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yoongsisbae · 3 years

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Handshakes of a Lifetime - Chapter 5

You snag exclusive fan meet tickets, but as you shake hands with your favorite idols, something strange happens…

BTS soulmate AU. OT7 x Reader / Yoongi x Reader focused in this chapter, slight Jungkook x Reader

Here we gooooo. I have a special place in my heart for Yoongs, I think this might be my favorite handshake yet. Enjoy the craziness!

Warnings: death, blood, guns, stabbing, fighting, bondage, drunk sex, rough sex Yoongi and y/n are just two kinky idiots in love, ANGST so much angst why, let me know if I need to add more I know it’s dark.

Word Count: 10.6k

“So you think if I touched her, it would happen to me too? Is that why-” Taehyung turns to a defeated Jin.

“I don’t know.” He can’t stop thinking about you, his body hurts, his chest hurts.

“I want to try, this is so unfair.” Taehyung whines.

Namjoon sighs, “Well…”

You hear a knocking at the door. Your legs felt numb. How long have you been sitting here? You were too lost in your thoughts, reliving moments that weren’t yours.

“Hello? Unlock the door.”

You know that voice. No way.

You’ve listened to his solo songs on repeat so many times, his deep voice and sharp tongue playing in your ears for hours at times.

For lack of better judgment, you decide to stay silent. You slowly unlock the stall door trying not to make a sound as you tiptoe to the door. You rest your ear against the wood hoping to hear something. You consider maybe it was just another delusion. There is just no way.

“We know you’re in there.” You flinch from the door, the idol’s voice is as clear as day.

“I don’t know what happened, but I didn’t mean to do what you think I did..I-I don’t even know what I-I just want to go home. Please...” You put your palm on the door, a superficial gesture you know won’t make a difference, much like a nod to a person over the phone, and rest your head on the door waiting for his response. There is a long silence.

The weary idol stands in front of the bathroom door. He should have let Namjoon handle it, he thinks, why did he volunteer? When security came to tell them you had locked yourself in the bathroom, it brought up old memories he didn’t like thinking about, it made him want to help you. So before anyone else could, he volunteered to get you. But now he felt inadequately prepared, he should have just let Namjoon handle it.

He gestures to the security to give him some space. He rests his head on the door and sighs, instead of reaching for the door handle he rests his hand above it.

“Can I please come in? Open the door, it will just be me, I promise.” The idol switches to Korean, hoping you understand him. “I just want to talk to you. And then you can leave.” Actually, he doesn’t know if it will be that easy, but at this point he would tell you anything to get you to open the door.

He hears the slow scrape of metal as the lock turns. He gives security one last look to stay back before opening the door. You shuffle back quickly as the door opens and in walks Min Yoongi of BTS.

Yoongi shuts the door and locks it again. You try to give him space, but he advances towards you. So you keep giving him space and he puts his hand up in surrender, like someone would when approaching a scared animal.

“Hello.” He greets you in English. This was a bad idea.

“H-Hello.” You both face each other awkwardly.

This was the last thing you’d ever expect to happen, standing alone in a bathroom with BTS’s Suga. You feel like you’re burning up, you wonder how you haven’t managed to pass out as the rapper watches you in silence.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I freaked out. I’ll just go home, I promise I won’t ever talk about what happened. I-I mean, I don’t know what happened, nothing-“

“It will be okay. Breath.” He speaks in English to you again. “Take a deep breath. Count to ten.”

You’re shaking again. He’s being so nice to you, it makes you want to cry even more.

“C’mon, count.”

You start counting in shaky Korean, glancing over at the rapper who tries to hide a smile at the way you recite the words like a school child taking a test, you finish and feel like laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, your own lips curving upward as you begin to relax.

“Do you understand me when I speak Korean?” Yoongi says in Korean. You nod.

“Do you understand me when I speak in English?” The rapper nods back. “Most of it, yes,” he confesses.

You stand there awkwardly too scared to speak, gripping the sink counter to steady yourself, your reflections stare back at you in the bathroom mirror. The rapper looks perfect in his button down and styled hair, you on the other hand-

You laugh, “Oh god, I look horrible.” You turn on the sink and splash cold water on your face to get rid of your dried tears.

“No you don’t.” The rapper leans on the counter looking at you, grabbing a paper towel to hand to you. He is making it very hard for you to pretend he’s not there.

You watch him through the mirror’s reflection, “Thank you.” The words barely come out of your mouth. You turn around and lean on the counter beside him, making sure to keep your distance. ‘This is the weirdest night of my life,’ you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

The two of you stand there next to each other in silence for a painfully long time.

Finally, Yoongi lifts his hand palm side up and gives you a sideways glance. “I owe you, don’t I?”

You stare at his hand, study the silver rings around his fingers.

“...A handshake.”

“What?” You can only gawk at him.

“You paid all this money for handshakes from all members...”

That was not what you expected. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

You grip the counter tighter, “I don’t want to, really, it’s okay.”

“I insist.” You can hear the frustration in his voice.

“No...It’s okay. I won't hold it against you.”

Yoongi frowns, slowly lowering his hand, feeling stupid. How is he supposed to get you to touch him?

He chews on his bottom lip and sneaks a glance at you again. Against all his instincts, when he realized he had another chance to see you, he took it with no question. You scared him and yet he felt himself gravitating to you. Everything that transpired had given him so many questions, and you were the only answer. “Please, I want to know-I want to know if it’s true.” Yoongi pauses, “I just want to understand why I feel the way I do being around you.”

You realize just how close the rapper stands next to you, your shoulders almost touching, had he moved closer and you didn’t even realize it? Did you?

You glance over at him, he looks so vulnerable and lost, nothing like the intimidating idol who stood in front of you at the fanmeet. He seemed so untouchable, now he’s asking you to do just that. You want to give in, you think it’s the least you can do for him, and then he’ll realize his mistake and let you go home.

You brace yourself and push away from the counter behind you, turning to face the rapper.

“Okay, but you’ll probably regret it,” you whisper, extending your hand.

Yoongi goes to grab your hand but you move yours just out of reach before he has a chance to, “Don’t say I didn't warn you...” Yoongi nods to you. He grabs your hand.

“Can you let go of me already.” You whisper as Yoongi holds you in a death grip.

“Yeah, let’s just blow our entire cover.” Yoongi hisses. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. Yoongi doesn’t do field missions, his talents are long range. Away from people, especially you.

“And can you stop looking at me like that, you’re supposed to be acting like my wife,” he warns lowly in your ear, you think he’s going to dislocate a finger the way he’s squeezing your hand. Yeah right, like you would ever marry a man like Min Yoongi.

You’re annoyed. Annoyed at the man next to you, annoyed they required you to have a male partner at all, like you needed a babysitter to do your job. On top of it all, it had to be him.

The gala you walk into is being held for top diplomats and politicians from all over the world. You let Yoongi pull you through the crowds as you scan the room for your target, a corrupt delegate who has a swath of information that could be useful to the state. You pull on Yoongi’s arm to get his attention, “Your left, 9 o’clock.”

He pulls you closer before you can advance on the target, grabbing your chin to face him instead, to anyone else it would look like a romantic gesture, for you it’s just another tactic Yoongi uses to keep you leashed to him. “We should make sure there aren’t any threats first.”

You’ve never been a woman to accept the cages men tried to confine you to, you have claws and you know how to use them. You lean into Yoongi, you can feel his body stiffen as you press your chest against his. You place a kiss on his cheek, bringing his arms around you until he gives in and grips your body instead, “That’s your job isn’t it, let me do mine,” you give him your best smile, but your eyes show him your true emotions as you glare at him with hatred. And with that, you were able to slip away from Yoongi’s grasp.

You drop your suitcase onto the only bed in your small hotel room. You know you needed the sharp shooter to complete the mission, but why did you have to share a room with him too? And why do they keep assigning Yoongi to you? You’re a top agent, you could easily complete this mission with an amateur, anyone but the smug sniper who is making his way toward you now.

“We need to be on site at 23:00, so go do something while I sleep.” The agent starts unbuttoning his cuff, paying you little attention.

“So I’m not supposed to get any rest?” You cross your arms and frown at the jaded man in front of you, “What the hell am I supposed to do while you’re getting your beauty sleep?”

“Not my problem.” Yoongi is sleep deprived and more irritable than usual. “You slept on the plane ride here, I know because your snoring kept me up the entire flight.”

You feel your face go hot with anger and embarrassment. “Well, I’m not leaving. This is my room too!”

“Do what you want! I don’t care.” the sniper yells. He needs to sleep so he can keep you safe, he thinks, ‘ungrateful brat.’

He moves past you shoving his shoulder into yours. In your anger, you shove him back. He turns around glaring at you, then decides to shove you again, this time with his hands. Yoongi is stubborn, but you’re more stubborn, you push him again, and now you’re in a shoving match with your own partner.

“Will you stop!” he yells, pushing you so hard your back hits the hotel wall.

“You first!” The next time you push your hand into his shoulder Yoongi grabs your wrist and pulls you hand forward, slamming his chest into you and crushing you between his body and the wall.

He glares down at you, his eyes flicker down to your lips.

Why did he do that? ‘Ugh idiot,’ and now you're thinking about his lips, the thoughts make you glance down. ‘Fuck, why did I do that?’ He catches the movement of your eyes.

You stand trapped against his strong frame, you think about elbowing him away, sweeping his feet and knocking him out for daring to test you like this, but you needed him at the top of his game for tonight. You squirm in his grasp while he stares down at you with an unreadable expression.

Eventually, when you feel like the pounding of your pulse might give you a heart attack Yoongi removes himself from you and goes to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. You hear the shower start. ‘Why does it have to be him,’ you wonder, rubbing your temples with your fingers. You decide to go grab some food. There’s a pit in your stomach, it must be hunger you think.

---

You walk the perimeter of the house, leaving the man you coaxed into bringing you into his home asleep in his bed. The sleep sedatives you laced in his drink made sure he wouldn’t bother you while you search his mansion. You had to work quickly and quietly.

“Two guards, headed your way.” Yoongi’s voice comes through in your earpiece, letting you slip into an empty room undetected.

“Clear?”

“Clear.” Yoongi’s deep voice crackles in your ear.

You make your way down the third floor hallway until you reach a large door.

Yoongi watches you through heat sensor binoculars. “There are five guards behind that door, do not engage.”

“I guess I’m getting warmer then.” You remove the knife around your thigh. “Do you have a clear shot on any of them?”

The sniper sees three windows, two blocked almost entirely by a curtain, the last only slightly covered, the situation was not ideal. “Negative. You’ll have to push them to the far open window so I can get a better shot.”

You look at the large windows of the hall you stand in. “Do you have a clear shot on me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

You smirk, “You ruin your perfect record? Doubt it.”

You knock on the door, ignoring Yoongi hissing in your ear, “So much for the element of surprise.”

“This is not the bathroom!” You stab the first guard in the neck. As he falls, clutching his throat and spluttering for air, you hug your body to the wall. When the next guard runs out you kick the pistol out of his hand. He fights against your advances, he’s strong and trained, but even then one can only take so many stabs to the body. The rest of the men advance on you, two drop, you see the bullet holes in their skulls.

“Thanks-” the last man lunges at you, putting you in a chokehold. He’s tall, he lifts you up and you lose your footing. You swing your knife, blade piercing his arms, but his hold on you stays. You kick in his grasp, your legs make contact with the wall and you both go down.

“I don’t have eyes on you. Get him in my sight!” You’d like to yell at Yoongi that that’s exactly what you were trying to do, but the guard’s hold on your windpipe makes it impossible. You aim your knife for his sides until his grip on you lessens. You roll off of him and start crawling, hoping he falls into your trap. He grabs your leg, you use the momentum to twist your body and kick him in the chest, before he falls on his back, he’s already dead. You can always count on Yoongi to never miss a headshot.

“Like I was saying, thanks.” Your voice is hoarse. Yoongi scoffs in your ear.

As you work to open the safe you’ve located, you hear Yoongi’s voice again, “Get out of there now! Twelve guards headed your way!”

“Just twelve?” You grab the dead mans’ guns and barricade yourself in the room. You pull every curtain you see down and fall to the floor just in time as gunfire fills the room.

Yoongi watches you take the men down one by one. You move in a chaotic dance around the room, there’s a preciseness to your movements, and also a wildness in your actions. You’re like a feral tiger, eating your targets alive. Yoongi’s impressed. The sniper lines up shot after shot, giving you as much cover as he can offer. He tries to keep your bloodshed to a minimum, you set up the pins, he knocks them down.

He is more than happy to deal the final blow. As he adds another tick to his total body count, he hopes you’ll be okay. Physically, he knows you’ll be fine, but mentally, he worries about you. Memories with you after similar missions still haunt him, the quiet anguish that fills you after every big bloodbath. It’s become a ritual to spend nights together after a mission, neither of you able to sleep soundly, you’d often wonder out loud to Yoongi if the dead men had wives or children, ask if it bothered him, ‘destroying families.’ It didn’t, if he’s being honest, they were horrible men and their families were probably better off without them in his eyes, but he knew it bothered you.

So, he doesn’t mind killing for you, it’s not because he cares about you, no, it’s just easier to get through missions that way. He would rather have everyone think you’re a tiger, Yoongi knows the truth.

Yoongi pulls you back, concealing your bodies from the advancing enemies. You look at him questionly. He places a finger to his mouth to keep you quiet. He signs with his hands, ‘two,’ ‘ahead,’ ‘you wait,’ ‘I’ll go around.’ You nod in agreement. You wait, straining your ears to hear signs of struggle. You hear footsteps running towards your direction. You grab the enemy and knock him out before he can make a sound. Yoongi is pulling you away, handing you a black bag you assume is full of data your agency so desperately wanted. You make a quiet getaway, grateful you can hide in the shadows and follow Yoongi to your escape: a boat that can get you to international waters. You stretch and watch the night sky as Yoongi starts the engine. “I didn’t die.” you hum.

“You say that like you’re disappointed.”

You snort, kicking the bag you and Yoongi risked your lives for. You turn to him, “Thank you, comrade, you saved my life.”

Yoongi shuffles uncomfortably, you’re being pleasant and it’s weird. “You’re welcome.”

“We make a good team, hmm?”

You sit on Yoongi’s workbench. In his space. The two of you work in silence as you put together the pieces of your handgun. He cleans the parts of his sniper rifle. He hands you the last piece of your weapon, it’s easier working here with him, his office is quiet. He doesn’t try to make small talk with you, you hate small talk. Your days are not “good.” You’re sick of using your body to lure in your targets, having to do things more than what you’re comfortable with on multiple occasions to complete the mission. But as a female agent, sometimes you think that’s all you're good for, and they would kill you if you tried to leave now. Escaping and living a quiet life without the man who sits next to you, not being able to protect him, you don’t want that either.

You hop off the table, Yoongi had also gotten up from his chair to grab more rags and you collide into each other. He grabs your waist to steady you. You bodies press against one another. You hold your breath. As his strong hands move you to the side, he mutters a sorry.

Yoongi is livid. He is slamming drawers and yanking open cabinet doors as you slowly make your way to sit onto the medical table. The safehouse is empty except for you and him.

“Are you insane or just stupid?” Your partner advances on you hastily, a medical kit in his hands.

You roll your eyes, “It’s just a scratch, I’m fine.” The blood seeping from your side and over your fingers betrays your words.

Yoongi yanks your hand away and grabs the tattered corners of your blood covered shirt and rips it. You try to stay stoic as you sit in front of him in only a bra while Yoongi works to clean and bandage your wound. His actions are so aggressive your body jerks back and forth from his movements. He pulls a bandage particularly tight and you yell, glaring at him. He glares back at you.

“You could have died.” Yoongi says softly. He keeps his eyes trained on your wound, adding the image to the list of reasons on why he doesn’t get close to people.

“And you would have died.”

His hands drop to the medical table as he cages you in. His dark eyes bore into yours, you hate how it makes you feel: vulnerable. “Don’t risk your life for me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

---

“Tell me how much you want me.” Your partner’s low voice whispers in your ears. You think you’d rather die.

His fingernails scratch your scalp as he grabs a hold of your hair and yanks back, pulling you against his front. Your hip digs painfully into the dresser in front of you, as he pushes his body closer to yours. Your face feels tight, the pain burns your scalp, a reminder that you still can feel something. Everything in your life makes you feel numb, but Yoongi makes you feel alive. You hate how addicted you’ve become to his touches.

“If you don’t say it, you won’t get anything,” he tuts, tightening his hold on your hair and a moan escapes you. He pulls your head back and places soft kisses on the column of your neck.

Yoongi waits, his lips attached to your neck as he grinds his hard erection into your ass until you lose yourself to pleasure, unable to take his teasing any longer.

“I want you.”

“I can’t hear you.”

You grind your teeth, “You’re pushing it.”

Yoongi grabs your breast, “Tell me, kitty.” His rough hands on your body is exactly what you want, makes you drip with arousal, but you’ll never tell him that. Instead, you move your hands behind you and grab at his hard erection.

“I can’t seem to remember what I was going to say, do you?” You run your hand down his length and squeeze, his hold on your hair loosens ever so slightly as his breathing turns shallow.

He’s used to your stubborn nature by now, but this kind of fight is something you’ll never win. Yoongi grabs your wrist and holds your arm in place, twisting your arm in a lock and bending you over the dresser. You struggle against him, as he opens your legs wider with his own. “You know kitty, you’re not invincible. Always ready to start a fight. If you’re not careful, someone might decide to teach you a lesson.”

You can see him out of the corner of your eye. He normally looks so composed, but the way he stares down at you so hungrily, he looks wild, eyes blown wide by lust.

“And is that you?” you laugh, grunting as he pushes down on you, grabbing your other arm and locking it behind your back. The weight of him against your back increases, stealing air from your lungs. His low voice whispers teasingly in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “Do you want it to be me?”

Yoongi stands, watching you struggle against his hold. He knows it would be easy for you to get away from him if you really tried, and the knowledge that you’re submitting to him in your own stubborn way makes his body hot and dick throb. He squeezes your thigh, his thumb rubbing against your center. You’re so wet, your underwear drenched in arousal. He bites back a moan, pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing deep circles into you and forcing a whine to escape your lips. He lifts up your skirt, yanking the wet fabric of your underwear down to your thighs. Then his touch becomes slow and teasing. He runs his fingers along your slit, drenching his digits in your essence and bringing them to his mouth. You taste so good, fuck he can’t get enough of you, Yoongi is going to wreck you.

You watch him licking his fingers, the erotic scene making you clench unsatisfyingly around nothing. “Please…” you whisper, the sight of him had broken down your walls.

Yoongi unzips his pants and pulls himself out. He takes no more time, plunging into your heat suddenly. You shudder, it feels so good to have him inside you. He finally lets go of you to grip the flesh of your hips, slamming into you over and over. The force of his thrusts takes your breath away, as your body shifts up and down against the hard surface of his dresser.

With every thrust you feel the tension in your body uncoil, you never want this to end, you’d rather drown in the pleasure he’s giving you then come up for air and deal with the pain of your life. “You feel so good-fuck me harder!” The words leave your lips without thought. You don’t want to feel anything else but his bruising touches, you don’t want to think of anything else but him.

Yoongi grips your shoulder with one hand, moving your body to meet his thrusts as his pace becomes brutal. Your entire body vibrates with pleasure as he manhandles you. You pulse around him as you let go. Yoongi goes faster, using your body to climax, you let yourself moan freely, losing yourself to the pain and pleasure of overstimulation. You can feel him filling you up as he shakes against you.

Your world comes back into focus as you gasp for breath, your body slumped against the desk. “Is that all you’ve got? Hardly a lesson.” Yoongi laughs, wrapping his arms around your middle. He lifts you up and throws you onto the bed. You land with a huff.

---

The silence is deafening as you lay across from your partner. The twin bed in the cheap motel room you share makes it impossible for either of you to have your own space. Neither of you can sleep, and you’re both too tired to complain about the situation, so you stare at each other in the darkness, the neon lights outside your window bathe your faces in soft hues of blue. The cheap sheets scratch your skin, you can feel the hard edges of your gun underneath the old thin hotel pillow, but the soft fabric of Yoongi’s long sleeve shirt feels nice against the back of your hand. You absentmindedly brush your hand against his arm, your fingers play with the baggy material, rolling the fabric between your fingers. Yoongi places his free hand over yours to stop your actions. You’re too tired to question him, nor do you want to break the silence. Yoongi’s features are calm, his hardness is all gone tonight, when he relaxes you think he looks quite soft. Tonight Yoongi doesn’t look like a trained killer at all, his messy hair frames his face and his usual cold eyes radiate warmth. You study each other through half open eyes. Eventually, Yoongi closes his eyes, but doesn’t remove his hand from atop yours. “Go to sleep,” he grunts.

You take a deep breath out. You focus on Yoongi’s steady breathing, trying to keep your heavy eyes open, scared of what you’ll see once you close them, faces of the dead petrified corpses that always reveal themselves against the darkness of your shut eyelids. You study the soft features of your partner instead, able to memorize the details of his face while you’re so close to him. You think of him until sleep takes over.

---

You groan in pain, not ready to open your eyes to the morning light. Your throat is sore and dry, and your entire body aches, especially a certain part of you, the realization snaps you awake. You realize you’re not alone in your bed, you open your blurry eyes to a head of jet black hair. A man sleeps on your naked chest, you can feel his lips against your breast as he quietly snores. You realize his messy locks, the slope of his nose and contours of his muscular arm are all familiar to you, because he’s not a stranger at all. Memories of last night come back to you slowly.

Images of your partner offering you his bourbon, and you gratefully accepting. The pleasant conversation you had together, no arguing or superfluous challenging, just meaningful stories and gentle banter. You remember your partner’s flushed face, the timid smile he tried to hide against his glass, his dark eyes pulling you in. The drunker you became the more you gravitated towards him, until you were pressed up against him, moaning against his lips as his tongue explored your mouth, and you begging him to fuck you. No no no no no.

A wave of mortification and humiliating arousal hits you. You shove your partner off you.

“What the fuck!” Yoongi’s head is pounding, and your punches are not weak. It’s too damn early to be fighting with you already, Yoongi thinks. He pins you down, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He yells, not understanding why you’re here or why you suddenly decided to attack him.

The way his hands pin your wrists brings on another wave of memories that invade your mind and makes your face burn hot with embarrassment. He looks down at you and notices the purple bruises littering your neck and chest, your chest that is absent of a shirt, and your very naked body, against his very naked body. He let’s go of you in his shock. You scoot away from him, pulling the bed sheets up to cover yourself. He stares at you, mouth wide open, trying to place the pieces of last night together. “Oh fuck.”

“This will never happen again.”

His eyes scan your body as his hazy mind replays the events of last night, his face goes red at thoughts of you writhing under him. Yoongi was so desperate to explore your body, make you moan his name. He prays you were too drunk to notice how badly he wanted you. “Never.”

---

You spot three guards in front of the door, ‘a little excessive,’ you think. You grin to yourself as you run through every possible take down you can use against them. They’re big men, and big men always underestimate women.

Yoongi sits patiently, the blindfold doesn’t permit him to see, but he smirks to himself as he hears the sounds of struggle outside.

He hears the door open and close, feet circling him. He struggles against his restraints. Suddenly he feels a weight in his lap. The blindfold is pulled off and he meets your self satisfied face smiling at him.

“Took you long enough.”

You pout. “I should leave you here.”

You press your lips against his. Pulling him close by the hair. He grunts into your mouth. You press yourself down on him, grinding into his hardening length.

Yoongi struggles against his restraints, wanting to pull you closer to him. “Untie me.”

There’s a glint in your eye as you pull away from him. You kiss his neck instead, sucking hard on the sensitive skin behind his ear.

“You’re going to regret not listening to me, kitty.” Yoongi growls.

You laugh against his skin, working to undo his belt. Yoongi groans as you grip his length.

“I thought you were supposed to be rescuing me.”

“I am,” you lick your lips, “but then you had to go and let yourself get tied up.” You hop off his lap and kneel between his legs, Yoongi flexes his arms against the ropes, watching you intently. You bring the head of his shaft to your lips and kiss. The chair shakes as he pulls against his restraints groaning, you give him mercy as you suck him into your mouth, enjoying the way he struggles to keep his composure.

“You’ve had your fun,” he tries to hold in his moans, “you’re going to get yourself captured too because you're such a needy slut for my cock.” He thrusts his hips up, making you choke. It doesn’t deter you, as you press yourself deeper, your nose against his stomach, he shudders and the ropes dig into his wrists as he pulls harder against his restraints.

You pull off of him and look at him with a smirk. “I took care of the guards.” As if you already know Yoongi's next words you say, “I took care of all the guards.” Bringing your mouth around his length again, you suck him hard. You suck him down until you gag, over and over again until you can feel him swell, close to release, and you pull away. If looks could kill, you would have been added to Yoongi’s headcount. You jump to your feet and start cutting away the ropes that bind him.

“I’m untying you only because we are running out of time, not because you asked me to.”

He grunts, thinking of all the ways he’s going to use your body. “Noted.”

When free, Yoongi brings you into a crushing kiss, wrapping his hand around your neck. “Dangerous girl, you deserve to be punished.”

---

You allow yourself to rest against the cold concrete floor, making yourself comfortable in the dirt and grime. Your muscles are sore, and you’re tired. You’re tiredness doesn’t just come from surviving the mission, you’re sick and tired of it all. You were the first to make it to the scheduled rendezvous point, maybe the only one left. You hear footsteps and turn to see your partner jogging towards you, his equipment bag slung over his shoulder, he’s winded, skin covered in dirt from his hasty escape. When he sees you, he runs over to you, his eyes scan over your body but he doesn’t touch you. Your clothes are drenched in blood, but it’s not your own. You look like the walking dead, and you think you deserve to die, you’re a monster.

Yoongi sprawls out next to you, massaging his sore muscles. “If you had let them live your identity would have been compromised.” He knows you had no choice but to kill them. “You did what you had to do to complete the mission.”

“Stop talking, please.” You stare at his dirt covered face, you’re glad he made it out alive, and you wished you hadn’t. Your target had brought his wife and daughter, the agency didn’t warn you, or maybe they knew and didn’t care. You think about the love they must have had, so great he couldn’t be apart from them, and you not only took their lives, but took that love and destroyed it. You knew you were a killer, but you never thought you’d be a villain. You reach for your partner’s hand. He grips you tightly, his fingers are black with dirt, yours are stained with blood. You feel the weight on your chest become even heavier. You wonder if he could ever love you like that, you wonder if you’d just end up destroying that as well.

You lay asleep in Yoongi’s bed. His fingers run along your arm that rests on his chest. During the twilight hours, while you drift off to another world in your slumber, Yoongi allows himself to fully love you. He intertwines his fingers with yours and kisses the soft skin of your wrist, wrapping his arms around your sleeping frame. He let’s himself pretend you’re not in each other's company only for convenience, but because you love him as much as he loves you. He shouldn’t love you, love is too dangerous for people like him, love is a risk too big to take. But until the sun comes up again he gives in to his weaknesses. When you wake, he’ll be strong for you again, he’ll be your shield and protect you from everyone including himself.

---

“So you don’t want to work with me anymore?” You barge into Yoongi’s workspace. He keeps his face emotionless, choosing to ignore you.

So you press on, “I’m with Petrov now, I didn’t request a new partner, so it had to have been you. Why? Answer me!”

Yoongi leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “You’re overreacting, he’s new, they probably want you to show him how it’s done-”

“Don’t fucking lie to me!”

“There’s a good reason-”

“You’re lying, you’re doing that thing with your hands when you lie!” You yell.

Yoongi shoves his hands in his pockets, his anger getting the better of him, “Fine, maybe I don’t want to be your partner anymore!” You stay silent. “You’re reckless, you never listen to me, you almost died on our last mission. I’m...I’m tired of worrying about you.”

Your chest tightens in pain, his words sting more than any blade or bullet you’ve ever taken. You try to meet his eyes, but he refuses to look at you. ‘Coward,’ you think. You scoff, “Fine...Good...I don’t want to work with you either.” You turn on your heels to leave.

“Wait!” Yoongi stands from his desk and rushes after you. When you refuse to listen, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against him. “Please, stop,” he whispers in your ear.

You place your arms over his, let his warmth envelope you. You don’t understand him, he’s holding you like you’re about to break in his arms, but he’d let you go off into a mission without him? How could he do this to you? You thought you were a team, you thought you were...friends. You used to feel safe in his arms, now you just feel betrayal. You bite your lip, your sadness turns into bitterness, your bitterness into anger.

You dig your nails in his arms until he hisses and lets you go. You give your partner one last look before exiting his office, you give him one more chance. If he takes it, you’ll find a way to forgive him, to fix whatever it is that made him angry enough to break the bonds between you. But he stays silent, his silence speaks volumes, “Like you said, you don’t have to worry about me any longer. I'm not your problem anymore.” You slam his door shut.

Yoongi’s body is shaking. He slams his fist against the door. He rests his forehead against the wooden surface and swallows down the growing pressure in his throat, processing everything that just occurred. He made the right choice, this was for your own protection, he wouldn’t allow you to care more about his life than your own, he knows he’s right, so why does he feel so sick?

Your reputation precedes you, the tigresse, a top agent. You pull off impossible missions. Maybe it’s because you just don’t care if you can finish the job or not, you’ll choose the riskiest plays, find yourself in the most dangerous scenarios; you’ll choose the more daring escape route, and because of that people are afraid of you, even in your own agency. No one wants to work with you for too long, and you don’t want them to either, so you finally get what you wanted, to work alone. You’re at the top, all alone, there’s no congratulations in your line of work, no happiness.

Yoongi doesn’t have to worry about anyone anymore, even himself. On missions he used to view his sniper rifle as an extension of himself, now he feels just as cold and hollow as the barrel of his rifle, he’s become an empty killing machine. He can’t sleep at night, he wakes up to nightmares of you dying over and over again. Eventually, when he can’t take it anymore, he convinces his superiors to let him act as your backup without your knowledge, they only allow it because you’ve become too valuable to lose. He still can’t sleep at night, slowly losing his mind in solitude, trapped in a cage of loneliness by his own doing. He becomes a shadow, a ghost, making sure the legacy of their best agent survives.

You search for cover, the bullet holes in your body make every movement slow and painful. The holes in your leg keeps you on the ground. You pull yourself through the sea of dead bodies as bullets fly through the air.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, you start to aim your pistol.

“What are you doing here?” The gunman ignores you as he pulls your bloody body into his arms and runs.

Yoongi watched you from his post get shot, one, two, three times until he couldn’t take it anymore. When he couldn’t protect you from a distance anymore, he left his post, his decision as instantaneous as a traveling bullet.

He hides you and him, holding you close, looking over your wounds. He tries to put pressure on the bullet holes, but there are just so many. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, “I was supposed to protect you.”

You touch his face, you can feel the warmth of his skin against your cold fingers, he’s real. “You’re here.”

Yoongi’s trained ears listen to the gunfire as it becomes louder, a sign he needs to move again. He reloads his assault rifle, heaving you up to your feet. You groan as more blood gushes from your wounds. Yoongi uses his assault rifle to make another path for you and him. Your ex partner drags your body along, hiding again to reload.

“You need to save yourself. I’m not going to make it.” You say as you cough up blood. Yoongi pulls you up again, ignoring your words, refusing to accept he can’t save you. As he runs a stray bullet hits his shoulder and you both go down. Yoongi shoots to where he thinks the bullets came from, but his shoulder makes it difficult for him to aim.

“Stop! You can’t die too!” You aim your pistol at the two men advancing upon you from Yoongi’s blind spot. You manage to shoot one, but your blood loss makes your vision hazy and your aim too wide. The second man’s bullets hit Yoongi’s side. Yoongi adjusts his rifle and takes quick revenge. He doubles over in pain.

You grab his hand, your breathing is too shallow to tell him all the things you want to say. “Save yourself...”

“And leave you again? Never.”

Yoongi holds you until you take your last labored breath, and holds you still, until his own blood loss becomes too much.

---

Yoongi doubles over, crashing into you. You try to hold the rapper up, but you are faring no better, your body shakes in phantom pain. His entire weight is on you, you move against the wall for support as both of you try to catch your breath, his head leans on your shoulder, and he groans in agony. You grip his arms. Should you push him away? But you don’t want to. You want to pull him closer. You grip his arms harder, frozen, your mind and body remembering, remembering everything, and it takes every last bit of your willpower not to react.

Finally, after your breaths have settled, he steadies himself on his feet, still pressed against your frame. He lifts his head, you can feel his breath on the side of your face. He laughs weakly against you, “I don’t regret it.”

“What-“ his eyes pierce through you. You realize he hasn’t moved away from you still, you stare back into the idol’s eyes, it all feels so familiar, too familiar...

His nose brushes against your cheek, you hold your breath at the sensation, it’s so familiar. His lips ghost over yours and when you don’t pull away Yoongi presses his lips firmer onto yours.

You feel electricity in every vein, to the tips of your fingers, to the ends of the hair. Emotions that felt like distant memories scorch through you. Your legs buckle.

Yoongi had only meant to give you a quick kiss, just to see how it would compare to his wild memories, but the feelings that came over him overtook every sense of reason left in him. He deepened the kiss. You pulled him closer to you, it was automatic.

He felt his sanity slipping away with every inhale of your scent, a sprouting desire burst through him, a need everlasting lifetimes, it made him desperate to devour you. He pushes his leg in between yours to hold you steady when he feels you falling against him. You yell against his lips, his touch is too overwhelming and you feel yourself slipping away, you try desperately to stay in the moment, remember who you are to him actually. You push him away to catch your breath. “I shouldn’t have done that. I-“

You both jump at the pounding from the door. “Both of you need to come out now.” His voice is muffled, but you’d recognize the distinctive cadence of the BTS leader anywhere. Yoongi mutters words you don’t understand. You yelp as he grabs your hand, leading you to the door.

Namjoon is greeted by the sight of his bandmate and you looking particularly guilty as you leave the bathroom. The way Yoongi holds your hand does not go unnoticed by the leader.

You walk in between the rappers, security following behind you. You can tell Namjoon is annoyed, the way he glances at the nonexistent space between you and Yoongi and clenches his jaw. What are you supposed to do, not hold Min Yoongi’s hand? The firm hold he has on you is the only thing that’s keeping you from falling apart into an anxious puddle on the floor. So instead you spend the walk mentally screaming at yourself.

Namjoon opens an unmarked door and walks in, Yoongi follows directly behind him, pulling you along. You realize where you are as five more pairs of eyes meet yours.

They are all staring at you. You want to run and hide. You move behind Yoongi instead. He hasn’t let go of your hand, and every man in the room notices it.

Namjoon goes first, “We all need to talk.”

---

“So now do you admit it!” Jimin looks between Yoongi and you with a frown.

“He promised he wouldn’t touch her.” Jungkook whines to Namjoon.

“I didn’t promise. I said I wouldn’t...I changed my mind.”

You listen to the group argue glancing over Yoongi’s shoulder, you make eye contact with Jin. His eyes are still red, like he hasn’t stopped crying. For the first time since he grabbed you, you wanted to let go of Yoongi’s hand. Jin is the first to break away, he turns around, overwhelmed. Your face is still perfectly clear in his mind. Your words replay like whispers in his ear, ‘find me.’

You break away from Yoongi and address everyone.

“Uhh, I don’t know...” you start, “I don’t know how any of this works, or why it’s happening in the first place. But it is happening right? It happened to you too?” You look around at their faces, you look into Jimin’s eyes, “You saw me too, I was with you, you looked different, but deep down, it was you.” Jimin shifts uncomfortably under your eyes, he feels his chest tighten at your words, “and you saw me in her too.” You turn to J-Hope. “Right? Please tell me I’m-” you whisper the last part, “I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.” Hoseok answers you immediately, looking at you with a guilty expression.

Jungkook is nodding up and down at you rapidly.

“I was with you..” Jin walks over to you, but stops before he gets too close, “It felt so real...I was there with you on the cliff…” his eyes are so sad it makes tears well up in your eyes.

“How is this even possible…” Jimin speaks up, “I just don’t understand.” Jimin looks upset. He doesn’t want to believe any of this, none of it makes sense to him.

You can see the pain in their faces clearly. You feel like you’ve done something horrible. All you wanted to do was meet your idols and thank them for making your life better, but you ended up making their lives worse, and you don’t know how or why.

You rub your eyes before you start crying again, “I’m sorry. I should go home, it’s-" you check your phone screen. “One thirty in the morning?! I should leave!”

You jump as the room fills with protests from the men. They all quickly stop as soon as they start. You all stare at each other.

Namjoon takes charge. “How did you get here? We can have a driver take you home! We have to go to the hotel now, before you go home, we can finish talking there.” There is a finality to his words.

You stand there wide eyed, ‘hotel’?

---

So now you sit alone in the back of a large car with four managers. They have given you forms to fill out. A stack of papers full of NDAs. You felt like you were signing your life away. You wanted to tell them to take you home, but you stayed silent, you didn’t want to cause anymore trouble.

You follow the managers through the hotel into an elevator, to the top floor. They lead you into a massive penthouse and shut the door behind you. Jungkook is already inside waiting for you. He’s still in his fanmeet clothes, the other men were still showering and changing, he couldn’t wait any longer to see you again, for a chance to be with you alone.

You stand in the center of the room, unsure of what to do. Alone with the idol, your nerves skyrocket again.

Jungkook slowly makes his way closer to you. He stands in front of you, mirroring much like the way he stood in front of you at the fanmeet, his arms rock nervously by his sides. He bends down a little bit closer to you, and offers you a lopsided smile. “Hey beautiful.”

You shut your eyes, you can’t bear to look at him, you can’t accept that he just said that to you. His words make you ache inside.

The idol waits and gives you space, feeling shy. You can’t take it, his words throw your thoughts into a whirlwind, you want him back, you want what you had together again. You and the idol are worlds apart, but the Jungkook you had felt when your hands touched, he was your entire world.

“Please.” You beg him, offering your hand to him. You don’t know what you’re asking for, you don’t know what touching him will accomplish. You feel just so alone, exhausted from fighting against everything you’re feeling, Jungkook all but gave you permission to give in.

He smiles at you, places his palm against yours. It feels so good, so warm. He clasps his fingers around yours, reaches for your waist with his other hand and pulls you against him with one fell swoop. You already know why, you wrap your free arm around his neck and hold him to you. You can feel his heart beating wildly against you, you know he must feel yours as well. He rests his forehead on yours. It’s there again, that spark that explodes inside you, threatening to detonate all your sense of reason. Neither of you move, frozen in dance. He begins to hum a tune, a tune that pulls a smile from you-

The door opens and you jump to sit on the edge of the couch, much to Jungkook’s displeasure.

The rest of the group files into the large hotel room, they are all changed into more comfortable clothes. They look clean and refreshed, you realize just how tired and achy your body feels, you want to take a shower too.

Namjoon gives the youngest a hard look, “You didn’t change. You were in here the whole time? After we said we’d speak to her all together. How long were you alone with her? I told you-“

“I arrived only a couple minutes ago, nothing happened.” You interject, feeling the need to defend the youngest member.

Namjoon looks at you surprised. “Your Korean is good.”

You start to feel shy again, “Not really,” you speak in English instead.

“Okay, so let’s figure this out.” Namjoon starts, “Jungkook, do you want to go first?”

“Wait!” Taehyung interjects, “I thought-Joon don’t you want to hold her hand?”

You stiffen. Namjoon goes red, “I-first let’s gather information.”

Taehyung goes to stand. You recoil in your seat. You turn to Namjoon, pleading, “I can’t-I can’t do it again.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, Tae-”

“Says you, you already got to touch her-”

“And that’s why I’m telling you not to do it-”

“No one is touching her-”

“Joon, can you please talk some sense into them-”

“Can we please focus-”

“If you get anywhere near her I’m punching you in the face-”

“Can we all just calm down-”

“I’ll punch you in the face-”

“No one is punching anyone!”

“I thought we were supposed to be talking this out, not starting fights-“

“I knew this was a bad idea-”

“How am I supposed to talk it out when I don’t even know what it is-”

They all talk so fast and over each other you can barely understand anything they are saying, but you know it’s not anything good. This is getting nowhere. “I-I’m so tired, I should really go home. I need to shower. Today has been...a long day.”

“You can stay in one of the rooms! We have the whole floor-Ow!” Jimin hits Jungkook in the shoulder.

“I-I need to go to the bathroom.” You feel trapped again. You go to stand and you feel a hand tug on yours, it’s Yoongi. “Take a deep breath. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. You should at least rest before we take you home.”

You bite your lip, looking around at the men. Jungkook looks at you with hopeful eyes.

“....Okay.”

“I’ll take her!” Jin, Yoongi, and Jungkook speak in unison. They look between one another. Jin, stands up, “I’ll take her.”

You silently follow him out, hearing the boys start conversing again behind you. You stay behind him as he walks down the hall. Your face heats up again as you stare at the idol’s back. Is this really happening to you? You should leave.

Jin takes a keycard out of his pocket and opens the door, holding it open for you. You walk in, it’s smaller than the other room, still larger than any hotel room you’ve ever been in. Jin picks up the suitcase from the middle of the room.

“I’ll find another room to stay in.” You feel your chest tightening again at his words. “Rest now, y/n, and then we can get to the bottom of this in the morning,” he smiles down at you. His eyes linger on you, about to speak again but he decides it’s better to wait.

You tug at his hoodie as he goes to leave. “I…” you want to tell him not to leave you alone, “I don’t have any clothes to change into.”

“Oh, I can give you some of my clothes!” You bite your lip as you watch Jin set his suitcase on the bed and rummage through his clothes. He pulls out a collection of hoodies, shirts and pants, way too many clothes for one sleeping outfit.

“Thank you…” you walk with him to the door. He lingers there with you.

“This...this is a good thing.” You cock your head to the side, Jin pats your head, “I found you after all.” And with that he leaves you to your thoughts.

---

After showering you feel so much better. You stand in your towel, looking around at the room. 'This must be a dream,' you think. Your hands run over the stack of Jin’s clothes. This stack probably costs more than all the clothes you’ve ever bought in your entire life, you think. You sigh and pull on a shirt and sweatpants, and decide to throw on a hoodie too for good measure. You start to laugh as you look at yourself in the hotel room’s mirror. You’re sure you're going to wake up tomorrow and this will all be a wild dream. You’re about to settle into bed when you hear a knock.

Jungkook stands in the hallway. He stares at you with wide eyes before looking at his feet. “I brought you clothes to wear.”

“Oh,” you look at him shocked.

“I see someone already gave you theirs,” he looks crestfallen.

“Yeah, Jin took care of that.” You pull on the strings of the hoodie in embarrassment.

“Oh well for tomorrow morning, you can wear this.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him Jin gave you enough clothes to cover an entire week. “Thank you. I’ll wear it tomorrow.”

“Okay...good.”

You hold your breath. You want to keep talking to him. “Your English is good, you sound like an American now.”

Jungkook smiles, too shy to meet your eyes. “Thank you.”

“You can speak in Korean too, I understand. I am not that good at speaking it, but I guess now is the best time to practice.” You laugh. Jungkook nods at you, his smile growing wider.

“Goodnight, beautiful.” He winks at you. You feel your heart tighten at his words.

“Jungkook!” He turns back around. “Um, sweet dreams.”

Jungkook looks you over. “Can I?”

“Huh?” He steps closer to you, you stay still. He reaches his arms out and wraps them around you in a hug. His head rests on the top of your head as he holds you close to him. It feels like you remember, his embrace feels the same. You grip onto the material of his long sleeve shirt. He holds you closer. All you can smell and feel is Jungkook.

Jungkook holds you close to him. He doesn’t know how to feel. His heart aches in anguish over the thought of losing you again. He doesn’t want to let you go.

In his arms you feel so safe, you relax against him. A wave of sleepiness crashes over you. Jungkook helps you into bed.

“I’ll come get you in the morning.” He runs his hands over your forehead. The intimate gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you're too tired to react. Your heart is full. Is this what true love feels like?

---

You stretch in your bed. Your muscles ache, you feel good after a night's rest. You snuggle into your pillow, it’s so fluffy and soft, softer than you’re used to, you pull your covers closer to you. You notice the large sleeves of your hoodie, and your sleepiness drains away. It’s not your bed, and that’s not your hoodie. You sit up, looking around the unfamiliar room, you feel like you’ve been doused with cold water. Everything from the night before comes back to you. You pull the covers over your head, so much for a good morning.

You grab your phone. You have a text message: ‘call me when you get home <3’ and two missed calls. You bury your head into the pillows. You're about to call back when there is a knock at the door.

“One minute!” You change into Jungkook’s clothes, a black long sleeve shirt and black sweatpants. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you decide to change your pants for one of Jin’s joggers.

“Hey!” You expected Jungkook to greet you, this was not who you expected.

"Hello." The deep voiced singer stands in front of you. You stare back at him. He walks into your room and takes a seat on the bed. You close the door behind you and walk over to Taehyung.

“I’m so sorry about last night! I would have never touched you without your permission. I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable, I’m so sorry. I just-I just needed to find out. I have to. I know you’re scared, I’m scared too...Jungkook and I talked last night and he told me what happened, he said it was more than just memories, it’s like...an awakening. I mean, that’s so cool. If we had another life together, wouldn’t you want to know? Please y/n, I feel like I’m going crazy not knowing-“

“Speak slower please, I’m still a beginner!” You laugh.

“Sorry! Please y/n, please. Before the others wake up.”

You sigh, sitting next to him. “I think Jungkook is leaving out very important information...”

You continue, “We not only lived, we died.” You shut your eyes and wrap your arms around you, “I’ve lived and I’ve died 5 times now. It’s horrible, it’s heartbreaking, it’s not something you can just forget.”

Taehyung sits quietly. “Do you regret it?”

You bite your lip. Do you regret it? You feel it still, the warmth of their love for you. The way they loved you, the way you loved them. Would you give that memory up? Even the lingering feelings in your body are stronger than anything you’ve ever felt in your lifetime. Could you let it go now that you know what you’re missing?

Taehyung presses, “Jungkook says he's happy it happened.”

You inhale sharply. You have to make him see. “Jungkook died in my arms. He died after we tried so hard to run away together.” Taehyung eyes widen. “He was murdered...” You shudder, Taehyung stays silent. “Is that the kind of ‘awakening’ you want?”

He raises a hand to his mouth, stroking his chin. “He didn’t tell me about that...” And then he says something that makes your heart stop. “And he still said he's happy it happened, that he doesn't want to forget about you y/n.”

“Please, I want to try, I think it would be worth it, you’ll be worth it.”

‘Why did he have to say that,’ you wince, looking over at the idol. He is beautiful, way out of your league, above you in every way, and he’s looking back at you like his whole world hangs in the balance. How could you reject him now. You groan.

You stand up. You place your palm in front of his face, your fingers splayed out, you can see his wide excited eyes in the gaps between them. You look at him expectantly. Taehyung nods, places his palm to yours, interlocking your fingers together.

---

Uh-oh the boys don’t want to let you go now! I hope you liked this chapter as much as I liked writing it! It’s kind of cool, all the different worlds. I neverrrr thought I’d write an actiony spy enemies to lovers AU ever, trust. I had to get a lot of help with all the specific terminology, like me - guns - what - totally clueless, I just hope I did the story justice.

Hopefully this tides you over for awhile because we have a problem...I don’t remember anything about Tae’s handshake! Cries. I know what’s supposed to happen, but I also have no idea what happens lol. I know movie, but not movie name, if you get what I’m saying. Please bestow some patience on me for the next chapter. Asks are always open, maybe you can give me some inspiration! <3

#bts soulmate au #bts fantasy au #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts angst #bts x reader #ot7 x reader #reader x ot7 #bts enemies to lovers #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi angst

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0celesteisthebest0 · 2 years

Text

Take A Chance On Me

Word Count: 4,194

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Fem! Reader(no y/n)

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Warnings: Descriptions of nightmares, references to Washington, descriptions of emotional stress, hurt/comfort, angst?, work stress, (tell me if I should add more).

Authors notes: Not everyday is a perfect day, I think sometimes we forget that with relationships but when the bad days happen its the way in which you and the other person handle it. Lol I rambled but just uh remember that with this chapter. Sorry in advance(I’m not really sorry but at the same time I am). Also couple of announcements before I let y’all read the new chapter, I’m most likely going to take a small break (it’s small I promise I’ll be posting soon!) from uploading regularly the new semester just started so I gotta shift my focus to that. I promise you guys some new works not just regarding this series but others. But again I will forever be thankful for those who continue to read what this series has to offer, it’s long I know I feel bad that its just so dense but it’s my fic so I can make it as long as I want! But yeah I appreciate you all and enjoy!

Chapter 25: Flash drive

The cold yet ghastly river echoed in his ears, he was unable to move yet again and the air whipped across his cold wet body. All he could see was the sky that was turning different shades of blue that swirled and mixed against each other. Jack heard the quiet sniffles coming from you as you muttered on what to do next.

Oh no, please not again, anything but this.

He wanted to move and comfort you, he wanted to do anything to help you rather than just lay there unable to move. He tried to speak but his throat was closed up and his breathing became stagnant. Your cries became louder and the pleading for him to stay with you was the only thing that echoed in his ears. He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t take this pain any longer, he needed to wipe away those tears that he was causing you.

The pain engulfed his chest and the fiery embers discharged through his throat as he tried to yell out for you but everything was sinking.

Why was it all sinking?

The cries became worse and there was a whiplash of so many feelings tugging at his head causing a raw, intense, crack. A yell finally released from his closed up throat. Jack sprung out of bed, tears streamed down his cheek and he tried to catch his breathing.

When will this stop? He sighed softly as he wiped away his tears and tried to recall what his therapist went over to deal with him the session after Washington. He was doing what his therapist recommended of him and he knew that this process was going to be a slow one. Talking it out helped, but there was a lingering of anxiety anytime these nightmares popped up.

He's experienced these nightmares before but they never get easier now that you are the center of them. He grabbed his phone to see the time and if it would be an appropriate hour to call his therapist. It was three in the morning and he sighed. Last time he called out of office hours was years back and it was not the best feeling. It didn’t feel like that moment, it wasn’t anger that engulfed him.

He didn’t want to call them right now, it was best not to, he was a bit too tired to go into everything.

Why bother sleeping again, he grumbled as he got up from his bed to go wash his face in the bathroom. The dull ache in his arms and legs shot up when he got up from his bed and he scurried off to the bathroom. He flipped the bathroom light and turned the sink on. He splashed some warm water in his face.

Fuck, he was exhausted, the few moments he got rest only consisted of pain. He had a feeling deep in his chest telling him you were in trouble right now because of his nightmare and he knew that wasn’t correct. Still that nervousness didn't escape from his chest and he went back to his room to grab the phone that was on his bedside table.

He pulled up your contact and went to text you, he didn’t want to wake you if you were asleep.

Sweetheart you awake?

He sat at his bed and patiently waited for a response, if you didn’t respond in twenty minutes then you were getting some rest. He hoped you were getting rest, you deserved the night to just.. His thought was interrupted by a buzz from his phone.

Maybe? Y are you up my dear? Everything alright?

He sighed at your response.

Can I call you?

Instead of a text response you called him right after you received the text.

“Jack, you okay baby?” Your soft caring voice streamed out of his phone and helped him ease the stress in his chest. You were okay, you weren’t hurt and you were okay.

“Yeah, I-I just wanted to see if you were okay… why are you up darlin’,” he laid on his bed while he held the phone to his ear. Was he avoiding what he wanted to say, maybe, but it was just one of those situations that he really didn’t know how to put it into words.

“Mmm well I’m alright… I’m just up because these newbies don’t know how to properly fill out paperwork so now I'm cleaning their mess,’’ you remarked somewhat agitated, “Now why are you up mister?”

“Mister? Really doll?,” he smiled.

“What? Is Mister Daniels too formal?,” he just knew you were grinning at calling him Mister Daniels. “Now stop avoiding the topic, why are up Jack? Did something happen?”

He huffed, “ I wanted to hear your voice, haven’t had the best night.”

“What happened,” worry was laced in your voice.

“Had a nightmare… was uh worried about you cause of it,” he scratched at his face out of nerves.

“I'm fine Jack, I don’t want you to worry about me but are you okay?” It was a simple question but it stung into him. He wasn’t… he didn’t feel great, it was the consistent worry that grappled his dreams.

“No…I’m not, I don’t know how to do this sweetheart. We’ve put our lives on the line for so long and it puts certain things into perspective.”

“What kinda things?” He sighed and licked his lips trying to prepare himself for what he wanted to say.

“About what’s important, about what I’ve ignored. Washington was the tippin’ point and I want to not feel the way I did then,” he stated everything with his eyes closed envisioning the sky and your tearful eyes looking at him. It was his job to put himself in dangerous scenarios but he just couldn’t do this anymore. He was so emotionally exhausted and just wanted a moment to rest from the constant danger around him.

“I understand that Jack I really do, I want you to understand that I will always be here for you. I’m sorry that you’ve been experiencing these nightmares alone. It’s never easy to have these nightmares…It feels like your own body is trying to beat on you and it’s,” you sighed out, “it’s never easy so if you want to go over what happened I’m here to listen.”

The comfort of having you hear him out and not ignore him when he needs someone to discuss this was a comfort that grew bright in his soul.

“Thank you darlin’, you're right it does feel like your own body’s against you. I’m tryin’ so hard to not replay what happened but it just haunts my dreams instead.” You hummed in agreement causing him to ask. “Have you been havin’ nightmares about what happened?”

You took a deep breath, “that’s why I’m up.” You shuffled around before you could speak again. “I might not know how to fix the problem but I understand what you’re experiencing.” You knew more than anyone the pain behind the missions and it made him feel less alone.

“Do you feel tired? Cause I’m just so tired… I don’t think I can continue pushin’ myself for these missions sweetheart.” He wanted out, he knew that it would be hard but he needed to get out of this.

“Yeah I do. I don’t want you to push yourself anymore Jack,” you confessed to him and rubbed his eyes. With that statement, you made the painful aches that seeped in his bones of years of misfortune in his life calm for a minute.

That beautiful minute of peace without a worry in his mind was something he was fighting for.

“I don’t want to continue sugar… I don’t want to wake up bein’ terrified about whether I can move in the mornin’ just cause of the things they send us to do.”

“I didn’t know you were dealing with all that Jack… I’m sorry those feelings of constant worry of whether you’ll wake up in the morning have been plaguing you,” you sighed with no pity laced in your voice.

“I didn’t want to tell you, I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“Hey! Jack, don't apologize to me about this… it's a difficult subject to talk about. I understand but remember I’m always in your corner.” Your voice crackled with emotion talking to him about this. This affected you too, you both are dealing with the ramifications of so many near death experiences back to back from the mountains of Taos to the forests of Washington.

“You’re right…can I ask somethin’ of you?” he murmured softly in the darkness of the night.

“Yes my love?” You said it so effortlessly. Even with the feelings that possessed his soul at the moment your smooth voice calmed him with those names.

“Can you stay on the call as I go to sleep,” he yawned out.

“Of course I can,” you hummed and moved around to what he assumed was your room.

“You still doin’ those crummy papers,” he questioned with exhaustion as the bed became more and more comfortable engulfing the exhaustion of his bones.

“Nah, it's not important right now, I can do what Isaac does and just send back the reports with a sad face,” you chuckled at Isaacs antics. His eyes were slowly closing, and a yawn escaped your lips.

“Make it an angry face baby, it will make them extra disappointed,” he muttered and you yawned again. “Sugar, get some rest.”

“I gotta get going at four thirty, it's already three twenty,” you yawned in response.

“Just for a couple minutes dear,” he whispered into this pillow and you yawned again. Jack was slipping into slumber, finally feeling at peace with you on the phone with him. There was a long silence between the two of you and the feeling in his body began to float.

“Jack,” you whispered softly.

“Mmm,” he grumbled back half asleep.

“I love you and I hope you get some rest,” his heart filled with love from your sweet quiet comment.

“I love you too.”

——<><>—<><>——

You had to rush to get to work on time because you fell asleep for too long. Those extra minutes of rest were all worth it. You rushed off to the office with Jack still on the call with you, you didn’t want to hang up so soon because you promised to stay on the call as he fell asleep. Instead of listening to music when you rode to work you listened to the shifting of Jack's position and his snoring.

The drive to the Statesman office was quick and so tiring, you really didn’t want to deal with loads of busywork. So you were in your car sitting and contemplating if you should even go in, you closed your eyes and tried to envision some peace into your life. Maybe you could hang out with Liz after work today. The bones in your body were telling you to drive home and not deal with any of the bullshit that comes from this job but deep down you just knew you couldn’t skip going. It was a Thursday at least if you were going to call off it could be tomorrow. You groaned loudly and went to open your door.

“Hey Jack, I hope you sleep well. I know you’re asleep but I love you my sleepy boy,” you muttered into the phone that was still snoring peacefully. You pressed to end the call and sent another text repeating those words.

You sighed again as you went to the elevator to get to your office. There was a variety of agents that were speaking back and forth and you just tuned them out to focus on the floor numbers. Your floor number finally popped up and you made your way to your office hoping no one noticed you were a couple of minutes late, you unlocked the door, dropped the countless files you took home, and sat at your chair. Man the day just began and you wanted it to end so badly, you were severely burnt out from overworking yourself and not getting any results. Jack's words echoed in your brain. He was so tired of all of this and you know what so were you. You didn’t want to continue being someone’s footsoldier anymore.

“Brandy, I got some more reports for you to do. The agents are swamped on missions, I'm sure you can handle this,” Champ's voice dictated and you looked up at him with tired, bleary eyes. When did he open the door? Yeah you were officially over all of this and the years of work like this really started to add up.

“Yeah I got it,” you grumbled and picked up the new stack of files that you needed to go over. Champ didn’t even look at the disappointment on your face. You groaned and looked at the work that you were supposed to fix for the newbies. You were gonna do what Isaac does and just give it back because you already have enough on your plate. You grabbed the fat stack and marched out of your room to give those agents a piece of your mind because you weren’t going to constantly fix their mistakes. You went to the first agent on your list that was going to deal with your exhaustion fueled wrath. You knocked on the door and went in without a need for an answer.

“Redo these mission reports,” you demanded robotically and dropped the reports on the agents desk. You quickly turned to leave but then the mousy voice of the agent stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait, Miss Brandy, can you tell me what I did wrong. I keep getting reports back from Mr. Tequila but he doesn’t tell me what I did wrong?” you turned to the long haired young agent in a somewhat amazed stare.

“Uhh yeah...before I help, don't call me Miss. Just don’t address agents like that it freaks them out,” you told them and they nodded silently. You got close to the desk and started to point at the report.

“You describe the mission with too much detail specifically with these reports you just gotta do a play by play on what happened and you're done. You also filed the evidence incorrectly, you're lucky I caught it before you sent it out or someone's whole case could’ve been thrown out,” you said point by point and the agent continued to nod.

“Brandy, what if I need the details in the future?”

“Keep it in a little booklet, don't overthink it, what's your name again?” You felt bad having to ask what the agent's code name was.

“It’s Vermouth and thank you for the advice Brandy,” Vermouth said as you went to give the reports to the other agents.

“Yeah don’t sweat it, just don’t mess up anymore reports. I have a life outside of fixing reports.”

Well that was interesting… that interaction really lessened your bad mood from this morning. You shouldn’t be so rude to the newbies, they just needed some help. You continued to pass the mission reports back to the agents and tell them what mistakes they made. As you were walking back and forth returning these reports you got stopped by your mentor, Scotch.

“Brandy, there you are, I need you to look at this file for me,” you groaned at more things that were added to your list. “Now don’t complain, it's important, just look at it when you finish with whatever this is.”

“Yeah, I got it, I'll give it to you by the end of tomorrow,” you replied, already going to your office to drop it off and continue the extra work Champ gave you earlier today.

“Brandy, I want you to look at it as soon as possible,” you tilted to look at him properly. He looked the same as he always did but you noticed the looming tension that seemed to haunt him. “You having problems with it?” he’d ask you for help in the past but this time it seemed different, he seemed desperate?

“Just look at it,” he reiterated and went off to deal with the overflow of work that agents who weren’t on missions had to deal with. The file in your hand that Scotch handed you now caught your attention. You could probably overwork yourself with the work that Champ gave you later today, the tension that Scotch carried while giving you this must be important.

You made your way into your office, locked your door so you wouldn’t be interrupted, and sat down with the old battered file. You opened the file and you thought that it was going to be an ongoing mission but it was a mission report from eight years ago.

Your brow furrowed as you looked at this mission report that Scotch wrote up years back, it consisted of a play by play of an event that happened in Chicago and you started to piece together what all of this was.

Mission success, culprits apprehended and a suspected victim is in Statesman custody. Reasons for victim still unknown, refusal to speak on why they are in the vicinity of the crime and why they have a weapon in hand.

Why did he give you this? He understood the emotions behind this event and the inherent pain that this opened up. You kept going through the file even though it made you uncomfortable reading all of Scotch’s notes on the event. The last couple of files weren’t related to the mission, instead it was Scotch’s messy handwriting on a crumpled up piece of paper.

Meet me after work at Floyd Street garage on the second floor. Don’t be late.

You reread the note to make sure you weren’t reading into things. The anxiety of this file and this note made you really start to overthink what this whole situation is about. You began to flip through the old file again trying to wrap your head around the meaning to give this to you.

Weapons in victims hand a baseball bat and a variety of knives.

Baseball bat and knives, you sighed at how ridiculous that sounded but you kept rereading the file even though you knew exactly what happened. Quite frankly you didn’t understand why you couldn’t stop but maybe it was just out of comfort that you were doing this, the comfort of rereading the old case so you wouldn’t have to think about what Scotch wants to meet about especially in an area that wasn’t Statesman affiliated.

It was just a Thursday, a fucking Thursday, why did everything have to be the way it was today you were just so exhausted and all this extra stuff in your way really didn’t help anyone. You’ll just do some work that you had overflowing on your desk before whatever this was about. Scotch wouldn’t do something to upset you really but the nerves of whatever this meant got the better of you. He didn’t just do things because of chance he did everything for a purpose so what was the purpose of putting a mission report with so much emotion. Was this a symbol of something? What were you not getting here? You didn’t understand what you were missing here?

What was it? The thoughts continued to circle in your brain and it kept coming up with the same conclusions. That you didn’t know what this was all about and you hated that. All the thoughts badgered you as you looked through the other assignments you had to do. The buzz of your phone finally removed you from the constant merry go round of thoughts. It was a text back from Jack.

Mornin’ sugar, finally slept well thanks to you. How’s my girl doin’

You smiled wide at his text and ignored the work that was on your desk.

Morning handsome, I’m not doing the best right now, I want to take the day off.

Want to see you

The phone started to ring after you sent that text and of course it was Jack.

“Heard that my girl isn’t feelin’ the best, what’s wrong darlin,” his voice really is the best part of the day. “Work like usual, I contemplated just staying in my car in the morning,” you huffed, annoyed at having to be here today. "The amount of work I have just doesn’t seem to end either,” you added on.

“My poor girl, mistreatin’ her ingenious gifts with cases,” you started to chuckle at the way he phrased that in sincerity. “I’m serious darlin’, they don’t treat you with respect. I wish I was there so I can tell Champ off,” he responded seriously to your chuckles.

“Don’t think that would help but I appreciate it love,” you hummed and looked at the stack of the papers you still have to do and groaned.

“You know what will help?” You hummed wondering what he would say.

“You can come over and we can cuddle on the couch,” your imagination started to go wild from that statement, the two of you cuddling and falling asleep on the couch just like you did four days ago. The warm feeling of him against you guiding you towards slumber cuddled up and away from the real world. A cozy dream that smelled of Jack’s soft oaky tones. But the disappointment of work never quit bothering you. You groaned in disappointment.

“What's wrong buttercup?,” he said somewhat worried and you grinned at the new nickname.

“I have to meet with Scotch after work, don’t know why he wants to meet but he insists so,” you sighed. “I’m sorry Jack.” He was trying to comfort you but man it just sounded like you were avoiding him

“Darlin’ don’t apologize it's alright, I understand you gotta talk to Scotch, I’m not upset with you.” He remarked earnestly and some of the anxiety dwindled.

“What does Scotch even want to talk about,” you groaned and it just seemed that Jack knew that you were stressing from it. “You don’t know, do you?”

“No and it’s freaking me out. He could just tell me in the office, I don't know why he’s being cryptic,” you moaned your frustrations to Jack.

“Oh sweetheart, I understand why you’re worried, Scotch is your mentor so him being cryptic is kinda a removal of what you’ve known. I’m sorry that you have to go through all this stress today my dear,” he calmed you through his words.

“You’re right… sorry for yapping your ear off,” Jack huffed from saying you were talking his ear off.

“Baby, you will never “yap” my ear off, I love hearin’ you talk,” he expressed happily. You smiled at his remark.

“Even if I only talk about the different types of flowers there are in the world?” You tried to be cheeky with him but it didn’t seem to work.

“I’d hang off of each and every word waitin’ what you’ll tell me next,” you became warm from his wax poetry.

“Ah, stop being a scoundrel,” you mumbled, overwhelmed by his sweet sentiments.

“Never, I'll always be your scoundrel,” he hummed and you grinned. What a dork.

“Ok scoundrel, have you eaten?,” it was around twelve and he did say he just woke up so you doubt he had anything to eat.

“Not yet sweetheart,” it sounded like he as moving from bed, “I’m gonna do that right now, thank you for remindin’ me darlin’.”

“Of course, I just want you to be okay- “ there was a knock at your office door interrupting your thoughts with Jack. “Great- duty calls , I gotta go baby, I love you, call you later?”

“Love you my sweet girl,” you ended the call and made way to unlock your office door. Ginger was standing there looking frazzled and couldn’t stop moving her hands.

“Something happened, I need you to come with me,” she remarked. You furrowed your brow and walked with Ginger silently to her office. The walk there was a silent unnerving tension that made you start spiraling on what this situation was. She obviously didn’t want to tell you right there so this must be a situation that should only be talked about between the two of you. You two were at the corner of her office and the tension in her shoulders became worse, the two of you finally entered the lab she worked in and immediately Ginger started to spiral.

“I lost it, I lost it and I don’t know what to do. I placed it right here and made sure that I locked the door and let my program deal with the things on the flash drive,” She rambled on and you touched her shoulder.

“Liz, here come sit down, breathe and explain to me what happened slowly,” you guided her to the rollie chair and she tried her best to maintain her breath.

“The flash drive is gone,” she stammered and you couldn’t quite believe what she said.

Taglist: @shadowolf993 @salome-c @marydjarin @captainstormborn

#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x female reader #kingsman the golden circle #slow burn #take a chance on me #idiots to lovers #angst with a happy ending #angst #hurt/comfort #my fanfiction

24 notes · View notes

ethanesimp · 3 years

Text

WHEN YOU’RE GONE // D.D.

Pairing: Mob Boss! Damiano David x Mob GN! Reader (it was originally written with a fem! reader so please let me know if you spot any slip ups on my part)

Summary: Soulmates are already a difficult concept to grasp and things don’t seem to get any easier when you like a person who already has a soulmate.

Word Count: 9.8k (it’s so long lakjd)

Warnings: Swearing, death and mentions of it, injuries, angst -lots of it-, it’s a mob fic so violence, smoking, Damiano being kind of an asshole? Me probably using swear words in italian wrong... Just read with caution pls

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

A/N: If you’ve seen this before, it’s probably because this has been written and posted on my other blog @pparkersbitch as a Tom Holland fanfiction at the beginning of the year (which has now been deleted). It’s the same person and I’m not stealing anyone’s work :) I just like it and wanted to bring it back. I did add/modify some tiny details though. The idea is probably dumb, but I’m sharing anyways.

Taglist: @gretavanfleetlove @superchrystaldrug @reputationdamiano

“This isn’t how I wanted to start my morning,” Your best friend mumbled in a tired voice. You could barely hear him from where you were standing over the sounds the old -and surely broken- coffee machine kept making and the music playing from his phone.

“Well, sucks to be us, huh?” You chuckled and poured coffee on both of your cups as you did a small dance to try and shake the tiredness off your body. You handed Damiano his cup after preparing his coffee the way he liked it, a teaspoon of sugar with a splash of milk, and walked with him to the large office down the hall, “I don’t get why Ethan and Thomas can’t do this instead of us.”

The room was always cold and you seemed to forget about it most of the time since it still slipped your mind to wear a sweater or hoodie over your thin pajama shirt. You grabbed one of the blankets from the small black couch on the corner of the room and wrapped it around your body as best as you could with your free hand.

You sat down on the chair next to him to have a better look at all the papers and files he had spread out on the desk, “What exactly are we looking for?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows. All those documents were enough to keep you occupied for the whole day if you didn’t work fast enough.

“We are looking for any leads to the drug cartel or its leader. Really anything that can help us find them,” Damiano explained and took a sip of his coffee as he opened the first file.

You had been trying to track a drug cartel ever since they infiltrated your warehouse and stole some of your products. Damiano’s father had been at both of your necks ever since it happened as if it had been your fault instead of the incompetent guards that were supposed to be guarding the entrance at all times, “I’m sure these are people we’ve made deals with in the past, they wouldn’t have been able to break in otherwise. We’ve always been far too careful for this to be a mere coincidence.”

He removed the gold ring from his ring finger and left it on the jewelry bowl you had placed on his desk. You had known Damiano David and his family for years. For as long as you had known him, the band on his ring finger had been gold, and you hated it.

That stupid little gold band was a silent reminder that he had met his soulmate and there was nothing to be done about it. For months you had silently hoped and prayed for Damiano to be your soulmate, but any illusion or wish you had of it happening, had vanished the moment you saw the gold ring on his finger for the first time. You later discovered he avoided wearing it on his hand because it put his soulmate at risk of being found, but he still kept it close to him at all times by using it as a necklace.

You avoided wearing yours for an entirely different reason. The black ring and all the stares and words of pity that came with it were saddening and something you didn’t need. While gold was a reminder of love and good luck, black was a reminder that your soulmate was no longer alive and you were doomed to spend the rest of your life alone. You were sure the band had been black for most of your life, or at least that’s how you remembered it.

It was safe to say you were jealous of Damiano’s soulmate, Marlee. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women you had ever met, but she got to have perhaps the most amazing man by her side until her dying day, something you could never have in any way that wasn’t platonic.

You successfully ignored it most days, which wasn’t so hard to do since you had better things to think about most of the time, but nights were always the hardest. In your loud and chaotic life, there was a speck in time where everything quieted and calmed down. During those few hours was when you’d break down and grieve for the person whose name you didn’t even get to know. You’d cry for being stupid enough to fall for someone who wasn’t only your best friend, but who also had a girlfriend.

“Damiano, Y/N?” Marlee’s sweet voice interrupted your train of thoughts. You had been reading the files consciously enough to notice anything unusual, but you had paid no mind to anything else until she walked into the room. You smiled politely at her and waved.

She walked up to Damiano and he immediately closed all files with any sort of photo that might be too graphic for her to look at. Marlee cupped his face and pressed her lips to his for a few moments that felt like an eternity to you, watching everything from the side as a feeling of jealousy invaded your senses. You did nothing but look at the painting on the wall until they stopped locking lips, which took a bit longer than you would’ve liked.

“Did you two find anything?” Marlee asked once she pulled away from Damiano. He gave her a look you knew as ‘I cannot tell you anything about the mob to keep you safe’. She had been involved with the mob’s administration for most of her life, only after she met Damiano and her father united his mob with Damiano’s did she stop working.

You had been brought in as a replacement of sorts once Marlee stopped doing any mob business per Damiano’s request. His parents had saved yours from a legal accident, which left you in debt with his family, so you didn’t have much say on whether you’d join the mob or not.

Something you were grateful for was that Damiano always kept your hands clean. No matter what business it was, he made sure to keep you out of any sort of situation in which you’d have to hurt or get hurt by another member of the mob. Most people that worked for Damiano didn’t have the pleasure of knowing him as the lenient and caring individual he was around you.

You excused yourself after spending a few more minutes flipping through the files in search of something but ultimately found nothing. It was supposed to be your free day, or at least that was what Damiano had promised. Apart from that impromptu search for information at 5 am, he promised he’d have Ethan, Vic, or Thomas help with anything he needed.

That was why you took the liberty to lock yourself inside your room and put your phone on silent. You desperately wanted to catch up on all the hours of sleep you had lost in between those early morning duty calls and coffee runs. No matter how much you enjoyed spending time with Damiano, you still missed your normal sleep schedule.

When you woke up a few hours later, the house was completely silent. The usual chatter coming from the kitchen wasn’t there, neither was the noise of Vic repeatedly firing bullets at the targets in the garden to practice her aim like she did every morning or the soft sound of Thomas softly strumming his guitar as he tried to piece an unplanned melody together with the assistance of Ethan’s drumming.

It wasn’t a Sunday, which meant they weren’t away visiting their families. They were all supposed to be home. That last thought made you nervous and you couldn’t help but wonder if something had happened while you were asleep. Being in the mob, you knew a lot of unexpected things happened all the time and you had to be prepared for them all.

You walked to the door, determined to investigate what was wrong. Your hand was already firmly grasping the doorknob and you were about to undo the lock when someone knocked harshly on the door, startling you.

Without hesitation, you jumped back and reached for the gun stuffed in one of the drawers nearby, “Y/N? You awake?”

You let go of the drawer’s handle and your tense body relaxed at the sound of Victoria’s raspy voice, “Fuck, Vic, you scared me,” You spoke as you opened the door to be met with her panicked blue eyes. Your eyebrows furrowed at her worried expression, but before you could ask, she grabbed you by the arm softly and dragged you out of the room.

Once you were in the hallway, you finally heard everything with a lot more clarity. The faint sound of glass clinking before falling to the floor, Thomas’s exasperated shouts, and Damiano’s complaints. You looked at Victoria, expecting an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened,” She began, “One second he was alright, then at like 9 AM Ethan and I heard them fighting. She’s gone and Damiano’s locked in his room, won’t let anyone in. Thomas is trying to get him to talk while Ethan looks for the keys.”

You walked past Victoria and ran up the stairs. Damiano’s room was right above yours. Upon walking up to the third floor of the house, you saw Thomas repeatedly knocking on Damiano’s door. Once he heard footsteps and spotted you, it was like relief washed all over him at the sight of you.

“Do you mind trying?” He asked, “He’s been asking for you,” Thomas added with a sigh as he brushed his messy hair out of his forehead. You nodded and got closer to the door once he got out of the way.

With hesitation, you knocked on the door and patiently waited for a response, which arrived only after you knocked once again, “Vaffanculo, Thomas! Which part of your tiny fucking brain cannot understand that I want to be left alone?”

You flinched at his words and took a long breath as you gathered the confidence to speak up, “I-It’s Y/N, Dami,” You said, loud enough for him to hear you from where he was. You were expecting rejection; if Damiano didn’t want to talk to people who were as close to him as siblings, why would he talk to you? Sure, you were one of his best friends, but he’d known Thomas for longer than he—

Your thoughts were interrupted when Damiano opened the door and quickly dragged you in before slamming it shut once more. For the first few minutes, you stood in silence while Damiano faced the door. You couldn’t see his face or his eyes, so you had no idea what could be going through his mind, so you focused on your surroundings instead.

The room was a mess, but not more than it usually was. What alarmed you was the shattered glass on the floor as well as the drops of blood that stained the white floor. You looked back at your best friend and noticed that it was dripping from his hand.

“Damiano,” You called, “Amore, your hand,” He turned to look at you and that’s when you finally saw his red and swollen eyes as well his tear-stained cheeks. His gaze softened once his eyes fell on yours. He choked back a sob and turned away from you once again.

If his hand hadn’t been bleeding, you wouldn’t have hesitated on wrapping your arms around his neck and trying to comfort him. Instead, you ran to his bathroom to grab the first-aid kit. After years of being in the business, treating Damiano’s cuts and injuries wasn’t anything new to you, but you were oblivious as to why he was in such a state in the first place.

Being the person he was, Damiano had learned to conceal his emotions incredibly well to protect himself, even around the people he trusted the most. You had only seen him that shaken once when something had gone terribly wrong. The fact that Marlee was gone too only gave you a worse feeling. The fact that her clothes were all gone from the closet didn’t ease your worried mind either.

Damiano was sitting on the bed patiently waiting for you to return. Once you did, he avoided your gaze and said nothing as you examined his hand. The cuts were all superficial and would surely cure on their own in a few days, which was why you only focused on removing the tiny shards of glass that had stuck to his skin with a pair of tweezers.

Once that was done and you had cleaned the cuts, you wrapped a bandage around his hand once and secured it with a small piece of tape. You sat in silence for a while, you didn’t comment on the sobs that would escape his lips every once in a while or the tears that had started falling down his cheeks.

Instead, you waited until he was ready to say something, “I don’t even know how to tell you this,” Damiano mumbled. His eyes stayed glued to the floor. He seemed… embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“I was finally going to do it this morning, N/N,” He said as a sigh escaped past his lips and he took a small velvet box out of his pocket. He didn’t have to say what was inside the box because you knew exactly what it was. Damiano had been planning on proposing for months, but there was always something that managed to get in the way of completing his goal.

“She went to the bathroom and had left her phone on my bedside table. I was going to get the ring and Y/N… I-I swear to God I didn’t want to look but the messages kept coming, one after the other, the fucking phone wouldn’t stop making noise. Cazzo, she was the one feeding information to the drug cartel and Lord knows to who else,” He said those words in one breath and you had barely been able to catch them all. Damiano threw the box at the wall angrily and from the noise, you didn’t doubt there’d be an indent there.

“I asked her about it and you have no idea how much I wished she’d deny it, but she didn’t even try,” Damiano cried. Unexpectedly, Damiano turned his body around to face yours and wrapped his arms around your waist while he buried his face on your neck.

It took you by surprise, but you said nothing. Instead, you focused on rubbing circles on his back and whispering soothing words into his ear. Part of you knew there was something else going on, even if you didn’t ask. You hadn’t seen Damiano cry in a long time and even then you saw nothing more than just a few tears rolling down his cheeks. What happened with Marlee had truly driven him right to the edge and he couldn’t keep in everything he had been trying so hard to hide.

In the four months that followed, you didn’t see Marlee once. She never had the guts to return after Damiano found out about everything she had been doing behind his back. At first, he had been utterly destroyed by her absence, it pained you to see him shut everything and everyone out with the lame excuse that he had work to do. Every single time he did so, you’d quietly sit down and help him despite his complaints.

He got better though. Once enough time passed, he healed, but all that love he had once felt for her was now nothing more than pure hatred every single time her name was mentioned. You knew better than anyone that it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but it didn’t matter how many times you told him so because it never truly changed much.

As for the mob, things seemed to calm down once Damiano and Ethan were able to track down the leader of the drug cartel and get the stolen products back. Everything was too good and too quiet. While your four friends enjoyed all that peace, you couldn’t help but worry about something being wrong. It was a silly thing anyway, there was nothing that gave you even the slightest confirmation that your worry wasn’t just fueled by paranoia, not a single thing.

You should’ve been grateful instead. Your sleep schedule had gotten acceptably regular and there was no more working from 5 am to 10 pm every single day. You also had time to finally sit down and read the books that had been sitting on your untouched shelf ever since the start of the year, just like you were doing at that very moment while the boys were playing poker in the basement and Vic was on a date.

Damiano walked into your room eventually, still smelling like the cigarette he had just been smoking minutes back. He couldn’t help but scrunch up his nose as the smell of lemon incense burning hit his nostrils.

You looked up and giggled at his disgusted expression, “You cannot be disgusted when you were the one who walked into my room smelling like cigar and beer,” Damiano rolled his eyes and plopped down on the bed next to you.

“Incense is bad for you,” You shot Damiano a killer look and closed your book. He gave you a funny look back and then put his attention on your book, “What are you reading anyway?”

You hummed and showed him the cover. It had a beautiful yet simple design, which accurately represented the story hidden in between those pages, “Okay so, it’s the story of these people that all get invited to this island. They’re all summoned there for different reasons but it turns out they all have this common enemy. It’s terrifying because they get killed off one by one when a children’s lullaby plays. I truly cannot explain it enough to do justice to how intense this book is.”

“Oh and before that I got to read the most wonderful romance book! It was apparently the first book written where soulmates weren’t a thing and it was just a piece of art. Beautifully written, made me cry for hours too.”

Damiano smiled and you could almost see all the gears turning inside his brain, “Wouldn’t it be amazing?”

“What would?”

He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you, “A world without soulmates, where you’re not bound to someone since birth.”

You sighed and turned to look at him, “It’s our own fault… being bound, I mean. No angel from the heavens came down to tell us we have to love our soulmate as anything more than a close friend, you know? It can be purely platonic, we’re just stupid.”

“Were you ever able to fall in love with your soulmate or was it just platonic?” Damiano asked. You never talked much about soulmates with him. He still didn’t know your soulmate had been dead for as long as you could remember.

“I never got to know them,” You smiled sadly and showed him the black ring you had gotten used to wearing around your neck, carefully tucked under your shirt to stay unseen. His mouth fell open as he grabbed the ring and inspected it closely. It was the first time he had seen a black ring.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry,” Damiano let the ring go. You shrugged and waved your hand to silently show it wasn’t too important, “I thought you guys were separated or something.”

You shook your head, “Mom says the ring turned black when I was six, but I don’t really remember so I just like to pretend I never had one in the first place… I don’t know.”

There was a question on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t want to ask it, as intrigued as you were to know the answer. You hadn’t talked about her ever since she left and he’d most likely avoid the question because he truly wanted to keep her name out of his mouth. Nonetheless, he noticed your hesitance because you suddenly got too silent.

“You can ask, you know? I know I just touched on a sensitive topic, so…” You nodded. Both of you were lying on your backs, looking up at the ceiling which had some of those glow-in-the-dark stars and planets you had glued when you first moved in to feel less lonely.

You hummed softly as you tried to find the right words. You didn’t want to be too straightforward with your question in fear of upsetting your best friend even though he had asked you the same question minutes earlier, “Did-did you ever… you know, fall in love with her?”

Damiano thought about it in silence, you had probably caught him off-guard with your question, “No, not really. Not in the way I was expecting at least. You know truth be told, I was a bit disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, she had this angelic look to her, she was a stunning girl. I just- there was nothing we had in common other than being soulmates. For years I had seen my parents act like they shared one mind and just thought the same things. I always imagined it’d be like that for me too.

“My expectations couldn’t have been further from what it truly was like. Honestly, I’m not even sure which part of our relationship was true anymore. Now that I look back on it, I’ve realized most of the things she did or said were just to get information out of me.”

It was weird to hear him say all that. As a person who always got to look at the way Marlee and Damiano interacted with one another, you would’ve never expected Damiano to feel that way, “And,” He continued, “I was expecting it to be someone else.”

His last confession made you turn around to look at him. It was the first time he had admitted that, probably because of the beer he had been drinking while playing with his friends.

“I know it sounds terrible but… I met her and this other person on the same day, almost at the same time. I didn’t notice my ring had turned gold until much later. I had only been with them both and people I already knew. I thought it had been the other person until she told me her ring had changed too. Meanwhile, the other one said nothing. Now I realize it would’ve been impossible for them to be my soulmate.”

It might’ve been because he was telling you all those things and you felt safe to admit what you felt, or maybe because you were tired of bottling it up for so long. Either way, you spoke up, not caring if you’d regret it later, “It’s not as terrible as you might think.”

“Look, I’m not bound to anyone. The black ring gives me the freedom of loving someone else. I never met my soulmate so there’s no guilt in being with someone else. It’s supposed to be a perfect thing, Dami, only it isn’t. I know a lot of people who’re also blacksouled,” You hated using the word. It was usually how people would refer to those who didn’t have a soulmate anymore, “And I fell in love.”

“T-that’s great!” Damiano replied, “Why didn’t you tell me? I mean, not like you’re obliged to tell me anything just because we’re friends but I-”

You interrupted his rant, “I fell in love with someone whose soulmate’s still alive.”

“So what? You said it yourself. Are they together?” He asked. You told him they weren’t. If only he knew you were talking about him… He’d probably run away and never speak to you again, “Then fuck it. Fuck the rules and everything else society has to say.”

“It’s not that simple, Dami. I truly wish it was, but it isn’t,” You wanted nothing more than for the conversation to be over. If it went any further, you knew you’d spill every single thing. It had gotten far too hard to conceal your feelings when you were close to him. Now that you were talking about them, it’d be even harder.

You got up and walked to your bookshelf, where you started accommodating your books as an excuse to avoid being so close to him, to avoid his curious gaze. Even if they weren’t together anymore, you knew Damiano would reject you, that was far too obvious. Even if he felt the same, after what happened, it’d take Damiano a lot of effort to ever trust someone in such an intimate way, even if that someone was you, his best friend.

“Why? It is that simple. If they’re not together, what’s stopping you? You’ll never know what could happen if you don’t try,” You turned around to look at him, fists clenched by your sides, “Listen Y/N, I know you’re scared of relationships and everything they involve but you cannot let that sto—”

“Fine then, I’m in love with you! I can barely breathe when I’m around you because my love for you is so suffocatingly strong, and I can’t think straight either! You and your stupidly handsome face drive me insane. How’s that?” You admitted, interrupting his small speech midway, too irritated to process what you had just said. Once you did, your hand flew to your mouth and you shook your head. You wanted to say it wasn’t true, no, it was nothing more than a lie to get him to stop poking his nose into your love life. Except it wasn’t and, if you were being honest, no part of you wanted to hide it anymore.

Just like you expected, he said nothing. Damiano stayed silent for a few seconds before getting up and walking out without another word. He slammed the door on the way out so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if the door separated from its hinges.

For the weeks that followed, Damiano avoided you as much as possible. You were still his right-hand person and needed to be present at every meeting and would have to discuss any type of business with him. It used to be your favorite part of the day when you got to sit in the meeting room with Damiano and discuss plans to make the mob prosper, now it was nothing but uncomfortable because you’d do all the talking while he looked at you as if his biggest desire was to carve your heart out with his pocket knife.

While you understood that he was still mad at Marlee and wanted nothing to do with her, you didn’t understand why he was treating you that way when you had nothing to do with it and weren’t to blame for the stupid shit his ex had tried to pull. You thought he knew that you loved him far too much to ever do anything to jeopardize his safety. Yet again, he might’ve assumed the same thing about Marlee.

You walked out of yet another unsuccessful meeting with Damiano and slammed the door as hard as you could to let him know how much his childish behavior annoyed you. Ethan was standing close to the door and you could see the shadow of a smile that was threatening to break out and illuminate his face, “Don’t you dare,” He raised his hands in defense and bit his lip to try and hide the smile that would just annoy you further.

“You two are starting to act like two teenagers and it’s fucking pathetic,” Thomas chimed in from where he was sitting on one of the couches.

“Yeah? Tell that to your friend who is giving me the silent treatment like a fucking toddler! I just want- I need to have a serious conversation with him,” You admitted and sighed as you fell on the couch right next to Thomas, head in your hands to try and cover up the tears that were threatening to spill down your cheeks.

Both men stayed silent as they watched you, Even though you could feel their stares, you decided to focus on not crying instead. The truth was, the longer Damiano spent ignoring you, the more you regretted telling him what you had been bottling up for years, it had been a mistake there was no coming back from. Unless he decided to stop acting like a kindergartener, things would never go back to the way they were.

It was frustrating to think that your friendship would go to shit just because of your confession. Being rejected by him wouldn’t have been a big deal if he had actually stayed in your room and spoken like the adult he was.

“For the record, I think he’s acting like an idiot because he’s scared,” Sighed Victoria, who had just walked into the room with an ice pack placed over her hand, “I know it’s been a while but, give him time. He’ll come around or I’ll make him, I promise.”

You gave Victoria a tight-lipped smile and nodded. You hoped more than anything that it wouldn’t have to come to getting locked up in the same room as Damiano to get him to speak to you.

Except… as more days passed, you feared it would most likely have to be that way because he was still saying nothing to you. He had only spoken once and it had been to call you out for being doing everything wrong while looking through some important documents when you were, in fact, doing everything just like he had initially requested. Now, not only had he been giving you the cold shoulder, but he had started acting like a complete jerk around you too.

You tried to distract yourself by focusing on all the work you had pending, but it wasn’t working. Every single day, no matter what you were doing, your mind still wandered back to the brown-eyed man and his stupid face, his stupid hair, and stupid smile.

Even as you stood in the middle of the kitchen, your thoughts made it difficult to bake the cookies you had been craving all week. You had started to work on the second batch after the first one came out disgustingly salty because somewhere along the process you had mistaken the salt for the sugar.

You hated how bothered you were by the whole situation. It had affected you way more than you would’ve liked to admit. Truth be told, you had never felt sad about his rejection because it was something you had expected ever since that attraction for him first settled on your brain. It was the way he was treating you that got on your nerves.

That was mainly the reason why you were so thankful for being alone in the house at that very moment. Apart from a few security guards here and there, you were completely alone. You allowed yourself to relax for a split second and connected your phone to the speaker system in the kitchen. You started playing one of your favorite playlists before getting back to making cookies the right way this time.

You softly swayed your body along to the music as you dumped all the ingredients on the large bowl in front of you. As you poured the flour in the bowl and mixed it with your hands, you noticed Damiano standing by the door. For some unknown reason, he scared you so bad you accidentally tipped the bowl and made a mess of the counter.

A frustrated sigh escaped past your lips and you threw your head back, feeling defeated and irritated, “I’m sorry,” Damiano spoke up hesitantly, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head and wiped your hands on the apron you had tied around your waist, “It’s fine,” You turned around so your back was to him and started wiping the counter with a damp towel.

“You deserve so much better…” You heard him speak up over the music. His words caught you by surprise. You turned around to look at him but said nothing. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hands trembled by his sides and the way his jaw was firmly clenched.

After a few minutes of hesitation, Damiano started walking to where you were. He placed his hands on the counter by your sides, leaving you trapped in between the counter and his body. You looked into his dark eyes to maybe try and guess what was going through his mind.

You breathed in so deeply your chest hit his. You gulped at that and tried to control your trembling hands without looking away.

“What you said the other day, did you mean it?” Damiano asked, without hesitation this time around. Your eyes widened.

“I-I… What?”

“Just answer me Y/N, please,” Damiano pleaded. He looked so desperate to know the answer, which only made your blood boil. After weeks of silence, of glares and being a jerk, he dared to just show up and demand answers?

You shook your head and pointed your finger at his chest, “How dare you?” You took a step towards him, which made Damiano take a step back, “You have no right to show up like this and ask me to give you answers after how much of an asshole you’ve been.”

He seemed taken aback by your truthful words, but you didn’t care. If he wanted to know how much truth had been behind your words that night, he’d have to hear it all, “You know I’m your best friend and you also know I’d keep up with anything you do because that’s how much I care about you, but can you stop it? I know I was stupid for telling you because of what you just went through and I’m sorry, but please don’t keep giving me the cold shoulder. I just want to fix this.”

After a few minutes of silence, you shrugged and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, spoke up, “And yeah, I meant every word.”

Your expression softened as you waited for any sort of reaction from Damiano. You expected something similar to what had happened the day you first told him. No part of you expected him to cup your face with his warm, calloused palms to bring your face closer to him once again.

Neither did you expect to feel his soft lips pressed against yours, or the feeling of his soft hair as you brushed it back with your fingers and your eyes slowly closing as you basked on the joy and pleasure his soft touches caused.

Damiano was gentle as he held your face in between his hands, almost as if you were made of glass and he was afraid of breaking you into pieces if he didn’t hold you delicately enough. That kiss felt so intimate, like nothing you had ever felt before. Everything from the way he held you to his slow movements and touches was so much better than you could’ve ever imagined.

When he pulled away, he left you completely breathless, wordless. There was nothing you could possibly say after the way he had kissed you, so you waited for him to find the right words instead.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Damiano mumbled. He still hadn’t let go of your face, “You truly deserve better. You are so beautiful, so perfect. I’m so sorry for being such an idiot and hurting you, ignoring you. I just- I know I cannot love you as you deserve. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have you close to me all the time, to kiss your lips until you grow sick of me, but I can’t,” His voice was starting to crack as he said those words to you and you knew it was because of how he saw your face fall.

“No, no, shut up and listen to me,” You pleaded and placed your hands on top of his. You gave them a soft squeeze and let your forehead rest against his, “I know it’s hard for you to trust after what happened with her and I know it’s not going to be easy, but believe me, I’m willing to try if you are, Damiano.”

“You were that other person,” He confessed and got closer to kiss you once more, with as much passion as the last time. You were too concentrated on the smell of his musky cologne and the faint taste of vanilla chapstick he had surely stolen from your room to respond to his comment.

His hands fell from your face and comfortably rested on your hips as his lips attacked yours. Damiano pushed you against the counter and kept savoring the moment as if it were the first and last time he’d kiss you like that. You hoped for your sake it wouldn’t be the last.

Damiano pulled away reluctantly and unexpectedly lifted you up so you’d sit on the counter. He stood in between your legs and intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Remember when I told you about the person I met the day I met Marlee?” You nodded, “That was you... Ever since I met you I’ve felt this inexplicable attraction towards you and it’s been driving me insane. I couldn’t believe it when you told me you loved me because I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

“You’ve done so much to deserve it, so so much,” You mumbled and brought him close to you to kiss him for the third time. It was such an addicting feeling and both your heart and mind were screaming to feel it again.

That time around, Damiano didn’t hesitate to lift you up once more, he carried you to his room and locked the door.

—

It had been a few weeks since your conversation in the kitchen. Things returned back to normal after that night. Other than your relationship with Damiano, things were the same again. You had to go back to working at ungodly hours of the morning thanks to some suspicious activity Ethan had noticed. Apparently, one of the oldest members of Damiano’s mob had tried to establish a deal with an unknown subject but had been caught before he could accomplish it.

This put you both on edge because there was someone out there desperate to break into the mob and finish it for good. At first, you thought it wasn’t more serious than whatever had happened with Marlee, but Damiano’s father proved you wrong the moment he brought you, their most loyal employee, in for questioning.

It had been nothing too serious, at least not in comparison to what you had heard others say. In your case, it had been done mostly as a standardized protocol, to stop others from thinking there was some sort of preference or special treatment towards you just because you worked so close to Damiano. You knew almost everything Damiano did, so you were possibly the greatest source of information outside the David family and their small circle of friends.

“Amore?” Damiano asked softly as his hand caressed the exposed skin of your waist. You had been cuddling in bed for almost two hours with the excuse that you needed a break after all the hard work you’d done, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You turned around to be face to face with him and pressed a kiss to his freckled nose, “Not much. I was just remembering I need to get my ring resized again. I tried putting it on a few days ago and it didn’t fit anymore.

Damiano frowned at your words, “Your soulmate ring?”

“Mhm,” You responded simply and let your head rest on his chest. You enjoyed the feeling of warmth his body irradiated, it was soothing and the soft sound of his rhythmic heartbeat never failed to make you feel calmer.

“Soulmate rings don’t need to be resized, ever. Not that I know of, at least,” Now it was your turn to frown because, as far as you remembered, you had always gone to get your ring resized by a family friend who didn’t live too far away. No one had ever told you it wasn’t necessary.

You pulled away from his embrace and reached for the bedside table where you had been keeping the ring for the past few days. Once you turned back around, Damiano looked confused and almost scared, “Just, out of curiosity, tesoro. Have you ever taken off the ring and left it like far away for longer than a few hours?”

A giggle escaped past your lips at his silly question, “It’s just a piece of jewelry, Dami. Of course, I have, several times.”

You laughed nervously once you saw his horrified expression. Damiano was starting to scare you, but you knew better than to say something because you’d end up looking like a fool if he started laughing and told you it was all a joke. Except, it didn’t seem like one.

“Please get dressed and meet me in room five, okay? I might be going insane but I just need to make sure I’m not,” Before you could ask any questions, Damiano had already grabbed a pair of pants and a t-shirt and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed.

You tried not to think much about his weird questions and got dressed quickly instead. You grabbed your cup of tea, which had already gone cold, and walked to meeting room five.

You opened the door and were surprised to see all your friends already sitting around the small table you’d use for informal meetings. Thomas and Victoria looked tired and Ethan’s long hair was tangled and messy. That gave you the impression that Damiano had most likely woken them all up for your impromptu meeting.

They all looked just as confused as you felt. There were a lot of questions you wanted to ask, but Ethan beat you to it, “Okay, now that we’re all here can you fucking explain why you had to wake me up? Please.”

“Have any of you three—,” Started Damiano, referring to Thomas, Victoria and Ethan, “—tried to take off your ring for a while but have started feeling sick and weird?”

Thomas and Victoria looked at each other, confused, but nodded. Ethan did after a few seconds of thinking about it, “Yeah, there was actually this one time I went on a date and I didn’t want the girl to see the ring had turned gold, so I left it at home. Thirty minutes later I was puking everywhere. I didn’t really understand why but someone at the Soulmate Centre explained rings are an extension of the soul and they need to be close to us at all times and there are actually records of people dying after losing their rings. Why?”

Damiano looked at you and raised his eyebrows to silently ask if he could share the information with the other three guys. Once you nodded, Damiano spoke up, “Y/N doesn’t need to have it close to them and they need to get it resized every once in a while.”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders, “That’s as far as my knowledge goes. I don’t know. I think the best thing you can do is go to the SC.”

You sighed but nodded. Ethan’s explanation had started to freak you out. What if there was something terribly wrong with you? What if you were born without a ring and your parents lied to you all your life?

—

After having a short conversation with Damiano in private, you decided to follow Ethan’s advice and go to the Soulmate Centre that was only a few minutes away from your house. He wanted to go with you or send someone to watch over you but had accepted your petition to go alone after you told him it was a private matter and you'd tell him all about it once you got back.

So there you were, on the reception of the SC, with your sweaty hands intertwined together as you tried to ignore all the dirty looks people were giving you. Everyone around knew exactly who you were and most weren't one bit pleased to see you there. While some didn't hesitate to look at you like they wanted to kill you, others were afraid to do so.

Those few minutes that passed until the lady at the desk called your name were some of the most uncomfortable of your life. Some part of you hated having the mobster title because that usually gave people the wrong idea and drove them to hate you even if you could proudly say you had done nothing illegal or violent in your whole life. You had to admit the mob wasn’t an ideal job to have morally wise, but you had found a family inside those four walls others doomed to be cursed.

You walked up to the lady. She had what you could interpret as a nervous smile as she stood behind the desk, patiently waiting for you to tell her what had brought you there in the first place. You were hesitant to communicate your issue because you were mortified of finding out a truth that should probably stay hidden.

You reached back and unclasped the chain the ring was looped through. You left it on the counter and smiled softly as you shyly spoke, “So uh, good morning, ma’am. I was hoping you could take a look at my ring, I’m slightly concerned there was something wrong with it.”

The lady nodded and removed the ring from the chain. She inspected it closely for a few minutes before nodding her head towards one of the rooms that said ‘only employees allowed’. She started walking towards it with a quick step and you saw no other choice but to follow right behind her.

She opened the door and quickly closed it with a lock once she verified you were inside, “Listen, the only reason I’m not turning you over to the authorities is because you don’t strike me as someone stupid enough to walk into an SC with a soulmate ring like this.”

Your jaw dropped in surprise at how direct she was being. For a second, you noticed her face fall before she realized it was best to keep a face that communicated seriousness instead of begging for your forgiveness or whatever people did when they pissed Damiano off.

“I don’t know who gave this to you or in which illegal market you bought this but if a higher authority sees you with this, not even Damiano David could save you from the consequences of sporting a fake ring,” She said. You honestly didn’t know how to respond because panic had started to drown out any coherent thought that tried to form on your mind.

You didn’t even try to disguise your panicked expression that time around. Instead, you focused on regulating your breathing and trying to keep all your emotions at bay before you lost control and began to hyperventilate. The other woman noticed your distress almost immediately and led you to sit down on one of the couches.

After you took a few deep breaths, you looked back at her, eager to ask thousands of questions, “How can you know they are fake?”

She sat down next to you and put the ring on your palm, “Look at the inside,” She demanded while pointing her finger to a spot on the inside edge of the ring, “They usually have something engraved inside, a code that only repeats itself twice. Whenever one loses their soulmate, this code vanishes. Your code is still there. I also used a detector to confirm my suspicions and it detected nothing.”

“And with… with that code, can you tell me if my soulmate’s still alive? Or who they are?” The older lady looked at you with pity in her green eyes and shook her head.

“Unless this is the original code engraved on the real ring, there’s not much I can do for you other than telling you how your soulmate is. I need so much more information to ever give you a name,” You nodded in understanding. All you needed to know was if they were alive, that’s all you wanted.

She took your nod as a sign of approval and disappeared into another room. While you waited, you couldn’t help but secretly hope they were dead. You wanted all those weeks of bliss you had spent with Damiano to last a lifetime. He knew everything about you, from the number of scars scattered around your body to what book you had read the most times. No soulmate could learn that about you until years after meeting each other. Besides, it wouldn’t feel right. The Gods had already been too cruel for not making him your soulmate, but now that he wasn’t with Marlee and you knew he loved you just as much as you loved him…

She walked out of the room and cleared her throat to catch your attention. You were thankful for her interruption because you were mere seconds away from bursting into tears of distress. She looked nervous to tell you what she had found out, but the way you looked at her made her spill the truth without any warning.

“Your soulmate is still somewhere out there, alive.”

—

Damiano clutched his side with his hands as every type of curse word spilled from his mouth, “Thomas! Dammit Thomas, where the fuck are you?” He screamed and pushed the ache in his throat and side to the back of his mind as he limped towards the table where his loaded gun was placed, ready to be grabbed and shot.

Things had been perfectly fine just ten minutes back. He had been drinking and playing pool with the boys in the basement. They were all laughing and messing around when Victoria heard the first gunshot. Thomas had been quick to dismiss it as one of the guards practicing his accuracy like they did every once in a while, so they went back to playing the game.

Then they heard it again and again and again. In that time it took the four men to walk up the stairs, people had already successfully broken into the house and they were shooting at anything that moved. The blood-red snake symbol all these people had on the masks that were covering their faces was one he had grown far too familiar with. These were the people Marlee had been conspiring with and they had managed to overthrow every single line of defense in between them and the front door.

Damiano had been in his room fetching a gun when a smoke bomb was thrown into the room. It had stopped him from seeing the person who shot him. Thankfully enough, their vision wasn’t much better either, because the bullet only grazed his side. It was still painful as hell and blood was pouring out of the wound, but it wasn’t going to be anything deadly.

He finally got ahold of his gun after minutes of feeling around the table to try and spot it with the low amount of vision he still had. Once Damiano had it in his hands, he raised the scarf he was wearing to cover the lower part of his face to try and lower the quantity of smoke he inhaled.

He walked out of his room and into the hallway, still holding the gun firmly ready to shoot it at the first person he saw with that red symbol. Damiano opened the door to every room on the third floor. He had to shoot at one or two people before walking down to the floor below. The first room he opened was yours. His eyes went wide as he remembered you were still supposed to be at the SC. Damiano cursed under his breath. He needed to warn you not to come back but to go to your parents’ instead. Damiano opened the tracking app first, a precaution he had been insistent on taking just to make sure you both knew the other was safe.

“Fucking hell,” Damiano mumbled as he saw that blue dot with your name above it was right on the same spot as his. You were back home.

Every thought of investigating each and every room to make sure there was no intruder flew out the window and instead he focused on trying to find you. Everything had turned chaotic on those few minutes he had been in your room, which was why it had gotten harder to get around without finding someone waiting on almost every corner for him to appear.

Damiano heard a piercing scream that made his blood go cold. You were in danger somewhere inside the large home and he desperately needed to get to you, to make sure you were safe from any danger. He knew his friends would be perfectly fine, they had their guns and several types of weaponry close-by, but he knew you didn’t. You always refused to take a gun or dagger with you whenever you went out and if they had caught you right when you had just gotten back… you’d most likely have nothing to defend yourself with.

There was no doubt in his mind that you were witty and incredibly smart, not to mention agile and great at coming up with plans on the spot, but he still needed to make sure you were alright.

He got down on the first floor and his eyes met with a pair of blue ones he knew far too well. He let his eyes trail down to her carmine-tinted shirt. Marlee smiled at him and trailed her thumb along her jawline. That’s when he noticed her hands were also red and she had also left a trail of bloody footsteps from his office to where she was standing. His office.

Damiano didn’t hesitate to point the gun at her leg and pull the trigger. He then aimed for her other leg and shot it. She fell to the floor as an agonizing scream fell from her parted lips. Damiano was satisfied now that her stupid smile had been wiped right off her face.

He quickly ran to the office and opened the door. What he saw inside made time stop. It made all those sounds go silent. It made him feel like there was no floor beneath him to stand on. You were lying on the floor, a dagger piercing your chest.

You looked panicked, sad, like you wanted to do nothing but scream and cry, which you had started doing the moment you saw Damiano walked into the room. He didn’t know if your reaction was out of relief or if there was something else that concerned you, apart from the obvious.

“Damiano,” You spoke up weakly, The sound of your raspy voice was like a slap back into reality. He didn’t waste a second to fall to his knees right by your side. Damiano cupped your face with his trembling hands and brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Shh. I’m here amore, I’m here,” He responded voice barely above a whisper, “I just need to find something to press against this wound I— something…” He stood up, ready to look for a rag, bandages, anything to stop the blood from rushing out of your body so quickly, but you stopped him.

You wrapped your hand around his arm and with all the strength you had brought him back down, “No hey, stop,” You mumbled, “Unless she happened to study every major artery, vein or has awfully perfect aim, I’ll be dead in minutes.”

He shook his head and wiped the tears that were starting to fall with the back of his hand. He was not giving up. Damiano was not going to let you die, “Wait, no, no. I can do this,” Damiano took his sweater and scarf off. With the help of his scarf, he applied pressure to the wound, careful not to move or dig the dagger further with his movements.

You shook your head and Damiano couldn’t help but cry harder at the desperation and panic in your eyes, “Please, Dami. Stop it, there’s no use. I-I just want you to hold me, please.”

He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand and nodded repeatedly as he careful cradled you in his arms and moved your head to rest on his lap, “Everything’s going to be okay,” Damiano mumbled and left a long kiss on your forehead, then another one on your cheek and a last one on your lips.

You cupped his face with one of your hands and wiped the tears with your thumb. There wasn’t much left to say, not like you’d be able to talk even if you tried. Instead, you offered him one last sincere smile with all the energy you had left.

He watched in horror as life slowly started to drain out of you as his ring simultaneously turned black. Damiano sat there for minutes after you were gone. He cried and let every frustration, confusion, and pain escape his body with a loud scream.

Damiano didn’t let go of your body until Victoria and Thomas had to forcefully pull him away and let someone else take care of you.

—

Ethan didn’t walk into the room until he made sure every single intruder had been killed, except for Marlee, because Damiano had asked to keep her alive. When he did walk in, all he saw was Damiano with a folder in his hand and multiple pieces of paper scattered around the desk in his room. He looked pale, mortified by everything he was reading. The long-haired man didn’t understand what had gotten his friend in such a state of shock until he walked closer and looked at what seemed to be a contract.

You were Damiano’s soulmate. All your lives you had been tricked into believing you weren’t meant for each other. Your parents had made you believe you had no soulmate and Damiano had been fooled into thinking Marlee was his. You had gotten right to the bottom of it all and the secret would’ve gone to the grave with you if you hadn’t left the papers lying on his desk and if he had left his ring on the pocket of his jeans like he usually would. But now it was far too late to do anything about it.

#damiano david x reader #damiano david x y/n #damiano david x you #damiano david fanfiction #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

Cherik fluff/hurt?

Hi@stardustednerd. I am so so terribly sorry for the time this took me. I have accumulated a pretty good list of fics that contain both fluff and hurt. I must say that this fandom does enjoy the angst/hurt part of cherik, there is a lot of hurt/comfort but a bit less of fluff/hurt. I also want to add that this fandom also seems to enjoy Hurt! Charles so you can expect plenty of those in this list. If you like hurt and fluff I highly suggest that you check out luninosity's cherik fics. Cherik Fluff/Hurt fic recs

You’re Not Doing This Alone – flightinflame, Lynds Summary: What's meant to be a simple recruitment mission leads to both Erik and Charles being de-aged back to thirteen years old. Terrified and out of their depth, the boys try to hide their situation and help each other until they can work out what is going on.

Long Time No See – InkEros (thacmis) Summary: The new kid in class is someone from Erik's dark, dark past. Charles Xavier, for some reason or another, keeps following Erik around, trying to talk to him like a man on a mission. He's someone Erik never wanted or expected to see, ever again. Or... doesn't he?

Promise me, promise me – awriting_ghost Summary: Based on the prompt: "Oh now I want fic where somehow Erik is there when the serum starts wearing off, and he panics because what’s happening to Charles, and he watches him break down, he finally understands."

Anchor Me – brilliantdreams Summary: Charles is awake in the kitchen having telepathy troubles when Erik finds him. Cuddling ensues.

With Your Kindness – helens78 Summary: Cerebro takes a lot out of Charles; a warm bath complete with washing his hair feels like the least Erik can do, but if it's all he can offer, he will.

Cotton Walls – walrusface Summary: In large crowds, Charles finds it difficult to control his telepathy. While they're on their recruitment road trip, Erik tries to help.

Stubborn is as Stubborn Does – WaxRhapsodic Summary: Charles works himself until he collapses! Erik is not pleased.

The Color of Love (Character Swap Remix) – BadLuckBlueEyes Summary: Nobody sees in color until they meet their soulmates. When your soulmate dies, your vision returns to black and white. What happens when your soulmate only dies for a few minutes?

Let your anger anchor you (your peace will bring me home) – anthora09 Summary: Charles takes an unnecessary risk and winds up in the infirmary. Erik is not happy. (His exact words are "I told you so.")

Accidents Will Happen – pocky_slash Summary: In which Charles is in an accident, Erik relives some terrible memories, and the hospital staff is very indulgent. Part of ‘the Daycare’ verse.

The Beats Of My Heart That I Gave You – luninosity Summary: Early days at the mansion, fluff, hurt/comfort, Erik building bookshelves for Charles, first-time I-love-you moments, happy endings.

Ambulance Angel – kageillusionz Summary: Erik Lehnsherr, senior paramedic, and winner of the Sexiest London Paramedic Award for three years in a row, has an epiphany as he speeds towards Royal London Hospital. An epiphany that may or may not concern Doctor Charles Xavier M.D and emergency consultant at the Royal London Hospital.

Waking up inside a dream – soetry Summary: A tear ran down Charles's cheek, and then he choked out, tone desperate, “I can make you forget this. Nothing has to change.” Erik stood and left the room.

Gin and Tonic – JackyJango Summary: Charles takes a deep breath to steal himself and nearly collapses on the floor out of the sheer pain the motion tugs out of his bruised ribs and stomach. Tears crowd his eyes, and even that, causes his left cheek to throb. He takes another breath despite the pain and leans on the counter for support. He feels lightheaded and dizzy. The tears threaten to surpass the barrier of his eyes and flow down his cheeks. No, he won’t cry. He can’t; because he doesn’t think he’d stop once he starts. Besides, crying will only empower Kurt further. He can’t let the man break him in every way possible. Just as he’s about to open the tap to splash water over his eyes, the door to the bathroom bursts open and Erik enters through it. Shit. What is Erik doing here? Shouldn’t he be in a lecture? Even if he wanted to just use the urinals, there’s already a toilet on their floor. He needn’t have walked across the campus to use the one specifically Charles is in. But before Charles could voice any of those thoughts, Erik asks in a voice as hard as steel, ‘What happened to your face?’

When Sorrows Come – jekyll_inside Summary: "The best teachers are the ones that have overcome adversity, Charles, not the ones who have never experienced it." (Erik stays with Charles and the others to help rebuild the school, but Charles has lost faith in himself.)

The Properties of Pineapple – garrideb Summary: Pineapple is Charles's favorite food, but he won't eat it when he's unhappy. This doesn't make sense to Erik; it's the opposite of how comfort food is supposed to work. But questions are answered when Erik discovers a secret Charles has been keeping, forcing them to face their clash of ideals once more.

Not Yet – GenuineSnoof Summary: "Do you know who I am?"

"No," Charles said. "You... know me?"

"Yes. Your name is Charles. I'm Erik."

"Charles."

"Yes. Charles Xavier. What the hell happened? How did you get here?"

"I woke up," Charles said. "And I... left."

Honest Bone and Burning Thought – Black_Betty Summary: And so sometimes, his mind buzzing away, bright and brilliant and humming with pure expansive energy, Charles speaks without thinking at all. Without censoring himself. Without realizing that his brain has reached out and snatched something that was never his to know, or take...

For these two men – novera_nope Summary: When Erik has a panic attack on the plane, even an emotionally stunted man as Logan realizes the nature of the relationship between Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #asks #earnestly answers

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discoscoob · 3 years

Text

New Loki | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) X Doctor Who

You become acquainted with the new Loki and it isn’t exactly smooth sailing as you find it difficult to accept this new version of him and he doesn’t plan to fill the gap your Loki left behind.

Part Fourteen | Part Sixteen | Chapter Index

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: angst?

Read on AO3

Once you woke up you were sharply alerted to the ache that ran through your neck, due to the fact you had slipped into sleep while you were still on the floor of your bedroom. You had no idea what time it was as you pushed yourself off of the hard floor with a groan of pain, in that moment you were positive that you would never allow yourself to fall asleep on a floor again.

Your headache had failed to disappear, in fact you believe it had only worsened, while your eyes felt heavy and irritated as you shuffled towards your en suite in search of something to remedy your sore head.

You paused in front of the mirror above your sink and took in your appearance, your eyes were puffy and blood shot while dried tear tracks stained your cheeks, your hair was disheveled and your lips were chapped.

You let out a tired sigh as you pulled open the cupboard behind the mirror and searched for a bottle of pain killers which rattled together as you twisted off the lid and dropped two into the palm of your hand, before you returned the bottle to its shelf.

You ran the tap and gathered some water in your cupped hands which you brought to your mouth to help swallow the pills and then you splashed your whole face with some cold water to help awaken and refresh yourself.

When you looked back at your reflection, with your palms lent on the edge of the sink, droplets of water fell from your chin and the tip of your nose and some wisps of your hair clung to the sides of your wet cheeks. You let your eyes fall shut and remained like that for a moment as you basked in the silence.

You startled when you heard a knock on your bedroom door, at first you contemplated ignoring it but whoever it was persistently knocked again. You sighed with defeat as you grabbed a fluffy white towel to dry your face and made your way across your bedroom to answer the door.

As soon as you laid eyes on Loki, your face dropped and you immediately tried to shut the door back in his face but he slammed one of his hands against it and forced it to remain open as he said your name, which caused you to freeze because this version of Loki hadn’t ever been introduced to you.

“How do you know my name?” You asked him, rather harshly.

“He put it in my head, the other version of myself, he put everything in here.” Loki explained as he gestured to his mind, “everything you did together.”

“They’re his memories, not yours.” You stubbornly told him, as if he had stolen your Loki’s memories from him.

“Look, I know this is difficult for you to wrap your head around, but we’re the same person-”

“Don’t patronise me!” You brought your hand up to point at him, “I’m not stupid, I know you’re the same person but you’re not my Loki and you never will be! It doesn’t matter if you have his memories, I didn’t experience them with you, you’re not the one I fell in love with. I can’t just start over with you and pretend you’re my Loki because you’re not and you won’t replace him.”

“Good, I wasn’t expecting to.” Loki bluntly replied. “I didn’t experience any of those things with you either, I’m not here to pick up where he left off. A few hours ago I didn’t even know you existed.”

“All right.” You nodded before you paused, “why did you come here, then?”

“I came to tell you that your auntie and the Doctor are missing.” Loki told you and you instantly stood to attention.

“What?!” You stepped out your bedroom and brushed past him as you rushed down the corridor. “Why didn’t you tell me that first?! Where did they go?”

“You interrupted me.” Loki defended himself as he followed behind you, “and I didn’t see where they went, they were already gone by the time I woke up. On the floor, might I add, it was extremely uncomfortable.”

“I fell asleep on the floor too but you don’t hear me complaining about it.” You rolled your eyes.

You were walking ahead of him and didn’t even bother to look over your shoulder as you talked to him, as you focused your attention on looking through each door you passed on the corridor in search of your auntie and the Doctor.

“Sorry, am I only allowed to complain about something if you complain about it first?” Loki sarcastically asked.

“Yes, precisely.” You answered in a deadpan tone. “Donna! Doctor!”

“Oh calling their names, why didn’t I think of that? I don’t know what I would ever do without you.” Loki mumbled to himself behind you and you shook your head with an annoyed sigh.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him as you finally turned around to face him.

“Believe me, I’d rather not be here.” He answered.

“You know how to fly the TARDIS, why don’t you go? Or did my Loki not put that in your head?” You asked, practically daring him to take the ship and leave.

“Oh, no, he did. I just didn’t think the Doctor would appreciate me flying his ship without his permission.” Loki shrugged.

“How very considerate of you.” You retorted, “but that never stopped you before.”

“Ah, you’re getting me mixed up with the other me again.” Loki called you out and you glared at him.

“So, what? You’re the righteous version?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest and Loki pulled a face, almost looking offended.

“Heavens no. Since it would appear you don’t need my help, I will be on my way.” Loki decided as he brushed past you, his shoulder knocked yours as he did.

You paused as you watched him take large strides towards the control room from over your shoulder in silence. You considered your situation and weighed up your options and by the time he was out of sight you realised you needed his help. With a sigh of defeat, you reluctantly followed after him.

When you entered the control room, you saw Loki silently staring at the screen of the monitor and from the look on his face you could immediately tell that something wasn’t right.

“What is it?” You asked as you approached him with caution and he raised his head to glance at you before he looked back to the screen.

He rubbed his fingers back and forth over his chin, “I think I know why your auntie and the Doctor have disappeared.”

You shuffled closer to him with wide eyes, eager to know what his suspicion was, while you tried to control your worry from overwhelming you.

“Thanos.”

At the mention of his name you felt sinking in your chest.

“If was successful and erased half the universe, they might have got caught in it. You see, the Doctor didn’t jump to a different time after we left the refuge ship.” Loki explained, his eyes on the monitor which displayed the time and date.

“No,” you shook your head in denial, “they must be somewhere. I will find them.”

Loki’s eyes followed you as you rushed around the console.

“What are you doing?” He straightened his back with interest as he followed you.

“I already lost my Loki, I’m not losing them too.” You determinedly whispered, mostly to yourself, as you stood in front of the telegraphic interface and dug your fingers into it. You closed your eyes and let your mind clear of everything except Donna and the Doctor and when the TARDIS began to rumble beneath your feet, Loki ran to the monitor to watch the screen.

As tremors continued to shake through the control room, Loki held onto the console to keep himself steady as he watched the date on the monitor quickly scroll up, every second that passed a new year was displayed.

“The TARDIS seems to think they’re somewhere.” Loki thought out loud, he made no effort to hide the amazement on his face, since your eyes were closed.

Once the tremors subsided, the date on the monitor stopped on 2023 and as if they had been hiding in a pocket of space, Donna and the Doctor were thrown into the control room out of nowhere.

At first you jumped back with a gasp after opening your eyes, surprised that it had actually worked, while Loki gawped at them as if he had seen a ghost.

The Doctor immediately started patting himself down, before he brought his hands up to his face, feeling his cheeks, his chin and his nose, while Donna was engrossed with looking at her own arms.

Once your mind shifted back into gear, you ran around the console and straight into Donna’s arms, to wrap her in a tight hug, which she quickly reciprocated.

“What happened?” She muttered into the hug, while the Doctor ran around to the monitor and mumbled a quick ‘excuse me’ to Loki as he placed both his hands on his waist to shift him out of the way, Loki offered him a glare in response.

You began to quietly explain what had happened to your auntie once you both pulled back from the hug, explaining as much as you knew about Thanos and his plan, by scraping together everything your Loki and the other one had told you about him.

Meanwhile the Doctor was piecing it all together himself, by eavesdropping on your conversation from where he stood at the monitor which he had used to look at his reflection to ensure he hadn’t regenerated.

You were all too distracted to notice that Loki had connected himself to the TARDIS’ telepathic interface, until you heard the sound of the wheezy engine fill the control room which began to quake with turbulence, as you all silently stared at the God of Mischief, wondering where he was taking you.

#loki #loki marvel #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x you #doctor who #tenth doctor #10th doctor #donna noble #tom hiddleston #loki imagine

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justthehiddleswrites · 3 years

Text

Slow Hands | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: Tom and you are old friends. But how you wish it was more. Tom decides to a quiet birthday with you. A birthday wish and a few beers can change your life.

Warnings: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Birthday Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering,Teasing

“We should take this back to my place.” you said right to Tom’s face.

“I beg your pardon?” Tom responded, color rising to his cheeks.

“The food.” you held up the bag of takeaway. “We should take the food back to my place to eat, don’t you think?”

“Right, of course.” Tom sputtered. “Excellent plan.” Tom took the bag from you and exited the pub.

You jogged to catch up with him. “What did you think I meant?”

“I’m not sure to be honest.”

“Are you sure wouldn’t rather do something else on your birthday? I mean this is hardly the glamorous lifestyle you are used to.”

Tom laughed. He never grew tired of your constant prodding and poking at his fame.

“You know me better than any magazine article. A nice quiet dinner in with one of my best friends is my idea of a perfect birthday.” He gave a closed lip smile and continued walking on.

The word “friend” hurt more than any bullet or punch. Yes, you appreciated Tom’s friendship more than anything. Treasured it. But you didn’t want to be his friend. You want to be his everything. The one who shares his bed at night. You wanted to add “girl” in front of "friend”. But that was never going to happen. Tom made it clear that he saw as nothing more than a friend. That fucking word again.

“Well come on and I’ll let you pick the first movie of the night.” You picked up the pace, hurrying along the sidewalks of London towards your modest flat.

Tom jogged to catch up. He wrapped his arm your shoulders and pulled you into his side, kissing your temple. “What would I do without you?”

You gritted your teeth without answering.

Once the two of you settled on your worn couch, Tom grabbed for the remote while you fetched utensils and drinks in the kitchen. You flopped next to him, thighs touching. You handed him a beer, while he nudged your container of food over.

“So what Disney marshmallow fluff are you going to make me watch this time?” you snarked as you shoved a handful of fries into your mouth.

“Hey! I like that marshmallow fluff.” Tom elbowed you in the ribs. “And chew your food. I don’t want to perform the Heimlich, I only play a doctor on TV.”

You turned to face Tom and with a straight face and took a massive bite of your burger, chewing with your mouth open. Tom’s lips twitched. He picked up his burger and licked his lips before taking a slow bite. Drops of mustard clung to the corner of his mouth.

“You…” you gestured to his mouth. “… have something.”

Tom flicked his tongue out to swipe away the droplets. The whole act made your cheeks hot. Does he even understand what he is doing?! your brain screamed.

“Did I get it?” Tom asked, looking at you with those blue eyes someone could get lost in.

“Um…” you pretended to check, “… yup.” you prayed he didn’t notice your embarrassment.

“Now about that movie…” Tom waggled the remote in front of your face.

Two hours later, you finished the burgers and fries and the movie. Several beers lay empty on the table.

“Now that I have tooth decay.” you lunged for the remote, reaching across Tom.

He tried to pull away, but you moved too quick, snatching the remote before he shifted. You fell against his chest. His heart pounded through his t-shirt as you placed a hand against the sharp planes of his torso.

“My turn.” you stuttered as you stood up, rushing to the kitchen. “but first….” you pulled a large box from the fridge. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” you yelled as you placed a cake on the coffee table in front of Tom.

“Darling…” Tom extolled as he drank the last of his beer, placing the empty bottle next to this first empty. “… you shouldn’t have!”

You gave Tom a withering glance.

��But I am glad you did.”

“Are you kidding? I have been thinking about this all day. Do you realize how hard it is to not eat cake?”

He pushed against your shoulder as you sat down next to him. “I appreciate your sacrifice and willpower.”

He reached for the knife but you touched his wrist to stop him cutting the cake.

“We can’t eat yet.”

“Why not?” Tom looked confused.

“Make a wish.” You held up a candle and book of matches.

Tom groaned as he fell back against the couch. “You are not going to sing are you?”

“It’s tradition. You like tradition.”

“Only when it suits me.”

“Humor your dear old friend.”

You snuggled into the crook of his neck. You inhaled his scent. Today he smelled of wood and spice and hops from the beer. And a tinge of something distinctly Tom. You could never name it but you caught whiffs of it on your throw blanket after Tom would crash on your couch after too many beers.

You didn’t see a splash of pink rush across Tom’s cheeks or how his hand hovered over your back, indecisive where to place it. He ultimately let it fall on the back of the couch. He cleared his throat to break the silence as you stared up at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Well let’s get on with it.” he clapped his knees as he leaned towards the cake.

You pushed the candle into the thick layer of chocolate frosting, it tilted ever so slightly. You sang Happy Birthday in a slight off key tone while Tom smiled in mock embarrassment and shame.

“Happy Birthday to you!” you finished up as you lifted the cake to his face. “Make a wish.”

Tom looked over at you for a moment and then closed his eyes before blowing out the candle.

“What did you wish for?” you asked as he handed you a big slice of cake.

“I can’t tell you or else it won’t come true!” Tom said through a bite of cake.

“Party pooper.”

“It’s my party.”

“Fine.” you shoveled a big bite of cake into your mouth. “Have your secrets!”

Tom smiled as he took another big bite.

“So…” you asked as you pushed the last bite of your cake. “Now that you are an old man—”

“I resent that remark.” Tom finished up his cake.

“Fine. You’re young, practically a teenager!” you rolled your eyes and Tom suppressed a laugh. “What I meant is you are now 39. The last of your thirties. What you are you planning to do?”

“Well, I haven’t thought about it too much. It just another year.” Tom gave you a look you couldn’t quite place.

“Stop bullshitting me, Tom. I have known you for too long to believe that. You always have some half-baked plan cooking in that brain of yours. What does 39 hold for you? Skydiving? Directorial debut? Wedding in Vegas to a showgirl? Spill it.” You grabbed your now lukewarm beer and took a swig.

Tom shifted in his seat to look at you. An unnerving stare with those damn blue eyes. You squirmed in your seat, hiding the shiver running down your spine and the heat on your neck and cheeks.

“Now that you mention I do have some plans for the coming year.”

“Really?” you leaned in.

“Yes. I am planning on finishing up my commitments to Marvel for the year.”

You nodded knowing that Marvel would always be a major part of Tom’s life.

“And I have a few scripts I am reading. But I am looking to settle down this next year.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.” You stood up and grabbed the plates and hurried to the kitchen. You feared you might cry.

“It’s not anything serious yet.” Tom spoke to the back of your head as he stood. “But I am certain she’s the one.”

Tom came up behind you as you placed the plates in the sink and turned on the water. Tom turned the water off.

“Wow. She must be some kind of girl. Anyone I know?” you choked on your words. You didn’t know which answer would be worse.

“You know her very well.” Tom’s hands trailed slowly up your arms. His fingers teasing your shoulders before they skimmed down your back and lighting on your waist. You turned in his grip to face him.

“I—”

Your thought cut off by Tom’s lips pressing against yours. His hands fisting into the bottom your shirt. The kiss was over almost as fast as it started and Tom pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath heavy against your cheek.

“I hope you feel the same way.” Tom sighed. “Because I want you, darling.”

His finger traced along the curve of your cheek and Tom licked his lips as his eyes darted between your eyes and lips.

“What? How? Huh?” you regain the use of your voice.

“It has always been you. No matter happens. No matter what goes wrong or right. I always come back to you. You are the one constant in my life, my soft place to land.” Tom’s eyes shone bright under the harsh light of your kitchen.

“You mean you can’t tell that I want you?” your lips curved into a smile as your fingers teased the curls at the nape of his neck.

Tom’s face froze in an expression of confusion as his brain processed your words. You leaned into his ear. “I want you too. Bad.”

Tom smiled a wide smile. He pulled you close against his chest, his hand gripped the back of your shirt for dear life.

“Once we start, there will be no stopping me.” Tom raised his eyebrows in question.

“Who is asking you to stop? We can take our time, we can do this all night” you quirked an eyebrow up and that was all Tom needed.

He lunged towards with a fervor. His kiss hungry. You groaned against him and his tongue slipped past your lips, searching. You tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, sliding your hands against the sharp angles of his stomach and chest, the lean muscle flexing under your touch.

“Should be take this to the bedroom?” You asked, panting.

“I thought you would never ask.” Tom pulled you along.

You shed your shirt as you walked through the living room. Tom followed suit and tugged at his jeans while you did the same. You both stopped at the bedroom door to pull your pants off, leaving them there.

Tom grabbed you again. “I have never seen you in just your underwear before.” He brushed an errant piece of hair off your forehead. “You have never looked as beautiful as you do now.”

“You don’t have to flatter me, Tom. You already have my pants off.”

“We’ve wasted so much time, I intend on spending the rest of my days lavishing attention onto the woman I love.”

You caught your breath as you stared at Tom, your best friend. He stood before you in just his underwear, flushed. His pupils large and lust blown, he gazed upon with a look you only saw from him through your TV screen.

“I love you too.” you whispered as you shuffle your feet. “I’ve always loved you. You’re the one, Tom. You stole my heart, you charming bastard.”

You walked towards him and wrapped your arms around him. “And now…” you looked up at him through your lashes as you ran a finger along the waist of his underwear before tugging them down in a single motion. “I want to experience every inch of you.”

Tom walked you back until the backs of your legs hit the bed and you fell back hitting the mattress. He crawled on top of you, his hands snaked behind you and unclasped your bra. He slid his hand underneath the bra to massage your right breast, fingers worrying the nipple into a hard pebble.

“Ahhh!” you moaned as you arched your back to his touch.

“So responsive, darling. I had no idea.”

You slid the bra off your shoulders and threw in onto the floor as Tom gave the same treatment to your left breast, eliciting the same moan from your lips.

“I wonder what other noises you can make?” Tom pondered as he moved down your body. You whimpered when Tom’s fingers traced the waistband of your panties. He pulled them down your legs and discarding somewhere in the dark room.

His breath was hot against your thighs and you tensed not knowing what would happen next. Tom licked your pussy with the flat of his tongue.

“Fuck!” you hissed as you gripped the sheets at your side.

Tom chuckled against you. “Oh, give me time, darling. But for now, let’s see how it takes for you to come undone.”

Tom continued his devouring of you. You bucked your hips against his mouth and he snaked an arm up to hold you fast against the creaking mattress, while the other hand pushed your leg wide, granting him easier access.

“Hmmmph.” you moaned as Tom flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit. He glanced up as your head fell back and grinned. He flicked his tongue against you again and your release edged closer.

As if Tom sensed it, he released your leg and teased a single finger along your slit, collecting juices. He plunged into you and you gripped around him.

“You are so wet already for me.” he cooed as he pumped in and out of you.

“I’m close!” you pleaded as Tom’s fingers curled inside of you.

“Come for me, darling. Come for me.” Tom pleaded as he lowered his head between your legs.

Tom added a second finger as well as sucking against your clit which toppled you over the edge. Your hands flew to tangle into the mess of ginger curls on Tom’s head. Tom continued to pleasure you through your orgasm until you pushed away.

Tom positioned himself between your legs and took himself into one of his hands, giving his hard cock several pumps.

“That was exquisite.” he hummed as he teased the head of his cock along you.

You lifted your hips into him, a silent invitation, and Tom pushed into you. He hissed as he filled you completely.

“Fuck.” Tom breathed as he paused a moment to savor the sensation. “You are amazing. You feel amazing.”

Tom pulled out almost entirely and then plunged into you again, snapping his hips. You pulled him down on top of you, crashing your lips against his. He tasted of you.

Tom continued to snap his hips against you, grazing the pubic bone. Another orgasm quickly approached, and you snaked your hand between your two bodies, finding your clit, drawing tight circles.

“I’m close.” Tom moaned against your neck.

“Me too.”

Tom’s thrusts became hungry and erratic and within seconds, he spilled inside you, his head fell into the crook of your neck. You soon followed, clenching around him, causing Tom to chuckle, his chest shaking in ragged breaths.

As the waves of pleasure dissipated, the two of you lie motionless, neither wanting to move. As if moving would break the spell and the two of you would wake up from this impossible dream.

“Tom?” you questioned.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t breathe.”

Tom rolled off of you and took a place to your side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Sorry about that.”

His long fingers ran along the curves of your bare arm. You feared to look at him. To speak. Afraid he would say he made a mistake.

“So…” you started, staring at the ceiling fan in your bedroom going round and round.

“You’re afraid I’m going to say it’s a mistake.” Tom took your chin in his hand and turned your face to his.

“How did you know?”

“I know you.”

“So…”

“So… the only mistake I made was not telling you about my affections years ago. My mistake was wasting my time chasing a feeling, a love that was sitting right in front of me.”

He kissed your forehead. A simple gesture, he had performed a hundred times before. But now, it was not out of friendship but rather love. He took a breath as he made a decision.

“Marry me?” he whispered as he nuzzled behind your ear.

“What?!” you pulled him away.

“Marry me. When you realize you have found your mate, you want the rest of your life with them to start as soon as possible.”

You searched his face for emotion, for malice, for jest. But there was none.

“Y… ye..yes!” you stuttered out.

Tom pulled you against his chest and he kissed you with the passion of no man before in your life.

“I wished for you. Every year I wished for you.”

“I wished for you too.” you hummed as his arms closed around you and the two of you drifted off in bliss.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston smut

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babymetaldoll · 3 years

Text

"From daddy to dad" (Matthew Gray Gubler/ Reader)

Summary: Matthew Gray has to stop acting like a kid around his son, and start being a dad. Or at least that's how reader feels.

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler / Reader

Category: A little Angst, but at the end this is undercover fluff

Warnings: Zero, I think

A/N: I have no idea how a three years old talks, so let's all pretend this is accurate, ok? :D

Word count: 2,1K

Masterlist

Being seven months pregnant isn't comfortable at all. Especially when you can't move at a normal pace. Lucky for (Y/N), her husband Matthew was home to help her whenever she needed him. He was glad to take some time off and spend more time with her, considering he worked most of the time during her last pregnancy.

Their little three years old son was very excited to become an older brother. He was the sunshine of the house... except when he made a mess, and her mother would call him by his full name.

- "Vincent Gray Gubler!!"- (Y/N) yelled, watching her son covered in purple paint, running around the living room, making a mess.

- "What are you doing?!"- she wanted to cry. Everything had paint on it. Everything. And her son wouldn't stop running.

- "I'm painting the room, mommy!"

Under normal circumstances, (Y/N) would have laughed. Really. But she was too tired that day. She had just bathed the boy after he had played with mud and made a mess in the backyard. And now, he was a mess again!

- "Matthew! can you help me?"

- "What is it, Bunny..."- he yelled from the second floor

- "I need a hand here"

- "I'm coming!"- he shouted in a funny voice, and their son giggled as he heard him- "Hey!! There you are! I was wondering where my little helper had gotten!!"

Matthew Gray Gubler walked to his wife, covered in paint, making a mess the whole way over. Like father, like son.

- "What are you doing?"- (Y/N) wanted to cry. She knew she was going to be the one cleaning that mess.

- "We were going to paint the baby's room, but we thought it would be a good idea to add a personal touch, so we started marking our hands on the wall. And then we did our feet... and tummies"- Matthew smiled, proud. But his wife wasn't as excited as he was.

- "I had just bathed him."

- "I can do it! don't worry, Bunny!"- he walked to (Y/N) and kissed her forehead- "I'll clean baby Peanut, and then I'll take care of this whole mess, you just go to rest for a while, ok"

- "Can you handle bath time?"- (Y/N) raised an eyebrow staring into her husband's eyes. She could look at him forever and never get tired. Gubler smiled and pecked her lips.

- "I'm gonna be fine. You go out to the backyard, enjoy some "alone time," because I'm gonna take care of everything."

(Y/N) wanted to believe him so bad. But there was a little voice inside her head (called experience) that kept telling her that was a bad idea.

- "Call me if you need me, ok?"- she said and looked at her son still running around the living room, dripping purple paint everywhere- "Did you give him sugar?"

Gubler was busted.

- "We shared a tiny chocolate bar..."- he whispered and smiled at his wife- "But don't worry! I've got it!"- she sighed, defeated, and shook her head.

- "Daddy! Daddy! daddy!"- Vincent yelled and hugged his father's- "Can we watch tv?"

- "Sure, Peanut, but first we have to take a bath"- Gubler held his son in his arms and started walking upstairs.

- "I don't wanna!"- he argued immediately. (Y/N) sighed and walked to their backyard. Matthew said he was going to take care of everything.

And to be fair, Matthew really tried to take care of everything. But the problem was simple: Sometimes, he wasn't really a dad; he acted like a kid. He loved his son so much, he could spoil him rotten, and (Y/N) would end up mad at the two of them.

For example, instead of bathing Vincent, the kid convinced him to play for a while. So, they had sat in his little playroom to play with his trains, leaving paint everywhere. And then, they snacked, 'cos the little boy got hungry and wanted a peanut butter sandwich.

- "Ok boo, it's time now"- he said when he noticed almost an hour had passed- "Let's take that bath"

- "No, dad. I want a movie"

- "Your mom is going to get mad if she finds out you haven't taken your bath"- but Vincent frowned and pouted.

- "Please daddy"- Matthew looked at him and sighed

- "Just five minutes of tv, then it's bath time"

That kid had him wrapped around his finger.

He had always wanted to have kids. And the day (Y/N) told him she was pregnant, he couldn't believe it. He kissed her with tears in his eyes and rubbed her belly, giggling.

- "I don't have a baby bump yet"- she whispered, feeling her lips against his as she spoke.

- "I know, but now that I know baby Gubler is in there, I am going to rub that belly forever"

And he really did. During the forty weeks, he talked every day to the belly. Sometimes he would read children's books or simply tell his son about his day and all the games he was going to play with him as soon as he was born. Matthew Gray Gubler was tailor-made to be a father. He just needed to start being one.

- "Of course"- (Y/N) whispered and widened her eyes as soon as she set foot inside the house after an hour. The living room was still a mess, and the paint was now dry on the floor and furniture. The kitchen was a battlefield, bread, peanut butter, and jelly everywhere.

- "Matthew?"

- "In the bathroom"

(Y/N) opened the door and found her husband and son taking a bath together. It was adorable, except for the fact it was all a mess. The floor was all wet, water mixed with paint everywhere.

- "Mommy! Dad made bubbles!"- Tommy was thrilled and kept splashing water all over.

- "That's great, boo!"- she smiled at her son, and he clapped, excited.

- "I'm gonna clean this up"- Matthew said right away, reading his wife's face- "I swear, bunny, it just took me a little longer to convince him to take a bath, but I'm cleaning everything as soon as we get out of here"

(Y/N) nodded, closed the door behind her back, and walked to the master bedroom. She needed a nap, 'cos she knew what was coming.

This wasn't the first time Matthew had promised he would take care of everything, to then simply spend all his time spoiling his son. (Y/N) knew that would happen from the first minute he said he was going to clean. And she wouldn't usually make a big deal out of it, but she was starting to feel tired of always being the bad cop. Gubler was the fun parent, and she was the one who just made the rules.

And it made her sad and mad. But mostly sad.

Of course, the three of them had fun together. They would make magic shows and play with puppets. They invented stories, did picnics in the backyard, baked and decorated many cakes and cookies, watched movies, and napped together. They really enjoyed their time as parents with their little son.

But each time they had to clean up, Matthew acted like another kid, who ended up making a bigger mess. Their son would follow and mimic everything his father did. And so, (Y/N) was the bad one, who killed the fun and forced them to do chores.

She hated that.

Matthew had no idea his wife felt that way. If he had known, he would have cleaned the living room earlier. And wouldn't have made such a big mess in the kitchen. The bathroom would be spotless. And not just that day, he would have stopped being a kid months ago. But he hadn't realized what was going on.

When Matthew finally took his son out of the bathtub and dress him, he was exhausted. Taking care of a kid was a lot of work. And he couldn't imagine how it would be with their little girl there too.

He managed to put his son to bed for a nap and tiptoed to the master bedroom to put an eye on his wife.

- "Hey Bunny, I thought you were sleeping"- he laid next to her and kissed her cheek softly. Her eyes were puffy from crying- "What is it? Are you ok? Why are you sad, baby?"- Matthew's voice was soft and caring. Soothing. (Y/N) closed her eyes for a second and waited for a few seconds before answering, 'cos she didn't want to start crying.

- "Bunny, are you ok? you are worrying me, should I call the doctor or..."

- "I just don't want our kid to hate me"- she murmured and broke into tears.

- "No, babe, why would he? he loves you so much"- Gubler hugged her and kissed her forehead sweetly- "He could never hate you"

- "I am always the bad one, and you are the fun dad!"- Matthew was honestly confused

- "What are you talking about? you are not the bad one"

- "I bet when boo doesn't want to do something, you threat him saying, "mommy is going to get mad", don't you?"

- "Of course not!"- Matthew denied it right away, but (Y/N) frowned, still sobbing- "Ok, I don't threaten him like that. I tell him what he is doing will make the two of us mad"

- "I'm the bad cop, Gubler, and I don't want him to grow up afraid I'm always going to be upset"

- "Why are you thinking all this?"

- "Because I'm upset!"- she finally said and sat down on the bed- "Every time you have to step up and be a father, you act like you are Vincent playdate, not a grown-up!"

- "What?"- Matthew sat next to (Y/N) and held her hand. He could see she was angry, but somehow, it looked more like sadness and frustration.

- "Gub, I love you. When I married you, I told you every flaw you think you have is my favorite thing about you, 'cos you are perfect for me."

She made a pause, feeling how her husband's thumb wiped off the tears from her cheeks, carefully.

- "But?"- he whispered

- "But I don't wanna be the only one telling boo he has to brush his teeth or take a bath, or being mad when he makes a mess..."- (Y/N) pouted again, and Matthew sighed. He never really thought she felt that way.

- "I know you love him more than anything in the whole world, but another way to love him is making ground rules for him"- she continued- "I just don't wanna be bad guy, you are so awesome and fun, and I'm who always ruins the party" (Y/N)'s chin quivered, and Gubler hugged her immediately- "Maybe it's the hormones, but..."

- "No, Bunny, you are right. I'm a softy dad with him..."

- "I don't want you to turn into a drill sergeant. I just want you on my side when he doesn't clean his room."- Gubler looked at his wife, and his heart ached- "And please, don't leave me cleaning every mess on my own to keep on playing with him"

Matthew was about to argue, but he couldn't. There were too many examples around the house to prove it. The living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, and the playroom she still hadn't seen, but that he knew was a disaster.

- "I'm on your side, Bunny, I swear. And to prove it to you I'm gonna make you a cup of herbal tea, I'll bring you your book, and then I'll leave you here to rest while I clean the house and make dinner"- he kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her lips and the tip of her nose- "I just don't want you to be sad"

- "I don't wanna make you feel like a crappy dad, 'cos you are the best. Boo is so lucky to have you. And this little Bean is going to be so happy with you"- (Y/N) rubbed her belly and felt Matthew kissing her again.

- "Our kids are lucky to have you as their mom, and I am lucky to have you in my life every day."- (Y/N) smiled, finally, and held his face with both hands.

- "Let's call it even, though I have the feeling I am more lucky 'cos you are bringing me tea and cookies... and maybe a little chocolate."- Matthew chuckled and nodded.

- "Whatever my wife needs."

- "I love you Gubs"

- "I love you too, bunny"

- "I'm glad I'm gonna see you go from daddy to dad"- he stared in silence and ran his tongue through his lips- "What?"- but Matthew didn't answer. He smiled for a second and then slowly leaned in and whispered.

- "In this room, there's no dad. Here I am always your daddy".

#spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfic #fluff #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds fanfics #matthew gray gubler fanfic #criminal minds #babymetaldoll writes

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anthemxix · 3 years

Text

whumpay day 22: mind control

hi there hello, may i offer you some hyrule angst in these trying times?

wasn’t able to write on the 22nd but wanted to do this prompt. i’m going to do at least 2 more whumpay prompts, time and technology permitting. (having computer trouble and had to write this on my phone. not ideal, lol.)

warnings: blood, major injury, death

Once he crosses into the next room, Hyrule is instantly on high alert. Sinister magic washes over him, raises goosebumps on his arms as the stone door thuds and squeaky metal bars slot into place behind him.

“It’s about time!” Wind’s exclamation reverberates through the massive, seemingly empty chamber. Grinning manically, he whips out his Phantom Sword. “I’m so sick of puzzle rooms. I’m ready to kick some monster ass.”

Sky sighs, drawing his weapon with much less enthusiasm than the Sailor. “Personally, I was content with the puzzle rooms.”

There are some nods and noises of affirmation, and Wind looks around the group incredulously. “Gods. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Left it behind three rooms ago,” Warriors deadpans. “I am very much over this whole ‘dungeon’ thing.”

Ignoring his companions’ frivolities, Legend sidesteps closer to Hyrule. He narrows his eyes, scanning the room, and privately murmurs, “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” the Traveler says. The chilling magic wriggles and writhes beneath his skin. “I don’t recognize this type of magic. Do you?”

“No...but there is something very dark and very strong here. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

Beaming at Wind, Wild brandishes a rusted blade. “Well, I’m ready for adventure. I bet the Traveler is, too!”

Before Hyrule can answer, Four cuts in, mouth twisting in plain disgust. “Please tell me you’re not fighting with that. That thing is going to break after two hits.”

“Nah, she’s got at least four swings in her!”

“Guys,” Twilight interrupts. He stands braced at the front of the group beside Time; both of their weapons are at the ready. “There’s nothing here. Where is the monster?”

“Something is wrong,” Time states. His somber declaration sobers the others, has everyone bristling and glancing around.

“Listen,” Legend says, drawing everyone’s attention. “I don’t know what it is, or where exactly it’s coming from, but there’s some dangerous magic in here. Traveler senses it, too.”

As if on cue, the foreign magic swells, starts to pall over Hyrule like a burial shroud, and he shudders.

“It’s getting stronger,” he adds.

Stiffly, Legend turns towards him, brow furrowed, adjusting his grip on his sword. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Why?”

The Veteran stares at him a moment, his cautious scowl morphing into open concern. “It’s...concentrating around you. Like it’s magnetized to you or something.”

Hyrule frowns. “Meaning what?”

Legend shakes his head. “I don’t know, but—”

Hyrule doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence because suddenly, the magic isn’t only gathered around him, buffeting him, caressing him. He feels it pierce him, gouging a hole in him and trickling in.

Gasping, he nearly drops his sword as the cold, scratchy magic claws through him, slithers radial along his nerves, creeps down, down, down. It permeates, roots itself. Clings, burr-like, to his capillaries. Hooks into every muscle fiber. Burrows into every bony crevice.

Desperately, he glances at Legend. The Vet’s distressed face is the final thing Hyrule sees before his senses cut out. When the magic cuts them off, whisks him away from tangible reality, and traps him in his mind.

From there, it devours his consciousness.

Parasitical, the magic feeds off his essence, chopping Hyrule into digestible segments. It disassembles him, splits him into pieces, into particles. It divides and dilutes and removes everything that is him, until he is meaningless, and only his body remains, a mere manipulable rind.

He fights. Hyrule wrestles the magic, wrangles for control. He grasps at flimsy, fleeting specks of fragmentary consciousness, catching flashes of off-putting sensory input: a smatter of red, a steely glint, a strangled yell.

Urgency kicks up a notch, and Hyrule scrabbles. Struggles. Fights. He’s not a knight or a hero, but he is a fighter, he tells himself. He survives not with smarts or skills but by obdurate resolve. It’s all he has, all he’s ever had, and all he can hold on to now.

So he fights, and he fights, until, after ages and ages, the magic begins to ebb. Hyrule has a terrible inkling that he held no sway over the magic, that now it siphons away of its own accord, draining out from his pores like his skin is a sieve.

Whatever the impetus, the magic dwindles, and Hyrule, blessedly, feels his senses slowly return, awareness unfurling bit-by-bit like the petals of a blooming flower.

His relief, however, is swiftly marred by dread as he tunes back into the reality around him.

When the sensation of magic retreats once and for all—recedes like tides, shrivels and dissolves—he gazes around the chamber, absorbing the scene.

The aftermath of a battle. Not just a battle, a...a rampage.

Hyrule blinks, dazed, at the carnage. At the impossible amount of blood splashed across the floor and walls and ceiling. At Sky, whose hands are badly burned, with a fist-sized wound on his abdomen gushing. Four kneels next to him, hands visibly shaking as he tries to stitch the hole shut, even as blood falls freely from his own nose and mouth in alarming amounts.

At Twilight blankly gazing at nothing, his left arm dangling by sinewy threads. He holds Wild firmly to his chest with his other arm, and Wild, his back a mess of fresh, peeling burns, wails into his neck.

At Warriors, who has a jagged bit of bone draped with strings of flesh and meat, jutting from one leg. He’s slumped against a wall, and Wind leans on his shoulder, fading in and out of consciousness, a gash on his forehead streaming blood down his face, neck, torso.

And finally, at Legend. His head is in Warriors’ lap, and the Captain feathers his fingers through the pink locks that match the tangle of pink entrails spilling across the stone floor.

Belatedly, dazedly, Hyrule registers that Time is sitting next to him, his armor dented and smudged with ashy burns, blood leaking from one ear. He turns to Hyrule, expressionless, and rasps, “You’re back with us.”

“Back?” Hyrule asks. Time turns away, and Hyrule croaks, “What... What happened?”

Time doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. Hyrule gazes at the blood that stains his own clothes, his hands, his discarded sword, and knows. He doesn’t remember, but he knows, implicitly, that none of this blood is his.

Hyrule feels a scream tripping out of his mouth, and he doesn’t stop it. He screams, and Time glances at him pityingly, and Hyrule wishes, so desperately, that he had never returned to himself at all.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu #fanfiction #fanfic #lu hyrule #hyrule #whumpay2021 #my writing #blood #death

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crazy4myself · 4 years

Text

No Harm List | Pt. 5

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 9,494

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy's life, not knowing that he is one of the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

Warnings: cussing, mentions of drugs

Genre: Gang/mafia AU, romance, angst, violence, fluff

Rating: 17 N/C

Banner Credit: @mindays

A/n: So it’s been a whole month since I’ve updated and I’m so sorry. Between work and the baby, it’s been impossible to find time to write. I know the chapter is a little shorter than promised, but that’s because it got soo freaking long that I had no choice but to split it into two. But as a result, you got a bit more Jungkook and Ella fluff, so you’re welcome. I hope you enjoy this chapter! As always please let me know your thoughts because it really does help me write!

Also thanks again so much @mindays for this rockin banner!!!!

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You sighed as you took another bite of your cookie, it was delicious, but it wasn't perfect. Something about the texture felt off too you. The cookie felt homemade in the unprofessional way, not the 'grandma's classic' way Sugar Daddy always delivered.

"Jimin," you whined as you set the half-eaten dessert next to you on the counter, frowning at the cooling batch. Jimin made his way over to you, smiling as he reached for the other half.

"What is it, princess?" he asked, taking a bite and raising his eyebrows in delight.

"Don't humor me, you know I did something wrong," you grumbled. While you have overcome most of the baking learning curve your past two weeks in the kitchen, most of your baked goods being tasty enough to sell upfront (when Jimin decorated them), they were not perfect.

You were still learning your way around the chemistry it takes to make the 'perfect' cookie.

"You did, but we'll figure it out" he confessed as he shoved the rest of the baked good in his mouth before clapping his hands, "C'mon walk me through it," he ordered and you turned back to your work station with a sigh,

You both loved and hated Jimin's guidance. Loved because he was brilliant in the kitchen and caught your mistakes in a heartbeat, he was eager to teach you and rarely judged you for your incompetence. You hated it because you felt embarrassed, you were hired to do a job you weren't excelling at, and it took a hit on your ego.

Not to mention Jimin dropping everything he was doing to help you get it right was also slowing him down when opening up the bakery.

"Are you sure you have time?" you asked peeping at the clock, it was 7:45 you still had a few minutes before the bakery opens at 8. Enough to prepare one more batch of cookies to put in the oven.

"Yeah I'm good, Jungkook had a hard open this morning, I just came in a little earlier than you did so the kid could take a nap," he says with a shrug.

The bakery had two opening shifts; the 'hard open' has a report time of 4:30 am where the bakers have to prepare all the bread, breakfast pastries, and any custom orders for the day. And the soft open starts at 7 am.

Lucky for you, you hadn't proven valuable enough to qualify for the hard open just yet, and you were clinging to your mornings of sleeping in as you slowly passed through your 'new girl' phase at the bakery.

"Jungkook? Really I didn't even see him," you said surprised, certain the two of you would have crossed paths on his walk home.

But when you turned and looked at the apron hooks at by door, you saw his apron, which simply stated, Let's get this bread, was hanging front and center, confirming he had come by today.

Jimin smiled a knowing smile, "That's because he went to nap in the apartment upstairs," Jimin teased. "Now come on we have cookies to make."

You reached for the ingredients, and you and Jimin carefully measured out before turning to the mixture, "So the apartment upstairs, is that one of your safe houses?" you asked tentatively.

You were slowly, but surely introducing yourself into BTS's world the past two weeks of working here, asking Jin and Jimin and any of the other members who came by to visit tentative questions about the gang's inner workings.

Jimin grinned, amused, "Kind of, it's definitely a safe place for our members to use, but we don't put anyone up there if they're on the run. Can't risk having the place raided- it's bad for business." he added as an afterthought as you looked at him with a raised brow.

"Why else would they need a safe place?" you asked, confused on what dilemma the men you were slowly getting to know could worm their way into and not out.

"Well, Army comes from all parts of life," Jimin started with a shrug. "A lot of them join because they don't have anywhere to go, or they need a place to getaway. The apartment upstairs is for people like them, people who need to escape their homes." Jimin explained.

That was one thing you could never see to make yourself forget about BTS as much as you want to write them off as criminals and be upset with Hoseok about what he has done.

They honestly were trying to make Alcorn a better place for the forgotten. The kids who can't help but have the circumstances dictate their outcomes. Who has no way to better their resources on their own?

When Army takes the tattoo, an inversion of the inner circle's symbol, they traditionally get it placed on their forearms, but some can choose to have it on their upper arm or chest. They can also choose its size.

You met a member who had the small shape in the fleshy crook between their thumb and pointer finger, Getting the tattoo in a small place ensured that it was easy to cover or remove if they chose to leave BTS. A concept you were still trying to wrap your head around because of the series of dizzying rules that follow it.

"Well, that's your problem," Jimin laughed as he watched you distractedly sift your dry ingredients into the mixer.

"What am I using the wrong sized sifter?" you asked, confused as you looked for another tool nearby to check if there even was a size difference.

He laughed, "No, but you put your sugar in as a dry ingredient, have you been doing that this whole time?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes, why wouldn't I sugar is dry" you sad dumbfounded

"No, the sugar counts as a wet ingredient," he chided

"But it's dry its-" you couldn't form words as you tried to process what he was telling you, looking between him and the bag of sweet crystals in outrage.

He giggled at your expression, "It's treated like a wet ingredient because it's soluble it dissolves better in the liquid, making the texture softer and less gritty." You growled at his explanation, it made perfect scientific sense, but you were still infuriated by sugar being identified as the wrong physical property.

"Well what about salt is it property fluid as well?" you snapped accusingly,

Jimin couldn't help but giggle at your frustration, "No salt can go in as dry, because the cookies rely on the chemical reaction of the salt to control the rate the dough releases carbon dioxide," he explained simply.

You blinked at him expression vacant as you processed what he was saying, Jimin sighed; clearly, you didn't pay much attention in your college chemistry class. "It keeps from making giant air bubbles," he dumbed down, and your eyes lit up in understanding.

You grunted in frustration as you watched Jimin dump your dry batter out of the mixer. Before you could think to stop yourself, you reached for a handful of sugar out of the back and threw it in his face in frustration.

"Hey, what are you doing!" Jimin demanded as you pelted him with another hit

"I'm splashing you; what else would you call it" you teased as you threw another handful showering his apron, which proudly had Hot Buns embroidered across it, in the sweet crystals.

"Look at how WET you are. You're absolutely soaked," you continued as you berated him much to his distress.

"What's going on?"

You turned at the gravelly sound of Jungkook's morning voice, seeing the boy squinting in the bright light of the kitchen.

"Koo, thank goodness this insane woman was attacking me." Jimin hissed at you.

You threw one more pinch of sugar before you smiled sheepishly as you were caught in your childish antics, thankful it was Jungkook and not Jin who walked in on you blatantly making a mess of his kitchen. You looked down as you remembered your place.

"I'll grab the broom," you murmured as you moved to clean up your mess.

"I'm sure you deserved it," Jungkook told his brother as he put up a hand to stop you. Grabbing the broom from the wall himself, "I got it you go open up front Ellie" he mumbled tiredly as he began sweeping.

You smiled at him in gratitude and reached to ruffle his hair endearingly, before sticking your tongue out at Jimin, who just muttered "Unbelievable" under his breath as he turned back to his work station.

You had already started the coffee and filled up the display area when you were waiting for your cookies to bake. So you only needed to unlock the front door and add today's specials to the chalkboard menu on the counter before Sugar Daddy was in business for the day.

"Mornin' princess," you heard a tired voice mumble, and you looked up from the curling S in the word 'chicken salad' to see Yoongi in front of the counter swaying where he stood like he was at risk of falling asleep right there.

You set down the chalk as you greeted him, quickly rinsing your hands off and fixing a large iced Americano before he could even make the order himself.

"Anything for breakfast?" you asked as you handed him the cup, watching with a satisfied smile as he slipped the reusable straw you had given him a week prior. Yoogi simply grunted before taking a long sip of his drink.

"I'm good," he said with a satisfied smile, already looking more alert as the caffeine instantly revived him, there was even more color to his cheeks.

"Okay, that will be $2.75," you chirped in your best customer service voice, but your hands didn't move for the iPad that made up your register.

"Cute," Yoongi laughed before turning away with a smirk, "You got jokes, Ella, keep it up, and I might tip you one day," he called over his shoulder before letting himself out of the store. You gritted your teeth.

Your first day of handling the register by yourself, Min Yoongi came in and ordered an Americano, when you rang him up he gave you a dismissive, 'put it on my tab,' before stepping out of the growing line of the morning rush behind him. You were frantic as you searched for the setting where you could open tabs, watching in distress as Jimin quickly handed his elder the drink, and he made his way out the store, all while impatient customers tapped their foot in front of you.

"I don't know how to open a tab," you finally called to Jimin after he came to check on what the hold up was. Jimin let out a loud belly laugh amused by your distress as he closed out Yoongi's order with a simple, "He never pays."

You never got an explanation as to why or how that happened, but you do know Yoongi drinks at least 10 ten iced americanos a day. While the diluted espresso wasn't a huge financial strain, you wondered how many disposable cups Jin lost to Min Yoongi each week.

You were always a bit of an environmentalist and had taken personal responsibility to try and reduce Yoongi's waste output. He accepted your gift of a reusable compact straw he could attach to his keychain, noting it made his drink taste cooler when he sipped through it.

But you were still working on how to get him to reuse his cups. The man was unwilling to carry around a reusable one all day, claiming it was a hassle and didn't want to wash it.

Environment and economics aside, there was the whole other concern that you were fairly certain Yoongi drank more coffee than water. And you were worried his little heart was going to give out from the caffeinated strain one day.

"Cute handwriting," Jungkook whispered over your shoulder, making you startle and causing you to mess up the flower you were doodling next to the lunch special.

You pouted, sending him a small glare as he smiled sheepishly, "I'm going to get you a bell to wear around your neck, so you don't sneak up on me like that," you threatened as you smudged the haywire petal.

Jungkook smirked as he took the chalk from you, "You going to have to ask a bit more nicely if you wanna see me in a collar," he teased as he drew a perfect flower over yours. You flushed at his comments as you turned away.

You and Jungkook had gotten closer in the few weeks you had been working at the bakery. Apparently, he was grounded by his gang dad's for a situation you still didn't understand, and part of his punishment involved working opening shifts at the bakery before class.

He was starting to get more comfortable around you, and the shy bashful Jungkook you had been acquainted with two weeks prior had faded in your shared mornings kneading dough in the kitchen.

To your dismay, he had grown bold and cocky, and a never-ending pain in your ass as he wasn't afraid to joke and tease you anymore. And if you thought bashful Jungkook was dangerous, you had nothing to prepare you for his confident persona.

"I wouldn't need a bell if you stayed aware of your surroundings," he pointed out as he continued to sketch a cute kitten on the bottom of the menu.

You sighed, "It's too damn early for this Jeon," you murmured as you made your way to the coffee station, grabbing your personal mug and pouring your coffee and cream into it. Before reaching for Jungkook's to-go cup to fix his drink.

"It's always too early or too late when are we going to talk about this?" he asked, turning to face you. "I'm not going to be able to walk you home every night, ya know."

"Not even if I ask nicely," you asked over the rim of your cup, batting your eyelashes at him innocently. He scoffed, but you could see the blush creeping up his neck as you wormed your way under your skin.

"Jungkook, I've lived in Alcorn for four years now, not once has anyone got the best of me," you gave him a look that clearly said unlike you, "I'm pretty sure I'm fine," you finished as you turned back to steaming the caramel syrup into his milk.

"Things are different now," he argued.

"No, they're not, Kook I can handle my own," you sighed, growing tired of the back and forth, asking yourself why you were even making this ungrateful brats coffee.

"Ooh, are we talking about how Ella can or can not kick ass?" Jimin asked as he made his way from the kitchen with a tray full of muffins.

Your concentration broke as his outburst, and a large portion of milk plopped into Jungkook's mug, ruining the heart you were practicing in the drink. "No," you hissed in frustration, grabbing the caramel sauce to doodle a smiley face over your mistake. Jungkook smirked as he watched you work more willing to hold his tongue when his coffee was on the line.

And to your relief, the bell chimed as customers made their way in the bakery. You brushed past Jungkook, handing him his drink as you took your place at the register, effectively ending the conversation as you greeted the customer. He sighed but surrendered for now.

Jungkook has been pushing to give you self defense lessons since your first day at the bakery. While BTS made sure to keep an eye on you while investigating the Black Tips incident.

Jin got word that the men who ambushed Jungkook, were there for him in advance. And while they could assume the leek came from one of Sylvia's men if not the trafficker himself, no one has found out why Jungkook would be a target—not finding any leads from the Black Tips themselves.

Jungkook was nervous, he was used to their being a target on his back, but no one had ever had the guts to aim for it before. And while he got away that night, he hated knowing he dragged you into this mess. He couldn't stand the thought of you being in danger of helping him. He needed to know you could protect yourself if you somehow ended up on your own.

Jungkook took a quick sip of his coffee, trying to keep his face neutral despite the incense sweetness that attacked his tongue. While it was true, he favored a sweeter drink like a caramel macchiato in the afternoons; he preferred something stronger like a plain coffee with one cream and two sugars in the morning.

Not to mention the amount of syrup you used to decorate his drinks when you failed at latte art was enough to give him a cavity. Jungkook couldn't bring himself to complain, though.

He liked the gesture of you taking the effort to make him a cup every morning too much. He smiled to himself as he grabbed his backpack and headed to his morning classes.

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The bakery had a steady flow of customers that morning, and the constant work kept you busy enough to keep your mind from wandering during your shift. But as you got off that afternoon to head to your classes, you couldn't help but dwell on the thoughts you tried your hardest to avoid.

It has been two weeks since you talked to Hobi.

Well really talked to him, he still sent you text every evening to check-in that you were safe, and you were guilty of doing the same if you ever heard too many police sirens or gunshots in the night.

But check in's aside this was the longest you had gone without seeing him since your friendship started.

You missed his unannounced arrivals at night where the two of you would eat junk food and put on movies only to talk over them, or when he would call you to come downstairs to help him test drive a car, and you would beg for mercy on your life as he sped down winding, back roads blasting the music so loud you felt the bass dance in your bones.

You struggled to focus on your lectures through the afternoon, before finally settling for mindlessly taking notes and hoping you could piece together the information on your own later.

You had a test in one of your classes two days from now and planned on grabbing lunch on campus and staying at the library late into the evening to prepare, but you couldn't see yourself focusing by then either.

You decided to go to the gym after your last lecture.

Your university had a free gym for students on campus, and while you frequented the cardio exercise classes like Zumba, there was nothing quite like running till you can't think anymore on the treadmill or lifting weights to clear your head. You figured getting your frustration out with your workout would help you think more clearly with how you should approach the Hoseok situation.

After your lecture let out you made your trek across campus to head to the gym; it was around 4 pm that weird hour that wasn't quite afternoon but wasn't quite evening, where students that weren't in classes didn't know what to do with themselves and usually found themselves submitting the hour to Tick Tock in the Student Union, so the gym was relatively empty.

You were a frequent rule breaker and left your gym bag in your locker between visits, despite what the signs in the locker room ask, so you always had a change of clothes for when sparattically decided to workout.

You were quickly reminded why that was a rule when you opened the door to the musty scent of your dirty work out clothes. You were obviously in need of a fresh set.

You made a mental note to bring your gym bag home and bring back a fresh set next time you came to campus as you moved for the changing areas.

You scrunched your nose at the musty smell. Before reminding yourself, you were going to stink no matter what after your workout and forced yourself into the smelly electric blue compression leggings and sports bra it was one of your favorite sets the color made it look bold despite its minimalist design. Not to mention the leggings made your ass look great.

You weren't an athlete by any means growing up, but you took advantage of the resources provided to you when you started college determined to fight off the dreaded freshman 15.

You attended several workout classes with Daewon, and outside of classes, the two of you explored a majority of the equipment in the gym, watching a number of Youtube videos for guidance, and slowly the two of you formed a baseline work out routine that you still clung to today.

You weren't a regular at the gym, there was a time in your life where you attended Zumba weekly, between your afternoon classes, but the chaos of the last month of your life robbed you of that habit too. Other than Zumba, you mostly turned to the gym when you needed a sweaty distraction or when you were avoiding your schoolwork.

Your mind viewed working out as it did cleaning; it was productive enough to excuse you from doing your work without feeling like the quitter you were. It also meant you did it the most when you had a ton of studying to do.

You secured your hair into a quick but effective braid down your back, not bothering to check how nice it looked in the mirror before heading out on the gym floor.

You stretched quickly before hopping on a treadmill telling yourself you would put in a quick mile as a warm-up, putting your headphones in and allowing your mind to surrender to the music as you got your heart rate up a little.

Nine minutes later, you were walking out your cool down as you scanned the weights area, determining what looked the least crowded so you could get started without having to interact with anyone.

You settled for taking the vacant pulley machine and worked through your usual weight routine, focusing first on your biceps and then your chest. When your arms felt like they were equal parts on fire and made of jelly, and your mind fell into that pleasant, empty haze, you had mercy on yourself and moved to wipe the machine down.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you cooled down, and saw your face, chest, and upper arms were a splotchy red from the strain, and a layer of sweat coated your entire body.

You knew you weren't attractive when you worked out, but you always admired yourself a bit anyways.

You were flushed, your hair was frizzing along the edge, and strands of hair escaped from your braid and stuck out wildly in all directions.

All and all, you looked like the definition of a hot mess.

But you were proud of your body for serving you well. You were more aware of the strength in the muscle under your skin, the way they swelled or bulged from your arms wasn't feminine or delicate, but you found it beautiful nonetheless.

Taking a minute to rest, you mindlessly unlocked your phone and immediately found yourself opening your messages to Hoseok out of habit.

You hadn't checked in on him in two days, and you didn't respond to his text from this afternoon. Your thumb hovered over the screen hesitantly before you finally shut it off and tucked it back in your pocket.

You still didn't know if you wanted to avoid Hoseok or hug him and makeup.

You decided you weren't tired enough if you could still think about this.

You turned the music up on your headphones in an attempt to blast out the thoughts swirling in your mind and headed for the leg press machine. You did a quick circuit targeting your quads and inner thighs on a few of the machines before making your way to the Smith machine for assisted barbell squats.

You embraced the burn in your glutes as you locked the bar back in its holder after your first rep, rolling the stiffness out of your shoulders as you counted down from thirty.

You were never good at making yourself wait or rest between reps, and because of that, you were prone to fatigue yourself faster.

You took a moment to stretch your arms across yourself and roll your neck, focusing on how the tension left your body before you moved to settle the barbell once again across your shoulders.

You spread your legs abd centered your weight, and with a quick flick of your wrist, you released the bar from its holder, dropping the full weight onto your shoulders. You let your breath sizzle through your teeth as you squatted down, taking care to keep your knees from going out past your toes, so you targeted the right muscle group.

You stared at yourself in the mirror you were facing making sure you kept the correct form when a sudden movement from behind you caught your attention.

Your eyes flicked across the mirror to lock in on the reflection of no other than Jeon Jungkook.

You let your lips turn into a slight smirk through your panting as you watched his arm come to a stuttering stop mid hammer curl as you continued your squats. You watched his eyes observe the motion of your body, ignoring the warmth in your stomach as you took him in return.

Jungkook usually wore oversized clothes on a daily basis. You couldn't understand why now that you took him in in his muscle shirt that exposed the entirety of his beautiful arms.

For the first time, you took in the full extent of the artwork that decorated his right arm. The tattoo's dark ink dotted their way up to his arm and his back shoulder. The placments were spread out enough that it wasn’t quite a full sleeve, but you were certian it would be within a few years.

You always knew Jungkook was big, you could tell by his broad shoulders and a hint of muscle you saw when he tied his apron around his tiny waist, but you didn't realize the extent of his strength.

You drank in the sight of him now, the defined lines of the his triceps and bicepts. And his toned obliques you could peek slightly from the low cut of the arm hole of his shirt.

The guy could probably bench press you if he wanted to.

You smiled to yourself as you reached 10, and pushed to lock the barbell back in its holder. You hope Jungkook didn't notice how your knees shook slightly or that you locked the bar in the clamp lower than the one you were initially using. Your trembling legs were too weak to fully extend to the one level with your shoulders.

You bide your time rolling out your shoulders as you watch him through the mirror. The punk hadn't taken his eyes off your ass yet, and you smirked as you turned to face him.

"Something catch your eye, Kook?" You called him with a saccharine smile.

He blinked in his daze before clearing his throat and stammering, "Ella, oh nothing at all. I was just checking your form."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to hide your smile as you watched the blush crawl up his cheeks.

You tried not to let the thought of Jungkook checking you out in the gym get to you head. But it totally did, and you couldn't help but tease him more, "I hope you were pleased with what you saw."

His mouth curled into a smirk as he recovered and remembered himself, "I must say I was very impressed," he offered, and you smacked his arm as you sat on the other end of the bench, watching as he resumed his rep.

"I didn't know you came here," you started, he looked at you with a raised eyebrow as if asking, have you looked at me?

You scoffed, "I meant this gym stupid. I assumed your fancy mansion had its own gym in it. Jimin told me you guys trained there."

Trained for what? You didn't know.

Jungkook placed his weight on the ground before straightening, "Oh well, I come between classes to pass the time, beats traveling across town," he explained as he rolled out his shoulders.

Right, you remember him saying something about having evening lectures on Tuesday and Thursdays.

"How long until your class?"

He smiled, "Long enough to take you upstairs and teach you a thing or two," the shock must have been apparent on your face because he quickly amended, "Self defense! There's a bunch of mats upstairs for the kickboxing classes they have; I could show you a few things."

You sucked your teeth as you considered.

You had no reason to be hostile and say no, there was nothing wrong with being able to defend yourself.

At first, you were defensive because it made it all too real. You were worried knowing how to protect yourself would somehow drag you deeper into Jungkook's world, but you now realize you were in it, whether you were ready to be or not. It was best, safest, to be able to protect yourself.

"Alright, Jeon, but don't pull anything stupid," you warned as you got up and headed for the second level of the gym.

"Alright, we'll start simple," Jungkook started as he approached you, you were standing on the center of the mat in one of the boxing practice rooms. He was slowly pacing around you reminding you of a preditor looking at you as if you were his prey, you weren't going to lie it made you want to wrap your arms around yourself self contiously, but you held your ground and kept your hands at your side.

“I’m going to show you a handful of moves that you can use to get out of someoe grip if they try attacking you or grabbing you. Everything will be strictly offense.” he explained settling to stand infront of you.

You nodded along to confirm you understood.

“An important part of these moves is to get the guy down and then disengage no beat his ass. I think they’ll be super useful and be a bit more effective than throwing a shoe at someone.” He said with a smirk.

You smiled cheekily at him, “Hey don’t hate. You’re just jealous because you could never be as resourcful as I am.”

He rolled his eyes with a scoff before clapping his hands together and changing his stance, "I'll start by showing you how to get out of someone's grip if they grab you by your hair," he said, approaching you.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," you said quickly, putting your hands up in defense, "We don't play dirty, no hair pulling," you warned as you backed away.

Jungkook flashed a bunny smile in amusement, "Unfortunately, a lot of guys do. If I remember correctly that's exactly how they got you down the night you saved me” he teased, but hesitated as he saw your discomfort.

"Don't worry I'll be gentle I promise." he said softly as he approached you again raising his arm as if reaching for your braid.

You shook your head furiously, "Aren't we supposed to practice on you first?" you argued. "Ya know so that you can explain it better." you pushed trying to delay the inevitable. What have you gotten yourself into?

"Ella, I don't have a ponytail," he started, but your hand quickly shot for the back of his head, entangling your fingers in the soft waves and gripping them lightly. Jungkook let a sigh escape his lips as you tugged his head back slightly, and he had to blink to remember himself before he continued.

"Okay," he said breathlessly as he centered his weight, "A lot of people have the instinct to pull away or try to run, that won't work," he started.

"What you do is you swing your arm around up and over theirs, and pinch their elbow into the crook of yours and push down," he gently acted out his explanation.

You stumbled quickly, releasing your grasp on his hair as you felt pressure pushing your elbow opposite of how the joint naturally bends.

You promptly found yourself on your knees, your arm still trapped in his hold.

"Once you have them here, you can punch them and run," he said, throwing a mock punch at your face. You tried, and failed not to flinch.

"These moves don't require strength. You have to use surprise to your advantage and, most importantly, disengage and get away as soon as possible." He explained as he released you and helped you up.

"Now your turn," he reached for your braid, grabbing the part closest to the base of your skull and tugging slightly, but not enough to hurt.

You resisted the urge to try and pull out his grasp and swung your arm into an arch like he showed you tucking his elbow between yours before pushing down.

It was a little clumsy, and he didn't go down at first, but as you increased the pressure and shoved down a little harder, Jungkook released his grip on your hair and fell to his knees with a thud.

"Now punch me," he ordered through his teeth.

"I'm not-" he looked up at you defiantly, and you settled with a mocking air punch making a quite "Bam" as a sound effect before pulling away.

"I'm not comfortable hitting you," you said, twiddling your thumbs together.

Jungkook looked like he wanted to argue, but this was your first session, and he didn't want to get you too far out of your comfort zone.

He hoped you would be willing to show him what kind of punches you were packing later on down the road, maybe with boxing gloves so you would be more comfortable.

"Fine, but let's do it again to make sure you have the hang of it," he offered.

You ran the exercise again, each time Jungkook was careful not to pull your hair too hard, but he did start resisting a bit more to encourage you to move and fight more quickly. And while it should have taken you a little longer to get him to the ground each time you attacked with new vigor, making sure you moved fast enough that he couldn't resist too much.

Jungkook smiled at you as you hovered your fist in front of his face menisenly, your face stelled and set in concentration. After a few more rounds of grabbing your hair at various angles, the defensive move came naturally to you, and you got him on the ground successfully each time.

"Good, good, okay, let's move on," he said breathlessly as you helped him up from the ground.

"I'm going to teach you an easy one; it's what you do if a man grabs you around the wrist." He explained, walking closer.

"Grab my wrist, and grip it tight," he ordered.

You did as he instructed, although your fingers couldn't fully wrap around it.

If he moved to pull out of your grip, he could do it easily, but to your surprise, he didn't yank downwards like your dad always told you to do to get out of a man's grasp.

"You can yank and pull all you want, and that may get you out, but some guys will be able to just grip harder, and you're more at risk of injuring yourself," he explained, giving a light tug in your grasp.

"Instead, place your other hand on top of his to hold it down. Use the hand in their grasp to grip their wrist for a more secure hold. Then swing your arm in a large circle, grab their wrist, and push down."

You stumbled with a gunt as he followed through with his actions, using his free hand to hold yours against his wrist, and wrapping his captured hand around your wrist as he swung his arm in a large arc, effectively taking your arm and positioning at an awkward angle behind you before shoving you forward and onto your knees.

Jungkook was careful not to push too hard to hurt you, but the discomfort was inevitable.

"Alright, then you push him down and disengage, do not try to keep hold of a man that's bigger than you. Safety always comes first run if you can," he explained before releasing your hand and helping you up.

"This move is a good one because it doesn't require strength. You're stronger than I thought you were, but guys still have weight and height to their advantage." Jungkook explained as he reached for your wrist, effectively circling his fingers around it to the point where his thumb and middle finger overlapped.

You tried not to smile to yourself at the thought of Jungkook recognizing your strength. You never liked to be considered delicate.

Jungkook once again explained the maneuver walking you through each step and critiquing your hand placement before you were ready to try it in real-time.

You tried the maneuver on him swinging his arm before pushing him to the ground, and while he resisted the pressure, you smiled in victory as he fell to his knees.

"That was good, but a bit quicker, the surprise is a contributing factor, anyone who's expecting it can get out of it," he offered. He drilled you on the process a few more times, making sure you moved in one fluid motion instead of initiating it step by the step before ordering you to try with your non-dominant hand.

It was your third try with your non-dominant hand when things went wrong.

You grew a little vicious moving faster so you could get him down before he had time to react or resist, and you shoved a bit harder. He fell to his knees with a harsh thud, but it was the way that he desperately yanked his wrist out of your grip with a sharp cry that set off red flags in your head.

"Jungkook," you cried, falling on your knees next to him to see him cradling his arm to his chest.

"It's fine," he said through his teeth. You glared as you reached for his hand, remembering that it was the same wrist he injured three weeks prior when he got jumped.

"Oh, you idiot, where is your brace?" you demanded as you inspected the swollen appendage.

He didn't respond, only smiled at you sheepishly. "Have you been lifting weights without it? Have you let it rest at all?" you demanded as you got up, pulling him up with you and dragging him out the boxing area, you had claimed.

You continued to lecture him and gripe under your breath as you dragged him, by the good wrist, down the stairs, and through the gym to the ice machine where you wrapped a few cubes of ice into a wad of paper towels.

"Here idiot," you offered grumpily.

"Is this how you talk to all your patients, Doctor?" he asked mockingly as he took the makeshift ice pack.

Bedside manner was something you were going to have to work on in med school.

You get easily frustrated when people blatantly ignore doctors' orders and further jeopardize their health. If you have liver problems, stop drinking. If you have lung problems, don't smoke. If you have an injured wrist, put it in a damn brace and don't lift weights or pick fights with people.

You told him as much as you watched him ice it for a few minutes though the action did little to help the swelling go down.

"Are you mad at me?" Jungkook asked softly, not quite looking at you.

He peeked up to see your eyes soften a bit at the question, "I'm not mad, just a little frustrated. You're my friend, and I don't want to see you hurt. Especially since I was the one that hurt you," you explained, reaching to brush his sweaty bangs behind his ears.

Jungkook tried to ignore how his chest tightened at the simple action, "It was my fault, you were only doing what I told you to do." he offered, not wanting you to feel responsible for his stupidity.

You didn't look up at him, instead focusing down on his wrist, turning and angling it in a way that you could better check the swelling.

"I have supplies at home, I could wrap it if you like?" you offered

"I'm really fine. It doesn't even- yah! Okay," he hissed as you applied light pressure to it. You smiled in victory, and the two of you parted ways briefly to grab your bags before meeting back up. Jungkook drove to school, so you didn't have to worry about catching the bus.

It was a quick drive from campus to your apartment, Jungkook nimbly avoided the traffic of main roads by cutting through neighborhoods you didn't even know connected.

"You know this city like the back of your hand, don't you?" you asked, surprised by how quickly you were pulling into your apartment complex.

"It comes with the job," he said with a shrug.

You didn't know what 'the job' was. If it was driving a getaway car or dealing drugs, or... you couldn't even think up other possibilities.

You couldn't muster up the courage to ask him as you made your way up the stairs to your door. A brown and black cat with bright green eyes waited outside your door, meowing impatiently as you approached.

"That's Jeremy," you introduced as you bent down to give him pets. Jungkook smiled at the ridiculously human name for a cat.

"He's a stray, but I leave food out for him. Hoseok won't let me bring him in the apartment. ‘Says he'd trash the place," you explained as you grabbed the little bowl you left outside your door and unlocked your apartment.

"But he's so cute, how can you resist?" he questioned giving the cat some pets himself.

"I know!" you whined, setting the now filled bowl of cat food back on the ground. "I'm thinking about getting him a collar, though, just to make sure animal control doesn't come to scoop him up," you said offhandedly.

"I say you just let him move in, fuck Hoseok. We're mad at him anyway, right?" Jungkook said jokingly.

You laughed along as you made your way to the living room area, "Take a seat," you ordered, gently pointing to the couch, "I'll go grab my first aid kit."

Jungkook sat down immediately, sinking into the worn brown couch as he inspected the apartment. It wasn't quite a studio, the entire front area was open to what was the kitchen, dining room, and living room, but there was a door that gave the bedroom some privacy, and another door that leads to what he assumed was the bathroom.

The apartment wasn't dirty, but it was well lived in.

The front was slightly crowded, the entertainment center and the coffee table in front of the couch were nearly touching. You had two bean bags stacked in the corner next to the sofa, probably for when you had more guests. And there was an array of fuzzy blankets draped over the couches and piled next to the bean bag chairs.

The one window next to the door had various potted plants scatted in front of it and a few were hanging from ropes in the ceiling.

Most of them looked the be herbs and cacti. Jungkook could tell by the way sprouts were missing their leaves that you most likely cooked with them.

The natural smell of the plants scented the air with a mild and refreshing spice scent of mint, basil, and rosemary. But the strongest scent came from the pot of wild lavender that was placed next to the couch. The floral scent put him at ease naturally and reminded him of the time Jin put lavender drops in his diffuser when he complained about having a hard time sleeping.

The kitchen was small, the cabinet doors were on crooked hinges, and perhaps had chipped paint, but you had taped little slivers of miss-matched scrapbook paper over the worst spots. And the look was pleasantly charming. There was no counter space, but he saw a small card table in the corner with a knife block and cutting board on it that you must use for your prep station when your cooking.

The dining room table had three miss-matched chairs, but the little cushions on them somehow tied the whole look together and made it seem like a matching set.

Everything looked thrifted and worn, but the little touches you added, the cushions and pillows on the couch, the small tapestry of cacti Jungkook was pretty sure every college girl ordered for her dorm room, and the fairy lights that lined the living room walls made the place feel cozy and homey.

He could see a little part of you in every piece of the apartment, and because of that he immediately felt at ease, and at home in it. He imagined you and Hoseok must spend many nights in the cozy room, cooking dinner together, or having long movie nights.

He couldn’t help but slip himself into the fantasy and wondered if there would ever be a day where this apartment would be a familiar comfort. If he would know the story of how you got those chairs or where the photos pinned to the refrigerator door were taken.

You were thankful that the front of your apartment was at least presentable with the surprise company. Your room was a train wreck you planned to keep hidden. After digging through your closet for your first aid kit, you cleared your coffee table of its mess of textbooks and flashcards and set your first aid kit on top. Jungkook's eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he took in the size of the kit. It looked fit for an EMT.

You detoured to the kitchen, first grabbing an ice pack out the freezer and handing it to him.

"You might have strained it a little while you were driving, I want as much swelling as possible to go down before I wrap it," you explained.

Before you ruffled through the kit, moving several tools, Jungkook didn't quite know the purpose for, until you grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen. "Take this for the swelling," you ordered, handing him a cup of water.

"Thanks, I'm sorry to put you through the trouble," he said sheepishly.

"No, I don't mind." you amended. And it was true, helping people like this, easing their pain and making them more comfortable was something you took pride in doing.

You could feel the approaching awkward silence, and you took the chance to ask the question that was nagging at the back of your head.

"So earlier you said knowing the city 'comes with the job' what do you do? Ya know, for BTS?" you asked hesitantly as you pushed back at the cuticle of your thumb. You were lucky not to have a nail-biting habit, but you did have a habit of pushing back your cuticles when you got fidgety.

"Oh umm, it kinda changes over time, the inner circle has responsibilities and such, but our duties are pretty ambiguous. We don't have assigned jobs like Armys do.." Jungkook said hesitantly.

You looked at him expectantly, and he continued, "Like Suga Hyung is head of surveillance, but he also does investigations and fieldwork and such. And Jin Hyung is head of intelligence, but he also does a lot of the business for BulletProof, and he completely runs Sugar Daddy. Jimin is our arsonist, but he can fight, and deal, and do a lot of things really," he said, rambling.

"I'm sorry, did you just say Jimin is an arsonist?" you asked in disbelief. Jungkook looked at you, shocked but nodded.

"He's really good at science stuff, that's why he bakes so good." Jungkook offered as an explanation.

You think back to the chemistry lectures you had to sit through every time Jimin taught you a new recipe. It made sense, but you were still surprised. You would expect something like arson to be more in V's field with the crazy look in his eyes.

"Okay, but you still haven't told me what you do," you pushed.

At this point, Jungkook's ice pack was starting to drip, and you were probably good to wrap his wrist, but you were too caught up in better understanding BTS and everything that they do.

Jungkook huffed out a nervous laugh, "I do lots of stuff. When I first started, I was dealing. I worked my way up to more of the pharmaceuticals and medical-grade stuff. I mostly sold insulin or other simple medicines like that. The pharmacy industry is way corrupt, and poor people need meds too, ya know?" he rambled.

You nodded in agreement. Pharmaceuticals and health care expenses were something you were continually challenging your teachers on in your ethics class. You hated becoming a doctor knowing health care was a business people monopolized in Alcorn.

"I've helped Suga with surveillance some I really like that. I'm studying software engineering to get better at it. I think I'm faster at hacking than Suga is at this point, but don't tell him I said that. I've also just kind of been the muscle for the inner circle. When RM and Jin have meetings, I always go as back up. I lead training sessions and help teach new recruits how to fight, too." he went on.

Jungkook didn't want to tell you the other reason why he went to meetings.

For some reason, he felt like telling you he's the heir of BTS wouldn't sit with you well. To know that he was training to be a crime lord and was minoring in business so he could perfect the art of embezzlement and make network connections while taking classes with the next generation of Alcorn's businessmen and investors.

He didn’t want to talk about how BTS had a timeline of working its way out the gang scene of the Westside and worm their way into the upper East. RM runs BTS more like a mafia, a family with limitless assets and connections, depending more on his and Jin's charm and connections than violence and brute force to make business deals.

Jungkook also didn't know how to tell you or any of his hyungs that he didn't want to be rich.

He knows he's in no position to complain, he's been living a life of luxury since he was 15, but he knows that money isn't being distributed equitably to Army and other lower ranks of BTS.

RM always reminds Jungkook, it's not their responsibility to share evenly with all of BTS. There would be no assets, no way to recruit more members, no comfort for everyone if they did.

There is nothing to keep Army from climbing their way up the ranks in BTS. RM has the baseline standard of ensuring everyone's needs are met; they have a home and a job. What they chose to do with their potential after that is up to them. You get out of BTS, what you give.

And Jungkook understands that, but he still can't shake the feeling of unease from his chest. That BTS could be using their power and influence, not to invade the markets of the upper East, but instead to make the Westside a better place.

He knew he was stupid for having dreams of non-profits and housing reforms, but he can't keep those feelings from nagging at him from the back of his mind.

Jungkook's rambling fell quiet, and you could see the conflict on his face. Maybe you were pushing for too much too soon. Maybe BTS expected things from Jungkook that he was ashamed of like Hoseok was ashamed.

"I shouldn't have asked," you said, reaching for his hands.

"No, it's okay. It's just more complicated then I realized," he explained as he watched you wipe the water from the ice pack off his arm.

You dug through the first aid kit for some gauze and butterfly strips, "I'm sorry if it's a little tight. I'm a low on gauze, "you said as you started wrapping the bandage, taking care to make sure his hand was set in the proper position.

The two of you fell into small talk as you started to work.

You talked about your classes, what your favorite pastry was at Sugar Daddy. He asked you about where you were from and whether or not you missed your home.

And it was an answer you always struggled to give, because while a piece of you always yearned to be home, to talk in your native tongue, and see your family. You know you could never bring yourself to return home. Alcorn has rooted itself so firmly in you; you don't think you'll ever leave.

You found yourself losing track of time, as you told him stories of the funny cultural differences between your home and Kros. And too soon you noticed the sun had set in your window.

"Jungkook, you missed your class," you exclaimed as you remembered he was only at the gym for a short break.

He flashed his bunny smile as he chuckled, "I missed both of them, but I don’t mind. But I probably should head home soon. I have a ton of homework, and you mentioned you have a test in two days." he said with a sigh. Being such a responsible adult was such a burden sometimes.

He wanted nothing more, but to talk with you more for hours into the night and morning.

"Of course, sorry for keeping you so late, and sorry for the shitty bandage job. I really need to go get more gauze." you rambled nervously as you got up to accompany him on the three-foot walk it takes to get from the couch to your door.

You barely had enough gauze to properly wrap around his wrist, you had to get creative and use tape and butterfly bandaids to stretch across the bits of fabric that doesn’t meet to secure it together.

"It's fine, it's fine," he amended as he laughed nervously, "besides, I have my brace in the car," he admitted nervously—his uninjured hand traveling to rub the back of his neck.

You stared at him in fake outrage, "You had your brace this whole time? Why did you-"

"I wanted to hang out with you," he said, shyly effectively putting your overdramatic reaction to a halt as you flushed.

"Well then ask to grab a coffee or watch a movie, don't waste my precious medical supplies." you teased as you opened the door for him.

His eyes lit up in response as he turned back to face you.

"So would you? Want to hang out again sometime?" he asked his doe eyes shining so bright you swear it was an ability he actively abused.

"I'll have to check my calendar, but I think I can manage to squeeze it in, but first, we should both get through test week," you said, trying to keep a cool tone.

Jungkook’s nose scrunched slightly as he flashed you a bunny toothed smile, and you couldn’t contain your own as he wished you a good night and heading home.

You watch from your door as he made his way down the stairs and to his car. Jungkook turned and looked at you over his shoulder three times as he made the descent, flashing you a small smile and wave each time he did.

Finally, he made it to his car giving one final wave before he buckles in his pulled out of sight. You moved to close the door sighing as you added Jeon Jungkook to the list of confusing emotions spiraling through your life.

You felt a soft nudge and looked down to see Jeremy meowing at you, demanding more food as if he didn't have a full bowl next to him.

You should be scoffing at the audacity of this cat, but instead, Jeon Jungkook has you smiling softly over the memory of how he bent down and gave the kitty some pets while still in his workout clothes from before. The juxtaposition of his tone tattooed arm petting Jeremy’s soft fur would haunt you in the back of your mind for a while.

Jeremy meowed at you again, and you sighed, reaching for his bowl. "Get in here," you called and watched as Jeremy happily trotted into the house.

And you smiled proudly to yourself as you watched the kitty explore his new home, sniffing at your lavender plant with piqued interest.

Fuck Hoseok's rules, You have a pet cat now.

Next >>

#bts fic #jungkook x reader #bts gang au #btsghostie #bangtanhq #bangtanscenery #btsbookclub #btsguild #bts mafia au #gangster jungkook #gangster yoongi #gangster hoseok #ganagster jimin #no harm list

470 notes · View notes

deobienthusiast · 4 years

Text

slightly misunderstood

• pairing: jacob bae (the boyz) x reader

• word count: 2,292 words

• genre: angst, fluff

• warnings: mentions of infidelity, slight insecurity

• notes: kevin is mentioned some because wherever there is jacob there is kevin so of course i had to include him🤍

• requested: yes | no by anon

Waking up this morning had to have been insanely hard. The comfort from your bed, coupled with the rain hitting the windows of your apartment were making it a mission for you to stay in bed. You would have, had you not had plans with your lovely boyfriend, Jacob.

You grabbed your phone, checking the messages as you smiled to yourself.

Angel Boy👼: Good morning my love! I can’t wait for our lunch date this afternoon. Be safe on your way to our restaurant, and I love you!

Leave it to Jacob to always put a smile on your face. You didn’t get much time to spend with Jacob due to his job, so any time you could have a date was a blessing. Jacob was an amazing lover, making sure that you were always knowing just how much he cared for you by both his actions and words.

“Okay,” You said to yourself. “Time to get ready.”

Hopping in the shower, you took your time washing your body and hair before hopping out. You brushed your teeth, drying your hair, and threw on your outfit for the day. You headed down to the stairs, bag and phone in hand, as you grabbed your keys. Your phone buzzed in your hand, letting you know that someone was calling you.

“Are you late, or am I early?” You heard Jacob ask as you giggled.

“I believe you are early, Bae.” You told the boy.

Jacob laughed. “I couldn’t help it. I’m just so excited to see you.”

Shaking your head, you smiled. “Yeah, well now you gotta wait even longer for me to get there. You could’ve saved yourself the waiting time by showing up on time.”

Jacob snorted. “A wise man once said if you’re early you’re on time, if you’re on time you’re late, and if you’re late,”

“You’re left. Yeah, Kevin says that a lot.” The bringing up of your mutual friend, Kevin, made your boyfriend laugh.

“Just hurry. I want to hold you.” He said softly.

Heat rose up your neck and to your face as you spoke. “I’ll be there soon. I’m leaving now, okay?”

You heard a voice in the background that you couldn’t make out as you heard Jacob speak in a sort of hushed tone. “Yeah, I’ll see you when you get here.”

Before you could reply, he hung up, leaving you in a state of confusion. You shook your head, ridding yourself of the funny feeling he just left you as you headed for your car, locking your apartment door behind you.

The drive to the restaurant left you alone in your thoughts as you tried to think of who could have taken Jacob’s attention so fast. You couldn’t get your thoughts to calm down so you decided to call someone who could. Pulling off the road, you dialed Kevin’s number as you waited for him to answer.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” Kevin asked.

You rolled your eyes. “Are you with my date?”

Kevin laughed. “Absolutely not. There is nothing I despise more than being a third wheel to you two. I’ve been at home.”

You frowned. “You haven’t seen Jacob at all today?”

“Nope. Why? Did something happen to him? Is that why you’re calling me? Oh my god, is Jacob missing?” Kevin continued to bombard you with questions as you sighed.

“Kevin,” You hissed, making the boy on the other end of the line quiet immediately. “Jacob is fine. But something does seem off.”

Kevin stayed silent for a moment before speaking. “Like what?”

“We were talking on the phone and towards the end of the conversation, it seemed like someone had grabbed his attention, but he was trying to keep the conversation quiet so I wouldn’t hear.” You told the boy.

He hummed. “Well, I’m sure it was just an old friend. I wouldn’t think too much into it. Jacob is crazy about you. Just talk to him about it when you get to him.”

You sighed. “Okay, thanks anyway Kevin.”

Kevin replied with a ‘you're welcome’ before hanging up as you continued on to meet Jacob. You pulled into the parking lot, smoothing out your clothes as you got out of the car. As you headed towards the door, the open windows gave you a good view of the inside of the restaurant. The beautiful decor, the lovely set up, and Jacob seated with a rather beautiful girl. She was seated quite close to your boyfriend as they talked, and they seemed comfortable. Almost too comfortable.

You watched a little longer as the beautiful girl continued to get closer to your beautiful boyfriend as you tore your eyes away from the view, deciding to just enter the place. You got stopped by a hostess who pulled your attention slightly before you told her that you were meeting someone. She gave you a polite nod as you navigated your way through the restaurant. You rounded a corner as you noticed your Jacob with that same girl. This time they were standing, in each other’s arms. Jacob’s hand sat on her lower back and a smile sat on his face as you walked up to the two.

“Jacob,” You spoke quietly, catching his attention.

The smile that he wore dropped immediately as did his hand.

“Hey, you’re here. I was worried because you were kinda late.” Jacob said with a laugh.

Your eyes stayed on the girl that was by Jacob as you spoke. “Good thing you didn’t leave right?”

Jacob grinned. “I would never leave you. You know that.”

You cocked your head to the side as you finally looked at him. “Do I?”

He gave you a confused look as you spoke. “Who’s she?”

Your hand lifted slightly to point at her as Jacob spoke.

“Oh, she’s an old friend. We go way back.” He told you.

She chuckled slightly at his words. “Just an old friend Jacob?”

He smiled slightly. She introduced herself before excusing herself. Jacob grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles as you watched the girl.

“What was she doing here?” You asked him.

Jacob looked at you. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what was she doing here? Of all your old friends, I’ve never met her before. If I had I’m sure I’d remember her.” You told him.

Jacob sighed as you spoke again. “She’s your ex, isn’t she?”

He nodded as he eyed you. “Yeah, she is.”

“Why were you holding hands and holding your ex, Jacob?” You asked in almost a whisper.

Jacob pulled you down into the chair next to him as he looked at you. “I wasn’t holding her.”

You scoffed. “Yes you were. You were holding her, you were holding her the same way you hold me, looking at her the same way you look at me.”

He shook his head as you continued to speak. “You couldn’t even bother to tell me that she was your ex. I had to figure it out myself.”

You stopped, feeling yourself tear up at the thoughts that were swirling in your head. “Are you cheating on me?”

Your head was down so you missed the way Jacob’s eyes widened in shock at your question. All you noticed was his silence as you stood up.

“Wait, where are you going?” Jacob asked quickly.

“I just need to be alone right now,” You said.

Jacob went to reach for your hand as you pulled away from him. “I can’t do this. I need to be alone and away from you.”

You looked at your boyfriend as he whispered. “You don’t mean that do you?”

Your vision was starting to become blurry from the amount of tears they were holding as you jogged out of the restaurant, leaving Jacob behind. You drove home as safely as possible and locked yourself away in your room. All these questions swirled in your head as your mind stuck on what you saw. Was Jacob cheating on you? If he was, why was he so open about it? Did anyone know? More importantly, did Kevin know?

Your head was spinning as you fell asleep. Quite frankly, you didn’t sleep well at all. Waking up seemed even harder today than it did yesterday. Your eyes hurt, your head hurt, your everything hurt. You just didn’t know what to think. Grabbing your phone, you cursed yourself as you plugged it in.

“Dead.” You muttered.

As you waited for your phone to charge enough to turn on, you went to your bathroom to clean yourself up. The face staring back at you in the mirror made you want to cry more. Your eyes were red and puffy, your nose matching the color of your eyes, and your cheeks were a darker red than both your nose and eyes. Turning on the faucet to the sink, you ran some cold water as you filled your hands with them and splashed your face, trying to reduce the amount of red that was currently consuming your entire face.

Heading back into the room, you grabbed your phone as you noticed the amount of missed calls and texts from not just Jacob, but Kevin. This led you to believe that Jacob told Kevin. Not bothering to check the voicemails and messages, you went downstairs to eat something as there was a knock on the door. Stalking over to the door, you opened it as Kevin looked at you.

“Jesus, why can’t you answer your phone? Do you know how worried I’ve been?” Kevin asked as he walked inside.

You closed the door behind him as you mumbled. “Yeah, sure. Come on in Kevin.”

Kevin continued to ramble on and on about how you didn’t answer your phone before mentioning Jacob.

“So did Jacob tell you?” You asked.

Kevin looked at you. “Jacob just told me that you weren’t answering his texts and calls and that he was worried so he wanted me to try. You scared us both. Thank goodness you’re okay! Why were you even MIA? Did you not go on your date?”

You rolled your eyes. “No I didn’t. Because when I got there, I saw my boyfriend having a date that I must have rudely interrupted.”

“What are you talking about?” Kevin said.

“He was having a date with his ex-girlfriend. Jacob is cheating on me.” You told him.

Kevin stared at you for a moment as he processed your words. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to think about what to say before looking back at you.

“He’s cheating on you,” Kevin said slowly. “How are, do you hear how crazy that sounds? You do know who you are talking about, right? Jacob. Jacob Bae. Your Jacob. The Jacob that wants to marry you, who is obsessed with you, in a good way I may add, cheated on you.”

You picked at your fingers before hearing the door open.

“Kevin,” Your eyes widened as Jacob’s voice filled your ears. “She’s okay.”

Kevin sighed. “Well, kind of. She actually told me something shocking.”

You heard the door close as Kevin looked at him. “You’re cheating.”

“Cheating,” Jacob walked around so he was finally in your vision as you kept your head down. “You really think I’m cheating on you?”

You didn’t answer him as both him and Kevin watched you.

“Okay. I’m going to give you guys some time. Just call me later. One of you.” Kevin said as he headed out.

Both you and Jacob watched before he brought his eyes back to you. “You think I’m cheating on you. Where would you get that idea? Is it from seeing my ex?”

You didn’t answer him as he gently placed his fingers under your chin to lift your head as he made you look at him.

“Baby, I would never cheat on you. You are my entire world. I see a future with you, I want to marry you. Why would I jeopardize that by cheating on you?” He stated softly.

You shrugged, feeling yourself tear up again. “I don’t know. She was just there, and she’s beautiful and you were looking at her.”

Jacob stopped you. “That’s just it. All I did was look at her. Yes, I gave her a hug but that’s it. She was in town to visit her fiancé’s parents. She saw me at the restaurant and just wanted to say hello. That’s it.”

Well now you just felt silly. You had thrown a temper tantrum over nothing. You looked up at him as some tears slipped.

“So you aren’t cheating on me?” You asked him softly.

Jacob smiled as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. I would never do that to you.”

He took a step forward, cupping your face as he wiped the tears from your face. Jacob kissed you softly, dropping his arms to wrap them around your waist. He pulled away momentarily to lay a kiss to your forehead as he spoke.

“I love you, more than anything else on this planet. You are my world, okay? Don’t ever doubt that.” Jacob whispered to you.

You nodded as you finally felt a smile come to your face. Jacob grinned as he kissed you again.

“Now I feel stupid. I ruined our date.” You said with a pout.

Jacob chuckled. “No, you didn’t ruin anything. I promise. And we don’t need to go to a fancy restaurant. We can make up for it right here.”

And that’s what you did. You spent the rest of the day cuddling and letting Jacob tell you just how much he loved you. You even let Kevin know, of course, without filling him in on the ways Jacob showed you.

165 notes · View notes

honeyandhondewberries · 4 years

Note

Maybe something where reader and Leon end up getting into an argument but reader accidentally confesses her love to him in the middle of the argument and Leon is absolutely dumbfounded but it ends cute and tender? 🖤🥺

aw nice finally some ANGST. well, kind of lol since there’s still that cute and tender bit. Reader is gender neutral. Enjoy!

Crack of Thunder (LeonxReader)

Thunder cracks, loud and skull-splitting, and the force of the sound seems to drive the rain harder into the pavement. There’s no time to marvel at the power of nature, nor at the sound of the puddles as your feet splash through them. You have one goal, and it’s that hazy plume of purple hair storming away from you.

“Leon!” you call again. It could be that your voice is drowned out by the rain, but you’re certain that isn’t the reason he’s not turning around.

His strides are longer, but yours are quicker as you throw etiquette to the wind and run. Your feet slap against the cobblestone pavement, spewing new waves of dirty water up onto your ankles. It doesn’t effect you, as every inch of you is already soaking.

“Leon!” you yell over another crack of thunder. He doesn’t turn, but you didn’t expect him to. Either he’s walking faster, or the rain is distorting your depth-perception. You mumble a choice expletive under your breath and break into a sprint.

There are no other pedestrians walking the streets of Wyndon, as this thunderstorm of the century has been warned about on every news outlet this entire week. That doesn’t matter though, not when the risk of losing your best friend is looming more ominously than the pregnant storm clouds above your head. You finally catch up to Leon, and although you barely brush his sleeve, the contact is like atoms colliding with atoms and your skin pricks as if lightning is about to strike.

“What?!” he snaps, and the sound jolts you just as the next crack of thunder does.

“Leon, listen to me,” you plead, gripping onto his sleeves. His tailcoat is soaked through, the burgundy of it as dark as blood. “Please let me explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Leon spits. “You said everything you needed to.”

He jerks his arm back, but your fingernails clutch into the cloth. You’ll risk tearing the seam, you’ll risk digging into his skin, if that’s the only way he’ll listen.

“All I meant was that if all you do is work,” you say in exasperation. “You’ll risk losing the people closest to you!”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” Leon spits. “And the time after that, and the time after that, and the time after that.”

“At least I’m telling you!” you say in return. You wish you didn’t have to raise your voice and add to the chaos around you, but the howling of the wind requires that you yell in order to be heard. “At least I care about you enough to warn you!”

“I’ve been doing fine on my own,” Leon says, and he rips your fingers from his sleeve. “I don’t need you meddling in my life!”

��What about Raihan?” you ask, and you grip his wrist when he tries to turn again. “What about your mum? What about Hop? Ever since you lost the Championship you’ve been avoiding everyone!”

“And everyone is respecting me enough to leave me alone when I ask,” Leon says. He shoves your hand off again, but he’s finally turned towards you. Dark strands of hair are plastered across his face, but his eyes are as hot and blazing as golden fire. “Why are you so persistent?”

“Because I care about you,” you say, and you step closer so he can hear you over the rain. “Arceus, Leon, you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you. You keep running away from everyone, but I know you need support too.”

“Rubbish,” Leon spits, but he’s still not turning away. “You just feel sorry for me. First, you wanted my fame, then when I didn’t have it, you are still for some reason chasing after me. I don’t have anything to offer you.”

You tear your hands through your hair in exasperation and whip off the rain from your fingers. Thunder cracks again, sharp and hot white and barely a mile away. The rain is still driving into the pavement, driving into your skin, as you stare at Leon in desperation.

“I don’t want anything from you! I’m doing this and telling these things for you, Leon!” you huff. “I want to help, I want to be with you throughout this transition!”

Another crack of thunder, another flash of lighting. It shocks everything white, breaks the contrast around you like an overexposed photo. Even with the ethereal light for what wasn’t even a second, Leon is still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Why?” Leon asks. “Why? Why am I so important to you?”

Your hands are shaking in panic, desperation, fear, cold, at the risk of losing the man standing before you.

“I already said!” you yell. “You’re my best mate and I care about you!”

“Is that really all it is?” Leon asks.

“Yes!” you yell in return. “Why wouldn’t I want the best for you? Why wouldn’t I want you to have good relationships with your friends and your family? Why would I want you to work yourself to the bone?”

His brow is furrowed, his head backlit as another bolt of lightning flashes.

“You work and you work and you work, Leon, you always have! I can’t let the man I love just wither away and lose everyone close to him. You finally have a chance to start over and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes you have in the past!”

There isn’t another crack of thunder, there’s no sudden howling of the wind, but for some reason, something in Leon’s eyes shift. It’s like they break, crack, melt into something soft even with the harsh rain splattering around you. And, even over the chaos and whirling of the storm, you somehow catch the words he breathes next.

“You’re… you’re in love with me?”

Your heart stops.

Your breathing stops.

Everything around you stops for a single second. That single second feels like an eternity as you realize what you just confessed. You open your mouth, close it, but as the storm tears the earth raw, your heart is now beating heavy on the pavement.

“I… I didn’t mean to say that,” you stutter. It’s Leon’s turn to reach towards you, and he grips your wrist when you back away.

“But you are?” he asks. “You’re in love with me?”

Your eyes scan his face, then your voice cracks like the thunder.

“Yes.”

The rain splutters against the pavement, thunder rumbles around you, and the tears well hot in your eyes.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m in love with you, Leon.”

The chaos of the storm is nothing compared to the pounding thump of your heart as Leon’s hand grips tighter around your wrist. He’s calculating it seems, though it’s much too slowly compared to how quickly the rain drives into the ground, how it pricks into your skin.

“I-I’m sorry,” you manage out as the tears steam down your face. “I shouldn’t have sai-”

As quickly as the next bolt of lightning strikes, Leon closes the space between you. You cling to him in shock as he leans in, cups your face, and captures your lips in a kiss. It’s wet and it’s quick, much like the rain around you, and Leon pulls back only a moment later.

“I love you too,” Leon says.

Your response is interrupted by another wet kiss as the storm rumbles around you. It seems your argument has melted and dribbled into the cracks between the cobblestone, because Leon is no longer running from you, but rather holding you as close as he can. You are clutching at his sleeves again, though.

“You’re not mad anymore?” you manage out between kisses. Leon barely shakes his head, too preoccupied by your lips.

“You’re the only one who cares enough to chase me down in a thunderstorm,” Leon says. He breathes out a chuckle, warm against your lips.

“Maybe we should find some shelter,” you say. Leon kisses you again.

“I think it’s letting up,” he whispers against your lips, but the next crack of thunder quickly proves otherwise.

Suddenly the thunderstorm doesn’t seem so dark and daunting. It’s chaotic, yes, but the rain and the rumbling sounds a little more melodic than it did before. You wonder if it’s because Leon seems to determined to walk beside you, your hand warm and secure in his.

#abrupt ending but i kinda like it #basically it was a dark and stormy night #classic #confession #love confessions #leon #champion leon #leonxreader #leonxyou #dande #pokemon #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon imagines #pokemon drabbles #storm #storms #kissing in the rain

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coepiteamare · 3 years

Text

you feel like a holiday

pairing: namjoon x female!reader genre: mostly fluff, a tinge of angst, a lot of mishaps, mall workers warnings: language, mentions of mild burns, not using oven mitts, lapslock, a lot of mentions of falling because we’re clumsy word count: 5.8k

summary: floral fantasy is instagram famous, not only for their delectable desserts and drinks, but also the absurdly good looking staff members who’d make celebrities crumble with a mere flicker of a smile. you can’t help but fall for the one temp worker who’s as clumsy as he is good looking.

notes: merry belated holidays ellen @joontella! it’s peppermint, finally delivering your present to you because i am an excellent procrastinator. this was inspired by my friend commenting on how the majority of holiday movie leads seem to be mall elves, so i present to you...a mall elf! in all seriousness, i hope you like it! i also wanted to add your answers to the character (about your favourite and least favourite part of the holidays) so i put those in here. 💕

the moment the clock strikes midnight on december 1st, the mall changes: it shifts from plain decorations and advertisements into a winter wonderland, with fake snow and garlands and tinsel wrapping every square inch of the mall. twinkling snowflakes hang from the ceiling, a cascade of light fragments spinning over the white, mall floor, and the railing are covered in boughs of holly and streams of glitter. it’s absolutely magical. or so every customer thinks.

in reality, all the mall workers are contractually obligated to work after the mall closing hours, to file in through the glass doors and haul decoration after decoration out of the mall storage room, put in elbow grease to transform the mall into something vaguely resembling the north pole and distinctly looking like a christmas catalogue display, only with more glitter and more snowflakes and too much tinsel.

you absolutely despise it.

to be fair, working a graveyard shift to help “build the holiday magic and festive cheer” was written in the job description when you signed on for the job, in fine tiny print you skipped over as you signed your name on the bottom of the paper, forgotten and ignored in the thrill of having a job that pays more than minimum wage. of course there was a catch; there was always a catch.

you kick a plastic reindeer, watch it clatter on to a pile of fake snow from your annoyance. jungkook, the head mall—santa’s elf, you correct yourself—snaps his head in your direction, before running over and propping up the reindeer. “oh no! are you okay, vixen?” he pats the reindeer gently, brushing off glittery cotton fluff from its body before frowning at you. “please be careful with the props! all of these are essential to the holiday magic we provide to the children and mall patrons! what would they think if they came into the mall and we only had 8 reindeers instead of all 9?”

you blink twice, trying to bat away the sleep that’s weighing down your eyelashes and mingling with the glitter from all the ornaments. “that we have 8 reindeers.”

there’s another frown on his face, eyebrows pinching together as he opens his mouth when there’s a loud crash on your right.

there’s a tall, broad man on the floor, tangled in tinsel and lights, next to a ladder, as another tall, broad man and a short, soft looking blonde come rushing out of the floral fantasy cafe doors. the blonde starts cackling immediately—peals of laughter slipping out of his lips as he props himself against the ladder, doubling over at the unfortunate christmas decoration accident—while the tall broad one (the one not tangled up on the floor), sighs and crouches down to try and untangle the other one.

“i swear, i don’t even know how this happened,” you overhear tinsel boy explaining, “i was up on the ladder trying to unwrap the lights and i guess i pulled too hard? i fell over.”

blondie cackles even louder as both of the boys give him a look: tinsel boy looks confused, a little apologetic like he’s done this before, while the other tall, broad one sends him an exasperated look. “yoongi, come help me, so we can all leave early.”

ah, to leave early. you’d like that.

jungkook lets out a tsk and hands you a box of snowflakes to hang from the roof of santa’s workshop, deeming you high risk to the reindeers, and moves on to the next poor, tired santa’s elf who is—heaven forbid—letting the garland hang an extra inch longer than protocol.

you shift your gaze back to your right and meet eyes with tinsel boy who’s looking right at you. a flicker of heat rushes up to your cheek, as he looks away, back to the tall broad one who’s trying to untangle him.

“namjoon,” the broad one sighs in relief when his hands finally find the right loop, “maybe you should try the stickers.”

“absolutely not,” blondie glares, points to the glass window of the cafe, and even from where you are, 2 stores down and 2 across, you can see the abysmal state of the stickers, air bubbles and stuck together where it’s not haphazardly slapped on to glass. “we are two stickers down and tae is going to have my head when he finds out.” his tone softens, eyes as gentle as his smile, when he sees that namjoon has deflated a little, spirit a little squashed like the tinsel around him. “maybe you can decorate the counter namjoon. i think you’d be good at that.”

namjoon brightens up, dimpled smile illuminated by the string lights dancing across his face, and hands yoongi the lights. he gives a mock salute. “yes, sir.”

you bite down your laughter as he skips into the store, nearly tripping over his shoes. at least you’re not alone in your lack of holiday decorating luck, you think as you reach your hand into the box of snowflakes and cough, a storm of dust and glitter puffing up into the air.

god, you hate your job already.

in all fairness, after a 5 hour shift and glitter congested lungs, the mall looks lovely, a christmas card come to life with enough lights to rival a hallmark christmas movie or those drive through holiday light tunnels. if you were a customer, you’d stand gaping at the front entrance too, breath caught in your throat at the festivities. but instead, you’re rubbing bleary eyes from the lack of sleep, back at the steps of the mall less than 6 hours after the nightmare of the graveyard shift. lethargy clings to the edges of your thoughts, smudging cohesion into a whirlpool of fatigue, so you collect what little of yourself you can and trudge your way to floral fantasy.

floral fantasy is instagram famous, not only for their delectable desserts and drinks, but also the absurdly good looking staff members who’d make celebrities crumble with a mere flicker of a smile. there’s a whisper where you live, small talks through the grapevines, about how the requirement to work there is to look like someone who’d make models cry. rumour has it every single worker has been recruited by a talent agency, only to all be turned down for reasons unknown. you believed it when you first stepped foot into the cafe, mouth agape and words lost at the sight of the pretty workers at the register, but the speculations hit you twice as hard right now, when you’re clutching on to the last bit of your sanity.

tinsel boy is in front of you. you knew he was pretty yesterday, wrapped in twinkle and catching the light, but he’s even prettier up close, skin shimmering in soft pastels, and you wonder for a moment if he’s actually this pretty or if it’s just an optical illusion, a trick of your mind bending the light to create a pretty ringlet around his head. you almost run your mouth, almost let your mouth run without its filter. almost.

instead, there’s a crash, an angry hiss of steam, and the distinct sound of someone yelping in pain that cuts through the fog of your wonder. blondie rushes out from the back (yoongi, you think his name was), door swinging behind him. “goddamnit namjoon, i leave you alone for thirty seconds! thirty seconds!”

namjoon shrugs sheepishly. there’s a grimace on his face as he nurses a palm, red and angry. yoongi rushes over with a wet towel and wraps it around namjoon’s palm, another hiss seeping from namjoon’s lips. “i got-fuck-distracted by something,” he looks at you, cheeks tinged pink, and tries to put on a smile, though it resembles more of a grimace. “welcome to floral fantasy.”

yoongi follows his gaze to you too, blinks twice before a smile spreads on his mouth too. “we’re usually a lot more composed than this.”

“i’ll take your word for it.” you laugh, remembering last night. “the place looks nice. it looks like you’ve done a wonderful job.”

the cafe, normally in theme to its name as an everblooming wonder, is decked with evergreen wreaths and red ribbons, a brilliant fantasy of lights. the wall filled with paper flowers is replaced with white and silver paper snowflakes, just as photo ready as the people inside.

“thank you,” yoongi smirks, looking over at namjoon before pushing him towards the register. “we tried.”

“i’m sure you must be tired from last night,” you smile at namjoon.

“you must be too. i know the mall elves had to stay even longer than we did.” he smiles, dimples blooming. “what can i get you?”

you look at the menu over his head, the words blurring together the longer you look at them, mind too sleep deprived to focus. “i haven’t been here often, so i’m not sure what’s good. what would you recommend?”

he opens his mouth, hesitating for a moment, before letting out a low chuckle, hand rubbing the back of his neck. your eyes follow the movement. “i’m actually new here. my friends own the cafe and i’m just here to help for the holiday rush.” he side eyes yoongi who’s running the coffee machine with precision and ease, grace in each movement as he fixes namjoon’s mistakes. “i feel like more of a nuisance than of help though.”

“i understand that feeling,” you motion towards your attire, a bright splash of green, red, and white that’s as cheerful as you are tired. “i most definitely am not as perky as my job requires.”

he laughs at your statement, a genuine bubbling laughter that tickles one out of you. there’s a sparkle in his eyes—a trick of the light, you tell yourself—as types something on to the screen. “i have just the thing for you.”

you start to fish around your bag, trying to find your card in the mess of old receipts and chewing gum, when he speaks again. “it’s on the house. my treat.”

you furrow your brows, lips quirked. “are you allowed to do that?”

“i get free coffee everyday,” he shrugs, “and i do enough damage without caffeine in my system. consider it a gift from a fellow new mall worker, a comrades in agony.”

you can’t help the worry that spreads across your face. “will you be making it as well?”

“god no.” “absolutely not.” namjoon and yoongi speak at once, twin looks of pain on their faces.

namjoon holds up his palm as the printer makes a whirring noise. “i think it’s safer for all of us that yoongi makes your drink.”

the coffee is good, coats your tongue in mint and just the right amount of bitterness. the caffeine sinks into your bloodstream, wipes the film of sleep from your eyes, and gets you through seven hours at the mall. by the end of it, your cheeks hurt from smiling too hard, voice a little hoarse from the high pitch elf voice, but there’s a warmth from the coffee that lingers, settles into your bones and stays despite the frosty air that blasts a little too hard through the itchy material of your elf dress.

you find yourself back at the doors of floral fantasy the next day, still in your bell hat and jingling shoes, less tired but sleepy nonetheless. it’s a little before the mall opens, but the doors are unlocked when you push, a little bell chime ringing through the empty store. the smell of baked goods fills the air, a cozy warmth juxtaposing the white winter wonderland theme, and you take in a deep breath, let it fill your lungs.

“wow.” you whip around to see namjoon holding a tray of scones and muffins. “you look like you fit right into the store.”

you snort as you twirl, the pom poms twirling as your dress swirls with your turn. “i’m a christmas card come to life, the splitting image of cheer and festivities. though i can’t really say i’m quite into the look.”

he opens his mouth to say something, but there’s a ringing that permeates and breaks the moment. “oh shit,” he drops the tray down on the counter, “seokjin told me to watch the macarons. i’ll be right back” he races off, the back door swinging to the tune of his panic.

you giggle and look at the menu properly this time, at the pretty penmanship curling across the black chalkboards. there’s candy canes and hollies drawn on the borders and tiny wreaths pinned to every corner, ribbon on the bottom, and you try to match the baked goods to the menu names when there’s a muted yelp and crash coming from behind the doors.

“i swear to god, kim namjoon! the oven mitts are not decoration!” you hear, and you grimace, mind already picturing the damage his clumsiness has caused.

namjoon and seokjin, you assume, come out of the backroom a few moments later, another wet towel on namjoon, on both hands instead of one this time.

“oh,” seokjin says. “hello.”

“hi,” you wave awkwardly. “i’m guessing this is bad timing?”

“no, it’s not,” he pulls out a medical kit and starts applying burn cream on namjoon’s hands, sending daggers every time namjoon inhales sharply in pain. “yoongi should be here in a couple of minutes if you want coffee.”

“did you like the coffee yesterday?” namjoon asks, hope sparkling in his eyes.

“i did!” you beam back. “it was good, so i came back to see if you had any recs.” you look at the tray behind the two. “and to try a baked goods. a fellow elf told me they’re quite spectacular.”

seokjin brightens at that, perks up and puffs his chest as he finishes the final touches on the bandages on namjoon’s hands. “you heard correctly! just wait a moment!” he rushes off to the back, and it’s just the two of you again.

“you seem to be catching me at my worst, but i swear, i’m more put together than this,” namjoon chuckles, lifting his palms “how was your first shift?”

you laugh, caressing your elbows to your body. “it was okay. a lot of happy kids, which was nice, but there were also a lot of crying ones. by the end, i was just ready to go home. i did, however, like the coffee from yesterday and figured i would come back to see if you had another recommendation, from a fellow second day-er to another. it was the one thing that got me through the shift.”

he beams again, and it ignites a warmth in you, much like the coffee from yesterday, that spreads gently across your body, on your cheeks, on your mouth. his smile is pretty, like a warm breeze on a spring day, like cherry blossoms fluttering gently in the wind. the coffee is good, but you think the reason for the lines outside the cafe, the loyal customers, is partly due to the way the smiles here feel like love letters.

“i have something in mind for you today,” he smiles at you as yoongi walks in, nodding at you in greeting. “just wait a moment.”

you walk out of the cafe, a coffee in one hand, box of baked goods in another, and a heart that feels a little like a snow globe, glitter and snow gently falling down after being shaken by a cute pair of dimples.

it becomes a routine of sorts: almost every shift begins with a visit to floral fantasy, even on the days namjoon isn’t working, and you build up a small friendship with everyone who works there, though it’s mostly seokjin and yoongi and namjoon you see. there always seems to be some mishap with namjoon when you walk into the store—it’s mostly limited to small things like jammed display doors, smooshed pastries as he reaches for another, and misshapen ice cream swirls—although seokjin and yoongi tell you he’s not as clumsy as he presents himself when you’re around.

“he’s actually quite brilliant,” seokjin tells you as he packs in an extra macaron in your gift box, smiling as you light up in glee. you really shouldn’t be spending your paycheck on pastries, but seokjin’s culinary training at le cordon bleu makes them a little too good, a little too addictive, and has you asking for one (or two) on the days when your shifts are a little too long to bear without coffee and sweets. “he’s double majoring in literature and philosophy, minoring in greek and latin to gain deeper understanding of the classical philosophers, and takes french in his free time. he wears himself a little too thin, if you ask me, but he likes what he does. he’s a sweetheart, even when he’s clinging to the last thread of his sanity, muttering on and on about paradoxes and something about beds.”

“he just needs to get a better understanding of his strength,” yoongi tells you when you come in after your shift one day, over the hiss of the steamer as he makes you a cafe au lait. you don’t have the heart to tell him that you prefer your coffee sweet after remembering how his eyes lit up as he told you about his barista training, raved about coffee done correctly rather than frappes and awful starbucks beans. the resentment on his tongue made you promise yourself to never step foot in a starbucks, lest you find yourself the subject of his bitterness. “sometimes he gets a little too excited and forgets about things, like how fragile objects can be or safety concerns” he and seokjin exchange a knowing glance before he smiles down at the coffee, blank canvas coming to life as he pours in the steamed milk. in the matter of seconds, there’s a cute bear hanging on to the edge of the cup, and you gape in awe at his skills. “he means well though.”

namjoon presents himself a little differently than his friends do when he catches you on your lunch break, keeping you company as you eat your sandwich in the cafeteria. “i don’t really know how these things keep happening, but they do. i’m a magnet for trouble like bella swan.”

you cackle out loud and, in the process, almost spit out your coffee, courtesy of namjoon. “i’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“well, i don’t have a creepy, emotionally unhinged vampire that lusts after me, so yes, my situation is a bit better.”

he looks like a kicked puppy, eyes all sad and tugging at heartstrings. you find yourself reaching a hand out, patting his arm. “there, there. i’m sure santa has you on the nice list despite it all. for not interacting with a god-forsaken, toxic vampire.”

“good. i was awfully worried i was on the naughty list.” he tries to keep a straight face, hold his laughter in, but it seeps and bubbles out and his eyes crinkle into crescents. “do you not like the holidays?” you tilt your head at his question, a silent ask to elaborate. “you seem to not be in the holiday spirit when i ask you about it. unless, i’m reading incorrectly and it’s just your job you despise, which i totally understand. i love kids, but they can be hard to deal with.”

you chew on your sandwich for a little longer than you have to, feel it go down your esophagus while the sorrow sticks in your throat. “i like christmas. it’s just a bit lonely on my own?” you put your sandwich down gingerly on to your tupperware. “i think the best part of christmas—the holidays in general, really—is spending time with family and loved ones, but i don’t get to see them very often. not since i moved for college and everyone is busy with their own lives. i love christmas dinner and celebrating together, watching the clock strike midnight on new year’s. i still send gifts to them, but it’s not the same as watching them open it, watching eyes light up and twinkle in delight as they see the stockings and rip the wrapping paper.” you stick a grin on your face, as cheerful as the one you put on for your job, but your laughter sounds weak, even to your ears, and you shift your gaze on to the sandwich in your tupperware, trying to hide your tears. there’s a comforting hand on top of yours, gently squeezing like he’s trying to pass his strength on to you. “i mean, it’s fine. post-holiday depression can’t really hit if you don’t feel the holiday cheer to begin with.”

he doesn’t say anything as you blink furiously, trying to clear out the fuzziness in your vision: he rubs his thumb against the back of your hand, a gentle reminder that he’s there and listening to what you’ve holed up and deemed too stupid to tell other people.

“maybe this holiday season will be different,” he offers.

there’s a flicker of hope that burns in your chest. “yeah, maybe it will be.”

it’s a couple of days later when you step back into the cafe, having been too tired to come by after your shifts, and you’re nursing the desire to knock down every single reindeer and the stupid gingerbread house just to spite the kids. (and maybe see the look on jeon jungkook’s face, savour it slowly. god, his love for christmas cheer and order drives you mad, though you’re sure you do the same for him, every time you slip out of character when there’s a particularly nasty child in line.) you must look as exhausted as you feel because when namjoon turns around at the sound of the bell twinkling, thirty minutes before the cafe closes, he drops the tray and you watch as the pink coffee cups and pretty plates fall to the floor, shatter into pieces.

“fuck,” namjoon looks at the floor in dismay, crouching down to collect the pieces.

“be care-“ you start, but his voice cuts through before you can finish.

“ow, fuck.” he staring at the rose blooming on his thumb, cut quickly filling with red.

you grab a napkin from the counter and hand it to him, gently pulling him up and aside, out of harms way. “i don’t know if your hands will be okay by the time your stint here ends.”

he snorts at that, heading behind the counter and reaching for the medical kit again. “i’m quite resilient.”

“is it weird that i believe you and don’t at the same time?” you smile at his pout, wincing when it causes your cheeks to twinge in pain. “are you manning the store alone today?”

“i can be responsible! is that so hard to believe?” he laughs and motions to the store. “this is seokjin and yoongi’s baby. seokjin has always wanted to do something with food and yoongi’s always loved coffee, so this is their brainchild. i’m guessing they trust me enough to not burn the place down, or at least try not to.”

he fumbles as puts a bandage on the cut and you can’t help but smile as you remember the stickers he tried to put on the cafe door. you take the broom from him when he makes his way over. “here, let me help.” he tries to protest but you move the broom out of his reach. “consider it my way of saying thank you for the great coffee recommendations.”

namjoon’s dimples are back, shining in full force, and you start sweeping, telling yourself you’re focusing on the pieces of china and not averting the warmth of his smile because it does not feel like a sugar rush, like the warmth of the holidays you haven’t felt in a while. you feel something creep up in your throat—loneliness, sorrow, exhaustion—so you force it down and stare at the tiny pieces on the floor, watch the little fragments twinkle as you push them around with your broom.

“are you okay?” there’s a hand on your arm and pair of warm brown eyes looking at you, concern brimming in the light. you let yourself get lost in them for a moment, let it wash over you before you respond.

“yeah,” you smile, “just tired.”

he gently takes the broom and dustpan from your hands, and gives you his hand instead, leading you to the behind the counter and to the backroom. “i have just the thing for you.”

“am i allowed to be back here?” you quirk your head in amusement, letting him lead. “better yet, what are we doing?”

it’s strange—to the say the least—to be in a place you’re so accustomed to but have it looks so different than what you’re used to: steel and silver replacing marble and white, ovens and storage racks in place of glass displays case and chalkboards. but there’s still the same magic: the same kind of warmth and care you’re greeted with at the entrance lives in the backroom, with the ovens and fires, with the stand mixers and ingredients, with namjoon flitting around the stove. there’s a tick-tick-tick as the stove flares to life, a clang as it meets pan.

“yoongi taught me how to make hot chocolate, back in high school, because he was so fed up with how much i loved it, how much i would ask for it.” you can feel the smile on his face, even as his back is to you as you lean against the counter. “it’s one of the few things i know how to make from scratch, albeit a little labour intensive. once you try it, there’s no going back to instant packets.”

namjoon motions you over, handing you the whisk, and the two of you settle in to a comfortable silence as he scrapes in vanilla, sifts in some spices, adds in heavy cream and milk. it smells heavenly, lingers on the edges of his white shirt. the two of you are so close, you’re scared he can hear the vivace of your heartbeat over the whisking, so you whisk a little faster, let the cream splash on the edges until he gently takes the whisk from you. “wow, maybe you should work here. we could have you as back up if our stand mixers ever break down.”

he pours the mixture into two orange mugs, topping it with something white and fluffy before handing one to you. “hot chocolate a la namjoon.”

you close your eyes and let the mixture settle on your tongue, sweet and warm. it settles in your bones, distilling and coating the exhaustion and loneliness until all that’s left is the warmth of spending the moment with a loved one. the effort and time comes through. “colour me impressed.”

the smile on his face is as warm as the drink in your hands.

the two of you bask in the silence, in the warmth, in the comfort of each other’s presence, as you sip the rest of your hot chocolates.

there’s an unspoken rule: the closer it gets to your last day of work, the slower time moves, like it’s waiting to prolong your misery. the kids aren’t awful—they get nicer as it inches closer to christmas, too well aware their gifts depend on their behavior—but no matter how many kids you entertain, how many photos you snap, how many smiles you pinch out, nothing makes your shift go by today. you’re so close to throwing down your elf hat and walking out the door, freedom so close yet so far.

it’s christmas eve and the mall is busier than usual, packed with folxs trying to get their last minute christmas shopping done. you can’t say the same for the santa’s workshop line: there’s a lull like no other, and while you would be grateful, jeon jungkook has been watching over everyone like a hawk, squawking at every elf to “keep up the magic!” just until 10 minutes ago when he left for lunch. you just want to go back to your apartment and settle under your covers and let yourself enjoy the measly number on your paycheck.

“you look like you’re having the time of your life.”

a voice comes up from behind you and you startle, relief only settling in when you see who it is.

namjoon is holding a tray of cupcakes that looks like christmas trees, dusted in powdered sugar and topped with a fondant star, and you “ooh” over them as he laughs. “seokjin was experimenting with flavours and i figured i would bring some over to the north pole.”

you frown in mock anger as you pluck a cupcake off his tray. “it’s santa’s workshop, not the north pole. i don’t even want to think about how much more fake snow we would have to bring to call this the north pole.” you take a bite into the cupcake, moaning as the sugar hits your tongue. “these are so good.”

namjoon blinks at you, looks down at your lips and laughs with pink tinged cheeks. “you have frosting on your lips.”

“oh,” you lick your lips, “is it gone?”

he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth, fingertip lingering a second too long as he drags it down. “all better.”

there’s a long, awkward silence between the two of you, seconds dragging by as you fumble to string a cohesive sentence together.

“do you-“

“it’s my-“

“you can go first,” namjoon offers.

“it’s my last shift today, so i won’t be able to visit as often anymore.” you try to keep the tremble out of your voice, try to dampen the disappointment as you kick at the floor. “so i wanted to say thank you. for everything.”

“oh.” he doesn’t say anything else and anxiety pools in between every beat of the song that’s blasting through the mall speakers. you try to find something to fill in the conversation, anything but what you want to ask him, when you hear your coworker’s voice.

“jeon’s making his way down!”

“i have to go. thank you for the cupcake!” you wave the treat in your hand and start to get back into position.

“wait! y/n!”

as soon as you turn around, there’s a giant weight on top of you, and both you and namjoon come tumbling down, back knocking against the floor. namjoon’s foot, caught on the wire, pulls out the string lights from the socket and brings a snowman to the floor. the poor snowman, in turn, knocks over the reindeers one by one, like a set of dominos, each one falling to the floor with a graceful “thump.”

you let out a groan, crushed by namjoon’s large frame. there’s something wet smudged against your cheek, and the tray that once was in his hands is now uncomfortably sandwiched between your stomachs, digging into your ribcage.

“fuck, i’m so sorry,” namjoon scrambles to get off of you. “this keeps happening around you. are you okay?”

when you prop up your weight on your hands, you see that your elf costume is smeared with dark green frosting, the white trim matted together with pieces of the chocolate cupcake. you can’t help but laugh: it seems awfully fitting that namjoon’s fall, which marked your first shift, would laso be the highlight of your last one.

“i’m alright. you?”

he nods, motioning towards your elf costume. “i don’t think your costume is though.”

“i kind of like it better this way,” you laugh as you start to pick up the reindeers, “it feels much more festive.”

“i feel bad.”

he sends you an apologetic look, puppy eyes and pouty lips, and something in you says fuck it. “you were right about the hot chocolate. i tried to drink instant mix and it didn’t taste the same. you could make it up to me with another cup?”

something flashes in his eyes as he smiles. “i’ll do you one better. what are you doing tomorrow?”

you furrow your brows, trying to figure out what he’s asking. “nothing?”

“i’m off too, if you wanted to go on a date? most of the city is going to be closed, so we could watch a movie, have dinner at my place? and i could make you hot chocolate?” he bites his lip at your silence, at the way your eyes go wide. “or not. i’m sorry; i just thou-”

you press your lips against his and put your hands on his shoulder when he kisses you back. it’s a short kiss, sweet and gentle like he is, and it’s over all too soon (you are in public after all), but it leaves a trail of butterflies in your stomach and a dazed look in his eye.

“a date sounds good.” you tell him as he stands up, tray in hand.

“tomorrow then.”

you nod, the smile on your face as sweet as the frosting on your outfit, as he runs back towards floral fantasy.

“looks like someone has holiday plans after all,” your coworker nudges you.

the smile on your face refuses to dissipate, even as your cheeks feel the tender ache. “i guess so.”

“you know, the first time i saw you, you were wrapped in tinsel because you fell off the ladder trying to decorate the outside of floral fantasy.” you tell him on his couch, over hot chocolate.

he chokes and sputters. “i was distracted.”

the statement sounds vaguely familiar, mind hazy from time. “by what?”

he looks at his mug of hot chocolate intently, like the surface is reflecting his answer to him. “You.”

It’s your turn to choke on your drink. “I’m sorry?”

his ears and cheeks are dusted with pink, a sunset on his face. “You were so pretty that i forgot i was on a ladder, and i fell.”

it takes all of your willpower to iron out the smile that threatens to slip through, but one look at his face--at his pretty, pouting face--and you burst out laughing, laughing even harder when he joins in.

“I’m clumsy when i get nervous,” he continues, when both your laughters simmer into giggles, “and everytime you came into the cafe, i was so nervous that i made silly mistakes like burning my hands and forgetting oven mitts. The one time you came in and i dropped the tray? The light was hitting you at the right angle and—god—it made you look like an angel.”

you hide your grin behind your mug, take a sip before you let him know. “the coffee was good, but i mostly came in to see you.”

his eyes light up at that, brighter than the christmas tree haphazardly wrapped behind him, and you kiss him, mouths moulding together. he tastes like goodness and hot chocolate and the warmth of the holiday season, like the thrill of opening a present that’s been under the tree for so long.

maybe he was right. maybe this holiday season will be different.

#namjoon x reader #namjoon x oc #namjoon fic #namjoon imagine #namjoon scenarios #bwcssy2 #bts fic #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts fluff #namjoon fluff

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