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snackhobi · 4 years

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pairing: jungkook x reader / word count: 13.4k / genre: fluff + comedy (I suppose)

summary: you work the night shift in a supermarket. and now your crush, aka the cutest boy in the world, aka the guy you’ve been thirsting after for months, aka jeon jungkook, works the night shift too. les geddit

warnings: this fic is sfw BUT there is cursing/explicit language—the reader is thirsty af, just SO thirsty, seriously the thirstiest, but other than that this fic is pretty soft

a/n: thank you to my darling friend and beta reader @hobi-gif, without whom this would have remained an unpublished fic I just wrote for funsies, and also to @yeojaa for reading this through and enjoying this terrible self indulgence of mine, you’re both queens

Why is it that all the interesting things happen whenever you’re not at work? Like the time you'd been off for one (1) night so that you could move into your new place, so you hadn't witnessed the full on brawl between a customer and the security guard right before the store shut. Or the other time when you were twenty minutes late because of road closures and you’d missed all the free doughnuts—Yoongi hadn’t even saved you one, opting to give it to his crush instead, even though Jimin wasn’t even night shift.

(Yoongi was a Judas, betraying you all because of a little thirst. Snake.)

(Okay, sure, you're friends with Jimin too, but still.)

Anyway. You’re here almost all weeks of the year, and the few times you’re not, that’s when things get interesting. Working in any sort of retail job is boring at best, especially when the store is shut overnight (customers during the day were awful but at least they provided an ever rotating cast of varying characters that could provide amusing anecdotes to add to your repertoire), and it’s downright frustrating whenever you miss out on the few variations to your usually monotonous nights just because you happened to miss it.

Yoongi is also The Worst at keeping you updated. He has little to no interest in gossip and keeps himself firmly out of unnecessary interpersonal drama, staying uninvolved by being entirely unapproachable and blanking people whenever they try to talk to him. You keep out of it too, but in a different way— you don’t get involved in drama because everyone likes you. You’re personable and social, almost to a clownish degree, somehow treading the line between being Nice and Firm, so people simultaneously like you while also being wary of annoying you.

Either way. When you’re not there, Yoongi doesn’t go out of his way to find out any developments, so you’re always left floundering to catch up with whatever’s gone on so that you can keep your position as Liked-By-All-Sides as secure.

So, with all of this in mind, when he says that nothing interesting has happened in the two weeks since you’ve been off, you’re understandably sceptical, raising an eyebrow at him from where you’re reclining in his passenger seat. The entire supermarket could have burned down while he’d been working and Yoongi would probably say of the event afterwards—if pressed—that it had ‘been a little hotter than usual’.

(At least Jimin indulges you with petty gossip. You’re certain he’d let you know about any new developments, but he’s not on a late shift tonight, much to the disappointment of both yourself and Yoongi—although he won't admit it.)

You hadn’t sensed any ripples in the Force when you’d stepped into the supermarket. Everything looked the same, all the way down to the slightly wonky sign on the front display that was trying to persuade customers to buy the new lines of overpriced olives and antipasti, and nothing felt any different on your journey up to the locker rooms; the poster asking everyone to book their holiday before the 26th June 2001 was still up, as it should be; the sight of Yoongi walking in the direction of the staff canteen as you went to dump your stuff in your locker was as familiar as normal. You were usually good at sniffing out change, but everything had passed your smell check and so you let your guard down, bursting into the break room with your usual aplomb.

That’s one thing about night shift that people don’t usually realise. Because there aren’t customers around, you can yell up and down the shop floor as much as you like (it’s usually faster than walking around to find someone) and swear or be inappropriate in ways that wouldn’t fly during the day (like bowling products across the floor instead of walking up to the shelf and putting them down). You don’t swear or yell, really, but the amount of time you’ve spent on nights has increased your overall volume and altered your verbal filter, so once you’ve kicked the door open, what comes out of your mouth is as follows:

“Wassup everyone? Ya girl is back from her time off and is absolutely RARING to go! I know you all missed me, but please, no flash photography,” you simper. You hear Yoongi snort into his coffee from his seat on the sofa, directly under the sign that says ‘No Food Or Drink Allowed On The Sofas’ alongside a picture of a dancing hot dog with a massive red X across it.

Most of your coworkers are a lot older than you—young people don’t tend to work overnight—so they don’t match your level of energy, but they’re still pleased to see you nonetheless, a little chorus of hellos greeting you when you walk into the room. You shoot finger guns at them, ending with an overly theatrical wink at Taehyung, wiggling your fingers in a wave at the boy as he grins at you through his mouthful of food (he’s not night shift but he finishes a lot of his shifts late so you're on friendly terms).

When you flop down next to Yoongi he wordlessly hands you a coffee. You hiss a little at the contact of the hot mug against your skin—he’s holding onto the handle, and you’re quick to accept it from him so you don’t burn yourself—and peer down at the hot liquid before taking a small drink.

You’re mid-sip when your eyes flick up from the mug and you immediately splutter. You cough and hack, eyes filling with tears as you try to swallow the noises down to no avail; you sound distressed enough that even Yoongi gets concerned, thumping you on the back as you make a noise akin to a cat wheezing out a hairball.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is pained as you look out of the corner of your eye at the boy sitting next to you. “I thought you said nothing interesting had happened while I was off?”

Yoongi looks perplexed. “Nothing did,” he says. Somehow you resist the overwhelming urge to pour your coffee all over him.

“Then explain to me exactly why the Muscle Boy from morning shift who works on fruit and veg is sat over there in a night shift uniform,” you hiss.

“Oh, yeah.” Yoongi sounds entirely disinterested. “He moved on to nights the first week you were off.”

So not only has the hitherto-unreachable object of your affections moved on to your shift—great, you weren't mentally prepared for that at all—he'd apparently witnessed your unnecessarily theatrical entrance, as well as your subsequent near death experience via coffee. You wish that the near death experience had, in fact, been a full death experience; your final moments may have been undignified but at least you’d have gone out while looking at a pretty face and not have to live with the embarrassment afterwards, knowing that Jeon Jungkook had witnessed you spluttering coffee down your chin.

Normally your Jungkook-radar (Kookiedar? You’ll have to work on the name for it) is faultless, flawless, sensitive to his exact location at all times—but he was never there at night. You only saw him in the mornings, catching glimpses of him on your way out, lifting heavy crates of bananas or potatoes onto the displays. But he’s here, now, sat on his own table, alone, away from the other workers.

While you hadn’t spotted him before, what with how he’s sequestered himself alone, from your vantage point now? You can clearly see him, and you know that he would have had full view of you from the moment you’d stepped into the room.

He's on night shift now. With you.

“Yoongi, buddy?”

“Yeah?”

“If I asked you to kill me, would you do it?”

“No." His answer is immediate, but before you can be warmed by the fact he doesn’t wish for your imminent death, he continues: “I’d have to find someone else to reduce food for me, and I can’t go back to buying full priced noodles after this long.”

“I’ll reduce your head from your body,” you threaten, even though it makes no sense. Yoongi doesn’t react outwardly to this threat but you would wager anything that he was quivering in his boots, even though he’s doing a very good job of calmly sipping at his coffee. Ahh, Yoongi, always the master of the pokerface, despite the fact he must be terrified.

Anyway. You’re getting distracted. Basically, snake Yoongi had snaked on you and hadn’t told you about Jungkook transferring to night shift, like the snake he was. Yoongi being the snake, that is, not Jungkook. He wasn’t a snake. Sure, you’d never spoken to him in all the months you’d seen him and knew next to nothing about him but no one could be a snake when they looked that innocent. Besides, you’d seen him help customers, smiling at the old ladies who asked for him to reach for specific bits of fruit from higher shelves, or carrying their shopping for them, or—

Argh, you were getting distracted again. Essentially he was a hot, muscular angel who hadn’t had your existence on his own radar until approximately five minutes ago, and his first impression of you must be that you are an absolute clown. A buffoon. And, okay, maybe you are, but you usually only let people onto that fact after knowing them for at least a day or two.

He’d looked startled when you’d made eye contact with him across the canteen, tearing his eyes away from you the second you’d tried to inhale coffee instead of ingesting it. You’re grateful that he’s resolutely kept his gaze away, absorbed by something on his phone instead, but he must have heard your desperate wheezing from across the room. Even if you’ve managed to cough away the coffee in your lungs by now it doesn’t detract from the overall embarrassment that threatens to swallow you up.

Beside you, Yoongi continues to drink his coffee like a normal human being. He’s oblivious to your inner turmoil. Of course your crush had moved to night shift when you were on holiday. Of course you’d missed that. Why wouldn’t you? You were a snail and God was salting you. What had you done to deserve such torment?

“I can’t believe you didn’t think a new person was something I’d at least like to be made aware of,” you mutter waspishly. “Especially as he’s around our age! Since Hobi left we haven’t had anyone on shift who isn’t at least a decade older than us, Yoons.”

As is tradition, Yoongi says: “A moment of silence for our boy Hobi.” You both shut your eyes and tilt your heads forward as you mourn your fallen brother. (He wasn’t dead, he’d just moved to a different job a few months ago, although you both still see him on a weekly basis.) And then Yoongi continues: “I guess I didn’t think it was important.”

“Do you have a single wrinkle on your brain, Yoongi? Huh? Or is it completely smooth up there? Why wouldn’t a new night shift worker be something I’d want to know about?”

“I figured you’d find out eventually anyway.” Yoongi shrugs.

“I hope a stack of bread falls on you,” you say.

You’re glad when it hits 9pm and your manager, Sejin, gets everyone’s attention for the huddle so he can tell everyone where they’re working for the night. You normally don’t pay much attention but this time you’re like a bloodhound on a scent trail, sniffing out what where Jungkook is going to be.

“Jungkook, you’re on the fruit and veg section,” your manager says, and your nostrils flare. Of course. You’re entirely unsurprised when he delegates Jungkook to the fruit and vegetable aisles— it’s what the boy is familiar with, after all.

Most people in the store have areas they’re better at and do the same thing over and over, but you’re a bit of a wildcard, happy to work anywhere, so your own role varies a bit. You’d actually been there longer than Sejin, who’s a fairly new manager; he’d latched desperately onto you when he realised that you a) had been trained on pretty much everything and b) were also a pretty decent worker, on the whole, and so he allows you more freedom than he might afford other people.

So, because of this, you know that if you asked then he’d happily move you to a different area of the store, but you don't actually know where you want to go. You’re torn between hoping that you’re in a section near Jungkook (so you can ogle him) or the opposite of the store (so you’re saved any further shame due to the fact that you’re an absolute dunderhead, just an absolute embarrassment, why were you allowed outside?), but then Sejin tells you your job for the night and you can’t help a groan from escaping you.

“It’s my first shift back after my holiday and you want me to reduce all night?”

You can’t help but sound a little whiny. Reducing is so boring. Looking through everything on the shelf and scanning it and then having to stick the reduced labels on them? Over and over and over? For the whole night? Your brain is already shutting down in anticipation for the repetitive monotony. (You have to try to conserve what few brain cells you have left and you're not about to waste them on this.)

Sejin looks genuinely apologetic. “Some day staff called in sick so there weren’t enough people to finish everything. You only have the meat and fish sections to do.”

You’re so distressed at the idea of having to sift through piles of meat that you don’t notice how Jungkook perks up at this, sitting up a little in his seat; if you’d been paying attention you’d realise that the meat and fish area is directly adjacent to fruit and veg, both sections within direct eyesight of each other. Instead you’re remembering the time you’d had a packet of sea bass leak on you and no matter how many times you’d washed your hands, the fishy smell had remained. Eurgh.

“Alright, that’s everything!” Sejin claps his hands together. “Let’s get to work, everyone.”

There’s the usual grumblings and mutterings as people start to make their way out of the canteen and downstairs to start work. You take Yoongi’s mug from him and dump both of your empty cups into the hatch of the canteen, already resigning yourself to a long night of misery and boredom. Why did you choose to work in a supermarket, again?

You dawdle around upstairs for longer than you probably should once everyone’s gone, dreading the fact that you’re going to have to properly introduce yourself to Jungkook. Night shift is very insular and you can assume that no one’s introduced themselves to him or made an effort to be friendly— hence why he's been sitting alone. You’re the one person who works overnight who actually goes out of their way to introduce themselves to any new starters, but you’re fairly certain that if you try to introduce yourself to Jungkook you’ll end up throwing up on him. He’s just so hot that it makes you nervous.

You make a long drawn out ahhhhhhhhhhh noise, letting your frustration out before straightening up and puffing out your chest. It’s fine! You’re fine. You’re a strong, confident, smart night shift worker who’s introduced herself to new people multiple times before. Jungkook is just another person. Sure, he’s the cutest guy you’ve ever seen, but he’s just another person. It’s fine.

It’s not fine.

The second you round the corner to the fruit and veg section on your way to meat and fish, you see Jungkook effortlessly heft a massive crate of grapefruit as if it weighs nothing and you want to pass out. The one time you’d tried to lift a crate like that you’d almost done your back in, but Jungkook just lifts it with ease.

What’s worse is that while you’ve seen him do this before, he’d been wearing a day shift uniform at the time. The day shift uniform is, honestly, pretty ugly, an ugly beige long-sleeve button up with an equally ugly tan tie under an ugly grey apron (but of course Jungkook had still looked radiant in spite of the ugly ensemble he was forced to wear). The night shift uniform isn’t necessarily attractive either, a simple black polo shirt and combat trousers, but unlike the button up, the polo shirt is a t-shirt— and Jungkook’s rolled the already shorter sleeves up so that all of his arm is on display (holy shit he has tattoos). You can see the flex of his muscles in all their glory, the way his biceps bulge as he lifts the crate higher, the veins that run down to his hands, and your mouth floods with saliva.

“Arm,” you say.

“Pardon?” Jungkook looks up, confused, and then startles when he sees you.

“Um, nothing!” you stutter. There’s a loose lock of hair hanging across his forehead and you stare at that rather than looking into his eyes. You’d probably burst into flames if you made eye contact right now. “I just wanted to, uh, introduce myself? I know you’ve been working nights for a few weeks now so I’m kind of late, but I was on holiday. I’m Y/n.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, and then he sees how your eyes widen and he scrabbles to explain. “Uh, Sejin said it during the meeting.” He swallows.

You cough. Of course. There’s no other reason Jungkook would have known your name without you telling him; you sincerely doubt he’d sleuthed your name out via the rotas pinned on the board, much as you had with him. (You swear you’re not a stalker, he’s just really cute, okay?)

“I’m Jungkook,” he finishes, laughing awkwardly.

“I guessed,” you say, pointing at his name badge like that’s the reason you know it. He stares down at his chest, as if he’d forgotten that he had it pinned there, and although you'd genuinely been looking at the badge, you suddenly notice that you can see the definition of his pecs even with the thick fabric of the polo shirt. You want to pass out again. You need to divert your attention to something else, stat, your brain scrambling for something to say next. “You know, you’re the only person on night shift who’s wearing a badge. No one else does.”

You wince. Great. Now you sound like an asshole. Nice going, idiot.

Jungkook glances away from his badge to your finger, which is still pointing. He’s staring at your nail polish. Even though no one cares what the night shift gets up to, nail polish is technically against the rules and you wonder if he’s about to say something derogatory—you’d deserve it, you were just kind of a dick to him—when he smiles instead. “I like your nails.”

“O-oh,” you stutter, surprised. They’re nothing special, the colour a little chipped in places, but you’re still flattered by how genuine Jungkook’s compliment sounds. “Um. Thanks.” And because you have a habit of responding to compliments with one of your own, you say: "I really like your tattoos. The flowers are beautiful."

Jungkook looks stunned and doesn't respond. You spend a few moments staring at each other before Sejin rounds the corner, and you both abruptly turn away so it doesn’t look like you’re just standing around and talking instead of working (although that is, in fact, what you’re doing). You hustle over to the meat section, grabbing packs of bacon and pretending to look at the dates, even though you have no idea what date it is. No thoughts head full of Jungkook.

Over the years, you’ve mastered the art of Quick Glancing™. While to anyone watching you it would seem as though you’re absorbed in your work, sifting through food to check if it’s going out of date, you’re actually looking at Jungkook more often than not. Whenever it seems like he might catch you, your eyes dart back to whatever cut of meat you’re holding at the time—a box of liver, eww, slimy—but you spend the majority of the time watching him move around. You can’t help but wonder if he’d lift you as easily as those crates and have to suppress a full body shiver. Down, girl.

Yoongi appears like clockwork the second it hits midnight, leaning against the fridge as you stare at a pack of chicken wings. “Coffee time.”

“Oh, thank God.” You straighten up, unceremoniously dropping the chicken wings onto the shelf. “Caffeine, I need caffeine, get me the caffeine.”

You get the caffeine. You and Yoongi always go back to the canteen at midnight for coffee—even though you’re technically not meant to—and bring your mugs downstairs—something else you’re also not meant to do. You drink your coffee between looking at the packets of food on the shelf, sifting through trays of chicken breasts and stickering whatever's due to go out of date as Yoongi idles around near you, peering at everything you’ve slapped a reduced label on. He clicks his tongue at a lacklustre reduction, unimpressed at how little money has been slashed off the price, and honestly? Mood.

“Don’t you have bread to put out?”

“Finished it. I’m waiting for the next delivery.” Yoongi yawns, but then his eyes suddenly narrow as he looks in the direction of fruit and veg. “Your new little friend keeps looking at us. I think he might be a narc.”

“Huh? Oh, Jungkook?” You look up from the chicken thighs. Jungkook is far out of earshot but clearly visible, hunched over a shelf as he starts to furiously organise some courgettes. “Nah, I don’t think he’s a narc. Besides, what’s Sejin going to do? Fire us? We get coffee all the time and he's never said anything about it before.”

“Yeah, but Jungkook doesn’t know that.” Yoongi scowls. He sounds suspicious. “Hm. I’m going to go back to bread, but keep an eye on that one.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. “Got it,” you say with a salute.

Yoongi wanders off but not before throwing Jungkook a sharp look, which the boy doesn’t notice, resolutely staring at the courgettes. Seems like he’s really intent on making them look neat, which you think is kind of unnecessary, but whatever. It's kind of cute actually.

You don’t think Jungkook is a snitch, but you do have to admit it’s maybe a little weird how often you seem to catch him watching you, though he’s very quick to look away. Your suspicions grow somewhat when he ends up in the canteen at the same time as you, eating your lunch a lot later than everyone else. You like the peace and quiet when the room is almost empty.

Yoongi normally has lunch with you, but today he’d had to eat earlier because Sejin had asked him to help unload the delivery lorry, so you’re alone in the room with Jungkook. Although he sits on the table farthest away from you, it’s maybe a bit strange that he’s up there when you are. Like, sure, you do appreciate the fact that you can gawk at him a little bit more, but maybe Yoongi is right about him being a narc?

Nah. You’re probably just being paranoid. Jungkook is clearly introverted, not talking to the other guys working on the fruit and veg section, so he probably came up at the quietest time of day (/night) so he could avoid everyone. You can understand that.

Your lunch is almost over and you’re in the middle of making yourself and Yoongi another cup of coffee to take downstairs when Jungkook suddenly appears at your shoulder. You yelp in surprise when you notice him there, scattering coffee granules across the counter instead of dropping them in the cup like you’d meant to, clutching your chest in shock.

“Oh, God, sorry,” he apologises, and he fumbles as he scoops the granules into his palm to clear them up—and then he just stands there with a handful of instant coffee as he looks at you. You’re still clutching your heart. “Uh. I was wondering, do you bring your own coffee in?”

“Yes,” you say, cagey, unsure what he wants. You notice that he’s unintentionally cornered you against the counter, and now that your earlier shock has ebbed away, you can’t help but notice your height difference when he’s this close to you. “Can’t get coffee overnight otherwise. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, uh, I just didn’t realise we were allowed to?” Jungkook sounds awkward, unsure. “I would have brought my own in if I’d known.”

You stare at him for a second. Yoongi would kill you if he saw what you did next, but you just end up turning around to grab another mug and dump a spoonful of coffee into it. “Do you have milk or sugar?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have milk or sugar? In your coffee?” You repeat carefully, tapping a spoon against the third mug, trying to tamp down the blush that’s threatening to appear on your cheeks when you glance at Jungkook over your shoulder. “You want one, right?”

“Oh.” He goes a little lax with surprise, apparently not realising that he’s done so until he drops a few bits of coffee on the floor and then lifts his hand again—you can see where the granules that are directly in contact with his skin have started to dissolve a little, sticky. The pile of coffee looks so small in his big hands. You want to eat out of his palm, as gross as that thought is. “Yeah, milk and sugar, please.”

As he goes to wash the coffee from his hands, you stare at yourself in the reflection of the metal kettle, wondering what the fuck you were doing while also trying to tame your thirst into submission. You never let anyone have your coffee (except Yoongi, obviously, and Hobi, when he’d been here) (a moment of silence for your boy) and you’ve known Jungkook for less than one (1) shift and you’ve already initiated him as part of the Coffee Crew.

Yoongi picks up on this immediately, spotting you and Jungkook reemerging onto the shop floor at the same time, although you peel away to visit your friend in the bread section. “Is that a mug that I saw Jungkook holding?”

“Yeah,” you say with forced casualness, wary of Yoongi’s response. Here we go.

But to your surprise he seems pleased. “He can’t narc on us now that he’s drinking coffee on the shop floor too,” Yoongi says.

“Oh, right! Yeah, that was my plan all along.” You force laughter, as if your pulse hadn’t been racing as you’d watched Jungkook take the first sip from the coffee you’d prepared for him, worried that he wouldn’t like it. You’d wanted to vomit your heart out of chest when he’d given you a small, shy smile and said that it was perfect, as if he wasn’t drinking cheap, crappy instant coffee, which was subpar even when it was good.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at your fake hyena laughter but decides not to comment on it.

He raises his eyebrows again the next night when he witnesses you preparing coffee for Jungkook firsthand, lining up three mugs at midnight instead of just two, making coffee the way Jungkook likes it. “Once was enough to stop him from double crossing us, I think,” Yoongi says.

“I’m making this for him because I want Jungkook to be part of the group,” you say firmly, ignoring the way your hand trembles a little when you say this. Jungkook had waved goodbye to you when he’d spotted you in the morning after your first shift together, and tonight he’d made eye contact when you’d walked into the break room—more quietly than you had the day before—before smiling at you. (You’re constantly torn between wanting to coo at how adorable he is or begging him to bend you over a table, and it’s hard to keep these thoughts from showing on your face whenever you smile at him, but you’re doing a damn good job.)

Yoongi, despite his usual unflappable nature, looks absolutely floored. Even though you’d both spoken to Hoseok from the moment he’d started working with you, it had taken you a few weeks before you’d even offered to get him a drink at midnight, a mutual decision both you and Yoongi had agreed upon. And here you were, inviting Jungkook in without consulting your coworker-turned-best-friend, after one night. (You’re sure Hobi wouldn’t mind, but you feel kind of bad when you think about it and resolve to pay for his lunch when you see him next week.)

Yoongi squints at you as you keep your attention focused on the coffee and so don’t see the realisation settling across his features.

“Oh,” he says once it’s clicked. “You wanna suck his dick.”

You end up scattering coffee across the counter again. At this rate you may as well just pour the granules straight into the bin and cut out the middle man.

“Yeah, you wanna suck his dick,” Yoongi muses, watching as you grouse and clean up the coffee.

“At least when I talk about your crush on Jimin I have the decency to not be crude about it,” you say, jabbing a finger in Yoongi’s direction. He flushes.

“I don’t have a crush on Jimin,” he scowls. You scoff.

“Oh, please, Yoons. You’re not as subtle as you think. If I catch you staring at Jimin’s ass one more time with those googly eyes of yours I’m gonna yarf.” Jimin’s ass, admittedly, is very nice, the awful work trousers somehow flattering on him, but it’s the reverence with which Yoongi looks at it that makes his crush obvious. Amongst plenty of other things. “And you let him have my doughnut! As if that isn’t practically a declaration of marriage!”

“You’re still going on about the doughnut?” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That happened months ago.”

“It was a limited edition Krispy Kreme doughnut, Yoons!” Your voice has gone shrill. “A motherfucking Kit Kat doughnut! The only reason I didn’t strike you down where you stood is because I fully support your crush on Jimin, even if I think it’s ridiculous you haven’t asked him out already! Anyway,” you say, letting the spoon clatter into the mug. “Whether or not I want to suck Jungkook’s dick, I miss having a third person in this group. Hobi actually laughed at my jokes.”

“I laugh at your jokes when they’re funny.”

“You never laugh at them!”

“I said what I said.”

“I’m going to poison your coffee so Jungkook and I can drink the rest in peace,” you say. “Oh, moment of silence for Hobi, we almost forgot.” The moment of silence lasts for a second, and then you’re pouring the freshly boiled water into the mugs.

“I guess I should talk to Jungkook, then.” Yoongi still sounds suspicious and you glare at him as you stir the coffee.

“If I find out that you’re being mean to him, I will genuinely poison your drink,” you say, lifting the spoon and gesturing with it aggressively enough that a droplet of coffee goes flying off and lands on Yoongi’s face. You have no doubt that Jungkook could snap Yoongi like a twig if he wanted to, but Jungkook seems far too nice for that, and Yoongi can be surprisingly intimidating.

“You won’t poison me.” He wipes the coffee away, unperturbed.

You snort. “I’ll use decaff and I won’t tell you.”

This makes Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

"Watch me.”

With that threat firmly in place, you feel a little better when you hand Jungkook’s coffee to Yoongi to give to him. You’re not near the fruit and vegetable section tonight so you won’t be able to keep a direct eye on them, but you’ll catch up with Yoongi once he’s wandered back over to bread.

You’re starting to feel a bit suspicious at how long Yoongi’s been absent for and so you make your way across the shop floor to see if you can find him. To your infinite surprise you spot both guys near the salads, Yoongi perched on an upturned crate while Jungkook puts watercress onto the shelf, the two of them in deep discussion about something. You feel like you’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone when you see Yoongi genuinely laugh and you back away, unsettled.

When you eat lunch that night, Jungkook sits with you on your table at Yoongi’s behest. It’s still a quiet affair, like normal—you take as many opportunities as you can to sneak glances at Jungkook, surprised at exactly how much food he puts away—but when he offers to make the coffee, you have a hushed conversation with Yoongi while your muscle boy is distracted. You keep your eyes fixed on Jungkook’s back, and it really is unfair how good his shoulder blades look with that black material stretched across them. There’s no point in trying to hide your thirst from Yoongi now that he knows about it so you’re free to stare.

“I thought you said he was a narc,” you whisper, eyes still fixed on Jungkook's back. How is his waist so small? (Lord have mercy on your soul.)

“Nah, Jungkook is okay,” Yoongi replies. In Yoongi-speak this means that he really likes Jungkook and you’re flabbergasted.

You don’t get a chance to say anything else before Jungkook is turning around, proffering your drinks to you with a bright smile—you can see his teeth, and you’ve never wanted to lick someone’s teeth before but apparently the sight of Jungkook’s mouth will do that to you, who would have guessed. It’s been two shifts and you’re already this dehydrated, just dying of thirst, shrivelled up like Spongebob in that episode where he visits Sandy’s dome for the first time. You’re a crusty thirsty sponge and Jungkook is a tall, sexy glass of water.

(You’re so fucking screwed.)

The thing with initiating Jungkook into the Coffee Crew is that you’re faced with the reality of his good looks constantly. Jungkook still doesn’t talk to anyone else, really, but he lights up around Yoongi and yourself, and you start to look forward to seeing those shiny doe eyes of his, the way he perks up whenever he sees you.

Work quickly becomes the highlight of your week, which is something you thought you'd never say, but Jungkook is just too powerful. Everything about him is absolutely fucking devastating, a few examples being:

The night when it’s a little warmer, and he unbuttons all three buttons on his polo shirt—you can see his collarbones and the tiniest bit of his chest, going feral over such a small slip of skin like you’re some sort of Victorian lady who keeps her ankles hidden in public and you’ve never seen bare skin before.

Or when you got caught behind him on the stairs while he’s explaining the difference between meat protein and vegetable protein—you get a wonderful view of his ass, which you take full advantage of (respectfully). You get another look at said ass when he plays a game of pool against Yoongi while you sit on the sofa and watch, Jungkook leaning over the wonky pool table so that he can make a particularly difficult shot, placing his wonderful butt directly into your line of vision.

Or when you notice that even though Jungkook cycles to work, he never seems to smell like sweat, and instead he just smells like fresh clothes, clean linen that’s so potent you can smell him before you see him. But no one smells that much like clean laundry, right? It must be his cologne.

“Jungkook, do you wear cologne?”

Jungkook, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised at your question and just answers it like he would any other. “No, why?”

“Oh, it’s just that you smell nice? Sort of like whatever 'clean cotton' is apparently meant to smell like. Y’know? Like fresh laundry.”

“I do wash my clothes every day,” he says. “I guess you could call me a bit of a clean freak?”

For some reason, the fact that he smells so nice because of his clothes is just so hot. You want to bury your face in his shirt and just breathe him in, but that would be weird and creepy and invasive. So you don’t do that and instead allow yourself to sniff from a polite distance, olfactory senses working overtime whenever he’s nearby.

(Yoongi finds you uncapping all the detergents down the laundry aisle one night, desperately huffing each type to try and work out which one Jungkook uses. “Jesus Christ,” he says, watching as you take a particularly long drag of whatever Spring Day is—it’s pleasant, whatever it is, but it’s not what you’re looking for. “Are you trying to get high?”

“Smell this,” you say instead, shoving it in his face. He takes a wary sniff, nose crinkling. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“I guess?” Yoongi seems baffled. “Okay, you’re clearly busy, I’ll tell Sejin to ask someone else to do the job.” You don’t reply, too busy sucking in a lungful of Crystal Snow as Yoongi backs away.)

Jungkook also seems to have this weird knack of appearing whenever you need help lifting or moving something heavy. Normally you hate it when someone steps in to help you, a little offended at the idea that you can’t do something yourself—you've been doing this for long enough that you've developed a technique for things—but when Jungkook does it you don’t feel disrespected at all. He’s just so nice about it.

Like the time when you’re struggling to move an empty wooden pallet and put it on top of a stack of others; not only is it heavy, it's large and unwieldy, too. The last time you’d tried to move one of these you’d ended up hitting it against your shins while also getting a palmful of splinters. You hate these things. Jungkook, however, materialises out of seemingly nowhere and offers you his help. He ends up lifting the thing himself, squatting down to grab it and just tossing it on top of the pile. He does it effortlessly, literally effortlessly, like the pallet weighs nothing to him, and when you ask if he thought it was heavy, he blinks.

“No, not really,” he says. You have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from screeching.

“You must lift a lot of weights,” you say, weakly, and Jungkook nods.

“I’ve started incorporating weights into my pull up routine recently, too.”

“Oh? Do you, like… tie them to yourself or something? Uh. How heavy are they?”

Jungkook perks up, apparently excited at the opportunity of talking about exercise. “I hold a fifteen kilogram weight in one hand while I do a pull up with the other,” he says.

Your legs feel weak at this mental image and you end up sitting on the stack of pallets as Jungkook starts to tell you about the rest of his workout routine, and when you find out he does kickboxing as well, you almost have to excuse yourself so that you can try and calm down. Instead you grin and bear it, your fingers digging into your thighs in the horniest grip known to man, acting like this is just a normal conversation that is absolutely not affecting you, no sir, no sirree, holy shit you’re going to die.

That night you do have to excuse yourself at lunch when you make a comment on Jungkook’s food, and he says that he needs to keep his calorie count up because he’s bulking at the moment.

“Bulking? Like for abs?” Yoongi asks.

“I already have abs,” Jungkook says dismissively. Your leg jolts under the table and your knee hits the underside of it, sending your empty lunch box almost flying to the floor, and Jungkook and Yoongi look at you in alarm. “Are you alright, Y/n?”

“Bathroom,” you gasp. “I gotta—bathroom. Lady stuff.”

You splash water over your face and run it over your wrists, desperately trying to cool down. You’d suspected he had abs, for multiple reasons, not least of all the fact that whenever he leaned back in his chair the material of his shirt would settle on his stomach in a way that hinted at the shape of the muscles underneath, but to hear him confirm it—like it was nothing—good lord. (Yoongi’s caught you staring at Jungkook’s stomach multiple times when the boy was distracted, but you’re beyond caring. If you have to deal with Yoongi fawning over Jimin then he can put up with you ogling Jungkook.)

When you come back, Yoongi is at the counter making your coffees while Jungkook is still sitting at the table. You slide back into your seat, about as composed as you’re going to get, when Jungkook leans towards you.

“Are you okay?” He looks worried. “I have some heat pads in my locker if, um, you wanted them, if you’re having period pains?” he says, but then he looks unsure. “I don’t know if you’re actually meant to use them on your tummy, though.”

Tummy. You want to squeal at how cute the word is, not to mention the fact that Jungkook doesn’t seem bothered about talking about period related stuff, unlike a lot of guys you’d known. “Oh, uh, no, thanks, Jungkook,” you say, flushing. “That’s really nice of you but I’m alright.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says, although he’s still clearly concerned. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

And that’s the other thing. You still think Jungkook is the hottest person you’ve ever seen, of course, but he’s also so nice. And hardworking. And sweet. And gentle and thoughtful and determined and talented and just—he's just a whole lot of man, really, just so much, too much. Initially you’d been attracted to him based purely on how cute he was, but now that you've actually gotten to know him, your attraction has morphed into a full-on all consuming crush that’s absolutely catastrophic.

Even when you’re not at work, you keep zoning out because you’re thinking about: Jungkook’s arms, Jungkook’s thighs, Jungkook’s face, Jungkook’s personality, or a mix of all of the above. You can’t focus on things when all you can think about is Jungkook.

Jimin, of course, has been kept fully up to date with the situation. You squat behind the bakery counter whenever he’s on a late shift, hiding away from prying eyes so that you can talk to him as he tidies up, although you know he’s making moony eyes at Yoongi, who’ll glance back at him between the shelves of bread.

You groan into your hands from your cross legged position on the floor, sat atop a flattened croissant box, and Jimin pats you sympathetically on the head.

“Jungkook is very cute,” says Jimin. You groan again.

“I want him to raw me,” you say. Yoongi must have been closer than you thought because you hear a noise of disgust from the other side of the counter before the sound of his footsteps moving away. Jimin laughs his tinkly little laugh as you continue to speak. “But I also want him to hold my hand? And I wanna kiss his cute little forehead. And make him breakfast in bed. Ugh. I hate this,” you whine.

Jimin pats your head again. “Why don’t you ask him for coffee?”

You take your head out of your hands and fix him with a pout. “Why don’t you?”

“You know I don’t ask people for coffee, Y/n, I’m the one who gets asked,” Jimin says, and you know he’s projecting his voice so that Yoongi can hear him. You also know that Yoongi is too dense to pick up on this obvious flirtation, even though you can see how Jimin throws a wink in the direction of where Yoongi must be; you don’t turn to look over the counter but you hear the distinct sound of someone walking into a stack of bread and knocking it over, before Yoongi swears. Jimin just looks fond.

“Oh my God, just marry each other already,” you mutter.

“He has to ask me out first,” Jimin says, softly enough that Yoongi can’t hear from where he must be furiously tidying up the bread, if the sound of plastic packaging and low curses are anything to go by. “Seriously, Y/n, it sounds like Jungkook likes you as well. I think you should just go for it.”

You sigh. “Jungkook’s so far out of my league it’s like we’re not even playing the same sport. He’s sinking three pointers while I’m, I don’t know, whacking balls with a croquet mallet,” you mumble.

Jungkook is nice and funny and works out and is hot, so hot, the kind of hot that has people literally stopping to look at him. (You certainly had, the first time you'd spotted him down an aisle, doing a literal double take at how cute he was.) You, meanwhile, are a clown whose sense of humour has been warped by years of niche internet memes, you drink more coffee than is probably medically advisable, and make-up can only take you up to a shaky 6/10 on a very good day. All in all: Not Exactly A Catch.

Jimin clearly disagrees. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.” He sounds genuinely mad, frowning at you. "If I didn’t like Yoongi I absolutely would have asked you out by now. Jungkook would be lucky to have you, you are a wholeass meal.”

“Yoongi compared me to a slug the other day,” you say. Admittedly it was because he’d knocked on your door when you’d been in the middle of shaving your legs, your skin shining with coconut oil—so the slug slime comment was definitely warranted and hadn’t been an insult—but Jimin’s expression turns murderous, unaware of the context.

“Min Yoongi, you get over here right now,” he hisses. Yoongi is there in seconds. “Did you call Y/n a slug?”

Yoongi’s face looms at you from over the counter. “Should’ve called her a snake instead,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hiss hiss,” you say. “That’s what you get for chatting shit about coconut oil.”

Jimin blinks before his face goes smooth and a look of understanding crosses his features, raising an eyebrow at you. You bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m going back to the bagels,” he says, but then his voice is gentle when he continues: “Unless you need something else, Jimin?”

“No, thank you, Yoongi.” He smiles at Yoongi, soft and sweet, instantly forgetting about the slug comment.

The two of them look at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist and you mime throwing up, but because they’re looking at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist, neither of them notice. You hear Yoongi’s footsteps recede and you lift your hands in despair.

“How is it even when I’m having a breakdown over a boy, the two of you manage to be so incredibly gay over each other?”

“It’s a talent,” Jimin says. “Besides, as happy as I am to listen to you, there’s only so many ways you can say I wanna suck Jungkook’s dick so bad, or he’s so adorable, what the fuck, or oh my God, Jungkook is so hot and I’m so thirsty, which are all things you’ve said, verbatim, multiple times.”

“It’s true.” You pout. “You’ve only seen Jungkook from a distance, anyway. He’s even better up close.” The bakery section is the other side of the supermarket, as far away from the fruit and veg section as you can possibly get; Jungkook has a much better work ethic than you and Yoongi and actually stays in his area to work, so he hasn’t met Jimin properly yet.

Jimin’s expression becomes thoughtful. “You know what, that’s true,” he says.

You’re immediately on guard. Jimin is well-meaning and considerate and kind, but he also loves to meddle and has absolutely no shame about it—the second you see that glint in his eyes, you think that maybe you’ve said something you shouldn’t have, but then you notice the time and your eyes widen.

“Oh, shit, I better go pretend to work before Sejin realises I’m missing.” You scrabble to your feet. “If I don’t see you before you go, have a safe drive home, Jimin!”

Jimin’s usually pretty punctual about leaving on time (even if he’ll hang around to talk to Yoongi, ugh). You wander over to the fruit section to help Sejin fill a display stand, and you freeze in the middle of lifting some apples into a paper bag when you spot Jimin talking to Jungkook. Jimin looks coy, Jungkook looks confused, and you? You probably look constipated. Why is Jimin still here?

You only realise that your mouth is open when Jimin spots you and winks, overexaggerated and theatrical. Your mouth snaps shut as Jungkook’s attention turns to whatever he’s winking at. You duck out of sight before he can spot you, scampering down the length of the store before practically throwing your apples at Sejin, who is understandably caught off guard and fails to catch the bag.

“I’ll go get some blueberries for the other shelf from the back room,” you bark in his face, all but running away before he can respond, leaving him surrounded by the escapee apples (escapples?) that are rolling away from him. You skulk around the entrance of the fruit and veg room for a little while, waiting for Jimin to leave via the staff exit—directly across from where you’re standing—but he doesn’t appear and you can only pretend to look for blueberries for so long, eventually returning to Sejin while despondently clutching the trays of berries.

Jungkook doesn’t seem any different when you make your midnight coffee run, and lunch is about as normal as usual. When you mention Jimin, he smiles, saying that it was nice to finally meet him, but other than seemingly slightly distracted—as if deep in thought—that’s it. There’s no hint that Jimin mentioned anything about you at all, least of all your crush—thank God—but you can feel the ripples in the Force. (Or maybe that was all the coffee you were drinking, seriously, maybe you should slow down?) You know that it’s not a coincidence that you’d had yet another meltdown about Jungkook right before Jimin had introduced himself to the object of your affections. You also know that Jimin knows that you know that, utterly shameless as always.

Jimin is on another late shift the next night. You squat behind the bakery counter when it’s unmanned, Jimin going outside to throw away some old baguettes or whatever, and you (metaphorically) pounce on him when he reappears. “Park Jimin.”

Jimin is entirely unsurprised. In fact he even has a box for you to sit on, proffering a flattened piece of porridge packaging; you feel uncomfortable at the idea of sitting on the Quaker Oats guy’s face and flip it over so you can see brown cardboard rather than his weirdly smug expression looking up at you. “Yes?”

“What exactly were you talking to Jungkook about last night?” You peer up at him, attempting to look at least somewhat threatening, but it’s kind of hard when you’re so much lower to the ground than Jimin is right now. Jimin has to look down at you so far that he’s given himself a double chin, but he’s still gorgeous, because of course he is. (He should leave some for the rest of you, jeez.)

“Oh, a lot of things,” Jimin says. “You were right about him being a sweetheart. He’s very nice. I approve.”

“What are you, my dad?” You mutter to yourself, but then: “You didn’t say anything about my crush, did you?”

Jimin is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. So when he answers you with a simple “no” you believe him, although you can’t help but still feel a little suspicious. Your gut might be full of coffee more often than not, but she’s also a smart bitch—smarter than your brain for sure—and your gut is telling you that Park Jimin must have done or said something.

“Yoongi is putting the tortillas out, so excuse me if I’m distracted,” Jimin says. The tortilla wraps are on the bottom shelf so Yoongi has to bend over to work them. You make a face of disgust and stand up to leave.

“Fine, me and the Quaker Oats guy will take ourselves elsewhere.” You tuck the flattened box snugly under your arm. “We know when we’re not wanted.”

You feel a little bad later when you put the box into the industrial baler that you have, the machine crushing all of your cardboard flat, saddened that you’ve had to part from your new friend so soon. Bye, Quaker Oats guy.

Jungkook finds you standing in front of the baler with a genuinely sad expression on your face, silent as the machine makes mechanical squealing and wailing noises while it crushes the boxes inside it. “Uh. Is everything okay?” He asks, delicate.

“It will be eventually,” you say solemnly, but then you look away from the baler and immediately brighten, smiling at him. “Did you need me for something?”

Jungkook looks at you for a second and then shakes his head. “I was just out here to get some more stock from the back room,” he says, and you both get back to work, unaware of the glances you steal at each other as you part.

Later that night—well, technically, morning—you see someone you haven’t seen for a while, and you gasp with excitement when you spot him. “Namjoon!” You holler down the aisle, far too loud and energetic at 5am, jogging up to him. “I thought you stopped morning shifts!”

Namjoon is a beautiful tree of a man, tall and long limbed, and probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. You’ve missed his dimples. “I did, but, I’m doing a bit of overtime,” he says, and you can’t help but smile up at him.

You’re so caught up in your laughter, cackling at a story that Namjoon is telling you, that you don’t notice Jungkook spotting you from the other end of the aisle. He circles around a few times, pretending to be straightening up the shelves, but watches as you shuffle closer to Namjoon, your heads practically knocking against each other as you stare intently at something on his phone. Jungkook can’t bear it any longer and starts to walk over. He has no idea what he’s planning to do once he gets there but he’s marching over anyway, and that's when you spot him.

“Jungkook, Jungkook!” You beckon him over—like he wasn’t coming in your direction already—and you sound so excited. “Jungkook, look, puppies!”

Jungkook has no idea who the tall guy is but he’s nice enough to turn his phone towards Jungkook without being asked to. There are multiple puppies tumbling over each other in the video, nosing at each other and flopping around. “I thought a golden retriever would be good for Jin, because he’s never had a dog before,” the tall man says, and you coo.

“They’re so cute! Oh my God, Joon, you should get one of those little bandanas you could tie around their necks, those are adorable,” you squeal. “Ahh, I love dogs so much. Don’t you, Jungkook?” Your eyes are shining as you look up at him, excited.

Jungkook feels like he needs to sit down. “Of course. Who doesn’t?” He says, and you beam at him; he has to dig his fingers into his palms at how cute you are. He desperately turns his attention back to the video, where one of the puppies is nosing at a ball. “Look at them retrieve.”

“Retrieve my heart,” you say, clutching your chest. “Ahh, gosh, Joonie, you’re really living the dream, moving in with your hot boyfriend and getting a dog together.” You’re too busy imagining living in that reality to notice how all the tension leaves Jungkook the second he hears that Namjoon has a boyfriend. Oblivious. “Anyway, you should probably get back to work, I’ve distracted you for long enough. Sorry!”

“No problem.” Namjoon quirks a smile at you, nodding at Jungkook before moving away.

“Ahh, Namjoon is so lucky,” you say wistfully. “He’s so nice though, he deserves it.”

Jungkook is looking at you, curious. “You really get to know everyone, don’t you?”

“Huh?” You blink. “What? Yeah, I guess. Is that weird?”

“No.” Jungkook pauses, and you think that’s all he’s going to say on the matter, but then his mouth opens again. “You’re just so nice to everyone, and you actually pay attention to what they say and remember it. Most of the time when people talk, they don’t actually listen, they’re just waiting for when it’s their turn to talk about themselves, but you don’t do that. It’s cool,” he adds, belatedly. “I really admire it.”

You’re staring at him in shock. No one’s ever said anything like that before, complimented you in such a wholehearted way about something they’ve noticed about you. It's thrown you for a loop. You’re so used to thinking of yourself as a clown—a friendly clown, sure, but a clown nonetheless—that you’re genuinely shaken to the core after hearing what Jungkook’s just said about you.

He looks alarmed when you don’t respond, just blinking up at him as your brain desperately tries to reboot, but you’re saved from having to reply when Sejin calls out to you.

“Y/n, the computer at the front desk is playing up again." His hands are cupped around his mouth, amplifying himself so that you can hear him down the aisle. “You’re the only one who knows how to fix it.”

You snap out of your daze. “Again? You’ve tried turning it off and on again, right?” You’re about to walk away from Jungkook, but first you glance up at him, shy. “Um. Thanks for always being so nice, Kookie. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he says. He sounds a little breathless. You don’t have time to ask why, Sejin’s noise of distress catching your attention.

“I’m coming!” You rush off, nearly tripping on a loose grape on the floor; you manage to regain your balance with minimal flailing, unaware of how Jungkook fondly watches you go.

A few weeks later, you get sick.

You’re really bad at being sick, one of the reasons being that you don’t like to admit that you are sick—and so you still roll into work despite the fact you’re clearly unwell.

“You look like a body that’s just been fished out of the water.” Yoongi shows his concern in an interesting way. “Like you’ve been floating belly up near that trash island in the middle of the ocean that’s the size of Texas.”

You fix him with a baleful stare. He’d threatened to not let you into his car earlier, locking the door as you’d been reaching for the handle; he’d only relented after you’d hissed at him and scrabbled at the glass like some sort of feral cat.

“You do look a bit more tired than usual,” Jungkook says delicately.

You groan. The noise sounds like it’s being ripped out of your throat, which feels as dry as the sahara desert; why are your throat and eyes so dry while your nose keeps running? Why is the liquid in all the wrong places? The human body is a wreck. (After glancing at Jungkook, who looks as perfect as always, you mentally correct yourself—your body is a wreck.)

“I’m fine,” you rasp, and then sniff, trying to stop your nose from dripping. Jungkook hands you a tissue. “I don’t need this, because I’m not sick, but thank you.”

You proceed to blow your nose loudly into the tissue, a trumpeting noise that trails off into a squeak, a sad little thing that sounds like the farting noise a balloon makes when all the air finally escapes it. Yoongi snorts with amusement but Jungkook’s brow is furrowed with concern.

Rather than being disgusted at your appearance—you’re not sick, you’re just suffering from mild allergies or something, so maybe you’ll admit that you look a little washed out—Jungkook has been worried about you from the moment you’d walked in. He’d even offered you his work fleece when he’d caught you shivering, which you’d graciously accepted. (Again, you weren’t shivering because you were sick, it’s just weirdly cold in the store today, even though no one else seems to be affected by it.) (Also, like, hello? The man of your dreams was offering you the chance to wear his clothes? As if you were going to say no to that.)

Despite definitely not being sick, you do sort of feel like your head is full of cotton wool, and everything seems so much louder than usual. Sejin takes pity on you and gives you the surprisingly easy job of counting stock out back in the warehouse, where it’s quieter and warmer—but you still keep Jungkook’s fleece on anyway, breathing in the lovely smell of his fabric softener as you idly count items, taking it slow.

You’ve climbed a stepladder so that you can reach a higher shelf, mentally tallying the cans of coke you find up there; you shuffle through them so you can turn the labels towards you, making sure you’re keeping the different flavours separate. (What’s the difference between diet and zero sugar, anyway? Aren’t they both the same thing?)

“Did I just see a pigeon walk past?”

You startle and nearly knock your row of cans off the shelf. Somehow you hadn’t noticed Jungkook walking into the warehouse, even though he clearly hadn’t meant to surprise you; his hands fly out to steady the stepladder, and though you appreciate this it throws you off balance and so you grab the shelf in front of you. One of the cans falls off, jostled by your movements, and your instinct is to try and catch it with your foot so it at least slows enough before it hits the ground that it doesn’t explode.

In theory, it’s not a bad idea. In reality, you wildly overestimate how heavy the can is and so you put way too much power into the swing of your leg and punt the can of coke into the distance. The two of you trace its arcing trajectory as it disappears over the metal racking before landing with a distinctly wet clatter. Yeah, it’s definitely exploded, hasn’t it.

“Wasn’t me,” you say immediately, but then your slower-than-normal brain catches up with what Jungkook just said. “Wait, what?”

“I was wondering if you saw a pigeon walking around,” Jungkook says. “I think I saw it walking from the back entrance into here?”

Much to his obvious surprise, your eyes light up. You’re maybe not as exuberant as usual because of your illness but you’re still clearly excited. “Oh!” You hop down off the stepladder, nearly losing your balance for a second—maybe you are a teensy weensy bit sick—but then straighten up before Jungkook can help steady you. “Shortbread’s back!”

Jungkook looks baffled but follows after you when you start to walk, abandoning your stock counts. “Shortbread?”

“Yeah! Hold on, you’re taller than me. You see that bit of metal that juts out of the ceiling there?”

Jungkook looks at where you’re pointing. It’s against the back wall of the warehouse, the ceiling lower here than in the rest of the room, panelling and wires supported by criss-crossing bars of thick blue metal. “Yeah?”

“Can you reach up there and feel around a bit?” Jungkook makes a face, clearly not wanting to shove his hand into some mysterious hidden nook, but you look up at him with the best puppy dog eyes you can muster. You probably look like a wreck (what with how sick you are) but Jungkook relents immediately anyway; you think it's because he's nice and not because your attempt at being cute had been successful. He cranes upwards and feels around with his hand until it makes contact with crinkly plastic, and you motion for him to grab it—it’s an open pack of biscuits, with a receipt wedged inside that has your name scribbled on it.

“Gimme, gimme.” You make grabby hands at him. He tilts it towards you and you latch onto a biscuit, which is clearly stale; it crumbles almost immediately in your hands but you don’t pay it any mind, gesturing for him to put the tray back in its hiding place. “Where did you see the pigeon last?”

“Uh, near the soup, I think,” Jungkook answers. You immediately head in that direction, talking over your shoulder as he follows after you.

“You’ve seen that fishing net near the cardboard baler, right?” Your eyes flit to and fro, trying to spot the errant pigeon.

“Yeah, the green one? I was wondering why that was there.”

You click your tongue. “A few months ago we had a pigeon who kept flying here and wandering into the building,” you explain. “We knew it was the same pigeon because it has a tag around its leg? I think it’s a tracker pigeon, I don’t know. So I would use biscuits to get it to follow me outside. But then management got the net and someone said they caught it and, uh, ‘disposed’ of it.” You look equal parts distressed and sad and Jungkook’s chest twinges. “I haven’t seen it since, so even though I hoped that it wasn't the truth, I kind of accepted that it probably was.”

You round the corner past soups, heading towards the cereal overstock, when you both spot the pigeon. It’s slowly walking backwards and forwards on the floor, but when you appear, it stops and looks at you.

“Shortbread! It is you!” You sound absolutely elated, squatting down and proffering the mess of crumbs in your hand, sprinkling them in front of you. “I knew they hadn’t caught you!”

The pigeon—Shortbread—hops forward immediately, heading straight for the crumbs. You laugh in delight as it gets closer and starts to peck at the food. “You’ve gotta stop coming here, bud, Sejin’s going to get really mad if he spots you,” you say. Shortbread, of course, ignores you, more intent on eating the crumbs of—well, the crumbs of shortbread that you’ve given it. You look away from the pigeon, up at Jungkook, who’s watching you with an expression on his face that you can only describe as consternation. Does he dislike pigeons, maybe? “Do you want to feed him?”

“Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?” Jungkook blurts. The remaining crumbs of biscuit fall out of your hand, scattering into a wild constellation of fragments that Shortbread immediately swoops down onto—but you’re not paying the bird any mind, completely blindsided.

“Uh. What?” You stare up at Jungkook. Your mouth is open and slack with surprise; you hadn’t quite caught his words, but you could have sworn that he said— “Come again?”

Jungkook’s put a hand over his face, which is starting to turn red. “Do you—do you want to get coffee with me?” Even though he’s turned his head away from you, his eyes are pointed in your direction; Shortbread makes a cooing noise and starts to peck at the crumbs directly in front of you, but neither of you pay the pigeon any attention.

“Uh.” You know your brain is running on around 25% capacity right now, a mixture of your sickness and lack of sleep catching up with you, but you could swear that—what does Jungkook mean—nah, he doesn’t mean that, no way… haha… unless…? “You… want to get coffee? You know where we keep the jar.” Shortbread pecks at your open palm, a few crumbs still stuck to your skin. You’re momentarily distracted from your mental breakdown, giggling at the sensation of the pigeon’s beak, even though it hurts your throat to laugh. “Shortbread, there’s way more food on the floor, why are you trying to eat from my hand?”

“Y/n.” When Jungkook says your name your eyes snap back towards him. “Can I take you out on a date?”

This time you do catch all his words. Your mouth falls open again and you stare at him like the dumbass you are. Is Jeon Jungkook—your cute, kind, buff angel seriously asking you out? Right now? When you're squatting on a dusty warehouse floor with a handful of stale biscuit crumbs, wearing the world’s least flattering uniform, all while looking like some sort of washed out river corpse? (Thanks for that lovely comparison, Yoongi.) Has he lost his mind? Maybe lifting all those heavy crates meant that all the blood has run into his arm muscles rather than his brain and it's been starved of oxygen, because there’s no sane reason as to why Jungkook would be asking you out on a date.

“Me? A date?” Your voice comes out as a squeak. “With you?”

Jungkook looks absolutely mortified. You didn’t realise someone’s cheeks could go that red. “Forget I said anything,” he says, turning on his heel so that he can walk away; you catch a glimpse of bright crimson climbing up the back of his neck and the tips of his ears, too.

“No, wait, Jungkook!” You snap up from your squatting position and grab Jungkook’s shoulder, smearing crumbs onto his shirt. You feel light headed as he starts to turn around, but not because he’s looking at you—you’d stood up too quickly and you feel woozy from your illness, swaying off balance.

You nearly careen sideways into some cereal overstock. Jungkook’s eyes fly wide open in alarm, interposing himself so that you land against him instead. There’s the sound of metal clattering as your weight sends Jungkook into the cereal, rattling the cage, but he holds you steady. You still feel a bit faint, but now you’re sure that it’s partially due to the fact that you’re crushed up against Jungkook’s warm, firm chest, his hands on your hips as he frowns down at you.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better,” you mumble into the fabric of his polo shirt. (Jungkook's at risk of you snotting on him if your nose starts to run, but he doesn’t seem to care.) He smells even better up close than you ever could have imagined—thank god your sense of smell is still intact—and you melt against him for a second before your brain catches up with the situation and your head snaps back so that you can look at him. “Wait. Why were you about to leave?”

Jungkook’s look of concern turns instantaneously into one of embarrassment. “No reason,” he says, voice higher than normal, clearly uncomfortable.

You clench your fist and hit his firm chest, but with no strength behind the punch; your hand may as well have been a slice of bread for all the impact it makes. “Liar.” There’s no heat behind your words. “Did you seriously ask me on a date?”

Jungkook’s face is reddening again, but you’re still leaning against him. He can’t try to escape this time. “Uh. Yes?” From this close you can count his individual eyelashes, pick out the moles that dot his face, and, yep, you were right, he’s even better up close. “I’m sorry?”

You blink. “Sorry? For asking me out? Jungkook. Do you seriously think I’d say no?”

“... yes?” Jungkook’s voice is a squeak, much like yours had been a moment earlier. Holy shit. Does he not realise how amazing and hot he is? Does he seriously think that you, resident clown, would turn him down? Does he think you’re the one who’s out of his league?

You try to put this into words. Try to ask him this gently, so you can highlight just how ridiculous he’s being. However, what comes out of your mouth is: “Are you an idiot?” Thanks, brain, for once again abandoning you in your greatest time of need. Quick, reel it back. “Why would you think that?”

Jungkook, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t seem offended at your implication that he’s stupid. He just seems flustered. “I—you’re just so unapologetically you, you know?” He says. "You're charismatic and confident and everyone likes you. You’re the most popular person on night shift. I’m too shy to talk to anyone and I just do the same thing every night I’m here, but you can do everything. I always saw you talking to the other morning workers and you were always so nice, but you never spoke to me? When you introduced yourself to me after I moved to nights, I was confused, but, uh, really happy.”

Holy shit. He really does think that you’re out of his league. He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up after this little speech, mouth snapping shut while his cheeks continue to blaze red. He's so cute. He's going to be the death of you.

“Jungkook. I didn’t talk to you before night shift because you made me so fucking nervous,” you say. “I could barely look at you for weeks because you’re so beautiful that it kind of makes me want to barf sometimes and I couldn’t handle it. But then you moved to nights and I couldn’t avoid talking to you, and I found out how kind and hardworking and interesting you are, and—Jungkook, I don’t think I’ve ever crushed this hard on anyone in my life.” Why are you telling him all this? You must be more sick than you realise. Your mouth is entirely out of your control. “I get so excited for work now because it means I get to see you. Yoongi and Jimin have been listening to me gush about you for months. And Hobi too, but you don't know him. But I didn’t think you’d ever like me back so I didn’t say anything,” you admit, and the tiny part of your brain that’s still functional shoots a prayer off to God, or anyone else who’s listening, begging to be struck down by lightning. No such luck. “Uh. Basically, yes, Jungkook, I would love to go on a date with you, please excuse my rambling, my brain feels like it’s full of cotton.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide. He’s staring at you like he can’t believe anything you’re saying. You abruptly realise that the two of you are still wrapped around each other in a very compromising position, in an area of the building where anyone could appear at any moment—not to mention that Shortbread is still fluttering around nearby, eating up crumbs with typical pigeon inefficiency.

“You—you think I’m beautiful?” Jungkook asks, and you blush.

“I think you’re the hottest person who’s ever existed, probably,” you answer honestly. “Please don’t ask more questions, I start to feel queasy whenever I have to express real emotion.”

“Y/n.” Jungkook seems to be rapidly getting over his shock, and a smile starts curling at his lips, and—yeah, you still wanna lick his teeth. Good to know. “I couldn’t possibly be the hottest person who’s ever existed.”

You snort, even though the action grates the back of your nose and throat. “Where’s your evidence?”

Jungkook gently squeezes you. “Right here,” he says.

Your brain desperately scrabbles for purchase in reality, shutting down and then rebooting, internet modem sounds crackling slowly in your head as you try to get to grips with the fact that Jungkook just did that, even though the motion was meant to be tender. Why must your mind be so dirty?

Wait.

Wait, he thinks you’re hot?

“Jungkook, I look like death,” you say, and although you’re ostensibly referring to the fact you’re sick right now (fine, you’ll admit it, you’re sick), it’s more of a general statement.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jungkook says, deadly serious. Your heart flutters. What did you do to deserve this boy?

You’ve still got your faces tilted towards each other, and you can’t help but notice Jungkook’s eyes darting down to your lips. You’ve just started to inch closer to each other when your brain finally snaps back to full capacity and you’re shoving your hand in Jungkook’s face; the clean one, thankfully, not the one covered with biscuit crumbs. Seems like your brain came through.

“I don’t want our first kiss to be in the warehouse at work, when I’m sick,” you say. While that’s true, your heart is pounding in your chest at the idea that Jungkook apparently still wants to kiss you despite the fact you definitely need to blow your nose.

“Okay.” Jungkook’s voice is muffled against your palm. “That’s fair. Can you move your hand? It’s kind of hard to breathe like this.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” You pull your hand away, and Jungkook takes in a deep breath; you feel how his chest expands and you’re once again reminded of how you’re flush against him. Jesus. “Uh, we should probably get Shortbread out of here before someone catches him.”

Jungkook lets you go so you can coax Shortbread towards one of the fire exits. He holds the door open as you squat down, wishing the pigeon good luck before you say goodbye; when you glance back up at Jungkook you notice the look on his face, open and fond, and your heart does a loop de loop in your chest when you realise that he's been looking at you like this a lot—your brain had just refused to let you notice it for what it is. What the heck.

As Jungkook lets the door shut behind you, you clear your throat. “Um. While I do absolutely want to get coffee with you, can it wait until I’m better? I don’t wanna be all crusty and snotty on our first date,” you say, weirdly shy despite the fact it’s obvious that Jungkook seems to think that you hung the moon. (Which you still don’t understand but you’re not complaining, not at all.)

“Sure.” Jungkook smiles and your heart flip flops in your chest again. The feats of acrobatics your heart achieves when Jungkook around is honestly astounding, but everything he does is just so… adorable. You’re certain that when you see him out of his work uniform and in his regular clothes you’re going to spontaneously combust, but you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it. “I should probably get back to fruit and veg, but, I’ll see you for lunch?”

“Yeah.” You smile helplessly back at him. “Of course. See you at lunch.”

Despite the fact you’re worried about getting him sick, Jungkook really doesn’t care about keeping his distance. When Yoongi walks into the canteen to the sight of you snuggled up to Jungkook and giggling as you feed him his lunch, your friend just rolls his eyes. “Kids these days,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“You’re just jealous that it’s taken me and Jungkook less time to confess to each other than it’s taken you with Jimin,” you say, and then gasp as you remember something. “Oh, Jungkook, that reminds me! What was that long conversation you were having with Jimin the other week?”

Jungkook flushes. “Uh, he was giving me advice on how to ask you out,” he admits sheepishly. “I wasn’t planning on just blurting it out in the warehouse, but you were being so cute that I couldn’t stop myself?”

You stare into Jungkook’s eyes for a few long moments, before solemnly saying: “Jeon Jungkook, if I wasn’t sick, I would absolutely be kissing you right now.”

“Ugh, please don’t,” Yoongi says. Jungkook buries his head into the material of his work fleece, hiding his embarrassment against your shoulder, and you just laugh.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #bts #bts au #cypherwritersnet #bts fluff #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #joy.masterlist

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hoseokslefteyebrow · 3 years

Text

An Act Of Kindness || M.YG

Pairing : Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre : soft yandere?

Summary : When your summer camp groupmates decide to go 'off rhe road', everything goes wrong.

Wordcount: 2.6k lol

[ A/N: Suggested for my Baby Project series, but it was a little too dark so here's a one shot instead. I'm not exactly great at 'yandere' genre yet so like,, I tried lol.Enjoy!]

" I don't know about this guys." You tell your annoying group mates as you're walking of the path and into the depths of the forest.

One of your groupmates, Heeyoung huffs as she looks over her shoulder at you.

" Psh, don't be such a whimp. We're just going off the road to make a shortcut." She tells you.

Jungkook grins at you from a few steps up front.

" Relax, it'll be fine. Besides, we've got the map, nothing will go wrong." He smiles, waving said paper map with his hand.

You still hesitate.

" I really don't know guys, they did forecast that it'll rain today too. Besides, how do we even know where we are from the map? If we walk off the path, we won't be able to track our own location." You point out.

You really aren't in the mood to die just because of these people. You've seen enough horror movies.

" Relax, it'll be fine." Jimin nudged you from beside.

You look at Jimin's face, the male has always quite charmed you in a way, and unlike the other two, he wasn't quite as annoying either.

" Jungkook's right. What could go wrong?" He smiles at you.

Quite frankly, almost everything went wrong.

It's now around 4 hours later, and the four of you are hopelessly lost in the depths of the forest.

It's raining now too, buckets of water falling from the grey skies, not exactly pleasant.

" Wait, can you show me the map one more time?" Heeyoung asks Jungkook as an excuse to huddle close to him.

He looks at her weirdly as she presses herself up against his arm, but doesn't comment on it. Figuring she probably just feels cold.

All of you are dressed in shorts and a t-shirt after all, except for you, as you're also wearing a long sleeved up zip up hoodie. You were lowkey prepared for this, but considering it's been raining for at least 30 minutes now, your small preparation had no effect anymore, and so you too have chattering teeth.

You watch in disappointment when Jungkook unfolds the soaked map, only to have it literally slip through his fingers, the flimsy pieces of paper falling hopelessly on the ground.

Heeyoung watches the thing fall before hitting Jungkook, now suddenly mad.

" You know what? This is all your fault! If you hadn't soaked the map!-"

" My fault?! You wanted to walk off the damn path!" Jungkook argued right back at her.

You pinched your brows. Great, so you were stuck with two idiots now too.

" Okay, uhm, let's just not blame anyone. It can't change how we're situated now, let's just find shelter and check our phones." Jimin suggests.

You nod numbly, teeth chattering as all of you go to seek for coverage.

Jungkook and Heeyoung are suddenly not attached to the hip anymore as you do so, it appeared the girl wasn't interested in him anymore.

" Hey, uhm, I'm sorry for not listening to you. I should've agreed." Jimin says as he now walks beside you.

You smile at him gratefully.

" Thanks, I appreciate that actually."

He nods.

" So, uhm, do you mind if I hold your hand? I know we're not close and all, but you seem cold, and I can't exactly offer you my jacket, not to mention that I'm quite cold too." He suggests, not looking at you as he says so.

You smile at his antics, finding his behavior cute.

" Sure." You reply shortly as you move to grab a hold on Jimin's hand.

His fingers interlock with yours easily. Both of your skins feel cold, even against each other, but it admittedly felt nice to not feel alone in a situation like this.

It isn't until another twenty minutes later that Jungkook has found something.

" Guys! Look at that! That seems like shelter." Jungkook says, pointing to, what seems to be, part of a roof.

Jimin and you exchange glances.

For some reason, it felt like he was asking something, and so you shrug as a response.

He nods before turning back to the other two.

" Okay, let's go there."

" Nope, mine is dead too." Jimin sighs, pocketing his phone before running the same hand through his hair.

He hasn't let go of your hand since thirty minutes ago, except for when you took out your phone, and for some reason, the small action made you feel a little funnier about Jimin.

The four of you are stood in front of, what seems to be, an abandoned, mansion. Most blinds are closed, but the blinds that are open show dark rooms, and are mostly on the second floor.

" We could, try to knock?" Heeyoung suggests.

You blink, looking up at the bit of the building you can see. For some reason, it gives you a cold vibe.

" I don't thinks anyone even lives here-"

You've barely finished your sentence when Heeyoung is already knocking.

You sigh, not all too surprised by her in all honesty.

However, surprise and fear greet you as the door suddenly jiggles.

Jungkook's eyes widen, and Jimin tugs you closer to him as the sound sounds.

All of you are even more surprised when the door opens, being greeted by a rather old looking male, who blinks at all of you.

" Excuse me, but can I help you?" The man asks politely.

He seems to be around his fourties at least, and all of you let out a breath.

" Hello! Sorry for suddenly knocking. It's just that it's raining-"

As she speaks, it also starts to thunder.

What a great moment.

" - And thundering, so we wondered if we could stay here for a while until the weather dies down a bit." She asks them, a friendly smile on her face.

The male clears his throat.

" Well then, please come in and wait here in the hallway. I will ask master Min for permission." He tells her before opening the door wider.

She smiles, turning to all of you, and motioning with her head to follow her in.

You all do so. The hallway is large, stereo typical for a mansion, with multiple doors, and a clean marble floor, along with a grand staircase to the second floor.

You subconsciously tighten your grip on Jimin's hand.

He turns to you with a worried expression.

" You okay? We can go if you think it's a bad idea." He tells you.

You're barely turning to look at him before he clarifies.

" I trust your judgement."

" Oh. I see. Well, I really don't know. It feels here kind of off? But I feel like it's going to storm soon, so maybe we should just ask for a phone connection and wait here." You suggest.

He hums.

" Sounds like a plan to me."

A few moments later the man returns, a kind smile on his face.

" The master will be with us shortly, he'd like to know who'd be seeking shelter in his house before he will grant it." The man smiles.

As you study his stance, you realize that this man is most probably a staff.

" Oh, where are my manners? My name is Charles, I'm the butler of this mansion." He smiles.

Jungkook nods, about to introduce himself, when the sound of clacking shoes sounds.

All of you turn to the grand staircase, where a single male is walking down from. Your eyes widen in surprise. The male who's walking down said stairs is stunning. He's got a pale skin, black hair, and is wearing a dark blue suit with a white button up underneath.

Who relaxes in that kind of outfit? Not that you'll complain or anything, he was admittedly good looking. He walks down unbothered, seemingly not bothered by your looks.

" Say whatever you want, but he is very handsome." Heeyoung whispers to you.

You nod silently in response, and Jimin clears his throat.

You turn to blink at him.

" Something wrong?" you ask him.

" No not-"

" My name is Min Yoongi. I live here. Who are you?"

It appeared the male, now known as Min Yoongi, had already come to a stop in front of you.

" Right, sorry! My name is Heeyoung, these are Jungkook, Jimin and Y/N." Heeyoung smiles at him.

He doesn't smile back, simply letting his eyes go over all of your forms for a moment. You shivered as his eyes went over your form.

" Fine, you may stay for now. Has any of you had dinner yet?" He asks, voice deep, and eyes holding a bored expression.

" Dinner? We've only had breakfast!-"

" Uhm, thank you! But, that's not necessary. If we could maybe make a call though, that'd be great." You hurriedly stop Jungkook.

Yoongi raises a brow at you in surprise, as both Heeyoung and Jungkook come at you.

" Okay, y'know what?! This is enough. He's literally being nice to us by offering us a meal, and you're just going to turn him down? What is wrong with you?!" Heeyoung yells at you.

" C'mon Y/N. Just one meal? We're all hungry." Jungkook tries, a little more softly.

Yoongi watches you and your friends sharply, not exactly amused by the rudeness of your group mate.

You squeeze Jimin's hand softly as you step back, not entirely sure on what to do.

" Alright, uhm, let's not get mad at her. And staying for one meal should be alright. Right?" He tries too.

You sigh, but nod anyway.

The meal was filled with chatter of your groupmates and charles, Yoongi was mostly silent, and so were you. Heeyoung tried her best to get Yoongi's attention, often complementing him for the meal and his hospitality, he didn't really do much in return, simply nodding until he at some point friendly told her to sod off.

Soon after you tried ringing the camp, but to your disappointment, the lines were dead, and the storm had only worsened.

" It's dead. Any idea if we can fix it?" You asked Yoongi as you put the phone away.

He shook his head, bangs moving.

" I'm afraid not. I can offer all of you a bed for tonight only." He suggests, messing his hair up.

You bite your lip in thought, looking out of the window beside you.

The storm certainly wasn't going to get better anytime soon.

You sighed, before nodding. Going out there now was a death wish.

" That'd be nice. Thank you, and I'm sorry for us suddenly turning up on your doorstep." You tell him.

He shakes his head.

" Don't worry about it."

About an hour later you're seated on your bed. You, Jimin, Heeyoung and Jungkook all had your own rooms. The other three in the bedrooms across the hallway from you while you're situated beside Min Yoongi's very own bedroom.

After about twenty minutes, there's a knock sounding at your door.

" Come in." You call out.

The door opens, and you're surprised to find Yoongi standing there.

" Oh, hi. Is everything alright?" You ask him.

He hums.

" Yeah, just wanted to talk to you, if you don't mind. " He tells you with a small smile.

You nod, sitting down at the bed as he sits down opposite you at the desk.

Conversation went surprisingly smooth, after a few minutes into talking, it went as if you two knew each other for years.

" Y'know, you seem to be a pretty perfect person." He tells you as your laughter died down.

You snorted.

" Pft, nah. My grades really prove otherwise." You tell him.

You're flattered a man of his 'rank' thinks like that about you, but you really don't agree.

He grins.

" Grades are just a social structure." He shrugs.

You smile at him.

" Thanks, but really though. No one is perfect. Especially not me." You tell him honestly.

You don't hate yourself, but that doesn't mean you view yourself as perfect either.

He shakes his head.

" I think your head's messing with you due to the time. I'll see you tomorrow. You guys can still stay for breakfast right?" He asks.

You think about it for a moment.

You're already here anyway. How bad could staying over for breakfast be?

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that it's already light out.

The second thing you notice is that it's eerily quiet.

You bolt out of bed, changing in the bathroom and folding the borrowed clothes on the sink. There's a packaged toothbrush by the sink too, and so you brush your teeth before going downstairs.

"Y/N?" You suddenly hear Yoongi's voice from somewhere beside you.

You turn around in surprise, barely tripping over your feet in your hurry.

Yoongi reacts quickly, catching you by your shoulders and holding you upright.

you both blink at each other before he gently lets go of you.

" Sorry, uhm- What are you doing here?" He asks you.

You furrow your brows at him.

" What do you mean? Where's the rest?" You ask him confused.

" They left already, I thought you went with them." He blinks.

Did they really leave you?

Meanwhile Jimin is looking around him in confusion.

Where was he?

He looks around, checking his surroundings.

He, Jungkook and Heeyoung seemed to be sleeping in a clearing in the forest. It takes him a moment before he remembers what happened. It takes him another moment before he realizes you're missing.

Jungkook wakes up soon after.

" Hey, where's Y/N?" Jimin asks him.

Jungkook blinked, before rolling on his side.

"Idunno, probably still asleep." He mumbles sleepily.

Jimin rolls his eyes before throwing sand at the younger, who's quick to get up.

"What the hell?-"

"What are you lads doing here?" Another voice suddenly joins the conversation.

Both males look up, only to see a man, seemingly a little over his 25's standing there.

" Uhm, hi. We're kind of lost." Jungkook explains, waking up Heeyoung before getting up and dusting off his pants.

The man blinks before nodding.

" I can see that yeah." He responds dumbly.

" We also lost a group mate. Seen a mansion around?" Jimin asks him.

At the words of a mansion, the male pales.

" You don't mean to say you're lost travelers?- I- I thought that curse was gone." The man spoke warily.

Heeyoung, who now got up, switched wary glances with Jungkook.

" Curse?" She asked.

" Yeah, there's a curse of a mansion. Apparently the Min family lived there somewhere back in the 1800's or something, but a burglar got in and killed most of the family, apart from their twenty-something year old son. A few years ago we found bodies here, on the very place you're standing right now, they were barely alive but managed to warn us. They were the last people who came from that mansion, until you that is." He explains with wide eyes.

No one knew how to react to that.

Did this mean you're dead?

" You see whenever it storms, people turn up dead. Except for the people before you. You're the only ones to have made it out alive and well. You're the first survivors- But your friend..." He trails off.

Jimin's hand balls into a fist, as Jungkook's doe eyes widen and Heeyoung held her hand over her mouth in shock.

Did they really kill you by not listening to you?

#bts #yandere x reader #yandere bts #one shot #min yoongi x reader #park jimin x reader #haunted au

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high-warlock-of-brooklyn · 3 years

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would things be easier if there was a right way? (honey there is no right way) (Ao3 link)

@thehuntersmoondiscord Masquerade Exchange for @valinphatombeliver (Hope you like it!)

Ships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood (Alternate universe: This World Inverted)

Summary: After that fateful party at the Institute, Magnus's magic is not the only thing that comes back. His soulmark feels alive again, and this time, Magnus is not alone.

Alec feels like an idiot, betting his heart like that, especially after the sting of an almost rejected soulmark pains him worse than a broken heart. So he does the only thing he knows the best, he throws himself into work.

Little do they know that the universe doesn't make mistakes, and will keep pulling them together till they both truly see the truth for themselves.

Alec feels sick.

He’s planned exactly one hundred seventy events in his career, big or small. He’s got a stellar reputation, his own party planner business, his schedule is booked for the next five months in advance, and he’s put the full deposit down for his own apartment in the middle of the city, all at the mere age of twenty seven.

And yet, every time, those words are like a punch to the gut he would never admit out loud to anyone. It’s his own fault, he supposes. That he has to hear it so many times in just a week. And that every time, it’s a false alarm.

Well, all but one.

This one seemed different. This one felt different. At least for Alec.

But then, at the end, another one bit the dust.

Isabelle had warned him, when he showed her the words the day after his eleventh birthday. She’d looked so sad when he first told her about the career he’s chosen. Alec never understood why, until he heard those words for the first time at the first ever event he planned, a small, intimate birthday party for a Manhattan socialite.

Check it again, I’m on the list.

It had felt like he’d been electrocuted, and Alec had dashed outside to the door as fast as he could, pulling down a tablecloth with him as he went, the groans and yells of the restaurant staff unheeded by his heart. But it had been the grandfather of the birthday girl, and a voice in Alec’s heart told him to wait a little bit longer for his soulmate.

That voice had died down entirely after his eighteenth event.

Until this evening at the party at the Institute. Until he felt compelled to let that man in. Until Magnus.

And now, standing here, helping his crew clean up after the party, Alec feels his guts twist in a flurry of emotions he is too tired to process.

Fuck this . He’s just put on the most unique and successful party the business world of New York has ever seen. He deserves a break.

Alec grabs a bottle of whiskey on his way out.

-------------------

The first time the words appeared into his hands, Magnus didn’t understand them.

It had been in a strange script, the letters so different from the ones he’d only started to get acquainted with. But by then he’d been part of something stranger, and started to live with a green-skinned man with horns and white hair who called himself a ‘warlock’, and had told Magnus that he was one too. So knowing his soulmate might be from a strange distant land didn’t seem as jarring as it would have been.

Then he’d lived through times that would have seemed as dreams in his childhood. He’d lived through his travels in the wonderful country of Peru, then had fallen in love with Imasu knowing he wasn’t the one, and had gotten his heart broken. Axel hadn’t even given him a chance, and from what Magnus saw peeking out of the cuffs of his shirt, he’d already found his soulmate in the French court.

The words didn’t lose their effect through the centuries however. Every time he heard someone say ‘ what seems to be the problem? ’, Magnus could feel his pulse racing, his heart swelling, his mind going berserk at the possibility of being united with the one he’d been destined to be with.

It wasn’t the case any of the times. Often it was a Shadowhunter, trying to maintain their precious Law so that no so-called troublemaker Downworlders wouldn't disrupt the precious ‘peace’ they insisted on withholding. Sometimes it was a particularly demanding client, and Magnus delayed more just to piss them off.

One time though, it was a Mundane who came to his rescue to smooth things over when the guard at a bar took offense at Magnus’s general existence. Etta had been a beauty both inside and out, and Magnus had been genuinely happy for her when she left once she found her actual soulmate.

It didn’t make him sad to lose her. She was a friend more than anything else, and her story gave him hope to hold on longer.

After that there was Camille. A force to be reckoned with. Camille, with her sharp edges and sharper fangs. Camille, who made him believe in a love through the ages, only to be betrayed brutally. Camille, who he was ready to beg to so she’d come back to him. Camille, who never told him that her soulmate died the day she was turned, which Magnus found out on his own the day after she cheated on him. Magnus had felt hollow, and empty, and felt like a fool for holding on to hope.

The day he finally closed hell off permanently, he’d lost more than just his magic. Magnus had given up on hope entirely.

Then there was that one boy at a party Magnus wasn’t even invited to. Alec had said those words, looking at Magnus with eyes devouring every single aspect of him. Magnus had half expected himself to turn around and leave. But then Alec had surprised him, and made him come inside.

But then there was a demon attacking Clarissa and the blond boy, the first demon in almost a century. And Magnus had almost forgotten about the boy with those hazel eyes by the time he rushed home, magic singeing the inside of his coat pocket.

It must’ve not been meant to be, Magnus thinks as he nurses the same glass of Rosé for almost an hour, the once warm bathwater now running cold. He pauses for a moment, thinking carefully about what he’s about to do.

Magnus waves a finger, the movement graceless, halted. But the sparks come out anyway, the bathwater warming, turning light pink as Magnus focuses on summoning a bath bomb from his collection in the cabinet near the sink.

Magnus smiles. His soulmate doesn’t want to find him. But that’s okay. He’s got his magic.

Everything’s going to be just fine.

--------------

Alec is, most definitely, not doing fine.

“I need this banner yesterday.” Alec rubs his temple letting out a tired sigh, “I literally needed that last night so my team can finish setting up, and now you’re telling me it’s still not ready?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to tell you. Our primary printer caught on fire and we had to unplug all of them to manage the fire before it went out of hand, and all our orders were cancelled from the queue.”

Alec scrubs his face with the back of his hand, and groans, “My assistant put in the request almost two weeks ago. This is for a dinner party at a multinational company, Andrew. And as we both know, the one of the only things those people spend ridiculous amounts of money on is the banner. I can’t throw a party without one.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Lightwood.” Andrew’s smile is genuinely apologetic. “There’s really not much we can do. If it helps, there’s another customer in booth number three whose banner we were printing when it caught on fire, and he’s been on the list for almost over a month.”

“Eesh, poor guy.” Alec winces.

“Tell me about it.” Andrew tsks. “And he’s a really sweet guy too. Some customers throw a hissy fit if we’re ten minutes late in delivering a order they’ve put in maybe an hour ago, and he’s really understanding and patient. But it’s for his psychic shop and he’s checking in maybe the tenth time now. Kaelie was just telling me that we might lose that account for good. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Alec nods, then looks down as his phone pings with notifications from his team about going over swatch cards. “Andrew, is there nothing you can do? Is there no back alley super shady banner maker somewhere?”

“They make something vastly different than banners, Mr Lightwood.” Andrew chuckles good-naturedly, used to the antics of his long time customer. “Well, I could run to the place near 34th and Wilshire. My cousin works as a temp there. The price is way higher, but they can do a quick job.” Andrew taps away on his phone for a second. “Oh good, Artie says they’re open for another five hours at least.”

“Money’s not an issue.” Alec lets out a relieved sigh, and brings out his credit card. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.” Andrew offers him a bright smile. “I’ll inform you as soon as it’s done.”

“Thank you.” Alec nods, before a thought flashes. “Oh, and, Andrew?”

“Yes, anything else, Mr Lightwood?”

“Yeah. I was thinking you could take the other guy’s order there too?” Alec jerks his head in the direction of the other booths in the shop, the silhouette of another customer visible through the blurry divider between the counters.

“That’s a good idea. I’ll ask him.” Andrew gets up to approach the man, but Alec stops him.

“Don’t tell him anything, just put the extra fee on my card.”

“But-”

“It’s okay,” Alec smiles.

Andrew shakes his head, his golden curls shaking with the motion. “You’re a good egg, Mr Lightwood.”

“Just paying it forward.”

---------------

The fire alarm goes off after the second time. Magnus groans as the noise threatens to invoke a migraine. At least he can use his magic to soothe it this time.

The same magic that caused the fire he’s been scrambling to put out for the past thirty seconds. For a small cauldron fire, the sparks are notoriously hard to douse. Being dormant for almost a century, and then suddenly trying to make a magical banner for his kinda-sorta psychic business would do that to a warlock’s magic, he supposes.

Maybe he should consult a spellbook or something. Only there’s no precedent for a banner making spell because graphic designed banners didn’t exist by the time magic was last used.

Well, first time for everything.

The doorbell rings, and Magnus sighs, trying his best to smooth down the no doubt wild hair he’s got from running his hand over and over through it. Pardon him, it’s been a very stressful day.

“Mr Bane? This is Sananda from the Banner Emporium. I have a delivery for you.”

The girl with a neon green streak in her braid hands him a large roll of paper, which Magnus holds up with more than a little difficulty.

“Sign here please.” The girl says, chewing gum disinterestedly. Magnus puts the banner down before taking the signing sheet.

“I thought the shop printer broke.” Magnus returns the sheet. “Did you guys fix it already?”

“No clue, I just work as delivery.” The girl shrugs. “My boss told me to make two deliveries only today, one to you and another to some party planner office. Guess they did some fixing, huh?”

Magnus smiles, tipping the girl a twenty. The girl offers a mock salute, and walks away humming the tune of a pop song. Magnus closes the door behind her, a smile slowly spreading on his face as he uncoils the banner.

Bane: Psychic and tarot card readings

It looks perfect. But Magnus doesn’t get long to marvel at it, because the phone rings. His old landline, which means only one person could be calling.

“Hello Ragnor.” Magnus answers, happy to talk to one of his oldest and closest friends after such a long time.

“Magnus, why didn’t you call me? I had to hear from Catarina that you might have met your soulmate?” Ragnor goes right to the point, tone accusatory.

Magnus takes comfort in the fact that while the whole world might change, Ragnor Fell, ever the a wonderful friend, never will. “I’m not even sure myself, how was I supposed to tell you? I’ve heard a thousand of those Ragnor, you know that better than anyone.”

“Still, Magnus.” Ragnor’s voice comes out tinny, “You don’t have to have the perfect relationship, because there is nothing like that in the world. All we can do is take a leap of faith, and hope that it’s not an abyss. But you have to keep taking that leap.”

“Why are you giving me relationship advice at what is supposed to be early morning at yours?” Magnus asks, eager to change the subject.

“Because I never needed mine, and I’m happy that way, yet I know how much you’ve waited for yours. One of these days, you’re going to have to seize the opportunity no matter what, and take a chance upon love.”

By the time Magnus hangs up, it’s been almost hours. Ragnor’s phones are a rare commodity, the warlock ever so averse of technology, and they do have almost three years worth of conversations to catch up on. Magnus is exhausted, and even though he hates admitting it, Ragnor is right. He could’ve stayed at that party, checked up on Clarissa and her boyfriend, made sure their memories didn’t resurface.

He could have stayed and danced with Alec too.

But he’s been so freaked out, he tells himself. He’s been out of his mind with worry for the demon attack and his magic and different worlds and his probably shoddy memory spellwork.

And maybe he’s also been afraid. Afraid that if he went after Alec, he’d risk everything, his life, his secrets, his meticulously prepared facade that he’s totally fine, especially with the explicit probability that he might not be Alec’s soulmate, even if Alec is his.

Ugh. Magnus scrubs his face with the back of his hand. What a mess this is.

Chairman struts his way into the drawing room, fresh up from a nap, and rubs his face into Magnus’s calf demanding pets. Magnus picks him up, scratching him under his chin. The cat purrs happily, and Magnus makes a decision.

---------------

“One honey macchiato with extra whipped cream please.”

Jace turns to see the man on the other side of the counter, a small frown on his face as he tries to place the face somewhere in his memory. Magnus shuffles from toe to toe, lips pinched together tensely. Jace regards him closely, and doubt rises in the back of Magnus’s mind.

Did he do a sloppy job?

It’s not an exact science, to be frank. Memory magic hardly ever is. It’s not quantifiable like potions, and definitely not by the book like a summoning. Memory magic is, at its root, intuitive. Blindly stumbling about in another person’s mind and hoping as hell that you didn’t erase some developmental memories.

And if anyone knows anything about Magnus, it is that he really isn’t a coffee man. Not anymore anyway. He used to be, once upon a bygone era, when waking up after a night of partying and starting the day with another bout of partying had to be connected with the help of a magically summoned cup of coffee. But those days are far gone, and Magnus mostly prefers his jasmine tea with a touch of honey. Which is why he came to Java Jace to check up on the blond. He’s no more his old self than his magic is controllable.

Still, he’d hoped that it would’ve come back like riding a bicycle.

That hope seems pretty bleak now, as Jace crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes at the man in a white cardigan in front of him. “Is this his way of apologizing to me after he criticized my barista skill yesterday?”

“Uh….what?” Magnus asks confusedly.

“I told him that honey macchiato is my least ordered item and literally he’s the only one who orders it and that’s why I have to keep an entire thing on the menu, and get honey from the supermarket too.”

“Sorry, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” Magnus winces.

“Wait, you don’t know the Lightwoods, do you?” Jace nods gravely, “And I just accused a customer for no reason at all, what a dumbass I am.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Magnus waves it off.

“No, no, seriously. Sorry man.” Jace goes to make the drink with a practiced hand. “But I have to say, you seem awfully familiar. Did I see you somewhere before? Maybe in college?”

“Uhh….” Magnus chuckles nervously, panic rising steadily in his heart, “I don’t think so. Unless you went to school in Indonesia.”

“That’s a no. Born in London but grew up here.” Jace nods. “Sorry, I can just really picture you and Clary inside a basement, I was there too.”

“Um-”

“Oh god that sounded so creepy. I swear it wasn’t something weird or anything, I can just remember feeling really scared all of a sudden. Maybe I should stop drinking from my own shop, huh?”

Jace’s casual grin does nothing to soothe Magnus’s nerves, and he smiles along politely, and sends wisps of magic through the minute contact between them as the barista hands over his order. Jace jolts immediately, looks down, curling and uncurling his fingers over and over.

“Everything okay?” Magnus asks tentatively. Jace throws an unsure smile his way.

“Yeah, just, almost burnt my fingers I guess. Hazards of working in the food industry, right?” Magnus doesn’t answer, instead brings out his card to pay, till Jace claps his hands loudly. “I knew it! I knew I remembered you from somewhere.”

Magnus’s heart sinks faster than lead in water, and he racks his brain for any spell that could come in handy for a quick memory erasure. Except it’s been over two centuries, and his memory is definitely not what it used to be when he used magic regularly.

“You’re that psychic right? The one Luke went to? You know, Luke Greymark? He owns a bookshop on the crossing of 22nd and Richardson.”

A breath of relief punches its way out of Magnus, shoulders sagging visibly. “Yes, I remember him. He’s a very good man.”

“He is.” Jace nods. “He’s my girlfriend’s godfather, actually.”

“Oh.” That’s all Magnus says, afraid to shake the still brittle effects of his spell. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You’re welcome.”

---------------

“Dude, I almost lost a customer because of you today.”

“What?” Alec asks, half of his attention on his phone where his assistant’s been sending him swatches for their latest event. “No no no, pink’s all wrong.” Alec mumbles as he types, “Go for lilac, much more elegant.”

“Here you go, one honey macchiato with chocolate drizzle.” Alec reaches for the cup bindly, but is met with blank space. He looks up finally, only to meet with Jace’s unimpressed glare. “What? I’m arranging a gala for a very, very, very moody client. I mean ‘changes the guest list every three minutes’ kind of moody.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Jace hands him his coffee finally, wincing as Alec takes a sip of the still hot drink. “Seriously, how does that not burn your throat?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Alec throws a lewd wink his way, making Jace throw a bunch of stirrers at him. Alec finally puts the phone down after a bout of rigorous texting, and looks up at Jace. “Now, what is this customer you were telling me about?”

“Just some psychic dude, came in and ordered that godforsaken drink you make me make you every morning. I half thought he was joking and you sent him.”

“I didn’t.” Alec shakes his head.

“Yeah, he told me. It’s all cool,” Jace shrugs. “Funny thing too, he seemed really sweet, and with a sweet tooth like yours. You would’ve liked him.”

“Uh huh.” Alec says off-handedly, already busy texting back to his team.

-----------------

The last gala Magnus went to was in 1903.

It’s been a hell of a time. Quite literally too, since a hellmouth opened in the middle of the dance floor. It had taken all the warlocks present to close it, and even then they couldn’t have done it without the Shadowhunters pouring in with weapons drawn.

It had also been the last time Magnus ever used magic in battle.

It seems that way now, bringing out the outfits that found their way in the back of Magnus’s closet, unused and unneeded for decades after decades. Magnus had lost touch with his magic, all warlocks did, but for someone like Magnus, someone breathing and living in magic day after day, needing it like air in his lungs, it had been drastic.

Magnus had cut ties with almost all of his old friends. It hadn’t been intentional, for most of the cases. Just seeing those warlocks ready and accepting eternity without magic made him despair far more than the actual reckoning of it. Catarina still comes around every few weeks, more often if she’s exhausted after an especially gruelling day at the ER. Ragnor still sends letters every few years aside from his phonecalls, his horned friend adamant on keeping the beautiful traditions of penpals alive by his sheer force of will.

But somewhere down the road, Magnus had stopped being the man he once was.

The clothes of an era bygone stare him in the eyes as he brings them out one by one- shirts, pants, breeches, boots, accessories that museums would give a limb and a half for.

The reason for all this, lies heavy at his desk in this other room.

Malcolm Fade was a wild man while he had magic. After losing his soulmate to the whims of the Nephilim, he’d grown almost mad it had seemed, until he lost his magic as well. Magnus had visited him a few times in the past, while everyone was still reeling from the loss of the Shadow World. Malcolm had seemed like his older self, more cheerful, more present in general. Magnus had been glad to see his old friend coming back to himself, and hoped this change will continue to be good for him.

It seems that his love for extravagant parties has not changed however.

The pale lavender envelope was hand delivered almost two days ago, making Magnus lose enough sleep over it already. What does it mean to have been invited to a gala, while his magic is back and in such a precarious way?

Magnus had stayed up staring at the invitation for hours, until he had decided to go at precisely 3:47 am, and to conceal the return of his magic until absolutely necessary.

Malcolm may be a friend, but he's a friend who suffered the loss of a soulmate, who Magnus last remembers having the Black Volume necessary for necromancy, and who isn’t above violence to get his Annabel back, if history is witness.

It’s better to bide his time. Learn to control it better.

And there's still a tiny part of him that thinks this is all temporary, and that this too will pass like a phase of the moon.

Magnus doesn’t pay any attention to that part, instead gathers up some clothes to take to the tailor nearby for a quick fitting.

---------------

“Holy fuck.” Alec gapes at the fabric lying on the fitting table at David’s tailor shop. It’s practically Manhattan’s worst kept secret at this point, that while a big name company may provide you a great designer dress or suit, you always come to David and his wife Genya for fitting. He’s seen them work wonders with his most nitpicky of clients, and for all the business the Lightwood name brings, he practically has an open access to the place.

The fabric’s unlike anything he’s seen before, the threadwork in gold and the artistically arranged deep brown buckles might seem too much, but yet it all ties perfectly together somehow.

“Is it the fabric you’re making my waistcoat in? Please say yes!” Alec tries to make a pleading face, but Genya hits his slouching back with the back of her measurement board.

“Stand still. Or I can’t work on you, and you can go wherever you’re going in this weird bulging state.” If it had been anyone else, Alec would’ve had a comeback, but Genya is a force to be reckoned with, and that eyebrow quirk is sure to leave his gambit backfiring. So Alec keeps his mouth shut, and the ginger hums appreciatively.

“This isn’t ours, sorry Alec.” David answers him with an apologetic smile.

“All good.” Alec offers, standing as still as possible, so as to not anger the seamstress currently working on the seam of his cuffs.

“That’s actually from one of our oldest clients.” Genya says, her voice muffled as she turns to work on Alec’s pants. “He came in and said his great grandfather had this made from us in the early 1900s. Said he’s going to a themed party and needed a refit.”

“Funny, the party I’m arranging is also themed around the early twentieth century.” Alec nods, before rolling his eyes. “Though honestly my client has made it into an hodgepodge if you ask me.”

“I’m sure you’re gonna do a wonderful job either way.” Genya offers, David nodding along with his wife.

They always seem such an odd couple, Genya with her fiery heart and strong smile and eager to talk to everyone, and David with his quiet sketches and always busy doing something . Alec has never seen two people so opposite, yet so in love.

His soulmark itches in the corner of his ribs, and Alec moves involuntarily, making Genya tut loudly. He doesn’t have time to think about wherever his soulmate is, whatever he’s doing.

He can’t.

That’s why he took this gig, after so many of his friends gave up trying to coordinate with Malcolm Fade’s- ahem, eccentric- choices. They all warned him about it, about the insufferability of it all, but he needed something, anything , after that day. Because no matter what he did, those kind brown eyes would come back to haunt him in his sleep, the smile in them so cruel, so mocking.

Genya taps on his shoulder, shattering his thoughts for the time being, and Alec’s grateful for the little intervention before his thoughts could turn dark like they’ve been for a few days now. Alec understands it, has heard of it. It’s the lack of the bond while coming so close to his soulmate. The bond is snapping forward, trying to find its twin, only to meet with emptiness.

Alec wants to rip it out of himself.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Alec. You’re going to be okay.” Genya says, not unkindly. She’s always had the uncanny ability to understand exactly what goes on inside someone’s head, and no matter how much Alec tries, it works on him nonetheless. It used to unnerve him, now it just feels familiar.

“I’m going to be more than okay,” Alec jokes, trying to lighten the mood, “I’m going to be fabulous in this suit. You’ve truly outdone yourself, David.”

The man in question only smiles a little, while Genya looks over her husband proudly, love shining in her blue eyes. Alec looks away from them, the bond screaming all alone in his chest. It’s too painful to look at people so clearly in love.

“When they come back to pick it up, tell them I said they have excellent taste.” Alec spares one last glance at the cloth lying on the table, before walking out to the counter.

---------------------

Magnus is late to his first proper gala in over a century.

It’s really the Chairman's fault, he sighs to himself. If the cat hadn’t decided to be an absolute arse today, he would’ve been out the door to get his waistcoat at least an hour earlier. It’s a miracle he’s not missing the party entirely.

Well, a miracle and maybe a little bit of magic.

Okay, maybe more than a little.

It’s dangerous to try out portalling at such an early stage of his magic’s comeback, Magnus knows. The theory has also been proven multiple times as he stumbled across a petting zoo in France and an abandoned ruins of a church in Rome for the past hour. It took him three tries to finally get the location right. At least, knowing New York traffic, he’s still earlier than it would’ve taken him in a taxi.

Maybe he shouldn’t have uninstalled uber so soon.

The doorman regards him closely, and Magnus feels himself stiffen under the strict scrutiny. He feels like an actor playing pretense, his clothes and makeup all done in the hands of a man he no longer is. But, it’s still fun to see so many familiar faces under the same roof.

Whoever planned this party did a wonderful job of it, Magnus thinks. The chandelier is reflecting all the disco lights currently hanging from the ballroom, a swath of artifacts and activities from several different decades all in the same place, as is Malcolm’s taste, Magnus remembers.

But there’s still order in this chaos, a type of organized mess of a beauty, and Magnus can appreciate it. His thoughts flow, unbridled, as he takes a glass of soda on the rocks from the bartender, about a similar party he went to not too long ago, and how everything changed since then.

His moment of tranquil appreciation is soon interrupted by a pink-skinned phouka slamming into him. Magnus loses balance at the collision, and the world flips the centre of gravity in a blink of an eye, his drink spilling everywhere.

“Shit.” Magnus swears low in his throat.

“Can’ye see w’er y’er goin’?” The phouka yells in a deep accent, startling Magnus.

“I’m sorry.” Magnus apologizes, knowing full well it was not, in fact, his fault. It’s not in his nature to cause conflict. Even if he’s the one drenched in soda.

Even if his magic is crackling at his fingertips for a retaliation.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Magnus feels his magic going into overdrive, his skin feels too tight- too hot- too everything . He’s feeling like he’s seeing the whole party from a different perspective, the colours feel more vibrant, the chandelier a little sparklier, the sweet stench of the spilled drink a little stronger.

He feels drunk without having a single sip of anything.

“This nothin’ nobody’s tryna ge’ in the par’y for a quick sip, I reckon. I doubt he’s even in the list Mr Fade gave’em.” The phouka gives him a dirty glance. Magnus considers baring his eyes- his true eyes- for him to see exactly who this ‘nothing nobody’ is.

He decides against it at the last moment, instead pulls himself to his full height, towering over the barely four feet tall fae. Magnus juts his chin out the way he’s seen his best friend do every time he asks Raphael for a movie night, puts his mask away, and buttons the open jacket, regardless of its now drenched state. “My name is Magnus Bane. Check your damn list again.”

“Magnus.”

----------------

Alec feels like he’s dreaming.

This party is a dream in itself, the setting is done deliberately to emulate a sort of dream like chaos. He’s chosen his own outfit accordingly, a white a black ensemble, with an elaborate angel mask that covers his cheekbones in what looks like wings.

He looks divine and he knows it.

He was ready to be a professional tonight, making sure everything goes off without a hitch, half because Mr Fade is late to his own party, and half because he had to be, because staying cooped up in his apartment with netflix and pizza sounds a lot less appealing than whatever happens here.

Even though his mind is swimming with pain from the almost rejected bond.

Even though the pain of it seems imprinted on his very soul.

But then there’s a disturbance, one of Malcolm’s tiny bouncers yelling at a man who smells like the kind of expensive soda Isabelle likes. A man wearing the same jacket Alec saw on David’s table only a few hours ago.

Alec had been delighted, ready to make conversation with the man wearing the jacket he’s been so fond of- the same man in that simple yet elegant black and white handheld domino mask, until he’d noticed his eyes.

Until he’d said those words.

Alec feels the floor tilt from under him, every inch of his body screaming to go up to him, to introduce himself, to dance with him until they can’t anymore. It seems like a different sort of madness, and Alec’s not sure he’s objecting.

“Magnus?” He asks, hope blossoming like ivy under his skin.

“Alec.”

His name on those lips is what leaves Alec undone. All his professionalism, all his suaveness, everything Alec Lightwood ever is or ever will be, concentrated on those two syllables from the man Alec has waited a long- maybe too long- to meet.

Alec starts forward, a step taken almost unconsciously, his words warm against his ribs. Magnus has put his mask down minutes ago, and as he looks at his face, Alec feels like he’s falling into a never ending tunnel of love.

Those simple strokes of metallic eyeliner, like starlight bathed in gold. And in between them, the kindest, most beautiful eyes he has ever seen.

“Magnus.” Alec chokes out again, unable to say anything else. Magnus stretches a hand out for him to hold, and Alec takes it like a drowning man being offered a raft.

It takes him a moment to realize that the words have stopped hurting, as if a simple touch from Magnus have doused the burning flame into cool waves of calm.

---------------

Magnus takes a leap of faith.

Alec’s voice feels choked, like it hurts him to breathe anymore, and Magnus feels his whole life flash in front of him, all eight hundred years of it. It’s been too long, far too long, since he’s taken a chance on love. He’s gone cozy in his little comfort zone, happy to stay unrejected.

But he doesn’t want to do that anymore. So he offers a hand, a simple gesture masking a thousand words.

I’m sorry it took me so long.

I’m sorry I ran away.

I’m sorry I didn’t look for you.

I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere else.

Alec catches his hand, holding him close like the only hope in his whole world, and Magnus feels like he’s weightless, floating on clouds.

“Dance with me?” Alec asks, the question more of a request than anything else.

Magnus doesn’t find it in himself to say no, and quite frankly, he doesn’t want to either. So he smiles, eyes crinkling with hope and happiness and possibility. “I thought you’d never ask.”

------------

The fast pop music changes into a slow waltz as the two of them go down to the dancefloor, a round ballroom stretching almost fifty meters every which way. Alec pulls Magnus right underneath the enormous chandelier, the reflected golden light painting them both in halos. They sway together, happy to just be close for the moment, and Alec is grateful. He doesn’t have it in him to talk right now, not when everything feels too perfect and too much like everything he’s ever wanted.

Finally, the music ends, and Magnus looks at him for a long moment right in the middle of the dance floor. Alec feels uncharacteristically nervous, everything he is laid bare in front of his soulmate. But he doesn’t shy away, instead he meets his gaze head on, before Magnus grabs his hand. Alec lets himself be led out of the ballroom, away from the crowd, finally stopping at the adjoined balcony, away from prying eyes.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

“I thought I’d never see you again.”

Both men speak at the same time, before pausing to comprehend what just happened. A small smile graces Magnus’s face, and Alec wants to live in it, revel in it, spend his forever in it.

“I’ll go first,” Magnus says, “I’m sorry I walked out on you abruptly that day. There was an emergency and I had to leave.”

“Emergency?” Alec asks, concerned, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. Everything is fine.” Magnus assures him. “Just- I told myself I left for that reason only, but the truth is, I was scared. I’ve heard those words a million times before, and every time they scarred me like a blade. I was so scared- scared of everything that I would be taking a chance on- afraid what I would be risking. I’m sorry. Really really sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Alec stops Magnus, clasping both his hands with his own, “I could have looked for you, tried to understand why you left, why you didn’t talk to me. I’ve heard my words too, over and over and over again. Until they hurt like a million paper cuts at the same time. And- and after you, I was so caught up in my own hurt, I didn’t stop to think there could be a second explanation.”

“I’m so sorry.” Magnus lowers his eyes, guilt overflowing his heart.

“Don’t be. Please don’t be.” Alec brings up Magnus’s hands, kissing them both, “You came back to me, that’s all that matters. I’m so so so happy to see you again.”

“This whole time I’ve been running up and down the whole city, trying to forget you somehow , but it’s like the more I tried to forget everything, the more the world just pulled me towards you.” Alec lets out a surprised chuckle. “I tried to plan a corporate party, but the banner place fucked up, and I had to get it done from somewhere else, and they told me about this other guy who’d been the same kind of bindup like me, and that he’s sweet and polite and that he’s been trying to get his banner for weeks, and all I could picture was you, and I just- I just couldn’t not help him.”

Magnus feels recognition hit him full force. “You’re the one who told Andrew to get my banner done in time?”

Alec stares at him for a full minute before speaking. “Oh god. Please don’t tell me it was you who went to Jace’s to get the same order as me.”

“You know Jace?”

“Our parents are high school friends, we practically grew up together.” Alec explains. “Honey macchiato?”

“Honey macchiato.” Magnus smiles, the two sharing a secret between just them under the night sky while the party rages on inside.

“And you were at David and Genya’s,” Alec says half to himself, before smiling mirthfully, “I told them to tell the owner of the jacket that they have great taste.”

“And?” Magnus goads him on.

“And I’ve decided that the owner has amazing taste, especially in soulmates.” Alec winks. “Though their taste is not enough to rival my own, because my soulmate is better, prettier, more amazing, than everyone else in the world. Brighter than all the stars in the sky.”

Magnus sputters for a second at the compliment, splotchy blush blooming on his golden cheeks as he ducks his head. Alec can’t stop grinning.

“Can we get out of here?” Magnus says in a stroke of sudden confidence, the surety in his voice evaporating as soon as the words leave his lips.

Alec makes an exaggerated gesture of being surprised, and Magnus can’t be annoyed with him even if he wanted to. “Mr Bane. Oh my. So forward.”

“You don’t have to.” Magnus adds quickly. “I get it, this is your event, and we can leave once it’s over. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t say that, Magnus.” Alec practically bounces the way to the reception, and signs off on a few papers, before explaining some things to his assistants. All the while holding Magnus’s hand in his own, like it’s his second nature by now.

Magnus feels like he’s walking on sunshine.

-------------------

Later, Magnus and Alec stumble into his shop-in-apartment in Brooklyn, tangled together with limbs and mouths and hearts and bonds, losing touch with the reality of where one begins and another ends, words of love and promises whispered into every kiss.

I love you.

I’m not going to leave.

We’re together.

Everything’s going to be alright.

----------------

#alec lightwood #magnus bane #hmdiscord #malec #malec fanfic #jay.fic #mine #writing #my writing #this world inverted #twi!alec #twi!magnus #alternate alec #alternate magnus

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

hi i’d like max x reader where he’s having very stressful day at work like everything that can go wrong does go wrong and the reader is his gf and bc of all this stuff going wrong he forgets that she’s supposed to visit him at work so she comes in and starts talking about her day and how great it was and then he just shoots up and goes to hug her and starts kissing her and playing with her hair and she’s like ??? cause this never happens and he just lays his head on her lap and he rants about his day and she listens and she tries to comfort him as best she can thank u 🥺

Rough Day At Work [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: Oh. my god. This is a long one. I write a lot of Maxwell fluff but this one is by far one of my favourites. It's a journey of pure, unadulterated sweetness with a sliver of comedy. And it's set at Christmas— perfect to get you in the festive mood! Reblogs appreciated because this isn't showing up in tags.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: food mention, drink mention, brief allusions to sex, Maxwell is ~stressed~.

Rating: PG-13

Masterlist in pinned! Requests open x

Maxwell Lord had his fair share of bad days. Things almost always went wrong in his line of work, but it was almost never his fault. He could always squander up an excuse or find someone else to blame. But today it was one thing after another.

He was late. He had a meeting with the board team first thing but as the Christmas traffic filled the bustling roads of DC, he had already missed the first twenty five minutes of the conference. He practically fell out of the black limo that drove him to work every morning, plodging his feet through the thick layers of snow. It was so deep this morning, the ice cold water seeped through his leather Armani shoes and even through his favourite cashmere socks. The ones with little purple polka dots. He shivered uncomfortably as the clumps of ice sat in between his toes, melting, and so every footstep made an obscene squelching noise. He didn't have the time to fuss around and change his shoes. The bottoms of his tailored pants were dripping. He bolted through the glass revolving doors of Black Gold Cooperative, trailing a pool of water behind him. His receptionist Anna, and his assistant Raquel, stood up abruptly, their eyes widening as they saw their boss in such a hurried frenzy.

"Mr Lord! You have your nine o’ clock meeting and it’s now nine twenty-” Raquel raised her hand and called for him, but he didn't bother to stop in his tracks.

"Yes Raquel, I know!" Maxwell yelled after her, already tapping his feet impatiently as he waited for the elevator. "Cmon, cmon…" he grumbled as it slowly made its way down from the 25th floor to the ground floor.

When Maxwell entered the board meeting, his cheeks were a rosy pink from the cold winter weather. His eyes were glazed and the waves in his dark blonde hair were falling out of place. He had styled it perfectly this morning, the same way he did it every morning. You had even helped him, brushing through his locks when he had hopped out the shower. But now he looked as though he had just run a marathon, breaking out in a cold sweat. He swore if he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he'd have a heart attack. But surely, the day couldn't get any worse. Right? Maxwell had made it to the meeting, albeit late. At least he was there.

Wrong.

"I am so sorry." he scrambled, plopping his briefcase down on the table and slipping past the many occupied chairs. He slumped down in one eventually, pulling out in a notepad and pen. "Bad traffic," he huffed. "Can someone give me the lowdown?"

He eventually looked up to see his company. Twelve older ladies in pink button down dresses and white frilly aprons, their hair tied back into matching low buns. Maxwell froze up, his gaze wandering from woman to woman as it slowly began to sink in.

"Mr Lord…" the woman at the head of the table said cautiously. She looked just as baffled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I've worked for Black Gold Cooperative for five years now but never did I expect to see you in person."

Maxwell looked back at the other girls who were all nodding in agreement, beaming with excitement. "Uh." He didn't know what to say, but instead, he placed his pen and notepad back into the inside of his suit jacket pocket and stood up. "I think- I think I'm in the wrong meeting." he announced.

"We are the body of staff who are responsible for the cleanliness and hygiene of your company sir. We spend ten hours a day washing and tidying every surface, every inch of this building. We take great care of it." one of the ladies spoke up and Maxwell became even more confused. Although clearly, on a day like this, it didn't take much to confuse him.

"The cleaning staff have meetings in here?" He wondered out loud, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left his lips. He didn't want to come off as rude. "I mean, I'm your employer. Pft, of course I know that you have meetings. And I'm glad you do so. It's good to take direction!" he was doing that motivational voice he used on television, making the 60 year old cleaners swoon with admiration. "I- I should get going but. Uh, yes. Lovely to meet you all."

"Mr Lord!" A lady with ebony hair and crinkles by her eyes stood up, handing Maxwell his briefcase. He nodded appreciatvely and walked to the door where her hand met his arm and stopped him in his tracks. "Could I get your autograph, please? I'm just a huge fan of your infomercials."

Maxwell checked the time on his wristwatch. Almost half an hour late, but he couldn't deny one of his cleaners. Once upon a time he wouldn't have bothered giving them a second glance yet he leaned over the table and signed his name on a sticky note. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Pamela," she beamed brightly.

"Nice to meet you Pamela, have a good day." he pat her shoulder and went open the door when another voice yelled his name.

"Mr Lord!" a woman with white hair stood up, a grin pinned on her face. "I'm Doris," she introduced confidently, but her voice was shaky with her old age. "I remember when your father was on the television. I used to clean for him too, you know? Oh, he was such a lovely gentleman. And you look more and more like him every day. Such a handsome man, you are."

Maxwell stiffened up, his hand grabbing the door handle so hard he was sure his knuckles might've turned white. "Oh," was the only thing that could really leave his lips. He wanted to leave.

"Mr Lord, your father I mean-, every Christmas he'd give little old me a kiss," she recalled, her heart blooming at the memory. "Of course I wasn't old then. I was young. And beautiful."

Maxwell exhaled and nodded his head, unsure of really what to say or where this conversation was going. All he could think about was the board meeting that he was already extremely late for. Maxwell pushed down on the door handle and Doris let out a long dramatic sigh, making Maxwell pause once again to hear what she had to say. "I haven't been kissed like that, by a man as attractive as your father, in years." she sighed longingly, fluttering her eyelashes.

That was when Maxwell realised. He sighed quietly, his eyes scanning the room. All the cleaners were staring at him, expecting him to make his move on poor old Doris. Then, he turned back to Doris and offered her that familiar Hollywood smile. The same smile that the whole world was used to seeing on five o'clock television. He took her hand and brushed a soft kiss over her wrinkled knuckles before gently dropping her hand again. There was no denying the pink blush that coloured her cheeks. The action earned a few squeaks and squeals around the room and while they were all babbling with excitement about what they'd just witnessed happen to their friend Doris, Maxwell took the opportunity to run.

He did finally make it to the meeting. He squeezed past his business associates, trying to locate his chair around the table. In the process, he knocked over a cup of coffee. It spilled all over Maxwell, and one of his colleagues. Maxwell's pale blue suit jacket was now stained with brown espresso, and he knew it would take more than just a few washes to get the stain out. He muttered a small 'sorry' before finding his seat and taking out his notepad and pen. Just as he finished writing the date at the top of his piece of paper, the director of the meeting called it quits and everyone flustered out of the room.

All this had happened and it was only ten in the morning.

Luckily, that was the only meeting of the day and he knew he was going to be spending the rest of the day in his office doing paperwork. That was easy enough. Maxwell padded into his enormous office which took up the entirety of the top floor at Black Gold Cooperative headquarters. He shut the double doors, finding peace in knowing that there was no need for anyone to come in and distract him. Maxwell tugged off his blazer and hung it on the back of a chair. He unclipped his suspenders that held his tailored pants up, and threw them to one side, along with his shoes and soaked socks. He padded into the closet at the back of his office and shuffled out of his pants, changing into some grey sweatpants.

He smiled, beginning to feel warm again. Wearing the sweatpants reminded him of you and it made him feel like he was at home. He remembered a few weeks into your relationship; your surprise when you caught a glimpse of his wardrobe. Not a single piece of casual wear in sight. You wondered if Maxwell Lord had ever known the comfort of sweatpants and so, that afternoon, you went out and bought him a pair. They changed his life. Maxwell would always favour his suits, that's just who he was, but he would love to wear the sweats when he wanted to lounge about in the house.

He was tired. His hair was still damp, the dark blonde waves curling at the nape of his neck and falling out of place every time he tried to remedy it. He still smelled vaguely of espresso, and was still haunted by the interaction of Doris the cleaner. He pursed his lips together into a thin line at the memory of kissing her hand.

Maxwell walked over to his desk and sunk into his chair, holding his head in his hands. Finally some peace.

Until there was a loud knock at the door. Maxwell swung his head back and groaned. "Come in!" he shouted, quickly composing himself for whoever wished to see him. It was his blonde assistant, Raquel.

"Hi sir!" she beamed, waving her free hand and placing a glossy catalogue on the table.

"Raquel." Maxwell nodded politely, sitting up and looking at the catalogue she had positioned before him.

"For the Christmas gala," she explained, flicking open the pages and pointing out different things. She'd carefully highlighted and labelled everything she wanted to show him, making it easier for his conveience. "I was thinking huge black and gold balloons with the company name on. Gold confetti. Banners and streamers hanging from every corner. A buffet, and every table cloth will also have the company's name on, printed in small, glitter ink." Her loud and chatty voice was giving Maxwell a headache.

"Yeah, balloons with Black Gold Cooperative written on really scream ‘Have a Very Merry Capitalist Christmas’." he sighed, slowly looking up at her. She blinked a few times. "Well Raquel?" he quizzed, growing irritable. It wasn't her fault, it's just everything was beginning to build up. She blinked again, dumbfounded by his comment. "Is that what Christmas is about to you?"

"W-what do you mean?" she asked nervously, removing her hand from the catalogue and taking a step back from his desk.

"What about red and green balloons? We'll have a Christmas tree in the ballroom. We could even make it family friendly and hire a Santa Claus for the kids to meet." Maxwell suggested. "And no weird company merchandise."

Raquel blinked, not saying a word. It had never really dawned on Maxwell how much you had changed him. His staff realised practically instantly— from the moment he came into work after the first time you had spent the night, it was like he was a changed man. He held the door open for people, he wished people a good morning. And as your relationship with him developed, you opened up a brand new side to him. He became more affectionate and caring for those around him, a feeling he had shut off from the world for his entire life.

He had never cared for Christmas, never cared as much to host a Christmas gala either. His father died during the festive season and it hadn't been the same without him. His mother didn't do much to celebrate. Maxwell had everything he always wanted; all the new toys and fanciest designer clothes. But it meant nothing to him without his father. Christmas meant nothing to him without love. That's why it all changed when he met you. You finally brought love back into his life, and everything felt whole again. You completed him. You taught him how to enjoy events and celebrate. You taught him happiness but most importantly, you taught a cold and broken man how to love and be loved in return.

The Christmas gala was your idea. One night, around a month ago, you and Maxwell were both lying in bed together. Maxwell had expressed to you that he wanted to do something special for his staff at work. Over the past few years since he had met you, he'd slowly been softening with the people around him. Christmas time was no different and his staff were always jolly to receive a hefty bonus from him. But they didn't expect anything more.

You came up with the idea of a gala, and Maxwell couldn't help but smirk a little when you mentioned it. He knew that your suggestion was deeply rooted into the fact you had always wanted to attend a gala, wear a beautiful dress and have your hair and makeup done. More importantly, you wanted to go to a gala with Maxwell and have him by your side looking as handsome as ever. The prospect excited you so much. With Maxwell, you knew that you wanted for nothing. That he could give you anything and everything. But you would never ask. You wanted him to know that for as long as he was with you, you had everything you needed.

Normally for Maxwell, gala’s were a place for adults only. Bars that served the best alcohol and a place where men who were just as rich as him would meet and schmooze. Before you, gala’s were a fine opportunity for Maxwell to meet a lady and take her home. That's all he enjoyed them for. But you had taught Maxwell that there was more to life than wealth, women and good champagne. He was so sure you'd love the idea of turning the gala into a family friendly party, and he was certain that his employees (the likes of the cleaning staff, for example) would love the ability to bring their families to such a high class event.

"Don't worry Raquel," Maxwell smiled. "Forget about the party planning for now. I know someone who would love to organise the Christmas gala." Today was tough, but everytime he thought about you, he couldn't wipe the grin from his face. He was one lovesick puppy. "Could you bring me a coffee?"

Raquel nodded and picked the catalogue back up, padding out his office without saying another word.

At around twelve o’clock, Maxwell was about to take his lunch break- but the phone on his desk began to ring. "Maxwell Lord." he introduced himself, holding the phone to his ear. It was the CEO of Powergrid Electrics, an electrical company in Rome. Rude and unhinged, the boss man reminded Maxwell of a version of himself that he had left in the past.

Maxwell had almost sealed an amazing deal with the company, but it had seemed that the CEO hadn't received a vital part of the contract. Trying to regulate the anger that was building up inside of him, Maxwell shakily put the phone back on the hook and called his second assistant, Emmerson, into his office.

"It's impossible," Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows together in bewilderment, after explaining the situation. He scrambled amongst the papers that were stacked mountain high on his desk. "I put it in the envelope and had Raquel send it off to Rome last week. I remember… I know I didn't forget. I never forget." he said, trying to sound as composed and confident as possible. There was no mistake in the worried little warble in his voice, though.

Emmerson, Maxwell's second assistant, wasn't sure if he was going to regret his next move. "Sir," his voice was timid and small. Maxwell's eyes snapped up to meet Emmerson's and Emmerson felt his heart rate increase rapidly. Emmerson reached over Maxwell's desk, picking up a folded piece of paper with a sticky note on top that read 'For Raquel: give to Rome'. "Is it possible that this is the missing part of the contract? That maybe, you might have just, forgotten to give it to Raquel?" he said slowly, trying to beat around the bush as much as possible.

Maxwell slowly reached over to the slip of paper, unravelling it like he was scared to see what the contents would reveal. He sighed out loud when he realised he had, in fact, forgotten to give Raquel the document, and there was no one to blame but himself. He ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating what to do next. He didn't want to believe he was out of options. He wasn't one to give up, especially when it came to the sanctity of his business.

"I need you to go to Rome." He said immediately and Emmerson's jaw dropped.

"I- I'm sorry?" Emmerson quizzed, confused and still slightly afraid of how impulsive Maxwell was being. "With all due respect, can't you just call Rome and ask for an extension on the deadline?"

Maxwell scoffed. "Call Rome? I can't just call a country," Emmerson was about to interject to explain that wasn't exactly what he meant but Maxwell didn't allow it. There was something about the way Maxwell's brain worked… he didn't get where he was today from taking the advice of his assistants. "You will go to Rome and give Powergrid Electrics the remaining part of the contract yourself. I trust you."

"But sir-" Emmerson raised a shaky hand.

"Oh, I see, you're worried about accomodation," Maxwell assumed, chuckling lightly. "I'll get you a five star hotel and give you a spending allowance of three hundred euros a day, how does that sound? No need to fret. Hurry along now."

"Mr Lord," Emmerson deadpanned finally, causing Maxwell to look up at his assistant in bewilderment. Emmerson was still afraid of his boss, of course, but he knew he had to stand his ground. "I can't go to Italy."

There were a few beats of silence. "What?" Maxwell questioned. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a free trip of a lifetime. You have an easy job to do. You can spend the rest of the day souvenir shopping. I don't care. Just get the contract delivered." He ordered.

"No." Emmerson put his foot down.

"No?" Maxwell repeated, raising his eyebrows like he was due an explanation.

"Mr Lord, I didn't want to say anything because it seems… you've had a lot going on today. But my girlfriend, Katherine, she's due our baby. See, we're having a son. I'm not sure if you knew… I mean, you probably didn't know. But, I promised Katie- uh, Katherine, that I'd meet her at the hospital after my shift. I wish I could help you sir, I really do. But I love my girlfriend and I've been waiting nine months to meet our son so if you please-"

The old Maxwell Lord would've burned red with rage, firing poor Emmerson on the spot, right then and there. How dare he question Maxwell. How dare he deny Maxwell. How dare he choose his love life, his family over his job. But right now, Maxwell couldn't help the small smile creep upon his lips. He was overjoyed, just wishing Emmerson had told him of the amazing news before now.

"Congratulations," Maxwell said, his voice quiet but his eyes gleaming. "On the addition of your family. That's really great."

Emmerson stood as still as ever, blinking a few times. He waited for Maxwell to snap and finally lose it. He was waiting to get the sack. But nothing. "Uh, thank you, sir." Emmerson replied hesitantly, like he wasn't sure what to expect from Maxwell.

The following few moments of silence, Maxwell spent thinking about you. He thought about how radiant you glowed this morning and how he wished he didn't have to leave your side. You were the love of his life and quite frankly, since meeting you, he understood the priority of choosing love over wealth. He finally had someone he could hold onto during the dead of night, someone to ramble to about his feelings, someone he could kiss and love and cherish forever.

Maxwell Lord finally loved something more than his business and that was you. Emmerson coughed awkwardly, breaking the silence and Maxwell flicked his wrist up, checking the time on his gold Rolex. It was almost twelve thirty.

"Why are you still here?" Maxwell grinned, swinging his hand to point a finger towards the door. "Go! You have a son to meet!"

"Sir, I don't finish until five o’ clock." Emmerson replied, stiffening up.

"No no no! Go home, go see your girlfriend, please." Maxwell stood up and shook his assistants hand. "I have no doubt you'll be an amazing father," he said genuinely. "And I'll have Y/N send over some flowers and a donation after the birth."

"You- you're really letting me off work early?" Emmerson beamed and Maxwell nodded his head enthusiastically. "Oh how can I ever thank you?"

"I hear Maxwell is a popular choice of name for baby boys right now," the CEO charmed and Emmerson let out a small but genuine laugh. "Now go! Tell Katherine I send my love."

"I will do, thank you sir." Emmerson grinned, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack and merrily running out of the office.

Maxwell sunk into the plushness of his leather chair, still unable to escape the smile that played on his lips. He imagined the possibility of you, the love of his life, carrying his child. He thought about how beautiful you would look, how you'd glow, and how he'd simply give up everything to take care of you. Make sure you had everything you needed during your pregnancy. He imagined building the nursery with you and picking out some books on parenting, studying with you so he could ensure that he'd be the best father ever. He'd never wanted kids. In fact he hated the idea of having little mini Maxwell’s running around and causing fuss and torment, but the idea of you raising them alongside him made his heart flutter. He was certain of the unconditional love you’d have for them. Similar to the unconditional love he had for you.

His eyes darted back to the unsent report on his desk and he sighed. Guess I have to call Rome after all. He thought.

Maxwell was counting the minutes until he could go home and see you. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on the sofa with you, the fire on, and watch one of those cheesy Christmas movies you liked so much. He heard the doors to his office open, frustration racing through him as he prepared himself for the next bout of 'things going wrong'. He'd normally yell at someone if they entered his office without knocking but he was so tired. So so tired.

When he saw you, he swore his heart stopped. There you were, his blessing in disguise. His angel. You were wearing your red winter coat and knee high brown boots, and you plopped your purse and a bag on one of the many side tables in his office. You took off your gloves and pulled off your wooly bobble hat, stuffing them lazily in your pocket and offered him a happy smile. He scrambled to his feet, not taking his eyes off you for a second and ran up to you, sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around. You squealed, grabbing onto him for your life and he put you down, pulling you into a tight warm hug.

"You're freezing cold." he grimaced, pulling your hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants in hope they'd warm up.

"It's snowing again." you whispered happily, smiling into his neck. He was delighted, having you in his arms and being able to smell the familiarity of your shampoo and perfume. He knew for sure now, he was going to be okay.

"I can see." he replied, moving one of his hands up to your face and padding out the pearly snowdrops that were balanced in your hair. "I am so glad to see you sweetheart." he hummed, sending vibrations through your body. You felt your heart blossom in your chest at his sentiment.

"I told you I was coming this morning," you giggled, eventually pulling away from him and taking your arms out of his pockets. You cupped his face and ran your fingers through his dark blonde hair, fixing it as best as you could. "I brought us lunch." you told him, fishing into the bag and bringing out boxes of pastries and cakes. "From that bakery we like."

Maxwell gasped and you looked up at him confused. "Baby, I completely forgot you were coming."

"I hate to say Max but you do look a little disheveled," you folded your arms across your chest and checked out your boyfriend's appearance. "What's with the sweats and… where is your tie and suspenders?" Your eyes met his feet on the floor and they widened almost comically. "Max! Where are your socks and shoes?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "Long story." he took your hand and pulled you over to the couch, pulling you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around him and he placed a hand on your thigh, pushing under your skirt and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"Tell me everything." you replied and he looked up at you with nothing but adoration in his brown eyes.

"Traffic jam on the way to work because of the snowstorm last night, and the streets were so busy with it being so close to Christmas. We couldn't get parked out front so I had to get out of the car and walk through five inches of snow to get into work. I was already late for my meeting. Soaking wet and uncomfortable," you let him ramble on, watching intently at the way his expression would change as he recalled different events in his day. You began to play with his hair, seeing that he was getting flustered at the memory of it all. "I was late for the meeting, I ended up in a whole different meeting. I didn't know the cleaners in this building even had meetings!"

"The cleaners?" you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. "You sat in on a meeting with the cleaners?" Maxwell nodded sollemnley and you nudged him playfully. "I love that."

"Well, I didn't. They're all lovely women. But this one cleaner, Doris…" he fumbled around with his fingers. "I ended up kissing her." you pulled away quickly, knotting your eyebrows together. "No! No not like that," Maxwell said quickly, pulling you back onto his lap and wrapping his arm around you. "She's like 90, said she used to work for my father and every Christmas he'd give her a kiss. She'd start talking about how she's never had a kiss from someone as handsome as my father in years. So I gave her a polite one, on her hand. And baby, I ran. As fast as I could, I had to get outta there."

You smiled. "Max, you probably made her day. That was really sweet of you."

He brushed off your comment, taking a dramatic exhale and continuing his story. "Finally got to the meeting, spilled coffee over myself and one of my associates. But by the time I had finally settled, the meeting was over. So I went back to my office and changed out of my wet, cold, coffee stained clothes and sat down. Raquel came in. She was planning the Christmas gala but it all sounded so… corporate. Not what Christmas is about at all," he explained and you nodded in agreement. "Anyways I suggested that we change the gala this year so it's family friendly. In the spirit of Christmas."

"Oh Max!" you beamed, snuggling into his chest. He smiled to himself proudly, knowing that he had made you happy.

"You good with that?" he chuckled, running his fingers through your hair.

"Yes!" you squeaked, pushing yourself back up and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "I have so many ideas."

"That's great honey," he laughed. "Because I told Raquel to forget about the gala. I figured you could plan it. You're great at stuff like that, and I know how much it means to you. I want the gala to be perfect for my staff and their families, and I trust you more than anyone else in the world."

"I can't wait," you smiled merrily, already weighing up the different ideas you had in your head. "Was Raquel okay with you taking the party planning duty away from her?"

"I think so," Maxwell replied. "She has a lot on her plate, being my assistant and all. It's a busy time of year and I think she'd appreciate having less to do."

"Well, it really does sound like you've had an eventful morning."

"Oh, I'm not finished," Maxwell grimaced and you braved yourself for the impending chaos. "Rome called and told me that the CEO of Powergrid Electrics only received half of the binding contract. So I was going to send Emmerson to Rome because I needed that contract in the hands of the CEO by midnight tonight. But Emmerson told me he couldn't. His girlfriend is having his baby today. A little boy. So I let him go home early."

"Emmerson's going to be a father?" you gasped and Maxwell nodded. "That's so wonderful! I should send him some flowers."

"I already told Emmerson you would." Maxwell grinned.

"Oh a baby boy too! How lovely. We have to go meet the baby when he's born. Please please please." you whined, fluttering your eyelashes.

"Okay darling." Maxwell pressed a kiss into your cheek.

You stood up and brought the bag over to the couch, taking out the little boxes and handing them to Maxwell. You opened them up and started to eat, as you told him how your morning had gone.

"After you went to work, I cleared up and did the dishes that you had left from breakfast. Max, I was soooo tired from last night," you blushed and his mouth twisted into a proud smile. "So I went back to bed and slept for another hour. Then I got up and took a bubble bath. Oh!" you scrambled around in your purse, taking out a fresh Polaroid and showed him it. It was a photograph of his white long haired cat, Lady, with bubbles balancing on her head. "She kept me company while I was in the bath." you smiled and Maxwell laughed.

"She looks so funny with the bubbles on her head." Maxwell took the Polaroid from your fingers and admired the cat. He was never particularly fond about animals, or having pets, but you loved them. In the first year of your relationship, Maxwell asked what you wanted for your birthday. As always, you told him that you didn't want anything materialistic, that he was all you needed. But you did tell him about an animal charity that you were so passionate about. He remembered leaving you at home and telling you that he was simply 'heading out'. He had planned on visiting the charity and making a donation in your name, as part of your birthday present. But he didn't leave the shelter empty handed.

A white fluffy cat with long whiskers and big blue eyes. Her eyes reminded him of sapphires. She mewled and padded towards him, her tail waving happily as she rubbed her cheek on his leg, circling around him. "Ah, she's a darling," the lady who was showing Maxwell around told him. "Unfortunately, she's been here with us longer than any of the other cats. She's not that good around people. But I must admit, she likes you a lot. In fact, I've never seen her so confident around another person before."

Maxwell dropped to his knees and tickled her head. She began purring erratically, rubbing her face along the edges of the rings on his fingers. "Nobody wants her?" Maxwell asked, not taking his eyes from the happy kitty. He picked her up, ignoring the white cat hair that malted onto his suit. She rubbed her soft face against his cheek and sniffed his cologne.

"No." the lady replied sadly. Maxwell smiled.

"I'll take her."

And that night, Maxwell came home with a new addition to the family. You were overjoyed, but no one was happier than little Lady Lord who had found her fur-ever home.

He placed the Polaroid on one of the side tables, promising you he would find a frame for it. "How was your bath darling?" he cooed, pressing his lips along your jaw.

You giggled, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. "Relaxing, lit some candles, done a little reading. After my bath I got dressed and tidied up the bedroom. I turned on the radio and they were playing Christmas songs. Oh! WHAM have just brought out a new one, it's really good. Hmm, me and Lady played for a little while and she let me brush her hair. Jeeves offered to drive me to the bakery but I really wanted to walk in the snow. Get some fresh air. And now I'm here! With you!"

It was safe to say Maxwell's morning was a lot more chaotic, but he was comforted knowing that you had been relaxed while he was going through all the antics.

"Your morning sounded amazing, darling." he kissed your forehead and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You let his lips brush over your skin, fall down to your nose, and eventually take place on your own lips as he leaned his forehead against yours. You giggled, his hair falling out of place again slightly and tickling you as he kissed you. You pulled him closer, encouraging him to deepen the kiss and laced your fingers in his hair. He pulled away to catch his breath but peppered small yet passionate kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“You’re being so affectionate,” you smiled, eyes sparkling with love.

“What can I say? I like to kiss you.” Maxwell exhorted and leaned in again, pressing another kiss into your lips. This time he swiped his tongue along the plumpness of your bottom lip, begging for entry. You pulled off him and he moaned. “Whaaat?” He pouted playfully and you rolled your eyes, earnestly laughing at how cute your boyfriend was.

“We shouldn’t do this at work,” you giggled.

“Baby we’ve done a lot worse than just kissing on this sofa, if you remember.” Maxwell charmed and you felt your cheeks heat up as you nodded slowly.

"The highlight of my day though, is being here, with you." you promised.

"Yeah," Maxwell hummed. "Me too."

"I'm proud of you." you said out of the blue, putting your sandwich down and wiping your mouth. Maxwell looked at you, confused. "You've had a bad morning. But you acted so selflessly today. Everything from signing autographs in your office to kissing that old maids hand, giving Raquel less work to do and letting Emmerson be with his girlfriend. You… you surprise me everyday Max. And I fall in love with you more and more everyday."

"I remember when we first met… I would've never dreamed of doing any of this." Maxwell admitted sheepishly.

"I know, I remember," you recalled. "I fell in love with the man you were then, but I somehow think I love you even more now."

And with that, Maxwell pulled you into a kiss. The curve of his nose nudged against yours and his hands pulled you into his lap, knocking the boxes of food onto the floor as you straddled him. "I love you so much." he announced.

Maxwell rarely said I love you's. But that was okay because you knew he loved you from his actions. You knew he loved you from the small kisses he'd give you on a morning, and the way he'd pull you into a hug every evening after work. You knew he loved you from the way he'd shelter you from paparazzi and squeeze your hand tight whenever you felt overwhelmed. Actions spoke louder than words. But coming from Maxwell Lord, hearing those three words struck you like a bolt of lightning. They were just words, but they meant everything to you.

He meant everything to you.

Permanent taglist~let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first

#max lord x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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phonecallwithsatan · 3 years

Text

Letter

a.n.: SURPRISE another new character that does not fit with my profile photo. This is for my very dear friend who enjoys a certain Sarah Paulson. To anyone new reading this, welcome! To those coming back, nice to meet again.

Reader and Mildred Ratched live a secret life in Lucia, California. All is well, truly, until reader walks in on something she did not expect. Angst central. 3.8k

★

“Go home, baby. Don’t worry about us. It’s fine.” Your partner of three years, almost four, was severely under the weather and looking even paler in the cyan outfit your shared job required as uniform.

You and Mildred were tucked away in a hallway where you could talk in confinement away from all the other patients and staff. You took a hand to her forehead and noticed how warm it was. You slipped the hand to her cheek and held it there, hers going up and holding it softly, sinking her head a bit into your palm.

“Call me a cab. You can take the Ford home.” Mildred heard some footsteps coming from down the hall and she quickly let go of your hand after kissing you ever so lightly as to not smear her red color on your black lipstick. You said goodbye and let go of your partner, walking away first with your white heels clicking on the linoleum floor with every step you took away. You hated these heels with a passion but it was part of the uniform. The black heels you adored were stashed away in the teal Ford you and Mildred shared.

You smoothed out your dress while you were still walking and did not turn around when you heard Mildred walking after you a few steps behind. You were deeply in love but you still kept the relationship a secret from your coworkers.

Once you got up to reception you located the phone and dialed the cab number. While it was ringing, you went up to your neck and touched the necklace Mildred gave you for your birthday a few months ago. You fidgeted around with the little heart that hung around your neck with a photo of you two inside of it.

The attendant picked up after six rings.

“Hi there, a cab at Lucia State Hospital, please.” You looked up and saw Mildred walk behind the desk by you and you smiled.

“Alright, I have a driver headed there now.” She ended abruptly.

You turned with the heels on your shoes to face Mildred.

“They said it would come shortly.” You tried reaching for her hand but she pulled back quickly. You had forgotten that no one knew.

“Thank you, y/n.” Her quiet voice barely made it over to you and she could tell you were disappointed in the lack of physical touch. Seeing this, she decided to push your necklace back into your collar. Mildred looked to the side almost to pretend to be looking for the cab you had ordered her but you knew she was just checking for people around.

You were tired of hiding, truly. But there was nothing you could really do. Besides it all, however, you were lucky just to have her. You turned to look at her point of direction and you saw the cab roll-up.

“I’ll see you later, M.” You turned back around and gave her purse over to take home. She opened up her purse and gave you the key for the Ford.

“Do you have money on you?” She nodded and you sent her off, looking over the desk as she walked away with confidence in her step even though she was hiding her own life away from the people she ate lunch next to.

The doors opened and you decided to get back to work. Only six more hours.

★

Eight o’clock rolled around and you were ready to head home after saying goodbye to all your coworkers. You hadn’t heard from Mildred through a phone call so you decided to surprise her with flowers, just because.

You took the keys out of your purse and you walked to the car. As you reached it, you popped the trunk open and took out your beloved shiny black heels. You sat down in the trunk and slipped the white ones off, throwing them worthlessly and carelessly behind you. You snorted to yourself and decided to leave them there until tomorrow’s shift. You pushed your feet in one by one after closing either clasp on them and you closed the trunk when you were done.

Luckily, you knew how to drive well in heels too.

The engine powered up and you headed for the store that was closest to you and Mildred’s home. You were frequent there since you took the liberty to do most of the shopping for the house.

You loved this store because of its broad selection of arrangements, ranging from daisies to carnations, hydrangeas available any time of year, and iris’ that brightened up your home.

The Ford was parked close and you walked in headed straight to the florals. You were mesmerized by the selection as you ran your hands through some of the flowers, holding your purse close to you and your lips pursed slightly as you made your selection.

“Are we shopping for anyone in specific today, Miss?” You turned and saw the attendant come closer to you.

You heard Mildred’s voice in your head saying that ‘it’s a small town, don’t,’ and you decided to throw a white lie.

“My best friend. She isn’t feeling well.” You watched as the attendant unsubtly scanned your face. Her eyes flickered from your bold lipstick up to your piercing eyes, switching back and forth until you couldn’t handle it anymore. You cleared your throat and she finally responded.

“How about some tulips? White, maybe? Or you might like something… bolder.” You cocked your head to the side at that comment and you took a step closer to the attendant.

“Maybe you could get me twelve stems of those red roses back there.” You turned a bit and pointed at a bouquet of roses behind the lady. She strained her neck to look and as she did her brows were furrowed.

She began to walk towards them and she spoke once again. “Best friend, you say? Aren’t these a bit too much?” She took them out of their temporary holding space and you withheld yourself from snapping.

Her back was still turned towards you as she wrapped them up for you. As she was, you took a twenty out of your wallet.

As she turned around you noticed her still staring at you in a very unsophisticated manner considering she was a sixty-year-old woman working at a market for four dollars an hour.

She handed you the roses and you pushed the twenty on the table beside you. “Keep the change, ma’am.”

You turned slowly enough the see the look on her face and you smiled to yourself as you walked to your car with the roses in hand. Mildred loved red.

You placed them on the passenger’s seat and began the short commute home. You fiddled with the radio in the dark and you came home within minutes. As you were pulling into the driveway, you noticed a car you didn’t recognize. Maybe one of the neighbors was having guests over and they had decided to park on your side of the lawn. Strange, you thought.

You switched over from drive to park and you turned the key to the left. Your home was dimly lit, even at 8:30 when you two would normally have dinner or read together. Instead of lit up windows that faced the street you were greeted with two out of the three being dark.

You took the flowers and purse from the seat and you locked the car before opening the door of your home. You yelled out for Mildred who could have been anywhere in the house. A different black pair of kitten heels greeted you at the front door instead. Those were not yours and they definitely did not belong to Mildred.

“Mildred, baby? I’m home!” You yelled once more while kicking lightly at the shoes. Placing your purse down on the kitchen table, you followed the light down the hallway that was peeking out from the crack inbetween door and carpet.

“M?” This call was quieter. It was surreal and realizing as to what was happening around you. It was barely above a whisper. The roses were still clutched in your hands as you reached for the gold door handle.

There was music playing from a stereo you had bought for the house. It was the first purchase you had made under this roof, and your lover was using it for someone else.

Infront of you laid Mildred and an unknown person in your bed. They were too busy to notice you walk in on their space. It seemed like that was how they prayed, in a shared bed that was no longer.

“Mildred, you deceiving wrench, you-” They turned around and almost like a movie deferred away from each other like two negatives. Her red lipstick was smeared all over the stranger’s face which even trailed down to her body. The sheets barely reached over her and a migraine began to form when you saw red trail down her neck to torso. Your hand flew to your mouth and your hand unconsciously gripped the flowers with a grip that was only familiar when you had to grab a patient.

“Y/n, hold on,” Mildred tried to explain but you moved faster and threw the flowers against the wall. Tears were becoming and you looked at the two that were still somehow entangled.

The flowers flew apart from their wrapping and landed in different positions on the floor. You were screaming at this point.

Your own lover. Your partner. Your lady. Your wife, even. This was your best friend, the person who hung up your jackets and the person who read outloud to you when your voice was gone. That same person didn’t even bother to change the sheets.

“You,” reached down and took the locket in your hands before tearing it off and walking over to them. “You, skank,” you shoved the necklace in the stranger’s face from inches away, “get the fuck out.”

She didn’t budge.

“Now!” You screamed and you heard Mildred yell back. The stranger got up, naked and covered in red. You turned your eyes away.

“Don’t talk to Gwen that way, y/n-” she wasn’t able to finish her sentence because you slapped her. Hard and across the face. So hard that she turned to the right to stare at Gwen.

“I didn’t know Gwen was so close to you, Mildred.” You turned to Miss Gwen and you were almost unable to hold yourself back from attacking her.

“Gwen, get the fuck out before I figure out who’s ring that is.” The ring you were mentioning was on her left hand and was obviously not from Mildred. As much as you hated and despised her soul at the moment, she would never buy a ring like that one.

Gwen was practically sprinting at this point with clothes in hand. Funny enough, she was clinging onto the locket Mildred had given you.

“Y/n, hold on, please-” you interrupted her.

“Can’t you say anything else, M?” You closed your eyes the minute you called her by her nickname. Mildred was up from the bed and was frantic to cover her self up with the white sheets you two had slept and loved in.

You stared at her. You waited for an answer. But nothing came out. Just prolonged staring and smeared lipstick coated your eyes.

You walked up to her once more. You waited and waited, but nothing. She tried reaching for your hand but you repeated your earlier move and hit her once more.

“Don’t you dare, Mildred. Don’t you dare and try to justify anything you have done.” Your finger was pointed towards her.

You walked out of the room and slammed he door. You heard it open but you ignored it as you were halfway down the wall.

“Y/n, baby-”

“Do not.” You spoke clearly and commanding. You reached the closet that held some coats and you grabbed a few. You moved down and felt her presence float around you.

You grabbed your purse and some shoes. You were not staying here tonight.

She grabbed your arm and you turned to look at the cheater who had accompanied your walk.

You two just stared at each other and her grip tightened. You shook your arm to let it loose but she would not budge.

You let your eyebrows relax and you mouth untighten. Her eyes stared deep into yours but you could just tell that there was nothing left between you two. Nothing could repair this. You shook it once more and didn’t break eye contact until she let go.

You slammed the closet door before walking out and you opened the door. Mildred followed.

She was saying something but it’s hard to register when the rage blows through your nose and ears.

You walked over to the car which you two shared and you threw your belongings in the back seat and the hopping in the front. You locked the doors before Mildred could get to you. You watched her through the window as she pleaded for you. You turned the key to the right and put the car in reverse. She ran to the back and held on to the trunk of the car. You could see her in the rear view mirror and she was not giving up without a fight.

Unknowing of what to do, you decided to scare her instead. Still in reverse, you pressed the break and the gas at the same time to rev the engine a bit and create a sound that would startle her. It worked, and she jumped to the side after you did that maneuver. Now that she was gone, you were able to safely back up.

Your tires squealed as you exited the driveway and you watched her sit in silence. The sheets had turned to brown shreds and all you could do is stare in amusement.

There was nothing left as you continued down the road with your headlights shining bright and your rearview mirror regretfull.

★

You had been driving all night from Lucia only to end up in a motel somewhere in Nevada.

You had gotten a decent nights, or days, rest and contemplated where you could end up staying for the rest of, well, life at this point. Luckily you had some cousins in Colorado. You were just hopeful that your now borrowed Ford would get you there with no problems.

The room was alright as far as the hotel clerk would know and you were able to pay and leave.

The blue Ford was waiting for you patiently and it was ready to keep moving. You hopped in and searched for some sunglasses in the glove compartment. You were sort of just digging blindly.

Instead, you found a letter. You took it out and saw your name written on it in the one and only Mildred’s cursive handwriting. Your neatly applied black lips tightened a bit and you closed the glove compartment after successfully finding a pair of cat eye shades.

You spun around the folded letter a bit and you contemplated what to do. It definitley was not placed after yesterdays events, but not before. How long was this sitting here?

You decided to open it besides it all.

Ripping it open, the letter inside read as following:

Y/n,

Four years with you have been passionate, lustful, insightful, glorious, and most of all, beautiful. Maybe it was the eyes, or perhaps the words, but you’ve found a way to tie me down and I wouldn’t leave even if I was forced to. You could shun me, and I would still love you. You could spit, kick, loathe, hit, and run me over, and I would still come back.

I had always thought that settling down with someone would mean protruding coprimises and mandatory family dinners, but you changed that, y/n. You’ve changed my perception of love and desire. The moment you walked into Lucia, I knew I had to have you.

I understand how difficult it can be to hide what we have but I want to change that. I don’t want to resist holding your hand when we walk past our neighbors and I don’t want to lie and say I’m living with my friend from High School. I promise you this isn’t forever, just temporary. Believe me, I will do everything to change that.

I want to give you this not because I have to, but because I want to. I can’t stand deceiving you so please believe me when I say that these words come from the heart and soul. Understand that, please.

I never knew I could care for someone this much.

You’re my once in a lifetime; you’re the one, y/n.

Always with love, yours truly,

Mildred Ratched.

The inconsistent words made you laugh to yourself.

You took the paper and crumpled it in your hands. Your windows were already rolled down and you threw it out the passengers side. It rolled around a bit but eventually settled.

Placing the car in reverse, you backed out of your spot. You took your sunglasses and pushed them up a bit before placing the car in drive and running over the letter.

#mildred ratched #mildred x y/n #mildred #ratched #ratched netflix #mildred ratched x reader #ratched fanfiction #mildred ratched fanfic

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izlaria · 3 years

Text

Someone you like (part 4)

This is the fourth chapter of my “Someone you like” inspired fic. It’s also available on AO3 in case you prefer that platform. Please hit me up to talk about Plance!

Summary: In the days following their arrival on Earth, Pidge finds that conflicting feelings don't just disappear because there are more people around. On the contrary, with the approach of the final battle, they seem to get worse.

FYI, we’re still on Pidge pining hour.

18 and 16 years old

Life was not easy when you were a soldier fighting against an evil, intergalactic empire, but Pidge had found a sort of balance to it all. Now that they were back on Earth and she knew her family was relatively safe, much of the sorrow she’d carried had dissolved into hopefulness.

Much, but not all.

Pidge leaned her head against the wall, hugging the papers to her chest. Being on the Garrison made it easier for her to ignore her erratic heartbeats, because she could just avoid Lance most of the time, but it also sent her into overdrive when she accidentally met him in the hallways. She could usually depend on her mother to be there – Pidge was grounded, after all –, but there were times when not even Colleen could protect her.

She wanted to talk to Lance, of course. He was one of her best friends and no crush could ever change that, but it took a lot out of Pidge to hear him drone on about Allura and all the places he wanted to show her on Earth.

Maybe her evasiveness wasn’t the most mature of Pidge’s choices, but she was tired and lovesick and feeling neglected. She would have to be excused a little pettiness.

“Do you want to tell me why I just saw you ignore Lance?” Matt raised his brows at her, an expression that Pidge herself often mimicked and that was especially irritating to be the target of. He was standing off to the side of her station, gloves still on.

Pidge pushed away from the wall, feeling flustered. She hadn’t realized her brother had witnessed the scene.

“Did I ignore Lance?” Pidge opted to feign innocence. “I was so lost in thought I didn’t really see him there. Or you.” This last bit she said with a touch of hostility.

Matt crossed his arms and hummed, sounding disbelieving. “You always were the worst liar out of the two of us, Pidge.”

She shouldered past Matt with a glare. There was a lot of work to do until the Atlas was completed and the last thing she needed were distractions like her feelings for Lance or a fight with her brother.

“When did you land on Earth, anyway?” Pidge put the papers down on her table and moved to one of the computer screens, where she’d left a new code running. It was an improved version of her and Matt’s previous software for predicting Galra presence. “I could use your eyes on this.”

Matt stood at her back, looking over her shoulder at the lines that lit up the computer.

“This is interesting…” He squinted down at Pidge. “Don’t think for a second that a new challenge will make me forget what I just saw.”

She took advantage of Matt’s positioning to elbow him in the gut.

Truthfully, Pidge knew her brother wouldn’t tease her too much about her circumstances. Matt was caring and even protective when it came to her well-being, so he would never rat her out to Lance or any of the others, even if he disagreed with her actions.

Despite that, she struggled with being vulnerable around him.

Pidge didn’t want to think about it, but the years they’d spent apart had certainly affected their relationship. Before going to space, Matt was more than her brother, he had been her closest friend. But now she had Hunk, Lance, and even Keith and Allura. If she needed guidance, Coran and Shiro were only a call away.

She would always be close to Matt, but he was no longer the only person whose company she valued.

“We should finish this up before mom comes around,” Pidge said, trying to refocus. “She comes to collect me at the end of the day.” She rolled her eyes.

“That still going on?” Matt chuckled as he pulled a chair over to her station. He scanned the reports she had just brought in.

“I can’t even go out to eat with the team. We’ve had to meet in the cafeteria, of all places.”

“I’m just glad the cooking staff changed since I was a student.” Matt wrinkled his nose. “That was just nasty.”

“Except for the burgers.” And here Pidge smiled, suddenly reminded of all the times Hunk and Lance had dragged her to lunch and how they always ended up making a mess of their table.

“On Mondays, that’s right!” Matt glanced at her and Pidge couldn’t quite read the look in his eyes. “Until when are you grounded, anyway?”

“Let’s see, I was fifteen when I was whisked into space, so…” She pretended to do the calculations. “Until my twenty-first birthday, unless dad intervenes.”

Matt snorted. “Good luck with that. He doesn’t really have any weight with mom right now. She’s still upset about the whole being-pronounced-dead thing.”

Pidge groaned, burying her face into her hands. “I’ll be going to war in a month, but I still have no freedom here.” She raised her eyes to look at him. “Can’t you talk to mom?”

“And risk my newfound position as the favorite? You’re on your own, kiddo.” He continued to stare down at the papers for a moment, before turning to face her properly. “You know why she’s doing this, right? You spent three years MIA. We thought you were dead.” He exhaled forcefully. “I thought you were dead.”

Pidge didn’t really know how to respond. Since her arrival on Earth, she’d had versions of this conversation with several people, but her brother had always stood back and given her a little space. He probably knew better than most how overwhelming such a welcome could be. “I am sorry, Matt.”

He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Turnaround is fair play, I guess.”

“Stop.” Pidge put a hand on his arm. She worked her jaw, trying to figure out what to say. “I never wanted you to find out how that felt.”

Matt nodded once, swallowing hard. Pidge could tell that he was putting his emotions back in check.

“I’m proud of what you’ve done, Katie. Mom might act like you’re still a kid, but I was out there before you came along.” It reminded Pidge that, though he hadn’t been present for her battles, Matt had seen his own share of horrors. “Voltron turned the tide, in no small part because of you.”

“Thank you.” She tried to blink away the tears. Matt smiled and brought his hands up to cup her face.

“My little sister is a badass, so I don’t want to see you hiding behind corners because of some stupid boy.” When she tried to protest, he just squished her cheeks. “Who does not deserve you, by the way.”

Pidge couldn’t help but laugh. She could always count on Matt to make her smile through her tears.

“I thought you liked Lance,” she said once Matt had let go of her face. He grimaced.

“He’s eighteen and a flirt.” Her brother didn’t even try to go back to work, he merely kicked his legs up onto a workbench and crossed his arms. “I would feel better about Keith, even.”

“You say that because Shiro would be just as bad of a protective older brother as you.” She pushed at his chair, making Matt almost lose his balance.

“You would never be alone unchaperoned, it would be great,” he confirmed, still pulling himself back into position.

“You realize that I’m technically nineteen?” She aimed a sharp look at him.

“You realize you look twelve?” Matt shot back, looking unbearably satisfied with himself. This time Pidge had no mercy for him; she sent his chair rolling down the aisle and Matt with it.

“Honestly, you have nothing to worry about.” She wrapped an arm around her middle. “Lance is so enamored with Allura that I could yell in his ear that I like him and the goofball would think I meant it platonically.”

Matt wheeled himself back to her. “Then he’s a fool.”

“You’re just saying that,” Pidge scoffed. “You were just as bad as him when meeting Allura.”

“Look, Allura is beautiful, that’s true, but it doesn’t diminish your qualities.” He put a hand on her shoulder, leaning in close so that their voices didn’t echo in the empty laboratory. “You are funny and witty and smarter than anyone in this damn complex. Don’t you dare compare yourself to Allura.”

Pidge dragged her chair until she was resting against Matt’s shoulder.

“It’s sort of inevitable. She’s the one he likes and I have to accept it.” She looked at the computer, where lines of code kept appearing and disappearing. “It’s just hard to be near him. I feel like I’ll do something and everyone will… know.”

“You spent almost a year pretending to be someone else, I think your acting skills are a little better than that.”

“Didn’t you criticize my lying just a few minutes ago?” she deadpanned.

“Well…” Matt gave her a cheeky grin. “I’ve known you your entire life, so I’m a Katie Holt expert.”

“Of course,” she drawled out, rolling her eyes.

Pidge felt her brother put an arm over her shoulder, squeezing her to his side.

“You’re perfect, okay?” he murmured into her hair. “Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”

She closed her eyes and let herself fall into his embrace. It was something she had missed, even now that the team was back on Earth. Everything had changed since the Kerberos mission and, while a lot of it was good, Pidge couldn’t deny that she wished Matt would stay with them more often.

“Okay.” Her voice trembled, but Matt didn’t mention it, choosing to tighten his hold on her.

“Knock, knock! Anyone in here?” As soon as the voice sounded, Pidge scrambled to hide her face. She got up and pretended to check a different monitor, turning her back to the door. She heard Lance approach their station. “Oh, hey, guys!” Then, seeming to notice the mood of the room. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, man.” Matt was the first to recover. Pidge felt him move, probably trying to keep Lance from getting any closer. “We were just discussing some Holt secret coding.” She almost snickered at this, despite the heartbeat that still hammered in her ears. It was the sort of thing that only a non-techie would believe.

“And I thought us McClains were bad with our ropa vieja recipe.” She chanced a look over her shoulder to catch Lance’s smile. He was always at his brightest when talking about his family.

“You needed something, Lance?” Matt was being a bit more brusque than normal, but his expression was thankfully still amenable. Pidge would have hit him if he just started being a jerk to Lance.

“Not really,” the other boy responded. He looked around Matt to smile at Pidge. “I was just hoping to catch up with Pidge before your mother comes around.” He shuddered. “Let me tell you, that’s a scary lady. She could almost beat mami with that I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed face.”

“You tell me?” Matt sighed. “That’s one thing I don’t look forward to when touching down at the Garrison.”

“You wanted to talk to me?” Pidge interrupted before they could keep going. Putting two of the friendliest people she knew in the same room was only a good idea if she had the patience for a long conversation. Which she didn’t.

“Ah, are you done ignoring me, Pidgeon?” Lance cocked his hip to one side, looking too sure of himself for his own good.

“I’m working, Lance, something you should be doing as well.” She pretended to fix her glasses, if only to have something to do.

The boy waved a dismissive hand at her. “I’m done for the day and I know for a fact that you’re just working on pet projects until Colleen comes to get you.” When he tried to lean down towards her, Matt moved to stand between them. Lance hesitated, before letting the strange behavior go. “Matt can keep your mom busy if she shows up, right?”

It was difficult to say no to Lance. He was jovial and charming, in particular when he wasn’t actually trying to impress anyone.

“Can you, Matt?” Pidge found herself asking. Her brother frowned at her with uncertainty.

“If that’s what you want, Pidge,” he yielded, when she didn’t back down.

“Let’s go before you get me in trouble, McClain.” Pidge gave a long-suffering sigh and moved past the two boys, who were saying their goodbyes.

Lance caught up to her at the door, opening it with an exaggerated bow.

She walked briskly down the hallway, but Lance had the advantage of his height. For every two, quick steps Pidge took, he only had to take one long stride.

“In a rush to get away?” There was laughter in his voice.

“You’ve seen how mom gets,” she replied, peaking around corners as they moved. “If she doesn’t know where I am for more than five minutes, she seems to think I’ll jump into a ship and disappear for another four years.”

“As if I had it any better.” He gestured to a hallway Pidge knew led to the analytics department. “I’m just lucky Veronica is the only one in my family with clearance to come into the Garrison.”

Pidge snorted. “I should sic my mom on you and Hunk, to make things even.”

Though she’d spent so much of their time on Earth making up excuses not to see Lance, the conversation between them flowed naturally. He had an easy-going energy that calmed Pidge’s more tense nature. While they were in the castle-ship, he had been able to soothe the worst of her worries, until Pidge could actually have fun, despite the fears that troubled her mind.

She didn’t know what would have become of her in this war, if Lance hadn’t been there.

“On the subject of your family…” Lance sent her an anxious look. “Is everything really alright with your brother?”

Pidge could tell he was actually worried, which sent a wave of affection and pain through her chest. She struggled to keep her expression blank.

“We were just talking about the war.” She allowed apprehension to seep into her tone. “I know he has a role to perform out there, but I wish he could stay longer.”

Lance twisted his mouth to the side, an unhappy expression he often adopted when trying to look empathetic. “What has Matt said about it?”

“He misses home, but he can’t really ignore what’s going on with the rebel forces.” Pidge rubbed at her temple. “If we are actually able to end the war, then things might be different, but for now…” she trailed off.

Communications from all around the universe told them Voltron wasn’t the only force preparing for battle. There were a lot of moving parts to consider, especially with the still unknown variable of whose influence had been affecting the Altean colony.

“I know what you mean. After this is all over, I think I’ll take a long vacation to just enjoy good, old Earth.”

This surprised Pidge, startling her from her previous line of thought.

“What, is the Tailor going to retire?” She knocked Lance lightly on the arm, trying for a playful mood.

“No,” he objected. He bent at the waist to look her in the eye and winked. “You know I can’t deny the rest of the universe the beauty of my presence.”

Pidge pushed his face away. It was easy to pretend to be annoyed at Lance when he insisted on acting like this. He was most dangerous when he was genuine. “Be real, man.”

“I am!” He laughed as he stood upright. “It’s just… We’ve been off-planet for so long, I kinda want some time to spend with my family, maybe travel around. I’ve only ever been to Cuba and the US, can you believe it? I’ve seen more of space than of my own planet.”

“Yeah, me too.” Pidge frowned. She hadn’t thought about the situation in these terms before. “I’ve been to Italy and England, but that’s it.”

“We should come up with a plan, get the others in on it.” Lance shot her a smile.

They had walked all the way to the MFE taxiway and Pidge focused her attention on the aircraft that Ryan Kinkade maneuvered across from them. She didn’t want to think of Lance’s warmth so close to her, nor of the future he described.

It didn’t matter how long she avoided him, Lance always found a way back into her life and into her heart. This awareness was painful, when Pidge knew he would never look at her as more than a best friend or a younger sister.

She felt something hit her cheek and looked up at the sky. Dark clouds gathered over them and soon there was another drop.

“Oh, it’s raining,” Pidge commented offhandedly. By her side, Lance let out a laugh. He sounded so joyful that she couldn’t stop herself from staring.

Lance had opened his arms and raised his face to the rain. It reminded her of something he had said months ago, about the aspects of Earth he missed while in space. She was once again struck by how attracted she was to Lance: his cheerfulness, his stupid humor, the curve of his Adam’s apple and the way his uniform clung to him in the rain.

“I really missed this!” he exclaimed mid-laugh.

Pidge stood still, admiring his delight even as her hands closed to fists at her sides. “Yeah,” she breathed out, “me too.”

After they left the mall, there was still some time for Allura to kill before her date and it was decided that she, Romelle and Pidge would stop to grab something to eat. Rizavi and Ina had previous plans, but they encouraged the girls to have some fun together, leaving unsaid that it might be their last chance to do so.

“I cannot emphasize how thankful I am, Pidge.” Allura reached across the table to grab her hand. She and Romelle had insisted on going into a coffeeshop that had recently reopened; the design was minimalist but cozy, a step-up from anything else they’d seen outside downtown.

“And I’ve said it a hundred times already, princess, I don’t mind.” Pidge let her hand go slack in Allura’s, trying not to snap at her friend. While she appreciated the gratitude, the constant touching was starting to grate on her nerves.

“You do mind,” Allura contested, with the kind of serious but diplomatic tone she used when arguing with Garrison officers. “I could see your hesitance when the vendor first offered the trade. None would have denied your right to keep the item.”

Allura pulled back into herself as she spoke. It was strange to see her uncomfortable, since the princess usually kept either a tranquil or a powerful front in the face of adversity. Free from her touch, Pidge suddenly felt bad for not responding more fervently to Allura’s efforts towards a closer bond. In the castle-ship, she had pretended they were simply too different and, on Earth, too busy.

The truth was much less dignified: Allura had seemed like an unapproachable ideal, made solid only to remind Pidge of all that she could not be. She was prim and beautiful and feminine. Once upon a time, before the complexities of her multiple identities, Katie had aspired to this image, to some degree.

“You’re more important to me than a video game.” Pidge tried to be casual with the way she said this, but the knowing glint that shone in Allura’s eyes told her it was unsuccessful. “I’ll have plenty of time to find it again after the war is over.”

“Perhaps you could teach me these games once we are back.” Allura smiled at her, the picture of earnestness. “I was always curious about the time you and the other paladins dedicated to them.”

“It can be pretty frustrating,” Pidge warned, thinking of the hours she’d wasted with Hunk and Lance just to get past some particularly difficult levels.

“I have noticed that you scream a lot while playing,” the other commented thoughtfully, “but that appears to be part of the bonding experience.”

“You can say that again.” She scoffed.

“Why would I say it again?” Allura tilted her head to the side in confusion and Pidge had to disguise her laughter.

“I’m just agreeing with you.” She sometimes forgot that the Alteans weren’t completely used to Earth culture. In the Castle of Lions, the paladins were the ones to adhere to new patterns. Now, Allura and Coran had to slowly learn their customs, like with this date.

“I suppose we did have something similar in Altea,” Allura mused. “Activities like the maze we had in the Castle were quite popular among the youth.” She leaned over the table to speak in a lower voice. “The element of danger was a point of interest, though I couldn’t quite comprehend why.”

“That’s a lie and you know it!” Pidge pointed accusingly at Allura. “You’re almost as bad as Keith with throwing yourself into dangerous situations.”

“Am not!” It was always funny to rile her up like this. Allura was so calm and collected that getting her to sound immature was a reward in itself. The other shook her head and settled back into her seat, straightening her posture. “Oh, I know what you are doing.”

Pidge continued to grin at her. “What am I doing?”

The princess narrowed her eyes at Pidge, but her mouth struggled with a smile. “You and Lance have such a way of getting me to lose my cool.” She tapped a rhythm on the table. “I must admit it is endearing.”

There it was again, the shock of warmth and sadness that had troubled Pidge the entire day. She loved Allura and was even happy for her, but her heart was conflicted by the news of her new-found interest in Lance.

It just seemed so sudden, Pidge hadn’t had the opportunity to prepare herself. Or maybe those two had grown closer in the Garrison, while she tried her best not to see them, and this was simply the outcome of her bad choices.

Pidge was saved from responding by the arrival of Romelle, her arms full of napkins.

“What a bargain!” She proclaimed as the packages fell from her hands and bounced across the tabletop. “They have agreed to serve us their best delicacies in trade of Pidge’s autographs, a video of her endorsement and an appearance once every phoeb for the next five moons!” The blonde beamed down at them. “On that regard, what is an endorsement?”

Allura and Pidge shared a dismayed look over the piles of napkins.

“Surely they do not expect Pidge to autograph all of these.” Allura gave Romelle an hesitant smile, as if her politeness could change the answer they all knew was coming.

Romelle blinked at them. “The cook assured me it was an amazing deal.”

Pidge pinched the bridge of her nose, calling on any patience she could muster. She had nothing against Romelle and the Altean was nice and cheerful most of the time, but her naivete when dealing with human conventions never failed to amaze.

“Oh dear,” Allura fretted. “I should go deal with that.”

“Think you can convince them to give us food without getting me stuck here for the near future?” Pidge teased, to disguise her vexation.

Her friend slid off the booth. “I have reasoned with beings from several galaxies, I cannot fathom a Terran entrepreneur will be more stubborn than certain members of the coalition.” Allura straightened her spine and clasped her hands over her stomach, looking every bit the princess she was. The determination in her expression made Pidge smile.

“I can autograph one pile of napkins and I agree to do a video endorsement, but I’m not changing back into costume.” She turned to look at Romelle, who seemed to be accompanying the conversation with good-humored confusion. There was something almost sly about the look in her eyes. “I’m going into space tomorrow, how was I supposed to come back? Besides, I’m grounded. If mom found out we were finished shopping, she’d already be here to drag me home.”

“I might have been swayed by the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen,” the other admitted in a manner that could pass for sheepish. She eyed the napkins, before picking up a package. “I suppose these are a little excessive.”

Allura sighed. “I will be right back.”

They watched the princess move towards the front of the coffeeshop, where the human owner was talking to another set of customers. Romelle sat down where Allura had previously been.

“Alone at last.” She clapped her hands together and faced Pidge with a seriousness that contrasted with her usual vibrancy.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at Romelle. “I knew you were plotting something.”

The blonde shrugged. “I wanted to talk to you privately and I didn’t think we would get the chance in the Garrison.” She glanced back to where Allura stood waiting for the other customers to leave. “The owner was a darling, but he was a tremendous flirt, so Allura won’t be here any time soon.”

“Do I even have to sign anything?” Pidge rested her chin on her hand.

“He wants a picture with you and the princess and an autograph to hang on the wall, but that’s it.” Romelle winked at her.

“So what do you want?” Pidge tapped a finger against her cheek. She didn’t mean to sound so suspicious, but the girl’s orchestrations made the situation feel a little like a trap.

“To thank you.” The emotion in her voice sounded almost like pity. “For your sacrifice today.”

Pidge groaned. “I already told Allura that the video game wasn’t that much of a loss.”

“I am not talking about the game.” There was a moment of silence, during which Pidge kept very still. “I saw your reaction when we told you about the date. It was only then that I realized: you like pointy chin.”

“What makes you think that?” She raised a brow at Romelle, doing her best to appear natural.

“It makes sense.” Romelle looked up at the sparse decorations that adorned the coffeeshop, her expression pensive. “He’s the one you spend the most time with, after Hunk. I didn’t think you were interested in romance, given your almost complete lack of sentimentality,” and here she made a face at Pidge, “but I suppose we’re all dealing with high emotions right now.”

Pidge didn’t know how to reply. So far, Matt was the only one who had realized her crush on Lance and he’d been thankfully quiet since. The whole day left her feeling off-center, especially with what Romelle now wanted her to confess. Pidge didn’t want to talk about her feelings. She wanted to take her bayard and carve the jealousy and affection and misery right out of her chest.

Romelle took her silence as a sign to go on. “Look, I know we are not close, but you can talk to me.” The expression on her face was so eager that Pidge didn’t immediately protest. “You are… not kind. Not always, at least, but genuine.” Romelle hurried through her words. “Which is more than can be said about others I’ve met since arriving on Earth. And I can see how much you care for Allura, though you hide it beneath your sarcasm and reluctance.”

“Has anyone on Earth given you trouble?” Pidge chose to focus on the subject that was easier to approach. Romelle clearly knew what she was doing, because the blonde gave her a very annoyed look. “The team and I have tried to shield you from the politics of having non-humans around, but it’s not always possible.”

“I grew up worshipping a man who turned out to be harvesting quintessence from the bodies of my family and friends,” Romelle stated coolly. “I can handle the Terrans.”

“Well, this thing has to go both ways.” Pidge leaned back against the booth to gesture forcefully in the other’s direction. “If you want me to talk to you, then you need to talk to me.”

Romelle seemed to consider this, her eyes narrowed. “Fair enough.” She glanced quickly over her shoulder, then leaned forward. “I know we both want what’s best for Allura, but I hope you will be happy, too.”

Her eagerness brought a small smile to Pidge’s lips, even as her chest constricted with the acknowledgement of her feelings.

There were many things in the universe that she valued more than romance: her family, her intellect and ability to continue learning, and now her friends. Pidge would do anything to keep them safe and content, regardless of how she felt about Lance. She would eventually get over him, of this Pidge was sure.

She loved Lance, but she loved herself more.

“I don’t need a boy to be happy, Romelle. I just want this war to be over.”

The blonde nodded at her response. “You have already done so much for me by going against Lotor.” She sighed. “You will always have my loyalty for that.”

Pidge took a moment to study her. Romelle could be energetic and joyful, but she had also suffered more loss than Pidge could really comprehend. She had never believed Matt and her father were dead, even on the early days of the Garrison’s declaration. Hope had moved her forward, but Romelle hadn’t had that privilege.

“Have I ever told you how I became a paladin?” she asked, much to Romelle’s surprise.

“I don’t believe so, no.” The other furrowed her brows in puzzlement. “Are you changing the subject again?”

“I was just thinking that we have more in common than you know.” Pidge lowered her eyes to the tabletop, tracing a series of scratches with the tip of her fingers. “You have met my brother Matt, haven’t you?”

Allura approached as she said this, a tray of food balanced on her hand. “Oh, has Romelle heard of your search for Matt?”

Pidge stood up to help Allura place the coffee without spilling it and grinned at her friend’s enthusiasm. “I was just about to tell her.”

The princess sat down next to Romelle and put her hands to her chest in a show of sympathy. “It is a lovely story, please go on.”

With a laugh, she did.

#voltron #plance #lidge #pidgance #flirtyrobot #cyance #voltron legendary defender #vld #katie holt #pidge gunderson #vld lance #lance mcclain #vld fanfiction #vld syl verse

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spencereliotwinchester · 3 years

Text

Nothing Can Stop the US Air Force!

Title: Nothing Can Stop the US Air Force!

Chapter: One

Author: Kat

Reader Gender: N/A for now

Word Count: ~3000

Warnings: Military things, a death or two, some blood and torture, nothing too terrible though

A/N: I tried to make this as real as possibly possible. I’m not going to say it’s perfect because there were a couple things I needed to change, but it’s damn close.

Character: Dean Winchester

Tags: @iwantthedean @torn-and-frayed

---

“Give me a hug, Honey!” Mary said, wrapping her oldest in her arms. “I’m going to miss you so much!”

“Mom, c’mon,” Dean sighed. He rolled his eyes animatedly, then squeezed her back. “I love you, Mom.”

“My turn,” John said, pretending to break them apart. He pulled Dean into a bear hug. Dean was surprised that even though he was six foot two, his dad still seemed to tower over him.

“Bye, Dad,” Dean said.

Dean turned to the last family member, Sam. He was standing a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, looking down. Dean walked over to him and playfully smacked him on his shoulder.

“Hey, gonna say ‘see ya’ to your big bro?” Dean asked, laughing.

Sam just nodded, not looking up.

“What’s up, Sam?” Dean asked seriously.

“Do me a favor,” Sam said, looking up. His voice was filled with sadness and there were tears in his eyes. “Come back, won’t you?”

“Hey, Sam, of course I’ll be back. I’m not even going to be doing anything dangerous, just basic training. I’ll be home for Christmas,” Dean said, pulling his brother in for a hug. “You just keep up your nerdy schoolwork so you can be a hotshot lawyer.”

Dean said goodbye one more time and ran off toward the bus that would take him to basic training.

---

“Hey, man, why’d you join?” One of the other trainees, Micah, asked Dean. A group of men were sitting in the dorms shining shoes together, Dean being one of them. It was a free hour for them before lights out; a few others were writing letters, or laying on their beds and relaxing. The small group had been sharing stories and getting to know one another.

“My dad was in the Marines,” Dean said, dusting off his boots. “I decided a few years ago that I wanted to do the same thing.”

“Alright, so what the actual hell are you doing in the Air Force?” Brodhi asked, incredulously, from Dean’s right. Dean chuckled, covering his boots in polish. “If Daddy was a Marine, wouldn’t you want to be in the Marines?”

“Well, when I came to him with the brochures and said ‘Dad, I want to be like you. I think I’m gonna join the Marines’ he looked up from his newspaper and said,” Dean began to imitate his father’s deep voice, “‘Son, the Marines are just lowly grunts. The camaraderie might be great, but it’s groundwork before anything else. No son of mine is going to be a damn Marine. You wanna join the Forces, you’re going to use your smarts. You go into the Air Force.’”

The rest of the group laughed lightly. Dean had been grateful toward his father since then. John had seen Dean’s potential far before Dean had ever thought of himself as ‘smart.’ As the next few weeks went on, the instructors began to take notice of Dean and his dedication.

“Sir, Airman Winchester reports as ordered, Sir!” Dean said, once in the Commander’s office.

“Thank you, Airman. You’ve breezed through basic training with some ease,” he said. The Commander was sitting behind his desk with the superintendent, two Chief Master Sergeants and Dean’s training instructor. Dean shifted ever so slightly.

“Sir, thank you, Sir.”

The Commander flipped through Dean’s file for a few more moments before asking another question.

“Your father was in the military, too, wasn’t he?” The Commander asked.

It was two days before graduation. Dean stood at attention in the center of the office, facing the other men. He had no idea why he had been called here, and he was nervous, but he didn’t let it show. Dean couldn’t think of anything he’d done wrong.

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Dean barked. “Echo Company. Second Battalion, First Marines, Sir!”

“That’s very interesting. Yet, here you are at Lackland **Air Force** base. You lost, Airman Winchester?”

“Sir, no, Sir,” Dean responded.

“After the basic training graduation, most receive their next orders in writing. I have yours here in writing, but,” he paused for a moment, setting Dean’s file on the desk, “I wanted to meet with you. I wanted to see for myself what your instructor and the chief master sergeants have told me they’ve seen.”

Dean waited a moment, completely unsure of what the Commander was talking about.

“Drill Sergeant Masterson came to Chief Master Sergeant Roderick, who in turn came to me and said that you’ve shown particular skills in the obstacle course as well as arms training, survival skills and teamwork. What’s your fastest gun strip, Airman?”

“Sir, without cleaning, my fastest strip and reassembly was twenty, Sir!” Dean answered.

“Impressive. Airman Winchester, at my discretion, this military base is sending you to Fairchild Air Force Base for special SERE Training. You will train for six to seven months in Washington before you will be given your first active assignment. Is that understood?” The Commander asked, standing from his seat.

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Dean saluted the Commander and it was returned.

“This came at my very discretion and discussion between myself and the Chief Master Sergeants. Do not let us down, Airman Winchester. We see you doing great things for this country. Dismissed!”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Dean saluted once more and exited the room in a march.

Once out of sight of his higher-ups, Dean broke into a run and dashed through the halls of the base. He needed to run off the anxiety and nervousness. He ran through the doors and stopped for a moment. He sprinted down the stairs and started to run the length of the base toward the dorm.

“Airman!” A harsh voice cut through the air and Dean stopped, knowing he was in trouble.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here, Airman!?” He yelled. “At attention!”

Dean straightened immediately, snapped his boots together and threw his shoulders back, staring straight ahead into Sergeant Masterson’s eyes as the Sergeant came to stand in front of him. Dean saluted quickly before returning to form.

“Answer the question, Airman Winchester!”

“I was just called into the Commander’s office and given my next assignment, Sir!” Dean yelled. “I needed to run off some excess tension, Sir!”

“I can escort you to the obstacle course if you’d like, Airman! You can run it until dark!” The Sergeant yelled. Dean remained silent. “Report back to your dorm, Airman. Get out of my sight. And, walk!”

“Yes, Sir!”

---

Dean spent the next six months in Washington, training. He wrote home twice, once to his parents and once to Sam. Dean realized he probably wouldn’t be home by Christmas as he’d told Sam, and he felt guilty, though his commanding officers were impressed by his skillset. They had ushered him into Special Operations training with a focus on arms. At the end of the last month of training, Dean’s flight was sent into a National Forest on a survival and evasive mission.

The flight boarded the plane, chattering excitedly. Dean slid into his seat and buckled his harness, giving a playful shove to Mark, one of Dean’s best friends from training. The plane shuddered to life and suddenly Dean felt a pang of fear.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Mark asked as the plane began to taxi across the runway.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve just never been on a plane before,” Dean said, putting a hand over his stomach in a vain attempt to calm it.

The entire flight quieted and turned to stare at Dean. He glanced around. A steady fear settled in his gut as the plane began to pick up speed.

“Winchester, are you gonna throw up?” Staff Sergeant Waters asked from a few seats away. “There’s airsick bags under the seats.”

“I’m fine. Just haven’t done this before, Sir,” Dean gasped as he felt the plane lift off the ground under him. “Oh, God, I hate this.”

Dean spent most of the flight with his eyes shut and his body bent double. Thankfully, the National Forest was barely a twenty minute flight away. Their JumpMaster announced the ten minute warning far too quickly for Dean’s liking.

They began moving about and Dean helped prep Mark in his harness with shaking hands. Once he'd done that, Mark switched places and helped Dean into his harness.

“Check equipment!”

They lined up and checked each other's harnesses, lines and packs quickly. They were lined in alphabetical order, except for Sergeant Waters, who would be last to leave the plane.

Dean was right in front of Sergeant Waters and he double checked his Sergeant’s packs just to be sure.

“Winchester!” Sergeant Waters called, urging him to hurry up.

“Hey, man, you got this,” Mark said, turning for a moment. “You nailed landings every time in training.”

“I hate planes. Let's go.”

His stomach turned over violently as the ramp was opened. He swallowed the vomit in the back of his throat and moved forward as the JumpMaster gave ‘go’s to everyone.

One by one, each of them jumped from the plane. Dean's stomach flipped over as the plane shuddered and Mark ran out.

Dean stepped up to the doorway and took a deep breath. Sure, he'd jumped a thousand times in training, but Dean was nervous.

“Go!” the JumpMaster yelled.

Dean took one more breath and jumped. He tucked his chin and counted. One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand. He looked up, glancing over the parachute to be sure it was functioning properly. As he soared downward, Dean felt much better. This was the best part of flying in his opinion.

---

The flight filed out from the bus to go back to their dorms and rest for a day. Everyone was still mud-covered and bedraggled, talking about showers and ‘real food.’ As Dean exited the bus, a Sergeant called out to him.

“Airman Winchester!” Dean stepped to the side and saluted the Sergeant, who immediately returned it. “Report to Commander Rothschild immediately.”

“Sir, I-” Dean was cut off.

“Nonnegotiable, Airman! Roll out!”

Dean gave a half-hearted salute and walked off in the opposite direction of the dorms. He hoped the Commander realized Dean wouldn’t be in prime shape. In fact, he was all too aware of the fact it looked like he’d bathed in mud the last week and stank to high heavens from the week in the woods. He’d had fun, if he were being honest. Yes, it had been rough and tiring, but Dean thoroughly enjoyed being outdoors in survival mode like that. He realized as soon as he got to the training that this was what he was meant to do.

Dean waited at attention outside the Commander’s office until he was called in. He marched into the office, saluted to Commander Rothschild, and stood at attention.

“Sir, Airman Winchester reporting as ordered, Sir!”

“Thank you, Airman,” Commander Rothschild said. “At ease.”

The Commander was a very large man. He had gray hair with a receding hairline, but he held an air of absolute authority. He had been running the base for nearly ten years. Even though Dean hadn’t been at the base for long, he knew the Commander rarely told anyone to be ‘at ease.’ Still, Dean lowered his hands to his sides in respect.

“I heard that you alone escaped capture and were able to rescue your entire flight without being caught by the enemy. Is that true?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Dean confirmed proudly.

“You know, I did Special Ops and I wasn’t even able to avoid capture nor was I able to escape. That’s a job well done, Airman.”

“Sir, thank you, Sir!”

“Airman, your mother called yesterday afternoon.” Dean’s heart immediately sank. “I’m sending you home for a couple weeks. Your father is in the hospital. He had a heart attack.”

Dean remained where he stood, straight and stiff, letting the words of Commander Rothschild sink in. After a minute, the Commander stood from his desk and moved to stand directly in front of Dean.

“Airman, do you copy me?”

He only managed a short nod.

“You will report to Sergeant Matlok immediately. On January one, you will report back here to me and I will give you your next assignment, is that understood?”

“Sir, yes, Sir,” Dean responded automatically.

“Dismissed, Airman.”

---

Dean met his mother in the waiting room at the hospital. He was still in his bedraggled uniform, still sweaty and muddy from his week in the woods. She ran straight into his arms anyway. Dean was surprised at how small she seemed, like she’d shrunk since he’d left for basic training.

“Mom,” he greeted fondly.

“Oh, Sweetheart, it’s lovely to see you. I’m so sorry. Your father should get to say goodbye, though, Dean. He won’t admit it, but I don’t think he’s going to last much longer.”

“It’s okay, Mom. They would have sent me home anyway. Sorry I’m so gross. I was in the woods for a week and they pulled me as soon as I got back.”

“It’s okay, Sweetie. Sam and John will be so happy to see you.”

Dean watched for a moment as his mother turned and walked away, leading him to the hospital room. She looked tired, he thought. He stared after her, trying to grasp the reality that his father was sick and dying. As he entered the room, Sam and John looked toward the door, surprise etching across their faces.

“Dean!” Sam jumped from the seat next to the hospital bed and ran over, throwing himself into Dean’s arms.

Sam seemed taller, but still so scrawny. Dean realized how much muscle he had gained since he left, but it felt so odd being in the room. He felt like a stranger.

“Hey, Sammy,” he said gruffly, wrapping his little brother up in his arms.

“Dammit, Mary, I told you not to call the base!” John complained, though his voice was soft and raspy.

Dean let go of Sam and walked over to John’s side. His father looked smaller, too, shrunken in almost. He looked weak and sick. There was an IV going into his arm and wires going down the front of the hospital gown. John’s eyes were rimmed with pink and purple, like he hadn’t been sleeping very well and his face was pale.

“No, Dad, I’m glad Mom called,” Dean said, softly.

“You got training you should be doing,” he said.

“I finished the specialty training, Sir. I will get my first assignment when I go back.”

Suddenly, Dean had a vision of looking at his father from outside a hospital room. Doctors and nurses surrounded him, the heart monitor flatlining loudly in his ears. Dean stepped back, momentarily stunned.

“Why are you so dirty, Son? Look at that uniform!”

“I was in the woods for a week just before they sent me home, Dad,” Dean grinned.

“You keep that uniform looking sharp, Dean. Damn, look at you. SERE training and exemplary performances. You’ve done me so proud, Son. So proud.”

Dean did everything he could to get the vision out of his head. He stared at the heart monitor, the rhythms completely normal. They all sat, talking quietly until John ushered them out to go home and get some rest.

The shower was hot and steamy; Dean stood under the high pressure stream until his body was red from heat. Sam was waiting on his bed when Dean came out.

“Now I remember why I hated having adjoining rooms.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sam rolled his eyes.

They both stayed silent as Dean put on a pair of sleep pants and laid down next to Sam.

“He’s going to die,” Sam whispered sadly.

“I know.”

---

Dean sat with Mary and Sam in the living room, they were all silent. Dean had a beer; he raised it to his lips and drank deeply. Sam moved from his chair to the couch next to Dean. It had been a very quiet two weeks, but Dean made sure to spend plenty of time with Sam and Mary; Dean was due back at the airport the next morning to report back to Commander Rothschild. His father had died the second day Dean was at the hospital. Since then, it had been quiet and somber in the house.

“Do you have to go back?” Sam asked sadly.

“Course I do, Sammy. If I don’t, I get arrested,” Dean laughed dryly.

“That’s going AWOL, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Dean took another long drink, emptying the bottle. “Sergeant Matlok will pick me up in the morning.”

“I’m going up to bed. Don’t stay up too late, Boys,” Mary said. “I’ll be up to see you off in the morning, Dean.” She got up from her rocking chair and gave each of her boys a kiss on the forehead before walking up the stairs.

“Remember when we were little, the Christmas tree would be all lit up and we’d lay down underneath it and pretend we were laying in a field getting ready for battle?” Sam asked, laying his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Dean said, wondering where his brother was going with this.

“Is that what the stars actually look like?”

“Kind of. When you’re out in the country, you can see thousands. They’re everywhere. Right before I was sent home, we were in the forest on a practice assignment. There were so many stars, Sammy. It was so fun.”

“What if they ask you to do something dangerous?” Sam asked.

“Then I go do it,” Dean said simply.

“What if you die?”

“Then you get my model car collection and tools,” Dean joked, but they both fell silent. They remained silent for a long time before Dean spoke again. “Then I die, I guess. But, Sammy, that’s what I’m trained to do. I’m trained to keep myself and my team alive. I’ll be okay, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart. I, Airman Dean Eric Winchester, promise to do everything in my power to remain alive in my service,” Dean said, proudly. Sam smirked at him. “You gotta promise me something, too, Sam.”

“What?” Sam asked seriously.

“You have to promise you’ll take care of Mom.”

“Cross my heart, Dean,” Sam said, making an ‘x’ over his heart with his index finger.

#dean #dean winchester #air force #au #fanfic

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yelena-bellova · 4 years

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Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Six

Chapter Six: Grief and Nostalgia

Series Masterlist

Plot: Reader and Rey run into trouble at Niima Outpost, plus they meet a man who’s wearing a familiar jacket.

Warnings: character death (major), angst, very little language

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: I DREADED writing this chapter...I kept stalling on it because it kept bumming me out + action descriptions are hard for me to write for whatever reason. Now give me angsty dialogue and that’s my sweet spot 👌🏻 Anyway, I’ll keep it short and sweet. Enjoy! (Apologies for any typos)

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“Alright, BB-8, y/n and I are going to load you into the netting. It’s sturdier than it looks, you won’t fall out.”

I’m not sure about this.

I rolled my eyes, “Bee, you flew back on a mission from Corellia practically hanging by your antenna with Poe as the pilot but netting on a speeder is where you draw the line?”  Yes, I did and yes, it is.

Rey chuckled, “Is this Poe a particularly reckless flyer?”

BB-8 whirled loudly in time with my chortle, “He’s the inspiration behind the word ‘reckless’.”  The morning sun had risen and Rey was doing a check on her speeder before she took us ti Niima OIutpost. I was leaned up against it as Bee did circles in the sand to pass the time. My hunger had fully set in, having not eaten in over twenty four hours and I was having intense stomach pains. I’d discovered a few spare credits in a pocket of my jacket and was eager to get some sort of breakfast.

“Okay, let’s load BB-8 in.” Rey said, the aforementioned droid defeatedly rolling over to us. We each took one side of him and lifted him into the netting, an unamused squeal coming from him. We echoed the noise, I’d forgotten how heavy Bee was.

“It won’t be for long, hang tight.” I said, bending down to eye level with him.

Rey stepped up to the seat and I followed suit, “It goes pretty fast so you’ll need to hold on tight.”

“Trust me, I’ve flown on many ships, I’m used to-WHOA!”  The speeder took off faster than I was ready for, I locked my arms around Rey’s waist and squeezed. I could hear her laughing at me over the ship.

“Shut up!” I yelled as we sailed through the desert, digging my chin into her shoulder to anchor myself further.

Turned out that the outpost wasn’t too far from Rey’s makeshift home. Within twenty minutes we were pulling up a couple hundred yards away from it.

“I thought you’d said you’d flown before.” Rey taunted, I was still clinging to her as if my life depended on it.

“Yeah, well, in my defense this thing doesn’t fly like the piece of junk I thought it was,” I said defensively as I separated from her and lowered myself to the ground. Rey laughed under her breath at me, joining me to lift BB-8 out from the netting and onto the sand. Rey slung her staff over her shoulder and gathered the parts she was going to sell,

“I’m going to see what I can get for these, then we’ll see what we can do about getting you two a transport.”

I nodded, “I’m going to die if I don’t eat so I’m gonna go see what I can find.”

Rey nodded and we both looked to BB-8 who seemed to be torn over who to go with. After looking between us, he rolled over to Rey. I gave an exaggerated gasp, “Traitor!”  We spent all day yesterday together in a desert. I’m going with Rey.

Me and her looked to each other, our faces forming ‘o’s’ before heading towards the outpost. It was decently packed, but not overly crowded. Rey and Bee went one direction towards a small building while I wandered the market portion. There were stalls with spices, exotic looking fruit I’d never seen, and other questionable looking food I didn’t feel like taking a chance on. After a few minutes of searching. I found a stand selling plain bread. I handed the seller a few credits and began picking apart at the small loaf, aimlessly walking around as I waited for Rey.

Every person I passed who looked even remotely like Poe, I gave a once over to see if it was him. I wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to make it across the desert. I knew it was almost impossible for him to already be here but I was so desperate to make sure he was okay, logic seemed to be taking a backseat to emotion. There hadn’t been a lot of time yesterday to focus on BB-8 and my’s conversation, but now that I was one step closer to finding him, things was beginning to flood my mind. What was I supposed to do when we saw each other again? Was I just supposed to walk up to him and say ‘Hey, super glad you’re not dead, I’m in love with you by the way.’? Did he really feel the same as BB-8 said he did? He’d been right about me and had gotten me to realize my feelings, maybe he was right about Poe too. At the thought of Poe telling me he loved me, I felt my heart start to speed up. Jeez, how had I not realized this until a frickin’ droid spelled it out for me?

“Well, that was a waste of time.” Rey huffed behind me, BB-8 rolling to my side as close as he could.

“No luck?”  ”He wanted to buy BB-8.”

My eyes widened as I looked down to him, if he were a child he’d be clinging to my legs right now. How stupid had I been to let him go into a place where they sold droids and parts?

“His compartments weren’t searched or anything were they? They didn’t touch him?” I asked urgently, bending down to examine Bee.

“What? No, Unkar didn’t touch him. I told him he wasn’t for sale.” Rey answered.

I breathed a sigh of relief and stood up to face her, “Thank you.”  ”What’d you think I was going to do,” she asked, her voice raised an octave, “Sell him?”

“I don’t know, you don’t owe us any kindness,” I responded, “Unkar probably offered you a lot!”

“He did, but...” she trailed off, looking down at Bee before back to me, “It wouldn’t have been right.”

I smiled and squeezed her shoulder, I had been right about her. The thought of leaving her behind and probably never seeing her again made me sad.

“Here,” I broke my loaf in half and handed it to her, “A sad attempt at repaying you.”

Rey chuckled and we began walking through the marketplace, BB-8 following closely behind. She explained that while there wasn’t consistent transport that came in and out of the outpost, plenty of people were bribable and could get us back. I didn’t relish the thought of flying back with some seedy character but there weren’t a lot of other options.

Out of nowhere, someone grabbed my arms from behind and gripped tightly. Another creature did the same to Rey whilst third one kneeled over BB-8 and threw a sack over him.

“Let him go!” I yelled, doing my best to squirm out of their grip. There was no way to escape without fighting dirty. I head butted him with the back of my head and his grip on me loosened for a second. I freed my arms and spun to grab his, placing him in the same hold he’d had me in. I kneed him in the groin, swept his legs out from under him and he fell. He groaned loudly as I looked over to Rey who seemed to have taken care of herself quite nicely. I was thankful I wasn’t on the receiving end of her staff. We kneeled down to BB-8 and I pulled the sack off of him, he was beeping wildly.

“Hey, you’re alright,” I assured him, rubbing a hand over his head. He looked around us and promptly froze,

Look!

“Look at what?” Rey asked.

Him! Look! Y/n, he’s wearing Poe’s jacket!

“Wha-“ I looked in the direction BB-8 said to and saw a dark skinned man standing a few hundred feet away. He was unmistakably wearing Poe’s worn jacket, the one he’d worn on this mission. We locked eyes, he looked nervous yet he looked at BB-8 as if he knew him.

“Him?” Rey pointed to Finn discreetly.

“That’s Poe’s jacket, don’t let him get away.” I stated right before Rey and I took off running towards him. The man was fast though and took off too. We ran through and past the various stalls as we tailed him.

“Keep on him!” Rey shouted before making a hard left turn, in my concentrated state I barely heard her.

As I neared him, Rey popped out a few hundred feet ahead of me and knocked the man to the ground with her staff.

“What’s your hurry, thief?” she asked, standing over him with the weapon aimed at him.

“What? Thief?” he sputtered, still panting from our chase.

I stood behind him, took out my blaster and fired a shot a few feet away from his head. He jolted and sat up, turning to see me.

“Do you need an exact definition of the word?” I asked loudly, a few vendors screaming at the shot I’d fired.

BB-8 rolled out from behind me up to the man and shocked him with his welding attachment.

He yelped, “Hey, what?!”

“You wanna tell me how you stole that jacket?” I asked, my aim never breaking from him.

“Look, I’ve had a pretty messed up day. So I’d appreciate it if you stop accusing me-“

BB-8 zapped him again causing the man to yell at him to stop.

“That jacket belongs to that droid’s master and my best friend, how did you get it?” I asked unflinchingly.

The man sighed heavily and threw his head back before looking to Bee and then me,

“It belonged to Poe Dameron. That was his name, right?”

Rey held her stance as I slowly lowered my blaster, BB-8 and I looked to each other warily.

“He was captured by the First Order. I helped him escape, but our ship crashed.”

“So where is he?” I asked quickly, tears beginning to blur my vision at what I feared this man was about to say. Poe wasn’t with him, something had happened.

“Poe didn’t make it...”

What happened the next few minutes around me, I couldn’t say. I distantly heard Rey call my name, I felt my feet carry my a good distance away from where we’d been and I felt my knees hit the sand.

Poe was dead.

Silent sobs wracked my body as I gripped handfuls of sand. Poe had cheated death for so long, escaped from seemingly impossible circumstances. I assumed this would be another one of his legendary stories. I began beating myself up for leaving him, if I’d stayed I could have saved him.

He died not knowing how much I loved him.

BB-8 rolled next to me and let out a heartbreaking noise. I put a hand on him as I finally caught my breath, the sobs dying down to a silent stream of tears. I wasn’t the only one who had lost someone, Bee had lost his master. We sat there for a moment, comforting each other as best we could.

Y/N, LOOK!!

I whipped my head up to see two stormtroopers speaking to the thugs that had attacked us. They pointed to us before doing the same to Rey and the unnamed man. He saw them too and grabbed Rey’s hand before running towards us,

“We gotta get out of here!”

Bee and I took off running with them just as blasts were fired past our heads. Rey screamed as one almost hit her, and it snapped me out of my grief. Poe would want me to keep running, he’d want me to save the galaxy even if my own had just died. We ran through and past stalls before Finn ducked us into a tent and began searching for weapons,

“They’re shooting at all three of us!” Rey exclaimed.

“You were seen with me, you both are marked now,” I said while checking BB-8 to make sure he was okay.

“I was a mark before I met you two,” the man said, “Does anyone have blasters around here?!”

“Wonderful, I fell in with the galaxy’s two most wanted people,” Rey grumbled.

“Don’t forget BB-8,” I quipped, earning me an annoyed glare from Rey.

The man then shushed us and stilled himself, there was a distant sound in the sky. He suddenly grabbed Rey’s hand and pulled me to my feet,

“Stop taking my hand!” Rey said through gritted teeth as we began running again through the outpost. We didn’t make it far out before the shrieking sounds of TIE Fighters followed us and fired at us. The blasts hit near us and the four of us flew through the air, landing harshly in the sand. I groaned and scrambled to my feet, Rey pulled the man to his feet and BB-8 rolled to me.

“All good?” I asked them, receiving nods from everyone.

There were more TIE’s coming in as we sprinted towards Unkar’s shipyard. We needed to put as much distance between us and this sandy wasteland as possible. I half expected Poe to swoop in, taking the TIE’s down one by one in his X-Wing, showing off while doing so. Tears began to enter my vision again and I had to force myself to blink them away, my grief had to wait.

“We can’t outrun them!” the man yelled over the blasts.

“We might, in that quad jumper!” Rey pointed to a ship in the near distance.

“We need a pilot!”

“Between the two of us,” I gestured to Rey and myself, “We’ve got it covered!”

“What about that one?” he asked loudly, I was too focused on the quad jumper to care at what was bringing up.

“That one’s garbage!” Rey responded just as our ship exploded in front of us. We came to a halt staring the wreckage,

“The garbage will do,” I declared before following Rey and Finn in the other direction. When I saw our ship of salvation, a grin broke out across my face.

It was the Millennium Falcon.

How it had ended up on Jakku, I didn’t know. I didn’t even care, all that mattered was it was there in the moment I needed it the most. I found myself running faster and ending up in front of our ragtag group. I bounded up the already lowered ramp and found myself in the heart of the ship. I breathed in the scent, it was dusty from having sat unused for who knows how long yet it was also exactly how I remembered it. But just like my grief, my nostalgia had to wait as Rey and the (still) unnamed man entered with BB-8.

“Gunner position is down there,” I pointed and the man ran in that direction, “Rey, I need you up front with me.”

I made a beeline for the cockpit and she followed quickly, I took a seat and pressed a button. The ship roared to life and I chuckled,

“I missed you, baby.”

“Have you flown this thing before?” Rey asked with confusion as she took the seat next to me.

I adjusted the controls and flicked some switches, “It’s a long story, but yes.” I looked over to her as she pressed a few buttons, she looked genuinely nervous.

“Hey,” I put a hand on her shoulder, “We can do this.”  She nodded and I pulled the lever, the ship rocked as it rose from the ground like a phoenix from the ashes. It tilted and spun from it’s long period of misuse, and it had been so long since I’d flown it, I was admittedly rusty.

“Look out!”

I screamed as we slammed into the town’s archway and destroyed it. I quickly steered us away from the wreckage and the ship flew forward, TIE Fighters in tow. I took us higher into the air with the intention of getting off the planet.

“Stay low! Stay low!” I heard from the gunner position.  “What?” Rey replied.

“Stay low! It confuses their tracking!”

I shook my head, “You better be right!” I let go of the yoke and Rey pressed a few buttons, “BB-8, hold on!”

“We’re going low!” Rey shouted. I pulled the yoke again and we did a complete loop before evening out and heading straight towards the TIE’s. They dodged us before swinging back around and resuming their attack, one of the blasts hit us and shook the whole ship. The man had yet to fire a single shot yet and it was beginning to worry me.  “What are you doing back there?” Rey yelled, “Are you ever going to fire back?!”  “I’m working on it!” he shouted back, “Are the shields up?”  Rey located the switch for the shields quickly and flipped it as I swung us to one side to dodge a shot. The man quickly began firing shots at the fighter but missed, I doubted he’d spent much time in the position. We were hit again and I yelped, the two First Order pilots were either insanely talented or I was spectacularly bad at flying. The Solo side of me was too cocky to even consider it being the latter. But if we didn’t shake these guys there was a good chance they’d hit an engine and we‘d be done.

“We need cover quick!”   “We’re about to get some,” I replied, “I hope.” The last part being mumbled under my breath.

Rey continued adjusting controls as we stayed low, I made a sharp right turn past a rock formation. The ship banked so hard at such a low altitude that we drew a line through the sand. I hoped what the man had said about the tracking systems was correct information because flying the Falcon was 10 times harder when you weren’t in open space. We were headed into a ship graveyard, probably fron the legendary Battle of Jakku a few years after the death of the Emperor. I’d heard stories about it since I was young from my dad followed by my mother chastising him for retelling war stories to a child. A chill went down my spine as we passed a wrecked Star Destroyer.

I serpentined through metal wreckage, occasionally bumping into something as the man fired more shots, only missing by a few inches. There was another wrecked ship ahead of us and I was reminded of a move that I’d seen Poe pull in battles. No other Resistance pilot was brave enough to do it most of the times, but I was confidant enough in my abilities that I thought I could pull it off. I flew directly towards the wrecked ship and at the very last second possible, with Rey calling my name worriedly, I pulled away and swung left. It looked like we had lost one of the TIE’s. Right after that, the turret fired a shot at the other fighter and it landed perfectly.

“Nice shot!" Rey yelled back to the man, unfortunately the joy didn’t last long as the fighter I thought had crashed tailed us once again.

“Damn it!” I exclaimed just before the TIE fired a shot that definitely hit us.

“The cannon’s stuck in forward position, I can’t move it! You gotta lose ‘em!” the man called out.

“Ideas?” I asked Rey whose eyes were locked onto the main Star Destroyer ahead of us, I could practically see the gears turning in her head.

“Switch seats with me, quickly.” Rey directed, while I may have been the better pilot, she had the upper hand in knowing the terrain. She seemed to be a quick thinker too, a trait I admired. Somehow we maneuvered around each other without a hand ever leaving the controls as we switched roles. I wasn’t sure what she was planning to do, but at this point we were way past distrust.

“Get ready!” she called.

“For what?” both me and our amatuar gunsman asked.

The answer we received was Rey passing the Star Destroyer three quarters of the way before swinging the Falcon back around, heading right into the rear of the Destroyer. I was mumbling a few curse words in another language under my breath, there wasn’t much left for us to do after this to get the fighter off our backs. As we maneuvered through it, I was simultaneously uneasy and fascinated at being inside an abandoned Star Destroyer. We were quickly approaching the other side of the ship with no exit plan, luckily Rey spotted the sun coming through a hole in the side and made a sharp turn. I’d hoped that the TIE pilot’s reflexes weren’t fast enough to do the same but when did things ever work out as I needed them to? He was still on our tails, but when I glanced over at Rey, I could tell she had another good idea. Before I could blink she pulled back down on the yoke and the Falcon began to loop back down before facing the TIE head on. I knew exactly what she was doing. The man fired a perfectly aimed blast at the enemy ship and it exploded, I could hear his cheer from below deck. Rey pushed back down on the lever and we straightened out, she steered us up into the sky.

As soon as we were off planet, Rey put the ship on autopilot and we leaned back in our seats, exhaling deeply. I looked over to her and we both began laughing,

“Did we just do that?” she asked, still in awe of our escape.

“I think we did,” I chuckled.

I could hear the man’s footsteps coming up the ladder and two of us exited the cockpit to find him standing out in the corridor. The three of us began singing each other’s praises in a flurry,

“Good shooting!” “That was some flying.”

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that.” “You were a complete natural!” “I’ve flown some ships but I’ve never left the planet,”

“Your last shot was dead on.”

“That was amazing.”

“You two set me up for it!” “It was perfect!” “I can’t believe we actually did that!”

How are we supposed to get back to base now?!  The three of us turned to a frazzled BB-8 and Rey kneeled down in front of him,

“You’re okay. He’s with the Resistance too. They’re going to get you home…We all will.”

While I appreciated Rey’s loyalty, my focus was now on the fact that the man standing in front of me was definitely not a part of the Resistance. It was fact and not ego when I said that I was the General’s daughter, everyone on base knew me and this guy clearly didn’t.

“I don’t know your name,” Rey said quietly, addressing him.

He stopped for a second before responding, “Finn. What’s yours?”

“I’m Rey, this is y/n. She’s with the Resistance too.”

I gave Finn a knowing look but managed to smile as to not alarm Rey. By the panic in his eyes, I could tell he probably knew he had been made. I didn’t have any intention of letting him float back to wherever he came from, he had helped save our asses and seemed too nervous to be a spy. I began to open my mouth to say something when my eyes fell on his jacket, Poe’s jacket.

My grief couldn’t wait any longer.

As if Finn knew what I was thinking about, he began talking. “Y/n, I want you to know I tried to save Poe. I really did. He kept telling me how important it was that he got back to his girl.”  I bit back my tears and nodded, “And I’m grateful for that, Finn. That you helped. I-I just need a few minutes.”  I didn’t stay long enough to see their reactions, I walked quickly through the corridor and made my way to the captain’s quarters. Thankfully, the access code hadn’t been changed and I was still able to escape. Shutting the door, I turned to find that little had changed in the room that used to belong to my parents. Not that there had ever been much that could change about it, it was kept very minimalistic. A cot, a closet, a door to a refresher.

It didn’t take long for me to fall apart as I slid down the wall to the floor. Poe was actually gone. I’d never get to hold him again, I’d never get to hear his laugh, I’d never get to wait in the hanger for him to see his X-Wing return from a mission. I’d never get to tell him how deeply in love with him I was, I’d never know what his lips tasted like, I’d never know what our future may have looked like. He spent his last few moments desperately trying to get back to me, his girl. I hugged my knees and rested my head on them, feeling the tears soak through the material of my pants. I had to make it through the rest of my life without my best friend and the love of my life. It just felt cruel that both of those roles belonged to the same person. I needed to hear Poe’s voice more than anything right now, I needed to hear him crack some inappropriate joke before reassuring me that I was going to be perfectly fine. Though I knew there was no ‘fine’ to go back to.

My grief changed to anger that surged through me like an electric charge. The First Order had taken Poe from me and they were going to burn for it. I refused to believe for a second that my brother may have possibly been a part of it. Had Ben been the one that tortured him or fired whatever shot had brought Poe down, I’d have to accept that there truly was no good left in him. I wasn’t prepared to face a world where Poe was dead and there was no hope for my brother.

“Y/n, you better get out here!”

Finn’s voice broke me from my thoughts, I dried my eyes and exited the cabin quickly. The hallway was dark except for a few emergency lights, Finn grabbed my arm and dragged me down the corridor,

“Rey had to do a repair on the ship but right after, this happened,” he explained, gesturing around us.

We entered the cockpit and found Rey sitting in the pilot’s seat,

“Someone’s locked onto us, all controls are overridden.”

“Shit,” I mumbled, Finn proceeded to place a hand on Rey’s shoulder as he got higher to try and see something.

“Get off!” Rey grumbled, “See anything?”

Finn sunk back down in the co-pilot’s seat, he looked like he’d just stared down Snoke himself.

“It’s the First Order,” he breathed, they’d found us. I’d been stupid to think there wouldn’t be a ship waiting near from Jakku to capture us.

“Okay, think, what do we do?” I asked, looking between the two of them.

Finn pointed at Rey, “You said poisonous gas?”

“Yeah, but I fixed that,” she replied confidently, clearly the repairs she’d done hadn’t been minor.

“Can you unfix it?”

We looked to Finn like he was insane before the metaphorical lightbulb clicked above both our heads. The three of us sprinted through the ship till we reached the lounge. We each grabbed a gas mask before heading down into the open grating area.

“C’mon, Bee,” I urged, Rey and I grabbed him and attempted to lower him down. I miscalculated how much he weighed and we dropped him on Finn.

“I’m okay,” he groaned, “BB-8, get off me.”

Rey struggled with pulling the grating over us and came back down to work on the controls.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Rey asked Finn.

“Yeah, their masks filter out smoke, not toxins,” he replied.

“How do you know that?” I asked in a faux innocent tone, observing the anxiety in his eyes when I posed the question. The sound of the ship ramp lowering was loud and the lights came back on.

“Hurry!”

Rey continued fiddling with the controls until we heard the sound of the ship door opening and footsteps. I was already running through strategies in my head, surrender was probably the smartest option. But the urge to take down each trooper in a blaze of blaster fire was tempting too. One of my hands stayed planted on my holster, ready to defend us if necessary. There were two voices, though I couldn’t make out what was being said. I held my breath as the footsteps came closer, suddenly the grate was lifted and the three of us raised our hands in surrender. Though mine were lowered at the sight of who was standing above us,

“Dad?”

“Y/n?”

———————-

A/N: Fear not, obviously we’ll see Poe again but a lot of shit has to go down before we have our reunion. Also, I love writing the friendship between Rey and the Reader. Two supportive badass women kicking 🍑 together! Let me know what you thought!

Taglist: @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @springfox04 @constantdisgrace @holybatflapexpert @seninjakitey @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet @leilei-draws @eternal-fandoms @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @imaginecrushes @eternallyvenus @thescarletknight2014 @simplyhemmings @captain-america5 @breyasficletblog

#poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine #rey #finn #rey x reader #finn x reader #poe dameron x solo!reader

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mlovesstories · 4 years

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Harley is Jensen’s assistant on the set of Supernatural. It wasn’t what she expected.

AN: Thanks to my amazing love @cherryblossomflowers for editing!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault

Words; 1600

Jensen x platonic reader

Jared x platonic reader

“So, what are you doing here, kid? How old are you?” Jensen asked in one of the production offices, interviewing for his set assistant.

“I don’t see why that matters, but I’m twenty. I feel like I can be of great help, and I have a few years experience in-“

“Do you know who I am?”

“A guy… needing an assistant?”

“You got the job. Welcome aboard,” he stood and shook her hand.

“Excuse me?” Harley gasped.

“You’re confident and not intimidated by a Hollywood actor, so to say.”

“Should I be?” She cocked her head to the side.

“No, but that’s the point.” Jensen smiled.

“Okay…”

“We start shooting the next episode tomorrow. Be here at 6am, kid.”

“You don’t know my name, do you?”

“You’re a kid, at least compared to me.” Jensen shrugged.

“Then I withdraw my application.” Harley snarled.

“Hey, wait!” Jensen chased after her in the office. “I’m sorry, it’s Harley, right?”

“Yeah, and I’m not a kid. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

—————-

“Morning, Mr. Ackles,” Harley caught up to Jensen as he exited the van dropping him off.

“Hi,” he smiled. “Follow me.” Jensen hastily walked toward his trailer. After they entered, he said, “take a seat.”

Harley slid onto the couch.

“Rules.”

“Woah- I’m not-”

“Stop being so defensive, kid,” Jensen laughed. “I’m not stuck up. Don’t wait on me hand and foot, and don’t follow me around like a puppy.”

“I can handle that,” she smiled.

“The PAs will get you settled. Go out and turn left. You’ll see the PA trailer.”

“Any other rules?” Harley looked to him.

“Plenty, but those can wait til later.” Jensen winked.

“Right…” Harley stood, unimpressed. “I’ll check in with you when I’m done,” she said matter-of-factly.

A few minutes later, Harley knocked on Jensen’s door. He opened it and she entered.

“You look official with your radio and clipboard,” he smiled. Harley offered a fake smile, not impressed. “What?”

“Nothing, Mr. Ackles. I’m just here to do a job that I’ve done before. I’m not new at this, and you don’t care about assistants.”

“Says who?”

“All the big stars don’t even do small talk with the staff. That’s just how it works in the industry.” Harley shrugged.

“Kid, I’m not like whoever you worked with before. Do your job and do it well, but ya gotta have fun too! Now that we got that out of the way, the PAs will give you the schedule for the day, it’s your job to make sure I show up at the right time. Can you do that?”

“Well, I can tell you, but it is really up to you whether you show up.” Harley grinned, joking.

“You’ll fit in just fine,” Jensen laughed.

Harley easily fit into the awesome that was Supernatural. This was the best set she had ever been on. Jensen talked to her and treated her with respect.

“Ackles! Makeup!” She yelled to him as she walked to the set from the wardrobe trailer.

“Stop bossing me around!” He groaned and rolled his eyes.

“I refuse to get you gum if you don’t listen to me, Jensen!” Harley yelled back.

“FINE, you ass.” He playfully whined. Jensen turned and walked toward her and was about to pass her when she stopped him.

“Here, you earned it.” She gave him his favorite gum.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he bowed.

“Oh, shut up,” Harley laughed. “Go!” She pushed him toward the trailer.

____________

“Harley,” Jensen nudged his assistant on set.

“Huh?” She snapped at his voice, clipboard almost dropping on his foot.

“Can you PLEASE,” he whined. “Get me a cup of coffee from that place down the street?”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes playfully at Jensen. “You’re due in Wardrobe in fifteen minutes, don’t forget.”

“Thank you,” he winked at her.

“Whatever, Winchester,” she laughed.

“I love you,” he thanked her.

“You better!” Harley yelled back as she walked away.

When she returned, she handed him and Jared each a cup of coffee.

“I get one too?” Jared looked at the cup in his hand. “Thanks, bud.”

“Jensen’s credit card paid for it, but your welcome,” Harley laughed.

“Hey!” Jensen gasped, ornery. “Next time take his card! Not fair!”

“Cool your jets, Jensen. You would have bought him coffee if you were getting it yourself anyway.”

“Hey, bud. What’s up with you?” Jared walked to Harley while Jensen was doing a scene.

“Huh?” She looked up at him. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re… quiet.”

“I’m fine,” she gave him a short smile.

“If you say so.” He gave the expression back.

————

“Hey, Jensen,” Harley greeted him. As he exited the van, he noticed she backed away from him as he went in to give her a hug.

“You okay?”

“Yep! Sorry, a little jumpy today.” Taking her clipboard, she read off the schedule to him for the day. “Here are your sides.” Harley handed him a few stapled half-pages. She turned to walk with him toward his trailer when she gasped.

“What?” Jensen looked at her face.

“Umm. Forgot to unplug my curling iron. I’ll call my roommate if you don’t mind.”

“Uh. Sure.” He narrowed his eyes at her. He saw a large figure turn the corner of a trailer.

“Hey, Max. How ya doing?” Jensen shook the actor’s hand.

“Glad I got a few episodes out of this gig. It’s the least you people could do for me.”

Jensen froze the handshake and gave the man a serious face.

“Right,” Jensen let go of the man’s hand and told Harley to follow him. “See you on set, Max.”

“Yeah, sure,” Max scoffed.

“Ass.” Jensen whispered. Harley bit her lip. “Come on. Is Jared here yet?” Harley nodded her head. “Can you go get him for me? I need to go over some lines.” As he said that, rain started to fall, “and get in my trailer ASAP. I don’t need you all soaked or borrowing one of my sweatshirts.” He chuckled.

“You’re stupid.” Harley ran off to Jared’s trailer.

“Hey, Jared,” Harley knocked on his trailer. “Jensen said he wanted to talk to you. Runs lines or something.” He slowly grabbed a jacket. “Will you hurry? I’m getting wet!” Jared laughed.

“Okay, lets go.”

“I told you not to get wet,” Jensen groaned. “Here,” he tossed her a large sweatshirt that smelled like his cologne.

“Moose decided to be a slowpoke so I got rained on!” She ran into his trailer followed by Jared.

“Sorry!” The taller man hurried up the steps.

“Hey, you notice Max Green being a shithead?” Jensen sat down next to Harley. Jared sat across from them. “He was a jerk to me.”

“He seems like a stuck up tool to me. He’s been rude. Said that he’s so well-known, and he’s that way. So much for ‘we’re lucky to have him’” Jared huffed.

“Here,” Jensen handed Harley a cup of coffee.

“What?” She accepted it.

“You need it more than me. Get warm.” Jensen smiled.

“Aw. Thanks, Ackles.” She gratefully sipped the drink. .

————-

Jared saw Harley from across the lot.

“Hey, Harley!” He waved. Jared saw her wipe her fingers under her eyes. He walked up to her, no one else around.”what are you doing? You okay?”

“Bye, Harley!” The two turned to see Max Green leaving through a gate. With a smile and a nod, he walked to his car.

Jared saw her shutter.

“What happened? He hasn’t been that nice to anyone since he got here,” Jared chuckled.

When she didn’t respond, he dragged her by her sleeve to his trailer and left for a moment. “JACK!” He called for his friend.

Jensen threw open his trailer door.

“What, man? You’re ruining my-“ Jensen faked annoyance until he saw Jared’s face. “What?” He followed Jared back to the younger Winchester’s trailer.

Harley looked up when the two entered.

“What is going on?” Jensen looked at Harley, a serious, blank look on her face.

“She’s acting funny.” Jared answered. Harley wiped a hand over her face.

“I’m okay. Just got some news this morn-“

“Nah, that’s not it,” Jared stated. “She’s freaked out every time she is near Mr. Big Shot.”

“Max?” Jensen looked to Harley.

“Did Max have anything to do with you not acting like you?” Jared asked.

“No, just sad.”

“You’ve been with us for too long. Talk to us.” Jensen told her plainly. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not really.” Harley whispered.

“I’m going to kill him,” Jared shot up out of his chair.

“No!” Harley shouted. “I’m fine. He didn’t do anything.”

“You’re lying! I can tell!” Jensen growled. Harley burst into tears.

“He- he grabbed my ass and touched my-“ Harley fell over into her own lap, tears hitting her jeans. Jared ran out of the trailer, and he slammed the door. Jensen ran to her side and pulled her into him “no, I’m fine,” YN said. When she sat up, Jared bounded through the door.

“Security escorted him off the lot. He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“Thanks, Jared.” She stood and wrapped her skinny arms around his waist. Feeling his large body next to hers, she felt safe again.

Forever Friends (Everything):

@katymacsupernatural @unicornblood4ever @supernatural-crazed-girl

@fangirl-moment-x @empirialwolf @winchesters-favorite-girl @super100012

@percywinchester27 @waywardsuns @supernatural-jackles

@mcallmestiles @sdavid09 @kingandrear @bellero @skylarraker

@seality @jaycc7983 @luci-in-trenchcoats

@cherryblossomflowers @because-you-never-know-when

@sleepylunarwolf @choosemyname

@internationalmusicteacher

@encounterthepast @torn-and-frayed

@giggles1026 @xiumin-girl99

@mangueweaschester

@idksupernatural @silverstripe101a

@thevelvetseries @jennawinchester152a * @samsgirl93 * @supernatural3002 *

@tmiships4life * @breereadsthings * @mersuperwholocked-lowlife *

@a-magey @vicmc624 @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @beatifuldisaster018

@miraclesoflove @myopiamystical @fallen-wolf22

@waywardnewcomer

#Jensen Ackles #jensen x platonic reader #supernatural #supernaturalrpf #mlovesstoriesassistingtheassistant #mlovesstories

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strangerfictions · 4 years

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Book Recommendations (Billy Hargrove x Plus Size Reader)

Request: Can I request Billy Hargrove x plus size reader fic? Reader is shy and plus size and is always wearing bright patterned shirts/high waist jeans. She babysits her neighbour's kids who go to the swimming pool a lot. She hangs around the sidelines when she's at the pool, never getting in, just reading. Billy always tries to speak with her because he likes her. Fluff please! Sorry if you're not up for writing a plus size reader

Warnings: Lots of Fluff!

Words: 3045

A/N: Thanks to @morganofthecoves1 for this awesome request. I had a blast working on this! First fic back after a little bit of a hiatus! College has been crazy since mid-March and so I had to push writing to the sideline while I focused on my degree. I am now finished the second year of my degree and honestly, I can't believe it but I loved this request so much so I knew I had to work on this for my first fic back! Also, I want to start writing more plus size fics as I am plus size and love plus size fics so damn much! If anyone has requests for them let me know!

It was mid-July and the sun had been beating down on Hawkins for months now. You never got used to the heat during this time of year but you still had to work. Every year since Freshman year you had babysat your neighbour's kids and despite this being your final summer before college this year was no different. You didn’t mind because all you had to do was bring them to the pool every day and they were happy.

It was the hottest day of the year and so you knew bringing the kids to the pool was the best idea. You packed your bag to include sun cream, money, and two books to read by the side of the pool. You never really got into the pool as you never really felt comfortable in a bikini or swimsuit, especially around the girls of Hawkins who were considered beautiful because they were thin. It wasn’t that you weren’t confident because you were confident the majority of the time but having so little on in front of so many people made you feel vulnerable in a way. You knew you would eventually have to give in but not today.

You left the house early that morning wearing your usual attire. You loved the recent trend of colourful shirts and so you have been going out and buying them every couple of weeks. You now had an entire collection that you loved. You went for a tropical print shirt along with your blue high waisted jeans.

After you got the send-off from your neighbours you walked the kids to the pool for opening time. It was always best to get there for opening time because it got very busy very quickly. It didn’t take too long to get to the pool as you and the kids talked about random things on the way there. However, you were a bit early and so you all had to stand around in the little shade outside the gates of the pool.

As the opening time came nearer more and more people began to appear outside the pool. Before long you saw the familiar mullet-wearing lifeguard walk towards the gate. You and Billy had always been on different social scales. He was popular and you just about existed in high school. Despite this Billy had been trying to talk to you for weeks now but you were way too shy to say more than two words to him. You watch as he opens the gate allowing people into the pool. The kids run in front of you to get your usual spot near the back of the pool. Both you and Billy yell at them to stop running at the same time causing you both to smile at each other.

“Morning Y/N!” Billy smiles at you as you walk past him.

“Good Morning Billy” you say quietly as you walk past him and over to where the kids have set up for the day.

The day went by as it usually did, hot and slow. It was mid-afternoon and you were sat at the edge of the pool with your feet dangling in while reading your book. It wasn’t like there was much for you to do by the pool and reading was something you enjoyed.

You could feel a shadow looming over you and you knew who it was. Every day Billy will approach you and ask you what you are reading today you will answer with as little words as possible and he will go back to his post for the rest of the day.

“So what are you reading today Y/N?” You look up from your book as Billy crouches beside you.

“Emma by Jane Austen” You say shyly looking back down at the pages.

“You know I’d love to read more classics but I just can never get into them they are way too wordy you know” You look away from your book and back at Billy surprised.

“You like to read?” You ask shifting a little as you feel the hot tiles beneath your jeans.

“Sometimes, when I get the chance. What would you recommend to start with?”

“Something small maybe. Ease yourself into it. I loved The Great Gatsby, it’s one of my favourites, so maybe that would be a good start?” You suggest as Billy stands up.

“Great thanks! I’ll stop by the bookstore later and pick up a copy. I’ll let you know how it goes.” He winks at you and walks back to his post. You glance around and spot some of the older women staring at you. That was all you needed.

The rest of the day went by quietly. You finished reading ‘Emma’ and spent the rest of the day talking to the kids who’s friends had left early that day. You got home around nine the night and spent the night lying in bed thinking about Billy and the fact that he likes to read. You always found stereotypes weird but one glance at Billy and you would think he would never have touched a book in his life. Although he had done well in English class so you weren’t all that surprised.

The next morning followed the same routine. Like clockwork, the same people turned up at the pool and just before opening Billy’s head emerged from the staff room. This time he was carrying something in his hand. The familiar blue cover standing out to you. He’s been reading ‘The Great Gatsby’ you thought to yourself as you pushed the kids forward so they could get your usual spot.

As soon as Billy opens the gates everyone dashes for their usual spots but you take your time knowing that the kids will save your spot.

“Morning Y/N” Billy says as you walk through the gates

“Morning. Enjoying Gatsby?” You stop beside him to catch his answer.

“You know what I didn’t think I would enjoy it all that much because you know it’s the twenties how great could it be but I am loving it!” He beams at you.

“Oh great, I’m glad you are enjoying it so much! Well, I guess I’ll see you later” You say turning around and walking towards the kids.

After setting up you sit down on the edge of the pool and sit there for the rest of the day reading.

After a few hours, the familiar shadow appears over you. A little earlier than usual you thought to yourself. Billy crouches down beside you holding his book.

“So, I just finished it…and I did not expect it to go the way it did. Thank you for recommending it!” Billy says as you turn towards him

“Oh yeah, the ending is pretty crazy. I think that’s why I loved it so much. I’m glad I could help!” You smile folding your book across your knee, so it doesn’t fall into the pool.

“Got any more recommendations for me?” He asks

“Have you tried Gothic fiction before?” You ask to see what he is really into.

“Not really. I’ve heard good things though”

“Okay, I would say start with something like Dracula by Bram Stoker or Frankenstein by Mary Shelly” You suggest as you Billy takes in the info.

“Cool. I’ll check them out. I have a question for you?” Billy stands up getting uncomfortable from crouching

“Uhm sure!” You say not knowing where this was going especially since it was Billy.

“Why don’t you get into the pool?” He asks as you squint at him through the sun.

“No reason I just prefer being able to read on the edge and keep an eye on the kids” you lie to him. You can tell that he does not believe you but either way, he accepts it as an answer.

“Alright then well, I will let you continue. See you later.” You watch as Billy walks back to his post knowing that you are being stared at by the older women on the other side of the pool.

The next week goes by similar to this. You now stop at the gate to ask Billy how he is getting on with the book you recommended. He tells gives you his initial opinion and you go to your usual spot. Once he is finished, he will let you know by crouching beside you and talking about it with you for a few minutes and then you both go about your day.

Since you recommend ‘The Great Gatsby’ Billy has now read Dracula, Frankenstein, Moby Dick, The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Scarlett Letter, Animal Farm and Pride and Prejudice. You were enjoying talking to him about books. You even let him borrow some and that was something you rarely did! This little routine with Billy went on until the end of Summer. You knew it was going to happen, but you weren’t looking forward to having to give one last recommendation.

You were standing in your usual spot of the kids when you spot Billy coming to open the gates. The kids inch forward so they can make the most out of the last day of summer but you hang back letting the others in Infront of you. You walk in behind a group of older ladies who had stopped to flirt with Billy. You hung back behind them trying to remain as invisible as possible. Billy noticed you standing back and tried to get through the conversation with the women as quickly as he could. You watch as he gets a little irritated as the women keep talking.

“Sorry ladies I wish I could stand around chatting all day but I need to get to my post!” You watch as they walk away and Billy smiles at you.

“Hey sorry I didn’t know how to let them down lightly”

“It's alright. Just wanted to see what you thought of Wuthering Heights?” You ask fumbling with your fingers

“I went into it with an open mind but fuck it was bad. It was all so bad. I see what you mean now!” You both laugh knowing how bad you both thought of the book.

“Right! I never understood why so many people liked it. I guess in a sick way it's romantic but that’s a stretch” You say laughing with Billy. You look over to the kids to make sure they are doing okay but you then spot that you are getting evil looks from Billy’s admirers.

“We better walk towards my post before something turns nasty” Billy smiles at you as you both begin to walk towards the back of the pool.

“Thanks for helping me out by the way! It’s not often I get to talk to anyone about reading because…well, I’m sure you get it” Billy says quietly looking down at the ground.

“It’s cool. It’s something I enjoy and if I get to help someone out with recommendations then even better!”

“So, I’m guessing you are going to college soon?” He asks as he stops beside his chair leaning up against the frame.

“I’m leaving tomorrow. It’s going to be so strange leaving all of this behind” You say sadly shuffling on your feet as the heat burns through your shoes.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” You look at Billy suspiciously

“I think we leave at about midday…Why?” You ask still giving Billy a suspicious look.

“Perfect! I need you to meet me here tomorrow morning just before opening time” You open your mouth to protest.

“Don’t question it just meet me around the back” He argues back at you

“Fine, I guess I’ll see you here tomorrow morning” You say walking away smiling to yourself.

The next day arrives faster than you would have hoped for. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to Hawkins just yet but NYU was now your home for the foreseeable future. You got up super early and finished packing up the last few things into your dad's car. You told your parents that you wanted to go for one last walk before leaving and so at eight-thirty you left your house and walked the same route you had been so used to walking for the past four years except you now knew that this would be that last time for a while and as you got closer to the pool your emotions began to catch up with you. You had to stop so you could hype yourself up. You knew you would more than likely be back next summer so after a few minutes of hyping yourself up and telling yourself over and over that you would be back you continued down to the pool.

Once you got to the pool you walked around the back to find Billy sitting on a wall cigarette in hand.

“Hi” you call over to get his attention

“Oh hey! I thought maybe you had decided not to show up.” He says throwing his cigarette on the ground and stomping on it.

“Oh yeah sorry, I had to stop for a few minutes…It’s weird knowing I won't see this place again until next summer” You say looking down at the ground embarrassed.

“Yeah, I get it. I was like that when we moved from California. It’s not a fun time but I’m sure you will fit in up in NYU.”

“Well, it’s not like I fit in here…anyways why am I meeting you in the sketchiest part of the pool?”

“Well funny you should ask! I wanted to thank you somewhere that wasn’t going to have onlookers and well the back of the pool never has onlookers so here we are”

“Thank me? For What?” You ask sitting down next to him on the wall.

“For the book recommendations and for talking to me about books. I always feel awkward reading but seeing you read at the pool gave me a little bit of confidence to do it so yeah thanks” With that Billy pulls out something wrapped in brown paper and tied with ribbon and hands it to you.

“I didn’t wrap it Max did.” Billy says as you take from him

“Billy you didn’t have to get me anything you literally could have just said thanks and went our separate ways and I wouldn’t have minded” You said as you slowly unwrapped the ribbon

“Yeah well, I don’t want to go our separate ways. You’ve been a great friend and I genuinely have had such a great time getting to know you the past few months so I would hope that we can stay in touch” You unwrap the brown paper to reveal a limited edition copy of ‘The Great Gatsby’.

“Oh wow. You didn’t have to Billy! I don’t think I can accept this honestly”

“Why did I know you were going to do that! You’re way too humble Y/N just take the damn book, please! I remembered when you recommended it to me you said it was one of your favourite books and well I saw it in the book store and thought you might like it so please just take it!” Billy pleads with you as you smile at him

“That’s sentimental and sweet thank you! I had planned on giving you something but don’t expect it to be something as impressive!” You take your backpack off your back and rummage and grab something out of it. You hand a book flipped over to Billy along with a fancy envelope.

“Okay so I didn’t have wrapping paper, but I saw this and thought you had to read it. It’s not your style at all but I’m sure it sparked something in you when you started talking to me” He flipped the book over to find that you had given him a copy of Emma by Jane Austen.

“Also there is a slip of paper in the envelope that lists about 356 books that I would recommend. Not all of them are classics but I think you will enjoy most of them. Also, there’s a library card in there you should check that out sometime…unless that’s too uncool for you.” You say laughing

“Wow…I didn’t expect anything from you all things considering. I guess we had a similar idea. Thank you I’m very much looking forward to reading this and all of the other books you have recommended. Who knew books could bring people together” You both laugh as you stand up.

“I better go. I still have a few more things to pack up before we leave this afternoon” You didn’t want to leave but you knew you had to

“Yeah of course. You better stay in contact though!” Billy says standing up in front of you.

“Obviously. I need to know what you think of all of the books you read from the list!” You both stand looking at each other awkwardly.

“I don’t want to leave. I know I have to but if I leave I may not ever come back again and that scares me” You say trying not to cry.

“It’s alright it’s time for you to move on and start your life elsewhere. You can’t stay in Hawkins all your life no matter how much you want to.” You feel a tear slide down your face and then all of a sudden you are fully crying. Billy walks towards you and pulls you into a hug.

“Jesus Y/N I didn’t think you were a crier” You eventually stop crying and pull away from Billy

“Sorry I don’t know why I am so emotional today it’s stupid because I’ll probably be back next summer and still have to babysit and do the usual summer activities but I just feel weird leaving” You felt stupid for how you were feeling but you also knew it was normal.

“How about I walk you back to your house that way you will be where you need to be and we can continue to talk?” Billy suggests

“Yeah, that would be great!” you say happily turning to begin walking out of the pool.

You both begin to walk towards your house and spend the entire time talking about books and you almost forget that you are leaving in a few hours.

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thecleverdame · 4 years

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Control and Release - 33

Series Masterlist

TEDTalk!Sam x Reader

Summary: After the rest of the staff is caught in a snowstorm, you find yourself acting as a personal assistant to the notorious Sam Winchester. As the arrangement becomes more defined, you and Sam begin a sexual adventure with dangerous consequences.

Warnings: Dom/Sub, humiliation, embarrassment, sexual objectification, mutual masturbation, spanking, cum play, fingering, anal play, orgasm control, nipple clamps, dub-con, breath play.

Beta: @ilikaicalie

Parts 1-42 are currently available on Patreon for a monthly pledge of $2.50. This includes early access to all my stories, including Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

You enjoy being out, it’s great to see your colleagues outside the office. People’s personalities come out here in the real world. But somewhere between your third and fourth drink, the bar doesn't seem like where you’re supposed to be.

Going back to Boston feels like both a beginning and an end. Everything will change once you get home and your relationship with Sam becomes public. And there’s a piece of your relationship you find yourself mourning. These quiet, private moments here in London. You’ve practically been living together. Going home means spending more time at your own place. Before it felt like independence and self-care. Now it just sounds lonely.

Smiling at Millie, you check your phone for the tenth time. It’s almost midnight. Sam must be done with dinner by now. If you leave now you could make it back in time to order dessert from room service.

“You’re always checking your phone.” Millie rolls her eyes. She points to Cole who’s across the room engaged in some rather animated storytelling with Mick. “Your boss is right there. What are you worried about?”

“I just wanted to see how late it was.” You tip back your glass, downing the last of the vodka.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” She grabs your arm. “Leaving me here all alone?”

“You’ll be fine, I’m tired. I need to sleep.”

“Yeah, well no wonder. You’ve been working too hard. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you since we got here.” Millie helps you pull on your coat. “See you on the plane.”

As you walk down the hall heading towards Sam’s room you let two fingers trail along the wall. You’re a little drunk, enough to let your inhibitions go. Luckily Sam is always more than willing to fool around.

You fish the room card out of your handbag and slide it into the door.

What you find is the otherworldly sight of Sam sitting on the couch, and a naked Toni on her knees beside him. Doing a double take, you stare at Sam who looks like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His hair is askew. You don’t want to imagine how it got that way.

“Good evening, Y/N.” Tony flashes a smarmy grin. “We didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

You blink twice and step back out into the hallway.

Sam is fucking Toni Bevell.

No, it can’t be true.

But you just saw it. Witnessed the proof with your own eyes. You can’t think, all you can do is feel and there’s an avalanche of emotion headed your way. Your hands are shaking when you hear Sam call your name.

Maybe if you just close your eyes this will all go away.

“What?!” You turn to him, getting a good look. His shirt is rumpled, hair wild, sticking out in all directions. You’re going to be sick. “Jesus Christ Sam! I can’t stand to look at you right now.”

“Don’t overreact,” he instructs, taking a step toward you. You want to slap him, to beat on his chest and scream in his face. If anyone has a reason to react, it’s you.

“Don’t overreact?!” you erupt. How dare he tell you what to do. You’ve never hated anyone more than you hate him at this moment. Toni’s smug, shit-eating grin comes back to you. They must think you’re so naive to trust him. “Fuck you! I trusted you. I must be so stupid. It never even crossed my mind that you would do something like this.”

“Nothing happened,” Sam says, holding up his hands.

Is that even possible? The sight of him tells you everything you need to know. He must think he’s got you wrapped around his little finger.

“Don’t lie to me. Something sure as fuck happened.” Your heart breaks at the sight of him. “For a guy who’s all about the details you’re not covering your tracks very well. You’ve got her lipstick on your mouth and your fly is still down.”

All the anger quickly sours into sadness and embarrassment. All his talk of love and commitment and then he’s fucking this aristocratic bitch the minute you’re out of the room.

“What?” Sam feels at his crotch, looking genuinely surprised to find his fly down. “Look, she tried and I-”

Does he honestly think he can talk his way out of this? As if you didn’t just see what you saw.

“And you what? Let her take her clothes off? Did you fuck her?”

You don’t want the answer. The thought of Sam and Toni is wretched.

“No, of course not,” he snips, as if you’re the one being ridiculous.

The heartbreak bubbles over and there’s no stopping the tears.

“I don’t get it.” Your voice breaks as tears slide down both cheeks. Why would he do this? You rack your brain trying to remember if there were any warning signs. He’s been all in, fully present. You didn’t see this coming. “I thought we were in a good place. I try everything you want. I gave you a blowjob just this morning. What could you possibly want from her that I’m not giving you?”

“Nothing.” He reaches out, moving toward you and you have to step back. It takes everything within you not to throw yourself at him. You want to pretend this never happened and go back to the happiness that existed only minutes ago. “Nothing happened. I know this looks bad. I get that. But nothing happened. You came back at the worst possible time, but nothing was going to happen. That’s the truth.”

Fuck him. You had bad timing?

“Oh, this is my fault?” you yell. “I need to get out of here. I have to think.”

You just need to have a second to collect yourself without him right there. You can’t think straight.

“Don’t leave.” He grabs your arm, forcing you to look at him. “If you leave it automatically makes things worse than they are. You can stay here and be pissed at me. We can talk. I’ll sleep on the couch. Just don’t leave, please don’t leave.”

He’s right, but the idea of going back into the room where he’s just done God knows what with Toni is stomach-turning.

Crossing your arms over your chest you look toward the door. “She’s still in there.”

“She’s leaving.” He puts his hands on your shoulders and you almost pull away from him. What if this is it? What if this is the last time he puts his hands on you? “Just let me get her out of there. Don’t go anywhere.”

Sam disappears back into the room and you immediately panic. You’re about to really lose it, so you head for the elevator and press every button until the doors close.

There’s a bathroom in the lobby and you lock yourself in the first stall, sinking to the ground and promptly sobbing into your hands. How is this how your life turned out? Cheated on by Sam fucking Winchester of all people. It wouldn’t be the first time. In fact, this makes a perfect streak, five out of five. Every guy you’ve ever been with has been disloyal at some point. You should have expected it.

Scrolling through your phone you look for someone to call. Your mom...no. She’d overreact. You could tell Millie, confess the whole thing. She loves you and she’s a good friend. She’d order a pizza and stay up all night talking about what a pig he is. But that’s not what you need, either.

Cole. He’s always said he’s there to listen. Telling him the truth about your relationship with Sam would make everything easier. And Cole cares about you. You know that much is true. But running to Cole seems wrong. It feels like retaliation because you know how much Sam would hate it.

The phone vibrates and Sam’s name pops up. You almost answer, but the image of he and Toni is too vivid. Her breasts in his face, the surprise when he saw you at the door. You press the power button on the phone and watch as the screen goes black.

This hurts so bad.

You find yourself suddenly sober and in desperate need of something to take the edge off. Cleaning yourself up as best you can, you cross the lobby and enter the hotel bar. There are a dozen or so people scattered around.

Finding an empty seat you order a shot of tequila and a beer.

You trusted Sam with everything. Up until twenty minutes ago, your biggest fear was that he would walk away, but never did you imagine he would cheat. Your sex life is active to say the least, and he’s definitely not looking for an emotional connection.

Maybe he was just bored. Maybe it’s his own personal brand of self-sabotage.

Wiping a single tear away, you sip your beer, watching an older couple happily chatting at the end of the bar.

The longer you sit, the more the details come back to you. The way she was perched over him, the red lipstick at the corner of his mouth. You’re irrational and semi-drunk but aware of both. You really want to call Cole and disappear for a night, really make him hurt the way he’s hurt you.

If you leave now, everything is worse. He was right about that.

He said nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. And Sam doesn’t lie. Maybe about his feelings, but he’s never lied to you about anything else. He’s brutally honest to a fault.

You stand outside the door to his room for several minutes trying to decide if this is what you really want to do. But in the end, you knock on the door.

Sam answers immediately. His eyes flutter closed when he sees you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he shakes his head and steps to the side as a silent invitation to come in.

“I thought you left,” he admits. His voice is tight. He looks mad and you wonder if this is directed at you, Toni or the fact that he got caught.

“I went to the bar downstairs. Not far.” You stand just inside the door. For the first time, this feels like his space instead of the home away from home you’ve shared for the past two months.

“You weren’t answering your phone.” He runs a hand up the back of his neck. “I was going to come and find you.”

“I shut it off. I needed to think. I’m here now.”

His wool coat is thrown over the back of the couch and he’s got one sneaker on. He’s in sweatpants and his face is clean of any trace of Toni, but his hair is mussed and his eyes are red. You’ve never seen him quite like this before. He looks like a mess.

“I need you to tell me what happened. And if I feel you’re not being one hundred percent truthful, I am going to leave.” You look him in the eye for a fleeting second before taking a seat in the closest chair.

“Okay.” Sam nods adamantly, perching on the edge of the sofa. His knee is bouncing up and down at an exponential rate, he’s agitated. “We came back here after dinner to go over projections.”

“Go on.” It takes everything within you to remain cool collected.

“She came out of the bathroom like that. I told her to stop but she kept it up. She always fucking pushes to get her way.” His hands curl into fists. “Nothing was going to happen. I told her to stop, to get dressed.”

“Why was there lipstick on your mouth?” you ask, voice shaking. “And your fly was down…”

“She kissed me. I pushed her away. I don’t know about the rest of it, honestly. I couldn’t believe it was happening. I would never do that to you. I don’t want her.”

“You know Sam…” You stop to look at him. God, you want to believe him so badly. “I get that you can’t control her actions. And I understand that you had no idea she intended to make an advance...but fuck. You thought coming back to the room was okay? Our room. You came back here with a woman you used to fuck, alone. That seemed like a good idea to you?”

“I didn’t think of it like that.” He presses his lips together, hands on his knees, eyes locked on your eyes. “I don’t think of her as a woman I used to fuck. I think of her as a colleague.”

“Oh, well.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “That’s funny, but I exclusively think of her as a woman you used to fuck.”

You stare at each in silence, the seconds feel like hours. This is a complete role reversal, you’re in complete control here. You get sole determination about what happens next.

“You didn’t think that it would bother me?” You ask a genuine question. “For the two of you to be alone together in a hotel room?”

“I know you don’t like her. But I thought she’d be gone before you got back and that it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Do you see how that’s problematic for me? I almost called Cole tonight. Not for anything weird, just to listen because I needed a friend. But I thought about how you’d feel if I did that. I could have called him, met him and not told you. But the difference between us is that I wouldn’t do that. You mean enough to me that I would never want you to feel the way you’ve just made me feel.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, looking down at his hands. “The thought never crossed my mind.”

“Did you do anything with Toni tonight?”

“No.” He looks up at you.

“Was there any part of you that wanted to?”

“No.” He confirms succinctly.

“Have you been with anyone else since we’ve been together?”

“No.” This question bothers him, his brow furrows. “Do you think that’s something I would do?”

“I didn’t think I’d come home to find you with Toni, but it happened. I just want to be sure there’s nothing else I’m missing.”

“No. I haven’t been with anyone else. You’re the only person I want.”

“I see.”

“Are you going to stay here tonight?” he asks. And for the first time, you get a glimpse of a Sam that you didn’t know existed. He’s crying. It’s just one tear, but it’s there. “I’m trying. I’ve been trying to do things the right way. To make a life for us. I shouldn’t have brought her back here. I know that now. I thought you left tonight and I didn’t think you were going to come back...I don’t know what I’d do.”

“I almost didn’t come back,” you admit.

“Why did you then?”

“Because I love you,” you explain matter of factly. “And I trust you. I couldn’t throw those things away, I needed to hear it from you, hear what happened.”

“Is there anything else you want to know?”

“No.” You shake your head. You want to go to him, hold him tight, but it’s too soon. There’s more you need to talk about and it might as well be now. “I was thinking about when we go home. I should move in with you. We should live together. How do you feel about that?”

“I would like that very much.” He smiles an exhausted little smile, relief overtaking his body and he slouches forward. He looks down at his hands again, sucking in a breath. “I bought a ring. I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

All the air evaporates out of the room. Did he just say what you think he said?

“Are you serious right now?” you whisper, eyes the size of saucers.

“Yes. All I could think when I came back to find you and you weren’t in the hallway is I have this diamond waiting back in Boston and you’re never going to know. So, I’m telling you. I love you. I’m committed. I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

“Well…” you don’t have words. An hour ago it seemed as if the world was falling apart and now this. “When are you going to ask me?”

“I can’t tell you that.” He presses a thumb into the opposite palm. “What are you thinking right now?”

“That I’m going to say yes.” You let out a laugh, overcome with emotion. “But I’m still mad at you right now. You can’t just magically make everything better by talking about a proposal. We’re going to have to talk about Toni. Assuming she’s going to continue working for you, I need there to be clear rules.”

“Anything you want.” He nods adamantly. “You can have anything you want.”

#sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester au #sam winchester smut

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mermaidcashton · 4 years

Text

i hate to admit it

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship: michael clifford/reader prompt/AU: this is a gift for the wonderful @h0tsos who wanted soft, subby Michael in an enemies to lovers capacity (and i snuck some coffee shop!au in there as well, and some weebness because, well, it’s Steff and Michael) wordcount: 4k+ warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (which was a gift exchange this time around) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘this means war’ by mariana’s trench • ‘my hero academia’ is a manga/anime series. there are references to it and a few of the characters in this but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand what’s going on.

i hate to admit it *** “So, they’re like...superheroes?”

Luke sipped on his glass of rosé, nodding like he understood whilst making a face that showed he absolutely did not.

“Yeah, dude, pretty much!” Michael nodded along with your co-worker with so much enthusiasm he looked like one of those dogs people put on their dashboards. Except less cute. Wait, no - not cute. Definitely not cute at all. Good save, you. Couldn’t have your own internal monologue thinking you felt anything for the moron you were forced to work with 3 times a week was anything more than an annoyance you had to endure. With a butt that wouldn’t quit. Dammit, self!

Michael took advantage of Luke showing an interest in his (and yours) favourite anime, and began bombarding him with half baked theories, predictable favourite scenes and shitty character analysis. He nearly knocked his own hat off as he flailed his hands around in an attempt at explaining the dynamics of a battle from the second season. Luke smiled politely.

You snorted into your drink as you drained the last of it; you were definitely going to need another. If Michael started fanboying over Deku again, you were going to scream.

As you placed the empty bottle onto the wood of the coffee table, you took another glance around the apartment you were in. You’d never been up here before, despite spending a minimum of 20 hours a week in the coffee shop downstairs. But after this evening’s staff meeting tackling such issues as ‘who forgot that milk needs to be kept in the fridge overnight’ (Luke), ‘who is putting too much whipped cream on hot chocolates’ (Michael), and ‘who wrote ‘THIS COFFEE IS HOT, BUT U R HOTTER ❤ ) on a customers caramel macchiato’ (Luke again), Ashton had invited you all upstairs for a ‘employee chill’. You had been surprised a week or so into your employment when you had found out that the manager was also the owner who lived in the apartment above Screamin’ Beans; he was only in his mid twenties, but the more you’d experienced his drive and determination, the more your surprise had dwindled. Ashton really was a great guy, with one big flaw; Michael. They had been best friends for years, hence him moving into the apartment when he came back into town and the job Ashton had given him; which in your humble opinion was the equivalent of setting a monkey loose on the milk frother.

Michael had sealed his fate with you the same day he’d started work. He arrived 10 minutes late (from upstairs), sleepy eyed and shy smiled. His fluffy blonde hair was spilling out of his beanie, and he kept biting his very pink lip bottom with sharp little teeth. The way he pronounced your name was adorable. You’d burned your hand on the espresso machine. Strike one. Things unravelled quickly after that. He was ‘too shy’ to take orders and work the register so you were stuck there all day talking to goddamn customers about why it wasn’t a good idea to have 3 pumps of every syrup while he hid behind silver machinery and dirtied way more jugs than you deemed necessary. Strike two. And then he’d dropped a latté into that ladies bag - sorry, very expensive bag. Michael had let out a ‘uuuhhh’ sound like a malfunctioning robot without moving for so long that the furious customer had stopped trying to yell at him and focused her rage on you instead. When he had eventually come to whatever passed for his senses, Michael had power walked into the employee bathroom and didn’t return until Calum arrived to join the shift and assured him the woman had left, twenty minute later. You were beyond strikes. You’d been so sure you could talk Ashton into scheduling you together as little as possible. There was no reason to put you down to work nearly every shift together, especially shifts where only two staff were on! Except, apparently there was because he kept fucking doing it. Every time you pressed Ashton on it, he’d say something about how he needed Michael ‘trained by the best’, or ‘matching availabilities’, or he thought their ‘energies combined well; auras are meshing, y’know?’ The one might have been on you for catching him as he was returning from his Vibe Check Yoga class at the studio down the street.

He’d also emphasised that Michael needed more friends now he was back in the city, and you two had loads in common! You both liked pop punk! You’d rolled your eyes. And Italian food! A ��tch noise. And anime! Okay, you’d bite.

The next time you’d gone into work, you’d engaged Michael in a conversation about ‘Tokyo Ghoul’ and recommended ‘Demon Slayer’; things started to pick up. You didn’t fantasise about locking Michael in the walk-in fridge the whole shift. And then…

“You watch ‘My Hero Academia’, right?” “Uh, yeah! I love it.” “Me too! I just ordered a Todoroki tee yesterday. And another Deku one, of course; gotta rep my main man!” “Oh..cool! He’s your favourite?” Of course Michael was a basic bitch. But hey, that’s fine. Deku was fine. He was the main character, after all. And he’s a little less whiny in the recent manga issues, you guess. And the way Michael’s face was right now - open, comfortable, lit up like the 4th of July? That was good, too. His eyes were so green. “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character?” “Well, I would die for a bunch of ‘em, but I’m a Bakugou girl at heart.” You laid a palm flat on your chest, choosing to ignore the feel of your heart beating faster than it had been five minutes ago beneath it. Michael wrinkled his nose. “Bakugou? But he’s like...he’s so mean! And angry!”

Oh no. You’d had this conversation before. You locked eyes with Michael, hoping he could see the warning in your eyes. Don’t do it, ho.

“Like, he’d probably make a better villain than hero!”

“You okay, boo?” Calum slid into the space on the couch beside you, holding out a fresh beer for you to take. “You look deep in thought.”

You hummed and accepted the bottle from him, letting go of your train of thought as you caught sight of Luke trying to prove he could get his overly long leg behind his head. Michael and Ashley F. were both actively trying to avoid getting kicked in the face with a sparkly boot, whilst Ashton was just monitoring the situation very intently; you’re not entirely sure when he last blinked.

You snorted again as Luke’s foot slotted into place in a position you were 85% sure he would not be able to get out of again without assistance, possibly from the emergency services.

“I’m fine. Gotta be one of us capable of thinking here, y’know.” You teased, looking sidelong at Calum. He laughed, rubbing a hand over his freshly shaved hair; he’d always been as easy to get along with as he was obnoxiously handsome. “Hey! You’re lucky I know you’re talking about the human pretzel over there! And I guess, your boyf-” Big brown eyes glittered at you over the hand you’d slapped over his mouth. “-fwendth.” Narrowing your own eyes at your friend, you hissed. “Shut up! I would rather die.” Calum waggled his eyebrows incessantly at you until you relented and dropped your hand. “You knew who I was talking about, though.” Ugh. Smug was not a good look on Calum. “You know, smug is not a good lo-oh fuck, is that the time?” The clock behind Calum’s head showed 8:58; your auction ended at 9:00. You fumbled into your bag for your phone, unlocking it and flicking straight to the app you needed. Phew - still the top bid. “Whatcha doin’?” Calum hooked his chin over your shoulder, blowing your hair out of his face before settling down.

“Bidded on a really cool, limited edition figure. One of my all time favourite anime characters. The auction is about to end.” You explained, making sure Calum could hear you other the cacophony of sounds associated with Luke trying to get his other leg behind his head. You both watched the seconds tick down, your username sitting securely by the words ‘Winning Bid’. At two seconds to nine, the page refreshed, then refreshed again; it was over.

‘Winning Bid: BIGRED69’ “Uh...what happened? That’s not you, right?” Calum asked, tilting his head to look at your face, and the rage it contained. BIGRED69. He’d done it again.

“Uh oh, Y/N - what’s wrong?” Ashton’s voice pulled you out of your internal screaming, and you looked up at him.

“She’s losing her weeb shit at a heavy eBay loss” Calum answered for you, nodding solemnly as he pulled away from you, giving you room to bonk him with a cushion. “Oh! That’s too bad, but that’s another thing you and Mikey have in common!” Ashton beamed. “Mikey!” Oh no. Oh no, no.

“Yeah?” Michael sloped over, getting his black boot caught on the corner of the leopard print rug as he did. Ashton caught him with an ease you suspected (knew) came from practice. “Why don’t you take Y/N to see your anime dolls? She collects them, too!” Ashton looked so pleased with himself and his suggestion for further ‘bonding’ for you and Michael, and Michael looked like he’d been force fed raw lemon at the phrase ‘anime dolls’, so you let it go on your own behalf. Except now Michael was waiting expectantly for you to follow him to his room and Calum was shoving you off of the couch to get you moving. Fuck your life. You sighed as you got up and started walking. “Fine, let’s go; you can show me your Todoroki body pillow and then we can get on with our lives.” Michael let out a small hiss like an angry kitten, his cheeks colouring a pretty pink. He spared a glance at everyone left in your wake. “I, um, don’t have a body pillow, you guys.” “Suuuuure!” You rolled your eyes, waiting for Michael to enter his bedroom so you could follow. The blonde flicked the light on and moved slightly further in so you could pass him, before shutting the door with a small ‘click’. You decided not to comment on this action, looking around at the posters on the walls and figurines on the shelves instead. You were undecided on whether or not you were going to comment on how cool a lot of Michael’s shit was. A ‘Full Metal Alchemist’ poster over his bed, a full shelf of Funko Pops from movies you loved, framed prints of album artwork by Waterparks and The Maine. Fuck. You were really aware of Michael staring at you with an almost hopeful (?) look on his face as you let your eyes travel around his room before he could show you his ‘anime dolls’. Fuck. Your stomach felt fluttery, and you thought you might have a serious problem here, before you caught sight of a very different problem on Michael’s desk.

A rare Kirishima Eijirou statue - box signed by the voice actor - you’d been outbid on last month. By BIGRED69. What were the chances a different one was sitting by Michael’s laptop?

“So,” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral and non-murderous. “Where do you get your collectibles from?” “Forbidden Planet, Tokyo Toys, eBay…” Michael rattled off, until you interrupted him. “Where did you get that one? Looks rare - it must have been difficult!”

“Oh! eBay! It was, but I have an app for it, so…” Michael grinned, looking pleased with himself. An app? “An automatic bidding app? You sniped me?! That’s cheating!” You squeaked; you could not believe this. It was unbelievable.

Michael blinked at you, head empty. “BIGRED69?!” You managed to make the world’s stupidest screen name sound like a terrible accusation. Which it was.

Comprehension dawned on his stupid, beautiful face all at once. “Oh my God! That was you that I’ve been fighting for this stuff? No way! But you didn’t know it was me?”

“Why the hell would I know it was you!” You threw your hands up, and Michael just stared dopily back at you.

“‘Bigred69?! Obviously I assumed you were 12!” Michael let out a squawk of protest, before folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“Clifford!” “What?” Michael’s tone became more insistent. “My last name! Clifford!” You pulled an exaggerated ‘so?!’ face, throwing your hand in the air again.

Michael had the unmitigated gall to huff, like you were the biggest idiot in the room; like he wasn’t always the biggest idiot in every room, all rooms, ever, in the history of rooms. “Clifford the Big Red Dog!” He said, insistence heavy in the words.

You often swore you could almost hear the old internet dial up tone trilling inside Michael’s brain when customers at the coffee shop asked him such difficult questions as “What dairy alternative milks do you carry?”, “Where is the bathroom?”, and even once - you swear - “What’s your name?”. In Michael’s defence, that last one had been asked in more flirtatious-than-not tone by a brunette who clearly had some kind of vision problem (he’d been dressed more horrendously than usual that day beneath his uniform apron; was that a utility vest?!), but had fluttered her eyelashes at your idiot colleague so hard, for so long, you’d been concerned she’d be leaving without what little vision she’d arrived with. But still. Idiot. Michael, not you. And yet, now it was you with your brain puttering through the information you had with the shrill electronic sound of the 90’s in your head. “Clifford the- are you for fucking real?” This could not be real life.

“It’s totally clever!” Michael asserted, continuing in earnest once you scoffed in reply. “No, listen! Because of Clifford, and also, I had red hair when I made it, and 69 is funny - it is! - and, well-” His face flushed slightly before he puffed his chest out a little, apparently deciding to commit to his defence of his screen name. “I’m big, so it works on like, loads of levels!”

This could not be happening to you. You were decidedly not standing in the bedroom of a coworker you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also couldn’t stop thinking about kissing as you restocked the counter fridges in the evenings, as he explained that his auction site handle was a combination of a previous dye job, an insinuation about his dick and a massive fucking dog. You could not let Michael have the upper hand here, but you were floundering. So you fell into more familiar, more pathetic territory.

“If you were called something like ‘deku-loving-loser’, then, sure - I would have known it was you!” “Who’s 12 now?!” “Uh, still you!” Okay, so this wasn’t your finest moment, but you were in it now. And you’d really wanted the Kaminari figure tonight. Michael didn’t even like him that much!

“The point is, you totally sniped me! And you get stuff about basic canon wrong! And your understanding of the characters is one dimensional! And, and...your hat is stupid!” Well, shit. In your defence, Michael’s hat was stupid. You could feel how hot your face was, and Michael’s eyes looking right at it was only making it worse. You couldn’t read his expression at all; he looked like he was searching for something, and you didn’t know what it was, or if he’d find it. You could only assume he had when he took the most decisive steps you’d ever seen him take, reaching you in two huge steps and cupping your face with both hands. Michael kissed in a way he didn’t do anything else; he felt sure and certain as he pressed his lips to yours, moving them with intent. Your brain became overtaken with television static almost immediately as you moved your mouth in time with his, opening your mouth immediately at the questioning press of his tongue. You had enough of yourself left aware to yank his stupid fucking hat off his head as you tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, Michael’s hands sliding down to clutch at your waist as you swayed with the kiss. As Michael pulled back ever so slightly, you took the opportunity to press your teeth into his plush bottom lip, the way you’d thought of doing in afternoon slumps on shift. The whine that came from deep in Michael’s throat made a split second decision for you.

You pulled back further from Michael, yanking your top off in one go and starting in on the buttons of his black shirt before he fully registered the sight of your bra and the top of your full breasts.

“Shit, Y/N, are you…” Michael trailed off as you pulled his sleeves down his arms, and the shirt off this body. Your eyes met his as you popped the button on his black jeans and placed your hand on his zipper. “Do you really want me to overthink this, Michael?” A moment’s pause, then he shook his head vigorously, leaning down to pull his boots off once you’d yanked his jeans to his knees. By the time he was left in his (funnily enough, black) boxer briefs, you’d discarded your own jeans and were knelt at the foot of his bed in your soft, lilac underwear. Michael’s breath hitched as his gaze drifted down your body, taking it all in under the artificial light of the room. “Get over here, Clifford…” You teased, trying not to second guess what was happening. Michael broke out of his trance and more or less threw himself onto the bed, settling his head on the pillows and pulling you on top of him for another kiss, and then another, and another. By the time you pulled back to catch your breath, your head was spinning. You braced yourself on your forearms on the bed, taking the time to admire Michael’s body beneath you.

You’d seen the tattoos on his pale, strong arms before, but they looked different in this context; the contrast between the milky skin and dark ink made your stomach swoop. The blonde hair on his head is also a contradiction; to the dark hair on his chest and the hair trailing down his stomach and disappearing under his waistband. Your mouth felt very dry as you let your gaze continue downward, to the straining bulge beneath the fabric.

You flicked your eyes back to meet Michael’s in question, your fingers suddenly resting on the waistband of his underwear. Michael swallowed thickly, and then nodded once before fixing you with a gaze of pure anticipation.

No use waiting around. You propped yourself up onto your knees over him and pulled on the fabric decisively, not stopping your motion until his underwear bunched up at his ankles. Holy shit.

You always knew Michael had to have at least one redeeming quality, and you’d finally found it. His cock was huge, hanging heavy and hard between his fuzzy thighs. The head was flushed the darkest pink you could ever remember seeing, and the slit was already shiny with precum.

If a voice in your head that sounded unfortunately like Calum pressed that Michael had lots of qualities you secretly found redeeming, you ignored it in favour of getting straight to business.

“FUCK! FUCKIN-”

Apparently, Michael hadn’t been prepared for you to take half of his impressive length into your mouth in one go. You sucked with intent, casting your eyes up to take in the sight of him. His pupils were already starting to blow, and you’d barely done anything. God, that was so sweet.

But then Michael threaded his fingers through your hair, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your scalp. The blonde wasn’t pushing down, but his grip was firm. You could feel the weight of his hand on the top of your head as you held his cock in your mouth, and that shit? Would not stand.

You grab the wrist brushing your hair a second before your other hand finds his idle one, fingers twisted loosely in the sheets. Once you’ve captured both wrists, you guide both to the same point above Michael’s hips, before slamming both into the mattress with purpose.

If you’d had time to think about it, you’re not sure how you would have expected Michael to react. He didn’t really put out the energy of a man who’d properly fight you for control, either in a domineering way or with more of an air of fragile masculinity. Perhaps a bit of questioning but ultimately compliant as long as he got his dick sucked. But the wanton moan that kicked out of Michael’s chest as you settled into a tight grip on his wrists where you had them pinned on the sheets with intent? That was unexpected. That was interesting.

Your mouth had remained still on his cock whilst you got his wrists pinned down, more cockwarming him than blowing him. But now you had him so pliant and under your control, it was go time. You pulled back up his cock, wrapping your lips tightly around the head of Michael’s cock, and sucked with gusto. Another groan from above you. You worked your tongue all the way around the head before pulling back enough to flick it into Michael’s sensitive slit. “Oh my fuuu- Y/N, God, I-” Michael was starting to writhe, his hairy legs rubbing into the sheets beneath you. You could feel his wrists moving along with the rest of his body, but you knew you’d made it clear you’d wanted him pinned, and he made no move to get his hand free. Good boy. You sank steadily back down Michael’s length, at least to the six inch mark, before pulling back up, hollowing your cheeks as you went. Back down a little further, then up, back to teasing the head, using your tongue. Michael couldn’t predict what you were going to do next, and it was clearly pushing all of his buttons. You could taste the precum that his cock kept kicking out into your mouth and throat, and see the flush spreading down his neck. By the time you’d pulled, drool beginning to build at the sides of your mouth, Michael was a mess, moaning as much as he was breathing. This could get addictive, you thought to yourself as you let your mouth drop to his balls, and your thumbs press into the pulse points on his wrists. You hummed before you released his left ball from your mouth with a wet pop, and that’s when Michael started begging. “Please, please, Y/N, I wanna-” he panted, cutting himself off over and over. “You’re so beautiful, lemme- God, fuck, it feels so amazing, you’re- I’ve been good, I’ll do anything, please…”

You pretend to consider his pleas as you dragged your tongue over his right ball, dipping into all the creases and leaving them wet behind you. Drawing back up onto your knees, you released one of his wrists so you could push his sweaty blonde bangs back from where it was plastered to his forehead, drinking in the vision before you. His green eyes were nearly completely black, blown out with arousal. The sheen on the skin of his face and body made him glow. His lips were chapped from his teeth tugging on them, and the pink of the matched the flush spread from his cheeks down his chest. And the wrist you were no longer restraining hadn’t moved a centimeter, still pressed firmly to the mattress. Michael was a good boy. And you knew how to treat good boys. With no preamble, you took Michael back into the wet heat of your mouth, relaxing your throat and not stopping until your nose was buried in the soft thatch of trimmed hair on his crotch. You took a moment to situate yourself and enjoy the deep whines bursting out of Michael’s throat into the quiet of his bedroom, before you began to move again, swallowing around his cock. You saw his thighs begin to tremble to the side of you before you heard him speak. “Fuck, fuck, Y/N, please, I’m gonna-” You hummed as hard as you could, pushing Michael’s wrists with that little bit more force into the bed as you did. Michael let out his loudest whine yet - bordering on a sob- as he came, shooting down your throat as he writhed beneath you.

You swallowed everything he gave you, and when you were sure he was finished, you pulled off slowly, and gently, releasing his wrists as you stood back up on your knees.

Michael looked blissed out, staring dreamily up at you with bright, adoring eyes. He still was yet to move his hands. “Hey.” “Hi.” You smirked down at him. “I believe I heard something about you’d ‘do anything’?” You shot a quick glance at the figurine on his desk, and down at yourself. “I had some ideas…”

collab masterlist • my masterlist

#5sos writing collab #my writing #mermaidcashton #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer fic #5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #michael 5sos #michael clifford x reader #michael 5 sos x reader #5sos x reader #michael clifford fic #michael 5sos fic

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kissjane · 4 years

Text

DIE A VIRGIN / Short fic

#19 from this prompt list

Blurting out a confession of love

Lucas blames himself, of course. He had left his phone in his locker when he came to search for some obscure textbook he foolishly wanted to quote in his paper for international law.

But he blames the other guy even more.

The other guy who had come into the dimly-lit, cold, remote back room at the far end of the library corridor, for whatever reason Lucas failed to grasp, and who had closed the fucking door.

Lucas had been too engrossed in his book, trying to find the quote he was reasonably sure should be somewhere in it, to notice it before it was too late.

Because the door has been broken for as long as Lucas remembers. On his first day on campus, the older students had told tales of students getting trapped in there, and even though Lucas was sure they were gross exaggerations, he had made sure to adhere to the rule – never, ever, ever close the door of the archive room down the hall.

And it seems like the stories might have been true. Because Lucas is pretty certain more than an hour has passed since he came over here, and that had been twenty minutes before closing time. So it looks like the staff doesn’t bother checking out if anybody got locked into the back room before leaving for the night.

And to add insult to injury, not only did the other guy close the fucking door, but his phone battery is apparently dead, too.

Oh, of course, they tried yelling. They tried banging on the door. But nobody came running to their rescue, so now Lucas sits on the floor, back against the wall, hugging himself for warmth, refusing to look over at the other guy.

Because – and this is just the cherry on Lucas’ cake today – the other boy is absolutely gorgeous.

“I’m really, really sorr-”, the guy tries, for the thousandth time, but Lucas has just about had enough.

“Yeah, so you’ve said,” he interrupts curtly. He realizes he is being rude, but he needs all his strength to stave off a panic attack. His mind is going in a million directions at once – how long can a human body survive without water? How much air is in this room, and how long before they use it all up? He wishes he had paid more attention to Imane’s explanations when they were studying together. All he can think about is how he will die in this dusty library room.

“I know I did, but –”, a hesitant voice comes again from his left side.

“Listen, man,” Lucas sighs, “I forgive you, okay? It’s probably best not to die with a grudge, anyway.”

“We are not gonna die. We have a long, cold, hungry and probably sleepless night ahead, but in less than twelve hours somebody will come and open up and we will be free.”

Twelve hours. Twelve goddamn hours, and they don’t even have a way to track how many of them have passed. And what if nobody needs this room in the morning? Or all day? Or even all week? It’s not like they keep the most recent and most used volumes here.

Lucas feels his heart rate speed up, and he struggles to breathe. See, there it is, they have already used up most of the air, and –

“I can’t breathe,” he manages to stutter. “There’s no air… we’re going to die…”

In an instant, the boy is crouched in front of him, both hands on his face.

“Hey… Hey, look at me. We are not gonna die – or at least not now, not here.”

The guy chuckles a bit, but Lucas feels like he is drowning.

“We will… There is no air, we’ve used it all up, I can’t breathe!”

“Calm down, please… There is enough air in this room, believe me. And even if there wasn’t, the door isn’t airtight, fresh air comes in through the gap underneath. There is air enough for us to sit here for days, don’t worry, just breathe.”

“Days? You said twelve hours!”

“Yeah, I did. We’ll be out tomorrow, and there’s enough air for at least three days, so you can just breathe. In, and out. Just follow my example, in and out… Like that…”

Lucas tries to focus on the guy breathing slowly, his hands still cradling Lucas’ face. Slowly, he feels his heart getting back to a more normal rhythm.

“What if nobody comes here tomorrow, though? This is not exactly the most visited part of the library. We could be stuck here for days…”

The guy’s optimism seems to falter a bit, and he lowers his hands. Lucas feels the loss stir something deep inside him.

“Somebody will notice us missing, surely…”

“And the first place they’ll think to come look is the library?”, Lucas snorts.

“Well, okay, maybe not the first, but after a while, somebody must figure it out, right? Like, didn’t you tell anybody you were coming to do some research?”

Lucas tries to think. Did he?

“I can’t remember,” he truthfully answers after a moment, but at least the thinking has made him calm down. “What about you? Do your friends know you’re here? Or your girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend,” the boy answers with a slight smile. For some reason, Lucas feels a bit easier at that – though shouldn’t he hope for more people who might miss them?

“And no, sorry, I didn’t really tell anybody I was coming here.”

“What were you doing here, actually? You’re not a law student, are you?”

Another chuckle. Lucas kinda likes the sound of it.

“Ah, no. No, uhm, I’m in arts. My name is Eliott, by the way.”

“Arts? Then what are you even doing here?”

“I, uh, guess I took a wrong turn?” Eliott sounds a bit strange, but before Lucas can get into it, he quickly tacks on, “What’s your name, then?”

“Oh, I’m Lucas. I would say it’s nice to meet you, but, yeah.”

Eliott sits down cross-legged.

“It’s not that bad, is it? We have time to get to know each other, at least.”

Lucas glares at him.

“Yeah, sure. I suppose we do. At least then we can be friends when we come back to haunt this place after we die, right?”

“Oh, shut up,” Eliott laughs. “We’re not gonna die, I’ve told you that already.”

“I just fucking hope not,” Lucas mutters gloomily. “I don’t wanna die a virgin.”

As Eliott’s eyes open wide, Lucas realizes he said the words out loud.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Forget I said anything…”

Eliott’s eyes seem to glimmer weirdly.

“So, uh, no girlfriend either, then?”, he asks. It comes out a bit stilted.

“Wouldn’t want any,” Lucas replies. “But no boyfriend, no. Unfortunately.”

“Ah.”

Lucas doesn’t know how to take that answer. It doesn’t sound appalled at all, rather – relieved? But then Eliott doesn’t say anything after that, so maybe he doesn’t want to be locked in with a gay guy.

“Is that a problem?”, Lucas finally asks, pointedly, after a few minutes of silence.

“What? No!”, Eliott replies hastily. “I was just wondering how badly you don’t want to die a virgin.”

Huh? Lucas stares, and he opens his mouth, but he closes it again without answering, not grasping what Eliott is trying to infer.

“Because, well, I’m here.”

What?

He must have voiced his confusion, because Eliott takes a deep breath, and then the words tumble out of his mouth rapidly.

“I’m sorry, that was just… presumptuous and stupid. Just – forgot about that. It’s only that… I guess… well, I suppose I should confess. I didn’t stumble in here by accident, I – I followed you, I – I just… I mean, I saw you a while ago, you were walking through the hallway with your friends, I assume, but – I just couldn’t keep my eyes of you, actually. And – god, this is gonna sound creepy, but – nothing else has really mattered since. So I followed you here today, and I was trying to find a reason to come talk to you, and then you came in here, and I just – I thought it was my chance. I swear I didn’t know about the door, though! I’m not some weirdo stalker, I promise.”

Lucas is suddenly pretty sure all of this must be some elaborate prank.

“Let me get this straight,” he declares, “you followed me here?”

Eliott nods, his eyes on the floor.

“Because you saw me on campus one day?”

Eliott hums, still not looking up.

“And you wanted a chance to talk to me? You followed me because you wanted to talk to me?”

“I know it’s crazy –”, Eliott starts to say, but Lucas interrupts.

“And now you’re offering to help me get rid of my virginity?”

“I’m sorry!”, Eliott says hotly. “I know it’s stupid, but when you said you were into boys, I just – Just forget I ever said anything, okay? Just forget my name. Pretend you’re here alone. We’ll get out here soon and you can forget we ever met.”

Lucas stares at Eliott. He is the goddamn hottest guy Lucas ever saw, and he is sitting here trying to tell Lucas he is into him? Yeah, definitely a prank.

But on the off chance it isn’t – and considering they might die soon anyway…

“Oh, no,” Lucas states. “You’re not backing out of this now. I’m not saying we’ll get to the virgin part, but I think you definitely owe me a kiss for locking us up in here.”

Eliott finally looks up, and the confusion on his face mirrors what Lucas felt earlier. But then, Lucas can see the moment he decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth, or grab the horn by the bulls, or whatever animal he would like to compare Lucas to – he doesn’t waste another second and crashes his lips to Lucas’.

When the night guard arrives a few hours later – “Saw the light coming from under the door, figured something was up,” – Eliott can’t help but tease Lucas.

“Told you we weren’t gonna die in there.”

Lucas glares, but he doesn’t think it’ll have much effect, with his tousled hair, his bright eyes, his lips red and kiss-swollen, and his shirt on backwards due to their haste to get presentable when they heard the guard coming.

“Fuck off.”

Eliott laughs, and tugs Lucas by the hand.

“Come one. Better take care of – some things. You never know when you might die, and you know, you don’t wanna die a –”

Lucas shuts him up with a kiss – but it may not be a bad idea to follow Eliott home. Just in case.

#I write things #50 cliché prompts #Elu

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a-very-fond-farewell · 4 years

Text

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 22/?

Drama AU [this is just an idea tho, no plot basically]: “Did you find a bitch in me?”

[JC-focus crackships galore baby! title is from a Marina Diamandis’s song (“Hermit the Frog) but that’s probably not important for the non-plot so... yeah]

“So... wait a minute.”

“Hit me.”

“I’m still confused.”

“About?”

“Wen Qing... why should I know about your ex’s exes?”

“Because he’s a bisexual menace and I don’t want him to ruin this for me.”

“Jiang Cheng is not going to sleep with me.”

“What do you know tho? He’s that powerful.”

“Babe, I’m a lesbian.”

“And he has dated everyone in our circle of friends and their significant others.”

“Big lesbian energy, you’re absolutely right.”

“Thank you. I taught him well.”

or the only au where there’s only drama and no plot and JC went from experimenting to actively turning people gay or straight just because.

[attn: in this au Jin GuangShan is not, I repeat, not a bitch and did not, in fact, have other kids aside from Jin ZiXuan bc I say so. don’t make me complicate this non-existent plot more, please]

[under the cut for more!]

ok. got it. JC knows he’s no saint. hell, he doesn’t even qualify as a decent human being, alright. he’s that socially abominable. but things have escalated to a point where he doesn’t even know what to do. maybe become a hermit, lock his dick and call it a day. yeah, that should do the trick. because he really doesn’t know when it all started... no. that’s a lie. total bullshit. it was Nie HuaiSang.

so, SO, he may have been 16. sweet bush child with no future nor name. a great big sister, a stupid big bro, an overachieving mother, a distant father, the usual. save for fucking Nie HuaiSang and his stash of porn. and JC was straight. and he just wanted to check if the link his high school friend sent him was a jumpscare or not. he closed the tab right after the first moan echoed in his room late at night, he forgot to put the jack in and his earphones were possibly all the way back in his backpack on the kitchen table. fuck his life. and also fuck HuaiSang for being into weirdly sensual artsy porn on top of that. fuck his life. fuck the replay button too.

coincidentally, HuaiSang was his first kiss, first head, first everything only one year later and JC still talks to the jerk to an extent, but not because he wants to, okay? they were experimenting, but JC was still straight. he wanted to do good on his first actual relationship with a woman, whatever that meant for him at the time. HuaiSang was okay with that, the lying bastard. JC may or may not have grown fond of him by the time their graduation came, but they never got around to talk about it because they were stupid and young.

also, HuaiSang’s brother had caught them once and JC had known there and then why his non-boyfriend had decided to cut things loose afterwards. that jock was scary as fuck.

then. THEN. university came and Wen Qing was the one reminding JC he was still very much as straight and unbendable as he could get. it took him three years to not yell at her in frustration and ask her out: the sexual tension between them fueled by rivalry over good grades and the scholarship program they both wanted to have access to for their masters.

she had been the one asking him out. JC was lying about having the balls to do it, obviously. the fact that she also discovered to be a lesbian while being with him could have burned less, all things considered, but JC knew he had made love to her and that was enough for him. letting her go had been the right thing to do and they still talk everyday and she loves his nephew and everything is fine.

JC is FINE.

it only took him the two remaining years of his masters to get over her, but. FINE.

he’s not gonna talk about her brother. it happened only once. okay maybe once that particular night, at a bar and they were drunk and Wen Ning was nothing like his sister and the boy always had a slight crush on him and he was the one suggesting it, okay?

Wen Ning was kind and gentle and kissed way better than his sister and maybe after two years JC could get over it and move on and they could still be a family after all and that last stall in the staff toilet had been where JC’s bottom cherry was popped and oh gods that felt so good...

“actually, Jiang Cheng, you’re lovely. but I think I’m actually really straight so... I’m sorry. I hope we can still be friends?”

yeah. JC’s not gonna talk about fucking Wen Ning.

maybe the fact that his brother Wei Ying got married so soon was the reason why. it has to be.

JC hated, HATED Lan Zhan. he hated how much in love they were. how softly they moved around each other. how much he wanted some of that as well.

and since he was THAT petty he had to flirt with Lan Zhan’s brother (Lan Huan) because of it. the man was terrifyingly good looking and a gentleman. so much he didn’t want to give in to JC’s requests... because he already had a boyfriend.

JC knew nothing about said boyfriend aside from the fact that he was apparently a snake, whatever Wei Ying meant by that.

Lan Huan looked very intrigued, but he’s also very loyal and JC admired him for that. he didn’t want to have that conversation tho, the one where Lan Huan politely asked him to stop being so charming in his periphery, so JC decided to hide for a month or two and maybe extended that period of time and never show his face again while he’s at it.

Lan Zhan would have also had his head on a fucking plate if he dared touching his precious older brother so, there’s that as well.

so he dated a bunch of people after swiping them on apps left and right, got the hitch out of his system and felt miserable about it.

Nie HuaiSang came back into his life like, the day before JC started working for a new company and asked him out for a drink. HuaiSang was crushing for a man too young for HuaiSang’s comfort because he usually liked older men and this boy was fresh out of his bachelor and JC’s friend was well in his late twenties and didn’t have a job yet and...

JC shut him up with a kiss and they felt slightly less lonely afterwards, until they actually talked about their issues and decided to stop being messy and grow out of their bad habits.

JC still fells sick at the idea of being someone else’s “bad habit” though.

Wen Chao was a mistake.

Wen Chao’s girlfriend was a mistake.

Wen Chao’s brother was a mistake.

Their bloody uncle was a mistake.

Their father was an even more spectacular mistake.

JC has yet to find out how he survived the year of his thirtieth birthday, honestly. that shit had been wild as fuck.

YanLi and her husband offered JC to look after Jin Ling more often in order to make him feel some sense of safety, he knew that much. at the time, JC hated the fact that ZiXuan worried over him and that his own sister didn’t know how to help him either.

people at work had started to treat him differently as well, now that they knew how messy he was. he started getting treated for depression soon after being promoted to supervisor, his workaholic tendencies saving him from himself after years of sleeping around and drinking too much for his own good.

A-Su was YanLi’s friend from university and was kind enough to ask him out one day. she stayed with him for a year before apologizing to him, saying she wanted something more: a family, a future, something JC could have not given her anytime soon.

his brother and Lan Zhan adopted a boy and JC became an uncle for the second time. A-Yuan was difficult to look after, having survived stressful living conditions in his early childhood, so Wei Ying appreciated the extra hand when JC offered it to him and his husband.

looking after children forced him to be not so angry all the time and now Jin Ling had a cousin he could play with and was very glad his Jiujiu was feeling better.

when Lan Huan came back into his life, JC had forgotten about even attempting to win him over in his early twenties. it felt life a lifetime had passed.

they started as friends this time around, but JC felt nothing for him and he was okay with that. they were good uncles to A-Yuan and that was enough.

what really caught JC off guard was when Meng Yao stumbled upon him one day in midwinter, crashing on JC and sending his briefcase up in the air. the older man was apologetic and kind and gods forbid JC still needed some of that in his life. even if it was the other who had crashed into him, JC offered to buy him coffee since Meng Yao’s cup was now sadly rolling out frame on the snowy path.

to his utter astonishment, Meng Yao accepted.

JC took his time with him, willing to slow down and really get to know this new man who seemed so welcoming and easily approachable... yet so impossibly far and unreachable.

Meng Yao confessed cheating on his previous partner with his best friend five years prior and how he felt undeserving of another chance with someone as kind as JC. he revealed how therapy helped him work on his tendency of manipulating others and that this was the only reason why he wanted to be honest with JC and tell him the truth. so that the younger man could make up his mind if Meng Yao could be granted a chance with him.

this heartfelt confession startled JC in the beginning, especially bc Meng Yao seemed adamant about not sleeping with him for the foreseeable future, unless they talked it out some more.

on JC’s thirty-fourth birthday, one year after meeting Meng Yao, JC asks him to marry him during a pleasant dinner the older man has planned for him.

to his horror and absolute joy, A-Yao accepts.

JC didn’t mind not having been intimate with him until then, nor he would have minded if A-Yao never happened to change his mind on the matter. JC felt safe with him, even when he saw him reminiscing the past with grief painting his features behind his fake smile. JC knew he could give him happiness and so he asked him to meet the Jiangs for the first time to announce the good news.

all but Wei Ying and his husband have arrived the even JC brought A-Yao home, their car stuck in traffic. they start eating without them, with the couple’s permission. YanLi and ZiXuan didn’t bring A-Ling this time around, not willing to leave too soon and waste a chance to really get to know the new member of their family. JC’s father seemed pleased to meet with A-Yao, exchanging pleasantries and conversing about common interests...but JC’s mother is weirdly cold and distant that night.

once dinner came to a end, finally Wei Ying arrived, apologizing profusely for making the lot of them eat without them. however, nor he or his husband could take their eyes off of A-Yao...and neither could JC’s fiancé.

“if you still have some dignity to spare, I suggest you leave this very moment,” said Lan Zhan, the most he has ever spoken in one breath in front of JC. to which, to JC’s astonishment, A-Yao answered by giving JC one last look and the saddest smile he had ever worn...before leaving the house and never look back.

confused, heartbroken, humiliated...JC didn’t know what to feel when Lan Zhan explained to the lot of them what Meng Yao had done to Lan Huan after eight years together. cheating on the kindest man alive with an old acquaintance of his that to that day remained unnamed bc Meng Yao refused to reveal their identity.

JC’s mother didn’t have to tell her son that she had known all along something was off about A-Yao: JC could feel it in the way she was looking at him, sitting next to him on the couch. she had a sixth sense for venomous people.

the following year, JC is pretty sure it passed in a blur. he remembers working less hard than what he was expected to do, been consequently and rightfully demoted in his company. others gossiped about him being so proud for nothing in the end, which aggravated his mood.

to his surprise, his mother was the one suggesting him to take a break somewhere nice. to clear his head for a month or two before deciding what to do with his life. Wei Ying booked him a trip to Taiwan the following day and in less than a week JC is on a plane to take a long vacation there.

one night, roughly a week after his arrival at the hotel, JC was staring blankly at the skyline in deep thought. he had done the tourist-y shit, eaten all the foods in the best restaurants, brought presents for his family. and now he was bored out of his mind. the same, old questions swirling in his mind: did A-Yao lie when he said he loved him? did he lie just so he could have a fresh start and forget about the past? did he leave bc he felt guilty for his past with Lan Huan? was he serious when he had accepted JC’s proposal?

that’s when Mo XuanYu came barging into his life like a hurricane.

the younger man, seven years his junior, spotted him from an adjacent balcony and proceeded to talk to him as if...trying to de-escalate a suicide attempt from his part.

“sir, please. I’m sure there’s more to life than this. I don’t know what happened to make you feel this way but...everything will be fine in the end. I promise you. I was there. It’s okay. please don’t jump over the balcony.”

JC had no intention of jumping, just to be clear, but something in his eyes must have caught the kid’s attention and...was that a steward uniform he was wearing? did he work for the hotel? JC was none the wiser but that was the first time someone had reassured him so wholeheartedly without even knowing him and it felt...weird.

he started tearing up and the younger man panicked, promising to keep him company all night if necessary, reaching out with a hand to touch JC and reassure him from the other side. JC grasped it gingerly in his own and let himself be coaxed back to the realm of the living by such gentle soul.

JC hated himself for sleeping with him not even a week after their encounter.

but it just felt so good to let himself be guided by hand to the most hidden and wonderful places. away from the tourist crowd, eating delicious food with someone smiling prettily at him. yet he hated himself more for thinking about someone else in bed with him, at least in the beginning.

Mo XuanYu seemed to know anyway, and even encouraged him to just do whatever he felt like with him. casual hookups didn’t have to be meaningful, the younger man had said, and it wasn’t even the first time someone used him as a rebound either. still, something ugly stirred in JC at that.

so he decided to stop thinking about himself for once and shoved every bad memory away. all to pour his affection into someone else and cater to his lover for the following month and a half. borrowed time of a stolen season, during which JC doted on the younger man and learned to listen.

some of the stories Mo XuanYu told him felt slightly familiar, almost as if they had a friend in common and didn’t know who it might have been. after his shift, the younger man would ask to eat with JC and share his frustrations, repaying him in kindness with sweet kisses and even sweeter smiles that felt a little bit too brittle in the morning, when he was bound to leave.

by the end of JC’s trip it was clear to him that he had grown fond of the other man, too much for his own good. but during a vacation, away from home, surrounded by new and exciting things...anyone would have worn a mask to forget their normal life, that reality they would have eventually been forced to come back to.

by the end of his vacation, JC had figured out who their common friend was and remembered how distant Nie HuaiSang had felt falling in love with Mo XuanYu. how sad the younger man’s emotional unavailability has made him feel.

and when they parted ways at the airport, JC kissed him goodbye and never saw him again. the memory of Mo XuanYu’s brittle smile engraved forever in the back of his mind.

back to work. back to his bad bitch persona. it felt good to focus on his job and nothing else for a year or two, keeping others at distance while bossing them from his office as he regained his boss’s trust. being promoted a second time gave him the confidence he needed to move on with his life and by his thirty-seventh birthday he could finally see a future for himself.

therapy was helping a great deal and even his siblings seemed to notice his progress, praising him for his willingness to seek help and his hard work.

A-Yuan and A-Ling included: the kids were growing up too fast, involving their uncle in their school projects and plans for mischief any chance they got to see him.

Lan Huan caught everyone by surprise one day in autumn by confirming YanLi and Wei Ying’s suspicions about his breakup with Nie MingJue, Nie HuaiSang’s older brother.

the older man didn’t tell them why he had stepped back from his engagement with the man, aside from saying that the both of them had found out something concerning about their past and common acquaintances. the discovery making them feel so disheartened to the point of braking their engagement of mutual accord.

JC felt bad for the man, knowing how much it hurt to lose someone so dear. not that they had had been able to discuss over the matter much, not even after A-Yao had left. it would have been awkward to talk about their common ex and his penchant for secrets and hurting other people’s feelings.

but they understood each other well enough and started talking more, out of their common interest in their nephews and their well-being.

five years later, JC was forty-two and content with his life. A-Ling was close to thirteen and A-Yuan quickly approaching fifteen. he could see them growing up and out of his reach, but their affection for him never wavered. until one day A-Yuan called him in the middle of the night, startling him awake.

apparently, his best friend JinGyi had called him for help after being beaten up by his foster mother and A-Yuan didn’t know what to do. calling his parents would have only alerted and worried Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, who were probably still asleep and hadn’t even noticed their son had sneaked out in the middle of the night.

panicked and worried, JC called Lan Huan instead and they left for the hospital. and something hurt at the sight of such a young boy lying still on a bed too big for him. something else clicked in JC’s brain at the sight but it would have taken him several months to realize what exactly.

furious and restless, Lan Huan spend months looking for the woman who had hurt the child, eventually destroying her in court until he pried a confession out of her. social services immediately alerted as JC inquired over the possibility of giving the child a permanent home himself.

not even a year later, JC was able to welcome the kid in their new house in the quietest part of town. it took a while for the boy to adjust, worrying over JC eventually changing his mind and letting him go. “who even adopts someone close to be of age?” JinGyi had asked, frustrated and certain JC would grow bored of him.

but JC was there to reassure him every step of the way, telling him family was forever and not something easily dismissible. he repeated it until the boy seemed satisfied and called him “dad” for the first time one inconspicuous evening at dinner. if JC cried on his pizza, well, nobody has to know.

Lan Huan was glad to listen to JC gushing over his son, more than supportive and borderline enthusiastic to listen to every little progress and new success.

JC knew this was enough, but he would lie saying he hadn’t felt loved by the other man. yet, he didn’t dare hope he could have another chance at happiness at almost fifty years old. Lan Huan himself close to fifty-five and well settled into his career as a lawyer...too much to consider a valuable partnership with someone like JC.

his therapist had bashed him for ages over such insecurity, but JC could only smile at him and shrug. many people didn’t find their happy ending and he still had JinGyi to look after. which seemed a good way to spend the rest of his life.

so it came as a surprise when, one evening, as JC overlooked at Lan Huan building a piece of furniture with JinGyi in their living room, he started crying with love and affection.

“why are you crying Jiang Cheng?”

“I’m happy.”

he really was.

he still is to this day.

[they don’t marry, but they do spend the rest of their life together anyway]

I need a break, this took days to make D:

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littlemeowmeowschimmy · 4 years

Text

Lesson [Namjoon x Reader]

credit:littlemeowmeowschimmy

Requests opened // m.list

Genre: Smut // Mature content // Slight angst

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: “Someone’s gotta teach you a lesson.”

A/N: It feels like forever since I wrote something for y’all. I thought I would come back with some Namjoon smut. I hope y’all love it :)

»»————-　★　————-««

Everything had gone wrong. You didn’t know how it happened, but it just did. It felt like one evening you were cuddling with your boyfriend, and the next, you were yelling and crying. Having a complete meltdown witnessing his true colors. All this time, you were being warned. You should have seen the red flags, but they just weren’t popping up. Why? You were blinded by love, and love can and will make you do crazy things.

Love is such a weird concept, to begin with. Your emotions are all tangled and wrapped around someone; therefore, you would expect someone to treat you and respect you the same way, right? No. Most people use love to their advantage and manipulate a person. Unfortunately, it’s what happened with your r relationship.

This relationship started off as any normal one would. You found yourself interested in your partner, as they did you. The messages between you two were sweet and innocent. His name was Alex. He was just a couple years younger than you were, but age is but a number. From where you stood, Alex was a kind, hard-working man who had issues.

At first, you chalked it up as just trust issues and nothing to be afraid of. But your friends saw something different. They started to notice how you were making excuses for Alex, especially Jimin. Your best friend of almost six years was beginning to see a change in your demeanor.

He often advised you that it wasn’t smart to surround yourself with someone who would negatively take advantage of you. Of course, you got upset because you wanted him to approve of your boyfriend. Something was gnawing at your insides as not only did you want your best friend’s approval, you seemed to want everyone else's.

Growing up, you weren’t the type of child to get the spotlight. Instead, you often got bullied for things that now don’t seem that huge. How you looked, talked, and what you often liked was put in the mixing pot. Your mental illnesses started to arise at such a young age, and you remember feeling lonely.

Jimin was your friend through middle school and even into high school. He introduced you to his other friends, such as Taehyung and Jungkook, when they came along. You were living your life through his success as he explained to you the fantastic opportunity that arose.

It also meant that you weren’t going to see your friend as often as you wanted to. The bullying only increased the less Jimin showed his face around you. He was your protector and someone whom you trusted with everything. Shortly after Jimin left, your mental state wasn’t fully intact. You lived your life like this for the next six years.

You were mainly drinking yourself away, no, you were hiding. Wrapping yourself in a blanket and finding relationships online to help your broken heart. You knew, deep down that, you had to love yourself and repair which you were to love someone else.

Then, as previously mentioned, Alex showed up. He wasn’t from Korea, as he was born and raised in Europe. Once again, you found him charming and hardworking. You assumed he wasn’t going to be like the rest of your ex’s, especially Liam.

From afar, Jimin noticed that you were slowly starting to change through your relationship with Alex. He saw the strings that Alex metaphorically started tying around your waist and neck. Reeling you closer to him, but in subtle ways. It got to the point where Jimin mentioned that he might try to steal you away from him, and you eventually stopped talking to Jimin.

Alex had you wrapped around his pinky, and it seemed like you couldn’t get out. Multiple times you tried leaving, tried breaking everything off. And yet, you always found yourself crawling back to him because he kept saying, “You’re the one for me, I just know it.”

A year and four months later, the last straw was struck. How he treated your family members, and the stories you heard were getting enough. You were driving back to your apartment when you broke it off with him. Alex called you to check up, and you started having a conversation with him.

Your mother always told you that it was your decision, in the end, no one else’s. And yet, when you were explaining the reasons why you wanted to break it off, Alex was tugging at your heartstrings. Telling you that you needed to clam down, rethink things through, and work everything out. That you were just going through a lot, and he’d be over with ice cream.

But that frightened you more than you expected it to, so you hung upon him. Immediately calling the one person, you hadn’t talked to in over a year.

“Hello?” Jimin ponders as he was curious about who this new number was.

“Are you in Korea?” Jimin was taken back by your voice, yet he didn’t say anything mean. Instead, he noticed the hurt and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Yeah, but it’s late right now. I’m at the studio.” Damn it, how could you forget? Jimin had blown up in the past year with BTS, and he was busier than he used to be. Every day was hard enough seeing your friend’s face plastered in every mall, but knowing that you gave him up for some dirtbag was...was terrible enough.

“Please, I just need somewhere to stay. A-Alex and I broke up, and I’m frightened, Jimin.” You pulled off the highway and started to drive in downtown Seoul. You had no idea where his label was, and you wanted to keep it that way. You just wanted to get someplace where Alex had no idea where you would be.

Jimin went silent and then took a deep breath. “If you come to the studio, you can leave your car in the parking garage overnight. Then I’ll take you to the dorm so you can stay the night. Promise me when you’ve calmed down to talk to me?”

“Deal.” Jimin started telling you the address, and you immediately put it in your GPS. You hung the phone shortly after, noticing that you had many missed calls from Alex. You weren’t going to call him back, and you certainly weren’t going to head to your apartment. You wanted to get away from him; you needed the space to calm yourself down.

About twenty minutes later, you arrived in the parking garage. You explained to security that Jimin sent you here, and they got the message shortly after you hung up the phone with him. You drove in, parked your car, and instantly got out. His label’s building was larger than you expected it to be, but you indeed weren’t focused on it. Instead, you rushed in only to be caught by your friend.

The only difference from the last time you saw him was his face was slimmer and his hair a different color. You often poked fun of Jimin for having chubby cheeks, but you later realized it was the best feature on him. Jimin saw your red eyes and brought a hand up to brush your tears away. You gave him a small smile that was wavering but brought your forehead in to rest on his shoulder.

Then your knees gave out, and you began sobbing into his chest. Every resolve you had broke in front of the one person you least expected it to.

»»————-　★　————-««

A couple days had passed since the breakup. Over that time, you were often around Jimin as you were catching up on everything. You found yourself in the spotlight a few times as the media was interested in whoever this girl was around Jimin. Although, you never really explained yourself or spoke to any media outlet because it seemed like his company took care of it.

In doing so, you met the rest of his group. At first, you were surprised to see Taehyung and Jungkook floating around. You assumed that they all went to the same high school, yet you never interacted with Taehyung or Jungkook in the halls. You didn’t see Yoongi as often as Jimin mentioned he usually stayed in his studio working hard during the days and nights.

You would often see him when they ate or practice for their comeback. Seokjin and Hoseok were kind enough to start cracking jokes and play along with you. However, you got the vibe from Seokjin that he was shy around newcomers, but had a lot of confidence in himself.

Finally, your heart throbbed for their fearless leader Namjoon. He was taller than the rest of the group and won you over with his intelligence. Not to say that they weren’t all intelligent, because they all were. Namjoon was just something else, as you later found out. They all had their different personalities that bounced off of one another, and you enjoyed it more than you thought you would.

Their energy was something that you desperately needed in time for your own self-reflection and healing. But, they were a great distraction to that as you often found yourself talking to one of the members. More times than one, you found yourself gravitating towards Namjoon. You wanted to pick away at his brain and get to know him better.

Although you realized that their lives were busy, you weren’t at all trying to get into a relationship with him. Maybe you would want something friendly, but your heart was too broken to start something fresh again. The days soon turned into weeks, and slowly, you were becoming someone who was known around the company.

You weren’t hired in, but you stopped by enough for most staff members to consider you as employed. You were often there to listen in on whatever tracks the members were making, as well as to have a conversation and watch them from afar. You usually stepped out of the way when things got hectic and, most of the time, silently left.

During those weeks you spent at the company, you were also staying over at Jimin’s dorm. The reason being is you still didn’t trust Alex with showing up at your place, and you certainly didn’t want to run into him. You had stopped by every once and a while to check in on your apartment, get the mail, as well as get any change of clothes. But each time, it brought you high anxiety and usually left you curled up in a ball on Jimin’s bed.

“Maybe you should consider moving out,” Namjoon suggested one evening. You turned to look in his direction. Curious as to where this conversation was going, but you allowed him to elaborate on what he was thinking.

“If that place gives you anxiety, so much so that it cripples you,” he says, moving his chopsticks to the center of the table to pick up some noodles. “I would suggest moving someplace different.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek in thought. He had a point, although you weren’t stable enough to afford any place. “I appreciate the advice,” You started out, setting your chopsticks down beside your plate. “But, I can’t really afford to cut my lease and get a new apartment.”

Namjoon glances in your direction but doesn’t say anything. You could tell he was thinking about something because his eyebrows scrunched together. You purse your lips, observing him. In doing so, you hadn’t noticed Jimin creeping up beside you two. He places a hand on your shoulder and leans in.

You jumped, scared slightly at your friend’s appearance, but soon your heart settles. “If you need help, I don’t mind helping you,” he says, giving you a smile. You noticed it out of the corner of your eye, and then you quickly turn to shake your head at him.

Namjoon was going to offer, but Jimin beat him to the punch line. You start explaining how they’ve already been kind enough to let you stay, you couldn’t ask for more. Jimin shrugs his shoulders and still places a hand on your back. He allows you to make your case, noticing how your hands were trembling slightly as you spoke.

“I’m sure Jimin’s doing this because he wants to see you anxious free,” Namjoon says, setting his book down and crossing his legs under the table. You whip your head once again, meeting Namjoon’s eyes. He gives you a soft expression and an even more delicate smile. Your heart thumps hard in your chest, completely aware of how he makes you feel.

“I would like to see that as well to Y/n,” he continues his body relaxing into his chair. “You are precious to me. Your home should be a place where you relax and feel safe,” pausing as he brings a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “Not someplace you fear.”

“Exactly what Joonie-Hyung said Y/n,” Jimin adds bending forwards now, so he was in your line of sight. “We just want you to feel safe and at peace. I’ll help you out with whatever expenses you need for this new apartment, leave it all up to me.”

And so you did. You left everything up to Jimin as he found you a lovely and secure apartment. Even paid off your rent and other necessary needs. Jimin told you that Namjoon wanted to join in and help, but he reassured him that he had it all under control. That didn’t stop your heart from beating faster, just thinking about it.

Once you felt comfortable in your apartment, and everything was moved in, you felt at ease. Alex had no idea where you were or what you were doing, and for the first time, you felt free. You felt like you could do whatever you wanted without feeling trapped in your own mind.

That evening you went out drinking with the members to celebrate such happiness. Since your tolerance was low, you and Hoseok were found swaying back and forth to the music. The rest of the members poked fun at how quickly Hoseok’s face turned red, but you drunkenly sided with him and said he was okay.

A few bottles of Soju were making your system feel warm and fuzzy. By the end of the night, Namjoon offered to take you home. Since he didn’t have his license, he called one of their drivers. It was Jimin’s idea to send you back for he was worried if you drank anymore, you might regret it.

Your friend was going to travel with you, but Namjoon stepped in and offered instead. It’s how you wound up in the back seat leaning against him and mumbling drunkenly to yourself.

“I need to hold your hand.” You blurt, reaching over and grasping his in yours. Even before Namjoon could protest or say anything, you did it. Then, you briefly cut him off, saying, "It helps me stabilize myself.”

“Okay,” he responds, peering out the window. For the rest of the drive, you simply leaned against him and closed your eyes. You could feel some of the soju started to lesson and a small headache starting to form. Once arriving at your hotel, Namjoon insisted on making sure you got yourself in bed safely. He wasn’t going to leave you at the doorstep, as he knew that it was a bad idea.

“I’m fine, Namjoon~” You whined, holding onto his hand as he leads you inside the hotel complex.

“Not fine enough to walk on your own.” He says, still holding your hand from earlier. You puff at his words as your eyes went down to his side. You start to rub your thumb against his skin in the elevator. This makes Namjoon pause for a split second, then go to press your floor number.

On the way up, your drunk confidence starts to show. “You know you’re very handsome,” you begin once the elevator doors open. Namjoon pulls you along, thanking you quietly. Not the reaction you were expecting, but does that stop you from continuing? No.

Since you had your keys, you fumble with them slightly. Namjoon doesn’t waste anytime and gently takes them from your hands. Before he could even grab, you yank your hand away, tutting at him. “Uhuh Joonie,” you purr wobbling a little. Namjoon can see the look in your eye, and he knows exactly where this conversation is going to go.

“You’ve gotta take ‘em from me~.”

“Please, Y/n, not now.”

“But I wanna have fun, daddy~” Namjoon straightens himself when you call him daddy. His cheeks flush, but it wasn’t completely noticeable. You giggle at such a smooth line, to which your drunk self gives you a high five. Little did you know that smooth line kind of turned Namjoon on.

“Now Y/n,” he demands, holding his hand out. Once again, you shake your head in his direction while taking a step back.

“I said what I said, daddy,” pausing as you try to stable yourself again. “You’re not going to-” then quickly Namjoon snatches the keys from your hands. He takes you by the wrist afterward, spinning swiftly and unlocking your door.

Then, opening it and walking in with you. Namjoon shuts the door behind him, locking it and tossing your keys to the side. This was moving too fast for your drunk mind, and you simply couldn’t keep up. You stumbled inside, turning your attention now towards your feet.

You needed to stabilize yourself for how roughly Namjoon played. Namjoon comes up behind you, leaning in and whispering, "If you keep calling me daddy, it’s not going to end well for you.”

Your drunk ass thought was an invitation to continue to call him daddy. Even though you were sobering up slightly, that didn’t mean that the alcohol still wasn’t controlling your thoughts. Plus, you had this newfound confidence taking complete control.

Taking a wobbly step forward, you turned yourself around to pop a hip out. Then you gave a sly smirk and simply said, "Okay, daddy.” Namjoon opens his mouth to retort back, but shuts it almost instantly. He tuts, shaking his head and reaching out to grasp your hand in his.

“I don’t think you should-”

“Should what? Keep calling you, daddy?” You muse slowly pulling your hand away from his. “It’s true, you’re a daddy, and I’ve been sexually frustrated because of you.” That was something sober you would’ve freaked out and ran away. Drunk confident, you stood in your embarrassment and gave Namjoon a broad smile.

At first, Namjoon was confused as he was putting the pieces together. Although it didn’t take him long because he gave you a smug expression. Leaning forwards, Namjoon reached out to touch your cheek gently. Cupping it in his palm before slightly moving forward. You leaned into his embrace, still grinning like nothing was wrong.

Suddenly, Namjoon gave a light pat on your cheek as a distraction. He picked you up around your waist and gently slung him over his shoulder. In that time, he made a decision that, in his mind, basically said fuck it all. He moves inwards, heading towards your bedroom as he goes.

His driver could wait, right? Yeah, and if he had to shoo them away, he would do so. Namjoon sets you down on your bed with your back upward. He pushes your shirt up to expose your shorts and then yanks at your jeans. There, he began to rub his palm against your ass gently.

“You sure you wanna keep calling me daddy?” he questions his tone darkening.

“Of course, dad-” pain erupted from where Namjoon pulled his hand back and smacked your ass. It wasn’t just on top of your cheeks, no it was that sweet spot. Connecting your ass to your thighs. You yelped a surprised noise, your body launching forwards on the bed.

Now, this was something you weren’t expecting. It amused you enough to slip such a “dirty” word from your mouth again. Just like before, Namjoon smacks your ass. He does so each time you call him daddy. In the beginning, you were making a cry like noise.

Further on, you started to moan. Your arousal began to slicken in between your legs and dampen your underwear. Enough to where Namjoon noticed and was also amused. With both hands, Namjoon molds your ass in his hands as his body moves down. He places his head in between your legs, spreading them once he was near.

You were panting after Namjoon was finished with you. Somehow you were still under the influence of soju, but not enough to where everything was fuzzy. “You smell delicious princess,” he purrs his breath, hitting your skin like fire. Your skin twitches under him as if it was anticipating anything.

With one hand, Namjoon uses two digits to pull back the fabric covering you from behind. The other push your right thigh to the side, giving him space to bury his face in between your legs. The second his mouth hit your lips, you were moaning.

Namjoon tasted you like he hadn’t tasted anything before. His tongue licks long stripes in between your folds while also poking itself inside. Your body automatically pushes itself back into him, trying to get him further inside. Your grip on the sheets tightened instantly as you felt your clit begin to throb, wanting attention.

Instead of giving you what you wanted, Namjoon continues to tease you. This time, licking long stripes upwards distracting you as he plunges two fingers inside. “Fuck daddy,” You mewl resting your head sideways. Namjoon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he curls his fingers downwards, towards your clit.

Making sure he finds the sensitive nerve endings that make you go insane. His mouth was planting open, ended kisses across your ass. He even bit you a few times to mark his territory.

“T-Touch my clit p-please,” You stutter, noticing your hips begin to move back against his touch.

“What was that?” Namjoon questions slipping one finger out and slowing his movements. You groan at his actions, not at all pleased with it. You try moving your hips again, only to have another sharp pain from the left. Namjoon smacks your ass, watching the force of it unfold.

You moan again, tilting your head back as your nails dug into the sheets further. The words didn’t come to you again because your head was spinning. You wanted Namjoon to touch your bud as it was the only way to make you cum. Yet somehow, Namjoon knew this. He knew what your body needed, and he wasn’t going to give it to you.

He wanted to see how long he could touch you before you were begging for him. Namjoon was devious in that sense because he wasn’t going to give in to everything you wanted him to. Since you weren’t answering him, Namjoon pulls his digits away from your aching core and sets them on your thighs. He stops all movements, pulling his head back and tilting it in your direction.

You gasp at his actions, lifting yourself from the sheets to crane your neck towards him. You look at him over your shoulder, which was a bad idea because your cunt clenched itself at sight. His lips were soaked with your essence as some of it touched the tip of his chin. His chocolate eyes were dark and held lust.

You hadn’t even touched his hair, and somehow it was already messy like you ran your fingers through it. Namjoon gave you a pointed smirk, his whites poking through as he awaited your answer.

“I..I asked for you to touch my clit.,” you whispered, hoping that he would this time.

Namjoon gives a short throaty laugh at your response. One hand snaking its way around your thigh and in between your legs. His slim fingers pause just inches about your clitoral hood, drumming themselves against it. Although he wasn’t touching it, you could feel some friction from such small actions.

“So you want your clit touched hm?” He muses once again, rubbing your left thigh with his free hand.

“Yes, please..”

Namjoon pauses once again only to tut in your direction. You were beginning to get sick of his tutting. Why couldn’t Namjoon just give into what you wanted? It was getting frustrating, to the point where you slightly puffed your cheeks out. Namjoon noticed this, and he couldn’t help but laugh now since he found your reaction amusing.

“Bad girls don’t get their clit’s touched~” he chides, pulling his hand back and smacking your thigh. You gaped in his direction, pulling himself away and licking his fingers. It seemed during that time he was thinking about what he wanted to do with you. Eventually, Namjoon figured that the best way to teach you for calling him "daddy" without his permission, was a lesson. In doing so, Namjoon continues to clean his fingers clean, watching your eyes bulge from their sockets.

You were shocked that he was going to leave you. Half naked, drunk, and extremely horny. You just wanted to come by his hands and have more than just that. But it seemed like Namjoon was severe because he began to shift himself off your bed.

“W-Wait,” you stuttered, scrambling to find the words. “You’re just going to just leave me like this?” You sucked in your breath, noticing the dark eyes that turned to glare at you. Namjoon gave you an amused glint in his eye, his body leaning back to stand beside the bed.

“Of course, princess,” he answers. “Someone’s got to teach you a lesson.”

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