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mirkysconcubinefiction · 3 years

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I Thought You Should Know 2

Part 2.

Part 1 HERE.

Notes in part 1.

Before:

This time when Superman caught you he held you close and wrapped his arms around you before flying away with you clinging to him and crying because you couldn't hold it in anymore.

Awareness came with a background of arguing and a sinfully - sinfully - soft mattress. Tugging the blankets up and over your head you snuggle into your pillow and doze.

You've grown up with yelling and lived in places that were noise 24/7 and presumed the arguing was the neighbors. A quiet falls over your cocoon and it hits you... your hotel room had a mattress that was as stiff as plywood.

The bed dips and you tug the sheet down from your face and take in the warm tangerine color walls, dark wood molding and the bedside table was a rustic style piece of furniture. Turning over you're startled to find Clark Kent standing with a tray of food but more surprising was the man sitting on the bed in a sharp charcoal suit.

Curious, you lift the blanket and peer down at yourself. You were wearing your underwear... you guess it was bettered than being naked. "Rest assured Miss ****, your virtue is safe."

"Lex!" Snapped Clark with a glare before he turned to you and floundered for what to say before pushing the tray out, "Coffee?"

"What happened?" Your brain felt muffled and you can remember bits and pieces and jumping off a ledge... "Shit, did I try to kill myself again?" You sit up and the blankets pool at you waist uncaring of your bra that was all lace and completely inappropriate for your type of job.

"Again?" The tray is set down on a bedside table and Clark was crawling to you, grabbing your arms, checking your bare wrists, as if he hadn't seen them before you were tucked in half-naked. "**** we talked about this."

"Settle down." Lex heaved himself up with a sigh and peered down at the two of you, "Clark brought you here, you were hysterical and I gave you a sedative and while you were high out of your mind you chose my,"

"Our." Clark snapped but the other man continued on without missing a beat.

"Bed to make your nest. You had this loon," a finger pointed at Clark who look aghast, "Rip off your corset because, and I quote, I can't catch it rip it off. As you spun in a circle trying to reach for the laces."

"I kind of panicked and ripped it off. Sorry."

"He's not sorry, he burned the thing in the fireplace."

"Secrets Lex! Married couples know how to keep secrets!" Clark glared and you watched them bicker back and forth, lost.

"Can we not? As hot as it is, I'm too nauseous to join in on your makeup sex." That cut through the weird foreplay the duo had.

"Get out." Lex tries but you ignore him as usual.

"Here have some coffee!" Reaching for the tray Clark held onto it without strain.

It was a giant mug of black coffee, a small plate with an oversized croissant, little jars of jelly that was a mismatched set from various fancy hotels you knew Clark had a habit of stealing from, a bowl of yogurt topped with fruit and granola, a whole tomato, a cow shaped creamer, and a pig shaped cup with sausage sticking up.

"Remind me to never request breakfast in bed. You forgot silverware and cutting the dam tomato." Lex clapped his hands, "I'm off. Don't overstay your welcome and you're barred from all future events." And then he was gone.

"He does have a nice ass." You mumble into your coffee that was sweet and perfect.

"It makes up for his bad bedside manner." Then Clark is gone... and back with a spoon and knife, a knife he uses to cut your tomato. "There's a bedroom here for you." It's spoken softly and your eyes flick up to meet his then away, the croissant butter soft. "****?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

Now you remember, quite convenient when there's a knife in arms reach, "You're not." Strawberry jelly smears heavily. It's flavorful and you chewed slowly, savoring the rich taste. A sip of coffee and a your slurp breaks the silence.

"I am. I shouldn't have said that."

"You thought it and you spoke it. Simple logic."

"No."

"You're a whore." You pick up a tomato slice, "You fucked all the girls you cheered with and you bottomed for half your fraternity." It tasted juicy, "Lois Lane wasn't your only fuck buddy at the paper and Green Lantern misses your dick something fierce." From your peripheral it was interesting how embarrassed his face colored.

"How..."

"Now Lex," you interrupt. "Lex is a slut but he's a slut with standards like myself. Dick pics help weed out the useless ya know." Sip, "Men - woman - don't care." Sip, "It helps when you get really lonely and you can leave. No strings, no questions." Sip, "If you speak to me that way again," your gaze meets his, "I won't need kryptonite to kill you."

"****..."

"Refill please." You hand over your mug that's half filled and Clark takes it. Quietly he moves off the bed and walks out.

The tray is settled at your side and you manage to shuffle over to the edge and stand by the time he comes back. Meeting him part way you ignore the way his eyes rake over you, "I'm..."

You were tired of apologies and hugged him. He was tall and you settled for wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tight, "Leave it."

It's never brought up again.

The formal gala was beautiful. Lights, cameras, ice sculptures, bottles of champagne flowed as did the money for the secret auction, so secret no one was aware there was an auction.

At least that's what the news had said.

Lounging on a couch with a tub of ice cream your face is covered in an organic green tea mask, your body has been massaged by a last-minute goddess with hands that deserved to be preserved in the Vatican vault, and your feet was resting on Clark's lap where the man was massaging your left foot with a hand as the other hand tossed Gummi bears.

You were horrible at catching them with your mouth but the colorful bears decorated the carpet and sofa with a certain pizazz. Elevator doors opened and expensive loafers dragged, "Why are you still here?"

Spoon dangling from your mouth you pull it out and point it at the tired man who was being rerun on the massive television. "Did you have fun at your party?"

"That party brought millions to Saint Jude charity foundation."

"Uhu... and how much really..."

Lex dismissed you to turn to his husband, "Why is she still here."

"I'm not putting her out, you can do that." It was said matter of factly with a hint of try it, go on, I dare you.

Oh this was good, not as good as the ice cream but good.

"****." You blink up at the tall bald-headed man, "Leave."

"But the make-up sex."

You think his eye is twitching, "There is no sex!"

A pout twitches your lips and your spoon stabs at the ice cream, "But Dom Daddy Master sex is the best sex." Beside you Clark chokes on a gummy and Lex is a thundercloud as he steps closer and closer to you until he's close enough you can smell his cologne. "See," and you glance over at the coughing man who was thumping his chest, "That's hot. You're hot, we should...."

"Shut up!" And you shut up, sitting back. "Your jokes are not appreciated. Pack your shit and run back to your Captain America. The epitome of all that's righteous and leave..." you snort and quickly cover your nose as ice cream somehow went up there. "Me and mine alone!"

A napkin is passed to you, "Ignore him. He saw what's in the box and is not too happy right now."

"Couldn't you have left it behind?" Wiping your nose you take in all that was Lex Luthor and processed what he said, "Why would I run back to that asshole?" Of course Lex had bared his teeth in a very animalistic way and stormed off so you turn to the quiet second half and said, "What was in the box?"

"A dress." His face loses trace of all humor, "The accessories are a problem, my nose is quite good and you're not that type of person to..." Clark cuts off as Lex returns and all but flings the box at you and Clark catches it and settles it on your lap while taking away your ice cream.

You ignore the argument that's caused by that stunt and take in the dented and dirty box that was lopsided and the tissue paper that hung half out. Clark was right, there was a dress balled up on top and you pull it out... it was a familiar dress.

Black, shiny, skin-tight, one side would cover down the length of your thigh while the other was cut in a way to barely cover your vagina.

You knew this dress.

This was a similar dress you had in your closet from ages ago. It had been the dress you met Steve Rogers in when you had worked another undercover mission as a singer in an underground club. The lights on stage would make the material nearly sheer and showed off your curves and the nipple piercings you had gotten done for the gig.

Well... "He knows." Or at least presumes who you are but how? Dropping the dress to the side you go through the rest of the stuff and pull out a pair of killer heels in your size, "Nope." And drop them both atop the dress. Next was a scrap of fabric that took a moment of turning it here and there to realize it was panties, "What the fuck is this?"

Clark looks pink while Lex scowls but answers, "Thong."

"This," you shake it like it's flag. "Wouldn't cover an ass cheek. I have a fat ass... the strings would cut across my hips and make me look like a ham hung to dry." That too was dropped and you rummaged around the jewelery, the hair extension that sat wrapped, and an empty clutch. "Stockings? It's cold, these fucker really think I would waltz around and freeze my clit off?"

"The point was to entice me, your target, or that idiot." Confused, you glance up at the taller man. "Your choker. There's a mechanism that releases a pheromone when you get close enough to your victim. It's potent, it's an ingenious way to get me to leave and hand me over to SHIELD or attract that asshole who was there, dressed to impress and also wearing a wrist watch that had the same scent, my intel says he was hoping to use it on you if you had arrived. Fucker doesn't realize all phone calls are tapped, that was a mistake."

Rummaging through the box you find rings, bracelets, a pair of studs for nipples - which what the fuck - but no choker. Glancing over at Clark you said, "You said your nose. How does it smell?

"Musky. I only know about it because HYDRA is interested so they tried to use bait, young bait, to entrap my husband in a scandal. It didn't work, girl scouts don't make penthouse calls at 1am. Thankfully I was home and tossed the girl in the closet before dealing with him."

"I could have raped that girl."

"Lex, no." And Clark was off the couch and crowding his husband who leaned into the embrace with a miserable face and you felt upset. Box plopped on the oddly shaped coffee table you make your way around the duo and bare foot you walk to the elevator door that opens with a soft ping and step on, finger jabbing on the button to the ground floor.

It was a short trip of quiet, you ignore the dried and cracked gunk that was on your face and stepped out into a lobby with its shiny floor and gold accents.

There weren't many people about at this hour except a janitor that was windexing a window and a concierge who stood once he caught sight of you. "Ma'am!"

"Phone?" You gesture to the old-fashioned looking thing that sits behind the desk. You knew it was a thing installed by Lex that was as private as you could get, and one that no nosey AI could hack into. An alternative option in case he was too lazy to take an elevator to the top floor.

"I'm sorry but..."

"Great, thanks, sit and be a good boy as mummy handles something." The man is a stuttering mess as you reach over and take it, plopping it on the high ledge.

"Ma'am you can't!"

Fingers presses into small holes and drag clockwise with each number. "Phone the penthouse, I'm sure Mr. Luthor would be ecstatic over us meeting."

The concierge, who had his hand on separate phone and was calling security faltered, "Lex Luthor?"

You smile, green tea dust falling, but before you can utter a comment the line picks up without a greeting, "Brucie poo, remember that favor you owe me? Well I'm collecting."

The concierge moves away to stand with the Janitor who had been quick to call him over and tell him to keep his eyes down. Which was for the best since you were walking around in flannel that was oversized, courtesy of Clark. Switching to a different language and lowering your tone you spoke with an unamused Bruce Wayne, while not friendly with Lex, had been highly upset over the use of children as pawns.

You weren't surprised.

The elevator dings and you wave at Clark who jogged to you and you were quick to say your goodbyes, "Why didn't you tell me?" Frowning at the taller man.

"You're not here, why would we tell you?" And that, that hurt.

The elevator doors closed and you knew you needed to do something, time was wasting.

Solid black, it matched the coal around your eyes and the contacts you had struggled to put on. Boots were comfortably strapped up to your knee and you waltzed across a manicured lawn.

The cameras were down.

The dogs had been knocked out.

Security had been scarce since a good portion had all come down with a mysterious stomach bug. You can't really protect your benefactor if you're shitting your intestines out.

Striding up the marble steps that led to a wrap around porch, you tried a door handle and found it locked. A laser took care of that, a nifty little thing you dropped on the ground and waltzed inside, smoke curling into the air from the burned brass and wood.

Having had memorized the layout you strode to the kitchen, up a flight of stairs, down a hall, up another set of stairs, down another hall and to a bedroom door where you put yourself in a position that your com had instructed. Gun in hand you aim a degree left, swooped right, down center, each bullet piercing through the door and wall.

Stopping only when your com had said so.

You open the door and lean against the door jamb, the bodies on the ground paving a way to a lone man pressed against the corner of a wall holding a gun.

"Hello honey." He aims and pulls the trigger. The gun jams. "Poor baby," you stalk over. "Let mommy kiss it better."

From a distance away Superman removes the com in his ear cutting off the scream of the HYDRA operative who had tried to set up his husband.

Maybe if your com hadn't been knocked off and landed in a puddle of blood you would have found yourself here, in a chair, at the SHIELD headquarters.

Great, just great.

The chair was uncomfortable so you chose a nice corner to lay down, cross your ankles, and try for a nap.

You had gotten as much as you expected from Mr. HYDRA guy which was meh. Not enough info compared to what you had but if you were honest, you weren't there for intel.

It was just a great excuse to inflict as much pain as you could and death.

You hated getting your hands dirty but... yea... getting caught on the back lawn with SHIELD agents storming up to you with guns and K9 was a weird experience.

"****." Confirmation that Steve had a really good guess you were you. Ugh. The door closed behind him with a thump and the man strode over. "You can cut the act, I know who you are."

You sign WHO.

"I thought you were dead." You yawn, "I knew it was you when I heard you laugh." He pauses as if he expects you to talk. "Superman knows who you are, how do you know him?" Quiet. "Answer me." He sighs, voice changing to one of concern, one you had believed was his true self. "I miss you."

A hand lifts and you sign QUEEN.

"****!"

Middle finger, no two fingers, point in his direction.

A hand grips your ankle and you're dragged from the wall, your other free foot hits the ground with a thump, you curl your toes - triggering a nifty backup - and out pops a short knife. Steve let's out a shout as you stabbed him in the leg, once, twice, and his arm that swings to stop you before the man let you go.

Blood coated the ground and the super soldier stumbled back, "What the fuck ****!" The security that patted you down didn't take all your lovely toys.

Hopping to your feet you waved a finger at him and signed BAD BOY. The doors open and two men with guns enter, they try to get Steve to leave but he's a stubborn fuck, "Back off, I've had worse."

Just to fuck with him you sign, POISON.

His eyes go wide and he stumbles out with the two guards and you're left alone once again.

The fuckery begins when the vents turn off, it takes a while for the air to get stifling and hot but you don't remove your uniform and lay on the ground sweating through your material and the pungent stench of blood has you breathing through your mouth.

Stubborn to death you try to ignore the nausea that roils your stomach, a migraine forms at the back of your skull, and your mouth was dry and throat parched.

Time churns and it's hard to focus so you keep your eyes closed but it does little to help. Maybe this was it? A smile quirks your chapped lips, at least you got to stab Steve, hopefully your knife was dirty and he got an infection.

When did you close your eyes?

Breathing was like choking on sand and you can hear the ragged sound of you inhaling deeply and sharply. A shadow hovered above you and you felt a tug and your body lifting before dropping. It's dizzying when your head lifts upwards but thankfully you're gently settled down

"Shit's adhered to her skin."

Was someone talking? No, let you sleep. Closing your eyes you hate that you're jostled as your legs are lifted and plopped on someone's knee.

"Get me water and ice, her legs up will help with blood flow to the heart."

Cold seeps through your uniform and the lip of a bottle entices your tongue to move and swish by swish cool water washes away the sandpaper feel of your mouth.

"Cut it off her." You recognize that voice.

"The first layer was easy, this is adhered to her skin." Pause, "I've seen this before Captain. You'll rip her skin off, best to wait until she regains conscious and..."

"She's not HYDRA."

"But you said..."

"I know what I said, now get out!" There's a scuffle and a slam. Hands are tugging at the edges where the suit left your skin exposed. Someone had removed your boots and gloves... a sharp tug of pain at your temple reminded you you're wearing a mask that showed off your eyes and your mouth once the second layer was pulled aside.

"God dammit." Steve growled, "Fine! We'll do this the hard way!"

Your fingers curl and you try to move but your legs are heavy and a prickling sensation runs up and down. Move you tell yourself but you can't.

"All I wanted was a simple yes or no." Something cold presses against your cheek, a pointed tip digging, trying to dig, beneath the seam of material and skin. "This is your fault ****."

What?

Pain causes your back to arch and your right calf to seize, you choke on a scream trying to move away from the slice of the knife as it digs under your skin and not the material but Steve has a firm grip on your chin.

Blood seeps out and there's a swear from the man and the knife is pulled out. He ignore your whimpers of pain to move a single hand down your body. Skimming over your breasts, sides, sternum, waist, and back up to your throat, "A little less pressure eh?" The blood stained tip pops through the layer, Steve needing to push harder as the material - as thin as it was - was strong.

The knife carefully drags downward, blood seeping from between the black material, and stills just under your bust line where your waist cincher catches the blade. "Hmm." Cutting straight down, the blade knocking through fabric and the hooks.

The suit material was adhered to your cincher leaving your stomach bare. His free hand settled on your too warm skin, fingers tracing over the indentations left from the boning and material.

He tries to tug at the material but your body shifts with it, "I'll get this thing off you even if I have to skin you."

Shouting catches his attention but Steve ignores the sound of gunfire, secure in the knowledge he was locked in. The knife veers direction and he slices down the side towards him, gripping the cincher for leverage.

Mid thigh Steve is startled when the door to the room flies across the room, knife jerking and slicing deep causing you to cry out, a pitiful cry. "Fuck!" Steve scrambles to cover the wound with his large hand but it does little to stop the blood.

A hand grips into the back of his neck and tosses him as if he were a rag doll. He hits the wall leaving a crumbling indentation in the concrete. Shaking it off, Steve is prepared for a fight but once the disorientation is shaken off he manages to catch a glimpse of red before realizing he's alone.

You're gone.

The bandage on your face and the butterfly band-aid running down your body to yet another oversized bandage at your thigh made it look as if it was bad. "I'm fine." A nurse stands idly to the side and you glance at her, "Tell him I'm fine."

The him was Clark who was trying to take your temperature for the fifth time in the span of an hour. "You're not fine!" He also sends a look to the nurse who looks on amused, "Tell her she's not fine, a high fever is a sign of infection, God know what germs that cell had."

"It was a clean cell." You try but Clark takes the opportunity to plop the thermometer into your mouth and you roll it under your tongue.

Beep.

"It went up a degree!"

"For fucks sake. Lex!" You yell the other mans name.

The phone rings at your bedside and you pick it up and hand it Clark who scowls. "Yes Dear."

The nurse tip toes closer to fluff your pillows as you settle back. The past few days a whirl wind of adventure. Between SHIELD putting out a warrant for you - both your identities - and fighting with Lex that no he shouldn't call a war against the organization and that you had a plan. Of course bumming it at the Luthor's meant you had a lovely nurse and a personal chef.

The high life.

"The husband requests I should leave you alone less I suffer a dry spell." He side eyes you and you hold a hand out to him which he takes and crawls beside you, careful of your body under the sheets. The nurse leaves and the two of you are left alone. "I was so scared. Seeing you there... bleeding..."

"Me too." You admit, "I shouldn't be surprised but I am. Steve... that's not my Steve."

His arm pulls you closer, dragging you off your pillow and into his arms. "He was never yours." It hurt but it was the truth. He gently brushes away your tears - it's not fair you still cried for this man - and gently turns your head so you can gaze at him, his touch soft as it hovers above your bandage. "Give us a chance ****."

"Clark..." your eyes burn with more tears, afraid, you're so afraid. "I can't."

"He could have killed you and yet he still holds a place in your heart."

What? "No."

"He's still there, he lived everyday content with another woman while you were left alone and bitter. Everything you've done to get to this point was because of him. He's still there, in your heart, a parasite, keeping you from moving on and taking a risk." You're quiet and his normally stoic self turns frustrated and says, "The asshole stabbed you, doesn't he deserve to suffer?"

"Yes. He deserves to suffer." The anger surged and you used your arm to prop yourself up, "Steve humiliated me. They all knew, fucking knew, and... I still have the fucking dress." Clark frowned, "How could he do that to me, why Clark. Why?"

"Because he can." You flop back on the mattress and cover your eyes with the heels of your hand and will the hurt to die and your tears to dry. "He's heartless but you're not."

"Clark..."

"No. He never cared ****, he used you while Sharon was away. If it wasn't for the other asshole, Steve would have dumped you at the alter or killed you off and you know that's true. Look what he did to you, you don't think he would have that spy take you out?"

"No." You choke out and you sniff before a grin curls your lips. "He would have done it."

"Or the..."

"No." Sniff, "I hacked his journal. He was going to cause a car accident." Clark went stiff and in the distance you hear a crash, a slam of a door, and you glare at Clark, "You didn't hang up the phone!" It wasn't a question because a moment later the door to your bedroom swings in and the very tall, very angry shadow of Lex Luthor fills the doorway.

"****." It was your full name. Your full legal name and you went absolutely still.

"Babe..." Clark tries but Lex is a storm cloud as he saunters forward and ignores the pet name only his husband was allowed.

"Are you soft in the head?" Lex loomed over you and for the first time you were scared of him.

"Lex..."

"Car accident? You knew he was planning on killing you and you still did nothing." The man didn't have to shout but each word was laced with venom that had your heart skip a beat.

"I..."

"Swallowing a bottle of pills isn't what you do when someone plans to murder you." Oh shit, "Jumping head first into missions without backup or extra ammo is not the way one plots revenge." Fuck. "Running off and putting yourself in suicidal situations does nothing but get you killed!"

"I know."

"Then why must you be so stupid!"

"Because I needed to feel something!" You shout, it hurts to sit up but you scramble to do so as Clark assists. "I was stupid, is that what you want to hear? How stupid I was to believe that someone could love me? Me? That someone would want me for something other than sex? That I was beautiful? Smart? That I was more? Stupid of me to think that a person could think I was worth a commitment and kids and a last name, a home, I was stupid to think I was worth a home, someone who can... can love me..." it was hard to breath and see as the old hurt rear its ugly head and you can't be strong, dropping your head, spine hunching you press your hands against your eyes, the pressure easing the headache that was throbbed steadily.

"Lex, ease off." Clark rubs circles on your back.

"No. She needs to deal with this and not wallow in self pity."

"Lex!"

Sniffing up the snot you wipe your nose and say, "It's not wallowing. I'm not a victim, read the definition asshole."

"Of course you're not love but crying doesn't get back at someone who wants to cut your break cords."

Sniff, "Drunk driver." Your eyes itch and you rub them again, "A t-bone."

Clark takes in your red eyes and the flush to your face before looking up to his husband, "Kill him."

"No."

"Already on it." Lex says matter of factly.

Again you say, "No. Death is too good."

Lex sighed, he was ready to snap at you again. "He's enhanced. What's your plan? You can't get close to him like before."

"He's a conservative man, his reputation is everything to him." You say, "I got a plan to get SHIELD off my back and I'll make public his journals and porn crap."

Lex frowns, "No maiming? Missing limbs?"

You shake your head, "No. There's some heavy shit in those journals and secrets about the team. I'll black out the intel from missions but Steve gets off on knowing that the world sees him as this perfect man. A God amongst mortals. He won't know how to deal with it."

"Alright, ok, we can work with that." Hands continued rubbing circles on your back, "Can I punch him at least?"

"You're getting your hands dirty?" Surprised, Lex glanced down at you, "Guess he loves you more than me." In response Clark lugged a pillow at him.

"Punch him twice. One for me and one for you." It comes from you.

"Break his leg for me." Lex sends you a look but you don't say a word, "Payment for the stitches."

"Mhm." You'd probably scar too. "Break both legs." You rub at your thigh where it itched.

"I smell blood." Clark leans over and moves the blanket aside and patches of red bloom on your bandage, your shorts hiked up to V of your thighs. "Lex, get the nurse. You might have popped a stitch."

"It's ok, I'm ok."

"No, you're not."

The nurse comes in with a first aid bag and your bandage is removed showing that yes, you popped a stitch. It doesn't take long to fix it but you do lean into Clark for comfort.

SHIIELD's system is down.

Their backup of a backup doesn't work, nothing works. Cards danced on the screens, Queens of spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs bounce up and down, left to right, in no specific direction.

They all know whose calling card halted all communications and in a solo room where a group of people who had complete access to everything were privy to a badly drawn cartoon of a queen of hearts card threatening to release sensitive information to earth and Google Earth images of all their safe house locations including their own.

Less than a day later SHIELD pulled all their warrants and people in the search of you.

An email was immediately sent with your resignation and quickly after that a website was made public with Captain America Secrets on full view and no A.I. or hacker could tear it down.

Not with the insane amount of protection you encased it in. Still, you had fail safes in case it was taken down plus the internet where nothing died was quick to copy and paste and you sat back in your hello kitty onsie as the world burned Steve Rogers and the Avengers.

Tony's PR team was quick to claim it was a hoax and the others had denied all allegations against their own humiliation but you had finally let it go.

You had to.

Looking up as a set of floor to ceiling windows slid open and you watched as Superman flew in and landed. His hair was in disarray, a portion of his suit was torn and blood was splattered on his cheek, not his blood you're sure. "Had fun?"

A grin is tossed your way and the papers on the coffee table ruffled as the man sped to you and was right there, making your eyes cross. "Beautiful. Perfect. Brilliant. Patient. Crazy. Lovely."

"Clark, heros say no to drugs." You interrupt his rambling.

"I'm sober."

"Meth?"

"****."

"Cocaine?"

"****."

"Sugar?" There's seconds, time for you to turn your head as Clark leans in, but you hold your breadth as he kisses you. A soft and gentle pressure and it's so sweet.

"Let me love you ****." his brows press against yours, "Let us love you. Give us a chance."

No.

Just no.

You don't need the extra heartache.

"Okay." It slips out and you can't take it back. Do you want to take it back?

Clark's face is one of excitement and his eyes shine with something that you've seen before, when he looks at his husband and you were a sucker for pain. You can't take it back, "You won't regret it I promise." And with that Clark picks you up and you hold on.

"I'm not having sex so you can put me down." You kick your legs because you're almost sure you wouldn't.

"Oh I know." He walks confidently to the still open window, "We need Lex for that. He has a sturdy desk and sound proof office."

"Clark!"

And he jumps, flying off in the direction of his husband's company. It would be a pleasant surprise but at least he was right, that desk was sturdy.

End.

Notes:

I can't write sex scenes so there you go. Use your imagination. I picture a spit roast scenario and a very slippery desk.

I can confirm that Superman kicked Steve's ass, broke his legs - twice - and punched 3 times. Which is why Clark arrived looking disheveled. Also Steve did give as good as he got but Superman is a pretty boy with hopefully good dick (for you the readers sake ;)

#fanfiction #avengers #mirkysconcubinefiction #complete #dark steve rogers #female reader #i thought you should know #sequel #part two of two #clark kent x reader x lex luthor #clark kent × lex luthor #clark kent x reader #lex luthor #lex luthor x reader #female reader #dark themes #i regret alot but not this #crazy

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skarsgard-daydreams · 3 years

Text

Gravity Rides Everything

Description: For Mickey, survival was one thing. Recovery is another.

Warnings: angst, anxiety disorders, PTSD, references to sexual violence, references to drug use, references to gun violence, smoking, blood, sexual content, 18+

Note: This is a heavy piece that is set in an AU after the movie. The title is a reference to a song by Modest Mouse.

“I’m fine, baby.”

He had said it so many times that the words were worn and threadbare, no longer signifying meaning. Mickey sat on the couch in her apartment, his left knee bouncing with nervous energy as he brought a cigarette to his lips, ignoring the tremor in his hand as he took a long, slow drag. It was the one vice he would keep. A man couldn’t detox from all of his coping mechanisms at once.

She sat down beside him and folded the new jean jacket she’d bought for him to replace the old one after she couldn’t get the blood stains to lift from the denim. “Mickey,” she said, her voice gentle. “You’re safe.”

“I know, I know,” he said as though he didn’t believe the words. He covered his face with his tattooed hands and inhaled sharply, trying to regain control of himself.

“Come here.” She tugged on his arm, and when he didn’t move, she heaved his massive frame over to her, coaxing him to lay his head on her chest. He took a ragged breath as she grabbed the cigarette and set it in the ashtray beside the couch. She threaded her fingers in his overgrown hair, dragging her fingernails lightly over his scalp and down to the nape of his neck, where she let her hand rest, cradling his head. She thought he might try to protest again that he really was fine, that it didn’t affect him the way she thought it did, but his broad shoulders were shaking and he whimpered a little.

“Shh, baby,” she whispered, rubbing his back. “It’s over, okay?”

Ever since Mickey came home from rehab, the memories of their last score gripped him with a new ferocity—a side effect, she thought, of being unmedicated. She had argued with the condescending men in white coats until she wanted to scream that they had no idea what drug-seeking behavior really looked like. They had both lived it, falling down the rabbit hole of increasingly reckless decisions, chasing a high that always seemed out of reach. It looked like robbing convenience stores to pay off your dealer—not presenting to a doctor with a sixteen-year history of treatment for ADHD and anxiety disorders.

But she couldn’t say any of that out loud. They had been insanely lucky, not only because they survived, but because they hadn’t been caught. Mickey’s stint in rehab was the self-imposed intervention of a man who had outlived what should have killed him. The doctor finally agreed to a controlled-substance contract that required a drug screening before each refill and prescribed a dose of Adderall so low it would hardly have any effect on someone his size.

“I know,” Mickey said quietly. “I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry.”

But he wasn’t fine. She had first noticed it in the hospital, when he had started to hyperventilate because he thought the pneumatic compression cuffs wrapped around his calves were tying him down. She had tried to explain that they were there to prevent blood clots, but the nurse had to administer a sedative to prevent him from ripping out his IV and staggering outside to hotwire the first car he saw in the parking lot. Then, when they got home, he went for days without sleeping. She would wake up in the morning to find him still propped up in bed, watching reruns of Ancient Aliens as he fidgeted with the rings on his fingers, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

“Stop lying to me,” she whispered. “Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not. It’s okay if you’re not fine.”

There was something he wasn’t telling her. She knew him well enough to see the signs—the way he looked away when she asked him questions, the way he would idly tap at one of his lower canine teeth with his fingernail and say nothing at all. Whenever she had asked him what happened while they were separated during their shared living nightmare, he glossed over the episode. She knew it had resulted in him getting shot, but nothing else. Mickey laid down and put his head in her lap. He counted his breaths, trying to stave off a panic attack. She scratched his head again and counted with him until he was almost breathing normally. And then he confessed to her, with his face hidden against her thighs, everything that had happened.

“Mickey,” she breathed, her voice thick with emotion as her fingers stilled in his hair. She wanted to go back in time and kill that woman for what she had tried to do to him.

“Don't cry, babe. Nothing actually happened,” he said as though all of it was rendered null by the fact that his quick thinking had prevented things from going further. He stared at the muted television, and they sat like that for hours until he fell asleep.

Even after that night, Mickey insisted it wasn’t affecting him. But when they tried to be physical he would feel a pressure building in his chest until he couldn’t breathe, and he would have to put his head between his knees until the attack had passed. The memories were tangled together in his head—lips smashing against his mouth, hands skittering over his crotch, bullets cracking in the air and ripping through his flesh. The sum of all that had happened could strike him down on a hair trigger and leave him reeling and helpless.

They were both starving for intimacy, desperate to find their way back to each other. She needed to ease him back into things, to remind him that he would always be safe with her, that she would never do anything without his permission, and that he could revoke it at any time.

“I want you, Mickey,” she whispered one morning. Her ass was nestled in the spoon of his hips and she could feel his erection brushing against her while they lingered in bed, reluctant to move from the cozy warmth of the blankets stretched over them both.

He hummed in sleepy agreement and kissed her bare shoulder, tickling her skin with the bristly hair on his upper lip. She rolled over in his arms and looked into his green eyes, still heavy-lidded from slumber.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” she asked as he smoothed his hand over her hips and gave the swell of her ass a gentle squeeze.

A smile ghosted over Mickey’s face. “’Course it is,” he murmured.

She pressed her lips against his, kissing him with a tenderness that surprised him. He was fully awake now, and he slowly guided her on top of him as he deepened the kiss, savoring the sweet taste of the strawberry chapstick she always wore on her lips and the warmth of her tongue as it dipped into his mouth. There was something soothing about the way her hair cascaded around his face, blocking out the rest of the world so he could focus on her alone. He slipped his hands under her shirt and helped her peel it off, trailing his hands over her stomach to cup her breasts. She purred against his lips.

“Is it okay if I take off your sweatpants?”

Mickey nodded at her and caressed the curve of her breasts. The way she handled him so delicately felt strange, like they were teenagers back in his bedroom where he had been afraid to take off her jeans for the first time, only now the roles were reversed. He thought about how his old man would call him a pussy if he could see him now, so fragile that his girlfriend thought he would fall to pieces if she pulled down his pants without asking for permission. She freed him from his grey sweats and his boxers, tracing her fingers along the line of his hips and glancing back up at him for confirmation.

“Is it okay if I touch you, baby?” she asked.

“Yes, babe,” he said. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to be so careful, but he had a lump in his throat and doubted he could speak without his voice breaking. She prompted him with her soft voice to make sure he was still okay as she stroked him. He nodded, trying to focus on how good she was making him feel, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how she was so gentle with him, how she loved him so much even though he was broken. He felt a swell of emotion cresting in him and furrowed his brows, fighting the sudden urge to cry. She saw the look on his face and stilled her hand.

“Do you want me to stop?” she asked, worried she had triggered an episode without realizing it.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Mickey stammered. He covered his face with his hands to hide the tears leaking from his eyes, but his voice cracked as he spoke. “I want you, babe, I want you so fucking bad.”

“Me too, baby.”

She guided him inside her, and he groaned softly once he was sheathed in her warmth. He had missed this so much. A breathy gasp escaped her lips as she began to roll her hips, and he knew she had missed it too. She leaned forward and took his hands in hers, guiding them over her body him to remind him that he had permission to touch her as well. But all he wanted was to be closer, so he coaxed her down until he could feel the warmth of her body against his chest and swallowed hard as she kissed the tears from his cheeks.

“I love you so much, Mickey,” she whispered, letting her hair fall in a halo around them.

“I know,” he sobbed.

#mickey #villains movie #mickey fanfiction #villains fanfiction

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seokoloqy · 5 years

Text

Play Pretend | jjk (m)

➳ PAIRING: jungkook x y/n

➳ GENRE: smut, angst, soccer player!jk, fake dating!au, f2l

➳ WORD COUNT: 8.6k

➳ WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, minor violence, not rlly fingering but fingering ig, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

➳ SUMMARY: walking under ladders, splitting the pole, breaking mirrors, going near black cats—just to name a few things Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do before his soccer games.

And after Jungkook catches his girlfriend cheating on him, he’s going to need a little more than luck to get her back. He needs you.

➳ A/N: it’s been a long time coming but she’s finally done!! Everyone say thank you to Jane (@perfectlylmperfekt) for kicking my ass every day and making sure I was writing

—

As rain batters against the windows, your cat saunters up to your lounging figure. He rubs against your blanket-covered legs, begging for attention and belly rubs. You set aside the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to run your cold hands across his back, enjoying his satisfied purrs as you coo, “are you bored too, Pitch?”

The cat you brought home from the shelter has become your best friend. He’s always there for you whenever Jungkook isn’t around and you’re grateful for his companionship. No matter how many times Jungkook begs you to get rid of him because of his superstitions, you refuse. Pitch is family now and there’s no way you’re giving him away because Jungkook thinks he’s bad luck.

The reruns of your favorite television show have been on since you got back from class and all you’ve done is lay around eating junk food. You’d be hanging out with your roommate, Jungkook if he weren’t already at his girlfriend’s house for the night. For now, it’s just you, Pitch, and one too many Oreos.

You hear the sound of your front door unlocking and a disgruntled sigh. The door slams shut and Pitch jumps off your lap, bolting across the floor and slinking back into your bedroom.

“Back already?” You call out to your roommate, who made an unexpected return. Jungkook told you he’d be back tomorrow, you were expecting the apartment all to yourself.

He doesn’t respond, the sound of his squelching footsteps across the wooden floor make your head turn. You’re surprised to be greeted with his shaggy, dripping hair and soaked clothes, grey sweater clinging to his skin as he stares dejectedly off into space.

“What happened to you?”

“I caught Sooyoung cheating on me and we lost the match,” he mumbles.

Jungkook sighs, flinging his duffle bag to the ground as he drags his feet over to you. Falling back onto the couch with his legs dangling over the armrest, he looks up at you hovering over his face, distraught by his confession.

“You okay?” You ask, trying to sound supportive.

He gives you an incredulous look, “I lost the match and my girlfriend cheated on me! I’m not okay at all!”

You raise your hands in surrender, “It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s just one match and it’s her loss.”

“But she was my good luck charm,” he pouts, turning on his side to face the television.

Ever since they started dating, he’s won every game and somehow he’s convinced it’s her that helped him win. Though you only believe it’s just luck that he happens to win every time she’s there. She’s like a lucky pair of socks he needs for every game.

You roll your eyes, leaning back into the cushions and huffing, “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re a good player all on your own. Standing on the sidelines waving around some poster doesn’t correlate to you winning every time. You’ll do great with or without her.”

“No,” he stubbornly says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I need her.”

“How ‘bout I go with you for your next game?” you suggest, reaching over to grab your melting tub of ice cream. “I bet you’ll still win even without your lucky charm.”

“But you hate watching my soccer matches.”

“It’s just one game. How bad can it be?” You shrug, dangling the tub of ice cream over his face. “Now, eat this, it’ll make you feel better.”

—

“Where’s the cereal?”

“Huh?” you hum, snapping out of your reverie. He’s already wearing his purple jersey, lacing up his cleats, and waving around a box of cereal. Usually, you aren’t awake when he leaves for games, busy catching precious hours of sleep instead of waving him off.

However, your attention is focused on the tendrils of black ink crawling up his thigh beneath his shorts. You’re not very familiar with the tattoo, having only seen it once when he first got it. He had flashed his thigh to you unexpectedly with the flower patterns swirling up his leg and disappearing past the black fabric of his ridden up shorts. You’d turned away, refusing to look at his exposed leg, afraid of where the ink ended. Maybe it stops right above the hip bone, nearing mouthwatering territory. You regret not stopping to admire it now, dreamily eyeing the marks peeking from underneath the black nylon material.

“The cereal—there’s no more.” He shakes the empty carton, bringing your attention to him and raising an eyebrow. “Did you eat it all last night while I was gone?”

You scoff, lifting your hand to your chest and feign offense, “No, I would never eat your bland and healthy cereal.” Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a black creature creeping towards the countertop, jumping up and edging towards you. “Oh, Pitch!” you squeal, running your hand over his fur.

“Argh! Get that cat away from here. That thing is bad luck.” Jungkook backs up from the countertop, pressing himself against the stove, nails digging into his palms.

“In some cultures, black cats are considered good luck,” you state, playing with Pitch’s clawing pink paws. “Your fear of him is irrational. Besides, how can you be afraid of him? He’s so cute,” you coo, tickling his stomach.

“I’m not afraid of your cat. I’d just prefer if it weren’t around me before games.”

“Him, not it,” you correct, watching as Jungkook slowly edges around the stove and moves to the fridge.

“Whatever, just keep it away,” he dismisses, turning his back towards you to open the fridge and rifle through its contents of healthy options.

He seems fine, considering what happened yesterday. Still superstitious as always. But you’re wondering how he’s really feeling, hoping he’s not bottling up his emotions until he’s ready to burst.

“So,” you ponder, “have you called Sooyoung yet?”

He shuts the door, leaning his forehead against the cold metal with a dejected sigh, “I mean, we’ve been together for years. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

You nod slowly, muttering, “I guess, but she cheated on you.”

“I know,” he grits his teeth, turning around with a red Gatorade in hand, twisting the lid open and taking a long swig, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly apologize, turning your attention to Pitch instead returning his intense gaze lingering on you.

He cocks his head towards the door, “Let’s go.”

You slide off your seat at the island and head towards the door, regretting bringing up his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend. He follows closely behind, unconsciously pressing a gentle hand on your lower back and dragging along his grey duffle bag.

—

The hanging overcast sky brings a cold wind around the field, ripping umbrellas out of hands and blowing away lawn chairs not secured to the ground. As you step foot on the sinking, damp grass, you cringe seeing the underside of your semi-new white shoes become muddy and stained.

Jungkook strides onto the field with no problem, used to the conditions after heavy rain and loving the exhilarating feeling of playing on a damp field.

“It’s freezing out here,” you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to conserve body heat. If you had known it was going to be this cold with the wind whipping about, you would have worn more than a sweater and maybe you would have brought your own chair seeing as the metal benches are still wet from the earlier rain.

Jungkook drops his duffle bag on the bench, shrugging off his thick jacket. “Here, take mine. I don’t need it anyway,” he offers, holding it open to allow you to slip your arms through the sleeves. As he helps you push your arms through the sleeves, his lingering warmth shields you from the cold and he brings his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” You twist to loosen his unrelenting grip on you. “Get off.”

“Not yet, wait till she sees,” he hums patiently, running his nose along the shell of your ear.

“W-What?” You stutter, squirming away from his heated breath puffing across your neck. You scan the crowd of people, spying the crowd for said ‘she.’ As you watch the bleachers a face appears in the stands, gazing down at your awkward position in one another's arms. Sooyoung’s beaming smile fades as she watches Jungkook press a kiss to your cheek and pulls you to his side, casually resting his arm over your shoulder.

While he pretends not to acknowledge her, she gets the message, timidly lowering the hand she almost waved. You can understand why Jungkook wouldn’t want to speak to her, after all, she did cheat on him. But what is he trying to accomplish by holding you so close?

“She’s jealous,” he smirks, “She’ll want me back soon enough.”

You gawk, no longer flattered by his intimate touches.

“Hey, pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s make Sooyoung jealous.”

“How is that a good idea? She cheated on you and you still care about what she thinks?”

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be like revenge.”

“Getting revenge never solves anything. If anything it makes everything worse.” You say, watching Sooyoung continuously glance at the two of you from her seat alone.

“Please? It’s just holding hands and stuff that’s it.”

Holding hands and stuff? Denying that you had a crush on your roommate/friend would be useless. Of course, you like him but pretending to be his girlfriend to get back at his ex? You guess it wouldn’t hurt to help your best friend.

“Fine.”

Jungkook grins, “this is going to be great. Stay here okay and watch me win this then.”

He places a seemingly quick and meaningless kiss on your lips, making sure everyone on the field and off has a chance to see, before dashing off to join his teammates at center field without another thought or explanation. You slowly lower yourself onto the soaked bench, faintly feeling the water seeping into your jeans, but you’re too distracted by the lingering taste of his lips. Your thoughts are a blur of chaos, still reeling from him calling you his new girlfriend and the unexpected kiss—a kiss you can’t wrap your head around.

Are you supposed to feel anything other than butterflies fluttering in your stomach? Why would he kiss you? He just wants to do it for show.

The referee blows on his whistle, starting the match and your gaze follows Jungkook. His determination and focus follow the ball and nothing else like the world falls away.

The ball is passed around and the crowd cheers, but all you can focus on is Jungkook. He runs after the ball, legs pumping across the field. The dark patterns of his orchid tattoo show beneath his shorts with every stride he makes.

Drops of rain begin to speckle your cheeks, you pull up the hood of Jungkook’s jacket. The rain begins to pour, hitting the field and bouncing off the surface. As rain drenches players and audience members alike, the game continues without a pause. Through the haze of water, you can see Jungkook still running despite rain falling in his eyes and his dark bangs sticking to his forehead. The purple jersey clings to the toned muscle beneath, giving you a view of his abs.

Oh man, you’re in trouble.

—

“Hey, wanna watch a-”

You make a beeline towards your bedroom, not wanting to spend another awkward second with him. The door slams behind you just as you hear him call out your name, wondering why you’re avoiding him.

You throw yourself onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows and screaming to release your frustrations. It’s mostly confusion though, you don’t understand anything.

In the hallway, you hear his footsteps walking past your door and you’re afraid he’ll swing your door open and demand you tell him what’s wrong, but the shower turns on instead. You breathe a sigh of relief, rolling over on your bed.

“You don’t just kiss a friend,” you mutter under your breath, talking to no one in particular until you hear a soft ‘meow.’ You’re reminded that Pitch hasn’t eaten yet and you haven’t refilled his bowl. If you get out now, you’ll be able to sneak back before Jungkook gets out of the shower. Peeling yourself off the bed, you peek your head out into the hall. The bathroom door across from you is shut with the melodious sounds of Jungkook’s humming beneath the trickling of water.

Pitch slips out of the room, dashing into the hall and you follow after him. In the kitchen, you grab a can of his favorite chicken flavor food from the cabinet to pour into his metallic bowl. He purrs with delight, picking up his meal.

You leave him to eat in peace, sneaking back to the hall where water has stopped running, but the door is still closed with the fan whirring inside. As you tiptoe towards your door, Jungkook emerges from the steam filled room wrapped in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his skin. It’s not like you haven’t seen anything before. His love for as minimal clothing as possible hasn’t phased you until now.

“Hey,” he greets casually as if nothing has changed. Maybe he doesn’t feel the tension slowly rising between you two, but you’re certainly feeling the repercussions of his kiss. You dodge around him to get to your room, muttering about a paper that’s due soon. Once you’re safely hidden in your room, you breathe a sigh of relief. You know you can’t avoid him forever. It’s childish to just ignore him and not address your problems.

A knock comes from behind your back, Jungkook calls through the door, “Hey, what’s up?”

The door swings open and you stumble away from the door as he pushes his way into your room. His head pops through the crack, peering at you with his brows furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?” he questions innocently, opening the door wider so he can step in.

“No,” you squeak, holding your breath as you notice his towel dip lower around his waist.

“Then what’s wrong? Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the ‘p’. “Now, get out of my room and put a shirt on please.”

He glances down, slyly returning his gaze back up to you with a smirk gracing his lips. “Oh,” he cocks his brow, “are you blushing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red, Y/N.”

You move to push against his toned chest, forcing him out of your room. “Get out, I mean it, Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, walking backward. “I’m leaving, but if you ever want a taste—”

You screech, slapping his shoulder, “Get out!”

His laugh echoes down the hall as he walks back to his room.

—

“You’re coming to my game next week right?” Jungkook asks over a bowl of soggy cereal, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“No?” You stop petting Pitch focusing on Jungkook.

“What?” His spoon clatters against his bowl as he gives you a dubious look. “But you’re my good luck charm now. We won the last game with you. I need you!”

“I keep telling you—”

“It’s the championships! We can’t lose this.”

You cross your arms with a heavy sigh, ignoring the pleading look he gives you. When will he start to realize he doesn’t need anyone to win?

As you begin to argue with his logic, he interrupts, “I’ll clean out Pitch’s litter box for a month!”

You can’t argue with that. You’d rather sit on a cold bench for an hour or two than clean out the litter box.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“After the championships, I’ll take you out to dinner. There’s this new fancy restaurant-”

“Like… like a date?” You blurt suddenly, interrupting him. You pull Pitch into your arms like he’s your comfort animal, holding him to your chest as you nervously look at Jungkook.

He furrows his brows as if the answer is obvious. He shovels a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, chewing and speaking slowly, “Yeah, I guess… me and Sooyoung were gonna go together, but you know…” A dark look rolls over his expression as he says Sooyoung’s name, recalling her betrayal.

“Oh,” you say, hoping to not sound too disappointed.

“I already made the reservations and there’s no point in letting it go to waste.”

“Okay, sure.” You hoped he would be interested enough actually take you out because he wants to, not because he has no one else to go with. You don’t know why you feel so rejected.

As you run your fingers through Pitch’s dark fur and watch Jungkook finish off his bowl of cereal, you wonder why he doesn’t seem to care about the other day. He hasn’t mentioned the kiss.

“So, you’re headed off to practice today?”

His purple uniform is laid out on the counter, washed of all the dirt and sweat from the rigorous day before.

“Yeah, wanna come? We can go eat after afterward,” he suggests, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. “I mean, we haven’t hung out for a while.”

He’s right. The last time you both spent a good amount of time together was before he started dating Sooyoung. So you easily agree to his offer, happy to spend more time with him.

—

“You’re late. Laps.”

“But-”

“Go.”

Jungkook drops his bag to the ground, groaning as his coach gives the order and he’s forced to begin jogging around the rectangular white painted field. The rest of his teammates are in the middle of the field doing their usual drills with one another. You linger on the sidelines next to the water cooler like the towel boy dishing out water to every exhausted player that comes by. You don’t mind it though, it’s better than sitting on the bench doing nothing but idle on your phone alone. You like making small talk with his teammates every time they come for a drink.

Jimin seems especially thirsty today, however, taking every opportunity between activities to jog over with a clandestine smile.

“Again?” you laugh, moving to grab a paper cup to fill up for the sixth time.

“Hey,” he whines, gently prying it from your fingers. “You don’t have to pour it for me. I’m not a kid.”

“But there’s nothing else to do! I’ve just been sitting here watching you guys practice like some soccer mom.”

“Soccer moms are hot,” he comments with a simple shrug of his shoulder and a sly smile creeping onto his face.

“Ha-ha,” you mockingly laugh, rolling your eyes.

As Jimin moves to fill his cup beside you, you look over at Jungkook, surprised that he's already looking at you, more specifically at Jimin with an unamused expression. A deep scowl forming across his features. When he starts jogging over you avert your gaze to Jimin chugging down the water he had just filled.

“You’re spending more time with my girl than practicing,” Jungkook snidely comments, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulder to roughly pull him to his side with a fake plastered smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Jimin throws his hands up in surrender sarcastically. “I didn’t know you already got over your ex and started dating Y/N overnight. It takes getting used to.”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, pushing a laughing Jimin off him. “You just like getting on my nerves.”

Jimin straightens his uniform, giggling, “Yeah, you’re right, but I also happen to actually like Y/N. I’m just trying to keep her company while you’re ignoring her for practice.”

Just as Jungkook begins to threaten Jimin, their coach blows a whistle, calling them both back over to the field, threatening them with more laps.

As they both jog back, giving playful shoves, you sigh becoming bored again.

After they’re released from practicing the whole team runs to the water cooler to relax, sighing in relief after grueling drills. Most of them ignore you for their cups of water, but Jungkook and Jimin seem to fight for your attention.

“Are you coming to my house to hang out? The rest of the team is coming.” Jimin asks you and not Jungkook, purposely ignoring him. “It’ll be fun to hang out again.”

He reminds you of the days before Jungkook’s girlfriend when you all would hang out whether it was at Jimin’s apartment or over dinner.

“Sure,” you agree, happy to bond with the boys again.

“You said you were hanging out with me today though,” Jungkook interjects, refusing to let Jimin steal you away from him for the day.

You don’t want to disappoint either of them, deciding on a compromise, “Well we can hang out together at Jimin’s house, right?”

“Great meet you guys there.” Jimin waves as he scoops up his duffle bag and heads towards the car with Hoseok and Seokjin.

—

Jungkook has been glowering for a while now, watching Jimin laugh heartily with his arm wrapped around you. Everyone else seems to notice the tension rolling off Jungkook in waves, awkwardly glancing over at him occasionally but not caring enough to ask what’s wrong.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Yoongi calls from the kitchen, “Come open this jar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, muscle boy, or I’ll have to break it open.”

“Fine,” Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the recliner into the kitchen to join Yoongi and Seokjin.

Taehyung sneaks up behind you on the couch, resting his head on his folded hands against the back. “So,” he ponders, “What’s it like being the rebound?”

You’re not sure who gives Taehyung the harsh smack to the head, but he whines and pushes himself up wondering what he did wrong.

He’s right. You are the rebound—fake rebound. It’s bad enough being a rebound but it hurts, even more, knowing that he doesn’t have the same feelings you do because he’s so caught up in trying to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“That’s not what he means, Y/N,” Jimin assures, trying to comfortingly lay a hand on your shoulder to ease your worries away. As much as he tries to help, not even his soothing touch or gentle words can help rid the way you feel about the whole unfortunate situation you find yourself trapped in.

Should you fake break up with him? Tell him it’s over and pretend it never happened? Maybe you should just let this whole charade continue until his ex finally wants him back. If she even wants him back. It’ll be easier for both of you. You won’t have to face him about your feelings and he will get the girl again.

You need to keep up with this whole fake dating charade.

“I’m okay with it,” you say, plastering on a fake smile to convince the boys, mostly Jimin who’s watching you with worry in his eyes. “Really, I am.”

“Dinner is ready.”

Everyone’s head whips to see Jungkook peeking his head out from the kitchen door whose eyes find Jimin’s strewn hand resting over your shoulder and narrowing.

As everyone jumps from their comfortable spot on the couch to scramble into the dining room, Jungkook grabs your arm to pull you back from the group.

“Do you want to go home? We don’t have to eat here.” His eyes dart over to Jimin’s back disappearing with the rest of the boys to eat.

“Why not? We should just stay here.”

“But you look upset.”

You hadn’t realized the look still plastered on your face. He noticed the way your downcast eyes avoid him.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine.” You pull yourself away from Jungkook and follow the rest of the boys, ignoring the worried lingering eyes watching you walk away.

—

“Why are you so upset with me again?” Jungkook grumbles, slamming the front door shut behind him. You ignored him the whole time during dinner, even choosing to sit next to Jimin instead. You just didn’t feel right about this whole thing anymore.

“Because you’re such a...”

“Such a what?”

You fall on the couch, slouching into the cushions as he takes a seat next to you. Why doesn’t he see it? He’s blind to how he’s been acting lately. He’s so confusing. He acts as if you’re his real girlfriend, but doesn’t give you any real sign that he actually feels anything.

“You’re just so blind! You make me your fake girlfriend, but it doesn’t feel that way to me!”

“What do you mean? You know this was only to make Sooyoung jealous.”

That’s what hurts. The fact he doesn’t even acknowledge how you could feel.

“You act like some kind of jealous boyfriend when Jimin is around and you were never like that before. It’s just giving me mixed signals. For you maybe it was only about her, but what about me, Jungkook? What about how I feel?”

“And what do you feel?” He crosses his arms defensively, trying to figure out what you mean.

“I-I…” You can barely get the right words out, afraid of their consequence. If you don’t say the words now, you’ll be stuck. “I like you! More than you think. I like you more than a friend or roommate should and you’re just so blind!”

It feels better as the weight is lifted off your shoulders, but the longer you watch Jungkook’s expression simmer with confusion, the more you feel that pressure returning. He’s still so hung up on his ex, so what makes you think he’ll return your feelings? He did all this—pretended to have a fake girlfriend—just to make her jealous and get her back.

“I’m sorry I did this to you. I still have feelings for her, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

His hand slides onto your leg, firmly gripping the jean-clad thigh in an attempt to comfort you, not knowing what else to do. Your downcast eyes find their way to the black tattoo peeking from underneath his shorts, trailing and twisting a complicated path upwards to territory unknown.

“So does that mean you could feel the same?” You swallow thickly. You’re stuck, wallowing in self-pity and the uncontrollable urge to just kiss him and hope that he’ll change his mind about everything. That just one kiss could change your relationship and you’ll have everything you want. It’s pitiful to think a measly kiss could change anything between you, but why not be daring? Why not be bold and go for it?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Then do you,” you lick your lips, “want to find out?”

You begin to lean into him unconsciously letting your body make the first move. It’s just a kiss, right? When he kissed you on that soccer field everything seemed to change for you.

Your hand reaches the nape of his neck, slowly intertwining timid fingers with the dark, silky strands of hair, daring to brush your nose against his. Breathless—the air leaves your lungs with each centimeter your lips get closer.

“Y/N…” he murmurs just inches away from you, inches away from crossing an unspoken line of friendship.

As soon as your lips lock something more than friendship ignites. The warmth passing throughout your body is something more than the tingle of first kisses and innocent butterflies dancing around your stomach.

Jungkook’s hand moves from your thigh, sliding up to latch around your waist, pulling you forward until your chests press against one another. It’s like a spark has lit between you two, creating an irresistible pull to cling onto one another desperately.

His lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the nape of your neck, sucking and kissing every inch of exposed skin.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over your body, arching further into him for more. “J-Jungkook,” you moan as he pushes you back to lay flat against the couch.

He hovers over you, kneeled between your parted thighs, dark bangs brushing over his crescent lids and nearly shielding the hungry gaze in his eyes. Fingers teasingly circle the button of your jeans as his gaze flickers between wary and lustful. Jungkook cocks his head before asking, “You want this?”

Without a voice, you nod your response, hoping it’s enough to ease him.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, yes, I want this, Jungkook,” you whine, gripping his forearm with one hand to move him against your jeans again.

Your verbal confirmation allows Jungkook to finally move to unbutton your jeans, shoving his hand into your pants without hesitation. He’s eager now, not even waiting until you can get your pants off fully. Easily, he finds your clit and begins to rub in slow, languid up and down motions to draw out a pretty moan from your lips. He cracks a grin hearing those little whimpers and feeling your legs curl around his thighs from the pleasure he bring you with just a flick of his finger.

Your back slightly arches off the cushions when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck off your juices. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac that is you.

You lift your hips off the couch to press yourself into his erection, grinding against the loose material of his soccer shorts, feeling the hardness of his cock laid on your stomach. You tremble with anticipation as he pulls down your jeans, staring at your exposed cunt.

“God,” he groans, sliding himself down your body until he’s level with your pussy. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping.”

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, “f-fingers.”

“Fingers or my dick first? Because you’re coming on both tonight.”

If your mouth wasn’t already hanging open from his fingers sliding up and down your folds, it would be now.

You gasp when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers claw at his shoulders between your thighs. “I just want you. I want all of you.”

“Shit, I don’t think I want to wait. Just ride me now.”

Jungkook pulls himself away from your core, pulling his jersey over his head and his soccer shorts down. As he slings his clothes aside and relaxes against the couch, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You’re really going to have sex with your roommate/best friend. This is either the biggest mistake of your life or the greatest turn of events. The muscles in your arms stiffen as you grip his shoulders for stability.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and pushing back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “We both want this, right?”

You nod, biting down on your lower lip before aligning with his cock.

He’s right. You want this as much as he does. You trust him—love him.

As your dripping folds brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively lower yourself further, taking the rest of him in swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick, has you moaning out his name, gasping for air, “Mhm, Jungkook.”

You rock your hips into him, already feeling yourself tightening and clenching. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full.

Jungkook takes your hips, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, causing you to scream.

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into the cushions and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clench shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax. Jungkook’s finger slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you gonna come?” He asks, breathlessly, pulling his head forward to kiss your collarbone, sucking harsh bruises against your skin.

“Y-Yes,” you pant, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good. ”

At this point whatever tumbles out of your mouth is just unfiltered thoughts.

“Then come,” he moans against your neck, “Come all over my cock.”

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive mound is all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure. Your legs tighten around Jungkook’s waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him.

Not long after, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally maxed out, you feel him going soft inside you. Jungkook slowly slips himself out, careful not to let any of your juices drip onto the couch by stuffing two fingers into you and plugging you up.

You let out a little whine, “Ah, wh-”

“This couch was expensive,” he chuckles, “We don’t need any stains.”

“Well, who told you to buy the expensive couch?”

“I know a better place where we can make a mess.”

Just as Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist to hoist you up from the couch, there is a small knock on the door. Both your heads turn, afraid it might be your neighbors with a noise complaint.

“Jungkook?”

It’s Sooyoung’s voice.

“What is she doing here?” You ask, not realizing how shaky your voice sounds. Fuck, she isn’t supposed to be here. Not now.

“I don’t know, but don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Meet me in my room. I’ll take care of you right after,” he winks, slipping his fingers out of you and licking up both your arousals off his fingers.

You giggle, “Okay, hurry up then.”

Maybe he really has gotten over her, you can’t help but feel the giddy sense of joy as you scurry to his room, looking over your shoulder to see him throw back on his soccer uniform and fix his hair.

You run into his room, throwing yourself onto his bed and spreading your body out on the sheets, grinning happily to yourself. What a dream—you can hardly believe it. Could this be the start a new relationship between the two of you?

Voices raise in the living room, you catch a faint word of Jungkook and Sooyoung’s conversation.

“...me back…”

“... still in love…”

“...can’t… somewhere…”

You lay in Jungkook’s bed, completely naked and vulnerable, waiting for him to come back for what feels like hours. You’re curious. What are they talking about for so long? Jungkook said he’d be quick to shoo her away. Worry begins to set, and a sense of doubt starts to plague your mind. What if…?

You slip out of his bed and tiptoe down the hall to your room to grab something to cover yourself up.

As soon as the fluffy, white robe is wrapped around you, you skip back out into the hall and peek over to see what you suspected all along.

You’re trembling—sick to your stomach—watching as Jungkook wraps a strong arm around her waist to pull her in. His lips are pressed against hers. That kiss is no mistake. He still loves her. It’s clear nothing between you two has flourished into anything you’d hoped for, instead it comes crashing all around you into dust.

You wonder if she can taste your arousal on his lips still lingering after he finished with you. How can he kiss her so passionately when those same lips were on you just moments ago?

You’re foolish to believe that one night could change anything. He said he still had feelings for her. They were together for years. It’s not so easy to forget your first love.

The burning tears that well up in your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself, protecting yourself, begin to fall.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper. Even if you screamed it, it seems as if that wouldn’t break up the couples’ passionate reunion.

You find yourself laid in bed, curled up with an emptiness in your stomach, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. You should clean up. Wash away traces of him on your body, get rid of whatever he touched.

You force yourself out of bed, across the hall, glancing over at the front door to find the two nowhere to be found. They left? He left? Jungkook fucks you and leaves right after as if him kissing his ex wasn’t a hard enough pill to swallow.

The scorching water isn’t enough to clean away how you feel. Such a sinking feeling isn’t easy to scrub away no matter how many time you claw your hands over those marks he left you, hoping the traces of him will disappear.

Once you’re out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe and laid back in bed, curled into a ball, you scroll through your phone to distract yourself. Somehow your thumb finds Jimin’s phone number. You bite your lip, wondering whether or not you should message him. You just want someone to talk to—someone to hold.

[You - 11:36 PM] hey

You lay your phone down, hoping for a quick response. You idly drum your fingers against your sheets, resisting the urge to cry again as your thoughts are muddled by images of Jungkook and Sooyoung.

[Jimin - 11:39 PM] what’s up? It’s pretty late

[You - 11:39 PM] yeah I guess it is… you’re probably resting before the big game tomorrow… I just wanted someone to talk to and you always say you’re here for me

Seconds after sending that message, your phone begins to buzz as a photo of Jimin pops up on your screen.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out croaked, parched because of all the crying you’ve been doing.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds upset, not at you but because he’s worried. At least you know one person cares about you.

“I just feel like an idiot.” Your voice wavers, threatening to choke up again and start to sob. “I just—I want to talk to someone right now.”

There’s silence on the line and then the sound of sheets rustling.

“Hello?” You call.

“I’m coming over.”

“Y-You don’t have to,” you stutter, wiping away a stray tear. “The championship is tomorrow. You need sleep.”

“And you need me, so I’m coming.”

It isn’t negotiable for him. He hangs up right after, leaving you to wait for his arrival almost ten minutes later despite living almost thirty minutes away.

Jimin arrives with his hair in disarray, a tee shirt, and pajama bottoms, and his soccer bag slung over his shoulder. You wrap the robe around you tighter, hoping to cover the hickeys along your collar away from sight. He rushes forward without an invitation to envelop you in a comforting hug.

“The fuck happened? Was it Jungkook?”

His questions are drowned out as you allow yourself to ease into him, releasing all the tension you’ve built.

“Don’t talk about him.”

That’s all he needs to know to close his mouth and guide you to the couch, reminding himself to deal with the problem later and comfort you first.

For a while it’s just silence, time ticking away as you sit together in each other’s arms, and then your sniffles, sobs, and tears. They come in waves of different emotions: regret, sorrow, and anger.

“I should have been smarter. I knew he loved her. He said he still had feelings for her! I’m such an idiot!”

“You’re not an idiot. Stop blaming yourself for Jungkook’s mistakes. None of this is your fault, okay?”

“But I shouldn’t have agreed to go along with his stupid plan!”

“Wait, what plan?”

You wipe your nose on the back of your sleeve and sigh, “He wanted to make Sooyoung jealous so she’d want him back, so we pretended to date.”

“He used you?”

You can feel his temper flaring in the way his posture straightens and his hands tighten around your waist.

When the front door creaks open both your heads whip around to find Jungkook sneaking back into the house, freshly disarrayed hair. Once he spots the two of you cuddled up on the couch in each other’s arms, he pauses underneath the door frame as he gapes at your teary, puffy eyes.

“I can’t believe you,” Jimin sneers, rising off the couch with nothing but contempt written on his face.

“Don’t,” you weakly murmur, pulling on his hand before he can advance any further.

“What are you doing here?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? You think you can just sleep with Y/N and then go off to fuck your ex who cheated on you?”

Jimin rips his hand from your grasp, unable to contain the anger he’s built up from watching you cry over Jungkook.

Jungkook eases back towards the hanging mirror, raising his hands up as a feeble way to shield himself from the older’s advances. Too afraid of the menacing look in Jimin’s eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have-”

An excruciatingly, sharp crack of bone and flesh connecting and shards of glass shattering, resonating throughout the living room before Jungkook can finish his sentence. Pieces of broken mirror scatter all around Jungkook’s feet along with drops of blood as he curses, sliding to the floor and holding his shoulder.

“Jimin!” You exclaim, rushing from the couch to Jungkook’s side and inspecting his scratched up arm. “Shit, you didn’t need to do that!”

“Maybe I didn’t, but he deserves it,” Jimin spits, refusing to come to Jungkook’s aid.

There aren’t deep shards of glass embedded Jungkook’s arm, it’s just minor cuts scattered across his skin. Thankfully, it’s nothing that calls for serious medical attention.

“Are you alright?”

Jungkook chuckles, wincing as his freshly bruised jaw begins to burn as his mouth moves, “That’s like… seven years of bad luck, isn’t it?”

He knows how badly he fucked up and how badly you must hate him now. He doesn’t know what else to say.

You’re in no mood to laugh with him.

“Come on.” You tug on his hands, standing up to help him on his feet. “Get up and put some ice on your face.”

Jungkook wobbles to his feet, cradling his jaw and sidestepping around Jimin who stands firmly in the path leading to the kitchen.

“You can stay at my place tonight if you want,” Jimin offers as soon as Jungkook is out of sight and rummaging for a bag to put ice in, “if you’re not comfortable staying here alone with him.”

“There’s nothing worse he can do now, Jimin,” you sigh, looking around for something to sweep up the glass. You don’t want Jimin hovering over you the whole night, you feel bad enough forcing him out of bed, but it’ll just cause more tension if he and Jungkook stay under the same roof. “You might as well go home. There’s a game tomorrow.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jimin hesitantly says, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You follow after Jimin as he moves to the door. You wave him off and shut the door behind him, letting out a frustrated huff as you look back at Jungkook. He’s is still in the kitchen leaning against the island and tenderly holding an ice pack to his jaw. You don’t know whether to approach him or just walk away, back to your room where you’ll continue to wallow alone.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a pathetic apology, murmured under his breath as you walk past the kitchen. You pause, stepping back beneath the threshold.

“Sorry for what? Sorry that you slept with me or sorry that you took back Sooyoung right after?”

You watch Jungkook wince, not from the throbbing on his cheek but from the harshness of your words. He stares at the floor, not daring to face you.

You leave him behind not bothering to say goodnight.

—

The morning of the championship game comes too quickly and you still can’t find it in your heart to forgive Jungkook. When you hear the sounds of Jungkook shuffling in the hallway out to the kitchen for his ritual bowl of cereal, his footsteps come to a stop in front of your door.

He hesitates to knock, choosing to stand in the hallway and dejectedly stare at your door. You listen as his footsteps recede. As you silently stare at your bedroom door, wondering if you should go out.

You know you’re supposed to be there for him today as his ‘lucky charm,’ but how are you supposed to crawl out of bed and be there for him when he couldn’t be bothered to stay with you last night?

You curl yourself further into your blankets, shielding yourself from the sounds of Jungkook pouring his cereal, zipping up his duffle bag, shooing Pitch away, then walking out the front door alone.

Once the front door shuts, you pull yourself out of bed, dragging along a blanket over your head and into the living room where you fall on the couch with a defeated sigh. Pitch meows before jumping up to snuggly curl beside your feet.

His game should be ending already and if it were a perfect world you two would’ve been headed to dinner. You bought a dress already, before yesterday, you were counting down the days until the game but now you’re just counting down the minutes that you won’t be. You want to go to dinner, sit and talk, laugh and pretend he didn’t break your heart the night before.

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] we lost the game :/

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] it was my fault rlly… i was distracted. everything is my fault.

[Jungkook - 6:51 PM] will you still meet me for dinner?

You toss your phone aside, leaving his texts unanswered. His last message makes you wonder though. You want to go to a fancy dinner and just pretend for a night that nothing ever went wrong between the two of you. Might as well pretend to get ready, pretend that Jungkook could love you the same way, pretend to be happy.

“Pitch, you love me, don’t you?” You murmur, running your hands along his spine before standing to prepare for what could’ve been a good night.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t love you, it was that he couldn’t love you the same way you did him.

Pitch lets out a content meow, following after you into your bedroom.

You pick out the dress hanging in your closet, laying it down on your bed.

“I’m not going to forgive him so easily, Pitch,” you say as Pitch seems to give you a look saying ‘really?’. “I just want to feel good about myself for once,” you huff. This is all for you. Maybe you'll dress up and stay on the couch all day eating ice cream and watching movies. Fancy dresses don’t have to mean fancy dinner. Fancy dresses are just a confidence booster.

Minutes turn to an hour and you’re finally ready for absolutely nothing—no date, no night out with your friends—just nothing. But you feel good, a little better than before, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“His loss,” you confidently say, trying hard to convince yourself to stay positive.

[Jungkook - 7:32 PM] hey im at the restaurant if you decide to meet me… i really hope you do. Let’s start over.

[Jungkook - 7:35 PM] i’ll wait if thats what it takes.

Reading his texts make you feel guilty for standing him up, but you won’t go. You stay put right where you are, comfortably lounging on the couch with a tub of ice cream and Pitch at your side.

“He’s just going to have to sit there a little while longer.”

When Pitch jumps off the couch running over to his litter box, you sit back with a sigh, playing with the hem of your dress.

When the clock touches half-past eight o’clock, the door unlocks and Jungkook walks through with a bouquet clutched in his hands. He’s as dressed up as you are, wearing a tucked in a white button-up with black slacks. He stops once he sees you, dressed up and alone.

“You look,” he’s awestruck, “beautiful.”

“Thank you… You look good too,” you awkwardly say, eyes darting around to avoid his

“Oh,” he flushes, flattening out the front of his shirt. He realizes the flowers in his hands, holding out to you hesitantly. “I-I bought you flowers.” The scarlet petals almost match the shade of his cheeks as he presents the red flowers wrapped in a thin layer of plastic to you.

You take them from him, running your fingers delicately over the petals.

Glancing over at the purple and black bruise Jimin had given him last night, you almost wince at the sight. “How are you?”

Jungkook grimaces, “I’m okay, I guess. I-I waited for you. At dinner. You never showed so the waiter felt kinda bad for me,” he faintly chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets, “he said I could come back again if ‘my date ever changed her mind’ and let me make a new reservation.”

You nod slowly, twisting the frills of your decorative pillows. It’s just silence, then—

“I was fucking stupid for kissing her,” he admits suddenly, “I swear, I would take it back. I-I just… we were together for a long time. It’s hard to just forget how I feel.”

“So now what?”

“I told her I can’t be with her that’s why I left last night. I… I love you. Let’s start over and let’s do this right.”

The twinge you feel in your chest, the sinking feeling in your stomach, tells you how guilty he really is.

Jungkook rounds the corner of the couch to sit beside you, thighs touching, reminding you of last night. You scoot away, placing the flowers between your bodies to separate yourselves.

“Stop.”

He accepts the distance, not wanting to push you further away.

“I’m sorry. I-I just want a second chance to prove that I do care about you.” The genuine look in his eyes shows you only regret and the promise to make it up.

You look down at the flowers between the two of you, picking at the petals. You don’t want to lose Jungkook as a friend, even if he did break your heart. He will always be your best friend. He wants to make it work, and you want to give him a chance to make it up. Maybe you won’t fully return the feelings that were once there, but you can still make an effort to forgive him.

“Okay. Let’s start over.”

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #btssmutclub #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btsguild #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #bts reactions #jungkook x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Adrift

Sequel to Getaway | Homecoming | Non Grata

Warnings: noncon sex (oral and intercourse), angst. This is dark!(nomad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. I mean it, I’m not gonna tell you again.

Summary: The reader tries to start over but there’s one thing she can’t shake.

Note: Really my goal here is just to see how much of an asshole I can make Steve. I like to think I’ve done a decent job of that so without further ado here’s some nomad!Steve you wanna punch in the face.

Anyways, hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think as always. Love ya <3

You had never kept a real secret from Gia. It felt like a second betrayal; first Ethan, now her. You were sisters, you told each other everything. As any sibling, you had your arguments, but they never lasted long. You always ended up laughing about it in the end. Not this. Never this. She couldn’t know about this.

You tiptoed through the door upon your return from the hotel. Despite the shower, you felt dirty. Steve hadn’t really let you wash up. You could feel him now; his body against yours as he pressed you the frosted glass of the stall. It was just as precarious as the window. The phone rung several more times. He didn’t care.

The air mattress was half-deflated. You didn’t care as you laid across it, wide awake until the sun rose. You woke at the same time as Gia and readied in silence for work. She wasn’t much of a morning person but you didn’t mind so much. You had your coffee, a bowl of granola, and headed out. Menial customer issues would distract you from much greater problems. You couldn’t wait.

You expected to hear from Steve that night. Again, you were wrong. You never knew with this man. He was entirely unpredictable. That was worse than his brutality. The sheer effect he had on you. The pit that formed in your stomach when you thought of him. The way it plummeted when he finally appeared before you. The way his voice made you quake.

That night, you jumped every time a car drove by or the fridge kicked up and began to buzz. You didn’t sleep much more than the previous night. The pattern held. Restless nights, empty days. You distracted yourself with work then searched online for a new apartment. The sooner you were away from Gia the better. You could hear his threats still. You’d never forgive yourself if he touched her. Hell, you’d never forgive yourself after what he did to Ethan.

When you did find a place for yourself, it was both a relief and a smack in the face. You’d be on your own for the first time in two years. It was frightening even without the super soldier lurking in the shadows. Another week and you’d be due to move in. You had a lot to do and it kept you from dwelling over greater problems. You found a lightly used sofa online and your mother offered the old dining table she had placed in storage last year. You pieced together your new life; a patchwork of odds and ends. The perfect reflection of the chaos which had taken over.

Gia was back on afternoons. The boutique she worked at was high-end and often demanded more than the usual customer service. The suits and socialites who frequented weren’t shy with the staff. Drinks at the hottest most expensive clubs and gifts for those chosen as favourites. Your sister wasn’t coy about her lifestyle. She liked to party and was intent on enjoying her youth while it lasted. You were always been the safe one. Boring, even.

A text assured you she wouldn’t be home till morning if at all before her next shift. It wasn’t unusual. It happened once before since you started staying with her. You only made sure that she was smart and safe in her decisions. A tracker on her phone to keep you assured.

It was almost eleven. You had the next day off and no reason to pretend to sleep. You sat on the air mattress, your back against the couch, as reruns of Friends blared from the television. You were growing a bit sleepy as you sunk down against the single pillow. It was an oddly peaceful night. Your new normal. Alone...until you weren’t.

The door handle clicked and the lock slid open. You reached for your phone and checked for a missed message as you called over your shoulder. “I thought you said you were staying out, Gi,” You chuckled. “Typical, always back in time to ruin my--” You sat up and waited for her to appear at the end of the hall. “Shit.” You swore as another stood in her place.

Steve smiled and leaned against the door frame. You gulped and got to your knees. “Ah, stay,” He pushed himself away from the wall, “You look…” He neared the end of the mattress knelt down to lift a knee onto it. “Cozy,” He smirked as he crawled towards you. He sat against the couch just beside you and cracked his neck. “I know I’ve been a bit M.I.A. lately but I’ll make it up to you.”

You stared at him bewildered. He acted as if this was completely normal. Barging into your sister’s apartment and sitting next to you as if he wasn’t your own personal tormentor. He stretched his arm over your shoulders and sighed.

“I’ve seen this before,” He pointed to the screen, “I like the sarcastic one.”

You blinked. He was batshit crazy. You lowered your eyes to your lap and played with the strings of your pajama shorts. He pulled you closer and you stiffened.

“What if she had been here?” You gritted.

“You’re cute,” He teased, “It is my mission to know everything about you. Every thought you have, every move you make...even now I know exactly what’s running through that stubborn little head of yours.” Your nostrils flared as you glared at him. “I really think you should just get it all out.”

You narrowed your eyes but said nothing.

“You wanna hit me so I think maybe you should and see what happens,” You balled your fist but kept from striking him. He was goading you so that you’d do the same to him. You shook your head and looked away. “Well, if you’re not gonna hit me, you better stop looking at me like that.”He grabbed your chin and turned your head back to him. His hand slipped down to your neck and he squeezed.

“That look really pisses me off,” He sneered, his grip grew tighter around your throat. “And I’ve barely earned it. I think I’ve been rather nice so far.” Your head felt as if it was swelling as you gasped for breath. He leaned in and hissed in your ear, “I could’ve killed him, you know that? And it would’ve been all your fault.” He released you roughly and you replaced his hand with yours, “I could still do it so why don’t you wipe that snarl off your face and put that mouth to some use.”

You stared at him and he smugly unzipped his jeans. Your eyes fell as he parted his fly and pulled his cock out above the vee. You had never met anyone so brazen. So completely evil. His cock wasn’t hard enough to stand on its own. You closed your eyes and swallowed. Your lips trembled as you searched for the strength. Just do it. Get it over with.

You slid over and bent over him, your back against his torso as you held yourself up with a hand on the other side of him. You took his cock and began to stroke him. You felt it twitch and harden. You bowed your head and flicked your tongue across his tip. He stretched his fingers across the back of your head and pushed you down. You opened your lips around him and he forced his cock to the back of your throat.

You slid your mouth up and down his length as he pet the back of your head. He was hard within seconds. You gagged on him and your shoulders shook. He ran his hand between them as you fought to hold back the next retch. You swallowed around him and caught your breath. You continued to bob your head, your neck ached from the awkward angle.

He moaned and held onto the back of your neck. The air mattress dipped beneath your weight as you shifted it on the floor. Your jaw began to hurt and you felt as if you had been sucking him for an hour. Your spit dribbled along the vee of his pants and you worked more vigorously in hopes that you’d be done. His voice grew louder and you were assured of his imminent release.

He came down your throat as he held you there. You gulped it down as best you could, your throat constricted around his cock. You slapped the mattress as you struggled for air and finally he let go. You sat up and heaved, his cum smeared around your lips. You leaned against the couch heavily and the mattress jostled below you.

“You don’t think we’re done, do you?” He growled.

Steve grabbed your arm and led you flat onto the mattress. He grabbed the elastic of your shorts and tore them down your legs. He tossed them on the floor and pushed your legs apart. He shoved his jeans down just below his ass and leaned over you, an elbow beside your head as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“I know you missed me,” He pushed inside and you squeaked. “Goddamn, I can just feel it.” He snaked a hand beneath your tank top and fondled your tit. “Your so fucking wet. Can you hear that?”

He held his breath as he thrust into you. You could hear how slick you were as he moved in and out of you. You turned your head in shame and his hot breath rushed over you. You couldn’t help the bloom you felt as he plunged into you. He was just as rough as any other time. He pressed you into the mattress until you felt the floor beneath.

You moaned as he pushed your shirt up your torso. He kept his rhythm as he bowed his head to take a nipple in his mouth. You arched your back at the tingle it sent down your spine. You grasped the sheets below to keep from grabbing the back of his head. Even if you didn’t want it to feel good, it did. You bent your legs around him and he ground harder into you.

You whimpered as you tried to smother your orgasm in your palm. He reached up and pulled your hand away as you exclaimed, your walls pulsed around him as you came. He lifted his head to watch the storm of pleasure and shame that swept over you. It only spurred him on and his hips snapped against yours.

He grunted and wrapped his thick fingers around your wrists. He held your hands above your head as he raised and dropped his pelvis with all his weight. He bottomed out each time and you whined. You gasped for air and snarled. Your entire body tensed and a sudden bang filled your ears. The air rushed out from beneath you. You were pressed to the floor as Steve gave no heed to the deflating mattress.

He kept hold of your wrists as he pushed himself up. His buried himself inside of you and gave a roar. His hot cum filled you and seeped out around his cock as he rode out his orgasm. He slowed to a stop and pulled out. He let go of you and reached down to slip his finger inside of you.

“You feel that, hmm? I’m inside of you,” He leaned back on his heels to watch himself play with his cum. You tried to press your legs together and he pinched your thigh. “You like it when I cum in you, don’t you?” You pressed your lips together and shook your head. “Don’t lie.” He slapped your thigh and you cried out.

“Yes,” You knew he’d never believe otherwise and you weren’t quite sure it wasn’t the truth. “Yes, I like it.”

“I know you do,” He shoved another finger inside and you wiggled your hips. “Look at you. So desperate.” You moaned and slung your arm over our face to hide. He pulled it away and removed his hand from your pussy. “Tell me you want me to fuck you again.”

Your eyes widened and your heart raced. You licked your bottom lip before you spoke. “I...want you to fuck me.”

“Hmm?” He cupped his ear. “What was that?” He slid his fingers out and dragged themalong your folds. “I want you to beg me so I can hear you.”

You closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. What if Gia came home early? What if he stayed too long and she walked in on you? How would you explain this? What would Steve do? To you? To her? You needed him gone sooner than later.

“Please, Captain,” You inserted the title in hopes it would appease him. You opened your eyes and lifted your head as you pouted up at him. “Please fuck me.” He brought his fingers back along your entrance and danced around it. “Please, I need you to fuck me.” You spread your legs as wide as you could. “Fuck me, Captain.”

He pushed his fingers inside and chuckled as you spasmed against his hand. He pressed his thumb to your clit and curled his fingers inside of you. You gasped and clung to the mess of sheets around you. “Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you.” He kept his hand moving, enough that you were panting and twitching.

“I want, um, I want…” You gulped as he plucked at your core with his fingers. “You to fuck me…” You tried to think but it was all so blurry as the pressure gathered around his hand. “Fuck me...fuck me…” You struggled to keep your thoughts straight as you dropped your head back to the flat mattress. “Fuck...me...from behind.” You hissed as your thighs began to shake, “Captain.”

You came with a cry. Your entire body went limp and your chest rose and fell rapidly with your breaths. He slowly withdrew his fingers and brought them to your lips. He shoved them in your mouth and pressed against your tongue until you licked away your own cum. He smiled and pulled them out, his other hand on your hip.

“Go on and turn over,” He commanded and wiped his fingers down your chest. “Get that ass up.”

It was the first of the month. The first day of the rest of your life. What a fucking cliche. It was what Gia had said that morning when you woke up. The night before you had returned to the apartment you had shared with Ethan and gathered up the few boxes of your possessions. Ethan had taken the bed, the couch, and the table. You got the armchair your grandmother had given you and the coffee table, but one leg of your desk had been conspicuously broken. You sent the rest of the furniture to the second-hand store and cleared out the last scraps of your old life.

Your new apartment was small but it would feel awfully big with next to no furniture. Your uncle had donated the old fold-out bed they kept for sleepovers when you were a kid and it would be the only piece in the bedroom but for the bookcase. The bed was easy enough to move. The metal frame and worn foam mattress were meant for convenience. It would be a sad sight in your new space. A perfect symbol of your fall from grace.

With the few pieces of furniture unloaded and dumped haphazardly in your front room, you began on the boxes. Six in total but each required its own trip. You followed Gia around the side of the building. The elevator was conveniently out of service and the back staircase was the shortest route to your apartment. You left the door propped open for your second and third trip up, again you took the rear.

You should’ve been excited about finally getting your new place but there was little to be happy about these days. Your life had continued in its usual gloom. Steve had visited several times since the night he broke your air mattress. Gia had shrugged at your explanation of tripping onto it and was even less fazed on those mornings she returned to find you grimly silent. Break-ups were hard; that’s what she must have thought.

The front of your box collided with Gia’s back as she stopped short and you looked up as a figure blocked the doorway. You hid your surprise behind the cardboard as Steve’s hands kept the box in Gia’s hands from overturning.

“Woah,” He smiled, “Sorry about that. I didn’t even see you coming.”

“Oh, it’s...fine,” You heard the rise in her voice. Oh no, she thought he was cute. “I should’ve looked where I was going.”

“Come on, Gi,” You grumbled.

“Here, let me help,” Steve kept hold of the box. She surrendered it easily and you held in a groan. “Wow, heavy.”

“You really don’t have to,” Gia chirped and you knew she was giving him that smile. You wanted to kick her in the ass.

“Really, you don’t,” You intoned from behind her. Steve’s eyes flicked over her shoulder to you and he adjusted the box in his arms.

“Where are you headed?” He asked as he looked back to Gia.

“Fourth floor,” Her voice was bubbly. She had never had great taste in men but she couldn’t have chosen worse.

“Really? I’m on the fourth floor,” He turned and headed back inside. Gia followed eagerly and you slowly kicked yourself into step.

Gia peeked over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs ahead of you and smiled. “He’s cute,” She mouthed. You shook your head and frowned. You were out of breath by the fourth and a chill went through you as Gia announced your apartment number. He would’ve found out eventually, you were sure, but so soon? How had he even traced you here?

He stepped back as she moved around him and opened the door. He nodded for you to pass and you avoided his eyes. You stepped inside and set the box with the rest. Steve did the same and straightened up with a sigh.

“So, both of you moving in or…?”

“Just her,” Gia answered, “I’m just helping, you know, like a good sister.”

“Shhh,” You hushed her and crossed your arms.

“Well, I live just down the hall so...if you need anything,” He sounded like a completely normal person. This was an act he had perfected. “Oh, yeah, I’m Nick.”

You almost scoffed but instead hid it with a cough. Gia gave you a sharp look before turning back to ‘Nick’. “I’m Gia,” She introduced herself in a singsong. “I really appreciate the help.”

You recited your name mechanically and grumbled a thanks. You bent and opened a box. “If you don’t mind, we have unpacking to do.”

“Not at all,” Steve, or Nick, replied as he stood in the doorway. “I was actually just on my way out but I could spare a few seconds to help.” He slowly backed into the hall, “Have fun, you two.”

“Bye,” Gia chirped after him and you reached over to shut the door with a huff. She turned on you and smacked your shoulder as you sorted through the box. “What the fuck? Could you have been more of a bitch?”

“Quite possibly,” You answered as you stood. “I should’ve labelled these.”

“Not every guy is Ethan,” She said and you stopped.

“He definitely isn’t Ethan,” You growled. “Don’t you ever--”

“Why won’t you tell me what happened? You two, you were inseparable, and now--”

“Now we’re done. Things end, Gia.” You spat. “Whether we want them to or not.” You gulped as your eyes burned. You hadn’t cried over Ethan since the day you had broken up. The day after Steve had ruined everything. You shook your held sniffed back the tears. “I’m trying to start over. Alone.”

“Nice to know you still have a heart in there” She said, “You don’t always have to be strong, you know?”

“I’m not...strong,” You lifted the box and turned to carry it to the bedroom. You were thankful she couldn’t see your face as a tear trickled down your cheek.

It didn’t take long to arrange your apartment. Not many words passed between you and Gia for the rest of the afternoon. She left just as the sun began to set and you were left to fill your bookcase and mope. This place felt as empty as you did. Airy and silent. You tossed the empty box with the rest in the corner of the living room and stared out at the greying sky. Shadows rippled across the bare walls and shrouded the doorframes.

You returned to the bedroom and grabbed a towel from the linen closet beside the door. You yawned and retreated to the cube-like bathroom. It was small. Just wide enough for a bath. Another downgrade in your life. Another gripe to swallow. You hung the towel over the bar and twisted the faucet. You held your hand beneath the shower head, a good two minutes before the water warmed up.

You were numb as you undressed and stepped into the steamy shower. You stood beneath the steady flow for ten minutes before you snapped out of your daze. You took the soap and scrubbed at your skin. The dust and sweat of your move slaked away. Then you grabbed the shampoo and lathered up your hair. You closed your eyes leaned back as you let the water wash away the bubbles.

The rings of the shower curtain whined against the metal and you shouted as you opened your eyes to an unexpected shadow. Steve’s hand was on the plastic curtain as he smirked back at you. You tried to cover yourself and he chuckled. You realized how pointless that was. You cranked the tap off and sighed. He reached back and grabbed the towel. He tossed it at you and stepped away from the shower.

“I like Gia,” He said, “She’s nice.”

You rubbed dry your hair and wrapped the towel around yourself. You tried not to slip as you stepped out of the shower. You gripped the wall as your anger flashed. “Don’t you talk about her. Don’t you even think--”

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” He casually walked out of the tight bathroom, “If I had wanted to do something, I would’ve done it.” He turned back as he leaned on the wall just outside your bedroom. “You know I could’ve.”

You stopped just outside the bathroom door. You crossed your arms and sneered up at him. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“You should be thanking me. I got you your independence.” He pushed himself away from the wall. His boots echoed on the hardwood as he strode into the front room. “Come on. Don’t make me drag you.” He called over his shoulder. You followed reluctantly. “Obviously, Ethan just wasn’t doing the job well enough.”

You kept quiet as he neared the couch. He dragged his hand along the stiff arm and bent to test the spring beneath his fingers. He turned back and pointed to the cushion; a wordless order. You inched over to him and he laughed.

“I mean, look at you. You don’t even put up a fight anymore.” As you came around the coffee table he reached out and ripped the towel from around you. “On your knees.” He pointed to the couch. Your nostrils flared as you glared at him. You didn’t move. “Don’t you ever think about the cabin? How easily you just let me in. I think you were waiting for me. Something in you needs me.”

Your lips parted as you stared up at him. Was he right? Had you just been waiting for the chance to betray Ethan? How hard had you fought? Sure, you were afraid but you could have resisted him. You should have bled rather than surrendered.

“No, it’s not true,” You said weakly. You stepped back and he caught your arm. “Let go of me.” You brought your fist up and he easily deflected it. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I never wanted to.”

“You can deny yourself, but you can’t deny me,” He snarled as he twisted you around to face the couch. He pressed himself to your back and pushed your legs against the sofa. “You can say no but your body....” He tisked, “It doesn’t lie.”

His grabbed the back of your neck and pushed you forward until you were forced to lift your knees onto the couch. You clung to the back as he released you. He smacked the back of your head and you barely kept yourself from hitting the wall.

“Now, let’s not try that again.” He slapped your ass next and you yelped. “I’ve been patient. Nice, even, but you’re really pushing it.”

Another strike across your rear and your chest was to the back of the couch. He kneaded your ass and you heard him fumbling with his belt. You closed your eyes and shuddered. The clink of his buckle was followed by the descent of his zipper. You braced yourself as he dragged his boots closer to the couch.

He slipped his hard cock between your cheeks and rubbed it along your entrance. He pushed in without warning and you hissed. He bottomed out with a snap of his pelvis. You whimpered and he gripped your hips. He pulled out and thrust back in with even more force. He did not relent as you lurched forward, your forehead pressed to the cool wall.

“I ran into Ethan,” He said between ragged breaths. Your head shot up and he shoved it back into the wall, one hand still on your hip as you arched your back against him. “Outside of Gia’s. I think he was missing you.”

“Nooo.” You rasped, “S-s-stop…”

“He saw before I could hide. Too bad.” Steve gloated as he rammed into you over and over. “You should’ve seen his face,” He grunted and your moans were close to sobs. “You know, I’m not gonna lie to the boy. Better for all of us.”

“Get--away. Get away from me,” You tried to push back but he held you to the couch. He slammed into even hard, each thrust punctuated by a whimper.

“He asked if we were fucking. I said yes. He tried to hit me,” Steve paused as he caught his breath. His motion didn’t waver. “Don’t worry, I didn’t hurt--him.” He grunted and kept on, “But I don’t think he’ll be bothering--us, ugh, any--more.”

He sank into you completely and came. He rocked his hips slowly and rode out his climax. His cum seeped out around his cock and he reached between your legs to spread it down your thighs. He pulled out carefully and let go of you. You stayed as you were, too ashamed to face him.

“Turn around and clean up your mess,” He slapped your ass, “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

You shook as you pushed away from the wall. You turned as his cum continued to dribble down your thighs. You sat back on your heels and stared at his cock. His hand cradled your jaw and he urged you on. You opened your mouth and slipped your lips around his tip. You could taste yourself on him.

You pressed on until he was at the back of your throat. You bobbed your head a few times before he was fully hard again. You pushed your tongue against his cock as the cum and saliva wetted your lips. Your mouth made slick sounds around him as you leaned forward on your hands. A pang pinched your neck and you hummed around him as you struggled to breathe.

“Fuck, girl,” His hand was on the back of your head again. “I told you to clean up, not make a bigger mess.”

He shoved himself deeper down your throat with each thrust and your hands slipped from the edge of the couch to the front of his jeans. You clung to him as you struggled not to fall over. You could feel the tremble in him. The only sign of humanity you had ever witnessed in him and he came again. You swallowed and he moaned in approval as he kept your head moving until he was done.

He pushed you away from him, a string of spit and cum hung between your mouth and his cock as you fell back on the couch. You were entirely drained. Your lip trembled as you slumped over on your side and buried your face in your hands. Don’t cry, don’t cry, you urged yourself. Don’t let him see you cry.

You sniffed and pushed yourself up. He watched as you wiped your mouth and met his gaze. The corner of his lips twitched and he gave a low chuckle. “You’re so fucking stubborn, you know that?”

tags to be added in reblog

#dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!verse #dark!fic #darkverse #dark fic #captain america #series #mcu #marvel #fic #au #getaway #homecoming #non grata #adrift

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danadeservesadrink · 4 years

Text

Wine and Whiskey

Scully arrives at his apartment with a bottle of wine on a Friday night and Mulder can't refuse. There's something so tempting about drinking wine from the bottle.

Word Count: 2578

Rated: M

Taggong @today-in-fic, @itotallygazeatscully, and @agent-starbuck

Chapter 1/2

AO3 link is here

He had never been more mesmerized in his life than by Dana Scully drinking wine from the bottle. She had shown up at his apartment holding it, bashfully admitting that she didn’t want to drink alone on a Friday night. Of course he let her in.

It was rare that she let her guard down like this. He ushered her in with a hand on her lower back and she made herself comfortable on his couch, flipping through the channels until she landed on a rerun of some history documentary. She gazed up at him and requested a corkscrew. Who was he to deny her.

Dana Scully sat on his couch in her maroon sweater and blue jeans on a Friday night at 9:06 pm and uncorked a bottle of white wine and he had never been more in love. Correction, he was more in love with her at 9:07 when she took a swig straight from the bottle. He sat opposite of her on the couch, matching her cross-legged position, and gazed at her. She must have noticed, as she giggled and flushed. He wished she would do that more often.

“I’ve had a very long day,” she whispered. He didn’t mind. She deserved to unwind. She passed him the bottle with a raised eyebrow and he smiled and took a sip.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his sweater. The wine was sweet. He tried not to remember the way her lips looked as she took a sip from the same spot he had.

“Bill’s an ass” She said, rolling her eyes. She reached out a hand for the bottle back. He would never deny it to her.

“Yea he is. What’d he do this time”. His previous attempt to forget how perfect she looked as she drank was a failure. Because Dana Scully was on his couch drinking wine from the bottle. He doesn't think any sane person could ever forget that.

“Called me up today to tell me how disappointed he was with me. How I’m a failure to our family and how I’m putting myself in danger for absolutely no reason” She laughed at this, and so did he. He shifted closer on the couch. “He heard about the case”. Of course. Scully had to save his stupid ass again, almost getting shot by their suspect as she dragged him out of a warehouse.

“Bill’s an idiot” He said so sincerely it made her look up from staring into the wine.

“Yea. Yea he is” She whispered. She took another drink, unconsciously moving closer to him on the already small couch.

She’s so pretty. The way the TV fluorescents bounced off of her cheek, the way her hair was tied up but the short pieces in the front wisped around her face in perfect little curls. It took all of his strength not to reach over and brush one away from her eye when she tilted her head back to take another drink from the bottle. Her neck was perfect porcelain, he dreamed of running his lips over the smooth skin she exposed. When she finishes, his only thought is of replacing the remaining drops of wine on her lips with his own.

She looks down at the bottle, then up at him through her lashes. She was coy, vulnerable. She wouldn’t do this usually, but something about her brother cursing her partner for putting her life in danger just made her want to run to him more.

He graciously takes the bottle from her as she passes it to him, their fingertips connecting, electricity evident in even the slightest of contact. He sips, and notices her watching.

Her phone rings and they are rudely interrupted.

She pulls it out of her pocket with a sigh, and he smirks.

“Hi mom.” He hears the muted voice of Maggie Scully on the other end of the phone. She’s probably calling to apologize for her son’s behavior.

“Well he was acting like a bastard!” Scully exclaimed, frustrated, and Mulder couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Scully shot him a glare, and he quickly pressed his lips together in silent surrender, instead choosing to tease her by leaning over and trying to press the wine bottle to her lips. She pushed him back, but reached for the bottle and took a drink before her next answer.

“I’m over at Mulder’s place” He grinned at her and tried to scoot in closer to hear Maggie’s response. She pushed him back again, this time with a small smile.

“Work stuff” she said, avoiding eye contact with him. This forced another laugh from him and she slapped his shoulder.

“I’ll let him know, Bye mom” She quickly hung up the phone and proceeded to drink a good 6 swigs before handing the bottle back to him. He didn’t realize it was almost empty.

The concept of Dana Scully, the Catholic raised and pant-suit wearing professional, drinking wine at a man’s apartment at night while on the phone with her equally proper mother made him chuckle. He wonders if this is the first time she’s done this.

“What did your mom want to tell me” he asked with a grin. She blushed. He couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or if the wine was getting to her. Maybe both.

“She just wanted to say hi” she glanced at the bottle in his hands. “You gonna finish that?” He shook his head. He was worried that any more and he would start acting in ways that would make Maggie Scully very disappointed. Scully pouted at his response, but leaned even closer to him, grabbed the bottle, and downed the rest of it, tilting her head all the way back to allow the last drops to trickle from the bottom of the bottle into her throat. Something about her throat made him want to mark it with his teeth.

She finished, and returned to gazing in his eyes with an impish smirk. He must have still been staring because she burst into a fit of giggles. She was definitely feeling a little buzzed.

“Scully are you drunk?” He teased. She burst into another fit of giggles as she shook her head, still smiling like the cat that ate the canary. He loved the sound of her laugh. He never wanted it to stop. He would personally fight every demon in this world so that she never had to stop smiling at him like she was right now.

She felt loose, unrestrained, and so did he. They were so comfortable with each other in the strangest of ways. Intimacy came in small touches and promises of protection, least of all through physical affection. But tonight, all bets were off, as Dana Scully, goddess in blue jeans, used his shoulder to push herself off his couch and waltzed into his kitchen, swaying her hips like the little vixen she was.

“Where you going?” He called after her, but the only reply was the sound of a cabinet being opened and the melodious giggle he had come to adore.

She was reaching for the top shelf when he walked in the kitchen behind her. Her prize was obvious. Walking up behind her he placed one hand on her hip and reached with the other for the half full bottle of whiskey.

He almost dropped it when he felt her step back into him. He flexed the hand still fixed to her hip as he felt a shiver run through him. As quickly as she came, she was gone, instead turning around to grab at the bottle he was holding. He reacted quicker, pulling it back, raising an eyebrow in response to her pouted lips. Drunk Scully was a dangerous creature. All he wanted was to please her.

“And why should I give you some of my emergency whiskey?” He teased.

“Because I’ve had a terrible day, and now I’m out of wine”. She had to know what she was doing to him. Looking him straight in the eye, pushing her lip out even further. He rolled his eyes, laughing again under his breath.

“What’s the magic word”

And oh Dana you know how to make a man give you anything. There is no magic word, only Scully tilting her head back, closing her eyes, and opening her mouth, tongue stuck out and waiting. The vision was enthralling.

She peeked an eye open when she heard him toss the cap on the counter, but closed it again with a giggle when she realized he had caught her. He shook his head, exhaling softly. With a reverence, he gave her what she wished.

The whiskey hit her tongue with a burn of ice and fire, and he watched as it slid down into her mouth, filling her up until he stopped pouring, and she swallowed. He had never wished to be a liquid before. She coughed before smiling up at him, eyes sparkling even though the closest light was now the television.

“Your turn” She smirked and took the bottle from his hands.

“I don’t think you can reach” he countered, but she grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled down.

He would never deny her.

He got down on his knees on his kitchen floor, and it was only right that Scully should be the altar he prayed to. Still smirking, he first closed his eyes as she had, then stuck out his tongue to await the drink of his goddess. She poured sloppily, the hand of a distracted woman, and he had to swallow before she was finished, causing her to spill some on his lips and chin.

He opened his eyes to see her giggle, mumble an apology, and lean over him. He barely registered what was happening before he felt her tongue, that perfect tongue, lap up a stray drop off of his cheek. He gasped, sharply. She pulled back, only a few inches, still leaning over him. He gazed up into her eyes and saw his arousal mirrored in them.

“It’s your emergency whiskey, I didn’t want to waste it.” She smirked her perfect lips as she whispered. Her breath smelled like sweet wine and sharp whiskey. It was intoxicating. He closed his eyes as he felt her finger raise his chin to the heavens. She licked again, this one on his jawline, and he moaned. He felt her laughter in puffs of air on his cheek.

She ran a finger over his lips and he thinks he might black out.

All he wants is her. His body shakes with the thought.

She brings both hands to cup his cheeks, whiskey bottle long forgotten, and presses her lips to his.

The feeling is that of resurrection. It’s an electric shock coursing through his body, lighting every nerve he has on fire, his thoughts only attuned to her, her, her. He remembers he has hands, and uses them to pull her closer, cupping the back of her neck with ferocity. She opens her mouth and he tastes her tongue. The taste of salvation.

He breaks the kiss only to rise up to his full height before he descends upon her, grabbing her by the waist, pulling her closer, desperately gripping her clothes. She tangles a hand into his hair and pulls him into her. He could get lost in her mouth, following the flow of the whiskey before him, lips then tongue, fire and ice. She moaned into his mouth and he tightened his grip on her. His mouth traced the path his eyes had followed earlier. Off the curve of her lips, down to her jawline, where he licked and sucked and did everything in his power to remember the taste of her skin. She whimpered when he reached her pulse point, taking the fist in his hair and desperately pressing him against it. He nipped at her flesh, and then kissed it better.

“Fuck” she drew out, shaking, and it made him wild. He sucked harder, knowing full well the dark purple bruise it was going to leave. Both of them couldn’t give a shit. When he finished, he kissed his way up to her ear.

“Mine” he growled, and she shuddered in his arms. He carefully tugged on her earlobe with his teeth as he felt her nod against him.

“Yours” she whispered back. It was all the permission he needed.

He carefully traced his fingers up her sides, dragging the fabric of her top along with it. Her chest was heaving, their breaths mixing together in a cocktail of arousal and alcohol. He reached up to the bottom of her breasts and with a shock realized that her sweater had been hiding a secret.

“Were you planning…” he dotted her collarbone with marks from his lips, sucking softly along each delicate curve “... on telling me…” another kiss “...that you weren't wearing a bra?” kiss, kiss, kiss.

“I was more hoping that something like… ah… this would happen… fuck… and you would find out for yourself”

He had to be dreaming. Any minute he would wake up in his bed horny and alone like every Saturday. But then she kissed him again and he figured that if this was a dream he hoped he was fucking comatose because he never wanted to wake up. He traced his hands over the underside of her breasts and felt her body shake at his caress. Quickly he pushed the sweater up and over hear head, her arms raising to help. And then she was topless in his kitchen on a Friday night and he was going to study her like she was a sculptor and she was his Venus. He would memorize every curve of her perfect body with his hands over and over and over.

“Well?”

He had been staring. How could you not when Dana fucking Scully was blushing and breathless in your arms. But there would be time for staring later. He turned his mind to devouring her.

He palmed her breast and kneaded, watching in awe as her head fell backward and a sigh escaped her lips. His lips continued their trail downward, licking and sucking on the hills and valleys of her chest until he came to her nipple, where he paused to circle it with his tongue. At the same time he flicked her right nipple he took the left one into her mouth. Her head shot forward, the hand in his hair pulled him into her, and she let out the most guttural moan of “Mulder”. His name had never sounded more perfect than when it came out of her mouth. He spent some time there, licking and sucking, pulling with his teeth then soothing with his tongue, just trying to get her to make different sounds. Curses flew from her mouth with ease and he was reminded of the rebellious streak in her. The deviant Dana Scully that cursed and drank and fucked. He loved this side of her. He’s drunk off of her and whiskey and wine and he can only think that he needed more. His brain is buzzing and he’s sure he didn’t have that much wine but maybe it's just the smell of her skin that's so intoxicating.

“Mulder I need you”

He looks up to meet her eyes and saw her staring back at him, breathless and hungry.

“Now.”

#txf #txf fanfic #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #msr #msr fanfic #sam writes #my fic #wine and whiskey #this is only the beginning #its about to get pretty sexy in the next chapter if I do say so myself #please comment #thank you!#the x files #The X Files Fanfic

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xxrainbow-princessxx · 4 years

Text

Distraction - Leo x Isabella (N*SFW) 🍋

@lorirwritesfanfic @lorircreates @hopefulmoonobject @drakewalkerfantasy @liam-rhys @romancehereicome @desireepow-1986 @rainbowsinthestorm @debramcg1106

A bit of a slutty saturday fanfic. Must be 18+ 🙈

When your hormones are going crazy and you’ve been missing your other half - things will always become a little hot and heavy 🤣

Throughout the day, Isabella seemed extremely distracted, playing with her hair; twisting strands around her fingers, staring at her computer screen, “Your Royal Highness?” Jimena quizzed, getting no response, “Bella!” she leaned forward clicking her fingers in front of the Princess, “Come on... we need to focus on the Coronation plans!” Isabella sat up, her eyes widening, catching herself on, “Uh... yeah...” she awkwardly giggled, “Sorry about that...” with a slight blush to her cheeks. Jimena began to roll her eyes, shaking her head in disappointment, “We’ve only got a few weeks before you become Queen... we need to prioritise... and you...” she knew Isabella far too well as she slammed shut her planner which echoed through the otherwise quiet drawing room, “I know what you’re doing...” pointing her finger towards Isabella as she laughed, “...stop it!” Isabella began to pout, biting down on her index finger nail she pleaded, “...He’s so hot though...” as she turned the screen of Leo’s editorial photos from Men’s Health towards Jimena that were sent for approval before publishing. “I just love to look at him...” the Laurentian beauty sighed happily; If there was one single thing in this world that could distract Isabella, it was the former Crown Prince of Cordonia. Even after all these years, he would have her giggling like a school girl. “Could you at least stop drooling? I don’t need to see that...” Jimena raised her brow before turning the screen back towards Isabella, “I’ve seen enough around here for a lifetime - that man you call a husband does not possess an understanding of the protocols regarding appropriate attire the majority of the time... now if you shall excuse me...” Jimena pushed out her chair, “I will move forward with the Coronation preparations...” Regardless of where she was, or who she was speaking with today, Isabella kept finding herself drifting off, imagining what she would do right now if her husband was anywhere in her vicinity. She kept finding herself a little hot under the collar a few times, especially whilst in session with Parliament later that afternoon.

“Crown Princess Isabella! Are you even listening?” The Prime Minister barked towards her, “Is there somewhere else you would rather be?” Isabella slyly smirked as she finished taking her notes, under her breath she murmured, “Most definitely...” low enough so no one else could hear which infuriated the Prime Minister more, “Your Royal Highess, you will not show contempt...” rolling her eyes Isabella began to sigh, “Yes I heard you... yes I do have other places to be but I am here, with you and the rest of these gentlemen...” as she looked across the commons room, “and until you take my amendment to the Energies Act seriously, I won’t take any of your critique seriously... it is important that we have calculated the trajectory correctly in order for us each our target of 2022 to have all of our energy come from renewable sources. If were my father or husband’s name on the motion, it would not be questioned...” Isabella angrily slammed her hand onto the table - her frustrations taking over ever so slightly, “I am sick and tired of this and will not stand for further insubordination any longer from our supposed esteemed Government. Whichever of you dinosaurs are not in favour of a matriarchal Monarchy...” Isabella began to wickedly smile, “I’m sure that you can let me know during the oath made at the Coronation to Queen and Country...” staring the leaders and backbenchers in the Government down as they pleaded with her not to be so hasty. “Yes Your Royal Highness, we will move the vote to our next meeting regarding your amendment...” the Prime Minister began to back off. “Good...” Isabella triumphantly smiled, “I look forward to it...”

Isabella was slowly getting more impatient as the day went on. The girls were put to bed early and warned that their father would be tired from all his travelling so no mischief was allowed. Isabella had thought of everything, she filled her suite with scented candles in preparation of a night of passion between her and Leo. All the lights were switched off, the only light coming from the flickering flames to set the mood. Isabella stood in the mirror admiring her changing shape in a black lace peekaboo baby doll and matching crotch less panties purchased for the occasion. Bending over towards the mirror Isabella giggled to herself as the black baby doll emphasised her already swollen bust. Running her hands down

*buzz buzz* Isabella’s phone vibrated, excitedly she picked it up seeing a message from Leo. She knew that he should have been half way between Cordonia and Laurentia by now.

“Hey Bella... sorry our flight home was delayed, only getting on plane now. Someone got too drunk to fly back from Cordonia. We had to wait to get a new time slot for take off... it’s going to be a late one beautiful...”

Throwing her phone behind her onto the bed, Isabella sighed disappointedly, “It’s only an extra hour and a half...” she kept telling herself. “He’ll be home for half 1, it’ll be fine...” lulling her into a false sense of security. It had been a long week and a half since she physically could hug him; an extra hour or so wouldn’t hurt. Propping herself up, the petite brunette allowed her loose curls to tumble down her shoulders as she switched on a rerun of “The Real Housewives of Cordonia”, sniggering at some of the noble women who had taken part and their difficulty in getting along with ‘new money’. It was the perfect show to keep up with Cordonian Court gossip if you read between the lines hard enough; Isabella was obsessed as they brought their bitching from the Royal Court making her laugh; she had to admit it made for great television - it was something to take her mind off things until Leo got home and she could have him all to herself.

Excitedly as she heard the limo arrive, Isabella switched off the television in anticipation, ruffling her hair to add extra volume. Kneeling on the mattress, the Crown Princess seductively narrowed her eyes as she heard the door latch open, smirking as she caught sight of her husband’s strong muscular frame as he entered their bedroom. “Mi amor...” Isabella purred as she crawled down the bed towards Leo. “Kitten...” Leo groaned as his hands and eyes followed her curves, “You look delicious... You have no idea how much I want to...” he began to yawn tiredly as Isabella pouted. Her perfectly manicured index finger carefully traced Leo’s bottom lip as she cooed fluttering her long dark eyelashes, “Can I not change your mind?” Leo winced, it killed him as he told her no, he was exhausted. “That’s ok...” Isabella slowly turned, pulling back the duvet as she climbed underneath letting Leo get changed for bed in peace. Getting under the covers himself, Leo cuddled up to his wife sleepily, “I love you beautiful... we’ll fuck...” kissing Isabella’s cheek as he drifted off to sleep mumbling, “tomorr...” Isabella lay there listening to Leo’s snoring, staring at the top of of their four poster bed finally drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, Isabella’s eyes fluttered open her attention turned to the morning wood her husband was packing under the duvet. Isabella snuggled into her husband before carefully moving to place each of her legs on either side of his hips. Any slightest move she made, Leo groaned. Biting down on his lower lip, he murmured his wife’s name still in a daze. Isabella ran her fingers down her husband’s bare chest. Isabella’s weight in top of Leo was featherlight as she leaned down peppering his neck with soft, sensual kisses. “Mi amor...” Isabella whispered into Leo’s ear before she nibbled on his earlobe. With a moan and a smirk growing across Leo’s face, his hands began to follow the shape of Isabella’s body, “mmmm beautiful...” Leo slowly opened his eyes as his hands firmly rested on Isabella’s ass cheeks, “...It seems dreams do come true...” he chuckled as he felt Isabella’s lips curl upwards against his skin. As their lips met, Isabella’s hands tangled through Leo’s sandy blonde hair each kiss more passionate and desperate than the last.

Leo felt his breath hitch as Isabella grazed his bottom lip passed her teeth. “Someone’s a little thirsty...” Leo teased as he stared deeply into Isabella’s chocolate brown eyes that burned with a raging desire. “Tell me what you want kitten...” Leo whispered arousingly, studying the Crown Princess’ expression extremely carefully. Her eyes began to light up with a fearless passion, gently rocking her hips backwards and forwards eliciting a groan to pass Leo’s lips that he couldn’t contain as he felt how wet she was against him and with each small movement Isabella made, it became harder for Leo to control himself. “I want you...” Isabella cooed, her thick exotic accent to roll off of her tongue. Allowing his index finger to trace the hemming of her babydoll that lay against her breasts, Leo’s lips curled upwards as his finger rested on the front clasp. He began to grin, pulling on the metal clip playfully, “I think...” cocking his left eyebrow upwards, “...you’re still a little overdressed...” With a flick of his wrist, the babydoll clasp opened with a ping exposing Isabella’s chest to Leo’s delight. He pulled himself up before his hands wandered across the Crown Princess’ more curvier body, relishing each kiss he placed upon her skin whilst removing the babydoll and throwing it across the room. Moving from her collarbone to her chest, Isabella moaned gently as Leo found himself between her breasts, his hands fondled and mouth eagerly moving between each hardened nipple but Isabella had another ideas.

Turning herself around, the Princess had her back facing Leo. Her hand began to massage his full erect member before she slowly lowered herself down. Leo placed his hands firmly onto his wife’s hips as he groaned, feeling every inch of him slowly becoming fully sheathed. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Leo was intoxicated by the scent of her hair as Isabella’s long dark loose curls draped around him as she continued to slowly bounce up and down onto Leo’s cock teasing him even more. With a grunt, Isabella could feel him twisting her hair before gently but firmly pulling her back towards his chest. Isabella smiled as his fingers traced her lips, cheekily licking them with the tip of her tongue distracting her as Leo’s fingers on his other hand began to circle around her sensitive nub. Isabella’s breath hitched immediately as the Prince finally gave her aching clit the attention it had been screaming for. Biting down on her bottom lip as she moaned, letting it pass between her teeth, the Princess began to pick up the pace as she continued to ride his thick, hard length.

Leo’s eyes began to roll back as he reached out for the duvet, groaning in pleasure watching as the petite brunette’s ass slapped against his hips. “Damn...” the sandy blonde haired Prince barked, “I really...” Leo’s voice was demanding and urgent, “kneel down... now...” With a coy smile, Isabella happily obliged as she knelt down on all fours with Leo immediately following behind her. Wrapping his grip around the elastic of her crotch less panties, Leo thrust inside of her deeply, Isabella’s eyes widening as she felt Leo’s full length pushing inside of her. “Sí mi amor...” Isabella moaned in delight, “...harder...” Leo began to smirk as he chuckled, “I aim to please beautiful...” as he bucked his hips forcefully forward. Isabella held onto the blankets tightly, closing her eyes allowing her husband complete control. She gasped feeling a shiver follow down her spine, her body shook as the burning desire in her core was building towards an orgasm. Feeling her core tightening around him, Leo’s hands moved to Isabella’s hips caressing them gently before he gripped onto them pushing her over the edge relishing in the waves of pleasure from her head to her toes. As her core quivered, Leo came almost instantly.

Both of them lay back on the bed, their chests heaving as they battled to regain their breath. Leo’s sea green eyes brightened up as he smirked, turning his head to face his wife, “You glad now we waited to this morning?” Isabella pouted, twisting her mouth to the left, “No...” as she tried to hide her smile, she turned to face Leo, her perfectly manicured fingers delicately brushed his pecs as her glistening dark chocolate brown eyes glittered, “...How I’m feeling...” Isabella began to giggle, “We wouldn’t leave this room for a week...” Leo’s fingers began to play with her hair as he leaned in, kissing her. Each kiss left them drunker than the last as Leo rolled on top of the Crown Princess; his strong, muscular body hovering above her, Isabella grinned, wrapping her olive, sun kissed legs around Leo’s waist. Feeling her soft skin against his, Leo with a mischievous grin lowly growled, “Who’s going to stop us kitten?? You only need to say the word...” Leo stared into her eyes waiting patiently. Isabella could feel the blood rush from her head as she bit down onto her lip, fluttering her eyelashes the Princess barely whispered, “Please?” Taking a deep breath, Isabella’s heart raced as Leo peppered her body with kisses from her neck to the inside of her thighs incredibly slowly before he found himself kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed. Grinning he blew against Isabella’s sensitive mound before he stood to his feet walking towards the telephone in the Royal Chamber. Leo cleared his throat as he dialled through to their PA’s “Jimena? Can you cancel all meetings, close the Palace for today and bring the girls to the beach and then to their grandparents tonight?” Leo winked towards Isabella as she lay there giggling, “I believe I owe my wife...” Jimena rolled her eyes sighing heavily, slightly disgusted, “Do not finish that sentence... Thank You, I will have everything arranged...”

Leo slammed down the phone with a mischievous grin, walking back towards their super king size bed, scooping his Princess into his arms bringing her to the bathroom before casually switching on the shower. In the shower, he paid all of his attention to her and her only, his tongue lapping against her folds and his fingers caressing her g-spot; for the remainder of the day, Leo never disappointed as they both re-christened each room of their suite. It was rare that they took a full day to themselves and once they were both spent, Leo and Isabella cuddled in bed together completely satisfied before falling into a deep slumber, entwined with one another until the next morning.

#choices #leo x isabella #the royal romance #choices fanfiction #choices the royal romance #prince leo #royal romance au #playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #queen isabella #king leo #playchoices fic #choices fandom

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katalina27ua · 4 years

Text

RAY SHARKEY

"The chemistry between me and Kenny, put together with the dialogue from Eric, David--all the guys, loaned itself to what was happening. Also, any director that would come up would see this on the first day of shooting and get really excited and stretch themselves a little farther. And production stretched themselves for us...a lot. They went the extra mile for us because they saw what was happening and they weren't pulling the plug after fourteen hours. They were giving us that extra half hour to shoot that extra take of that extra scene and everybody was into it."

"We could not have had a better place in time to do it because everybody on the crew, from the craft servicemen to the people in the production office, would all come to the set to watch the scenes being played. And then the screening rooms in LA were packed because they wanted to see it. It was really special. Kenny and I were just going at it. We were having a good time, we knew something was up, and we knew it wasn't going to last a long time so we just continued to do what we were doing. In fact, one interesting thing that happened is that when we were shooting the last episode, that was one of the worst weeks in Vancouver. We all knew Sonny was leaving and me for too, it was really gut-wrenching. I had made a deal to do this movie and I couldn't get any farther away from Vancouver than Greece, you know what I mean? I had already made the deal and it was really solemn. The vibes were thick." We started to shoot the last episode and every hour it would get better and better and better. Specifically what happened is that we shot the last part first. We shot all the exteriors, the chase sequences in the cars, and then we went into the theatre and we stayed in the theatre for five days. We used different parts of the theatre for different sections of the episode, so what we did was shoot all the end stuff first because it was easier to shoot it there. The wild thing is that everyone would come into the theatre, take their seats and watch this play. We were covering it from a lot of different angles because it was so well written that no matter how we played it, it got better and better. Naturally when that happens you shoot the shit out of it which was what was happening take after take. And then this funny thing happened. They had to shoot my death and naturally I had this stunt guy go and get electrocuted and I had to do the closeup. I actually watched myself die. It was really, really strange and really bizarre. Everybody in the crew started crying and it was really heavy. It was over." "The funny thing that happened is that they wanted to shoot an extra episode, so they had to shoot an extra episode the following week and the joke was that we were shooting a ghost. I was not Sonny anymore. I was Ray. Sonny was dead for all of us. We all watched him die and it was really insane." "The other thing that happened is when we shot 'Good Lovin'. We had a director named Robert Iscove and Robbie was a dancer and choreographer, and I being a dancer and a singer, it lent itself to what we did. We didn't have anything laid out on paper, but we would go to the specific sections of the song and set and say, 'Okay, let's break it up into four bars each shot,' and I'd say, 'I'm going to face that way.' We didn't know what we were going to do, but they would roll the camera, roll the song and I would destroy and do whatever in one section of the place and move on to other sections, and really wing it and we had it all together. It was really wild. Nobody had ever done it like that before. That's insane to do that and get away with it, but we were on such a roll at that point." It had come from Eric Blakeney's show, 'The Marriage of Heaven and Hell' and what had happened is that the show went on as usual, but the last fifteen minutes of the show was the bachelor party and the day after the bachelor party we started shooting the second half. That night we spent the whole day shooting the bachelor party which you never hear of in television. Even Cannell came up, sat at the top of a ladder so he could see the whole thing. Everybody was there and I remember doing that speech in one take and we moved on. By the end of the night we were in a lot of trouble. Everybody was in overtime, but nobody cared. Steven Cannell gave this great speech from on top of the ladder, 'There's magic happening tonight and I want to thank you guys for what you've done for me and what we've done for each other.' He gave this great speech like, 'Go ahead, knock yourselves out,' and everybody was into it. We had a young Canadian crew and they really got spoiled. Rarely in my life do those things happen; rarely are you on the set and looking in the eyes of the crew and you're aware of what's happening. Needless to say, it took six months for me to finally separate from everybody. We were all calling each other all the time. I had not had the opportunity to see the episodes because I was away. I called Kenny and everybody and found out that the show was great." "I really didn't realize the power that it had until I got back to America because I was traveling around and everybody was like, 'Good morning, Mr. Steelgrave.' I remember arriving in the New York airport and people went nuts over me. I was turning around to see who they were goggling over. When the reruns came on it was even worse. Boxes of mail arrived at the office addressed to me. It was insane and crazy time. I thought, 'Wow, we really must have done it' and it's been wild ever since."

"Half the people who are fans caught it on the reruns. CBS put me on this promotional tour which was unprecedented. Nobody ever went on a promo tour for reruns, but the mail was so incredible that we went out and did this tour and people were giving us these Sonnyisms. I was in Brooklyn over the summer and I had this guy come up to me...I always have people come up to me and they're always big fans, they know this and they know that, but this guy knew every line of every show. I'm telling you, I was impressed. He did Sonny better than I did. He knew every line, and I mean obscure lines, he knew all of Vinnie and Sonny's dialogue." "One thing that happened is that Kenny and I worked so closely together that he knew all my lines and I knew all his. So we would do impressions of each other of what we did because we didn't get a chance to watch dailies. We would start doing each other's lines from different episodes, and we would play a game in which we would try to guess what episode the dialogue was coming from. What you really wanted to see was Ray Sharkey doing Vinnie Terranova and Ken Wahl doing Sonny Steelgrave. Then we transcended that and took it to another level. This is something that has to be in the book because it wasn't on film. We were having such a good time and our creative juices were flowing, and in between takes we created these two old guys named Archie and Sam. They were really Sonny and Vinnie, but they were like 90 years old and they farted all the time, had bad manners, loved tits and ass, you know, those kind of guys. They were stuck in an old actors home where they would discuss their days in Vancouver on WISEGUY. Those were the *real* interesting guys." "I got an award from the Viewers for Quality Television and it was unprecedented. I look back at it now and it's really very simple. That's part of the reason I've got Eric Blakeney on my new show, because I understand that these guys understand the guys they were writing about, which was about the human dilemma. They were the ones writing about themes that came out of the Bible that were very simple. That's the truth, you know. They would take things out of the Bible and Eric would say, 'Well, this is Caesar's arc, this is the Caesar week,' or this is Jacob's week or Job's week. And he really would use very simple dilemmas in terms of betrayal, honor, honesty, just real simple things that happened between men and men or men and women. And it all worked for us, because no matter what happened in the scope of things, Vinnie Terranova was a liar and he was not brought up to be a liar. Here he meets this man and they fall in love with each other because of their common denominator: morality. When people become friends, it's like an unwritten law that they know that morally, they're the same person. They know that they would not cross that line and there really isn't a price that they are willing to pay; that they're not for sale, and that makes for a bond of friendship. I think we played with that bond every week. We tried to figure out how far we could take it and the reason that the last two episodes are so powerful is that we took it to the limit. *Betrayal* That's what made it work." "I remember a San Francisco paper that had this great quote. They called us, I don't remember the exact word, but it was real sexy and it dealt with love between two guys without homosexual overtones. It was the first time you got to see that. It was the first time that two guys got to look at each other with 'Nights in White Satin' in the background, no dialogue and them just looking at each other with no homosexual bullshit. That's a testament to David Burke, Eric Blakeney, Steven Cannell, Steve Kronish, because they wrote the material. Really, all I had to do was act it. I would love to be able to say I deserve all the credit, but that's not true. It was all on paper for me." "Every week I would come down to LA and would battle with these guys about structure, about what we should be talking about, but I would never write dialogue. I would say, 'We should be talking about love and not about bullets.' And they would get that. Kenny and I would fight for different things in Vancouver, but it was never really a fight. It was something that they always understood to be real." "A DEAL'S A DEAL was supposed to show Sonny kicking the dog and I have a knack of kicking the dog and making you feel sorry for me. That's what acting is all about. That's just a little trick that I do, although it's not really a trick. It's something you're trained to do. I was constantly getting that, but listen, there was nothing they could do to get me to perform it a different way. It's not that I was stubborn, but that's just the way it was happening existentially. Hindsight, everybody's a genius. While we were doing it, everybody was just doing the best they could. We shot an alternate ending and I think it was to placate Kenny and I as our swan song together. When we did the episode, Kenny and I were always getting all this fan mail and we were saying, 'The audience wants to see Vinnie and Sonny have a good time. That's what they want so now we have an opportunity to do it.' A DEAL'S A DEAL was a whole new episode, so we figured we could do Sonny and Vinnie on the road. They pick up a girl hitchhiking and they both fall for her and it's guy stuff. Let's get out of the gangster mode and do a friendship episode and they were like, 'No, no, no, no.' They really wanted this episode to make Sonny look bad and it didn't work. What happened, though, is they gave Kenny and I a little crumb, which was that they allowed us to shoot a tag...we shot two tags. One that was in the show you saw, and the other tag was Kenny and I in an empty ballroom at night with two girls we had been up all night with. We were partying and having a good time. The camera would start at the end of the ballroom and eventually end up real close on us. We would laugh, we'd do bumps and grinds with the girls and we'd slow dance with them. And there was one guy up there playing the saxophone and that was it. Kenny and I would look at each other and then at each other's girls and he would get a feel, like kids, and we would laugh at each other. He was with a black girl and I was with a white girl who was like a real show broad. It was really the essence of who these two guys are. We'd look at each other, give each other the high sign and start making out with the girls, and then he walked away with his girl and said, 'I'll see you, Sonny.' It was like real schoolboy stuff. I think it was a little too risque for the guys in LA and I really think it was to placate Kenny and I." "I warned them. I said, 'Don't you get it by now? Nobody is ever going to dislike me. We're eight hours into this show already and it hasn't happened yet. Do you really it's going to happen in one hour? Let's go in the other direction and make it sloppy.' They said, 'But Sonny is a murderer. He's about to kill Patrice.' I said, 'I'm doing it because he deserves it. They're going to love me killing him.' 'No, no, no, no.' Well, sure as shit...." "It did have twinges of THE IDOLMAKER. I think David Burke went and took ideas from it. I remember saying to him that there were a lot of similarities, so what they did was add a subplot about my brother and my feeling bad about him with the rifle. So, again, I wouldn't let them paint me into a corner. As long as you've got the emotional stuff going, you're all right. And I think that in doing all of this, they've really found a way of making old shows on television. If you do back and look at PLAYHOUSE 90, BEN CASEY, and the early detective shows, they're really about people. What we did in the 70's was put in a lot of action and I think if you look at the top ten shows in television today, you'll see that they're people shows. If you write good dialogue and you have good actors, say it, then all you have to do is be on a nice closeup and you can get through an hour or half hour. We've explored that area in the action crime drama genre, whereas it hadn't been explored since the late fifties and early sixties. WISEGUY is an attempt to bring that back to television. I know for me it is. My new series, that's what Eric and I would like to do and nothing less than that." "I've got to tell you, a lot of what you saw in my performance was really Ken Wahl being so in love with Sonny, and he and I being such good friends that he really would give me these little directions. Sonny had most of the dialogue so Kenny was a listener when he was with me. If he had the time to listen he also had the time to see my performance and I would let him direct me. He would and I trusted him. He'd say, 'That take was better, I think you should do it that way,' and he'd give me these little things. He'd say, 'This isn't real, Ray,' Sometimes he wasn't in a scene and he would do that. I knew when I left Vancouver that I had left a little piece of myself with him and vice versa, and it was good that that happened. We probably could have gone on for a few more episodes, but I don't think so." "Once they killed me, it was over. In other words, after the fourth or fifth episode, Kenny and I came down to Stephen Cannell's office and said, 'Listen, we think we've got something. I'd like to stay for a little while.' Stephen said, 'I have sсript commitments, sets are being built, and I've got to bring in this new arc.' He was very nice to Kenny and I, came up to Vancouver one more time, took us out to lunch and explained to us how he would *like* to, but he couldn't take the risk then. From that moment on, I was gone; I knew I was a goner and just moved accordingly." "I was getting so much mail that I had to let people see Sonny again, only as an actor I couldn't come back from the dead. Kenny Wahl had a story that worked out perfectly for him at both levels [White Noise?]. For me, it was just about going up to Vancouver and having a good time before everybody broke before Christmas and it was a reunion. That's really, for me, what it was all about and for Kenny I think it was the same thing. I don't want to take a shot at it in any other direction." "You know, Ken Wahl's whole line in the entire show, the one that made me fall in love with him as an actor was when he said, 'This is about the law, man!' For one moment Sonny believed it. At that moment Sonny looked at him and knew it was over, like all the great heroes throughout history he was just waiting to die. That's the whole deal! That's all David Burke, and suddenly Sonny is talking like Abbie Hoffman and getting away with it." "Another thing that allowed me to know Sonny even better was, for the first time he talked about his old man, and they talked about their fathers. I remember when we were acting it out, I was like choking. I didn't want to cry, so I was choking, holding it in, but whew, it was real heavy. 'Last time I saw my old man he went to buy a cigar.' He's standing there telling Vinnie that even though his father had a bread truck and a route, that really there was no difference between both their fathers. It was *so* poignant. When I hear 'Good Lovin' I can't help but think of that scene; I sing it in my head. I remember we worked for weeks and weeks, David and I, trying to pick out a song. I remember the last one we found was 'Five to one, one to five, no one here gets out alive.' I wanted to sing that or a Doors song, something that to do with really deep dark stuff and David wanted 'Good Lovin'. I remember we argued about that for weeks, but then the one line made so much sense to me. Sonny was singing into the mirror, 'I asked my family doctor just what I had...I said, Doctor, Mr. MD, can you tell, what's ailin' me?' I said, 'Of course, that's the song. How stupid that I didn't see it.' That was an interesting thing that happened." "Remember THE MARRIAGE OF HEAVEN AND HELL and the speech Sonny had made when he was walking around the table? Eric Blakeney had a whole other speech written. About a week before we shot the show there was something wrong with that speech, something that wasn't right. What happened was Eric came up to Vancouver with his wife and little baby. I went up to his room to visit him and I remember being so caught up in the fact that he had this little baby. I grabbed the baby, picked it up out of the crib and smelled its head and we started talking about life, and that that was what life really was. The smell of that baby's head and how it's interesting that old people's heads and babies' heads smell alike, so the closer you get to the void, maybe that's the scent that emanates from your body. We got into this discussion about life and the meaning of it. Whatever I was telling Eric the next day he wrote into a monologue, so that monologue was really a discussion he and I were having about his baby's head. That's what it was like; that's the artistic freedom you got on the set that day." "It was a great part and read like an old 30s gangster movie and I knew it was important for me as an actor, not necessarily for my career. I didn't foresee that or think it was going to be great. I just thought it was a great opportunity for me to act. Part of the reason people fell in love with Sonny is that I played him at a time in my life when I had no choices left as Ray but to be honest in my life and my work and it was new for me then. I had just gotten out of the hospital and been through an ordeal in my life, and this was fresh, new and honest. I had to find the honesty in every line and I had to play it real and truthful, so what happened is that a lot of who I was seeped into that part. My values, morally, politically, ethically, socially, and it transcended just being Sonny Steelgrave, it became this wonderful guy. It happened because I was at this point in my life where I had no more defenses; all the veils had been lifted from me and all the walls were torn down." --quoted material from THE UNOFFICIAL STORY OF THE MAKING OF A WISEGUY, copr. 1990 Pioneer Books PROFITT After the critical success of STEELGRAVE and the great press it brought, the WG staff was faced with trying to maintain the show's momentum. According to Les Sheldon, "We never try to outdo ourselves. We never wonder how we can top ourselves because we'll just get in our own way. We have gotten in a comfortable level of working as hard as we can with as much ability as each one can bring to the show and we'll continue to do that." But despite Sheldon's public voice of confidence there were some voices of concern. Stephen Kronish noted that, "The relationship between Ken and Ray was so comfortable and the show working so well that there were a lot of people saying, 'Well why are we getting rid of this thing? This is going so great.' But we felt that if we didn't do that, then what is Vinnie Terranova? He's not doing his job." Outspoken as usual, Eric Blakeney had his own opinion on what happened to WG after Sharkey left. "I thought after Sonny Steelgrave the series lost its edge and never got it back when we went into the Mel and Susan Profitt arc. I just felt that this was like writing for cartoons. These weren't people. These were psychological symptoms that had nothing to do with human beings whatsoever. We were putting on a freak show from that point on. I myself was never turned by helicopters landing on boats, James Bond cars and lunatic-psycho killers. They had nothing to do with people as far as I'm concerned. Everybody knows that the first arc was the best and there was no way to get it back, except to cast superstars, rock and rollers, Jerry Lewis, and so on. That's the only way they can get the P.R. and attention, by casting the flavor of the month. Someday you'll probably see Madonna and Michael Jackson as the arch villains." Now that Eric's mentioned it, Mel and his beyond extravagant lifestyle do bear a striking resemblance to the baroque villains from the Roger Moore BOND films. "The perfect analogy, you have to use sensationalism to sustain the series. Connery had the magic of the personality and the emotion. The series just doesn't have the emotion intact because Vinnie's not really forming those kinds of complex emotional relationships. His bad guys are clear cut to him. To me, the great thing about the series was the conflict between the good guys and the bad guys. You go undercover with a Mel and Susan Profitt, you know who the hell the bad guys are. Here's a guy who talks to his toes while his incestuous sister is putting needles under his toe nails. They're ordering everybody on the face of the planet killed and they make fifty million dollars a day with their drug empire. A DAY! There are many countries that don't make fifty million dollars a day. The whole thing was just completely fantastic and far-fetched." David Burke doesn't share his opinion. "There was a very strong reaction to the Steelgrave arc because this was new television. It was cutting edge and people were saying it was revolutionary and that whatever we did, we'd never be able to do it again. From our point of view, that's invalid. Why would we suddenly loose the ability to do what we were doing? I think what made the Steelgrave arc unique is that it was simply something we had never seen before. I think we've done much better shows since then, but television hadn't done what we had done before and that's what made the challenge, 'What's next for Vinnie? What is the natural growth of the character? It may not be as exciting, but if it's real, that's what important. Creatively we're the same people as we were in the Steelgrave arc. It wasn't something that we worried about." Director Robert Iscove observed, "No one quite knew where to go after Sharkey. He had become such an incredibly strong presence and everyone was saying in the reviews at the time that the show was so much Steelgrave, that they worried if you pulled him out of this, what do you have left of WISEGUY? Kenny proved them wrong."

#Wiseguy #Sonny Steelgrave #Vinnie Terranova #Ray Sharkey #21 ноября 2019

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keelywolfe · 5 years

Text

Drabble: Broken Toys (baon)

Summary: Stretch told himself later that he should have noticed on the ride home.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic, Hurt/Comfort

Note: This is sort of a sequel to the last drabble, ‘Toying Around’. @crysta-cub put this idea in my head and I couldn’t resist. Hurt/comfort, ahoy!

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

If Stretch thought about it, he should’ve noticed it on the ride home. Edge’s normal granny driving became razor-precise, coming to a complete stop at every intersection, making no attempt to blow through the yellow lights. Not that Stretch ever paid close attention, it wasn’t like he was a good judge of the rules of the road. But he absently noticed it whenever he looked up from his phone, and it was only after they got out of the car and Edge handed him the grocery bags right in the driveway that he realized why.

“Can you put these away, please? I need to lay down,” Edge told him, quietly.

“sure,” Stretch said, slowly. He took the bags, more than a little confused. Until he gotten a good look at Edge. His left eye light was shrunken to a pin prick, the other wide and diffused, which was a pretty clear fucking sign that a migraine was currently throbbing its way through his skull. No wonder he’d been so damn careful, he’d been trying to hold it together until they got home.

He watched a little helplessly as Edge turned abruptly on heel and walked away without another word, and probably no one but Stretch would have noticed the way he staggered, just a little, as he walked through the door.

Stretch pressed a hand against his chest, right over his aching soul, and followed him.

It was kinda hard to resist the urge to cram the entire bag into the fridge, but Stretch managed. Not like Edge needed to deal with that when he was feeling better. The spices he lined up on the counter; there was no way he was going to attempt to follow Edge’s militant system for that cupboard. Produce went in the crisper and he hoped that’d do it.

Then he went upstairs as quietly as he could.

The room was darkened, the curtains already pulled, and Edge was curled up in the middle of the bed. On the side table was an open medicine bottle of the tablets Alphys gave Edge to help. They worked, but it took a while, and even those only dulled the pain.

Fuck, but he hated this. He had his own problems, sure, fucking HP, and that was a pain in the ass to deal with, but if Edge felt half as helpless, as lost, as he did when he saw the person he loved in pain, then still managed to turn around and deal with it as well as he did, well, he was a hell of a lot stronger than Stretch even imagined. And he imagined a lot.

This was his fault, of course. His fucking fault, for wanting to go to the arcade in the first place. Sure, he’d wanted to check it out, but he knew those lights and the noise could set Edge off and if he hadn’t been so intent on trying to win that fucking chicken, if he’d paid attention to his phone—

“I can feel your guilt from here,” Edge whispered. Soft as his voice was, it carried to Stretch, and he flinched away from it. “Please, don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

It was. He didn’t say it, couldn’t make Edge hurt worse. It was just like him to try to make Stretch feel better while he was laying there in pain, and how could Stretch argue with him that he was wrong? It was his fault, all his.

Only, Edge was always too damn good at hearing what he didn’t say.

“It wasn’t,” Edge said, very soft but insistent. “It was already coming. It’s possible the lights brought it on faster, but it didn’t cause it.” He opened his sockets, barely more than a slit, the faintest glow of crimson showing. “I’ll rest better knowing you’re not fretting, love.”

Stretch swallowed hard, mumbled as softly as he could, “‘kay.”

The soft red glow disappeared as Edge closed his sockets and sank back into the bed.

Welp, he couldn’t promise there would be no guilt, but at least he could do whatever he could to help. Stretch took a moment to make sure the curtains were closed tightly. He went downstairs for a glass of water, lukewarm, not cold, to set on the side table and a small trash can for next to the bed. Migraines made him nauseous sometimes and Edge would be mortified if he was forced to vomit on the floor.

Edge whimpered softly while Stretch was setting them down and his soul clenched to hear it. He doubted Edge was even aware he was doing it.

But there wasn’t anything else he could do, because making a time machine to go back and stop Edge from going into the arcade would take too long.

Probably better if he slept downstairs on the sofa. Sometimes Edge liked him there but frankly, Stretch was a restless sleeper and him rocking the bed like a paper boat on the ocean wasn’t gonna help.

He paused, trying to think of anything else. The room was dark, but something caught his eye lights when Stretch started to turn away. Edge looked like he was holding something, not the blanket, he was laying on top of it, what the hell…Stretch crept closer to look.

Oh.

That damned stuffed chicken was in his arms, clutched tightly, his face half-pressed against the soft plush.

Stretch sighed to himself and couldn’t hold back a smile. The guilt aching in his soul eased, just a little, and hey, it was probably his penance that there was no way he could get a picture of Edge cuddling with a stuffed chicken without waking him.

Eh, his memory of it would do just fine.

Edge’s phone was sitting on the end table and Stretch stole it with no shame whatsoever. Having that ring next to his head? May as well jab him with a metaphorical ice pick because Stretch knew he’d try to answer the fucking thing and part of his job as second-best husband ever was keeping his idiot baby from hurting himself.

Besides, Stretch did have a double agent on his side.

Down in the living room, he hummed to himself as he hacked Edge’s password. A quick scroll through his contact list took him to the number he wanted.

“janice?” Stretch kept his voice quiet, glancing up at the bedroom door he’d left open. “yeah, it’s me. listen, he’s probably not going to make it in tomorrow. yeah. yeah, it’s a bad one. think you can reroute his calls for the night? as we speak, right. thanks, you’re a sweetheart. tell your kid i said hi, okay? don’t worry, i will. okay. bye.”

He only just caught himself before he tossed the phone on the coffee table. Instead, he set it down gently and turned on the television, keeping the volume all the way down and the subtitles on.

The sofa didn’t feel as comfortable as it usually did. Stretch curled up anyway, wrapping his arms around one of the throw pillows as he settled in to watch a few Masterchef reruns. And to keep an ear out in case Edge needed him.

-finis-

Read the next one!

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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please-say-less · 5 years

Text

the roommate (part three)

player: connor mcdavid | edmonton oilers word count: 1, 844 warnings: none author’s note: heads up that the suit i was thinking of when writing this was the one he wears for the puck personality vids. and it’s me over-exaggerating basic ass scenes in this to hype you up cos wtf is subtlety ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

part two | part four

“You don’t have to. You know that, right?”

It was the day after, and you wanted to cry at just how much your feet ached. You had worn those damn heels too long, and it was coming back to bite you for not taking them off sooner when you had the opportunity. His hands made small, circular motions on your feet, and you knew that he had no idea what he was doing but at least gave him an A for the endeavor. A rerun of Suits was playing in the background, and as much as you wanted to focus on that, you couldn’t help but stare at the boy in front of you. His brows were furrowed and eyes staring intensely as he put as much effort as he could into relieving you of the pain.

“I feel bad,” he replied. “Let me help make it better.”

“It was bound to happen since I don’t wear heels,” you shrugged. “Besides, shouldn’t you be getting ready to head to Rogers Place?”

Looking at the clock on his phone, he was surprised that it was already nearing that time in the evening. He stood and headed over to his bedroom to get himself ready, and you fell deeper into the couch to focus on the episode playing on the television.

Your work day was already finished earlier when you posted some old photos on Instagram and Snapchat of previous games where they played Calgary, and your boss was kind enough to give you the evening off since you could barely stand to be on your feet for more than ten minutes. However, just as you were getting comfortable on the couch, you heard a knock at the door.

“Is that Darnell?” you asked.

Stepping out of his bedroom, Connor was clad in dress pants as he made his way over to the doorway, quickly throwing on the undershirt that was in his hands.

“No, I never meet up with anyone before a game,” he answered. “I don’t know who it is.”

Lifting up the cover to the peephole, you saw Connor jump in surprise at the sight. He motioned for you to make your way to his bedroom, and you hastily threw the lap blanket off of yourself before stumbling over to his room to hide yourself under the covers.

“Hi, honey!”

Oh no. It was his parents.

“I-I thought you guys were meeting me at the arena,” Connor stuttered.

“Your mom thought we should pop on by before we head over to Rogers Place” you could hear his father.

“And where is your girlfriend, sweetie?” his mother asked.

“Uh, she’s in the bedroom getting ready too,” he replied.

You could hear more and more chatter coming through the door before Connor had finally made his way back into his bedroom, softly closing the door behind him. His footsteps were obvious as he made his way over to you, kneeling beside the bed, and you peeked your head out from under the covers. He placed an arm on the bed while his hand pulled some of your hair away from your face.

“Are they still here?” you asked.

His eyes stared off into the distance before clearing his throat as if he were scared of what was going to come out of his mouth.

“Come to my game tonight, yeah?” he said quietly.

“How could I ever say no?” you smiled.

Making your way out of bed, you followed him into the walk-in closet to start getting ready. You made sure to pull out a pair of flats tonight to save yourself from more pain, and you turned around to see Connor tucking his buttoned dress shirt into the pants. He reached into one of the drawers and grabbed a tie before twisting it into an ugly knot. Shaking your head, you undid the tie and straightened out the fabric before folding back into proper form, but as you took a step back, you realized the unsightly creases on his dress shirt need to be straightened out. After helping him put the jacket on to complete his ensemble, you took a step back to admire his selection for the evening. He always looked best wearing dark blue, and it only helped accentuate those eyes of his.

He made his way over to the connecting bathroom to finish up as you wandered around the closet to make your pick of the evening. Slowly, you started peeling piece by piece of clothing off yourself until you were only left in your panties and bra as you began to narrow down your choices.

“You should wear this one tonight,” Connor’s voice made you jump.

Suddenly you felt shy, modesty taking over you while he remained oblivious. One hand placed itself on the small of your back as the other reached towards one of the dresses hung up, and you felt a small shiver run up your backside from the contact. Sliding the dress off of the hanger, you were quick to slip into it to cover yourself from him.

“I need help,” you told him. “I can’t zip up my dress.”

“Yeah?” you heard him choke out.

He gently placed a hand on your back to hold the clothing in place as a shaking hand clumsily grabbed at the zipper. That familiar shiver was coming back, and you felt yourself getting caught up in the small gesture. It was like you were becoming vulnerable after letting him see you in such an intimate way, but it was bound to happen at some point.

“Do I look good?” you asked, turning around.

Suddenly you felt small as his eyes perused the sight of you. His mouth was slightly ajar, and when it looked like he was about to say something, you heard commotion coming from the living room, reminding you both that his parents were less than twenty feet away. Reverting your attention back to him, you noticed him awkwardly clearing his throat before making his way out into the living room, barely keeping his pace slow enough for you to follow suit.

“Oh my, look at you two!” his mother gushed. “We have to get a picture!”

“Mom, you don’t have to,” Connor insisted.

“Nonsense! I don’t even see a single picture of you two together, so I’ll get these done and framed for you before you know it. Just two seconds, honey.”

His arm found its way around your waist, something that was becoming too often these days, and you playfully pressed a quick kiss on his cheek, catching him off guard. After the flash had ceased, his mother looked pleased with the photo she’d taken, and Connor stood there with a surprised look on his face.

“No jersey?” his mom asked you as everyone started to leave the apartment.

“I just keep it in my office at work,” you lied. “It keeps it in good condition.”

“Good idea! Oh, these pictures turned out so cute. I can’t wait for you to hang these up.”

She bid you farewell in the parking garage before his parents headed off on their way, promising to meet with you again at Rogers Place. He opened the door for you to his car, and after you stepped into his Mercedes-Benz, you groaned as you a leaned back into the soft leather seat. It was supposed to be your night off to relax and binge watch some episodes, but here you were playing Mrs. McDavid again.

“I’m sorry,” he quietly muttered, starting the car and putting it in drive.

“Don’t. . . Don’t be,” you felt the guilt rising in you. “I said I’d have your back through this, and I meant what I said.”

He placed a hand on your thigh and gave it a reassuring squeeze as he pulled out of the parking garage and onto the streets. The car ride was quiet for the most part which was out of the ordinary because of how talkative Connor was, and it left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach the whole time. He didn’t say another word to you until the two of you had reached the private parking garage, away from the sight of fans.

“I’ll see you after the game,” he muttered, eyes avoiding yours.

He was quick to turn away and head in the opposite direction for the locker room, leaving you standing there alone with your hand in the air as you tried to wave goodbye to him. His change in demeanor had somewhat irritated you, but you decided not to dwell on it too much. You had bigger things to worry about that night.

As you walked through the staff entrance after sliding your keycard, you made a beeline for the merchandise closet where they kept all the extra stuff for the store stocked. It didn’t take long for you to find the stacks of McDavid jerseys as soon as you entered, and as your eyes immediately caught the breakaway jerseys, you decided to treat yourself to an authentic one instead. You figured you deserved one after all the absurdities Connor had pulled you through in the last week.

After settling on one, you grabbed it and made your way back to your office where you kept a spare change of clothes should any occasion arise, and you rolled your eyes at the thought of Connor having to deal with changing out of his suit and into his hockey gear for every single game. The dress slid off with ease, and you mentally sighed at the thought of having to put it back on later again. You changed into an undershirt and leggings before throwing the jersey on and making your way through the hallways to the staff area.

“Can’t stay away from this place too long, eh?” your boss joked.

“I figured I’d use one of my free games for tonight,” you shrugged.

Being lucky was almost an understatement as you managed to find the right excuse as to why you were at Rogers Place, and maybe you were even luckier that staff members were allowed one free game throughout the season to watch from a suite. Mentally breathing a sigh of relief, you were fortunate that you hadn’t used up your one game since you weren’t too keen on spending more time at your workplace than needed.

“McDavid’s your favorite out of all of them?” he asked.

“Huh? Oh, I just grabbed one of the extra jerseys in the back if that’s okay. I mean-I can swap it out if you need me to.”

“No, that’s fine! The amount of Flames jerseys in here is almost blinding.”

You laughed before making your way to the elevator leading to the staff suite. His parents had insisted that you sit with them in theirs, but you had fibbed to them about the company having a strict policy on where to sit for free games. The last thing you needed that evening was for fans to question who the third person was in his family’s suite.

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minhoinator-writes · 5 years

Text

Pairing: Kim Kibum/Choi Minho (side: Kim Jonghyun/Lee Taemin)

Rating: N/R

Word Count: 14,647

Links: AO3 // AFF

Summary: The morning is still far away / And I didn’t fall asleep... Laying on this flat sofa / I have too many thoughts, I can’t sleep tonight...

A/N: this is based on my crack theory that “I’m Home” is a response to “One of Those Nights”

Chapter 1: One of Those Nights

The ticking of the clock was too loud, and Kibum couldn’t sleep.

Everything was too loud after the lights were turned off -- the clock, the settling of the house, the wind outside, the static from the muted television. Hell, even the silence.

It was too loud; too much.

Kibum rolled over on the couch, staring at the drama rerun as it played on the screen. It was nearly impossible to get comfortable enough to sleep out here. But, if he slept in his own bed, his mind would betray him with thoughts of...him. Kibum closed his eyes, sighing heavily before he opened them again.

It had been almost six months since he and Minho had broken up, and five since they had last seen each other on the subway. He had been doing fine, until that day...until he saw how run-down Minho looked. Thinner than either of them liked with prominent eye bags, distracting Kibum from fully meeting his ex’s eye.

Why? Why had Minho chosen his job over him? In hindsight, perhaps an ultimatum hadn’t been the way to go, but at the time, Kibum had thought that Minho would have picked him.

He hugged himself a little tighter, inhaling the trace of Minho’s cologne that was still on the hoodie he was wearing.

”Come on, please?”

Minho laughed, holding up the small bottle of Memo Inlé to his old sweatshirt. “Why, though?” Kibum rolled his eyes, which made Minho chuckle before he pressed a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll do it, baby, don’t worry. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“You’re just leaving for New York tonight and...and I’ll miss you… Stop looking at me like that,” he said, as Minho’s expression softened. Kibum averted his eyes with a smile when Minho started spraying the cologne.

“You know,” Minho said, as he leaned across Kibum to set the hoodie on Kibum’s side of the bed. “There are several ways I could make sure you remember me while I’m gone.”

Kibum leaned back against his pillows, his smile growing. “Several, huh?” Minho hummed as he nodded, and rolled over so that he was laying completely on top of Kibum. His breath hitched as Minho started trailing kisses from his neck to his bare chest. “Do we have enough time?”

“Well,” Minho propped his chin on Kibum’s sternum, giving a smug smile. “If we don’t, then we can always pick up where we left off when I get home. How...does...that…sound?” he asked, punctuating each word with another kiss down from his chest to his stomach to his thighs until he was laying between Kibum’s legs.

He didn’t give Kibum time to answer his question.

Kibum shook his head, refocusing on the drama as the credits rolled. It wouldn’t do to reminisce about the sex...and how good it always was… Because it wasn’t just the sex he missed, he missed everything. The god-awful songs Minho would sing in the shower when he was getting ready for work, the coffee and breakfast in bed on the weekends, the organized clutter around the house, just...his presence.

The house felt so empty, now.

He pulled his phone out of his hoodie pocket, opening up his kakaotalk and then the messages between him and Minho. He read the last few, the stilted exchanges from after they broke up. Then, he started to type...not that he was intending to send it, of course, but he just needed to write what was going through his mind. His thoughts were meandering, but he wrote them all as they came, closing the app when he finished.

Blearily, he stared at the tv as the late-night home shopping show came on, watching the hosts ooo and ahh over gaudy jewelry until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

- - - - -

“Where do you want to hang the streamers?”

“Streamers?” Kibum asked, unable to keep the incredulous tone out of his voice. Both Jonghyun and Jinki watched him with wide eyes as he came out of the kitchen. “Why the fuck would you have streamers?”

“Because...it’s a...birthday party?” Jinki said, his gaze flicking between the other two as if he was unsure now what was actually happening.

“For a grown ass man…”

Jonghyun scoffed. “Pretty bold of you to assume that Taemin wouldn’t like streamers and balloons for his birthday. As the resident expert of what Taemin likes -- “

“Because he’s your boyfriend.”

“ -- I can confidently say that he would very much enjoy these. As well as sucking the helium out of the balloons that I have to go pick up...with the cake…”

“As long as there’s no helium in the cake,” Jinki said as he stood up on the couch to pin the streamer to the ceiling.

“Tape! Use tape!”

He dropped his arm, the streamer in his hand fluttering to the floor. “I’m not tall enough, anyway...I miss M -- “ Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a sharp look from Jonghyun.

As he had only been half-listening, Kibum glanced up at the awkward silence and squinted when Jonghyun gave him an uneasy grin. “What.”

“Jinki was about to say...the M-word.”

“Mud-blood?” Kibum frowned, looking up at Jinki. “I didn’t know you’ve seen Harry Potter…”

“What?” Jonghyun laughed. “No, Minho. He was about to say Minho.”

“Oh...oh, I mean...I’m fine, you can talk about him. I’m doing better, really…” he added when the other two looked unconvinced.

Jinki cleared his throat. “Where, um, can I find the tape?”

“Mi -- the office. The second bedroom,” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the dim hallway. Jonghyun twirled a bit of the streamer around his finger, and Kibum sighed. “Honestly, I’m okay. I wrote out my thoughts last night, and I think that helped a bit.”

“Where?”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up. “You can read it if you want to,” he said as he unlocked his phone. He cut Jonghyun off when he started to protest, opening the kakaotalk app. “I really don’t mind. It’s not a big de…”

Oh, fuck.

He had sent it. He had sent the message. Shit.

And, if that wasn’t already bad enough, Minho had read it, too. And not responded.

“Oh...my god.”

“What?” Kibum couldn’t respond, he could only pass the phone over to Jonghyun and sink into the couch as he read the text. “Oh no...Kibummie...were you drunk?”

“I wish! Then I could have an excuse!” He covered his face with his hands. “This is the worst possible scenario…”

“I found the tape!” Kibum didn’t move his hands, but he saw Jinki come around the couch through the slits between his fingers. “Do I even want to know?”

Kibum just groaned in response before finally sitting up and taking his phone out of Jonghyun’s hands. “I need more coffee. You guys -- ” he gestured to the room, hoping they would pick up on his wanting them to continue decorating.

He trudged into the kitchen, his heart heavy as he started to make another pot of coffee. Why hadn’t Minho responded? Did he really mean that little to him now? Did he ever?

“Do you know what I love most about you?” Minho asked, his fingers carding through Kibum’s hair as they caught up on Sky Castle.

“Hm?” He looked up when Minho didn’t answer right away and found him watching him. “What?”

“I swear, I had an answer, but now I just want to say ‘Everything’.” Kibum tried to suppress a smile but failed. “I can’t help it. You’re too amazing and I love you too much.”

Kibum squirmed, turning his head on Minho’s lap so he was facing the television. “Why are you so sappy today?”

“I missed you, so I’m allowed! Plus, you love it. Would you rather I be working?” he started reaching for the cascade of papers spilling out onto the coffee table. Kibum grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before holding their hands against his chest. “Oh no,” he said drolly, a smile in his voice. “Now I’ll never meet my deadline...”

“What a terrible thing, I’m so sorry,” Kibum said, just as sarcastically, kissing the back of Minho’s hand when he chuckled. After a moment, Minho shifted, and Kibum glanced away from the television. “Do you really have to work?”

“I probably should, yeah. But I can finish watching this episode, don’t worry,” he said, squeezing Kibum’s hand. Kibum nodded with a sigh as he looked back at the television.

He did love him, at one point, at least. That much he knew for sure. Kibum just wished that he could let go of Minho as easily as Minho had let go of him...

- - - - -

7:55 // Do you at least have coffee for me?

Kibum looked up with the subway pulled into the station and quickly pocketed his phone as he made his way onto the train with the jumble of people. Hopefully, Taemin would remember to look at his phone sometime between now and Kibum’s next subway stop. He sucked his teeth at the man who had just bumped into him without apologizing.

Suppressing an exasperated sigh, Kibum reached up and grabbed one of the overhead straps before the train started moving again. “It’s too early for this bullshit,” he mumbled under his breath, bracing himself as the train started. He scanned the faces in the crowd around him, his gaze trailing back when he thought he spotted someone familiar in the car just ahead of him.

He blinked, disbelieving. Minho? Kibum instantly averted his eyes, turning around in case he had seen him...only to look back a moment later. Minho was still staring off into space. Even at this distance, Kibum could tell that his usually bright and cheery eyes were dull...almost lifeless.

It was a wonder Kibum could recognize him at all.

And, it wasn’t as if Minho didn’t know his job was soul-sucking...he made that comment multiple times in the years they were a couple. As sad as Kibum was to see him like this, anger flared up within him as well. If the train hadn’t been moving, he might have barged into the next car and demanded Minho explain his decision.

But then, Minho yawned, and his eyelids drooped further still. The heat of Kibum’s anger dissipated. Was this his life, now? Just the constant drudgery of work? Jinki had mentioned that he had tried several times to hang out with Minho, after work, and while Minho always said he would, he would also always call several hours later to say that he had gotten caught up at work.

Kibum looked up when the woman over the intercom announced the next stop, and then back to Minho to find him rousing himself. Their eyes met briefly, but Kibum looked away and didn’t see if Minho kept looking at him or not.

The train came to a stop, and Kibum kept a hold of his strap while others exited, watching for Taemin to get on. He waved when he spotted him, and Taemin barely made it onto the train before the doors closed. “No coffee?” he asked once Taemin made his way over to him.

“No?”

“I swear to God, if you don’t start reading your texts...”

“I do!”

“Not just the ones from Jjong.”

“I don’t!” Kibum scoffed, looking over Taemin’s head to where Minho had been, only to find him gone. “Besides, we can always get some coffee at the cafe.”

“I suppose.”

Luckily, Taemin was able to distract him with their ongoing discussion about new choreography to teach the trainees. Once they were off the subway and had their coffee, they went upstairs to the dance studios, splitting up when their groups arrived. He worked with his first group, perfecting their technique and correcting their movements until their session was up.

It would be fifteen or so minutes before his next crew would arrive, so Kibum took the time to stretch his limbs while he waited. He glanced around the room before he met his own gaze in the mirror.

He hadn’t noticed Minho standing there while he practiced the new choreography in their bathroom mirror. Not until he cleared his throat. Kibum glanced over at him, his face instantly turning beet red as he looked back in the mirror. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Minho said, his amusement evident in his voice as he moved behind him in the bathroom to inspect his own appearance before he left for work.

“Yeah, but you were thinking it.”

Minho adjusted his tie pin, making eye contact with Kibum in the mirror. “Maybe I was thinking you’re the cutest, you ever consider that?”

“Were you?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Maybe not,” he added with a twinkle in his eye as he turned to Kibum, raising his eyebrows in question.

Kibum reached up and adjusted the knot of his tie before patting his chest. “Have a good day, I’ll see you later.”

He cupped Minho’s cheek with his hand as he leaned in to kiss him goodbye. “Missing you already,” he said, smiling into another kiss before he left Kibum’s side.

The door to the dance studio opened, and Kibum blinked as he looked away from the mirror. He scrambled to his feet, bowing in greeting to the trainees as they filed into the room.

“Alright.” He cleared his throat, trying to drive any thought of Minho from his mind. “Let’s pick up where we left off.”

- - - - -

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Kibum leaned against it, and let out a heavy sigh. Lights from the city illuminated the darkened living room, and Kibum kicked off his shoes and shucked his jacket before he flicked on the lights.

His house was still in disarray after Taemin’s surprise party -- twisted streamers rocking back and forth because of the ceiling fan, the helium balloons drooping as they started their slow descent, and the mess of confetti covering everything.

It’s not like it mattered, that his house was a sty. He was the only one who ever saw it anyways...

Huffing, Kibum stepped forward, grimacing at the confetti that stuck to his bare feet. He went over to the side table and turned on the television, instantly relaxing at the sound of static and someone else’s voice filling the empty space. The fridge light was bright as he opened it, and he leaned against the door. “Fuck, I need to get groceries.”

There was literally only two plates of Taemin’s leftover birthday cake. Kibum grabbed one of the plates and went back into the living room, swiping some of the frosting and sucking it off of his finger as he plopped down on his couch. While he didn’t necessarily enjoy Running Man, he wasn’t in any mood to change the channel.

It had been...almost a week since he had seen Minho in the subway.

If he had been having a problem keeping Minho off of his mind before...it was nothing compared to how he was now.

Quite frankly, it was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.

Maybe he needed to ask one of the others to set him up on a date. It was time, right? Seven months was long enough..he was just being pathetic at this point. He set his plate of cake down and pulled out his phone, checking the last message he sent him.

Still read. Still not responded to.

Kibum pursed his lips, tossing it into the pile of confetti on the couch. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d talk to Jonghyun about a blind date. He started brushing the confetti off of the couch so he could lay down. After a second, he stopped.

No.

It was time to actually sleep in his own bed, not the most uncomfortable couch on the goddamn planet. He grabbed his phone and stood, freezing mid-step when he heard a knock at the door. 11:46? Who the hell would be coming here this late?

Slowly, he approached the door, peeking through the peephole. Wait...Minho? Kibum leaned back, rubbing his eyes before he looked through again to make sure. Yep, it was him.

He jumped when there was another knock at the door.

Kibum, pressing his hand to his chest to soothe his erratically beating heart, took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob. Once he pulled the door open, Minho immediately met his eyes. He still looked exhausted but perked up as Kibum leaned against the door jam. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey...”

“Can I come in?” Minho asked, his eyebrows raising. Any defenses that Kibum had been building came crashing down, and he pushed the door open a little wider.

Chapter 2: I’m Home

The figures on the sales report blurred together and Minho rubbed his eyes, attempting to refocus. It wasn’t like it was that late. He grabbed his phone, blinking slowly when he tapped the screen. Okay, so maybe it was. Still, he should finish reading over these reports, since he had that meeting with investors in the morning.

Yawning, Minho tossed his phone aside and stood, heading for the kitchen to make himself yet another cup of coffee. He tied his robe loosely around his waist, and he found only find one of his slippers on his way to the kitchen. The clock on the oven blinked 3:05 when he glanced at it on his way to his Keurig. He found the darkest roast he had and popped the pod it and started it brewing.

He grabbed the full cup of coffee, and replaced the new pod with a new, lighter roast. Minho doctored his coffee to his liking before the other cup finished brewing, and he stirred in the two teaspoons of sugar, just the way…

Oh, right. Kibum wasn’t here.

Maybe he should just go to sleep. Play catch up tomorrow.

He held the coffee cup over the sink, poised to pour it down the drain.

”Minho?”

He grinned at Kibum’s incredulous expression, holding up the coffee he had gotten for him. “Surprised?” He glanced down the hall when Kibum tried to peek over his shoulder. For the moment, there was no one to watch out for. “We’re good, I think.”

Kibum nodded for Minho to come inside his dance studio, taking both coffees from his hands and setting them on the chair halfway across the room. “I thought you weren’t going to be back until tomorrow?”

“I took an earlier flight,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “I missed you too m – hey…” He couldn’t help his dopey smile as Kibum slipped into his personal space. Kibum wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist, pulling him just that much closer. “Did you miss me, too?”

“Maybe a little,” Kibum muttered into his skin as he left a trail of kisses up his neck. Minho couldn’t hold back his sigh, and Kibum chuckled as he leaned away to look into his eyes. “When do you have to go back?”

“To work?” Kibum hummed his answer, his eyes dropping to Minho’s lips for a second. “They still think I’m in New York.”

Kibum’s gaze instantly flicked up to meet Minho’s eyes. “Oh?”

“So…that means I have tomorrow off…”

“Hmm…we’ll have to think of something fun to do.”

Minho smiled when Kibum’s cheeks dimpled, and he carded his fingers through the hair on Kibum’s neck. As he leaned in, he stopped a fraction away from Kibum’s lips. “I’ll see you after you get off, baby.” Closing the distance between them, Minho kissed Kibum, smiling as Kibum pulled him closer, the kiss deepening…until…

The doorknob beside them jiggled, and they instantly broke apart. Kibum wiped his lips as Minho went over to grab his coffee from the chair. He smiled at the trainees as he passed them on his way out the door. “Who was that?” one of them asked Kibum.

“My roommate,” Kibum started to say as Minho closed the door behind him.

Sighing, Minho set Kibum’s cup of coffee aside and took up his own. He flicked the kitchen light off on his way back to the living room, taking an experimental sip of his coffee as he made his way back to the couch. He took another sip and glanced at his phone before he started to arrange the reports on the coffee table.

Wait…he had a notification?

He stared at the blinking orange light for a second. Who would be texting him right now? Maybe work…actually, probably work. His sense of duty was the only reason why he put down his coffee and picked up his phone.

But…it wasn’t work.

The Yeobo with the blue heart emoji after it burned into his eyes. Why had Kibum texted him? After all this time?

The Yeobo was a joke he had made almost a year ago when he had gotten home from work to find that Kibum had dinner waiting. It had embarrassed Kibum, which was adorable. So, he made quite the show of changing his name for him on kakaotalk, and…after they broke up, he hadn’t had the heart to change it back to Kibum.

Oh, he tried to several times, but every time he did, he would read through their old messages and he just…couldn’t.

The screen went black, and Minho unlocked his phone, immediately opening the message.

Yeobo 💙

3:07 // Honestly it’s stupid. It’s stupid how much I miss you. Even though you’re not here beside me, you are. Will I ever be able to get rid of you? As much as I want to or would like to, I can’t. I think you’re a part of me and you always will be. Do you miss me, too? Even a little bit? I hope so. I hope I irritate you with how much you think about me and I hope you remember us. What we were. What our future could of been. I’m trying hard to be strong, but the nights are long without you here. So are the days. Maybe I’m just lonely.

Minho’s grip tightened around his phone as he reread the message again and again. Did Kibum mean to send this? It didn’t seem like something he’d willingly admit unless he was drunk.

And even then.

Still, Minho started typing a response. I miss you too, so much it hurts. I wish we had never ended… He stopped, letting out a sigh as he started to backspace. Even though Kibum sent it, it felt like an accident. Like, he didn’t intend for Minho to read it. So, Minho exited out of the app and set his phone aside. He grabbed his coffee again and picked up the stack of reports.

* * * * *

Ring-ring…Ring-ring

Minho stirred, stretching to fumble with his alarm clock. With a shiver, he dropped his head back on the throw pillow, curling in on himself for a little extra warmth.

Ring-ring…Ring-ring

Yawning, Minho peeked over the arm of his couch, locating his phone before he picked it up. “Hello?”

“Oh good, you’re awake,” his father said into the receiver. Minho held back a scoff. Barely… “I wanted to discuss the meeting before you get here.”

Minho closed his eyes, setting his phone on his lap as he sat up. “Okay,” he said once he held up the phone again.

Why was his father so chipper in the morning? Maybe his secret was that he actually slept at a normal time. He listened as his father talked on and on about his expectations for him during the meeting, and switched from the living room phone to the one in his bathroom.

Minho looked into the mirror, his fingers tracing the bags under his eyes. He set the phone down, filling his hands with cool water and splashing it over his face. Hopefully, that would help. He picked up his phone again as he brushed his hair back with his fingers as his dad kept talking.

“Do you think you can do that?”

“I’ll do my best.” He flinched at his tone and braced himself as his father went silent on the other end.

“You haven’t been spending time with that Kibum again, have you?” When Minho didn’t answer him right away, his father took that to mean that he was. “I didn’t have to promote you, you know. You’re lucky Minseok started his own company so that you could do something with your life.”

“Father, I haven’t…I haven’t been.”

“I’ll see you when you get here.” The click on the other end signified the end of their discussion.

As much as he wanted to throw the receiver across the room, Minho walked it over to its place on the wall. He went into his walk-in closet, then, inspecting the sparse assortment of suits hanging there. Minho reached for the gray Givenchy suit, caressing the darker stripes with his thumb.

“I swear, if you don’t at least try on this fucking suit, I will dump you.”

Minho looked around, checking to see if the attendants were paying them any attention before he booped the tip of Kibum’s nose. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Okay, you’re right…but…think of the baby,” Kibum said, jutting his bottom lip out in the barest hint of aegyo.

Minho threw his head back, laughing hard enough for Kibum to shush him so he didn’t disturb the other customers. “Fine, I put it on, but just for you.”

“Why won’t you buy it?” Kibum asked as he trailed behind Minho on his way to the fitting room, sitting outside when Minho closed the door behind him

“My father said not to be too flashy with what I wear.” Minho smirked when Kibum started to laugh as he slipped out of his t-shirt and jeans. “Don’t you start.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see what’s so flashy about wearing black all the time.”

Minho zipped up his slacks, glancing at the closed door. “What? You think I should change?”

“I think…you should wear what makes you happy and confident.”

He finished tucking in his shirt then undid the top button before he shrugged on the jacket. “What do you think?” he asked, opening the door to let Kibum see. His boyfriend sat still, staring unblinkingly at Minho where he stood in the doorway. Minho could feel a smile curl his lips upward, and he unbuttoned the second, tugging at the collar to let just a bit more of his chest show. “Do you have any thoughts, or…”

“I…think…that we should buy this and go straight home.”

Gulping, Minho let go of the Givenchy suit, grabbing his plain navy one instead.

* * * * *

It had to be a trick.

His eyes must be deceiving him. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep last night, so perhaps his brain had conjured up exactly what he wanted to see. Who he longed to see.

Kibum was there, just in the other car on the subway. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds, and he looked away. But it was him. Looking healthy and as beautiful as ever. He blamed the tears stinging his eyes on his exhaustion, even if he knew that was just a lie he was telling himself. He blinked, driving them away, as the other passengers started to deboard the subway.

Oh, right, this was his stop. He had a plane to catch.

The journey to the airport, and even through security as well as boarding the plane, passed by in a blur. He had done it so many times, now. Too many. Minho stuffed his carry-on bag into the overhead bin, not even reacting when something fell out of the side pocket, bouncing off of his arm and onto the ground. He slid into his seat, slowly reaching down to grab it, only to find that one of the stewardesses got to it first.

“Is this yours?” she asked, holding up the little black box.

“Yes,” he said, his voice almost too quiet for her to hear, judging by the way she squinted an leaned closer to him. He held out his hand, and she placed it in his palm.

The ring box bit into his palm as he tightened his fist around it in his pocket. “Please, Minho, sit. We have a lot to discuss.”

He stared at his father, a silent plea in his gaze. A silent plea that was being firmly ignored. Minho took a deep breath, steeling himself, and sat down in the armchair opposite his father. “How did you know?”

“Your mother saw you two. At the mall. She said that you and…he were hanging all over each other.” Minho averted his eyes, his face heating. “I think it goes without saying that we don’t approve of your little tryst.”

Wow, what a huge surprise…He had no idea that would be the case.

“Do you…love him?”

“More than anything in the world,” Minho answered without thinking. His eyes widened a second later…he probably shouldn’t have said that… “What do you want from me?”

“What do I want with you? Nothing. ‘What do I expect from you?’ should have been your question.” Minho gritted his teeth, refusing to ask. “I expect that you’ll break it off with him immediately, and never see him again, or – “

“Or?”

“Or I will tell his boss that Kibum is a homosexual. I am friends with Sooman, after all. I’m sure you remember that.”

He did. Fuck…

“As long as you do that, I’ll keep the information to myself. I wouldn’t want you to cause any more shame on the family, as it is.”

Minho cursed himself as tears filled his eyes. Stay with Kibum, and risk poverty and ostracization for them both. Let him go, and rest assured that Kibum would be safe. When it came down to it, the decision was easy.

“Okay,” he said, raising his chin as he met his father’s eyes. “I’ll do it.”

The stewardess walked away, and Minho’s gaze slipped to the ring box. He remembered that day vividly – the day he had bought the ring. Jinki was there with him, as Jonghyun and Taemin could not be trusted with any secrets ever. It was a hard decision, narrowing down his choice for the perfect ring for Kibum. In the end, he decided on a thin silver band, five tiny diamonds etched into the top.

Honestly, it had been an impulse buy. He and Jinki had been at the mall to pick out a new coat for Jinki before the winter hit on one of Minho’s rare days off. But when they passed by the jewelry shop, Minho couldn’t help but stop and look at one of the rings that caught his eye, and they ended up scouring the selection to find the perfect one. He hadn’t been planning on proposing, not quite yet, but now that he had the ring…why not? Jinki entertained him for the rest of their time at the mall, coming up with ridiculous scenarios for Minho to propose.

He had almost forgotten that he carried it with him, still. It was a little piece of Kibum – even if he wasn’t aware of its existence – a little reminder of what they could have been.

The flight attendants started their safety spiel as the plane started to taxi onto the runway. Minho leaned back in his seat, his eyes closing. Hopefully, he would dream of happier times.

* * * * *

Deliberations in New York took longer than they needed to. They always did.

Minho opened his eyes when the elevator dinged, stepping forward and down the hall to his condo. His briefcase swung back and forth at his side, tapping against his leg as he fished in his pocket for his keys. Once the door was unlocked, he trudged inside, tossing the briefcase on the nearby sofa. He flopped down on the other, tucking himself easily into the curve of the couch.

If it wasn’t already enough – the neverending hours at work, the long flights, the general lack of sleep, the soul-crushing silence of the empty room – he hadn’t been able to get Kibum off of his mind. Not since the subway.

If he could only…see him again…speak with him one last time…beg for his forgiveness…then he might be satisfied.

He didn’t dream of happier times. Not on the flight, not when he tried to sleep in his hotel room. Not ever.

”So,” Kibum said, his previously impassive expression faltering with a quiver at his chin. “Which will it be?”

“Kibum…I – ”

“It shouldn’t be a hard decision, Minho. Me…or your job.”

Minho gulped, his shoulders sinking as his gaze fell to the floor. Ah, his time was up. When his father told him to break it off, he tried. He genuinely did. It was just…wanted to be selfish. To live on borrowed time, for a while. He knew their days were numbered, and he wanted to savor every he could with Kibum, memorizing everything.

But it was over now. He had driven him away.

He took as many hours as he could at work, barely making any time for Kibum. His Kibum. The sudden productivity from his son seemed to surprise Father, and he got a promotion at work. And with that, came more flights to and from the states and more responsibilities…and less time with his boyfriend.

It was only a matter of time before this day would come. When he’d have to say goodbye.

Not that he was ready, of course. But it was time.

Minho met Kibum’s eyes and held his gaze, burning the curves and lines of his face into his memory. “I’m sorry.” Kibum’s bottom lip quivered until he clenched his jaw, turning his face away from Minho. It took a moment for Minho to summon the courage to stand, to walk past Kibum on his way to the door. “If I could make one last request,” he said, his voice quiet in the strained silence stretching between them.

When Kibum didn’t answer, Minho looked back and found that he hadn’t turned his head to watch him go. But he was listening.

“Please, don’t hate me.”

As he opened the door, Kibum’s head twitched toward the noise and Minho froze, waiting. “That’s the thing. I could never hate you.” And, with that, Minho closed the door behind him.

Minho rubbed his eyes, driving the reverie away.

It’s not like he could do anything about it. He couldn’t go see Kibum, which meant he couldn’t apologize and try to make amends. It would be pointless.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he dug it out, the ring box falling out with it. As Minho sat up, he took up the ring box and opened it. He stared at the gems, and they seemed to stare back, teasing him, taunting him. Minho snapped the ring box closed and carried it with him to his closet, setting it down among his glasses..

Maybe, his traitorous mind thought, and he pushed it away as he stood in front of his suits. What if, it continued as Minho pulled out the Givenchy suit. He had yet to wear it, to work or otherwise. It wasn’t long before he had stripped out of his travel-worn suit and slipped into the designer suit. Why he put it on, he wasn’t sure.

“You’re being selfish,” he said to his reflection, as he adjusted his tie pin. Was it worth throwing their safety away? Just for a moment of weakness? He dragged his hand across the nape of his neck, sighing heavily, as he stared at the ring box. It didn’t matter that he felt like he was deteriorating on the inside. It didn’t matter that his heart ached every second they had been apart.

It didn’t matter what he wanted. Or needed.

Minho grabbed the ring box, taking it back into the living room and sinking into the sofa. He had to be strong…for both of them. As he flipped the box over in his hand, his mind wandered to the text message Kibum had sent him.

I think you’re a part of me and you always will be.

No matter how much he tried to be strong, he was always so weak, when it came to Kibum. His fist tightened around the ring box, and he shot up from the couch, running for the elevator.

“Where to?” the taxi driver asked, suppressing a yawn as Minho buckled up.

Home.

Minho rattled off Kibum’s address without a thought, and he leaned back in his seat as the car pulled forward. He stared out the window, watching the city lights pass him by as he took deep, calming breaths.

For better or for worse, he had to be selfish this one last time.

Chapter 3: Unchained

“Can I come in?”

It was only when the door was closed behind him that Kibum remembered the state of his house. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, glancing at the back of Minho’s head and waiting for his reaction to the remnants of the party.

“This was for Taemin, right?” Kibum blinked in surprise. “Jinki invited me to come a couple of weeks ago.” That fucker…Jinki didn’t mention anything about the extended invitation. “I was scheduled to be in New York…” Minho’s voice trailed off as he sighed.

“Why are you here, Minho?” He turned around, then, meeting Kibum’s inquisitive gaze. There was warmth there, still, in those tired eyes. Warmth and hope and a silent plea for understanding. Kibum looked down at the spread of confetti on the floor, then brushed past Minho as he followed the path through it to the couch. He sat in his spot, looking up at Minho expectantly. “Well?”

“I didn’t think I’d get this far…Not quite sure where to begin, to be honest.”

“How about sitting down.” He was more curious than anything else, now. Had he dressed up in that suit specifically to see him? Or was that just a random choice for his day at work? Kibum followed Minho’s progress around the room, and he grabbed the remote as Minho sat on the opposite end of the couch to turn the volume down several clicks.

Minho brushed more of the confetti off and onto the floor as he made himself comfortable, pointedly avoiding Kibum’s gaze. He picked one of the pieces up, twirling it around his finger as he looked up. “You could never irritate me.” Kibum’s brow furrowed in confusion. They irritated each other frequently in the many years they had known each other, especially when they were a couple. “Thoughts of you – of us – could never irritate me.”

Oh god…the text message. Was that why he decided to come? Kibum started to apologize for sending that, but Minho continued.

“Those were the happiest moments of my life. The ones with you.”

“Which ones?” Kibum found himself asking.

“All of them.” He gulped as Minho looked down at his hands again. “I missed you so much, ba – Bummie.”

If he could physically reach into his chest and stop his heart from swelling, he would. He needed to be strong, not only for his own sake but also for Minho’s as well. For a moment, his gaze drifted away. “Then why did you leave?” His eyes snapped back to meet Minho’s when he looked up. “Why did you wait so long to see me again, if you missed me so much?”

“I had to.”

“Had to?” Kibum smirked when Minho nodded. “Ultimatums aren’t that serious. You didn’t have to stay away.” Hurt flashed in Minho’s eyes, and Kibum almost broke his stony demeanor and apologized. He knew…he knew he was being unfair. He had been the one to make him choose. The one to make him leave.

“You don’t understand.”

“Is that why you’re here, then? To explain?”

Minho started tearing the confetti in his hands into little shreds, his voice low and quiet as he told Kibum about a conversation he had with his father. The threat of blackmail, of their relationship – and Kibum’s sexuality in particular– being exposed. How he decided to drive Kibum away, to make him want to let go of what they could have been, because he couldn’t.

“I’m weak, when it comes to you,” Minho said after a stretch of silence. “I know I was being selfish, and for that, I deeply apologize, but I knew…when it came down to it, that I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to you.”

Kibum swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Why tell me all this now?”

“When I saw you in the subway,” Minho chuckled, shaking his head. “After knowing that you missed me too, I knew I wouldn’t be able to rest until I saw you. One last time.” Last time…no… “I’m sorry for any trouble I caused you,” he said, standing and bowing to Kibum as he started for the door. “I won’t disturb you again.”

“It’s late.” Minho stopped in his tracks. Just let him go. He’s trying to move on with his life. Don’t ask him to – “Stay. You can always take a taxi or whatever home in the morning.”

Minho turned, hope twinkling in his eyes. “Where will I sleep?” Kibum patted the couch. “What about – “

“I still have some of your old t-shirts…and the blankets are where they always have been.” Minho nodded as Kibum stood, and started for their – no, his room. He grabbed his pajamas, as well as Minho’s t-shirt he wore most often to sleep in, and went back out to the main room. “Here.” Kibum tossed the shirt in Minho’s general direction, glancing over to find him cleaning off the entire couch before he laid the fleece throw down. “Goodnight, Min.”

“Goodnight.”

He’d be a fool to miss the longing in Minho’s voice.

Distracted now, he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth, completely forgoing his face washing routine. He flicked off the bathroom light and walked down the hall to see that the light and the television were turned off. Kibum stared into the darkness for a moment, before he turned and went into his bedroom.

“You’d think after that couch, this bed would be much more comfortable,” he murmured to himself, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He tossed and turned, curling up around his pillow and then lying bone-straight on his side, then his back, then his other side…then face down.

Kibum rolled over, lying on his back to watch the shadows shift on the ceiling with passing cars. How was Minho faring out there? He could always sleep anywhere, no matter what, so he was probably fine…but…no… He couldn’t bring Minho in here; he couldn’t cross that line. Not yet! Or ever!

His body, however, seemed to have a different idea. Kibum slipped out of bed, tiptoeing to the entrance of the hallway overlooking the living room. “Minho.”

“Yeah?” he whispered after a second of hesitation.

“Do you want to come to bed?”

In the darkness, he saw Minho’s silhouette peeking out over the back of the couch. “Are you sure?”

“If you don’t want to, then…whatever.” He turned and headed back to bed, his heart sinking as he slipped back under the covers. Closing his eyes, he turned over on his side, hoping to force himself to go to sleep.

The bed dipped and rocked as Minho crawled in, being careful not to disturb Kibum, who had started to smile. It only took a few minutes for Minho’s breathing to steady and for the first of his snores to come. Kibum’s eyes stung with tears that he blinked away as he rolled over to face Minho. The city lights from the far window gilded his silhouette, his shadow stretching out toward Kibum.

Minho snored again, and Kibum pursed his lips to stop a chuckle. He didn’t think he would miss that, and yet… Eventually, his eyes drooped, and he nodded off into a restful sleep.

As dawn broke, he stirred, feeling overly warm. Kibum barely opened his eyes, inhaling the fresh laundry scent right in front of his nose. There was just white, and as he looked up, the beautiful tan of Minho’s skin. He was in Minho’s arms, and him in Kibum’s. They were holding each other close, as though even in sleep, they were afraid of letting each other go again. Sighing, Kibum snuggled closer still and closed his eyes, drifting off again.

* * * * *

It was mid-morning by the time Minho woke, and the bed was empty.

Wait…bed?

He opened his sleepy eyes, taking in the familiar room. The random collection of art hanging on the walls, the same covers on the bed, several of the drawers in the dresser across the room always slightly open, and the light on in the walk-in closet. Minho took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looking over at the rumpled sheets beside him. Cool now, it seemed. He pulled his hand back, his eyes widening as Kibum walked into the room with just a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Is this a dream..?” Kibum started at the sound of Minho’s voice, his hand instantly going to his towel to make sure it didn’t fall open.

“You’re awake.”

Minho could barely nod as Kibum moved further into the room. He could only stare at Kibum, drinking in the sight of him. This felt too real to be a dream. Minho blinked as Kibum swung the door closed – though not shut – after he stepped into the closet. When he reappeared, he was dressed in dark wash skinny jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. His eyes instantly met Minho’s, his expression softening slightly.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked as he sat on the foot of the bed.

“Better than I have in a long…long time.”

Kibum laced his fingers, folding his hands together in his lap as Minho sat up, mirroring the motion. “So…” Minho raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side. “I was thinking…I should come out to my boss.” He blinked, taken aback. “That way, at least your dad has nothing against me.”

“Will…will you be alright?” he whispered. Unfortunately, he remembered all too well what happened when Kibum came out to his parents. He had been sitting in the other room while they argued with Kibum, trying to make him see how wrong his life was. His choices. He remembered the angry tears in Kibum’s eyes as he stormed out of the room, he remembered the vice-like grip on his hand and he dragged Minho out of the house and to their car.

That had been years ago, and he still had yet to reconcile with his mother. His father, since their divorce, luckily had come around.

“It’s just a job. If I get fired…” he shrugged, meeting Minho’s eyes for a second before he dropped his gaze to his hands.

“But you love that job, right?” Kibum nodded. “Is it worth the risk?”

Kibum looked up, searching Minho’s concerned expression until his attention shifted to Minho’s lips and then to his eyes. “So, I was an idiot, and I didn’t go grocery shopping last week…or the week before…so I don’t have any coffee for you.”

“That’s okay…” He smirked, and before he could think better of it, he said, “Just seeing you gives me more than enough of a boost.” Kibum bit his bottom lip in an effort to keep from smiling too wide. “Too soon?”

“Maybe a little…but I can’t say I mind.”

He smiled then, softly, but enough to make the dimple appear on his cheek. Minho’s shoulders drooped as he sighed. Kibum’s hands were still folded together, his thumbs tapping a rhythm together. Minho clenched his own fists in the sheets, longing to reach out and brush his fingers through Kibum’s hair, that was still slightly damp from his shower. Or, to hold him close in his arms. To feel his warmth, each intake of his breath. Anything to let him know that this was real.

“Are you sure this isn’t a dream?”

Kibum’s smile grew. “Do you often dream of me?”

“If I dream, you’re always there.”

He stared at him, his gaze growing tender until he blinked and averted his eyes. “Anyways, I should get going. I’m already almost late for work as it is.”

“Kibum.” Minho shot out of bed as he stood and turned for the door. “Do you want me to come with you?”

A heavy sigh. “Sure.”

Minho rushed to get ready, pulling on his slightly rumpled suit and brushing his teeth with a spare toothbrush before he met Kibum at the door. The journey to SM Entertainment was somber. Quiet. Neither of them seemed to mind that.

Ordinarily, a packed subway would have been irritating, but in this case, the physical closeness to Kibum was a soothing balm on his aching heart. A tingle danced along his skin every time he reached out to steady him, his touch lingering a second longer than necessary.

It wasn’t much, but it was more than Minho could have ever hoped for.

They stayed an arm’s length apart as they ventured into the cafe, Kibum instructing Minho to stay there until he came to find him. And…then he left. Minho watched him disappear down a long hallway, long to run after him, to hold him close and give him whatever strength he could.

The minutes stretched on, and eventually, he had to distract himself so he didn’t just fidget until Kibum reappeared. He bought himself a coffee, taking tiny sips of it as he waited.

And waited.

Twenty minutes had passed before Kibum walked into the cafe, meeting Minho’s inquisitive gaze immediately. A subtle nod and Minho was on his feet, following Kibum back down the hallway. Neither spoke as Kibum led them toward the dance studios.

His hands were trembling as he pulled out his keys, and it made it hard for him to unlock the door. Minho reached out, one hand instinctively slipping around Kibum’s waist and the other taking the keys to open the studio. Once inside, he led Kibum over to the closest chair before he hurried back to close and lock the door.

When he made his way back to Kibum, he knelt before him, taking his hand in his as Kibum took deep calming breaths. “I’m okay,” he said after several minutes. “It went better than I was expecting.”

“What happened?”

“I told him the truth.”

“Sooman?”

Kibum nodded. “He said as long as I didn’t let it affect my work and I didn’t try to turn the trainees – “ Minho grimaced. “ – yeah…he said he didn’t care.” Sighing, Minho leaned forward, pressing his forehead against their joined hands. After a minute, Kibum’s other hand patted Minho’s head, his fingers carding through Minho’s hair. “Now, there’s at least one thing that your dad doesn’t control.”

Minho slowly opened his eyes and stared at Kibum’s knee just beyond his nose. God, he really was an idiot…of course that’s why Kibum did this. They would never be able to return to how they were – maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday – if Kibum didn’t come out first. His father would tear them apart in whatever way he could. Whether by blackmail, which Kibum just annulled, or other means – he would not want to lose his control over Minho.

If Kibum could be brave – marching into uncharted territory unsure of the outcome, for them, for their possible future – then so could he.

“When’s your next class?”

Kibum’s hand stilled in Minho’s hair, dropping to his lap when Minho looked up. “Soon. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to kick you out – “

Minho released Kibum’s hand. “It’s okay. Can…can I see you later?” Smiling, Kibum nodded, and Minho stood and started for the door. “Do you still get off at six?”

“Yeah…”

“Okay.” Minho turned the handle looking back at Kibum for a moment. “I’ll see you soon.”

It wasn’t long until the skyscraper that housed Choi Conglomerate came into view. He stepped inside, breezing through the rotating doorway and walking right past the front desk. The elevator ride up to his office was a quiet one as if none of the employees knew what to say with him present. He raised his chin as the elevator reached his floor, and he walked out, passing Seohyun, his secretary on his way to his office.

“Sir?” she said, following him inside his office. “Your father has been trying to contact you all day.” Ah, that’s what he forgot to grab when he left his condo – his cellphone.

“I’m sorry if it caused you stress.”

“Don’t worry about me, sir. Are you alright? You’ve never been this late before.”

Minho smiled to himself, and Seohyun sat in one of the chairs across from him. “I’m doing better than I have been in a while.”

“That’s a relief to hear.”

Minho met her eyes, and she smiled at him. “Do you know what my father’s schedule is like today?”

She pulled out her cellphone, probably bringing up her messages between herself and Jieun, his father’s secretary. “He’s currently in a meeting, but he wanted to see you whenever you got in. Apparently, he’s not…very happy.”

“Wow, what a huge surprise.” Seohyun chuckled, then covered her mouth when Minho looked up. “Why don’t you go ahead and take the day off?”

“Really?” Minho nodded. “Are you sure?” Laughing, he nodded again. “Thank you, sir.”

“Do something fun! And, Seohyun?” She stopped, looking back at him from the doorway. “Thank you for everything.” She gave him a shy smile before she closed the door behind herself. Once she was gone, Minho called his father’s office, and Jieun answered. “This is Minho.”

“Ah, Mr. Choi. Your father wishes to see you.”

“When is he out of his meeting?”

“He just got back.”

“I’ll be right there. Thank you, Jieun.” He hung up the phone and by the time he made it out the door, Seohyun was nowhere to be found.

As he walked to his father’s office, he thought about what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it, but his mind was coming up blank. Even as he stepped inside his father’s office, he didn’t know how to begin. He walked up to the desk, standing between the armchairs as his father glared at him behind the desk. He was talking on the phone with someone, but he soon cut them off and hung up.

“Where were you? You’re never late.”

“I overslept.” For once in seven fucking months, he had actually slept a normal amount of time. His father started to speak, but Minho spoke over him. “I quit.” Silence rang in Minho’s ears as his father stared at him. “I’m tired and I hate this job. I just want out. Give it to Minseok, for all I care. I know you’d rather that, anyway.”

“Why quit now?”

“I can’t live like this anymore. I’m miserable, and you know it. You exploit it, even.”

“If this is about that…Kibum – “

“Would you do the same for Mom?” His father’s jaw clenched. “If there were obstacles in your way, keeping the two of you apart, would you fight for her?” Minho sighed when his dad grimaced. “I’m tired. I miss him and I’m tired of not being with him. So, I quit.”

As he turned to leave, his father said, “If you walk out that door, I never want to see you again.” Minho picked up his pace, not even bothering to turn around to look at his father one last time.

He felt lightheaded and slightly dizzy as he made his way back downstairs and onto the street. What would he do now? Where would he go? It was only a matter of hours before he would be locked out of his condo, so he made his way there, first, grabbing the few personal possessions that he couldn’t do without. He turned in his key at the front desk, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a long while.

This must be what freedom felt like.

Minho meandered through Seoul on his way back to SM Entertainment, scouring the shop windows for We’re Hiring! signs. He spotted a few, making mental notes of them all, and soon he was sitting in the cafe with a fresh iced coffee, watching the clock as he waited for Kibum.

Blessedly, it didn’t take too long for him to show, his smile growing as he spotted Minho. “Do…do you want to go grocery shopping with me?”

“Of course,” Minho said immediately.

It was just like old times – why wouldn’t it be? Minho followed Kibum around the store, a basket in hand, and pulled things that he pointed at off the shelf. Kibum vented about the dumbass trainees as they shopped, and Minho listened eagerly, adding his own comments when he could and smiling when they made Kibum laugh. They walked home, their arms full of groceries. As Kibum put them away and started dinner, Minho started to clean up the remnants of Taemin’s party. He made good progress before dinner was ready, but after eating and helping Kibum with the dishes, he didn’t want to do much else but sit.

“So, you quit.” Minho nodded, tapping his thumb on the handle of his mug, the tea inside steaming. “What will you do?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I don’t know if I should look for a job or a place to live first…”

“Job.” Minho slowly met Kibum’s eyes, his eyebrows raising in question. “You can stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Min. You should know that by now.”

He nodded.

Once he was finished showering, Kibum turned off the TV and met him by the bedroom door. “You can sleep in here, it’s okay,” he said as Minho tried to go past him and into the living room.

“I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“I know.” He leaned against the door jam as Kibum looked down at the carpet between them. “I know it’s probably asking too much. I don’t know about you, but…but I’m not ready for anything more right now.” As much as Minho longed to return to the way they were before, he knew that wouldn’t be wise. Patience and trust would be key to navigating themselves back into a relationship like the one they had had. “Even…even so, I missed you.” He met Minho’s eyes then. “I missed you so much, and I don’t want to be…to be apart from you again. It’s up to you,” he said, glancing into the bedroom. “If you want to sleep here, or not. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable at all.”

Kibum swallowed thickly before he stepped inside the bedroom. He had already crawled into bed by the time Minho flicked off the light and followed him inside.

- - - - -

“So, let me get this straight…” Kibum didn’t look up from his phone and the stream of memes Minho was sending him, but he hummed in question when Jonghyun paused. “You’re not dating, but you’re living together again. Sleeping in the same bed – “

“Just sleeping.”

“And cuddling, I assume.” Kibum blushed, scrolling down when Minho sent him another meme. “Basically spending every waking moment you can together for a month…”

“Yeah? And?”

“How…no, why not just date again? Have you guys even kissed yet?” Kibum shook his head, rolling his eyes when Jonghyun scoffed. “If I hadn’t seen Taemin in seven months…”

“The world would end as we know it, I know.”

Min~

12:04 // okay, I have to go back to work now~

12:04 // bye~

Kibum pocketed his phone, rejoining Jonghyun’s rant on how everything good in this world would cease to exist if he and Taemin didn’t see each other every day. “Honestly, you should be grateful to us – “

“Oh, I am,” Kibum said sarcastically as he picked up his chopsticks to resume eating his lunch. “We’re just…taking things slow, that’s all.”

“I feel like slow is an understatement.”

“When you’ve known each other as long as we have, you learn to be patient.”

He stirred his noodles, coating them with sauce before he took a bite. He and Minho had known each other since they were kids in middle school, but they didn’t start dating until their second year of college. Had…had they really been dating for eight years? He hadn’t really thought about it since they split.

No wonder they had slipped right back into their old routine so easily.

It only took about a week for Minho to find a new job, the sales manager at Times Square Mall in downtown Seoul. While it was fast-paced enough to keep Minho occupied and engaged, it was nowhere near the levels of stress and dedication he had to endure at his dad’s company.

About a month had passed since Minho quit his job and their lives intertwined again. Was that enough time? Was he taking too long to make up his mind? They had a solid relationship before the split, trust built and maintained easily. But, even now, he hesitated. It was hard, deciding to make the leap of faith, to reach out and begin things again.

He hated his own hesitation. He hated how each morning when he woke, he snuggled closer to Minho, leeching the warmth and comfort he was unknowingly giving. He hated how he didn’t linger, didn’t wait for Minho to stir and realize he was holding Kibum like his life depended on it. He hated how he doted on Minho, bringing him coffee just the way he liked it as soon as he was waking up, and he hated the sweet, sleepy smile Minho would give him every morning. He hated how easily domestic they were, as though they had never been apart.

He hated that he loved every second of it.

Why couldn’t he cross that line?

Ah, he was terrified. Of what would happen, should they be forced to split again. Those months without Minho were the darkest he had ever faced, and he faced them alone. And now…now that he was back, even though the sun was shining on them again, the darkness lurked in his mind.

Jonghyun just didn’t understand…neither did Taemin nor Jinki. Sure, they were there for him in those months, but they couldn’t understand.

“Speaking of Taemin,” Kibum said, stirring his noodles again. “When does he get back from Japan?”

Jonghyun sighed heavily. “Not soon enough.”

By the time Kibum was home for the night, Minho had been home for a while, judging by the state of the kitchen. Kibum walked in, smirking as he flipped through the recipe book. “Need any help?” he asked, startling Minho, who turned around to look at him.

“No, I think I got it. Thanks, though.”

The fried rice was a bit too crunchy for Kibum’s taste, but he ate it all, thanking Minho for the food. As they cleaned up the kitchen together – Kibum insisted on helping, this time – his mind started to wander to his and Jonghyun’s earlier conversation.

“Min.”

“Hm?”

“Are you happy?”

Minho’s hands stilled in the dishwater, and he glanced over at Kibum. “Of course I am.”

Nodding, Kibum set the pan to dry.

His birthday came and went, Minho planning a surprise party that Kibum was actually genuinely surprised by. After they all left, he even helped Kibum wash the cake and buttercream off his face and out of his hair. His hands lingered, on his cheek and when they cupped the back of his head. They were so close, just a little push and the line would have been crossed.

But, there would be no way to go back, if they did. So Kibum stayed still, his gaze trained on Minho’s lips, wishing he had the courage to leap.

The next morning, Kibum once again woke with the sun, relishing in the warmth of Minho’s embrace. He stared sleepily at the expanse of Minho’s skin just beyond his nose. As his eyes closed, he wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist and nuzzled into his neck. He pressed a chaste kiss where his neck met his shoulder, then another, and another until he reached Minho’s jaw.

Minho hummed contentedly, and Kibum sat back, still in his embrace, to see if he was awake yet. Not quite. He brushed Minho’s wavy hair off of his forehead, watching his face as the morning sun stretched across his skin, setting it aglow. He caressed his cheekbone with his thumb, smiling as even in his sleep, Minho leaned into the gentle touch.

He missed mornings like this, lazy and soft and filled with nothing but their love. This thumb stilled on Minho’s cheek. Love? Yes, love…as if he ever stopped loving Minho, even when they were apart. No matter what, he didn’t think that would ever change.

When Minho finally stirred and opened his eyes, Kibum hadn’t moved away. Minho’s eyes slowly widened when he realized how close they were, that Kibum was in his arms. “Good morning, sweetheart.” Minho’s lips parted, either in surprise or because he had something he wanted to say, but Kibum took it as an invitation and closed the distance between them.

The kiss started slow and lazy…almost tentative. But, as Minho became more awake, it grew hungrier, needier…desperate, even. Kibum smiled into it as Minho rolled them over so that he was on top of him, his fingers digging into his back as Kibum carded his fingers through Minho’s hair. He opened his eyes when they broke the kiss to breathe, Minho pressing their foreheads together.

“I missed you so much, baby.”

I missed you, too danced on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spoken. But instead, Kibum smirked. “Prove it.”

He was so thankful that it was a Sunday because they had so much to catch up on.

* * * * *

Minho brushed the snow out of his hair before he bent down to untie his boots. It had been a long day at the office, what with the Christmas rush starting. He glanced at his phone before he plopped down on the couch, flicking through the channels to find that nothing good was on. He left it on Please Take Care of My Refrigerator but turned the volume down before he tossed the remote across the couch.

He sighed, picking himself up and going to the bedroom to change into something comfier than a suit. Kibum would be home from work soon, and he knew when the other three would be over for their weekly – when their schedules aligned – game night. He changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, throwing his work socks into a hamper and putting a pair of polka dotted ones on instead. When his phone vibrated, he looked to see that it was just a text from Kibum, letting him know that he was on his way home.

Minho grabbed his charging cord, setting his phone on his nightstand before he opened the drawer. There, with the take-out menus, condoms, and the bottle of lube, was the ring box he had bought so long ago. Almost a year, now that he thought about it. He pulled it out before he closed the drawer, popping the box open.

It was too soon, he knew, to ask Kibum to marry him. Not that they could, anyway, but…someday…someday they’d get there. He’d just have to be patient.

Luckily, that was something he had a lot of practice in.

Smirking to himself, he set the ring back in the drawer and went back out into the kitchen to get the snacks and table set up for the arrival of the others.

Minho’s attention flew to the door when it opened to reveal Kibum, and he smiled as he stomped in, grumbling about the snow. When Kibum looked up from untying his boots, Minho was there, waiting for him to stand so he could hug him. Kibum sniffed a laugh as Minho pulled him out of the entryway and away from the melting snow, hugging him all the while. “Did somebody miss me?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Hmm. Cute.” Kibum kissed his cheek before he took himself out of Minho’s arms. “What games did you pull out?”

“Monopoly…Clue…”

“Let’s start with Clue. We’ll still want to be friends with the others afterward. Plus, we can cheat…”

“You mean observe closely and win,” Minho said, smiling as he put that box on top of the others.

“Yes, of course.” Kibum returned to his side, slipping his arms around Minho’s waist. He held him close, savoring the moments before the other three would arrive and they’d have to play host for the night. Not that he minded, of course. It was just, since they were dating again, he had decided to savor every moment he could with Kibum.

He pressed a kiss to Kibum’s temple, then another when Kibum’s arms tightened around him. “I love you.”

Smiling, Kibum looked up at him. “I love you, too,” he said, glancing down at Minho’s lips before he leaned in. Just as they were about to kiss, the doorbell rang at the same time as someone knocked on the door. Minho hesitated. “They can wait.” Minho smiled into the kiss, the incessant knocking disappearing as he melted into it.

For one blessed moment, the world was just he and Kibum, and nothing else mattered.

Epilogue: Colorful

“When will you be back?”

“Two hours at the latest.”

Kibum smirked, his gaze slowly taking Minho in as he shrugged on his jacket. He could feel the twinkle in his eyes when Minho met his gaze. “Hurry back,” he said, smiling sweetly from his cocoon of warmth in bed as Minho bit his lip with a sigh. As he left the room, Kibum inclined his head, listening. He was putting on his shoes…the grabbing his keys…unlocking the door…

“Love you!”

“Love you, too!”

The door slammed shut and locked, and Kibum jumped out of bed. Two hours was more than enough time to find his birthday present. Minho said he hadn’t gotten his present yet, but Kibum didn’t believe him.

He scoured the closet, opening the drawers, looking behind clothes, pulling out their luggage and checking inside. Nothing. Kibum hummed after he had put everything back in its place, his eyes scanning the room before he dropped to check under the bed. It was…surprisingly empty. Hall closet, empty. Pantry, empty. Linen closet, empty. Coat closet by the door? Fucking empty.

“What the fuck, Choi.”

There was no way he got better at hiding presents in the time they spent apart; he had always been able to find them, even when they were kids. Kibum walked out of the closet after going through it again, sitting down on Minho’s side of the bed to catch his breath. Where could it be? He glanced at the nightstand, then looked again. It could be something small. His eyebrows raised expectantly, Kibum scooted over, slowly opening the drawer.

Was that…He pulled out the small black box, his breath catching as he popped it open.

Minho was going to propose.

The silver ring was cool against his skin as he slid it on his ring finger. Of course, it fit perfectly, why wouldn’t it? He held his hand out, inspecting the sparkle of the diamonds in the natural light of the room. Was it too soon? They had only been back together for a year – well, almost. The day after his birthday would mark a full year.

No, now that he thought about it, the timing was perfect…barring the fact that they legally couldn’t get married yet. The trust between them had been established again, almost stronger than it was before their split if that was even possible.

Smiling, Kibum slipped the ring off of his finger and put it back in the box, which he then returned to the drawer as if he had never seen it. Thoroughly satisfied, Kibum slipped back into bed, making himself comfortable before Minho made it back from his meeting.

When his birthday arrived, Kibum’s anticipation was high. When would he ask? Over breakfast?…no, but he did get breakfast in bed. Before the other three arrived?…no, but they were making out until the doorbell rang, with the promise of picking it up later. After the candles on his cake were blown out?…no, but Minho did smear frosting across his lips before he started cutting a slice off for him.

Maybe during the actual presents-opening…Kibum decided that must be the case when Minho hurried into their room when Taemin presented the gift from him and Jonghyun.

“What..?” Dog collars? One was a teal and the other a red. He squinted at them, then back up at Taemin and Jonghyun. “I don’t know what you guys are into…but…”

Jonghyun snorted. “No, oh my god.”

“They’d be too small, anyway.”

Minho reappeared in the living room, holding a much bigger box than the ring box. Much bigger. And, it barked. Twice.

Momentarily, the ring was forgotten as Minho came around and sat next to him on the couch. “Are you serious?” Kibum asked, his voice several pitches higher than normal as a tiny red poodle poke its head out of the top of the box, followed by an adorable black one. He took them both out, speechless as they started wriggling in their excitement.

“Happy birthday, baby,” Minho said, kissing his cheek before he took the black one out of his arms, so he could focus on the other. For the moment, the ring was forgotten, as they now had Comme Des and Garçons to worry about and take care of.

Their anniversary came and went without a proposal, as did Chuseok…and Halloween…when Christmas rolled around, Kibum was sure it would happen.

It didn’t.

There was no change in Minho’s behavior, and there hadn’t been since Kibum discovered the ring. He acted as though the ring just…didn’t exist.

Kibum kept glancing at his phone, checking the time as the seconds ticked by. Surely, he’d propose as the clock struck midnight…Minho loved to do romantic bullshit like that, because he knew Kibum would eat it up. But, there were two minutes to go and Minho was making no move. Whatsoever. He tapped Kibum’s foot and Kibum tucked the foot Minho had been massaging under his thigh and set the other on Minho’s lap so he could start on that one.

Maybe he already had the ring in his pocket? He watched him carefully, sighing when Minho’s eyebrows shot up with a smile. “Happy new year!” As he looked over at Kibum, his smile drooped. “Did I do something wrong?”

Huffing, Kibum got up and went into their room, being careful not to disturb the sleeping puppies as he grabbed the box from Minho’s drawer. He went back to the couch, holding the ring box up. Minho’s eyes widened as he sat down.

“Did you buy this just because you liked how it looks in your drawer?”

“What?” Minho scoffed. “No.” Kibum sighed, and Minho’s expression softened. “When did you find it?”

“The day before my birthday.”

“Ah…”

“Were you ever planning on proposing, or..?”

“I mean,” his eyes dropped to the box in Kibum’s hands before he met his eyes again. “I bought that a while ago, so it’s been at the back of my mind for…”

“When?”

“Hm?”

“When did you buy it?”

“Sometime in 2017, I don’t remember exactly.” Kibum deflated a little, and he looked at the ring box. So, before the split. And he kept it that whole time. “I didn’t think you’d want to be engaged until we could legally get married. That’s why I haven’t proposed yet.” Kibum fixed him with a droll glare that made Minho laugh as he leaned forward, taking the box out of Kibum’s hands. “I see now that I was wrong.”

He popped the box open, and Kibum instinctively looked down at the ring before he met Minho’s eye again. “Kibum…”

“You don’t have to if you’re not ready, sweetheart, I’m so – “

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his eyes smiling. “Will you live forever with me?”

Tears stung Kibum’s eyes and he sniffed, blinking them away. “I don’t know, this is so unexpected.” Minho’s face scrunched up as he laughed, leaning into the couch, and Kibum couldn’t help but grin. “Of course, I will.”

Minho scooted forward, slipping the ring on Kibum’s finger. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” he said, leaning forward to kiss him.

Kibum laid back, pulling Minho with him as they relaxed into the couch, their kiss turning lazy as Kibum threaded his fingers thought Minho’s hair, his thumb and forefinger lightly rubbing Minho’s earlobe. “You know,” he said, turning his head with a sigh as Minho started to kiss him along his jaw. “You could make it up to me.”

Minho chuckled before he pressed a kiss just below his ear. “I’ll do my best,” he whispered, his low voice sending a shiver down Kibum’s spine.

- - - - -

It started off as a joke.

They were in the supermarket, shopping for groceries, when Kibum said, “You know, this would be a good place to get married.” Minho had snorted at the time, which made Kibum grin. “Because of the aisles.”

It was a shame they were in public, because Minho would have kissed him for making that stupid joke. Instead, he just laughed and grabbed their favorite wine from off the shelf. It became a running joke, then, whenever they went out to find the perfect place to get married.

Not that they could, or really even would, but it was a nice thought.

Within the week that followed their engagement, Kibum bought a ring for Minho, making it officially official, as he liked to say. It matched Kibum’s ring, and he couldn’t help but smile every time he looked at it. Like he was doing now.

“Thinking about your husband?” Jonghyun asked as he slid back into his seat across from Minho, passing him his coffee.

“We’re not married, Jjong.”

“So?” Minho glanced up at him before he grabbed his coffee. “Fuck the government, honestly.” Minho almost spat his coffee out. “Who cares if you can’t be legally married? You guys are more married than my parents are.”

“Yeah, because they’re divorced.”

“Taemin’s parents, then.” Minho nodded, conceding. “You could always have a ceremony, and then when you legally can do it…”

“Do you think he would go for that?” Jonghyun leveled him with a glare. “Okay, I know, stupid question…I just don't…” Jonghyun’s eyebrows raised, and Minho sighed. “I don’t want to fuck up again. Or disappoint him. I've…” he twisted the cup around on the table, avoiding Jonghyun’s eyes. “I’ve hurt him so much already – “

“Hey, look at me.” Jonghyun waited until he did. “If it had been up to you, you never would have left him, right?” Minho shook his head. “And you know he doesn’t hold it against you at all?” He nodded. “I totally get why you’re anxious about this, but I’ve never met anyone who rivals your love for each other.”

Minho cleared his throat as he gave Jonghyun a small smile. “Not including you and Taemin, I assume.”

Jonghyun waved his hand between them dismissively. “That goes without saying.”

“Of course.” Minho let out a deep breath before he took a long drink of his coffee. “What if…” Jonghyun perked up, an eyebrow raising in question. “…we surprised him?”

He held up his hand before Minho could say another word. “Leave it to me. I know the perfect place.”

“Oh?”

“What about this Tuesday?” Minho’s brow furrowed for a second before he realized what day it would be. Their first anniversary – May 25th. That would only give them four days to prepare.

“Can you do it by then?”

Jonghyun already had his phone out, checking his and Taemin’s schedule, probably. “If you can get Kibum to Yeouido Park by like…seven – “

“At night, I hope.”

“Twilight is the most romantic time of day. Anyway, yeah, seven…we’ll make sure you find us.”

Minho laughed. “You’re not even gonna let me in on it?”

Jonghyun gave him a smug smile as he sipped his coffee. “Absolutely not.”

“I assume you’ll want the same treatment when you finally propose to Taemin.”

“Obviously.”

The days until their surprise wedding dragged by, and Minho could barely contain his excitement. He was almost constantly distracted, which did not go unnoticed by his coworkers or Kibum himself, though his fiancé didn’t comment on it. No, he just gave him suspicious looks whenever Minho seemed too cheery or on edge.

On the day of, Jinki called him when he was out taking the kids – Comme Des and Garcons – for a run. Both he and Kibum had taken the day off to celebrate their anniversary, but he had left Kibum tucked in bed with a book and a kiss goodbye before he decided to go exercise for a little while. Anything to get rid of his pent-up energy.

“Seven, right? That’s when you’ll be there?”

“Like, at the park at seven? Or at the location by seven?”

“Uh…” he voice trailed off for a second. Probably checking his texts. “The location.”

“So…”

“Just take the first right at the fifth entrance and you’ll be able to find us. Taemin is setting up markers for you to follow.”

Minho stopped walking, tugging lightly on the leashes to get the puppies to stop walking for a minute. “I can’t believe you guys are doing this for us.”

“Of course, man. Anything for you two.” Garcons barked at another dog as it passed, Comme Des joining in. Minho shushed them. “Dress nice!” Jinki said as he hung up the phone. Minho pocketed his and finished his run.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called out as he stepped inside, smiling when he heard Kibum snort in the other room. He unclipped the puppies leashes and looked up to find Kibum emerging. “Hey, so I had a thought…”

“Wow, I’m so proud of you.”

“Shut up. What if I told you that I made a reservation at Ole tonight?” Kibum’s eye brightened, and Minho’s smile grew. “It’s for eight, but I was thinking we could walk around the park a little bit before that.”

“That sounds like a ploy to get me to exercise.” Minho laughed, hanging the leashes up on the hook in the coat closet. “I’ll do it, but I’m still on to you.”

“Are you, now…” Kibum inspected him, a small smile gracing his features before he nodded once. It’s a good thing Minho would never cheat because Kibum would catch him within minutes.

When it came time to leave, Minho stopped Kibum at the door, straightening the knot of his tie and kissing his cheek before they walked outside. His palms were sweaty, and he tried to resist the urge to wipe them off on the knees of his Givenchy suit. He knew…he knew he was anxious for no reason, but that didn’t stop him. Kibum seemed to sense his mood since he frequently glanced over to check on him as he drove.

They reached the park with five minutes to spare. Kibum linked his arm through Minho’s and set the pace, walking leisurely down the path through the forest. His eyes were on the sky, and he made a comment about how beautiful the sunset was going to be. As much as Minho wanted to look up and admire it for himself, he couldn’t. Instead, he scanned the bushes and trees and the tiny fences lining the path for any sort of marker that Taemin would have left.

He almost stopped walking when he saw it – the teal ribbon tied around the branch of a tree. There was another one, just down the path, so Minho guided Kibum toward it and found another a few meters ahead of them.

Just ahead, strings of lights wrapped around the columns of the pavilion overlooking the pond flickered on. It captured both of their attention, Kibum leaning toward Minho to say, “That’s new.” As they drew near, a soft piano song started to play, that Minho soon recognized as Yiruma’s “It’s Your Day.” Minho bit back a smile, glancing over to see if Kibum realized that the shadowy figures in the pavilion were their friends.

When he did, he stopped in his tracks, his grip on Minho’s arm tightening. “What…”

“Come on, come on, hurry,” Jinki said, glancing both ways down the path. They picked up the pace, Taemin passing his phone to Jonghyun for a second – was he filming this? – so he could stick bunches of wildflowers in their lapels.

“Stand over here,” Jonghyun said, guiding Minho and Kibum under the pavilion, away from the path. Jinki stood at the far end, keeping watch to make sure they weren’t disturbed, and Taemin took his phone back from Jonghyun, staying at his boyfriend’s side so he could film.

“We’re gathered here tonight – “ Jonghyun started to say.

Kibum laughed silently, latching onto Minho’s shoulder for support. “Is this what you were planning?” Minho just smiled and reached out to straighten Kibum’s flowers.

“ – and it may not be official, but when has that ever fucking stopped us before.”

“Jjong, honestly,” Jinki murmured behind them, and Taemin started to laugh.”

“Choi Minho.” Jonghyun looked up from the script on his phone at him. “You are becoming the husband of Kim Kibum. Do you promise to love Kibum, to respect him, take care of him, in joyful and in hard times, in healthy times and in sick times, every day, forever?”

Minho swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yes, I promise.”

The piano music stopped playing, and Jinki quickly fished his phone out of his pocket, starting it again.

“Kim Kibum.” Minho looked over at him, smiling as he brushed away Kibum’s tears with his thumb. Kibum took his hand then, squeezing it tightly. “You are becoming the husband of Choi Minho. Do you promise to love Minho, to respect him, take care of him, in joyful and in hard times, in healthy and in sick times, every day, forever?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Perfect.” Kibum let out a watery chuckle, and Minho stepped a little closer to him, his cheeks starting to hurt from smiling. “Then, by the power vested in me by absolutely nobody, I pronounce you husband and husband.” He gestured between them, tears welling up in his own eyes. “You can kiss each other now.”

“I can’t believe you did this,” Kibum whispered as Minho pulled him into his arms, and he smiled as Kibum wrapped his arms around him, kissing him tenderly. He broke the kiss faster than Minho was expecting, though it could have been because of their small audience, but he didn’t move away. Instead, his arms tightened around him, rubbing Minho’s back.

Minho closed his eyes with a smile, leaning into the embrace. “I love you…so much,” he said, turning his head to kiss Kibum’s cheek. Kibum hummed contentedly, and Minho sighed. He didn’t think he would ever or could ever be this happy in his life.

And yet, he knew this was only the beginning of happier years to come.

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