#she was the smallest and she had a scooter and I was small and I also had a pink scooter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aquagustd · 2 years

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snug & smug - JHS

↣ you’re forced to take one of your coworkers jobs after she had suddenly quit. On your delivery trip to the local zoo, you spot someone, someone who looks oddly familiar. What bothers you is that you can’t place him, but it seems like he recognizes you.

𓃹part of the zookeeper bangtan series𓃟

pairing — zookeeper!hoseok x pizza-delivery-girl!reader

genre/rating — R | crack, fluff, smut, s2l

word count — 6K

warnings/tags — fuckboy!hobi, college au, he handles the smaller mammals & petting zoo, strong language, clueless + horny? y/n, scent kink, explicit smut —exhibitionism, dirty talk, fingering, body worship, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, praise kink, car sex, spit kink, brief handjob, biting/scratching, slight overstimulation, spanking, pussy slapping, choking, rough sex, doggy style, drool, protected sex

a/n — I edited this just to include something about hobi’s leg hair 🧍🏻‍♀️ also this is my favorite hobi from what I’ve written so far

∞

With a grunt, you fit the helmet over your head, ensuring that the strap is snug under your chin. You hear your manager call your name before you start up the scooter. He beams at you, lifting both his fists to shoot you a thumbs up. You give him one of your own before huffing away the strand of hair that managed to slip out from underneath your heavy headgear. It’s going to bother you all day but you’re too frustrated to readjust it.

“You look cute with that on! Good luck!”

It’s your fourth day of agony. A job you didn’t sign up for. At all. You’d much rather spend your days in the kitchen, like you used to, smearing marinara sauce on dough. It might’ve been monotonous, but it was within your comfort zone. Going out, delivering pizzas, over thirty-five orders during the evening alone, is not. You have no idea why your manager assigned this job to you if you know for a fact that he doesn’t trust you with it. The way he repeats the guidelines he no doubt made up himself and isn’t company policy plus his vigilant gaze every time you leave for a delivery only adds to your annoyance.

Who doesn’t love pizza?

Soon you’ll be the person falling under the anti-pizza category if you’d have to plaster on another fake smile. A fusion of steak and pineapple lingers in your nostrils, threatening to have your decent chicken sandwich rise in your throat and spoil your whole trip.

That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. You could say that you aren’t feeling too well.

However, the image of your manager’s stressed-out face surfaces, frantically calling up whoever to fill in the space of Eunji when she called in to say she wouldn’t be coming in. Two hours after her shift began. Causing a backlog of delivery orders. You had offered to cover for her, because you’re nice. But you didn’t think this would become a permanent thing. At the end of the day, your conscience would eat at you if you were to quit too. You’ve had this job ever since you started college.

But the customers…that’s another story.

Pulling up on the dusty path, you reach into the warmer strapped to the back of the scooter and make your way to the entrance of the zoo, fidgeting with your helmet as you go.

This is your first time here at the local zoo and you would be intrigued by all the sounds coming from behind the large gates, if you came here under different circumstances. A short, balding man sits with a scowl on his face in the booth, passing you the smallest glance as you near the area. It’s a Wednesday afternoon so it isn’t too busy.

“Excuse me?”

His eyebrow jumps, arms still folded, “how can I help?”

You lift the tissue taped onto the box of pizza to inspect the receipt, “order for Road H?”

He nods, and you take it as your queue to leave it on the small counter, however he nudges it away. You stare at him with mild confusion and anger.

“Not for me.”

“O-oh the—”

He hands you a blank card, gesturing to the gates out of his view but in your line of sight, “take it to Road H.”

You groan, there are other orders you need to deliver and now you’d have to go exploring in a zoo. One you haven’t been to before.

“How do I find it?” You mumble, fitting the card into your jeans pocket haphazardly.

“Map. When you enter.”

Passing him a puzzled look, you thank him quietly then head around the booth. Seems like you aren’t the only one who hates your job.

The gigantic gates can be a little unnerving, and you’ve read stories about the animals going crazy in the past. However, you also know that they’ve made major improvements to the security, etcetera. With that in mind, you brave a few steps through the gates and find the stand that contains a small map and images of some of the animals that can be found here.

You breathe a sigh of relief after you gather that Road H isn’t where all the scary animals are. It’s near the food court. But you still got to keep an eye out for any wild monkeys.

On your way there, you realize that all the trees look the same and you decide to ask someone for directions. A man wearing a black shirt. Probably one of the zookeepers since it looks similar to the shirt the grump was wearing at the booth.

“Excuse me? Hi. Do you know—” A surprised gasp escapes from your lips when he turns around to reveal a scar through one of his eyes. You know it’s mean to stare, but you can’t help it.

“Yes?”

He sounds bored, and you wonder if everyone here is this unenthusiastic, quite the opposite of their vibrant surroundings.

“I’m looking for Road H,” you continue, raising the pizza box which catches his sharp gaze, “delivery.”

“Oh,” his fingers curl around the edge of the box and you let it go without thinking twice, “I’m on my way there so I can drop it off for you.”

“Yes. I mean…no! They didn’t pay yet.”

He blinks then spins around. You trot after him, nearly tripping over a rock as he takes you down another path.

“This way.”

You’re staring at the back of his head, black hair bobbing over his ears as he walks. You’re a bit curious as to how he got that scar.

The food court is much more crowded than you expected. Wooden tables and benches with vines hanging overhead, suiting the atmosphere.

“Hope-ah! Delivery,” you follow him blindly to the small ice-cream truck stationed at the back. Dodging the tables as you go. A man, who you guess is also another zookeeper, turns around with a leather jacket swung over his shoulder, licking on an ice-cream cone.

“Thanks man,” he grins, heart-shaped smile directed at the man who seems to have forgotten all about you when he blocks out your frame with his. He tucks into the pizza, a slice caught between his teeth when you clear your throat.

“Sorry,” you begin, stepping around him to come face to face with the other guy, “you haven’t paid yet.”

The grin he had on earlier returns, gaze raking down your figure a few times which has you shifting from foot to foot.

“I’ve never been happier about a pizza delivery,” he smirks, nudging the man next to him who sniggers.

Something about his smile speeds up your heartrate, mostly because you’re feeling incredibly exposed with the way he’s staring you down. Licking at the cone.

You hold out your hand, repeating yourself a little louder this time, “you haven’t paid yet.”

His eyes widen and he starts to rummage through his pockets, “right, right.”

Why does he look so familiar? You would ask, but you’re also running out of time and you have a feeling that this guy might take it the wrong way.

Impatience growing, you follow his hand as he finally produces the correct amount and places it in your palm, fingertips lingering on your own.

He holds your gaze, tongue darting out to lick the ice-cream, “is that enough?”

You poke at the notes in your hand, “yeah.”

When you turn around, a hand on your wrist stops you and you snap your head to find him too close to your face, “see you soon.”

Before you can pull your hand away, he lets you go, and you stomp out of the food court with befuddled thoughts. You really need to do something about your dry spell. How could a stranger have you feeling this way? Your stomach twists with butterflies when you recall the glint in his eyes and perfectly styled hair.

Although, something about his smile tells you that he might not be a complete stranger. You just down know how. Yet.

Gross. Disgusting.

The back of your scalp itches underneath the helmet, sweat dripping down the side of your face as you come to a stop on the sandy road. You want nothing more than to head home and take a cool shower. But it’s just the beginning of your shift.

You want to scream. You think you can get away with it. With all the bushes surrounding you. Only one thing prevents you from actually doing it. And that’s the judgmental stare from the man sitting at the booth.

“Hello,” you smile, “order for Hoseok?”

Similar to Wednesday, he slides the card across the counter, “Road H.”

With a frown, you make your way through the gates and peek at the map briefly before trekking down the pathway.

Road H. Again.

With that guy. The one who has been poisoning your dreams ever since you’ve seen him for the first time. Although, at the back of your mind, something has been telling you that it wasn’t actually the first time. You’ve seen him before. You just don’t know where or how, and that’s why you’re unusually curious about this random dude. You’re both frustrated and excited to see him again because maybe, you’d manage to place his face and then you’d be free. Why are you so annoyed about it anyway? Because he’s hot.

No.

Yeah he is. So hot.

He’s attractive and that’s the closest you’ve allowed another male species ever since your breakup. Perhaps that’s the reason why.

The zoo is bustling today, children’s laughter becoming louder and louder as you make your way to Road H, bypassing the entrance to the food court to finally come around a little chain-link enclosure. More than ten kids gripping the cage as they bounce off the floor with excitement.

Upon further inspection, you see him sitting inside the enclosure, holding a moving fluffball while a little girl pokes at its back. Hoseok?

“Erm, order for Hoseok?”

That draws the attention of him and the little monsters around you.

“Pizza!”

“PIZZA!”

A shiver runs down the length of your spine when he meets your gaze, transferring the fluffball to the girl to speak to you through the fencing.

“Hi,” he waves, looking at you from head to toe like the last time, “I’m Hoseok.”

You clear your throat, not sure whether to look at the chain around his neck or his blinding smile or smoldering eyes.

“Hi.”

“We got pizza guys! Let’s thank the pretty lady,” he shrills, clapping his hands wildly for the other kids to chime in with their thanks while your cheeks heat furiously.

And then you realize that you’re sweaty and gross. You avert your gaze to the fluffball munching on carrots in the enclosure. Especially when he makes his way out, rinsing his hands in the small bucket of water placed to the side.

“You like Sunny?”

“Hm?”

He juts his thumb in the direction of the cage, “the chinchilla. Sunny.”

“Uh…He’s cute,” you mumble, handing him the pizza boxes, “that’s a cute name.”

He stands next to you, a wave of his cologne hits you to have another nagging thought enter your mind. It smells so familiar. You’re irritated now, especially when his shoulder brushes yours lightly, his warmth sending tingles across your skin.

You take a step back reflexively when he dips his head to peer into your eyes, forcing you to look at him.

“Is this enough?”

He hands you a couple of notes while you’re glued to the spot, trying not to let your voice give you away. Thankfully, a girl with pigtails tugs at his shirt and he crouches down in front of her.

You’re sweating now. Shirt clinging to your back just as the cash sticks to your moist palms.

“When are we going to see the ponies?”

You watch him pinch her cheek, causing your heart to clench in your chest.

“After we have lunch, okay?”

She wraps her arms around his neck before skipping away to tell her little group of friends.

“You guys have ponies?”

You hear yourself say, and it’s too late because he’s already standing next to you. That damn cologne.

“Yeah. Horses and things. If anyone wants to go riding.”

“O-oh,” you mumble, thinking of something else to ask as you stand there awkwardly. Staring at his angular jaw and pink lips. “How m-much is it?”

He chuckles, fitting his hands into his pockets while you join in his laughter too. Even though you have no idea why he’s laughing.

Glancing around, he bends down to whisper in your ear, catching you off guard with the sharp movement.

“You don’t need to pay if you want a ride.”

You can’t help the gasp that tumbles from your lips, especially when he raises an eyebrow, breath wafting over your face. With that same smug grin on his face.

“I—”

With a deep breath, you spin around and speed through the gates, still feeling his burning stare on the back of your head. Until you know that you’re out of sight, you pause outside the booth to catch your breath. It was too much for you. He’s too much for you. WHO IS HE? Why do you know him but don’t know him at the same time?

You’re so on edge that the couple making their way out of the zoo startles you. And you apologize like an idiot when they didn’t even see you standing there.

It goes on like that for the rest of the week. And it’s something you can’t avoid. Is he not tired of pizza yet? Of taunting you every time you deliver his order innocently only for him to make some comment which keeps you distracted for the rest of the day?

You might lose your job if this goes on. You’re mixing up orders. Taking longer than usual to actually deliver the pizzas. And the heat doesn’t make it any easier.

But this is your job and you can’t quit. So you’re psyching yourself up to ask him who the fuck he is. But it would be embarrassing if he says he had never seen you before and he just enjoys teasing young women like yourself. He could be someone you saw in your dreams. Your dream guy. He doesn’t look far from it.

It takes you a little longer to find him today, passing the too quiet enclosures to see a dark figure at the end of the path. Hair sweaty as he sorts through a basket of…leaves?

Detecting slight movement in your periphery, you see a koala clinging onto a tree, wearing a sanguine smile. Which has one of your own spreading across your face at its cuteness.

“Awww.”

Hoseok lifts his head, a single strand of hair falling across his forehead with the motion. And you suddenly forget why you’re standing here. In front of this hunk surrounded by animals. But the heat from the pizza reminds you.

“Uhm, order.”

He laughs, low and husky as he makes his way to you. Large boots crunching on the pebbles ominously.

“I have you alone today.”

You blink, laughing nervously, “what? No we’re not.”

You gesture around you, to the enclosures on either side, pointing at the koala who seems to be eavesdropping. No doubt judging your flustered self.

“You’re right,” he grins, cracking his knuckles.

“It’s so quiet here,” you note, attempting to fill the silence, “I don’t see the other animals.”

If you squint at the bushes behind the fence, you think you can spot something moving behind the branches.

“I just fed them all, so they’re pretty occupied now.”

He wipes his hands on his pants, tan skin lit by the sun dipping below the horizon.

“Really?”

“Yeah, you should come by when you’re free, I’ll give you a little tour,” he winks, knocking the air from your lungs in the process.

“I…am free,” you whisper, looking everywhere but his face, “you were my last delivery.”

“Oh?” You shuffle to the side when he takes the pizza box from you, smoothing his hand over his hair only for more dark strands to dust his eyebrow, “let’s go then.”

Tucking your hair behind your ears, you follow him back down the path, dodging a heap of leaves and twigs. You can’t help but glance at him every now and then, admiring his perfect side profile.

You seem to have forgotten that he hasn’t paid yet, and he reminds you, fitting the cash in your palm with a secretive smile.

“What’s the most dangerous animal you have here?”

He looks up to the side, “in the whole zoo? Or just here?”

“J-just the ones you take care of.”

After a beat of silence, his smile returns, a much goofier one this time.

“Most of the ones I care for are not dangerous at all. They’re all cuddly critters.”

Hearing him say cuddly critters sends a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. You resist the urge to ask if he could say it again.

Another question on your tongue, you turn to look at him again when he cuts you off, smile replaced with a smirk.

“I know you don’t remember.”

“Wha—"

Your eyebrows pinch together. Why do you suddenly feel the need to pretend as if you do know? Whatever it is he’s talking about.

“I mea—”

“That night,” he prods, stalking you until your back hits something hard and cold. Mild relief from the heat.

“W-which night?”

He licks his lips, you track the motion greedily, “the Halloween party.”

You must look comical with the way your eyes bug out of your head.

Oh shit.

that night™

College. You’re in your early twenties and you thought this dumb game would just be a dreadful memory of your childhood. But here you are, navigating through the dark, a little tipsy with nothing but your hands feeling around for somewhere to hide.

Whose idea was it anyway?

Must’ve been one of the idiots from the health department, since they’re the ones who come up with quirky ideas.

Hide-and-seek in the dark with a bunch of drunk college students who take their Halloween costumes a little too seriously.

Obviously, you couldn’t tell your best friend that you hate the dark. That you still sleep with a lamp on because you live your life with this irrational fear. But it’s okay. You can do it. It’s just a dumb ga—

An ear-piercing shriek, like something out of a horror movie, echoes in the house. Fuck.

One of the reasons why you disliked playing this game when you were younger was because you were always one of the first people to get caught.

“Fuck,” you mutter, steadying what you think is a vase that threatens to topple over the coffee table.

“Get in here.”

The voice comes from behind you, so you charge toward it, forehead hitting a hard surface.

“OW!”

“Be careful,” the deep voice warns, gripping your hand to pull you into a small place that seems to get smaller when he closes the door to what you assume is a closet, “fuck. Something poked my eye!”

“Oh shit,” you pat his chest, air getting warmer the more you speak, “it’s my antenna.”

“Your antenna? What are you supposed to be?”

Even though he can’t see you, you’re suddenly embarrassed at the question, “a ladybug. What about you?”

“I’m not wearing a costume.”

“Oh.”

“Now be quiet. They might catch us.”

You laugh, “you’re taking this seriously?”

His hand rests on your shoulder, the other slotted between the wall and your elbow, “yeah. I don’t wanna get caught.”

“Why not?”

“Are you kidding? Who knows what they’ll do if they find us?!”

You giggle at his frightened tone, adjusting your position so his other hand falls to your hip.

“You’re scared.”

“Of course I’m scared!”

“Don’t worry,” you chuckle, rubbing his very toned chest lightly, “I’m scared too.”

“Are you drunk?”

“What? Nope.”

You hear him sniff, “you sure? Your breath—”

“My breath? You should smell yours!”

He laughs, both hands curled around your hips, “I didn’t say it smells bad.”

“Okay.”

Standing in musty silence, your cheeks heat when your stomach decides to growl embarrassingly loud.

“Someone’s hungry.”

You punch his chest, “shut up.”

“Ouch! I’ll send you back if you keep abusing me.”

“I’m not abusing you!”

His fingers curl around your wrists, “I’ll just keep these here to prevent any bruising.”

You wriggle in his hold, gritting your teeth, “let me go.”

“Nope.”

“Come on,” you squeal. In your fuss, you step away from him and your back hits a shelf, piercing into your spine, “fuck!”

“Shush—” suddenly, your hands are trapped up against the wall, kept there by his tight grip “—you’re being too loud.”

The thick scent of his cologne fills your nostrils. And the reality of the situation hits you just when you feel the material of his pants rub against your bare thigh.

You’re in a dark closet, pinned against a wall by a random guy who feels good and smells even better. He must look as attractive as he sounds. This is the most fun you’ve had since you started college.

He smells heavenly and expensive.

“How long do you think we’ll be here for?”

“I-I don’t know,” you sigh, heartrate accelerating, “all night…who knows?”

“All night?”

“Yeah.”

He groans, releasing you from his grip. However, you can still feel the heat radiating from his body, legs slotted between yours in the cramped-up space.

“We…we should probably find something to do,” you say under your breath, scrunching your eyes shut because you hate how seductive that sounded. But it’s too late.

“Oh yeah? What do you suggest?”

Fanning yourself, you tilt your head to the side and purse your lips. Hoping that would keep your thoughts from spilling. But that could only do so much when he’s moving even closer now.

“I don’t know…”

“You must have an idea if you think we could occupy ourselves here,” he urges, hand returning to your hip while yours fall to his shoulders.

“I don’t.”

The only sound you hear is his steady breathing, chest rising and falling beneath your fingertips as they skate across his chest.

“I wonder what your costume looks like.”

“Hm?”

“I said,” he whispers, hair tickling the side of your face, “I wonder what you look like in the costume.”

“O-oh, I’m wearing matching red shorts and a shirt…with antennae,” you babble, lost in his fragrance.

“You must look very sexy,” he husks, fingers inching up your sides to slide through your hair. The back of your neck prickles with sweat and nerves, “sexy ladybug.”

“You must look very sexy too,” you shoot back, twisting the material of his shirt when his lips skim your ear.

“I’m not wearing a costume, ladybug,” he chuckles, the low timbre of his voice has your core throbbing.

“Still,” you pant, eyes slipping shut when he kisses the skin under your ear, “you’re sexy.”

Perhaps it’s the lack of light, but you find yourself extra sensitive to his touches, melting under each caress of his rough fingers against your skin. Falling further into his arms just as he moves impossibly close to you, sharing body heat.

He traces the line of your jaw, thumb stopping under your lower lip which has you leaning into him, chest hitting his.

“Do you want me to kiss you?”

His top lip grazes yours ever-so-slightly, supple skin feathering across yours as you pant into each other’s mouths. His large hand curls around your thigh, hooking it around his waist as he continues to knead your flesh.

“Ye—”

BANG! BANG!

“Anybody in here?!”

“Fuck,” he whispers, jolting away from you, “shhh.”

Heart thundering in your chest, the door flies open and you’re being yanked out of the closet. You still can’t see a thing. The others around you shout and whoop, while you’re being pushed out of the house into the backyard with a group of girls sitting at the poolside. The only lighting being minute candles.

Your panties cling to your folds. All because of one man who you’d probably never see again. You fucking hate the dark.

“Ladybug.”

Your head might explode with how hot it feels.

“Wait. How did you— How did you know it was me?”

He slings an arm over your shoulder, steering you in the direction of the exit. Your heart might soar out if your chest.

“I checked on Instagram after that night. It wasn’t that difficult to find the girl with the ladybug costume. Which—” he nudges your hip, tucking you under his arm, “you looked very very sexy wearing.”

Gaze flickering from his face to the ground, you hide the blush behind your hair which he moves away with the hand around your neck.

“It was easy for you, I didn’t know who or how to ask about the guy who—”

“Who what?”

You chew on your bottom lip, “nothing.”

“Well,” he nods at the grump sitting in the booth who you see smiling for the very first time, “I couldn’t get you out of my head after that night. You felt…you were…Fuck. I’m so glad I found you.”

“Actually,” you beam at him, twisting around in his hold, “I found you.”

His mouth quirks to the side, “not really. I tried dropping hints but that didn’t seem to be working.”

You scoff, “what hints? Flirting with me in front of a bunch of kids and animals?”

He rolls his eyes, “I’m not the best at it, okay?”

“Where are we going?”

“To finish what we started.”

You freeze, breaking out of his hold.

“What?”

He turns around, face scrunched up, “what?”

“I mean,” you tug at your collar, “I’m—yeah…”

He grabs your shoulders, laughing heartily to expose his teeth, “you said you’re free now, right? Your shift ended?”

You nod, mind going hazy when you can finally place that heady scent to his handsome features.

“Then, let’s go finish this—” he holds up the pizza “—and talk.”

“Okay.”

However, once you’re seated in his car, you surge forward and wrap your arms around his neck, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. He makes a noise of surprise, arms encircling your waist to pull you onto his lap.

“We’re—” he speaks between kisses, groaning when your teeth catch on his bottom lip “—supposed to be talking.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” you breathe, burying your hands in his hair, “I want you. Right now.”

His nails drag along the skin of your thigh, tossing his head back when you kiss down the column of his throat, tongue curling at the base. You rock into his lap, moaning into his mouth when he bucks his hips in retaliation, large bulge grinding onto your clit.

With a grunt, he slots his fingers into your hair and yanks your head back, nosing up your jaw.

“Let’s take this to the back, hm?”

He mouths at your neck, lingering on the junction between your neck and shoulder to nip at the skin there.

You shiver, heat pooling in your abdomen, “someone will see us.”

“No one’s around,” he husks, fondling your breasts through the fabric of your shirt.

Propping one leg over the seat, you make your way to the back of his car. Unprepared for the burn of his hand meeting your ass.

He twists around, covering your lips with his once again as he sits down next to you, parting when he pulls his shirt over his head.

With ravenous touches, you suckle down his chest, nimble fingers working on unbuttoning his pants as you flick your tongue over his nipple. A gush of your slick floods your panties when you hear him whimper.

Hand on your shoulder, he pushes you down on the seat roughly, silver chain hanging over your face as he makes quick work of removing your shorts and panties in one go. Parting your legs with a hand on your inner thigh as you take off your shirt.

“To be honest,” he licks his lips, staring at your pussy unabashedly. The hand on your thigh prevents you from closing your legs out of diffidence. “I don’t care.”

“Don’t care ab— Ah fuck, Hoseok,” your eyes fall shut, teeth piercing into your lip when he spits on your cunt, palm coming down on your folds harshly.

Before you can open your eyes again, he draws his hand back and slaps your pussy thrice in quick succession. You can feel your slick splatter against your thighs, clit throbbing in need.

“Please.”

His middle finger circles your leaking hole, the other hand keeping you wide open for him, “please what?”

“Please, need more,” you cry, reaching up to grab the headrest when he smacks your pussy again. You think you might puncture your lips with how hard you’re biting down on them, juices dripping down between your ass cheeks.

“Fuck, haven’t even started yet and you’re messing up my seats,” he growls, laughing condescendingly, “dirty girl.”

“Please just—” he shuts you up with two fingers sinking into your cunt, keeping them there while you thrash beneath him.

“Gotta stretch you out for my cock,” he drags his fingers back out, drawing silent screams from your bitten lips when he crooks his fingers deep inside you, “so fucking tight.”

The lewd squelch of his fingers disappearing into your cunt fills the balmy air. He looks like something out of a wet dream. Light sheen of sweat across his body, sitting between your legs with his lips tucked between his teeth, depraved eyes watching how your pussy swallows up his fingers.

Right when his thumb makes contact with your clit, he adds a third finger, a surge of pleasure courses along your body and you let out a strained moan, sitting up to wrap your hands around his back and fuck yourself on his fingers.

“Fucking hell,” he grits out, grinding the heel of his palm against your slippery clit when you bite down on his shoulder, snapping his fingers into you, “you’re so fucking sexy. Fuck, this pussy is better than I imagined.”

Your stomach twists in desire, heat creeping up your spine as you taste your release, so close to the edge. He pulls your matted hair over your shoulder, peppering kisses along your neck as he moves his fingers in and out of you at breakneck speed, causing your thighs to tremble, signalling that you’re close. He continues to spew words of praise in your ear, warmth filling your heart just as you near the end.

“So fucking beautiful.

“Everything about you is so fucking perfect.”

“Such a perfect ass.”

“Gonna make you mine. This pussy is mine.”

Juices dripping down his hand, you cum with a guttural moan, going lax in his arms as he sets you down on the seat, helping you ride out your high. Through blurry eyes, you watch him pop his fingers in his mouth, arousal thrumming through you when he moans at your taste.

“I’ll eat you out as much as you want next time,” he promises, calloused fingers sliding across the stretchmarks on your thighs, “right now. I need to fuck you.”

He kneels on the seat, the skin of his thigh slotted between your legs as he reaches over into the front seat. Your hand dips below the band of his underwear, taking his cock in your palm and flicking your wrist over the shaft, salivating when you feel how sticky the tip is.

You giggle when you feel his cock twitch in your palm, jerking forward as he returns holding a condom.

Reaching down to tug at the soft skin of his balls, you chase his lips as he bends over, meeting you mouth in a searing kiss, hot and heavy tongue rolling across your own rhythmically just as his velvety cock slides along your palm.

“Fuck, your hand feels good,” he sighs against your lips, one hand holding him above you while the other reaches down to grab your wrist, halting your movement, “but I know what will feel even better.”

In one swift movement, he twists you over so you’re laying on your stomach, needy hands reaching under you to pull your back to an arch. You peek over your shoulder, staying on your hands and knees for him just as he positioned, to see him take the condom packaging between his teeth, tearing at it as he pumps his cock a few times. Your breathing picks up once again when he smacks both your ass cheeks, coming close to your center.

“Hold on tight,” he warns with a smug grin, dusty pink cockhead poking into your ass cheek.

Falling forward, your elbows give out when he sinks into your heat inch by inch, hissing as he stretches out your walls. You could almost cry with how good it feels, a comet of pleasure shooting through with the slightest friction.

You feel him kiss up your spine, his pelvis flush against your ass before he draws his hips back only to sink back in, keeping a bruising hold on your hips.

“You feel so good, fuck,” he curses, flexing his hips to set a pace, earning helpless whines from you as you jolt forward, lips parted to have drool dripping down the side of your face.

He moves your hair to the side, readjusting his position before he starts to pound into you, sweaty skin meeting yours in louds slaps. Your walls quiver when he brushes that sweet spot deep inside you, still buzzing from your first high, hugging his cock tightly.

“Ah, fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he snarls, reaching down to grip the back of your neck and hold him against your chest, fingers sliding to the front to press into the sides of your neck, cutting off enough air to have you teetering on the edge of your second high.

“Look at you,” he sniggers through gritted teeth, voice strained as he continues to snap his hips into yours, cock dragging across your ridges in merciless strokes.

You whimper when he licks across your cheek, tongue curling into your mouth which you suck on helplessly, nails digging into his forearms. The car rocks and shakes with the movement, but you couldn’t care less if anyone sees you. Trapped in his hold, falling apart as his cock splits you open.

Pliant and boneless. Your head falls back onto his shoulder when he reaches down to toy with your engorged clit. Walls closing around him, you spasm and shiver, mouth hanging open in a silent moan once he loosens his hold around your neck.

“Hoseok…”

You see white dots behind your lids as oxygen puffs out your lungs, cumming on his cock with muted whimpers.

“Shit, shit, I’m cumming. Get on your back, let me see you,” he strains, while you follow his orders on shaky legs, trembling as his cock tugs at your walls. You watch his eyes fall closed when he spills into the condom. Taking one of your tits in his palm as he rides out his high.

You suck in a harsh breath on one particularly hard thrust, reaching up to pull him down by his chain, connecting your lips in a slow, frenzied kiss.

Letting out a contented hum, he pecks your lips once before sitting up on the seat, watching you with hazy eyes. He straightens himself and ties up the condom. You’re busy looking for your underwear when he tosses you a hoodie. ‘Cuddly critters’ written in a fancy font.

“That’s the name of the uhm…petting zoo thing I manage.”

Cheeks aching from how hard you’re smiling, you put on the hoodie and hold your knees up to your chest. You realize that you’ve been wearing your socks the whole time.

“Did you make that up?”

He fits on his pants, nodding meekly, “yeah.”

“It’s cute,” you poke his back, socked foot sliding across his hairy calf, “I like it.”

Two apples form on his cheeks, “I like you, ladybug.”

Your hand flies to your stomach when it growls, and you shoot him a pained look. He smacks his thigh, laughing hysterically.

“You hungry?” He scoots closer to you, coddling you to his chest while you draw circles on his skin.

Shrugging, you glance at the pizza sitting on his dash.

“Starving.”

a/n — if you liked this, please consider dropping a comment/like/reblog or an ask if you’re shy.

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

busted in busan

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k a/n; for @suhdays holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.”

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh.

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans.

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea.

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease.

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile.

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head.

“Will the weather let up?” A frown.

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive.

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him.

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment.

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter.

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first.

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.”

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.”

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down.

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care.

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.”

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him.

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.”

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.”

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?”

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.”

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?”

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.”

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line.

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot.

“Nah, been booked since last month.”

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?”

He pats his luggage as a response.

“That’s not fair!”

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.”

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.”

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face.

“You want my ticket,” he states.

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle.

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those!

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks.

“Who said I was offering?”

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?”

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides.

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake.

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.”

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate.

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10.

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy.

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes.

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes.

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.”

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?”

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.”

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—”

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain.

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard.

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not.

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good.

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell.

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things.

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer?

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price.

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice.

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.”

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?”

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution.

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.”

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.”

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.”

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.”

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks.

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.”

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut.

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty.

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh.

You huff, and shift in your seat.

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him.

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply.

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.”

“Why, I’m engaged!”

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.”

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind.

“Holy fuck, have you two not—”

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!”

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing.

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle.

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.”

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position.

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to.

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months.

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.”

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you.

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—”

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman.

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger.

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that.

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses.

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to.

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing.

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook.

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams.

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow.

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside.

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible.

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat.

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van.

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back.

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them.

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off.

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet.

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously.

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots.

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint.

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure.

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey.

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?”

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.”

“Do you drive around a lot?”

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.”

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach.

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain.

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.”

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.”

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute.

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening.

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!”

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.”

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.”

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose.

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?”

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.”

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like.

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize: are you flirting with Jungkook?

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell.

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind.

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.”

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?”

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.”

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—”

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.”

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air.

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car.

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt.

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.”

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?”

“Wait, you have a crush on me?”

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.”

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.”

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.”

That singular statement hits you, hard.

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs.

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.”

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself.

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable.

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow.

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route.

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.”

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath.

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer.

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours.

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours.

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?”

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.”

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook?

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk.

There’s no drugs.

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell.

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real.

Jungkook’s an artist.

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?”

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.”

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you.

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.”

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced.

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it.

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart.

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him.

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow.

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway.

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it.

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents.

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.”

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours.

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.”

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door.

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed.

It’s been a day.

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him.

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought.

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face.

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed.

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks.

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake.

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox.

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.”

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.”

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.”

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.”

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?”

“I mean, I think I’m in love.”

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask.

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.”

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.”

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.”

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble.

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin.

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you.

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back.

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.”

“Impossible!”

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family.

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.”

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door.

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers.

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him.

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window.

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him.

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.”

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.”

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself.

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—”

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.”

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible.

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.”

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.”

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.”

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch.

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking.

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown.

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.”

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.”

“Will you rile me up now?”

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.”

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell.

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath.

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—”

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.”

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner.

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

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dumbhaikyuusimp · 3 years

Text

don’t. it’ll just hurt more.

eren yeager x fem!reader

words: 2326

synopsis: you go to find eren to get any details about what’s to come next.

warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, anger sex, shouting, dom!eren, just the smallest amount of fluff, spain without the s, heartbreak.

Live bait. That’s what you were sent as, basically. Sure, they called it “recon”. Find the camp of the Yeagerists, find Eren, and report back to the Survey Corps about what they had planned beyond the Rumbling. When it would happen, how they would start, things like that. But as the only member of the 104th who wasn’t dead, pregnant, or traitorous, you were the pick to go. Armin and Mikasa were deemed “too close” to Eren to complete this mission, despite the four of you being as thick as thieves from before you could remember. Eren saw Mikasa as a sister. Armin, a best friend. But he always had a softer spot for you. A crush, maybe?

That’s what Jean called it anyways. He was juvenile.

Hanji sent you because of anyone, you could get him to talk. Or at least, if you were caught, you were less likely to be killed. Hence why you were sure that you were simply live bait.

A lot of the searching was done by yourself on horseback, taking out the occasional straggler titan here and there whenever one approached, since no one really knew where the Yeagerists’ camp was. You searched in and around the forest, but something in you knew that Levi wouldn’t risk putting his own camp with Zeke anywhere near Eren’s. You soon approached an abandoned town, which looked like it had been abandoned for many years despite being within the walls and titan free. And there just so happened to be the faint glow of a fire and smoke within the town. It was a fair distance anyway from any Scout posts, and well off the beaten path, so they were well hidden. But you knew Eren enough to find him nonetheless.

You slid off the back of your horse just outside of the town limits, feeding her an apple from your pack before tying her reins to a small tree next to a small pond so she could drink.

“Good girl, Scooter,” you praised her gently, petting her mane gently before tugging your cloak around your shoulders a bit tighter. It was a breezy, cool night and the nerves didn’t help with the chills either. You were stepping into enemy territory, despite many of the Yeagerists having once been your teammates and friends. Including your childhood best friend. You then stepped into the town limits, the gravel under your feet crunching with every step as you tried to be as quiet as possible. You didn’t want to be seen, just wanting to get in and out with as much information as you could possibly get.

However, you were only one person. And while that would normally cater to your stealthy needs, a random straggler would be easily caught.

“Now, what do we have here?” a familiar voice mused from behind you as you got closer to what you assumed to be their main base in the town square. You groaned externally, and not quietly either. You were already caught so why bother?

“Hi, Floch,” you greeted him as you turned around, a sour smile on your face as you saw his cocky expression like he caught the crime of the entire century. What did piss you off is that he knew it was you, like they’d either been watching you or knew that the Scouts would send you. “Alright, I’ll cut right to the chase. Where’s Eren? I need to talk to him.”

“Yeah, no, I’m not gonna do that,” Floch replied as he approached you, backing you into a wall. After all, he was armed and you were not. Your ODM gear was back in a pack and sheath on your horse, not wanting to deter any talks or negotiations with the presence of weapons. However, you would have loved your ODM gear to leave right about now.

“If you don’t get the fuck out of my face and take me to Eren right now, I’m gonna kick the shit out of you,” you warned the kid, eyes narrow as you stared daggers into him. Floch let out a chuckle before pulling out one of his swords, holding it to your neck. However, before he could say anything else, you heard someone approaching the two of you quickly.

“Floch,” a stern yet calm voice spoke up from beside you, and Floch immediately backed up and put away his sword. “Fuck off, will you?”

Floch nodded without a single word and hurried back to the town square, leaving just you and Eren standing alone in the dark street. The breeze picked up a bit, the sound contrast of your Scouts cloak and his baggy cardigan filling your ears as they blew wildly against the wind.

“Hey buddy,” you finally spoke, nodding at him. His hands were nonchalantly in his pockets, eyes devoid of any emotion as he just looked at you. “How have you been?”

“Cut the shit, Y/N,” he replied coldly, shaking his head almost in disbelief. “Why are you here? You’re not gonna get anything from me, so you might as well leave.”

“And why do you say that? What if I wanted to join your cause?” you shrugged. “I have intel your guys don’t know now that you’ve completely left the Scouts.”

He stared at you a little while longer before shaking his head again, approaching you and taking your hand a little bit roughly. “We’re not having a conversation like this out here,” he told you sternly, leading you into the building that you had been pressed against.

“Why not?” you questioned him once more. Seeing him face to face after so long made a bunch of unknown emotions bubble to the surface. “You don’t want your men to hear me chew you out? Yell at you for abandoning us, your best fucking friends? Huh, is that it?”

Eren slammed the door behind you as you continued to rant. The building you had been led into had once been a home, and the decorative plates still perched on some shelves shook as he did so. “You don’t want me to yell at you for laughing when Sasha died? Or for breaking out before we even had a chance to talk? Talk to me, Eren! Why?”

“Because I can’t fucking lose you!” he finally turned to you, screaming in your face. You stood your ground, not flinching as you were more than used to his anger. “I want to get as far away from you as possible so it doesn’t fucking hurt when either of us die because it’s fucking inevitable!”

You were silent for a little bit as he huffed, his face red and angry as he looked at you. His eyes were furious, but you were unsure if the fury was directed at you, or himself.

“You done?” you asked as if you were scolding a tantruming child, which is almost what he was right at that moment. “We can still help you, Eren. Trust me.”

He shook his head, the ponytail holder in his hair becoming loose. “You can’t fucking help me anymore. No one in the Scouts would take me back, not even Mikasa or Armin. And Mikasa is basically obsessed with me. I need to stick with this plan.”

“God, is everything about you? Always? You’re a fucking joke,” you snorted, moving around him to leave the house. You weren’t going to get anything from him at this point so you just wanted to cut your losses and go back home. He suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to face him, just so he could press you against the wall. He towered over you, placing one of his hands by your face and leaning close.

“You’re one to fucking talk. Eren, why did you leave me? Talk to me, Eren,” he mocked you.

“Fuck you,” you spat in his face, and he grabbed your jaw to make you look at him in the eyes before locking your lips together almost furiously. You weren’t sure how you got to this point, since you were at each other’s throats not even two seconds before that.

But you weren’t complaining.

You forced your lips against his with equal force, the kiss filled with lust, fury, and longing. You could tell he had been wanting to kiss you since you were kids, had wanted to hold your hand and call you his, but all of that was gone now. There was no hope for your future. Or anyone’s futures. Not with his plan.

He unbuttoned your cloak, letting it drop to the floor as you shoved his cardigan onto the floor as well. His hands moved to around your waist, pulling you close as he tried to get your shirt unbuttoned. His hands were trembling, either from nerves or fury, so he resulted in ripping off your shirt instead. The buttons popped off, flying everywhere. You even heard one knock into a decorative plate, causing it to fall to the floor and smash at your feet. Eren’s hands then moved to your butt, picking you up with ease as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

“What are we doing?” you whispered breathily as you finally broke the heated kiss, Eren now moving to the stairs and walking up them with you still in his arms. He was leaving kisses and marks down your neck now as you did so.

“Something we’ve always wanted to do,” he growled back to you, kicking a bedroom door open and practically throwing you on the bed. It was well slept in, the sheets clean and the blankets ruffled, and it was now clear to you that this was the house Eren had been staying in. “Our last chance.”

“You’re a fucking prick,” you told him, but he quickly shut you up with another rough kiss. He began working on taking off your pants, throwing them across the room. There was no getting either of you ready, the both of you were just too needy for that. Eren then got up, staring directly at you as he lifted off his shirt and tossed it aside.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll give you an actual reason to hate me. Shirt off, now,” he commanded, to which you easily complied. Eren pulled off his slacks, kicking them away before rejoining you on the bed. He, however, didn’t touch you for a solid ten seconds. He just...stared at you. Drinking in all he could of you in that moment, not wanting it to end before it even began. He then grabbed your thighs, pushing your legs back and moving the fabric of your soaked panties aside.

You didn’t say a word as you watched him, but simply reached for his hand and held it as tightly as possible as he slid into you. The two of you didn’t waste any time. Eren gripped the back of your head with one hand, your hand still tightly held in his other, as he began to thrust desperately and roughly into you. You were sure that his crew outside could hear your moans, but you didn’t care. This is something that you had been wanting for a while, ever since you realized your feelings a couple of years prior, and this was truly the last time you would get the chance to do this with him. Be close, pressed together with your lips against his.

“Y/N,” he grunted breathlessly, head buried in your neck as his thrusts became sloppy. “Y/N, I love y--”

“Don’t,” you whined, holding his hand tighter and now placing your joined hands between your sweaty bodies. “Please, don’t make it hurt more th...that this is our first and last time together…”

Eren just nodded, kissing your forehead as he continued to fuck you with everything he had. You wanted this moment to last forever, but of course, nothing did.

You watched Eren sleep soundly next to you as you sat up on the bed. You gently brushed his hair from his face, smiling gently at him. You wanted to stay with him. Every fibre of your being longed to just run away with him, leave all of this behind. But nothing could convince him to stop his plans. Not even your love. You leaned down, kissing his forehead before standing up. You got dressed once more, in all but your cloak. It was still downstairs along with his cardigan. You made your way there, picking up Eren’s ODM gear that he had and putting it on along the way so you could make a clean escape. You picked up your cloak, folding it nicely so the Scouts logo was front and centre as you placed it on the table. You then took his cardigan and shrugged it over your shoulders before leaving the house and Eren behind forever. As you made your way down the streets, zipping between the few buildings back to your horse, you couldn’t help but let out a harsh sob.

You had failed your entire mission to begin with, and also got your heart broken in the meantime. When you got back to your horse, you dropped Eren’s ODM gear there at the tree before untying your horse and getting on. You then dug into the pockets of Eren’s cardigan to warm your hands. Your eyebrows knit together in curiosity as you pulled out a little piece of paper, and the curiosity persisted as you opened it to read what was there. You smiled a little bit upon seeing Eren’s handwriting, but also in amazement at what was there. A note to who you assumed was Zeke, to be passed through many hands to somehow get to him. A small snippet of the plan, enough to make Hanji ecstatic. With one final look at the town, you clicked your tongue as a signal for your horse. And just like that, you were gone.

#attack on titan #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x y/n #eren yeager x you #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren x you #eren yeager fanfic #eren #aot #attack on titan fanfiction #aot fanfiction #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #snk #shingeki no kyojin #jean kirschtein #levi ackerman

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joontier · 3 years

Text

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xi

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: mentions of explicit themes, curse words

word count: 2.6k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

[taglist]: @nottodayjjk @ditttiii @zeharilisharaban @btsbunny07 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @aamxxrii @codeinebelle @btsmakesmehappy @stargukkie

Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) | navi. | m.list

As soon as you get out of the elevator, you rush to the slot where your car is parked, checking your surroundings before sending a quick text to Chohee.

You fall silent, remembering the events that transpired last night, and having to see the cause of it all just this morning.

You barely make it out of the basement with the eight-year-old family Camry you borrowed from your parents and as you exit your apartment building, you make a mental note to have it checked one of these days.

Thankfully, you reach Woocheon alive and in no time, considering the current state of your car. There are only thirty vacant slots left when you reach the hospital’s basement. Sighing, you keep your eyes open for any vacancies. When you spot one just beside the space reserved for motorcycles and bikes, you speed a little towards it, hoping that no one else will beat you to it.

Just next to you, a scooter arrives, and as a familiar mop of blonde hair greets you, you knock on your window, excitedly waving at Jimin as he lifts up the scooter seat to retrieve some of his things inside. “Jimin!!”

“Hello, _______, good morning to you too. You seem...bright-er today.”

“I’ll tell you all the deets later with Soomin, but ackkk can you believe it? Our first day!!” Jimin laughs at your enthusiasm as he waits for you to get your stuff from the passenger seat.

“You want me to help you with that?” Jimin eyes the duffel bag hanging by your shoulder. “I’m okay, no worries,” you reply, reassuring Jimin and waving him off with a free hand.

“_______, it seems as heavy as it looks...” Ah, maybe the strap straining against your shirt was a little too obvious then... but you don’t have the heart to burden Jimin with your own belongings so you politely decline one more time.

Jimin, however, isn’t convinced one bit with your statement, especially when he sees your knuckles turn white as you adjust the strap of your bag. “How ‘bout this instead? You carry my bag, and I’ll carry yours because mine is definitely lighter than that...baggage of yours, ________.”

He doesn’t budge from his spot, raising his eyebrows as he gives you an offer you can’t deny. “Fine, but this is only for today, okay?” Pouting, you hand your bag over to Jimin who accepts it with a smug smile. He then proceeds to jokingly topple over due to the weight of your bag.

“Jimin!” you exclaim, tugging the strap back towards you. “I’m kidding! It’s fine _______, don’t worry about me,” he smirks, doing weird poses as you both make your way out of the basement parking lot. Just a couple of minutes later, and Jimin entertaining you all the way through, you both arrive at a small restaurant just beside the hospital where the three of you agreed to meet for breakfast.

With brows furrowed in concern, Jimin waves his fork in front of you to get your attention, “_______, you okay? You’ve been staring at that bottle for quite some time already...you think maybe you can ketchup later instead?” Jimin snickers quietly to himself, while you and Soomin have similar expressions, staring blankly at Jimin who instantly turns quiet after seeing your reactions. Jimin sinks slowly in his seat as he clears his throat. “Uhm, sorry...I’ll just shut up...for now...”

“Mustard you do that this early in the morning?” Soomin looks at you then squints her eyes at Jimin while she fights the grin playing on her lips. Jimin’s face lights up like a little kid on Christmas day. The two share a high five as they bond over their equally awful jokes as you quietly rejoice in your seat, glad that they seem to have come out of their shells after their awkward first meeting.

You wish someone else in particular would have at least made an effort to rectify your rather unpleasant first meeting too.

“You two would make a cute couple.” You make sure your observation is loud enough for them to hear, disguising half of your sentence as a cough to distinctly express your amusement.

The two instantly part at your remark - Soomin going back to picking at her food while Jimin takes a sip of is drink. Your eyes widen a little bit, realizing that you might have celebrated a little too early for that. “Anyways, like Jimin here mentioned, you do seem a little distracted today...you alright?”

You close your eyes for a bit, trying to lose the image of Jungkook greeting you in your own corridor this morning. You’re certain it’s not just your sheer pique against Jungkook that continues to bother you, but half of it is definitely the humiliation that came with realizing he was the same person that had indirectly brought you to your high last night - and your own dignity could not take the veracity of it all.

“Okay, remember when I told you guys recently that my neighbor was leaving and that she’s looking for a new tenant, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“And do you also remember the time I mentioned that I am...uh...displeased with a particular human being named Jeon Jungkook?”

It’s Soomin who makes a second murmur of affirmation.

“Ah, yes... you meant you hate him. Am I correct?” seconds Jimin.

“That is affirmative. Yes.”

You take a deep breath before starting, “Well...”

“Hang on, let me just backtrack a little bit...we’re talking about the same Jeon Jungkook from Yonsei right? The one you tied with at the boards?”

“That is also a yes.”

“Well... I think he might be my new neighbor.” Grimacing, your face crumples in disappointment while you imagine just all the possible things that might happen having Jungkook as your neighbor...and all the nightmares that will accompany his moving in.

Jimin purses his lips in a poor attempt to control his snicker. “You have an insane amount of bad luck following you around, ________.” Courtesy of Chohee divulging yours and Jungkook’s history all the way to your first encounter with him, Jimin is well aware of your resentment towards Jungkook.

“In all honesty though, he seems like a normal dude. Just leaning a bit towards the cheeky side, but nothing too atrocious really...and if I do say so myself, you really, and quite literally, just got off on the wrong foot.”

“Jungkook...Jungkook...Jeon...” Soomin is looking somewhere else, clearly focused on trying to recall a memory as she repeatedly taps her nails against the table repeatedly. “There’s something about him that I’m forgetting but,” she says, looking at her watch, “but shit!! We’re going to be late, we gotta leave!”

The three of you get up from your seats abruptly, the sound of your chairs scraping against the floor startling the other customers in the restaurant. “Come on! Quickly!”

The locker room is full by the time the three of you arrive that you have to squeeze through rows of interns before a female WMC employee in uniform comes through the door with an announcement. “All interns, please proceed to the lobby for your hospital tour and orientation. Chief Park Daejung will be with you momentarily.”

Your trio scrambles to look for free lockers while the rest of the interns start to file out of the room, so when Jimin finds a free one for the meantime, he hurriedly grabs both yours and Soomin’s stuff and stashes them inside before ushering you all out of the room to catch up with the group.

At the lobby, the HR assistant from earlier, Narae (the same reason you’re convinced majority of the male interns are paying more attention than expected) is already making a roll call of all the interns that came in this morning and your trio just makes it in time to hear your names getting called.

Even from the back row with all the disadvantages of having average height, you’re practically buzzing in your spot and just like a crazed woman, you’re powerless to shake off the smile that seems permanently etched on your face.

“Excited?” Jimin nudges your side as he looks at you with an equally warm smile. “Yeah...” you murmur, marveling at the sheer size of the hospital, “I have studied my ass off my whole life for this moment...”

Opening the information booklet handed over by Ms. Narae earlier, you slide your ballpen off your lanyard, deciding to write your name both in Korean and English on the first page and officially claiming it yours. As you get to your surname, someone bumps into you, causing you to scribble a line throughout the entire page.

You take a deep breath, internalizing your annoyance and drilling it to the far end of your brain. Nope, you weren’t going to let this bother you, not today at the least. The name Chief Park Daejung class out however, makes you look up from the booklet.

“Jeon Jungkook? Glad to have you join us...fifteen minutes after call time.”

“I am sorry, Sir. Something came up. This won’t happen again.”

The chief turns to Narae, who’s been nothing but professional the whole time, ignoring all the ogling from all the other interns, “Didn’t know we actually got him. I’d recognize this kid anywhere. He’s the spitting image of his father - plus, they both make sure to make strong first impressions,” adds the chief, handing over a clipboard back to Narae.

Even though the voice coming from your right is unmistakable, you still close your eyes in fervent prayer, hoping that the person the chief was referring to isn’t the same number one person on your fight-on-sight list. Slowly, you pry one of your eyes open just to see Jungkook already staring you down with a smug grin on his face. “Fancy seeing you here, smally.”

Soomin, who’s standing on your left, leans toward your ear. “Ah, that’s what I was going to say earlier this morning...Jungkook was on the intern list.”

With the smallest smile your face muscles can muster, you look at Soomin, eye to eye. “Thanks for the warning, Soomin. I...really appreciate it.” She winks at you as she replies, “You’re very much welcome, dear.”

Jimin, who seems to have overheard the entire conversation, looks over and waves at Jungkook. “Hey bro, didn’t know you applied for Woocheon too! This is awesome!”

You’re starting to question if your so-called friends are really on your side or not.

Taken aback by Jimin’s questionable enthusiasm, Jungkook scratches the back of his head before voicing out a reply, “Oh yeah...surprise! I guess...”

Surprise indeed.

“Well, shall we start then? We’ve got a long day ahead of us!” Chief Park clasps his hands together, “Everyone, welcome to the Woocheon Medical City.”

Woocheon is going to be hell.

Miss Narae continues to walk your group around the hospital’s main building - through the lobby, cafeteria, outpatient clinics, as well as the different departments. “Correct me if I’m wrong but don’t the orientations usually come before the tours?” you ask Soomin, going over to the page of the booklet showing the hospital map.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of foot traffic in the hallways starting from ten onwards so it’s not recommended to have the tour during those times…” Soomin replies.

“Oh… I see…” Your group finally arrives by the operating rooms and you close the booklet, focusing on Miss Narae’s guidelines. Suddenly, the automatic doors open and out come two doctors talking to each other with the taller man stretching his arms. “Interns, may I introduce to you our surgical residents, Dr. Min Yoongi and Dr. Kim Namjoon, specializing in general surgery and neurosurgery respectively.” Your group bows to the senior doctors, likewise greeting them a good morning.

“You all sure about choosing medicine as your career path?” The smaller one of the two, who you assume to be Dr. Min, says with a straight face.

“Hyung, don’t scare them away! But just so you know,” Dr. Kim adds, then takes a step closer to your group, “...there’s still time to back out, kids,” he whispers, earning nervous chuckles from the group.

“Ah new babies!!” Someone from behind your group announces. With the blue scrubs he’s wearing, you assume he’s another surgeon (and an insanely handsome one too). “Apples keep the doctors away but the hospital can’t really keep its patients away can it? Else we wouldn't have such a magnificent hospital such as the Woocheon Medical City, right?” Laughter erupts from the group as he passes through, making a beeline towards Dr. Min and Dr. Kim.

Miss Narae clears her throat, gathering everyone’s attention once more, “I’d also like to introduce to you Dr. Kim Seokjin, also a surgical resident specializing in general surgery.”

“Oh don’t believe her! With looks like these? Sheesh! We’re actually newbie actors filming season 3 of Hospital Playlist...but you know...between us three, it’s obvious who sets the bar, right?” This earns eye rolls from both Dr. Min and the other Dr. Kim.

Pushing Dr. Seokjin towards the operating room, Dr. Yoongi turns to your group again, “Please ignore him. We’re actual licensed doctors…Hyung just…” Dr. Min sighs, rubbing at his temples, “...he says he doesn’t like attention but he keeps on doing humiliating things like these…”

Dr. Seokjin, who’s already inside the operating room hallway, overhears Dr. Min’s words. “Hey! Why do you keep outing me like this?! Also, this appendectomy will just take a while - wait for me! I’m craving kalguksu today!”

“Soomin...is it just me or everyone here has got to be damn attractive?”

Jungkook leans in from behind, raising his eyebrows at you and Soomin. “Oh you guys weren’t aware that it was one of the qualifications before getting accepted into Woocheon? Kind of an unspoken rule really…” Jungkook remarks as he crosses his arms over his chest and you swear on your life you hadn’t taken a peek at the very distracting outline of his arms.

Jimin who seems to agree with the idea wholeheartedly, places his fingers under his chin and wriggles his eyebrows wildly.

Boys.

Rolling your eyes at them, you retort, “You do realize that that only means we’re hot too.” likewise raising your shoulders at them. Soomin gives you a high five before flipping her hair towards the two. Jungkook gives you both a lopsided smirk in reply, “I’m not going to deny that.”

Soomin grabs you by the elbow, turning both your backs to the boys behind you, “You sure you hate him, or you just can’t take the way he’s flirting with you?”

#jungkook x reader #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #jeon jungkook #bts aus #bts fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #doctors au

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Hollow VII

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Angst Characters: Alan Tracy, Scott Tracy, John Tracy, Jeff Tracy

Well, this marks the end of my SensorySunday campaign. Turns out I managed 69181 words over the course of this challenge! Somewhat sad this challenge is over, but that just means it’s time to move onto something new... or go back to all the wips I neglected in favour of this. Whoops.

Alan didn’t notice when his bedroom door opened, barely wide enough for someone to slip through before closing again with the smallest of clicks. His head was buried in a game – educational, because Dad only let him play educational games in his room – and the fact that he was no longer alone with the ancient Professor Layton didn’t occur to him until his bed dipped and someone groaned quietly.

He jumped, almost dropping the ancient console – something from Dad’s own childhood, passed down through brothers until it found the hands of the best gamer in the family – as he twisted to look at the uninvited intruder.

“Scott?”

“Shh!” his eldest brother hissed, before groaning again and gingerly laying down, spread-eagling himself across Alan’s fire engine red comforter.

Alan squinted at him, setting the old console down and turning around completely to face the brother stealing his bed.

“Should you be up?” he asked, and Scott gave a sheepish grin. “Scott, you’re hurt!” His brother winced and gently rested a hand over the pyjamas he wore, right where Alan knew he had several stitches, far too much medical glue, and multiple layers of gauze.

“I’m okay, Allie,” he said, patting the bed next to him with his other hand. Alan took the silent invitation to lay next to him – it was his bed, why was Scott acting like he was in charge – and eyed him dubiously.

“Why aren’t you in the medical room?” he asked, frowning. “Grandma will be angry.” Scott winced.

“Grandma thinks I need to eat,” he shuddered. “Homemade food.”

Just the mention of homemade food when Grandma was around was enough for Alan to shudder, too. No wonder Scott had escaped.

“What about John?” he asked, and Scott paused for a moment before shaking his head.

“I couldn’t get him out,” he said. “But Grandma’s letting him have proper food, not…” he trailed off, but Alan understood. They all understood when it came to Grandma and food.

“Okay,” he said, and Scott cocked an eyebrow at him. “You can stay.”

“I knew you’d understand,” Scott grinned, wrapping an arm around him and gently pulling him close. “Best little brother.”

Alan glowed at the praise, even if he knew by now that they were all ‘best little brother’ when it suited Scott. Just like they were all his best big brother when they did what he wanted. It was still nice to hear.

The fact that Scott’s arm was shaking slightly was not so nice, and he frowned at his brother. Scott had closed his eyes again; his skin was still pale – paler than Alan’s, he realised when he put his hand on his forehead.

“I’m okay, Allie,” he mumbled, cracking a single eye open a sliver to peer at him. “Just tired.”

“Promise?” Alan remembered Dad carrying him in, blood dripping onto the floor. It had been a few days since then, but it still gave him nightmares. He hadn’t played any of his zombie games since.

“I promise.” His eye closed again and Alan watched as his breathing evened out, chest rising and falling steadily in sleep. Scott spent a lot of time sleeping now; Grandma said it was normal because he’d lost a lot of blood, but it worried Virgil so it worried Alan, just a little.

He curled up against Scott, careful not to get too close to anywhere he was hurt, game entirely forgotten in favour of watching him. Just to be sure.

There was a commotion outside, hurried footsteps passing past his door in both directions before someone knocked and he froze.

“Alan?” Dad called, pushing the door open. “Have you seen- ah, there you are.”

Alan made a shushing noise at him, and Dad smiled, making a show of walking into the room on tip-toe and silently closing the door behind him.

“Is he sleeping?” he asked, and Alan nodded. Dad padded across the room and sat on the edge of Alan’s bed, reaching out and brushing Scott’s hair back from his face. Scott didn’t react, and his smile looked just a little sad. “You can’t sleep here, Scooter; this is your brother’s bed,” he murmured.

“I don’t mind,” Alan said immediately, and Dad gave him a smile.

“I’m sure you don’t,” he agreed, “but Scott needs to stay in the medical room where your Grandma can keep an eye on him. I’m impressed he made it all the way up here.”

“He said Grandma was cooking,” Alan said, and got a chuckle.

“That would do it,” Dad nodded before standing back up. “Well, even I’m not cruel enough to subject Scott to that, so I’ll let him hide here for now. Don’t let him leave when he wakes up, though – he shouldn’t be walking around. I’ll fetch him later, when the threat’s gone.”

Alan nodded his agreement and watched Dad leave the room before settling back down with Scott, at least until he heard the voices.

“Have you found him?”

That was Grandma, and Alan tensed again. Dad understood, right? Dad wouldn’t make Scott eat that?

“He’s hiding in Alan’s room.” What? Now Grandma would come in and Scott would have to eat her cooking and he’d be miserable! How could he do that?

“He can’t hide forever,” she said. “He’ll have to face it eventually.”

“When he wakes up,” Dad promised. “Getting to Alan’s room exhausted him.”

“When he wakes up,” she agreed. “He can’t avoid John forever.”

Wait, what? Avoid John? Why would Scott want to avoid John? Wasn’t it Grandma’s cooking he was hiding from?

They moved away, leaving him sat on his bed with his biggest brother taking up most of the space. Alan looked at him, seeing how pale he looked, before coming to a decision. It was easy enough to find his spare blanket and drape it over Scott, tucking him in gently before padding out of his room and heading for the medical room.

John was sat up in bed, tablet propped up in front of him as he read whatever was on the screen. He looked up as Alan approached.

“Hey, Alan,” he greeted with a grin. Alan glanced over at Scott’s abandoned bed as he passed it, before perching on the chair next to his brother. John also looked at the bed for a moment, before setting the tablet down and facing him as best he could with three of his limbs in casts. “Is something wrong?”

“Grandma said Scott was avoiding you,” Alan blurted out, and John sighed.

“He is.”

“But…” Alan faltered, not expecting that response. Why would Scott avoid John? That didn’t make any sense.

“He’s got it into his head that this is all his fault,” John explained. “He blames himself even though it was my idea, and he’s avoiding me because he thinks that’ll keep me safe.”

“What? Why? Scott keeps us safe!” Alan couldn’t imagine a world without Scott there to keep the nightmares away.

“Because he’s an idiot,” John sighed. “It doesn’t help that Dad had a go at him for exploring the paths when we were told not to. He’s grounded for two weeks after Grandma discharges him.”

“Scott’s in trouble?”

“Because he disobeyed me. John is also grounded.” Alan jumped when Dad started talking – he hadn’t noticed him. “Is Scott still in your room, Alan?” He nodded. “Well if he’s going to sleep he might as well do it here.” Alan watched him leave before turning to John.

“But… Grandma’s cooking..?” John chuckled lightly.

“The one thing she can make is hospital food,” he assured him. “The soup she’s feeding Scott is perfectly edible and he knows it.”

“Oh.” Scott had lied.

“He’s just upset about what happened,” John continued. “Don’t worry about it.”

When Dad walked back in a few minutes later, Scott was still covered in Alan’s spare blanket.

“Do you think Scott can borrow it a while longer?” the man asked as he gently lay a still sleeping Scott back on the bed.

“Will it help?” Alan asked, and he nodded. “Then yes.” He reached over and straightened it out over his brother again. Scott let out a small groan and Dad backed away.

“That’s my cue to leave,” he said. “Alan, could you stay with your brothers for me?” He nodded, and the man left the room.

Barely a minute later, Scott’s eyes opened. They landed on John and immediately snapped shut again with another groan.

“Scott?”

He opened his eyes again.

“Allie?”

“Don’t avoid John,” Alan said immediately, watching blue eyes widen. “You’re his big brother! You can’t ignore him.”

“I got him hurt, Alan,” Scott protested. He started to sit up, then made a face and lay back down again. “It’s my fault.”

“I’m the one that wanted to go out to see the stars,” John argued.

“I should have stopped you!”

“If I wasn’t going to listen to Dad, why would I listen to you?”

Eyes wide, Alan looked between his two brothers. Both of them looked agitated, confined to their beds by their injuries but with a point to prove.

Scott opened his mouth a couple of times but no sound came out.

“Scott, whose blanket are you holding?” John challenged, and Alan watched as Scott looked at it, running the edge of the fabric through his fingers.

“Alan’s?” Scott looked at him, surprised, and Alan shrugged. “Why?”

“So you didn’t get cold,” Alan told him, and Scott softened, smiling at him.

“Thanks, Allie.”

“You know it wasn’t your fault,” John continued. “If you honestly thought you were a danger to me, you would never have run to Alan, would you?”

“Hey!” Alan wasn’t entirely sure what John meant by that, but why wouldn’t Scott go to him? He was his brother too, right?

Scott heaved a huge sigh, and Alan looked at him in surprise.

“Stop being sensible and right,” he grumbled, but without any malice.

“I’ll stop when you don’t need me to,” John retorted, but he was smiling.

“Hush you,” Scott muttered. “C’mere, Allie.” He extended his hand and Alan took it, letting his biggest brother draw him closer. “This is your blanket so share it with me, okay?”

Alan wasn’t entirely sure what was going on anymore. Scott and John seemed to have just solved an argument but he didn’t understand what it had been about or how it had been solved.

“You’re not going to avoid John anymore?” he asked, stopping just short of the bed, and Scott shook his head.

“Not anymore,” he promised. “Come up here?”

“Okay.” Alan climbed onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and curling up under the blanket with his biggest brother. It was warm and comfy and safe, and even though it wasn’t bedtime he found himself getting sleepy.

“It looks like they’ve sorted themselves out,” he thought he heard Grandma say some time later. Dad laughed.

“As if they’d have it any other way,” he replied. A hand brushed his hair lightly. “Sleep well, boys. Look after each other.”

Of course they would.

Fin

#sensorysunday #sensorysunday2020 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #alan tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #jeff tracy #grandma tracy #hollow

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mlpshippingcentral · 5 years

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Puppy Love

In which Scootaloo is an oblivious gay while Sweetie is a pining gay, too angsty for her own good.

Also known as; my excuse to write about Sweetie’s shitty parents, plus my headcanons involving lanky Scootaloo and smol Sweetie and my headcanon that Sweetie Belle and Rarity were born in Canada.

You’re welcome

After they get their Cutie Marks, the Crusaders start having sleepovers a lot more.

Most of the times it's at Sweet Apple Acres, so Apple Bloom won't be late to do her chores, though a couple have happened at Rarity's house or Scootaloo's Aunt's.

This time, though, is different, because not only is this is the first time they have been allowed to have a sleepover without adult supervision, but it's also the first time they've had it in their tree house.

The days building up to the weekend are full of excited chatterings about what they can do, such as staying up past midnight, a simple goal, though one they've never actually accomplished, and using their telescope to stargaze and hundreds of other ideas.

They all bring their sleeping bags into the tree house, and set them up.

And it's here where Scootaloo hesitates. Because up until tonight, in every sleepover, they've been sharing a bed together. It's not a big deal, just that nobody actually has a guest room.

And now they can sleep as near or as far from each other as possible.

Which, of course, isn't that big of a deal, she reminds herself, eyeing her best friends as they undo their bags, and, after a couple of second of deliberation, puts hers right next to Sweetie, who eyes her curiously for a moment.

"In case we want to talk to each other" she shrugs, feeling oddly embarrassed about it, but Sweetie just lights up and smiles.

"Good idea, Scoots!"

The Pegasus hides a smile by fiddling with her sleeping bag, and sees Apple Bloom staring at them, with the most exasperated expression on her face.

"What?" She asks, but Bloom just mutters something about 'needing another room' and turns away.

They do not stay up until midnight, but they do get pretty close and they do stargaze, so Scootaloo is willing to call it a win.

She wakes up at some indeterminable time, shaken awake by the feel of hot wind on her face. She blinks blearily, and almost yelps when she realizes she is muzzle to muzzle with Sweetie, who is sleeping peacefully.

She leans back a bit, ignoring the pang of cold that hits her when she does. She would back up completely, except that Sweetie's hoof is on her leg, and moving would probably wake her up.

So instead she closes her eyes and tries to ignore the thoughts telling her there's no better way to fall asleep.

Sweetie Belle is passing through town when she sees Tender Taps, and stops to say hello.

"Hey, Tapps, did I hear something about you being chosen for entertainment for the Grand Galloping Gala?"

"Yeah!" The colt smiles, demure. "It was so crazy! I still can't really believe it!"

"You are the best dancer in our town."

"Yeah, thanks to you and your friends. Speaking of which" he pauses, tilting his head at her "how are you and Scootaloo?"

There's teasing in his tone, but most of it is genuine curiosity, and Sweetie doesn't know what to do with that.

"We're fine" she says stiffly "BFF's, as always."

"Oh" he looks contrite for a second, but, before he can say anything else, another voice chirps up from down the street.

"Hey Sweetie!"

She has to take a second before answering "yeah Scootaloo?"

She doesn't say her friends nickname, because Tender Taps is already grinning like a foal who won the lottery.

Scootaloo is at the very top of the street, which is more of a hill, with an incline enough that Sweetie has to crane her neck a bit to meet her friends eyes.

"Watch this!"

And then, she's off, pushing a hoof off the ground and buzzing her wings to move her scooter along, she shoots down the hill like lightning, before flipping, head over hooves, with the scooter, just to bring the wheels back down to the ground again and brake a couple of feet in front of Sweetie.

She had heard about this trick, heard about Scootaloo practicing this, and that practice clearly paid off, going by the cheers and whistles rebounding the room.

But Sweetie's not paying attention to them, because she's already moving, closing the distance in seconds to throw her hooves around her Best Friend's neck.

Sometimes, it surprises Sweetie how small she is. Apple Bloom is an Apple, all tall and muscular, while Scootaloo is all lean and lanky, so she always looks tiny next to them.

Despite this, even though she's the second smallest in her entire class, and has to literally tilt her head back if she wants to talk to Bloom face to face, she forgets how absolutely tiny she is.

And then there's moments like this, where Scootaloo easily lifts her back hooves off the ground and Sweetie lets out a surprised squeak, which prompts a laugh from Scootaloo, who places her back on the ground.

She feels dizzy and warm and is acutely aware of everypony watching them, so she takes a small step back, so that they're not basically touching muzzles, and for a second, she thinks she sees Scootaloo's face fall.

"You should show that to Rainbow Dash" is what she says, and she brightens again, zooming off to find her idol.

Sweetie Belle can feel Tender Taps approach her.

"Don't say it" she says.

When Aunt Lofty sends her in to Carousel Boutique for more wool, Scootaloo isn't expecting to overhear a conversation between her Best Friend and her sister.

"How do you know you love someone?"

It's Sweetie's voice, but it doesn't sound right, all muted and nervous, and, oh boy, that is not a conversation Scootaloo should be overhearing. She looks around for a bell to ring or something, but, for all her professionalism, it seems that this never occurred to Rarity.

She eyes the door up, wondering if she can come back at some other time, but Aunt Lofty really wanted to finish her scarf, and this was the only place that would have this kind of wool.

A pause, and then Rarity's voice "well, that all depends. For some, it's sudden, while others, it's more . . gradual."

"Is that what it was like? For you, I mean."

"No, no. She crept up on me."

The sentence is barely over before Sweetie is saying "me too! At least, I think she did? I never really noticed until recently, but . ."

Scootaloo frowned. She? Sweetie had never shown any interest in any fillies in their class before. She knew her Unicorn friend had a crush on a couple of colts before, but outside of that, she had never shown a special interest in any females before.

Unless . . .

Scootaloo's mind dragged up a picture, of Diamond Tiara and Sweetie Belle, deep in discussion, heads bent together. They had been talking about their parents, Scootaloo remembered. The two had found common ground in the fact that their parents were always gone for some reason.

She found herself wishing she had entered that conversation, not so much as to complain about her parents, than just to break up the strange closeness the two had.

Which was, of course, ridiculous. Sweetie was allowed to like whoever she wanted, right? It shouldn't matter to Scootaloo if her friend had a crush on someone.

"I, uh, I don't think she really likes me in that way though" and Sweetie sounded so dejected that Scootaloo fought the urge to round the corner and hug her.

"You don't know until you try" Rarity said, doing an admirable job of filling in for Scootaloo, who just wanted to comfort her little friend.

"But we're coworkers! It could mess everything up! Besides, Scoots has never shown any interest in girls before and-"

It's around there that the conversation fades away from Scootaloo as she carefully backs out of the boutique and onto her bike, any thought of the wool far from her mind.

Instead, she climbed aboard her scooter, and raced away, stopping when she was far enough away and collapsing on the ground.

She isn't sure how much time passes as she lays on the ground, staring up at the sky, painted gold and pink by the sunset.

Sweetie likes her.

Sweetie likes her?

Sweetie likes her!

Sweetie likes her.

What in the hell is she going to do?

Well, first off, a voice that sounds remarkably like Twilight Sparkle in her head says, do you like girls?

Scootaloo doesn't even have to stop and think of this, as it's a solid yeah. She remembers crushing on Princess Cadence when she was smaller, and a brief infatuation with Gabby.

She is, in her Aunt's words, the ultimate lesbian.

Okay, so, do you like Sweetie?

Now this, this gives her pause.

She remembers when she first met Sweetie; she and her parents had just moved from Oatstralia, and she had just discovered that bullies existed here in Ponyville too. Awesome. She had decided to take the traditional route and keep her head down, and don't talk to anyone. And yet, the day after she had decided that, a Unicorn had moved down from Caneighda to be with her sister more.

She and Sweetie Belle had known each other for a long time, longer than they knew Bloom at least.

She remembers the chill she had felt when she pulled away from Sweetie that night in the treehouse, of seeing her rushing across to congratulate her on her awesome trick the other day, eyes bright and grin even brighter-

Oh.

Oh hell.

The Gay Panic is starting to come in strong, and she now understands why Sweetie wanted to talk to Rarity about all this, because she has this overwhelming urge to run to her Aunts, because surely they'll know what to do.

Maybe she can ignore all this, and it'll just . . go away?

She closes her eyes and immediately Sweetie Belle jumps into her mind, a Sweetie with slumped shoulders and teary eyes as she stares, defeated up at her Best Friend.

Immediately her eyes snap open again, because, that's not happening. She will not hurt Sweetie, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she did.

Then she groans, because that was so cheesy and she is so, so screwed.

Apple Bloom walks into the tree house, looks at the two of them, working in complete silence, not looking at each other, and immediately walks back out.

"Ah've got chores to do!" She says in response to their questions and objections.

Sweetie can understand, though. Celestia knows, she would rather be anywhere than here right now, basking in the awkwardness she had created, because she is too awkward to talk to her Best Friend.

This is what you get, a part of her says, you want to make things complicated? You have to deal with the awkwardness.

"So" Scootaloo says, breaking the silence at last, and Sweetie immediately wants to curl up and die, because that is Scootaloo's this-is-gonna-be-so-awkward tone of voice. The last time she had used it, she had brought up why Sweetie's parents were never around. The time before that? Apple Bloom's parents.

Sweetie has learnt to fear that tone.

"So?" She echoes, deliberately innocent as she eyes the door for a quick escape.

"So I've been thinking" Scootaloo says "about you and me."

You know what? Forget the door, Sweetie will gladly take a hole to swallow her up in.

"You and I?" She repeats, correcting it slightly, because she at least pays attention in English.

"Yeah" Scootaloo smirks slightly, before it falls "I think it's time we talked about our, uh, friendship."

Sweetie screws her eyes up tight, pulse in her head as she tries to think her way out of this one. But, this, this is it. And Scootaloo clearly knows that she knows what she is talking about, going by how awkward she looks.

Well, if this is the end of their friendship, at least she should be honest about it.

"I'm sorry" she whispers, tears pricking her eyes. "you were never supposed to find out."

Scootaloo tilts her head, meeting Sweetie's eyes for a fleeting moment before looking away again "why not?"

"Because we're coworkers" Sweetie says miserably. "If I told you, things would be awkward between us, and then things would be awkward between us and Bloom and" she cuts herself off with a sigh "you guys are my first friends" she admits "I don't want to lose you."

"You guys are my first friends too" Scootaloo admits. "but who says things have to be awkward between us?"

"I- uh- what?"

Scootaloo kisses her.

It's brief and messy and as awkward as this conversation, but she does it and Sweetie is left standing, stock still, staring at the Pegasus, who has the same look of bafflement she does.

"That was my first kiss" is all she thinks to say, because why not?

Scootaloo laughs, loud and still nervous "yeah, me too."

Then she kisses Scootaloo, using her magic to pull her down to do so. It's more than she imagined it would ever be, and she feels oddly giddy, bouncing on her hooves slightly as she does so.

They pull apart and she grins up at the Pegasus, who smiles back down.

"Why" Scootaloo asks, laughing "didn't we do that sooner?"

Sweetie Belle laughs.

Small notes!

For the record, Canadian Sweetie Belle only came into existence because I wondered about Cookie Crumbles and Hondo Flanks, and it turns out their accents are midwestern or Canadian, and Canadian Sweetie was the greatest thing I have ever heard of ever.

Plus, to me it would explain why Apple Bloom had never met Sweetie or Scootaloo before Call of the Cutie, which is especially odd since Ponyville is such a small town and they have the same class. So, they had both just moved there recently.

Australian Scootaloo, is, of course, a given due to her heritage, but they move around so much she never really had time to develop an accent. She moved in with her aunts after they put their hooves down and demanded that Scootaloo be allowed to stay in one place long enough to make actual friends. Scootaloo thinks her parents are amazing and that nothing is wrong with them constantly leaving her, getting defensive if anyone has any word against them. Despite them missing her cutecenera by several months, she still enthusiastically greeted them and forgave them immediately

Sweetie’s parents, on the other hand, drift in and out of her life. They often take long, amazing trips without her or Rarity, leaving poor Sweetie feeling like they don’t want her and desperate for any attention, leaving her to cling to her sister for support (why she’s always at Rarities instead of at home). After they miss her cutecenera, she basically turns her back on them

#scootaloo #sweetie belle #rarity #tender taps #scootabelle #sweetieloo #puppylove #otp #romance #i ship it #fanfic #mlp fan fiction #child neglect #canadian sweetie

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straplabs · 5 years

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BUILDING AROUND FRICTION

For entrepreneurs in Nigeria, the search for opportunities that are profitable, durable and meaningful is as elusive as the Holy Grail. In my years of observing and participating in the landscape, it always seem like you can never have it all. A lot of constraints — mostly of broader economic forces beyond your control — will conspire to screw you.

The contretemps about how exactly to build a business has divided entrepreneurs into an equivalence of political tribes. With strong opinions — fairly borne of experiences — on all sides. Do you optimize for profits from people’s habits or build something that elicits a positive change of bad habits? Do I simply put my goods up for sale in traffic jams (where there is a “market”) or does my business model imagine a near future where there are no traffic jams? These are examples of important questions with no easy answers.

UNDERSTANDING CONSTRAINTS

There are two related problems entrepreneurs face when dealing with constraints. Dealing with incomplete information, and dealing with known and understood limitations that are just out of your control. Learning to distinguish between the two is a skill you must learn quickly in the early cycles of your business.

For example, many entrepreneurs take products to the market simply by looking at headline demographics like populations, number of internet users and the like. I once spoke to a CEO of an online auction site who was puzzled why they could only sell to less than 10% of their daily clicks. And friends tell me some eCommerce platforms faced this problem but realized quite late. Sometimes you just have to look beneath the numbers and try to find enduring patterns.

There are other times when the constraints are just out of your control. They leave you very little wiggle room. You do not control interest rates, the Central Bank of Nigeria does. You do not have any power over trade policy, the Federal Government does. You need to understand the acceptable risks to take when dealing with constraints you cannot control.

DEALING WITH CONSTRAINTS

A good way of understanding both kinds of constraints I have described here is to think of them as friction. Engineers, dealing with all kinds of physical systems, understand the physics of friction. They also understand that friction may be a “limiting force”, but it’s also an intrinsic part of any physical system — and hence must be regularly confronted and overcome.

Building a business in a high friction environment can be nerve-wracking. That’s why your job is similar to the engineer’s. Sometimes a high friction material or system needs to be engineered to a high degree of precision to get what you want from it. The business of building a business is more complex than engineering, but there are useful conventions you can adopt.

1. EMBRACE LEVELS OF DEPLOYMENT

No one builds a global business or a popular product overnight. It can be very safe to start local and super-niched. One advantage of this approach is that feedback will be fast, consistent and coherent. If you release a product to a small (-ish) target market and with limited use cases, then the information from the use can be easily analyzable and well-defined.

Amazon had to start with books to learn all it can about supply chains before becoming “the everything store”. You may be driving in Lagos traffic and think there is a “market” for e-scooters. Who wouldn’t like to escape the hell of Lagos traffic?

But putting your scooters on sidewalks all over Lagos may bankrupt you before you even start. Reports on theft, area boys harassment, accidents, police permits and other things you did not consider will come faster than your head can spin.

It is not merely enough that you are providing a solution to a well-defined problem. You need to ask “what category is my solution for what category of the problem”?

Scooters are not at the same categories of solution in both Somolu and Lekki. This is not denigrating any neighborhood or demography. Business is not about impassioned, biased and incorrect decisions. It’s about engineering a precise solution.

You can focus on things that are barriers or you can focus on scaling the wall or redefining the problem. — Tim Cook

2. DON’T BUILD AGAINST FRICTION

Some entrepreneurs may be swimming in funding, a position where you think the solution to every six inch nail is ten pound hammer. This can be quite risky. I worked with a client who wanted to add home delivery to her growing furniture retail business.

Her solution was simple: buy delivery trucks and charge customers for the convenience. She was in a strong financial position to do this. But once we looked at the economics of the solution, it looked different in different situations. Delivering to different parts of the city from her location certainly attracted differential costs and different logistical challenges.

Thinking through this is not unlike the first point above. She found out from experimenting that delivering to some customers while letting others do their pickups is a useful entry point. In fact it was cheaper for some customers to do their pickups than her delivery charges. She would have lost their business. While she could also charge premiums for the deliveries she made at very low cost.

Trying to punch or smash your way through a wall will tire you out and is the wrong approach to frictions and obstacles. Sometimes you just have to scale the fence or smash the ceiling instead.

3. BUILD TO SCALE

This is such an obvious point, and — in my experience — very often missed. It is sad to see entrepreneurs brave the odds to start businesses and make products, only to expose themselves to the rot of static friction from their decisions. I know guys who kill the growth prospects of their products and services because of excessive control and lack of sensitivity to the importance of choices.

One of my favorite example here is Glo. It needed to enter a market with two established players and with high costs and high frictions (electricity being a major one). Even in a market where you can only be the smallest player, you need to grow fast or you quickly die. Per second billing gave the company a route to quickly reach critical mass and hopefully stay in the game to compete.

If you do not build your company to enable you grow fast — i.e. scale — frictions will quickly grind you to a halt before you can get the tiniest room to breathe.

4. BUILD ON TRUST

If I order “fresh-squeezed” orange juice from your website, and you delivered purple-colored zobo. It absolutely does not matter to me that you let me “pay on delivery”. You have violated my trust and possibly lost my business. Some entrepreneurs get trust backwards. Trust is misunderstood as a costless transaction. But a garbage service that costs me nothing is still garbage. Trust is being able to deliver on a promise.

This was certainly a problem in the early days of eCommerce. Payment represented a huge friction, and trust was defined as “paying when we get to your doorsteps”. But some of the platforms forgot their basic trust function: “get the orders right”.

It is always a worthwhile lesson for running a business of any stripe or size. Do not promise what you cannot deliver. It may be costing your customers nothing, but you are wasting their time and attention. The cost to you will be huge down the road.

In my experience as CEO, I found that the most important decisions tested my courage far more than my intelligence — Ben Horowitz

5. TRY TO SURVIVE, BUT YOU MAY NOT CHANGE THE WORLD

This is certainly hard to accept. Every entrepreneur wants to change the world. But working in a high friction environment gets in the way and you feel the need to “abandon ship”. Some entrepreneurs see friction as the excuse not to do anything challenging or innovative. I once interloped on a twitter debate where a celeb entrepreneur dismissed certain kinds of innovation in the Nigerian tech space. The point may be valid, but it is often oversold.

If your dream is to build Nigeria’s Space X, go for it. Don’t build a payment solution instead because that’s the safe and profitable thing to do. Just remind yourself that it’s risky, there are huge frictions ahead and don’t be stupid.

More importantly, try to survive. You may not change the world. But if you stay in the game long enough, you may watch the world change.

#startup #business strategy #innovation #risk management #nigeria

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wavedraw18 · 2 years

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Why Are American Girl Dolls So Expensive?

They were designed for 18" dolls to be able to carry mini dolls. No Girl of the Year characters after Luciana have received mini dolls. Tenney Grant also received a mini doll, but her companion Logan did not; neither did Z Yang. Gabriela's mini doll was not available with her release; it was available by July 2017.

The reason this is so big is that American Girl dolls have been wildly popular since their introduction in 1986 — reaching the status of a cultural icon.

As an educator, Rowland had $1.2 million saved in textbook royalties that she invested into the company.

You could host a singing competition, a dance contest, a gymnastics match, a race, or anything else you can think of.

Making and customizing your own doll is an option!!

And, yes, every kid in the '90s wanted or had one.

8Save on outlet items while supplies last; quantities are limited to current stock.

Too bad that is overshadowed by the fact that Marie-Grace’s face is straight-up busted. The betchiest thing about Felicity is that she owns a horse. At one point in her book series, Felicity gets into some shit with an old-ass drunk man named Jiggy Nye and teaches him to stop drinking, which was probably good for him but also very lame. Felicity is not higher on the list because she’s super into being a “tomboy” and would probably say shit like “I just get along with guys better than girls” and we’d all hate her. I noticed that this tutorial has been pinned more than 2,000 times—wow, thank you. With that, I decided to post an update of this tutorial; this time, it uses less fabric and elastic, so I would say it's more economical. This is how it looks like after sewing them together. Fold the other end of the waistband 1/8 inch from the edge and turn to the other side to cover the sewn part of the skirt. With right sides together, sew the waistband and skirt together. I suggest you secure it with pins and remove it as you sew. https://www.crunchyroll.com/user/mmarkwalker

American Girl Doll Fun Fur Vintage Jacket

That in and of itself is cause for gay celebration, IMO. What makes these dolls so exciting and very popular among the girls and parents is the accessories. You can buy accessories for the dolls to play dress up or make them get festival ready. With various accessories and storybooks, it is easy for you to teach your girl about different cultures and traditions and install good values on them from a young age. So those are the top 10 most expensive and valuable American Girl dolls. If you have any of the older series sitting around, unloved and forgotten about, dust them off and get to posting them on online auction sites!

American Girl Doll Fun Fur Hat And Scarf

You press it open and sew the seam you just created to one side. If you don’t get this, just fold the second front in place and press the neckline. Thanks for any help, I was using the instructions and visual but still not getting it. As a grandmother, I can’t wait to sew the pjs for my granddaughters’ doll. Would I be able to get the pattern for the 18” American doll pjs. I guess the 3 layers of fabric is the reason, but since the seem is so small I can’t cut any slits in the seam allowance to ease it a bit. Chrissa has black hair, blue eyes, light skin and the Josefina mold. Chrissa was the first and only American Girl doll to have two Best Friend dolls, as well as the first and only Girl of the Year to do so. Chrissa also had the first Girl of the Year movie, Chrissa Stands Strong, where she was played by Sammi Hannaraty. She is a girl who loves her dog and scooter and is learning the difference between helping and meddling. Lindsey has brown hair, blue eyes, freckles, light skin and the Classic mold. Lindsey was the first Girl of the Year ever and has the smallest collection. Very cute, especially the roller-skating get-up. One thing I truly miss about classic American Girl is how well the outfits were integrated into each character’s canon. This is not an outfit that I can imagine any kid ever willingly choosing for their doll, but itisdeeply rooted in one of Molly’s most vivid stories, and the result is deeply charming. It’s not her fault that the ’70s were Like That. This mostly works for me, though – I think it’s that the very category of holiday clothing kind of allows you to do The Most. She has grown up playing ice hockey with her three older brothers and has the skills she needs to become a star hockey player. But she's tired of skating in her brothers' shadows and has decided to pursue her passion for figure skating instead. With the help of a new coach, Mia finds out whether she has what it takes to grow and compete as a figure skater. A page featuring over 100 American Girl images spanning almost 20 years, including more than 90 mail order catalog covers spanning 1988 to 2001. Those girls new to AG Dolls have missed some very beautiful catalog covers and some of the catalog page spreads from the early catalogs are truly breathtaking as well. Most of the images in the Gallery are links to very large versions of the image. You'll find free patterns for many of your favorite dolls on these pages. And, if you need help learning to hand-sew dolls and doll clothing order my How to Sew Cloth Dolls and Costumes Book - either in paperback or download. The Embassy Suites Chicago – Downtown is located just seven blocks from the American Girl Store. Book the American Girl Place Package and enjoy even more during your trip. Plus, your family will stay in a spacious, two-room suite. “From the beginning, our ‘Girl of the Year’ characters have been designed to reflect girls’ lives today and the realities of the times,” Parks stated.

#Dolls & Accessories

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peter-horrocks · 4 years

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Cool holiday in the mountains

It was with a degree of pessimism that we set off for our family holiday get together in the high French Alps at the beginning of August. Mainly because I was only used to ski resorts in the winter and because here in the southern alps its quite hot and there are no end of beasties wanting to bite you, which is OK for a days walk but staying a week is another matter. And we had a load of young kids with us. What on earth were they going to do in a ski resort in the summer, it would be dead wouldn’t it?

“Faeries, come take me out of this dull world, For I would ride with you upon the wind, Run on the top of the dishevelled tide, And dance upon the mountains like a flame.”

William Butler Yeats, The Land of Heart's Desire

Snow on the tops in Val Thorens

Like many we had already endured our fair share of rescheduled flights and cancellations with money lost or placed on credit and being the wrong side of 60 we had lost the appetite for flying as the risks no longer seem sensible. But being stuck in France has its advantages, it is a country with so much to offer, there is such variety, the choice is huge. The only obvious thing is that this summer was no time to be crammed with the masses as the risk of getting contaminated with Covid was glaringly obvious and if we could escape the extreme July/August heat that would be even better.

So when my wife’s elder daughter announced that she had an option to reserve a chalet in Les Menuires, a ski resort at 1850 metres altitude in the Three Valleys, at a very reasonable price, on three floors with easily enough room for ten of us, we felt there was little to loose even if it got cancelled as it was within reasonable driving distance for everyone.

I struggled to get excited as I had been to Les Menuires with work many years ago and my memories were of a rather ugly purpose-built resort with “motorway” skiing. I’d also spent a few weeks in the high Alps chalet hunting in Spring, cold and wet were the main memories retained. The chances of rain in the high Alps is always a distinct possibility. I set about researching what was open in the resort and soon realized that with the Covid restrictions things like indoor swimming pools and cinemas were all closed. All I could latch on to was an outdoor basketball pitch. So, I bought basketballs adapted in size for very small and average size children and a couple of kites in a desperate attempt at offering at least some sort of outdoor diversion for the young.

It was really hot when we set off early from Grasse up the route Napoleon and it got hotter as the day progressed. Being away from the main motorways on one of the busiest days of the summer was ideal as even the service areas near Grenoble were not too busy so we felt safe from Covid crowds. It is frequently surprisingly hot in the low French alpine valleys in summer and the air conditioning in the car was doing overtime with temperatures close to 40 degrees centigrade. So we were elated to watch the thermostat drop progressively as we started the climb uphill from Moutiers for the last half an hour of the journey to Les Menuires. When it hit 26º we cut the air conditioning and cheered, when it hit 20º we opened the car windows and releveled in the sensation of the breeze in our hair. The drive up was lovely, the mountains verdant, much more beautiful than I expected.

When we arrived in Les Menuires it bore little resemblance to the soulless resort I remembered. There was a very modern rather smart church tower with a clarion belfry and a kind of trendy, with-it feel about the place. Sunny and with wonderful fresh air though it was still shorts and t shirts weather, and there were plenty of people around, it was far from dead, but not too busy either. Cool! From my days looking after the websites and holiday sales for the ski programs for various companies in the past I had always been disappointed to see empty chalets and apartments at “give-away” prices from May to October, when they were full at “daylight robbery” prices during the winter. Whilst on the coast people were paying through the nose to be crammed on beaches like sardines burning red raw despite lashings of Ambre Solaire. Strange how it took an epidemic to literally drive some family holidaymakers to the high mountains who would never normally have gone there, including us.

My wife’s daughters, a husband and the five children aged from one to eleven were already there when we arrived. The twin boys were laughing as they peddled their hired go-karts and the two elder kids were in the queue for the outdoor trampolines with catapult elastics, whilst the adults were sat on the outdoor terrace of a cafe enjoying a drink looking out on the mountains, everyone looked happy to be there. And they were.

We quickly realized Les Menuires was a hive of pleasant outdoor activity, with something for everyone. You could hire all sorts of electric bikes, scooters, 4-wheel drive vehicles and the gondola lifts were running to take you up to the tops if you wished. Morning and evening outdoor fitness classes with suitable high-tempo music blasting out was another surprising though rather fun to watch option. There was an outdoor archery range, paintball, mountain bike tracks and infinite walks for all grades and even an impressive toboggan track on rails which had the kids begging for more.

In the mornings we strolled down the hillside from our chalet’s hamlet and enjoyed relaxed games of five-a-side football and basketball mixing with holiday makers kids and parents from Paris and Lyon. Then we joined up with the ladies and the smaller children for picnics by the crystal-clear river which was cold but not enough to deter the children from getting stuck in building dams and playing around in the water. All in a suberb setting with lovely walks by the river, where pretty, ancient farm buildings were set beautifully in the heart of the high valley surrounded by stunning summits topped by snow up at Val Thorens. Clear blue skies and warm sunshine, it was perfect.

The kids having fun making dams in the river

Back in the chalet in the evenings the kids hoovered up ��l’apéro” crisps and drinks whilst the adults kicked back with a glass of wine, the music came on and everyone ended up dancing around even the smallest who only recently took to standing was grooving with the rhythm. I assisted my son in law cooking up a “tartiflette” using local mountain potatoes and Reblochon cheese from the in-resort “fromagerie” and that set the standard for a week of delicious mountain cuisine. The spa at the hamlet opened its sauna and hot tub for small group reservations which allowed the parents some relaxing downtime whist we looked after the youngsters who spent hours playing hide and seek in the chalet. The week flew by.

I took the time one evening to walk up high and sit quietly, watching the small video clip taken by my sister that same day, in Wales, of the scattering of the ashes of my elder brother who died naturally in South Africa recently. Covid circumstances prevented me from attending what was already an improvised occasion.

My brother Martin loved to hike in the high mountains, and he fancied himself as a bit of a poet so it felt fitting to reflect on his passing amidst the tranquility and majesty of the Three Valleys as the sun went down. I was grateful to be there.

We all left Les Menuires in good spirits and feeling positive despite these troubled times. It would be a shame for the high mountains to become over popular, but it was great to see them appreciated other than just for walking.

Best wishes

Peter H.

#Les Menuires #summer

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pebble-xo · 7 years

Text

The Secret (13)

prologue; part one; part two; part three; part four; part five; part six; part seven; part eight; part nine; part ten; part eleven; part twelve; part thirteen; epilogue.

“Where are we going Mummy?” Zoe asked again for what felt like the hundredth time since you picked her up from school. With a glance at your rear-view mirror, you could see her swinging her legs excitedly. Unlike you, Zoe loved surprises but was rather impatient for them.

Following the sat-nav, you made a quick left off the main road into a more residential area. All around you were a number of tall apartment buildings, fairly new and modern. “I don’t technically know,” you replied covertly, laughing at her frown. Clearly she didn’t approve of your vagueness.

With another quick glance, you smiled at your daughter staring wide-eyed out the window, taking everything in with her child-like curiosity. “Look there’s a park,” she squealed excitedly, pressing her face up against the glass as you slowly drove past a filled playground. “Is that a swimming pool?” you heard her exclaim behind you as you turned down another road.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

Parking up in a space at the side of the road outside one of the many tall apartment buildings, you switched the car off and turned in your seat to see your excitable puppy of a daughter. “We’re here!” you cheered brightly, reaching over for your phone in your bag. “Wherever here is,” you muttered as a side note, already bringing up Baekhyun’s number and calling.

“Are you here?” he asked as soon as he answered.

You flashed a quick smile and looked up at the building from your window. “Yeah we just parked up outside,” you explained, nodding to Zoe who was staring eagerly at you about to take her belt off.

“I’ll come down and meet you,” he replied, telling you to wait outside the building for him before hanging up.

Throwing your phone in your bag, you grabbed your keys and unbelted yourself, climbing out of the car so you could let Zoe out too. “Was that Daddy?” she asked as you opened the door, jumping down from the car holding onto Mr Snuggles tightly.

“Yes he’s coming down to meet us,” you told her, locking your car and taking her small hand in your own to lead her up the path to the tall building.

While Zoe was distracted by her excitement, you took the time to look around the neighbourhood. There were children similar to Zoe’s age riding scooters down the pavement on the other side of the road, laughing loudly without a care in the world. In your current apartment, there was no way Zoe was able to play like that; your street was too unsafe. Further up the street, you also noticed a guy in a security uniform – Baekhyun wasn’t lying when he said this place was in such a safe environment.

The frosted glass door to the apartment building opened and Baekhyun appeared with a huge grin on his face. “Zoe bear!” he cheered brightly, crouching down and opening his arms wide for your daughter to run into. You stood back and watched as Baekhyun buried his face into Zoe’s hair, picking her up so her legs were wrapped around his waist. “Did you have a good day at school?” he asked, leaning back to look at his daughter’s face.

“No,” she quickly responded with a pout. “Miss Oh gave us maths homework,” she groaned, making you roll your eyes at her dramatics.

Baekhyun laughed, smoothing back Zoe’s messy hair. “You should ask your mummy for help. I always asked her for help with my homework,” he offered, his gaze flickering to you with a guilty smile on his lips.

“When he says I helped him little one, what he really means to say is he used to copy my homework,” you told your daughter, reminded of all the mornings before class started when Baekhyun would be scribbling his homework down with the help of your own.

“That was you helping,” Baekhyun retorted, making Zoe giggle at your bickering.

She pulled on her father’s ear to pull his attention off of you and back to her. “Is this where you live Daddy?” she asked, peering up at the tall building you were still standing awkwardly outside.

Baekhyun shook his head, pushing the door open wider for you to step into. “No we are just visiting a brand new apartment,” he explained to her, being as vague as you were.

However, Zoe didn’t seem to mind. “Let’s go and see!” she cheered loudly, throwing her hands up excitedly in the air.

Like turning on a switch, Baekhyun turned into a jovial real estate agent, explaining that the ground floor had a gym and a security office and access to the underground car park that you could enter from the other side of the building. Then he took you and Zoe up in the lift to the 5th floor, typing in the code to apartment 505 and opening the door. “Go and take a look inside,” he encouraged Zoe, letting her zoom into the apartment like a hurricane.

You let Baekhyun lead you down the corridor yourself, pointing to the doors on your left and right. “That’s storage in there,” he introduced, opening the doors for you to peek inside. “They could be used for coats or shoes or …”

“Art supplies?” you added, trying to imagine all your paints and canvas tucked away in the spacious cupboard.

Baekhyun smirked, closing the second closet on you and wrapping his fingers around your hand. “Oh no, there’s a much better place for them,” he hinted at vaguely, pulling you further into the apartment, into a huge open spaced living room, completely bare apart from the white blinds connected to the tall windows that showered the room with light. “Once it’s filled with a bit of furniture, it won’t seem so big and empty,” he continued.

Zoe came rushing around the corner, wide eyed with arms stretched behind her like a bird. “Mummy this place is so big,” she exclaimed brightly, running straight into your legs and hugging them tight. “There’s even a bathtub!”

“Really?” you played along, brushing her hair off her face.

She looked up at you with deep caramel eyes, the same gaze you had seen a million times from her father beside you. “Why are we here? Who’s going to live here?” she asked cutely, leaning away from your legs to share her confused look with Baekhyun.

“No one lives here at the moment,” you told her, being intentionally vague and cutting off any answer Baekhyun could give. The last thing you wanted to do was get her hopes up when you hadn’t come to any decision. “Why don’t we look at the rest of the apartment together?”

She nodded excitedly and let go of your leg, letting you hold one of Mr Snuggles’ paws while she held the other.

Baekhyun led the way through the living room into a big kitchen with all modern appliances built into the cupboards and countertops. There was a breakfast bar so you and Zoe could have your breakfasts together like you usually did and she could help with cooking easily from a safe distance.

“Let’s go see the bedrooms,” Zoe cried loudly, her excited voice echoing off the empty space. She pulled on your hand and dragged you away from the laundry closet Baekhyun showing you. “Come on, there are three! You have to see them!”

Not able to hold up much resistance, you let Zoe pull you around the corner and down another corridor. You looked back and frowned at Baekhyun. “Three bedrooms?”

Sure enough just as your daughter said, there were three good sized bare bedrooms. One, the master bedroom, had a little en-suite, extra closet space and a little balcony section that seemed to catch the sunrise. For a second, you imagined waking up with the sunlight streaming through the double doors, being able to have a warm cup of tea and watch the light fill up the sky. The thought alone made you itch for your sketch pad.

Zoe was enthusiastic to show you the other rooms, one directly across from the master bedroom and the smallest at the end of the hall. “I thought this one could be your art studio for the time being,” Baekhyun whispered in your ear from behind you as you stared into the third bedroom. “Think of all the beautiful art you could create in here.”

“It’s a spectacular apartment Baekhyun,” you murmured so Zoe wouldn’t hear while she and Mr Snuggles inspected the size of the bathtub in the family bathroom. Turning on the spot, you looked up at his serious face, wanting to push back the messy strands of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “But it’s too much for you to do for us,” you told him. An apartment like this certainly wasn’t cheap and for Baekhyun to buy this apartment for you was a huge burden.

He closed the gap between you both and let his hand trail down your arm until his fingers interlocked with yours. “Nothing will ever be too much when it comes to you and Zoe. This apartment is my way of providing for my family, to make sure that my crazy life doesn’t negatively affect my daughter’s life. If you chose to live here, she’ll be safe. She could ride her bike on the street, she could play with her friends in the playground. She could have a chance at a normal life.” You could hear the emotions thick in his voice. This clearly meant so much to him, to be able to provide for his daughter in a way that would make up for the five years he missed.

But that wasn’t his fault, it was yours. It was your secret; it should be your burden that you had to live with. He had nothing to feel guilty about.

“Please let me do this,” he pleaded softly, his voice cracking on the first word. “I’m the reason the two of you have been thrust into the spotlight. Let me protect you both.”

His words pulled on your heartstrings but your brain told you to look at this logically. “I need to think about it,” you murmured softly, pulling your eyes away from his warm gaze before you fell even deeper into them.

“Ok,” he whispered, brushing his lips against your forehead before backing away and letting your hand fall out of his. “Zoe bear, are you hungry?” he called out, opening the bathroom door and peeking inside.

What a silly question. Zoe was always hungry.

The three of you made up a little den in the living room with the blankets you had in the back of your car and ordered pizzas to the apartment. Zoe pretty much dominated the conversation, talking about her week to Baekhyun while he gladly lapped it all up. All the while, you thought about what life would be like if you did decide to live here. It was a lovely apartment and it was such a safer environment for Zoe to grow up in. It was closer to her school and closer to your work and closer to Baekhyun too. Would it really be so bad to take him up on his offer?

Once the pizzas arrived, there wasn’t much talking done, everyone’s mouths were too occupied with delicious food. You looked out of the tall windows that took up a whole wall in the living room. The sun was setting over the city and a soft orange glow was streaming between the buildings. It was actually sort of beautiful.

Leaning over to wipe the little bit of tomato sauce off of Zoe’s cheek, you pushed her hair away to avoid further messes and smiled at your happy daughter. “What do you think of the apartment little one?” you asked, although you thought you had a pretty good idea already.

“I love it!” she exclaimed, a big saucy grin revealing the chewed up pizza in her mouth. “It’s really big and there’s a playground and a swimming pool nearby! AND THERE’S A BATHTUB!” You didn’t realise the bathtub was such a big selling point. “We don’t even have a bathtub!””

You leaned your head back and laughed. “I didn’t realise you felt so deprived not having a bath,” you teased, catching Baekhyun snickering into his pizza.

“And did you see the playground?!” she cheered excitedly, shoving a huge piece of pizza into her mouth. She mumbled something else that sounded a lot like ‘there was even a really curly slide’ if it wasn’t for the mouthful of pepperoni and cheese.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” you scolded lightly, swiping another smudge of sauce off the corner of her lips.

Returning to your own thoughts, you looked around the apartment and tried to imagine yourself living there: where the furniture would go, where you’d build blanket forts with Zoe, where you would watch Zoe put on her little shows for you. The happiness at even the thought of living in the new apartment was written plainly on her face and for once, you couldn’t find an argument. Living here with Zoe was admittedly the best thing for her. This way she could live a normal life and still have a relationship with her father.

“Hey little one,” you said with a nudge, giving Baekhyun a cheeky smile before leaning closer to Zoe. “How would you like to live here?”

The smile on her face was like Christmas, her birthday and an EXO concert had come all at once. “Really?” she stammered in disbelief, dropping her pizza back into the box. As soon as you nodded, she threw herself in your lap, wrapping her little arms around your neck and squeezing. “Yes please! Can we really?”

Your gaze flickered to Baekhyun who was smirking like an idiot. “There are still some things that needed to be sorted out,” you explained, both to Zoe and Baekhyun. “But hopefully we can make this place our home.”

“This is so exciting,” Zoe cried, leaning back and planting a big kiss on your cheek before jumping off your lap. “Did you hear that Mr Snuggles?” she squealed to her teddy bear, snapping into her own little world of excitement.

Baekhyun turned on the blankets to face you entirely, licking the tips of his fingers slowly while he deliberated his words. “So you’ve decided,” he commented casually, raising his eyebrows at you. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

You sighed softly and brought your knees up so you could hug your legs. “I have to admit, it is an amazing environment for Zoe to grow up in and I can’t deprive her of such a good thing in her life just because I’m too stubborn to accept any help,” you explained, balancing your chin on your knees. You wished with every ounce of your heart that you could afford this place but it wasn’t possible on your current salary. Plus, Baekhyun should have the chance to provide for his daughter, in more ways than just taking her on the odd adventure here and there.

“I guess I’ll put down the deposit tomorrow and then we can sort out leaving your apartment as soon as possible,” Baekhyun started to plan, already pulling out his phone to make a note of something.

Reaching out a hand, you covered his phone with your palm and pulled his attention back to you. “I do have a condition though,” you quickly declared, returning your hand back to your leg. “I know I can’t afford the full rent on this place but at least let me give you what I’m already paying for my current apartment. It’s not as much but at least I’m not getting something for nothing, it wouldn’t feel right.”

Baekhyun frowned, already shaking his head. “I don’t want your money,” he protested, just like you knew he would.

“You may not want the money but I can’t let you pay for an apartment like this, at least not without giving you something in return. I can’t imagine you need it so put the money in a savings account for Zoe if she decides to go to university,” you suggested. If he didn’t take the money, you’d never be able to move: the guilt would be too hard to bear.

His hand moved towards you, his delicate fingers brushing a strand of hair off your face. “We’ll set it up,” he promised, his soft pink lips stretching wide in a huge smile.

For the second time in the last six months, you were going to be packing up your life and moving once again. And you’d only just finished unpacking!

###

After a long and stressful day, you had officially moved into your new apartment. From the moment you woke up, you had been on the go, whether it was packing the last of your belongings or loading everything up into the van Baekhyun had hired only to have to unload it on the other side of the city. However, the furniture had been delivered, your boxes had been placed in the rooms they would eventually be unpacked into and you were starting to settle in.

Curling up on your new sofa with a glass of wine in your hand, you leaned your head back against your soft cushions and finally allowed yourself to relax after the long day of moving. There was still a mountain of unpacking to do but it could wait until tomorrow. All you wanted to do right now was enjoy some peace and quiet while Baekhyun gave Zoe a bath. You would deal with everything else tomorrow.

“I’m not quite sure who took the actual bath,” Baekhyun commented, walking into your living room with damp hair falling over his face and wet splotches all across his dark green t-shirt. He flopped down on the other end of the sofa with a heavy sigh.

Laughing lightly, you passed him his glass of wine from the coffee table. “Maybe I should get her into swimming lessons,” you joked, ruffling his fluffy hair off his forehead.

Baekhyun playfully slapped your hand away, only to grip it tight before you could move away completely and keep it in his lap. “I have something to ask you and I need to do it now before I chicken out,” he told you in his soft voice, suddenly very serious.

You straightened up and turned to face him properly on the sofa. “What’s wrong?” you asked, looking up at his nervous expression.

He slowly pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth before releasing and licking his pink lips, driving you quietly crazy with worry. “I was wondering if you’d like to go on a date,” he murmured in his wine glass, his dark eyes flickering up to your face before dropping to his lap.

Lost for words, you froze.

Five years ago, you would be screaming with happiness at the prospect of a date with Baekhyun but things were different now … more complicated. Of course you still had feelings for your old best friend. He was your first love and those feelings you had for him when you were both in school weren’t lost now you were older. However, dating Baekhyun then and dating Baekhyun now were two very different things: there was so much more to consider than just your feelings and his.

Like Zoe for example.

“I want to say yes,” you started softly, spotting Baekhyun peek a little look at you as you finally filled the silence in the room. “But we have to think about Zoe. What if things don’t work out between us, then how do we raise her? What she has right now is good and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardise that,” you explained, dropping your head so your gaze was fixed on your hand wrapped around Baekhyun’s.

You wished things were different, that life was simpler and you and Baekhyun and Zoe could be one happy family. However, the reality was that sometimes even the best intentions weren’t enough. You didn’t want to risk your daughter’s happiness just to indulge your heart.

Baekhyun moved closer up the sofa, leaning to place his wine on the coffee table. Then his gentle fingers were on your neck, moving to tilt your head up and force you to look at his warm chocolatey eyes. “Do you love me?” he asked, like it was simplest question in the world. “And I know when you’re lying,” he added as a warning.

Biting down on your bottom lip, you guiltily nodded your head. “I always have,” you told him, turning your head to try and shake yourself from his grip. His eyes staring into yours were making your heart ache for him. “But there’s no guarantee that it’ll be enough.”

“Can’t you just give us a chance?” he whispered, his fingers brushing little strands of hair off your face so he could cradle your cheek with his soft touch. “It’s just dinner. One dinner where we let our hearts lead and if it doesn’t work, then we put our feelings to rest and just focus on Zoe,” he attempted to persuade you, his long thumb tracing the cheekbone under your eye.

You could feel your resolve dissolving under his touch, your reasons for saying no getting stuck on your tongue as you stared at the desperate look in his eyes. For every argument you came up as to why it was a bad idea, your brain thought of another to shoot it down. It was only a dinner, nothing more if you decided. Zoe didn’t even need to know about it.

Didn’t you owe it to your heart for one last chance?

“I can’t do it,” you murmured, closing your eyes to savour the moment of his soft touch on your skin. You heard him exhale sharply and opened your eyes, your heart dropping at the sadness written all over his face. “I don’t have a babysitter for Zoe,” you added on, pinching your lips together to hide your smile.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours and the sadness on his features was instantly replaced with relief. “You’re a lot of trouble, you know that?” he teased, letting his hand fall away from your face while the other squeezed yours tight. “At least we know where Zoe gets it from.” He reached around to his back pocket and pulled out his phone.

You tried to pull your hand out of his but he only held on tighter, his focus still on his phone. “I wasn’t joking about the babysitter Baekhyun,” you told him, leaning your head back on your sofa.

“Lucky for us, Zoe has eight uncles who each owe me a favour,” Baekhyun replied, tapping his phone and holding it up to his ear. Whoever he was calling was slow to answer. “Hey, do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?” he asked once they eventually picked up. There was another long pause and Zoe plodding into the living room with her hairbrush and Mr Snuggles in her hands.

Finally managing to get your hand back from Baekhyun, you quickly placed your wine on the table and had Zoe sit in front of you like she always did so you could brush through the knots in her hair and tie it off into two cute braids.

“Would you mind looking after Zoe for the evening?” Baekhyun asked whoever he was on the phone with.

Your daughter’s head snapped to the right, confused as to what her father was talking about and where she was apparently going. When she switched her gaze to you, you shrugged your shoulders and turned her head back so you could finish brushing her hair.

“Thanks dude, I’ll talk to you later,” Baekhyun finished with a big smile on his face as he hung up.

You looked over at him as he stowed his phone away in his back pocket, waiting for him to explain what he was planning with raised eyebrows. Zoe turned her head too, a confused look on her face.

“How would you like to spend tomorrow evening with Uncle Jongin and Uncle Sehun?” Baekhyun asked, laughing as Zoe’s face lit up with excitement.

There was a heartbeat of silence and then Zoe burst to life, jumping to her feet and screaming at the top of her lungs, dancing around the room and throwing Mr Snuggles up in the air. “Yes, yes, yes, a million yes!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into Baekhyun’s arms and squeezing him as tight as she could. “I’m going to get him to sign everything!” she screamed, clapping her hands against her cheeks and then pretending to faint back onto the sofa.

Baekhyun looked over at you with a shyer smile. “Is that ok with you?” he asked a little bit timidly.

You pointed to your collapsed daughter and laughed. “Like I can say no after that.”

“Then it’s a date!”

###

Why were you so nervous?

It was just dinner with Baekhyun, something you had done so many times before, and yet this time was completely nerve-wrecking. You sat in your car, staring at the steering wheel while you took long calming breaths to help quell the butterflies in your stomach. It made no sense to be nervous but you couldn’t stop the shakes in your hands. This dinner felt like the fork in the crossroads: if it went well, it could be the beginning of you and Baekhyun officially, but if it went bad, who knew how it would affect your family?

Taking one last long breath, you checked your makeup in the mirror and grabbed your bag and scarf off the passenger seat, opening the door and bracing yourself against the cold winter winds. You wrapped yourself as best as you could and hurried up the pavement, following the directions on your phone until you came to a warm-looking restaurant decorated with white flowers and fairy lights. Baekhyun said that he knew the owner so they could have a private dinner without worrying about the press or fans interrupting. You gave your name at the desk and followed the waitress up some stairs to a private dining area with the table set for two and a beautiful view of the night’s sky.

As soon as you entered the room, Baekhyun got up from the table and hurried to help you out of your coat, hooking it on the back of your chair, which he held out for you like a gentleman. “You look beautiful this evening,” he murmured in your ear as you sat down, his lips stealing a little kiss on your cheek before he moved to sit opposite you.

“Thank you,” you muttered, hiding your blush behind your scarf as you slowly unravelled it from around your neck. Tucking both your scarf and your bag behind your back, you smoothed down your dark blue velvet dress and tucked your hair behind your ears. “You look very handsome too,” you replied.

And boy did he! His hair was styled messy but cute. He was wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the hem tucked into a fitted pair of navy pinstripe trousers. He had filled out well since his school days, turning into the breath-taking man before you with a dazzling smile that reached his eyes and could stop traffic.

“I got you a pink lemonade because I knew you were driving,” he said politely, indicating to the pale pink drink you’d missed in front of you. How did he still remember this as one of your favourites? You would always order it when you were hanging out in the café around the corner from school.

Taking a small sip, you smiled as the bubbles fizzed on your tongue. “I can’t believe you still remember these little things,” you commented shyly, picking up the menu to distract you.

Baekhyun reached across the table and pulled the menu out of your grip. “Don’t worry, I already ordered for you,” he bragged lightly, smirking as he hid the menu under the table.

“Ooh the ultimate test,” you retorted, raising your eyebrows. “Let’s hope you get it right or I’m out of here.”

In response, Baekhyun just confidently took a sip of his water and smirked.

“How was Zoe when you left her?” you asked, taking a moment to worry about your daughter. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jongin and Sehun with Zoe. You didn’t trust Zoe with them. By now she’d probably got them to sign every part of her body.

Baekhyun laughed, getting out his phone to show you a photo of your daughter cradling a fluffy white puppy with the biggest smile on her face. “Sehun brought his dog Vivi over from home and Zoe instantly fell in love. When I left, the three of them were trying to teach VIvi to do tricks,” he laughed, leaving his phone on the table face down.

You threw your hands up in mock annoyance. “Great, now she’s going to come home and want a puppy!” you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

“Jongin said he would call if anything happened,” he assured you, reaching across the table to take your hand. He intertwined his long fingers with yours and squeezed softly, his thumb caressing along your knuckles with a touch that had your nerve endings on fire. “Tonight is about you and I,” he murmured softly, locking eyes with you until your insides turned all gooey.

You couldn’t help but smile, your happiness radiating through your body leaving you warm and fuzzy. “Finally a first date,” you replied, holding your glass up to clink with his.

While you waited for dinner to arrive, you talked about anything and everything. Now you had moved into the new apartment, you were excited to get back to your art in your new studio in the third bedroom. Jokingly, Baekhyun put in a bid on your first painting. When dinner was served, you and Baekhyun had moved onto the upcoming duet he was working on.

As the waitress placed different dishes in front of you, your eyes widened and your mouth began to water. Baekhyun had basically ordered a table of all your favourites: sweet potato fries, grilled halloumi salad, sticky barbeque pork ribs, and mini hamburgers. Rolling your sleeves up, you stared at all the delicious food in front of you, not knowing where to start.

“Let’s eat,” you cheered, clapping your hands together.

There wasn’t a lot of talking while you ate, the pair of you too busy shovelling food into your mouths to do anything but moan in delight. Every time your eyes met Baekhyun’s, you couldn’t help but laugh. Both of you were acting as if you hadn’t eaten food in days … and it was half-true. You hadn’t eaten food this good in weeks.

When the plates were nearly empty, you dropped your cutlery on your plate and leaned back your chair, hands cradling your now full stomach. Baekhyun looked up from his plate licking the sticky sauce off his fingers and chuckling under his breath. “I thought girls ate little and less on their first date,” he commented.

You poked your tongue out and screwed your face up. “It’s better you know now what you’re getting yourself involved with,” you retorted, leaning over with your napkin to wipe a little bit of sauce off the corner of Baekhyun’s lips that had smeared up his cheek.

“Oh I have a pretty good idea already,” he laughed, puffing his cheeks out cutely while you gently rubbed the smear off.

Wiping the last hint of sauce of his soft skin, you sat back in your seat and smiled. Despite all your previous reservations, you were actually enjoying your date with Baekhyun. It wasn’t like normal first dates that were filled with awkward silences and trying to make the best first impression possible. You felt relaxed, as if it was just another dinner were your best friend.

Now you both had finished dinner, Baekhyun reached back across the table for your hand, melting you with his soft and warm gaze. “Are you happy we did this?” he asked in his gentle melodious voice. To reiterate his point, he brushed his thumb across the back of your hand and left your skin tingling.

“It’s been a surprisingly nice evening,” you replied, looking around the room and settling on the night sky. There were no clouds fogging up the midnight azure, allowing the twinkle of the thousands of stars shining through like little sparkling fairy lights. It was the perfect evening.

Then a knock on the door disturbed it all.

Reacting to the knock, you loosened your hand from Baekhyun’s and focused on your drink, looking down at your lap while Baekhyun called out for them to come in.

It was a man Baekhyun seemed to recognise, probably the owner of the restaurant. “I don’t know how but there are a few members of the press outside who heard you were eating here,” he explained in a rushed voice, looking very distressed at the news he had to give.

As soon as he spoke, your heart plummeted to the ground and reality hit you like a tonne of bricks. This was the exact reason why you didn’t want to date Baekhyun … because he wasn’t just Baekhyun anymore. You wanted to believe that your relationship with him could exist simultaneously but still separate from his idol life. However, it seemed impossible, like you were asking too much of the world.

In amongst your internal panic, you heard Baekhyun’s worried voice asked if there were any back doors you could slip out of. Apparently there was a fire exit they could access from a door on the right halfway down the stairs.

Once you heard the door click shut, you looked up at Baekhyun and sighed heavily. His shoulders were tense, his hands pushing through his hair and pulling at the little tufts of dark hair. “I’m so sorry this happened,” he murmured softly, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching his face up.

The panicked feeling in your stomach bubbled up like a ticking bomb that was about to explode. “It’s always going to be like this, isn’t it?” you replied in a quiet voice, your hands clenched together in a white-knuckled fist. “No matter how private we try to be, you are an idol and this is the unfortunate side of your life.” There would always be people who wanted to report a story or a scandal and if you were in a relationship with Baekhyun, very little of your life - and Zoe’s too - would be private.

“Why do you sound so sad when you say that?” he asked in a shaky voice, peering up at you with a worried expression that broke your heart straight down the middle.

The love you felt for this man had stayed with you for five years but your love for your daughter trumped any and every other love in your life. She was your world and the only thing that mattered to you, even above your own happiness, was your daughter. You would even crush your own heart for her to have the chance at a normal and happy life.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you stuttered quietly, although your voice seemed to echo around the silent room. Saying the words out loud, tears began to gather in the corners of your eyes, stinging until they eventually fell and streamed down your face.

When you stole a glance up from your lap at Baekhyun, you saw the hurt expression on his face and had to pinch your lips together hard to stop the sobs from breaking out of your chest. He was looking at you in disbelief, like he couldn’t believe the words were coming out of your mouth. “I th-thought we were having a good time?” he asked, his usually happy voice now numb and monotonous.

“It was a lovely dinner,” you replied once you had regained a little bit of control over your emotions. “But the bubble has popped and this is our reality, hiding in dark corners and running out the back door. It’s not exactly the relationship that I want to have.” Your tears were falling down your faces like little waterfalls but you tried your hardest for your tears to be silent.

Baekhyun got up slightly from his seat, reaching over to pick your hand up from your lap and wrap his long fingers around the fist your hand was locked in. “I wish I could change things and make it easier but it comes with being an idol,” he tried to reason, his caressing touch stirring your feelings and making your tears fall harder.

You sniffed loudly, finally reaching up with your spare hand to wipe your wet cheeks. “But I’m not an idol,” you told him, your voice thick with emotion as the first sob hiccupped in your chest. “I’m sorry Baekhyun but I can’t do this.” Pulling your hand away from his gentle touch, you stumbled to your feet and started pushing your arms into your coat. The air in the room was suddenly hard to breathe and you knew you needed to get out of there.

Still sat at the table, Baekhyun propped his head up on the table with his elbows, his fingers buried in his messy hair. “Please don’t leave,” he pleaded, the words cracking with emotion as he spoke. “I love you so much, please don’t leave. I don’t want to lose you.”

His eyes found yours and the tears shining in his cemented your feet to the spot. A lump formed in your throat and you couldn’t speak or move, stuck just staring at the man you loved while your heart shattered more and more.

Baekhyun slowly stood up to face you, his hands tracing his touch down your arms until it found your hands. “I will do anything to keep you here in my arms. I only just got you back in my life. I can’t watch you walk out of it again.”

“You’ll still be able to see Zoe whenever you want,” you choked out between your silent sobs.

He shook his head, pulling you an inch closer so you could feel his hot breath fan out around your face. “I’m not talking about Zoe. I’m talking about you, about us.” He looked down at your hands wrapped around his. “I’m talking about this. I would do anything to keep you with me like this.”

Your bottom lip started to quiver. “Are you going to give up EXO?” you whimpered, pulling your hands out of his grip and taking a cautious step back.

That was the root of the problem, wasn’t it? You had to move apartments because he was an idol. You and Zoe were harassed on the streets because he was a member of EXO. You even had to keep your daughter a secret because Baekhyun was training to be an idol. Life would be perfect if Baekhyun wasn’t famous. You’d be a proper family if he wasn’t.

Despite your wishes though, he was Baekhyun of EXO … and his hesitation to answer told you everything you needed to know.

“We gave it a try but we can never have a normal relationship and that’s the all I want. We can never go on long walks along the river or go to the cinema and not watch the movie, not without people taking photographs and posting articles detailing private parts of our lives.” By now, your cheeks were streaked with tears and your chest heaved from crying, but still you moved to leave, buttoning up your coat with shaky fingers.

“You will always be Baekhyun of EXO first and that’s ok, but I can’t live my life like this,” you stammered, your voice breaking along with your heart. “I don’t want a relationship where I have to hide and be your dirty little secret that you sneak out the back door when no one’s looking.” You grabbed your scarf, frantically wrapping it around your neck as fast as you could. You just wanted to get out of there.

Meanwhile Baekhyun had stumbled back to his seat, his expression numb as he watched you prepare to leave.

Huffing in frustration at your scarf, you left it hanging lopsided and flipped your hair away from your face. “It’s hard enough keeping Zoe’s life normal with you as her father but with this, we only complicate it more. The person who will be hurt most by this mess in our lives is Zoe.” You wished he would understand and let you go.

However, he dropped his head for a second and ran his hands through his hair, before looking back up at you with a spark of fire in his eyes that told you he wasn’t going to give up easily. He threw himself to his feet, taking long strides towards you. His lithe hand reached up to cup your face, his fingers brushing the tears away. “Do you love me?” he asked in a low voice.

With his grip on your chin, there was nowhere to look but at his dark, tormented swirls of chocolate and caramel. Usually his intense stare would have you squirming on the spot, butterflies churning in your stomach. Now his stare only burned you and made your heart’s cracks inch deeper.

“I can’t,” you whimpered pathetically, squeezing your eyes shut so you didn’t have to watch his heart break right in front of you. Your own heartbreak was hard enough.

His hot breath blew out across your cheeks, making you gulp nervously at how close he was. Then suddenly his lips were on yours and all you could taste was salty tears – yours or his, you didn’t know. The kiss was desperate, each move begging you to stay with Baekhyun, to work it all out and face it together.

Your walls started to crumble and you started to believe in your wishful thinking … until your hands found his chest and sent him stumbling back slightly.

“I don’t love you Baekhyun,” you confessed on the spot, lying through your teeth. You hated yourself as soon as you said it, but your brain told you that the lie would help in the long run. This way he could get over you quickly and carry on with his life. It was for the best.

Raising your eyes off the floor, you saw Baekhyun on the brink, tears glistening in his eyes, lips pinched together like he was holding something in. The damage had been done, the hurt written all over his face and all your fault.

Your heart felt like it was going to crumble, the silence in the air choking you. It hurt to leave him like this but it would hurt even more if you stayed. You had to go.

“I’ll pick Zoe up in the morning,” you whispered, scared that any louder and you’d lose your last shred of composure and simply break down. And then you grabbed your bag and left, your heart cracking a little bit more with each step you took away from the only man you will ever love but could never be with.

Your final secret.

[masterlist]

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