe the fizzing liquid with caution, turning your nose up at the floral aroma. Was he trying to poison you with Veuve Clicquot?

"Okay, elaborate?"

"I'm going to need you to pretend to be my date." You wait for him to laugh but his lips are pressed together in a line that tell you he is being serious. "You up for it?"

"Excuse me?" An astonished laugh punctuates your widened eyes, voice raising incredulously at his request. "Your what?"

"Hear me out!" Seokjin hisses, holding a finger to his lip to quiet you down when you splutter on the air that feels like it's thickening in your throat. "I just need to get my father off my back. It'll be five minutes tops!"

By this point you are rendered speechless, pinching the inside of your thigh to check if you are trapped in some weirdly vivid nightmare.

You? His date? Oh god...why aren't you waking up?

Your lips curl around a single breathless word. "Why?"

"Hello, I'm Kim Seokjin? Dad owns the resort? Need to get married to inherit it? I thought we went over this the other day—"

Throwing your arms over your chest impatiently, you click your tongue. "I remember idiot! I mean why me?"

"For fucks sake — you want the truth?" He chuckles but it's devoid of any humour. "You're new around here so my father is less likely to recognise you, okay?" He downs the rest of his glass, picks up his fork and pokes the cold steak on his plate restlessly, hardly bothering to look you in the face even when you scoff in disbelief.

You bite your lip, voice quiet. "Is this some sort of game?"

You are no stranger to Seokjin's tricks — you watched them play out with your own eyes, more girls than you could count on one hand leaving the restaurant in tears or worse — and something feels funny in your stomach, an instinct that says he has an ulterior motive you just can't put your finger on.

From the corner of your eye you spot Hoseok poking his head into the dining area, eyes merciless as they scan the room in search of you, the tell tale tap of his foot against the ground a giveaway of his growing impatience which makes you duck out of view in fear.

"If this is just one of your sick jokes then congrats," You deadpan. "I could literally lose my job over this."

"What? No!" He seems genuinely surprised at your accusation, exasperated sigh sounding desperate while his eyes bore into yours with a look that says please. "I'll explain everything. Please?"

He winces when your chair scrapes loudly against the tile as you get to your feet with a disbelieving shake of your head. "Sorry but I have a job to do—"

Suddenly Seokjin lets out a gasp and you hear the automatic glass doors zip open. "Ah shit!"

Seokjin's eyes widen with panic but before you can twist to see who has arrived for yourself, you're being pulled back down into the seat opposite him roughly by the elbow.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Seokjin isn't listening, shrugging his jacket down his arms and wrapping the fabric around your shoulders hastily. "Cover your uniform, okay?"

The smell of his expensive cologne fills your senses and a warm hand squeezes your shoulder pleadingly, the glint in his eye replaced with desperation.

For a moment you falter and his face brightens, believing you to be finally convinced. Until you come back to your senses and slap his hand away. "Get off me!"

"Too late." Seokjin murmurs, but before you can shoot him a questioning glance a pair of polished black shoes stop beside you. Your entire body stiffens, aware of a pair of eyes probing the back of your head.

Oh no.

"Seokjin."

An unfamiliar deep voice rumbles beside you and when you dare to look up you're met with the peering face of an older man who you recognise from the Paradise website. There are traces of Seokjin visible in the curve of his mouth and the sharp edge of his jaw and he was probably considered good looking in his youth.

Ah. So this is Mr Kim?

"You lasted longer than fifteen minutes. This must be a new record, son."

Despite their likeness it's hard to believe they are father and son -- the stern frown keeping a pair of thin framed glasses balancing on Seokjin’s father’s nose along with his crisp tailored suit a far cry from the boy sat cross legged opposite you, wine colored shirt unbuttoned too far to be a mistake.

Seokjin plasters a false grin to his mouth and raises his glass towards Mr Kim, as if to toast. "I told you I would try didn't I?"

Mr Kim says nothing, averting his intimidating gaze to you instead. Your mouth dries when he addresses you directly. "What was your name again?"

Shit! Alarm bells sound in your head, instantly regretting coming out here in the first place and getting mixed up in Seokjin's mess.

You swallow thickly, hardly daring to look him in the eye. "It's — uh," Seokjin is signalling at you with an alarmed look, face falling into his palms with a muffled groan when you fail to catch on. "Y-Y/N. I'm Y/N."

"Is it now?" Mr Kim scratches his chin thoughtfully, humming to himself as he studies your face. Shit, does he recognise you from the kitchen? Are you about to get fired? Your pulse goes into overdrive when his eyes narrow. "I'm sure I remember it being something like—"

"Her middle name!" Seokjin quickly butts in, cutlery clattering onto his plate in his haste to gain his fathers attention. "She goes by her middle name. We were just talking about it actually. Right, Y/N?"

All eyes fall on you again, Seokjin sending you a pleading look, but you don't trust your voice not to waver so you just nod and hide your rosy cheeks by wrapping your lips around rim of the untouched champagne glass.

"Funny middle name." He shrugs, landing an audible slap to Seokjin's back who winces at the hard contact. Mr Kim's eyes seem kinder as they look between you. "I'm proud of you, son. I'm glad you could finally see things from our perspective."

"Sure, dad." Seokjin shrinks away from his fathers touch with a look of distaste. "Now would you do us a favor and leave us to discuss...marriage things?" You choke on your mouthful of bubbly, eyes watering as you try to hold back a spluttering cough.

Thankfully, Mr Kim is already losing interest, flashing Seokjin a thumbs up before striding over to one of the waiters holding a platter of coconut shrimp appetizers and taking a handful for himself.

Watching him gain a safe distance and disappear among a circle of business men at the bar, you finally feel safe to let out the shaky breath you were holding. Seokjin presses his knuckles to his eyes, the vein in his neck protruding with tension.

"What the fuck was that?" He seems to have forgotten your presence, lost in his own thoughts until you rip his jacket from where it sits around your shoulders and throw it into his lap with contempt. Your laugh of disbelief sounds foreign to your own ears, unable to comprehend what actually just happened.

"You're crazy!" You let out breathlessly. "I'm out of here."

Before you can storm off like you want to, Seokjin's hand closes around your wrist and pins you in place.

"Listen, I know you think this is ridiculous but I'm literally about to get on my knees and beg you here. Just do me one more favour." You shoot him a glare and for a second you think he might actually drop to the ground and grovel if you asked him to. "Just one!"

No matter how hard you try to pull away Seokjin is persistent. "Why should I?"

"Because you have a conscience?" He pleads. "The human desire to help others in need?"

"This is crazy—"

"I'll repay you!"

You pause. "How?"

"Undecided." His head tilts in thought. "You need money?"

Disgust courses through your veins. This guy thinks he can buy you? You have encountered some entitled rich guys at Paradise but this has to be the icing on the cake, an unbelievable disconnect from acceptable social discourse — though are you surprised? He doesn't exactly have a reputation for being a good conversation holder for fucks sake, just ask his other dates.

You scoff. "I don't accept bribes. I think we're done here. Good luck with your plan or...whatever."

"Y/N wait—" Something in his voice makes you stop dead this time. An authority. No longer pleading but commanding. "I'll fire you myself right here if you don't help me out just once."

Your heart twists. Part of you knows that whatever Seokjin has in mind will be batshit crazy, if his antics tonight were anything to judge by. It would pain you to do something so demeaning but...you need this job. The decision was practically made for you.

You swivel to face him. He is standing over you now, hands on hips as if he means business. "One favor! That's it!"

He punches the air triumphantly. "You want it in writing or something?" He teases, the glint in his eye back now and taunting as you practically vibrate with a combination of embarrassment and rage.

"Don't push it." You warn.

"Okay, jeez." He throws his hands up in defense. You are acutely aware of the hysterical giggles coming from the kitchen belonging to none other than Jungkook and Jimin and the way your face burns scarlet as you storm away from Seokjin with fists clenched. "I'll let you know when I need you, sweetheart."

09:04, from unknown: — 10 o clock. meet me outside the archery court. — go to locker 16, key will be in the lock. you'll find everything you need inside

The light of your phone stings your half-open eyes, slumber still clinging to your body as you rub away any remnants of sleep with your knuckles and re-read the strange text over and over again.

Archery? An accidental text to the wrong number, surely?

You glance at the clock next to your bed - the text was sent over twenty minutes ago by now. Whoever the recipient was supposed to be wouldn't have long to get ready.

09:26, you: — huh? who is this?

Before you can even set your phone down and swing your legs out of bed your phone pings, the sound enough to make you wince in your sleepy state.

09:26, unknown: — it's seokjin??? — you know, the guy you're supposed to be marrying?

Excuse you?

All remnants of sleep and/or inner peace are ripped away as soon as you see his name pop up on your homescreen.

"Seokjin?" You splutter out loud. A name you never thought you would have to see again, let alone at this time in the morning.

You scramble into a sitting position, back pressed to the headboard as you grip your bed hair in pure disbelief. The three little dots bounce menacingly at the bottom of the screen as you type and re-type a response. Eventually you settle on something simple and to the point:

09:28, you: — how the fuck did you get this number???

Ping ping. You resist a face palm as you gather the confidence to input your password and read whatever bullshit Seokjin responded with.

09:29, unknown: — i think you're forgetting i own this place — not to brag but ive got connections — anyway, you have half an hour to get your ass over here before my sister arrives.

As you thought - utter bullshit. His sister? It's almost as if Seokjin thinks you are actually dating - or even worse, actually getting hitched.

Wait...he doesn't...does he? You suppress a groan. Why else would he be dragging you out of your apartment to go and shoot arrows at targets with his sister instead of polishing his golf club collection or lounging with self made millionaires or whatever rich things rich guys do.

You are just here to get some culinary experience. To blend into the background like the rest of the employees at Paradise, to focus on making the lives of CEO's and retired business men as easy and as luxurious as possible. Why on earth is he even taking notice of you?

09:30, you: — your sister??

09:30, unknown: — yeah? who'd you think you were arching with? — i don't do sports. — count yourself lucky my mom had to take a rain check

Fuck. His mom?

"Get a grip!" You chastise yourself. You had barely spoken two words to each other before the other night, his existence unbeknownst to yours let alone yours to his; the exchange itself a glitch in the simulation and definitely not something which you wanted to make a habit - so why are you instilled with nerves at the thought of meeting this guy's family?

You don't have time to respond with a harsh reminder of your respective positions at Paradise and why this is absolutely a Bad Idea before Seokjin sends a series of reassuring follow up texts, almost as though he read your mind and all it's reluctant thoughts.

09:32, unknown: — don't worry so much this is just to make people think we're really seeing each ohter — other* — hurry, can't have people thinking my future wife isn't punctual — doesn't look good for the reputation 😎

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck!

This is actually happening. How did you manage to get roped into some rich dudes family drama and his consequent plan of deception? And why on earth you fly out of bed, desperately trying to pat down your fly away bed hair while simultaneously shrugging on a pair of jeans is utterly beyond you.

But deep down you know why. It's because you have a sympathy for Seokjin. A goddamn sympathy for the man who seemingly had everything and who every other resident at Paradise wished they could be.

You are increasingly aware of the way your heart hammers against your rib cage, pulse quickening with every tick of the clock that brings you closer to 10 o clock. Not because you're about to see Seokjin again, surely?

Pfft. Of course not! This is just a favour - a formality as an acquaintance if you could even call yourself that.

The clock ticks over to 09:40. No, you promise yourself as you scoop up your bag and your keys. It's doesn’t mean anything, it’s just because you hate being late.

You end up being late anyway, despite rushing to Paradise from your nearby apartment without so much as considering breakfast and somehow managing to gather the courage to open the door to the women's locker room.

Embarrassment pools in your stomach when you feel the quizzical eyes of Paradise regulars burning into your back over the edges of their martini glasses. It takes all your strength to pass by them with your eyes trained to your shoes, hoping to seem unbothered by their towel turbans and gossiping lips.

You’re unsure why you feel so out of place. It's not as if you are trespassing; they gave you a benefits card when you accepted the job, giving you access to some of the resort's facilities. Some would say it was generous, but it's not as if you ever had a chance to use them in between long kitchen shifts.

Luckily, you doubt there's a risk of them recognising you from the kitchen. The resort is mostly populated by younger club members and besides it's not as if they ever cared to study your face for long enough to commit it to memory.

Still, your casual sweater and jeans combo makes you stand out like a sore thumb in a room full of designer polo shirts and athletic wear and you can't suppress the sigh of relief that escapes you when you make it past a hoard of already merry day drinkers on their way to a hot yoga class in search of locker 16 as instructed by Seokjin.

Sure enough, a key sits snugly in the lock. When you open the metal door you find a tennis skirt with a matching polo shirt, both folded neatly beneath a pair of strikingly white sneakers.

You scoop the pile into your arms, surprised when a card flutters to the ground. You recognise the Paradise logo in the corner, an unfamiliar handwritten scrawl smudged across the front in black pen.

Put these on and meet me round the back of the range. I'll be waiting. - SJ

You roll your eyes. Would it kill him to say please? Not that he is used to asking nicely. Manners are few and far between when things are handed to you on a silver platter (or by an underpaid kid with a summer job). At least that's what you gathered from your observations since you got here.

You slip into the white ensemble, silently thanking the you from yesterday for shaving your legs when you notice just how uncomfortably short the skirt is. The fabric smells like one of those expensive perfumes you sprayed at the store once and you briefly wonder who these clothes belong to.

Fastening your hair into a high pony tail like you see the other girls here do, you take a deep breath and finally sidle up to the full body mirror.

Almost everyone has filtered out of the locker room by now, some to spa appointments, others to sports matches and you find yourself alone, nearly choking on the humid air when you take in your appearance for the first time.

You look like you belong here.

Collar popped around your neck, skirt falling in perfect pleats around your waist, hair falling against your cheekbones. Not a speck of dirt on the branded shoes cushioning your soles.

For a moment you feel a sense of pride fill your chest, head resting high on your shoulders as you bask in the confidence that washes over you until you feel giddy with belonging.

Until you remember what you really are. An imposter.

Despite your Paradise inspired appearance you are nothing but a fake. A smudge on one of the picture perfect Paradise postcard's in the gift shop.

Your shoulders deflate, the sudden urge to tug your sweater back on and run as fast as you can becoming overwhelming.

Your let yourself slump onto one of the plush couches, head falling into your hands. What are you doing here? Letting some guy dress you up like a doll and show you off to save his own ass?

Besides, his family would see through you as soon as you walked out there. After all a polished stone, although pretty, can never be a diamond. And these people know diamonds like the back of their hands.

Is it because he has the authority to fire you from the kitchen job you worked so hard to get? Or is it because somewhere deep inside you are curious to see what could be in this for you?

A vibration on the couch beside you draws you from your thoughts.

10:09, unknown: — where r u????? — you know where the range is right???

God, why didn't you just say no in the first place?

"Just get on with it," you tell yourself sternly. Meet his sister, smile politely and leave without owing Kim Seokjin a single thing.

You will save his ass, buy him the time he needs to convince his parents to get off his back. And then you can go back to your culinary uniform and back to serving up lobster to rich people and you can forget this ever happened and that he so much as exists.

With a shaky breath you get to your feet, throwing your familiar clothes into the locker along with your comfort zone and what feels like your entire identity.

If this is going to work you couldn't think like Y/N, you realise. You have to think like a Paradise country club member. And luckily for you, your careful observation of other residents from the kitchen gives you quite a lot of material to work with.

Before you can second guess yourself you're taking a deep breath and striding out of the locker room door and into the sunny resort grounds.

Oh god. I'm really doing this. You suddenly feel exposed as you pass the golf court, just managing to dodge a rattling cart before it flattened you.

A pair of girls stroll past with arms interlinked, tennis rackets swinging at their sides leisurely as they make their way to the course.

Oh god. They're gonna see through you. Oh god. Just smile!

You let the corners of your mouth curve up into the closest thing to a smile you can muster, pleased when you earn a friendly nod in greeting before they dive back into their conversation again.

Nobody is noticing. You hold your head high, telling your shoulders to relax and look natural. You can do this.

You reach the range but instead of following the group of middle aged men ahead of you up to the front entrance, you slip round the back. Your eyes land on him instantly; none other than Kim Seokjin, leaning impatiently against the wall, just like he said he would be.

His appearance is enough to have you faltering in your tracks. Unlike the last time you saw him when he donned a much less flattering eye sore of a Hawaiian shirt, he's put together from head to toe - white button up tucked into a pair of tailored trousers, brown loafers showing off his ankles, the whole outfit finished off by a knit sweater tied around his shoulders.

"Wow." You can't help it. You're starting to see why he had a reputation for being particularly easy on the eye.

You swallow thickly, shaking the stunned feeling from your head and ignoring the way your heart beats a little faster the closer you draw to him.

"Finally!" Seokjin hums as he lets out a frustrated huff, eyes glued to the Rolex on his wrist. "Where have you been-"

His breath hitches when he finally looks up and takes you in for the first time. You were surely imagining the way his eyes widen and look you up and down. Right?

"Well well," Seokjin regains his self control quickly, licking his lips. "Someone scrubs up well."

Smartass. "To my credit you've only ever seen me in my work clothes."

"Touché." He purses his lips. "Nobody could make those hats look good. Except me, obviously."

There is that glint in his eye again. As if he is messing with you to get you riled up again. If he wasn't the Kim Seokjin you'd mistake him as flirtatious.

You hug your torso, confidence dwindling with every second you stand beneath Seokjin's probing gaze, anxious to get out onto the range before it dissipates completely. "So? Are we just gonna stand here?"

"You turn up late and then have the audacity to order me around?" His eyebrows furrow and for a second you think he's going to warn you. Remind you who has the power here.

But then his face breaks out into an amused smirk and you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. "Remember when I said I think you and I are going to get along just fine?"

Seokjin slings his hands into his pockets, striding towards the back door of the facility. He shakes the handle before using his key card to let you both into the archery equipment lodge.

You trail behind him. "Don't get too comfortable," You warn. "This is a one time thing."

Seokjin muses over a selection of crossbows in display cases before fishing in his pocket for a key, unlocking the glass and taking down two flashy ones. He grabs a quiver loaded with arrows from a stand and thrusts both into your arms without warning.

"Sure." He is slinging a quiver over his own shoulder now. He holds open the door to the archery range, gesturing for you to go first. So now he has manners? "If you say so."

The archery range is an expanse of perfectly pruned green grass, surrounded by the breathtaking scenery of fragrant rose bushes and trailing ivy that the resort boasts. And, as you're learning, an excuse for refreshments, as you find yourself now in a fancy veranda bar with high arching windows that overlook the distant targets, serving chilled lemonade and Prosecco and appetisers on fancy napkins.

"Pretty cool, right?" Seokjin asks, resting his elbows on the windowsill and smirking at your speechlessness and open mouthed expression. "But quit looking so surprised, yeah? You gotta make my sister think this is normal for you."

You don't have time to ask what he means before you are being spun around and engulfed in a hug. You freeze, sucking in a breath of surprise, the sickly smell of fancy shampoo engulfing your senses as your face is pushed into a head of perfect ringlets.

"You must be Y/N." The person, a woman, purrs into your ear. "It's good to finally meet you." The way she draws out the word makes you nervous.

This is Seokjin's sister?

Something about it doesn't feel how a hug is supposed to. Instead it feels like a silent interrogation. Are you good enough to be one of us? Nothing about it is warm. Instead it's sticky, your hands patting her back awkwardly, counting the seconds in your head until it is acceptable to pull away from her stiff hold.

When she lets go you are met with the tight lipped smile of a pretty twenty something, eyes scanning your face from beneath a sun visor. A customised hot pink quiver drapes across her shoulder and you notice the way she eyes your borrowed equipment distastefully.

"That would be me." You force a smile that ends up being a little too wide, glancing nervously at Seokjin who simply nods in encouragement. "It's good to...finally meet you too?"

She holds you at arms length, giving you a once over before speaking tightly. "Well aren't you a doll?"

You must look as terrified as you feel because her eyebrows raise triumphantly. Seokjin senses the tension. He looks between the two of you almost worriedly, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. For a second you think his concern is kind of sweet...No! Not allowed.

"No hug for me?" Seokjin swoops in and his sister's features harden at his sarcastic tone, a punch landing on his shoulder which he pretends to rub better, emitting a small ow!

"You're late."

"Sorry Hyejin, couldn't find my best shoes." Seokjin throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you from her grasp a little protectively and flashing an award winning smile that makes your heart flip...No! Definitely not allowed.

"Those are your best shoes?" She grimaces, shaking her head with an air of disappointment. "You left me waiting here for half an hour for those?" Her eyes narrow at you accusingly, as if she knows the truth and wants you to offer an apology.

Seokjin is quick to save you again. "Yup. All my fault. Shall we shoot?"

"Gladly." She smooths down a stray curl, studying her reflection in the glass windows. "I've been itching to see Y/N's aim since I got here. I hear you are a pro, no?"

You choke. A pro?

Luckily she's already stalking across the deck in her click-clacking wedges and out onto the damp green grass, missing the panicked glance shared between yourself and Seokjin.

"Uh-"

"Um-"

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. Think of something, he mouths.

She stops dead, shooting a puzzled glance over her shoulder. "Well are you?"

"Not exactly-" You start.

"I think you're thinking of one of the other...candidates, Hyejin." Seokjin says carefully. He places his palm at the small of your back. The gesture was probably just for show but it comforts you none the less.

"I'm sure she's just being modest." She says to Seokjin, but she's looking right at you. Her forefinger taps against her palm and you can almost see the puzzle pieces falling together in her head before her expression smooths out and you let out a sigh of relief. "So. Shall we?"

Seokjin nods sheepishly. Hyejin slings an arrow into her bow with the ease of an expert, Seokjin quickly following suit. And it is in that moment, as you watch them shoot equally as precise shots to the centre of their respective targets, that it dawns on you. You have never shot a bow and arrow in your life.

"Let's see just how good you are." Hyejin steps back, offering you the main stage. You squint at the targets in the far distance, the rings blurring into one. How on earth did they make hitting those things look so easy?

"Sure thing." You wince at the strain in your voice as you fumble to pull an arrow from your quiver, fingers shaking as you try to sling it into the bow.

You can do this..

You lift the bow, close your eyes and hope for the best when you let go of the arrow, watching as it flies a short distance before sticking upright in the dirt just short of the target.

Cheeks scarlet, you glance at Hyejin who looks positively horrified. "When you said not exactly good I wasn't expecting you to be so...inexperienced. No personal trainer?" She muses, eyeing you quizzically, to which you shoot her an embarrassed smile in confirmation. "Anybody would think it was your first time!" You sheepishly giggle along to the hearty chuckle she enjoys at the mere thought, spluttering when her face suddenly darkens "It's not right?"

You freeze. "Uhhh..."

"It's just nerves," Seokjin insists, palms clamping your shoulders and thrusting you forward again. "She's probably just shitting it because you're watching."

"Language!" Hyejin scolds, letting the roll of Seokjin's eyes slip when she sees you fiddling with another arrow.

This time you prepare the bow with ease, a bout of confidence washing over you as you make eye contact with Seokjin over the top of the bow you raise to your shoulder. His eyes soften slightly and he offers an encouraging nod as you squint at the target and shoot the arrow straight into the centre ring.

You're momentarily shocked at your own abilities before Seokjin is letting out a genuinely impressed hoot, his hand coming between you to offer a sly high five unbeknownst to Hyejin. A silent congratulations for not completely fucking up.

"Pretty good." Hyejin nods, looking genuinely impressed, and you give yourself a silent pat on the back.

Holy shit. This is really working! She believes you belong here!

"Although I'm not sure where father got the idea of professional from with that technique," She lowered her voice, clearly only intending for Seokjin to hear the last part despite you standing beside her. "I must admit her figure seems better suited to tennis anyway..."

Or not. Maybe you still have some work to do...

Hyejin seems in a hurry to get to the next target, and Seokjin hangs back to whisper in your ear before you follow.

"Congrats," He hums with a smirk. "You fit right in. Welcome to Paradise, Y/N."

The next forty five minutes pass quicker than you expect.

"— and I said, 'How could you seat the Jeon's next to the Jung's when you know they're feuding about the business contract'?" Hyejin exclaims. "Scandalous."

"Scandalous." You reply with a bored attempt at enthusiasm, raising your eyebrows at Seokjin over the rim of your glass as you sip cloudy lemonade through a straw. To his credit he looks equally as exhausted with Hyejin's spiel, shaking his knee impatiently as he itches for an opportunity to pounce.

As Hyejin continues to make mildly interrogative small talk and you find it increasingly easier to think on the spot when she asks about your family's (imaginary) dynasty and the university degree in economics you (supposedly) possess, you start to feel more comfortable. But Seokjin still refuses to loosen the arm resting around your shoulders keeping you planted by his side all afternoon, as if he is nervous his sister might swoop down like a bird and take you away at any moment, like a toddler with a toy.

That's why when she suggests a trip to the little girls room to powder your noses, Seokjin throws you a reluctant look. He protests at first when you readily agree (hoping to splash some cold water on your face to cool the constant burn that seems to have settled into your every pore) and he still looks concerned, knee bouncing nervously, when you peel yourself away from his body and disappear into the bar a few steps behind Hyejin who doesn't seem interested in side by side small talk.

In fact, you use the bathroom in silence and she doesn't speak another word until you catch her gaze in the mirror as she emerges from a cubicle behind you.

"You might have my little brother fooled but I see right through you, you know." She sets down her cosmetics bag on the sink, retrieving an expensive tube of lipstick and swiping the pinkish colour over her lips nonchalantly.

The tap stops running over your soaped up hands as you try to curb the nausea her words induce. Does she know who you are? Who you really are?

Despite the shake to your voice you try to play it cool. "W-what do you mean?"

Hyejin's laugh is small and tight, nothing about it humorous at all. Her eyes never leave her reflection, fluffing up her curls with an air of superiority. "I see through parasites like you straight away."

Your mouth falls agape with astonishment. "Parasites?"

"You should know that I have people all over this place who will find out exactly why you came here." For the first time she turns to look you dead in the eye, a bitter smile lacing her lips smugly. She is eye level but it feels like she is towering above you. "What is it you want? Money?"

"No I—"

"Just wait." Hyejin slings her bag over her shoulder triumphantly, voice getting smaller as her heels click across the tiles to the door. She pauses, poking her head back into the room as if burdened with an after thought. "You could do with some more mascara, by the way, darling. Would make you look much prettier."

And then she's gone, leaving you to watch her hips swaying into the distance with hands dripping dry onto the ground.

By the time you calm your nerves enough to emerge from the bathroom looking semi-confident, Hyejin is already ordering another drink and Seokjin is straining his neck to search for you anxiously.

Even from a few meters away you can see the way he sighs with relief when he spots you approaching. It didn't last for long though as he must notice the slightly reddened rings around yours eyes that weren't there before and before you can give him a watery smile in greeting, he is on his feet.

"What happened?"

You bite your lip. "Seokjin, I think I need to go."

"I knew this would happen. Did she try and get in your head?" You nod and his face darkens. "I was an idiot bringing you here."

"It's fine, I shouldn't have agreed, you stay and I'll just go—"

"Right!" Seokjin makes a show of slapping his palms to his knees, practically jumping to his feet and dragging you up with him by your elbow, only a hare away from spilling the drink in your hands. "Sorry to cut this short but I think it's time for Y/N and I to be going."

Hyejin looks positively furious at the suggestion of saying goodbye, gesturing towards the bucket of ice in the centre of the table you had inhabited after your arms began to hurt from holding the archery bow. "But we haven't even opened the Champagne yet, Jin-"

"Oh I don't day drink." You wave her off, biting your lip with instant regret when you see how her face hardens.

"Sorry Hyejin but there really just isn't enough time," Seokjin insists, reaching for your bag to save you the trouble, slinging it across your shoulder and pushing you by the shoulders towards the exit. It's not like you have a choice in the matter but you have to admit you are relieved the whole fiasco is finished. "Send my best wishes to Wonho and Minhye!"

"Minhyuk." Hyejin splutters as she staggers to her feet, chair scraping obscenely. "Your nephew's name is Minhyuk!"

"Good to know!" Seokjin calls over his shoulder, already speed walking into the lobby before you can make out her response.

When Seokjin decides there is enough distance between you and the range he drops his arm from where it drapes around your shoulders. You didn't realise it was there until it was already gone, a cold emptiness settling over you. Why had it felt so natural?

He lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Thank god that's over with. I thought she would never stop talking."

You snort in agreement. "I've never told so many lies in my life."

"I find that hard to believe." Seokjin smirks when you slap his arm playfully. "It came too easily to you."

"It's your fault! Your deceptive ways are rubbing off on me!"

"Deceptive ways?" Seokjin splutters, a genuine laugh spilling from his lips. Heartier and much different to the strained chuckles he's been giving Hyejin all day. You decide by the way your heart lurches that you like it much better. "I'll have you know I never lie."

"You're joking right?" Surely he is aware that it was him that roped you into this identity fraud master plan in the first place? The smirk on his face says yes. It's your turn to laugh, mimicking his earlier tone. "I find that hard to believe."

"Then ask me a question and I'll tell you the honest truth and nothing but the truth."

"Uhh okay?" You pause, mulling over all the questions you really want to ask. Why did you choose me? Does this make us friends? Are you gonna look through me again at the restaurant when this whole thing is over? Before you sheepishly settle on something more appropriate.

"How much is the resort worth? It must be a lot if you would go to all this...trouble."

"Five hundred."

"Five hundred thousand?"

"You're coy. Of course not." He chuckles. "Million."

Oh. Well now everything makes sense.

"Come on, ask me another." Seokjin bumps his shoulder against yours playfully, hair falling in his eyes that you’re desperate to push away. Your cheeks burn. "What's on your mind, kitchen girl?"

Don't say it...don't say it...

"D-did your sister hate me?"

Too late. The question slips out before you can stop it and you slap a hand over your mouth in shock.

He narrows his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

Why do you want to know? It's not like any of this really mattered - it wasn't real after all. So why does your stomach twist when you remember the spiteful way Hyejin spoke to you?

You flash a sheepish smile. "J-just interested."

Your ego was just bruised that's all. It was natural to feel bad when someone didn't like you, right?

"Then yes."

Oh.

Your chest clenches for no reason. Maybe he really never lies after all, huh?

Seokjin must notice the way you pout. "It's not personal! That's just how she is. Honestly, out of all the candidates so far you're the one she hated the least..."

You snort. "Good to know?"

You come to a stop outside the locker room doors. You don't know what to say - what is left? Goodbye? Thank you?

You're probably never going to speak to him again, true; but goodbye feels too formal. Too real. Instead you stay quiet, the sound of cicadas and balls hitting racquets filling the silence as Seokjin’s chocolate brown eyes make you weak at the knees when they darken, his body drawing ever closer to yours.

"Aren't you gonna ask how I plan on repaying you?"

Seokjin's fingers wrap around your elbow before you can slip away and you gasp at how his skin burns yours. You swallow thickly. The light bounces off his face dazzlingly and you have to admit he looks good right now, with his shirt unbuttoned lazily and his bitten lips inches from yours.

"I-I forgot about that." You admit. Sure you had been uptight about this whole idea initially but you couldn't deny the fact that today had been kinda fun. Did you really need a reward? Maybe you'd got a little lost in pretending to be someone else. So what?

"Well," Seokjin draws closer until your back presses against the wall, his breath hot next to your ear. "I have something in mind."

Your pulse quickens when you feel his hand rest upon your hip, the rise and fall of his chest so close that you get tingles down your spine.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "W-what is it?"

His chuckle is warm against your sensitive neck and you shudder when his lips ghost over your skin, so so close. "Can I show you?"

"Sure." You breathe.

And then he takes you by the chin, lining up your mouths and crashing them together in a hot tangle of tongue and teeth, his chapped lips moving against yours with an urgency. Your arms snake around his neck, tangling in the hair at his nape and pulling him into you with a thump.

Before your eyes can flutter shut and your heart can get lost in the feeling of his teeth pulling at your bottom lip and the taste of sour lemonade that still lingers on his tongue, Seokjin pulls back with a smirk, eyes dropping to your parted lips and then back to your blown out eyes with a satisfaction.

He runs a knuckle down your cheek. You feel your legs weaken. "I want you."

The huskiness in his voice makes your head spin, chest burning with the desire to connect your lips again. But you resist.

"Why?" You squeeze your eyes shut, head lolling back against the wall to avoid his gaze, embarrassed at how shaky your voice sounds after one kiss. God, you're weak. "Why me?"

"Like I said," Seokjin's fingers trace down your sides, eyes darkening when he notices the way the light touch makes you shiver under him. "I want you. Have since I first saw you."

He wants you? What about all those other girls, the ones he sent running? The ones who were much more suited to him than you would ever be?

"So what?" You scoff, biting your lip to stop a needy gasp when he presses a bold kiss to your jaw. "Want to add me to the list of girls who — mmf — w-who you seduced?"

He pauses, lips pressed against your burning skin for a little longer while he registers your words. "Maybe." He resumes his earlier actions, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. "Is that so bad?"

"I can't do this." You bite your lip. This wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't intending on letting Seokjin get to you, didn't mean to become a mark in his black book or a notch in his bed post.

"Why not?" He presses his forehead to yours. Your breath hitches and you will the warm tingle in your stomach to go away. "I saw you checking me out on the range."

The way he grins tells you that you hadn't been so subtle after all.

"And besides," Seokjin grips your ass through your skirt, making you gasp to his satisfaction. "This way, I get to pay you back and have some fun of my own."

"H-how?" You can feel yourself slipping. Into his touch, into his words.

"By making you cum." That had your panties damp and he knew it, the heat between your legs distracting you from the way he groans against your lips when your hips buck into him involuntarily.

It's like he knows what you need, slotting his leg between your own and putting pressure on the growing ache in your core. "I know you want this too."

He's right, the way the cotton of your panties has begun to cling to your folds a tell tale sign of your arousal. Seokjin knew exactly how to make you putty in his hands. Every teasing touch of his lips to your neck, every feather light trace of his fingers has him chuckling darkly when you melt into his body, unable to resist the way he makes your core ache needily for his touch.

"Come on, I can make you feel good." Your breath hitches when fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. "If I just lift this up..."

Oh god. If you don't stop now it'll be too late...

His hand slips beneath your skirt, pads of his fingers hooking your sodden panties to the side, the flash of cold air against your needy folds making you whine into the crook of his neck. "P-please."

You feel him smirk against your hair, speaking with a tone so sickly sweet you would've rolled your eyes if your clit wasn't already pulsating for his touch. "Please what?"

"Make me cum."

"I knew you would come round." He pulls back to face you, drinking in the expression on your face which you presume is utterly fucked out. You have to admit the way his own irises have darkened with what you recognise as lust makes your stomach leap in anticipation. "So desperate for me already hm?"

You whine, somewhat in confirmation, somewhat in frustration at his refusal to touch you even when you buck against his hand. "Please."

"I wouldn't have put you down as the begging type." His hand suddenly cups your heat, pads of his fingers circling your entrance teasingly. He lets out a choked groan when he feels your arousal. "This wet for me? Already?"

"What do you expect?" You stammer, squeezing his shoulders and holding back on the urge to buck against his palm again. "You've got your hand up my skirt."

"Mmm, I could just make you come undone right here." His eyes darken, tongue snaking out to wet his chapped lips hungrily. "Could easily fuck you out nice and slow with my fingers if I wanted to, hmm?" Seokjin has begun to circle your entrance teasingly, making you squirm every time he nearly slips inside.

"Fuck." Your eyes are squeezed shut, breathing already laboured despite him barely even touching you, just the thought of him filling you up getting you dangerously worked up. "I want you to."

"What was that?" Seokjin's lips curve up mischievously, one of his fingers nearly filling you up before he removes his hand and you groan with frustration. "Gotta use your words sweetheart."

Your heart thumps at the use of the pet name but you choose to ignore it, instead reaching between your bodies to clasp his wrist before it disappears completely. "Fuck me," you pant, eyes roaming his with desperation. His staunch gaze never falters. "Please, fuck me now."

Seokjin connects your swollen lips again, but not before mumbling against them gruffly. "Remember you asked for it."

Then, his free hand to spreads your legs, knee stopping them from closing as his other hand closes in on your aching core. The feeling of his digits running down your soaked slit has you panting and you feel your legs buckle when he pressed two of his lithe fingers into your heat without warning. You are dripping by now, hole accommodating the stretch and allowing his fingers to slip inside easily.

Your clit pulsates with need and you want to feel Seokjin everywhere, have him take you in any way he wants, momentarily lost to the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of your heat; until you remember that you have Seokjin's hand down your pants in broad daylight and anyone could walk by and see just how weak he makes you.

"Wait!" He halts his ministrations, raising a brow. "W-we can't, not here."

You mewl when his thumb ghosts across your swollen clit, touch light but enough to have you gasping into the crook of his neck.

"Let's take this inside, then." Before you can ask what he means his fingers disappear, leaving your hole clenching agonisingly around nothing again. He presses the arousal coated digits to your lips and you enjoy the way his jaw tightens as you eagerly take them into your hot mouth, humming when you taste yourself on your own tongue. "Fuck you'll drive me crazy if you keep this up."

You can tell you are getting to him, even if he is trying to hide it. The way his eyes roll back when you suck his fingers clean, how he bites his cheek to stop a lustful groan when his eyes dip between your bodies to your almost naked heat tells you all you needed to know.

He can't take it any longer.

Seokjin pulls his hand away with a wet pop, your throbbing heat protesting when he let your legs fall shut, linking his clammy hand with your own. "Come with me."

It takes a second to remember how to walk, letting him pull you behind him in your dizzy haze. His hand is warm in yours and your entire body aches to feel them on you again. It's already too late to hide your swollen lips and slightly mussed up hair before Seokjin drags you right into the men's locker room .

"Wait, we can't do it in here—"

"Everyone out!" Seokjin's voice bellows through the locker room, all its inhabitants pausing their ministrations to peer at you curiously.

You try to let go of Seokjin's hand to button up your shirt but he won't let you, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you hide behind him self consciously, knees knocking. "We need to use the locker room."

A groan erupts through the room, a chorus of again? permeating the sound of lockers slamming shut with frustration before one by one all the dudes in the locker room began to shuffle past you to the exit.

"Seokjin!" You hiss, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear angrily. "Now everyone knows!"

Seokjin's thumb rubs across your knuckles soothingly. "Who cares?"

You feel your cheeks flush hotly when a man you recognise from the restaurant, now wearing nothing but a towel, narrows his eyes in a knowing look. You willed the ground to swallow you up.

The sound of footsteps ceases, the door swings closed and finally you're alone.

"Better?" Seokjin turns to you expectantly.

"I can't believe you just did that!" You cover your face with your palms. "God how am I going to look any of them in the eyes again."

"They don't care." He soothes, your unamused expression not faltering still.

"Are you even allowed to do that? W-What if they tell someone—"

"They won't," Seokjin smirks. "They value their memberships here too much."

You bite your lip. "Maybe we shouldn't do this."

Seokjin rushes forward to cup your face in his palms reassuringly. The act feels a little too sincere and you nearly melt at the intimacy, resisting copying his motion by pinching your palm instead. "It's okay, seriously! They're just jealous that I get lucky more around here than any of the old bastards have in their entire lives."

"I don't believe you." Your words are muffled by his chest, his chuckle vibrating against your cheek.

"They're jealous because they'll never get this lucky."

"Huh?" Seokjin's hands slide down the small of your back to cup your ass, lifting your entire weight so that your legs wrap around his waist. You let out a giggle of surprise when his face comes into view, smirking up at you.

"Lucky enough to get someone as pretty as you underneath them."

There they are again, the butterflies in your stomach, the skip of a beat in your heart, a warmth spreading through your chest that feels too good to question right now. "Technically I'm above you." You mumble. "Besides they were all, like, fifty years old or something."

"Just shut up would you?" Seokjin stumbles forward, throwing you roughly onto one of the couches. The fabric feels like velvet when your nails clutch at it desperately, trying to hold on to whatever control you have left when Seokjin drops to his knees between your legs to hover over you. "And kiss me for fucks sake."

You oblige, pulling him by the collar to connect your lips in a kiss even more heated than before if that was even possible. His tongue runs along your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you sigh contentedly into the kiss when he pulls your face even closer with his palms.

"F-fuck." He pulls back with a pop, hands roaming along the tops of your thighs too teasingly for you to handle. By now you're so worked up that you just needed him to take you roughly, the thought of his cock pounding in and out of you making you moan when you feel his bulge brush your leg. God you want him more than you knew it was possible, the way your clit pulses at the thought of how good it would feel to come around him or better yet feel him come inside you overwhelming.

"Seokjin, p-please fuck me." You practically whine, letting your head fall against the couch cushion when his thumbs fiddle with the lace of your panties. "Wanna feel you inside me."

The sound that comes from his throat seems strangled. "Fuck, what did I say about driving me crazy?"

"Need you so bad," You rotate your hips to emphasise your desperation, the action providing you with no relief when his steel like grip prevents you from putting any pressure on your dripping folds. "Wanna cum for you."

You blink up at him through your lashes and you swear you see his adam's apple bob as he swallows a moan. He liked it when you provoked him, you could tell. His resolve is crumbling with every word out of your mouth.

"Please, I'm so wet." Fuck, you are. You can feel it dripping down your ass, probably making a mess of the couch below you. You hope it can be dry cleaned. "Just fuck me now—mmf!"

Seokjin shuts you up with a hard press of his lips to yours, the action conveying he's just as desperate as you, the way his hands trembled telling you he isn't as unaffected as he wants to appear.

His breathing is nearly as ragged as yours now. "You like riling me up don't you?"

He runs a shaky hand through his hair exasperatedly and you look up at him hopeful, willing him to touch you, kiss you, anything.

"I'm not going to fuck you."

Oh.

You stiffen beneath him, his words shocking you still.

He doesn't want you. Simple as that.

This was just another one of his games and you fell straight into it. You close your eyes and braced for him to start laughing. To point his finger and tell you how lame you are for ever thinking that someone like him could want someone like you.

Except nothing comes. Just the sound of your shaky breaths and a shower running nearby.

"Why?" Your voice is small now and you draw your knees to your chest, trying to hide as much from him as possible. "You don't want to?"

He looks dismayed at your suggestion, palms shooting out to push you back down and pull you back into his hold again.

"It's not that, Y/N." You let out a relieved breath, not fighting Seokjin when his forehead falls against your chest in defeat, heavy breaths ghosting across the tops of your breasts. You're sure he can feel the way your heart beats uncontrollably in your chest.

"Then why?" You bite your lip. You sound too needy, to whiny. Why do you even care if he wants you or not? This is a one off anyway.

"God, I want nothing more than to strip you and see you bounce on my cock right here"

Oh.

Seokjin's lips attach to your neck, sucking harshly like a man deprived, as though he can't hold back any longer. His hands roam everywhere they can reach, rubbing your breasts over your shirt before his fingers work on the buttons eagerly.

"S-Seokjin..."

"Would give anything to see you come undone on my cock. Bet you'd moan so pretty when I pound you, yeah?"

Truth be told you'd let him right now if he said the word, the thought of him stretching you out making you see stars before he has even properly touched you. Your core is hot and sticky against your panties while you clench around nothing while his every word makes you writhe to be filled. "Then w-why don't you?"

"Because there's plenty of time for that, princess." He flashes you a smile. Plenty of time? Why did he make it sound as if this wasn't a one time thing? As if you'd be back for more? "This is for you remember? Gotta pay you back."

You yelp when Seokjin lifts your ass, thumbs finally dragging your panties down your legs and throwing them behind him before he spreads your legs with a hunger. "Let me taste you, hm?"

Seokjin pushes your skirt around your waist, exposing your core to his hungry eyes, drinking in how you look all spread out for him. Just the sight of him so close to your dripping heat makes the coil in your stomach tighten and you're sure you could cum just from the way his lips part in anticipation.

He looks up at you for confirmation, smirking when you nod your head before falling back against the couch weakly when he drags a finger down your slit teasingly, licking his lips when you mewl at the brief contact with your clit. "So pretty."

He sinks back against his heels, cheek warm against your inner thigh, hot breath caressing your clit. A moan escapes you at the feeling much to his amusement, his bruising grip on your thighs stopping you from bucking up. "Hurry up — mmf — please."

For the first time he listens to your request, skipping the teasing to run a long stripe up your soaking slit. Seokjin groans against your clit and you quiver, his staggered breaths hot against your dripping folds. "Taste so good, sweetheart."

"S-Seokjin," Hands spread your legs as far as they cN go and then plump lips engulf your clit, sucking with a perfect harshness that makes your legs shake and your head fall back with a gasp, hands tangling in his blonde locks tightly enough to have him groaning blissfully. "Fingers!"

The breathiness of your voice makes him chuckle against your heat, vibrations enough to have your knees straining to close around his head, the pressure between them almost too much. "What was that?"

"Fingers," You reiterate, aware of how fucked out you soundjust from feeling his tongue on your clit, every teasing flick making your entrance pulse. "Inside me, now."

"No please?" The drag of Seokjin's flat tongue down your slit to prod at your hole is sinful, the way he took to fucking you with his tongue teasingly drawing small whimpers from your lips. It's mesmerising how he knows just how to make you fall apart.

"P-please!"

The gentle brush of his nose against your clit nearly has you coming on the spot. "Turn over." He growls against your mound. An arm wraps around your waist and before you can protest his mouth leaving your heat, you are being flipped onto your hands and knees, Seokjin's palm pushing your head down against your forearms so that your ass comes up for his viewing pleasure. "That's more like it."

"F-fuck." It feels dirty being on display for him like this, dripping wet and wiggling your hips, desperate for friction against your spread folds. Pressing your cheek to the couch, you catch a glimpse of Seokjin's expression as he takes you in, eyes black with desire, lips still coated in your sticky arousal.

"Shit." His breath hitches. "Such a pretty pussy, hm?"

It's your turn to take a shaky inhale when a single finger circles your entrance, Seokjin humming approvingly when you clench hopelessly around nothing. Knowing you are so close to being filled even with a single finger gets you panting, circling your hips and trying to sink down onto the digit that smears your wetness through your folds lewdly. Seokjin pulls his hand away with a click of his tongue.

"That desperate to be filled, baby?" His tone is taunting, followed by a chuckle when you whine at the way his words make your clit throb. "Fuck, such a slut, dripping wet for just my fingers."

He reaches around to press the pad of his finger against your lips and you suck it instinctively, humming when you taste yourself, some of your sticky arousal smearing on your chin. Seokjin's head rolls back, the visual practically sending him into sensory overload.

"Such a slut," A loud slap fills the room, a palm landing flat against your upturned ass, the sensation making you cry out in surprise. His breath is hot and ragged against your ear. "You like that?"

Despite the embarrassed shake of your head another smack lands to the flesh of your other cheek with enough force to leave a mark this time. It stings when he rubs his calloused hands over the reddening skin that is now burning hot where it collided with his palm but the pain quickly dissipates to pleasure and you bite your hand to stop from moaning out too lewdly. "Use your words, princess."

"Seokjin!" You can't hold back from whining his name when his palm lands straight on your heat, the sharp pain a somehow welcome relief when he instantly rubbed a few soothing circles into your folds with the pads of his fingers, each graze of your clit making your legs shake uncontrollably. "I-I need more."

"This?" Without warning he presses two fingers into your pussy, entrance squeezing around him wildly at the pleasant stretch. Every flick of his wrist permeates through the locker room with a loud squelch, testament of just how worked up you were.

"Ugh!" Every drag of his fingers against your velvety walls has your eyes rolling back, the way he curls the digits with every thrust hitting your sweet spot perfectly, like he knew exactly how to drive you crazy. "S-so good."

You are starting to get out of breath, meeting his thrusts by rocking back against his hand and this time he doesn't protest, encouraging you by kneading the flesh of your ass and groaning in time with the sharp gasps leaving your lips each time the heel of his hand brushes your swollen clit.

"Think you can cum again with just my fingers, baby?" The way you clench around around his digits is a tell tale sign that your second high is close. Just his words alone nearly make you fall over the edge, words slurred as you try to focus on anything other than the unrelenting pulse between your legs.

"N-need more." You sound utterly fucked out, eyes squeezed shut and lost to the feeling of being filled but the stretch isn't quite enough and you need more to tip you over the edge. "Another one."

Seokjin lines up a third finger with your entrance, the ring on his finger cold against your hot walls as he slides it in beside the others at an agonisingly slow pace; to allow you to adjust to the stretch or to taunt you can't tell. By the time he gets to his knuckles your body is wracked with laboured breaths, quivering knees barely able to hold your weight as you bite the inside of your cheeks to curb a string of whines at being finally filled.

Of course, his fingers weren't as good as the real thing and you wonder how he is able to control himself when your mouth waters at the thought of feeling him inside of you instead of his hand.

The room is still a little humid from the showers, a layer of sweat glistening across your skin as you chase your high with determination, the stickiness between your legs dripping down Seokjin's wrist and making him tut, the click of his tongue heightening the sensation.

"That's it, cum for me." The authority lacing his tone tips you over the edge, another smack stinging your ass as you bury your face in the couch with a cry, the feeling of his fingers pumping you through your high almost too much to bare but as soon as they are ripped away and you're left clenching around nothing you miss the feeling of being full.

"So pretty when you cum." Seokjin murmurs. Under normal circumstances you would have been embarrassed, self conscious even with your ass up for anyone to see, release leaking on to the couch, but you're too fucked out to care about anything m, barely able to register Seokjin's new found gentleness as he flips you onto your back and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear while you focus on returning your breathing back to a normal pace.

"Holy shit." The beat of your heart seemsdeafening in your ears, the only other sound you can comprehend being Seokjin's own ragged breathing.

"Fuck, I nearly just came in my pants." When you manage to turn your head he is staring straight at you with disbelief, eyes travelling to your swollen lips. "I'm going to jerk off to this image forever."

"Me too." You murmur honestly.

Your lids fall shut in post orgasm bliss, not expecting the incoming peck Seokjin presses to your parted lips. It is barely a kiss, plump flesh of his lips brushing yours for less than a second but a funny warmth spreads through your chest at the gesture. Seokjin seems as surprised as you, as if he can't quite believe he just did that, shuffling to the other side of the couch to put some distance between you.

"You should uh, get dressed." He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly and turning away to give you some privacy, as if he hadn't just had his head between your legs just a moment ago.

His behaviour, albeit kind of strange, makes you smirk and you decide it won't hurt to tease. "Well, at least now we're even."

Seokjin bites his lip when he turns around to find your skirt back around your thighs, overcome with a new confidence, sauntering over and palming your ass like he owns it. "Nope, not getting away that easily. I think you'll find I made you cum twice. So now you owe me. Again."

"And what do I owe you this time, Kim Seokjin?" You place your hands on his chest, no instinct to push him away for some reason. "Golfing with your brother up next?"

"No," He scoffs. "My brother wouldn't be caught dead with a club."

"Then what?"

You notice the glint in his eye again, the one you are starting to crave. "Let me get to know you."

"Isn't that what you did today?"

He shakes his head. "The real you."

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #smutcentralnet #bangtanarmynet #ksmutclub #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin imagine #seokjin scenario #jin imagine #jin scenario #bts fanfiction #bts fic #fic: better with you

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roscoe-dream · 4 years

Text

End of the Line [ 2 ] || Stiles Stilinski

A/N: part two is here! there isn’t much stiles present in this until the end because.. he’s erased.. rip.. but I hope you read it still! STYDIA turned STILESxREADER. Some other scenes are changed around too. italicized text are memories.

word count: 8,239

WARNINGS: lots of angst and tears! but your heart will be mended at the end.

Inspired by this song and this song. Highly recommended you listen on repeat while reading!

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ [ Part One ]

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

You couldn’t tell if the reason the aching was due to your heart cracking in two or not, but you didn’t give it much thought as tears rolled down your cheeks. As you stood in front of the pack, your eyes darted over each one of their solemn faces that stared back at you. Your mouth was agape, opening and closing like a fish out of water as you tried to form a sentence. But you couldn’t, your body was frozen in place as you tried to process the utter betrayal of your friends.

‘Stiles can’t be her son.’

Lydia’s voice echoed through your ears, the words tumbling from her lips in defeat. You refused to believe them, though. From the night you woke up gasping for breath, the name ‘Stiles’ being the only thing you said, you refused to believe that he wasn’t real.

“We-” You stammered, bottom lip quivering as you locked gazes with the leader of the pack. “We have to keep looking for him. We have to keep looking for Stiles.”

Scott’s face fell, his heart aching as he watched his best friend break over someone none of you could remember. Although he was silent, it spoke volume to you. “What about a relic?” You tried, eyes darting to both Malia and Lydia desperately. The strawberry blonde sighed, her hand grabbing onto the wrist that was roughly handled not too long ago. “There’s no relic of Stiles-”

“We don’t know that!” You shouted at her, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and looking down at your shuffling feet to avoid their bewildered gazes.

Malia’s blunt voice was next to speak, “It doesn’t even sound like a real name.” She scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest while glancing over to the other two wary teens. “We’re fighting the wrong battle, Y/N.”

Your vision grew blurry with tears, and while you tried your best to make sure they didn’t fall, a few escaped in the process. “We’re trying to bring Stiles back.” Your voice was weak. The thought of your best friends abandoning someone so easily made your heart ache. “He’s out there, and we need to help him. We need to-”

“Enough!” The alpha’s voice suddenly boomed, making your heart stutter. You stared at him with bulging eyes, jaw dropped in shock at the volume of his voice. “The ghost riders are back, and we have no way of stopping them.” Scott spoke sternly, his eyes narrowed at you. “And whatever they are, they’re real. We can’t keep chasing after someone who isn’t.”

Malia instantly agreed with him, her head bobbing up and down. “We have to move on. He didn’t leave anything behind.” She said, the pair of them turning away from you and making their way towards the exit of the hospital. When you looked to Lydia with your bloodshot eyes and wet, flushed cheeks, your bottom lip began to quiver again.

“The only thing he left behind, was me.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

Your fingers massaged your temples in attempt to soothe another one of the piercing headaches you’ve been getting since a couple weeks ago. You knew it had to deal with Stiles, it was the only explanation. For the past three months, up until a couple weeks ago, you never thought of a Stiles or felt as empty as you did now without him.

“Why don’t they believe me?” You croaked, letting your tear stained face fall into your hands as your shoulders raked with sobs. They didn’t stop, even when Lydia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He’s real, Lyd. I know it.”

“I believe you.”

Your hair stuck to your stained cheeks as your head to snap up to her direction. “After everything we’ve been through, I believe you.” Her words were soft, but sincere, and it was all you needed to pull her into an embrace you so desperately needed. You two held each other in silence, and you thought back of the event that took place a few days ago with the pack at the hospital — of them giving up on Stiles. Lydia pulled away when the shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the hallway, her hands coming up to your face to wipe at your cheeks and fix your makeup. “Let’s get to class.”

“Stiles, seriously, I need to get to class!”

Your laughter was loud as it bounced off the walls of the hallway. It was empty, just you and Stiles in it as he grabbed a hold of your wrist tans tugged you close to his body. Whipping around to face him, your laughter died down as you stared into his whiskey eyes, your lips curled into a soft smile.

“You have a bathroom pass, you’re okay to stay here for a few more minutes.” He assured, his bottom lip jutting out into a little pout to persuade you. With a playful roll of your eyes, and a cheesy smile, you sat back down on the stairwell.

“Okay, Stilinski, but you’re the one failing history. Not me.”

And once again, your giggles could be heard throughout the empty hallway as you watched your hazel eyed best friend do a victory cheer.

You inhaled sharply at the sudden ache to your head, a whimper leaving your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut. You haven’t felt a pain like that for a few days, why is it starting again now?

Ignoring Lydia’s lingering concern, you adjusted the strap of your bag and quickly scurried off to AP Biology. Fortunately, you shared that class with Lydia, but you also shared it with Scott. Your bag made a small clattering sound when you plopped down in your assigned stool, your head falling into your folded arms. Your position stayed this way for pretty much majority of class, up until you felt a nudge to your side. Pulling your head from your arms, you turned to look at Lydia with furrowed brows, lips parting to ask what was wrong before she silently pointed outside the window.

Slowly following her gaze, you stared straight at what appeared to be an abandoned powder blue jeep.

“What if we gave it a paint job?”

You asked aloud as you leaned down to soak the large sponge in your hand with water from a bucket by your feet. Plopping it onto the hood of Stiles’ jeep, you bit back a smile after glancing at the spastic boy’s bewildered expression.

“No!” He gasped, sounded deeply offended. “I love this jeep. Rust, dents, and all. Plus, it was my mom’s and she never changed the color.”

Your lips pulled into a frown at his words, loosening your grip on the sponge and let it sit on the hood of the jeep, rounding the front of the vehicle to meet Stiles on the other side. “I’m not saying we change it, Sti, just.. make it look nicer. It’s like the homeless person of cars!”

You fell into a fit of laughter at his horrified expression, not missing the ghost of a smile he held on his freckled face.

“That’s it, you’re walking home!”

Your eyes grew wildly as you continued to study the jeep, ignoring the stinging to your skull as you turned to face Lydia, shaking her out of the daze you found yourself in seconds before. She quickly blinked back to reality, her eyes eagerly searching your own. “We need to get to that jeep.” You whispered, watching as her strawberry blonde hair swayed with the bobs of her head. She opened her mouth to speak, but was very soon interrupted by another voice.

“Ladies, is there something outside that’s more fascinating than the structure of the human mind?”

“No.”

“I don’t think so.”

You grimaced at the woman’s pointed gaze at your answer, quickly giving her an apologetic smile before she turned back to the rest of the class. As soon as her attention was off the pair of you, your eyes traveled back to the rusty jeep in the parking lot. “Now, many people credit the corpus callosum for giving us sense of intuition, gut instinct, even we ourselves aren’t aware-”

Her lecture was cut short by the screeching of stools. The sound made the class of teens divert their attention from the biology teacher to you and Lydia, who were looking around with a similar absent look in your eyes. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out, only tears forming in your waterline. Thankfully, the teacher noticed, and with a labored sigh, she nodded towards the door. You quickly exited the classroom, faintly hearing an ‘I’ll be right back’ from Lydia and an ‘I’m going to go check on her’ from Scott. Your swift pace didn’t slow at the sound of another pair of clacking heels and thudding footsteps. Pushing past the school doors, you ran towards the man attaching his tow hook to the front of the jeep.

“Hey, wait!”

The man turned in your direction, an eyebrow raised with curiosity at your frantic behavior. “You can’t tow this jeep.” You spoke between pants, looking behind you to see Scott and Lydia walking up to your sides.

“Paperwork says I can. It’s been reported as abandoned.”

Your eyes rolled, and you pushed past the man to slap a hand on the hood of the vehicle, eyes narrowed up on his taller figure. “There. Now it’s not.”

The man opened his mouth to protest, but with the menacing glare Scott was giving him, he unclasped the hook from the hood of the car, and pulled out of the parking lot. The three of you looked between each other, clearly stumped as to why you went out of your way to stop the tow man. “Well, now we have a jeep- Scott, you okay?”

The teenager had his head cocked to the side, eyes squinting in concentration as he slowly walked towards the door of the jeep. You took a step back, too curious to interrupt what Scott was doing.

“There you guys are!”

All three heads snapped towards Malia, who’s dark brown eyes were eyeing the jeep intensely. “You heard it too?” Scott asked, pulling his face away from the window of the jeep. “It’s coming from inside.”

“Break it.” Lydia ordered, stepping closer to the group, “The jeep’s abandoned anyway, nobody’s going to say anything. Break it.”

Scott hesitantly nodded at her insisting, guiding the three of you away before smashing the driver’s side window. The ringing sound that the two werewolves could only hear grew, making it loud enough for you and Lydia to hear as well. “Is that a radio?” You asked, stepping forward to peek inside the jeep to find a police scanner installed into the vehicle. The four of you swiftly shuffled into the jeep, eyes locked on the device that kept its consistent ringing noise.

Then suddenly, it stopped.

And honestly, it felt like your heart might’ve too.

“Why’d it stop?” asked Lydia.

“It doesn’t matter,” you sighed, reaching out for the glowing on/off switch to shut it down. From the passenger seat, you turned to look back at Scott, who held that same perplexed expression from outside the jeep. “What? Did you catch a scent?”

Both teen wolves nodded at this, their noses twitching while they inhaled deeply. You were soon met with Scott’s dark eyes, confusion swirling in them. “Yeah, uh..” He shook his head in disbelief, eyeing each person inside. “Mine. Lydia’s, Malia’s. Yours.”

“Especially yours.” Malia added, slouching in her seat with scrunched brows before asking, “But how? I’ve never been in this jeep before.”

“Neither have I.” Scott said, propping his elbows on the back of the two fronts seats. You turned to face Lydia, who’s lips were twitching into a small smile. “Yes, we have.” She said quietly, and you were quick to catch on. “We just don’t remember it.” You finished quickly, your eyes searching both Scott and Malia’s desperately.

“I thought we were done with that.” Malia deadpanned, glaring at Lydia for getting you riled up again. The three of them continued their quarrel while you let yourself grow distant, a faint ringing in your ear that grew louder instantaneously.

The grip he had on your face readjusted as he licked his lips nervously. "Remember... Remember that I've been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn't even realize until middle school." He chuckled humorlessly, swiping at the few stray tears that sprung from your eyes.

You shook your head in his hold, the faint memories of your blossoming friendship since diapers flashing before your eyes. "Stiles." You wailed, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth to silence your cries.

The boy's eyes flickered past you, his heart stopping at the sight of a Ghost Rider just outside your window. He released a steady breath, leaning into your face.

"And remember this."

“Y/N!” You heard Lydia shout, pulling you out of your trance-like state. You sniffled, glazed eyes looking to hers before letting them wander to the rest of the group’s concerned stares. “I’m sorry I, uh, was just thinking of something. I’m sorry.” Your words were rushed before you bowed your head down to avoid anymore prying eyes.

“We found an address..” Lydia said gently, almost as if she were to speak any louder, you would break. “It’s 129 Woodbine Lane.”

Exhaling slowly, you lifted your head up, a small sound of disbelief tumbling from your lips. “That’s the Sheriff’s house.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“Girls, is this about Stiles again?” The Sheriff’s voice was stern as he looked between you and Lydia from across.

When you announced that the address was home to the Sheriff and Claudia, you and Lydia booked it to her car, rendering both Malia and Scott speechless. After being there for about fifteen minutes interrogating them about their apparently ‘stolen’ jeep, the two adults eventually caught on to your persistence. “Y/N,” Claudia called out to you, a soft, yet worried smile on her face. “Don’t you think it’s time to let this go? Talk to somebody about this?” She asked, shifting her attention onto Lydia as well. “Maybe it’s a good time to talk to your mothers about this..”

You stared at her blankly, worried that if you thought about nobody understanding what you and Lydia did in the slightest, that you’ll break. That you wouldn’t be able to put yourself back together this time.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” Lydia said, collecting her things from the floor before she stood up from the lounge chair. The three of them conversed a bit longer, but it was all just background noise to you. You were too lost in your head to notice them make subtle glances towards you. Suddenly, you stood up, alarming both Claudia and the Sheriff. You could feel your hands shaking, so you held them, twiddling your thumbs rapidly. “Do you mind if I-” You choked out, resulting to just nodding your head in the direction of their restroom. Once granted permission, you rushed to the hallway, not caring that the three awaiting bodies could hear your pained cries. Your grip on your bag faltered, and you let it drop onto the floor. You stared at the wallpaper that Lydia had told you about peeling, and you found yourself gently rubbing the paper. Pressing your back to the very same wall, you slid down the wall with your head in your hands.

But what you didn’t know, was that the teenage boy with the unforgettable whiskey eyes was doing the very same thing.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

As you sat in the driver’s seat of the rusted blue jeep, you let out a wince while your stomach churned, unable to fathom the familiarity the vehicle brought you. You just couldn’t remember where it came from. You sat there in silence with Lydia, waiting for Scott and Malia to return from wherever they ran off to after hearing a faint roaring in the distance.

“We’re gonna bring him back, you know.” Lydia’s voice broke the silence, attempting to ease your visibly distraught state. Although it didn’t work, you appreciated the effort. “How are we going to do that when we’re the only two people who believe he’s even real?” You asked, your eyes begging for an answer from your best friend even though she was unable to give you one. Just when Lydia’s jaw dropped to speak, footsteps approached you both quickly. You looked over to find a huffing Scott, his right hand clutched around something as he stopped by your window. “Where’s Malia?” You asked, looking past Scott briefly to see if she would turn up, but didn’t. “The roar,” Scott panted, eyes squinting as he recalled the previous event. “It was Peter’s. Peter Hale’s. H-He got out from where the Ghost Riders are keeping people, and he gave me this.”

Before you could ask more questions, a set of keys were in front of your face, hanging off of Scott’s index finger. You eagerly snatched the set from him, looking over them while Lydia climbed into the back seat for Scott to sit in the passenger. Giving the two of them another glance, you slid the key into it’s ignition, a laugh falling from your lips when it was a perfect fit. Turning the key, you heard the engine begin to roar to life, making a smile appear on your lips. Not soon after, there was a loud clunking noise, before the engine died down. “God! Stupid thing..” You grumbled, turning the key again while pressing down on the gas.

“Don’t flood it.” Scott warned, making Lydia cock her head at him with raised brows. “Do you even know what that means?” She asked, chuckling as Scott looked at her with a pained face. While the two engulfed themselves into a small bickering match, you managed to start the car, a squeak of excitement coming from you as you watched the lights inside the car come to life.

“Hello?”

The voice was faint behind the static being from the police scanner, but that was all it took for your heart to skip a beat or two. “Guys..” You mumbled, voice going unheard by Scott and Lydia as they continued their argument. “You guys!” You shouted, eyes looking between the two of them when they silenced, huffing out a breath before gesturing to the active police scanner. “Listen.”

“Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?”

And just like your own, both the boy and girl’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. Scott barely hesitated, snatching up the mic and putting it to his lips. “Stiles?” He asked tentatively, like he was waiting to be wrong. When the name fell from Scott’s lips, your body went rigid. The possibility of Scott actually believing you now made your eyes well up with tears, a hand reaching up over your mouth. You watched as Lydia grabbed the mic and put it to her own lips, “Stiles, is that you?”

The silence between the three of you was agonizing, the only thing you could do was wait for the familiar voice to ring through again.

And then it did.

“Scott, Lydia, is that you?”

The gasp you let out was muffled behind your hand, the tears in your eyes trickling down your face while you stared at your two best friends in awe. This was real. Stiles was real, and he’s alive.

“Oh my god, Stiles.” Lydia wailed, a tearful smile jerking at her lips along with Scott. “We can hear you.” He confirmed, making a glance at you before looking back at the small wired mic.

“Oh my god, you know me? You-you remember me?” Stiles asked, his tone showing evident disbelief. “Okay, okay, um.. Where’s Y/N? Is she there?”

Your eyes fell from Scott’s to the handheld device, only to look back to him. He gave you an encouraging nod, giving you the mic and staring with Lydia as you held it to your lips, asking quietly, “Stiles, is this.. is this really you?”

From the other line, you heard a slow breath of relief come from the radio. “Yeah, listen to me.. Do you remember the last thing I said to you?”

Your mouth fell agape, looking to the mic as if it had all the answers, while Scott and Lydia stared, expecting one from you.

“Remember… Remember that I’ve been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn’t even realize until middle school.”

Your eyes closed briefly, the blurry memory growing clear as your face scrunched up in concentration. Then it hit you. Moments before Stiles was taken. His love for you. And the kiss. Putting your lips back up to the mic, you spoke breathlessly. “You said.. You said ‘remember I’ve been in love with you, since the beginning.’ and then-” your bottom lip was worried between your teeth, a small sob escaping you. “And then you kissed me.” The words came out weakly, tears rolling down your face just as much as the night he was taken, but that was the only thing you knew from the distant memory. Scott took the microphone from you, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to talk in the state that you were in. “Where are you? We’re coming to find you.” Scott asked hurriedly, knowing that his best friend was out there was putting him on edge.

“No, no. You can’t. You won’t be able to find me.”

He sounded so defeated through the radio, and god, did it break you. You thought that him talking to the three of you might be doing more harm than good to you right now. What if you wouldn’t be able to get him out?

“Stiles, what’re you talking about? Just.. Just tell us where you are and we’ll come, we’ll come.” Scott pleaded into the mic, eyes filling to the brim with salty tears, same as yours. In the distance, you could hear loud rustling from Stiles’ end, making you involuntarily lean towards the mic. “Just, just remember this. Canaan, okay? Remember Canaan.” His voice sounded panicked, and the rustling only grew louder. Stiles was in danger. Ripping the device from the tan boy’s hands, you cried into the mic, “No wait, Stiles, don’t go! Stiles!”

You were too late.

He was gone.

But, you were determined to bring him back.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

You looked between your pack in the dinning room of the McCall house, you felt as though you were stuck right at the beginning. Scott face was blotted with tears, his cheeks glistening underneath the light as he stared blankly ahead, repeatedly calling a disconnected phone number.

Your attempt to get Sheriff Stilinski on your side after hearing Stiles through the radio fell straight through, as he shot you, Scott, and Lydia down almost instantly. After looking through the underground tunnels, you managed to find a riff, but it was destroyed by the hellhound — who was being controlled by a supernatural Nazi from 1943. You could almost relate to how Stiles felt right now — uou were stuck, and you didn’t know what the next step was or if it was even worth it.

Lydia was the first one to break the fifteen minutes of silence. “Scott,” She sighed, placing her hand over the cellphone in the tan boy’s hand, slowly easing it down onto the table. “Your mom’s gone, but she’s still alive.”

“What do we do now?” asked Malia, her dark eyes looking to the three of you expectantly. She was never really one to follow rules or plans, but this was different — it was all you had left.

“We can’t hide from them.” You murmured, looking to your fingernails as you picked at them to avoid eye contact. “What about Lydia? The Ghost Rider was scared of her.” Malia pointed out, making you sigh and simply shake your head at her.

“No, it wasn’t fear. It was more like.. reverence.” Lydia said.

“It doesn’t matter!” You snapped, the weight in your heart only seeming to grow heavier with each breath you took. “The rift is gone. We’re the only ones left.”

Then it was silent.

Until it wasn’t.

The backdoor of the McCall house opened abruptly, creaking as Sheriff Stilinski stepped through. His light eyes looked to each of you while you stared back at him, confusion clear in the four of you.

“I have a son.”

And that was all it took for your hope to be restored.

Looking up at the older man with glossy eyes, your expression mimicked the three of your friends — hope and confusion.

“His name is Mieczyslaw Stilinski. But we called him Stiles.” Noah’s eyes drifted to yours, an apologetic smile gracing his features before he cleared his throat. “I remember.. when Stiles was a little kid, he couldn’t say his first name. Not sure why, it pretty much rolls of the tongue. But, uh, the closest he could get, was ‘mischief.’” This time, the Sheriff’s eye’s drifted to Lydia, who was giving him a tight lipped smile to match with her green eyes.

The man pursed his lips, a dry chuckle rumbling from his chest as he looked to the four teenagers. “I remember when, uh.. Stiles first got his jeep. It belonged to his mother, she wanted him to have it. The first time he took it for a spin behind the wheel, he went straight into a ditch. I gave him his first roll of duck tape that day.” His lips curled into a smile as he thought back on the memory, and you couldn’t help but do the same because finally you could see it — you could see the end of the line. “We’re here tonight because my goofball son decided Scott and Y/N, two of his greatest friends in the world, into the woods to see a dead body.”

You blinked up at him, your jaw slacked while you tried to form a simple sentence in your head. “How.. How did you remember?” You asked, blown away at his ability to remember someone he so blatantly told you didn’t exist. Noah nodded towards Lydia, and you quickly whipped your head around with a watery grin on your face. “It started with Stiles’ jersey. Then I found the red string for his crime board. Finally, his whole room came back and all the memories.”

“Then the strangest thing happened.” The Sheriff scoffed, looking to Scott when his eyes furrowed curiously. “I thought I saw him.. Something opened, right in the middle of the room, just for a moment. Then it was gone.”

“A rift.” You mumbled, eyes growing in realization as you looked to the group. “I thought there was only one left? We saw it disappear.” Malia asked, referring to the portal that was now destroyed by Parrish — in his hellhound form. “You remembered Stiles, and that opened a new rift.” Lydia pieced together, pointing to Sheriff Stilinski who looked among you all with a lost look on his face.

Scott bowed his head, the ends of his lips twitching into a smile. “If the Sheriff can do it.. maybe we can too.” He proposed, looking to you with hopeful eyes. You grabbed ahold of his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and nodding to him. “The rift closed, but we can open it again.”

“How?” asked Malia.

“By remembering Stiles.” You said firmly, “we have to remember everything.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“How will we know when it’s working?”

Your question was muffled behind your fingers, your teeth gnawing on the nails and turning your skin soft. Lydia looked over her shoulder at you, eyes narrowed with pursed lips, and you immediately shut your mouth. You were in the Argent bunker, watching a locked Scott McCall travel through his own mind in some sort of cooling machine.

With Malia and Lydia on your side, you watched a Scott stood still with seeled eyes, waiting for further instructions from Lydia. “This isn’t working..” Lydia whined, her voice wobbling with panic as her eyes grew at the way Scott thrashed around in the machine. “You said he needs an emotional connection, right? Like what the Sheriff did?” Malia asked, stepping closer to Lydia who was pacing on the other end of the room. The strawberry blonde nodded, looking to the taller girl with glazed eyes. “He wasn’t just remembering someone, he was remembering his son. His family.”

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, Stilinski?” You asked, crawling your way between him and the McCall boy as you all laid on the floor of his cluttered bedroom. Both of the boys shifted about on Stiles’ floor, making room for you before cozying up again.

“I don’t know, I just.. I don’t know.” The whiskey eye boy sighed, his tongue darting over his lips as he stared at the ceiling. You looked over to him, brows raised in concern as he struggled to find the words. With your bottom lip worried between your teeth, you let your closest hand reach out for his, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance which he returned almost immediately.

“It’s just.. ever since my mom died, and my dad being in the station majority of the time,” He mumbled, exhaling shakily before sitting up from his position. You and Scott both mocked him, sitting up with crossed legs in a small circle to see each other. “You two are my best friends, you know? You’re all I have left. Besides my dad, but he doesn’t risk his life nearly as much as we do and-” He paused, his eyes filling with tears that caused your own to prick with them. Looking to Scott, you watched as a small teardrop rolled down his tan cheek.

“I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if something happened to either one of you. You’re family.”

“Scott!” You called out to the boy, gently tapping on the glass window of the machine in attempt to catch his attention. “Listen, I remember something. During our junior year we were with Stiles, okay? And-and he was talking about how.. how after his mom died, we were all he had left.” Your eyes welled up with tears, blocking your vision. You sniffled, not caring if the tears shed or not.

“He said that he wouldn’t know what he would do with himself if he lost one of us, that we’re family. But he’s lost right now, Scott. He’s lost and we need to remember him, we need to remember our family and find him.”

Your words seemed to strike a cord with the alpha, his thrashing stopped and he was mumbling things underneath his breath. But it stopped, and as soon as it did there was a deep rumbling sound, causing you and the girls to jump and stare at the flashing light coming from the window. As soon as it appeared, it vanished, and was replaced with a loud beeping sound coming from the machine. You were quick to act, pulling Scott out of it. Malia rushed over with a blanket she found lounging around and guided him to sit as you glanced at him.

“It was working, why’d you pull me out?” Scott asked incredulously, eyes bulging as he looked between the you and Malia. “You were going to die in there.” You said simply, catching a glimpse of Lydia who was already staring at you.

“How do you get Scott to do that?” She asked, tone almost accusing, as if she were piecing together some sort of puzzle.

You blinked at her, eyebrows scrunched together as you thought of the now distant memory. “When, uh, when you and Malia were talking about family, it triggered a memory of Stiles.” You mumbled, but it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “For the past few weeks, I would get these headaches.. and whenever the headaches came, so did the memories of Stiles. As soon as I remember though, it gets blurry — I forget. But I know they’re from him.”

You never looked up from your locked gaze on the floor, but when you did, you were met with three stunned stares.

“It’s you..” Lydia said quietly, her heels clacking faintly on the concrete floor as she made her way towards you. She grabbed ahold of your wrists, her sea foam green eyes boring into your own. “It’s all about connection, and you’ve had one with Stiles since the Ghost Riders took him.”

“It’s true.” Scott agreed, his teeth chattering slightly while he cuddled into the blanket around his shoulders. “When I was remembering him, I was also remembering the two of you together. I would also tease him for making it so obvious,” he chuckled, staring off distantly before he locked eyes with you. “Nobody had a connection like you two.”

You were speechless, staring between the three of your best friends with soaked cheeks. “Okay.. okay, so, what do we do?”

Just as you spoke the words of agreement, smiles appeared on their faces, which only made you mirror them. “We have to do it the old fashioned way.” Lydia stated, grabbing ahold of your shoulders and guiding you to an empty stool propped up next to the metal table. “We’re going to have to actually hypnotize you.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

You were in a classroom. A single desk occupied by you whilst you sat in front of a television, a remote settled on the wooden desk by your right hand. As you looked around cautiously, a ghost of a smile appeared, genuinely excited about the fact that you were actually hypnotized.

“Weird..” You whispered, your eyes darting around the empty classroom and to the television that displayed a static channel.

“Y/N? Are you in the classroom? Do you see the TV and remote?” Lydia’s voice echoed throughout the room, causing you to jump slightly in your seat. Your focus drifted to the remote, picking it up and inspecting it. “Yeah.. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Good. Now, the remote gives you access to all of your memories. Find the memories of Stiles.” Lydia’s voice directed, and your thumb hovered over the power button, thinking of the missing boy before clicking play.

You heard the faint patter of footsteps approach you, it was a boy about your age, six years old. He had freckles scattered across his face, a shaved head and a sheepish smile.

“Hi. I-I’m Mi..Mie-Mieczy...” You watched as the boy sighed, his face heating up with embarrassment. When he looked back up to meet your eyes, you offered him a friendly smile, holding your hand out for him to shake. “Hi, I’m Y/N.. your name is Stiles? Your dad said so!” You asked, beaming happily when the boy, Stiles’, face visibly perked up at the fact that you knew his name. A small giggle escaped your lips as he shook your hand enthusiastically.

As you conversed animatedly with the younger version of Stiles, you could hear Sheriff Stilinski speak to your mother faintly in the background as they watched the two of you together. “Something tells me they’re gonna get along just fine.”

You gasped, no longer reliving the memory of the young version of yourself and Stiles. Now back in the empty classroom in front of the TV, you looked between it and the remote in your hand, a laugh of disbelief erupting from you and echoing throughout the room.

“Stiles..” You whispered, longing evident in your tone. In your trance, the three of your friends watched you intently as you whispered his name, making the flame of the candle flicker lightly. Lydia then cleared her throat, taking the lead once again. “Y/N, look for another memory of Stiles.”

You did as you were told, flickering through the multiple channels the television had to offer.

“You’re too pretty to be crying, Y/N.”

“No! You can’t go, it’s too dangerous!”

“Sometimes the person we’re looking for isn’t in the search at all. Maybe.. maybe they’re just right in front of us.”

Stiles’ voice echoed loudly around the room as you clicked through every memory, each one being passed by because none of them fit — none of them felt like what you were looking for. You landed on a channel, pausing briefly your rushed clicking and letting it play.

“I’m with you, ‘til the end of the line.”

It was Stiles’ voice again. No memory being played, just his voice, but you could somehow remember the exact moment of the conversation took place. “Is that a Marvel reference, you Star Wars nerd?” You heard your voice this time, echoing just like Stiles’ had been. A smile grew on your lips as the memory began to restore itself in your mind. “Yeah! But, you’re so into that stuff so.. it could be our thing! What do you think?”

“I think..” You found yourself whispering the same response you said in the memory, “I think it’s perfect. I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, Sti.” You murmured in your trance, confusing the three teenagers once again. “Y/N.” Lydia’s voice called out to you again, “Find the memory that you and Stiles made a connection.”

You furrowed your brows, looking over your shoulder suddenly. There was a door, but it wasn’t there before. Setting the remote down, you picked yourself up from the wooden desk and made your way to the door, slowly pulling it open. You found yourself in the Sheriff’s house once again, but you weren’t alone. You were in a memory. This memory was different though, and you knew it as you made your way to where the memory was being played out. You always relived them, never watched them — but this one, you were exactly that.

You watched your eleven year old self sit down next to a boy around the same age, who you knew was Stiles, and place a hand over his. He had tears in his eyes, and his face was vacant of emotion. You watched as your younger self looked at him with sorrow eyes, and your heart broke when you realized what memory was being played.

“This was the night his mom died..” You mumbled, tears clouding your vision and you quickly wiped them to watch the memory continue being played out. No words were being said between your younger selves, but none were needed to be. You observed Stiles placing his head in your lap, tears rolling down his face at a quicker pace as his expression finally broke. He released heartbroken sobs as your fingers ran through his hair, your younger self staring ahead. If you didn’t know that this was a memory, you would’ve thought she were staring right at you.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why this memory was being played, and your jaw slacked at the realization. “That’s when it happened.” You whispered in shock, finding yourself slowly being pulled from the trance.

“That’s when what happened?” You heard Scott’s faint voice ask. The vision of three of your best friends were blurry as you were snapping back to reality, and they all were looking at you expectantly as you cried.

“The night his mom died, when I was there.. H-He was crying with his head in my lap. That’s when it all changed.” You spoke while staring off at the candle, who’s flame was now burnt out. “I-I didn’t realize it until now, but that... that was the night we fell in love.”

At this point the tears trailing down your face were relentless, only growing worse when you painfully gasped. “I was there! I was there the night he was taken.” You sobbed, hands covering your mouth while Scott, Lydia, and Malia’s faces contorted with shock. “When the Ghost Riders took him, I was there.”

As you stood up from the stool, the ground shook beneath your feet, a bright, zapping light took over the room before disappearing behind the door. You glanced back to the three teenagers behind you, taking a step forward and carefully opening the door, revealing a blinding white light at the end of the tunnel.

Stiles turned his body to face yours, using both hands to grab onto yours with need. “Y/N, I’m going to be erased, okay? Just like Alex. You’re gonna forget me.”

“No. No, I won’t! I won’t. I won’t.” You promised, your sobs escaping at every chance they could.

“You will.” He whispered calmly, tears rolling down his own freckled cheeks as he gave you a small smile. “Remember… Remember that I’ve been in love with you since the beginning of our friendship, and that I didn’t even realize until middle school.”

“I never told him,” Your voice croaked at you spoke aloud, walking closer to the white light. “I never told him how I felt before they took him. That I love him. I never said it back!” You shouted, the feeling of Scott grabbing ahold of your arm to keep you from walking towards the light making itself present.

Then suddenly.. there was no need to walk towards the light.

Because there was a figure standing in front of it.

You let out a cheerful laugh, tears bunching at the creases by your eyes as you stared at the familiar shadowy figure, gasping out it’s name.

“Stiles.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“Where is he?” You whimpered, feeling your knees buckle at the thought of failing Stiles yet again. Gripping onto the stool, you looked to Lydia and Malia, who were staring at you sympathetically. “We didn’t see anyone.” Lydia spoke gently in attempt to keep your emotions from spilling.

Scott had left you with both Malia and Lydia to keep trying to bring Stiles back and to be here just in case he comes here looking for any of you.

“I saw him. It was working, I know it.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself, but with Malia’s supernatural hearing ability, she heard you loud and clear. You stared at her blankly as she hopped up to her feet, pulling open the door and beginning to step out. “Um, where are you going?” Lydia asked from where she was next to you.

“To go find Stiles,” Malia stated as if it were obvious. “Listen, Stiles isn’t coming here. If he were, he would’ve, but he hasn’t, so he’s not.”

You blinked at her, deciding to disregard her last sentence before standing up yourself. “You believe me?” You asked her, and when she silently nodded her head, you were quickly on her side. “Okay well,” You trailed off, turning to Lydia who was still sitting on the stool. “Stiles is out there, I can feel it. So please, Lyd, help us bring him home.”

You watched as the strawberry blonde pursed her lips, lifting herself off of her own stool before strutting over to you. “Let’s go find him.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀* * *

“Y/N! What are you doing here?” You heard Scott yell from the end of the hallway of Beacon Hills High. Stumbling over the train tracks that were magically built into the floor, you grunted as you fell into his chest. “I’m looking for Stiles.” You answered with a shrug of your shoulders, watching Scott’s eyes grow with an emotion you really didn’t have time to decipher. “I’m going to places he’s most likely to show up while Lydia and Malia look at where the other train track lead, but his jeep’s gone.. So I won’t be able to look anywhere else but here on foot.”

Scott eyes darted around as his mouth opened and closed, trying to find something to say. “I, uh, took it? Yeah, Liam needed me so I hotwired the jeep and drove to the hospital.” He explained, a sheepish smile on his lips. You nodded slowly at his explanation, not really seeing all the pieces fitting together. “Okay.. so where is it now?”

“What? Oh! It’s still at the hospital. I, uh.. ran.. here.”

You rolled your eyes at his painfully awkward replies, pulling away from him and beginning your journey down the hallway. “Well, I’m going to the lockerooms.” You announced, peering back at Scott who was now conversing with Lydia, who appeared out of absolutely nowhere. “Take Lydia with you! There are Ghost Riders everywhere.” Scott shouted, giving Lydia a shove before dashing off into the other direction.

“He seems a little.. off.” You said to Lydia, chuckling softly. The two of you walked side by side through the eerily silent school, occasionally checking over your shoulders in case you needed to defend yourself. “Yeah, but that’s Scott McCall for you.” She laughed nervously which you furrowed your brows at.

“You know, you’re acting just like hi— Lydia, look out!”

Your words quickly caught her, and the Ghost Rider’s attention. “Cover your ears.” Lydia warned, her voice low but stern and you quickly did as you were told, squeezing your hands to your ears as Lydia released one of her banshee shrieks, sending the Ghost Rider flying into the set of lockers. It was silent, and you slowly pulled your hands away from your ears, stepping closer to Lydia to see the damage done.

But when you did, you felt your heart stop. All because were staring straight into a pair of whiskey eyes, and while you did, you felt all the memories with those eyes come rushing back.

“Lydia..” You heard Stiles’ voice say with relief, a smile appearing on his lips at the sight of his best friend. Deciding to come into better view, you shuffled to the side of Lydia, and the scuffling of your feet surely brought attention from the two other people in the room. “Y/N..” He mumbled, his voice holding a whole new different emotion as his hazel eyes filled with tears. In the background you could hear the clacking of Lydia’s heels fade away, giving you two your moment.

You didn’t know what to think as you slowly stepped towards the boy, almost as if you were to rush towards him any quicker, he’d disappear. A face you haven’t seen in months was finally in view, and the gaps in your memory were finally being filled by the boy you loved — it all made sense again. It was that moment where all the tears, all the fighting, all the heartache- it felt worth it. It felt like the world finally made sense again.

“Is this real?” You croaked, a weak sob eliciting from you when your hands reached out to cup his cheeks, all while staring into frantically into his eyes. The brunette quickly leaned into your touch, his tears rolling down his cheeks and onto your hands as he greedily soaked up the feeling of you touching him — deprived of it for what felt like an eternity. “It’s real, I’m here. I’m here, I’m real.” He repeated to you, eyes fluttering shut before he held the back of your head to his chest, nuzzling the tip of nose into your hair.

The moment, however, didn’t last long before you were thrashing in his hold. “I never said anything back,” You wailed, bottom lip quivering as you recalled the last memory you had of him. “You told me you loved me, and I never said it back. I never told you how I felt.” You panicked. You felt the heat rush to your neck and cheeks as Stiles gripped onto your face as a way to snap you back. Fortunately, it worked, and you were staring at him wide eyed while he simply looked at you with his same beautiful, lopsided smile.

“You didn’t have to.”

Was all he said before his lips were slanted on yours, involving you in a kiss that was completely different the first one the two of you shared. The first kiss, it was frantic, rushed. Stiles kissed you because at the time, it was the last time he would ever see you again. This kiss, however, was slow and it said everything that words couldn’t. You felt your breath hitch, your body melting into his as you kissed him back with love and longing — two emotions that overwhelmed your body more than any other. You felt the grip he had on your face tighten, pulling you even closer to his body as he pushed as much passion as he could into the kiss. Finding yourself holding onto his flannel overshirt, you couldn’t help but shuffle your feet closer to close any existing space.

He was the first to pull away, his forehead pressed to yours once more while he inhaled deeply to catch his breath with you doing the same. Your eyes were open, scanning over his face and looking over each freckle and beauty mark that littered his face gracefully, bringing a small smile to your lips.

And as the boy in front of you slowly peeled his eyelids open, revealing the beautiful whiskey color you found yourself in love with, you knew this was it.

He was back in your arms again, more real than ever. Not a pounding headache of a memory. Not a faint dream that had you gasping for breath in the middle of the night. Not a figment of your imagination. He was real and this was it.

This was the end of the line.

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Freckles Like Stars

A/N: For @amanda-teaches‘ 2kWriter+Reader challenge. Love me some AU!Dean from the last ep. I had so much fun writing this one!

Summary: Dean Winchester, son of HunterCorp’s owner, interrupts your hunt.

Words: 4231 (longest oneshot here so far!)

Prompt: I’ll sleep under the sheets. You sleep on top of them.

Warning: Fluff, bit of angst if you squint, season 15 related but no major spoiler.

Your breath was caught in your throat, avoiding allowing even the smallest noise to come from you. You were observing your supernatural prey from afar, armed with a revolver full of silver bullets and aiming at your target. You bit your lower lip, the flavor of apple lipstick spreading through your mouth as you clicked off the safety. The werewolf was right in your crosshairs when you heard pacing behind you, causing your shot to follow a different angle. It barely hit the werewolf’s shoulder.

Swearing through mumbles you turned around, prepared to kill whatever was after you. Maybe it was a pack of werewolves and not just one. You could hear the previous monster whining as they ran away, and you wished you could murder who was at the barrel of your gun.

“You made me miss the bitch!’’ You pulled the safety back on, putting the weapon under the hem of your jeans to glare at the Winchester in front of you. “You again? Come on!’’

Pulling his hands down, Dean relented after coming to the short conclusion that there was no imminent danger of being accidentally shot by you: “I apologize. It wasn’t my intention.’’

You grunted. The mere sight of him alongside the fact that the werewolf had just ran away after a grazing shot was enough to frustrate you for the night. “I already said no to your precious HunterCorp invitation in the most polite way that I could. So here’s something new: you can take your little cooperation and go fuck yourself right up your spoiled ass.’’

“If I remember well enough, your polite decline was very similar to your... outburst.’’ Dean threw a smirk, and you aimed your gun at him in response. He gulped, tugging at his cardigan’s collar. “I didn’t intend to invade your hunt. I wasn't notified that someone was taking care of it.’’

“Obviously, because I don't answer to anyone, much less you. Now step the fuck away from my case or I will make sure you choke on holy water.’’ You started to walk away, leading towards your car. The hunt was done for tonight, but you certainly could hit a bar and have some fun.

“I can't do that. I already started the protocol—’’

“Shoot it! Burn it! Give it to a dog! You could even lie on it. I don't care,“ you interrupted him, the noises of crunching sticks and leaves under your feet while you looked for your vehicle.

Dean gasped, barely trusting his ears to listen to your blasphemy of his work. “I would never lie on an official report! What do you take HunterCorp for?’’

Dear lord, you wished it was a werewolf behind you earlier or that you could at least shoot him. Just a bit, perhaps a grazing one. Which kind of hunter got so offended about paperwork? And wore a dumbly cute hippie bracelet? It was a mystery how a random creature hadn't ripped it yet.

“A bunch of self-centered bitches trying to control the hunters for the financial benefit of their investors.’’ You swirled, facing him with a lopsided grin. “Listen, Dean, I just want to finish my job, get a whiskey and go to bed before I have to come to this forest again.’’

“I'm certain we can do it faster if we work together.’’

You rolled your eyes. “Sorry, buddy. I made myself a promise when I was little: never work with a guy who dresses like Ken.’’

“I don’t look like Ken! If anything, I’m a Superman.’’ Dean huffed. You finally reached your car, throwing the gun inside the trunk while you laughed at his remark. Thankful for the night hiding his heated cheeks, he insisted, “Listen, I can’t abandon a hunt and I could assist you.’’

You sighed, beyond tired to argue with him. It was better to accept his help now than have him mess up with the job again. After all, he was a decent partner in Mexico with John when you bumped into the same case back there. “Okay. You know what we do now?’’

“Find a quiet place and work on the case until it's time to sleep,“ he stated simply, brushing the dust off his pants. When his eyes laid on your face again, Dean caught your furrowed brows and slightly cracked mouth in mild surprise. Maybe you weren't used to taking the most healthy route in self-care when it came to hunts; most rookies on HunterCorp weren't either. Quickly, he explained himself, “A healthy sleeping routine is important for our performance during the hunt.’’

“Your adrenaline can do anything a good night of sleep would. Maybe even more.’’ You winked at him playfully. “If you want to work with me, let's do it my way. Lucky you, my way is much more fun than yours.’’

Your fingertips stroke against the pool table, the feeling of the green-colored acrylic fabric bringing a grin to your face. You looked up at Dean and how out of touch he was in the atmosphere of a callous bar with his cardigan and country club styled clothing. The hunter looked stupidly handsome, especially with the obvious frown on his face as he watched you.

Grabbing one of the available pool cues, you threw it at Dean who was fast to grab it. “Let’s play, Winchester.’’

“I’m not against relaxing, but we are in the middle of a case, (Y/N).’’ He scoffed, resting the end of the stick against the floor — a usual beginner's mistake. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Have you ever played pool before?’’

“What? Of course I — ’’ You tilted your head, gesturing to the way Dean held the stick. His cheeks flushed pink. “No, I have not. I — I don’t usually come to places like this.’’

“You mean a bar? It’s basically the headquarters of a hunter!’’

He shrugged, clutching the cue closer as he spoke, “I go to bars, just not like this. Besides, dad prefers me and my brother to drink from his homemade collection. He likes to spoil us.’’

Part of you wanted to make fun of him, nudge the man a bit more. Which kind of hunter drank homemade beverages, was spoiled of all things and didn’t go to quality dubious bars on a daily basis? If you weren’t aware of his last name, you wouldn’t even believe he was one of your kind.

Yet, you didn’t tease him. Dean’s head hung low and the way he so openly admitted he didn’t fit that place, yet came because you called him felt like an indication that there was a real hunter in there somewhere. The green-eyed man might have invaded your hunt, but he could be a tolerable company. It had nothing to do with how cute he looked with his blushed face. Of course not. He wasn’t the type you’d normally go to, neither you were his, that’s for sure. Besides, Dean was basically the right arm of HunterCorp. So, no. It was just a matter of not being an asshole towards him again.

Whatever you internally convinced yourself, your voice was tangled with a gentle smile and a softer tone when you spoke now than when you first met him. “Okay, country boy. I’m gonna teach you. Come here.’’

He walked towards you with hesitant steps, probably waiting for you to trick him in some way. You grabbed the pool cue from his hand, placing the stick in the correct spot to hit the cue ball right into the triangle of colorful ones. Grabbing his wrist, you pulled him closer. “Hold here.’’

“Dean, relax!’’ You placed one of your hands on his waist for support, the free one adjusting his posture around the pool cue for more efficiency. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, nervous for having you that close to him. Dean’s heart was racing the way it did when he was in a hunt or driving a bit too fast. It felt good in a different kind of way, like he was running to win a competition and sitting at the table telling funny stories at the same time. He liked it; he wanted more. “Okay, now you gotta to get the white ball.’’

“All right.’’ He mimicked your position, leaning in with both hands gripped tight around the cue stick. Whoever looked at Dean’s features would potentially conclude that he was about to commit an assassination with the way his brows were drawn tightly together, body laced with a tense rigidity.

Being that close to him made your skin tingle. Sure, you could admit he was conventionally attractive when you first met him, but this? The eldest Winchester had never quite evoked much more than passing interest before, but this newfound attraction suddenly struck you like a comet in the middle of a dingy bar.

“I know it’s not your daddy’s homemade scotch, but I swear you are going to like it.’’ You slapped the counter with a glimmer of delight on your face, sure of your drinking choices. Whiskey might be the love of your life, but you would always have a soft spot for cocktails. Besides, you were certain that Dean would be crazy about this one.

“Let’s see what you’ve got, (Y/L/N).’’ He winked in a humorous way, and you chuckled. The waiter put the drinks on the table, two gorgeous glasses full of a pineapple, vodka, and god knows what else mixture. You pushed one of the cups towards him, your eyes glued on Dean’s as he arched an eyebrow. He grabbed the cup, sticking the straw between his lips before sucking it.

Your cocktail was untouched in hand while you viewed him with a wide-eyed gaze. Maybe the earlier beers and pool playing had gotten to you. Dean pulled the glass away, a stoic expression in place when he looked back at you.

You were about to slap him for creating more suspension than necessary, thinking that he might not have liked it. Instead, his features dimpled in a softer manner, eliciting a light-hearted smile that almost made your chest sigh of adorableness. “It tastes heavenly!’’

“I knew you would like it!’’ You clapped your hands together, both of you temporarily lost into a burst of joyous laughter. Raising your own cocktail, you took a sip before adding, “Now, let me introduce you to the main course: cheap hamburger and fries. You will never want fancy things again. And then, darts! You had good aim in Mexico. Let’s see if you can put it on use.’’

“See you tomorrow!’’ You beamed at him, waving with your keys as you trotted to your car. Dean’s mouth was torn into a grimace. It was the same one he had given you when you said you were going to drive after drinking a bit too much.

“Let me get you home safe, (Y/N). We can call a cab or I can at least make sure you won't crash on your way to the hotel.’’

“First of all, it's a motel.’’ You winked at him jokingly, but Dean just crossed his arms on his chest. God, it felt like being lectured by a professor. You were a hunter! Your tolerance was well beyond the levels of an alcoholic coma, and you still killed monsters after another glass. You didn’t need to be looked after. “I'm not your date, Dean. You don't have to do it. Besides, I can take care of myself.’’

His expression fell at your speech. “Well, still. I'm just worried about your wellbeing for our hunt tomorrow.’’

“Don't worry. I'll make sure to be alive.’’ You unlocked your car, opening the driver's door. Dean sighed, picking up his phone to see if there was an Uber near his location. Elbows resting on the hood of your beloved vehicle, you stared at him for a few moments, analyzing the curve of his pursed lips as he texted out something on his phone. The midnight breeze felt good, and you deliberately coughed to catch his attention. Dean rapidly abandoned his phone to meet your eyes. “’I'll let you know once I get home.’’

You should consider his ensuing smile nothing but polite, but, in your nearly tipsy state, you didn't want to.

You threw the crumbled napkin on the table. “I think you are right. We should check it. Come on, let's go in my car. Driving around the city in different ones isn't smart.’’

Dean nodded, placing perfectly straight dollars near your used paper as you both stood up. “Yeah, it would be more practical. Do you have enough werewolf-killing bullets?’’

You hummed in response, following the path to your old road friend; a very well-preserved Chevrolet classic. The previous times that Dean had encountered you, it was too dark to actually look at that masterpiece of a car, and now he simply couldn't stop admiring it. Your Baby was broken when you encountered his father, so you had to use one of Jimmy Novak's old cars as yours waited for you to have time to fix her up.

“Impala 67. My mom bought him and it just kept in family.’’ You grinned, enjoying the way he carefully caressed the hood and smiled, impressed. “’Wanna drive?’’

“I — Really?’’ You giggled at how flustered he seemed, throwing your keys at him. Dean almost didn't catch them, probably stunned by your proposal.

‘'Just don't crash Baby, Winchester. I'd kill you.’’

“I know it's not your usual five star hotel, but at least we have free ice!’’ You spread your arms in a kidding manner, soon regretting such a decision with a wince of pain. Werewolves’ nails were sharper than any of your knives. You should grab some after the monster was gone for good and turn them into a weapon.

Dean remained in silence when he arrived at the room, closing the door with you balanced carefully in his arms. It was strange for him to be that quiet around you. With your hold tightening on the improvised — a plastic bag with ice cubes — cold compress, you looked up at him. His expression twisted into a grimace as he glanced around and headed towards your current bed, laying you carefully on the mattress. You thought you had passed his spoiled surface, but maybe he was just what you saw. Irked, you didn’t miss the opportunity to bite him about it. “’What? Not enough for you and your five hundred dollars shoes?’’

His response was a straight, harsh tone that poorly camouflaged his obvious worry. “Not enough for someone injured.“

Dean’s words made your stomach spin brutally. The hint of guilt coupled with the irritated wound on your leg that made you want to puke. All he had been was nice and awkwardly friendly and helpful, yet you were mostly rude. It probably had annoyed him.

He was quiet, internally eating the blame for leaving you open during the hunt’s most delicate stage — the execution. The Winchester was furious at himself, but mostly guilty for being the one to cause you to go through this. You were hurt and were going to feel even more agony during the patch up because of him. Although he highly doubted you would accept it, the hunter couldn’t help but mourn for his own first-aid kit. With it, he could’ve at least given you a sedative. At least the hunter could try to distract you from the inevitable ache.

Fortunately, you were very talkative.

“I don't have anything against you. I seriously don't. I'm just not a fan of corporations.’’ You attempted to articulate your feelings as he placed you on the mattress. Dean didn't answer you right away, rather focusing on the poor excuse for medical supplies he had brought from your car. God, you needed to get more useful first-aid. Why was the best thing you had cartoon-related band-aids? At least you had some Scooby Doo ones. “Getting paid to save people doesn't seem fair, you know? Would you pay Superman to save your ass if you were falling from a building?’’

“Perhaps the more appropriate question would be why I was on the top of a building to begin with?’’ he finally asked, his terse silence receding in favor of his usual dorky demeanor. A chuckle blossomed from your lips despite the werewolf’s painful autograph on your leg, relief settling in for awareness of not having hurt his feelings. He grabbed some scissors, cutting your jeans until up to your knee. “I'm joking. Dad made an empire from the ground up while he raised Sam and I. He helped people. I am very proud of my old man. He needed to find a space between taking care of me and Samuel and saving others.’’

“And it isn't possible to be a hunter and something else. It's this life or another.’’ You completed in recognition. John’s work was really impressive, mainly because he was a good father above any hunting business. You chewed on your lower lip to restrain a groan when Dean started to clean the wound. “I guess I can understand it.’’

“At least we don’t fake credit cards and pretend to be the FBI.’’

“Shut up, summer clothes. You have two private planes and a pool bigger than them,” you remarked, a lighter feeling enveloping the room despite your momentary protest from the physical discomfort. Willing to tease him a bit more, you said, “Still, you are here with me.’’

He tried to brush it off with a shrug. “Dad likes to spoil us. Maybe I wanted to see what the other side could have been. You know, not being a... How did you say it? Spoiled little rich boy in an expensive cardigan.’’

You giggled at his justification, almost whispering your reply, “Or you are here because you got worried about me.’’

“That's a possibility…’’ Dean admitted before locking his green eyes with yours, rosy red cheeks not going unnoticed by you. “You should consider our proposal. No one should depend on bar games and fraudulent credit cards to eat everyday. Especially when they are trying to help people.’’

“I don't wanna be an underling, Dean. It's easy for you. You are the boss' kid. I'd just be an employee. A minion. Someone who doesn't have the last word.’’

“That's not how we function. They wouldn't take away your free will. I can assure you of that.’’ You looked away once his sincerity rattled through your head, glaring at his improvised cold compress that laid on your belly. Dean continued working on your wound, occasionally asking if it was aching until he was finished. “So, is it okay?’’

“Best stitching job I've had in awhile. Thank you.’’ You gave him a grateful beam, twinkles of shyness glimmering there that you hadn’t experienced in a very long time. You couldn't even remember the last time you’d felt anything near timid around a guy. You barely knew why you were in such a state now.

Perhaps you did. Dean cared about you when you got hurt, allowing the werewolf to storm away to cease your pain. It was more than tactical wisdom. He made you feel more as a human being than a hunting partner in the last 24 hours. When was the last time someone had treated you like that? You didn’t even notice you missed the glimmer of kindness inside the tender touch and go moments with other people around usual violence of the life you had chosen.

Dean nodded his head in acknowledgement, examining your patchworked wound for a little longer before he got up and grabbed a lonely chair next to you. “What are you doing?’’

“Getting as comfortable as possible to sleep.’’ He scowled, squirming in his chair to find a less displeasing way to doze. “You are still hurt. What if the werewolf or something else comes here?’’ You sighed; he was right. “Now rest.’’

You pouted. “Stop giving me orders that make sense!’’

There was something pleasantly refreshing about the sounds that the both of you echoed, but in that moment, exhaustion won. At least, that rest felt complete.

Dean shifted a lot in efforts to find a more bearable position to rest, but he didn't seem to be able to stay in one place. The scratching noises from the friction of his clothes with the aimchair were starting to disturb you, and you weren't the most patient person after being attacked by a monster.

“Dean.’’ You sat on the bed, glaring at him.

He sat straight, suddenly alarmed. “What? Did you hear something?’’

“Yes, the noise of you humping the chair.’’

“I wasn’t!’’

“Sure. Come here.’’ You patted the spot next to you, Dean’s mouth dropping half-open as his brows furrowed in confusion. You rolled your eyes. “I’ll sleep under the sheets. You sleep on top of them.’’

“That could work.’’ He thought he was nervous before, but the seven steps to reach your bed felt like a New York marathon. Laying beside you proved that whatever emotions he experienced back at the bar could increase a hundred percent.

As promised, he laid on top of the sheets while you found yourself seeking for heat under them. Your feet were chilly, and Dean sensed it even between the barrier of sheets when you casually touched his with yours. The Winchester crossed his arms, refusing to pull you closer by using the poor excuse of shared body heat.

You laid on your side, and he turned a couple times before resting on his side as well. Your eyes just relaxed into each other's gaze. It was like a secret, silent lullaby. It was vulnerability at its finest, the moment where you feel comfortable in the quietude of the city around someone. You found freckles etched across his face like stars, and Dean discovered that you blinked three times before shaking your hips a bit, as if it made you more cozy in bed.

You could joke your way out of it. He could comment on how you two should go to his hotel because of many reasons, starting by the fact that it was a hotel, with an h. Nevertheless, you two were content despite the chaos of your own different worlds colliding by way of this tiny, sweet glimmer of happiness.

“Here.’’ Dean handed you a card, but you stood with your arms crossed despite your upbeat mood.

Shrugging, you stated, “I am still not interested in joining the corporation.’’

“I imagined that. For as much as I do not agree with your decision, that isn't a HunterCorp card.’’ Dean curved the corners of his lips into a sweet, exaggerated whisper of a smile, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Raising your eyebrow, you grabbed the piece of paper. In perfect calligraphic script, Dean’s name was scrawled next to a phone number.

“Your number.’’ You took a defiant of joy in it, shifting your glare from the card to his face. He still looked like an adorable mess. You shove the card in your pocket. “God, I can't believe I'll do it.’’ Stepping closer, you grabbed his collar and crashed your lips against his. Dean’s hands easily found their way to your waist after a few moments of surprise, bringing you to him. His stupid lips were as soft as you imagined they would be yesterday, and he kissed you like you were the most valuable thing he had ever put his hands on. “Been wanting to kiss you since yesterday.’’

Dean pecked your lips one more time, missing them as soon as he pulled away. “I've been wanting to kiss you since we first met in Mexico. I guess I won.’’

“Cheesy.’’ You scrunched up your nose, and he chuckled. “But this!” You pointed at you and him, allowing your intrusive thought to surface. “It doesn’t change one bit of what I think about the corporation.’’

“I know.’’ Dean nodded slightly, too enchanted by your closeness. There was a childish grin lingering on his features as you talked. Jesus, the gorgeous freckles on this man made your head spin.

“Or what I think about your clothes…’’ you teased him, but the words left your mouth more tempered with affection than you would have liked.

The Winchester snorted, pursing his lips. “Yeah?’’

“Or about your stupidly cute bracelet.’’ He chortled as you lifted your arms to lace around his neck, his thumb rubbing warmly into the bare part of your waist.

“We could stay in the city for a bit longer. It’s karaoke night in the bar,’’ Dean mumbled, searching for your neck to offer a gentle peck.

Between sighs of pleasure, you found the will to finish your sentence with an added dose of firmness: “But if you need to go and do your corporate things... Well, I'll call, Dean Winchester. For real.’’

This time, Dean was the one making the first move, leaning to capture your lips in his again. That was what a kiss should be like. Neither of you wanted it to stop. Maybe he could find another case near here. Perhaps ask Samuel to cover him on the job for a few. And if he didn't, you could always help him trick company procedure to spend a little more time with you.

Dean's sweetheart; @akshi8278 WANNA BE TAGGED? SEND ME AN ASK FOR DM!

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daemour · 3 years

Text

You’re Still My Universe Pt. 8

Title: You’re Still My Universe

Pairing: Jinyoung x BamBam

Genre: Angst, maybe fluff, parent au

Warnings: Car crash, panic attack

Word count: 3755

Summary: Jinyoung’s life is devoted to his son. But the first time he’s been separated, so many other people barge into his life and start taking up what little free time he has left.

Sorry this took so long! I might have to push updates to biweekly instead of weekly because I no longer have a buffer.

It has been a week since Yugyeom had returned and Jinyoung is intent on avoiding Youngjae. The younger had, at first, stayed with BamBam for two days, giving Jinyoung space and time. But as time goes on, he tries to catch Jinyoung in conversation multiple times. But Jinyoung is nothing if not a master at evading conversations, even if the two live in the same apartment. One of the tricks is spending time with Yugyeom because he knows Youngjae wouldn’t bring it up around the kid, and so Jinyoung has no qualms in utilising his child.

Except, he had misjudged Youngjae’s persistence. Youngjae had tried multiple times to get BamBam to watch the child for long enough. And even if Jinyoung had asked BamBam to decline, he knew his boyfriend would soon cave. BamBam had even been telling him that he needs to speak to Youngjae about that. Jinyoung knows that, he just doesn’t want to.

He should, as BamBam told him time and time again, and Jinyoung knew it definitely would have to come before Jaebeom made his way over. But for now, Jinyoung was content with acting like a petulant child. Even if Yugyeom had caught on to their feud and now quietly sides with Jinyoung (of course he would, the child loved his father as much as a four-year-old could), Jinyoung still would not be an adult about that.

“Hyung, are you monologuing again?” BamBam comes up behind Jinyoung, who is leaning on the younger’s kitchen counter, wrapping his long arms around the broader man’s waist. Jinyoung turns his head to look at the younger man, who has hooked his chin over Jinyoung’s shoulder.

“...No.” The pause tells BamBam all he needs, and the skinnier man laughs and leans forward to press a quick kiss to Jinyoung’s lips.

Jinyoung tucks his head in BamBam’s shoulder, trailing kisses along the smooth skin of his collarbone and BamBam sighs at the feeling, pressing even more kisses to the crown of Jinyoung’s head in response. “I know I keep saying this, and you keep hearing it, but you really gotta talk to Youngjae about this, you know.”

Jinyoung whines into BamBam’s neck. “I don’t wan-na.” He’s just further cementing the idea that Jinyoung is literally a toddler in a twenty-eight-year-old’s body. BamBam laughs again, a little bit both breathless and exasperated.

“Don’t whine, baby. We’re not fucking just yet–” Jinyoung slaps a hand over BamBam’s mouth, ears burning red. BamBam cracks up, loud and happy, and Jinyoung hides a smile in BamBam’s cheek as he presses a series of quick kisses to the soft skin.

Not a day goes by when he’s not endeared by the younger, gorgeous man. Jinyoung is always happy he met BamBam at the bar that one night. He honestly thinks he could see a future with BamBam forever– Yugyeom loves the man as well, and that is all Jinyoung needs in his life. God, what did he do to deserve this?

“Hyung,” BamBam’s whiny voice cuts into Jinyoung’s thoughts, “you’re thinking again.” Jinyoung giggles, face still pressed into BamBam’s cheek.

“But thinking is important. If I didn’t think then I wouldn’t have gone out to meet you,” Jinyoung retaliates, words mumbling into BamBam’s face.

BamBam huffs and rolls his eyes. “You can think, I love it when my boyfriend uses his brain. But I prefer it when my boyfriend kisses me.”

Jinyoung immediately complies, pressing kiss after kiss on BamBam’s cheeks until he reaches the younger’s chapped lips. As he fits his lips in between BamBam’s, the younger’s slender hands come up to cup Jinyoung’s face. The kiss they share is sweet, unusual for these two, but something about it makes Jinyoung’s heart flutter.

BamBam leans forward a little, deepening the kiss, and Jinyoung pulls BamBam closer by his waist. When Jinyoung pulls back to just take in the sight of his boyfriend, BamBam whines and tries to capture the older’s lips again. Jinyoung smiles at the (slightly) shorter man, leaning in and letting their lips meet again.

They stay like that for who knows how long, just breathing in each other and practically becoming one. Jinyoung could stay like that for ages. It’s only when Jinyoung’s phone rings and startles the both of them do they separate. Jinyoung’s face is warm from the press of BamBam’s lips against his and the younger’s close proximity as he answers his phone without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Jinyoung–”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened. “Jaebeom hyung? What’s up? This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Jinyoung, Yugyeom and Youngjae were hit by a car they’re at Cha Medical Centre Jinyoung please–” Jaebeom’s frantic voice cuts off with a choke. Jinyoung doesn’t even know how to respond, standing still. The words haven't even registered in Jinyoung’s brain. It’s only when BamBam’s cool hand finds Jinyoung’s back does Jinyoung snap back to reality.

“Jaebeom”—Jinyoung’s voice falters but he powers through—”Jaebeom what happened? Bam and I are on the road now and I need you to tell me what the f-uck is going on.”

He is shoving his heels haphazardly into his shoes, BamBam close behind him. Jaebeom seems to be inconsolable, sobbing after every other word.

“They were trying to go to the park but a car ran a red light. I’m on the bus but it’ll take a good five hours–” Jaebeom cuts off with a crackle of static and a half-heard sob, and the call ends. Jinyoung curses, the words heavy in his mouth. His foot is basically out of the door now, only BamBam shrugging on a coat.

Once BmBam finishes up what Jinyoung felt was slightly unnecessary, the two hurry down the hall. Waiting for the elevator seemed like too much of a risk to Jinyoung, so he basically ripped open the door to the stairwell instead. This proves to be a mistake—BamBam lives on the sixth floor—but adrenaline keeps Jinyoung going until they reach the lobby. BamBam steps out to get a taxi while Jinyoung calls the hospital and sits down to catch his breath.

“Hello, Cha Medical Centre, how can we help you?” A crisp voice answers the call, and Jinyoung feels a twinge of embarrassment about his state.

“Hi, I’m Park Jinyoung. I was wondering if my son, Park Yugyeom, and the man he was with, Choi Youngjae, are there?” The person on the receiving end of the call hums, and Jinyoung can hear papers rustling in the background.

He waits on hold as BamBam tugs him towards the taxi, and the person soon returns to the call. “Yes, both are here. Unfortunately, I am unable to give any more information over the phone. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Jinyoung thanks the person and ends the call, but once that is over he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. His hands find their way to his lips and he busies himself with picking and peeling. His lips weren’t chapped by any means, but they weren’t exactly soft, and there was a sting of pain every time Jinyoung’s nails caught onto a particularly rough patch.

BamBam sighs, looking at his anxiety-ridden boyfriend out of the corner of his eye. Even if he was the one who kept telling Jinyoung to stop worrying and thinking so much, he certainly did his own share. Instead, he opts just to place his hands over Jinyoung’s and squeeze comfortingly.

Jinyoung has never told him about Eunbi and how he had gotten Yugyeom, and BamBam has never asks. It is the unspoken line of uncertainty between the two. Jinyoung sees it as something to hold on to, perhaps in the case that BamBam doesn’t work out the way he wishes. He doesn’t know how BamBam feels about not knowing, and Jinyoung knows he would have to tell the younger at some point. But for now, he is content with just gripping onto his boyfriend’s hand, using him as an anchor to the real world.

Jinyoung is more worried than he would let on; it feels like a fever dream to him. Is there a proper way to react? How is he even supposed to react to the news? Jinyoung can hardly think, his grip on BamBam’s hand tighter than intended.

What if Jaebeom didn’t make it either? What if Jinyoung never apologises to Youngjae? What if Yugyeom– Jinyoung can feel a tear fall but if he acknowledges it he knows he will break down. He cannot. He needs to be strong.

But when the taxi arrives and they step out into the hospital, the pristine, almost imperceptibly off-white walls and floor, Jinyoung can feel his resolve crack. His paper-thin facade of strength. He can hear his heart roaring in his ears, can barely hear the receptionist and nurse explain that Yugyeom is still in surgery, only somewhat understands when they direct him to the room where Youngjae waits.

Though BamBam basically supports him all the way to the door, Jinyoung stops just short of it. “BamBam-ah,” he breathes, “I don’t think I can go in.” He can feel the sweat, sticky on his forehead, his throat, dry. He swallows. “BamBam-ah,” he tries again, voice just as weak and thick.

BamBam’s hand is the only thing grounding him, Jinyoung feels like he’s floating away like a balloon, his hand the string connecting him to the real world. BamBam sighs, his free hand coming to grasp Jinyoung’s and turning the older to face him. “Hyung, if you don’t go in and talk to Youngjae, you may never do it. You need to talk, both of you. He’s important to you, you can’t throw this away.”

Jinyoung just looks up at BamBam, eyes shining and tears dripping down his face, larger than BamBam had seen and rolling into each other and dripping onto their connected hands. “Bam–”

BamBam looks around, and quicker than a blink, presses his lips against Jinyoung’s and pulls back. “You can do this, Jinyoung. Go in there. Talk to Youngjae. Not even about your problems or resolving your fight. Be there for him. Don’t let your differences take away your friendship.”

With a little resistance, BamBam untangles his fingers from Jinyoung’s and guides him into the room where Youngjae lays. He hangs back around the door while Jinyoung treads forward carefully, as if walking too fast would cause Youngjae to break into pieces.

“Hey, Youngjae,” Jinyoung starts carefully, “how are you?”

Youngjae turns at the sound of Jinyoung’s voice, eyes levelling at Jinyoung. “Let me think about it...you know, it just hit me that I'm doing just fine.” Jinyoung winces at both the pun and the tired fierceness in Youngjae’s voice.

“Is it serious?” Jinyoung doesn’t think he has the energy to respond to Youngjae’s jibe and it seems Youngjae doesn’t either.

Youngjae sighs as Jinyoung comes to sit in the chair beside his bed. There’s a moment of silence, and then Youngjae speaks quietly. “I’m sorry.” Jinyoung’s brows furrow and he leans forward to grasp at Youngjae’s hands.

“What are you sorry for, Jae? It wasn’t your fault.” The words feel like lead in his mouth. No, it wasn’t Youngjae’s fault, but Jinyoung can’t help but let his thoughts stray to all the possibilities of how the accident came to be.

“It–” Jinyoung shushes him quickly.

“Youngjae, please, don’t talk about it. I don’t think I could talk about it if I wanted to.” Jinyoung bows his head as if ashamed, but Youngjae nods his head in understanding, letting his warm hands comfort Jinyoung.

The two men exchange no words, letting the silence envelop their quiet comfort. The only interruption was a nurse coming in to check up on Youngjae, and that was when Jinyoung left to use the bathroom, though the both of them knew that was a thinly veiled excuse to remove himself from the suffocating hospital room.

To his surprise BamBam wasn’t where he left him, nor did he enter Youngjae’s room. Jinyoung found a text from the younger boy telling him that he was going to go get a card and gift for both Youngjae and Yugyeom. Though Jinyoung was a tiny bit disappointed that BamBam wasn’t going to be there, he understood wanting to get away, and just sent the younger a text to return soon.

After some deliberation, Jinyoung added another text stating he wanted to talk. After a moment, BamBam reads the text but sends no reply, and Jinyoung can only hope the younger isn’t worrying. Two people simultaneously worrying about the same people while waiting alone together is never a good mashup.

Jinyoung returns to the hall outside of Youngjae’s room, dropping into the bench on the side. He can’t do anything right now and he’s never felt his heart break more. He hates this feeling. The feeling of being able to do nothing, of being alone. And though Youngjae is sitting in the room next to him, eyes probably trained on the tv on the wall across from him, Jinyoung can’t help but feel the walls closing in on him like he’s the only one in this goddamned hospital. How could this have been prevented?

Was he a bad father? No, no, how could he have known? But he should have anticipated anything. Been prepared at least. And here he is, a mess in Youngjae’s room, not knowing shit. He feels stupid.

“Hey, Jinyoungie,” a familiar voice breaks Jinyoung out of his haze. Jaebeom is currently squatting in front of him, hands outreached. Jinyoung must have been sitting here for hours. “How are you doing?”

Jinyoung can physically feel his bottom lip start to quiver and he can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Probably the latter. Jaebeom makes vague cooing noises not dissimilar to the ones he uses on cats, but Jinyoung can’t seem to bring himself to roll his eyes. Instead, he blubbers out a “Hyung” and falls into Jaebeom’s arms.

God, he’s such a loser. He can't help but be embarrassed as Jaebeom hums and pets him, stroking his hair softly, but it’s comforting to be in his hyung’s arms. He feels like a child again, his mother comforting. But the crown of his head feels wet. When Jinyoung looks up, a fat tear drips onto his cheek. Jaebeom is crying as well. Jinyoung feels even worse about himself. His friend has just received nes, and instead of taking time to himself, Jaebeom immediately rushed to Jinyoung.

When Jinyoung starts to pull away, Jaebeom doesn’t let go of his arms, looking up at him with such a face that Jinyoung immediately plops back down onto the floor. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I thought that maybe you’d want to go see Youngjae or something?” Jaebeom laughs with a hint of an emotion Jinyoung can’t place and shakes his head. His hands stay clasped to Jinyoung’s.

“If I see him right now I might cry even more than I already am.”

Jinyoung frowns at that, pulling away and fully standing. “Hyung, go see Youngjae. He was just in a fucking crash, go cry. It’ll be fine.” Jinyoung pauses in his words when he sees Jaebeom looking up at him with wide eyes, but his resolve hardens. Nothing will be resolved if they don’t walk to each other, trust him, he knows. “I’m going to go find BamBam.”

Jinyoung can feel Jaebeom’s betrayed eyes on his back as he moves down the halfway, but he promises himself that he’s making a good decision. Even if his thoughts are eating at his mind as he wanders aimlessly through the halls of the hospital. He knows a couple nurses are whispering about him but he’s just trying to find the exit.

“Jinyoung? What are you doing here?” Jackson? Jinyoung’s confusion shows on his face as he turns to see the older man smiling and waving from down one of the halls. “I was waiting for Mark to finish up his exam,” Jackson answers Jinyoung’s unspoken question.

“Ah.” Jinyoung is still not sure of what is occurring around him, barely managing to respond with one word. Jackson waits patiently, letting Jinyoung gather his thoughts. “Youngjae and Yugyeom, ah, they–”

Jinyoung is saved from responding (or is it really being saved?) when a nurse comes up to smile at Jinyoung before turning to Jackson. “Mr. Wang, Mr. Tuan has finished his check-up. You’re welcome to go back in.”

As the nurse leaves, Jackson turns to Jinyoung with a smile still on his face. “Want to come in? Mark will be happy to see you.”

Jinyoung just nods—anything to avoid thinking about Yugyeom and Youngjae and Jaebeom—and follows Jackson back down the hallway. Maybe he’s a little bit of an idiot for just ignoring his problems, but everyone is a genius in hindsight.

The door creaks open to reveal Mark sitting at the edge of a bed with his eyes closed as he breathes out deeply. The sight confuses Jinyoung but Jackson is unperturbed, just beaming and walking up to Mark. “Hey, Markie! Guess who I found!” Mark just grunts, tilting his head up to face Jackson but not opening his eyes.

Mark sighs heavily. “Is it Jinyoung?” Mark’s voice is almost void of any emotion and excitement, and Jinyoung doesn’t move from his spot right next to the door. Jackson, however, doesn’t have any restraints and laughs loudly.

“Yeah! How did you know, Markie? Oh, nevermind that. But yeah, it’s Jinyoung! We keep running into him.” Mark grunts, finally opening his eyes and sending a small smile to Jinyoung.

“Nice to see you, Jinyoungie. What brings you here?” He’s short of breath, Jinyoung notices, but says nothing about it.

“Yugyeom and Youngjae got into a car accident.” It’s strange saying it out loud, as if Jinyoung is speaking it into existence. All this time, it was just a fever dream but now it is real, solid. It happened.

Jackson’s eyebrows furrow and he jumps up. Mark gets up as well, albeit a bit slower. “Oh my God,” Mark breathes out. Jinyoung refuses to look either of them in the eye. If he does it might become even more true than it really is. Even now, he’s hoping he’ll wake up and Yugyeom will be curled up on his chest, like how the child often ends up every night.

But when he blinks, Yugyeom is not there, in the comfort of Jinyoung’s bed. Yugyeom’s surgery. Jinyoung’s standing in Mark’s hospital room, both Mark and Jackson looking at him with both pity and unsurety in their eyes. He can’t do this. Jinyoung can’t breathe. There’s an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

Jinyoung turns around, finds the nearest trash can, and retches. Mark starts and Jackson hurriedly makes his way to Jinyoung, placing a soothing hand on his back. Jinyoung can’t seem to stop emptying his stomach of nothing and his soul of everything though. Jackson’s hand on his back is grounding but Jinyoung needs BamBam. Where is BamBam?

Jinyoung jerks his head up, stumbling to his feet and bumping into a wall. He can’t seem to regain his balance but he fumbles for his phone. “Hey, hey, you need to sit down,” Jackson tries to say but it feels like cotton is stuffed in Jinyoung’s ears. He can only hear the roaring of his own blood. He can’t breathe.

“Bam”—Jinyoung chokes out the name, thrusting his phone at Jackson haphazardly—”call BamBam–”

Jinyoung only gets out half the words he wants before Mark finally stands and comes over, placing his hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder. “Hey.” His voice is low, quiet, and grounding. “Come on, let’s go sit on the bed, all right? It’s going to be alright.” Jinyoung is all but hoisted onto his feet by Mark and led to the lone bed.

He can’t tell when he’s sitting nor when he’s standing, just that Mark is beside him and rubbing small circles into his back.God, why now? Why in the middle of the goddamn hospital? He couldn’t have had a mental breakdown in private? Jinyoung knows he’s being unreasonable but he can’t help his mind from running a million miles a second.

“Jinyoungie?” Jinyoung’s head snaps up and he can faintly make out BamBam through his blurry vision. “Oh, Jinyoungie.”

The blob moves closer, and Jinyoung can see BamBam’s soft face through his thick tears. “BamBam,” he blubbers, and he’s not afraid to admit it (well, maybe just a little). Jinyoung holds out his arms and BamBam laughs softly but not unkindly as he settles in Jinyoung’s lap to properly wrap his lanky arms around Jinyoung.

Mark and Jackson quietly leave the room to let the couple have their moment, and as soon as the two are gone, Jinyoung buries his face into BamBam’s neck. The younger doesn’t pull away at the tears and snot pressed into his neck, only pulling Jinyoung even closer and murmuring nothings into Jinyoung’s soft hair.

OnceJinyoung has cried until his eyes dried up, he finally pulls away, wincing at the wetness of BamBam’s neck. “‘M sorry,” he mumbles out, but BamBam, bless him, just chuckles softly.

“If my parents could deal with my endless messes and sobs as a child, I can dea with your perfectly valid tears.” Jinyoung looks away at that, but BamBam’s hand finds its way to Jinyonug’s chin and draws the older to look at him again. “Really, Jinyoung. I do love you, you know. It’s all right. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah? Then we can go find out what happened. I’ll be here for every minute of it, all right?”

Jinyoung nods almost miserably, leaning around BamBam and grabbing a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside table. He wipes sullenly at BamBam’s neck, but cracks a smile when BamBam whines and tries to wipe off the tears and snot with Jinyoung’s sleeve. BamBam holds a hand and there’s only a beat of a heart (Jinyoung’s or BamBam’s, who would ever know) before Jinyoung takes the leaner man’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung can’t help but whisper again. BamBam says nothing and just wraps an arm around Jinyoung’s shoulders. There’s not much he can or would say but it’s enough for Jinyoung. He can make it through this if BamBam is there with him.

Mark and Jackson are waiting anxiously outside the door with a man Jinyoung doesn’t recognise. “Hey, Jinyoungie,” Jackson starts to say carefully, “this is Doctor Kim Seokjin. He’s here to tell you about how Yugyeom is doing.”

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my-fanfic-library · 4 years

Text

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [22]

Masterlist

~^*^~

“Drac!”

The gasp of his name filled the hallway, right after the sound of his hand slapping your ass. He chuckled, your pout only managing to be adorable to him.

“I couldn’t help it. My god, I never want to see you wear anything except leggings again.” He breathed.

“Typical male.” You rolled your eyes, hitching the strap of your gym bag higher up your shoulder.

You stalked towards the elevator, ignoring the hot gaze the vampire was currently giving you. Maybe inviting him to the gym was a very bad idea. Especially in the outfit he had decided to sport to “fit in”. A muted grey/green t-shirt, a little baggy, a little low cut on the neckline, exposing just a tease of his collarbones. The black joggers were an anomaly to his usual wardrobe choices.

“Instead of going to the gym, I propose we stay here and improvise.” You finally turned your head to send him a venomous look.

“You literally took months of reluctance to even fucking finger me and now you won’t even let me go to the gym because my leggings rile you up?” You feigned an angry tone, “stay here if that’s how you’re going to be.” You pressed the button, waiting for the elevator.

“I already told you, I can’t do what I want to you. Did our little session the other day ease any of your tension?”

You rolled your eyes, face flushing as you thought back to a few days ago. The doors opened and you strolled in, the tall vampire hot on your heels. You turned to face the doors, only to almost knock into his chest. His arms immediately wrapped around your waist and pulled you up to your tippy toes. You glared up at him as the door snapped shut.

“You didn’t answer my question.” His voice was a little gravelly, the sound of it making your heart skip a beat.

“I rolled my eyes. That’s an answer in my books.”

“Clearly I’m going to have to do something more... strenuous next time.” His lips came down on to your jawline, pressing tender kisses to your skin. You hummed.

Then, his fingers slipped a little lower, eventually making their way to your ass. He squeezed, making sure to get as much into his hands as he could.

“Stop!” You laughed, twisting away from him. His grip tightened.

“Why?” He whispered against your skin, “we are the only occupiers of the elevator, right now. Would it be so terrible?”

“Yes, seriously I’m about to go back upstairs and change.”

“Don’t,” he growled, squeezing harshly, causing your to gasp, your hands moved to snake around his neck, “even think about it.”

“I have no idea what’s made you so possessive all of a sudden, but you pack it in now, mister.” You playfully commanded.

Dracula’s lips continued on your neck, and he clearly had no intention of stopping even after the elevator had reached the bottom of the building and the doors opened.

~^*^~

The gym was an... experience. Upon leaving, you vowed to never let Dracula tag along again. No less than four times did he get into altercations with other men who had been ogling you (three out of the four being during your squat session), and he was adamant on just watching you which was off putting. When you had invited him along, you had hoped that he would actually partake in exercise.

Apparently you were too distracting.

Said the man who had sat on the bench press, practically drooling whilst you did your warming up lunges and stretches.

Yeah, he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near the gym again if that was where you intended to go.

When you returned back to the apartment, you noticed a missed call on your phone. Your mother. Whilst you had been in contact with her, it was time for her annual summer party, in which all of her friends, and their friends, and her colleagues and their friends crowded your home for hours on end. It was so exhausting to have to socialise with so many people that you didn’t know or care about.

As you called her back, you regretted it almost instantly.

“[First]! Finally, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you!”

“Yeah, sorry, I was at the gym.”

“Look, you know that my party is next week, right? You’re going to come, aren’t you?”

“Erm, I don’t actually know...”

“Oh come on, [First], I haven’t seen you in so long! You have to come!”

“Well, I mean, I’ve not been in London long and-“

“Yes, apparently you’ve shacked up with some man!”

“Mother!” You shrieked. Clearly Dracula had heard, since he turned around to send you the most devilish grin. You batted him away, “that’s not true!”

“Well, Martha rang me up and told me she saw you out shopping with some man your father’s age! And then Daphne FaceTimed me and told me she’d seen you in a car on two occasions with the same man!”

“Oh my god!” You groaned, “stop listening to gossip about your own daughter from the fishwives!” You scolded.

“I’ll keep going if you don’t agree to come.” You could hear her playful smile.

“Alright! Fine, I’ll come.”

“And bring your mystery man - apparently he’s quite a looker-“ you hung up, not wanting to think about your own mother drooling over your boyfriend.

“Who was that lovely woman?” Dracula was very clearly trying to wind you up.

“Oh shut it.” You snapped, “you’re just smug because they think you’re attractive.”

“Well, I am.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh!” You groaned, stomping away to get dressed.

The week dragged. Your mother was constantly ringing to harass you over the party. ‘Black tie but casual, [First]!’ ‘Don’t forget that Brenda’s son Mark is coming, I believe you’d suit each other quite nicely!’ ‘Have you decided what you’re going to wear?’ ‘Your entrance fee can be a platter of those nice little sandwiches you make!’

It was dizzying and to add insult to injury, your mother’s constant inquires on your “mystery man” was blowing up his ego quicker than you could say ‘bloodsucker’. Oh, if you had a stake you’d strike it right through his heart if it meant one moment of peace. You eventually told him about your mother’s plan to hook you up with this Mark (which had been ongoing since you were 16 and he was 18) which switched his mood a whole 180° extremely quickly. Now you had an impatient mother and a grumpy vampire.

Was god punishing you for your fornications with the man currently lying next to you, facing towards the wall instead of you?

Technically you hadn’t even had sex, so technically there was nothing to punish.

Or was it just because he was a vampire?

You scoffed in amusement at your thoughts.

“Thinking about Mark are you?” Dracula grumbled.

“Oh yes.” You jeered, “tall, handsome Mark and how I think I may have to take up my mother’s offer and see him to dinner. I wonder how far he’d go on the first date... it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex-“

Within a matter of seconds, you were pinned under the vampire, his dark pools swimming with all sorts of angst. His lips curled down into a scowl. You felt like you deserved a punch to the face. How you managed to dig yourself an even deeper hole was beyond you.

Well, Dracula found use for the belt that had been on the bedside table and you had learnt your second lesson on purposefully making him jealous. You were sure you were growing addicted to his fingers.

~^*^~

You swallowed, looking over yourself one last time in the mirror before you stepped out of the room. The black satin cami dress was formal, right? It came down to your knees, with a little bit of a peplum hem at the bottom. It was a little revealing, mostly on your chest, but you had accessoried to keep the attention on the gorgeous Whitby Jet wrapped around your neck concealing your bite. Yes, you looked fine.

Nerves would always eat you up before you attended these stupid parties.

Stepping out into the main room, you held your breath. Holy fuck. Dracula was leaning against the table, clearly bored of waiting for you. His hair was tousled back, a few strands falling forwards towards his forehead. A black shirt sat undone on the upper half of his chest, and over the top a black suit jacket rolled up past the elbows. You oggled his forearms and the image of the way they flexed as he pumped his fingers into you flashed through your head. Your eyes moved down to his legs, form fitting suit pants showcasing his thighs and you almost drooled. Running a hand through your hair, you coughed, grabbing his attention.

The moment his eyes fell on you, your heart quite literally stopped. His eyes... oh dear god. It was the way you’d begged god to make someone look at you. Just once. So much love, a sparkle of utter awe of you, glistening the truth of his affection. His lips quirked up into a smile. His eyes racked over your body, loving the way your dress fit you perfectly, hinting at your body but leaving the majority of it to the imagination. It was long enough to not be dignity-diminishing, but short enough to give attention to your legs.

“If I hadn’t made a promise to give you the best life, I would take you right here on this table,” he patted the marble, “and drink every ounce of nectar within your veins.”

“Keep talking like that and I will make you do it.” You smirked.

“I promised you I’d help you live,” he prowled towards you, unable to wait another moment to pull you into him, “and I believe you see our union differently to how I do.” He fornwed just a little and you pulled yourself into him, drowning him in your perfume and warmth.

“It’s just sex.” You retorted, looking up at him.

“Not with you it wouldn’t be.” He whispered, “and whatever coward made you think that it’s “just sex” would be advised to never come a step near to me.”

“Why, would you teach him your ideas on union?” You chuckled, your slightly dirty joke apparently going over his head.

“I’d fucking kill him for taking your body so intimately and convincing you that it meant nothing.”

You chuckled, pressing a sweet kiss to his neck. He hummed, feeling the soft fabric of your dress beneath his fingertips. He was so thankful that you had chosen him. Lucky was the understatement of the century.

~^*^~

Your mother continued to look out of the window every minute or so, anticipating your arrival. After most adamantly demanding that you bring the gentleman you had been living with, she was at a peaked curiosity. Was he truly so much older than you? And was he as handsome as her friends made out?

He turned out to be definitely rich, pulling up in a sparkling Jaguar. She almost squealed in anticipation - much like a teenager - and the tray of appetisers she had been holding flew up into the air.

Your father grumbled at the commotion and apologised to the men he had been speaking to. He explained that your mother was on edge, awaiting to see what her daughter was about to drag into the house.

The aura that swept the house when you and Dracula entered seemed to affect every guest present, and all eyes were suddenly on you.

“[First]!” She greeted lovingly, pretending she hadn’t been waiting for the last 45 minutes by th window.

“Hi mother,” you greeted, letting her pull you into a brief hug. Her eyes wandered past you and to the tall gentleman standing just at the step of the door, smiling sheepishly, “it’s alright, love. You can come in.”

Your wicked eyes sent him a mischevuous look. He frowned, knowing that you were internally laughing at him still not entering without an invitation. Would your parents mind so much if he spanked you in front of them?

“And, my, who is this... gentleman?” She breathed, clearly impressed by his face, but unimpressed at his presence with you.

“This is-“

“Count Dracula.” He cut your off, “it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. [Last].” He smiled at her, taking her hand and briefly kissing her knuckles, “[First] has told me so much about what an amazing woman you are.” She couldn’t help but laugh airily at the compliment.

“Well, I’ve done my best for my daughter. Come on through, both of you. [First], your father is just by the kitchen.”

She rushed past you, pushing past people as quickly as she could to make her way back to the kitchen. That gossip! Your eyes filtered through the people until you found your father talking to a few people. Intertwining your fingers with Dracula’s, you began to pull him into the living room when you were stopped by a man you didn’t recognise.

“What an honour it is, Count Dracula! My name is Richard Johnson, I own Johnson and Moore, a law company under your own. I was wondering when I’d finally meet the famous Dracula.” You turned to look at Dracula, who was smiling a little shyly.

“Yes, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, however as you can see I’m with-“

“No, it’s okay!” You quickly interjected, “I better go say hello to my dad before he feels rejected. I’ll let you two businessmen talk.” You winked at the vampire before scampering off towards your father.

“What a beautiful little thing she is!” Richard eyed you as you left, “you’ve got to tell me how you got such a young one.” He laughed.

“Well, I could tell you,” Dracula began with a fake smile, “but I’d have to kill you afterwards.”

Neither of them realised that you had heard and you grinned at Dracula’s words.

Your arms snaked around your father’s waist as you rested your head on his shoulder. He continued his sentence to the two men he was engaged in conversation with. When he had finished, he took a sip from his drink and then manuvered his head to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Here she is, my little detective!” He laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “you wouldn’t believe this kid used to poop in our garden drain, would you?”

“Do you have to say that to everyone you introduce me to?” You rolled your eyes, but you were grinning.

“Baby, I’m going to bring it up at your wedding and tell all of my grandbabies.” The two men standing opposite from you laughed at his words.

“I’ve read some of your journals, [First], you’ve grown into a very intelligent and respectable young woman.” You pulled yourself from your father as he spoke to you, smiling shyly.

“Thank you, I’ve worked hard to be where I am today.”

“Yes, didn’t you spent quite some time in Yorkshire?” The other man began, “your father was telling us you were part of some coverup story within the Jonathan Harker Foundation.”

“Well, that’s simply not true. And even if it were, I couldn’t tell you, Pauly.” You grinned, clearly teasing him.

“Awe, come on, [First]! Don’t you remember when I used to dress up as Santa and bring you all those wonderful presents?”

“Well, I suppose I could tell you,” you began, “but I’d have to kill you afterwards.”

Your eyes moved across the other side of the room and locked with your favourite pair in the entire world. He was smirking right back at you. ‘Touche’ he mouthed at you. His eyes sparkled as they continuously washed over you. Wait... was he really eye fucking you in a room full of people?! Your father’s conversation ended quickly after that and he was quick to pull you into the corner to have a private word with you.

“You, young lady, are driving your mother up the wall with the gentleman you’ve been seeing, you know that don’t you?” He was unable to hold back his amusement.

“Of course I know that.” You laughed.

“Then go and talk to her!” He laughed. Clearly he was already growing drunk.

“Alrighty. Don’t drink too much, okay?” You patted his arm, side stepping to get ready to make your way to the kitchen.

“I can’t promise you anything, buttonnose.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek and sent you on your way to the kitchen.

Before you even made your way in, you could hear all of the wives whispering and giggling. Did they seriously not realise that they were not still school girls? You rolled your eyes and made your way in.

Your mother jumped at your intrusion and you were soon bombarded in compliments on how pretty you’d gotten, how tall you’d grown, congratulations on your work, and question upon question about Dracula and intimate details of your plans. Mostly marriage and children.

Two hours later and you found yourself by your mother’s side. Dracula had blended in well, making conversation with almost everyone that approached him. You had barely seen him, but your mother had been talking quite a bit to him. Standing washing your hands after eating a few greasy little bites, she came to your aide.

You were dreading whatever she had to say and prayed that this would be a short and sweet conversation. She was obsessed with you getting into a relationship and you had finally found someone that made you happy and she wasn’t satisfied.

“[First],” she began warily, “Dracula seems... nice...”

“He is.” You answered stoically.

“When did you meet him?”

“When I was working in Whitby last year.” You grasped a tea towel, beginning to dry your hands.

“Is he a detective like you?”

“First of all, I am not a detective - I’m a Supervisory Special Agent specialising in criminology. Secondly, he is not a detective and you would know from all of your eavesdropping that he is a businessman.”

“Don’t accuse your own mother of eavesdropping!” She scolded.

“Weren’t you?” You challenged.

“I just... I just think you’ve made a mistake, [First]. He’s your father’s age for crying out loud!” She hissed, clearly not wanting the other wives to hear such an embarrassing conversation.

Silly woman. He’s ten times your father’s age.

You scoffed at her words.

“What, so because he’s a little older than me I can’t be with him?”

“No, I’m not saying that I’m just-... is he your sugar daddy?!” She suddenly gasped.

“No mother!” You exclaimed.

“I had to ask, sorry.”

“What, did Brenda tell you that? Or maybe Daphne? When will you all grow up and stop gossiping over your own children?!” She went quiet.

“...Will you at least consider Mark...?”

You groaned, having to throw the tea towel down and leave the room. Your face was flushed with anger and when you looked back up, your jaw hit the ground.

“Jack?”

~^taglist^~

@vampiregirl1797 @avalanet @bunnyreese12 @nerdonpluto @teamceleries @grifffins @hitbythunder @winterseoul @mymagicsuitcase @angeli-fucking-cat @benedictethegoddess @bloodhon3yx @nifflersravenclaw @writteninthestars288 @labelladrama @frankcastlesgrunts @angelicdestieldemon @quakerlasss @aliisa-jones @wolverinexmenn @clairedragonessbaker @cryiner @mitsukatsu @piratewhore @your-pixels-are-showing @tardisnesss @ladydovahkiin180 @catwomom @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @th3rah @viper-queen @mephdcosplay @greghouse7 @faeprinces @kokoro-no-yami @trishaferdream @therealmoni @crazytxgradstudent @sansthelonelypunster @crowley-needs-a-hug @girlonfireice @wasntpriscilla @ivanna6026

#i wrote this listening to years and years’ play on repeat #what a bop #something different #dracula #bbc dracula #netflix dracula #dracula x reader #bbc dracula x reader #netflix dracula x reader #claes bang #what a snacc that man is

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palmett-hoes · 4 years

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since the first step in achieving your goals is to state them aloud, here's a list of aftg fics/ au s that i'd like to write some day

- pre-canon fic from aaron's perspective spanning the twins' first meeting till they're drafted by the foxes and graduate high school. i'm increasingly enamored with aaron as a character as well as with an outside perspective of andrew's actions and i think it would be very interesting to look at the foundation on which their fraught relationship is built and first developed

- even more pre-canon fic. andrew's early life in foster care. yes, we all know about the most... gruesome things that were done to him, but i believe that there is plenty more that has affected and shaped him, especially in relation to my interpretation of andrew as an autistic poc. this would not be a happy fic.

- anastasia au. neil as anya, andrew as dimitri. possibly a plot amalgamation from both the animated movie and the stage show, with changes as i see fit. (no, neil is not the prince of russia). what i find most compelling about this au is the story of neil and andrew as childhood friends and then the angst of having andrew, as an adult, teaching an amnesiac neil how to act like a noble while being convinced that neil is an imposter. good shit

- art school/dance club au. the foxes attend the palmetto school of art at prestigious edgar allen university. they're considered the school's charity cases, and they are NOT friends. andrew is a studio arts major with a concentration in sculpture who works in the campus coffee shop in the mornings and frequents night clubs that employ pretty boys in the evenings. neil is attending college completely on his father's dime, PROVIDED he study what his father wants, despite his desire to study dance and music. going crazy without an outlet, neil takes a secret job as a go-go dancer. look. this may slightly possibly be a result of me having planned to party hardy this summer, then having my plans ruined by the virus :c

- 1950s High School au. the 1950s aesthetics fucking rock even though the 1950s fucking sucked. kinda wanna tackle both. plus, andrew already has that james dean bad boy fast car appeal

- an exploration of mary and nathan's relationship and history. i get that neil's parents are both super taboo and both really really awful people, but i have questions and i want to answer them

- neil never returns from baltimore. in order to keep his deals, permanently, andrew kills riko and tetsugi, and gets over 20 years in prison. when he gets out, he just wants to be alone, but it seems there's a ghost haunting him. this was conceived for MAXIMUM angst, no getting around it. i got the idea from a badacts fic and it has haunted me ever since

- post-canon sexuality exploration fic. i have a real passion for quality sex education and healthy experimentation, and neil very clearly didn't get the chance for either. yet at the end of the books he finds himself in a very intense sexual relationship. i just really want to give him the opportunity to find out how desire works for him and what he likes, on his own terms. i read a lot of fics where neil's desires seem to be completely dependent on andrew's initiaton, and while i do believe that andrew is the only person neil is attracted to and will ever be attracted to, i also want to explore how his sexuality manifests on its own. the vibe i'm going for is, uh, HornySweet (tm), but also with a lot of genuine eductional material. i want this is to be something that offers real information to its readers that may have been inaccessible for a lot of people, on topics like like sexual hygiene, maturbation, and sex toys in a non-fetishy way. this will be very very E rated, but like,, in a very earnest and goofy way because sex and sexuality is neat and cool but it's also not all serious perfect fucking. it's just,, a topic that deserves to be DISCUSSED

- mobster au. andrew, having never met aaron, takes a job for the moriyamas to track down a runaway asset. Neil. upon completion, they make andrew the butcher's apprentice, and pull neil back into the fold as a commodity rather than a person. lots of violence, lots of shady underground dealings, lots of plotting, lots of secrets.

i'm gonna put some more under the cut, ones that i don't feel as strong a drive towards right now or that i haven't thought as much about. if you (yes, YOU) like any of these, or are interested in any of these, or wanna hear more about any of these, or are even inspired to write something yourself by any of these please, PLEASE, say something in the notes, or send me a message, or an ask or anything. ANYTHING. i am stuck inside, all the time, and i am so, so lonely. i answer from hoob-gooblin

- princess bride au. come ON. princess bride is one of the most romantic AND most snarky movies of all time, and andreil literally invented love and devotion sooooooo it's a perfect match. "yes or no" vs "as you wish" kings of consent and communication and unconventional love declarations. also,, he may not be how I imagine andrew, but a young cary elwes in dramatic black pirate getup is DEFINITELY a valid andrew

- hozier au. sometimes,, i listen to an album, and imagine a fic that encompases the whole thing. nothing speaks louder to me than hozier's discography. (also, yes, i am gay). maybe a little bit inside llewyn davis. neil wanders through a small town and takes up some small jobs, but sings his heart out through twisted metaphors once a week in a hole in the wall bar staffed by a very short, dead eyed veteran

- prince and the pauper au. on a stealth recon mission in enemy territory, andrew encounters a local lord who happens to have his face. in a moment of desperation to save himself from arrest, andrew knocks the lord out and assumes his identity. he returns to the castle just in time for prince moriyama to arrive with a shifty-eyed, red-headed handservant in tow. lord aaron of columbia, meanwhile, wakes up on a ship manned by crown traitor and fugitive kevin day, calling him by a name he's never heard before, and then he's in the hands of the guerilla rebel forces that have been attacking the kingdom. i watched barbie princess and the pauper as a child and that movie fucking slaps

- little mermaid/beauty and the beast/bride of the rose beast/ladyhawke au. in a last ditch attempt to escape his father, neil trades his voice and his tail for legs and washes ashore on a small kingdom with horrible secrets. because he cannot speak, read or write, prince aaron employs neil to serve the monster in the catacombs, the prince's twin brother. the twins are under a curse that turns them into terrifying monsters, andrew by day and aaron by night. aaron's affliction is a secret, as is andrew's humanity. this is such a hodgepodge idea lol. did neil also have to be a mermaid for this to work? no. is he? hell yeah

- new york private school/twin swap au. aaron wins a scholarship to a prestigious school that will guarantee him a future, but then he relapses. convinced he just needs a little more time to get clean, he makes a deal with his volatile new brother, andrew, to stand in for him at the school just until he can his shit together. neil and ichirou moriyama have been raised together their entire lives, always under the knowledge that ichirou will inherit the family empire with nathaniel as his right hand. they hate the idea, but they have no way to escape, and now neil is being harassed by ichirou's bitchass estranged brother at their stupid, fancy private school. LISTEN, we as a fandom do NOT take enough advantage of the twin swap possibilities presented to us. pathetic

- post-canon fic where ichirou, realizing that the life of a mob boss is a lonely one, decides that he needs... a friend. however, because of the nature of his work, he can't just make friends with anyone, so he decides to make friends with neil. without consulting neil first. cue a lot of very weird, very awkward coffee dates where neil is convinced he's about to be disposed of, and ichirou just wants to know about his cats. the thing i like about ichirou is he’s a complete blank slate. i can make him a good guy, a bad guy, an ally, the Big Bad

- Kill Bill au. mary survives a bullet to the head and wakes up from a coma over a year later. with nothing left to lose, she sets out to single-handedly dismantle the wesninski circle. good thing she used to be its top assassin

- single dad andrew au. except look, look, stay with me here, okay, aaron is his son, and he's adopted nicky and kevin. LISTEN. STAY WITH ME. JUST THINK ABOUT IT. tbh the idea comes from my interpretation of the andrew/neil/kevin dynamic as distincly parental, then extending that interpretation to andrew's protection over the rest of his family.

- fashion au. andrew is a fashion designer and photographer who frequently works with allison reynolds. one day she brings around a short, twitchy assistant who looks like she just plucked him out of an alley. somehow, he becomes andrew's muse. i watch a lot of fashion competition shows

- ghibli. either howl's moving castle (andrew as sophie, neil as howl) or spirited away (?). maybe both idk

- legally blonde au. legally blonde is so good guys

#aftg #fic #fic ideas #aftg fic #the foxes #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil

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wallofweird · 4 years

Text

This Is Us Q&A

Thanks @madsdefencesquad for tagging me. :)

1. The first character I first fell in love with:

Dr. Nathan Katowski. He just seemed to be such a charismatic, generous, wise and kind person and the way he comforted those two nervous young people (Jack and Rebecca) who were entering parenthood for the very first time was simply beautiful. Specially because nowadays some doctors are so arrogant and cold that make you feel so bad to the point of almost apologizing for needing their care (not most though, we have real life heroes out there on the front line of the COVID-19 pandemic and I’m forever thankful for them!). Anyway, it was pleasant to see a character with so much heart. Now the first regular character I fell in love with was Randall. He was just so relatable and Sterling and the writers really managed to show all the affliction he kept inside from early on. All the things he had accumulated through the years, with the questions about his biological parents, his identity, finding out that William was dying the same day he met him and everything... Even before we got to dive into that story, you could see it in his eyes. And I empathized with him immediately.

2. The character I never expected to love as much as I do now:

Kevin. I used to find him very annoying and self-centered and now I’m eating my words, but I guess that’s always been the writers intention: to show a character that came off as really shallow and immature and slowly change our minds about him. It definitely worked. My opinion about him started to change on the ‘Number One’ episode. It broke my heart to see what he was going through, specially when he lost the only thing he had left from Jack. That was hard to watch. And now that I’m rewatching the show, I can get his actions a lot better now and see that a lot of the stuff I used to hate came from his insecurities. So I’ve changed my mind about his behavior on the first episodes and I’m enjoying seeing him back then as well. I can see the bigger picture now.

3. The character everyone else loves that I don’t:

Cassidy. I don’t really believe there’s a consensus about her, it looks like the opinions are pretty balanced, but I’m not a fan of her. I wouldn’t say I hate Cassidy, but I don’t really like her. Like, the other characters can get me to laugh and cry so easily, but she doesn’t make me feel anything? She looks kind of cold to me, which I can understand it probably has something to with being in the military and the things she had to experience and do, but even with the whole drama with her son and husband... It's just never given me the same emotion I use to get from the other characters. Also, I really wanted the first half of the season to be only about Kevin and his uncle, but they threw a stranger in it and played with the idea of putting Kevin and Cassidy together the whole time. I just wanted to see their dynamic without anybody’s interference, specially because I haven’t got the point of her presence yet. I believe Kevin and Nicky would’ve done just fine in their journey to sobriety without her and I don’t really think the woman will marry any of them. I hope there’s something bigger planned for her that will explain her addition to the show, because I don’t really get it. So far it just looks like she’s there to mislead us with the whole “who is Kevin’s wife?” mystery.

4. The character I love that everyone else hates:

Madison. I wouldn’t say everybody hates her, for me the public has mixed opinions about her? I’ve seen people who hate her, who are indifferent, who like her and think she’s funny and people who love her. However, I do believe she deserves more praise. I think she’s kind of in the same situation Kevin used to be a few years ago. A lot of people have a pre-fabricated idea of Madison and see her as someone shallow and immature. Madison has always been there for Kate, even when she was nothing but rude to her. When Kate hit her car (I know it was accidentally, but still), Madison got over it the second she learned Kate was pregnant. She immediately forgot about her car and was filled with nothing but joy after hearing the news. Madison also helped Kate to enjoy the process of finding her wedding dress, staying positive with her second pregnancy after the previous miscarriage... She’s been there through thick and thin. And she is so loving, selfless and strong that was willing to raise her twins and go through all of that by herself to avoid getting in the way of Kevin finding his great love story. How can somebody not admire that? Even if you don’t like her, because that’s understandable and sometimes a character just doesn’t resonate with us, there’s absolutely no reason to hate or criticize her personality and actions. Madison is very underrated, but she is an amazing person. I just don’t understand why people have changed their minds about Kevin after seeing his struggles and evolution, but won’t do the same with her. The only difference here is the amount of screentime they have and the gender, because they’re both great people. I really don’t get it.

5. The character I used to love but don’t any longer:

One of the great things about this show is that I’ve never stopped loving any of the characters. There are characters I don’t really like, there are characters that have grown on me, but the opposite has never happen. However, I am a little angry with Randall and Kevin after that fight. I won’t defend any of them. They were both terrible to each other.

I get where they’re both coming from when it comes to how they deal with Rebecca’s health. It’s understandable wanting to save your mother. It’s understandable wanting her to enjoy the time she has left. There is no right or wrong decision in these situations. And a lot of how they deal with it comes from their personalities and traumas. They both have this hole in their lives because of losing Jack. Randall blames himself and thinks about what life would’ve been if he hadn’t died every single day. His anxiety also plays a role in how he process everything. It’s consuming. On the other hand, Kevin regrets not having spent as much time with his father as he could’ve had. He’s also already gone through therapy, is a year sober and attending the AA meetings regularly... He can see things more clearly than Randall right now. So I don’t judge either of them for how they approach to the situation. Still, Randall should’ve respected Rebecca’s decision. Period. He was selfish and I can’t defend what he did. I can understand why he did it and I didn’t really see it as him manipulating his mother, for me it was more of a desperate moment, when he was telling Rebecca he cannot handle losing her. Not that Kevin and Kate can handle losing their mother, but he’s clearly overwhelmed with the whole situation, while Kevin and Kate are at a better mental state and looking at things with more serenity.

However, regarding their fight, Kevin’s got some fault too. I’m sure they didn’t mean anything they said to one another, they just happened to know each other’s deepest wounds and wanted to rub them. It was painful to watch. Kevin knows Randall feels guilty for letting Jack walk back into the house. Randall knows Kevin feels guilty for not being there. Kevin knows Randall have never felt liked he completely fitted in, because he was abandoned by his biological father and adopted only after Rebecca and Jack lost a child. He’s always felt a little lost or as a replacement to Kyle. And Randall knows Kevin is self-conscious and feels like people don’t take him seriously or believe he can be responsible. It was heartbreaking and cruel. And I’m rewatching season 1 and recently saw the episode where they finally begin to grow closer and there is this scene where Randall says:

“[Mom] showered me with attention. Took my side more often than not. And I ate every bit of her love up. Ate it up like Pac-Man. You know why? Because the one person I wanted it from the mo..

[...]

You know, back there with those people, it's the first time in 36 years you've said the words, ‘he's my brother’, [as] claiming me.”

I’ve also just finished the episode where it shows young Randall having a nervous breakdown and Kevin ignoring him. Kevin and Randall did have some good moments growing up, but for most of it they weren’t close and Randall was the one who tried the harder to change that. It took them over 30 years to get to a place where they finally acted like brothers on a regular basis and now they have both ruined all of that progress. So I can’t really pick sides and blame one of them when it comes to that fight. They were both terrible. However, I’m just a little more disappointed with Randall because he interfered in Rebecca’s decision.

6. The character I would totally smooch:

Kevin. Justin Hartley just happens to be on my Male Celebrity Crush Top 2, so...

7. The character I’d want to be like:

Beth. She’s smart, successful, funny, wise and beautiful, I’d like to have at least 30% of that awesomeness.

8. The character I’d slap:

Marc.

9. A pairing that I love:

Jack and Rebecca. Their love story, even with its ups and downs, remains epic. One for the ages, indeed.

Still, I really miss a slowburn ship. We’ve had Jack and Rebecca, Kate and Toby, Randall and Beth since the very beginning. They were all love at first sight. They got together pretty quickly. I miss a ship that I can see go through all of those basic stages, like meeting, becoming friends and falling in love. I miss seeing a character pining for another and being a little bit jealous of them. I miss watching the scenes with the lingering looks, deep breaths, both staring at each other when the other isn’t noticing... All this tension building up until the moment it just explodes. Like, give me angst scenes! Give me a scene where they are hugging so tight and not wanting to let go and Character A can’t resist it anymore and kisses character B as if their his/her depended on it. Give me rain kisses. Give me character A pining for character B, but doubting that B feels the same way. Give me B being just as insanely in love as A and feeling frustrated whenever they’re around someone else. Give me character B being unconsciously jealous and fighting with character A. Give me A blurting out that he/she is in love with B and a passionate kiss. I know it’s cliché, but there is a reason why everyone loves scenes like these: they work. And This Is Us needs stuff like that. Hopefully Kevin and Madison can fill this gap, since I’m already in love with their potential. ;)

10. A pairing that I despise:

Kevin and Sophie. I genuinely have nothing against Sophie, she is a good person and she deserves happiness. If anything, Kevin was the one who wronged her. However, I can’t help sighing and rolling my eyes whenever she shows up or her name is mentioned on the show. I’m just tired at this point. I’ve never saw the appeal of it. I’m usually a slowburn kind of shipper, but I still have my ‘love at first sight’ otps. This one, however, never really convinced me. First, I don’t see the chemistry at all (in any timeline). Second, he’s cheated on her twice. Plus, the second time they were together, Kevin had fallen back into drinking and she didn’t even realize the seriousness of the situation. I’m not saying it was her fault or responsibility, because that’s a real problem and what Kevin needed was professional help. Also, he lied to her and broke Sophie’s heart again in the process, so I can empathize with her. Still, the fact that Sophie couldn’t see what was going on and they were never able to go through it together, whether it was his treatment, or the long distance or any real obstacle just proves to me they don’t work. They simply couldn’t work together. And Kevin has moved on. He moved on from her and genuinely fell in love with Zoe. They broke up because they wanted different things, but their relationship was real. So, the way I see it, the fact that he suddenly wants another ‘crack at it’ with Sophie, it’s just a result of his frustration. Kevin is so desperate to have his own great love story and children, that he is trying to get it from strangers on coffee shops or any ex-girlfriend that will reach out to him. He’s not thinking things through, but hopefully he will let life takes it course and find find them naturally, without forcing anything or insisting on relationships that have proved multiple times that weren’t the right fit for him. I also don’t really like when characters appear with the solely purpose to be someone’s love interest, I like seeing them in their own element and their dynamic with other characters. Like, even though each Pearson has their immediate family, we’ve seen bits of Beth and Rebecca, Toby and Kevin, Beth and Zoe, Kate and Madison (who at this point I’m pretty sure is Kevin’s fiancée)... Sophie wasn’t fully integrated into the family during their second attempt at a relationship, so that’s another reason for me not to like this ship.

I don’t wanna tag anyone specifically because I’m afraid I might forget someone, so anyone who wants to do this thing, just go for it. I’d love to see your answers. :)

#this is us #randall pearson #kevin pearson

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judgement-free-sideblog · 5 years

Text

The enemy of love is the truth

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: They were happy just as friends, but one morning the call from an old trauma may change everything.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, history of drug use, mental health issues, cursing, angst, a little smut, violence.

I want to apologize in advance, I did my fare share of smut between 2008 and 2011, jesus we called them lemons back then (I'm so old, sorry) but in my native language. And even if I wasn't out of practice translating that kind of scenes is a complete nightmare, so I'm so sorry for what you are going to read.

■Part I ■ Part II ■Part III ■ Part IV ■ Part V ■ Part VI ■ Part VII ■ Part VIII | Final ■

Part VI

"She invited you to ex's wedding?" Charlie said squatting out of breath, it was almost 8:00 am and they had been running since 7:00. "Don't you think it will be a bit inappropriate? I mean what if she still have feelings for that guy? God I need to lie down"

"Technically I invited myself..." Tom started also taking big breaths "Oh don't look at me like that, she they broke up long time ago, and even if she is not over him she would need support there, isn't that right Bobby??" He knelt to pet his dog, who looked at them puzzled by how tired they seemed to be.

"So, when is the big day?" He said finally standing up.

"Saturday, but apparently we are going to a small diner on friday night, the whole event is in a Hotel in West Yorkshire, and I don't feel like driving four hours in the same day"

"If I don't know you better I would say you're a brilliant bastard" he said choking out a laugh.

"Why?"

"Nice romantic hotel in the country, the emotional vulnerability of seeing your ex getting married, the comfort of the nice blue eyes of a loving friend" he said making and exaggerate gesture to Tom's face "But is you so ai assume you won't even share a room platonically"

"You are completely out of your mind" he said laughing "although it is a nice place, look" He showed him the electronic invitation where both bride and groom smiled to each other in front of the hotel.

"Is that the guy? Well she certainly had a type" he said studying the picture "I mean if he were older or a bit more fit he would look just like you" Tom look at the picture again not finding the resemblance "I'll tell you something if you guys finally do hook up could you wait until March to tell people? I said 3 years and 1 month and Zawe said 3 years exactly and I don't feel like letting her win."

"Do you really have a betting pool about us? Don't worry, I wouldn't tell you anything even of something happens" he said with a chuckle and they continued their run.

On friday at 3:00 p.m. he showed up at Y/N's place, with Charlie's words still resonating in his head, he found her in a beautiful burgundy off shoulder column cocktail dress and black heels, making this the third time he ever saw her in a dress, it was a big difference from the usual sneakers and hoodies, not a bad one but he couldn't help a bit of jealousy thinking this was for someone else.

"Stop staring at me, I know it's ridiculous and I'm gonna break my bloody neck with this things" She said showing him the fragile tip of one of the heels, he smiled founding his friend true nature even in that situation. "Stupid dress codes, is it too late to stay home? I have a rosé in the fridge wwith your name on it if you let me..."

"And losing the opportunity of seeing you roll your eyes at every old men comments on the country's economy?" He said putting her back inside the car and immediately after offering her hand to enter the car "Not a chance. You look lovely by the way"

"I won't roll my eyes at them, believe it or not, I do know how to handle myself in social events" She put on her seatbelt and he started the car turning on the GPS "Is the idea of meeting our old friends from uni and his parents what freaks me out, they must think I'm some kind of monster"

Our for some reason that word hurt more than it should, he brushed off the idea from his head again, jealous was an useless emotion to him and a dangerous one too in some people, and he was determined to not let them get the best of him.

"I don't think they would have invited you if they felt like that, or at least not to the rehearsal dinner too if that was the case." He said taking an exit indicated in the GPS.

"You clearly don't know Agnes Hawtrey" He briefly turn to her intrigued "David's mother, she is a rich harpy obsessed with showing everyone all the money their family has. I feel sorry for her future daughter in law, but since they actually getting married I assume she is not some Liberal brat who thinks spending Christmas in Libya is appropriate" She said imitating an high pitch voice with a posh accent.

"Why Libya?"

"Medecins sans frontiers" She answered "I volunteered to work with them in my holidays and David followed me a couple times. Agnes hated me for it, I actually think she was happy when I left him."

"Do you speak french?" He asked again trying to change the subject.

"Enough to work with them, but I'm completely rusty by now" she answered "I know it's too much effort to escape a suffocating relationship" the angry beast that had formed in his chest began to fade thanks to the idea of she not being entirely happy with the other guy, so he decided to approach the problem differently.

"I don't understand how do you end up together in the first place, you are too much of a free spirit to be around someone like that" He said, by now the city was getting behind them and he could start driving faster.

"Well my family is actually quite wealthy" She started causing a puzzled expression in his face "I reject any form of help from them and live on my own, but I did play my part in society for a while, so it seemed meant to be at the time. Of course I turned out to be a rotten apple and at some point I believe I was his excuse to hide how much he didn't enjoy their life style. I told you he was no saint, and maybe those where our finest moments" She said with a nostalgic smile, as if she remembered an specially pleasing memory. "But real life happened, you know? You are gonna like him don't worry"

"Well he sounds like a decent men" he said bitterly because his idea backfired "Music?"

They spend the rest of the trip talking about meaningless topics and singing along with the radio, by the time they eentered Yorkshire it was seven in the afternoon and the sun was standing to hide, the Waterton Perk hotel was magnificent, romantic and secluded as Charlie said, in the middle of a lake connected to land by a bridge full with trees naked by the winter that make the mansion looking more as something out of a fairytale.

He helped her out of the car and enjoyed having her body close to him while they crossed the bridge preventing her to fall with her heels. They entered a small lounge where people where waiting for the dinner to be served. As she had said earlier that week most of the people attending were old family friends of the bride and groom, and not many young faces were in the crowd. Except from those who he believed were the Uni friends, he introduced himself and even took a picture with one of the girls who had a similar reaction as Y/N when she met him.

Y/N was now chatting, a few meters away, more comfortable with them expecting the arrival of the main guests, while a couple of people were distracting Tom, complimenting his performance as Coriolanus a few years back and praising his Robert Down, so he couldn't notice the old woman, elegantly dressed in a light gray dress walking towards Y/N and dragging her apart from her friends, until she start talking in that high pitch voice Y/N had imitated very well earlier.

"How dare you showing your face in here?" The woman said to her while the young woman only remind silent not meeting her gaze "You spoiled ridiculous brat, after what you did to my boy, you should be ashamed..."

"Relax Agnes," She finally said lifting her look, Tom then was about to intervene but he could se a quiet rage behind her otherwise unaffected face, and felt forced to stay and watch "Let me remind you that your son invited me. And the last time I checked you are not David, also if you cared a little about your precious boy you wouldn't be making a fool of yourself in front of your guests" People where now standing very close to them listening every word the women said.

"You are right dear," Agnes started with a tone that said just the opposite, but smiling regaining her composure "After all how can I expect manners from a little trash from Devon anyway" Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh at the remark against her hometown and looked at her while the elder woman turned her back on her.

"Of course because the loose daughter of a fisherman as you called me can't be a suitable in law for you, I honestly pity the poor woman who has to have you in her life, I hope you can control her since you couldn't do it with me...

Her sentence die in the air because an old hand full of rings slapped her before she could finish, a red mark started forming in Y/N face, an she was fighting the tears, both from the humiliation and the hurt, from coming out of her eyes. Tom could see Agnes hand getting ready to hit her again while he tried to reach Y/N when a hand stopped her out of nowhere and spoke with a deep angry voice.

"That's enough mother" The infamous David was there, holding her mother still and standing in front of Y/N as a shield, all welled dressed and athletic, she looked tiny behind him and the beast inside Tom's chest started growling again. "Dad I asked you to watch her, Diane will be here any minute and I can't have this happening right now" The man who Tom assume was his father took agnes outside of the room and the rest of the people returned to their conversations as if nothing happened, finally allowing him to get closer. "Are you ok baby?" He said looking finally at Y/N offering his handkerchief to wipe her tears, that last word burned like fire in Tom's ears, he was now facing her with his back to Tom, and the bright smile that she gave him when she answered was making him sick

"It's okay sweetheart" She give back the handkerchief and give the man a good look "Let her have it, she has wanted to do that for 15 years, it's only fare, you look amazing, I'm so happy for you" She hugged him and the familiarity he showed holding her, made Tom's blood boil, he wanted to get him apart from her immediately, and take her far away from him and the poisonous thought of they together for years was corrupting his mind, there it was, jealousy cold and simple, the only thing his mind kept telling him was: He had her, and you don't. He had her for years, just the way you want her, she was his.

"And where is your something like that, I'm dying to met the lad" He said letting her go.

"Right behind you" she said completely ignoring the change in Tom's expression who was looking at the two with his mind apparently somewhere else. "Tom this is David." She said calling his name and breaking the murderous thoughts he was having.

"Sorry I wake you up the other night mate... Bloody hell you beautiful minx you did it!" He said loudly hugging her by the shoulder and then, much to his displeasure, Tom "Years obsessed with him, and drooling to his posters in our house and here you are inviting him to my wedding, I must say girl you made it! congratulations." She started turning red again but this time from the embarrassment, and Tom finally relaxed, something about David's personality make it impossible for him to be angry, maybe it was the fact that he was genuinely happy and how could he not? It was his wedding after all.

"Posters?" He asked enjoying the desperation in Y/N eyes urging him to change the subject.

"Posters, dvds, tshirts, you name it, she dragged me to watch your movies like four times each time they were on the cinema and then watched them on repeat at our flat" He recalled with exasperation "Don't get me wrong you are a fine looking man but not my type"

"Oh god, I think I'm going to find your mother to slap me again" She said covering her face "Please, I beg you stop talking"

"Let the man finish, it's the most compelling history" Tom said and while he put his arm around her waist taking her close to him.

"I'm glad to see you two together, I was so relieved when she said she was bringing someone, not like she needs anyone" He said anticipating her reaction proving to Tom just how much he knew her "But you two look actually happy together, and she's the most wonderful person" Y/N was about to clear things out when Tom wink at her and pressed her a little closer to him.

"She actually is, and we are very happy" He said giving him one of signature smiles "Is that your bride?" A young looking woman entered the room with a beautiful pale pink dress, and she looked at them completely baffled.

"Oh yes baby, that's my Diane" the man said and Tom felt ashamed for his brief jealous attack as the man seemed to call everyone baby. "Guess who we wake up the other morning dear?" The man said urging the girl to join them.

"Oh my goodness" The woman started "Are you...?" Tom smiled and politely introduce himself, and David then introduced both women "I am so sorry about the other morning, I told David to wait until noon when we were in Pakistan but he called you anyways, it was four in the morning right?"

"Yes, but never mind, what where you doing in Pakistan?" Y/N said now holding tight Tom's waist too.

"Building a hospital, Diane's foundation hired me a couple years ago and that's how we met, we've been living there for like five months, we were just going to elope a few weeks back, but I did this so I wouldn't cause my mother an aneurysm, but she had to accept my conditions to make it happen" He said proudly.

"Like inviting me?"

"That was actually my demand" Diane said with a little blush on her face "I really wanted to meet you, I heard so many wonderful things about you I thought maybe it was time for you to be friends again"

"And I told her we never stopped being friends in the first place, but she is stubborn, and I can't resist her" they started kissing like there were no one else in the room and Tom and Y/N look at each other nervously.

"Oi! Leave something for tomorrow" on of their friends called them from the dining room "The food is here come on"

The rest of the night went by without any other incident, apart for the perpetual state of happiness that David showed for Tom's presence, by the time the rest of the gests went to find their rooms Y/N and Tom were taking a last walk in the cold night, it was until they were at the entrance of the bridge that he noticed they were holding hands.

"Your boyfriend is quite a nice gentleman" he said teasing her.

"By the amount of wine he was trying to make you drink I would think he wants to be your boyfriend" she responded quickly. "Why did you told him we were together?" She question him now completely serious.

"I didn't thought you wanted to explain the nature of our relationship after what happened with his mother. So until the wedding is over I suppose I'm your boyfriend. How is your face by the way?" He said, not giving importance to the matter while they kept walking.

"It has been better. And thank you I suppose you are right, and it is nice to imagine what could have been, if I haven't been an idiot at the restaurant all those years ago, and not scaring you into not calling back" He stopped suddenly making them broke contact.

"That's why you think I didn't called?" He asked perplex "I couldn't care less about that ridiculous tantrum, if anything I was more interested in you for it" she was too astonished by his declaration to talk so he continued "I didn't asked you out again because you said I'll see you around I assumed you didn't want to be involved with me that way so I didn't push it."

"Well..." She started quietly with a sad half smile in her face "I did say that, with that precise intention, but secretly hoping for you to call anyway, and I even considered to ask you out myself, but then we became friends and, I don't know it was for the best, but nights like this one make me wonder if we made a mistake."

"Please never say that again" He took her face with both hands his hands and looked deeply in her eyes "Every day I have spend with you regardless of what our relationship may be, has been a blessing. I wouldn't change it for the world" she let go a sigh and her breath turn into vapor in the night, making them realize the cold weather. "I think we should get back inside, you are gonna freeze out here love, and what kind of fake boyfriend will I be if I let you become an ice lolly?". He offered her his arm so they could get back inside, his mind thinking too about how much he wanted to call her the minute he got home that day, but as always trying to respect her he didn't , and as always he calmed his regrets telling himself it was for the best, even if every passing day he felt more and more the opposite.

The room they had book was nice and comfortable, the big canopy bed in the middle was a beautiful promise of a long night of sleep and the window had a beautiful look at the lake. They both will be lying if they said this was the first night they have spend together, falling asleep talking in Tom's couch had happened more than half a dozen times, and even if Y/N never accepted it in front of her friends, she had stayed a couple of nights with him watching Bobby getting better, even sleeping in the same bed completley completely consumed by fatigue, so there was no awkwardness between them about consciously sharing the bed.

She took her heels off and found her silky romper pyjama in her suit case next to her travel size copy of Wuthering Heights, wich she occasionally read when she traveled and with the look outside the mansion it seemed appropriate, Y/N sit in the armchair in the corner of the room to read, waiting for Tom to get out of the shower, after reading four times the same paragraph without getting anything from it she realized just how tired she was.

She heard the door opened and saw him getting out of the shower whit just a pair of black loose sweatpants dangling from his hips and a thin line of pubic hair crawling up from the waistband dying in his perfect abs, drying his hair with a towel.

"What?" He asked her looking at her finally. "Do you feel alright darling?"

"I'm just tired" she said quickly taking her clothes and getting into the bathroom for a much needed cold shower. When she stepped out after drying her hair she almost fell down because he had turned out all of the lights and was already deeply sleeping, she'll have time to nagging him about how inconsiderate that was in the morning, she entered the bed and close her eyes trying to drift apart and think about nothing when she felt his arms suddenly trapping her and bringing her closer to him by her waist.

She didn't mind since they had cuddled like that before, even when this particular time she could feel the bare skin of his chest in her back, but then the hand that was holding her started moving slowly caressing her belly and some parts she often felt self conscious about, then slowly moving down to her thigh, she was about to finally move and stop him when she felt his breath behind her back and his deep voice in her ear.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes" Y/N said in a tiny whisper while his hand found her way under the fabric of her romper.

"Are you cold again?" He asked this time brushing his nose in her neck, every inch of her skin was reacting to his touch and the deep tone of his voice was making her wet "you are shaking"

"It's not about that" she answered incapable of moving only embracing the magnificent sensations she was receiving.

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" His hand had finally found her lacy panties and he had stopped only touching the seam waiting for her permission to continue. "Do you want this to happen?" He said stopping his movements completely, she could feel her heart racing and all logic flying away.

"Yes, I want it" she said finally and he caressed her womanhood over the thin fabric, making her soaked, while his other hand tried to remove the top part of her jumper sliding down the traps leaving her braless chest exposed.

"Naughty girl" He said with a chuckle leaving a trace of kisses in her back and cupping her breast in his hand playing with her niple until it was hard and them pinching it to get her in that point between pain and pleasure.

He move apart the fabric of her panties and let one of his long digits inside her making her moan in pleasure and impatiently brushing her thighs together desperate for more friction, she could feel his arousal pressing firmly in her buttocks, and all this anticipation was only to torture her.

"Don't be impatient my dear" he said letting in another finger and curling them inside her, touching her right on the spot to make her lost her mind "Tell me that you want it Y/N" he order her and she let go another moan.

"Fuck me Tom, fuck me please!" She said and he immediately took his fingers out to pin her in the bed under him.

He finished taking the rest of her clothes in one movement and opened her legs ready to enter her, he give her one last deep look with those piercing blue eyes and he bend to kiss her...

"You should take a shower or at least put on something more comfortable" Tom face said suddenly wearing his glasses and fully clothed. Y/N blink twice, before shaking the sleepiness, and trying to figure out what was happening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, but I thought you may want to shower before going to sleep"

She finally opened her eyes completely and could see him out of the shower on his pijamas, her silky romper still waiting for her to take a shower and her book comfortably resting on the lamp stand next to her.

"Yeah sure, I'm too tired I must have fallen asleep, thanks for waking me up" she said avoiding his look and desperately picking up her fresh clothes.

"Sure love, you can't be at the wedding with a crooked neck" he said picking up the book she was reading. "You were moving a lot so I imagine that armchair can't be comfortable" he said with a distracted smile and she went straight to the bathroom before turning red of embarrassment.

Y/N slammed the bathroom door closed, and Tom stood next to the armchair looking where she was just moments before, once he heard the water fall in the shower he massaged his temples, trying to erase from his mind what he had seen but it was impossible and he really didn't want to forget it. She was sweating and panting when he got out of the shower, and the neckline of her dress a was a little lower than usual perfectly countoring her breasts.

He stood there looking at her and it took him just one more second to realized what kind of dream she must've been having. Blushing and feeling like a pervert he walked back into the bathroom determined to make as much noise as he could to wake her up when he heard her moan. Fuck me Tom, fuck me please! He walked back to her and before the blood abandoned his brain entirely, to migrate to his lower region, he did the logical thing and wake her up.

He exhaled feeling like and idiot. This was going to be a long weekend.

#Tom Hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston smut #charlie cox #zawe ashton #robert and emma betrayal #great britain #bobby hiddleston #love #friendship #smut #angst #sweet dreams #lucid dreaming #slap #monster in law

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