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cosmicbrowniefan · 2 years

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the d&d drama dork

fandom/ship: stranger things, steddie

summary: after being bugged by his best friend for a while, steve harrington decides to join drama club. the stress of working backstage is a lot to handle, however, and he’s not entirely sure he really wants to go through with the show. that is, until he realizes his official job for the production: to be his crush’s quick change helper.

genre: one-shot, fluff, high school au, theatre au

warnings: swearing, sexual jokes/innuendos, steve is aged down to be in the same grade as robin and eddie, intentional lowercase

word count: 3,906

“robin, i’m serious, i really don’t want to do this anymore!”

robin flipped the car mirror back up and sighed, turning to face her way too stressed out best friend, steve harrington.

“steve,” she said, “you made a commitment. i really didn’t want to pull out that phrase on you, but come ON. what would you tell me if i wanted to quit?”

“if you said that to me two weeks ago, i’d have told you to stick it out. but now that i see what HELL it is, i wouldn’t blame you!”

steve sighed and shook his head as he pulled into the school parking lot for the first rehearsal of tech week. how robin looped him into THIS one, he’d never know. (that’s not true. steve had felt rather left out when robin was always talking to her friends about drama club, and decided to give it a try. not to mention, eddie motherfucking munson was in drama club, as well. and he made steve feel- well, he made steve feel. period.) after signing up for crew for their school musical, beauty and the beast, a few weeks ago, he had been thrown into a whirlwind of tasks like props and set design and costumes and lights and sound. the crew was trying to find an area where steve excelled, but excelled seemed to apparently not be the best word to describe steve’s drama club journey with.

robin unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her bag as she and steve stepped out of the car.

“listen,” she said, “it’s going to be okay. i’ve talked to all the crew department heads and i think we’ve found a job that needs done during the show that you might actually- well, that you might actually do half decently!”

steve glared at her.

“reassuring,” he said sarcastically. “you know, you’re my best friend before you’re the stupid stage manager. i’d appreciate a little loyalty here.”

“past THESE doors, harrington, i’m a stage manager before anything else,” said robin, glaring back. “now, come on. i think you’re gonna like this job, really.”

steve grumbled and rolled his eyes, but followed robin into the auditorium. he was pretty anxious for this shit they called “hell week”. if THIS was hell week, what on earth were the weeks leading up to it? that was hell enough for steve.

steve felt completely out of place as everyone rushed around, eating last minute dinners, putting on makeup, doing hair, warming up, grabbing microphones, and just being generally chaotic teenagers.

“steve!” robin hissed at him. steve looked over. he was standing in the corner, clearly overwhelmed and annoyed.

“what?”

“can you take this list and go backstage and make sure all the props are set?”

steve grabbed the list from robin and looked it over. he knew robin preferred to look props over herself and that she probably would even after he did, but he appreciated that she was giving him an excuse to escape the chaos. nodding, he headed for the auditorium and backstage. before he could check anything, he collapsed into the throne that was used for gaston’s tavern scene. steve sighed and put his head in his hands. part of him wondered if checking props before the show was the “job” that everyone had in mind for him. granted, steve was stressed and annoyed, but god, was he really THAT useless?

“hey there, harrington.”

steve’s head shot up from his hands and his eyes widened as they fell upon eddie munson, who was looking rather amused. steve coughed and tried to make himself look as casual and normal as possible.

“hey,” he said, nodding and looking away. a second later, however, he was looking at eddie munson’s face again, because the little shithead had leaned over and moved right into his line of vision with a huge grin. eddie plopped onto the floor and cocked his head, smirking up at steve.

“what’s got your panties in a twist?” he asked. steve blushed. eddie said that all the time, but the phrase still made steve turn red like a middle school boy walking past victoria’s secret.

“nothing,” he mumbled.

“that’s clearly a lie.” eddie raised an eyebrow and frowned a little. “what’s up?”

steve sighed and refused to look eddie in the eyes. the last thing he needed right now was to get flustered and distracted when he needed to focus.

“i’m just overwhelmed,” he said. “i’ve never done this shit before. everyone seems to know what they’re doing except me.”

eddie smirked.

“probably doesn’t help that they’ve put you on a new crew job every day since you got here,” he said. steve looked up and raised an eyebrow. “yeah, i noticed,” eddie added. “i really don’t think that’s fair of them. i mean, how can they possibly expect you to get good at anything when they only give you a day long trial on it, right?”

steve cocked his head, then smiled a little and nodded. yeah. yeah, he got it.

“i’m sorry it’s been like that for you,” eddie said, looking down at his shoes. “you know, i was pretty stressed out my first show, too.”

steve snorted.

“yeah, right,” he said. “mr. lead role every show? okay.”

“no, really!” eddie insisted. “listen, my first show, i was in the ensemble for shrek. couldn’t have been in more than five numbers, but i still had a full on anxiety attack before every show.”

“ensemble?” steve said, smiling. “anxiety attacks? you’ve come a lot way since then. when was your big break?”

“when i started growing out my hair and landed the role of molly in annie.”

“oh my god, shut up!”

steve and eddie collapsed into laughter. steve smiled over at eddie and admired how beautiful he looked while laughing. then again, he could admire eddie’s beauty no matter what he was doing. but it was private moments like this that made steve really appreciate it. and it was moments like this that solidified just how much he liked eddie.

“dingus!”

steve and eddie shot their heads up to see robin, who looked like she was about to pull her hair out.

“let me rephrase,” she said, glancing from steve to eddie, “dingus one AND dingus two. what the fuck are you guys doing?”

“jesus robin, knock next time!” eddie said, grinning. “i’m on the floor in front of steve, the fuck you think we’re doing?”

robin rolled her eyes while steve blushed and eddie laughed. she loved them both DEARLY of course, but she could NOT deal with their stupid pining and flirting right now. it was NOT the time.

“steve, did you even check the props like i asked?” she said, exasperated. steve blushed and slowly shook his head.

“don’t blame him,” eddie said quickly. “i’m serious, i came back here and he was looking at stuff and then i distracted him. it’s my fault.” steve glanced over at eddie, who winked at him while robin put her head in her hands.

“okay, i certainly don’t doubt that he got distracted by you,” she said. steve quickly looked away from eddie, who had smirked at her comment. “listen, steve, i’ll handle the props, okay? go ask maddie for your new job.” steve internally groaned. maddie was the head of costumes. what the fuck kind of job was he stuck with now? “and you!” robin turned her attention to eddie, who put a hand to his chest and mouthed “me?” in mock surprise. “you need to go get in costume and get your mic on! for fuck’s sake, you’re the beast and we haven’t worked with your costume at ALL yet, you need to get used to it.”

robin stood and stared at steve and eddie, who were both looking at her sheepishly.

“GO!” she said finally. the two boys stood up and headed to where they needed to be, mumbling apologies to her as they passed.

steve went in the hallway and quickly found maddie, who was sorting through things on the costume rack. her face brightened when she saw him.

“hey steve!” she said enthusiastically. steve waved half-heartedly. he did not have this kind of energy right now. “ready for your new job?”

“uh, i guess so,” he said. “i mean, i don’t really know what it is, but i’ll try to be ready.”

maddie laughed.

“okay, so we’ve been talking it over, and you seemed to honestly do the best with costuming stuff,” she said. “so, we’d like for you to help out with quick changes during the show!”

steve raised an eyebrow.

“quick WHAT now?” he said. maddie laughed again, but quickly stopped when she saw that he wasn’t joking.

“it means you help the actors backstage change their costumes when they have a short period of time to do it,” she said. “we already have someone stationed to help belle, so we’re assigning you to the beast. sound good?”

steve froze. the beast.

he was quick changing. the beast.

he was changing eddie fucking munson’s clothes.

“here, i’ve got a list of his costumes and when he needs to be in what and where he’s going to be,” maddie said, handing him a piece of paper. steve took it absently, still in shock. “most of these quick changes won’t be bad. you just have to put on certain things over the beast costume itself. what he REALLY needs help with the most is when you’re going to change him out of the beast costume and into the prince costume. that’ll be a full strip.”

steve’s head was spinning. he could barely pay attention as maddie went through the sheet with him and pointed at costume pieces on the rack. he was only shook out of his little trance when maddie said, “speak of the devil and he shall appear. hey, eddie.”

eddie grinned and looked between the two of them as he took his main beast costume off the rack.

“hey there, you two,” he said. “mads, i heard you wanted to talk to old stevie boy here. trying to shoot your shot?”

maddie laughed.

“he wishes,” she said. “nah, i’m just debriefing him on his new job. which i guess involves you so now’s a good a time as ever to let you know! steve’s going to be your quick change helper!”

eddie froze and looked up from the thread he was trying to pull off of his costume. he looked at maddie very seriously.

“you’re not joking?” he asked quietly. steve’s face grew hot. was he upset?

“nope,” maddie said absently, turning back to the costume rack and sifting through a few more pieces. “he’s gonna do all your changes, so look for him backstage and tell him what you need, okay?”

eddie turned to look steve dead in the eye and smirked.

“absolutely i will,” he said, glancing to steve’s lips and back up at his eyes again. steve blushed as eddie walked past him and winked. steve turned to watch eddie go for a second before shaking himself out of it. come on steve, pull it together! what are you DOING?

“fifteen till places!”

steve looked up as robin’s voice rang throughout the hallway. he added his own “thank you fifteen” a bit later than everyone else did.

“here.”

steve turned back to maddie, who was holding out costumes and stuffing them into steve’s arms. there weren’t many, and most of course were just going to be put over the beast costume itself, but he found his eye get caught on the prince costume for the end of the show.

those pants looked tight as FUCK.

“put these backstage wherever you need, okay?” maddie said. “i put where he enters and exits on that paper. let me know if you need anything!”

steve mumbled a thank you and headed backstage. after setting eddie’s costumes, steve collapsed back into the throne. and tried not to think about the fact that he was going to be pressed up against eddie, taking off his clothes, in the cramped backstage area in a matter of minutes.

that thought wasn’t distracting at all.

***

steve laid down on the floor backstage and let out a breath he didn’t even know he had been holding.

they had stumbled through act one, and were now into act two. he had just finished putting eddie’s fancy dinner jacket on over the beast costume and sent him out onstage with a minute to spare.

the changes hadn’t been bad. steve was honestly a lot more flustered with trying to pull jackets and pants over the beast costume than he was with being so close to eddie.

then again, they hadn’t gotten to the full stripping scene yet.

steve closed his eyes and listened as their mrs. potts sang the title song, “beauty and the beast”. as much as steve loved seeing eddie perform (he always had, secretly), he couldn’t watch this scene. or the ending after the beast transformed. he didn’t like seeing someone on stage flirting with eddie, and he REALLY didn’t like seeing someone on stage KISSING eddie. not that steve had any authority to be upset about this, but he just was. and hey, eddie was gay! he shouldn’t have to do that, right? was that homophobia? hm. he’d have to ask robin later. steve was still a bit new to the world of being bi.

steve laid around backstage for another little bit, until he heard the mob song begin. he slowly got himself up and stretched. it wouldn’t be long until the transformation scene, and he needed to get himself over to the other side of the stage for that.

steve got to the other side before the mob song had ended and froze when he saw eddie, waiting in the wings for his next entrance. eddie turned as he heard steve and grinned, waving. steve, feeling the heat rush into his face, waved back. why the fuck was he sweating now? this was PATHETIC.

steve averted his eyes and quickly headed over to the prince costume. he tried to make himself look busy by straightening it out, but he knew his attempts must look ridiculous. he was a pining mess. and he couldn’t. stop. SWEATING.

“jesus harrington, i’m the one under the stage lights, not you.”

steve felt his heart skip a beat. eddie was right behind him, murmuring into his ear. steve refused to look up.

“the fuck has you so heated back here, big boy?”

now THAT made steve practically lose control right then and there. he whipped around, expecting to see eddie’s shit-eating grin, but was met with a different sight instead. it was eddie, yes, but he was staring at steve’s lips, a small smile curling onto his face.

not to mention, he was only a few inches away from steve’s face.

it was just about the hottest thing steve had ever witnessed.

before he could respond to any of eddie’s comments, however, eddie’s gaze flickered up to steve’s eyes and he smiled, reaching up and straightening his beast horns. then, he disappeared onto the stage, leaving steve standing, stunned and dumbfounded, in the wing. the question that seemed to ring through his mind constantly that day rang through again.

what the FUCK was THAT?

steve shook his head and turned back to the prince costume. he spent the next several minutes laying it out in a bunch of different ways, trying to figure out what was the most logical way to put it on eddie. there seemed like so much to put on- a dress shirt, dress pants, socks, dress shoes, a royal sash, AND a crown. steve knew that between the two of them they could probably do it quicker than he thought, but it was still intimidating. during intermission, steve had actually listened to a recording of the transformation music to see how much time he had to change eddie. luckily, it was a bit over two minutes- much longer than the time he had for most changes. then again, this one was different. it was a full strip, which meant a lot to take care of in a small amount of time. pressed up against each other. in the hot backstage area. in the dark.

piece of cake.

right?

before he knew it, steve’s head perked up. he heard it. the transformation music. he looked between the curtains and saw eddie coming towards him. steve’s eyes widened and he braced himself.

“let’s do this, harrington,” eddie whispered. he started pulling off the beast paws he was wearing, while steve stood, dumbfounded for a moment. eddie glanced over. “can you unzip me?”

steve blinked and nodded quickly. he turned and unzipped the back of the beast costume.

it was a onesie.

bracing himself for the blush he was about to get on his face, steve unzipped the back of the beast costume and tapped eddie’s leg to get him to step out of it.

“thanks,” eddie said quietly. “sorry you’re face to face with my ass there,” he added with a smirk, reaching for his shirt to pull it on. “can you get my pants?”

steve gulped and nodded. he grabbed the pants and had eddie step into them, then let them pool at the bottom of his legs. he grabbed the socks and shoes and quickly got them on and buckled, then went back to the pants. he looked up momentarily to see eddie smirking at him, one eyebrow raised. he had put on his shirt, sash, and crown, and was now just watching steve pull up his pants.

fuck.

steve shook his head slightly and turned his attention back to the pants. he pulled them up, but had to stop when the pants reached eddie’s ass. they wouldn’t pull up.

“uh, yeah, my ass has proven to be a bit big for these,” eddie whispered with a little laugh. “put your back into it, harrington.”

steve blushed, feeling weak as he hiked up eddie’s pants- once, twice- they were up. the last thing to do was button eddie’s fly.

steve once again made the mistake of looking up at eddie for a split second. he wasn’t smiling or laughing this time. he was just- staring. just staring. steve could only imagine all the stupid comments going through eddie’s head about steve being on his knees in front of him. steve helf eye contact with eddie for a bit too long, until eddie’s eyes widened and he shook himself out of it, looking as if he hadn’t even realized that he was staring. right on cue, eddie grinned. steve turned back to eddie’s fly as he waited for the comment.

“pretty sight here,” he muttered. steve blinked and quickly buttoned eddie’s fly, then stood up and nodded at eddie without looking at him. “thanks, harrington.”

and, with that, eddie was back onstage.

and kissing a girl.

steve sighed and found an empty chair in the corner backstage, sinking into it. his job was done for the night. he just had to sit through the last few minutes of the show, then the cast changing out of their costumes, then notes from their run. steve let himself close his eyes and relax while he listened to the finale.

after a few minutes, the lights on stage went out, and steve heard the director from the back of the auditorium.

“good, everyone! go get changed and be back on stage for notes in ten minutes!”

steve watched as the cast trudged past him backstage to get changed, none of them even realizing he was there. steve sighed and closed his eyes again. he had another few minutes to rest before he needed to be on stage.

“this is beauty and the beast, not sleeping beauty, harrington.”

steve’s eyes snapped opened and he blushed to see that he was face to face with eddie munson. and by face to face, he MEANT face to face- they couldn’t be more than five inches apart.

“shut up,” steve mumbled, trying to turn away. why on earth did eddie insist on flustering and teasing him? it just seemed cruel.

but any conscious thoughts he had were quickly pushed out of his head when eddie reached out and pulled steve’s chin gently back to face his. he was smiling, but not his normal, sarcastic smile. a genuine one.

“wh- what are you-” steve stuttered.

eddie smiled and flicked his eyes down to steve’s lips, then back up to his eyes.

“i wish you were the one i was kissing on stage,” eddie whispered.

steve’s heart was racing.

“y- you don’t mean that.”

“oh, yes i do,” eddie insisted. his smile faded into a more serious expression and his gaze locked onto steve’s lips this time instead of going back to his eyes. “harrington.”

“yeah?” steve breathed softly, his eyes now locked on eddie’s lips.

“can i kiss you?”

“fuck, please.”

eddie didn’t need any further prompting. he smiled softly and leaned forward, placing his hands on steve’s hips and squeezing them gently. steve let out a small gasp and was instantly thankful that he was in a chair to hold him up at that point. eddie smiled more at steve’s reaction and touched their foreheads together slowly.

“eddie?”

“yeah?”

“stop teasing me already and kiss me.”

eddie laughed softly and closed his eyes. steve followed suit, and soon, a soft, gentle pair of lips were placed against his own. it felt like nothing he had EVER felt before. it was full of love and passion and beauty. it was also very clearly a result of long and miserable pining, because the kiss very quickly became needy and heated. steve grabbed onto eddie’s shirt and pulled him even closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, eliciting a soft groan from eddie.

“oh, for fuck’s sake!”

steve quickly sprang away from eddie and looked up. eddie himself looked more annoyed than anything, and slowly spun his head around.

it was robin.

she was raising her eyebrows and staring at the two.

“listen, robin, before you say anything-” steve started, but robin held up a hand to cut him off. she turned to eddie.

“promise me,” she said through gritted teeth, “that this will NOT distract him from getting you changed on time.”

eddie grinned and saluted her.

“you got it.”

robin looked at him skeptically, then turned to steve.

“and you-” she started, then stopped, and sighed, shaking her head. “you? just- i don’t know, just go ahead and date the boy of your dreams.”

steve smiled as eddie’s eyes went wide and he whirled back to steve.

“aw, i’m the boy of your dreams?!”

“don’t get a big head, munson.”

“hm. maybe i won’t get A big head, but maybe later, i can get SOME hea-”

“okay, i’m leaving!” robin said quickly, covering her ears and turning away. “on stage in 6 minutes!”

steve blushed and turned back to eddie, who was smiling lovingly at him.

“don’t you need to go get changed?” steve said quietly, raising an eyebrow. eddie hummed and pretended to think.

“good thing i’ve got someone here who can strip me in less than two minutes,” he said finally. “looks like we get to kiss for another four.”

steve laughed and shook his head.

what a dork, he thought, as the two connected their lips again.

#stranger things #st4 #stranger things 4 #stranger things au #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #theatre au #high school au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie fanfic #stranger things one shot #steddie one shot

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

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guarded | jhs x reader | chapter three: exotic pets

summary: you’ve tried to separate yourself from your infamous crime family, but a new case has your carefully-constructed world crashing down around you. now you have to figure out how to heal old wounds and handle the new man who enters your orbit.

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: mafia AU, E2L, slow burn, tsundere, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 3.4K

A/N: i hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! i’d love to hear what you think. thank you so much for your support. things are going to start ramping up on the whole slow burn angle from here. once again i must thank the fabulous @ladyartemesia for both this killer graphic and beta reading for me -- as well as the amazing @taetaewonderland. pouring out a sunkist in your honor today xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | EPILOGUE

********************

It’s funny how people believe the shit they see in movies.

For instance, most film fans think it’s entirely possible to break a bottle over someone’s head. One character grabs for an empty beer during a fight and the glass explodes in dramatic fashion with just one crack across another character’s skull.

You know better.

You know there’s way too much give to the human body to shatter glass like that.

If you want to break a bottle you’ve got to connect with something much harder. The corner of a table. A fireplace mantle. That’s how it works in the real world.

You stare into the mirror and run the pad of one finger along the raised scar that mars your left collarbone. All these years later and it’s paler and smoother but it’s still hideous, taunting you in your reflection.

Today you cover it with an oversized scarf carefully matched to a silk blouse. Tomorrow it will be a turtleneck. You’ve come up with dozens of ways to hide the ruined skin, but there’s never going to be a way to get rid of it.

It will always be a physical reminder that there are some pieces of your past you can never leave behind.

************************

Hoseok has a cold.

There was extra gravel in his voice this morning as he went over your schedule for the day. You can detect the faint scent of a cough drop in the shared air of his car.

But he doesn’t mention it and neither do you.

This morning, you’re glad for it -- glad for the absence of small talk.

In a few minutes, you get to walk into your boss’s office and announce that half the evidence in what should be a home-run case has vanished into thin air. You have to pretend to have no idea why someone would want to sabotage a seemingly minor prosecution of a couple of idiot gangsters and you have to do it without so much as hinting at your family’s connection to organized crime in this town.

There’s a knot in your stomach so tight you feel nauseous.

Hoseok’s phone buzzes with an incoming call from the mount on the dash and he frowns for a split-second before sending it to voicemail. One minute later it buzzes again and he rejects it again. Seconds later and he makes it three in a row.

You know damned well that if those calls were about business, Hoseok would have answered them right away. The knot in your stomach tightens even more and you turn your head to stare out of the window.

It’s an unfair situation, this arrangement. Hoseok has access to every corner of your life while you don’t know a damned thing about him. Who would he be going home to every night if he weren’t under orders to stay with you? Who is waiting for him when this is all over?

Someone, certainly.

Willing women are in abundance in his line of work. You grew up around them -- a revolving door of beautiful, vulnerable girls who thought nothing of trading their bodies for gifts and cash. Women so eager for security and love they accepted whatever scraps were thrown their way.

In a way, you were like them -- a motherless little girl living in the midst of male-dominated chaos and desperate for female connection. You watched the way they styled their hair and applied their makeup and how they went about the myriad tasks of being women. Then inevitably you’d grow too attached too fast only to have your heart broken when one day they just disappeared.

And they always disappeared.

You wonder what the woman trying to reach Hoseok this morning looks like. You wonder if she’s angry that he’s had to be away so long. You wonder what version she gets of him and how different it must be from the version you get. The knot in your stomach is replaced by something else.

Something you’d rather not examine too closely.

**************************

“You should let me take you to lunch.”

Donghyuk interrupts what must be the worst morning of your entire career without so much as a knock or a hello. He drops into the empty chair in your office uninvited and doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“We could ditch the busy work, slip out the back entrance -- ” he grins conspiratorially, “ -- have a two-martini meal at Congdu and then sneak into the bathroom to fool around. What do you think?”

You groan out loud. You are not in the mood for this shit right now.

“This is not a good time, ‘Hyuk.”

He sighs. “Yeah, I heard.”

Of course he’s heard. Everyone in a hundred-foot radius has heard. To say your bosses were displeased with the bomb you dropped on them this morning is an understatement.

“So then why are you in my office asking me to go day drinking? Do you want me to be fired?”

“Of course not,” he says, looking offended. “I just thought you deserved a break from the madness for a minute.”

You laugh without a hint of humor.

“I’m going to get a permanent break from the madness if I don’t rescue this case somehow. So no -- no lunch today. Probably no lunch for the next six months, actually.”

Donghyuk frowns.

“Dinner, then? There’s a new spot in Gangnam I’ve been wanting to try. We could go tomorrow night.”

Christ, the man is insistent these days.

You are too mentally worn out to figure out why your casual arrangement with Donghyuk feels a hell of a lot less casual of late. If he’s suddenly decided he wants more than just the occasional meal-to-mattress thing you’ve enjoyed for months, he’s in for a disappointment. You are tapped out.

“I’ve got -- It’s just complicated for me right now,” you manage.

“Yeah, I get it,” he agrees sympathetically. “The bodyguard thing, right?”

“Right,” you repeat slowly, mind suddenly flipping back to Hoseok. Back to this morning’s car ride.

Back to those missed calls.

Something childish and petty and unbecoming stirs inside of you.

“You know what? Dinner tomorrow night could work, actually.”

Donghyuk leans back and smiles wide.

“Great.”

*********************

Hoseok’s cold hasn’t improved.

The ride to the restaurant is radio silent, but for the sound of his occasional sniffle. You could have sworn you saw actual displeasure cross his face when you’d asked him to take you to meet Donghyuk tonight. It feels like the air between you is crackling with tension.

But it’s probably your imagination.

Hoseok says nothing as he closes the car door behind you, nothing as he holds the door to the restaurant open for you, and nothing when you thank him as you step inside.

Donghyuk has a table waiting. No small feat because this place is packed.

It’s a brand-new restaurant and apparently one of the most expensive and coveted dining spots in the city. In an instant, it dawns on you that there’s no table for Hoseok. You turn to ask him where he wants to be, but he brushes past you to take a seat at the bar.

Again, he says nothing.

You huff your frustration under your breath as you slide into the chair across from Donghyuk. He’s got a snifter of what’s sure to be some pricey brandy in his hand.

“Germain-Robin Select Barrel,” he declares, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a sip. “Best stuff in town.”

Of course it is.

Donghyuk is accustomed to having only the best of the best; a natural by-product of his upbringing. You’ve known one another since you were pupils at the same prep school, living parallel lives. You both had expensive homes and pricey tutors and fancy clothes -- but his family graced the pages of the society magazines while yours graced the pages of the newspapers.

This thing you have with him is supposed to be easy; an uncomplicated diversion. But lately, it's a hell of a lot less satisfying than it used to be. Either Donghyuk is really getting more self-absorbed and less interesting -- or you are just starting to not give a shit about anything he has to say.

He’s droning on about something golf-related when you tune out completely. Your eyes wander to Hoseok at the bar.

He still hasn’t ordered anything to eat and a drink sits untouched on the bartop.

“Sharp dresser, that guy.”

“What?”

You swing your focus back to Donghyuk like you’ve just come out of a trance.

“The bodyguard,” he says around a fork full of food. “He’s got pretty good taste for some street gangster. I should find out where he shops.”

You’re caught by surprise -- by his comment, by the way it makes your chest tighten. By the force of the second-hand embarrassment you suddenly feel on behalf of Hoseok.

“He’s not some -- street gangster,” you say quietly, slowly.

“Oh, he’s not?” Donghyuk asks, looking genuinely confused. “He’s not one of your brother’s guys?”

Red-hot anger blossoms inside of you so fast you can barely contain it. You stare Donghyuk down with the most venomous look you can muster.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t,” you bite out. “But you have no clue what you’re talking about. And keep any mention of my brother out of your mouth.”

“Jeez, sorry,” Donghyuk fires back, lifting his hands in surrender. “I didn’t realize I was touching on a nerve. I thought you hated your family. That’s what everyone says, anyway.”

You jerk out of the chair so abruptly it nearly falls back. The napkin in your lap falls to the floor and the people sitting at the tables nearby stop to look. Donghyuk’s mouth falls open with surprise.

“I’m done,” you grind out, grabbing for your purse.

“Sit down,” Donghyuk hisses. “You’re making a scene.”

“She said she’s done.”

You never saw Hoseok move, never registered him leaving the bar -- but when you rip your gaze away from Donghyuk, he is at your side.

Hoseok opens his wallet and throws a pile of bills down on the table. He doesn’t spare a glance at Donghyuk as he calmly ushers you away from the table.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

***************************

The ride home from the restaurant is just as silent as the ride there.

Hoseok drives and you stare blankly out the window as you replay Donghyuk’s words in your mind.

I thought you hated your family. That’s what everyone says.

Yes -- you hated your father. You had your reasons and you had earned that right.

But Namjoon? Never. You could never hate your brother.

The fact that you’d given anyone -- even Donghyuk -- reason to believe otherwise makes you feel sick to your stomach. Shames weighs so heavy on your chest it feels like you can’t breathe.

You don’t even have the energy to devote to being embarrassed at how that whole scene played out in front of Hoseok. By the time he walks you into your apartment, you’re just desperate to wash up and fall into bed. Hoseok lingers in the living room but you don’t even look at him. You head straight for your bedroom.

The tears come the moment the latch clicks closed.

Followed closely by the screams.

**********************

HOSEOK

What a shitty way to end what had really shaped up to be an enjoyable night.

Hoseok could see the moment things went south at dinner. You’d looked disinterested from the second you sat down, distracted the entire time you ate your meal. But then the strangest look came over you at the end, something Hoseok couldn’t quite decipher. Until it was replaced by something he understood loud and clear from all the way across the room.

Fury.

It was way too fucking satisfying, really.

The look on that idiot’s face when you humiliated him in front of an entire restaurant full of his shitty little peers. The way his mouth dropped open when you told him you were done and the way his cheeks burned red when Hoseok tossed the money on the table.

That would have been the perfect way to end the night.

But then you started screaming.

Hoseok’s body is moving before his mind does. In seconds, he’s crossed the apartment and ripped your bedroom door open.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

You are pressed against the far wall of the room, staring down at the floor. Hoseok follows your terrified gaze down to the large black snake coiled just a few feet away.

“Okay, wow. Fuck,” he mutters, shoving his hand through this hair, trying like hell to formulate a cohesive thought. “Okay just...just stay calm for me, okay? Can you do that?”

You say nothing, out of screams and out of words as you stare back at him. It’s clear that no, staying calm is the last thing you can do right now but staying silent is a pretty good second option.

“I have to leave you for a second, okay? Just one second. Can you stay calm for me?” Hoseok repeats, taking a tentative step out the door. “You don’t have to answer me, just nod. I’m going to be back in seconds and I’m going to get this thing out of here. Are you with me?”

Hoseok watches as you pull in one shaky breath and nod woodenly. That’s all the affirmation he needs.

He runs to rip a pillowcase off one of the pillows on his bed. When he gets back to your room, the snake has stretched it’s long body into a flat line and you look somehow more terrified than you did when he left.

“I’m back, okay?” he reassures, even though he’s certain you already know that. But you won’t take your eyes off that snake and he wants you to hear the artificial calm in his voice. “Don’t make any sudden moves. I’m going to get this thing into this pillowcase in my hands.”

He talks you through what he’s doing like it’s going to somehow reinforce that he’s in control when he knows that he’s anything but. Hoseok has seen and done a lot of weird shit in this line of work, but he’s never had to wrangle a fucking snake. He has a basic understanding of what needs to be done, but that’s still a far damned cry from actually doing it.

He takes one deep breath and starts forward with careful steps.

The fact that the snake has uncoiled might work to his advantage, he reasons. From this angle he can probably reach the tail without coming too close to the head. He knows that whatever move he makes has to be fast and decisive -- and he understands instinctively that your composure relies almost entirely on him maintaining his.

He sees you clap a hand over your mouth to stop from screaming when he grabs for the snake. The animal’s long body undulates in his grip, stronger than he expected, and he has to pull back when the snake swings its head in his direction. The entire debacle couldn’t have lasted any more than five seconds, but by the time Hoseok gets an opportunity to pull the pillowcase over the snake’s body, it feels like an eternity.

He wonders if you could see how badly his hands were shaking the entire time.

*******************

“So wait, what kind of snake is it?”

“Fuck Yoongi, I don’t know,” Hoseok snaps, pulling the cabinets under your bathroom sink open. He rifles through the contents, checking to make sure nothing else has been left behind.

“Black. Shiny. Doesn’t look friendly. You gonna come help me toss this apartment or do you want to talk exotic pets?”

“Don’t be a dick,” Yoongi chuckles, “and don’t do anything to that snake. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

Hoseok ends the call without so much as a goodbye.

He takes a break from inspecting your room to walk out into the living room to check on you. You are seated cross-legged on your couch, staring into nothing.

“Yoongi is on his way,” he says, rubbing one hand across the back of his neck. “He’s going to help me do a deep dive in all the rooms.”

You don’t respond.

“You okay?”

You turn your head slowly and blink up at him like you’ve just registered the sound of his voice.

“Uh, yeah,” you say slowly, even though you sound anything but. “I’m okay.”

Hoseok tongues his cheek. He wishes he knew what to do or what to say to make you feel more at ease. He chides himself for the thought almost as soon as it comes. You probably wouldn’t want to hear it from him, anyway.

“Alright,” he sighs, turning back towards your bedroom. “Just give me a minute to get through everything in here and then you can get some sleep.”

“Hoseok?”

You call to him from the couch and he turns back to face you.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

Something twists inside Hoseok’s stomach at the despondent look on your face. It’s such a contrast to the look he saw tonight at the restaurant -- the fiery, angry one that made him feel like he could understand you a bit more. He would rather see any other version of you than the one he sees right now.

“You’re welcome,” he says thickly, turning away to get back to work.

***********************

You are still sleeping when Hoseok leaves Seokjin at your apartment in his place.

Namjoon is standing at his office window this morning, like he often does when he’s thinking. Yoongi nods when Hoseok enters the office and helps himself to the only other empty chair.

“What happened last night?” Namjoon asks, not bothering to turn away from the window.

Yoongi shoots Hoseok a look that says you first and Hoseok returns with one of his own that says no shit, sherlock.

“There’s not much that you’re not already briefed on,” Hoseok starts, “I brought your sister home from a social outing and when we got home she found a snake on her bedroom floor. I was able to contain the snake and Yoongi and I searched every inch of the apartment after that. Didn’t turn up anything else.”

“Any sign of forced entry?”

“No,” Hoseok admits. “I couldn’t find any. I have a locksmith working with Seokjin on replacing the deadbolt again this morning.”

“Right,” Namjoon says, turning away from the window to walk back to his desk. “So that makes twice now that we’ve changed her locks, twice now that someone has managed to get in anyway. What about the cameras outside?”

“I checked the footage,” Yoongi says. “Someone used a pole or a stick to put a physical block over the lens. It was still up there when I checked this morning. Duct tape.”

Namjoon scrubs a hand across his jaw, sighs out loud.

“Fuck. Where are we with tracking the Lee girl?”

Yoongi clears his throat. “I’ve been out on a few runs so far; nothing out of the norm. Work to home to work. I’ve got Jimin and Tae checking out some other stuff but nothing to report back yet.”

“Keep digging,” Namjoon insists. “She has everything she needs. The knowledge and the access, but most importantly she has my sister’s trust. That’s what worries me the most.”

He turns his attention to Hoseok. “My sister. How is she holding up?”

Hoseok thinks back to the way you looked last night, back to that blank look on your face.

Not well.

“She’s tired,” he replies carefully. “Stressed out because she’s trying to rescue her case. The snake shit did not help.”

“I’m sure it didn’t.”

“Speaking of which -- ” Yoongi interjects, “ -- that snake. It’s an Indigo snake. Not venomous.”

Namjoon lifts one eyebrow.

“I’m saying the Ssijog are not trying to hurt her, not really. They only want to scare her into fucking up this case,” Yoongi reasons. “Trust me, they don’t want to make shit worse for themselves right now by adding a dead prosecutor to the mix.”

Hoseok winces at the logical-but-clumsy delivery of that last line.

Namjoon’s mouth pulls into a tight line as he leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers. Hoseok has worked for the man long enough to know that he’s not the type to lash out when he gets angry. Namjoon is the type to go quiet.

Like right now.

He narrows his eyes at Yoongi before opening his mouth to speak.

“You’re probably right about that, Yoongi,” he says in a low, careful tone. “But let me ask you this. Is that a bet you’re willing to make with my sister’s life on the line?”

Yoongi -- wisely -- doesn’t answer that.

****************************

tag list!

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#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts mafia #bts tsundere #hoseok mafia au #bangtanarmynet #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btscreatorscorner #networkbangtan

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hardskz · 4 years

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forever after: masterlist

once upon a time still exists in this age, albeit in unconventional ways. alternatively, stray kids in fairy tales that were revamped and modernized to the point where it’s sometimes near impossible to decipher which tale the story was derived from.

genre: university au, romance, drama, humor, porn with plot/smut

a/n: i like fairy tales, i like stray kids, and i like smut, so why not combine all three into one? there is no update schedule and the fics are only very loosely inspired by the fairy tales, so it can be that the story goes completely off track from the original. descriptions might be altered when i reckon i’m straying away from the initial outline. the series does not have to be read in order as they’re all independent from one another!

one song glory ➵ bang chan

frankly speaking, nobody knows what the fuss about bang chan from the music production department is; all they do know is that you shouldn’t get yourself involved with him. that proves to be an impossible task when you are assigned to collaborate on a project with him. it’s only a matter of time until you figure out what lies beneath the ugly rumors spread about him on campus and his exaggerated eboy style that is way too flashy even for idol stage performances.

alternatively, another beauty and the beast story.

coming soon

damned if i do ya, damned if i don’t ➵ lee minho

you’re not blind; minho is hot. but you know better than anyone else that minho is the textbook definition of a real life troll (because really, which physics major is genuinely convinced that the earth is flat?). despite his antics, he manages to get laid four times a week and even after having slept with what feels like half of the university, he still whines that he hasn’t tried out his favorite kink yet, though he doesn’t spill the specifics. you wouldn’t be a best friend if you didn’t try to find out his #1 kink to annoy him. however, things quickly escalate into something none of you ever considered, but aren’t opposed to either.

alternatively, another peter pan story.

coming soon

cherry pop ➵ seo changbin

while your boyfriend looks the part of the stereotypical bad boy in every teen romcom — yes, he even got the sleeve tattoo down and goes to bars in the shadiest neighborhoods — he’s actually a science geek who is too whipped for you and refuses to take you anywhere that could put you in danger. done with his babying, you decide to act more recklessly, leaving changbin to clean up your mess which includes astronomical hangovers and severe side effects from a science experiment gone wrong.

alternatively, another little red riding hood story.

coming soon

heaven in hiding ➵ hwang hyunjin

you think it was just your lucky day when you drunkenly made out with a guy at the frat party your friend forced you to come. jeongin insists that day should be celebrated because 1) you made out with a (very attractive) stranger for the first time and thus, broke out of your comfort zone, and 2) you can’t stop thinking about said stranger. you think that was the first and last time seeing him, but when you meet again on a different occasion, you’re convinced that it’s a sign from the universe. luckily, he thinks so too.

alternatively, another cinderella story.

coming soon

between heaven and disaster ➵ han jisung

call it sad but you were desperate, fed up with being the goody shoes, and prayed for any salvation that would help you become well, less goody shoes. looks like your prayers were heard because that salvation comes in the form of han jisung, the infamous frat boy that has been sentenced to mandatory community service at the soup kitchen you volunteer at. the deal is simple and jisung is as brash as they say; a hands-on introduction to the world of kinks in exchange for a favor he can cash in without limitations. the only condition: no feelings, otherwise the agreement is off. well, fuck.

alternatively, another rumpelstiltskin story.

coming soon

lucked out with the devil ➵ lee felix

the story usually goes like this: new swimmers are recruited to the swim team. that means abs galore and a win for the team managers who can indulge in the eye candy. and because everyone has a different type, it’s natural that you’re drawn to a certain swimmer. the story isn’t any different for you (the team manager) and your subject in question felix (the new addition), except that he seems familiar to you. no, you’re not in the same major, so how— wait a second, why does his voice sound eerily similar to that one camboy your roommate gets off to?

alternatively, another little mermaid story.

coming soon

sugar, you’re going down ➵ kim seungmin

honest to god, everyone is confused about your strange love-hate relationship with seungmin. maybe it’s because you’re both photography majors, maybe due to your different financial backgrounds — after all, rumor has it that you can’t stand him because he’s one of the best of the year despite running on a scholarship unlike you. it’s a strange love-hate relationship indeed, but it’s quickly rotting into a purely hate one when you have to work on an assignment together and can’t agree on anything. at least, that’s what you assume. in reality, it’s way more complicated than that.

alternatively, another frog prince story.

coming soon

#oh man this is gonna be... wildt #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #hwang hyunjin smut #kim seungmin smut #lee know smut #felix smut #seo changbin smut #masterlist

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vanderlindemangofarm · 4 years

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The Van der Linde Gang - Jobs in a Modern AU

I’ve been really inspired to write about this lately and I’d love to hear your takes! These are the occupations that I think each gang member would have in a modern AU. Some were more challenging than others, but hopefully you guys can see where I’m coming from with each!

Arthur: Film location scout. His natural eye for photography and framing makes Arthur the perfect member of a pre-production team. His no-bullshit approach to everything means he keeps to deadlines, although he’s known to go wandering off into the wilderness for unknown amounts of time. He enjoys the lone working side of his job and finding exactly the right spots that would make the film come to life. He doesn’t always like the films once they’re finished (in fact he’s often bought cinema tickets and walked out half way through, grumbling that it wasn’t worth the popcorn) but he can’t deny the excited buzz he gets every time he gets hired. In his early years as an assistant he met Bertie Mason, a nervous but talented photography intern. Despite an ill-advised hookup after a week joined at the hip they have remained close friends and still go out on shoots together.

John: landscape gardener. John? Flowers? Yes, alright, I found it hard to believe too. But look, it’s not about the flowers, even if he does get misty-eyed at the sight of a sunflower in the early morning light. It’s about the challenge, the outdoors, and solving problems. After all the renovations he did to his house and garden (some more successful than others) John found how much satisfaction he got from digging and reshaping and planting. Don’t get me wrong, he’s often without a shirt, even in the colder months, much to the delight of some and the horror of others. He always makes friends with the household pets and is wonderful with the kids, always dropping his task to throw a frisbee around for a bit or cheekily accept an ice cold glass of lemonade from their mothers. Whenever he drives past one of his projects he feels himself glowing with pride - “I did that!”.

Dutch: philosophy lecturer. As always, late with Starbucks. Will he actually grade your essay? Will it mysteriously disappear? Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it? Sitting precariously on the very edge of his desk, leather jacket hanging off his shoulders and losing his balance every 15 minutes, Dr Van der Linde is nothing short of a wonder. For the love of all that is holy, do not get him started on Kant. Kant has no place here. You want to talk about your precious Kant? Get your butt down to Dr O’Driscoll’s class, he has plenty to say about Kant. Perhaps a little too fond of Socrates. Plato who? Completely illegible handwriting and definitely sleeping with several members of the faculty. But somehow his students always walk away with excellent grades. At the end of each term Dutch takes everyone out to a local bar for drinks, insists on buying tequila which no one really fancies at 11am. Claims to ride a motorcycle called The Count which no one has actually seen. Impossible to hate, and he writes everyone great references for their summer internships.

Hosea: social worker. In a crisis, there’s no one better to knock on your door. Hosea has seen it all and he’ll see it all again, but that doesn’t stop him from treating every single case he gets with the upmost respect and care. His no-nonsense approach to his work means he gets things done, but he never sacrifices his compassion. He mostly works with teenagers and has a way of being able to connect to each individual without coming across as patronising. He’s been in the field for over two decades and is an invaluable mentor for any newcomers, always willing to share a word or two of advice or be a shoulder to cry on.

Javier: guitar teacher and music therapist. During his worst years, Javier’s guitar was his lifeline. And he wants to help others find their lifeline, too. He works on a freelance basis, mainly going into mental health hospitals, schools and prisons. He runs workshops focusing on guitar playing, but brings other instruments (mainly percussion) to try too. He’s a gentle teacher, always with a joke in his back pocket for when you need it most. He has nicknames for everyone and remembers everything they’ve ever told him. He’s patient and never lets anyone feel bad for making a mistake. Javier also runs an after-school guitar club at the local middle school alongside playing his own music at gigs whenever he can. No, he doesn’t reply to DMs no matter how thirsty they are.

Sadie: self-defense instructor. After surviving an attack several years ago, Sadie used her ferocity to get her qualification in self-defense to teach other women how to fight back should they need to. Her husband Jake helps out in her classes, happily allowing himself to be thrown around and slammed onto the mat as many times as required. Her students are terrified of her in the best and nicest way. Sadie also volunteers at a women’s refuge, providing emergency care and taking phone calls.

Charles: environmental campaign manager. Charles has always been drawn to charities and started doing voluntary work for Greenpeace when he was at university, securing an internship with them in Canada which led to a full time job. Whilst Charles mainly hosts meetings and organises events, he also works closely with elementary schools and runs workshops with outdoor activities, crafts and music. Last week they made bird feeders! It was awesome. He’s also a keen activist and regularly meets up with Javier to go to protests and community events, most recently for BLM.

Micah: motorcycle mechanic. Micah is massively invested in motorcycle culture and treats his beloved bike better than his own mother, if he still spoke to her. Although he pretends not to care, fixing bikes is his greatest passion and almost looks...happy when he’s doing it? Maybe? He likes knowing more than the people who stop by his shop and makes sure they know it. Occasionally he leaves his number on a scrap of paper inside women’s handbags when they’re not looking but for some reason none of them call. Like it or not, he’s incredibly skilled and will have your motorcycle singing a tune if that’s what you want. Euphemism? Of course not.

Abigail: nurse. She was so shy when she realised she wanted to pursue nursing - would people laugh at her? Was she too impatient, too nagging, too shrill? Her dyslexia always put her off going into further education and she was always discouraged by her parents. But with lots of encouragement from Hosea (who helped her to fill out her applications and other forms) and her friends, Abigail went to university in her 30′s to get her degree. She graduated top of her class and now works full time in her local hospital, based mostly in the emergency room. From drunken brawlers to tearful children and grumpy old men with lumbago, Abigail has learnt to keep her cool and to have faith in her own ability.

Molly: holistic therapist and masseuse. It took years to get that bastard of a philosopher out of her head (and out of her bed - damn those happy hour drinks “for old times’ sake”), but she’s finally free. Molly radiates a kindness that few took to the time to see, and she wanted to take strength from her past struggles to help others who may need someone to listen, just as she did. Molly took a bunch of online courses in various holistic therapies, including aromatherapy and massage, as this was something she had always been interested in. She runs a tiny clinic on a quiet street, the rooms filled with sunshine and the scent of geraniums. She also has a quite popular ASMR YouTube channel, Emerald Eyes ASMR, which she shyly admits just reached 500k subscribers. Her most popular video, ‘Irish Girl Helps You Fall Asleep (soft spoken, tapping, mouth sounds)’ just reached over a million hits.

Kieran: veterinarian specialising in equine care. Much like Abigail, Kieran didn’t like the idea of going back into education. He’d had a rough time of it as a teenager, dropping out of high school early and working a string of menial jobs for the next decade. They paid his rent, but he still felt poor. His favourite job, however, was working at a stable. The horses made him feel calm and he found that he could read them better than most people. He went to the library and read as much as he could about them. From there, he got himself an apprenticeship which paved the way for him to earn his degree in veterinary science. He smiled so hard in his graduation photo his eyes disappeared into his cheeks. He travels all over the local countryside, visiting farms and ranches to care for the horses. His confidence picked up after the first few blunders, and little by little he’s saving up to buy his own ranch one day.

Lenny: political science student. You know that kid who always looks amazing, even in 9am lectures? Yeah, that’s not Lenny, but he’s sat just behind. See him? Yep, the one rubbing sleep from his eyes as he pushes through the effects of another all-nighter. It’s not due to procrastination, but from perfectionism. He spends hour agonising over references, appendixes and even titles. One time he was so tired he signed his work “Ynnel”. He’s completely in love with his course and relishes every class he takes. Oh, he’s taking Dutch’s ‘History of Western Philosophy’ module by the way. Sitting in the front row, middle seat, directly in front of Dutch, his eyes glinting wickedly. Poor Dutch. Lenny has a counterpoint for absolutely everything and can barely stifle his laughter as Dutch gets more and more flustered. He’s been dating Jenny Kirk, an English Lit student, for the past few months and it’s going well. So well in fact, that he might stop hiding his Doctor Who merchandise every time she comes to his dorm room.

Tilly: business student. Tilly started university at the same time as Lenny and they still always go to the library together, rolling their eyes at each other over their morning peppermint lattes. Tilly is at the forefront of any and all on-campus activism. Think of Sam from Dear White People - that’s our Tilly. She wears her Ravenclaw scarf all autumn and winter long and posts scathing Instagram stories about the cafeteria food. But she’s powerfully kind and very ambitious, taking on a part time job tutoring kids with dyslexia in their reading and writing.

Susan: midwife. Think having a baby is scary? Try crossing Nurse Grimshaw. She’s here now, and that baby is coming out of you one way or another. She’ll hold your hand through thick and thin but if you dare say “I can’t do it” one more time she’ll unleash hell. Susan will make sure everyone has a job to do. Partner just standing there like a lemon? Not on her watch. She’s harsh but kind to her trainees and will always offer a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on, but there’s a time and place for slacking and it’s not on her labour ward.

Trelawny: talent agent. Our Josiah is cunning, infuriatingly charismatic and with an eye for the best of the best - what else could he do so effortlessly? He’ll wrangle you a 10 second role as a latrine cleaner in a non-profit film and he’ll still make you feel like the next DiCaprio. You’re a diamond, don’t you know? Of course you could nab Elphaba, we’ll worry about the singing later. How do you feel about cat food commercials? No no, it’s not pornography, it really is cat food this time - he double checked. On top of this, he knows everyone in the business. No, really. He can’t move 3 feet down Broadway without someone booming his name. The tone of said boom depends, of course, but who hasn’t been caught with his bottom out in that director’s wife’s en-suite?

Sean: outdoor activity centre instructor. You mean you can actually get paid to swim in lakes, ride ziplines through the forest and eat roasted marshmallows?! Sean couldn’t believe his ears. But it was true, and he’s living his best life. He may be on his penultimate warning for unruly behaviour, but he knows he could never really get fired. How could they? Everyone loves him. And to his credit, he’s a fantastic instructor, especially with kids. Everything from canoeing to caving, wild swimming to climbing, Sean has mastered it all and he always makes it fun. No one is allowed to feel left out or silly for not being able to do something. Sean has a way of making everyone feel included, even if you can only make it up the first few rungs of the ladder. Hey, that’s still off the ground! He once knew this feller Bill who cried because a moth flew into his face. You’re doing fine.

Mary-Beth: librarian and YA author. Sweet Mary-Beth, how could she be anywhere else but surrounded by books? She adores her job at her small, local library and is always looking for ways to make it even better. She often gets tangled up in the stories she reads whilst organising shelves, but it’s quiet enough most days that she’s rarely caught. She loves helping people find their books or recommending her favourites. She also runs the toddler storytime groups and a writing club for older kids. Of course, she’s also writing her own books. The first of her ‘Valentine Mysteries’ books made a modest profit and she’s excited to write more about the adventures of Leslie Dupont.

Karen: actress. Realising that she had a knack for accents and even after an especially successful high school lead role as Roxy Hart, Karen didn’t really acknowledge her would-be passion for acting for a long time. But she used her talents to get herself and her friends into X-rated films, dive bars and successfully pull off dozens of prank calls. It wasn’t until one of her friends was going to an open-call audition for a short film and wanted someone to go with her that Karen had her epithany. She was cast on the spot, much to the dismay of her friend. Since then, she’s been in a handful of arthouse films, a commercial here and there, and recently enjoyed a short run as Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream at a small theatre downtown. Does she want fame and fortune? Honestly, she hasn’t really thought about it. Right now, she’s just enjoying the ride. And the phone numbers left for her at front of house from many admirers.

Strauss: financial loan adviser. Oh boy, perhaps you saw this one coming. Then again, maybe not. Old Leopold isn’t quite the two-pronged-tongued eldritch horror people often mistake him for. In fact, he actually advises people against loan sharks. He had his fair share of debts y’see and he genuinely doesn’t want anyone else to go through the same thing. He’s not exactly sweet and cuddly, but he might let you have a free pen if you call by his office. I mean, technically they’re not free but...never mind, just take it.

Bill: plumber. It was purely accidental that Bill bashed his way into his career. No, really. His sink was blocked and after an hour of poking and prodding the pipes he started hitting the poor thing with a spanner out of pure frustration, cursing all the way. To his shock, it worked, and he suddenly had running water again. What shocked him more is that he realised he wanted to know how. So, he bought a book. And he read the book. And one thing led to another, and now he’s the proud owner of Williamson Plumbing Inc. The money is very good, but for Bill that’s not it. You have to understand that for him, it’s the act itself of fixing something that brings Bill immense satisfaction. And Bill isn’t used to knowing more about something - anything - than those around him. For the first time perhaps in his life, he can sit down, solve a problem, and know that he’s done a good job.

Swanson: AA group leader. After getting completely sober almost a decade ago and staying that way, Orville wanted to give something back to the people who had helped him out so greatly. Becoming a volunteer to help those who were trapped where he was seemed like the only path, and it felt so right. Orville is there in meetings, making coffee, handing out donuts and training new volunteers. If anyone wants to talk about their faith he’s all ears, but he never pushes it as a cure-all in any situation. Orville’s sobriety has also meant that he’s learnt to make the most phenomenal mocktails.

Pearson: grocery shop manager and cooking teacher. Simon has his small grocery shop on the edge of town which has a wide range of regular customers. But he wanted to do more, so he set up a small class to teach fellow veterans how to cook. His wife helps out, and they grow the ingredients together in their garden and down at the allotment. It’s just an therapeutic for him as it is for his students, as he’s only just realising how much he wants to talk about his time in the navy.

Uncle: unknown. For the longest time, everyone thought Uncle worked at one of the worst dive bars in town, as whenever they stumbled in for a nightcap he was there, behind the bar, happy as a pig in shit. Turns out that he just started going there one night and no one could get him to leave. And so every evening he’ll appear like a phantom, sit himself in the half-broken chair behind the bar (clearly labelled “not for customer use”), order the cheapest beer on the menu and sit there until midnight. No one can understand how he gets the means to live as he ragingly denies receiving any government handouts despite his lumbago. Claims to be a veteran but hasn’t fought in any wars anyone has heard of.

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yoon-bug · 4 years

Text

The IKEA Test (M) | KSJ

pairing: seokjin x reader

genre: established relationship au || smut, fluff

word count: 9.1k

summary: One review on IKEA’s website called the BRIMNES bed frame the leading cause of divorce due to its difficult assembly. You and Seokjin had laughed when you read it. Now, you weren’t so sure.

warnings: dom!seokjin, sub!reader, sir kink, use of slut/whore, dirty talk, spanking, but spanking with a belt 😳, impact play, oral (f receiving), orgasm control, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fingering, unprotected sex, hair pulling, IKEA-induced frustration, non-sexual talk of pegs and holes, seokjin ultimately being Best Boyfriend Material™

notes: inspired by how I’ve never felt more grateful to be single than when I had to assemble some IKEA furniture. I promise I’m not getting commission from IKEA for product placement.

When you had told Hoseok that you wouldn’t be able to hang out this weekend because you and Seokjin had plans to assemble your new bed frame, he had laughed at you and said that it was nice to have known the pair of you as a couple.

You had taken his joke in stride and laughed with him, knowing that for any couple to truly go the distance, they would need to pass the IKEA test: make it through an IKEA store and assemble an IKEA product without breaking up.

You and Seokjin had passed the first part of the IKEA test with flying colors. You both had easily agreed to purchase the BRIMNES storage bed, liking how the drawers underneath the bed would help you maximize the space in your bedroom. Although, your easy decision might have more to do with the fact that you had simply ordered your bed frame online rather than spending a whole afternoon in IKEA.

All that was left was for you to actually assemble the bed frame. Surely the two of you could do that.

Or so you had thought.

But now, you were only moments away from ripping up the all but useless instructions to shreds before doing the same to your boyfriend.

“Why are you working on the drawers?” you asked through clenched teeth, the instruction booklet crinkling in your hands as your grip on it grew even tighter. “That’s the literal last step!”

“I think the last step is to break this bed in properly,” Seokjin teased.

“There’s not going to be a bed to break in if we don’t follow the instructions,” you snapped, your frustration growing when he only shrugged. “We’re supposed to start with the bed rails.”

He nodded his head in that wishy-washy way that drove you crazy, the way that said you might be right but that ultimately it didn’t matter.

“We’re gonna have to put the drawers together eventually. Might as well just do it now. And it’s so much easier than dealing with all of this.” He gestured to the stacks of wood laid on the floor around your bedroom.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to ten. You then forced yourself to loosen your grip on the instructions.

Earlier, the two of you had just barely managed to avoid an argument when you had insisted on counting and sorting all of the screws, bolts, and pegs before starting to actually assemble anything over Seokjin’s objections that you could just do so as you went. Disagreeing with him about the drawers would only heighten tensions even further.

It was just a bed frame. No need to start a fight over a bed frame.

“Fine,” you agreed stiffly and as much as it pained you, you flipped to the last pages of the instruction booklet.

But as you started to read through the instructions for the drawers — or rather look at the pictures of instructions since there were no words — Seokjin continued to move ahead and try to assemble them without waiting for you to finish doing so.

“Can you just wait until I finish reading the instructions?” you asked, but your tone had it coming out as a demand rather than a question. Hearing how it sounded, you tacked on a quick, “Please.”

He looked up at you with a raised eyebrow at how forced your “please” was and you gave him a tight smile in return.

“Why don’t you read the instructions and then tell me what to do,” he suggested. “I know how much you love to do that.”

His own eyes widened at the passive-aggressive remark that had slipped out and he paused his attempt to shove a wooden peg into one of the holes to look at you nervously. It seemed both of you realized that you were coming close to failing the IKEA test and you hadn’t even started to assemble the bulk of the bed frame.

Trying to push through the awkward tension, you cleared your throat and set down the instructions in front of you. You then reached for a drawer front and its corresponding bolts that needed to be inserted into the holes on the back. Following your lead, he returned to his own drawer.

“Why did we have to get such a difficult bed anyway? There are so many pieces,” he whined.

“Well, it’s too late to do anything about it now,” you sighed, internally agreeing with him. If you had known it would be so complicated, you might have just settled for a regular bed frame and put plastic storage bins underneath it.

As you stuck the final bolt into the back of the drawer face, you let yourself revel in the accomplishment you felt from completing such a small task. With so much still left ahead of you, every win mattered.

You glanced over at Seokjin as you leaned forward to grab the drawer’s side panel from the pile in front of you and froze when you saw him trying to shove a peg into the hole where the bolt belonged.

“Stop. You’re putting a peg into a screw hole,” you told him, reaching out to correct him only for him to move the drawer face away from your grasp.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he grinned, but otherwise ignored you as he continued to try and push the small wooden piece into the wrong hole.

“I’m serious. You’re gonna break something,” you said, but it only seemed to urge him on.

“What am I gonna break? The hole?” he scoffed and you grabbed the instructions to show him the diagram, pointing to where the drawing clearly showed a bolt was supposed to go into the hole where he was currently trying to shove the peg.

“Just look!”

With a roll of his eyes so exaggerated that you were surprised they didn’t fall out of his head, he finally looked at the page in front of him, continuing to mindlessly try and insert the peg into the hole as he did so. His brow furrowed as he looked over the diagram and you could see the realization dawn on him that you were right.

“Oh.”

Unfortunately, just as he saw that he was doing it incorrectly, the peg finally slipped into the hole.

“Shit,” he muttered. He quickly tried to remove it, only to find that it was stuck.

“Seokjin!” you cried and it took every ounce of self-control to keep yourself from wadding up the instructions and throwing them (along with the drawer face in front of you) at his head.

“It’s fine. It’s fine,” he assured you, his voice tense as he continued to unsuccessfully pull on the peg. Clearly, things were not fine.

“It’s not fine! We can’t just buy a replacement part if you break the drawer!” you snapped. He grumbled something under his breath and you decided it was easier to ignore it altogether. You stood up and walked over to the toolbox that was sitting on your dresser, rifling through it until you found the pliers you were looking for.

“Here,” you said, your tone icy as you thrust them out for him to take. “Use these.”

“I don’t need pliers,” he waved you off and your grip on them grew tighter. He stubbornly continued to tug on the peg, now trying to twist it and hope it would loosen. “Don’t worry. You know that I’m an expert at pulling out.”

His playful words were undercut by both the frustration on his face and the way he let go of the peg to run an aggravated hand through his shaggy hair.

“Can’t you ever take anything seriously?” you asked, your voice rising in volume and your patience on the verge of snapping.

“Can’t you stop taking everything seriously?” he bit back, his own patience seeming to run almost as thin. “It’s just a fucking bed frame.”

“Exactly. It’s just a bed frame and I can’t even trust you to do that.” You crossed your arms over your chest in displeasure. “I didn’t sign up to be your nanny.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you seem to really get off on being so controlling.” Your jaw dropped at the insult. “I mean, can you stop being so uptight for five minutes or will you collapse the moment you pull that stick out of your ass?”

Your grip on the pliers still in your hand was now so tight that your fingers were starting to hurt.

“Oh, I’m sorry—” you began with narrowed eyes, only to be cut off when he gave a dramatic gasp.

“You know how to say sorry?!”

“—I’m sorry that I’m too busy being the only adult in the relationship to have any sort of fun,” you continued, raising your voice to be heard over him. “If it wasn’t for that stick up my ass, then there would be no one to make sure that our rent wasn’t late or that our bills were getting paid or that we weren’t investing our money in some multi-level marketing scheme!”

“Hey! How was I supposed to know that Complete Citchen Classics wasn’t a legitimate company?” he asked, acting like you had taken a low blow.

You tossed your hands up in exasperation.

“Fucking Google! That’s how you were supposed to know. Or maybe it’s that they spelled ‘kitchen’ with a ‘c’!”

Pride seemingly wounded from being reminded of how easily he had almost been conned, he went back to forcefully trying to pull out the peg with a scowl.

“Will you just use the pliers?!” you shouted, shaking them furiously in your hand.

“I don’t need — Oh. Oops.”

His eyes moved back and forth from the broken wooden piece in his fingers to the hole where the other half of the broken piece was still stuck — only now there was no longer anything sticking out for you to get a grip on to remove the piece.

It was strange. It was like all of your emotions and frustrations had melted away into pure white. You had never felt this sense of calm before. But as you watched him try to use his nails to pull what was left of the wooden piece from the hole, you realized that it wasn’t calmness.

It was anger so intense that it eclipsed even your own ability to comprehend it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!" you yelled.

He at least had the decency to look embarrassed, but it did little to soothe your temper. In fact, you felt like if you were in the same room as him any longer then you might have an aneurysm.

“For fuck’s sake, I should have just assembled it myself!” you snapped as you stormed out of the bedroom, throwing the pliers back in the toolbox as you passed it.

The empty IKEA boxes in the living room only stoked your furor the second you caught sight of them. You hurried out of the apartment, grabbing your purse and keys as you went before slamming the door behind you as loudly as you could.

You ended up at your neighborhood movie theatre, mindlessly scrolling through the automated kiosk in front of you to find the movie with the longest running time. You sighed in relief when you saw that there was one that was almost three hours long. From the picture of the movie poster on the screen, it seemed to be some sort of action epic.

Perfect. Maybe watching a bunch of cars and planes exploding for the next three hours would be the perfect outlet for your anger. Satisfied with your decision, you bought a ticket for the showing that was about to start.

You paused as you began to put away your credit card. After a moment, you bought a second ticket for the next showing as well. Six hours of some dumb action movie should be enough to get Seokjin’s idiocy off your mind.

That and the largest tub of popcorn they sold at the concessions stand. You frowned at the long line, knowing you would miss the beginning of the movie, before realizing that you would just catch it during the second showing.

When you finally did quietly slip into the theatre and your seat, you almost immediately found yourself grateful for the mindlessness of the plot. It fully satisfied your need for something that didn’t require you to think any deeper than wondering how the nameless hero would escape capture yet again.

And when the film ended and the next showing began, the thin plot allowed you the opportunity to reflect back on your argument with Seokjin with a cooler head.

It was rare for the two of you to fight, although that was more due to his easygoing nature rather than how harmonious you were as a couple.

You knew you were difficult to be in a relationship with. You were as strong-willed and assertive in your personal life as you were in your professional life. And while your ambitious nature and need for perfection had led to you graduating law school at the top of your class and now one of the leading junior associates at your law firm, it hadn’t been great for your past relationships.

Your exes tended to share the same reasons for why they were breaking up with you: you were too high-strung, you didn’t know how to let loose, you obsessed over every little thing.

Which was why when Seokjin came along, you were surprised by just how well the two of you seemed to fit. He was your exact opposite, but that was what seemed to work.

He was almost never bothered by all the things about you that had driven away other men. When you were too serious, he would crack a cheesy joke. When you needed something to be done a certain way, he let you do it. When you grew frustrated, he was there to calm you.

As you continued down this train of thought, you could feel guilt to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. For all of the times that he had accommodated your demands, could you say the same about yourself? How often were you the one willing to compromise?

Would it really have killed you to just have been more patient with Seokjin, to have tried to explain things more calmly? You ignored the petty voice in the back of your head screaming “yes”. While you still thought that you were right about how to assemble the bed, there had been no need to lose your temper. He was right; it was just a bed frame.

Your thoughts turned to what he could have done once you stormed out. Was he pissed at you? Was he going to try and put the bed together on his own to spite you? Was he happy you were gone? Was he finally starting to rethink whether he could handle spending the rest of his life with someone so controlling?

Your sense of guilt only grew when you came to the conclusion that none of those hypotheticals were probably true. He was probably waiting patiently at home for you and would reassure you that things were fine the moment you stepped through the door. The thought made your heart ache. You didn’t deserve him.

But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try and hang onto him.

By the time the end credits began to roll, you decided that you were ready to return home with your tail tucked beneath your legs. And if you decided to stop on the way home and pick up dinner from Seokjin’s favorite restaurant to help sweeten your apology then who could blame you.

As you inserted your keys into the lock of the front door, you couldn’t help but think that even the sound of the lock turning was remorseful to your ears. Your guilty conscience was really eating away at you. But as you opened the door and entered the apartment, you froze in shock.

The living room that had been filled with IKEA boxes when you left was now surprisingly empty. It was as spotless as it had been before the bed frame from hell had arrived. It was amazing what just that alone did for easing your anxiety about your fight with Seokjin.

Shaking away your awe, you entered the apartment and softly shut the door behind you. You were slipping off your shoes and hanging up your purse when you noticed something else that was missing — your boyfriend. You set the bag of takeaway on the kitchen counter and that’s when you heard the faint sound of him humming coming from further into the apartment.

Slowly, you made your way towards the bedroom and once you were standing in the open doorway, you gasped in surprise at the sight before you.

Where you had left stacks of wooden furniture pieces and piles of screws and bolts around the room, there was now a fully-assembled bed frame, complete with the mattress placed on top and an almost perfectly made bed as Seokjin placed the final remaining pillow at the head of it.

He looked over his shoulder at the sound of your gasp and gave you an unbothered smile.

“Hey, you’re back,” he greeted as he gave the duvet one last tug to straighten it before standing fully and placing his hands on his waist, looking at the sight of the fully-assembled bed frame and perfectly made bed with pride.

“The bed…” you trailed off, walking towards him to stand at his side.

“Yeah! It looks great, doesn’t it?”

You could only nod dumbly, your mouth still hanging open slightly in disbelief.

“But…the drawer front? The broken peg?”

He turned to you with a mischievous grin before reaching out to grab onto your hips and tug you close. Your hands instinctively came up to rest on his biceps as you continued to stare in wonder at the bed.

“Well, you see, I happen to have this really, really smart girlfriend and she suggested a pair of pliers. It took some digging, but I was able to pull out the peg.” You turned your head away from the bed to look up at him with an amused smile. “In fact, she’s so smart she made us count out all the pieces beforehand so that we knew there were a couple of extra pegs.”

You giggled softly.

“Wow, she sounds like a real catch,” you teased in return and his grin grew wider.

“Oh, you can’t even imagine.”

You shook your head in disbelief before smiling back at him, your affection for him written clearly across your features.

“I can’t believe you put this whole thing together by yourself,” you said and he threw his head back with a characteristically loud laugh.

“Oh, I didn’t,” he finally replied, the humor still present in his voice, and your brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Huh?”

“I just hired someone from TaskRabbit to do it for us. We should have just done that from the beginning,” he told you and this time it was your turn to laugh.

You were sure there were stars in your eyes as you looked up at him, there always were when he managed to take you by surprise. You brought your hand up to fondly brush his hair from his forehead.

“Who knew my boyfriend was so smart?” you grinned and he laughed in return.

“Shh. Don’t tell anyone. It’s our secret,” he whispered.

He then leaned forward to give you a gentle kiss and you smiled against his lips. But when he pulled back, your small smile turned slightly sad as you thought back on the things you had said to him in the heat of the moment and how, even despite your argument, Seokjin had welcomed you back home with open arms and his usual smile.

“I’m sorry for getting so mad,” you said. “You were right. It was just a bed frame. There was no need to lose my temper.”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have listened to you.”

You gave him a small shake of your head, wordlessly assuring him that it was fine.

“I need to stop obsessing over every little thing,” you sighed. “I need to let things go.”

But then he reminded you all over again why you loved him when he just shrugged with a good-natured smile.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine. You can obsess over the little things. That’s who you are.”

“But you—”

“And I’ll get over it because that’s who I am,” he interrupted and you felt your heart bursting with love for him at his words. His expression then turned slightly more serious, wanting you to know he was sincere in what he said next.

“What you think of as ‘obsessing over the little things,’ I just see as part of how driven you are. I love that you don’t settle for taking shortcuts and or letting things that are done half-assed slide,” he explained. “I love it because I’m the opposite. I love that being around you means that I can be who I am because you’re always there to make sure that we do better when we’re together.”

His words meant so much to you that you could feel the way your eyes were prickling with the threat of tears. Always observant, he gave you a sweet kiss before any tears could fully form. When he pulled away, the smile you loved so much was on his lips.

“If all of that means we have a fight when we’re doing what must literally be the most frustrating task on the planet, then I think it’s worth it.”

You raked your fingers through his hair lovingly. You really had found not just the perfect man, but the perfect man for you.

“I love you,” you said and he smiled at you.

“I love you, too,” he replied before bringing his plush lips down to meet yours. He then tugged you even closer as you buried your hands deeply into his soft hair. The kiss grew more heated as he parted your lips with his tongue to slide against yours, causing you to moan softly into his mouth.

You were so lost in his soft lips that you almost missed the way his hand was snaking up your body to gently but firmly wrap his fingers around your throat — almost. He broke the kiss and his hold on you kept you from instinctively trying to close the gap.

When your eyelids fluttered open, you couldn’t help but rub your legs together at the look on his face. Gone was your playful and always understanding boyfriend. In his place was a man who expected absolute submission and had zero patience for any form of disobedience.

“I know you’re sorry,” he started, his voice low and you were sure that your pupils must have been blown wide with how turned on you already were. “But you know that I can’t let you get away with talking to me like that in here, baby girl.”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed out. When he gave your throat a slow squeeze, you let out a small whimper.

“What’s your safeword, baby?” he asked and the question alone had you ready to cream your underwear. If you didn’t know where this night was going before, you sure did now.

“Strawberry,” you whispered and he gave you an approving smile.

“Good girl,” he said and just that simple praise over something so small was enough to have your chest swelling with pride. But any remaining trace of gentleness on his features quickly disappeared along with his next words. “Strip.”

He stepped back from you to watch and you made quick work of pulling off your shirt, your bra not far behind. Your jeans and underwear joined the small pile of clothing off to the side so that you were standing completely bare in front of him. You clasped your hands behind your back and dropped your chin to your chest, your stance radiating the submission that Seokjin expected in the bedroom.

You could feel his eyes raking over your nude figure and you quickly snuffed out the urge to lift your gaze to meet his. Doing so would break one of his rules and when it came to the bedroom, you followed his every order — without question.

The silence between you stretched on as he continued to look at you without making a move. Every second that passed had the wetness between your legs growing to the point that you were sure your inner thighs would be shining when you finally parted them. Your nipples had hardened from a combination of the room’s cool temperature and the way Seokjin was staring at you.

Fuck. You were so turned on and he hadn’t even touched you yet.

“Turn around,” he ordered. “Hands on the bed.”

You immediately did as you were told. You turned your back to him and leaned forward to place your hands on the mattress. Even through the haze of your arousal, you couldn’t help but note how good the new bed frame looked. You would have to make sure to tell Seokjin.

Of course, now was not the time to do so. You were brought fully back to the moment when you heard him slowly approaching you. You were sure you made quite the sight for him with the way your back arched, presenting your ass to him perfectly.

His footsteps came to a stop right behind you. Your fingers gripped onto the duvet tightly in anticipation of his next move. After what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been longer than a minute, you heard him shifting. It took every ounce of your self-control to keep from glancing over your shoulder to see what he was doing. You couldn’t help but slightly jump when you felt him finally drag a fingertip down the back of your thigh and you realized that he had knelt down behind you. He let out a dark chuckle at your reaction.

“Open.”

You followed his one-word command and widened your stance, exposing your pussy to him fully. From the sudden chill on your inner thighs, you knew that your earlier assumption about how wet you were was correct. And it was something that Seokjin easily caught now that he was eye-level with your most intimate parts.

“Damn, you’re dripping already,” he remarked and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “I’ve barely even laid a finger on you and you’re already this wet.”

Suddenly, his thumbs were on either side of your folds and spreading them apart to give him an even better view of your wetness straight from the source.

“I wonder what they would say,” he mused, his tone so casual that it was like you were having a discussion over Sunday brunch and he wasn’t only a foot away from having his face buried in your pussy.

“All those men who get so scared of you in the courtroom, all those men at your law firm, all those men who were too insecure to be in a relationship with you. What would they say if they could see you like this — bent over and begging to take your punishment?”

Your breathing sped up and your walls fluttered around nothing at his words and from his chuckle, neither escaped him. The small puff of air he let out hit your slick folds and you bit back a gasp.

“They all think of you as this strong-headed woman who always needs to be in control. They don’t know that all it takes is a firm hand to turn you into such a needy slut.” As if to emphasize his point, he shifted one of his thumbs to brush lightly against your clit and you couldn’t hold back your soft whimper at the sensation.

But just that barely perceptible noise was enough to break one of his rules — remain silent unless spoken to. Your punishment came swiftly when his light touch on your clit was replaced by his fingers roughly pinching it. You gripped tightly onto the duvet and bit down on your lip to keep from letting out another sound.

After a few moments, he pinched your clit even harder, testing your obedience. Seemingly satisfied when you remained quiet, he let go. You exhaled with relief as you felt the blood rushing back to the small bundle of nerves, along with another sharp wave of arousal.

“See? A firm hand.”

Nothing escaped Seokjin’s eye.

Both of his hands fell away from your folds and you heard him stand up, followed by the telltale sound of his belt buckle as he undid it. The fwip-fwip of his belt sliding through the belt loops of his jeans had your breathing speeding up.

You knew what was coming.

Once it was free, you could hear the way the leather stretched as he toyed with it, folding it over in his hands. And then he brought the strip of leather right up to the globes of your ass and just held it there.

“How many do you think you deserve, baby girl?” he finally asked, but it was very clearly a question that he already had the answer to.

“However many you think I’ve earned, sir,” you replied, your voice rough with both disuse and desire.

He rewarded your answer by trailing the belt down your ass to brush over the sodden folds of your cunt and your eyes fluttered shut at the stimulation. You wanted so badly to join him in rubbing against the belt but stayed motionless. After giving you just the barest taste of pleasure, he dragged the belt back up to your ass and you felt your face heat at the slick trail of your arousal left in its wake.

“I think twenty should do the trick,” he said and your eyes widened. While twenty wasn’t an unheard-of number when it came to his punishments, it was certainly more than you were expecting. You wondered if his pride was still wounded from you having brought up the pyramid scheme. “Do you think you can take it like a good little slut?”

“Yes, sir,” you murmured breathlessly. He began to gently but firmly swat the belt against your ass, preparing your skin for the punishment that was imminent.

“Get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

You released your death grip on the duvet to do as he ordered and you gave your hands a quick shake as you climbed onto the bed to help encourage the circulation back into your fingers before you bent back over onto your hands. Once you were in position, he gave your ass another few slightly harder smacks.

“I’ll even count them for you,” he offered, like he was doing you a favor when in actuality, you knew that he was the one truly enjoyed being able to count each and every strike.

“Thank you, sir.”

The belt paused its swatting and fell away from your skin, the wordless signal that he was about to begin.

And then the room was filled with a loud crack! as he brought the belt back down on your left asscheek. You sharply inhaled and squeezed your eyes shut at the pain, but refrained from letting out any further noise that would have invited Seokjin’s ire.

“One,” he counted as he ran the palm of his free hand against the smarting skin to soothe it and you took a deep breath.

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?” Your voice was clear, making sure he heard every word.

Your other cheek was next and you bit down hard on your lip when the smack came.

“Two.”

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?”

When the third crack! came, you couldn’t help but jerk your hips away.

“Three.”

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?”

The smacks continued and with each one, your reactions grew less controlled as you warred between pain, arousal, the instinct to avoid the cause of the pain, the hunger for the pleasure that followed the pain, and the burning desire to be good for Seokjin. After each and every one, he would rub the reddening skin to prepare you for the next.

“Ten.”

By this point, his free hand was holding onto your waist to keep you from writhing away from the belt. Every hit hurt so good and your head was spinning from the white-hot arousal that had been clouding your mind from the first smack.

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?” you asked through clenched teeth as tears began to blur your vision.

The next one was particularly harsh and you were unable to hold back a whimper. As soon as it left you, you wanted to kick yourself for breaking his rule so easily. You were better than that. You were better for him than that.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to add another one for that,” he sighed, the disappointment clear in his tone and dropped your head as you felt a tear escape the corner of your eye. You wanted to be good for him. “Good little sluts take their punishment quietly. Disobedient whores don’t. Which one are you going to be, baby girl?”

“I’ll be a good little slut, sir,” you quickly answered, sniffling softly with shame. “I’m sorry, sir. M-may I please have another?”

Unable to see him, you missed his satisfied grin at your eager submission. You could be as strong-willed as you wanted in your relationship and he would always go along with it because he knew that in the bedroom, he had your total and complete submission.

Crack!

“Twelve.”

The tears continued to fall and your pussy continued to drip.

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?”

When you reached sixteen, your hands gave out beneath you and you fell to your elbows. You were panting heavily and sweat was beading your temples. It looked like you had just finished running a marathon.

Crack!

“Seventeen.”

“Thank you, sir. Please may I have another?” you asked through your tears. Only four more. You could handle four more. Your ass felt like it was on fire. You could only imagine how red it had turned and you wondered if any marks would be left behind. God, you hoped so.

Crack!

It took everything in you to hold in your scream as the belt landed on the as of yet untouched backs of your upper thighs.

“Eighteen.”

“T-thank you, sir. Please may I have another?” you whimpered.

The next two came in quick succession, one on each cheek, rushing you onto the last smack before you could register the pain between nineteen and twenty. And when the final crack! came, it was the most brutal one yet.

“Your last one, baby girl,” he told you before bringing the belt down and you could hear how slightly winded he sounded. It seemed he was more affected than he would have you believe.

Crack!

You couldn’t hold back a cry as the leather came down with a hard smack where your ass met your upper thighs, and consequently, right across your soaked folds.

“Twenty-one,” you heard through the pain and even as distracted as you were by your painfully stinging skin, your response was automatic.

“T-thank you, sir. P-please m-may I have another?” you sobbed, burying your tear-stained face in the duvet.

“Shhh, baby girl,” he said, his voice fractionally softer as he rubbed your lower back. “You took your punishment so well.”

“B-but I was bad. I broke the rule,” you sniffled through your tears, remembering the way you had cried out at the last hit. “I’m sorry, sir.”

He looked down at your prostrated form and grinned at how well-behaved you were for him. He had been planning to be merciful and let that last one slide.

“Are you asking for another one, baby girl?”

You eagerly nodded your head against the mattress.

“G-good little sluts take their punishment quietly. I’ll be good for you, sir. I p-promise,” you pleaded and he felt like the luckiest man on earth to have you on your knees and begging him to be spanked.

Crack!

The hit left you breathless and you were thankful because in doing so, it also left you silent.

“Twenty-two.”

You heard him drop the belt to the floor, signaling that your punishment was truly over.

“Th-thank you, sir,” you whimpered.

“You’re such a good little slut,” he told you as he soothed the tender and heated skin of your ass with both of his hands. “Always such a good girl for me.”

You preened beneath him at the praise.

“Do you know what good little sluts get?” he asked and hope flared in your chest. One of his hands slowly began to trail down your asscheek, his thumb rubbing soft circles against your skin as he did so. “They get rewarded.”

He emphasized his words by swiping his thumb in one long stroke from your clit to your entrance and you gasped as you clutched the duvet between your fingers. After being so on edge during your punishment, that one drop of pleasure had the walls of your pussy clenching tightly around nothing.

“Well, baby girl?” he asked and you could feel his breath right against your soaked folds. “Are you ready for your reward?”

He moved his hands to the backs of your thighs and pushed them further apart, granting him better access to your cunt.

“Yes, sir,” you answered, and then suddenly his pillowy lips were wrapped around your clit, giving the swollen bundle of nerves a harsh suck that had you seeing stars. Your resulting moan complied with Seokjin’s second rule — silence unless spoken to during your punishments and anything but silence during your rewards.

His tongue flicked against your clit before he gave your folds a long lick from top to bottom, dipping inside your entrance as he went. And then his lips were back on your clit, the obscene sucking sound filling your bedroom and turning you on further.

You began to instinctively rock your hips back and forth to meet his heavenly tongue but were held in place by the tight grip he had on your thighs. As usual, you were at the mercy of his generosity.

But from the way he alternated perfectly between harsh sucks and light flicks, he seemed to be in a very generous mood and it wasn’t long before you were on the verge of your climax.

“P-please sir, can I come?” you asked breathlessly and you hoped that tonight his generosity extended to your orgasms. It would be far from the first time that he had brought you right to the edge only to leave you hanging.

He hummed around your clit, pleased that you remembered to ask — although really, how could you ever forget? The first and only time that you had come without his permission, he had forced out so many orgasms from you that you were afraid your clit was going to go numb forever from the excruciating pleasure. You had been sure to never let it happen again.

“Come, baby girl,” he said and the words were like music to your ears.

The knot that had slowly been tightening since before the first hit of his belt to your ass rapidly untwisted and overwhelming pleasure coursed through your body. Your toes curled into the soles of your feet and your eyes screwed tightly shut as you moaned loudly. The empty walls of your cunt spasmed and Seokjin had a front-row seat to the sight. He continued to flick your clit with his tongue, milking your orgasm for all it was worth.

Finally, when the pleasure began to recede and the ability to speak came back to you, you remembered your manners.

“Th-thank you, sir,” you panted.

But he ignored you and went right back to sucking your clit, somehow managing to do so even harsher than before. The oversensitivity was immediate and you tried to pull your hips away from his lips with a cry, but the moment he felt you trying to wiggle away, his hold on your thighs grew tighter and you were sure his fingers would leave bruises.

“Please, sir,” you cried, burying your face back into the duvet.

Your plea fell on deaf ears because he continued to torment your clit with his sinful lips and tongue. Soon, the oversensitivity began to be eclipsed by a bubbling sense of pleasure in the pit of your stomach. Behind your eyelids, your eyes rolled backward. Seokjin’s grip on you was no longer to keep you from pulling away, but was now to keep you from grinding back onto his face.

He released one of your thighs and dragged his fingertips upwards until they were at the top of your left asscheek. He then scratched his blunt fingernails down your reddened and tender skin. You screamed and the pleasure was so intense and immediate It was like he had physically dragged you right to the precipe of your next orgasm.

“P-please let me come, sir,” you begged, your voice nothing but a high-pitched whine. “Pl-please, sir. Please!”

“Come.”

The tension in your body snapped and you moaned loudly at the intense pleasure that was now blinding your vision. You could feel the way your walls were fluttering helplessly as you came. Seokjin’s hold on your thighs was the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto your stomach. He continued to lick at your clit, but he was doing so much gentler than earlier. These were licks intended to help you through your orgasm rather than prepare you for your next one.

As you eventually came down from your high, his tongue against your pussy slowed until it stopped altogether. He then placed a kiss to the cheek of your ass, relishing your sharp inhale of pain at the sensation.

You opened your mouth to thank him, but found that the words wouldn’t leave you until you cleared your throat.

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered, turning your head to the side to rest your cheek and temple on the mattress as your breathing slowly began to return to something resembling normal.

“You’re welcome, baby girl,” he said. Your eyelids fluttered open and from the corner of your eye, you could see him standing up behind you.

You flinched away from him when you felt him trace a finger over your swollen clit and through your slick folds. He gave you a gentle but firm swat to one of your asscheeks in response to your movement. You sharply inhaled, but otherwise stayed perfectly still and silent.

“You have no idea how good you look like this, with your ass red and your cum dripping down your thighs,” he mused. “And you’re all mine.”

Suddenly and without warning, he sank two fingers deep into your pussy and you cried out loudly at the intrusion. You turned your head back to bury your face into the mattress as your fingernails scratched uselessly at the duvet. He then began to lazily pump his fingers in and out of you and your arousal began to build all over again.

It was only encouraged along when he curled his fingers expertly to rub right against the spot along your walls that he was intimately familiar with. Before the pleasure could grow too much, he slid his fingers out of you fully and you mewled pathetically at the loss.

But your disappointment was shortlived because only a few moments later, you felt both of his hands grab tightly onto your hips and yank your lower-half backward to meet his crotch. You tried to jerk away from him with a pained gasp when the aching skin of your ass rubbed against the rough fabric of his jeans.

He was quick to shush you gently and slowly pulled your hips back into him, taking his time to ease you into the sensation. After letting you settle into the stinging pain, he ground his crotch against your ass and even through the sharp hiss you let out, you were still able to recognize the feeling of his hard cock through the denim.

“You feel that, baby girl?” he asked, his voice sounding slightly tense as he continued to grind against you and you whimpered in response. “Feel how hard I am for you?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathed and he shifted his hold on you so that he was now rubbing his cock right up against your once-again aching cunt, making you moan softly.

“Do you think you’ve earned my cock yet?” Another thrust of his hips and another moan from your lips.

“Yes, sir. Please, sir,” you moaned.

“I think so, too. You’ve been a good girl for me,” he agreed and your heart soared at his words. He let go of your hips and then you heard the sound of his zipper. After a few more moments, one hand was back on your hip, holding you still as he used the other to guide the fat head of his cock to your cunt. “You took your punishment well and you made sure to ask for permission before coming. You’re always such a good little slut.”

He slid his cock along your drenched folds, leisurely circling the head around your clit and you gave another loud moan into the mattress before he dragged it back to your entrance. Very slowly, he inserted the bulbous tip of his cock until it was just barely inside of your warm and silky walls.

He gave you just a moment to grow accustomed to the stretch before he buried his thick cock fully into your depths with one smooth thrust that speared apart your walls and had you wailing beneath him. He groaned behind you and his grip tightened on your hips. With his thighs pressed right against your ass, you could still feel the rough fabric of his jeans and it only heightened your pleasure to know that he was still fully dressed while you were a naked mess before him.

“Th-thank you, sir,” you gasped, tears forming again in the corner of your eyes at the stretch and he chuckled.

“Such a good little slut,” he groaned, unable to completely hide how affected he was by the way your cunt was clenching around him. He then withdrew his length until only the head of his cock was left inside of you before entering you with another hard thrust that had you sliding an inch or two forward on the bed.

He easily tugged you back into him. He then released one of your hips and buried his free hand in your hair, wrapping his fist around your strands and yanking them so that you were forced back onto your hands, your head pulled back until the base your skull was pressed between your shoulders.

Now that you were in his desired position, he began a punishing rhythm. His cock pounded into you with each thrust and you keened loudly every time his cock split you apart. He was burying himself so deeply that you could practically feel him in the back of your throat. You were tempted to drop your head forward, only for him to sharply tug your hair to keep you from doing so every time you tried.

The bedroom was filled with the wet sounds of his fat cock sliding in and out your dripping pussy, the slapping of skin against skin, and your loud and high-pitched moans as he managed to hit every single spot inside your cunt perfectly.

“Just remember, baby girl,” he warned, his pace not faltering once as he spoke. “You might be the boss outside of the bedroom, but who do you answer to in here?”

“Y-you, sir,” you answered without hesitation through your pleasure. With every thrust, his hips slammed into your tender ass and the stinging pain it caused helped push you closer and closer toward your third orgasm of the night.

“Who owns this pussy?” he asked.

“You do, sir,” you whimpered, the possessive question causing your cunt to clench hard around him.

“Louder,” he hissed, giving your hair another harsh yank and a particularly brutal thrust.

“You! My pussy is yours!” you screamed and he suddenly let go of your hair to bring the palm of his hand down hard against your ass. But you knew that this spank wasn’t to punish you — it was to satisfy him.

With nothing left to keep you up, you collapsed forward once again, your fingers clutching desperately onto the duvet as your nipples rubbed back and forth against the fabric as he continued to pound into you.

“That’s right,” he groaned. “Your pussy is mine. You’re my little slut. You’re only good for me, aren’t you?”

“O-only you,” you gasped and your answer was enough to earn you your next reward because his fingers were suddenly on your clit. It was so sudden and combined so perfectly with the sensation of his cock dragging along your walls, that you found your orgasm almost thrust upon you.

The only thing keeping you from tumbling right over the edge and headfirst into pure white-hot pleasure were Seokjin’s rules that were ingrained into you.

“C-coming! P-please, sir!” you screamed.

“Come,” he grunted and you wailed.

Ecstacy rushed through your body and your vision turned white beath your tightly-shut eyelids. Your pussy began to spasm hard around his cock as his pace never faltered. Your earlier orgasms were nowhere near as strong as this one — they never were when you weren’t coming around him.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he groaned, but even his words were only an afterthought on the edge of your consciousness as your body jerked wildly beneath him and he removed his fingers from your clit to wrap both hands around your hips so that he could continue to pound into you uninterrupted.

His thrusts were beginning to turn wild, the rhythm growing rushed, a sign that he was close.

“Fuck, your pussy’s perfect, baby girl,” he panted as you continued to clench around him, your orgasm still coursing through your body. “You’re so good for me. Only good for me. Love it when you come. Fucking perfect.”

His mouth was running, his tight control slipping just slightly as his own orgasm was in sight. After another few rough thrusts later, the aftershocks of your climax still had your walls spasming around him torturously for each one, he slid out of you. No longer supporting your hips, your lower body collapsed as well, your stomach falling to rest on your thighs. The wet sound of his own hand pumping his cock filled the room and it was soon followed by a loud groan and you felt him coming across the heated skin of your ass and lower back in spurts.

You heard him panting heavily and it matched your own breathing, which you were still struggling to regulate as your orgasm subsided. You slowly opened your eyes as the world righted itself and your racing heart finally began to slow down so that it no longer felt like it was about to jump out of your chest.

If you had had the energy, you would have jumped when you felt Seokjin’s finger trailing through the streaks of his cum across your skin. He let out a low whistle as he did so.

“Damn, you look good like this,” he hummed. You turned your head to the side to rest your cheek on the mattress and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him pulling his shirt over his head before you felt him using it to gently and carefully wipe away his cum. “I told you I was an expert at pulling out.”

His call back to his dumb joke from your earlier fight made you smile and you couldn’t hold in an exhausted giggle. Once your skin was fully cleaned, he dropped his shirt to the floor to join the other articles of discarded clothing before leaning down and pressing two soft kisses to your ass — one on each cheek.

You smiled at the gesture before he climbed onto the bed and dropped onto his back, his knees hanging off the side of the bed and his feet planted on the floor. He then tightly pulled you into his side, his arm slung securely across your shoulders. You buried your face in the side of his neck, the sweaty strands of his growing hair brushing against your nose and you happily sighed as you deeply breathed in his scent.

“I fucking love you,” he said, releasing his own sigh of contentment as his fingers traced imaginary patterns on your upper arm. “You’re a queen among women.”

You laughed at the compliment that was characteristically Seokjin.

“I love you, too,” you smiled, pressing a kiss to his neck as you curled up tighter into his side. Your thumb rubbed slow circles on his skin where your hand rested on his firm chest.

A peaceful silence settled over the two of you as you enjoyed the shared intimacy between you. But as your thoughts began to wander, a frown formed on your lips.

“We didn’t pass the IKEA test,” you pouted, breaking the stillness of the moment.

“What are you talking about?” he asked through a yawn. “The bed’s assembled and we’re still together. We passed.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t assemble it,” you insisted and he blew a raspberry in response.

“That’s a technicality.”

“But—”

“Just go with it,” he said, cutting you off before you could continue to argue and you closed your mouth.

“Ok. We passed the test,” you conceded with a smile and he gave your shoulders an affectionate squeeze.

As you nuzzled your face into his neck, your nose twitched at the way his lengthy strands ticked your face.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you mused and he sighed at the observation.

“I know. I need to cut it,” he said and your reply was immediate, the demand clear in your tone.

“Don’t you dare touch it,” you told him and he let out an amused huff.

“Yes, boss.”

#seokjin smut #seokjin fluff #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfic #mine #the ikea test

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Band Sessions: Jae

Pairing: Jae Park x reader

Genre: best friends to lovers au / band au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 2037

Index: Jae | Sungjin | Young K | Wonpil | Dowoon

The band’s studio space had become more than just a home for the multitude of cords that attached to equipment and instruments cluttering up two-thirds of the room. It was a designated hang out most days. The five members of Day6 would practice their music, eat meals, share ideas, cram in study sessions and even sleep there.

You were no different, given you had tasked yourself with becoming their manager ever since they won at Band Beats last month. Before that, you had only gone by the title of Jae’s childhood best friend, although to him, usually dubbed the annoying thorn in his side.

“Must you follow me around everywhere I go?” Jae whined as you shut the door to the studio behind him, throwing down his backpack beside one of the couches that resided along the long wall. Ignoring his complaint, you slumped down on the couch and retrieved your phone.

“Someone has to make sure you actually get some practice done.”

“I’m offended, what did you think I was going to do after coming here?”

Smirking lazily, you didn’t lift your eyes from the social media app you were scrolling through. “Game.”

“I would never!” Jae announced dramatically, and you arched one of your eyebrows as he let out a preposterous laugh. “Unless you’re keen to?”

“Jae!”

“Fine, okay, I will practice. God, I liked it better when you were just the friend who came to cheer us on.”

“I am still the friend cheering you on. Encouraging you forward to improve at your skill so when you go to regionals later this year, you win.”

“Is it all about winning for you?” he grumbled and you grinned as you confirmed a venue for the band to play at in two weeks time that you had been organising for the past couple of days.

Putting down your phone, you finally gave Jae your full attention. “Don’t you want to?”

“I’m just having fun with my friends playing in a university band. I can’t even guarantee I’m going to wake up on time for my lectures most mornings, let alone pull off a riff awe-inducing enough to take home another trophy.”

“Well, there’s no better time than the present to start working on that,” you stated with a bright smile, gesturing for Jae to pick up his guitar. He rolled his eyes and then collected the instrument, bringing it over to the couch and sitting down beside you. Nudging his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, Jae then positioned the guitar more comfortably, mindlessly strumming through some exercises to warm up.

You smiled, even if he talked a lot, Jae was more dedicated to his craft that he would ever admit.

You were able to get through some of your assignments whilst Jae practised. You had grown up with him playing his guitar in every situation that you found yourself more productive whenever he was around doing just that, relaxed by the tunes he would play. Two hours had easily passed by with you working and Jae strumming just like that, both completely engrossed in your own tasks. Shifting a little to remove your cardigan, you tried to return to your studies, reaching blindly for your water.

It was getting hot in here.

“Jae,” you called, your eyes nor hands tearing away from your laptop. He didn’t answer. “Jae!”

“What?”

“Open the window behind you,” you instructed and he grunted in response. You soon forgot your request, and when you realised there was still no air circulating around the room, you finally shifted your gaze. Jae was fully immersed in his intricate music and the window behind him was firmly shut.

You groaned and turned sideways towards him. “Jaehyung!”

“Oh what?!” he cried back, lifting his eyes to yours indignantly. You slapped his arm and he gaped at you. “What are you hitting me for?!”

“I asked you to open the window like forty minutes ago! It’s hot in here!”

“I’m fine,” he retorted, going back to playing.

Clamping your eyes shut to push away your growing annoyance at his dismissal of your request, you reopened them and placed your laptop aside before getting onto your knees, stretching towards the latch on the window.

However, Jae was directly in the way.

“Move.”

“I’m busy.”

“I need to open the window.”

“So stretch around me, I’ve just stumbled into something good,” Jae retorted, leaning forward a little, his only compromise to the current situation. Huffing out a breath, you leaned further, your fingers brushing over the latch. You managed to twist it after half standing up on the couch, pushing the window out wide.

You promptly lost your balance in the process.

The sudden screech to the guitar was all that filled the air once you landed haphazardly in Jae’s lap, his instrument the only thing between both of you right now. You had attempted to reach out to stabilise your failing balance, hands now resting on his shoulders, your leg bent weirdly underneath you over one of his thighs.

You should have been able to right yourself immediately. Chuckle it off with your best friend as you had done many a time when either of you had been clumsy like this. However, it felt as if time has stopped entirely. As you stared into Jae’s round eyes that showed the surprise scratched deeply within them, you couldn’t stop the feeling that you were sinking.

Sinking in his gaze, into his lap further, into his heart. Or at least, your heart sure was falling despite how still your bodies had become.

It wasn’t often when you felt like this, but you could admit it wasn’t the first time. Somewhere you had fallen in love with all the nagging banter, the flippant remarks and his soulful singing voice. That was why you hung around at the studio these days, and why, despite having a full academic year, you had opted to help promote the band.

You yearned for those moments where he’d stop being the awkward meme kid from next door and reach into your soul with every breath he made at the end of his lines, his lyrics and voice melding into one.

And yet, Jae hadn’t been singing all afternoon. You had no reason to be this affected and you finally blinked, slowly at first. Realisation dawned on you that it had been over a minute of you sitting in his lap like this and you laughed airily, trying to dislodge the intense feelings you had been drowning within.

“Oh!” you exclaimed with another airy laugh. “Whoops.”

“Whoops?” Jae echoed softly, scrutinising you with his unwavering stare.

“I’m okay!” you announced, still laughing, albeit sounding a little desperate now. You also needed more air than what the window was gently blowing into the room. “Thanks for catching my fall.”

You removed your hands from his shoulders and it was only then that you realised his own were at your waist, holding you upright. It had all happened so quickly, you didn’t even notice that he had actually saved you from slipping further. But unlike your retreat, Jae’s hands remained on your sides, the pressure digging deeper. You bit at your lip, wondering why he had saved you when his precious guitar was between you and could have been at risk.

You gasped with the thought process. “Is your guitar-”

“Are you okay?” he intervened and you nodded softly. “Really? You look like you’re about to cry. Your skin is turning blotchy.”

Trust Jae to kill the mood. Yanking free, you put space between you and him, taking in a deep breath. You were surprised to see Jae do the same, your eyes narrowing on him slightly.

What was he affected by?

“Practice,” you blurted out, waving your arms about at him. “You need to practice.”

“When do I get to do it for real?” he asked and your head snapped back in his direction, your mind more than frazzled now.

“Do what for real?”

“What will all this practice do for us, Y/N?” he repeated, his eyes firmly attached to yours. “I want to know when the real deal is going to come along for us.”

“Well, regionals is-”

“Us,” Jae reiterated, placing his guitar down on the space you had once been seated at. Standing up, he walked to where you stood; licking his lips a little to moisten them.

You cursed the giant somersault your stomach did in reaction to such a simple action.

“Us?” you said, and Jae nodded. “What about us? I’m not in the band.”

“We came before the band,” he stated, nodding along with his statement. “We existed before it.”

“What riddles are you talking about?” you breathed uncomfortably, tearing your gaze away from Jae’s. You really had no idea. Or, you didn’t want to believe in it.

It was better that way.

“I saved what was more important to me just now,” Jae told you and you turned once again back to his face. He was hesitant despite speaking about what was on his mind. As if he had held back one too many times now. It surprised you, and you sighed quietly, shaking your head.

“I could have broken your guitar.”

“I could have fixed it,” he replied and you blinked rapidly.

“You love your guitar!”

“I love you too,” he murmured, stilling once the words were out. Except for the pink tinge to his ears, he seemed unaffected. Jae then smiled with relief. “Did you hear me?”

“I think I did.”

“I love you too,” he told you again, this time with more conviction. There was no way to hide your growing smile, soon grinning at each other.

And then Jae whined. “Why aren’t you telling me back?!”

“Huh?”

“I said I love you! You’re supposed to say it back if you feel that way too!” he explained, voice laced with accusation. His eyes popped behind his glasses. “You don’t feel the same?!”

“Of course I do, you idiot!”

“Then say it!”

“I can’t just say it on the spot, Jae!” you complained, moving to go around him. However, he pulled you back in front.

“I just did!”

“Well, good for you, I’m feeling under pressure about it now!” you grumbled and Jae chuckled, tugging you with him as he returned to the couch. You squeaked when he yanked you down onto his lap, his smile mischievous.

“So let’s go back to this then.”

“You’re feeling too good right now,” you observed and Jae nodded.

“I told you how I feel. It’s kind of liberating, you should try it.”

“Nice try, Jae.”

“So I need to keep trying?” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your face, his smile growing. “Dude, you are so much work.”

“You can’t tell me you love me and then call me dude!” you said exasperatedly and Jae shrugged.

“It’s me, Y/N. Some things might be changing between us, but I’m not going to change.”

“Fair call,” you responded, your hands finding their way to his chest. Jae watched you intently, his ears turning pink again. “Oh! This is a new thing about you.”

“So some things might change about me,” he confirmed, leaning his face closer to yours. “I might be inclined to do things like this more often.”

You frowned. “What, have me sit in your lap whilst we’re in the studio together?”

“Nah,” he breathed, his mouth dangerously close to yours now. “More than that.”

Finally, he kissed you. It was soft, barely moving. Your eyes fluttered shut as you pressed into his lips, seeking more from him. Jae responded, pulling you into his upper body, supporting your weight against his chest as he anchored a hand at the back of your head, soon kissing you with demand.

You were seeing stars when you finally pulled away, galaxies forming behind your eyes. When you finally looked at your best friend, you grinned at him. “I love you, Jae.”

“What was that? I barely heard you.”

“I. Love. You.”

He smiled possibly the best smile you had ever seen graced his lips in your entire existence. And then he kissed you again briefly. “Now that’s more like it.”

_________________

Next: Sungjin

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invisibleinorange · 3 years

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A Different Ending | 7/?

Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: Only be forewarned that this is an AU from the Adrift saga but Colin actually died in this one, so if he’s mentioned he’s actually gone. Relationships: Benedict Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington (past feelings), Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Hastings Characters: Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Penadict (do we have a ship name yet?)

Summary: There were some requests for an alternate/Parallel word to "Bridgerton's Adrift" where Benedict and Penelope actually did get married. So this is the result of that peer pressure.

Benedict was grateful to have found reasonable contractors who knew the urgency to have his and Penelope’s new home finished. While they’d managed to make the most of his bachelor home, he wanted to provide more for her. That was why he spent the majority of his days in Kensington, watching the progress and ensuring that everything was falling into place.

Despite the fact he didn’t want to be without his wife for any extended period of time, his mother had practically begged that Penelope be allowed to join the family at Aubrey Hall. The plan was to seal the deal on Anthony’s match to Edwina Sheffield. Benedict had his doubts that it would happen if only because Penelope seemed fairly certain that Anthony was better suited to Kate. He knew better than to bet against his wife.

It made sense for Penelope to help chaperone at Aubrey Hall. Her presence allowed her to stay abreast on the happenings of the parties and he could make sure their home was completed before the worst of the rainy seasons arrived. It was only a matter of a week but it felt like a century without her.

He’d been fully prepared to show her how much he missed her upon her return. He’d planned to have her favorite meal ready for her when she got home. They’d be able to sit together and she could tell him about everything he’d missed while they ate.

He knew that Anthony would escort her home but he was not quite prepared for her to him to practically be keeping her up right. He’d known Penelope most of her life and while he hadn’t been around her while she was ill, he instinctively knew that her coloring was wrong.

“Pen,” he murmured moving to collect her from his brother. Concern creased her features as he moved her inside and to a small sitting room, so he could sit her down.

“I’m okay. Just a little carriage sick,” she said, protest clear in her voice though she wasn’t quite in a carriage anymore and she looked as if she was struggling to not retch. “I don’t need all this fuss.”

Benedict gave his older brother a look, as if waiting to verify the veracity of that statement. If she’d been fine before departing Aubrey Hall he might could pass it off as carriage sickness. He’d been in many carriages with her at this point and not once had she been ill though.

“That’s a lie,” Anthony confirmed. “She’s been sickly since the last dinner party. She gave us all a bit of a laugh though. She apparently tried to excuse herself from that miserable Cressida Cowper and she wouldn’t stop talking.”

“You didn’t?” Benedict said trying not to laugh at the thought of Cressida covered in vomitus. He was actually concerned for his wife but even he wasn’t foolish enough to note see the humor in that.

Penelope nodded though when she attempted to open her mouth, her eyes widened and she covered mouth. She was to her feet trying to run and find somewhere to properly retch. Benedict’s eyes followed with concern. He really was going to have to go take care of her.

“Trying to upstage my engagement with a baby?” Anthony asked raising an eyebrow.

The two parts hit Benedict with equal force. Anthony was engaged and he was going to have a baby? They’d both seen their mother pregnant so many times that it was almost foolish that it didn’t hit him immediately. In a matter of seconds, his face flickered from confusion to excitement to absolute elation.

“Does she know?” he found himself asking.

“About my engagement to Kate? Of course. They’re strangely fond of each other. I daresay Kate might like Penelope more than she likes me,” Anthony said.

Kate. Penelope had been right about that one.

He shook his head though. That wasn’t what he was inquiring about.

“As happy as I am that you’ve selected a wife. I meant about the baby. Does Penelope think she’s with child?” he asked again.

“No. She seems to think she’s had a bad run of food poisoning and travel sickness,” Anthony said with a laugh. “Should I have a physician stop drop by tomorrow?”

“No – yes,” Benedict said after a long moment. “Does anyone else share in your suspicion?”

“Mother,” Anthony said after a moment. “She didn’t verbalize it to me but I did see her and Mrs. Featherington chatting rather suspiciously in recent days. They’ve been peddling a ‘digestion’ tonic toward her for days.”

“Well thank you for returning her safely home,” he said. “I should probably go take care of her but please forward my congratulations to Kate. ��We’ll have to have you both over for dinner while you plan your wedding.”

Anthony nodded before taking his leave.

Benedict took the steps to the wash room two at a time. They’d only ever vaguely discussed children in the sense that they knew that they wanted children to be part of their life and not just because it was what society dictated that children should be a product of marriages.

He hadn’t really given much thought to when it would happen. He’d been so busy focusing on the construction of their home and finding his stride with her that he hadn’t imagined it happening so soon. He was honestly thrilled at the prospect of being a father.

“Everything okay?” he asked gently from the doorway when he found her, bent over though no longer retching. The smell let him know that she definitely had been. She was breathing fairly heavily from the effort. He crossed the space to lean sit in the floor next to her and rub her back.

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” she told him, embarrassed by the whole thing. Penelope felt dirty. She honestly hadn’t planned to be ill upon her return to him. God how she’d missed him while at Aubrey Hall though. Her bed felt empty without him. Her days were boring without the conversations or the company.

“Sorry but you’re stuck with me,” he told her stubbornly. It had been quite a few years since his mother’s last pregnancy and he admittedly tried to block out those memories. It was painful to look back and think of Hyacinth growing in his mother’s belly and the way his father had absolutely doted over her until his death. He didn’t care if other men chose to be absent. He fully intended to dote over Penelope. “I’ve seen worse. If I had known you were ill, I would have come to you.”

She offered a weak smile as she managed to sit up.

“I’m home now,” she told him quietly. “You’re not going to be mad if I just want to bath and sleep, will you?”

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

“No, I’ll even prepare a hot bath for you,” he told her.

“You really don’t have to,” she told protested. “I can do it.”

“No. Go grab yourself a cup of tea and a biscuit from the kitchen if you can stomach it and I’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

He didn’t tend to keep staff here full-time. It wasn’t like in the family home. He did have people who came and went during the day to ensure cleaning and cooking was done. He had little complaint of handling basic things like starting fires or preparing water on his own.

He stood, rolling up his sleeves before setting into motion, helping her to her feet first before he set off on his task. It wasn’t quick a quick task but he did manage to heat up water over a fire and fill the movable tub in the washroom until it was at a satisfactory temperature.

He was pleased to see a little color back in her when she came by up to try and help him. He’d been about to go grab her though so there was little left to be done aside from enjoy.

“I’m spoiled,” she told him, curling into him slightly for a moment in gratitude. “I saw the dinner you had prepared. I’m honestly so sorry for being sickly. Tomorrow when I’m better, I’m going to make it up to you.”

He shook his head.

“You don’t have anything to make up to me,” he insisted. He debated telling her of his suspicion but he also didn’t want to get ahead of himself. If it turned out she was just ill and not carrying his child, he would feel foolish for suggesting it. He turned his head enough so he could lean down and kiss her appreciatively. “I’ll leave you to your bath, Mrs. Bridgerton. Please do call if you need any further assistance. I’m pretty good with a wash cloth.”

“Don’t go,” she told him when he started to pull and walk away. Her hand reached out to grab his arm in an attempt to stop him. It worked quite effectively. “I want to hear about everything I’ve missed in London while I was away.”

Benedict smiled, helping her out of her clothing and into the tub. He couldn’t help but envisioned how her form might change if she was carrying his child. He pushed the thought out of his head though so he could comply with her request. He had a lot to tell her and even more he wanted to hear from her.

He loved his wife.

#benedict bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton

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realcube · 3 years

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1k event | navi | masterlist

parings ☆ among us au! alisa x reader

content warning ☆ gore, major character death & angst

(a/n) ☆ sandbox for @simplywicked! thank you so much for the request despite the fact i made it angsty as hell :’( also, if you’re reading this and you are not @simplywicked then check down their amazing (less depressing) works @hajkyyuu

you watched the cameras intensely, biting your nails as you watched people wander through the corridors, moving to and fro tasks – as if they were all unbothered by the fact there was a ruthless killer on board. speaking of which, you had yet to see anything suspicious: no venting, no faking tasks and most importantly, no murder. "hello!" you perked up at the sudden noise and whipped your head around to look for the source, which happened to be one of your fellow astronauts – pink, code name: haiba alisa. beads of sweat began to develop on your forehead under your helmet, "uh, h-hi." you stuttered, pressing you back against the edge of the control panel as you rapidly searched the room for a way to exit if she tried to attack you. "d-do you, um, need something?" she shook her head, a sweet smile adorning her gorgeous features which you could view due to the clear screen on her helmet. "well, i finished my tasks so i figured i may as well keep an eye on the security cameras for some leads. but i see you've already got that covered." she giggled, clasping her hands together and keeping her distance as she could tell how nervous you were – and rightly so. she was a tad anxious too but something about the way you presented yourself made her completely forget about the upspoken first rule of the ship; trust no one. you nodded, swallowing the lump forming in your throat in order to reply, "yes, i finished my tasks a while ago." you faltered, your mind momentarily blanking as you vaguely gestured to the cameras on display behind you. "i've not seen anything out-of-the-ordinary." pink smiled, cocking her head to the side as she slowly began to approach you, "that's wonderful – do you think i could join you? i'm quite bored and i want to put an end to this whole 'imposter' situation as soon as possible." you quirked a brow; if it was anyone else, you would've immediately denied the request, suggesting that they could bugger off to admin if they wanted to help so bad. but despite the fact you had only met this lady a few moments ago, you believed her completely. perhaps it was foolish of you to be so trusting under the current conditions but you had full faith in your intuition, and it said that alisa was being sincere. plus, if you were to die to her blade, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. she's really pretty so perhaps she'll give a little kiss before you go. actually, the more you thought about it, the closer you got to realising that this circumstance has completely messed up your death perception. anyway, you shuffled over to allow her space at the control panel, "sure." you muttered, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck as she skipped up beside you, halting as she got an eye-full of all the colourful, flashing buttons; along with the massive monitors that displayed what was going on in every corridor in the ship. "hey!" she squealed, not even having to go on her tip-toes to press her finger against the top screen due to her height, "that's my friend; yellow!" she beamed, looking over at you and being met by your shaky smile, as you tried to match her energy, "they're a crewmate like us, i'm sure of it! they were with me in medbay when the last incident happened." you followed her gaze to the screen and watched as yellow roamed the ship, seeming as though they had no true destination but that was understandable, perhaps they had finished their tasks too! although, it was a bit weird that they chose to use their spare time aimlessly wandering around instead of doing something productive. also, as much as you wanted to tell alisa that there was a vent from electrical – where said incident took place – straight to medbay, you didn't. you chose not to break the naïve girl's heart by accusing her friend of being the impostor. all that mattered was that she was away from them now and you could keep a close eye on them. a few minutes had passed where you both stood in silence, absentmindedly watching your fellow shipmates go around, chat and do their tasks. nothing suspicious had yet to happen. eventually, alisa broke the silence by turning to you and asking, "so what are you going to do when this is all over?" your eyes widened at her sudden inquiry, your breath hitching as you weren't prepared for her question and the last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself. "y-you mean, if i survive?" you questioned in attempt to you buy yourself time to think of an answer. alisa chuckled awkwardly, her optimistic attitude bringing you hope, "yeah. i'm sure we'll both survive this." you shrugged, wasting to time in blurting out the first reply you came up with, "i think i'm going to retire and just..settle down." "oh, yes! they're giving us the opportunity for an early retirement with pension after this, correct?" "if we live to see earth again, then yes." you murmured, not sparing her a glance as you adjusted the settings of the camera display. alisa gritted her teeth together, suddenly feeling the inside of her space suit rise in temperature but paying little attention to it as she tried to produce the most positive response she could, "i'm going to retire too! this whole ordeal has probably taken a decade off my life anyway." she joked, her slight smile becoming a toothy grin as she managed to elicit a laugh from you. both of your harmonious, unified laughs echoed throughout the security room, followed by even more banter, until alisa deadpanned, causing a cold chill to run down your spine. "(y/n)." she uttered in an uncharacteristically low voice. at first your throat ran dry at how she knew your name despite the fact you had yet to say it once, but then you remembered that there was a large 'MY NAME IS' tag stapled to your chest. "yes, alisa?" if she was using first names, you found it appropriate to use hers right back. she fell down onto one knee, causing you gasp at her sudden movement as your immediate thought was that she was having some sort of medical emergency, but she put an end to that thought when she gazed up at you with her enchanting emerald eyes, "would you do me the honor of--" your jaw fell as you watched her pull out a necklace from her company-provided satchel and offer it to you, "-of sharing a cabin with me when we reach earth." you let out a sigh of relief, thinking she was actually asking for your hand and marriage after meeting you 5 minutes ago; although, if did ask, then there was a voice in your head that’d urging you to say yes. however, sharing a cabin was almost equally as big of a commitment as marriage since y'all would share clothes, utilities, food and more for the next 5 years. "i'd love to." you hummed, hesitantly reach down to hover your shaky hand underneath the locket, "and what's this? i thought we weren't allowed to bring accessories on-board." alisa's lips curled into a mischievous smirk as she hopped to her feet, dropping the locket into your hand as she did so. "i snuck it on." your fingers delicately caressed the cold, silver metal of the necklace before flipping open the heart-shaped locket which hung at the end. inside was a small, compressed photo which was so miniature that you thought it was just an assortment of colours at first but upon closer inspection, you realised it was a photo of all the crewmates before take-off. "woah." you choked, your stare flickering between alisa and the equally as gorgeous locket she had given you. "this is beautiful." then, you proceeded to try give it back to her but she simply swatted your hand away. "it's yours now, (y/n)!" she sung, snatching it from your hand only so she could force it into your satchel. "so you have something to remember me by if i die." your blood ran cold as the buzz word fell from her lips, you were given a reality-check a bit too abruptly for your liking. "don't say that." you whispered, as if the imposter could hear you and would spring out at the mention of the word. eager to change the subject, you rummaged through your satchel in search of something to gift to her in return, "what can i give you to remember me by?" there was a few moments of silence between the two of you as alisa's eyes darted around the room, hunting for something of significance until her eyes landed on you once again; that's it! she raised her eyebrows as a lightbulb lit up above her head, "i have an idea." you hummed, instantly shifting your gaze off of your satchel and onto her, tilting your head slightly as you waited for her to elaborate. which she did, by slowly leaning in with pursed lips, her eyes closed so she couldn't see the perplexed expression painted on your face. before you knew it, the screen of her helmet clinked against yours, her strawberry-glossed lips pressed against it. once you realised it was a kiss she was perusing, you were swift in craning your neck forward to gently peck the helmet where both of your lips would meet – if it wasn't for the fact you were in space. though, your serene, romantic atmosphere was short-lived as the shrill noise of the disaster alarm suddenly went off, bright red lights flashing all around you and every camera view on the wall was replaced by an error message, meaning that there was an issue in electrical. you exchanged a look of concern before watching alisa sprinted towards the door – obviously with the intention of heading to electrical to fix this – so with a second thought, you followed. however, once your reached the door, alisa snapped her head around and fiercely pushed you back into security, "(y/n), you need to stay here, only one person has to go. you stand guard so nobody comes in here and brakes the screens." it was poor reasoning considering there was nothing you could do to possibly stop the impostor since you didn't possess a weapon, but it worked as alisa slammed the door behind her before rushing to electrical, leaving you isolated. your heart sunk watching her leave but you knew that if you were to tag along, you'd only be a hindrance to the endeavour to fix the wires. time passed painfully slowly, the shrieking noise from the alarm seemed to have been going on for ages and the flashing lights gave you a headache so you crawled underneath the control panel, curling yourself into a ball as you prayed for this all to be over soon. fortunately, the shrill noise was eventually put to an end and the lights went back to normal. you hesitantly emerged from the shadows to check if the screens still had the error message plastered on it and luckily, they didn't. you let out an audible sigh of relief as your eyes scanned every monitor in search of alisa but she was no where to be seen. time went on and the dread bubbling in your stomach only grew as she had yet to come out of electrical. a part of you reasoned that perhaps she was alive and well, simply chatting with an old friend of hers in the room and that's why she was taking so long but soon, the anxiety became too much for you to handle so you dashed straight out of security. sweat matted your hair to your forehead as you raced passed any other crewmates in your way. your breathing was frantic and it only grew worse as you reached the door to electrical. you stood like a statue, desperately trying to catch your breathe as the sensor scanned your iris before granting you access to the room. the doors slid open before your very eyes to reveal nothing, well, as far as you could see. though there was still more of the room which you couldn't see just from the entrance, so you called out, "hello?" silence. you weren't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing but either way, you were certain that you had to venture forward in search of alisa or anyone else that could inform you of her whereabouts. you set a trembling foot forward one after the other, on high-alert just in case someone where to jump out at you. after the door shut automatically behind you, darkness enveloped the whole room so you pulled out your flashlight, darting the focussed light around the room in search of leads; handprints, fingerprints, blood, anything. however, the coast was clear. inhaling sharply, you turned the final corner, your flashlight quickly mirroring your actions, shining it's bright light on a sight that you wished and prayed never to see. it was alisa, definitely; her bright pink suit was unmistakable. just not the way you wanted to see her: she lay unresponsive on the floor, pooling in her own gore, her expression undetermined as the screen of her helmet was cracked. it was as if your own soul had left your body and you had to view your trembling, stunned figure from afar because in that moment, you didn't have any control over your own form; you couldn't feel anything. despite the fact your hands were completely numb, you had been training for a moment like this since the day you had gotten the call that there was an imposter on-board, the moment where you'd have to report the body of your friend. so your hands subconsciously made their way down your trousers to grasp the bright red button which hung with a keychain on your belt. tears streamed down your cheeks, your legs soon giving out from underneath you. "alisa." you cried, wanting nothing more than to time-travel, or simply imagine an alternate reality where it was someone else, anyone besides her. the shrill noise of the disaster alarm began once again but this time, you weren’t sure if it was just in your head or not. a shadow loomed over you, the movement you caught a glimpse of from the corner of your eye but you were simply too paralyzed to move. your mind was fixated on alisa and alisa only – why couldn't it have been you instead? – but you still hoped that the figure was a just fellow crewmate, able to report the body now that your own limbs have failed you. but that wasn't the case.

#alisa haiba #alisa x reader #hq x you #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #💗lets date!#💗sandbox

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hanadoesstuffbadly · 4 years

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‘Online’ ch I - RS&t7D University AU

Hello, I was looking for Red Shoes fanfiction when I discovered that there are little to no Modern AUs being written. So i figured, screw it, I’ll do it myself because I love modern AUs.

This is the first chapter and it is very long, so if you don’t feel like reading it, fair enough. I’m planning to write the whole thing anyway because I also love writing and it’s good practise.

Small warning if you do want to read this: Merlin is British. I am British. British people are very sarcastic and very moody all of the time. This entire first chapter is from Merlin’s perspective so there are a lot of British phrases and idioms used. If you are fortunate enough to not be an eternally grumpy Brit, don’t worry, the next chapter will be a very bad written impersonation of an American!!

Also, this is my first ever fanfiction so please don’t judge me too harshly, I am but a young peasant girl.

Sooooooooo.... Summary.

Merlin is a twenty year old student at Southend University. To combat his detrimental narcissism, his counsellor suggests online gaming. Merlin tries to cheat by using an ancient game called Fairytale Island, which designs your avatar to match a photograph. This plan falls apart when his laptop explodes, turning his avatar tiny and green. He ploughs on regardless, sure that he will encounter nobody. Little does he know, that a newly moved student from the States is coming online the very same night. :)

(It’s kinda switched so Merlin is the last of the F7 to get his attitude set right.)

With that done... I hope you don’t hate it!

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Merlin couldn’t stand mornings, especially Friday mornings. Because for the duration of his first year of Uni, Friday’s lessons had always begun at the reasonable hour of 2 o’clock in the afternoon. This left Merlin a good half hour to be awake, out of the door and on his bike, zipping past the crowded Southend beaches. In short, Merlin hated Friday mornings because he had not seen one in fifteen months. Needless to say, it was not a welcome reunion.

Approximately twelve minutes prior to commencing with today’s zipping -at the unlawful hour of nine in the morning- Merlin had been idly stirring shredded wheat into a depressing gruel (much to the disgust of the ever-vigilant, ever-attentive, red-haired cook,) basking in his own tardiness.

Had he asked for counselling? No.

Did he need counselling? None of their business.

Did he want to be dragged out of bed at half-eight by six overbearing housemates who apparently believed it was "necessary" or "overdue"; to be packed off to the Resource Centre so that they could “Evaluate any and all emotional or psychological issues which may have arisen for you, as a student whom we have identified as being at risk, before the beginning of this new academic term”? No, he did not!

Contrary to a promising forecast, the sky was a sapphire pool overhead. Thus, the fantasy of motorbiking down empty seafront roads, the brassy drumming of thunder and the gurgle of saltwater smothering his roaring engine (Hans called him a madcap but personally, Merlin preferred the term Raptor-trainer) was squashed. And given that a motorbike charging down the road in the wee hours of the morning was frowned upon, Merlin was forced to content himself with walking at a purposefully counter-productive pace to the bus stop down the hill. Stubbornly, he insisted on himself that he wore a cobalt-blue, long-sleeved shirt with grey trousers; dressing not for the weather he had, but the weather he wanted. This was a stupid idea and the sleeves were rolled up before he reached sea-level. He had to restrain himself from missing a bus entirely. It wasn’t crowded, because of course it wasn’t. Everyone else in Southend had better things to be doing.

Like sleeping.

The bus didn’t even go all the way to the college, stopping at least a dozen yards from the entrance like a noncommittal shrug. It took everything in Merlin to not keep his butt planted securely in his seat; let the busyness of British public transport whisk him away to the Leigh on Sea station; catch a train to Fenchurch street; disappear into Central London; never be seen or heard from again, especially by Dr- as a student whom we have identified as being at risk- LeFey; then inevitably die from water pollution at a ripe old age of thirty-five. It took everything in him, but he walked down to the building, through glass-doors ornamented by a million sweaty fingerprints, and into a waiting room that smelt of Sellotape.

Unsurprisingly, the stately woman at the desk gave him barely a passing glance, handing him a form to fill in with the enthusiasm of an automatic door sliding open. Also unsurprisingly, the assistant behind her paused in rearranging a filing cabinet to brush a couple of sandy hairs behind her ear and chew the end of a pen like it was made of liquorice. She even wandered aimlessly away from her task altogether, sidling up to the front desk most inconspicuously.

Merlin's mood brightened. While he leant down to scribble his name and address on the paper, he winked discreetly in her direction. In spite of definitely not looking at him, her cheeks turned beetroot crimson and what might have been a giggle or the beginnings of a small heart attack escaped her lips.

Against all of the shoddiness of his day so far, Merlin grinned inwardly, sizing her up with half of his attention. Tall, slender, twenty-one, twenty-two most likely. Stray blonde curls framed a thickly tanned face, the rest piled atop her head in a bun. In all, not a bad picture, although her wardrobe did leave something to be desired: Bell-bottomed jeans and a T-shirt reading "Darth Vader was framed", betraying that

A. She still thought that bell-bottomed anything was a good look, and

B. That she had never paid more than six quid for a shirt.

However, her figure and the hang of her hair more than made up for those discrepancies. Perhaps he could get something out of this counselling after all. With this in mind, he cleared his throat loudly,

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss," he waved the form vaguely in front of his face, "but I have a small problem."

Perhaps knowing exactly what he was doing and being used to it by this point, the woman, Ms Marion- who had decided that underneath a lace cardigan was the place for a name tag- ignored him completely, leaving miss bell-bottoms to round the edge of the counter and come to stand by his side over the offending form.

"What's the matter?" She asked, sincerely.

"Y'see," Merlin began, fixing her with a smile that even Jack admitted made anyone weak at the knees, "right here it's asking me for something that I just don't really get." He pointed accordingly, and bell-bottoms leant in closer. To get a really good look at the text, of course.

"We need your mobile number."

"Oh, I see, now here's the thing." Wearing a look of utter helplessness, he faced bell-bottoms completely. She appeared confused, her face becoming redder by the second. "I don't have one of those."

"What?"

"A mobile number." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't mind terribly giving me yours, would you?"

If he squinted, Merlin was fairly certain he would see her bell-bottomed soul leaving her body and fluttering out of the window. He took her lack of reaction as an invitation,

"Lin Pendragon." He extended one hand, still cloaked in a fingerless glove the colour of wet bark. Despite his housemates deciding otherwise, Merlin was in fact not his actual name, and he would sooner be caught dead than introducing himself with it to an attractive young woman such as this. "Part time Ancient Historian, full time Romantic."

Bell-bottoms took the hand and shook it with unexpected firmness,

"Gowlle Delocks. Part time assistant, full time, um..." She seemed a little lost, floundering like a GCSE English paper "Full time-"

"Doctor Morgan LeFey. Part time tolerator of tardiness. This is not one of those times Mister Pendragon."

Spinning on his heel and effectively knocking the form onto the floor, Merlin faced the speaker, who stood in the doorway of a side-office like a disgruntled flamingo.

One thing came to mind when Merlin looked at the counsellor and that was the smell created when someone burns popcorn in a microwave. Forehead too small; nose too large, a hairy wart taking up most of it; everything that should end in a curve ending in an acute, needle-like point. She looked like a bad imitation of a Picasso painting come to life. Yellow hair that might have been blonde hung from her scalp, which he could almost see for how thin the stuff was; and her olive skin was definitely closer to a pale, sickly green from where Merlin was standing. The murky, sky-blue gown that would have looked excessive in the nineteenth century certainly didn't help. Summed up, she looked like a creature one would throw something at if it approached them on a dark night. Merlin felt his nose wrinkle in disgust.

So, he had been forced into counselling by a literal witch. Today was just going swimmingly wasn't it.

Dr Lefey's "office" was exactly what Merlin expected. Save of course for a cauldron, broomstick and small children in display cases. Indigo curtains rather than blinds hung at each side of a wide picture window that looked out on a garden peppered by horrendous little gnomes. Their China faces were stained green by years of mildew build-up. Her wooden floor she had covered with gaudy, knitted rugs, and the sides of her desk had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to them. On the off-white walls hung various, tasteless frames of all sorts and colours, each depicting a photograph taken by somebody who was evidently not a professional photographer. One such picture especially caught his eye.

"This you, Miss… Lefty?" The question was stupid, of course it was her, every other human being on the planet had at least managed to look like one. The photo showed the woman sitting in a cluster of children underneath a cobbled-together shack, a paper tiara on her head and a wand made out of several plastic straws. "The fairy princess in the mauve cardigan?"

"First," She answered, pushing the door shut behind her with her pointy hip, "It's Doctor Lefey, but you will call me Morgan in these sessions." Merlin couldn't help but smirk internally when she assumed there would be more than one of these nightmares. "Second, yes, that is me in the photograph, November, four years ago, Uganda, a recycling activity. And third," The slam of a hefty file being dropped unceremoniously on to a desk made Merlin jump. "I was the fairy Queen."

"Well, your majesty," he ducked his head in a mock bow, "you've aged..." At first, he searched for an adverb but then realised, he didn't particularly need one.

Morgan gave Merlin that pinched smile that he'd seen Arthur's girlfriend, Gwen, give customers at The Golden Goose Cafe when they told her she had no idea who she was dealing with. Also called the 'booting-you-into-next-Thursday-would-cost-twenty-pounds-an-hour-but-i-am-legitimately-considering-it' face. Merlin ignored her easily. He'd had years of practise doing so.

He plopped himself down onto a teal green sofa with a ketchup stain running up one arm. It wasn't a comfortable seat, but the garish pixie cushion did help somewhat. Morgan paid him no attention, leafing through the thick file which she had retrieved moments before. She paid him no attention for a little too long.

As aforementioned, Merlin was fine with ignoring people. Even enjoyed it sometimes. Unattractive waitresses, bin-collectors, overweight people at the gym, pedestrians. Being ignored, however, was a far less comfortable experience. Probably because it was such a rare one. He coughed into the pasty silence.

"Those your medical records?" The room was quiet enough to facilitate a pin drop sounding like a bowling ball being dropped. A long, controlled intake of breath was easily made out. “Cosmetic surgery?”

"No." She said shortly, continuing with her browsing, "but they are yours." Merlin quickly stopped ignoring her. "And your birth records and your parents birth records and every other detail of your stimulating life story, Merlin." He short-circuited momentarily.

"That's not my-"

"No, it isn't your given name, but it's what your roommates call you and according to them, the one you prefer going by." Alright, those googly snitches were going to pay later. He recovered from his surprise gracefully as always, but that left him no less indignant.

"I- I wasn't aware that you'd have access to that information."

"Several reliable sources have identified you as being at risk, Merlin, everything in this folder is strictly need-to-know." A smile that could have been genuine spread across her features, and it may have been nice if it weren't so nauseating to look at. He crossed his arms and sunk lower into the sofa, muttering to himself,

"You hardly 'need-to-know' about the name though."

"Obviously, anything said in this session doesn't leave this room and the values and standards of Southend University are to be observed at all times." With quick strides on legs like skipping ropes, Morgan left her desk and placed herself gracelessly on a trademark shrink chair.

The ‘So, Merlin.’ Was audible on her spindly lips before they left them.

"So, Merlin. First, I'd like you to relax," Difficult, I'm sitting across from a gorgon, I'm a man moments from death, "and tell me about your background, where you're from, your family." He gave her a blank look.

"You just told me that you have a massive file telling you that stuff."

"Yes, but I'd like to know that you also know that stuff. Reviewing your case will prove very difficult if we aren't on the same page. Now, if you please." With an exasperated puff of air into his cheeks, Merlin leant forward so that his elbows braced against his knees and his hands clasped together.

"Fine. I was born in Seoul, South Korea; my parents died in a car accident when I was three. I was brought to England to live with an aunt in Ipswich."

"And you were comfortable with this change?" The interruption caused Merlin to blank for a second.

"Wha- I was three. I was comfortable sitting in a tumble dryer with knickers on my head!" This retort was not appreciated, judging by the tapping of Morgan's pencil against a green clipboard that had seemingly materialised out of thin air.

"These are regulation questions, try not to overthink your answers." With this she returned to drawing writing utensils from the ether apparently, a silent signal for him to continue. Already, Merlin's mind was going through fantasies of sprinting down the hill, across the high street and off the end of Southend pier.

"Alright then, the aunt was arrested when I was six-"

"Why was she arrested?"

"Are shrinks meant to interrupt their patients?"

"I'm not a shrink, I'm a University counsellor, why was your aunt arrested?" Nothing about this experience was relaxing. Getting a Frostino with Miss Delocks, the part-time-assistant would have been relaxing.

"Possession of illegal firearms. Just a taser. Five years in prison under the law of the United Kingdom. Happy?"

"Yes, this is very helpful. So, your guardian was arrested and…"

"I went into care, obviously. Seven foster homes over six years. Adopted after my eleventh birthday by Igraine Pendragon and her husband. I moved into their home in York, Summered in Cumbria; went to school with their son. Igraine died when I was fifteen, Uther when I was seventeen. Arthur and I moved out to one of the cottages we own in Leigh two years ago. It was all perfectly fine and now here I am at Southend University in a counselling session I didn't ask for with a counsellor that I'm certain nobody has ever asked for." Okay, the last bit slipped out half unwarranted, but he might as well be honest.

Long, mole-flecked fingers curled and tightened around the edges of her clipboard, leaving dents in the malleable green cork like it was plasticine.

"Right." Came a snarled response from between smiling teeth. "Now, on to some more current information: Who do you live with during your time at the University?"

"Igraine’s son, Arthur, and the five student tenants who rent out rooms." That felt weird to say. For some reason, whenever Merlin thought about the six other occupants of Stanrocc cottage, it was hard to remember that they weren’t all related in one way or another.

“Right, and are you comfortable with these living arrangements?”

“I’m a University student who gets to live in a fully catered house free of charge, what do you think?” The pinched ‘threaten-to-speak-to-my-manager-again-and-I-will-hit-you-with-a-shoe’ smile returned.

“Okay then.” A rustling of paper signalled that the background questions were mercifully coming to a close, as, Merlin hoped, was this entire experience. Unfortunately, the next words out of the witches’ mouth weren’t, ‘thank you for your time, Mister Pendragon, I hope you and Miss Delocks have a splendid afternoon.’ Instead she intertwined her grotesque fingers and looked him in the eye. The fact that he didn’t turn to stone was a shock.

“Now, Merlin, I’d like to know what features you look for when meeting new people.” Alright, not what he’d wanted or expected to hear.

“Is this a personal interview-”

“Just-” Morgan closed her eyes and pressed her lips together until they completely disappeared into her face. “Answer the question, Merlin.”

“I look for the same things anyone looks for. Do they look approachable? Would I want to be seen with them out and about? Those kinds of things.” He darted his eyes from Morgan’s varicose ankles to her sloping forehead.

“So, you base the value of other people’s company solely upon their outward appearance and draw any and all judgements from those assets?” There were too many words in that sentence, was all Merlin could think in response. When he did finally puzzle out what the question actually was, he gave the woman a jovial nod. Finally, they were on the same wavelength.

“Of course I do, how a person looks tells you a lot about who they are, doesn’t it?”

Morgan must have been writing something down, but it still felt as though her eyes had not left Merlin for a second. An intake of breath through her wide nostrils filled the room.

“To some extent, maybe.” She shifted on her chair and the look in her eye of a person who had gotten exactly what they wanted was unnerving. “Merlin, do you think you feel this way about other people because these mentalities could have been forced on you in the past?” Her nasal voice had become one of understanding and professionalism, the Northern accent thinning considerably. Merlin didn’t like it at all. “Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look?”

Throughout this entire, stupid session, Merlin had been wanting to avoid answering questions. Now all he wanted to do was say something so devastating yet so on point that it would shut this witch up for the rest of her career. And yet his tongue remained still, rooted to the floor of his mouth.

“I see.” The counsellor stood and shook out her skirts with the smug air of a woman victorious. Merlin wanted to throw something at her. Like a shoe. She went around to the back of her desk and retrieved a post-it-note shaped like a unicorn. “I’m giving until the beginning of the new term to combat this problem that we seem to have here." In one motion she ripped away the post it note and was making her way back towards him, brandishing it like a literal curse rather than simply the figurative one that it clearly was. She handed it to him unforgivingly.

"I'd like you to try a social activity that is purely audio based. Interactions with others that don't allow them to see your appearance." The urge to crumple the note into a ball was strong. “I’ll schedule another session three weeks from now.”

"And what if I'm perfectly happy with the way things are? I don't need to change anything." Merlin shot back, and control of the situation brushed his fingertips before Morgan's condescending smile dragged it out of reach again.

"Tell me, Merlin, how many reports do you think I received from your professors and peers of this self-important, judgemental behaviour?" Merlin was already standing as he milled the question over for a full couple of seconds.

"One or two, I'd imagine." He finally mumbled. The witch drummed her pencil against her crossed arms and shook her head. "Well," Merlin started, "it can't have been-"

"Twenty-four." She didn't look victorious now, just a little sorry. That was so much worse. "Twenty-four different people, who you have known for only a year or so. Still think you don't need to change anything?"

Merlin didn't want to look around at her ridiculous face again. He didn't think he even knew twenty-four people well enough for them to report him. Her voice carried on no matter how much he wanted it not to.

"If I don’t see improvement three weeks from now, regardless of how you feel about it, I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely."

The facts stung like poisonous, green smoke in Merlin's head. He pulled at the ornamented door handle, dismissing himself. Then a question came into his mind and forced itself to be asked.

"What activities would you suggest, then?"

"Start an interactive podcast; volunteer for a University chat-line; Online gaming." Merlin's humourless scoff punctuated her list.

"Yeah, no. I'm not an ‘over the phone’ kind of guy." He stepped out into the hallway and noticed Miss Delocks' head spin in his direction. The last ten minutes had dampened any mood he might have been in for going out, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to cheer himself up. He heard one last reply from the witch before he strode off in the assistant’s direction,

"Keep that attitude up and you won't be a "Part-time Ancient Historian" either."

In case the presence of a pale pink fiesta with mermaid stickers running along the doors wasn’t indicative enough, the loud guffaws and scattered shouts told Merlin that his housemates had company. This was before he even reached the top of the hill. Night was creeping across the sky already. Merlin would have liked to stay out longer, but the witches’ words had stuck a little too keenly to him, and a college bar surrounded by five beautiful young ladies was not, it seemed, the best place to process things.

Stanrocc cottage was one of a kind really. It was called a cottage because it managed to be too small to be a villa but also too pretty to be a house. The walls were brick, covered in an artsy kind of cement stuff with shells mixed into it, then painted white. Kingfisher blue window frames peeked out from beneath an overgrowth of marble-like gladioli and ballet-slipper foxgloves. The diminutive front garden was mostly taken up by the wild-cherry tree that had looked hurricanes and landfalls in the face, released a string of angry expletives and stayed precisely where it was with zero intention of ever going away. Around its ankles sprung up Snowdrops every Winter, but right now, in the twilight of August, the space was taken up by a hoard of decaying daffodil corpses.

Through one of the windows, a blonde head was just visible. It stood up haphazardly and came to the door when Merlin knocked. Jack appeared in the doorway, but he’d barely laid eyes on Merlin before he was leaning back inside and shouting into the noisy fray, his accent thick, probably from laughing,

“Ee’s back!” With that he left the door hanging open. Merlin entered, a little disgruntled at the lack of welcome, until he got inside and found out why. Seated on the various beanbags, chairs, and sofas, were their usual six occupants, but with them were four less usual ones. Alright, not that unusual, three of them Merlin knew he recognised.

First was Arthur’s fiancée, Gwen. She was a common recurring visitor. Whenever Arthur wasn’t following her around the café, she was following him around the cottage. The other two present were less clearly defined by engagement rings or Facebook relationship status’.

Upon sitting back down on his very expensive armchair, Jack had one-hundred-and-fifty centimetres of pink-leggings wearing, ashen skinned vegetarian seating herself comfortably on his lap. That one was Viviane… Or Niniane. Merlin never actually paid attention when Jack gushed about her, but he was almost sure her name was one of those. She was Jack’s “study partner'', both of them being up and coming chemists. Funny, because to Merlin’s knowledge, studying didn’t usually involve reclining on each other’s laps; playing with each other’s hair (or her playing with his, at least) and going out on spa trips together. If they weren’t together, Merlin couldn’t blame Jack. All spread-out, round eyes and large lips, she did look a little like a fish with legs.

Lastly there was Briar. Nobody actually knew what Briar was. Was she Hans’ friend? His girlfriend? A kind of omnivorous goat? It was a mystery. Altogether they knew seven things about her: Like Hans, she was German; she took fencing lessons; her wardrobe consisted entirely of ankle-length, floaty skirts and a special talent of hers was tripping over literal air. She slept with a baseball bat, wore purple contacts in her eyes and, while you wouldn’t imagine so from her physique, she had the appetite of a full grown horse. They didn’t even know what she was doing at the Uni. With her legs folded in front of her, she leant on her maybe-boyfriend-maybe-friend’s signature bean bag chair, one hand holding a row of scrabble pieces. The other was surreptitiously burrowing through Hans’ homemade bag of steak flavoured crisps, which famously tasted like dog food to everyone but those two. The curly-headed bag-holder didn’t seem to mind at all.

There was one other girl with them, seated on a folding chair between Briar’s feet and Arthur’s elbow. Merlin gave her barely a passing glance however, taking in a round figure, cherry-pink shorts, and shoulder-length brown hair before he lost interest.

Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look.

The counsellor’s stupid voice drove through his thoughts unbidden like an off-rail train. He shook his head and shoved them back down into his subconscious where they belonged, ready to be forgotten.

The ringing of the words, however, was replaced by his stomach gurgling irritably. A muffin and a salted-caramel hot chocolate were not enough to go on for a whole afternoon. His eyes fell on the Chinese food containers strewn about the coffee table and surrounding floor. A takeaway was a rare occasion in Stanrocc cottage. In the entire county of Essex, there were exactly four fast-food establishments that Hans trusted and respected, and thus, would allow them to purchase from. Two of these were fish-and-chip shops; one- Merlin’s particular favourite- did flame-grilled kebabs; and the last one was the Jade Dragon Restaurant. Very expensive- meaning Jack was probably to thank for it- and very, very good Chinese food. It dawned on Merlin a little late that this uncharacteristic treat might have been meant to make him feel better, judging by the sizeable stack of barbecue kebab boxes that could be seen just inside the kitchen door. Nobody else liked barbecue kebabs.

But he was too tired and too hungry to feel bad for not coming back. He’d been busy.

The energetic game of scrabble had come to a standstill when his arrival was announced. Now ten pairs of eyes were on him and six of them were concerned. Merlin made for the kitchen, the multitude of expectant faces making his chest knot.

“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, half-heartedly when he noticed both Arthur and Hans shifting as if to get up. “I’m going to bed.”

Noki, the second of the triplets, swept up a container filled with Prawn crackers and extended them in Merlin’s direction. He waved them away dismissively.

“Really, it’s fine, I’ll grab something from the fridge.” And with that he left the room.

Much to his dismay, the fridge was a sorry sight, being mostly bare save for half a watermelon and an empty milk carton. It was a Friday, he soon remembered, which meant Hans would be grocery shopping tomorrow. Also, Briar was there.

Footsteps came thudding along the short passage between the living room and the kitchen. Merlin didn’t have to look up to know that an orange vest with arms was blocking the door.

“What do you want, Arthur?” Even in the fridge, Merlin could feel the glare in the back of his head. Crossed arms also wouldn’t be a surprise.

“I want to know where you’ve been, and why you didn’t feel the need to tell us you weren’t coming back?” Merlin finally selected a yogurt cowering at the very back with a best-before date of yesterday. He shut the fridge door with his foot, searching for a clean spoon on the draining board.

“You know you aren’t actually my dad, right?” He plunged the end of the spoon through the paper covering and started ripping the excess away. “I can go where I want.”

“No.” Arthur had now moved completely into the room. “But you’re still one of us, mate, and we were all worried. The triplets almost got in the truck to come pull you out of whatever ditch you’d fallen into.” Merlin actually looked him in the face this time. He was scratching his ghost of a goatee the way he always did when he felt in deep water. “You didn’t exactly leave in great spirits this morning.”

“Lurrk, uum fyrn.” Merlin said through a mouthful of yogurt. The stuff was absolutely repulsive, but it was the best conversation avoidance technique he had without a book to hand. He manoeuvred around Arthur, trying desperately to keep from openly weeping at the foul stuff. The best-before date ought to have been the may-not-kill-you-before date.

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed behind him. “I can see that. But you’re-“ Merlin dashed up the stairs, discarding the yogurt discreetly in the kitchen bin as he passed it.

Arthur had changed since meeting Gwen. It was like something had been plucked out of him. The thing that had made Merlin feel close to him while everything was happening: The adoption, losing both their parents. It was like Arthur had grown up, changed somehow. And had left Merlin behind.

And from what he had seen in the other room, Arthur wasn't the only one.

Merlin emptied the yogurt out of his mouth and gargled mouthwash to get rid of the lingering flavour of overripe strawberries. A knock at his bedroom door interrupted him.

“What did the counsellor say?” It was Arthur again. Merlin had honestly had enough of today. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him be? He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He poked his head out, startling his friend who still had his fist raised to knock again.

“She suggested I take up gaming.”

-*-

Hours later, Merlin turned over his pillow again, trying his absolute hardest to fall asleep. He’d tried relaying a movie in his head, but thinking about the ending just made him sad. He’d tried reading his new book, but Neil Gaiman wasn't particularly relaxing. At last he had just shut his eyes and told himself to sleep, with real authority and gumption. That just made him more awake because his brain hated him.

Eventually he sat up and tugged the string on his lamp. The clock on his desk told him it was 2:26. Merlin’s bones told him that he was actually in a void in which time was a construct of society, and he felt much more inclined to believe the latter. Seeing as somebody, probably Hans, had left a plate of reheated kebabs in front of his door, Merlin hadn’t starved, so he couldn’t explain the hollow discomfort that was plaguing him now.

Actually, he could, he just didn’t want to.

Twenty-four people thought he was a self-important, narcissistic idiot.

Walking around his room to clear his head quickly turned into walking downstairs and into the kitchen to get some shreddies. There were still a few chocolate ones left, them mercifully being the one cereal that Briar didn’t love more than life itself.

As he dejectedly spooned the stuff into his mouth, green smoke came unfiltered through his head again, spelling out: I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely. Merlin groaned and pulled at his bark coloured hair.

Ancient and Medieval History, while not a popular course, was still difficult to get into. Only twelve or so universities in the country even offered it. And even then, Southend alone offered the module on folklore and mythologies. So many essays, so many projects, so much time spent reading about the sordid love-lives of ancient deities. For nothing apparently. All because some people he didn’t know thought he was self-obsessed.

Nothing added up.

And gaming? Really. Podcasts and chat-lines were an instant nope, but gaming. In his entire twenty years, Merlin had played one game and one game alone. And well, that one was…

Next thing he knew, Merlin had left the congealed cereal lonely on the sink and was fighting his way through a wall of cobwebs into the storage room. The lights hadn’t worked in there for years, so Merlin clasped a battery powered torch from Colchester castle like a lifeline.

With his finger and thumb he gingerly shifted bicycles, boxes of DVDs and even a taxidermy rabbit that had gone to holes, until he saw it. The shiny, green corner of a laptop-games-console-hybrid emerged from the darkness. And then was immediately plunged back into it when the torch exploded in Merlin’s hand, the light flickering away with a puff of smoke. Merlin had expected this, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the game and high-tailing it out of the storage room before the shadows could grab his ankles and eat him. Safe in his own bedroom again, Merlin intrepidly opened the game.

Fairytale Island was created by Avalon Games nine years ago. In its entire run, localised in Southern England, it sold about three-hundred consoles. These consoles were box-like laptops, but a more accurate comparison would be an oversized Nintendo DS. The keyboard-space was taken up by the controls, while the screen was above. Graphics-wise, it was surprisingly ahead of its time. What you did was you uploaded a full body photograph of yourself, lined up the limbs and head, and voila, you had your avatar!

This particular console had been bought by an incredible woman named Igraine, for the eleven year old boy whom she had fearlessly rescued. Merlin ran a finger gently over the sticker, feeling the scratchy remnants of its glitter-glue border. On it was a simple little message, rounded off with a clumsy smiley face and the letter I, in wide swirling print.

For the most handsome Prince on Fairytale Island!!!

Obviously his avatar had to change, lest he wanted to continue with the slenderman-esque creature created by his imaginative twelve-year-old self.

Merlin had to stand on his bed to get himself into the frame of his plug-in webcam. Not really knowing what to do with his arms, he did the only rational thing and T-posed. In his pyjamas. In front of a game for preteens. At twenty past two in the morning.

If one of his housemates came in now he would kill them and dissolve the body in acid.

The screen counted down, readying the camera.

Three… Two… O-ghlowhfsajfhlsdkhlhdsjfh…………….Error………...rebooting, thank you for your patience.

Well. That seemed fair.

Hopping down as quietly as possible, Merlin watched the static clear from the screen like ghost lightning. He should have expected it. Motorcyclists had long said that ‘Love is when you like someone as much as your motorbike.” Merlin was inclined to disagree, because his bike was the one piece of mechanical equipment that didn’t figure it should explode whenever he dared breathe nearby. No bond would ever be able to trump that kind of loyalty.

Reservedly, he fiddled with a Rubix cube until the screen returned to normal. Nothing seemed that wrong with it.

Until his avatar loaded again.

A brief visit to the bathroom mirror was made so that Merlin could examine both his eyes, but when he came back they found the same sight.

Where there should have been a tall, thin, carrot-shaped, Merlinish mage character, there now resided a tiny, stout- if still Merlinish- one. And it was green. Not even a nice green, like fern or emerald or sage. This was a green that reminded a person of snot and nothing else… Except maybe a dehydrated basil plant.

Merlin bashed his head against the edge of his desk. What had that witch done to him? Why was he concerned about this?

Giving up on answering that question, he looked up to face the diminutive monster that bobbed in place like an excitable pea with legs. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he tried to reason. If he didn’t focus, it almost looked like an obese, unwell Gollum. But hey, maybe the other players will like that kind of thing?

Without realising it, Merlin scoffed out loud at himself.

Other players? This game had a range of a thousand kilometres squared and was being handled by a technopollyon (a word that was not a word until Merlin discovered there was no term for a person who inadvertently breaks technology, but there were a multitude of Greek words that he could misuse in its place.)

The chances of another pathetic Englishman within his third of Essex being in possession of and online on Fairytale Island at two-thirty that night, were not worth thinking about. Because they were nonexistant.

With that in mind, Merlin took one last bitter look at his avatar, and continued resolutely on to game.

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Wow! Thanks for reading that!!! I hope you enjoyed it!

(Btw, Gwen, Viviane and Briar are my headcannons for the end credit characters and Morgan LeFey is the fairy princess)

Again, thanks so much. I’m putting the next chapter up at some point, this one from Snow’s perspective.

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moonstruckbucky · 4 years

Text

Royal Holiday (2/6)

Summary: Bucky Barnes is bored - trust him, he knows how that sounds. But being royalty, in his humble opinion, isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Time to mix it up a bit.

Pairing: Prince!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, modern AU

Warnings: None - just dumb fluff.

Notes: Like everything else, I’m sorry for the wait on this. Enjoy x

If you like my work buy me a Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Bucky’s unashamed to admit that the woman in front of the flower shop has been a permanent resident inside his mind. That expression of hope ringed in sadness on her face, paired with the subtle beauty she possessed has been stuck in his mind’s eye, even a week later. He’s already addicted and he doesn’t even know her name.

He doesn’t know the name of the flower shop, either. He’d been so enchanted by her, so preoccupied with who is she that he’d completely forgotten to get the name of the flower shop. He feels like an idiot, curses himself both internally and verbally, amusing the absolute shit out of Sam.

He’s never seen Bucky so torn up over a woman for more than a night, much less one he hasn’t even talked to yet. He actually feels bad every time Bucky requests to return to the city and Sam has to say no - “a meeting with your father”, “a suit fitting for the gala”, a number of other things that chip away at Bucky’s patience - and by association, Sam’s.

So he relents the next time Bucky has an opportunity to escape. He’d managed to fool his mother - something about a custom suit from a top designer in the city - and takes a car the first chance he sees. Or rather, Sam does, and he listens grudgingly as Bucky talks to himself.

“Was it...here? Or...or down 5th?” he mutters in the passenger seat, nose pressed to the glass like he’s out of some kids’ cartoon.

Sam rolls his eyes, taps his fingers against the steering wheel at a red light. Bucky, meanwhile, analyzes every building face they pass, eyebrows drawn downwards in concentration as he tries, gives himself a headache, to remember. He remembers the colors of the building - white brick and faded, green-grey paint befitting of a florist shop. One of the letters is crooked, tilted downwards like a nail’s come loose.

And then… he sees it, yelps out loud and points out the window. Unfortunately it’s just after Sam’s pressed the gas to move into the intersection. Bucky’s head bounces off the window as Sam slams on the brakes, spurring a chorus of angry car horns around them, harmonized with cursing and yelling.

Before Sam can yell at him for nearly getting them killed, Bucky’s stumbling out of the car, tripping over the seatbelt in his haste to make it to the curb. Growling under his breath, Sam eases down on the gas, waves apologetically to the cars around him and loops around to find a place to park.

Bucky pushes through people, offers half-assed apologies as his vision seems to tunnel, the flower shop the focus. Everything else blurs, becomes a white noise haze as he steps up to the door. Knob ice-cold in his bare palm,

and it’s locked.

Stomach plummeting, Bucky feels the hope leave his chest in a painful flurry. So tangible he actually winces. Tries the knob again and he feels that same aching pang - is that his heart?

He pitches forward, winces at the frigid glass on his skin. Taps his head once, twice, three times lightly against it because that’s just his luck isn’t it? He doesn’t even realize he’s muttering under his breath until Sam snorts behind him.

“They went to lunch, drama queen,” he teases. Confusion, an eye roll from his friend and a gesture at the window where a sign reads “back in an hour” in messy, feminine scrawl.

Another flutter, only this one is hope - taking off like a dove at a wedding. He elects to wait, declines when Sam offers to get him something from a bistro down the block. He leans against the wall beside the door, scrolling through his emails, barely sparing them a glance - he just wants the notification to go away. He waits, belly all quivering with nervous anticipation. After fifteen minutes, he lowers himself to the ground, knees tucked up so he doesn’t trip anyone.

Will she even show up to this shop? Or was it just a coincidence that she’d passed it in the first place? Is he just wasting his time on a girl he, realistically, might not see again? Doubt clouds his mind but he pushes it down, refuses to be at least a little rational. After all, the expression on her face as she gazed at the shop seemed far too coincidental that she’d just been passing by. There’s a correlation there, and he’s determined to find out what.

“Oh, jeez, I’m so sorry! I hope you weren’t waiting too long!”

A voice, sweet like honey, disrupts his thoughts, and as he looks up, he feels the breath leave his lungs in a whoosh. It’s her, the woman he’d seen before, her face flushed from the chill and a sincerely apologetic look. He thinks he’s in love already.

It takes him a few awkward moments for his tongue to reconnect to his brain, and then he clambers to his feet, nearly bowls her over in the process.

“Uh, um, n-no, I wasn’t waiting all that long!” he assures, feeling the heat creeping up his neck because her eyes are so big and sparkling in the sunshine. Then she smiles, and oh boy, is he in trouble.

“You don’t have to lie,” she teases lightly, sidestepping him with a key in her hand to unlock the door. “Are you looking for something in particular or are you just browsing?”

The shop is warm, filled with the aroma of fresh flowers - roses and hydrangea and gerbera daisies, pine and balsam and winterberry. It’s blossoming Christmas in the shop, fairy lights strung up everywhere and the fluorescent lights dimmed low - not too low that he can’t see the product, but just enough.

He gets so caught up in looking around he forgets she asked him a question. She’s shucked off her coat, looking pretty in an emerald green sweater that’s rolled at her wrists. She’s watching him, head tilted curiously and eyes bright. He shakes himself, gives her a smile that probably looks as shaky as it feels.

“Uh, well, I, uh, just thought I’d pick something up for my mother.” Barnes, you genius. He grins suddenly, rolling with the idea. “Yeah, something festive, you know? She loves flowers.”

She smirks and leans on the counter. “What’s her favorite?”

Bucky’s mind blanks, and he knows she knows he’s fibbing. He glances to his left, sees a large, bright red flower, wide open like a lion’s mane on a tall, green stem. He points.

“These.”

“Ah, amaryllis,” she says, sashaying around the counter. “A favorite around the holidays. I think I have some potted, if your mother would like to grow one of her own - they last longer.”

“Sure,” he agrees readily. He’s pretty sure she could ask him to walk on the Sun and he’d do it. She smiles that pretty smile again and turns away from him to fetch the potted amaryllis.

Even puts some pretty foil on the pot it comes in and drops it into a plastic sleeve to protect it from the cold. She does it all seamlessly, hands familiar with the task, and she rings him up. He pays her with a fifty, tells her to keep the $25.01 in change. Something akin to gratitude flashes in her eyes at that, but it’s gone when he blinks.

Awkward silence stretches - she taps her fingers, tries not to stare at him because why is he still here - and he searches his brain for any possible reason to linger a little longer. But he comes up empty, and all he can do is stare, looking stupid with that amaryllis in his hands and a far-off look in his eye. And then Sam - dear old Sam who he could throttle when they get outside - sidles up beside him and flashes her a charming grin that’s brilliant white against his dark skin.

“Afternoon, miss,” he greets, and Bucky thinks he feels his teeth crack. “What a beautiful shop! Are you the owner?”

To her credit, she seems to catch onto his game and smirks, cocks a hip as she leans against the counter. “Why, yes I am.”

And she introduces herself, just like that. Accepts the gloved hand Sam puts out, and Bucky feels the tips of his ears heat. How is it so easy for Sam when Bucky’s been practically rendered speechless?

This never happens, he thinks, especially not with women. But she’s...different. He isn’t sure how but she is, and she’s taken his tongue and glued it to the roof of his mouth.

Sam nudges him roughly, gives him an expectant look that screams get your shit together.

“This is my friend, Bucky,” he says when Bucky still can’t bring himself to speak. “He’s...shy.”

Another smirk and a slow appraising look up and down. He feels all too exposed under her gaze. “Pleasure to meet you, Bucky.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he squeaks. Clears his throat right after as beside him, Sam snorts.

She giggles cutely, and Bucky’s mouth lifts on its own accord - finally, some brain activity. A long moment of silence, of eyes connecting and holding, until Sam coughs and both she and Bucky seem to jump at the sound - like they’d forgotten he was there.

“Well, we’d better get that back to your, uh, mother,” Sam urges with a pointed look.

Right - “appointment” with a tailor.

Sam has to tug him out the door - backwards, because he just can’t stop smiling at her. He’s spoken less than twenty words and he’s pretty sure he’s half in love with her already. She waves, a little wiggle of her fingers, before the door closes.

And Sam loses it.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he taunts, high-pitched and squeaky before dissolving into raucous laughter. He claps Bucky on the shoulder. “Oh man, I am absolutely never letting you live that down. Ever.”

Bucky thinks he can live with that.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #prince!bucky barnes #prince!bucky x you #prince!bucky x reader #modern royalty au #modern au #royal holiday

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sleeplessandstubborn · 3 years

Text

Emily in Paris episode 3 or it’s still more accurate than American media recent coverture on France.

Ah, I had to write that title. And I am not even talking about American Twitter. But yeah. Feel better. Somewhat I have the impression that this is going to substitute the still a better love story than Twilight in my mind. But, I’m sorry, Stephenie Meyer, I am not here for that but to make a belated, totally improvised, not at all completely planned recap of Episode 3 of Emily in Paris, your favourite Instagram version of the French capital.

So episode 3 starts with our heroine running, as she usually does every morning. Why this Paris is more empty than the town where I live which has like 25,000 inhabitants? So many questions about where did people go. The case is her boss in Chicago calls. Yes, the one who speaks French and should be now best friends with Sylvie but it’s stuck in Chicago with her pregnancy.

I know, Madeline, I know. It would be frustrating for me too that the main trait of my personality was I’m pregnant and on my bed. They both exchange about how now that Doug dumped her Emily’s life is full of croissants and sex, when actually is about sex. Also Emily meets street furniture. As does Madeline, too. I guess that’s not the kind of idea she had of meeting French men. Thanks Anne! Hidalgo of course.

Madeline is sending Emily the corporate commandments for Savoir. Yikes, I thought again, a cultural clash is coming and what are corporate commandments anyway (I don’t know, sounds tacky, I’m just a puzzled European), but for now there are another problems to solve. Emily’s shower breaks, the building manager only speaks French and of course our leading lady is still struggling with understanding it. Also, sidenote: manager building is right with Miss Cooper. Only problems.

Fortunately Gabriel exists and he helps her to break the language barrier. But this isn’t going to magically repair her shower and so Emily has to wash her hair in one of humanity’s wonders, one apex of civilization, the bidet. It’s supposed to be a bad hair day for her afterwards but... Does she look that different? Well, not for me! Discuss:

This shows... A character development! At last! Emily is trying to learn French, and even if her beret isn’t going to help in the task, is good to see she’s trying to adapt. Still, she’s overdoing a bit with that Gioconda bag.

I mean, girl. Relax. In order to improve her knowledge, she tries to trick her teacher - who considers a working place full of French people must be an interesting environment where to study the behaviour of the Emily Cooperius Chicagoensis but refuses the pleasure of her company if there’s not a 50 euros banknote in between. Business is business after all. Cut to Emily reuniting with my adored godess Sylvie, whose elegance and beauty only can be matched with the flag of the twelve stars in the background. Ah, Freude, schöner Götterfunken/ Tochter aus Elysium,/ Wir betreten feuertrunken/ Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!

Well, the case is they are going to film the advertisement for De l’Heure today and it’s an important thing Emily keeps her mouth closed and unsmiling because she looks stupid, at least in Sylvie’s opinion. I’d say more scary but well.

Luc and Julien receive them with the enraged face of every European citizen who just met an aggresive attempt of being forced into the American Way of Doing Things. Which they refuse naturally. Madeline just sent the corporate commandments and everyone is pissed at nonsense like giving praise in public and critizising in private. But off to filming the spot for the perfume. The location is the Pont d’Alexandre III that has featured in like 20,000 advertisement for fragrances. Here they met Antoine and Emily has the twentieth humiliating experience with languages telling she’s horny out of a sudden when she wanted to mean excited.

Emily meets the model, a Serbian blonde beauty that doesn’t speak French, that’s her personality trait. Our heroine seems rejoiced to find at least a kindred soul but we won’t have more time with the model, whose task is to walk across the bridge naked - or wearing the perfume, Antoine says - , while surrounded by men in costumes. The campaign Dream of Beauty, in short. Emily’s reaction is this:

Antoine argues this is meant to represent the woman’s fantasy, to be desired by all these men. Emily doesn’t think this is going to be appreciated by women at the other side of the Atlantic ocean and says the idea is sexists rather than sexy. Filming stop for they to debate, which seems expensive. Stopping, not debating. Without entering on what fantasies are valid or not and who actually pays attention to advertisements for fragrances - I am not one of these people - we don’t get to learn if Emily knows who Cocteau was.

The following morning the plumber can’t fix Emily’s shower. His gestures are pretty easy to understand, as it’s an universal fact that often the pieces needed to repair are not immediately available. Anyway, Emily asks Gabriel to help her with translation again. She must pay him or something. The thing doesn’t get to be fixed and Emily gets to shower in Gabriel’s appartment.

Maybe he has a fantasy of some sort here? Who knows. At the office and after her class, Emily’s first conversation of the day with Sylvie goes, as usual, for a rocky start. She has made lost money and time to the company, her boss argues, and on top of that she’s the prude police. The final straw for Emily immediately after that is that someone (called Luc) drew a dick on the Sacred Corporate Commandments. Having forgotten the fact that drawing penises is part of the human nature since the dawn of times, Emily doesn’t take well the profanation. It’s too much so she goes to lunch with Mindy.

Mindy - who is celebrating a party later and invites her - rolls her eyes at the corporate commandments and more or less say she deserves the hate because she could not expect French people were going to receive that gladly because they are against all. Well, it’s one of their multiple charms. “People like me! That’s my thing!” , Emily argues. Oh my sweet Summer child... Once back at the office, the commercial is as nonsensical as your average perfume commercial. Emily suggests a poll on Twitter to decide if it’s sexy or sexists. Bad or good, they’ll have publicity. Sounds about right?

One day I want to be Sylvie when she answers, after Emily invited her to Mandy’s party: Sorry, I’m busy. Also when she goes on with a mini the reason you suck moment: “You come to Paris. You walk into my office. You don’t even bother to learn the language. You treat the city like it’s your amusement park”. Apparently Emily can’t wrap her head around the idea of not everyone liking her and that you don’t have why to be friends with your bosses or workmates. Girl, just a civilized relationship with them is enough. Anyway... Emily does invite her, incapable of taking a no for an answer.

As predictable - don’t say you didn’t predict it - the party is a bit crowded and, leaving aside Mindy, Emily doesn’t know anyone there. Because, Sylvie knowing better, she didn’t show up. Well done Madame. Out of water again, Emily finds an apparently cute boy who engages in a conversation with her. With hand kissing at the balcony at all.

All it’s very romantic until, when they are strolling the streets and after flirting a bit, Fabien I think was his name - sorry, not checking again - tells her he likes American pussies. This is too much information all of a sudden for Emily - even if it could lead her to learn another the meaning of a new French word, equally related with felines - and storms off to Gabriel’s restaurant. Why is a thing the chef is there, available to serve her a glass of wine, I don’t know, I didn’t write this thing. But finally, finally, FINALLY our heroine says she’s going to stop trying being liked by everyone. Thank you Paris, you inspired some adult realities on Emily’s brain. It’s also a productive night after all because Gabriel says he likes her. So... yay? Since many of you have already seen the complete season, you know that things are... more complicated than that.

Of course the last three minutes of the episode are reserved for Emily Was Right After All moments. The poll is a success even if the commercial is not universally liked - but as Emily has learn this is not that important anymore -, she takes revenge on Luc bringing a dick shaped bread, or cake - I don’t know exactly what it is - which is a funny and irreverent way to respond him aaaand... finds a present from Antoine on her desk, lingerie from La Perla. Which is, ew, a bit creepy.

Aaaand that was all. I had to rewatch it because it had been eras since I last wrote about this series. I promise to be more disciplined with the next ones. Until then.

P.S. Down with Corporation Commandments.

#emily in paris

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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

Text

Partners - Part 9: Meeting Mary

Rating: T

Pairing: DickBabs

Summary: After investigating some more, Dick and Barbara have finally found out where Mary and her son are hiding. Now, all that's left to do is figuring out a way for Mary to trust them... My DickBabs police officers AU.

You can also read this chapter at AO3 or start from the beginning on my blog

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On their next free weekend, after some more sleuthing, Dick and Barbara made a trip to Snug Cay’s Most Beautiful Hiking Trails. Close by the adjoined parking lot, a couple of rental cabins were scattered along the edge of the woods, not too far from the summer camp at which Mary Wallmer used to work as a counselor in her highschool years.

“It’s actually quite pretty here,” Dick commented when he got out of the car, eyes roaming over the nearly empty parking lot with its big map sign detailing its various hiking trails. Well-marked entries into the woods lining the three sides of the parking lot invited visitors to go for a walk.

“Mhm,” Barbara murmured absent-mindedly, rummaging the backseat of the car for their jackets and backpacks, filled with snacks, bottles of water and a map of the area - props to give them the inconspicuous looks of a couple out for a hike.

She handed Dick his stuff, then put on her own gear.

“Maybe we should consider actually coming here for a hike at another time,” Dick suggested conversationally, while Barbara re-checked the most recent location of Redhorn’s son - product of her latest digital scavenger hunt - with the positions of the cabins on her map.

“You mean when we’re not tracking down a potential witness that could help us topple the entire system of corruption of a city?” Barbara replied drily, packing the map away.

She pointed east, towards the side of the woods that was closer to the bay, “Cabin 7 is over there.”

Hands in his pockets, Dick started to walk leisurely in the direction Barbara had pointed, a cheeky grin on his lips: “I guess that would be more convenient, sure."

Barbara rolled her eyes, then slipped her arm into his: “Let’s sort this thing out first, shall we?”

Dick’s expression lost it’s cheerful air and smoothed into a more serious one.

“Right, let’s go over our approach again:” he agreed, now focussing on the task at hand, while they were heading towards their destination, “We’re a couple that went out for a hike and when we wanted to head home, realized that our car wouldn’t start. Unfortunately, both of our phones don’t have any reception out here so we’re now stuck wandering around, trying to find someone who would let us use their phone.”

He looked at Barbara for confirmation.

The redhead nodded: “Exactly.”

“And you really think that all this deception is necessary? It’s not exactly inspiring trust once we tell her the actual reason why we’re here.”

Barbara let out a sigh.

“I know, I know,” she admitted, deflated, “but I think we won’t be able to get a foot in the door otherwise - everything she thought she knew turned out to be a lie; the person she had trusted the most turned out to be in the thick of the scheming and corruption that’s been ailing Blüdhaven for the longest time… Would you trust a pair of strange cops who claim to have come to help you and contend that they have a plan for bringing down said corrupted system that has permeated seemingly every nook and cranny of the ‘Haven’s society, including the sphere of your own home??”

She let the picture she’d painted hang in the air, then shook her head sadly.

“No,” she said grimly, answering her own question, “I don’t think she’d hear us out if we presented our case to her, straightforward. She’d only grow more terrified and slam the door in our faces…”

“Leaving her more afraid for her life and her son’s without listening to our offer to help them out, most likely causing Mary to try even harder to go into hiding,” Dick supplied, finishing Barbara’s thought.

“Mhm.”

Dick let out a sigh, unable to argue with his girlfriend’s logic: “Fine, initial deception it is… Oh, look,” he exclaimed, pointing to a wooden cabin which was hidden away off-trail, almost entirely concealed by the grouping of fir trees lining the path, “that’s got to be it!”

Barbara consulted the geolocation marker on her phone she had created based on the online activity of Redhorn Jr. (even though the teenager had refrained from posting anything on his social media accounts, he still had been watching YouTube videos via his phone, which Barbara had used to backtrack his and his mother’s whereabouts): “I think you’re right.”

They left the larger path along which the cabins were scattered and followed the narrow trail covered in crushed rocks and fir needles. They discovered the wooden sign marking the wooden cabin at the end of the trail to be number 7; it had been completely obscured by the low, thick branches of the fir trees.

“So this is it?”

“Gotta be - the GPS coordinates match the location at which Redhorn’s son liked a video about three hours ago.”

In the shade of the cabin, Dick noticed a red toyota with a familiar looking license plate: “Hey, that’s Mary’s car, isn’t it?”

Apparently, all their prep hadn’t been for naught: “Yes it is.”

“Alright, so this is it… You ready?”

Barbara took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the task at hand.

“I’m ready. You?”

She caught Dick’s eye and saw the determined look on his face.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Together, they climbed up the three stairs to the cabin’s porch and knocked softly at the door.

***

They heard the sound of shuffling of feet behind the door, but no one answered it.

“Hello, is anyone there?” Barbara asked in a tentative voice.

Then, the door opened slightly and revealed a frightened blue eye which nervously examined the two young adults lingering on the porch.

Having discussed during their car ride that it would probably best if she took the lead early on (assuming that Mary would probably perceive a woman as less threatening), it was Barbara who addressed their supposed stranger in a friendly, if slightly embarrassed manner:

“Oh, hi! We’re so sorry to disturb you, but my boyfriend and I just returned from our hike around these parts - only to discover that our car won’t start and neither of us have any reception on our cellphones; may we use your phone to call roadside assistance? That would be incredibly helpful.”

The wary expression on what had been visible of Mary’s face had dissipated by the time Barbara had reached the end of her prepared speech and the door was opened fully now, revealing an unassuming woman of 5’2’’ and stocky build. Her blonde (probably dyed) hair was wavy, about shoulder-length, and framed a round, open face. Faint lines around eyes and mouth indicated her age to be around forty.

“Oh you poor things!” the middle-aged woman exclaimed emphatically, any hint of her previous mistrust completely vanished, “Of course you can use the phone here! Come in!”

And with that, Mary stepped aside, motioning for the two strangers to enter the cabin.

It wasn’t difficult to see how Redhorn had managed to conceal his wrongdoings from his wife for so long - she was downright guileless.

To be honest, Barbara couldn’t help but be surprised that Redhorn’s thugs hadn’t found Mary yet - once they had, it would have been all too easy for them to take a hold of her; it was probably for the best that Mary had sold the house of her deceased parents before she had stumbled upon the evidence of her husband’s criminal activities - this way, she couldn’t seek refuge in her childhood home even if feeling tempted to do so… and Barbara wasn’t all that convinced that Mary was cunning enough to have recognized that as a bad move on her part.

While Barbara was reflecting on the naivety of their potential informant, Dick engaged with Mary in idle small talk, making introductions, thanking her for her kindness and answering the many questions of the talkative and curious woman, such as where they were from and what had led them here?

“We are from Gotham City,” Dick explained, elaborating on the narrative he and Barbara had prepared beforehand (which wasn’t based completely on lies), “We’ve been meaning to take a break from the city for some time and decided to check out the hiking trails of Snug Cay - which definitely deserve their positive reviews online! Too bad our trip had to end with car trouble,” he concluded with a grimace so believable and sympathetic, Barbara would have been convinced of his story if she didn’t know any better. A born performer, indeed.

“Such bad luck!” Mary exclaimed empathetically. “But don’t you worry, we will get this fixed in no time! Let me show you to the phone; I think there should also be some brochures of nearby businesses and a phone book…”

She led Dick and Barbara to a small end table in a semi-secluded corner in the hallway next to the entrance door. Three doors lined the hallway wall; muffled yells of excitement sounded from behind the one closest to them.

“Don’t mind that,” Mary said nervously, giving a strained smile, “my son is not a nature lover such as you two - he prefers to play on his phone or gameboy or whatever it is called.”

“Ah, I’m familiar with the kind,” Dick nodded knowingly, ”I’ve got a teen brother who is very much into gaming.”

He gave Mary one of his disarming smiles:“How old is your son?”

“Thirteen.”

Dick grinned: “Yeah, the wonders of nature don’t particularly score with that demographic.”

Mary let out a laugh, then opened the drawer of the end table that contained the phone book and brochures.

“You should be able to find some number of a road assistance service in here.”

Thinking that it might be for the best to give Dick a little more time to build a rapport with Mary, which hopefully were to improve their chances of being heard out later, Barbara took the stack of papers out of Mary’s hands.

“Thank you so much,” she said warmly to the older woman. Then, after exchanging a meaningful glance with Dick, she motioned at the phone: “I’ll take care of it.”

“Sure thing,” he replied, his expression letting Barbara know he understood her silent message.

“We’ll leave you to make your call,” Mary responded kindly before addressing Dick: “Would you like something to drink, Richard?”

He smiled: “That would be great, thank you.”

***

While she was looking up the name of a local car mechanic (just in case) and pretended to make a call, Barbara could hear the other two engage in a friendly chat with one another.

By the time Barbara made her way back into the main room, she found Dick and Mary sitting in the living room, with Mary comfortably seated on the couch and Dick occupying one of the arm chairs. The blonde woman was grilling Dick about his private life.

“You two make such a gorgeous couple! How did you two meet?”

“Um, we first met each other at work, actually. We got assigned partners.”

“How fortuitous! If you don’t mind me asking, Richard, what do you do for a living?”

“Um,..-”

Barbara could tell that Dick was starting to sweat a little, so she made her move to intervene.

“Ah, there you are!” Mary exclaimed happily when she noticed Barbara return from her ‘phone call’, “Did you get everything sorted out?”

“Oh yes, someone will come over soon.”

“Wonderful!” Mary responded smilingly, “Is there anything else I can do to help, my dear?”

Barbara directed a meaningful at Dick and carefully sat down in the other empty armchair: “Actually, yes, there is one more thing…”

The helpful older woman nodded attentively, ready to help. Barbara felt a little bad for what she was about to do; still, this was in Mary’s best interest as well as theirs.

“You see,” Barbara began, her voice dropping into a hushed tone,”we know about your husband and the social calendars you’ve kept all these years - We think that they could help us with our cause.”

At that, Mary blanched and a panicked look appeared on her face, her eyes nervously flickering over to the door of the room her son was currently occupying.

“We’re not here to hurt you!” Dick was quick to add, ”We can help you, offer you protection - get you and your son far away from the ‘Haven and your husband’s influence, so you guys are safe.”

The poor blindsided woman twitched anxiously, as if she wanted to get up and run, but froze when Barbara moved to get something from the inside of her jacket.

It took Barbara a few seconds to realize what Mary must have suspected.

“Don’t be afraid, I’m not-” she began hastily, before breaking off. She then slowly, carefully, produced her badge and ID from the inside pocket of her jacket, putting them down on the couch table, right in front of Mary. Dick followed her example with equally cautious and measured movements.

“Here,” Barbara gestured at the evidence laid out in front of Mary,”the two of us are officers at the BPD; but we are from Gotham, originally. We have nothing to do with Blüdhaven’s corrupt elite,” she explained calmly, while the older woman’s gaze fluttered nervously between the ID cards on the table and the two officers seated next to her.

“Barbara’s father helped clean up the corrupt police force in Gotham,” Dick further supplied, ”and we want to do the same in the ‘Haven.”

Mary didn’t say anything; the poor woman only looked frightened.

“We have found a few officers who have the same goal,” Dick continued to explain in a composed voice, “and we are now building up a case against all the corrupt politicians and police officials - including your husband.”

Mary winced, her eyes now fixed firmly on her knees.

“It would be very helpful for our case if you could give us those notebooks you’ve kept all these years,” Barbara went on, “regardless of whether you’d be willing to testify against your husband or not.”

“You don’t have to do either of those things, of course,” Dick hastened to reassure Mary, who at last dared to cast a tentative look in his direction, “for now, it is much more important to keep you and your son safe.”

“Exactly,” Barbara nodded fervently. She noticed that Mary seemed marginally calmer than before, appearing to be listening intently.

“We know that your husband has involved some of his people to look for you two,” Dick said gently, ”and frankly, a lot of his cronies have some very worrisome reputations.”

“And this is where we come in,” Barbara jumped in, “I know some people at the FBI who can help you get out of the reach of the criminals that have been running Blüdhaven as of yet.”

She handed Mary two business cards. Clammy hands gripped the cards tightly.

“Here are the contacts of the two agents that can help you. I have worked with them before on a case of corruption in Blüdhaven; they passed the background checks I conducted on them to ensure that they are not connected to any Blüdhaven elite with flying colors - they are trustworthy.”

Mary looked at Barbara with big eyes; the business cards still in a vice grip.

“I… I don’t know-”

Dick gave Mary a reassuring smile: “You don’t have to decide right now.”

“No, but you shouldn’t wait too long,” Barbara warned emphatically, “If we can find you here, it’s only a matter of time until your husband or his cronies will figure out a way to find you, too.”

“I… I don’t know what to do,” the poor woman stammered, distressed. She looked pleadingly from Dick to Barbara, as if waiting for them to tell her what to do.

Of course, that was not what they had come for.

“Ultimately, you will have to decide on your own what is best for you and your son - I know that all of this must be overwhelming and that we’re just two random strangers that appeared out of nowhere,” Dick said sympathetically, “You didn’t ask to get dragged into this, you just want for you and your son to be safe-”

Mary nodded energetically, “Yes!”

“We can’t tell you what to do - You have to be the judge on which course of action you want to take,” Barbara stressed.

Averting her eyes again, Mary only nodded meekly.

“Personally,” Dick mused aloud, causing Mary to look up again “I’d say your safest bet is to call these numbers,” he tapped the business cards Mary was still clutching tightly, “These FBI agents will get the two of you out of here, someplace safe.”

Mary’s lips parted as if wanting to say something - but in the end, she only pressed them together and fiddled nervously with the cards in her hands.

Dick exchanged a telling look with Barbara, who pulled out a burner phone and put it on the table.

“Here, take this,” Barbara said, “there is one number saved in there - it’s to a safe line which only Dick and I can access; it can’t be traced. This way, you will always be able to reach us - if there’s anything you think we can help you with - call that number.”

This gesture seemed to finally have broken the dam. With a trembling hand, Mary reached for the phone, staring at Dick and Barbara with teary eyes.

“Is this real?” Mary asked in a quiet, shaky voice.

“This is real.”

“And… And it’s not a trick?”

Dick gave an encouraging smile: “It’s not a trick. I promise.”

A brief pause followed, then: “Okay.”

***

They went over the particulars again, making sure that Mary would know what to expect when reaching out to Barbara’s contacts at the FBI. Once they had settled everything, Mary brought up the one thing that still remained unresolved:

“And… And the notebooks?”

Barbara cocked her head to the side, a friendly smile on her face: “What do you want to do with them?”

Mary fiddled nervously with the phone in her hands.

“I don’t know, I just- I just want to be rid of them, I suppose,” she said, sounding tired. She sighed deeply.

“You want them, I assume?”

“It would be useful for the case we’re building,” Barbara admitted honestly, “but if you don’t want us to use them in our case, you don’t have to hand them over.”

There was a long pause while Mary was mulling over it.

“No, you should have them,” she mused,”I think that’s why I took them with me in the first place - I knew that they were valuable evidence, I just didn’t know what to do with it… Or maybe I wasn’t ready to admit to myself that - that my husband is a criminal.”

Gently, Dick put a reassuring hand on Mary’s shoulder.

“We’re sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Mary said shakily, making a dismissive gesture before getting up from the couch, “I’ll go get them.”

The blonde woman hurried away into the hallway and disappeared behind the door furthest away. Dick and Barbara could hear the clunking of a floor board being moved and scraping noises. Soon after, Mary returned, three small black pocket calendars in hand: “Take them.”

Barbara took the unassuming, but invaluable notebooks and stowed them safely away in her backpack.

She smiled warmly at Mary: “Thank you.”

Suddenly, the other door in the hallway opened and a skinny boy of thirteen shuffled out. “Hey Mom, when’s dinner- who are you guys?”

The teenager stopped short, eyeing the two strangers suspiciously.

“Alex!” Mary exclaimed, jumping up from her seat on the couch. She quickly regained her composure, though: “These are Richard and Barbara, they went hiking in the woods but then had car trouble and no reception - they asked to use the phone to call for some help.”

The teen regarded Dick and Barbara with narrowed eyes. Barbara had the slightest inkling that Alex was by far not as unaware of their precarious situation as his mother might assume.

“I thought I heard some knocking about, like, an hour ago.”

The boy cast a challenging look at the two ‘visitors’, but Dick just countered smoothly: “We had to wait until they could send a mechanic, chatted for a bit and lost track of time.”

As she gathered up their backpacks and jackets, Barbara added: “I’m sure someone from Larry’s should arrive at any minute.”

“Oh yes! You should get going, it would be awful if you missed the mechanic!”

“Yeah… Plus, we wouldn’t want to delay your family dinner any more,” Dick remarked brightly, winking at Alex as the three adults made their way to the front door. The boy seemed to loosen up a little, although his eyes remained alert.

At the door, Barbara seized the opportunity to express her gratitude: “Thank you so much , Mary, you saved our day.”

The older woman blushed.

“Don’t mention it,” she responded humbly, “I’m just glad I could be of service. And… And I'm really glad I got to talk with you two.”

Dick gave an affectionate nod.

“Take care.”

Mary smiled brightly.

“You, too! I hope everything works out well… with your car.”

“Thanks!”

Dick and Barbara said their good-byes and followed the path back to the car, leaving cabin 7 behind. They didn’t exchange a single word on the way back.

Once they had entered the car, Barbara finally looked at Dick, a big smile on her face. She felt dazed and utterly exhilarated at the same time.

“I think… I think we’ve done it?”

She was met with a wide smile that matched her own:

“We’ve done it!”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

To be continued... here.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Notes:

Nightwing #71-74: This is entire chapter is very loosely based on this story arc. Basically, Dick learns that some of Blockbuster's goons are trying to get to Mary because of the meticulously kept social calendars she has in her possession and wants to protect her - which leads to a chase to some of Europe's most famous cities (Rome, Paris, and London). For this story I decided that Mary's hiding spot would be less extravagant and instead some place familiar to her, somewhere she had felt safe before. In the comics Dick also tries talking to her in full Nightwing gear, but Mary is too frightened to hear him out; Babs is the one to point out that Dick Grayson might stand a better chance to get to chat with Mary than a masked vigilante - here, Babs gets to intervene a lot sooner (she is more practical and efficient than Dick in that way, I think). While Babs deals with their task at hand in a more pragmatic way, I decided to have Dick be the one who is better at quickly building rapport with Mary - this way, they make the perfect team to get the job done (technical skills/logistics + people skills)

Oh, and I decided to name Mary's son Alex because comicvine states Chief Redhorn' name to be "Francis Alexander", although I can't recall for the life of me where that name ever appeared (the only times I remember Redhorn's first name being mentioned, it was always "Delmore" ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#dickbabs #dickbabs fanfiction #dick grayson #barbara gordon #I write sometimes #dickbabs fanfic #my fics: partners

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missdutch21md · 3 years

Text

Music of the Night | 2

A/N: Hello Dear Readers!!

Here I am w/ a trash chapter for Halloween! I’m so sorry to subject you to this..

please enjoy?

All my love,

Soul 💖

Summary:The time is 1856. Location: Paris, France at the Opera Populaire. Taehyung is living his life when who should stumble into his life than the most beautiful singer he has ever heard? She was the missing instrument to his orchestra. She would complete the score for his… Music of the Night.

Pairing: Opera Ghost! Taehyung x Singer! Ballet Dancer! MCUniverse: Phantom of the Opera AU

Genre: Fluff 🥰, Mature 🔞

Characters: rich! Seokjin, rich! Yoongi, dance instructor! hoseok, officer! Jimin, stagehand! Jungkook, chorus girl! BlackPink

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of religion (reader prays), stalking, slight yandere themes

Please keep in mind this is a work of FICTION this in no way reflects on any BTS members or Taehyung as a person. This is simply a story for the imagination.

Go B a c k | Turn p a g e | M.List

After the two weeks it took for rehearsals to finish, I caught up as best I could. Excelled even, according to Hoseok and Namjoon.

In the two weeks I was part of the company, I learned that Hoseok’s birthday was only days before mine. This made me all the more amazed by him. How was he so talented? It felt like his knowledge was beyond his years. He was only a year older than me and he had already done so much more with his life.

The cold February months turned to crisper days of March. There was a magical feeling in the air as I learned my way around the opera house. I learned there were many places to hide and look out at us while we practiced for stage rehearsals. On the off days when we were not practicing the day away, I was exploring the depths of the opera house.

I also learned that the voice I had been hearing in the chapel while I prayed was not a distant voice. But someone who vowed to teach me how to harness my voice and give it wings. My days were spent in the studio learning the production and refining my skills with Namjoon and Hoseok. And at night I would continue my vocal training with my Master, as he asked me to call him.

I hummed a cheery tune as I was sent to go find the costumers to let them know of notes the managers had for final preparations for the designs in the production. Yoongi had noticed that some girls were just wearing plain cloth where other dancers, such as myself, were wearing the entire set.

As I came into the workshop where the costumers worked, I smiled in greeting. “Hello Mademoiselle” the several costumers called. I waved and said hello. Watching as they turned the fabrics into wondrous things. I offered to help while we talked about the changes that the managers wished to see done.

“I’d have them in the actual costumes. But they ripped them yesterday during the dress rehearsal!” The head costumer wailed. I gasped as I saw the tattered garments that were produced from a drawer.

I nodded in understanding. I would pass the message along. I offered that maybe the mock up could be made to look a little more like our garments did. I grabbed some paint and did a little sample for the costumer.

“Mademoiselle, you are truly gifted!” The older women laughed in wonder. “Is there anything that you can’t do?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know how to ride horses,” I giggled as the group busted up laughing.

“Tell the managers that the costumes will be ready for the show tonight if they let us keep you to help with this.“

I nodded and made my way to the stage to let the managers know. With Jin’s blessing and a stern reminder from Yoongi to not goof off; I spent the day painting and laughing with the costumers and mending the original costumes as much as we could. When it was time for lunch the costumers sent me away telling me to spend time with my friends.

Thankful for the break, I made my way to the kitchens and was happy to see my friends waiting for me. I ate happily with them and marveled at how I wanted to come back to dance but I still had some mending to help finish with.

“Finish quickly so you can come back to us!” Jisoo urged me.

“Besides I think Hoseok misses you,” Rose laughed.

The dancer had become somewhat of a mentor to me but that’s all there was to it. Still it didn’t mean that I didn’t blush whenever he got close. I wasn’t blind to his charm and appeal. I shook my head as a light blush dusted my features. I was sure that there was no way that he ever could think of me that way.

“No. Don’t you know?” Jennie chimed in. “Our eonnie is in love with her tutor,” she giggled.

This only made me blush even redder as I ducked my head as though it would keep them from seeing my reaction.

“See?” Lisa laughed. “she’s much more interested in this mysterious man.”

We finished eating and I couldn’t help the feeling that someone has their eyes fixated on me. No matter where I looked in the mess hall, I failed to see the eyes that I was sure were trained on me. Shrugging it off, I went back to the workshop with the costumers and finished the tasks they gave me as quickly and efficiently as I was able. I rushed back to the front of the opera house just in time for the final run through to begin. I quickly took my place beside the other girls.

The final run through felt perfect. We were all in sync. Neither Jin nor Hoseok nor Yoongi felt the need to stop the production at any time.

At the end they told us they were looking forward to opening night and hoped that we would be able to have a good show tonight. We were rushed off to rest and recuperate and have some time for ourselves. I happily followed the younger girls as they happily giggled, talking about how they would spend their free time.

I mulled it over in my thoughts. I wanted to see my Master, but would he be in our usual meeting spot? I wasn’t so sure. I told the girls I wanted to look over the projects I helped with and that I would spend time in the opera house today.

“Please come with us!” Jennie pleaded and Rose joined in. They both had their hands clasped together under their chins making their eyes as big and sad as possible.

“I really want to do a good job on this project they gave me,” I sighed giving them both a sad look. “Next time, I promise, I will go out with you guys.”

“Promise?” they both asked their voices rising an octave.

“I promise,” I answered.

Both girls grinned, crushed me into a hug and rushed off to find Jisoo and Lisa who had continued up to our chambers to get changed into regular clothes.

I made my way to the workshop where the costumers all worked. I happily chatted with them while I checked on the three costumes that I had slapped together for the better part of my day. I was happy that the paint seemed to be drying and was glad that I was able to do this myself. I wasn’t a very talented sewer, though the head costumer begged to differ.

“You did well, just go rest or have some fun!” one of the older ladies smiled at me.

I nodded and decided to make my way down to the chapel to sit and pray and hopefully get some time with the one person who I knew could calm my nerves that kept bubbling up.

Much to my disappointment, my tutor never came. I heard the opera house come back to life as one hour slipped into three. I sighed despondently and got ready to go up to the bed chambers to get changed into my costume for the night.

When I made it to the vanity that I shared with Jisoo and Rose, there was a new deep black velvet ribbon waiting for me where I usually kept my tattered silk ribbon. The offending marron scrap no-where to be found.

“Did you bring this back for me?” I asked Jisoo as I ran my fingers over the very clearly luxurious, fine material. It would have cost more than a pretty penny; I didn’t want her to waste money like that on me.

“It was here when I got here,” she answered while applying her rouge, not really paying any attention.

“O-oh, I see,” I blushed a little and fixed my hair into the appropriate style for the production using the new ribbon. I went through my mind, trying to figure out just how this got here but decided to not dwell on it as I rouged my cheeks and used burnt cloves to line my eyes just right and darken my brows as Jisoo had taught me a few nights before.

Faster than I could blink, we were on stage getting ready for opening curtain to reveal us to the audience. “Just take deep breaths,” Lisa reassured me from my left.

“You know this routine,” Jisoo reminded me from my right.

I nodded and continued counting through the music to when the curtains would open. The production was a blur, if it wasn’t for the other dancers around, I would have surely lost my way. I was happily dancing along with the other girls, when the closing overture finally came; I blinked in surprise.

After a successful opening night, I happily made my way down to the chapel and sat silently. I was buzzing with excitement. The high that came from being on stage still hadn’t left my system and left me feeling dizzy. There would be 6 weeks of this performance and I had promised myself I would do better and better with each performance.

As I sat silently, my thoughts wandered off yet again to my mysterious tutor. I hummed softly and tried my best to keep my spirits up through the sting of rejection that I felt earlier today. I finished my prayers and I still didn’t hear the deep timber of his voice that seemed to come from the depths making the high of performing decline drastically.

My heart sank.

Today must not be a day where he was pleased with me.

Go B a c k | Turn P a g e

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Head First

Anonymous said:

Congrats on your milestone. Daring is dangerous Chelle! I dare you to write yourself with Jinyoung and admit that you love him! Everyone knows your hatred is actual love for him! Not a enemy to lovers au like you usually do either. Love from first sight!

Pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

Genre: love at first sight / office au / fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: You know, anon, daring is dangerous. And you didn’t specify who was the one who fell in love first, hehehehe. Prepare yourself for a different Jinyoung – after all, there’s no enemies to lovers au in this XD

Word count: 2742

He didn’t understand why he was like this around you. Jinyoung had always prided himself as someone with tact and was respected by all those he worked alongside. From his university degree to the office, he was known for his tenacity for a productive working environment.

Yet why was he falling head first at your feet every time he crossed paths with you?

“Are you alright, Jinyoung?” you asked with concern, reaching out your hand but he wasn’t going to allow you to help him scrape himself off the ground. He was dumbfounded and frankly mortified to have tripped over, well, his own feet in front of you.

Slipping your hand back to the folders you held in your arms, you smiled weakly, nodding a little as you walked on by. And once you were out of sight, Jinyoung let out a groan, thumping the wall beside him.

Just what was wrong with him when it came to you?

“I did it again,” he admitted with an elongated sigh as his roommate Jackson handed him the ice pack he had requested. Although he had acted as if his clumsy fall at work hadn’t amounted to much during working hours, once he was off the clock, he was all but limping to the underground parking lot. Now sprawled out on the couch with the cooling pack over the affected area, Jinyoung let out another exasperated whine. “Just why do I keep being so clumsy in front of Y/N?!”

“Because you like her.”

“I don’t even know her!” Jinyoung retorted, throwing his hands up in the air. “Unlike you, I can’t even speak more than four words to her without stuttering or ending up injuring myself! This is the third time I’ve embarrassed myself in front of her. The members in my team are starting to talk; soon I’ll be the butt end of every joke at the company!”

Jackson grinned, shrugging a little as he threw back the remnants of some green juice he made as his pre-workout fuel. Jinyoung glared at his friend, he wouldn’t be able to get in a good gym session tonight with how sore his ankle felt and that annoyed him too.

“Maybe next time try and aim to fall on your butt. It’s probably got the most cushion to handle how clumsy you are right now.”

“I’m not amused.”

“Come on, Jinyoung! Just admit it. What was it like when you very first saw Y/N? Sure, she seems nice enough to me, but something had to have happened when you first met her for you to be this messed up. She’s not someone who’s going to turn heads everywhere she goes, that’s for sure.”

Jinyoung sighed; you were definitely average in looks and skills to most people. As an entry-level worker who was older, you had gained attention quickly throughout the office before Jinyoung had first crossed paths with you. Not many were hired so long out of university by the company and so rumours had travelled fast on what your situation was. Unlike the rest, gossiping wasn’t something Jinyoung partook in during his office hours, focused on getting the tasks he needed to be done and in a productive manner.

It was on your third day when he finally met you when you stepped into the elevator he was already on. Not that he had seen you yet, just the enormous stack of papers you carried. “Oh uh, excuse me, could you please push level eight for me? I can’t let this go right now.”

“Done,” he replied after pressing the button. And like he always did for other employees, Jinyoung reached out to help take some of your load. He took half the stack of reports off the top which you started reacting to immediately.

“Oh thank you! I didn’t expect help but it’s so nice to have someone to share the burden with!”

Now with your face exposed from behind the stack of papers, Jinyoung’s stomach lurched immediately. He wasn’t sure why his body was now tingling or what the reason was for how round his eyes had grown at seeing your face. Yet his system had gone into overdrive, his heart now thumping erratically in his chest.

“You’re very kind for helping me,” you continued, leaning around your stack to read his name badge. “Thank you, Park Jinyoung.”

And it was the warm smile you shot him after saying his name that sealed his ill fate, the weight within his arms dropping and scattering over the entire elevator floor. For the first time in his working career, he was openly flustered, attempting to apologise and scrape everything up before the doors dinged open, your smile now weak, restrained. It was a scramble, and he was certain in your eyes he looked like a complete idiot. Jinyoung had managed to pick everything up just in time for the doors to spring open, dashing out of the elevator and then dumping the pile of files on top of the reception counter for the sales office. He couldn’t even remember if he had said goodbye to you, acutely aware of the weird incoherent sound he had made as he sped walked down the hallway to his department.

Your first encounter had been such a mess, and despite all attempts, he had only continued to be flustered and seemingly incapable of being a proper functioning human in front of you.

Jinyoung sighed, shaking his head. “The only thing that happened was I was a complete idiot and I’ve been that way since.”

“Hm, let’s see,” Jackson replied thoughtfully, reaching out to place a solemn hand over his friend’s head. He then jerked it away dramatically and nodded his head in answer. “That’s it, I dub thee lovesick.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Nor is your damsel in distress act whenever you see her. I have to admit, I’m deeply amused. You, of all people, are the last one I expected to become this messy when you have a crush.”

“I do not have a crush!”

“Jinyoung, you basically avoid her at all costs, even I’ve seen you do it. You definitely are feeling something for her.”

“Yeah, continued mortification,” he grumbled, the annoyance he felt sinking his stomach further.

Jinyoung desperately wanted to regain common ground in the very least. His pride and professionalism were at stake the longer you bothered him and he had worked too hard to let it slip away all because of, well, he still wasn’t prepared to claim he had a crush on you. This wasn’t high school and he was a grown man capable of relationships with others.

He would just have to work harder and prove that whatever silly phase he was in would soon pass. Jinyoung was determined to not let you affect him any longer.

His determination was short-lived. The very next day he had locked himself in the supplies closet by accident when he saw you and diverted his path, stepping into the first room he could find. On Tuesday he accidentally split his iced coffee on his brand new shirt when he choked on his straw when you greeted him on passing and by Thursday he could tell you were now uncomfortable to even see him around the office.

He had successfully made you just as awkward as he was.

And when the doors opened to the elevator and showed you he was riding inside, Jinyoung noticed the way you hesitated to step on. Still, you did so and he pressed himself into the wall anxiously, hoping if he stayed away from you and remained silent, this would be the longest time in your company where he didn’t make a complete fool of himself.

Or you.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally said after a minute of travelling in silence and Jinyoung glanced at you quickly, gripping the bar when he felt his heart rate increase. You sighed heavily. “Are you having fun?”

“F-fun?”

“With teasing me. Everyone says you’re one of the best workers here and very diligent. Yet all I’ve seen out of you is… well, are you acting stupid on purpose?”

Great. So now all this had amounted to you thinking he was doing this intentionally. Jinyoung groaned internally at the predicament before moistening his lips in preparation to talk. Right then, the doors sprang open and he sucked in a deep breath of relief seeing Jackson step inside.

“Morning Y/N!” Jackson greeted and then turned to his friend. “What’s wrong with you? Are you hyperventilating? Ah is it because of-”

“Justdropit,” Jinyoung breathed out hastily, uncaring if this was his stop or not when the doors opened again. He dashed out into the hallway and then turned for the door for the stairs, leaning against the wall as he willed himself to take deep breaths in and out.

Just why were you making him so pathetic?

Jinyoung began to take the stairs for everything. It was safer that way, no longer needing to worry about bumping into you whilst he made his way throughout the company building. Sure, it was a downright hassle, and everyone thought he was nuts even when he proclaimed he was using it as exercise since he sat in a chair all day.

Still, it was easier than dealing with his issue with you.

And because of this newfound avoidance tactic, Jinyoung hadn’t seen you for three weeks.

He thought he’d be more pleased about this.

And he was to some extent. No longer did he leave the office kicking himself for being so flustered each day. He didn’t spend his nights ruminating over how he could have prevented an incident with you earlier in the day because he hadn’t had one. And he was much more productive with his work.

Instead, he yearned to break away from this new habit just to see if he was cured of acting ridiculous in front of you.

And he realised he was feeling down because he hadn’t seen you in person.

Which was completely confusing for him. Of all the things Jinyoung wanted to be known for, clumsy and incapable were not it. And yet that’s all you knew of him. Sure, he had tried to change that and then you had come back with thinking his behaviour was intentional.

He hadn’t faced his problem; in fact, he had run from it and that was equally as stupid as before.

Because strangely, he missed you.

Jinyoung couldn’t fathom how he missed someone he didn’t exactly know more than a name about. He understood missing a family member you hadn’t seen in months. Or a friend who moved overseas. A connection that was lost. But he had no relationship with you and seeing you usually gave him anxiety.

Why did he crave seeing you even after establishing you were the cause to all of his incompetence?

This uneasiness compelled him to linger in hallways more than necessary. He slowly started to return to using the elevator. And strangely, he hadn’t crossed pathways with you within an entire week.

“Y/N?” Jackson repeated as Jinyoung enquired about you, and his friend speared a piece of sushi with a chopstick before frowning. “Didn’t you know she took time off? Maybe a week ago she stopped coming into the office. Something about a child needing her? I think she’s a solo parent.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Jackson looked at Jinyoung as if he had sprouted an extra head. “Dude, you were losing it over that girl and specifically preached that I never mention her in front of you. Sue me for actually following through for once.”

Now Jinyoung was foolishly mourning the loss of a potential connection – one that he had been blundering his way through over the past three months.

Turning down the chance to go out with his friends in the weekend, Jinyoung instead went to do the groceries, mulling over the list Jackson had given him and trying to decide if the packet he held was macro and organic or not.

And before he had the chance to move off, a familiar face came into his view, smiling hesitantly at him. “Jinyoung, hello.”

“Y/N, who’s that?” the young teenage boy beside you asked and you brushed the hair away from your face and sighed.

“Jinyoung is someone I used to work with.”

“Was my sister really good at her job?! I keep telling her to go back now that I’m better but she won’t!” the boy implored and Jinyoung merely opened his mouth and then closed it again.

You took that as a sign to move on. “Let’s not bother him anymore, hm? It looks like he’s busy with his groceries.”

Before you left the aisle, Jinyoung spun around, taking in a sharp inhale. “I think I like you!”

“W-what?”

Waiting for you to turn around, Jinyoung gripped onto his grocery cart and nodded. “Actually, I know I do. I wasn’t doing it intentionally. You just made me really flustered, is all.”

“Me?” you repeated, glancing at your brother beside you and then back at Jinyoung. “You were flustered by me?”

“Why not, Y/N? You’re awesome!”

Jinyoung nodded rapidly in agreement, feeling dizzy with the action. He groaned. “You see, I don’t know why you get to me but you have ever since I met you. That’s why I made all those errors. I must’ve looked like a fool in front of you, and I often tried not to. And I’m honestly not this clumsy or ridiculous or pathetic normally. Yet in front of you, it was as if my brain stopped working. I even tried avoiding you, taking the stairs instead so you wouldn’t be burdened by me.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to,” you murmured, your smile growing shy.

“You had been looking out for me?”

Nodding, you chewed at your lip. “I kind of missed you.”

“Just kind of?” your brother chirped and you tried to grab onto his mouth to silence him. “If this is the guy who you kept complaining about, then you definitely have missed him. She’s been moping. Take her back to work, please. I’m honestly okay now!”

“Why don’t you go find us what’s left on the list and I’ll pretend I didn’t see the cookies you slipped into the cart earlier,” you bargained, handing the shopping list over to your brother and then clasped your hands in front of you as he went off eagerly. You let out a small laugh. “I guess I missed you more than I wanted to admit. Which is weird right? Because I only know your name.”

Jinyoung shook his head, smiling broadly. “No, I missed you too.”

“You did?”

“My buddy Jackson believes in love at first sight and I always told him that was nonsense. But I can’t think of any other reason as to why you have stirred my life up completely. And sure, love is a bit… well, I wouldn’t go as far to say I love you because all I know about you is your name and that you have a brother. But I’m ready to find out more if you are. This could be the start of love, at least.”

“I didn’t take you for such a romantic,” you teased, though you nodded lightly, your blush indicating just how affected you were by his admission. “And maybe it’s lust at first sight?”

“It’s something,” he admitted with a chuckle and you giggled in response.

Which promptly turned his legs to jelly and he had to crouch before he fell to the ground. Looking up at you exasperatedly, you stooped down to his level, grinning at him happily. “I’m looking forward to getting to know more about you Jinyoung, but could you stop falling at my feet? You make me feel bad because normally it’s me who is incredibly clumsy and in front of you, strangely I’m doing better than I thought. Maybe this is some sort of love.”

You held out your hand and he finally took it, the warmth radiating up his arm making him bury his face in his free hand with how foolish he was acting. Still, he didn’t let you go and you made no attempt to do so either.

“Try to have some patience with me as I combat this, please?”

“With how adorable you’re being towards me, I could wait forever if you needed me to.”

_________________

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