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moonbeamsung · 3 years

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Winter Nights & City Lights

Because nothing says ‘Christmas’ like spending the big day (and not to mention the whole holiday season) in the Big Apple living with your high school friend-turned-roommate, Mark Lee.

member: mark (featuring johnny)

au: roommate!mark x gn!reader, college roommate au, christmas au, ‘the gift of the magi’ au/inspired

word count: 9.5k

genre: fluff, angst, slice of life

warnings: profanity, underage drinking, hangovers, insecurities, mentions of food and drink, money issues, embarrassing moments

author’s note: This fic is close to becoming my favorite that I’ve ever written. It’s also almost twice as long as I planned, not to mention that tumblr crashed right as I tried to post it so here I am, two hours later. Overall I had a blast writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it! Please let me know what you think, too! :,) Happy holidays! <3

taglist: @astroboy-lele @kisshim @radiorenjun

network tags: @kpopscape @neo-constellations @starryktown @culture-cafe @dreamlab-nct

“That parade was so cool! I mean, did you see the size of all those balloons? They were huge! I’ve never seen so many people all in one place before,” Mark chatters away like an excited child as you navigate through the crowd that always seems to grow bigger year after year, gathered along the curbs of the New York streets to watch the famed Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

“How are you not more excited about this?” He questions, and you stifle an amused giggle. “I’ve lived in the city for over a year, Mark. I’ve seen a thing or two.”

“Oh, right. I knew that.” The cold air only accentuates the blush on his face as he remembers that particular detail about you. It isn’t often that it’s demonstrated, however, considering you spend so much time cooped up inside of your shared apartment cramming in university work and studying. There are hardly any opportunities during the year to take in the sights of the concrete jungle you live in the very heart of, but luckily, one of your long-awaited breaks is coming up soon.

Thoughts of Christmas vacation are the only things keeping you going, along with countless cups of steaming hot coffee, as you prepare for exams in just a few weeks, weeks that seem to go by in a flurry of snow.

There’s less than three days left until your first one, but you’re nothing short of drained after pulling so many all-nighters, and you need a break. A breath of fresh air seems like just the cure for your burnout, so you slam your textbook shut and lethargically drag yourself off of the soft comforter you’ve been sitting on for the past two hours. You grimace at the deep imprint left behind.

Trudging through the living area, you knock softly on Mark’s bedroom door. A tired “Come in” sounds from the other side, and you push it open, immediately noticing his disheveled state. Eyes heavy with fatigue and lacking their usual sparkle of youthful innocence, he blinks back at you, “What’s up?”

“You look like you need a break just as much as I do,” you insist. His already-open mouth widens a bit more, “But... our first exam is on Monday, we can’t just—”

“Mark, come on, you’re one of the smartest people in our class. If anyone’s going to pass, it’s you.”

He huffs, “Maybe you have a point.”

“I do have a point, and you know it. A little walk in the park never hurt anyone, right?”

Mark rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, fingers raking through his dark locks before he musters up enough strength to push himself off of his bed and into a standing position.

“I’ll get my jacket.”

Central Park is a sight to behold on its own all year round, but something about the Christmas season makes it even more magical. You and Mark step at the same pace, your paths lined by metal benches blanketed in fresh snow. Even through the many layers of warmth you’re both wearing, the chilly air still nips at your skin. It’s Mark’s first time experiencing the holidays in New York City, and you’re determined to show him everything this real-life winter wonderland has to offer.

The story of how you two came to be roommates in the first place is an extremely lucky one. You met in high school, and had been part of the same group of friends along with six younger boys. Both Canadian, you’d been hoping to get into the same New York college since what felt like forever. The day that you received your acceptance letters in the mail was full of joy and celebration, but not even a week later, Mark got an unexpected scholarship to a local but prestigious university not far from where you lived that he simply couldn’t pass up.

Parting ways after graduation, you had thought you might never see each other again until you got a call from him. It was the day after your last exam of the spring semester in college and you were sitting on your two-person couch, feeling rather lonely. The number seemed too familiar, too good to be true, and scrambling to pick up the phone as it blared throughout your fairly small apartment, you answered with a shaky voice. Mark’s recognizable tone met your ears, and a wide smile met your face. Though he couldn’t see it, he could hear the happiness in your words.

As it turned out, his college had given him the opportunity to transfer to yours for the remainder of his four years, as their programs were closely linked and on similar levels. Graciously, he had accepted, and wanted you to be the first to know.

“So, uh... are you living with anyone?”

The question he dreaded asking more than anything else. Call him cliché, but he had the biggest crush on you in high school, much to his dismay and to the rest of his friends’ excitement. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like you, but he feared that college could tear a potential relationship apart, regardless of whether or not you went to the same one.

As a result of this, he had never acted on his emotions. But he’s older now, and wiser, which leads him to believe that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to maintain one, should he ever gain enough courage to ask you out.

“No, actually, I have my own apartment.”

Silence.

“...Are you looking for somewhere to stay?”

“Yes! Yes,” he replied a little too quickly, eager to accept what would hopefully be an invitation from you. He wasn’t disappointed.

“Well, my place isn’t the biggest, but you can live with me if you want to. Plus, we could split the rent between us!”

You’ve always liked Mark. He’s hardworking, kind, and humble, maybe a little too much of all these things for his own good. Even back in high school, you spent endless nights and very early mornings on the phone with him, trying to convince him to go to bed after he refused to stop studying. To reassure him that he did the right thing by ending that friendship, or to insist that he tell the teacher no one worked on the group project, so he did everything himself. You’ve been his shoulder to cry on for years, you’ve seen a side of him that he’s never been brave enough to show anyone else because they expect so much of him.

Mark knows he’s blessed to have had a picture-perfect childhood, a good family, and an education that was rigorous yet rewarding enough to prepare him for his next chapter in life. The pressures that came with being so lucky just got to him sometimes, and they made four years of high school seem more like fourteen.

You, on the other hand, didn’t quite have all the same luxuries that he did, but you still managed. He’s been there for you plenty of times, too. In your opinion, though, he’s the much more vulnerable one of the two of you, mainly to his cumbersome insecurities and shortcomings, however rare those shortcomings may be.

So in your mind, Mark Lee deserves the entire world and then some. The least you can do is share your apartment with him, either until he finds what you’re sure would be a much more desirable place to live, or if he wants to stay with you indefinitely.

What you don’t realize, and will eventually struggle to admit to yourself, is that your admiration for his perseverance and endless generosity is teetering rather precariously on the edge of blossoming into something more than just platonic.

“Sounds good, then. Thanks so much!” He had exclaimed, the sound of his pure excitement and gratefulness bringing a wave of heat to your face, and you were glad he wasn’t there in front of you to see it.

You talked a little bit more for the next few minutes, catching up and enjoying a lighthearted conversation about what you had both been up to. These sessions on the phone began to occur more and more frequently, turning into weekly, and soon daily, affairs. Mark planned to move in a couple weeks before school started again, giving himself some time to settle in and adapt to urban life in general. The calls became a highlight of your summer vacation, and every day without fail, you found yourself waiting to hear the unique ringtone you had set his contact to.

Less than twelve hours before Mark was scheduled to arrive at New York’s largest airport, you were on the phone with him just like always. The clock in your apartment chimed eleven o’clock, and as reluctant as you were to hang up, you knew you should turn in for the night. After all, the sooner you went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come. The morning you would meet him at the airport.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” His voice was hopeful. Slightly unsteady, but hopeful all the same.

“I guess so. What time does your plane land, again?” You confirmed the time you had scribbled down onto a neon yellow sticky note a few days earlier as he repeated the short string of numbers, nodding to no one in particular. Why did you feel so nervous? It’s just Mark, you had told yourself.

“Have a safe flight!”

He bade you goodnight in return, accidentally throwing in a “sweet dreams” before he could stop himself. When you put your phones down, you were both too busy trying to calm your racing pulses, however, so it didn’t matter. Mark collapsed onto his bed, hand bumping his duffel bag and heaving a sigh. You sank down into the couch cushion, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the back of the furniture. Neither of you could find the strength to stand in those moments, scared that your legs would give in from the unsteadiness of your nerves, your hearts, your emotions.

A singular worry occupied both of your minds from that point on until you greeted him in the JFK airport terminal the next morning, shy smiles on your faces: is it dangerous to enter into the impending situation of living together? Are you really ready to be in such constant close proximity to the object of your affections, however oblivious you might be to them?

Before his brain could talk his heart out of it, Mark had wrapped you in a tight hug, extra thankful for the welcome since you were all he had here, in the city. You wouldn’t have missed his arrival for the world, and you told him so. You also wouldn’t have missed the chance to make him flush a deep but adorable shade of red, reaching from his rounded cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

In your long-term rental car, you drove him back to your apartment, enjoying the quiet sounds of surprise and amazement that spilled from his lips, generated by the city’s sights. As you passed underneath towering skyscrapers, navigated bustling avenues, and caught glimpses of world-renowned landmarks that you both had seen only in the movies when you were younger, you just knew Mark’s eyes held their signature sparkle, despite your inability to see the dark brown orbs glimmer with wonder. You kept yours on the road ahead.

His first day was spent unpacking his suitcases and bags full of possessions, one of which was his most prized: an acoustic guitar.

It had been a gift from his parents when he finished the eighth grade, and all throughout high school, he had turned to music as an escape whenever he needed it. As any new musician does, Mark had played around with chords, experimenting and seeing what sounded good, and before you knew it he had composed a song. Another one followed, then another, and by the end of his freshman year he had written enough to fill an entire album if he so wished.

The guitar had heard every note, every lyric, carried every melody from his heart into the world. It had grown to be a part of him, a worldly sliver of his soul in the form of a simple musical instrument that could convey every hope and every dream, every concern or every frustration. Every love confession. Though that wasn’t saying much, since he only had eyes for you. You didn’t know it, but one of those songs was about you. For you.

You and Mark’s circle of friends tried to set you two up one day in the school’s band room after hours, with the excuse that the second-youngest of the group, Chenle, had forgotten his piano sheet music in there. They sent you to retrieve it, which you only agreed to do after being persuaded by the boy’s intimidating but still lovable pout.

With no sheet music in sight, your eyes landed instead on a diligent Mark that appeared to be the only sign of life in the room, plucking away at the strings as the sun set outside. You had sat with him for a while, neglecting your task and listening to him strum gracefully, softly murmuring lyrics that sounded like your name at one point. You didn’t think much of it, though, not making the connection behind the rest of the words coming out of his mouth and accompanying the chords. His love song was left unacknowledged by the subject of it themselves, and that was both the first and last time he ever attempted to confess to you.

He wondered if now that you were sharing an apartment, he would let something slip by accident. What would he do then?

University had other plans, though, and his fears were temporarily relieved. So fortunately and unfortunately, you were so occupied with schoolwork that trying to balance dating, or even mere thoughts of doing so, with all of your other responsibilities would have been exhausting, not to mention impossible.

Snapping out of your memory-induced daze, you realize that you nearly wandered off the path into a deep snowbank, only aware of this fact because Mark catches you by the wrist and pulls you back toward him to walk at his side. His fingers stay curled around your forearm as you approach a famous bridge, stepping to the side and gazing down at the icy waters below, calm and rippling with the chilly breeze.

“What do you want for Christmas?”

You honestly haven’t thought about it yet, so you can’t give Mark a definite answer. The same goes for him, both of you leaning against the brick railing in a comfortable silence.

In Mark’s mind though, he knows what he wants to give you: something to complement your own equivalent of his guitar, a large collection of handwritten letters and notes from your childhood and school days. Sentimental by nature, you had saved every colorful post-it note one of your friends would slip through the narrow slats of your locker, every birthday card received over the years, every thoughtful postcard from someone’s vacation.

Your favorites are undoubtedly the always-awkward Christmas cards that your friends’ families consistently mail out each December, by far the most humorous parts of your growing collection. You always found yourself chuckling at the pictures displayed on the front. Eyes bright with mirth, you would observe their forced smiles and arms slung carelessly over siblings’ shoulders, their eyes flickering between the camera and something going on behind it, probably the family pet getting into trouble across the yard. You pitied the photographers, surely beyond frustrated as they would try to get everyone to stand still for more than five measly seconds. Mouths were clamped shut and for a brief moment, the air was void of complaints of how itchy someone’s sweater was.

Then the camera would snap, capturing an image that was simply “good enough.” They’d plaster it on the card and in a few days, it would magically appear in the mailboxes of relatives and close friends. Grandparents would overlook the uncomfortable expressions and focus instead on how fast the kids were growing up. You didn’t blame them. Even in four years’ worth of cards, so much could change. In between fits of laughter, you’d stare in awe at the way your friends grew into their features, only becoming more handsome with time and some growing so tall that they even towered over their fathers. You always kept the letters they included, too, detailing the highlights of the year that was soon to come to an end by the time they dropped it into a nearby mailbox.

And like he could read your mind, Mark makes an offhand comment right then and there. “My folks texted me the other day to ask for our address. You know, for the Christmas card.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Shame I couldn’t be there for the family photos this year.”

“Is it really a shame, though?” You prod, tilting your head a bit at the boy. “You always told me you couldn’t stand waiting around for the so-called ‘right lighting’ and all that.”

“Well, I couldn’t, but now that I’m not there I wish I could go back to those days. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know?”

“Right,” you sigh, thinking about how the same saying could easily apply to the way you felt about Mark all throughout your first year of university.

You have a box, made of a dark mahogany wood and lined with elegant golden trim, where you keep all of these letters, these handwritten memories and souvenirs from some of the happiest moments in your life. A gift from a past Christmas, your family had your initials engraved onto the front in a loopy cursive font, making it truly unique and utterly irreplaceable. And, you’ll soon come to realize, valuable.

Mark remembers it well, remembers the many times you’ve shown him its contents, remembers how his eyes sometimes land on the delicate container resting beneath the windowsill in your room, sunlight catching the accents. He knows how much those letters mean to you, and he also knows how much you love returning the favor.

That’s why he wants to give you the tools you need to do just that, and to do it well.

You’ve always been one for writing thank-you notes for any and every gift you receive, your parents having ingrained the habit in you since you were very young. Slowly, crayons turned into pencils and lead became ink. To this day you remain unfazed by the increasing amount of yellowing papers residing in the letter box, but the words imprinted on them never quite fade, strong enough to withstand the test of time.

Too many times in high school Mark would find you, hunched over your dining room table in frustration with a stack of letters beside your arm that you deemed “failed” because your handwriting was bad, or something of the sort. Usually it was the other way around, him being the one in need of comfort, but on those days your roles were reversed.

He had always wondered why you didn’t have fancier supplies that were more suited to your task, but he supposes now that maybe it simply wasn’t an option for you and your family. So a stationery set seems like the perfect gift for you this year.

On a similar note, you’ve already decided what you’re getting him: a guitar case. You happened upon a sleek leather one while browsing the website of a popular music store, coincidentally with a location not too far from your apartment.

Now it’s no longer a question of what to get the other, but how. As university students living on your own, money is scarce. Unknowingly, you both contemplate this concern as you walk side by side, returning to the start of the path that you set out on at least a half hour ago.

This stroll of yours was supposed to clear your minds, but why are they racing even more than before?

There’s no time to worry now, though, and for the next week, your thoughts are forced to shift back to the topic of school and midterms and all your academic endeavors.

Your exam week is over before you know it, and the two of you return to your apartment after the last one only to collapse onto your respective beds, beyond exhausted.

The dreary Friday afternoon clearly calls for a nap, but unbeknownst to you, Mark decides to seize the opportunity that has so conveniently presented itself to him: a chance for him to go out and buy your gift without suspicion. He drops his backpack on the carpet next to his dresser and sighs, wondering if what he’s about to do will be worth it. But it’s you, of course it’ll be worth it.

Thus, his next move is done with a heavy heart. He’s been forced by a lack of funds to come to a decision about your gift, and a difficult one at that. The only thing he can think of doing to even come close to affording a nice stationery set is to sell some things in exchange for cash. Namely, the most valuable item he owns: his beloved guitar. He doesn’t really want to, but deep down he knows that a true friendship warrants the occasional sacrifice. He’s done some research on a nearby pawn shop, and however sketchy those kinds of places may seem, it’s his only feasible option at the moment, with just a week left until Christmas Day.

After making sure you’re fast asleep, he not-so-stealthily slips out of your shared flat, his actions far from silent but even so, you don’t wake up. Mark winces at the unintended high volume of pulling the front door shut behind him, sticking his hand into his jeans pocket and relaxing when he feels his keys at the bottom of the fabric compartment. Guitar strung over his shoulder by the flimsy, fraying strap, he sets off.

With his phone in hand and directions to the pawn shop displayed on the screen, he strides through the lobby of the apartment building and pushes the revolving door, stepping onto the busy sidewalk and into the cold winter air. Shoppers crowd the pavement with hands full of department store tote bags, crinkling loudly as they pass by one another. Shoulders knock together and heels click against the concrete, just some of the many sounds of the city that Mark is still growing used to hearing.

A few blocks and several wrong turns later, he finds himself on a quieter street, standing in front of the shop. It’s dimly lit inside and looks almost abandoned, the letters painted on the window chipped and faded from the wear and weather of past years. A soft bell rings when he lets himself in, searching for some sort of employee.

From behind a cluttered shelf a tall man emerges, the shabby name tag pinned to his vest reading “Johnny.” Well, he’s not some shifty-eyed, balding man wearing a muscle shirt stained with grease. New York continues to be full of surprises.

His dark hair looks neat, the jacket he’s wearing free of any wrinkles and face young but chiseled, high cheekbones prominent.

“How can I help you today?” Johnny booms, stepping behind the counter and absentmindedly sifting through some loose change in bottom of the cash register.

Mark gulps, “I’d like to sell something.” Still not entirely sure he wants to do this, he instinctively tugs on the strap resting atop the fabric of his wool jacket.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Johnny assures with a small laugh. “What did you have in mind?”

Taking a deep breath, Mark slides the guitar off his shoulder and holds it near his chest for a moment, before extending his arms out towards the counter.

“A guitar, huh? We don’t see many of these,” the tall man comments. “Are you sure? It seems pretty valuable to you in more ways than one.”

Mark’s fingertips trace the strings for the last time and he decides to just get it over with, before he can change his mind. His hands are shaky as he gently places the instrument down on the counter in front of Johnny, taking a step back once he’s done so. “I don’t have much of a choice. I need the money to buy a gift for my… uh, my friend.”

Johnny raises an eyebrow, “Just a friend? Or a special someone?”

“They are special,” Mark confirms, noncommittal to either title that Johnny suggested.

“They must be if you’re willing to give up something like this for them. Okay, that’ll be…”

Johnny tells him what the guitar is worth, matching the amount with a stack of cash and a few old coins, rusty but still holding their value.

Despite the pain of letting something so meaningful go, a bit of joy creeps into Mark’s heart as he realizes that now he can give you a gift that will hopefully become just as meaningful to you as his guitar was to him.

He thanks Johnny and bids him goodbye, step lighter than when he entered, much to his surprise.

It’s the next day when you and Mark find yourselves getting into the Christmas spirit for the first time this season. After he had returned yesterday, you were still out cold on your bed, so he chose to follow your example and do the same. The both of you had slept the rest of the day and almost the entirety of the following morning away, waking up just before noon.

With a sudden burst of energy you spring up from the sheets, overtaken by your excitement for the nearing holiday as you dig out the artificial Christmas tree you had bought last year from your closet. Sure, it may seem lazy of you, but let’s face it: there was no easy way to find a real one in New York City, let alone lug it down the streets, through an elevator and down a narrow hallway to a door it wouldn’t even fit through.

Mark hears the loud rustling of various decorations as he begins to stir, leisurely getting out of bed and checking one of his dresser drawers to make sure he hadn’t merely dreamed up his shopping adventure of the previous evening. There the stationery set sits, tucked safely at the back of the wooden cabinet.

The bookstore he stopped at on his way back last night had many different options to choose from, so he made sure to get one that both matched your box of letters and reminded him of you, with its color scheme and style. A surge of pride brings a smile to his features, pleased with his choice, and he pushes the drawer shut before joining you in the living area.

Your knees brush as he sits down next to you to help unpack the large but manageable box, taking out the tiers of the tree to eventually stack on top of one another. Working more quickly than usual (and probably necessary, there are six days left after all), you assign Mark to stringing the lights across your small balcony while you finish setting up the tree. You knew you shouldn’t have let him do it alone, though, because when you look over at his progress you find more lights wrapped around his body than the metal railing.

“Do you need a hand?” You question, holding back a laugh at the way the cord restricts his arm movements to the point where he can’t even reach for the handle on the sliding door.

From outside he opens his mouth to reply, but pauses, looking down at himself and the mess he’s made of the lights before meeting your eyes once more. His voice is muffled by the glass, but you hear him shout playfully, “I’m the tree now! We don’t need that one.” He tries to gesture to the one you’re currently decorating, but fails, and this time you aren’t able to contain your amusement.

“Let me help you,” you offer, joining him on the balcony and helping him untangle himself from the glowing strands. “Thanks,” Mark replies, sheepishly rubbing at the back of his neck. With your combined efforts, you manage to thread the string of lights through the railing with little to no mishaps, and both of you continue decking out the apartment with other seasonal items for the next several hours.

At some point during the afternoon one of you decided to connect their phone to a speaker and play some music, all Christmas songs of course. As the classic version of “Jingle Bell Rock” begins to blare throughout the living room, Mark abandons his task momentarily to walk over to you. He extends a hand down to you, sitting on the floor, and you accept the invitation to stand up with a questioning look.

“Dance with me?”

It’s hardly a platonic request, Mark realizes once the words leave his lips, but even so you don’t shy away, glancing down at your feet with a slight trace of bashfulness in the action.

He intertwines your fingers somewhat loosely, placing his non-dominant hand on your waist and beginning to sway, slowly at first but then his movements become more exaggerated, shoulders tilting dramatically to one side after the other and straying from the rhythm of the music. You join Mark in drawing out the jesting movements, losing yourself in laughter and leaning forward to bury your face in his shoulder, the heat of your breath hitting his skin through the thin t-shirt he’s wearing. In one last attempt to keep the joyful smile on your face, he steps back a bit and holds your wrist above your head to twirl you in a circle.

The electric guitar in the song fades as you collapse onto the carpet, recovering from your fit of giggles. The sun has begun to sink in the sky, you can tell by the gold and orange glow that your apartment becomes bathed in as it sets, inching closer to the horizon and eventually becoming hidden by tall skyscrapers in the distance.

Satisfied with your progress so far, you both decide to call it a day, though in truth there aren’t many decorations left to put out. A few stray ornaments and some garlands remain, still packed up in boxes that you would need help reaching. You’re also eager to get your mind off of the way your heart was palpitating as you danced with Mark, your roommate and friend but nothing more, nothing less. You have enough to worry about at the moment, not wanting to add potential feelings for the boy into the mix. Shit, you think, you still need to buy his gift.

“What should we watch?” Mark asks, scrolling through the list of movie choices on the TV screen.

“I don’t really care, anything’s fine.”

His finger presses a button on the remote to select a film at random, the intro playing as you scan the refrigerator shelves for a frozen meal. Hopefully it’s not one of those cheesy holiday romances.

Settling down on the couch a few minutes later, you with the warmed-up container in your lap and Mark holding a cup of ramen noodles, both of you fall into a comfortable chatter about the movie. Thank god it’s a comedy.

Occasionally you find yourself diverting your attention from the harsh display and directing it over to the panes of floor-to-ceiling windows, where you watch more and more lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the urban landscape as night falls. The view is breathtaking, but so is the way your face softly glows with their warmth, even from blocks away. Not that Mark would ever tell you that, of course.

“I’m going out!” Mark hears shuffling from outside his bedroom the next morning, your voice instantly bringing him to his senses. Curious, he shoots out of bed and flings the door open to find you, one arm stuck through the sleeve of your coat and the other buried in a bag, but it’s not the one you usually bring when you leave the flat. Eyes wide and panicked at the boy’s unexpected appearance, you clutch it to your chest with a visible amount of difficulty, Mark notices.

“Where are you off to?” He squints at the brightness of the living room, the early morning light pouring in through the glass on the far wall.

“...Maybe I can’t tell you,” you respond with a huff, slinging the heavy bag over your shoulder and pulling the rest of your coat on.

“What do you mean, you can’t—oh.”

“Nice going, genius,” you shake your head, feigning disappointment. “It’s not like it’s Christmas this week or anything.”

“My bad, sorry.” Mark winces and rakes a hand through his bedhead, abashed.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

With that, you step into the hallway and offer a parting smile over your shoulder, shutting the front door behind you.

At least your being out of the apartment gives Mark time to wrap your gift. All he has to do is figure out how.

Johnny gets a familiar feeling when he sees you enter the pawn shop, fumbling with your things and reluctantly gazing at whatever’s in the tote you’re holding. Are you also about to make an exchange you could potentially regret?

“One second,” you excuse yourself as you step up to the counter, placing the heavy bag down and removing the large item from inside: your letter box, minus its contents. Of course you would never get rid of those, but despite the letters and notes being so special to you, the box they were always kept in is also a significant part of your attachment and the memories you hold dear.

With a thud you set it down, Johnny glancing between the hesitation on your face and the wooden container on the counter in front of him. “Let me guess, you want to exchange this for cash?”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I—” You pause, biting your tongue. “Hold on… Look, I know this is a pawn shop and that’s what people do here, but how are you so sure?”

Johnny’s gut tells him he shouldn’t give away the fact that a boy wearing the very same expression and with the same sense of purpose and determination was in here just two days earlier. So he corrects his mistake with a simple “Lucky guess” and a hearty chuckle.

Without Johnny even asking, you tell him that you’re also looking for some extra cash in order to afford a gift for your “friend,” and you say the word with so much conviction and certainty that it’s almost laughable. The information given to Johnny helps him fully connect the dots in his mind, realizing that each of you are the one the other talked about.

Before handing you the money, Johnny tears off a sheet of paper from a nearby notepad and asks you to fill out your information, most importantly your address. He has to lie a bit, saying it’s for contact purposes, but his heart is in the right place nonetheless. Just in case something goes south (and the sinking feeling in his stomach tells him that it will somehow), doing so gives him an option, even if he doesn’t know what that option might be yet.

“Thank you, Johnny, and Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas!” He returns your wish cheerfully as you push the door open to leave.

“Good luck finding a gift for your ‘friend,’ too.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks when you see his teasing use of air quotes, but still smile.

On your way back to the apartment Mark texts you and asks you to check the mail, saying he forgot to do so yesterday. When you arrive in the lobby and make your way over to the cluster of mailboxes, you’re instantly shocked to find a large cardboard box shoved into the small cubby with your and Mark’s name on it. You’re already struggling to carry the guitar case you bought for him, so you decide to make a second trip later.

A few moments after stepping out of the elevator, you knock on the door to your apartment, hoping with all your might that Mark won’t actually open it and instead just answer with a “Come in” as he always does. Your wish is, thankfully, granted, but it’s quickly followed by “Wait, wait, wait!” As it happens, he just finished wrapping your gift and needs another minute or two to tuck it away somewhere until the big day arrives. “Can you stay out there until I say?”

“Sure,” you reply, “but I’m going to have to ask you to do the same.”

“How about I stay in my room while you come in and do… whatever you need to?”

“Sounds good.”

With his door closed, Mark hears the front one open and shut as you enter. Trying not to make any noise that would give away the size of the item you just bought, you finally settle for hiding the leather case underneath your bed, concealed by the drapery attached to its frame that hovers just above the floor.

Mark had hastily placed the now-wrapped (though not elegantly so) stationery set back into his dresser, so he’s already out of his room by the time you leave yours. “Any letters or packages?” He questions when he sees you.

“Oh, right!” You snap your fingers, “We do have a package but my hands were full, so I’ll bring it up right now.”

“Eggnog?”

While the box had looked fairly ordinary from the outside, upon opening it and glancing at the return address you learned it was actually anything but that. Mark’s and your parents had sent a holiday care package of sorts, including both of your families’ Christmas cards and a carton of eggnog, along with some small gifts that are meant to be saved for the morning of the 25th. Also mixed in are a few small decorations (not that you need more), some baking supplies complete with a copy of the recipe for the cookies you make every year, and a soft pair of mittens for each of you. He hopes you don’t realize that one of the items is a sprig of mistletoe.

“You don’t like eggnog?” You ask, stunned. Mark shrugs, “I don’t really care for milk but it’s the thought that counts, I guess.”

That evening you and Mark take another stroll, this time choosing to stay on the streets and admire the festively adorned buildings and shops as you pass by them. Admiring Christmas lights at this time of year is nothing new to you and Mark. In fact, when you lived in Canada you would do the same thing. The only difference is that back then, it involved driving through quiet suburban neighborhoods and not ambling through crowded city streets and alleyways on foot.

Snowflakes begin to cascade from the heavens as you make your way back around to the block where you live. Mark sticks his tongue out to catch one of the small crystals, and it immediately melts in his mouth, eliciting a high-pitched laugh from the boy. Snow is also something you both are more than used to by now, having grown up with white Christmases all your lives. It makes you wonder if the holiday season would be the same without it.

“You know what we should do?” Mark turns to you just as you’re about to enter the apartment building again. “Go ice skating at Rockefeller Center.”

“Mark, c’mon, you know stuff like that is overpriced. And besides, I can’t skate to save my life. Remember—”

“That time in sophomore year? You bet I do,” he laughs as he remembers how you clumsily fell not even two seconds after stepping onto the ice with your skates, and then refused to let go of the railing for the rest of the day. The elevator whirs to life, climbing floor after floor with ease.

“Hey,” you offer, “we can still go and watch people skate, I’m sure there’s some place to sit.”

“And we can look at the Christmas tree, too,” Mark adds, eyes brightening at the idea.

“Right. I forget you haven’t seen it in person before.” The cabin doors open with a ding and you step out, your eyes landing on the door to your apartment a few yards away.

When you turn on the TV, Mark becomes mesmerized by the movie that’s playing, since it takes place in NYC and he recognizes so many places from actually being there. He scrambles to remove his jacket and beanie, plopping down onto the couch once they’re safely hooked on the coat rack.

Watching him, you sigh. Would anything really change if you were dating? Assuming your feelings were returned, of course, but you can’t imagine that your relationship would differ much. You certainly wouldn’t go on extravagant dates, or buy expensive gifts for each other, but that’s not what love is about, anyway. With the exception of a few extra hugs and the addition of kisses, along with more forms of physical affection in general (actually, scratch that, Mark’s always been awkward with those kinds of things), you’d still be by each other’s side just like always.

As you sit down next to him and feel an arm wrap around your shoulder, you don’t shrug it off, instead embracing the warm and fuzzy feeling in your heart that you can’t blame on the holiday season this time.

Mark’s glad, too. He’s been working up the courage to do that all day.

Late that night, you quietly tiptoe into the living area, retrieving an old box from your move-in last year that will fit his gift perfectly, and won’t give away what’s inside. Your hands fold and tape the wrapping paper with care, tying a neat ribbon once you’re done. Sure, you had to give up something that meant a lot to you in order to afford Mark’s present, but the gains outweigh the losses. You find comfort in imagining the way his face will surely light up with pure joy on Christmas morning, drifting off to sleep with ease once you’ve hidden the rectangular parcel back underneath your bed.

A few days pass and soon it’s the 23rd, and you join Mark at the railing of the ice rink, of course on the side with solid ground. “Ice is solid ground,” Mark had corrected, but you stood firm in your words. “More like slippery ground, if you ask me.”

Luckily you had been allowed to stand here for free, because god only knows what small, simple thing someone would be charged for in New York. It’s happened to you before, and you’re not even a tourist.

Mark’s dark eyes gaze up at the 75-foot-tall tree in wonder, pupils dilating and reflecting the tens of thousands of bright lights strung through the dark green branches. They seem to sparkle with sheer amazement. Just then someone skates a little too close to the section of railing you’re leaning on, startling Mark out of his LED-induced daze and putting the most adorable look of surprise on his face.

His focus shifts to the people on the ice, wearing sweaters and jackets of every color imaginable, and the sight is still as beautiful as the looming Christmas tree above. He notices some couples, holding onto one another or skating hand-in-hand, and it makes him wonder if that could be you two someday, at a future Christmas, or if it’s an idea absurd enough for an alternate reality.

Mark sees you shiver out of the corner of his eye, and it’s his cue to suggest returning home for the evening. In a very cliché and boyfriend-esque gesture he offers you his jacket, but you decline, insisting that it’s not far and assuring him that you’ll be okay.

Back in your heated flat, you twist open the lid of the eggnog carton and pour a small glass for yourself. “Are you sure you don’t want some?” You call out to Mark from the kitchen, snatching one of the cookies you made the other day and finding a paper plate for the thin shortbread wafer, lined with elegant white icing and dusted with sprinkles.

“I already told you, I don’t like eggnog!”

“Have you even tried it before?” Mark grumbles at your nagging. You really sound like his mom right now.

“No…”

You appear at the other end of the couch, holding out a small cup with just a sip or two of eggnog in it. “Try it. You never know.”

He knows you won’t leave until you see him lift it to his lips for yourself, so he does. Immediately the sweet drink overwhelms his taste buds, and also leaves a slight sting on his tongue.

“What’s in this stuff?” He coughs, nose scrunching a bit from the strong taste. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t hate it. Following you back to the kitchen, Mark pours a full glass this time, already gulping it down.

“Uh,” you scan the ingredients on the back of the carton once he sets it down on the counter, “milk, cream, sugar, eggs…”

“...whiskey? What the hell?”

“It has alcohol,” Mark slurs, his giggling interrupted by a hiccup. Having never drank before, he’s undeniably a lightweight, and even a little bit can get him wasted almost instantly.

“Mom and Dad must have mixed something up, because they definitely didn’t mean to send us alcoholic eggnog.”

Sure enough, back home in Canada your parents are wondering why they only have the kid-friendly stuff in their fridge.

Mark latches on to you, arm curling lazily around your waist. Great, he’s one of those people that gets clingy when they’re drunk. “Try some,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder a little.

“Are you crazy?”

“No one will know,” he laughs, hiccuping again. Giving in to his adorably drunken pout, you take one sip from your original glass but no more, an unpleasant buzz taking over your whole mouth.

Not looking forward to finding a hangover cure on Christmas Eve of all days, you pray that you’ll stay sober enough to take care of the tipsy boy, who’s currently pressing his face into the back of your neck and—shit, did he just kiss you there? You really don’t need this right now.

“Mark, you’re drunk, okay? Stop it,” you caution.

“But I love you,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning your skin, and you want to kick yourself for almost saying it back. Does he even mean it, though? Alcohol makes people say crazy things, things they don’t mean, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up. You unhook his arm from your torso and turn around to push against his chest, frustrated. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He seems to have just remembered something, because he ignores you and instead goes over to where the care package was still sitting, digging into the bottom and pulling out something you hadn’t noticed before. “Look,” Mark declares in a nasal voice, “mistletoe.”

You exasperatedly hang your head, desperate to slam it into the nearest wall. With much difficulty, you eventually manage to get him tucked underneath the blanket, leaving a glass of water on his nightstand for when he wakes up. “Get some sleep,” you say simply.

He tells you goodnight with a fond mumble of your name as you shut the bedroom door behind you. Rubbing your eyes, you yawn before turning off the lights and heading to bed yourself, trying to block out the events that had just taken place.

Your head aches when you wake up the next morning, and you feel like garbage, so you can only imagine how much worse Mark must be doing. Quickly chugging a water bottle, you reluctantly go to knock on his door, hearing a pained groan once you enter. He’s sitting up, chin resting in one hand and the other anchored onto the heavy comforter covering his legs.

“How are you feeling?” The obvious question with an even more obvious answer makes Mark wince. “Awful.”

“Sorry.” It’s silent for a moment, Mark pressing three fingers to his throbbing forehead and you staring aimlessly at the wall. “I knew that eggnog was a bad idea.”

“You were the one that told me to try it!”

“I didn't know it had alcohol in it!”

You sigh, dejected. Something tells Mark that your head isn’t the only thing hurting.

“Hey, I know that look. What’s wrong?” He prods, voice soft and gentle and altogether unlike how it had been last night. You meet his eyes for a moment, about to speak but biting your lip at the last second. Mark’s brain puts two and two together at your expression.

“Oh god, did I say something? Do something?”

“Yeah, actually,” you reply in a huff. “First you kissed my neck, then you told me you loved me, and then you held up a clump of mistletoe and implied that we should kiss underneath it.”

His memories of the previous evening are all a blur, so he truly would have no idea what happened if you hadn’t just said something. Mark knows he screwed up, bad.

You tense when you feel him place his hand over yours, but you don’t snatch it away. After collecting his thoughts, Mark clears his throat.

“Look, I… I know that’s not the best way for you to find out how someone feels about you. But I’m completely sober, and I can tell you that I meant what I said last night.”

“You promise?”

“Promise,” Mark replies.

“...Can you say it again, then?”

He blushes, “That I…?”

You nod, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile.

“I love you,” Mark tells you for the second time in the last 24 hours, but this time you know you can believe him. The pain of your hangover goes away for a moment as he takes your jaw in his hands and connects your lips, just barely retaining the buzz of the alcohol but not enough to bother you. Slowly you kiss him back, sinking down onto the mattress beside him.

Mark pulls away for air a few seconds later, thumb grazing your cheek lovingly. “Does this mean we’re—”

“Dating? If you want it to, then sure,” your finger traces swirly shapes on the small of his back while you assure him that neither of you need to rush into anything if you aren’t ready.

“I don’t want things to change, though.”

“Who said they have to? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and we’re already pretty close, you know? Making it ‘official’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘different,’ so...”

Mark hums in agreement, “You’re right. Okay, I can live with that.”

“And I can’t live another second without food. I’m making breakfast,” you quip, reverting back to the usual banter between you and him.

“I’ll cook the eggs,” Mark insists as you both make your way out of his bedroom and into the kitchen.

“You absolutely will not!”

The night before Christmas had started out unlike any that you’d ever experienced before, with you confronting your now-boyfriend about a drunken love confession the previous day. But now, it’s ending just like every year, with you cozy and curled up in front of the television as the last few segments of the news play.

It’s the coldest Christmas Eve in years. You learned this after the meteorologist had informed viewers of the record only a few minutes earlier, inadvertently planting an idea in Mark’s mind.

Right as you’re about to turn in for the night, setting a plate of decorated cookies and a glass of milk down on the end table (as is tradition in your families, no matter how old you are), Mark holds out his arms like a child might. “Can we…?” He asks in a quiet voice, nervous to finish his sentence.

“Huh?”

The boy inhales sharply, “It’s freezing. Do you wanna sleep in my bed tonight?” His cheeks flush a deep red that’s almost the color of Christmas itself.

You’re slightly taken aback, and then you remember it’s just Mark. “Sure, why not,” you answer with a light shrug and a smile on your face.

“But no funny business,” you inform him as you climb under the sheets together, instantly happy with your choice to join him because double the people means double the body heat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mark replies, pecking your lips. His wrist finds the warm skin of your neck and you flinch away.

“Your hands are cold!” He just snickers at your whining.

The two of you fall asleep more quickly than you ever have on Christmas Eve, usually overcome with nerves and excitement, but now, as two college-aged kids, you’re comfortable and not rushing the morning’s arrival at all, content in each other’s arms for the moment.

You feel like you’re 10 years old again as you rush into the living room at 8am the next day, the bright, early morning sky lighting up your entire apartment. At the base of your Christmas tree sits a humble amount of presents, composed of the two that you bought for each other plus the half-dozen small ones from your parents.

You hand Mark one of the cookies from the end table and grab one for yourself, taking a bite of the sweet treat as you sit down and motioning for him to do the same.

“Open yours first,” you say eagerly, referring to your gift for him. Mark shakes his head and points to what he got you, “No, you go first.”

“Fine, we’ll open them at the same time.” Mark nods, satisfied with the compromise and handing you both the packages.

“On three. One, two…”

The final number barely leaves your lips before you both begin tearing into the paper excitedly, Mark reaching for the flaps on the box and you unfolding the tissue paper.

When you each see what the other gifted you with, it’s completely silent, save for the TV playing a Christmas Day special in the background.

He gazes blankly at you, licking his lips as his eyes dart between the guitar case and your expression.

“I appreciate the gift, but I…” Mark pauses, unsure how to tell you this.

You don’t say a word, raising your eyebrows as a signal for him to continue.

“I sold my guitar to pay for your gift,” he breathes.

“You what? Mark, that guitar means everything to you! Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re worth it, of course!”

“Well, I did the same thing,” you break the news with an unamused expression. “I sold my letter box to pay for that case.”

His eyes become impossibly wider at that, nearly bulging out of their sockets. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

You groan and lie down on the floor, beyond discouraged. “Let me guess, the pawn shop on 23rd?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, wait a minute.” An idea hits Mark like a rush of cold air. “Maybe we can work out a deal or something.”

“Meaning?”

“We go back and see if we can trade in our new gifts for enough money to get our old things back.”

“One, I doubt it’s that easy, and two, pretty much everything is closed on Christmas Day.” You’re half tempted to laugh because of how ironic this situation is.

Mark sighs, “I guess that makes sense.”

“We can still try, though.”

Sure enough, the pawn shop is dark, even more so than usual, and the door doesn’t budge. A sign taped to the window from the inside confirms your fear: Closed on Christmas. Gloved hands pressed onto the glass, you and Mark admit your defeat. You had been bested by the giving spirit of the holiday season, almost too generous for your own good.

But it’s the message that the day itself stands for after all, for putting aside material value and doing something out of the kindness of your heart just to make someone else happy. That’s what it’s all about, and you and Mark had personally experienced it this year.

So you’re surprised to find two boxes leaning on the wall beside the door to your apartment the next morning, shapes oddly familiar. Could it be?

Just hours earlier, the hallway surveillance cameras caught a tall man striding down the corridor, carrying those exact packages under his arms. In the video he pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen from his coat pocket, scribbling a short message before tucking it underneath the ribbon of the larger parcel and leaving the building just as quickly as he came.

You and Mark’s only clue as to who had returned your items is a messy ‘J’ at the end of the note attached to the box containing his guitar. Exchanging knowing glances, you both grin, squeezing your intertwined hands with the same name in mind.

...So what if Johnny had to take a bit of money out of his own paycheck to cover the cost of the items? Besides, it’s Christmas. And his boss never has to know.

223 notes · View notes

mariesocuniverse · 3 years

Text

Relationships: NCT DREAM

Look for Mark and Haechan: here

RenMae

Okay RenMae is one of the top if not the #1 among NCT

fans are like almost 100% sure they’re soulmates

Like there was no awkward small talk when they first met they just talked and ended up each other’s best friend

You would think they’d be childhood friends or at least friends before they became trainees with the way they interact even though they met at SM

she did confess to him before debut that she had a crush on him but he thought she was joking and now none of them talk about of that

Whenever she has a hard time sleeping and wants to sleep with someone, the first option is renjun

she also steals his clothes a lot and renjun’s pretty sure half the clothes in Mae’s closet belong to him

he just stopped fighting her about it because of how stubborn she was and let her do what she wanted

there was this one time he ran out of shirts to wear so he just walked to Mae’s closet and took one out

there was also this one time Renjun was in China and Jaemin posted a pic of Mae taking a nap with Renjun’s sweater on saying that she missed him so much so she wore his sweater

yeaaaaah nct twt broke that day and Renjun’s phone was blowing up with notifications

they dressed as peter pan and tinkerbell for halloween and have each other as that for each other’s contact name uwu

okay enough with the corny stuff

just because they’re close doesnt mean they’ll hold back on each other when it comes to teasing each other

like you wouldnt want to get in their crossfire unless you want them to turn their attention on you instead

MaeNo

you would think he’s older than her because of how protective he is of her

He has eyes like a damn hawk when they’re going somewhere

whenever they’re doing schedules you can see Jeno holding her hand as they make their way through all the crowd and glancing around to see if anyone has any bad intentions towards her

If it weren’t for his status as an idol you would think he was a bodyguard and he would beat up someone for Mae’s sake

whenever they record Jeno always waits for her to finish so they can go home together no matter how late at night it is

there was this one time sasaengs kept calling her phone during a live so he just grabbed her phone and turned it off and threw it too the side without saying a word

Second person Mae goes to when she has nightmares

they’re also have a really playful relationship

like there was this one time she wasn’t paying attention to him so he just lifted her and put her over his shoulder like a potato sack even though there was staff watching them Mae has tried and failed to do the same to jeno

You know how jeno says he likes being called no jam bc of how it makes him feel less burdened? Yeah she always throws him under the bus when it comes to variety shows

she has a samoyed plush on her bed when she bought when she went shopping with him bc it reminded her of jeno

Sometimes she hugs the plush instead of jeno just to annoy him lol

“I’m right here you know” “well the plushie is more huggable for you information”

Yes he did tackle her after that comment

MaeMin

okay this man right here

you know how he melts at everything jisung does? yeah the same goes for Mae

only that she openly accepts his affection and lets him cling to her whenever he wants like his personal teddy bear

you know how at fansigns idols sometimes get gifted cute headbands and plushies? he openly yelled “i love you!” to her when he saw her with a cat ear headband surrounded by plushies

she’s also like really impressed by him

she never thought she’d meet someone who would do aegyo so willingly and so shamelessly

like that one episode of weekly idol where they did the ottoke song and jaemin did a duet with everyone? yeah she couldn’t believe someone like him existed

he basically acts as her parent if none of the 127 members aren’t near them

Whenever they’re on reality shows and the prize is food he always put someone on her plate regardless of whether she lost or not

third person mae goes to when she has nightmares

would not leave his side for a week when he was put on hiatus and couldnt perform with the rest of the dreamies

she didnt want him to feel lonely while everyone else went to promote without him :(

All in all, they’re very affectionate and if they’re together you’ll have to pry jaemin’s hands off her

ChenMae

Mae’s child #1

he got lost in the company building and was too shy to ask the staff so mae approached him and brought him to wear he needed to be

accidentally called her hyung once when he was still learning korean but it ended up sticking so now he and jisung call her hyung instead of noona

When he first joined she helped him adjust with her broken Chinese and now they help each other with the language

one time she visited his house for dinner and his mom made her eat a lot of food because of how skinny she was chenle didnt stop her bc she needs sustenance >:(

wants to give her a personal tour of Shanghai when they’re given enough time for vacation

you know how chenle gave 00line watches when they became adults? he had to fight mae to get her to keep it bc she didnt want him spending money on her

legit he tried to buy her stuff but the only thing she accepted was the watch and this cute charm bracelet that says NCT on it

he put one of his photocards in her phone case (the WGU one with him by the water) and she hasn’t removed it since

he’s really smug abt it and brags to the others about it jisung retaliated by putting his photocard too so now she as to make both of them visible

fights jisung for favorite child position and he wins 50% of the time even though she says she doesnt have one

MaeSung

Mae’s child #2

took one look at him and decided to protect him

she’s used to other people taking care of her so it was nice to take care of someone else for once

i said he also calls Mae hyung but it’s also because he forgets that she’s a girl?

sometimes he hears someone call Mae ‘noona’ and he just gets whiplash because he got reminded that his “hyung” is really a girl put in a boy group

they were honestly really awkward when they first met because Jisung didn’t know how to react to a girl joining the group and kinda avoided her until she cornered him

calls him a tree whenever he teases her about her height

mae when jisung tease/pranks her: i’ve fed and raised you and this is the treatment i get?!?

jisung: you’re only two years older than me….

he gets pouty when Mae doesn’t pay attention to him

theres this one video of Mae talking to another member during Resonance filming and you just see him pouting in the background before walking to her and giving her a back hug

definitely uses his status as a maknae to his advantage

she’s not even subtle about it she’ll buy or cook food for him or yield whenever he loses a game

whenever she’s not around he always brags that he’s her favorite nct member haechan and renjun get so salty abt it lmao

#24th member of nct #nct 24th member #nct female addition #nct female oc #nct au #kpop female addition #nct addition #nct dream female addition #nct dream female member #nct 127 female member #nct 127 female addition

102 notes · View notes

nesswritings · 3 years

Text

kita shinsuke (27) rice farmer. he knows his craft well after several years of doing it and the knowledge his granny had passed onto him. when to harvest, how to plant, how to refine the grain down, and how to sell it. what he wasn't sure how to deal with were ducks, finding a small group of them in one of the paddies in the early morning. quacking, making a mess, the yellow of their feathers contrasting sharply against the green of the rice stalks. he looks at them with confusion, accepting their presence before carrying on with the rest of his day.

they stuck to him though, following him to each paddy to splash around and help with...something. kita was familiar with the traditions of ducks used with rice farming, but this wasn't something he had tried before. and as long as the plants went undamaged, there was no need to fuss. they would be gone before he knew it, and he wouldn't have to worry about them again.

oh, how wrong he was, finding them waiting for him after he had stepped in to eat dinner for the evening. at least they left the vegetable garden alone, his thumbs fumbling over the smartphone his friends insisted he needed. someone had to know something, and he was willing to find that information.

kita finds himself sleeping outside when night hits, if only to keep the ducks quiet and happy. there was also the additional step of lifting them up onto the wood, but they had settled in quickly to the nest of old towels he made. someone would come tomorrow for the ducks, and then he could continue living his life. spending his days in the fields and working on repairs, weekends spent in town and being social, and no need to care for the baby ducks.

the sun was already high and the morning well on its way by the time kita finally wakes, the ducks around him restless in their small nest. the crunch of gravel beneath tires forces him to sit up, his arms reaching to catch any of the ducks that threatened to fall to the grass. out came a woman, the shock already setting in. hadn't he talked to a man last night?

"y/n," you greet, ignoring the disheveled state. the ducks were your main interest, or at least you father's main interest. take them to your own farm and help them adjust to the other ducks, and use them to keep the rice paddies free of pests. "it's nice to meet you.."

"shinsuke. sorry, i'll help the ducks down. why don't you come in for tea?"

there was a rush, with him only stepping out of the main room to put the kettle on and to throw on a fresh pair of clothes. the sound of the ducklings could be heard through the open windows, though it was somewhat ignored for the quiet conversation and the sipping of tea. "shinsuke, do you mind showing me around? i'd love to meet the ducklings."

maybe he was growing too attached to them, or maybe it was different seeing you try to interact with them. running after the strays who ran away as you approached, picking up the little ducklings and looking them over, the way you seemed to delight in how the ducklings knew how to dig through the paddies to get the pests. or maybe he enjoyed the company of another human as he went through some of his daily chores tending the rice.

"so, they're cute, but i think they've imprinted on you," you state. it was obvious from the second you had showed up, with how attached they were. kita was their mother, and no one would ever replace it. "i would love to take them, but they won't be as happy as they are. they should be self-sufficient and grow, but i'll stop by weekly." you hand your phone over, the smile bright and stretching your cheeks. "put in your number, i'll call you later tonight in case you have any more questions. but, until then, see you next week!"

the days went by slowly, with kita mentally counting down the nights until you would return. the weekly visit was a source of entertainment and joy from him, watching you play with the ducklings and check on their growth. sometimes it extended to eating lunch together as you fed peas to the ducks, and occasionally you were there for the entire day. you look less lonely, aran had remarked over a phone call, you sound less lonely too.

happy was the word suna dared to use, though kita was unsure if he would go that far. you were a friend, and he simply enjoyed the company. no amount of heart racing or anticipation or wanting things to be perfect would change any of that.

as the ducklings changed into ducks, there were fewer visits. longer, sure, but the end of season was approaching. you were busy, and kita was busy, though he would sit and wish for the distraction of your laughter as you ran after the ducks, the wrinkle of concentration on your forehead as you measured the tea, the smile as you-

no, he was getting distracted in his own thoughts. kita looks over the calendar, noting the date. a team lunch tomorrow, and no amount of pining would distract him. a crush, that was all this was. silly, pointless, and he knew he wouldn't see you again once the season ended.

but the team was the same, even if he did need to keep them away from the ducks. they were working ducks, he reminds, taking in his old teammates. everyone changed more each year, and they were hardly the juniors and teammates he had left behind. "lunch is ready, help yourselves an-"

"shin!" your voice rings throughout the empty farm, the bag hitting your hip as you ran closer to the cozy home. your eyes were focused on the farmer, breath heavy as you finally reach the steps. "hey, who are all these people? i'm not interrupting, am i?"

"no," kita insists, ignoring the whispering between the twins. they had always done that, and it was nothing new. he stretches his hand out, a way of offering to take the bag off your shoulder. "there should be enough for another plate, come in and i'll introduce you to everyone."

their standard yearly lunch, along with a guest. no one seemed too bothered, though looks were exchanged. a silent agreement emerged between them, with aran already staking his claim on helping kita clean up the dishes to talk sense to him.

"he likes you, y'know," atsumu speaks first, his voice low. the walls were thin and they could see the older mens' backs towards them. it was hardly a secret, but it needed to stay that way.

"who? shin?" you ask to clarify, with suna nodding from across the table. "no, i think you're mistaking, we're jus-"

"he told us himself," osamu interrupts, a casual shrug following up his statement. "always talks on and on about his ducks and this duck girl who came to visit them. must be you, y/n."

"i don't think so. he could have another."

suna snorts, his phone finally in his pocket. line, hook, and sinker. a three part plan, one the second years had been perfecting for years to make kita's granny happy. kita could be stubborn, and this was her promoting his happiness. "trust us. y/n, was it? kita doesn't just let anyone into his life, you just need to set the date."

you glance over at the kitchen, catching his eye. a small smile appears on his lips, your heart fluttering at the gentle action. you were in deep, and everyone knew except you two. "i can think of something, don't worry. i have to go, but tell shin i'll call him, okay?"

it was two weeks before kita saw you once more, the knock on the door catching him off-guard. it was his day off, his hand finding the remote to click the tv off before standing. you were on his doorstep, the typical cheerful smile on your face and a small box in your hands. "y/n? can i help you? your father already helped me with the duck hutch, i don't need anything else."

"well, i brought some other things he wanted to give you anyway." a poor excuse, the weight shifting as you adjust the box in your arms. "can i come in? please?"

"shin, shin look!" kita was more than happy to comply to the small demands, the spring breeze blowing softly. he steps closer, an arm wrapping around your waist to pull you close as he watches the ducklings, toddling in messy lines behind their parents. "looks like we won't have any imprinting mistakes like last year," he notes, his lips turning to press against your hair. "do you want to name them?"

"i've already named them, you're late." you stick your tongue out at him playfully, taking delight in the chuckle as you carefully pick up some of the ducklings. "we have atsumu, osamu, suna, aran, yumie..and.." you struggle around the ducklings, finally picking up the one you wanted. "shin-chan. cute, huh?"

"adorable, just like you," kita murmurs, stepping to pick up one of the unnamed ducklings. "this one is y/n. not nearly as cute as you are."

"better put y/n down before they imprint on you. because i won't sleep outside with you." a light threat, but you watch the ducklings catch up to their parents in the fields, your arms wrapping around kita's waist. "i'm so happy those random ducklings imprinted on you. i love you, shin." "i love you too, y/n."

#kita shinsuke #shinsuke kita #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!!#hq!! fluff #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke fluff #inarizaki #miya twins #sdahfkjds i love kita #and i love ducks #this is longer than i intended it to be #edit #???#bye this is a full on one-shot #but a completed love story?#that's super duper hot

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ladyreapermc · 4 years

Text

Fic: Insatiable Craving (John Wick x Reader)

Summary: AU. Visiting Daisy’s dorm, John runs into Y/N instead and they can’t keep their hands off each other. Part 1: Brooklyn Baby | Part 2: A little loss of innocence | Part 4: Make it Hurt | Part 5: Play with Fire |

Author’s notes: Have some more filth. Feedback is appreciated

Wordcount: 2736

Warnings: age gap; smut (oral; dirty talk)

This wasn’t the first time that John visited Daisy’s dorm, though he had been out of the country when she did the typical transition of moving into college for the first time, leaving Helen to come with her alone, much to his ex-wife chagrin.

He still remembered the argument they had over the phone when he called to let Daisy know. John visited her as soon as he had been back, unsure how to mark this momentous phase of his daughter’s life since he had never experienced such things as college or even formal education.

Back then, Daisy had a different roommate who asked to be transferred six months in because his daughter was loud. Daisy had been hurt, of course. She was the life of the party and so used to everyone loving her all through high school. In college, it was harder for her to fit in, but one thing that John was proud to see was the resilience that she inherited from him and soon enough she found the right way to manage this new context. Right around that time, Daisy met Y/N, and they became inseparable.

Funny that John barely remembered meeting her back then. She was a meek and quiet girl, trailing along after his daughter and barely being able to hold his gaze. They met a few other times during the last three years, John was sure of it, but he couldn’t even recall what she looked like or if they even interacted. She was a completely different creature now and John wondered what happened that made her grow into her own skin and officially haunt his dreams.

They both knew what they were doing was wrong, of course. Maybe if they had kept it as a one-time thing, an impulsive decision of two lonely people, it could have been forgotten and he wouldn’t feel as guilty.

However, she showed up at his step two weeks later looking for more, and that put them in a territory of crossed lines that could never be uncrossed. John was too far deep, enamored by her submissiveness, and willing to give herself wholeheartedly to him. He never had that before.

Helen had been his Dom during their whole marriage before that there was Marcus, who also took that position. Whenever he had one-night stands, John never let himself explore those urges. Too many consequences with too dangerous people. But with her? It felt natural to dominate her, command her every motion, and take care of her. It was the release he needed in a life that always seemed so out of his control.

John didn’t choose to be the killing machine that they made him. He didn’t choose to be so effective in his job or to be under High Table’s command, like an attack dog that all they needed to do was direct and release.

He didn’t even choose to be with Helen at first. It was more like a desperate need because she had been something bright and beautiful for the first time in his life. She chose to be with him despite all the ugliness of his soul but she also chose to let him go when she couldn’t take it anymore.

John chose Y/N. He could have sent her away when she showed up on her door. He could have pushed her away when she got on his lap. He could have taken the right path but in a life of darkness, what was one more sin? So he chose her but John had yet to make the call to see her again.

The night after she had visited him, John got a contract and had to leave. She had been disappointed by his sudden departure but accepted his promise of a call as soon as he returned, which happened this morning. Now here John was, ready for his weekly dinner with Daisy but knowing that afterward, she would be meeting him in a hotel, putting herself completely at his disposal.

As John approached the right room, he could hear loud pop music coming from the place. His knuckles rasped on the door and moments later Daisy yanked the door open, her eyes widening at seeing him. She forgot about their dinner, he realized.

“You’re back!” she squealed, throwing herself in his arms, John chuckled and hugged her. He loved how Daisy had inherited Helen’s brightness.

“Just got in this morning. Can you do dinner, or should we reschedule?” He settled her back on the ground, watching as Daisy thought for a moment.

“No, no. We can go. I just need to take a quick shower and get dressed,” she said, already moving about the room, gathering what she needed: toiletry bag, towel, and clothes. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes max.”

John just hummed in agreement, watching his daughter disappearing out the door. He had talked to Helen about getting Daisy an apartment in the city so she could have more space and privacy, but Helen wanted their daughter to make that decision herself; start to learn some independence and in the end, John didn’t argue.

Helen knew their daughter best after all since once they divorced, Daisy lived with her. It was logical, of course. John was always all around the world all the time. Helen was the one that could offer the girl a stable home. So she kept custody and since she and John remained civil, he had visitation rights, which he took advantage of whenever he was in town.

As Daisy grew older, John felt them distancing themselves. Maybe it was just the fact that Daisy had completely different interests and personalities. Or maybe she just sensed that he had been lying to her for so long, either way, John felt the strain and distance and tried his best to keep them together at any cost because the thought of losing his daughter put the fear of God in his heart. She was the only beacon of light in his life.

Just by looking at her side of the dorm, he could see it, her bright and bubbly personality on the pastels tones of her duvet and cheerful wall decorations with little lights and unicorn figures. Her desk was cluttered with makeup and hair ties and other little trinkets she collected over the years. She was, like her mom, an artistic person fond of vivid colors and chaos.

The other side of the dorm showed a much more subdued tone of its other occupant. The bed duvet a dark blue and the walls adorned with sticker notes and study aids, but a few inspirational phrases from famous thinkers. Above the neat and organized desk, there were shelves packed to capacity with books, most of them textbooks but John spotted a few classics too, family pictures, and a few medals.

Before he could take a closer look, have a chance to know a little more about the girl that had just wormed her way into his life, the door opened, dragging his attention away. John expected to see Daisy since her fifteen had long passed but instead, it was Y/N, face flushed, hair wet and messy, her clothes seemly damp and clinging to her skin.

“Mr. Wick,” she looked startled, flush getting brighter. “I thought…”

Her words hung unfinished as John moved closer, crowding her against the wall. He hadn’t realized how much he missed and craved her until he laid his eyes on her. Now all John could think was having a taste.

She met his lips willingly, arms coming around his neck and threading through his hair as John invaded her mouth with ferocity, nipping and sucking her lower lip, making her moan softly against him. She tasted and smelled of chlorine and though it was strange John liked it. He liked everything about her.

“We should stop,” he mumbled even if his lips were descending her neck, chasing her taste. “Daisy will be back from her shower soon.”

“How long she’s been gone?” she asked, tilting her head back, pushing her hair away to give him more space to work.

“ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Then we have another 20 minutes, maybe 30,” she smirked at him, hand cupping John through his trousers and he grunted against her collarbone. “Daisy likes to take her time.”

She squeezed his hardening cock and John wished he had the strength of will to say no that they could get caught by his daughter, but he had spent a week having only his hand as his company and he missed her. He missed the feel of her tight cunt squeezing around him and he shouldn’t be that addicted over something he only had once.

“How do you want me, sir?” she asked, giving him a look through her lashes, and any sanity left for John’s flew straight out of the window.

“Knees,” he growled, pushing her down. “I want your mouth around me right now.”

She nodded, undoing his buttons with quick, nimble fingers while he gathered her hair, brushing them away from her face so John could see her as she licked her lips in want when she took his cock out of his pants and underwear, stroking him to full hardness.

“You’re so fucking big, sir,” she blinked up at him with a smirk. “I can’t fit all that in my mouth.”

“Take what you can,” he ordered, rocking his hips until she took the hint and brought his leaking tip to her lips. “But don’t worry, you’ll learn to take all of me because I’m gonna fuck that pretty little mouth.”

There it was again, the little whimper of need that she let out whenever John said something that aroused her. He bet if he reached between her legs right now she would be hot and soaked, maybe even ready to take him. John loved how horny she was; how she wanted him to use her in any way he saw fit.

Her tongue snaked out to catch the precum glistening at his tip and she hummed in pleasure before kissing the crown of his head softly, lips dragging over his length along with her tongue, exploring and discovering his cock. In other circumstances, John would let her keep going, take her time, but they were toeing the line of getting caught and he was too desperate for slow.

“Open up,” he ordered, tugging on her hair and taking his length in hand, stroking a couple of times to spark those bolts of pleasure all over his body, before he guided his cock into the wet heat of her mouth. Her soft lips pressed and stretched around his girth as he inched deeper and deeper until he felt resistance.

He let her adjust to his size, her tongue rubbing against this underside, her cheeks hollowing with just enough suction and he groaned at the feel of it and the look in her eyes. Big doe eyes silently asking if it was right; if this was how he wanted.

“Almost perfect, darling.” John caressed her cheek, feeling his shape against her skin before he adjusted the angle of her head ad pushed deeper. He saw the flash of panic in her eyes as his head pressed forward, activating her gagging reflexes.

She spluttered and choked, tears gathering on the corner of her eyes and saliva leaking from her mouth. John petted her cheek and shushed her, whispering encouragements for her to relax and breathe through her nose. He pulled back, giving her, a bit of reprieve, she gasped and panted, looking up at him with tear-stained face and pout as if already missing his cock.

John couldn’t resist bending down and catching her lips in a soft kiss before returning his length back into her mouth and this time, when he pushed farther, she was ready and forced herself to relax welcoming him in and swallowing around his head, making John groan.

“You’re such a fast learner, darling,” he praised, speeding up his motions, feeling the telltale drawing on his balls and busts of pleasure through his body. John was close and he couldn’t way to cum all over that pretty little mouth.

Her fists tightened on the fabric of his trousers as she relaxed her jaw and John started to fuck her mouth in a faster pace, the wet heat surrounding him felt delicious, but not quite like the velvet walls of her cunt, which he truly missed. But for now, this would do.

Later tonight, John would spread her open on the bed, make her cum as many times as she could handle until the was an incoherent mess, completely at his mercy just like she put him at hers with her sweet little smile and bewitching gaze.

Just the thought of having her all to himself without the worry and constriction of time was enough to send John over the edge and he felt the pull in his spin, the pressure becoming unbearable. He pulled out just enough to leave only his tip on her lips before he came with a grunt, hand tightening in her hair as his cum spilled over her waiting tongue and mouth.

She took all of it, looking at him hungrily, making a show of swallowing every drop. John groaned again and dragged her upwards for a savage kiss that made him taste himself, her hands clenching on his shirt as she moaned against his lips, her legs pressed tight together and John chuckled, knowing she was soaked and in desperate need for release.

“Remember, darling,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against her jaw. “That cunt is mine and you’re not allowed to touch it without permission.”

“I know, sir,” her voice was a little whiny, almost pitiful as she pouted at him.

“Be a good girl and get your reward later tonight.”

She nodded eagerly, meeting his lips again but the kiss was short-lived as they caught the sound of Daisy cheerfully talking to someone just outside the door. She quickly scrambled to her side of the dorm, while John turned his back to the door to tuck himself back into his pants.

“I’m ready!” Daisy announced as she busted into the room with a wide smile, her gaze bouncing from John to Y/N sitting at her desk, trying to do her best to not look guilty. “Uhh! You should come and have dinner with dad and me, Beebee!”

“Beebee?” John asked confused. She smiled at him and this time the flush on her cheek was more of out shyness than arousal like she reverted to timid girl the second they weren’t fucking.

“Just a silly nickname,” she shrugged.

“Yeah, because she’s a Brooklyn Baby!” Daisy declared with a proud grin and John had a feeling his daughter coined it. “Get it? Anyway, are you coming?”

John just hummed, glancing at her in expectation, part of him wanted her to come along but at the same time, he knew he wouldn’t be able to really focus if she was there, his thought venturing in dirty territories due to her mere presence.

“Thanks, but I have a paper to finish,” she said, smiling at Daisy. “Besides, I don’t want to intrude in your father-daughter time.”

“You can do it later,” Daisy insisted, shooting those very effective puppy dog eyes of hers, but the other girl seemed immune because she just rolled her eyes. “Come oooon.”

“I have a thing later.” Daisy’s pout turned into a smirk.

“Does this thing have anything to do with the reason you came home last week full of hickeys?”

John nearly choked in panic, covering up with a quick, fake cough as Y/N flushed bright red. He had forgotten completely he had left her those little parting gift.

“Daisy!” she chided her friend with a glare and John decided it was time to intervene.

“Sweetie, I’m sure your friend doesn’t want to have this conversation in front of me and we should really get going.” With one hand on the small of Daisy’s back, John guided his daughter to the door, pausing briefly to look at her. “You’re sure you don’t want to join us, Beebee?”

The nickname rolled off his tongue easily and her eyes darkened a little as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, giving him a very suggestive look.

“I’m sure, Mr. Wick. See you later.”

xxx

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#keanu reeves fanfic #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves x reader

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nsheetee · 4 years

Note

Hii! ♡ Could you do a CEO!Jaehyun x reader where they have been married for a few years but the media doesn't know that (because she doesn't like being a center of attention and she's super introvert), and ranks him as "One of the Most Wanted Men", and there's a shock to everyone when they find out he's married?

a/n: hi anon, of course I can! love me some CEO!Jaehyun :’)

Part 1 || Part 2

Warnings/Details: lots of fluff, slight angst, some kissing

marrying jung jaehyun was the best decision you’ve made in your whole life

you met him while you were waitressing at a restaurant

it was one of those 5 star dining places that was in the heart of downtown, had a waiting list five months long, and a valet out front

you were serving his table, which was filled with him and men who looked like they could all be in Forbes’ 400 list

in fact, you recognized him from the cover of several magazines you always pass by on your way to work, claiming him to be “One of the Most Wanted Men”

so when you saw him sitting before you, he definitely caught your eye

he looked like if he got a paper cut, he would bleed money

he wore a navy suit with gold accessories and a diamond gaze that stared you down and didn’t leave you all night (much to your surprise)

you about had a heart attack when you were fixing up the table after his party left and found a five thousand dollar tip along with jaehyun’s name and phone number

you originally agreed to meet up with him to give the money back

you got generous amounts in tips all the time, but five thousand dollars was too much for you

when you arrived at the address he gave you, you were surprised to find it was a diner on a little street in midtown that served breakfast food all day long

when you walked in, the bell above the door jingled but jaehyun could’ve sworn he heard church bells ringing instead

he was absolutely enamored by you

never one to believe at love at first sight, his beliefs were squabbled by one look at you

and as you approached him dressed in a mocha colored dress and your hair in loose braids, he felt himself gulp and his hands become sweaty

he didn’t even get this nervous when handling millions of dollars at a time

you, on the other hand, were surprised when you saw him

he was wearing a sweater and black jeans with silver rings on his fingers and glasses perched on his nose

you felt a bit guilty that you judged him so quickly

he didn’t look rich and snobby, as your first impression of him made you think

he looked cozy and homey

this jaehyun looked like if he were to get a paper cut, he would bleed warmth and love

maybe that’s why you decided to sit down across from him and share a stack of chocolate chip waffles with him that late afternoon

(you both decided to leave the five thousand dollars as a tip to the nice, old waitress that was serving you- she kept calling you “honey” and gave you extra waffles for free)

you agreed to date jaehyun and started learning about who he really is

how he’s more than just the one dimensional figure the media makes him out to be

you felt comfortable and domestic with jaehyun

but it took you a long time to trust him

once you did, jaehyun dropped to one knee and promised you himself for the rest of his life

and you knew- still know now- that he meant it

during the three years you’ve been married so far, you learned a lot about the media and how to stay out of their sights

it wasn’t that you didn’t want your relationship with jaehyun to be known to the whole world

you just didn’t feel 100% comfortable with having your name and face plastered for everyone to see

for jaehyun, who has been the face of his company and in the media for almost his whole life, this was confusing

it even caused some arguments to arise early in your relationship

but over time, jaehyun learned to understand and respect this introverted side of you

it’s now another characteristic about you that he loves

it’s part of what makes you you

the years you spent married to jaehyun were the happiest years of your life so far

he treated you fairly, respected your decisions, and when he confessed one night of how much you’ve taught him in your short few years together, you’ve never felt closer to another human being in your whole life

jung jaehyun was a blessing in disguise that people could only pray and wish for

but things were about to get a little bumpy

jaehyun had told you that morning he would be in his office late that night, a weekly occurrence that you’ve grown used to

but when you got a call from jaehyun’s private phone, his gravelly voice begging for you to come and give him company in his lonely office

how could you say no?

the chauffeur drove you to jaehyun’s company building and you stepped out of the car with a coat on, a scarf covering your mouth and your hood up

the ride up to the top floor was silent and walking through the top floor of the building was a bit creepy this late at night, not even jaehyun’s secretary was at his desk

you knock on the slightly ajar door as a smile crosses your lips

“mr. jung, you’ve got a visitor.”

jaehyun looks up from his papers, confusion morphing into happiness when he realizes it’s just you

his office is dark except for the desk lamp that sits in the corner of his table and the whole wall made of windows behind him, overlooking the downtown portion of the city below

you round the desk and jaehyun’s smile deepens as you approach him

you grip his hands and force him to stand up

“you need to stretch, jae. you’re gonna be one of those hunched-over old men when you’re older.” you tease and he laughs as his long arms stretch over his head and to the ceiling

you reach out and rub his belly, making him laugh some more and bring his hands down and around you to pull you closer

you encircle his waist with your arms, settling your face into his chest and breathing deeply

“I missed you so much” jaehyun mumbles into your hair

“you saw me this morning” you retaliate

“for ten minutes. that’s not enough for me.” he whines and you lean away to look up at him

even though you’ve been together for years, jaehyun has aged gracefully

he still looks as amazing as he did when you first saw him

your favorite feature of his has to be his hair, it’s silky properties too tempting to not run your hands through

so you do just that, and jaehyun practically purrs at your affection

in his blissful state, he leans in to sweetly kiss your lips

he removes your scarf and helps take off your coat somewhere between the kisses

his lips eventually travel down to the skin at your neck and shoulder

it’s innocent

he just wants to feel you

he misses the way your skin feels under his lips and the way your smell invades his senses

it’s still intoxicating to him and he absolutely loves it

he leans away after his slow and loving kisses, giving you a lazy smile and sitting back down in his seat, pulling you on top of him

“aren’t you supposed to be doing your work, mr. jung?” you ask as jaehyun holds you, stroking your thigh and looking out at the city through the wall of windows

“I have a guest, that would be rude.” he teases

your left hand catches his eye and he reaches out to gently grab it

your wedding ring sits nicely around your finger, the diamond on it still gleaming in the dim room with the engagement band sitting under it cozily

it’s been years, but jaehyun can’t believe that he got to put both of these rings onto your finger

his concentration is broken by a ding from his phone

it makes him jump and he turns both of you around in his chair

he reaches for his phone and opens up the message from his PR agent as you lean your head against the top of his

the peacefulness and quit atmosphere is broken when you see the contents of the text

it’s a blurry picture of you from just a few moments ago

you’re walking into the company building, your hood up and your scarf covering your face

but the ring on your left hand is painfully visible, practically glowing as you raise your hand up to keep the scarf to your mouth

the next picture is of you and jaehyun

kissing

through the windows of his office

you can tell it’s you by the coat and the scarf

and the diamond on your finger that still shines brightly

“oh my god” a hand covers your mouth when you read the rest of the message from jaehyun’s PR agent

the pictures were released to a celebrity news company and are being spread on the internet right now

jaehyun pushes you off him and strides to the curtains for the wall of windows

he furiously shuts them, the room turning darker with the absence of the city lights

jaehyun leans his hands over his head against the curtains, head bowed down and his shoulders rising and falling deeply

“jaehyun…” you try to call out to him but he doesn’t move

so you take a moment to digest what just happened

those pictures are circling around, but maybe people would stay confused long enough for jaehyun’s PR agents to think up of an excuse?

you still can’t help but feel unsettled by how your privacy was ripped away from you so suddenly and fiercely

“I’m sorry” jaehyun finally speaks up and turns around

his eyes are bloodshot and he looks completely different from how he did five minutes ago

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come here, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“jaehyun, no.” you try to say but he shakes his head

you approach him, taking hold of his hands that have fallen limp at his sides

“don’t blame yourself. I should’ve been more careful.” your try to console him, but you can tell it’s not helping. “it was about time people found out…” you trail off in a sigh

you kept your marriage a secret with jaehyun for several years

maybe you were too hopeful– too lucky to think that you could continue to be a secret part of jaehyun’s life

“I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” jaehyun hopes and prays you’ll forgive him

you say it’s okay, but the tension in your face and the slight panic that’s starting to reach your eyes makes him more anxious and worried

he’s lost so many things in his life due to the media: past girlfriends, business deals, friends, and even family…

he can’t loose you too

“let’s go home.” he says but you don’t budge

“is it…safe?” you ask

jaehyun has been surrounded by paparazzi for several years, he rarely gets nervous or frustrated with the camera flashes or the close proximity

but you’ve never had to deal with that before

you still get camera shy when jaehyun tries to take a picture of you

and just the thought of the worst case scenario happening makes jaehyun’s stomach churn and a cold sweat break out in his palms

“well, we can’t stay here…”

but when you roll your lips between your teeth and look up at him, scared and unprepared

jaehyun can’t force you to face the media now

not this suddenly and definitely not when rumors are surely going around about you

this is how you end up turning the couch in jaehyun’s office into your bed for tonight

your shoes on the ground next to you, your accessories on the coffee table, and jaehyun’s suit jacket as a makeshift blanket for you both

the couch is expensive and pretty big, but tough on your back

you’re surprised that you can fall asleep

but jaehyun lays beside you, sleep not coming as easily for him

he watches you slumber, guilt and a touch of fear pooling in his chest as he thinks about the new situation you’ve gotten yourselves into

years ago, you let yourself trust him enough to promise to stay with him for the rest of your life

jaehyun has never broken a promise, he’s made sure the trust you put into him is justified

it scares him every time fate sends an opportunity to show an act of trust his way

will you make it out with your relationship in tact this time?

before he can continue his thoughts, you shuffle in your spot next to him and crack an eye open to see that he’s still awake

“jaehyun…” you mumble, “sleep. it’ll be okay.” you mumble some more

before you can fall back into your dreams, your hand blindly reaches out to meet with jaehyun’s

you intertwine your fingers and lay your hands over your stomach, the slow rise and fall enough to calm jaehyun, even if it’s only temporarily

he rests his head against yours, nose in your hair and his heart beat against your back

yes, you’ve gone through so much in your relatively short time together

and you’ll pull through this as a couple stronger than before

everything will be okay

#jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct imagines #nct au #nct bulleted au #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun au #jaehyun bulleted au #jaehyun x reader #thank you for your request 💚

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charincharge · 3 years

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Helloooo I hope you don’t mind if I use the community safe space for advice

I chose not to go to university. I stand by that choice, at this time it’s just not right for me financially, for my career or the thing I want to do in life-

BUT- there is a major draw back. Everyone my age (20) is gone from this community and off to university . The average age here is 40+ my job is very isolating, while I’m working on my career I’m still living at home.

I’m just really lonely. All the time. I’m an extroverted person who never sees anyone at all. Especially with Covid being a thing that exists

What are ways I can meet people? Where can I go? Any ideas at all?

Hi! I do not mind AT ALL. In fact, you’re in luck because I am kind of seasoned in this topic. My little sister went through the exact same thing — college was not the right financial choice for her, and so she started working right after high school.

She also has BPD and making friends is a HUGE challenge for her. She was living in the suburbs of Connecticut and working as a nanny, so she was also surrounded by older parents and young children ALL the time. (She also lived with my mom which put a crimp in her socializing as well).

I know all too well how shitty and isolating that life can be, especially when you see your peers moving on (I received way more than one crying phone call on bad days). But, this is what I told her then and I hope it can help you now.

It was a few years ago, so I know the parameters of life are currently very different (she was not in the middle of a global pandemic), but it is possible to make friends as a young adult. You just have to figure out where the other young adults are. With summer almost here, hopefully you’ll be able to get out of your house more often. I know that meetup.com has about a million groups you could look to see if anyone is interested in doing things you want (hikes? park? sports? trying out restaurants?). Also, if you’re not afraid to date, it might be fun to start browsing apps and see who wants to meet up for a meal or a drink.

Also, I know it’s hard (I am also a high key extrovert and COVID has been extremely strenuous), but remember that everyone is having a weird year. Universities have been mostly virtual, all my friends are working from their homes... we are all living a strange separated life right now. Just in general, I found that having a weekly movie night with my friends on Zoom helped. I have other friends who do online game nights they love. I know it feels weird, but social media can actually help you feel more connected to people.

Also this is a crazy thing to say but imma say it anyway — getting a dog helped me feel way less alone when I was living by myself. I went to a rescue, and idek, it kind of felt like we both rescued each other. Having a dog forced me to get out of my house at least three times a day for a walk, and I found myself making friends with other dog owners in my neighborhood. I even met a boyfriend at a park walking my dog because he thought she was so cute (I mean, me too, but the dog was his approach technique lol). I know it is not always affordable or possible to get a dog. My sister got a cat and also enjoyed her companionship a lot.

Okay, that’s what I’ve got so far for you. Everyone else feel free to comment. And remember that tumblr is also a weird but great place to connect with people. You’re not alone! Sending hugs.

#sorry this was an epic ramble #but it reminded me of my sister so so much #she literally went through the exact same thing and I watched her struggle a lot #you’re not alone #you got this #ask

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meinior · 3 years

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A text popped up on her phone with emojis and stickers added on for flare. Another coworker get together that it started to feel like a bi-weekly chore and of course the one to initiate was a well known woman.

Cassandra.

An employee in the HR department whose love life was as fickle as her work habits, it's no short of a miracle how she and Mei became good friends during the past year. They had their fair share of ups and downs and for once the woman dubbed for being so introverted found someone she could easily call a best friend despite their differences. Cassandra in turn could say the same about the spectacled girl even if Mei was still embarrassed about the littlest of compliments.

There was a small problem however as Mei had completely forgotten about this rendezvous and Cassie would never hear the end of it. “Crap,” she sighed while driving her way home, “Okay I haven't done my damned laundry yet but at least it isn't freezing out. So I could— no way I could never wear something like that. Urgh.” Maybe she would call her tardiness a blessing that spared the woman from the judgmental eyes of her own self upon looking in her bedroom mirror; yet the flaws never leave her mind like a nagging devil.

The bar was filled with older folks and colleagues which was a relief; last time Mei was taken to a place with younger people she thought her heart would stop. She apologizes to everyone for being late and as usual takes a spot by her friend, Cassie compliments her look; the usual tied back ponytail is gone and Mei's hair is finally free from the confines of health and safety regulation codes, along with her clothing. Though she edges her friend to take off her coat, Mei is hesitant as hell to do so saying it goes well with her rather short hemline. The group talk over drinks and dinner, some go to dance and others go elsewhere, for Mei she leaves the table for a more quieter spot on the bar. Her friend is gone to flirt with others and Mei keeps an eye out to make sure she at least gets a cab home.

She shifts in the stool to get one leg crossed over the other, leaning back a bit to fan herself. “A Manhattan, please,” her card is placed on the bar; she knows to keep a tab open this time but just for herself. The scent of whiskey wakes her up but also has her getting warmer by the moment. “Curses,” a mumble as she swallows her pride and begins undoing the buttons on her jacket.

One by one she gets even more embarrassed, more heated up and at this point she isn't sure if it's the cocktail. An agonizing two minutes before the woman is more or less exposed, and again she's mentally cursing her cousin for sending her such a short and tight dress. The neckline going down much farther than what she's used to and its string design similar to the crisscrossing pattern of shoelaces. Mei giggles to herself at the mere thought, right, it was definitely the booze that had her laugh stupidly so there’s no reason she has to be so uptight tonight. Tonight was supposed to be some relaxing.

From the corner of her eye she can easily notice people's stares, a woman dressed like that drinking by her lonesome, and by god does she wish she could leave. It could be that simple but she's also a good friend. It's been a while that Mei had been drinking the same glass and so she downs it rather quickly and orders another, damn they were good at this place.

A quick look around and glance at her phone... Yes, Cassandra was occupied with another coworker she had spoken with that night. Mei didn't poke her nose into that business and figures her friend was more than capable tonight.

The blush on her cheeks is getting even more red and it's only been her third drink! She could only think about how earlier she had met up with her ex-boyfriend at work asking about her attendance tonight, and once more him asking if he'd get another shot. Too bad for him. Mei couldn't get seriously romantic with a coworker, or anyone in general and she feels some tears start. Mei hated to admit how much she pushed most people away and it was Cassie's equal stubbornness that they ended up getting along well. Even after her friend found about the true extent of her research.

"Maybe I should quit, ha ha, but how the hell would I afford a living then? I really am stupid." The short laugh dies down to a soft smile. Sip by slow sip her glass empties with just a cherry garnish left. Her hand ruffles her hair in frustration as she imagines herself having some comfortable company; someone that would listen to her incessant wailing without a care in the world. Someone that would listen to her now humming to the song stuck in her head.

This time she orders her final drink, a Boulevardier. Mei thumb over the sides of the frosted glass while she sips, the coolness is nice to the touch as more people seem to come and go. But here she's been by her lonesome for the past two hours like a sad maiden. Thinking of her life choices whilst somehow not falling asleep on the bar, her card is given back and she thanks the barista. It's not long before she grabs her stuff to retreat into a cab.

Her apartment is dark and quiet. It's lonely with only the sound of her heavy breathing and footsteps against the tiles of the hallway. The bedroom window open invites a much needed cool breeze as Mei manages to set her glasses down gently. Heels kicked off in a sloppy manner and the front her dress barely untied, looking at her phone but not reading the messages. The drinks are taking effect now as the woman is quick to fall onto her bed.

“ Nobody, nobody. Ooh, nobody, nobody, nobody. ...I have work in the morning, don’t I. Maybe I’ll take the day off for once, yeah, I wouldn’t missed that much now would I?” Another short burst of soft laughter is replaced by her snoozing.

#.drabbling.#the insp last night gave me ZERO sleep

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camillasgirl · 4 years

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An article by HRH The Duchess of Cornwall, written for The Telegraph, on loneliness at Christmas

At this time of year, when many of us are putting the final touches to our Christmas plans, it is more important than ever to remember those people who may be on their own, not just at Christmas, but every day of the year. Most of us know what it is like to be lonely at some time or another, but for more and more elderly people loneliness is their daily routine. All too easily, the stoic older generation can become isolated through bereavement, illness, disability, or simply because they live far from their relatives. In today’s busy world, they do not want to be a burden to their friends and families, but days without any human contact can seem endless.

As the proud Patron of The Silver Line, I hope the readers of The Daily Telegraph will learn more about the work of this very special charity. It offers a free, confidential, helpline that is open every single day of the year. What is more, if callers want to be put in touch with a Silver Line Friend, they can have a regular weekly chat on the phone, getting to know each other and sharing news. The helpline gets over 10,000 calls a week and demand is increasing. I’m delighted that in October this year, The Silver Line joined forces with Age UK in the fight to combat loneliness and this will mean this relatively new charity can reach more people, recruit more volunteers, and raise the donations on which they rely to keep the service going.

Many lonely and isolated people’s lives have been changed by this inspirational charity and, with your support, The Silver Line can continue to bring a little light into their otherwise dark days.

Finally, may I take this opportunity to wish all the readers of The Telegraph and their families a very Happy Christmas.

#duchess of adorable #duchess of cornwall #quote #Christmas

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

one without the other

assassin!jungkook x assassin!reader. 2.8k words. angst.

note: take note of the past and present intervals! this is a stand alone of my assassin drabbles which you can find on my masterlist! :)

It’s not the end until it’s the end.

This dark, somber room is the stage and you and Jungkook are the ones that will star in the grand finale. Oh, and Jimin too.

“Talk.” With that, the aforementioned man drives his knuckles into your - now ex - boyfriend’s face.

The glare Jungkook sends screams murder, ironically, as he spits out a mix of blood and saliva. The deep pink contrasts harshly with his porcelain skin and it’ll turn blue, and then green and then yellow as the past bruises he came to you with.

Boxing. Hiking. Basketball.

It’s always a new, creative excuse every time you inquire about the fresh bruise when the last one barely healed. You half-bought into his unbelievably active lifestyle being the cause of them because otherwise, how else could he acquire that sculpture of a body. Besides, of course, the training he had to go through to be for the job.

It’s isn’t until a year into your relationship did you find out what said job entitles. Sneaking into an important man’s house, slitting his throat in the dead of the night to have his family find his lifeless body the next day and flying back from China to South Korea in time for your dinner date was just a weekly thing for him. As was for you.

But you hadn’t played the field for quite sometime, not after you found out that you were doing the government’s dirty work instead of working for them. And the scope of your profession includes eliminating threats from other organizations of your own spectrum which is to say, one of their agents, Jeon Jungkook.

Before Jimin manages to throw yet another swing, you gently rest a hand on his shoulder, your grip steady. You don’t miss the look Jungkook throws at where your hand is before his eyes land on you and his eyes soften by a tenfold. It’s the same look he gives you when he told you that he hoped he’d be your last forever after.

Once your colleague lets you take the stage, you place the chair you’d dragged from the table across the room right in front of him, ignoring the way he looks like a hurt puppy when you wince from the pain in your leg from the wound he hired sniper to shoot.

“You give us what we need and I promise, I’ll make sure you walk. You walk out of here, out of the murdering-people-for-money business with a bag full of cash, identification... for you to start a new life.”

Jungkook smiles almost helplessly as he shakes his head, “A life without you in it? I’d rather die.”

“The organization you’re working for is gathering their best assassins to assassinate you - their own, right now and-”

The knock on from the two-way mirror is short but enough. A heavy cloud settles around the room as the seconds pass before you attempt to stand up and only manage to with Jimin’s arm around your shoulder which you push away as soon as you’re able to walk on your own accord to the door where Namjoon waits, probably in those ugly shades that he likes to think makes him more of a ‘bodyguard’.

Sure as day, the shades are on and to complement it, he’s donned a full suit, black and white and all.

“You’re walking on thin ice back there.” His voice is cool as steel but there’s no mistaken the familial warmth it holds, “don’t make promises you-”

“Do you wanna take down Xion or not?” you brush past him to the crutch leaned in the corner where you’d left it before you went into the room Jungkook is detained in, “shut up and leave this to me.”

A sigh echoes from behind you where the older male is pinching the spot between his eyes and just in that moment, another thud reverberates from the speaker, followed by a groan.

“Take a break, Jimin.” That’s the last thing you hear Namjoon say before you let the door shut behind you.

You were no stranger to this scene.

You’d pushed one too many pair of hands and bodied that tried to feel you up and grind on your ass. Thank god the buzz is getting to you, otherwise these faces would have been a little bit more clearer and the night would have turned a little less enjoyable.

The girls were lost in the sea of people but then again, you never really made any plans to go back together - if at least one of them hadn’t ditched you for a mildly good looking guy and presently making out in the uber already.

Time seemed to stop when you downed another shot of vodka. It was always a risk to abandon all your senses but after today, you’d say to hell with risks. You’d spend two years on high profile missions, thinking you were doing the right thing; killing the right people.

Until Namjoon called you into the office and broke down everything you stood for because your performance had been over-the-top, never a disappointment and that he trusted you to lead with him.

An agency of killers that the government built to ‘eliminate threats’.

What they meant was people - men and women with family - who were potential threats to the nation.

“Filthy politics,” you scoffed, barely able to keep your train of thoughts intact.

“Sorry?” Someone on your left inquired.

He had nice hair and was tall. His other features? You couldn’t really care less as you climbed onto his lap and started kissing him. He was good with his hands when he sunk his fingers into your hair and later, you’d learned that he was good with plenty other things as well.

Xion has retaliated.

You see it coming but you didn’t consider the system being down for .5 hours into the equation. HQ is on standby, 5 men are stationed by the main doors and a pair on every level by the staircase since the elevator is stuck, the cams displaying a white smiling mask with hollowed eyes.

“Don’t they ever get bored? I mean, they’re not really anonymous, we know who they are and stuff.” Taehyung’s fingers dance across the keyboards (yes, he has three) while he scans the screens displaying different encrypted codes on each one.

“Just get the ID scanners working again.” With an ‘please, you’re talking to thee Kim Taehyung’, you shut the door behind you.

Nodding to several of your people that you pass in the hallway, you didn’t realize you’re holding your breath until you reach the door at the end where Jungkook was supposed to be guarded by Jimin and Taemin who, at the present, are lying smack dab in the middle of the room. The zip cuffs no doubt from Jungkook’s restraints lies lonely a few feet away along with an upside down chair with one of its legs bent. Whoever at the receiving end the unnatural crookedness, you know it’s going to leave an ugly bruise for at least two weeks.

Unlocking the safety pin, you thought to yourself, the skin where the bruise paints it purple is never going to regain its natural skin tone.

Bang.

There was a soft sound of a some stand up comedy show which was impossible because you didn’t have a TV. That was, if the smell of pancakes and coffee didn’t give away a too-obvious hint of an intruder - a very handsome one, at that - watching some videos on his phone.

“Hey,” you came up to the counter, taking a drink out of the mug next to the plate of pancakes only to scrunch your face up a second later, “is this sugar?”

He rolls his eyes, “nah, can’t you feel it’s as dark as your soul?”

Placing the mug back where it belong and blatantly ignoring the attractive half-naked stranger, you poured yourself a cup of coffee and spit it back out before dumping the rest into the sink. Who puts fucking sugar into the whooping coffee making instead of pouring unsweetened coffee and then adding sugar?

He looked at you almost abashed - almost - but before he managed to say words of apology, you raised a pointed finger at him, mouth opening and closing before your hand balled up in surrender.

“Nope, don’t even.”

Silence befell you for one peaceful minute as the popping sound of a beer bottle echo throughout the kitchen before he chirped up again.

“I’m assuming you’re the type of person who likes butter over her pancake?”

It was decided right then and then, though you did not harbor so much wrath towards a single dish of breakfast, that -

“I hate pancakes.”

“They think we killed what’s-his-face and what’s-his-face-two” A figure steps out of the shadow and you can’t help but find humor in his choice of outfit.

“Come on. Black cap, black jacket - black everything, you couldn’t have chosen a more obvious ‘I’m-an-assassin-fear-me’ get up?”

The smirk on his lips indicates that he shares your amusement but the hand on your hip means more than that. Almost as though he needs confirmation that you’re here, manifested and laughing the way you would whenever he showed up to your movie nights in, as you said, black cap, black jacket - black everything.

“Damn, I missed you.” He’s always been freer, a little bit more expressive than what you’re used to and you don’t think you ever will get used to it.

He leas into your touch when you attempt to trace the cut on his temple, one of the many injuries inflicted by Jimin’s beating. His body is buried six feed under. The hospital the HQ owned called them up and showed his lifeless figure to his mother, father and sister for identification. He was robbed and shot, they said. That’s why they couldn’t contact them sooner, they said.

“I need you to do something for me,” you murmur, lips curling softly when he responds a second too fast.

“Anything.”

“Aren’t you even going to ask what it is?”

He shrugs, the kind of shrug where he doesn’t care. Not because he could care less but because he trusts you with his life - as if you didn’t stun him into oblivion and let your colleague beat him up right in front of your eyes without flinching or so you tried.

“Live,” you resist the urge to wipe away the tear that hits his cheek as soon as you said the word, “for me. You have to live for the both of us.”

“No,” he tries to pull away because maybe, somehow, if he wills it enough, the image of you will fade into the abyss and he’ll wake up from this bad dream.

“Jungkook-”

It happens too soon, a sea of figures in black from head to toe swarms the otherwise empty street, unforgiving hands prying you away from him as unfamiliar faces, possibly his own colleagues holds him back from taking a step towards you.

You’re forced on your knees but not a single tear blurs your eyes, unlike the ones gushing down Jungkook’s face. Face flushed red, mouth opened as he screams your name.

“Shut him up.”

The men on Jungkook’s side parts to form a path before a man in his 40′s, Kim Seokjin, the founder of the assassination organization, enters your line of view. Crisp white suit - why does it always have to be suits? Polished ivory shoes, you would have thought he’s a man sent by god if not for the spine chilling calmness in his eyes. The kind of eyes you see staring back at you every morning in the hotel room after completing your mission.

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s were overflowing with warmth and livelihood even until the very last moment where he’s holding his breath, cheek red from the punches ordered by the man who demanded to make him shut up.

He takes a glance at you and nod to someone behind you. Doesn’t take much to know who it is when he comments on how it’s a pity to kill you instead of ‘that yapping disappointment’.

“Yes, well, she’s had her disappointing moments as well.” Namjoon is already glaring down at you when you crane your neck to look at him, long gone is the man you call brother, the man who you once had dinner with his wife and children last Thanksgiving.

Seokjin makes grunts, half-disagreeing as he gestures to you, “catching the enemy-boyfriend to get rid of any suspicions and then framing us for the hack, if only your tech boy was a minute late in getting the cams working.”

Namjoon clears his throat as the sound of a safety pin being unlocked hits the still air, “who’s going to do it?”

“It’s Jungkook, by the way,” his breath fanned your neck and his hands halted in its sweet sweet motions.

“Wha...” His name barely registered as you glanced over him, eyes half-opened, cheeks flushed and lips sore from the way he devoured you after breakfast - or as he would like to call it; desserts.

“I’d like to do this again,” he run his finger around your entrance as you whimpered, words of plea hanging on the edge of your lips but what came out was not exactly what he’d expected.

“Fuck you, Jungkook.”

He laughed when he slid his digits inside you and drew out a moan from those treacherous lips. You knew the things he could do - the recollection of last night still burning at the back of your mind - but to have experienced it sober was a whole new series of sensations.

“As you wish, baby.” He moved his fingers again, languid but precise, fast but steady and brought you to a different sort of high that you never knew you could reach - not even by yourself.

You were delirious and fucked out when you snuggled into him as he pulled the cover over your bodies.

“What about you?” You’d let all your inhibitions go when you’d asked that question but you would be lying if you said you weren’t grateful - devoted even, to giving him the same kind of pleasure he’d given you.

He wrapped his fingers around your wrist - the same fingers that are moist from your release - before you managed to go lower, “I’m saving it for next time, so I can have a reason to see you again.”

This time, it was your turn to roll your eyes but pulled your hand back to your chest anyway and rested your face in the nape of his neck.

“Your loss then,” you said but never mentioned any objections for the notion of a second encounter.

It’s funny how the world works, one man suggesting heads-or-tail and the other instantly agreeing to put the fate of your death on some bet. If it’s head, Namjoon is going to pull the trigger.

You thought you would spend your forever with him with your dirty work having kept a secret until you hit your quota of missions and they finally let you retire. Death has always been an equation in your calculation in any case forever didn’t work out but you thought it would come through a phone call and a faux doctor telling your boyfriend you probably crashed or drowned at sea when you were on a cruise on girl’s night.

You just never in a million chances, thought the call came in the form of Kim Taehyung standing right by Namjoon a day after the hacking. He’d taken less than 24 hours to decide whether to tell your boss about what he’d seen through the cams a second after he got them up and running and true to his workline, he did so with the knowledge that you never had any secret bank accounts that he could use to blackmail you cash in to him.

Jungkook’s eyes are shaking but his hands gives out the years of training of stillness and precision any assassin is required to have. One of his own presses a gun to his temple, the ultimatum quite clear even without having Seokjin explaining why, even though he Jungkook didn’t ‘necessarily need to die’, he could if he pissed him off one last time.

“Remember when I said I hate sweetened coffee?” You force a smirk at all those times when you pretended to loath drinking the coffees he claimed to make ‘out of love’ while you hide your smile behind the mug.

“Yeah.” The dimples dig into his cheeks as he tries to mimic your own smile, puffy, bloodshot eyes and mused hair, his cap must have gotten lost somewhere in the wrestle.

“I started to like it after I met you.”

Just as you thought there’s no more tears to cry, it cascades down pink cheeks, pinker lips bitten down, you hope it doesn’t break the skin.

It’s plain and simple, the words you said and the things you’ve done though you’ve never been all that transparent but Jungkook’s always had his ways of reading you like his favorite book he’d kept on your nightstand back at your apartment.

I love you, are the words you tried to convey and I can’t live without you more is the reason you’d put forth the suggestion of Namjoon contacting Jungkook’s organization about tonight’s meeting to end the feud with you as the sacrifice - the scapegoat.

And Jungkook knows it too.

He knows the moment you both found out about your jobs, there’s no way out of this unless one of you dies.

Bang.

#jungkook #jungkook fanfics #jungkook scenarios #bts jungkook scenarios #networkbangtan #bts scenarios #bts fanfics #bts jungkook fanfics #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts jungkook #jeongguk #bts jeongguk #jeongguk scenarios

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starbuck09256 · 4 years

Text

A chance of chess

Early MSR AU

Tagging the always wonderful @today-in-fic

rated PG (at least this first part)

The soft spring breeze fills his nostrils as he runs through the park. His breath steady as his heart rate increases. Since moving back to DC he has been to a few parks trying to find the one with the best route. This one is filled with cherry tree blossoms and beautifully lined trees. It also has some basketball courts and an area where people can play chess. The neighborhood isn’t really close to his own home but it’s worth the extra 10 minutes of running to get here. The biggest ticket will be the coffee shop, with a decent cappuccino and a good drip at a decent price. He wonders if this is where he will fight the monsters that Patterson has been bringing to his tiny lair in the basement. After being so successful with Monty Props he earned the right to leave the normal BAU section into a forgotten dungeon in the basement. But he loves it down there. The noise dimmed the lights bright and his focus uncompromised by the chatter of useless gossip around him. He can leave the area a mess and no one cares. He can stay until 2am without someone lecturing him to go home and get some so called “rest”. This park is beautiful and the neighborhood is not as up and coming as to guarantee an overpriced lack luster cup of joy. He continues around the path sees a set of one man sitting alone at a chess table small pieces placed on their respected places as he looks down at his watch. Another gentlemen finally gets up walking over to the balding man and touches his shoulder. He gives a sad expression that even in the few short years he has been with the FBI is idneitifalable even at this distance, the death of a person seems to manifest in similar ways across the races. The sadness that racks through the bald man's eyes is paulable. His broad shoulders sigh in defeat as he starts to look at the small pieces in front of him. He hasn’t played a game of chess in awhile. In one of his advanced psychology classes they use it as a way to understand the mind of others. Chess is a game played first in the mind and then on the board, intent, sabotage, traps, or just luck playing in a way that riddles the ways of society. His heart rate comes down and he walks to the man. He hasn’t packed up yet and while he doesn’t want to intrude he sees an opportunity to further his love of the game. But the man stands he is younger than Mulder thought his broad shoulder and the way he carries himself scream military. Mulder can’t help himself.

“Wanna play a game?” the bald man gives him a sad smile.

“Not today, but tomorrow I would be happy to kick your ass.”

Mulder can’t help but smile. “Pretty sure of yourself there?” he can’t help but grip.

“See you at 7.” the bald man walks down towards the street turning to walk down the block.

He’s ran around the park twice. He got there early already invigorated by a new challenge. He even reviewed a few classic chess moves last night. The bald man is there setting up quietly. Mulder approaches.

“Ready old man?” he says as he jogs up to the table.

“I doubt I’m a whole lot older than you Mister?”

“Fox Mulder, just Mulder is good.”

“Walter Skinner, Skinner is fine.” Mulder nodded and sat down.

“You ready?” he asked.

Skinner adjusted his glasses and peered over the younger man.

“Absolutely. White or black Mulder?” He takes the white and helps set up the board.

The two of them were evenly matched in skill. Mulder tries different psychological games on the older man with no success. After several stalemates and a win for each of them. Mulder thanks Skinner.

“Same time next week kid?” Skinner asks and Mulder nods.

And so it goes for several months when Mulder was in town. Skinner and him would pay two times a week. They would talk about the nonessential things, Skinner was a hard man to read. Mulder ends up doing most of the talking. Then on one buserly morning Skinner wasn’t there. Mulder looks around and waits for almost an hour. Another gentleman whom he knows by the name of Frohike comes over.

“Skinman is in the hospital.”

“Shit, what for?”

“He was shot had to have an operation and the best doctor flew in for it. Heard the doc is quite a looker.”

Mulder sighs and takes his pieces back to his basement. He taps his fingers along the case file. Finally after concern eats at his resolve he heads back to the park to ask which hospital Skinner is at. Two hours and a phone call to Patterson later he is outside Skinners room watching a beautiful redhead in a white coat annihilate him at chess faster than Mulder thought possible. He could feel her laughter through the door, her bright hair was just like her smile. She was so tiny in that over-sized doctor coat even though she had 2 inch heels on. Mulder is slightly fixated on her. He knocks on the door waiting for an introduction. Skinner grunts as he welcomes him.

“Had to come down here for your weekly ass-kicking?” Skinner mutters moving in the hospital bed to shuffle his big frame with the wires from the IV. Mulder chuckles.

“Hi Fox Mulder, glutton for punishment.” he smiles at the pretty doctor. Skinner interrupts him “Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI” she steps back slightly, and Mulder can’t help feeling a little smug at the clear pass Skinner is throwing at him.

“Doctor Dana Scully.” her grip is delicate and strong at the same time.

She smiles at him. Mulder can not help stare into her deep sea blue eyes. He clears his throat, her hand had felt warm and welcoming in his hand. She has soft delicate features and he realizes how right Frohike was, she was more than just a looker.

“So how is the old man doing?” his voice doesn’t hold back the concern he feels.

“Not that old Mulder.” Skinner coughs. Scully chuckles.

“He.. uh... took a bullet about 2 centimeters away from the lung cavity. He is very very lucky to be alive. Even if he is terrible at Chess.” her eyes darting to Skinners.

Skinner coughs again. “Yea, yea. I lose to this fool a lot too.”

Mulder can’t help but chuckle at that. Skinner has certainly gotten better and he has become much less rusty.

“Ah, So your a doctor and amazing at chess?” Mulder asks and Scully blushes slightly at that.

“Uh I would say your friend is not that good, could be the meds though.” She is polite and not egocentric.

“So Agent Mulder, maybe you can shed some light on the creep men that keep coming by and peering in on Mr. Skinner. Since Mr.Skinner refuses to provide any details as to where and when he was shot. Maybe you as his friend can convince him to bring the perpetrator to justice.” Mulder eyes dart to the man.

“Doctor Scully can I have a minute alone with Agent Mulder”

“Sure Walter maybe he can talk sense into you.”

She hands Mulder Walters file and walks out the door. Mulder watches her as she leaves. He turns to Walter,

“wow doctors like that I can see why you’ve extended your stay.”

Skinner grunts. “She’s pretty but also a hard ass, like someone I know.” Mulder can’t help but chuckle.

“You should play her sometime Mulder, she’ll give you a run for your money.”

He starts to cough then. Mulder gets up from the seat next to him checking his lines.

“Hey, hey” Walter spurters. Mulder grabs him a glass of water on the table.

“What the hell happened to you Walter? Afraid the pretty doctor will find out you are NSA?”

Walter rolls his eyes. He mutters thanks and settles in.

“Mulder if I was ever going to suggest a woman to keep you in line and be your ally, it would be her, I’ve known Doctor Scully for a long time. Was a good friend of her fathers before he died last year. She took it rough. Changed careers, she was at the Farm.”

“She’s ex CIA?”

Mulders was impressed before now he was down right shocked.

“Yes, she is smart and capable of taking both of us done in seconds. But she is also very guarded and lonely.”

“Right because you would know that.”

Mulder is now seeing where this whole thing is going.

“Well I’m dating her mom so yea..” Mulders eyes flash up to his bald friend.

“Walter you keep unfolding like a flower.”

“Yea well just challenge her to chess, see if it can lead to a dinner.” He coughs again.

Mulder helps Walter settle back in shaking his head.

“I don’t know Walter,” Walter looks at him.

“I haven’t known you very long Mulder, but Dana’s been through a lot and she could use a friend, and someone decent at chess.” Mulder nods

“I’m going to get a cup of coffee.”

Walter sighs as the door swings close and Mulders footfalls fade.

The coffee is terrible and he almost spits it out while looking around the small cafeteria. Doctor Scully is sitting in a corner reviewing a file. She catches his eye and smiles. It’s soft but it doesn’t reach her eyes. He sees it now the underlying fear within her. He goes over and pulls out his bag of chess pieces.

“Skinman has said you are a formidable force, have time for a game?” he asks.

He is a little shy, he hasn’t dated much since being in DC. She bites her lip and looks at her watch he watches as she reaches up and rubs her face.

“Ok one game.” she concedes and Mulder can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

He sets up the pieces and she can’t help but laugh at his spock figurine for a Bishop.

“What?” he asks and laughs when he sees her point.

“Oh yea lost a piece not too long ago anyway. Black or white doctor Scully?”

“Just Scully is fine, white Mulder.”

“He's talked about me hasn’t he?” at her sheepish look up.

Mulder realizes that the beautiful Doctor Scully is kind, thoughtful and must be crazy.

“He told you I was crazy?” Mulder huffs

She can’t help licking her lips “He might have mentioned the alien thing..yea” but she doesn’t laugh at him.

“And you still want to do this?” he nods towards the game.

“From what Walter said, I think we could both use someone to just talk too.” Mulder nods smiling at her.

One game turns into five Mulder 3 Scully 2. When she gets paged she writes down her number on a napkin and the words rematch. He grins all the way out to his car.

He waits one day and calls her. She answers on the second ring, and while it starts with talking about chess it ends 5 hours later at 1am when her soft snores come across the line. She calls him the next day to apologize for falling asleep on him. He tells her she can make it up to him by having dinner together. After a fair amount of time which scares the hell out him that he pushed too far too soon she sighs yes. He doesn’t know the history there but from the sound of it she’s been very hurt in a prior relationship, making dating unappealing. So he does one better and says how about just coffee. He can almost feel her smile through the phone, perfect she says. They meet on a rare Saturday morning they would both normally work and he walks with her around the same park he met Walter over a year ago. Coffee turns to lunch then to a new thriller at the local theater then to hours spent rummaging through a vintage bookshop. When 7pm rolls around she looks up from the copy of Jose Chungs catching his eye over his copy of a popular sci-fi. She comes up and brushes his arm,

“Maybe dinner too..” her smile is soft and shy and he can’t imagine a world without it.

The dinner goes great and he calls her as soon as he gets home. She hesitates a bit and feels like they are rushing into something.

“Something good I hope?” he can’t help the pleading in his voice.

There is no one on the planet he has been able to handle for an entire day, let alone want to spend the entire evening talking to as well. He has so many questions, so many theories and all of the sudden he wants her opinion on them all. Doctor Scully is captivating, she is brilliant, kind, funny and drop dead gorgeous in a way that should make her much more pretentious and not nearly so available. She talks to him anyway even though they talked most of the day, even though she doesn’t like butter on her popcorn she might be perfect. Then when he pushes for another date she says “I don’t think so.” and he hears the soft click that matches the sound of his heart breaking.

#mulder and scully #au #early meeting #chess #myfic #the x-files #fanfic #msr #fluff #with a side of angst

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missdemona · 4 years

Text

Second day repost

---

So, this is my first ever drabble that I have written.

I saw the pictures Sebastian took this morning (yesterday, I'm on a different continent), and I was inspired. They were beautiful, but also somewhat depressing? A city so empty!

In this lockdown I do go out for long walks, although not in the morning.

Ok, here goes..

Walking

"Hi", you said smiling to the man walking his dog. He smiled and said hello back to you.

You were on your daily walk. The sun was out, but just. God it was early, you thought. But anything to avoid people. But you made a promiss to yourself: you would go out every day. If only for a short walk.

Otherwise you would be in your home all day and all night. Except for the weekly shopping.

All since this lockdown had been in place.

"Hi" you said to the woman walking past you. She gave you a glare. Bah! You could always tell if a person had been doing this walking (the dog) or running thing before the world went to a stand still. There was this silent agreement, wasn't there, you greeted the people you passed in this way?

But people who wouldn't be seen here before this thing (or would otherwise be going to the gym, you shouldn't bunch people up like that!) did not get that memo apparently.

So, you greeted everyone and gave everyone a smile.

----

"He, how are you?".

"Yeah, I'm good" the woman answered. You had come across each other now for a couple of weeks. So it felt allmost as if you were friends. Weird, right? Her beagle (one of the few dogs you could actually identify, since your sister was a huge fan of snoopy) stood by her side waiting patiently.

"Hey, I didn't see you yesterday".

"Yeah, the night before there were problems at work, so I had to catch up on some sleep" you answered her. "I went outside later.... not doing that again. There were way to many people...".

"I hear you. Hey, I have to get home, see you tomorrow. Don't work to hard". "Thanks! Bye" you said with a little wave.

Don't work to hard... hmm at least you had work. And you could do the work from home. It gave the day structure, and you counted your blessings that the bills could be paid.

You passed a runner, also a regular on these early mornings. You gave each other a little wave, runners usually did this. You could imagine.... breathing hard like that, talking not on your list of priorities. That's why you kept to walking. Way to exhausting, running. You were not insane, thank you very much!

---

And so the days went on... walk, work, eat, sleep and repeat.

Rinse and repeat.

---

You learned the woman with the beagle was called Leila. You had exchanged phonenumbers and were texting each other jokes and memes. See, a friend!

A grumpy man you saw each morning who didn't return your hello's in the first weeks had finally said "Hi" back. Score!

You waved at the runner.

----

Rinse and repeat

----

You met an older couple. "Honey, we are always awake at dawn, so we thought to take a little stroll".

Huh. The runner wasn't running. You waved.

"Morning", he said instead of the usually wave.

"Hey, no running today?" You asked.

"Didn't feel like it today".

"Are you oke?"

"Yeah, just a bad night".

" I'm sorry, I hope your day will be better".

"Thanx". He waved and walked on.

---

Rinse and repeat.

God you were lonely.

----

It had rained that night, but the sun was shining. Thank god.

Leila and Godfried (yes that's the beagles name, snort) came toward you. She was talking on her phone, and waved at you. And walked on. Shit.

The runner was walking again.

"Oh no, not another bad night?"

"Hi! No not at all!

"I'm glad. But still no running?"

"I got a lens for my phone, and the city looks so fucking great after the rain. Utterly deserted, but fucking great" he said, with a grin on his face.

He showed you the lens. It was small. On the phone it looked huge. You told him so. He laughed with you.

"Hey walk with me, I could use some company".

"Yeah sure, me as well".

"I'm Seb by the way".

----

#sebastian stan

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lubdubsworld · 5 years

Text

Unloved. ( Jungkookx OC)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 ~

“I think we should start the teasers this week. They’re ready, aren’t they?” Jennie Kim looked sharp as a dagger as she glared fiercely at the head of the editing department, who squeaked a little in surprise.

I watched as the grown man almost tripped as he scrambled off his seat , fingers getting caught in his tie when he tried to push a file across the mahogany table.

Jennie huffed, looking long-suffering and put upon as she flipped the file open , revealing some plastic filers, filled with portfolio shots for the week’s issue.

The head of the editing dept began to say something, only to have his voice crack. He cleared his throat before trying again.

“We have seven shortlisted. We can start with one of them ...” He said hastily and she stared at them with a critical eye before nodding.

“Send them to my desk later and I’ll pick the best one.” She turned around to stare at me, face unreadable, but a very shrewd glint in her eye. I managed to keep a straight face.

“You’ll be the one covering the story, Ms. Jung? ” She said politely and i swallowed.

Earlier that day, Jennie had dropped in to my office, looking calculative and guarded.

She told me that there was no compulsion for me to take this project from her side and she had been made aware of certain ‘ delicate ‘ issues between me and Jungkook . But she trusted me to rise above such ‘insignificant’ things and hoped i wouldn’t prove her wrong. It would be a shame to let such a ‘ senior’ writer ‘ go’ because of silly high school dramatics.

As far as threats went, it wasn’t a particularly subtle one.

But she had also assured me that if everything went well, this would put me in the spotlight for a promotion and maybe my own weekly column, no restrictions , no set topics. I could be my own boss.

My heart fluttered at the thought of an independent column, with my name on it. It definitely trumped getting fired and living on the streets.

“uh... Yes. i’m scheduled to meet Mr. Jeon and his fiancee in two days.” I smiled weakly and she hummed.

“Get a haircut.” She said thoughtfully.

I blinked.

“I...sorry?” I stared at her, certain I’d misheard.

“I think it would make the story more evocative if you put a personal spin to it. From your own point of view. You come from a, excuse my language, much plainer background than Mr. Jeon so it would be interesting to see your personal take on a luxurious wedding between two powerful people..”

She looked downright cruel as she smiled at me, teeth white and sharp.

I gripped my pencil a little harder.

“Of course.” I ducked my head.

The rest of the meeting went much the same way, me scribbling notes to make sure i didn’t deviate from the ‘ vision’ she had for the story. The phrases stung. She talked about how it was fitting that a man like Jungkook chose a woman like Kira. How marriages built on compatibility and a common goal were far more likely to survive and how it was important for two people to be made from the same ‘cloth’ to truly be good enough for each other.

By the time we were done , my head was spinning with regrets and my heart felt a little like it had been used as a punching bag. When i gathered my things to leave she gave me a tight-lipped smile.

“don’t forget what i said, Nara. If you keep it together the next six weeks, there’s a lot of good things heading your way. Don’t ruin it by making silly choices.”

I realized that she truly thought that I was going to try and sabotage the wedding somehow. The mere idea was laughable.

“Trust me Ms Kim , there is absolutely nothing personal in my relationship with Jungkook.” I said tiredly and she hummed.

“So they all say, Nara. Don’t forget the haircut. You’d look less like roadkill then.” She glanced disdainfully at my messy long hair. I stared after her, struggling to keep my emotions in check.

I wasn’t going to get a stupid haircut. This wasn’t my wedding and i wasn’t obligated to look good for anyone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up two hours early on the day i was scheduled to meet Jungkook and his fiancee for lunch. It was a little past five thirty in the morning and there was a thunderstorm raging outside. I dragged myself to the huge french windows on the corner of the living room, wrapping my blanket tighter around myself and peering out into the pouring rain.

I felt ..odd. Not angry or lonely per se, but just a little empty.

I was old. A lot older than what my nineteen year old self had deemed as ‘ old’.

Twenty nine was the age when...everything in my life was supposed to be already done and settled. Job, spouse, children , a house.

Everything.

Somehow reality had turned out to be a little different.

I was out on almost all counts. My job was fine, yes, but apparently i wasn’t as indispensable as I’d thought I was. It hung on this assignment .

My dating life was non-existent. It had been a little over eight and a half months since I’d been on a date . Almost two years since my last relationship , which could hardly be called that seeing as that hadn’t lasted even a full two weeks. The guy had been an exchange student just looking for a good time and had broken things off over a text . Over the next few months , I’d had a lot of mediocre to pretty average first or second dates but none of them had called back or made further advances.

In time I sort of gave up.

i gripped my hot mug of coffee and took a small sip.

“It’s okay.” i said out loud, watching my breath cloud the mirror in front of me. It was getting colder, although the sky was steadily brightening.

“It’s going to be okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jennie had told me that a camera crew would be accompanying me. Apparently, a very famous luxury lifestyle channel had picked up exclusive rights to run a small cover documentary on the couple and they would be having their own writers and producers and what not. Jennie assured me that they would stay out of my way , because the magazine article would be the priority.

But apparently, they’d roped in an award winning cinematographer from Busan, a young dynamic chap who wanted to give a ‘fresh twist’ to the story. Incidentally, the cinematographer's hotel was just a couple blocks away from my sister’s home.

So he had offered to pick me up on the way to the meeting.

I spent a few extra minutes getting ready. There wasn’t much point in fixing my hair, the humidity in the air would have its way with my messy curls anyway. I did pluck out a few errant hairs on my brow, adding a small bit of lipstick just to stop my lips from looking too lifeless.

I didn’t have a lot of bright or pretty clothes and I picked out a pale minty green dress with a stylish shoulder cape, a cinched waist and a pleated skirt that stopped just below my knee. I pulled a stool to the closet to rummage around in one of the top shelves, looking for the shoes my sister had got me for my graduation : cream- white strappy sandals with two inch kitten heels and dainty little stone studded flowers near the toes.

i stared at myself in the mirror, feeling stupid.

I had seen pictures of Kira Hirakuma .

I didn’t compare in any way or form.

What was i even doing? .

But it was too late now to change. And I doubted the Park Hyatt welcomed female guests who wore faded graphic t shirts and worn-out mom jeans.

The phone rang. It was the front desk. My’ ride’ was here.

Grabbing my recorder, my handbag and my phone and keys, I dashed out of the apartment. I frowned when I saw a message in my phone, the number unfamiliar.

I could drive down with you. Let me know if you need a ride, Nara. -jjk

i stared at the message for a while, trying to process it. I’d almost fully forgotten that Jungkook lived in the same building. I considered responding but decided against it.

He shouldn’t have offered in the first place, I thought firmly.

it was still raining when i reached the lobby and I felt my anxiety and shyness rise like a crushing wave when I saw how handsome the guy was.

“Hello, Jung Nara right ?” He smiled wide, eyes crinkling beatifically and I felt my tongue stick to my roof. I could only nod wordlessly, palms starting to sweat immediately. He looked amused as he shook my clammy hand.

“I’m..hi.” I croaked out.

“i’m Park Jimin. I’ve heard great things about you. And i read a bunch of your articles on the way here. You truly have a way with words.” He said , voice warm and genuine.

“I..uh..buh.” My mouth proceeded to prove him wrong as i struggled to form legible syllables . He was very handsome and he seemed sweet. It was impossible to keep my heart from giving a pathetically hopeful little leap. The stupid things was notorious when it came to pining after men who were way out of my league.

I cleared my throat.

Get it together, Nara.

“ I’m sorry... it’s been a rough few days. thank you. I’ve heard good things about you too, Jimin ssi.” I smiled.

“Let’s go shall we? The Kook i know usually gets pretty cranky when people make him wait.” He laughed, signalling the valet.

“You know Jungkook?” I asked weakly and Jimin hummed.

“Not well. He was a few years below me in high school, but we ran in different circles. I heard that you guys uh... dated for a while. ” He gave me a quick, embarrassed glance and I flinched.

“We’re all young and stupid sometimes. ” I laughed weakly and he chuckled.

“Well, all’s well that ends well. He seems pretty happy now and you’re doing pretty well as well.”

I swallowed and took a step away.

“I think the car’s here...” I croaked out , pointing at the valet who was looking around curiously. Jimin hummed and held a hand out.

“Want me to carry that for you?” He smiled, pointing at my bulky backpack and I clutched it tighter before I could stop myself.

“Uh..I’m fine. But thanks . For, you know offering.” I hated myself.

Surprisingly, Jimin laughed.

“You sound pretty wary. If it makes you feel better, I’m actually a cop.” He winked.

I felt my eyes go wide.

He shrugged.

“Well technically off duty. I’m originally a part of the force in Busan. I got injured about three weeks ago during a bank heist and they have me on paid leave.” He grabbed the the edge of his pocket, pulling it down a bit to show a shiny brass badge with a familiar crest.

I could only gape.

“I’m so sorry...Are you alright?” I said glancing at him in confusion. He didn’t look injured in any way. He grinned and shrugged.

“it was mostly a flesh wound but it was a very close shave. Unfortunately, my father happens to be my commanding officer and my mother bullied him into getting me off field duty.”

I smiled.

“They must love you very much.” I said and he shrugged.

“In their own stilted way, yes. But enough about me. Tell me more about yourself. You seem like a small town girl at heart. What are you doing here in the big bad city?”

I turned back to the car , which the valet had brought over in front of us. I let Jimin open the door for me, waiting till he’d settled in next to me, before replying.

“I can admit that it wasn’t my smartest move. things have been hard out here but I think i really needed to get out of my hometown. There was... well, things were happening there that I didn’t want to be a part of and it was hard for me to...”

I trailed off, feeling foolish. He had meant the question, probably as playful banter. And here I was, unleashing a vaguely worded sob story.

Jimin didn’t push , merely humming thoughtfully.

“I’m assuming there’s no boyfriend in the picture right now.” He said casually and I grimaced.

“Been a long time since I’ve been asked out. Close to a year almost. “ I shrugged. “ I had a bunch of blind dates when i first came here and even in Busan. But most of them didn’t call back. “

“In Busan? “ he sounded curious.

I nodded.

“it was surprising. There’s one that I’m still bitter over. It was over two year ago. I really liked the guy too, He was an exchange student . I thought we had something special and just , out of nowhere he sends me a text saying that he’s tired of waiting for me to... sleep with him and he just breaks up with me over text. i never heard from him. His name was...Malin something? I don’t recall. ”

“Malin Maurer? From Thailand? ” Jimin said suddenly, sitting up straighter, eyes narrowed.

I stared at him.

“Uh..yes?” i said nervously.

Jimin frowned for a second before blinking thoughtfully.

“Hmm...”

“What’s wrong?” i said nervous.

“Nothing.... I maybe wrong, but I think I covered a missing person’s report with that name.... About two years ago, i think?”

I stared.

“Missing persons?”

He grinned then, shaking his head.

“i’m sure it’s nothing serious. Tell me more about yourself.”

I felt a bit of disquiet but pushed it to the back of my mind.

“Well, there’s nothing much to say. None of my romantic prospects stuck around and I got busy with the magazine , so i just pushed it to the back burner, I guess.”

He smiled. The car was beginning to slow down.

“Fair enough. Looks like we’re here?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kira Hirakuma , for all her glamour on screen was almost disappointingly plain in real life. I was a little jarred by the contrast, having been prepared for someone out of a fairy tale.

She wore a burgundy suit , her thick black hair pulled into a no-nonsense pony, face devoid of make up and eyes looking just a little too miserable.

She gave me a weak, almost tired smile.

“Hi, Nara. Jungkook told me all about you.” She said, voice scratchy.

I glanced over her shoulders, over to the side , where Jimin and Jungkook stood talking . He kept glancing back at me and there was an air of urgency in the room that made me skittish.

“What’s uh... Are you alright?” I blurted out, before I could stop myself. She looked awful.

She smiled again, the expression not quite reaching her eyes.

“We’ve been ...traveling a lot. it’s been taking a toll.” She glanced back at Jungkook and he gave her an even stare. When she turned back to look at me, her eyes looked blank.

“My make up team is not yet here, but we could still start the interview..” She said, pointing at the couch in the side of the room and I nodded, following her over.

“The wedding planner is running late as well. We were hoping to finalize the dress today.” Kira said nervously and there it was , the same nervous little glance.

Outside, the rain was steady and thunderous. The air was damp and gloomy and i felt like I was underwater, struggling to breathe as a heavy mantle of misery settled over me. Her sadness was contagious.

I’d never believed in ghosts but the only way to describe the feeling was..... haunted.

“You look exhausted. are you sure you’re up for this?” i said gently and she gave me a bitter look.

“Do you want him back?” She croaked out.

I recoiled, stunned.

Of all the things I’d expected her to say, this was definitely on the bottom of the list.

“I- What ?” I choked out.

“If you do, you can have him.” She breathed out, “ I can’t....it’s too much... “ Her eyes shifted, looking wild, hunted.

And then something like anger flooded them, the irises almost flashing red. “And it’s your fault, you know.” She hissed at me. “ All of it’s your fault. You should be the one paying for it.....not me....” She spat out, eyes flashing.

I could only stare in stunned astonishment.

Had i fallen into some wormhole? What was happening? What was she even talking about?

I opened my mouth to respond but nothing would come out. And then a shadow fell over us, and she pulled away sharply, eyes wide and face blank again.

“Nara..... “ Jungkook’s voice said behind me, soft and even toned.

I was still staring at Kira, but her face betrayed none of the agitation from a few minutes ago.

“Good to see you again. Let’s get started shall we?” He said , staring right at me and I swallowed. i glanced over his shoulders, my eyes meeting Jimin’s . He gave me a cheerful wave before turning back to whoever he was talking to.

Jungkook cleared his throat and I turned to look at him.

He raised an eyebrow and I realized that he’d asked me something. My throat was dry as a desert.

“Oh..uh..Sure. Let’s start.” i managed a weak smile, glancing at Kira who was staring at her knees.

What else could i say?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S NOTE” I promised myself i wouldn’t turn this into a cliche so ....here goes... :D

#jungkook fics #bts fics #bts smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungook smut #jungkook reactions #jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #jungkook fic

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