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soperatic · 1 month

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seven minutes (in hell) with you

chapter three

When Taehyung takes his first step into his future home, he is hit with a powerful and painful wave of nostalgia.

Jeongguk had Hoseok text Taehyung to come and see the apartment that he’d be moving into before they needed to sign the lease and he hastily agreed. He isn’t that interested in checking the place out, already knowing that hundreds of students must have their eyes set on the place like vultures on dead meat. Paradise apartments are known for being pretty and well-managed but he supposes it’ll look good if people saw him going to Jeongguk’s place. Legitimize this newly sprung-on relationship some more.

So he got ready, moved his check-in date to an earlier time and had his mom’s assistant put some things on hold for him for later. He dons his pleated white pants, a cream colored shirt and a yellow sweater vest. Pearls on his wrist and neck along with a delicate gold chain with a flower pendant. His hair looked messy enough where his curls fell naturally over his forehead. Looking perfect as always.

But his peaceful morning turned rough fast with some lovely texts from Doeun.

Taehyung played nicely, despite wanting to rip the little shit’s head off by reaching through his phone speaker. He’s constantly popping up at the worst fucking times. Just when Taehyung thinks he can pull his head up out of the water to breathe, Doeun is tugging him back down, filling his lungs with the liquid instead.

doeun

i need to see you right now

taehyung

i have class in an hour

doeun

more than enough time then

He curls his fingers into his palm, trying not to lose his shit so early in the morning.

Doeun isn’t going to leave him alone that easily. It'll take a crowbar to wrench that leech off him but that’s only if he does it himself. Taehyung needs someone that can take him down.

He’s hoping that Jeongguk can help.

taehyung

look, i’m busy

i can only see you after class

besides, we can’t be doing that anymore.

He has Jae now. He doesn’t need Taehyung. He shouldn’t need him.

doeun

i know that. why do you think we haven’t done it in a month?

don’t try to be smart with me taehyung

you’re pretty so let’s just stick with that okay?

2:30

in my car

Taehyung doesn’t respond. He wants to chuck his phone out the window and watch it get run over by a semi-truck then change his name and hide for the rest of his life. He’s never hated someone this much until now. A simple text can flip his mood to a completely different end of the spectrum. The sheer sight of the guy catapults him into the heaviest state of anxiety.

He was such an idiot this summer. A careless idiot with no idea how much he’d fuck things up later on, only caring about sex and fun. Now it feels like everyone else is picking up after his mess.

But Taehyung doesn’t know what else he can do to get Doeun to lay off. Every time he meets up with him, there’s another thing he has to do. It’s just a constant cycle of favors and he’s completely fed up with it. He has to get Jeongguk to help. Maybe intimidate him or something since he’s got some muscle now. His dad could also help since he’s a law professor and all. Something, literally anything, would be of great help.

A ten minute drive later and Taehyung is dropped outside the building which stands tall and luxurious, similar to most modern highrise apartments in Seoul with clean windows and white exteriors. The parking garage starts on the ground floor where people park their fancy cars and motorbikes before going further underground. Taehyung thinks he spots Jeongguk’s Mercedes among the slew of Porsches and Audis. It leads into the main lobby where people come in by punching a unique code. Jeongguk did him the favor of texting it to him.

0613. The door unlocks and Taehyung enters the lobby. It’s just as majestic as he’d imagined, with marble floors and pillars. There’s no one at the front desk, just an empty hall with some elevators and a door for stairs. The walls are stark white and the floors are made of pristine black and white tiles laid out in a simple pattern. A map is hung on the wall which tells him about all the amenities offered in the building. The air smelled a little lemony from cleaning products. There’s a rec room and an indoor pool along with a spa and a study room down the hall for students to use. If Taehyung listened closely, he could hear people giggling in said rooms.

Quickly, he takes the elevator and gets onto the 2nd floor where Jeongguk’s apartment is. The elevator is nice, cold and empty. There’s a poster hanging on the left wall with phone numbers for the police and a sexual assault help line. The right side is a cheesy poster about peer pressure. It makes Taehyung snort to himself.

As much as you try to market things like alcohol and drugs as bad things to students, the more inclined they are to try them. Turns them curious.

When the door opens, he sees an empty hallway with rooms on either side. Some have placemats, some have doors with whiteboards or funny signs. Someone even hung a poster of IU as an angel on their door. But Jeongguk’s door is completely bare. Just a simple dark gray placemat outside and not a single drop of personality. Pretty much like him.

Taehyung rings the doorbell once and knocks, practicing his brightest smile to greet his brand new boyfriend. There’s not a single soul out here but who knows, maybe they’re staring at them through the peephole or hiding behind walls to study them. He wouldn’t be surprised if at least one person was tracking his every move ever since those pictures came out.

The door swings open a few seconds later and reveals a full mouthed Jeongguk chewing.

“Morning baby,” Taehyung grins and holds up a warm americano he picked up from the cafe in the lobby of his hotel. His body leans perfectly on the door frame, and his legs cross over delicately. “Had breakfast yet?”

Jeongguk looks back at him indifferently for a moment before rolling his eyes and ignoring both his greeting and his question, stepping to the side to let Taehyung in.

“You’re twenty minutes late.”

Jeongguk looks rather funny in the mornings. He’s always hated waking up early so his hair is still messy and his eyes bleary but his black oversized Balenciaga t-shirt and wide legged jeans really complete the disheveled emo-hobo gone chic core he’s got going on. His cologne wafts over to Taehyung, smells expensive and clean with notes of cotton and violets. Doesn’t fit his aesthetic but it strangely fits him. His eyelids are low and his lips are lighter and a little cracked without the slight tinted lip balm he always uses.

“It’s called being fashionably late, my darling,” he coos. Jeongguk snatches the drink from his hands with a low grumble and shuts the door behind him. When the self-lock clicks shut, Taehyung’s nice demeanor fades. “Okay, we really need to work on your acting skills.”

“No one is out right now.” Jeongguk turns his back to him, shaking out his hair.

“Someone could’ve been listening through the door,” he argues. “You’re such a fucking dumbass sometimes.” Taehyung’s head shakes. Jeongguk is way too lax about this entire thing!

He toes his shoes off and when he inhales he is hit in the stomach with something familiar that makes him pause. The apartment smells like those specific candles, the handmade ones you buy at expensive grocery stores made from the purest wax and real fragrance.

The kind that Jeongguk’s mother always used to buy.

His house always smelled like this fucking candle. There seemed to be one in every corner, lit with a crackling wick and scenting each room completely in its saturated, soft, flowery goodness.

Taehyung tries to swallow down bitter saliva when his brain throws a slew of memories at him like their back-to-back sleepovers where he’d be chasing Jeongguk around in his backyard while playing tag or going diving for “treasure” in his pool during the summers. Matcha cookies and pork grilled to perfection by Jeongguk’s dad after a long day in the water. He remembers movie nights on the floor of Jeongguk’s bedroom, turtle chips and cheese balls in the middle of the night, playing on each other’s DS for hours on end and sleeping next to each other on his bed until Taehyung would eventually give in and throw his arms around the younger because he needs to hold something to fall asleep.

It’s amazing how a scent can trigger such painfully sweet memories.

He shakes his head and looks to his side by the entrance. There’s a small shoe rack with pairs stacked neatly. Taehyung sets his loafers down next to a pair of chunky Prada boots then looks up at the younger, hoping that the painful twinges he’s currently experiencing aren’t obvious by his expression.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, seated at the counter where barstools are lined underneath. He’s got a bowl of cereal and cut fruit laid out next to the to-go coffee cup. “Look, I don’t have time for your bullshit right now. I have class in a bit, I have to finish breakfast and we still need to drive to the housing office to sign the lease so you can move in before the line gets too long. So just look around or do whatever you have to do and quickly,” he waves him off, taking a bite of his corn flakes.

Ideally, he could walk away after getting scolded like an annoying child but no, Taehyung is not letting him get away with that. No one speaks to him this way.

“Only if you give me a tour.” His arms cross over his chest defiantly, raising a single eyebrow. Slowly, Jeongguk turns his head to his gaze and if looks could kill, Taehyung would be buried six feet under.

“Do your legs not work or something? Tour it yourself.”

He ignores the sting in his chest. “As a future rent payer, I demand a tour.” He balances on the balls of his feet, looking oh-so innocent with the straw of his half-empty watermelon juice between his pink lips. “It’s the least you could do for me after I saved your ass back there with Jae.”

It’s not like he really needs a tour but he needs to establish the relationship here. Or, re-establish. Taehyung is older (born a year before in December) and he came up with this entire idea of fake dating so Jeongguk, being the younger one, should be grateful and stop being a little shit by giving him a tour. Paying him back and all that, you know?

His eyes flash with anger. “I didn’t ask for–” he stops himself and clenches his eyes shut for a moment before letting out a pinched, shaky exhale. “Fine, I’ll give you a stupid fucking tour.” Jeongguk glares at him.

Although Taehyung is so curious as to what he was going to say. You didn’t ask for what?

Didn’t ask to be in a fake relationship with me?

Jeongguk gets up, taking his bowl in his hand, and mutters under his breath about wanting to end it all before starting.“This is the kitchen,” he lists in a monotone, pointing to the open kitchen with rustic wood cabinets and cream marble countertops. There’s a rice cooker, air fryer and a French press lined against the gray tile backsplash lit up by white LED lights under the cabinets but besides that, spotless. No pans on the induction stove, not even a mug in the sink. A microwave above the oven and right next to that is an impressively large fridge. There’s that offensive lit candle next to the sink across the stove. Since there’s no dining table, the counter raised above the sink has ample eating space and barstools lined underneath the extended counter for eating space.

Across from there is a small open living room with a window facing the street and another candle on the coffee table, unlit this time.

“Couch, fake plant, tv, coffee table,” he points to each for a second before moving on, tone so miserable Taehyung genuinely enjoys it. .

He notes the coffee brown couch and the matching wood grain coffee table with a tv remote, some more unlit candles, a pack of cards and an airpod case charging. Across from that is a regular sized TV on top of a stand and a fake fern next to it.

Under the coffee table are various wicker and cloth baskets with things inside that Taehyung has yet to learn about. The entertainment stand has a Playstation and a few games and movies lined neatly in the storage cabinets.

There are two hallways on either side of the kitchen. Jeongguk points to the left one where a closed room lies at the end. “My bedroom.” There’s another door closer to the kitchen but on the adjacent wall of the left hallway. “In-unit washer and dryer. Your room will be on the right side of the kitchen.”

So we’ll be divided? Meaning Taehyung will live in his own world in his own room without even thinking about Jeongguk? Not that he gives a shit, but how was this even considered for him and Jae, a couple supposedly living together?

Jeongguk points to the right hallway where there’s a room at the end of the hall and another one on the wall. He gestures for Taehyung to walk behind him. Begrudgingly, he does so.

“You know, the lack of decoration in here is giving you serious serial killer vibes.” The pale white is making him sick. “Couldn’t you have hung up a poster or a polaroid of your friends? It’s like you have no personality.” Taehyung points a finger to the bare drywall, dragging it along the prickly walls. He wonders what happened to the old Jeongguk who used to get a new obsession every week, from different girl groups to a new anime.

“I’ll buy some later.” Jeongguk waves off, shoveling more soggy cereal to his lips. “And here is your room.”

The doorknob untwists and Jeongguk moves out of the way, pressing his back to the adjacent wall so he can eat in peace.

Taehyung steps in. It's a college apartment so it comes furnished with a bed and a mattress, a nightstand, a chair and a desk. There’s an en suite bathroom and a walk-in closet that are decent in size. His walls are the same eggshell white with an AC vent and overhead lights hanging in a set of four. This is the only room devoid of that smell from the candles and Taehyung takes a deep breath in to clear his mind.

He tries to visualize it. His sage green sheets and cream pillows. Posters and art pieces hung on the wall, pictures of his friends littered across. He could get a calendar and tape it above his desk and by organizers for his school stuff and keep his tennis gear in a corner. Maybe buy a space heater in the winter so his room can become the ultimate cabin when it’s snowing outside.

This will work. Sure, it’s nothing compared to the size of his room at Josun Palace but he doesn’t need much.

At the very least, it’s a home. It’s something he can come back to, a constant. Not a lifeless hotel room nor will it require a heavy drive through Seoul traffic. It’s his own little spot for him at school, a place where he can be himself unapologetically.

He turns around to find Jeongguk now leaning against the frame, chugging the last of his milk so the veins in his neck and Adam’s apple move. His neck bends back and he swallows the last of his breakfast with spots of creamy white on his lips before wiping it off with the back of his hand. Quirking a brow, he waits for Taehyung’s opinion on the place. Taehyung’s heart weirdly speeds up for a moment.

“I like it,” he nods. Jeongguk’s hand dangles by his thigh and Taehyung can see a silver Rolex around his wrist.

“Perfect. Let’s go to the housing office then.” Jeongguk nods to the kitchen and turns around before Taehyung even takes his first step, giving him a few of his back and the back of his head. Curls swishing with his movement, shining in the streams of light coming in all directions.

He gets this inexplicable urge to run his fingers through it but Taehyung pushes it down the moment it pops up.

On the way out there’s another unmentioned closet in the hallway just before the main kitchen/living room area that Taehyung pulls open curiously which Jeongguk doesn’t notice. Part of him was expecting something crazy like for it to be his sex dungeon or weapon storage for when the apocalypse finally happens. All he finds is a vacuum, a broom and a Swiffer along with some cleaning products and refill packs.

Boring. He closes it with a disappointed pout but it raises a question for Taehyung.

“By the way, how often does your maid come by?” He stops closer to the younger than before who sits and starts on his bowl of apples. “And what about a personal chef or do you just order in every time?”

Since Paradise has a higher rent compared to dorms or commuting from home, Taehyung assumed Jeongguk would be living life similar to his life in Gangnam: with all of his amenities provided for him. That’s how they grew up after all. Never having to lift a finger without someone rushing to help. Most of the people they know have never scrubbed a dish or vacuumed the floor in their entire life.

Taehyung swears he sees the side of Jeongguk’s cheek perk up almost fondly at his question.

“Well, you’re looking at my personal maid and chef,” his finger presses to his chest. “Although I hate to break it to you, I only work for Mr. Jeon.” Jeongguk fakes an awkward wince to go along with his bit. “Sorry about that.”

Taehyung’s fuse begins to shorten at the taunt. “You’re not hiring any helpers?”

He’s shocked. It’s not like his parents don’t have the money for it. His mother’s makeup company couldn’t be doing better. His dad got tenure at SNU after only three years since leaving a very prestigious law firm. They should be bathing in cash. He should be sneezing into ₩500 bills instead of tissues.

But Jeongguk just scoffs at him like he’s a stupid little child. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment, I think I can handle taking care of it and myself,” he plops one of the apple slices into his mouth and chews with his mouth closed politely. “You can hire them if you want but they should only worry about you and your shit.”

Does he think Taehyung is not capable of cleaning and cooking for himself? “I can handle this on my own too, you know,” he argues back. Taehyung isn’t an idiot. How hard must this be anyways? He’s an adult and millions of people live alone. Yoongi and Jimin survive. “I won’t hire one if you aren’t,” he declares, only to prove a point.

Although his mother would be particularly proud of this statement, Taehyung doesn’t know much about how to take care of an apartment or cook anything other than instant ramen.

But like he said, the internet is free so he’ll pick it up in no time and not make a fool of himself in front of Jeongguk.

“Fine with me.” Jeongguk shrugs. A moment of silence lulls the conversation. Jeongguk pops another apple in his mouth and his crunching breaks the silence in the air. Taehyung looks out the window to take his mind off the noise, studying the various people walking along the lined path to the bus stop while bike riders occupy the right lane. Then he looks at that stupid candle briefly before jumping back to the wicker baskets shelved under the coffee table.

One has controllers, remotes, four karaoke mics and extra batteries while the other has lighters, coasters and a pack of disinfecting wipes.

What are those mics for? Jeongguk hates karaoke. Taehyung used to have to drag him to the booths and force an IU or Red Velvet song on him. Now he does it on his own?

Who are you and what have you done with my Jeongguk?

Taehyung almost asks when he turns to look back at him but he stops when their gazes meet.

There’s apprehension in Jeongguk’s eyes. As if the cold front he’s been displaying ever since the party cracks in the middle just a bit, revealing that familiar pensive look. He watches Taehyung carefully from where he sits, eyes dancing all over his body and face, and it drives him insane as much as it causes all of his muscles to stiffen.

“Spit it out,” Taehyung scoffs, holding a hand out so he can have a piece of apple too.

Jeongguk places one in his hand softly, wet and cold. “Do you really want to do this? Like, live with me of all people?”

There was once a time when Taehyung and Jeongguk made plans to buy a vacation home together. Back when his parents first divorced and he was sad, Jeongguk promised to make him happy by buying him a home in the nicest place possible so they could escape there whenever they were sad. Taehyung perked up a little at that. A spot for him and his best friend where nothing else mattered but them. Where they could run away from all of the demands of their current life and just have fun.

When you’re 8, empty promises like that mean so much.

And now, here they are. Jeongguk is renting an apartment at their university and Taehyung gets to live here even though he wasn’t the first choice. That happy shiny dream of living together was smashed into smithereens a while ago and now it feels like the perfect opportunity to piece it back together slowly. A second chance.

Would eight-year-old Taehyung be happy with how things turned out? Would he be happy once he learned what he did to Jeongguk five years later?

“There’s no backing out now, Jeon.” His voice comes out gruffer than he would like. He needs to push out that guilty feeling building up in his chest. He did it. There’s no going back. “Had I known someone else with an empty room I could take, I would’ve said their name instead of yours but I don’t. This has nothing to do with our past. I don’t care about it so you shouldn’t either, okay?”

It’s a lie. A big fat fucking lie.

Not a day goes by where he wishes he could switch back to how they used to be or go back in time to stop himself from ending everything but he doesn’t know how and there’s nothing he can do about it. There were nights when he wondered what Jeongguk was doing, old inside jokes reappearing that make him laugh inexplicably but no one would get, every time he saw matcha cookies and played Mario Kart. Taehyung realized how his childhood was interwoven with Jeongguk’s where every warm memory brought up a pair of curiously wide eyes and a soft laugh.

But what can he do? There’s no way Jeongguk would actually want him back in his life again, especially now that he’s found better friends.

And he’s gotten used to life without Jeongguk, filling the empty canyon inside of his heart with other things and people in hopes that they would feel somewhat similar. All of their closeness has melted away, leaving the awkwardness and nothing else.

The apple in his hand weighs heavy. Taehyung takes a bite and the cold sweetness meets his teeth, juices flooding his mouth. It tastes good but there is the onset of regret flooding his system that spoils it.

Jeongguk’s gaze hardens quickly. That momentary vulnerability that showed for just a few seconds is gone and replaced with his emotionless stare and set eyebrows. Gone, poof, disappeared, and he’s back to being an impenetrable wall. He turns to the side and swallows shakily.

“Fine, I won’t.” He snatches his bowl closer to him and gets up from the stool. “The housing center opened about 30 minutes ago so there shouldn’t be too much of a line. I just need to grab my stuff first and then we’ll go.” He’s detached when he talks, emotionless and quiet.

Jeongguk is already walking away before Taehyung can respond. His body retreats back to his room at the end of the hall and when the door shuts, the silence rings in Taehyung’s ear.

Now it’s just him and the scent of that fucking candle.

He shakes his head and walks over to the trash can to dispose of his plastic cup. Taehyung’s mind runs a mile a minute. Doeun, tennis team, Jimin and Yoongi, Instagram, Jeongguk, school, his followers, his mom and step-dad. How much longer can he juggle everything on his own?

The facade of perfect It-Boy Kim Taehyung that he’s been building since his first tabloid appearance will shatter the moment he’s weak and everyone comes to know about his fake relationship and about what happened with Doeun.

Taehyung doesn’t want to wait for that day. Everything he does is all part of a plan. Meticulously, thought out after yesterday. He’s going to fake date Jeongguk, get Doeun off his back, play a great season of tennis, pass his classes and hang out with his friends and family all in one go. He just has to work a bit harder at it. That’s all.

And more importantly, he has to stop thinking about his past with Jeongguk. It’s dead, over, caputze.

The trash bin automatically closes shut and he walks away but not before blowing the flickering candle flame that’s been poisoning his mind out.

⍟⍟⍟

“Okay, your car is really fucking nice.”

Taehyung practically melts into the buttery black leather seats like he’s becoming one with the damn thing, feeling the warmers do wonders on his frozen skin thanks to the AC being on full blast at the housing office. He’s seen Jeongguk’s car before, in the parking lot or on his driveway, but he has never been in it nor has he ever seen Jeongguk drive it before.

And both were quite the sight.

He has color changing LED lights to illuminate the seats and armrests, a touch-screen display and multiple events along with a button gear shift. Then there’s the Spiderman vanilla-scented car freshener hanging on the rearview mirror. Typical Jeongguk.

Jeongguk scoffs. “Didn’t think you’d actually like it. But just to let you know, your opinion means fuck all to me .” He presses the R shift and backs out with one hand.

Taehyung rolls his eyes and tries to focus on what he’s doing rather than his words.

Oh right, Jeongguk driving. Yes, yeah, well, his hands when he’s driving are truly something else to look at. His knuckles are knobby and wide with his fingers are maybe a centimeter shorter than Taehyung’s. But the tendons and veins that become more prominent at the smallest thing are…nice to stare at. Along with the subtle flex of the muscles in his forearms that ripple whenever the steering wheel is turned.

But that’s totally normal. Taehyung’s hands and arms do the same thing (sort of) so if his brain could stop thirsting over the bare minimum, that would be great.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Taehyung asks, clearing his throat and pressing more into the interior of his seat.

“I don’t know. Hobi calls it the Douchebag Mobile so,” he shrugs, changing gears and getting out of the housing offices’ parking lot.

Thankfully, there was no one there so Taehyung signed his lease and got out before anyone could see them and they had to pretend by holding hands or some other form of PDA . His phone had most of his bank information and now he just has to send the check and move in. He texts his mother’s assistant to drop off the stuff today.

“He was so right for that,” Taehyung bites his lip so he doesn’t let out a smile. “Most fuckboys tend to get these kinds of cars. You’re one perm away from sliding into someone’s DMs, asking for nudes, barely flirting with them and then having godawful selfish sex before completely ghosting them.”

“I��m not a fuckboy,” he presses, sending a small glare his way.

Jeongguk goes onto the main road. The main parking structure is only two minutes away so they’ll have ample time to walk to their classes with their friends.

Taehyung snorts. “Relax, you’re in a relationship so no one will suspect you of such treachery.”

Jeongguk has always been more of the relationship type from Taehyung’s memory. There has yet to be a rumor about him shamelessly flirting with anyone or hooking up with people. Then again, no one batted an eye when he started dating Jae.

“Whatever.”

The radio plays way too softly in the background so Taehyung can barely hear the cheesy American pop song that’ll take his mind off of everything that blurs his brain completely.

He opts to look outside instead. There’s a group of first-year girls who walk in clusters, gabbing excitedly about something while one girl lingers in the back all alone. In the bike lane, a boy rides a hoverboard decked out in some downright disrespectfully ugly hypebeast clothing (Hoseok would die on the inside).

Today is Tuesday and it’s one of Taehyung’s longer days of classes and discussions. Tuesdays and Thursdays tend to be his dead days, especially when games are beginning, but thankfully he doesn’t have much Monday, Wednesday and Friday. He wonders what Jeongguk’s schedule is like so they can go back to the apartment together. Hopefully they coincide so Taehyung doesn’t have to get a cab back or ask Yoongi to drive him.

His fingers tap on his knees the entire time, begging for something, literally anything, to be interesting enough for the final minutes of this already short drive until Taehyung bites the bullet and opens his mouth.

“So,” Taehyung stretches, “how’s your sister?” He decides to ask out of sheer curiosity.

Jihyo graduated last year and got into a great law school in Seoul. The same one their father went to. Growing up as an only child at first, Taehyung always relied on Jihyo. She was sweet and caring and loving so he was really proud to hear about her success post-grad.

Jeongguk’s teeth tease the skin of his bottom lip. “Fine.” His tone is clipped.

“Just fine?”

Taehyung doesn’t get why he’s pushing a stick up his ass. He’s known Jeongguk’s sister almost his entire life. They went to tennis camp together, she led the girl’s tennis team and even recommended Taehyung as captain.

For fuck sake, she used to put bright red lipstick and horrendous green eyeshadow on both of them whenever they got too loud as punishment. There’s no reason to get all defensive over her.

“She’s taking the semester off before starting law school. She just came back from Milan last week.”

He feels some of the icy tension begin to melt at the briefest drop of information, which is good. So he prods further. “Cool, cool. And your parents?”

Jeongguk inhales sharply, turning his head to glare at Taehyung. “Kim,” he warns and the budding lightness is immediately crushed by the heavy boulder that Jeongguk drops on the conversation.

“What? Am I not allowed to ask questions?” Taehyung interrupts. His shoulders rise up in defense mode.

So I can ask about his sister but not his parents? What kind of backwards logic is that?

“I know you don’t actually give a fuck about my family.” He spits out harshly, turning into the parking structure to the security machine. “So don’t force out these stupid questions. I’m not interested in small talk with you.”

The car slowly stops and he presses a button on the side panel to lower his window. Jeongguk’s left hand goes to the center console to pull out a tag for the machine to scan.

Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest, curling into himself some more to block out Jeongguk’s coarse words. Each step he takes feels incorrect, like he’s striking a nerve, so now Taehyung has to play this silly little guessing game to see what topics are okay and what topics will make Jeongguk get all bitchy.

This is about to be three months of straight-up torture, he thinks to himself. Taehyung leans his head back against the headrest and curiously turns to look at Jeongguk.

He’s wearing a short sleeve so when he puts weight on his right arm while leaning forward, his muscles strain and flex. Taehyung’s eyes fall on it, watching as the size of his forearm increases, veins mapping out the most beautiful pattern right in front of his eyes and Taehyung is gaping like he was invited front-row to watch Monet paint the water lilies. His mouth goes completely dry.

Taehyung briefly wonders how those muscles would feel under his hand. If he reached out and pressed down on the veins, what would Jeongguk do?

But he snaps out of it. They’re fighting.

And Jeongguk doesn’t like him.

“You know, I would really like it if you’d stop making assumptions about what I want or care about, please and thank you,” he manages to retort back, shaking the image of his sexy arm out of his head.

The machine beeps and the clearance bar lifts to let his car through. Jeongguk rolls the window back up so humid air doesn’t get inside before scoffing loudly.

“So you’re telling me you do care?”

He was just trying to break the awkward ice with some small talk but apparently that word does not exist in Jeongguk’s brain.

“Well, I–”

Jeongguk cuts in. “You don’t. You don’t even like me and I don’t like you either. So save your words for someone else.” His words cut deep like a sharp knife into Taehyung’s side.

“God, you are insufferable, you know that? How does anyone have a conversation with you?” His body shifts as the car turns into the structure, first floor, slot number 901.

“Me? I can talk with the people I like with no problem but with you? If someone could measure my dislike for even breathing the same air as you, it would be in the billions.”

Taehyung was glad that the car was moving before because he was gifted the luxury of not having Jeongguk’s eyes on him. But when he parks the car and turns to look at him, making his jab hit harder with challenging, low-set eyes, it sparks a lick of flame in his stomach.

Like an idiot, he presses the button on his belt buckle, freeing his body from the restraint so he can lean closer to the other.

“Well, mine would be in the trillions.”

“Mine would be infinite.” His jawline ticks and dear god, that is one nice fucking jawline.

Taehyung splutters. “You wouldn’t be able to calculate mine because it’s so big and-and imcountable.” He slips up.

Jeongguk smirks, clicking his own belt free. “Yeah, imcountable.” He knows he won that one, fucker. The confidence radiates off of him like rays off the sun.

Taehyung is so terribly floored, not just by the slight decrease in space but also because Jeongguk is fighting back. When they were younger, he would always fall short, lose, and then pout about it for a little before letting it go. Taehyung always won these short little back-and-forth battles but now, he’s holding his own.

He’s fighting back. He’s gotten older now, no longer the trailing little boy that clung to his Dad’s legs whenever he met new people. Jeongguk has some sureness in his stance and less of an insecure gleam tugging his face down.

And it’s kind of…. hot.

Taehyung hates that he’s finding the smallest thing attractive about a guy who just claimed he hates even breathing the same air as him but he can’t help it. There’s growth and it’s led to making that shy boy into a man. A very sexy, intimidating man that can keep up with his petty bullshit.

He opens his mouth to taunt further, see if Jeongguk can meet his friendly fire with some of his own, but then there’s a rough tap on Jeongguk’s window and both him and Taehyung jump at the sound.

The window reveals none other than Seokjin with a teasing glint in his usually soft eyes.

“Are you going to get out or do I need to give you two lovebirds some private time?”

Taehyung stares back at him like a deer in headlights. He swears his heart has leaped up to his damn esophagus, pounding like anything despite literally nothing happening. It’s as if all coherent, logical thought has completely evaporated from his mind and he’s being controlled by some exterior thirsty force that thinks everything a man he supposedly despises does is sexy.

It’s probably just touch starvation. Let’s go with that.

His fingers scramble to press the unlock button on his door, hauling his bag up and getting out of that vanilla-scented hellscape before Jeongguk can say anything else. Taehyung is welcomed by fresh air and the sight of their four other friends standing around Jeongguk’s parked car with giddy little smiles on their faces.

“Morning, Romeo,” Jimin teases. “You and Juliet have a rough start?” The others giggle and Taehyung shoves his hands into his pockets so he doesn’t thwack the blonde on the forehead.

“Don’t even start with me, Park,” he warns, tugging his bag onto his shoulder and forcing himself not to look when he hears Jeongguk get out of the car and lock it, standing next to Seokjin rather than him.

Jimin just giggles. “You two will be in the honeymoon phase before you know it.”

Yeah, when pigs fly. Jeongguk would rather drink battery acid than be near him so the honeymoon, lovey-dovey, actually happy stage seems impossible. Not that he wants it either.

Somehow, they’ll have to pretend with other people around. Taehyung doesn’t know if Jeongguk is going to snap at simple small talk but it’s not like either of them has a choice right now.

He just rolls his eyes. “Let’s just go.” Other people are parking their cars here so they should move and put on a show before anyone notices the lack of chemistry between the newest It-Couple.

Briefly, he glances at Hoseok and Seokjin who were crowding around Jeongguk, ruffling his hair and giving him hugs and pinching his cheeks. Taehyung watches bitterly as he smiles at them.

Like a real, genuine, cute smile. Something that Taehyung has not gotten once from him in years.

Seokjin says something to make them laugh and Hoseok giggles so hard he trips into Jeongguk, who holds him up with a grip on his forearms. His nose scrunches and his eyes narrow while the brightness of his smile takes up his face like a beam of light. The older slaps Jeongguk’s shoulder, stumbling just a bit but mainly watching Hoseok’s face change animatedly as he beams and claps with laughter.

Taehyung’s body goes rigid. His lips purse as the nastiest feeling floods his system.

Without a second thought, he walks over as Yoongi and Jimin are ushering them to leave. “Jeon,” he calls, watching as Jeongguk’s smile begins to crumble at this voice. It’s like a slap to his face.“It’s time for us to go to class.”

The pit in Taehyung’s stomach grows deeper as Jeongugk’s expression fades to a look of discontent. He was just giggling and laughing two seconds ago.

“Ugh, fine.” He waves goodbye to the others as they walk ahead of him, patting his cheeks or squeezing the back of his neck in parting. Taehyung watches silently and then moves to the spot right next to him.

His shoulder is so close to Jeongguk’s that he can feel the heat radiating off of his body. The smell of his perfume hits Taehyung’s nose along with the lingering smell of sunscreen and hair serum. It’s such a soft and sweet smell that if he were to close his eyes, he could imagine himself in a flower field on a warm spring day.

“Well, jeez. Don’t get too excited, buddy.” He holds his hand out in front of Jeongguk. His right one, to be exact, and keeps it up in the air while his eyes scan around for other bystanders walking by them.

Judging by the way Yoongi and Jimin are like in public, Taehyung decided in the car that it would look good if they walked to the main quad together, hand in hand, to say goodbye (in front of other people) to get a nice head start on this thing. Nothing too raunchy but nothing too stiff either.

A few seconds go by with Taehyung’s hand floating lonely in the air while Jeongguk seems to be looking everywhere but him. Practically whistling and rocking on the balls of his feet for the next step.

Taehyung is going to bash his head in. “Hey,” he calls, waving the outstretched hand in front of his face.

“What?”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you. Did you not see my hand?” For effect, he stretches his hand out once more, staring right into Jeongguk’s eyes while his fingers wave in the air all lonely. He just hopes no one is paying close attention to them, or they’ll catch their act in two seconds flat.

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes for the millionth time but before Taehyung can jab him with another retort, his hand is clasped around Taehyung’s.

Taehyung tries not to overthink it. Holding hands is straightforward, the tiniest bit of contact, and it’s one of the least demanding things he can do with Jeongguk. Nothing compared to having to kiss him.

But his fingers, which have always been long and daunting, fit well with Jeongguk. He doesn’t feel like a giant holding someone’s hand. The length actually works because Taehyung’s fingers can fully encompass his wide palm and Jeongguk’s palm is big enough to capture his smaller one. Like a perfect fit, two pieces of a puzzle that you’ve been trying to solve.

No intertwining fingers, Taehyung isn’t there just yet, but this is fine. For now.

“Just shoot me now.” He mutters under his breath. Taehyung catches it over the loud thump of his heart. In retaliation, his nails softly dig into the flesh of Jeongguk’s hands, getting a jolt in response as they leave the parking structure.

“Don't worry. If you keep this shit attitude up then I might just make that dream of yours come true.”

His friends are quite a few paces ahead, already in their respective “couples” and waiting for Taehyung and Jeongguk to appear under the green trees with beams of fresh sunlight peeking through the spaces. It’s a nice day out, not too disgustingly hot to the point where Taehyung feels like he might die. He’d be happier if the guy he was holding hands with wasn’t such a piece of shit.

“Oh goodie!” Jeongguk cheers sarcastically, putting on a cheerful animated voice. “Holding hands! Wow, I love dating you. I could do this all day.” His free hand cups the side of his cheek, fingers drumming gently while his eyelashes flutter like a smitten anime character.

Taehyung quirks a brow in response, trying not to smile. “Is that a challenge?”

Because, if he really wanted to, he could be the prissy bratty princess of Jeongguk’s nightmares.

He scoffs. “Please, you couldn't handle all of me.” Jeongguk’s hand gets to the door handle before Taehyung and he holds the door open for him.

Taehyung doesn’t expect it so for the first few seconds, he’s standing in front of the open door with a funny expression on his face as if Jeongguk is gonna cut through and slam the door in his face.

He shakes his head slightly and walks first so Jeongguk misses the heat building over his cheeks.

“Handle you? You're throwing a fit over us holding hands.” What does he think is going to happen when they kiss?

Jeongguk follows him, hands still connected and leaving faster than usual to quip back fast enough.

“This is nothing. When I get into it, I can be everything you hate. The ultimate romantic. People will get so sick of us that our relationship will be mentioned even after all of this is done and you’re fucking married with kids. I’ll be like the cheesy male lead in a K-drama that makes your fucking teeth hurt.”

“Oh yeah?” Taehyung challenges him. He’s not dropping this so quickly. If Jeongguk wants to play the cheesy rom-com boy then he can play the other end too. “You think you can date me that well?”

And then Jeongguk steps just a bit closer, leaning in so his face is right in line with Taehyung, making perfect, strong, powerful eye contact. “You’d be surprised.”

His voice is just short of a husky whisper. Taehyung can feel the gentle breeze of his breath intertwined with the fall wind. He swears his entire body stiffens at the sight of Jeongguk so close to him, all of his moles, the shape of his nose, his beautiful eyes, the perfect shape of his glistening lips, it turns tantalizing.

Taehyung doesn’t want to back down just yet. “Okay then, show me. Give me a little taste.”

He has no idea what to expect. Jeongguk is probably speaking out of his ass, trying to get under Taehyung’s skin with comments like this, knowing that he’s never been the type to drop an argument unless he wins it. Not much has changed with him anyways. Taehyung is hard to crack and hard to get through. Cold and enigmatic, an emotionless hedonist. The complete opposite of Jeongguk.

Emotions are scary and difficult to comprehend which is why Taehyung has always preferred hooking up over dating. Pure pleasure and nothing else while Jeongguk wanted to live in shoujo manga, wanted all of the romantic bits, the slow bits, the angry bits, and the bits in between.

It’s what made their friendship so endearing to everyone else. Jeongguk was always so upfront about how he felt while Taehyung held it in, cried alone, and got angry behind closed doors.

If he was mellow water, Jeongguk was a bright fire. Cold hidden depth and burning passion.

Two seconds go by without Jeongguk doing anything and he has Taehyung thinking that nothing is going to happen right until he feels it. His jaw goes a little slack, lips parting to let out the smallest inaudible gasp.

Because Jeongguk decides to let go of his hand and slip it into Taheyung’s back pocket, pulling him onto his side with his grip.

A line of electricity jolts up Taehyung’s spine thanks to the heat of Jeongguk’s hand inside his pocket. It feels warmer almost, adding to his body temperature and causing a thin line of perspiration to build on his skin.

He freezes up, shoulders going to his ears, pausing in the middle of the path up to campus while trying to register all of this. Taehyung’s mind goes completely blank, void of any other thought besides this.

And remember those big palms? Yeah, Jeongguk has to squeeze his hand into the tight pocket, curving his hand around the round flesh of Taehyung’s ass just right. Such an almost sensation thanks to the fabric of his stupid pants and his stupid boxers.

One group of guys look at the four of them, whispering and pointing amongst each other. Taehyung can’t even catch their words or greet them. He can’t even look up from the ground because if he does, he will blush like a smitten schoolgirl and that is so not the vibe he’s trying to go for. He has a reputation to uphold but it’s so easy to forget about right now while Jeongguk palms his cheeks.

“Is this,” Jeongguk starts, the previous fire in his tone dimmed down to a slightly concerned one, “Is this okay with you?” His eyes are trained on Taehyung’s facial expression and judging by the lack of words coming from his mouth, he’s probably reading this the wrong way, which is totally understandable.

Because Taehyung is at the crossroads of wanting to push Jeongguk away and wanting him to squeeze his ass once at the same time, just to see how it feels.

Look, he’s had guys do way worse than stick their hands in his back pocket but this, this feels like something brand new. The simplicity and the nonchalant territorialism exuding off the action. Jeongguk’s hand molded along the cleft of his butt so if some creep wants to gawk at him, they’ll see his hand before anything else.

It’s so fucking hot. Taehyung feels wanted and in the best way possible.

He clears his throat. “Yeah it’s,” he does it again, “it’s fine with me.” He hopes his face isn’t bright red. “Is this an excuse just to feel my ass? Because I get it, Jeon. Lots of guys would kill to be in your place.” Judging by the way they stare, it should be apparent.

Jeongguk scoffs, shoulders shaking for less than a second. “It isn’t,” he answers honestly and to Taehyung, that’s a sign that the game is over. He has nothing left to say anyways.

So he drops it and lets silence lull over them from the crosswalk up the path to the main quad.

Taehyung continues to walk and his eyes make sure to veer clear of Jeongguk’s gaze. With every step he takes, he feels Jeongguk’s palm, his fingers, and the press of his arm against his lower back. His nose is flooded with the scent of him, that cottony floral mixed with a hint of that candle he always burns.

The tree-lined path allows for the streams of sunlight to light up patches of his skin, his hair and his clothes so the burning heat becomes less intense and Taehyung can focus back on being his normal self again.

He waves and smiles brightly, leaning into Jeongguk’s touch like he wants to and not because he should.

“I love your shirt, Taehyung!”

“Taehyung! Will I see you at Seojoon’s end of the first week party?”

“The rugby team is throwing a rager this weekend. You should come.”

Taehyung tries to respond as per usual. Thanking them for the endless compliments and the textbook “Maybe,” or “I’m not sure yet”, to get people to lay off. Most of the time they ask questions about parties he knows he will already be going to or events he’s received the invite for so these people will find out then. There’s no need to jump the gun by letting them know in advance. Besides, he loves the element of surprise his sudden appearance brings.

His cheeks hurt from the fake grin he puts on. People flock to him more now that Jeongguk is stuck to his side, eyeing the pair like one of them is going to transform into a wolf and eat them if they do something wrong.

“Don’t you ever get tired of this?” Jeongguk asks as the main quad gets closer and closer.

Taehyung breaks his pact of not looking at him now that he’s somewhat gotten used to Jeongguk’s touch. His head turns, meeting the younger’s soft gaze and bitten lips, tufts of hair falling in front of his face and brushing his cheeks, and his heartbeat accelerates.

Wow. “Tired of what?” Fuck, Taehyung’s voice sounds too breathy.

“You know, tired of people giving a fuck about every small thing that you do, being all up in your business?”

Taehyung shrugs. “Sometimes.” He’s well aware of how exhausting this lifestyle can be. “But I like the fact that people care.” Taehyung doesn’t say it but the attention makes him feel good. He’s always liked feeling wanted even if it’s for the sake of sex or fluffing egos or giving his fame to others. But he isn’t going to drop the chance to taunt Jeongguk once more. “Why? Too much for you already, Jeon?”

Jeongguk’s eye roll is immediate. They reach the middle of the quad, almost the same exact spot where Taehyung revealed their relationship to everyone. It’s perfect because anyone can see them as they walk by, just waiting for the next thing to gush about.

It seems Jeongguk decides he wants to take the reins. He stops Taehyung by slipping his hand out of his pocket halfway so only his fingers are inside to spin him around to face him. Taehyung feels his balance slip, feet stumbling while his stomach flips from how fast Jeongguk seems to be moving him, as if he’s a pliant piece of clay.

He tries to steady himself by placing his hands on Jeongguk’s chest, right where his heart is and feeling the same pounding beat underneath his fingertips.

Taehyung’s hair wooshes around, probably looking like a poodle-y mess thanks to the wind. But Jeongguk continues to grin at him, genuinely, without his eye contact wavering once.

“Not at all. I was just curious about your endurance.”

His touch starved brain breaks free from its holds and decides to completely control Taehyung’s body. He lets his hands slink up and dangle behind Jeongguk’s neck, chest brushing the other’s, faces inches apart.

From here, Taehyung can see each mole he has on his face, that scar he got when they were play-fighting once, and count each of his eyelashes.

Part of him begs to pull back but a stronger part of him begs him to stay. It’s nice and Jeongguk isn’t pushing him away, he’s playing along, it feels familiar and safe. Taehyung wants to cherish this some more.

“That’s cute,” Taehyung smirks. “My endurance lasts way longer than you think, baby.”

“Is that so?” His eyes sparkle so much. Each individual star is present, swimming in the silky black pool.

Taehyung hums. “Some people can’t handle it. That’s how long it lasts.”

The context switches from his public persona completely. He can’t stop it and Jeongguk seems to play along.

“You’ve clearly been with a couple of pathetic wimps.” Jeongguk chuckles and his dimples faintly appear. Taehyung’s eyes drop to them for the split second they come up and he cannot fathom what in the hell Jae was thinking leaving a man that looks like this.

Wearing such a simple outfit, all black, hair tousled by the wind and his friends. Taehyung finds him more attractive than anything.

“Think you can do better?”

Jeongguk’s fingers reach up and push strands of Taehyung’s hair back. His face gets closer and closer, like he’s about to push their lips together and Taehyung can feel the anticipation in his stomach bubbling up.

He flutters his eyes shut as the teasing sensation of soft, soap-scented fingers gently brushes his skin.

“I know I can.”

Show me, his brain pleads. I wanna see. Show me how you’re better.

Taehyung leans in a bit, just to see if he’ll do it first. Jeongguk might be all talk like he thought. This could all just be part of their fake relationship. Maybe he’s just good at acting. Maybe he’s just stringing Taehyung along as a little joke.

Or, maybe his body feels that ceremonious pull too. Maybe it’s not just Taehyung.

His eyes dart to every corner of Jeongguk’s face. From his dangling earrings to the delectable mole underneath his lip. It’s right there in Taehyung’s view, all he has to do is lean in some more and press his lips and boom, they’re kissing.

So easy, right? Just lean in and–

He is interrupted by someone from a group of people calling Jeongguk’s name rather loudly and he splits from his horny induced madness.

He turns away from Taehyung to find the swim team standing on the steps to the science building, giving Jeongguk a funny look or trying hard not to break their faces from how hard they smile.

“Let’s go lover-boy,” Kim Yugyeom, the team captain, calls. “We have to get good seats in Physics this time.”

A (cute) panicked look takes over Jeongguk’s expression and he pulls away from Taehyung, leaving him cold and confused. “Shit, I gotta go.” The warmth of his hand leaves Taehyung’s skin, gone is the scent and the feeling of him pressed all close.

He moves without thinking, tugging Jeongguk back to him with a hand on his forearm. It’s easy since he doesn’t expect it so his body is loose.

The same expression lies on his face, cutely surprised, and he raises a single eyebrow at Taehyung.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” His skin crawls with all of the people that stare as if they are two animals at a zoo. Jeongguk stares back slightly confused.

His eyes dart all wide and cute over Taehyung’s face. “What is it?” Gone is the teasing tone, the sexy bravado that fueled their back and forth, and erupted goosebumps all over Taehyung. He’s Jeongguk again, clueless Jeongguk who hates him. “Did I forget my phone?”

Taehyung’s face dulls. “You’re supposed to kiss me goodbye,” he points out.

In seconds, his expression completely flips.

“What! No, I’m not doing that,” he denies it in a panicked manner, shaking his head like Taehyung asked him to clean the bottom of his shoes with his tongue.

It’s a fucking kiss.

“Do you want people to believe us or not?” Taehyung looks around once more and people are gawking, waiting, getting late to their classes just to see them. So Jeongguk better speed it the fuck up and fast.

He swallows shakily. His voice climbs with nerves. “I never said I’d kiss you. You never said I would have to.”

“Stop fucking panicking, people are watching.” He smiles while gritting his teeth, linking their hands to turn this spat into a romantic gesture and standing close to Jeongguk. “What did you think would happen? Boyfriends kiss when they leave each other-”

Jeongguk cuts in. His voice is breathy and low. “I-”

Taehyung doesn’t let him finish.

“-and if you’re going to be a child about it again then this is really going to be a problem for us-”

“Kim,” Jeongguk tries again.

“-because people are only going to believe it when they see it, especially people like Jae-”

Jeongguk squeezes his hand to get him to stop, his eyes clenched shut like he’s in pain. “Taehyung,” he exhales. Taehyung finally stops talking. “I can’t kiss you, okay? It’s just… it’s too early for that, for me at least.” His expression is tight and restrained.

Taehyung’s chin pulls back. His initial reaction is to poke fun at Jeongguk’s painful look. It’s just a kiss. Who cares? Because in his mind, he couldn’t give less of a fuck who he was kissing. People put way too much emphasis on the damn thing. It’s just lips on lips pressed together. Why does it have to be so emotional? No one actually feels anything when they kiss someone, right?

To him, it’s always been this thing he does during sex. No intimacy or romance behind it.

But he supposes, if he really thinks about it, that for someone who had spent two years kissing the same person, whom he loved, it would hurt to kiss someone else.

And for someone like Jeongguk who is always so absolute about everything, black and white, yes or no, he can’t see that point of unattachment like Taehyung does over a measly kiss. His heart might still yearn to kiss Jae and he can’t feel the nonchalance that Taehyung does because his heart is still connecting the action to one person.

Taehyung swallows down the bitterness in his mouth. “Fine,” it’s tight, his teeth pressing together. “Can I kiss you on the cheek, then?”

A significantly less intimate spot in his opinion and definitely not enough for him or for the thirsty bitchless vultures around them but Taehyung is trying to accommodate here.

Jeongguk still turns to the side, looking terribly, terribly uncomfortable. His eyebrows furrow in thought like he is piecing together every possible outcome before making his decision but Taehyung doesn’t have time for him to think through every possible outcome before speaking his mind.

Both of them have places to be and saying goodbye should not be this drawn out, holy fuck. Every second they waste hesitating ruins the perfect act they put on right before this.

He groans quietly. “Jesus, can I hug you then?” Taehyung asks, tone dripping with disbelief.

“Uh yeah.”

Taehyung moves quickly, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Jeongguk’s shoulders and pulling him in. Chests pressing, he can feel Jeongguk’s pounding heart as he wraps his arms around Taehyung’s waist. It’s loose and half-hearted, tapping his lower back either affectionately or to get him to move on but that doesn’t take away from the way it makes Taehyung feel. .

His scent becomes omnipresent, sticking to Taehyung like a fresh layer of glue. But it isn’t nauseatingly heavy. It’s nice. Familiar, warm, and safe.

If he could stay, he would. He wants to. In these arms, he could melt. All strong and secure.

Fuck, this isn’t good. Taehyung’s eyes clench shut, his stomach flips and his entire body feels relaxed. He doesn’t want to leave when he should and Jeongguk doesn’t want him to stay when he shouldn’t.

It’s just a hug, Taehyung thinks. How would he react if Jeongguk was okay with kissing? God, he’s a hypocrite.

And that is what makes Taehyung pull away. One thing echoing in his mind.

What. The. Fuck.

⍟⍟⍟

His classes end right on the dot as his fundamentals professor finishes his point on the powers of social media for your career, something Taehyung already knows so he can get away with scrolling through twitter on his laptop and tuning the guy out. Carefully, he gets up from his seat, one of his backpack straps over his shoulder, and slinks out from the back exit.

Unfortunately, Taehyung doesn’t get to go home like everyone else. He’s got a rat to deal with.

Grumbling, he takes a back path to a more secluded area where no one could spot him and Doeun together. There’s an older parking structure that some people prefer to use when the main ones get filled up. Especially the people coming in limousines so they won’t get egged. The only problem is that it’s just too far away.

Taehyung feels like he’s walking all the way to Japan just to find this damn parking structure.

He connects his airpods and listens to some jazz while he walks, holding his head up high, even while he’s walking. People say hi to him the entire walk there and he smiles back. He has to keep up his friendly persona, right?

Jeongguk is lucky. He gets to walk around campus and just be himself. No one is watching his every move, caring about the tiniest details, scrutinizing anything he wears or does. He’s free.

What Taehyung would give to have that kind of life.

Don’t get him wrong. He loves being the It-Boy. He likes the clothing sponsors, all of the party invites, the envy and the feeling of being wanted. Taehyung gets to bathe in attention and, in that realm, he’s never dissatisfied.

It’s everything else that sucks. That makes him wish he was more like Jeongguk.

Sometimes, Taehyung just needs a breather from it all. He’d like to go out wearing his comfiest clothes, post himself having fun online, and just be a reckless young person without fear for a little longer. His youth is being ostracized every second he gets. Jeongguk gets to fuck up, make mistakes, be human and no one will get mad at him for it. His smallest mistake won’t appear on some gossip blog, posted on the internet for everyone to gawk and laugh at.

Meanwhile, if Taehyung steps outside this perfect persona he’s created, he’ll never hear the end of it.

Speaking of Jeongguk, what the fuck was that in the main quad today? Taehyung was acting like a virgin who’s spent their entire life underground and only survived off of canned beans and anime porn. Shuddering and panicking over a damn hug like he hasn’t been fucked uncountable times before.

It’s embarrassing and honestly, completely out of character for him. He’s the experienced one after all.

So shouldn’t he be making Jeongguk blush?

That’s how this goes in movies. The shyer one will get teased and teased while the cooler one will be doing the teasing until they get closer and fix their relationship.

But Taehyung is simply a fucking mess right now and that cannot continue for the rest of the three months or however long Jeongguk decides to drag out this shitfest. He thinks his heart might need reconstructive surgery if it’s gonna beat at that high of a BPM whenever Jeongguk barely touches him.

Not just his touch. His scent, his smile, his hair, his clothes, the way he kept up with Taehyung today. It’s fucking getting to him and Taehyung is thinking he’s gone insane from the lack of sex.

Yes, that must be it.

He reaches the parking structure where a handful of people leave from, barely glancing at Taehyung. It’s a short, four storeyed building with regular cars on the bottom two and mostly limousines on the top two. All it takes is a simple elevator ride and Taehyung is there.

Partially, he’s glad that no one pays attention to him here. That way, no one can report his whereabouts and spark rumors.

The elevator doors part, the robotic voice says the floor number and Taehyung is greeted with a half empty lot. His fingers pluck his airpods out and with a heavy sigh, he walks to the car he unfortunately knows too well.

Kang Doeun, a 5 '10, AI-generated K-pop idol looking loser that was most likely born in the pits of Satan’s asshole.

Doeun is pretty well off. Not nearly as much as Taehyung or Jeongguk but he’s wealthy enough to make a statement. His dad owns a few news agencies that are pretty well-known and his mom works in tv. So he doesn’t get a limousine or a fancy car but a nice Hyundai Genesis that he boasted about to Taehyung when they first met like it was the Nobel Peace Prize.

Taehyung walks past one or two bouncing and steam-covered cars. Usually the top floors are reserved for people who are interested in hooking up between classes or doing drugs but considering it’s 3:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, the amount is low which he is grateful for.

Taehyung taps his knuckles on the blacked out windows three times, exhaling a heavy sigh.

“Eun, it’s me.”

A few seconds pass when the door opens just enough and Taehyung climbs inside, making sure he’s as close to the exit as possible when his ass meets the leather upholstery.

And right there is Kang Doeun, smiling at him like they’re best friends or something.

“Hi there, kitten,” he grins. Taehyung tries not to visibly cringe too hard at the old pet name given to him.

If you were to ask Taehyung what he thought of the guy two months ago, he’d have nothing but nice things to say. But now that everything has transpired and he got to see what Doeun is really like, Taehyung feels gross looking at him.

Ugh, Jae must love his sharp eyes and his pouty lips but Taehyung is filled with remorseful memories of cold hotel rooms and cigarettes on the balcony after a hot day instead.

“What is it now?” He sighs, squeezing his kneecaps to rid himself of any residual tension.

Doeun shakes his head and clicks his tongue in corny disappointment. “So prickly, can’t I just talk to you?” He pouts.

Taehyung’s short fuse blows once again. He’s not here for fucking games. “Look, I’ve had classes all day today. I’m hungry and tired and I wanna go home,” he presses. Taehyung needs to move his stuff in today and he needs to talk about being couple-y with Jeongguk too. “So just tell me whatever it is you want and then let me go–”

Immediately, fingers squish his cheeks together, limiting his speech and causing him to jump. “Ah, ah, ah, you don’t get to make the orders around here, remember? I’m the one with those pictures of you and I can have my dad print them with a simple text.” His fingers trace the plush shape of Taehyung’s bottom lip. “So play nice. I want to talk for a bit.”

Momentary fear courses through his body, freezing his veins and muscles till he’s a block of ice. Taehyung will never be left alone if those pictures come out. He’ll constantly be reminded of it, no matter what he does in life. It will affect his family, his future family, his step-brother, his mom and step-dad and him the most.

“Fine,” he moves his face out of Doeun’s grip. “Let’s talk.” If that’s all that this is going to be then he has no problem.

The younger leans back with a satisfied smirk and grips a plastic cup of iced coffee. “You and Jeon, what’s that all about?” His head tilts, tone lilting like he doesn’t think it’s true or that he finds the entire ordeal to be beneath him.

“We’re dating.” Taehyung deadpans.

Doeun snorts at him the minute it falls from his lips. The mere sound causes a lick of flame to burn in Taehyung’s stomach.

The kind that makes him see red.

“You? Dating that loser? That’s fucking rich,” Doeun laughs sardonically to himself as if he has the right.

Dismissing Jeongguk like he’s any better is honestly comical. One of them is the unproblematic son of a famous CEO and lawyer while the other is a prissy little bitch hiding behind his dad’s company to blackmail people into doing the things he wants. Take a guess which one is which.

“And what do you know about Jeongguk?” Taehyung looks down at his nails instead of Doeun to keep his temper in check.

“Considering the fact that I’m with his ex, I know enough.” The ice crackles in the cup as he swirls before taking a sip. The car reeks of coffee and his shitty cologne and Taehyung hates it. “Jae talks so much shit about him. Like all the time thanks to your little declaration in the quad on Monday. It’s kinda driving me up the walls.”

Taehyung’s tries not to make a face. If he could, he could write a dissertation about wha Jae is the most annoying human being on the planet, sent from an alternate dimension where pure evil exists to punish Taehyung for being too cool and pretty.

Seriously, he’s the absolute worst.

He leans in close, coffee breath right in Taehyung’s face. “Apparently, Jeon’s super needy and super insecure and Jae was getting fed up with it but he only had the balls to leave him when he met me.” Doeun’s shoulders raise with confidence, as if that’s something to brag about.

He feels weird hearing about this from someone that isn’t Jeongguk. After hearing the details of his painful summer, the last thing he’d like to hear is Jae living it up with his living nightmare.

“Why are you telling me this?” Taehyung’s eyebrows scrunch.

“Thought you should know because, from my memory, clinginess is something you can’t stand.”

Not fully true. Taehyung likes attention, likes affection, and he never minded when Jeongguk used to follow him around whenever he got shy in new settings or when Jeongguk had that relieved expression whenever Taehyung entered a party late because he finally had someone to talk to. He always saw it as sort of cute.

However, what isn't cute is a hook-up draping all over him for coffee or a date.

He’s a one-and-done kind of guy. No need for lingering after or eating food or even sharing a post-sex cigarette like an 80s movie. Once both parties have done the deed, Taehyung leaves. And he always hated it whenever they couldn’t take the fucking hint.

Like Doeun. He just kept on coming back.

“I don’t mind when it comes to him,” he shrugs. It doesn’t feel like a lie when he says it.

Viciously soft memories play in his mind like a reel. At first, Jeongguk could barely speak to Taehyung’s parents so he would just mumble under his breath to their maid until his family eventually gained his trust. He would call every year on Taehyung’s birthday to wish him, even if they would see each other the next day for New Years and after every trip, Taehyung would be the first one to hear everything that went down.

He never once complained about it. Since he was an only child it was nice to have Jeongguk around. Finally there was someone who Taehyung could tell everything to that was his age. Someone that wanted to play pretend and dirty their fancy clothes because they’ll get washed later. Nothing about their friendship felt needy or too clingy on Jeongguk’s end.

Being with him makes up some of Taehyung’s nicest memories.

“How did you guys even meet?” Doeun asks, pulling Taehyung out of his nostalgic recap. “Can’t be the first two months of summer since you were busy with a certain someone.” The smirk on his face makes Taehyung want to yak all over this stupid car. “So this must be pretty new huh?”

Doeun is trying to catch him on his ass to flip it around and use this for his own benefit. Taehyung has gotten burned by him once

But thankfully, he’s actually thought of their beginning while nodding off during class.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our moms are friends and we,” he trails off to seem more organic and less rehearsed, “just started talking again in August. He’s really sweet and nice and it just turned into a relationship.” Stripping the details of their first date so Doeun doesn’t get overloaded but also because Taehyung thinks he should be discussing this with Jeongguk.

The younger raises an eyebrow. “Really?” Taehyung nods. “Why doesn’t anyone know about you two being friends?”

“What, do you want pictures of our mothers at Mommy and Me yoga? We weren’t as close as our moms were until now.” His heart tugs.

That’s quite literally the opposite of the truth.

“Alright,” he presses a comically large vape to his lips, blowing banana-creme clouds right in Taehyung’s face, “how is it then?”

“How is what?” Taehyung sighs. He wants to eat.

“The sex.”

“Ew! I’m not–”

Doeun interrupts him, blowing more nasty smoke out. “If we’re not gonna fuck then let’s talk about it. Does Jeon fuck you nice and good? Do you fuck him? Is it big?” He questions with great curiosity. God, it is too early for all of this to be thrown in his direction.

“Why don’t you ask Jae, huh?” Satisfaction is immediate when Doeun’s jaunty smirk falls at the sides. “Better yet, why don’t you talk to him about how sex with Jeongguk was?”

“He rarely brings it up when I’m around.” The cockiness radiating off of him is really getting to Taehyung. “So Jeon must be pretty bad, then, huh?”

This is a lie that Taehyung is totally unprepared for but his mind reverts back to the moment Jeongguk’s hand reached into his back pocket, the way he spun Taehyung on his axis, the way his hands looked when he drives and they all form a picture in his head. One of his hands being pinned above his head, of heavy breaths and sizzling eye contact and moans swallowed by wanton lips and he fucking runs with it.

And before you go giving him a look, it’s better than nothing okay!

A smirk grows on his face. “Quite the opposite, really.” He adds spice just so Doeun can fully understand how much better off Taehyung is now that he is (not actually) fucking someone else.“Could barely walk last time and that’s how I like it but you wouldn’t know that.”

There’s a reason he only had sex with Doeun 2-3 times.

He scoffs, setting his vape down to rub his chin in thought before speaking. “Just for that, I’m asking for something in return.”

“Seriously?” Taehyung shrieks. He is not fucking doing this again. No way. He’s calling the cops and sprinting out of here. “What part of the word relationship do you not get?”

“I’m not talking about sex. I want something else.” Doeun pauses, either for dramatic effect or to be an asshole. “I want an invite to every party that you get invited to.”

“Why?” This is a huge campus, with tons of other parties occurring at the same time. So many cliques and clubs and communities for Doeun to weave his way into. The rich jock community is not one of the welcoming or easy to get into types simply because of the qualifications.

You either have to know someone or be someone and considering most of these jocks are selective about invites, newcomers are rare. But people always want in. They want all of the glitz and glamor because it feels like something they’d find in a Fitzgerald novel. Overly embellished, shiny, and pretty settings with posh language and expensive dresses when that is far from the truth.

“You little snobby fucks love hiding it from the rest of us, well guess what? I want in. I only got into the last one because I overheard some idiots blabbing about it to each other but now I want you to send me the addresses or passwords. For me and Jae,” he makes sure to add.

If Taehyung is not wrong, he might detect a bit of jealousy. He’d tease Doeun about it but he doesn’t want to end up with worse so he drops it for now. “Jae doesn’t like parties.” He would know, the idiot never comes to any team mixers.

“He likes them with me,” Doeun shrugs.

Whatever. “Alright, fine.” It’s easy enough. Taehyung doesn’t care who comes to the parties he frequents as long as Doeun keeps his side of the deal.

He turns his head to the door and places a hand on the handle so his exit is quick and easy. But then, Doeun swipes a thumb over his cheek, completely different to the gentle way Jeongguk brushed hair out of his face this morning. Doeun’s fingers are icy cold from his drink while Jeongguk’s were soft to the touch.

A wave of discomfort follows the sensation as Taehyung’s body goes into flight or fight mode.

“See what happens when you listen to me?” He coos, pressing down on his bottom lip to reveal the flesh behind it along with his bottom row of teeth. “Keep this up and those pictures will be gone before you know it.”

He’s demeaning, demoralizing and terrible to be around. Had the circumstances been different, Taehyung would’ve falcon punched this man into the stratosphere but he can’t. There isn’t much he can do to get Doeun off his back.

Because if those pictures get out, it could ruin everything he spent his entire life working for.

⍟⍟⍟

“So,” Jimin asks, “how has it been living with your betrothed?” He’s got that teasing tone and Taehyung is glad the blonde Factimes him while he organizes his closet because he gets to see his lovely reactions.

“This isn’t fucking Bridgerton,” he mumbles, pulling clothes from a suitcase and trying to preserve the folding so he won’t have to do it again.

Two days have gone by since Taehyung signed the lease and this Friday marks the end of the 1st week of school. In any other case, he’d be jumping for joy because Fridays mean the weekend which means parties but lately, Taehyung has not been in the mood.

“That’s boring. I was expecting some late night tension and pining,” he lists with a sultry tone.

Taehyung snorts. “Far from it.”The last time he saw Jeongguk was when they came back from morning classes and retreated back into their rooms to recharge/nap. They’ve barely spoken to each other besides the car rides to school and those fake sickly-in-love walks to main campus. Taehyung leans close to whisper to his phone, just in case these walls are thin as paper. “He is so difficult to live with.”

“How?” Jimin’s hair is fanned out on the couch he lays down on and he runs his fingers through his locks while the sounds of Yoongi tinkering in the kitchen are audible so Taehyung knows they’re both listening.

He makes sure to keep his voice down. “First of all, he’s the most nit-pickiest person I have ever met.”

Jeongguk has pretty detailed rules that he listed on his first night here. Ones about not leaving any dishes in the sink, otherwise it attracts flies or buying his own laundry stuff because Jeongguk uses specific ones and he knows Taehyung doesn’t give a shit. Fine, okay, Taehyung can follow that. He’ll just order out and buy his own laundry stuff then. He didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

And look, Taehyung is not known for being the best at chores. Let’s remember this folks, he’s never had to do them in his entire life. So, sometimes he makes the human error of forgetting to pick up after himself. Not a crime right?

“Last night, I picked up McDonald’s and I asked if he wanted some and he said no because he follows a meal plan,” he mocks Jeongguk’s tenor voice and Jimin giggles. “So while he ate some boring ass chicken salad with sweet potato, I was fucking up this cheeseburger and I was eating in the living room so I could watch Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha.” Taehyung narrates.

“As one does.”

“Yes, as one does. Well, it was like 9 at that point so I went to bed because I was tired and I had a discussion in the mornings and you wanna know what happened this morning when I woke up?” Jimin nods. “The little shit starts lecturing me about not picking up after myself, acting like I shat on the living floor when it was literally like some wrappers and an empty soda cup.”

It was the definition of unnecessary. If it bothers Jeongguk so much why couldn’t he have thrown it away? Do a few pieces of garbage really make him that upset?

Taehyung waits patiently for Jimin to take his side and appease his broken ego when the other just tilts his head like he’s weighing the options. “I mean, he’s not wrong.” He tries to deliver it lighty but it stabs Taehyung in the side nonetheless.

“Our friendship is over–”

Jimin interrupts with the beginning of a knowing smile. “Hear me out first, shithead.” Taehyung’s arms cross over his chest patiently, motioning for Jimin to continue. “Alright, you can’t just leave trash around in the common area and expect Jeongguk to be okay with it. Wasn’t it spotless when you first looked at the place?” He nods, grumbling. “Right so obviously Jeongguk is a neat guy. Be messy in your own room but out in a shared area, you should accommodate.”

Whatever, maybe Taehyung was too lazy and he thought that if he pouted enough, Jeongguk would let it slide but his plan didn’t seem to work so no one needs to know about it!

Hastily, Taehyung throws a shirt onto his bed. He’s about ¼ settled in. His bed is made and he’s got his laptop, a few power strips and all of his clothes in suitcases but that’s about it. So he’s spending today trying to organize his closet and then the weekends going shopping for the rest since his mother told her assistant that Taehyung should do it.

He’s hoping that he can turn shopping into an outing with Jeongguk to get some pictures since Taehyung has not posted the guy once. All they’ve done is follow each other on Instagram but that was days ago.

“We really need to talk,” he starts, keeping his eyes on the striped polo rugby shirt in his hands, “about this whole fake relationship thing.”

Jimin shoots him a flirty wink. “Communication. Now that’s sexy. You guys should come up with a contract or something like that. You know, set boundaries.”

“Like what?”

“You know, like going on a date once a week and posting each other on your Instagram stories each time and on the weekends and figuring out a timeline and shit. You can’t just wing it forever, Tae. People are going to have questions when you don’t post him at all. You broadcast every little happening in your day on social media, you think they won’t be suspicious if you don’t post your boyfriend? ”

He’s right. Doeun was easy because Jeongguk wasn’t there. Taehyung was on his own and he could just make stuff up on the go without getting called out on it. But when people see them together, they have to sync up.

And that takes time and love, like what normal couples have.

So after another 30 minutes of calling Jimin and listening to him rant about Dance Moms, Taehyung says bye and ends the call because he hears Jeongguk in the kitchen. Sounds of pans clattering and water running. He should make a post on his story of them together and then they’ll make an agreement.

Taehyung takes out his airpods, fixes his hair to perfection and walks out, shoving his hands in his pockets to look all relaxed. He shuts his door behind him and his feet press softly into the cold wood. The air smells of that fucking candle and a little bit like oil when he passes the threshold to see Jeongguk placing a large silver bowl on the drying rack.

“Jeon,” Taehyung calls, earning an unintelligible noise in response. “We have to talk.”

He looks cozy in loose shorts and a big gray t-shirt with a Nike logo in the corner. His hair is shiny, fluffy but combed. Eyebrows resting naturally, lips in their usual pout.

Taehyung can feel his eyes on him, studying the way his shirt slips to reveal some of his collarbone and his shorts are baggy around his knees. It’s a hot day and even with AC on, Taehyung is aiming for something breathable, just like Jeongguk is. Streams of sunlight illuminate the open area.

“Why?” He asks, wiping his hands using a white and blue striped dish towel.

There’s a bit of sauce collected at the corner of his lips and Taehyung’s instinct is to get closer so he can wipe it off but before he can scold himself for even thinking that, Jeongguk’s tongue swipes it off quickly.

“I think we need to discuss this relationship thing a little more.” Taehyung makes his way to the raised counter facing the sink, leaning an elbow on it. “You know, like how we met and stuff.”

“Ooh yay, our backstory,” he cheers in a monotone before rounding the kitchen and plopping down on the couch. The air whooshes when he passes by, giving Taehyung a wave of his scent while he follows his moving body. Jeongguk huffs and his hair flies up with it, landing in a messier state than before.

The conversation has lasted three seconds and he’s already annoyed.

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Yeah, anyways, here’s what I’ve come up with.” He sits down on the barstool underneath the counter, facing him. “We’ve been dating for two weeks but we’ve known each other since we were kids because our moms are friends. We talked after a family lunch which turned into a few dates and here we are. Sounds good?”

He was hoping for a thumbs-up, expecting another half-hearted whatever, but instead, Taehyung gets something else.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling everyone we used to–” Jeongguk pauses, looking to the ground and licking his bottom lip before speaking up again with a strangely confused and murky look in his eyes, “that we knew each other as kids?” He says quietly, with seemingly less annoyance than before.

Taehyung just shrugs. He already told Doeun so what’s the point in lying? “It’s the truth and if it helps people believe our story then yeah, fuck it.” If anything, people will find it cute. Everyone loves a friends to lovers trope after all. “Do you have a problem with that?” He asks.

The bitter notion that Jeongguk might be embarrassed by their friendship is a treacherous thought floating around Taehyung’s brain. It’s out of character for the Jeongguk that Taehyung remembers but it’s been years so maybe things have changed.

He earns a glare from the younger. “It was a problem for you, remember? 11th grade? Mr. Moon’s class?”

Taehyung’s jaw unhinges as his brain pulls a nasty memory from high school. One that he is now regretting.

He was on top of the world thanks to a boost in followers and his successful model debut in his mother’s show. People were obsessed with him and Taehyung wanted to keep that up until the end of high school. That could only be done by hanging out with the coolest people to make sure his own following never dropped. People whose parents were famous actresses, singers, directors, owners of huge companies. Everything was going just as he planned and Taehyung could not be happier.

Lo and behold, on the 1st day of 11th grade, he walks into Chemistry class and sees Jeongguk sitting at a table close to the back.

Taehyung remembers their eyes meeting awkwardly, how he sat at the table farthest from him and he remembers putting a note in Jeongguk’s locker asking him to pretend like they didn’t know each other.

He knows why he did it. It was out of fear that Jeongguk would come up to him and ask why they stopped being friends in front of Taehyung’s new group. He didn’t want to take that chance so he slipped that note in and went on with his life.

Eventually, this new friend group fell apart because it turns out that being friends with people for social media fame isn’t exactly the best way to form meaningful relationships! And he ended up finding Yoongi and Jimin who were high on the social ladder because of their family name but they were also sweet and good friends to him.

It was such a stupid teenage decision that Taehyung cringes at now but what can he do? Go back in time?

All he can do is try to fix it now.

“So you don’t care if people know we used to be friends?” Taehyung asks incredulously.

Jeongguk just shrugs, playing with the hem of his shirt. “It’s not like it really matters anymore.”

It doesn’t. Because they aren’t friends anymore.

Taehyung plays along, getting up from his seat as he speaks. “So you wouldn’t have cared if I told everyone about the Spiderman night light that you took to every sleepover and every trip and how hard you cried when the paint started peeling because you thought he wouldn’t be able to protect you from monsters?” He remembers having to hold him tight because Jeongguk couldn’t sleep for so long but Taehyung didn’t even mind. “Or what about that time your sister wanted to be a makeup artist and she practiced on you every night and turned you into Bibble from that Barbie movie because she said that was her least favorite character and you were annoying her?”

“I wouldn’t prefer it.” And for a second, Taehyung thinks he’s won against Jeongguk.

But Jeongguk speaks up once more. “Then again, I could let everyone know about how you threw up on your 7th birthday after eating an entire tub of vanilla ice cream and trying to dance along to a 2ne1 song or the time you accidentally knocked a waiter down to grab a pitcher of water because there was a pepper in your food. It’s your choice,” Jeongguk replies, shrugging like it’s nothing.

It’s no use trying to play this game against each other. They simply know way too much. All of the small details and the important ones. Each and every single embarrassing memory stored in an arsenal for future birthdays and weddings now being dusted in the inner caverns of their brains for this farce.

Taehyung wants to jab some more, pull up even more anecdotes to get Jeongguk blushing but nothing comes to mind, nothing good enough, and he wants to stop relying on their past as a way to hurt him.

It’s high time they move on from that, right?

“Fine,” he decides. His teeth press together for a moment. “We won’t reveal such personal details but for the sake of our story, let’s say we were acquaintances as kids.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk agrees surprisingly easily.

“Great. Now, we have to keep up with this story in real life and on social media. That’s where it really counts.” It’s where most people will see them. “So, once a week we’re going on a date and we will post cute pictures and stories,” Taehyung steamrolls before Jeongguk can open his mouth to protest, “and you and I will go to each other’s games for support.”

Last year, Hoseok was briefly dating this girl and Taehyung recalls constantly seeing her in the stands, wearing his shirt. It drew more attention to their relationship and Hoseok reached 9 million followers after that.

Of course, their breakup was super messy and public but that’s besides the point.

“You want to go out each week?” Taehyung nods at him. “Like what? A movie and dinner?”

“No, I want you to buy a private jet and take me to Italy so I can eat vongole pasta and see the Sistine Chapel,” he shakes his head at the stupid question, eyes rolling. “Obviously, movies or dinner are fine. And you’re coming to my first tennis game. I don’t care,” Taehyung adds because Jeongguk never responded to that.

“Jeez, you’re demanding,” he nearly shudders.

“Well, that’s how relationships work.” Not that Taehyung would really know but he’s rolling with it. “Come on, don’t tell me you lost all of your knowledge on dating after that phony activist dumped you.”

To Taehyung’s credit, his comment makes the smallest perk in Jeongguk’s lips only for a second. “I know how dating works but I don’t know how fake dating works. Jae never said I had to take him out every week.” He untucks his legs, spreading them out so he can get up and meet Taehyung’s stance. “Do I have to go to parties?”

Taehyung doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yes. There’s one tonight and we’re going to it.”

“Ugh, why?” Jeongguk whines. His face screws up in discomfort and that right there is an expression that Taehyung so fondly remembers. Despite his face changing with age, most of his features combine to make the most recognizable expressions.

“Don’t whine. I like going to parties.” And people are expecting them to be there together.

“Okay and I don’t,” he says, like it’s common knowledge you could find online.

Jeon Jeongguk: 20, Virgo, Blood type: A, major introvert.

Taehyung clicks his tongue in annoyance. “This entire thing happened because we were both at a party,” he points out.

“Yeah because Hobi forced me to go.” Jeongguk’s voice climbs a little. He steps closer to Taehyung, who is reminded that height and size cannot be used as points of intimidation against him.

Jeongguk is just as tall as him, just as broad, maybe stronger than him. There’s no point in trying to appear all big and bad because Taehyung can’t compete. The playing fields have been leveled so he opts for something else to get Jeongguk to shut up for once.

The kitchen, cold and already so large, feels like a small box when Jeongguk decreases the distance. Taehyung wants him to stay back.

“Great and now so am I.” He retorts.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “No, I don’t want to.” His arms are crossed over his chest so protectively when he tries to walk back to his room for safety but Taehyung doesn’t allow it.

“Jeon–”

Jeongguk cuts him off, already in defense mode. “You’ve decided literally everything so far and I’ve been okay with it because I’m trying to play fair but I’m not going to be your little plus one to these coke–infested shithole parties full of people who couldn’t give less of a fuck about me. I don’t care about parties or social status like you do,” he points a singular shaky finger at him.

Taehyung tries not to twist the accusation in his mind. He likes social gatherings, he likes talking and meeting people, and he’s always been effortless in these kinds of settings by bringing out his charm and looks.

Sure they can be tiring and sometimes he just wants to be alone, but he still loves it.

How is that a bad thing? How does that make him a bad person?

“People need to see us being in a relationship in order to think we’re together.” He tries to spell it out slowly for him.

“Oh please,” Jeongguk scoffs. “Jimin doesn’t force his boyfriend to go anywhere and everyone is fine with them. People can believe what they want from what we give them, we don’t have to go the extra mile just to prove it. It would seem like we’re trying too hard anyways.”

Nice move, bringing up Jimin and Yoongi but the stark difference between them is that their relationship is real. It doesn’t matter if people aren’t around to see them being all couple-y because their relationship is for them and only them.

Taehyung and Jeongguk have something to prove here.

“People should be jealous of us.” Jae should be jealous, he wants to say. He should regret hurting you.

Jeongguk should be happy. Taehyung came up with this plan to get back at Jae. Doesn’t he know how satisfying would it be to turn into this sociable ideal boyfriend with the person his ex hates the most?

Jeongguk’s arms drop, slapping his thighs. His eyes sparkle with something that Taehyung cannot fully process. “Why do you care so much about what people think?” He shoots back, clearly tired of fending for himself. “Is external validation that important where you feel like you have to whore yourself out at every social event possible?”

Taehyung pulls back a little. Each word combined to strike right at a deep rooted insecurity of his until he’s overcome with hurt. He feels himself become a little smaller, turning away from Jeongguk’s sharp gaze. The hard marble of the countertop presses against his back, grounding him, as whatever he was going to say next leaves his mind.

Whore.

He’s long decided that there is nothing wrong with wanting to be liked. He’s someone who has been in the public eye for years now and he knows that there were people that were never going to like him but he learned that people could be swayed easily. Basking in likes, follows, cameras, magazine covers, horny men and attention is a good feeling. Reading comments about his good qualities, articles about his features, having men clamber to have a chance to spend one night with him, he loves it. It reminds him of all of his good, enviable, marketable qualities.

That’s not whoring himself out. That’s just being a normal person.

And he is sick and tired of other people weaponizing it. Just because they are bitter and lonely and sad.

“Fuck you, Jeongguk,” Taehyung spits out. His tone has lost all of its strength, leaving a vituperative, sad, deep one. “Just because I like going to parties doesn’t mean I’m whoring myself out for people.” His head turns away again. He does not want to give Jeongguk the pleasure of seeing his face. “Parties are fun.”

Whore. It’s been a while since someone has called him that. Most of the time it doesn’t bother him, especially because it’s coming from some loser he just had sex with who was mad they won’t get another chance.

But from Jeongguk? Yeah, it fucking stings.

A few seconds go by with Jeongguk going quiet. Taehyung hopes he’s forming the perfect words for an apology so that they can move on from this and go to this stupid party where everyone is expecting him.

Fuck, he doesn’t even want to go anymore thanks to Jeongguk’s little comment.

“People can get enough of us on Instagram. I’m not about to make myself uncomfortable for something that isn’t even real,” he mumbles, tucking some hair out of his face.

Taehyung scoffs.The hurt returns but this time in the form of petty anger. “So you’d do this for Jae, then? For a real relationship?” He doesn’t know why the thought bothers him so much but it does.

“He’d never make me,” Jeongguk argues back.

“What would you two do then?” Taehyung doesn’t actually care about the guy but he wants to know what Jeongguk did with him that makes him comfortable. It could just be a matter of getting him used to stuff. Then again, he isn’t much of a party-goer to begin with.

Jeongguk groans softly. “Like play video games, go to movies, make dinner together, take walks, I don’t know. We did the same shit I did with my friends,” he lists out.

Taehyung doesn’t think. He knows that these are actually pretty great ideas for their fake dates and that going to parties as a couple doesn’t really have to be one of them. But there’s anger rushing in his veins and he doesn’t care to think logically at the moment. His brain runs fully on petty irritation. “Yeah, no wonder you barely have any of those,” he mumbles under his breath.

Even if it’s the smallest bit, Taehyung wants Jeongguk to feel the pain he just felt after being called a whore. So he hits as below the belt as he can reach, to see if he can get a reaction, if he can hurt too.

“Excuse me?” He barks.

“Nothing,” he shrugs, trying to play it off. Jeongguk doesn’t let him.

His shoulders widen and his face changes in a way that Taehyung is not used to. Furrowed brows with something dark brewing in his usually soft eyes. His gaze is almost lazy and demeaning, like he doesn’t even have the time to deal with Taehyung’s bullshit.

“No, you can say it out loud.” He’s inviting a fight that Taehyung doesn’t really want to participate in. “I don’t have any friends because I do boring shit, right? Cause I don’t go out and get shit-faced at every party I hear about.” Taehyung takes a step back again, turning away from Jeongguk’s heavy eyes. “Well, you didn’t seem so bored of me back then so what’s changed?”

His heart plummets down to his heels. Is it time? Are they finally going to talk about their friendship ending?

Is Taehyung finally going to explain what happened?

“Things have changed,” he dismisses it. This isn’t the time to be talking about this.

Taehyung turns away, specifically to his side to go back to his room, order delivery food and then hide under his covers for the rest of the day. But Jeongguk is hot on his trail, getting closer and closer. Taehyung can hear his steps padding on the floor until he is inches away from him but he doesn’t dare reach for his shoulder to turn him around.

“What changed?” His voice drops to a strained murmur. “One moment, we’re doing everything together then you’re dodging my calls and lying to me and ignoring me at parties. That can’t happen for no reason.”

Taehyung turns his head to the side, just enough to catch Jeongguk’s eyes. “I’m not talking about this right now,” the second attempt at brushing it off.

“Then when do we talk about it?” Jeongguk’s resolve finally breaks. “How long are we going to put off this conversation?” His eyes flash and change with his emotions, as Taehyung poked and prodded and demanded a reaction from him and he is regretting that decision greatly. “Do you have any idea how much it hurt? You were my best friend, we did everything together and then you just stopped talking to me. I don’t get it. What did I do wrong?”

His voice breaks and it becomes apparent to Taehyung just how much this split hurt him.

Which is precisely why he can’t tell him why he had to end their friendship.

He turns around fully to find Jeongguk staring at him with pleading and open eyes, begging for the truth.

“You don’t know what was happening at that time.”

“You never talked to me about it so how could I?” Taehyung watches his hands clench into fists in the pockets of his shorts and he cannot help but wonder if he is shoving his hands there to stop himself from pushing him.

“Just let it go. We were 13. There was no guarantee that we’d be having sleepovers forever. Things happen, people grow and change. Childhood friendships aren’t supposed to last,” he goes on.

“Yeah, because you squashed that chance.”

Taehyung swallows shakily. He can’t talk about this anymore. It’s bringing up all sorts of weird feelings mixed with nauseating guilt and it’s too much right now. He didn’t come out here to tell Jeongguk all of this. He came here to tell him about the party.

“Just tell me the truth.” Jeongguk’s voice goes back to that soft decibel and it’s getting harder for Taehyung to hold himself together. “You owe me that. If you’re gonna stay here with me, just tell me the truth now and I can finally move on from it and I won’t bring it up anymore..”

Taehyung doesn’t want to spill it out. What could he say? That Jeongguk did nothing wrong but it was his own fears driving his actions? That the thought of everyone leaving him like his father did still scars him?

It's so stupid and Taehyung isn’t ready to say it out loud.

To this day he still doesn’t get that close with people. Jimin and Yoongi know him but not as well as they could. Taehyung has different ways of acting around people and he’s been okay with that for a while now. Only he can protect himself and he’s the only person that really knows him. He doesn’t want to change everything because Jeongguk, the one person who really knew him, has now wormed his way back into his life.

Friendships end and sometimes, they don’t have to be rekindled. Taehyung and Jeongguk haven’t spoken in years.

And Taehyung is going to make sure it stays that way, thanks to that conversation he had with Doeun a few days ago.

“You were just–You were too much, okay! You were too needy.” He exasperates. The lie sits heavy in his mouth and it feels terribly wrong when he says it. Taehyung looks at the wall behind him so it’s less painful to say. “Always hanging around me and following me around like some pathetic little duckling. It was too much for me and I needed space so I cut you off,” lies, that’s not at all what happened, he keeps on lying. The worst version of him comes out and nips this stupid backstory right in the bud. “I wanted to do cooler things. I wanted to go out and actually have fun, not sit in your bedroom and play Legend of Zelda and eat your mom’s cookies all the time.”

Sure, he made new friends and he hung out with them all the time but Taehyung quickly learned those people weren’t Jeongguk. They were fun and more mature than him but they didn’t talk, they weren’t there for him, and they didn’t really care about him.

Not like Jeongguk did.

But it didn’t matter. It’s done. He and Jeongguk are done and by the time this three month fake relationship is over, they’ll go back to pretending like the other person doesn’t exist till the end of time.

Taehyung exhales shakily and focuses his eyes back on Jeongguk. His fingernails dig into his palm at the sight of Jeongguk’s glassy eyes, casted downwards, and how his entire frame which was just standing so proudly, collapses inwards like a wilting flower.

What have I done? What have I done?

“Thanks for being honest,” he mutters, Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallows.

The air was just zinging with fiery tension and now it’s completely bare. Even as the sun shines and the sounds of people flutter in from the window, the apartment feels cold and empty and desolate.

“You asked for it.” Taehyung tries to reason despite the reasonable voice in his head screaming in frustration that he’s just worsening it with every word that drops out of his mouth.

Jeongguk shakes his hair out his eyes. “I know, I did.” His shoulders rise and then sag with an exhale. He was carrying so much tension just now and it’s all gone and replaced with something else.

This isn’t what Taehyung wanted.

“Look if this is going to affect the deal–”

Jeongguk cuts him off. “It won’t. It’s fine. I’m over it.” Quickly, he turns around before Taehyung can say anything else.

His footsteps pound against the floor and it’s the last thing Taehyung gets to hear before the door slams shut. Then he is accompanied by nothing else but the eerie silence of their apartment along with the fading smell of the candle.

And he immediately regrets everything he just did.

#taekookfanfic #soperatic

0 notes

xxlost-cityxx · 3 years

Text

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS

Ship/Characters: Kirishima Eijirou, Bakugou Katsuki

TW/CW: Rough anal sex, virgin Katsuki Bakugou, slight choking, slight piss kink/bladder control, brief spanking, rimming, bottom Katsuki, dom Kirishima, begging, crying, anal fingering, degredation and praise

I posted this on Ao3 literally last night, so enjoy.

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Stupid fucking Kirishima with his stupid fucking face and stupid fucking body-

Again. Once-a-fucking-gain. Katsuki was hard at work. Kirishima had simply aided Katsuki in a surprisingly powerful villain attack- even though everyone knew Dynamight had it under control. But Eijirou's help...made it easier to take down the villain- NOT that Katsuki needed his help in the first place.

The villain landed a hit on Katsuki and he flew into a pile of concrete and wooden rubble, and the next thing he saw was Red Riot, unhardened, nearly body slamming the guy into a wall, digging his forearm and elbow into his neck and his knee between his legs. It looked painful for the villain and it looked like Ejirou was definitely holding back from completely crushing the dude's balls...But. The way Kirishima was looking at the guy, a stone cold face, a deadly glare he hasn't seen since the last time Eijirou had heard Monama talk back in U.A. He was mad. And Gods if that sight didn't make him pop a boner-

So now here he was. Virgin Katsuki pretending he was too good to be around all his druken friends who were surely getting laid tonight, meanwhile, all Katuski would do tonight is ride his dildo until the sun came up.

Bakugou couldn't jack off. It wasn't really a fact, but he's pretty sure that any man would avoid jacking off with even a small risk that you might blow your own dick off, especially if you were gay. Gods bless the prostate. And really, it takes forever to cum riding 6 inches of colored silicone without touching your dick, but the point was, it got the job done and no one knew his secret to having 'thunder thighs' or some shit. He still remembers the first interveiwer who asked about his leg day routine, stating that he had entranced everyone with his thighs or some shit. He never thought he'd be referred to as 'thick' or whatever it was.

He took another shot of vodka, ignoring the pestering jealousy as he watched Kirishima dance with Denki. It was obviously platonic, not only did they repeatedly state in multible interviews that they were 'strictly bromance' and that they liked fucking with their fans's minds, Denki was dating Dead Eyes and Earphones.

Bakugou wasn't even a little tipsy really, it took a lot to get him drunk. It took a lot to get any of them drunk, but that didn't stop anyone from trying. But Bakugou wasn't going to go home drunk and have drunken masturbation for 5 hours, never was his thing. So he'd stick to being sober for tonight.

He growled as Kirishima's hand was on Denki's hip, Kaminari's back against Eijirou's chest. The much smaller blonde wiggled his hips against Kirishima's surely soft dick. Sero and Mina were laughing their asses off from their seats, Denki smirking and trying to be as dramatic and intimate as he could, a few phones recording them.

Katsuki growled to himself, slamming the shot glass on the bar top so hard it slightly cracked. He stood up and grabbed his coat, oblivious to how red eyes quickly switched from watching the smiling and laughing faces of his friends to laser focused on the ash blonde in a split second.

As Katsuki left the bar, he grumbled to himself until he was outside his place.

An hour later, he was panting. It felt like his entire body was covered in lube by the time he was bouncing on the silicone properly. He frowned, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the head bump into his prostate with practiced movements, usually a feeling that would have him gasping and shuttering, but he wanted this cock to be Kirishima's. He was sick and tired of riding an inanimate object that didn't praise him, didn't make noise, didn't cum. He wanted to be pinned and fucked so hard he would have to call off work the next day.

He whimpered as his toned thighs easily let him travel up and down the silicone. Silicone. He couldn't even get himself hard, he was soft, even with his ass stuffed and his prostate stimulated, he was soft. There wasn't a twitch, and even his prostate felt dull.

He groaned to himself, sliding off the dildo and reaching for his phone. He quickly unlocked it and pulled up his gallery with his singular 'clean' finger, quickly going to his hidden folder and clicking on the picture that always got him hard. Kirishima did a photoshoot nearly 6 months ago, he was in a kimono that was completely opened with white pants that banded to his stomach. He stared at Katsuki through the picture, a belt in his big, tanned hand. He already felt his cock harden slightly, a small frown painting his face as that was like a weak attempt at mimicking his usual reaction to the picture.

He slid back on the dildo propping his phone against his wall and started bouncing. He imagined those toned hands sliding against his back, barely touching him, and it was almost like he could feel it, his body twitching with slight interest. He imagined his voice, telling him to ride the dildo, training his hole for what was surely a monster cock, Eijirou too nice to let Katsuki destroy himself on his cock right off the bat...unless… What if he would just fuck him? And that got his reaction. His dick was fully hard now, but it wasn't aching with need like usual.

What if Eijirou would slam into him as soon as the dildo was out? Would he let Katsuki adjust, or would he pound him into oblivion with the raw power his body held?

He let out a moan, but the pleasure didn't last long as his phone started ringing. He nearly flinched, scowling at his phone for ruining what he worked hard for, but his face sofened as it was Kirishima calling him.

His mouth went dry, his eyes slightly wide. He doesn't know what really compelled him to answer the phone, but as Kirishima's voice rang through the other end, he couldn't help but bite his lip and shift on the dildo. "W-What do you need, Dumbass?" He asked, cursing himself for starting his sentence off weak. "Haha- Hey, Kat! I just wanted to made sure you were okay. You hit that rubble pretty hard today, and you left earlier than usual." His cheery, sober, voice said. Katsuki closed his eyes, slowly rolling his hips up the dildo, the familiar arousal burning in his stomach, finally.

He stifled a whimper, "M' fine, Shitty Hair…." He pretended to grumble out, desperate to think of something to keep him on the line as long as possible. "That's great! I was a little worried, y'know. Didn't want to lose the manliest man I've even known since highschool!" He said, and Bakugou's heart did a mixture of dropping and fluttering. He felt guilty for trying to get off to his voice, clearly ignorant and innocent, but he couldn't help but acknowledge that he didn't refer to him as his best friend which would usually put him down. He squeezed his eyes shut and rolled his hips, gasping as he accidentally his his prostate. He dropping the phone, slapping a hand over his face. "Katsuki!? What was that?" Kirishima urgently called. Bakugou's dick was on fire, his body was alight with arousal, if only Kirishima knew.

He hesitantly picked up the phone. "I'm f-fine~ Shitty Hair!" He replied, cursing himself for not stopping himself from slowly bouncing on the dildo again.

Silence.

He slightly wondered if he accidentally hung up, but there was still static. "I'm not stupid, Katsuki." Kirishima suddenly said. Bakugou froze. His voice was lower but soft, almost like he was hesitant to say it in the first place. "W-..What the hell are you talking about?" He asked, not daring to move on the dildo, even though he wanted to take advantage of Kirishima's tone so fucking bad.

"Are you getting off right now?" Kirishima asked, Bakugou suddenly became aware of how slick and schelchy the lube was. Bakugou's throat closed up, his mouth too dry to produce words. "Fuck…" Kirishima whispered, the sound making Bakugou's eyes widen. "Are you trying to fuck with me…?" He asked, but Bakugou wasn't deaf to the distant sound of Kirishima nearly break checking himself.

Bakugou whimpered quietly, but a part of him prayed that Kirishima heard him, and as his breath hitched over the phone, he knew he did.

"Fuck-" Kirishima groaned. Bakugou gasped at the sound, bouncing on the plastic lightly once again, the lewd noises surely reaching the phone. "C-Come over." Bakugou's stern voice said, once again sounding weak in the beginning. "Already on my way." Kirishima nearly whispered back.

Bakugou's body was on fire, every part of him was twitching. The call ended only a minute ago, and suddenly Bakugou's night was going to change who he was. He was hard, nervous, excited but horny above all else. As soon as he heard his front door open and nearly slam shut, Bakugou gasped, trying to let out his nerves. Heavy, fast footsteps made their way down his halls, and suddenly Bakugou was conscious about how he should present himself.

He didn't have time, and so he let himself be cocky, leaning forward on his hands, arching his back and rolling his hips on the silicone gracefully, and it probably looked a little too good based on how smooth the action felt. But he didn't have room for his usual pride, Kirishima was stuck in the doorway with his mouth slightly open and wide eyes. Bakugou looked at him in the mirror to his side, and his eyes were staring at him.

"Holy fuck.." He groaned, his hand slowly moving to his crotch, but he gripped the inside of his thigh. Mid. Thigh.

Bakugou's eyes widened as he finally had the rough sketch of Eijirou's cock in his mind, and fuck he wanted to go stupid with cock.

"C'mon…" Bakugou nearly whimpered, rolling his hips a little more dramatically. Kirishima groaned in the doorway, slowly walking into the room, Bakugou's position giving him the perfect view of his pink, glistening and stretched hole swallowing the silicone easily, the dildo's girth seemed pathetic to what Eijirou knew he had.

Eijirou knelt down behind him, and as Katsuki smiled, expecting him to caress his body, that didn't happen.

Kirishima quickly wrapped his hand around the smaller man's throat, yanking him back to meet his still clothed chest. Bakugou wheezed at the unexpected and sudden movement, but fuck if his own cock didn't love it already.

"Riding this pathetic dildo while I was out there concerned about you, hm?" He darkly whispered, his finger tips lightly digging into his neck. Bakugou whimpered, wiggling his hips back, trying to get a feel for the man's clothed cock for himself. Kirishima sighed, almost in disappointment. "Tell me.. What were you thinking about? Riding this pathetic excuse of a dildo." He asked, talking right into Bakugou's ear. Bakugou let out a stuttering breath, squirming in Kirishima's sturdy grip.

"Tell me."

Bakugou gasped at his dark tone paired with his hand gripping his entire neck roughly. He wasn't used to feeling so small compared to someone else, but fuck he was loving it.

"Y-You…" Bakugou gasped out as Kirishima loosened his grip just enough. "What about me..?" He asked, only slightly softer.

Katsuki's cock was aching, begging for the same attention Eijirou was giving his throat. "H-How hard you would fuck me- How big your cock is…" Bakugou finally admitted, squeezing his eyes shut.

Kirishima hummed in his ear, his hand moving to the back of Bakugou's neck instead and pulling him up to his feet. Bakugou let out a guttural moan as he was ripped off the dildo still suctioned to the floor.

Kirishima hummed, noting how the dildo really did look like a pathetic version of himself.

Kirishima dragged Bakugou to his bed, glaring at the blonde when he tried to move. He pulled off his own shirt and pants quickly before joining him on the bed. Bakugou's eyes quickly widened at the sight, his mouth slightly open and his face slightly filled with fear and shock, but quickly replaced with determination. "Better fucking prep me, asshole." Bakugou spit out, laying on his back.

He didn't expect Kirishima's rough nature to continue though. Eijirou glared at Bakugou before swiftly gripping his neck and pinning him further into the mattress. "Excuse you? Who the fuck do you think you're talking to right now? Order me around again, I fucking dare you." Kirishima spit out a look of fake disgust on his face. Bakugou was shocked by the moan that left him, more than happy with his decisions from tonight, at least so far.

He yelped as Kirishima's hand left his neck and grabbed his hips instead. Kirishima pulled his ass into the air, Bakugou's legs spreading automatically, falling to almost meet his chest. "W-What are you gonna do?" Bakugou asked, eyes wide with arousal. "None of your fucking buisness." Kirishima spit out, digging his thumbs into the stretched pink muscle. Bakugou gasped as Eijirou pulled his rim apart, testing just how stretched he was.

Bakugou saw his cock when he took off his pants, the way it weighed itself down, how his fingertips would definetly have trouble touching each other, and the fucking length- he wondered if Kirishima would actually show through his stomach…

As Kirishima added a finger to stretch and play with his rim, he decided to take down the roughness, only for a couple seconds though. "Use the traffic light system, okay?" He almost ordered, wanting to keep the same sexual energy but also let Bakugou know there was a safe way out. Bakugou's breath stuttered and he quickly nodded, having read enough fanfiction about being fucked by Kirishima and having done enough research to know something as simple as the traffic light system, and he's so fucking green.

Bakugou didn't expect a tongue to enter him though.

Bakugou nearly shouted, gripping at the sheets before pathetically trying to reach for the other man's head. "N-No!" Bakugou shouted, but it was moan filled and an empty request. Kirishima's eyes shifted to Bakugou, lapping his tongue over the blonde's rim before softly shoving it inside as far as he could.

Bakugou was squirming around at the foregin feeling, gasping every time he moved his tongue, it felt so warm, soft and perfectly wet.

Kirishima took his mouth away, licking his lips as he roughly slammed 3 fingers into the unsuspecting hole. He quickly spread them as far as he could, Bakugou's gasp turning into a pained moan. As Kirishima softly stroked his slightly pulsing insides, Bakugou was panting with wide eyes. "Beg." Kirishima ordered darkly, jamming his fingers into Bakugou as far as he could, hitting his prostate hard.

Bakugou moaned out, caving in on himself because of how Kirishima held his ass up. But he wouldn't beg.

After a few seconds of soft finger thrusting and no begging, Kirishima picked up the pace, slipping one of his fingers out, knowing Katsuki won't like the lack of fullness anymore. He jams his fingers into his prostate every time, Bakugou's eyes nearly crossing as he tries to arch his back but just keeps caving in on himself.

"Fucking. Beg." "F-Fuck you.." Bakugou responds, his voice shakey, the defiance fake and fragile. Kirishima's eyes narrow, a frown forming on his lips. "Fine." He replies, shifting one hand to Bakugou's abdomen and pressing, pleased with the slight fullness under a specific layer of muscle. He continued to slam into his g-spot, Bakugou's eyes widening and getting slightly watery. "W-Wait-!" Bakugou moaned out loud, slight panic coating his oh so beautiful face. The tip of his penis kept rubbing against Kirishima's arm, and he knew so much stimulation was working against him. He was either going to beg or piss himself.

"S-Stop! Too much- T-Too fucking much! I have to go you f-fuckkk-ing lunatic!" He moaned out, grabbing at Kirishima's arms. "Beg. Beg for me to fuck you, or you're going to piss yourself, get your clean sheets dirty, all unsatisfied and embarrassed. Poor little Katsuki couldn't hold his little blatter while I fucked you with my fingers." Eijirou cooed, tiliting his head a little before bending down and licking along the back of his thigh to the crease of his ass. He travels up to his sack and licks him firmly with the flat of his tongue.

Katsuki screams.

His clawing becomes frantic, and he's sure he's sobbing, but he's no match for even Kirishima's strength. "N-No! Ei- Stop! I-I'm gonna pee!" Katsuki cries, thrashing around as much as he can. But as Eijirou gently sucks in one of his balls, his resolve snaps. "Please! Please, please, please!" Katsuki finally cries, Eijirou's fingers slowing down and his hand letting up on his blatter. He moves away from Katsuki's cock and smirks down at the red and teary face below him.

"Please what?" He asks, Bakugou's eyes widening. "P...Please… Please fuck me… I want you to fuck me with your fat cock!" He cries, tears falling from his eyes.

Eijirou sighs, content with his work. "Good boy~" He coos, swiftly plunging 2 more fingers inside and spreading them. Katsuki gasps, looking up at Kirishima who refuses to look away from his face.

As Kirishima slowly pulls out, he bends over and grabs the lube from the floor, popping open the cap and pouring it into Katsuki. He flinches and wines at how cold it is, and Eijirou just travels the bottle to his cock, rubbing his hand over it and coating everything with lube.

As he sloppily closes the bottle, he moves Katsuki onto his stomach, Bakugou groaning as he was finally out of that horrid position.

Kirishima places the tip at his entrance, kissing Bakugou's nape, and right as Bakugou prepares for a dreadfully slow slide. Kirishima slams into the hilt. Bakugou's eyes shoot wide and his thrusted up further into the bed with the force, his mouth dropping open as a horrid moan filled scream leaves him.

This is it….he's not a virgin anymore…

He feels nothing but cock, painfully perfect cock that makes it hard to breathe.

Kirishima groans at the tight feeling, his body shaking as he convinces himself not to fuck Katsuki into oblivion.

Eijirou starts off slow, dragging his cock out halfway before pressing in again, the pace making them both groan. God, Katsuki's back tooks so fucking pretty all arched like that, delicate but strong all in one. He always knew Bakugou would look so pretty with his face burried in sheets, his ass high in the air and filled with his cock.

He feels himself slipping, his thrusts slipping into violent, angry lust every so often before he catches himself quickly.

But as Katsuki's sweet moans keep reaching his ears, he finally gives in, grabbing Katsuki's wrists and pulling them back, lifting Katsuki off the bed and using his wrists as leverage, pulling his weak body back onto his cock as he slams his hips into the man's ass.

"Holy fucking shit~" Bakugou's voice calls out as Kirishima's thrusts get rougher, violent. His voice bounced with the thrusts, his moans cutting each other off as Kirishima no longer cares about hitting the man's prostate, pounding into him purely for selfish pleasure Bakugou didn't know he was capable of.

"Fucking pathetic cocksleeve- Such a fucking whore for dick, huh? You fucking-love! -taking my fat cock like this!" Kirishima spits out, pulling on Katsuki's wrists harder. Bakugou's eyes are crossing, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

'Ruining me-'

"Not a single thought going through that head of yours, huh? Just taking my cock so good like this, loving how I ruin every other cock out there for you! Only my cock can make you cum, can make you feel so fucking good!" "Y-Yes~" Bakugou's broken voice cries out, tears sliding down his cheeks.

The bed is slamming into the wall so hard the pictures are rattling, and Bakugou can't register anything but cock, pleasure, Kirishima and cumming.

"So fucking good, so~ fUCKing go-od~" Bakugou sobs, not caring of the searing pain in his arms and shoulder blades. But as Kirishima angles his hips, he starts slamming into Bakugou's prostate, and as Bakugou tries to arch in Kirishima's hold, he cums. He clamps around his cock so hard Kirishima moans, letting go of Katsuki's arms and letting him fall face first into the bed as his entire body rocks with unbroken thrusts, shaking with the ongoing orgasm that never seems to end. Eijirou hears the sobbing and groans with pleasure, swinging his hand down to Bakugou's ass, growling as he watches the muscle and fat ripple with the perfect impact.

Kirishima puts his hands in the curve of Katsuki's spine, pressing him down and shifting forward, slightly sitting back on his calves as he jackhammers into Bakugou's swollen, red and oh so fucking soft boy cunt.

Katsuki is screaming but it's so distant to Eijirou, all he can hear is the squelching of his ass and all he can think of is cumming.

"FUCK- EIJIROU~" Katsuki screams, sobbing and begging for him to slow down, not to thrust so hard, not to be so brutal. He can't feel his limbs, all he can feel is the overstimulation as his body is pounded so hard he inches forward on his bed, only to be pulled back just as quickly. He feels like a cocksleeve because he is one.

Kirishima groans, finally slamming into Katsuki with all he has, his cock pulsing inside Bakugou almost like a slow vibrator. As Kirishima completely fills Katsuki's intestines with cum, his own cock spurts out a pathetic amount of it's own cum, his balls drawing up tight and his cock twitching with painful interest.

Kirishima and Bakugou are panting, and as Eijirou gives another overstimulated thrust for good measure, the both moan out.

"F-Fuck…." Kirishima groans, Katsuki panting into the sheets with wide, tired eyes.

He really did ruin Katsuki's chances at fucking anyone else. There's no way he can go back to toys, and there's no way he can fuck anyone else.

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bnha imagines #kirishima #kirishima eijiro #kiribaku #kiribaku thirst #kiribaku smut #mha smut #mha thirst #bnha smut #bnha thirsts #kirishima thirst #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #mha oneshot #smut #aged up

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fairyaali · 3 years

Note

hello! I was wondering if I could request a kinda spicy kinda not spicy chat noir x reader fic? It can literally be about anything you want. Please and ty❤️❤️

AHHH I’M SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BUT I FINALLY WROTE IT ! Thank you for the submission anon! <333 i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy it!

Ship: Chat Noir x Reader

Warnings! : SEMI-NSFW, all characters are aged up here!, swearing!

Tags: enemies to lovers?? ;))

“merde.”

That was the first word you hear that caused you to open your eyes. Your head was hurting and your whole body ached. You rubbed your eyes and sat up on the cold floor beneath you.

You saw Chat Noir sitting, slumped in front of you with his head resting back against the wall.

Great he was here too. You guys didn’t really get along, mostly because he tried to flirt with you on the first day he saw you and you didn’t want to put up with his shit because you knew he did that to every girl he saw. You both started growing pissy with each other since that day. now you were stuck with him in this dark, humid room.

where were you guys? most importantly what happened that got you both here? you furrow your eyebrows as you try to recall what happened. All you can remember was Ladybug giving you the bat miraculous to fight along side them again. Then you went near the Louvre where the villain was and both you and Chat Noir made a run towards him. that’s all you could remember.

“You’re finally awake.” You hear him croak.

You snap out of your thoughts and look at him. His blond hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and his chest was moving up and down with every deep break he took. He looked hot. wait, what no he didn’t why are you thinking that? “what happened?” You ask him. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him and your body felt warm. Too warm.

“the villain knocked us out with his power and Lady locked us up in this room until she changes everything back to normal.” He says and slides a note to you. You grab the note and begin to read it.

Hi guys. You were both hit by the villain and got knocked out. I had to put you both in this room and lock you in here until I change everything. Don’t worry Rena is here to help me. Whatever you do, don’t give in to certain thoughts and fight against urges. -Ladybug.

You furrow your eyebrows. fight against urges? What power did this villain have?

“I don’t know why she’s keeping us locked in here, I mean, I’m awake now so everything must be fine,right?” You say as you get up from the floor and walk to the door. You feel a hand grab yours and turn around to see Chat Noir in front of you. His cheeks were a deep crimson colour. “Not so fast, bat.” He whispers. “His power wasn’t just to knock us out.” He says.

You look down, your eyes fixated on his body. Your body starts burning you. why the fuck was it so hot in there?

“T-Then what is it?” You ask, looking up at him again and noticing how big his pupils have become.

“Hawkmoth gave him to power to make people uncontrollably aroused.” He states, looking down at your lips. oh.

This is what ladybug meant by fighting your urges.

You instantly pull back from him and scoff.

“as if, I’d ever be aroused at the sight of you.” You say and cross your arms over your chest, turning around and giving your back to him. You were lying, you knew that every time you looked at him you could feel your body burning and aching for his touch.

You gulp and sit back down where you were, trying your best not to look at him.

“Yeah because it’s not like you want to rip all my clothes off and suck me dry whenever you look at me, it’s just cause you hate me right?” He says, chuckling dryly.

You instantly feel your cheeks heat up at his words and your legs close together. fight the urge. fight the urge. fight the urge. that’s what you kept telling yourself but god you needed some type of release so bad.

“What is it now, Chat got your tongue?” You hear him whisper in your ear and your head instantly turns to face him.

How did he get there?

Your faces were inches apart. Your lips were both parted, your cheeks both red and your breathing increased with every passing second that you stared down at his pink lips. They were a deep shade of pink, mostly because he was biting them so much because of the frustration. You look down at his body again, the bulge in his suit was evident and it made you rub your thighs together even more. You knew he wanted it as bad as you.

But why him? You hoped that when Ladybug reverted the damage done by the villain, you wouldn’t remember this at all. But maybe the attraction to him was always there.

But you never wanted it this bad before in your life.

Fucking akuma.

Your body moves without you realizing and you end up straddling him, catching him off guard. His hands move to your thighs for support and you swear that it took everything you had in you to repress the moan you wanted to let out simply because he touched your body.

“Shut up, kitty.” You say, your noses touching and your hand running through his hair.

You felt vibrations emerging from his chest as he rolled his eyes back. He was purring.

Holy shit. You wanted to remember this moment just to be able to tease him afterwards. You couldn’t take it anymore. This stupid teasing. Ladybug’s voice started speaking in the back of your head.

Don’t give in to certain thoughts.

It’s your fault for locking us up In here together Ladybug so, fuck you.

You move closer to his face and lick his lips gently and slowly.

You feel his grip on your thighs tighten.

“Holy shit, we can’t do this.” He breathes out while you start kissing down his jaw.

“why not kitty?” you mumble against his skin.

“Because I don’t think I want to forget it.”

“Maybe we wont.” You whisper and look up at him with half lidded eyes.

And with that, he crashes his lips onto yours.

It was pure bliss.

Just what you needed. Just what your body was aching for.

Okay, maybe your body did want more but this was something that gave you that hint of satisfaction.

Your lips moved in sync and your hands wouldn’t stop running through his hair.

Your bodies started moving together, both eager to get any type of friction, any type of satisfaction. God you needed him so bad that it was painful.

The room was filled with lewd noises you made while you kissed and small grunts and moans that escaped your lips.

You wanted more and at this point you couldn’t think straight anymore.

A hand moved from his hair down to his shoulder. You gripped it a bit for support before making your way to the bell on his neck. You fiddled with his bell before you noticed something behind it. A zipper. Jackpot.

You felt his teeth bite your lower lip and you let out a soft whimper. You gripped the zipper and began to slowly pull it down.

You froze when you felt a gust of wind overcome you.

A surge of pain went through your head and you shut your eyes. you opened your eyes again and realized that you were on top of Chat Noir.

What the fuck? You fell on your ass and rubbed your head. “What the hell happened?” He asks scratching his head.

You were about to respond until you hear footsteps and the door unlocking to reveal Ladybug and Rena Rouge

“Are you guys ok-“ She stops and looks at both of you, her eyes wide.

You furrow your eyebrows and look at Chat who has his hair disheveled and his lips red. Little red marks were peppered from his jaw, down to his neck and then it hit you like a truck.

Holy shit.

“Oh my god do you think they-?” Rena didn’t finish her sentence and started chuckling.

“we what?” Chat asked, confusion filling his voice.

Ladybug shook her head and laughed nervously. “Nothing, the villain knocked both of you guys out and we put you here for your safety.” She says and grabs the sticky note from the floor, crumbling it in her hand.

“You guys don’t remember anything right?” Rena asks, smirking.

Chat shakes his head and gets up.

But you did remember everything.

#chat noir x reader #chat noir #cat noir #mlb #miraculous ladybug

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onceupon · 3 years

Text

London Boy - Part 2: Let the Game begin

summary: You had always thought you knew exactly what kind of boys Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton were - but did you actually?

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

a/n: no one is asking for this but here it is anyways lmao enjoy (not canon Rafe)

You make it back to your room and take a deep breath. Boys. You were living with boys. Not just any boys - Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton. Whatever, you thought, shaking yourself back to reality. It didn’t matter anyways. You weren’t about to let them get in the way of having the time of your life these next few months and you definitely weren’t going to let them keep your mind tied to OBX. That was a tie you desperately wanted to cut. Besides, if you knew Rafe and Topper like you thought you did, they’d be too caught up with playing both the field and the girls of Westheath before you knew it, effectively keeping them occupied and out of your way.

You decided to go about your day as you usually would. Your Have a Great Day playlist was queued up and playing as you slipped on your favorite jeans and top. You let yourself get absentmindedly lost in your actions as you did your hair and makeup - enough to make you feel put together and regain some control after the way this morning had left you feeling vulnerable. Looking good made you feel good - and if anyone else thought you looked good too, then hey, that was just an added bonus.

You hadn’t noticed how lost in the process of getting ready you had gotten until you looked down at your phone and saw that an hour had flown by. You were half way down the hall to the kitchen when the door of your flat flew open, bringing you face to face with two new people for the second time that day.

“Oh my gosh hiiii!” a girl turned to you, pausing her laughter from the conversation she was having with the girl next to her. “I’m Olivia! It’s so nice to meet you!!” the bubbly girl exclaimed, immediately embracing you in a hug. The other girl laughed at her friend’s excitement and forwardness which had clearly startled you.

“I’m Millie - you must be one of our flatmates,” the other girl smiled, introducing herself to you as well.

“Hi, I’m Y/n,” you smiled softly.

“Oh my gosh Mills! I knew it! I told you we’d get roomed with the Americans! Ugh this is so exciting, there’s so much I need to know I don’t even know where to start!” Olivia squealed with a little hop.

“Alright don’t scare the poor girl, she’s gonna think they’ve stuck her with a couple of psychos,” laughed Millie, pulling her friend’s arm to lead her down the hall. “Come on Liv let’s let y/n breathe for a second while we go put our bags down,” she said, giving you an apologetic smile.

You laughed and continued on to the kitchen to get some water as you had originally set out to do. You were honestly relieved. Thank god your other two roommates were girls who weren’t remotely associated with OBX. You didn’t even mind their intensity, it was endearing really, and you’d take a couple of loud but genuine girls who seemed like they were a bunch of fun to hang out with over the bitchiness and cattiness you were used to with the girls back home at Kildare.

“Alright Y/n, I forgot sheets and Mills didn’t bring a towel so we’re going to Primark and you’re coming with. I want to hear all the American gossip,” Olivia reappeared and then slipped back down the hallway with a wink. You laughed and went to go grab your bag, just then realizing Rafe and Topper were no longer at the flat. You wondered where they had gone, not hearing them slip out over the music you were playing earlier. Not that you cared, it was a relief to have them out of sight and out of mind for now.

—

“Hmm Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton, does sound rather posh,” mused Millie as you had begun providing some intel to your friends on the two flatmates they had yet to meet.

“Two American ladies men, sign me up!” cackled Olivia.

“Hey watch yourself missy, you’re taken,” Millie scolded.

You had only known these girls for maybe an hour and somehow you had been comfortable enough with them to open up about your entire life’s backstory as you walked with them through the home section of Primark. It felt like they had been your friends for years, the three of you gelling together effortlessly.

“Oo you have a boyfriend?” you asked as your eyes scanned over the shelf of fluffy blankets in front of you. You simply couldn’t leave without the light grey one, daydreaming about how cozy napping with it would be.

“I do. His name is Jake,” Olivia beamed, “he’s kind of an idiot, but I love him.”

“And he’s got a whole squad of idiot friends too, but you’ll see for yourself,” Millie laughed.

“Oh shit that reminds me! I invited them all over to pregame tonight before freshers,” chimed Olivia.

“What’s freshers?” you asked, raising your brows in confusion.

Millie and Olivia shared a quick laugh at how clueless you were to everything in their world.

“So freshers is like this huge club event at the beginning of the school year. It’s really meant for uni freshers but since half of us are 18 and we can easily sneak in the other half it’s kind of tradition for Westheath kids to go their last year. Me and Mills went last year too though, one of the guys we knew the year above us was cousins with the bouncer,” Olivia grinned proudly. “But literally everyone is going and that means you’re coming too and- oh shit I’m such a bloody idiot aren’t I! I’m sorry Y/n I literally didn’t think at all to ask anyone from our flat if it was okay to host a pregame,” she bit her thumb with guilt-ridden eyes.

“Looks like you and your idiot boyfriend are actually a match made in heaven,” joked Millie as Olivia gave her the finger, trying to suppress the smile tugging at her lips.

“Oh no that’s totally fine! I’ve had like barely any human interaction these last few days and it’ll be nice to meet some more people from Westheath. It’ll be fun,” you reassured Olivia with a genuine smile. “I just uh- I’ve never been clubbing. Like what do I even wear, I don’t think I brought anything like that. And I’m not 18 for another month, would I even get in?”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re here isn’t it!” exclaimed Olivia, grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the clothes section. “Mills this would be PERFECT don’t you think,” she said as she held up a sheer black top in front of you.

“Oh my gosh yes. With a black bra underneath and mini skirt,” Millie grinned, nodding in excitement with Olivia.

“Guys I don’t know if I can wear this. Like I don’t think I can pull this off,” you said meekly.

“Oh my god shut up this would look so good on you. Your body is killer and you can 1000% pull this off,” Olivia insisted, shoving the garment toward you. “And we’ll get you in the club no problem,” she added firmly, shutting down any possibility of you talking your way out of tonight.

“Wait shit do you think Rafe and Topper will be cool with the pregame? We haven’t even properly met them yet and I’ve already invited a bunch of strangers to our place,” groaned Olivia as the three of you headed toward the register.

“Trust me, if there’s two things those boys definitely don’t mind it’s a party and a reason to drink,” you laughed.

—-

As the three of you unlocked the door to your flat you could hear Rafe and Topper’s voices from the kitchen. Ugh, back already.

“Hellooo boys,” called Olivia with zero hesitation, walking straight into the kitchen. “Name’s Olivia, pleasure to meet you,” she smiled extending her hand.

“Pleasure is all ours,” Rafe smiled back. It took every ounce of your will power not to roll your eyes at his smugness.

“Indeed it is,” grinned Topper giving her a hand shake. “And you are,” Topper immediately drew his attention to Millie entering the kitchen right behind Olivia. You didn’t miss how his eyes ran her up and down.

“Millie, your fifth and final roommate,” she smirked, not having missed his wandering eyes either.

“So listen boys,” Olivia clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “I may have invited my boyfriend and some of our friends over to pregame tonight before we all go out to the club. You guys are obviously welcome to join but if you’re not cool with us having people over just say the word and-“

“Done deal. What time should we be ready?” Topper cut her off

“9. See you then,” she grinned from ear to ear sauntering off to her room.

“Alright I need to go unpack, but it was lovely to meet you boys, see you soon,” Millie smiled, eyes locking with Topper’s for a second too long before she too slipped away. You wanted nothing more than to escape to your room as well but you were starving, and since you were now living with Rafe and Topper you’d have to learn to go about your life around your new home despite their presence. You sighed as you made your way to the fridge, trying to decide what you were gonna scrap together for dinner.

“So how long have you been here already?” asked Rafe, grabbing some Pringles and taking a seat at the table, Topper already spreading out comfortably on the couch.

“Uh, few days,” you replied, not bothering to turn around.

“See anything cool yet,” Topper chimed in as he scrolled on his phone. The way they were asking you questions was oddly normal. You were trying hard to detect any hint of cockiness in their voice but you couldn’t find any. You weren’t ready to let your guard down fully, not entirely trusting the pair, but you decided to soften a bit and give them a chance.

“Yeah actually, I walked around Hyde Park the other day and the day before I watched the sunset from Millennium Bridge. It was beautiful,” you replied, finally turning toward the boys, a jar of pasta sauce in hand.

“Crazy being in a city like this huh. Definitely not the Outer Banks,” Rafe chuckled lightly, gaze settling on the window.

“Definitely not the Outer Banks,” you smiled.

—-

“What do you mean you haven’t watched Friends!?” you let out an exasperated cry as you twirled more spaghetti on your fork.

“It’s stupid,” said Topper, making a face.

“It’s a classic,” you retorted.

“No. The Office though. Now that’s a classic.”

“Should’ve know you were an Office guy,” you shook your head, Rafe laughing from his seat across from you.

“Listen, I can’t help you if you don’t know how to appreciate true comedy,” Topper shrugged.

“Yeah okay,” you rolled your eyes, turning now to face the dirty blonde seated across from you, absent mindedly shuffling a deck of cards for no reason, the golden ring on his finer catching your eye as his hands moved in a repetitive motion. “And what about you Mr. Dealer,” you asked Rafe, eyes motioning to the cards in his hand before going back up to meet his gaze. Rafe knew how to keep good eye contact with a person, confident yet not overpowering, and as the evening progressed and you become more comfortable you welcomed the challenge of his piercing blue eyes.

“I’m more of a How I Met Your Mother guy,” he answered nonchalantly.

“Huh, I wouldn’t’ve pegged you as that.”

“And what would you have pegged me as, Y/n,” he asked, still holding your gaze to which you just shrugged playfully, letting him wonder.

“Okay, forget about comedies. Game of Thrones. Hands down best thing I’ve ever watched,” Topper stated, throwing his palms down on the table.

“I mean I do hear good things, but I don’t know, seems kind of intense,” you said before shoving another forkful of spaghetti in your mouth.

“No no no Y/n you literally don’t know what you’re missing out on, it’s pure genius,” Topper continued passionately.

Rafe gave you a knowing glance as you two made eye contact again, trying not to laugh, “He’s been on my ass for years to watch it.”

“And now you have no excuse! It’s senior man, classes will be light work, just give it a chance,” Topper pleaded.

“You know what Topper, just because you’re practically jumping out of your seat right now, I’ll check it out just for you,” you laughed as Toppers face pulled into a wide grin.

“Good enough for me,” he said victoriously.

“Lemme one up that Topps, I’ll also give it a chance, so it better be worth it,” Rafe added, Topper’s eyes growing wide in simultaneous glee and disbelief. Topper quickly got up from his seat, puffing his chest, “woooo! Winter is coming to London baby!” he exclaimed, pumping his fist before heading down the hall to his room.

Two hours had passed by with you hanging out in the kitchen with Rafe and Topper, and to your surprise… you were actually enjoying yourself. You guys had talked about the things you wanted to do in London, the music you all listened to, favorite movies, and tv shows of course. You almost didn’t know how to process it. How could two guys who seemed like such kook douchebags actually be - cool? You had always regarded the two at face value, but perhaps there was more to these boys than what meets the eye.

“Oh god how is it already 8, I’m so behind,” you groaned, getting up to wash your dishes.

“Once Topper is full speed ahead, there’s no stopping that man,” Rafe laughed.

“Hey,” you turned your head around from the sink, soapy dish in hand. “I was actually serious about giving Game of Thrones a try. Damn Topper if he didn’t make me curious now,” you laughed, “but I was thinking, if you’re actually gonna watch too, that we should time it so we both watch on the same days. Because then if we’re on the same schedule, whenever we see each other in the kitchen or something we can discuss and we’ll be on the same episodes so no spoilers.”

“So you mean we’d both watch on our own but at the same time?” Rafe asked.

“Yeah,” you replied, as if it was obvious. That’s what you literally just described.

“Well if we’re gonna watch it at the same time, we might as well just watch it together Y/n,” he calmly stated, walking right up next to you to put his Pringles away.

“Uh yeah I mean that works too,” you replied, looking up at the boy now next to you, getting slightly flustered by his presence once again. His blue eyes were piercing right through you, and this time it was a losing a battle.

“Cool,” he smiled, turning around and walking out of the kitchen to his room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, the water still running in front of you as you stood their holding the sponge like an idiot. What the fuck just happened?

---

Part 3

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #obx #rafe obx

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quokkacore · 3 years

Text

with great power I [lee jeno]

summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.

pairing: lee jeno x reader

genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack

warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric

song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare

word count: 10.5k

a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee for beta reading <3

main masterlist // story masterlist

chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week

Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.

When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday.

And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.

In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00.

He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak.

He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.

[7:48 AM]

y/n: pssst

y/n: shithead

y/n: where r u ????

[7:49 AM]

y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know

jeno: …… i'm on the train

jeno: woke up late

y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR

y/n: LATE*

y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR

[7:50]

jeno: probably, yeah

jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY

y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday

y/n: [sent an attachment!]

[7:51 AM]

jeno: SHUT UP

jeno: you're not funny >:(

jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune

y/n: au contraire im hilarious

jeno: meanie :(

jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here

jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,

[7:52 AM]

y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear

y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh

y/n: also ur literally never late

y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill

y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine

Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid.

The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me.

Don’t be stupid.

Too late!

Thwip!

Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range.

Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.

Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life.

But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.

Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly.

[7:57 AM]

y/n: let me know when u get here !!!

No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.

The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took.

After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School.

[8:06 AM]

jeno: just did >:D

Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.”

He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”

“The Bachelor?”

“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”

He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation.

A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.

“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”

Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”

“I, uh… ran a little.”

You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”

“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”

The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement.

The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.

You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”

You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”

“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.”

He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon.

“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”

Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking.

"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored.

San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him.

You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you.

“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”

“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry.

“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.”

Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front.

“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since.

“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her.

“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.

You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today.

It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—

“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.

“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”

Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”

“I don’t like her, Yeeun.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey! Jeno Lee!”

“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.

“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”

Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark, Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.

“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”

You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”

“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”

“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.

“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”

“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken.

“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”

“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”

Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”

Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.

“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”

The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.

“Fuck you, Huang.”

Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”

The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club.

"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.

"San Choi."

Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you.

"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"

"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."

Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."

"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."

Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."

“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.

You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”

The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”

Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”

If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.

The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice.

“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”

Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”

Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?”

Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.”

Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.

As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled.

“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately.

“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”

You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”

“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”

You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?”

“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?”

You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”

Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.

“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”

“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’.

“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”

He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”

You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag.

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.”

He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch.

Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy.

Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time.

Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord.

All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends.

"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"

Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"

"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"

"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."

You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?"

You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"

"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"

"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”

You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.

So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”

Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”

San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”

“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”

You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”

San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.

“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”

“Coming!” San yelled back.

“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”

The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”

Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”

“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!”

Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.

You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.

I want you to know now

Baby, it could go down

I don’t wanna talk about it

Baby, let’s just go now

The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.

When you talk right to me

You gon’ have to do me

Every time you think you’re leaving

You running back to me

You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months.

Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung.

He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung.

And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history.

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Talk about where we're goin'

Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts

Can't get what we want without knowin'

Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since.

You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything.

I've never felt like this before

I apologize if I'm movin' too far

Can we just talk? Can we just talk?

Figure out where we're goin'...

As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.

The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration.

Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to.

It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel.

Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.

When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face.

He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also.

To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college.

To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing.

Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.

“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!”

Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.

"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"

"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."

Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss.

That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either.

Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"

Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only.

This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters.

Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.

"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked.

"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."

Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"

"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."

Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.

“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”

“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”

“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”

Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.

“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—”

The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”

The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.

Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit.

Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.

"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here."

Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."

Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."

Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."

Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."

The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.

Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”

Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things.

“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”

“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”

“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”

Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”

Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”

Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”

“M-me, Mr. Park?”

Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.

“You don’t know who this is, right?”

Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”

Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious.

“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”

“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”

“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”

“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”

Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”

Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.

“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Perfect.”

They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.

After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.

Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things.

Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.

“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed.

Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.

“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?”

The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!”

Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.

“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.

"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”

“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”

“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”

“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”

Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”

Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”

Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”

Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.”

Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”

Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”

“Jeno?”

He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.

His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”

You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”

“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.”

You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."

"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."

"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."

Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."

Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.

"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."

But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"

He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out.

"So you left your keys."

Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."

You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry."

Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me."

Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change."

Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"

You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult. You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.

"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."

Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"

"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."

Jeno nodded. "This sucks."

"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"

Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest.

"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"

You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."

"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."

"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?"

Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."

Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."

He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"

"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year."

Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."

Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.

"Deal."

You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."

The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist.

On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.

Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether.

When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.

“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly.

“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed.

And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”

Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”

Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.

The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.

He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.

“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”

“Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”

“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”

“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”

Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”

“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.”

A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.

Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them.

“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”

“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was.

“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”

Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”

One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”

“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before.

“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”

Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”

The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”

Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”

“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped.

“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.

“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”

Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.

“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”

“Hand it over, then.”

That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.

“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”

In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him.

“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered.

“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”

“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”

Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came.

The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground.

The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”

“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!”

So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.

When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths.

Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault.

He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station.

As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could.

He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.

What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.

[8:36 PM]

y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)

“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.

The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.

After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.

His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”

You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up.

“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”

He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.

“Y/N, what happened?”

taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs @crescentjen

#kwritersworldnet #nct angst #nct x reader #jeno x reader #jeno angst #jeno fluff #nct au #jeno au #kpop scenarios #kpop angst #kpop imagines #nct dream x reader #lee jeno x reader #my writing

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rocorambles · 4 years

Text

Redemption

Pairing: Ushijima x Reader

Genre: NSFW, Fluff and Smut

Warnings: Slight Size Kink

Summary: When you find out Ushijima is a virgin, you offer to be his first and help him out. But in reality, you might be the one who needs some help.

Requested by Anon

There’s a comfortable quiet atmosphere between the two of you as Ushijima hands you a clean towel while you pant for breath. Technically speaking, there’s no reason why the two of you need to be together today on one of the few days the Schweiden Adlers had off, but you had a soft spot for the pro-athlete, so when he had asked if you wanted to go workout together at the team training gym, you agreed. You couldn’t deny you needed some exercise. Being a team manager didn’t mean you worked out much yourself, so you looked forward to sweating some extra calories. But you really should have known better than to expect just a normal workout with Ushijima sternly overseeing your routine.

“Ushijima, you do realize I’m not a pro-athlete like you, right? You can’t expect me to keep up with you.”

“Anyone can do anything if they set their minds on it and work hard enough.”

You roll your eyes before fondly looking at the tall man beside you. Was he a little dense and a little too blunt? Sure. But you saw the heart of gold and genuineness within him. You’d always wondered why the man was still single. You know he’s sometimes an idiot when it comes to social cues and can’t hold small talk to save his life, but you’d seen far worse and less deserving men end up tricking some poor damsel into their spider webs. Surely you’re not the only one who sees the diamond in the rough that Ushijima really is?

You don’t realize you’re intensely staring at him until he uncomfortably shifts. “It’s rude to stare.” You blush and quickly turn away from him, opting to chug your water as a distraction. Checking your phone, you gasp when you realize how late it is. “Shit, sorry, I really need to run…” You trail off and Ushijima narrows his eyes at you as a mischievous grin spreads across your face. He’s all too aware that the look doesn’t mean anything good for him.

“What are you doing tonight?”

There’s a long pause before he grunts out “nothing” and you suddenly seem more intimidating than any opponent he’s faced across the net when your eyes light up and your head moves until it’s only inches away from his own.

“Cool! So you’re going to a party with me then.”

He blinks once at you before completely shutting you down with a resounding no. But really, after knowing you and working in such close proximity with you almost every day, he should realize how relentless you are once your mind is made up.

“When’s the last time you talked to anyone outside of the team, coaches, trainers, and managers? And Tendou doesn’t count since he’s still technically volleyball related.”

Ok, so maybe you had a point there.

“We don’t even have practice for the next few days! So you’ll have time to rest up and recover and be totally back to 100% for the next practice.”

You smile when you see his determined look slip a bit, but your jaw drops at his next words. “I’m not going to a party where you’re just going to ditch me to have sex with someone and then either complain or brag about it to me the next day.”

You frantically cover his mouth with your hands as you nervously look around to make sure no one around had heard him. “USHIJIMA! I tell you these things because I expect you to keep quiet about them. Not just blabber it out for everyone to hear.”

He impassively stares at you and you sigh as you remove your hands from his face before determinedly looking at him again. “But actually since you’ve already brought it up, I noticed you never have any spicy stories to tell me! It’s not fair if I’m the one who’s always sharing. When’s the last time you even had sex? It has to be stressful to not let off some steam in a more enjoyable way than volleyball.” (Although you secretly wonder if Ushijima finds volleyball more pleasurable than sex. You wouldn’t doubt it.) But you squint as he suddenly seems less stoic than usual and...are his cheeks pink?

“Ushijima, are you embarrassed? I literally tell you about all my sex exploits and you’re embarrassed by me just asking you when the last time you did it was?” Your voice trails off when a suspicion begins to form and your eyes soften as you more gently nudge him. “It’s okay if it’s been a long time. I know how busy you are. It’s not a reflection of you, I promise. But isn’t that more reason to come out with me tonight?” He mumbles something and you lean in, unable to make out the words, but when he repeats them, you freeze.

A virgin? Ushijima was a virgin?

You know you should say something instead of just staring at him like an idiot, but shock numbs you and only when he makes a move to get up and leave do you hastily grab his arm. Your mouth flounders as you try to come up with a response, but when you observe how vulnerable and sensitive the topic seems to be for him, your heart goes out to your friend and you shake the lingering surprise from you.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. I think it’s kind of sweet actually. Your first time should be special, with someone you really care about. You shouldn’t ever feel ashamed about the fact that you haven’t done it. Hell, I wish I hadn’t been so quick to lose my virginity to some asshole in college.”

You smile when you see his shoulders straighten and maybe it’s the slight upturned twitch of his lips or maybe it’s the way dark olive eyes glow when they look at you, but you don’t even register the words that come tumbling from your lips until they hang heavy in the air.

“I could be your first if you wanted.”

You are a fucking idiot. You scramble to figure out a way to take back those words, already preparing for Ushijima to angrily end any friendship the two of you had, already dreading how you’re going to manage a team when one of the starters hates you. Your mind is reeling so hard from the dark future you’ve painted for yourself in your head that you almost miss what Ushijima says.

“Okay.”

Suffice to say, all plans to go to your party fly out the window and you send an apologetic text to your friend. Ushijima and you go to your respective locker rooms to wash up and freshen up before trekking back to your apartment. The walk isn’t uncomfortable per se, but there’s an electric energy radiating between the two of you as you walk silently next to each other. And shit, you’re not the virgin, but why is your heart beating so hard and so fast that you think it might literally explode from your chest? You scowl at yourself as your hands tremble when you unlock and open your front door and when Ushijima’s back is turned to you as he removes his shoes, you mentally slap yourself to get it together.

With renewed confidence, you firmly grasp his larger wrist and tug him along to your bedroom where you gently push him onto the bed. You take a moment to revel in the power you feel from being in charge of the stronger, larger man underneath you and arousal stirs within you from Ushijima’s submission and willingness to let you have your way with him. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him and your heart warms as you lean down to softly kiss him, smiling against his lips when you feel him tentatively reciprocate. Kissing Ushijima feels like what you imagine completing a satisfying day's work on the farm feels like. You can almost taste the sturdiness, the comforting warmth of a fireplace burning as you return from the fields, and the authentic, humble roots on his lips. There’s no frills, no pretenses. It’s purely Ushijima and you love it.

You think you could spend all night just kissing him if you wanted to, but you remind yourself of tonight’s mission. You trail your fingers down his chest until you reach the hem of his shirt which you begin to roll up until it reaches the top of his torso and he helps you fully remove it. Sitting upright on his thighs, you can feel yourself salivate as you take in the broad expanse of his upper body on display for you. You’ve seen it before, but in the dim light of your bedroom and splayed across your bedsheets, it’s mesmerizing and you can’t help the way you unconsciously run your hands across every inch of taut muscle and kiss random lines across chiseled lines. You smirk when you feel Ushijima’s groin thrust up when you coyly flick a nipple with your tongue and you stare at him as you begin to suck on the hardening bud, drinking in the sight of the usually reserved man letting out breathy moans as you continue your ministrations.

You want to tease him more, coax more sounds out of him, but the feeling of something hard prodding your stomach keeps you moving on and you pointedly tug on the waistband of his pants until he gets the memo and raises his hips to allow you to remove everything until he’s completely bare before you. And any confidence you had built up shatters.

If you’re entirely honest, you’d had your fair share of wet dreams imagining what Ushijima was hiding underneath his shorts, but when faced with reality that’s somehow even larger than anything you had even dreamt of, you bite your bottom nervously as your pussy clenches at the thought of trying to fit him inside of you. You’re not sure if it’s lust or nerves that has your stomach twisting as you wrap a hand around his impressive girth. Probably both, you think, as your throat goes dry and your thighs squeeze together when you see how your entire fist barely covers less than half of him.

Your attention is brought back to the man underneath you when you hear a low groan as you stroke your fist up and down his shaft, giving some extra attention to the leaking slit at the tip. Your other hand reaches underneath your panties and circles your clit. You’ll need to be absolutely drenched before you can even think of trying to take him. But it’s not hard for your cunt to become a sopping mess when you stare in awe at the way Ushijima writhes underneath you, releasing low breathy pants and grunts that you can feel rumbling throughout his body. Already feeling a wet spot seeping through your clothes, you affectionately kiss him once more before briefly getting up to quickly strip down. His eyes hungrily devour the sight of your naked figure as you crawl back above him and adjust your position until you feel his tip nudging at your entrance.

You close your eyes and moan as you slowly lower yourself onto him, but even as wet as you are, you can barely take half of him inside you as he stretches you far beyond any person or any toy has. Yet, despite the discomfort and borderline pain of the stretch, you feel even more of your arousal dripping down your thigh as you continuously lift and lower yourself, always pushing slightly harder, slightly further than where you’d been before. Your eyes roll back from the feeling of being so full and your nails dig into Ushijima’s shoulders as you desperately continue to work his entire length into you. But you reach your limit and you swear you can feel him inside of your womb even though there’s still about a quarter more of his cock waiting to penetrate you. You take a deep breath and exhale as you try to sink further down, but you let out a broken moan when fingers twist and tug your nipples.

Ushijima intensely observes you as he kneads your fleshy mounds, playing with your hardened nubs until he sees the tiny furrow on your forehead smooth out. He sits up and bends his neck to soothingly kiss you. A primal instinct in him had been entranced at the sight of your much smaller figure struggling to take just a part of him and he had to use every bit of will power he had to not instantly cum at the feeling of your warm and wet walls squeezing around him. But when he saw the hints of pain you tried to push past written all over your face, a desire to make you feel only pleasure had overtaken him.

He continues running his fingers across your chest as your tongues twist and turn against each other and you moan into his mouth as you reach a hand down to furiously rub against your clit until you feel another surge of arousal and more fluids run down your inner thigh. You guide his hands to your waist before continuing to rub your clit and you urge him to help you as you clash your lips against his once more. But you tear away from his mouth in a silent scream as he grabs you and forcefully pushes you down and down until your lower bodies press tightly against each other, any space between them removed. Ushijima’s eyes are glued to your face and he takes in the way your eyes widen and your jaw drops open as you claw at his arms, leaving angry red trails as your body tries to adjust to literally being stuffed full. He patiently waits until your nails stop their frantic clawing and he drops his forehead to your shoulder with a groan as you begin to rock your hips up and down.

He can feel the sloppy mess you’re making as you continue to flood the sheets underneath with your seemingly never ending arousal, but he can’t bring himself to care as your pace speeds up until you’re practically bouncing in his lap as you desperately chase your end. You scream when he tightens his grip on your waist and assists you, slamming you down and easily picking you up before slamming you down again, perfectly matching your rhythm until everything blends together and you don’t even know who’s doing what anymore. All you know is the feeling of Ushijima’s cock sliding and pressing against every inch and every crevice of your pussy, filling you so well you wonder if you’ll ever be satisfied with anything else inside of you after this.

You can’t even bring yourself to feel ashamed by the wanton wail you let out as you reach a higher peak than you’ve ever reached before and your entire body shakes with pleasure as Ushijima continues to lift and lower your body even without any support from you until he harshly pushes you down one last time and holds you still as he releases thick spurts deep inside of you, so deep that even in the haze of your orgasm you’re grateful you’re on birth control because you’re sure he’s coating your actual womb with how far inside he seems to reach. You slump into his chest and let yourself be maneuvered by him until the two of you are lying side by side, facing each other, your lower bodies still intimately connected.

The two of you lay there for a while and you instinctively nuzzle your face into his chest as his arms tenderly wrap around you, pulling you even closer to him and you both take quiet comfort in the sounds of your heavy breaths filling the air. But when your heart beats slow and your breathing evens out, you cringe in embarrassment.

“Ushijima, I’m so sorry. This was your first time. I should have been the one taking care of you, but you ended up needing to step in and take charge.” There’s a stretch of silence before you feel one of his arms move and a hand lightly nudges your head up to look at him. Your heart flutters when you see the most gentle smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

“Wakatoshi. Call me Wakatoshi.”

You see a flash of uncertainty in his usually confident eyes as he hesitantly inches his face closer to yours, but you grin as you meet him halfway and your lips slot against each other like two puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. You close your eyes and relish the peaceful moment for a bit before using the element of surprise and pushing against him until he’s on his back underneath you once more. You playfully clench your pussy walls and smirk at the way he throws his head back and hisses at the feeling. You can feel him begin to harden once more inside of you and when he looks back at you, you shoot a wink his way.

“Let me redeem myself, Wakatoshi.”

#haikyuu smut #ushijima x reader #ushijima #haikyuu fic #haikyuu #haikyuu writing #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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justmeandmysickies · 3 years

Note

“My stomach’s bothering me." and “I don’t feel so hot.” for any of your male character please, maybe he's at work/school and his partner take him home, thank you

Thank you for the request anon!

Anytime, babe

characters: Cyril and Leo warnings: emeto

Today had been nothing but dreadful for Leo.

The morning had already started horribly when he woke up with the familiar feeling of nausea blooming in the pit of his stomach. And it got even worse, when instead of finding comfort in his husbands’ waiting arms, he only found a little note informing him, that said husband had already left for work.

His stomach churned at the thought of literally any kind of food, so he begrudgingly took a shower and headed to work himself, skipping breakfast altogether.

He’d then had a few appointments; mostly rich snobs looking for the most extravagant mansion they could find.

Now he was sitting at his desk in his private office looking over some contracts. Or at least he was trying to. The uncomfortable churning in his stomach had turned into pain – constant cramps making him feel like his insides were being squeezed. Every now and then, air would travel up his esophagus in the form of burps, which he’d let out shamelessly, considering he was alone in his office.

Leo leaned back in his chair as he huffed in frustration. He had no time to lose and yet he wanted to do nothing but go home and sleep this off. Unfortunately, the documents on his desk were important and time sensitive, so he went back to work.

His persistence didn’t last long though. Not even twenty minutes later, Leo had given up on the idea of work entirely, instead rubbing openly at his upset middle. Cold sweat had started running down his forehead, his pink hair now sticking uncomfortably to his clammy skin. Another burp traveled up his throat, making him cringe at the sour aftertaste it left in his mouth. He hissed through clenched teeth as another cramp shot through his abdomen, the pain so intense that he doubled over in his chair, both hands pressed to his stomach in a desperate attempt to soothe it.

He was panting hard and just as the cramp tapered off and Leo was able to straighten up, his nausea spiked suddenly. An empty gag forced its’ way out of him. His eyes widened in surprise as his right hand flew to his mouth, his left never leaving his tormented middle. Leo swallowed thickly, as he stayed completely still, in fear that moving might trigger an unwanted reaction from his body.

When he didn’t gag again after a few minutes, he exhaled slowly and leaned back into his chair. He wanted to go home but had no intention of driving there himself. So he called the one person who he knew would drop everything for him – his husband Cyril.

As expected, Cyril picked up at the first ring. What Leo hadn’t expected however, was the retch that came out of his mouth instead of the intended ‘hey’. Cyril was quiet for a second before he spoke, clearly a bit confused. “Hey, baby. What’s going on?”

Leo would have liked to answer but he was currently busy trying to keep his stomach from ejecting its contents all over his expensive mahogany-desk.

“Baby?” Cyril asked again, this time a sense of urgency evident in his voice. Something was clearly wrong with his husband, and he didn’t like that one bit.

Leo took a deep breath in through his nose, willing his stomach to stay in place. “I- I don’t feel so hot.” He mumbled, barely audible behind the hand that was still clamped over his mouth.

“Are you at the office?” Cyril questioned, already grabbing his car keys.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m on my way.” And with that the older man had hung up, leaving Leo alone in his misery.

The nausea was now all-consuming as it barely left him able to form a coherent thought. He started to salivate and panic set in as he realized that this was really happening. He was going to throw up in his office. Leo felt another burp gurgle up his chest and he knew that this one would be his downfall. Swallowing wasn’t an option anymore, so he did the only logical thing he could think of – he quickly grabbed the trashcan that usually sat under his desk and stuck his head in it. And not a second too soon.

The burp brought up a projectile wave of almost entirely liquid vomit, that left Leo gasping for air. His body didn’t give him much time to breathe though before a retch produced a second wave of the foul-smelling substance. Leo straightened up slightly, to wipe the tears of exertion from his eyes. He had a minute to catch his breath, but he knew he wasn’t done.

He put the trashcan on the floor between his legs and leaned over, so Leo now had both hands pressed to his cramping stomach. He felt it lurch under his palms as another powerful heave got the third round started. An uncomfortable heat spread through his body as more brown-tinged vomit landed in the trashcan, painting the pieces of paper in it a sickening color. Leo closed his eyes at the disgusting sight and just as the third round seemed to come to an end, the door to his office opened.

Leo wasn’t worried. He knew the only person who’d come into his office unannounced, was his husband. He heard a deep sigh and then heavy steps walking over to him. Cyril put a comforting hand on his husbands’ neck, instinctively massaging the sensitive area. He immediately regretted his decision of looking at the trashcan as his own stomach threatened to expel its’ contents.

Leo rubbed desperately at his middle, trying to rid himself of another cramp. “My stomach is bothering me.” Leo whined, failing to think of a better word.

Cyril chuckled at the massive understatement. “You don’t say.”

Leo tried to glare at his husband but in his current state it looked more like a frown as he once again leaned over the trashcan with a pitiful burp. He groaned. “I want to go home.”

The nausea hadn’t subsided one bit and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his husbands’ arm in their more-than-comfortable bed.

“I’ll take you home, as soon as you feel up to it.” Cyril promised, still carefully rubbing his poor loves’ back.

“I’m ready, I want to go now.” Leo said as he stood up and walked towards the exit, giving his husband no time to argue.

Cyril quickly caught up to the slightly smaller man as they made their way down to the car. The ride home was luckily uneventful but as soon as Cyril had unlocked their front door, Leo shoved past him and took off into the direction of the bathroom.

The older man sighed, dreadfully following his husband. He found Leo with his head in the toilet heaving harshly before the distinct sound of liquid hitting liquid could be heard. Cyril once again placed his palm on his husbands arched back, gentle circles encouraging him to relax. His free hand found its’ way onto Leos’ forehead to brush sweaty strands of pink hair out of the way.

After several more minutes of mostly empty gagging, Leos’ stomach finally felt somewhat settled. He looked up at Cyril who had just leaned forward to flush the toilet.

“Thanks for picking me up, by the way. I know you’re busy.”

Cyril smiled down at his husband, momentarily appreciating how beautiful he looked, even in a state like this. How that was possible, he’d never know. “Anytime, baby. Anytime.”

#there you have them #I hope you love them as much as I do #em writes #cyril #leo #my ocs #emeto

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gureishi · 3 years

Note

A #14 with Saeyoung. I love your fics ❤️ Thank you

Thank YOU, dear! ♡

Writing this one was cathartic af. I don’t often write them fighting, because I don’t think they fight much—but the prompt was begging for it and I think a lot about the unexpected ways they find themselves grappling with their trauma.

fourteen: hurts like hell to be torn apart

SaeyoungXReader, T (referenced violence, angst with a happy ending), words: 2912

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

Bang.

The sound reverberates off the cobblestones and the colorful storefronts. It’s as loud and dark as the street is cheerful and bright. You feel it in your bones.

And for some reason that you have neither the time nor the emotional capacity to explain, you take off running. Away from the blue-and-white awnings of the little farmers market. Around a corner. Down the alley. Toward the sound.

I know someone’s been shot, says your brain, and you don’t notice the general absence of panic in the crowd—don’t register that no one is yelling, no one else is running. Your sandals slap against the pavement, hard. Your blood rushes in your ears and your heart is in your mouth.

I have to find them, or else… Your vision blurs, your thoughts scramble. Or else.

You’re halfway down the alley, running straight into the setting sun, and you still can’t make out what’s happening at the end of the narrow, dark, trash can-lined street. You squint, expecting at any moment to see a body on the ground, blood pooling on the uneven concrete…

…and your line of sight is cut off as you run face-first into something firm and warm. Someone. You let out a muffled cry and try to pull away, but there are hands gripping your arms and you find you can’t move.

“What do you think you’re doing?” hisses a familiar voice, and although his scent hits you then, and you know you should feel safe, you continue to struggle—hands balled into fists, striking his chest.

“Let me go!” you yell, raising a hand to shove him. His long fingers wrap around your fist. “I have to…” you gasp.

“Nope,” he says. He wraps his strong arms around you and you give in, slumping against him. There’s literally no way out now—you know him too well. How did he catch up to you, how did he cut you off…? He’s not even out of breath.

“Saeyoung…”

“Look.” He’s still got you in his firm grip, but he lifts one arm so you can see through the triangle it makes with his torso. Now that you’ve stopped your insane sprint, you can see more clearly. The end of the alley is…empty.

Your throat feels raw. You realize that at some point you’ve started to cry.

“It was a car backfiring,” he says stiffly.

“A car…”

Rationally, you understand: why the sound was too quiet, why nobody else took off running. Why there’s no body slowly growing cold at the end of the alley. But you can’t quite think rationally. Your heart is pounding so hard you feel like you might throw up.

Saeyoung spins you around and half-drags you down the alley, back the way you came. You know you should feel relieved—comforted by his arm around you, thrilled that your instincts were wrong. But his grip on your shoulder is bruising and you feel yourself wriggling, trying to turn around, trying to check the imagined crime scene just one more time.

You turn a corner, back to the shopping center. Here, nothing has changed. There’s the same group of kids in brightly-colored outfits lounging on the steps to the ice cream place. There’s the same harried-looking mother struggling to get her three toddlers in a stroller. There are couples walking hand-in-hand and friends calling to each other over the crowd.

Why, you think, a bitter taste in your mouth, was I the only one who ran?

The dissonance between the cheery atmosphere and the way you are feeling makes your head spin. You sneak a glance at Saeyoung’s face—he has a frozen expression, unmoving, like a statue. His grip on your arm is growing painful.

“Saeyoung,” you say, forcing your voice into a semblance of evenness. “Will you please let go of me now?”

He jumps almost as if he’s forgotten where he is. He drops his arm and it swings aimlessly at his side. He’s not looking at you.

“Let’s go home,” he says at last, and his voice takes you by surprise. His expression is carefully arranged, stoic, but he sounds like he’s ready to hit someone. He takes off walking—away from the pleasant shopping center, down a quieter street, toward the garage. You don’t follow.

He feels your absence, pauses, turns. The sinking sun sets his hair ablaze. Beautiful, you think—if not for the hard look on his face.

He looks, to you, like he’s powering down, turning himself off. There’s no light in his eyes. On some deeply-buried logical level you know that he’s feeling the same echoes of the past that you are, riding the same wave of terror and remembrance. But you feel anger bubbling under your skin and you want to shake him and scream don’t look at me like that in his face.

He spins around and stalks toward the garage. You follow him in silence. Through the entrance. Up the stairs. He picks up the pace and, stubbornly, you slow yours.

He’s unlocked the car, opened your door, and gone around to his own side before you’ve caught up to him. You can’t explain why—just as you couldn’t explain the irrational bolt of horror that struck you when you turned and ran down the alley—but you feel like you could strangle him.

Still in silence, he starts the engine. You can’t stand it anymore.

“So,” you say. Your legs are shaking. “Are you not speaking to me?”

He pulls out of the parking spot. Your head is pounding. Answer me.

He pays at the automated meter. Inches the car down the driveway. Then, finally: “Don’t be so childish,” he says.

Something snaps inside of you.

“Childish? From the man who’s giving me the silent treatment?” You clench your fists, leaving little half-moon imprints in your palms. You look at him sideways; no reaction registers on his face. “Would you mind at least telling me why you’ve decided you’re not talking to me anymore?”

“You don’t—” For the first time, you see anger flash across his face; it disappears as quickly as it came. The car speeds up a tiny bit; he corrects it instantly. “You don’t know why I’m mad at you?”

You feel yourself crumbling—a chain reaction that began when you heard the not-gunshot moving on to its inevitable conclusion.

“If you’d tell me, I bet I’d know,” you snap.

He exhales slowly, as if willing himself to be patient enough to deal with you. You want to wipe that expressionless mask off his face.

“Why did you take off like that?” he asks. His face remains impervious but the anger is in his voice and it scares you a little.

“I thought it was a gunshot,” you say. “Obviously.”

“So did I,” he growls. “Which is why I’m asking you why you ran toward it.”

His words are like a slap in the face and, stubbornly, desperately, you want to hurt him back.

“You’re being condescending,” you say. Your voice shakes, giving you away. “I’m not a child.”

“Then don’t act like one!” Every word is like an icicle to your heart. “It was stupid. Do not ever do something like that again.”

It’s too much for you—the reprimanding tone, the fear you still feel in your bones, the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. You feel tears coming again and you hate yourself for it.

“Don’t speak to me like that!” you say, and it comes out every bit as harsh as you’d intended. He flinches.

“I need you to listen to me,” he says through clenched teeth. “I need to make it clear to you just how—how dangerous and idiotic—”

“So whenever there’s something dangerous—and there will be again, because this is our lives—I’m meant to, what? Let you take care of it and hope for the best?” You feel hysterical. Your throat is raw.

“Yes!” he yells, and it’s your turn to recoil, shrinking into your seat. “That is. Quite literally. What I was trained to do.” He’s tried to lower his voice but the quiet derision is somehow worse than when he shouted.

“You don’t trust me. At all,” you say. There are the tears again. You turn to hide your face, wiping them furiously from your eyes.

“No, I don’t,” he says. “Acting like you did today just proves to me that I shouldn’t.”

Your insides are caving in. You want to grab him by his stupid hoodie strings and make him look into your eyes and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

Your head turned, your forehead pressed against the cool glass, you spot a familiar exit. You pounce on a different instinct—because it’s there, because it’s easy, because you know it will would him.

“Take the exit,” you command. You’re shocked by how cold your voice is. How mean you sound.

“What?”

“Saeyoung, take the exit. Right now.”

He does.

He drives in silence, slowing the car to a stop at a red light. You peek at him. There’s realization in his dark golden eyes—and hurt, too. Good.

“This is the way to Jaehee’s house,” he says. He sounds numb.

“Yes,” you say. “Take me there.”

“But…but we should go home,” he says quietly, and in that moment you feel so angry you want to laugh at the vulnerability in his voice. It’s so easy to hurt him. You can still feel the hot lava anger bubbling under your skin, can still hear the way his voice sounded as he told you he didn’t trust you.

“I don’t want to go home with you,” you say.

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

Jaehee opens the door, takes one look at your face, and ushers you inside without a word. You can’t help it—you turn as she closes the door behind you to watch Saeyoung’s headlights slowly pulling away. He’d waited till you were inside.

Right. Because I can’t be trusted on my own.

Jaehee doesn’t pry, and you love this about her. She ushers you into her warm, familiar living room. She gives you a blanket. She offers to make you a coffee.

It’s late, but you say yes anyway.

It’s only once she’s brought you a mug filled to the brim with foam and dusted with cinnamon that she folds herself onto the couch beside you and fixes you with a knowing look.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

And you have been—fine as you stormed out of the car without saying goodbye, calm as you watched him drive away, steady as you sat alone on Jaehee’s small-yet-squishy couch. But now that she’s asked it all crashes down around you and you burst into tears.

Wordlessly, she opens her arms for you—a bit awkwardly—and you slip into them, burying your face in her chest.

“We never fight,” you sob, knowing you’re soaking her sweater. She runs a soft, small hand over your back—stiffly, like she’s not used to it, but gently, like she wants to be. “We never…and I don’t even know—w-why…”

Jaehee hums soothingly. She takes a deep breath and you follow her lead, choking a little on your own tears.

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” she asks softly. She adjusts you, tucking your head against her shoulder. “It might help.”

You sniffle. In this warm, comfortable room, with this warm, comfortable person, suddenly your actions feel so irrational. Why did you run toward what you assumed was a gunshot? Why did you respond to his concern for you with such unbridled rage?

You tell Jaehee about it—the sound, the alley, the way his face looked when he caught up to you. The things he said in the car. The things you said.

She listens patiently, steady as ever. She tucks your hair behind your ear.

“I’m not entirely surprised to hear that you had that kind of reaction,” she says when you’ve run out of words and are sniffling into her neck. “You’ve been through quite a lot.”

“What, today?” You wriggle into a sitting position. She hands you a tissue box and your coffee.

“Certainly today, but I was actually referring to the past year.”

Oh.

You blow your nose. Take a sip of the coffee. It’s delicious.

“You’re saying I freaked out like that because of, um. Because of what happened at Mint Eye?”

Jaehee looks down at her hands in her lap. “Obviously, I don’t know everything that happened,” she says carefully. “But I can imagine that what you witnessed isn’t something you’ll get over easily. It will take a lot more time.”

When she says it like this, it feels obvious. You can still feel it ringing in your eardrums: the gun, the shouting. The sound of a body hitting the ground.

“Yeah,” you say. Your hands are shaking again.

“Saeyoung should know this,” she says. She places a hand over yours; it stills them.

“He does,” you say. “But he has his own—things—to deal with. From that day, and also before.”

“Yes.” She pats your hands once and then rises. With your eyes, you follow as she goes to the entryway, retrieves your bag from where you dropped it. Pulls out your phone from the outer pocket. “As I suspected.”

She hands you the phone. The screen’s lit up—you’ve just missed a call. Several calls.

“I’m going to make more coffee,” she says, slipping politely toward her kitchen—out of earshot. Your cup is still almost full.

You hesitate for a moment—just a moment—looking at the rows of his name on your screen. The shape of it makes your skin tingle.

You call him back.

“Hello?” He picks up after a quarter of a ring. He sounds breathless. You wonder if he’s made it home already.

“Hi,” you say.

“You called me back.” He’s talking quietly. His throat sounds raw. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“Of course I did.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you can hear him breathing—hard, ragged.

“I’m so, so, so, so sorry,” he says, and you can tell that he’s been crying too, in the way his voice catches at the end of each word.

“Saeyoung, I—”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I should never have spoken to you that way. It’s no excuse, but I was just so scared when you ran from me, I—I panicked, but I didn’t mean to…I never meant to—”

“I know.” He shuts up right away. He sounds miserable. You want to stroke his pretty head. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. You didn’t deserve it.”

“It’s okay. I did deserve it.” His voice is small and suddenly you want to be home, want to kiss his silly, perfect face and squeeze him till the sob is gone from his voice.

“You didn’t,” you say. “You were scared. I can understand that.”

“I was terrified,” he says. “I thought the same you did—you know, that it was a gun, and so I went to get in front of you, but you’d already taken off running toward it. I just—it felt like my soul was getting ripped from my body. I haven’t felt like that since…since—”

“Me neither,” you say. “I mean, me too.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to run toward a gunshot,” he says, and he laughs a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re supposed to be somewhere safe and warm where nothing can hurt you. I can’t—if anything happened to you, I’d—”

“Me too,” you repeat. “I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you.”

It’s quiet. You breathe together. In, out.

“I love that you want to protect me,” you say. “But I need you to trust me, too.” He hesitates, and you know that a part of him wants to say so don’t put yourself in danger. Once, he would have. He’s grown up so much since then.

“I do trust you,” he says. His voice breaks. “I didn’t mean what I—I promise I’ll try to—you’re my whole world,” he finishes. Desperately, miserably. Hopefully.

“I want to come home,” you say.

“You do?” The optimism rushes into his voice and you want to bathe in it.

“Please.” You smile and taste your own salty tears at the corners of your lips.

The doorbell rings.

No way.

“No way,” you say into the phone. You cross the room, tug the door open. “No way,” you say to his face. His arms hang at his sides and his eyes are wide and bright as if he’s still not sure if you’ll slam the door in his face.

“I only drove like a block away…” he mutters, trailing off nervously. Sticking his hands in his pockets.

“Should’ve known.” You throw yourself at him and he tears his hands out of his pockets in time to catch you, a surprised laugh bubbling in his throat as you catapult into his chest.

“So you missed me even though I’m a sad, miserable excuse for a boyfriend?” he says into your hair. You stand on tiptoe and kiss his face till his eyes are glazed over and the goofy grin is back on his face. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, dummy.” You kiss his throat and he shivers. “Take me home.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Friends! Let me know if you’d like to be added to this list so you’re tagged in my future mysme writings~ <3

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06 @nad-zeta

#mystic messenger #mysticmessenger #mysme #request #gureishi writes requests #marilu100399 #saeyoung choi #707 #saeyoung x reader #707 x reader #is this loosely based on a fight I once had with my real-life partner #hmm #who can say

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godzillagirl-14 · 3 years

Text

Wish Upon an Idol (Ch. 4)

Chapter 4

Pairing: ot7 x reader

Summary: The Bangtan boys have the ability to grant wishes (unbeknownst to you, the brand new addition to their friend group) So when you jokingly wish you had superpowers to “help the world in a way you knew how” what happens when wake up the next day with extraordinary abilities?

Warnings: Drama, angst, a lot of action, smut, and a bad attempt at being humorous.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst - anxiety attacks, reader is implied to be bisexual, crying, self doubt, reader is very frustrated- steamy make out session ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Word Count: 4,945

Taglist: @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @snowythellama @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore (If you want to be tagged just let me know) :)

Hope you enjoy!

You were angry.

So so fucking angry as you stormed down the street. Your body temperature was skyrocketing and you felt something animalistic deep down in your core that made you want to turn on your heel and tear your boss apart.

No. That’s not what these powers are for.

Nodding along with your thoughts you tried to calm yourself, to will away the sparks at your fingertips, and to slow down the erratic beating of your heart. You were aware that many people had watched you break Jaehyun’s nose, watched you storm out of the cafe with you creative choice of words.

Scrub the leeches out of the devil’s asshole. You gave yourself some props, you got your point across that you would never want to be with someone who constantly disrespects your boundaries, even after you had told them to stop. Your heart was already taken anyway.

What would the boys think? How would they react?

You wondered what the boys would have done if they had witnessed you throwing that ferocious jab at your boss. Would they be proud that you finally stood up for yourself? Would they be disappointed? Would they regret giving you powers in the first place?

Your heart dropped at the thought. Maybe your temper was too short for these powers. One wrong move and you could ruin someone’s life. Letting out a frustrated huff, you turned into a nearby alleyway. Your frustration and anger were building, leaving you feeling like a walking furnace. Leaning against a brick wall, you closed your eyes and thought of ways to cool yourself down.

Icebergs, Antarctica, glaciers, ice cold water... Truth be told, you just wanted to find the nearest lake and plunge into it. That would help you clear your thoughts and help your get back to your neutral state.

Pressing your cheek up against the cool surface of the building, you almost moaned out loud at the relieving sensation. Just a few more moments and you can walk home with a semi-clear head.

“Well, isn’t this a pretty sight,” Ah shit. “What’s a pretty little thing doing out so late by herself?” un-fucking-believable. Rolling your eyes you turned your gaze to the voice at hand, sizing him up, doing very little to hide your agitation.

“It’s 4:30 in the afternoon,” His eyebrows shot to his hairline at your snappy remark before he laughed coolly and you wanted nothing more than to swipe that smirk clean off his face. He reminded you of Jaehyun, just from his body language. It made you heat up all over again.

“No need for hostilities,” he responded, slyly. “Just wanted to make sure you were alright. I was worried.” he placed him hand over his heart in an attempt to make him look more genuine, but you could see right through him.

This guy’s bullshit smells worse than Jungkook’s sweaty gym socks.

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” you rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the wall. “I appreciate the kind gesture, but if you could be so kind as to leaving me alone, that’d be fabulous.” just as you were about to walk out of the alley and continue your path home, a hand grabbing your arm stopped you.

“Hey, wait a second!”

You felt that if you clenched your teeth any harder, your jaw would break.

“Let go of my arm.” It was taking everything in you to not rip this stranger a new one. You were completely on edge, frustrated to no end, and wanting nothing more than to go home and neutralize your nerves. It was rather obvious that your powers were based off your emotions, so now it was important to make sure you weren’t feeling too much negativity to cause serious damage.

The stranger didn’t listen and if you weren’t overheating before, you definitely were now. Your face felt extremely flushed and uncomfortable. Your ears were ringing like a hot tea kettle and your heart was pounding just enough for the constant thump to hurt and hinder your breathing in the slightest. You felt the sweat on the back of your neck slowly trickle down and settle at the small of your back and your hands felt just as clammy. Too focused on not maiming this annoying stranger, you didn’t even realize he was still talking until you forced yourself to stop paying attention to your body in hopes that would distract you long enough to get away.

“Well, let me at least get your numb-”

“No.”

He blinked at you, frowning and you leveled his gaze with yours, hoping the pupils weren’t engulfed in glowing white. “Let. Go.” your words were deadly calm, despite your mind screaming at you to just grab him and toss him into oncoming traffic. No need to get too violent.

Things were getting too dangerous now as you felt the palms of your hands start to burn and you looked, unclenching your fist to reveal red palms and small sparks dancing along the lines of your fingers.

The jerk continued to stare at you before his frown turned to a scowl and his grip on your arm tightened to the point it kind of hurt. The feeling of anger and fear quickly unlocked your fight or flight instinct and you were soon swinging your hand up to smack him across the face. Short and simple to allow you time to get away, or so you thought.

What you didn’t expect was for him to catch your wrist and twist it, rendering you unable to use your hands and for your heart rate to kick up like it just took eight shots of pure caffeine. Natural instinct along with your powers kicked in like no tomorrow, and soon you found yourself kneeing the guy in the groin a little too hard, effectively making him release one of your hands. Not taking into account of how hot your palms were, you brought butt of your palm up and into his chin, knocking him off his feet and releasing your other hand.

His cry of pain would have been satisfying had you not been freaking out so badly, seeing the blistering red mark on his chin and neck. You had burned him.

Bringing your palm up to your cheek, you hissed at how hot your hand was, trying and failing to calm your breathing as you turned and hauled ass out of the alley, knocking into some people as you went. Your mind was working overtime, making sure to not use too much of your enhanced speed, yelling at you to use more of your agility so you wouldn’t bulldoze anyone else down, and making sure to not think too much in fear of triggering your elemental powers.

This was all just too much. You could hear every car horn, every heartbeat of the people you passed, vision blurring and focusing on all the wrong things, ears ringing, hands burning. Too much. Too much. Too much.

It’s a wonder how you managed to make it to your door in one physical piece while your mind felt like it was going to implode on itself.

~~~

Taking the door off its hinges would have been impressive to Seokjin, had he not seen the state you were in as you walked through the threshold. There you stood, the disconnected door in your hand, your chest heaving up and down like you had just run a marathon, and sweat dripping down your temple and onto your neck. Your eyes looked cloudy, unable to focus on anything and if Jin had looked closer, he would have saw the rapid movement of your pupils shrinking and dilating in a desperate attempt to lock on something without your vision blurring seconds later.

“. . . (Y/n)?” Standing from his spot on the couch, he stepped into your line of sight and your heart began to pound even louder in your ears as you saw him getting closer.

His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear a single word. The sound of your erratic heart beat was driving you insane. Everything was too loud, too hot and Jin was suddenly way too close to you, reaching out to try and grab your hand that was most certainly hot enough to burn him. “No!” you snatched your hand away, cradling it to your chest. Jin held his hands up in surrender, moving slowly so as not to startle you too much.

“Give me your hand,” he stated, softly making sure to not extend his hand too fast. He looked on patiently as he watched you frantically shake your head. “No, I-I’ll burn you. I can’t- I just- I don’t-” Moving away from him you began pacing back in forth, rubbing at your face as if the skin agitated you.

“God, everything is too hot!” you screamed, before your clothes abruptly burst into flames. Seokjin screeched, jumping back so as not to get burned, staring in disbelief as you just . . . stood there as the fire ate away at your clothes, until there was nothing left, leaving you as naked as the day you were born. You were scared, so scared to the point that you didn’t care about the fact that you were standing stark naked in front of Jin, or the fact that anyone in the hallway could literally walk past and see you as well.

Looking up, Jin saw the way your lip trembled, saw the way tears formed at the brim of your eyes, saw the way your hands shook. The shaky breath that was exhaled from your lips made his heart break, watching as the first tear streaked down your cheek, followed by another and then another until you crumbled down on your knees, your face buried into your hands, sobs wracking your entire body.

Jin watched on, shocked into silence by the sudden outburst before his face softened into a look of sympathy. He cautiously made his way over to you with the same carefulness you would give to a frightened deer. He lowered himself down until he was on his knees in front of you, regarding the way your shoulders shook and how you were trying and failing to even out your breaths. Lifting his hand up, he intended to grab your wrist, but because of your enhanced senses, you were able to flinch away from him. You were still too hot.

Softly calling out your name was met with no reaction, but he knew you heard him. You didn’t want to look at him. You were scared and ashamed, the events of today felt like they spanned an entire week. You were so tired. So when Jin called out to you again, you peeled your hands away from your face and was struck with the sheer ethereal beauty that was Kim Seokjin. You were awestruck.

Going for a different approach, he simply held his hand out to you, giving you the choice of whether you would take his hand or not. You stared at his hand as if it were some sort of foreign object before looking back up at his face and shaking your head. “No,” you whispered, fresh tears streaking down the (s/c) skin of your cheeks. “I’ll burn you.”

“No, you won’t.” Was his delicate reply. He wanted nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and comfort the tears away. Whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you were finally able to feel okay again. But he knew that if he did that right now, things would only erupt into chaos. Baby steps.

“I trust you, (Y/n).”

Looking back up at his face, studying his features, focusing on him. Only him. He was there for you and your heart began to beat faster. Taking a deep breath, you looked back at his awaiting hand, slowly extending yours. Pulling back when you felt his skin against yours, only to realize he hadn’t flinched away from you. You knew your skin was hot, probably even unbearably hot, but he didn’t show any signs of discomfort other than a slight clenching of his jaw.

After he helped you stand up, he still held onto your hand as he led you into the bathroom, gently guiding you into the bathtub before sitting down behind you. Had you been more clear in the head, you would have asked him why he was still in his clothes.

Leaning forward, he turned the water to cold, watching as it pooled around you both, looking on in disbelief as the water immediately began to evaporate as soon as it hit your skin. He then turned on the shower head, feeling the cold water cascade over the both of you, hearing you sigh in relief and watching your tensed body finally relaxing. You leaned back into his touch as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, rubbing the skin in soothing circles. Reaching up, you grabbed his hands, squeezing them gratefully and relaxing into his chest.

You stayed like that for a while; in complete silence with cold water flowing down from the tops of your head to the tips of your toes. Rubbing at each others knuckles, as a way to acknowledge one another without having to actually say anything. You’ve never been this intimate with him or either of the boys before, letting him cuddle in the bathtub with you, let alone him seeing you naked. Sure there would be relaxing sessions on the couch while watching a movie, but for it to get this far, was truly mind boggling. You were much more comfortable around other women, it seemed much more natural to be intimate around them, granted this did feel nice and it was helping you calm your nerves that just moments before made you take out an entire door. These past few days have been absolutely insane.

You remembered what the boys had said; if you didn’t want the powers and responsibility anymore, all you had to do was wish them away. But even as you think about the events that occurred today, and the similar events that might occur in the future, you realize that you still wouldn’t give up these powers. What kind of impression would you have of yourself if you just gave up just because some days are harder than most. You wouldn’t be able to look at yourself if you gave up so easily. You had to keep fighting.

You both stayed in the tub until you had finally cooled down and started shivering from the cold water. Stepping out of the tub, you turned to Jin, only to see his clothes completely soaked. You looked at him curiously but he only smiled at you before beginning to peel his shirt off.

Eyes, widening and face reheating, you tried your hardest to keep your eyes trained on his face and damn near popped a blood vessel when he looked at you and smirked. He even had the audacity to wink at you. Good to know his playful attitude was intact. Huffing out a breath, you crossed your arms over yourself to try and keep yourself warm. The thought of trying to use your powers to regulate your body heat sounded absolutely atrocious with how you were so mentally tired, so you opted for the old fashioned way. You turned to reach for a towel hanging on the rack just as Jin pulled his pants down, your heart rate picking up to match the speed of the flash. You felt another shiver run down your spine when you finally wrapped the towel around your body, a reminder that you were in fact freezing your ass off and needed to be put in some warm clothes immediately.

You felt like you were going to get whiplash with the way your body was trying to get used to your powers. First you were so angry to the point you burned your clothes off, and now, you were freezing to the point where you were desperate to have clothes back on. You grabbed another towel and turned back around to hand it to Jin, who had been staring at you intently, noticing the way your body reacted to the cool air. After grabbing the towel and wrapping it around his hips, he gently grabbed your hand and led you to his room. You were a little confused at first, wondering why he wasn’t leading you to your room so you could get dressed, but then realized that he might be letting you use his hoodie. You almost started skipping behind him in excitement as out of all the boys’ hoodies to steal, you loved stealing his.

There was something about Jin’s hoodies that were just extra cozy. If he had noticed your change in demeanor, he didn’t comment on it as he opened his door to his room and let you in first. Walking in, you immediately sat yourself down on his bed, hugging the towel close around your chest to keep it from falling and awkwardly crossing your ankles in an attempt to appear more casual. You dropped one of your hands to run it along his comforter. It felt warm and soft and it caused goosebumps to travel along your arms and legs due to the texture against your palm. As your hand glided back and forth against the blanket, you wondered how you were going to explain this entire situation to Jin and the rest of the boys without them thinking that giving you these powers was a mistake.

Hey guys, I quit my job by breaking my boss’ nose because he wouldn’t stop groping me and while I was walking home, some creep tried to hit on me and I ended up burning him after he tried to grab me. Oh and also, we need to look into getting a new door because I accidentally hulked out on it trying to get into the apartment, and I spontaneously combusted because I was in the middle of a panic attack and Jin saw me naked! :D

Yeah that conversation is going to be... quite interesting. You internally cringed, wondering how you were going to muster up enough energy to even start that conversation.

Too lost in thought about the entire ordeal, you didn’t notice Jin rummaging through his drawers until he had set out a hoodie and pair of boxer briefs in front of you. The hoodie looked like it could swallow Jin whole, so you immediately knew that you would be swimming in the article of clothing before you even unfolded it. You were grateful for the size though because as soon as you had put it on, you were immediately engulfed in warmth and you exhaled as your cold body was finally able to start relaxing.

Jin smiled at you as you attempted and failed to get rid of the sweater paws that were forming around your hands and led you back out to the living room. By now, the sun was close to setting and the door to the hallway was still very much laying on the floor instead of being on it’s hinges. You groaned as you sat down on the couch, Jin sitting down next to you and setting your legs on his lap.

After a few beats of silence with Jin massaging the muscles of your calves and you fiddling with the hem of the hoodie, you finally looked up to see him looking at you. “How are you feeling?” he asked, searching your face for any distress. You opened your mouth out of instinct, ready to deliver your answer as if you were on autopilot.

“I feel fine.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, telling you that he didn’t believe you for a second. “Come on, (Y/n), we know you better than anyone. You can’t lie to us. You can’t lie to me.” Gently grabbing your chin and making him look at you made you puff out a breath. Rolling your eyes, you moved away from his hand and leaned back against the couch.

“I don’t- I mean, I don’t really know where to start,” you shrugged your shoulders, trying to rack your brain for the right words to say. “I broke my boss’s nose because he kept trying to advance on me even after I said I wasn’t interested. He kept saying that my “no” was secretly a “yes”. He wanted the chase, it was all like some fucking game for him. I told him no again, and when he grabbed my arm, I punched him in the face.”

Jin nodded, listening intently and waiting for you to continue. You wanted to leave it at that, but you knew he wouldn’t let up until you had gotten everything off your chest. “I walked out after we had yelled at each other. I had some pretty.... unique parting words for him, but then I was walking home and I was just so angry and everything was suddenly heating up and going in and out of focus. So I stepped aside to try and calm myself down, but then this guy tried to hit on me. He was so creepy, and he had grabbed me, but I had burned his face. I just-” you didn’t realize how you were still worked up about the situation as you choked on your words.

“I was just so scared that I would hurt someone innocent and I was so angry I couldn’t even see straight which made me even more scared and I just wanted to get home but then that happened,” you gestured towards the broken door and sniffled, not realizing you had started crying again. Luckily your body seemed too exhausted to overheat and you were grateful when Jin pulled you into his lap and held you close.

Burying your face into his neck, you let out the tears you had been holding back all day, finally being able to let your body sag after all the tension was released. Jin soothingly rubbed your back, pulling you to face him after you had finished letting everything out, and wiping away at the tears that slid down your cheek. Your face and eyes probably looked puffy from all the crying and you felt like you looked crazy, but it had only made Jin fall in love with you more, letting him see you be so vulnerable and being able to comfort you.

He kept his hand on your cheek and watched as you leaned into his touch closing your eyes and sighing. When you were able to stabilize your breathing, you finally opened your eyes and were once again struck by the pure beauty that was Kim Seokjin.

“You truly are beautiful, Seokjin,”

You could have cringed at the way your voice whispered those words, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to nitpick the way you sounded right now. You felt your ears begin to burn after he had remained silent, too lost in your self doubt to see how red his ears and cheeks were turning. You went to move off of his lap, intent on going to your room to lay down, but were stopped when you felt his hand on your cheek become firm to keep you in place. He took a second to look at you, from you (h/l (h/c) hair, to the way you hiccupped trying to recover from crying so much, to the redness that surrounded your (e/c) eyes to the way left over tear streaks smeared on you (s/c) skin. He felt like he had spent thousands of years with you as well.

“I know,”

You couldn’t hold back your laughter even if you wanted to. Your body shook with the force of your laugh. Burying your face in his neck again, you let his laugh fill your ears while you felt his hands massaging your back and leg. You stayed like that for a while, the only noise filling the room being your occasional sniffle and the little hitch in the shakiness of your breath from still trying to recover from your crying session. You still felt upset and you had no doubt that one small thing could possibly trigger another crying session, but right now, you were content with keeping your thoughts empty and just listening to the sound of Jin’s heart beating clearly in your ears.

You were close to dozing off in his lap when he finally spoke up, making you tune out of your little bubble.

“For what it’s worth, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve laid my eyes on,” You couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or not, so you sat up to look at his face again. After examining his face, you still couldn’t tell if he was being serious, so you snorted and playfully smacked his chest. “Yeah right,” you rolled your eyes. “Don’t try to pull that on me after you’ve been alive for over a thousand years, mister.”

You giggled a little and he smiled at you, cupping your cheek again, forcing you to look at his face and your giggling to fade. “There is no one who is as incredible as you, (Y/n). You are truly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever encountered.”

You were at a complete loss for words, gaping at him. You felt your ears heat up, wondering if the pounding you heard was his heart or yours. Noticing him staring at you intently, you also noticed his eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips constantly but you felt stuck. You were way too scared to just lean forward and connect your lips, even though you’ve always dreamed about what those pillows for lips would feel like against your own. You got lost in thought once again thinking about how unfair it was for this man to have such luscious lips, it should be a crime.

Too far gone in your own thoughts, you barely noticed Jin leaning close to you, up until his nose brushed yours and he stopped. Both of your eyes were closed, yours being closed out of fear that you might spontaneously combust, his being closed in fear that this might be a dream. You’ve dreamed about this moment for so long, wondering if he was waiting for you to make the call of whether you’re going to press your lips against his or pull away.

Releasing one shaky breath, you decided to throw caution to the wind and lean forward. Your lips brushed against each other for no more than a second, pulling away for a moment and searching his face, only to find him staring at you as if you were one of the seven wonders of the world. You took that as a sign to lean back in, cupping his cheek and pressing your lips more firmly onto his. The feeling of his lips against yours could easily be something to become addicted to, as you felt his hands trail down your back, causing you to shiver while they settled on your hips.

You wanted to deepen the kiss, so you opened your mouth and swiped your tongue on his bottom lip. That must have triggered something in him, because he trailed his hands down from your hips to grip your ass and squeeze, which caused you to yelp, and for him to push his tongue deeper into your mouth.

Out of all the ways you had thought this day would end, french kissing one of the men you’ve been in love with for months definitely did not cross your mind. But you couldn’t really complain when Jin shifted his hips up and you got a very.... detailed feel of him. The whimper that left your lips could have brought any man down to his knees, and Jin contemplated on whether he should start moving your hips against his or if that might overwhelm you too much.

Your body had started moving on its own accord as you began moving your hips against his, feeling his groan against your mouth. You kept moving your hips, getting worked up at the feeling of him against you and the sounds leaving his mouth, until it had all began to feel like a little too much and the clothes you were wearing began to feel too stuffy. So, against your better judgment, you began to slow your hips down, pressing one more tender kiss against his lips before pulling away.

He searched your face for any sign of discomfort and when you had clarified that it was just you getting a little too excited, he chuckled and leaned in to kiss your forehead. “It’s okay,” he gently reassured you when you went to bury your face in his neck again. It was beginning to become a favorite spot of yours. “We go at your pace, no matter how fast or slow that might be.”

You didn’t think you could love this man any more, and yet here you were constantly being proven wrong. It didn’t take long for you to finally doze off, with the events that happened, you were surprised you hadn’t just collapsed as soon as you got home. You were lulled to sleep by Jin’s comforting hand rubbing your back, his lips on your forehead and his heart beat in your ears.

He was finally able to relax his tensed body when he felt your body release all the tension that had built up, closing his eyes and almost dozing off himself, until he heard footsteps walking toward the apartment.

“What happened to the door?!”

A/N

Alright, so this chapter is very long overdue. I’m pretty sure I started this story back when my senior year of highschool began and now I just recently finished my freshman year of college. I either couldn’t find the time or motivation to try and finish the chapter but I’m glad I finally did. That being said, I can’t be too sure when the next chapter is going to be, but I hope you stick around nonetheless!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please let me know what you think! your feedback is always welcomed!

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pricetagofficial · 3 years

Text

Sweet Tarts -TD

Warnings: Pure tooth-rotting fluff

Paring: Tim Drake x Wally sis! Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Tag List: @kishony-the-geek @idkmanicantenglish @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @river-bottom-nightmare @screennamealreadyused @woahjaybird

A/N: I did not specify if Wally and Y/N are biological or adopted siblings, so that part is entirely left up to you and how you want to interpret it.

“Come on Y/N, just come with me. It’ll be fun!” Wally protested, pulling on your arm.

You rolled your eyes and looked up at your older brother, for the last hour he had been trying to convince you to go to a team party with him but all you wanted to do was sit and read the newest book in your favorite series. It had just recently come out and you were more than excited, but of course, Wally had other plans.

“Why can’t you just ask Dick to go with you?” you brushed him off, turning to look at your book once more.

“He already is, but I want to introduce my little sister to the rest of the team. They know literally everything about you but what you look like. You come this one time and I will never ask you again for as long as I live.” He pleaded, dashing over to look at you.

Wally did have a point, the only people you had actually met on the team were Dick, Conner, M’gann, and Artemis considering they were all close friends with Wally. You knew Dick had younger brothers, but you had never met them let alone knew what they looked like. Dick and Wally were the worst when they were together, normally where you found one, nine times out of ten the other was with them causing trouble and giving Bruce and Barry gray hairs.

There was even a space for you on the team, considering the fact that you had similar powers to that of Wally and Barry but the hero life was never for you. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to help others but Barry was stressed enough with just Wally and Bart; adding you to the mix was an accident waiting to happen. Besides, you were the slowest of them all and didn’t want to hold anyone back. Both Wally and Barry respected your decision, but Bart never stopped bugging you to join.

“Wally, you and I both know that if I go to one, it will turn into every single one, and before I know it one of you has managed to rope me into joining the team.” You closed your book and crossed your arms, “I know the schemes you and Dick come up with, you really think you could pull this one past me?”

Wally gave you a shrug. “Maybe, but please? I want you to meet everyone else.”

After a few more moments of contemplating, you finally let out a sigh and dropped your head. “Fine, I will go to this one! But I swear if you try anything funny, I will punch you into the next century.” You threatened.

“Oh, come on, you and I both know you can’t do that.” Wally teased, poking your forehead only for you to flick his nose. “You aren’t fast enough for it.”

“No, but Barry is.”

Wally seemed to take that threat semi-serious, he got up with a huge smile on his face. “I swear, you will not regret coming to this!” he laughed and sped off to his room to call Dick and let him know that their plan was a go.

It was a couple of hours until the party but Wally spent most of it making sure that you were good to go. He was oddly concerned with what you were wearing, and how your hair looked. It should have raised red flags all over the place, but you brushed it off as Wally just being his over-analytical self.

Before you knew it, the two of you were standing outside the zeta tube in Central City ready to go to Mt. Justice for the party that was being hosted as a celebration for one of the team’s biggest cases completed.

Recognized -Kid Flash B03, -Velocity B032

The two of you didn’t even make it in the cave before Wally was dragged into a hug by his best friend. “You guys made it! Velocity, good to see you.” He grinned and hugged you tightly as well.

“Dick, I don’t go by Velocity you know that.” You chuckled hugging him back.

“If you don’t go by Velocity, then why is it there?” a voice asked from behind him. Conner and M’gann walked up to you with a smile on their face.

You crossed your arms and gave them both a look. “You all know very well why it’s there and not my name.”

Wally and Dick rubbed the back of their necks with a suspicious look on their faces. “We have no idea what you are talking about Y/N, but either way I’m glad you decided to come. There are so many people who want to meet Wally’s famous sister.”

The four of them ushered you further into the cave where there were dozens of people there standing around, talking, and eating the many snacks M’gann had made. Most people were in their civies as well, the few who weren’t wore either glasses or their masks to hide their identity.

Taking a look around, you remembered the last time you were in the cave. It was the day that you got the nickname Velocity, but tried to push it to the back of your mind as Dick and Wally specifically maneuvered you towards the snack table.

“Make yourself at home, we’ll be right back,” Dick said and walked off with Wally right behind him.

“Don’t you move.” Wally threatened and followed his friend before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you alone at the snack table.

It was at this point you regretted coming to the party, your brother and the only people you knew ditched you at the snack table so you did the only thing you could. Gorge yourself on the delectable treats in front of you. Grabbing a plate, you put a little bit of everything that could fit on your plate. Your appetite was quite large, but it was your metabolism trying to keep up with the speeds your body could handle. The only person you had seen eat more than you was Wally; he was like a human garbage disposal.

You were snacking on a cherry tart when you heard someone stand beside you. Looking to your left, you saw a boy with messy black hair and the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen. He was only a bit taller than you and had his arms crossed over his chest with a disheveled look on his face as if he was forced to walk over.

Before he could catch you looking, you quickly turned your head and finished the tart in your hand.

“You should try the apple ones, they’re the best.” He said softly.

Turning to look at him, a small smile spread on your face. “I don’t know, I’m pretty attached to the cherry.”

The boy chuckled and held out his hand. “I’m Tim, Dick is my older brother.”

You took his in your own and shook it. “Y/N, Wally is mine.” you smiled.

“I figured, you’re all he seems to talk about.” Tim smiled, leaning against the table to look at you.

“Oh really? How many embarrassing stories should I be worried that everyone knows about?” you asked, finishing your cherry tart.

Tim laughed at your question. “None so far, all he says is how cool you are and that he is proud of you.”

Hearing those words made you smile more, maybe Wally wasn’t such a terrible big brother. “I’m proud of him too, putting himself out there to help those who can’t protect themselves every day. It’s not easy, and Wally loves it more than anything.” You explained, reaching for an apple tart and taking a bite of it.

“You’re right, these are good.” You smiled.

“I told you.” He grinned. “But you have the same powers, so why don’t you fight with him and the team?” Tim asked, tilting his head as he took a cherry tart off of your plate.

You tried to swat his hand away with a laugh only for him to stay out of reach and take a bite.

“I prefer to stay out of the action, I’m not as fast as Barry, Wally, or Bart. I’d only slow them down, and worry them more, so I’ve taken up an internship with Iris and journalism and help keep people’s noses out of their identities.” You explained, looking around. “But that does not stop them, especially Bart. Every time I see him, he brings out the suit Barry had made for me and makes a big deal about asking every chance he gets.”

Your eye caught sight of Wally and he was talking to Artemis, with Dick at his side. They seemed to be talking in hushed whispers about something and gesturing towards your location but things weren’t adding up. Before you could even voice your concern, or mention it to Tim you saw a blur out of the corner of your eye.

“Speaking of which.” You quickly set your plate down and grabbed Tim’s hand and took off down the hall to get away from Bart. You loved him to death, but this kid had an exuberant amount of energy that rivaled Wally’s and this was the last thing you wanted.

“Y/N!” you heard Bart call from behind you, only making you pick up the pace a little.

You could have run faster to get away from him, but for some reason, you grabbed hold of Tim and drug him along with you. It limited your speed and you felt him tug on your hand.

“Here, this way.” He said and opened a door and quickly shoved the two of you in, quietly shutting it behind you.

The two of you hid in the dark closet, Tim’s ear pressed against the door as he listened for Bart’s steps to fade away. Somehow the two of you had outrun him and hid before he could actually find you. A couple minutes passed before you let out the breath you had been holding.

“Thanks for that.” You smiled, blinking as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. It had only just dawned on you exactly where you were, and how small the room was. “Tim, did you just shove us in a broom closet?”

Tim rubbed the back of his head. “It was the closest place we could hide, I figured from the way you took off that you didn’t want to deal with him asking you questions.” He looked around, before reaching for the door. “I think it’s safe to come out.” He said and pulled on the handle, only for it to not budge.

“Tim, why is the door not opening?” you asked.

“Uh, it’s locked.”

“It’s what?”

“It’s locked.” He repeated.

You ran a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “How are we locked in here? Does it unlock from the outside only?”

“It seems so, and I don’t have my utility belt or I could totally get us out of here.” He responded and pulled out his phone, using the light to look around. You had left yours with Wally because the outfit you were wearing did not have any pockets.

“I have no service in here either, so it looks like we just have to wait it out.” He sighed and sat on a box, you sitting on one leaned against the opposite wall. The closet was big enough that you were comfortable, but your knees were touching and you were crowded by various items.

“It’s never a dull time with you bats.” You chuckled, leaning your arms on your thighs.

“I could say the same thing about you speedsters.” Tim teased. “Between you, Wally, and Bart, someone is always laughing and having a good time.”

You tilted your head at his comment. “We’ve never met before tonight; how do you know I always make people laugh?”

Tim was thankful for the darkness of the room; you didn’t get to see the slight blush creeping up on his face. “Wally and Bart talk about you all the time, every story they tell has at least one person in tears laughing.”

Your face began to heat up as well, with you tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, life is too short with this occupation. What better way to live it than to make others laugh right?”

Tim laughed softly and looked at you with his blue eyes illuminated by the soft glow coming from his phone. “Yeah, you never know what day will be your last so might as well live it the way you want to, right?”

The tone in his voice seemed to change with those last few words. Tim had known about you for a while and even harbored a slight crush from the pictures Dick would show him of you and Wally. But seeing you in reality, was something different entirely; the way your eyes shone when you talked about your family and running made him fall even harder. Sure, you weren’t a public hero like your brother or uncle, but you were still a speedster and running was in your blood.

Slowly his hand reached over and took yours, keeping his touch light and soft. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off, or make you think he was some kind of weirdo. But the second you tightened your grip on his hand, his heart fluttered.

“I have to be honest; I did not want to come to this stupid party, and getting locked in a closet was not on my list. But I am glad that it's with you.” You smiled, looking at your entwined hands.

His fingers were long but calloused. It showed the hard work he put into his title of Robin, but no matter how rough they were his touch was soft. He gripped your hand in his and looked at you. You had only met him that night, but there was something that pulled you towards him. Maybe it was the fact that he understood what it was like to have a big brother’s legacy to live up to or the simple fact that he understood that you didn’t want to join the hero scene. Whatever it was, it seemed to pull him towards you as well.

Before you knew it, his face was right in front of yours and you could feel his warm breath fan over your face. One inch closer and your lips would be on his, and your eyes locked with his. Tim’s hand left yours as he cupped your cheek with both hands, threading his fingers through your hair slightly.

The magnetic pull only got stronger as you leaned in closer, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed against yours. His lashes tickled the skin on your cheeks as Tim kissed you fully, leaning into it to feel it closer.

The kiss itself only lasted a few seconds before he pulled back and looked at you, his eyes shining with something you couldn’t decipher.

“You taste like cherry tart.” Tim gave a lopsided grin, savoring the taste of your lips on his own.

“I am definitely glad I am stuck in a closet with you now.” You grinned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and kissed Tim once more. His hands held your waist as he pulled you onto his lap to bring you closer to his body.

This kiss lasted longer than the first one, but not by much. Before either of you could react, the door to the closet swung open as light flooded into the room. You let out a squeak and jumped off Tim’s lap and landed on the floor with a thud.

Looking up, you saw Dick standing there with his arms crossed and an amused expression on his face. “Having fun, you two?” he teased.

Tim’s face flushed darker as you glared at Dick from your spot on the floor.

“Hey, Wally! I found her!” he called. Within seconds, Wally was next to Dick and peeking into the closet and saw your current position.

“You know, when we planned on setting you two up, we did not mean for you to make out in a dark closet.” He grinned.

“Wally!” you snapped and got up and dove at him quickly, Wally speeding out of the way. It all clicked why they wanted you to come to the party so bad and Wally’s sudden interest in what you wore out of the house. He was trying to set you up with Dick’s little brother.

Knowing that he was in trouble, Wally took off down the hall with you right behind him zooming through the cave as you tried to catch him. The night ended with Wally nursing a large bruise on his shoulder and you and Tim exchanging numbers and planning your first official date of many yet to come.

#Costly Affairs #Tim Drake #Timothy Drake #tim drake fanfic #tim drake fanfiction #tim drake x reader #tim drake x fem!reader #tim drake x you #tim drake x y/n #Red Robin #red robin fanfic #red robin fanfiction #red robin x reader #red robin x you #red robin x y/n #DC comics

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fitzs-trained-monkey · 3 years

Text

Chapter One: Lonely Together

Jack Kline x OC

Rated: PG

~I might hate myself tomorrow

But I'm on my way tonight

Let's be lonely together

A little less lonely together~

Sent: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

I smiled down at my phone before clicking it off and slipping it into my pocket. I didn't know who I had sent the message to. It was just a number I had punched in at random. I didn't expect anyone to reply.

Wrapping my dark green cardigan tighter around my body, I pulled my knees in closer to my chest and pressed myself closer against the wall of the bakery. The wall was only slightly warmer than the frigid air around me. It was December 2nd and icy gales were blowing in from Lake Superior and stinging the skin of the city's occupants.

The sky hung dark, low, and flat over Copper Harbor, Michigan. Copper Harbor was an itty-bitty town at the northern most tip of the northernmost part of Michigan. You know that piece of land that's only connected to the mainland by a highway, that in-between place that really should be Canada, but isn't? That's where Copper Harbor is and that's where I was.

Copper Harbor was the sort of town where newcomers and visitors are as common as flying pigs and are treated with about as much scrutiny. It's not one of those small, friendly towns just off the highway; the ones that are pleasant to find yourself in if you've taken a wrong turn. It's quite the feat to get lost and turn up in Copper Harbor, considering its miles away from anything and everything remotely interesting, unless you're searching for Bigfoot or a drunk Canadian that took a wrong turn. Though those two things might just end up being one and the same. No, nobody came to Copper Harbor unless they had a reason. That's just the sort of place it was. And aside from the mind-numbing cold, it was exactly the sort of place I wanted to be.

The clouds were so heavy with the snow that now drifted down, dusting everything in a layer of fine white powder, it seemed that someone standing on even the lowest rooftop could reach up and touch them. The snowflakes raining down from those clouds gave the appearance of tiny shooting stars. Many would have found the sight beautiful. I didn't. I just found it cold and somewhat depressing. Some people say that shooting stars are angels, falling to the earth to bless the lives of people in need. I've never liked those sorts of stories. The stars belong in the heavens. The dust belongs on the earth. Collecting in puddles, the sparkling, sugar-like ice crystals did nothing to ease the bitter cold. I shivered and coughed, my breath fogging in front of me.

I should have frozen to death hours ago.

But I can't die. At least, not that way.

Suffering, on the other hand, I can do that to no end.

I put my head between my knees, hoping to retain what little heat my walking corpse had to offer. I struggled to remain conscious. The story of the little-match-girl was playing in my head. I'd never liked that story's ending. Hallucinations really weren't my thing, especially hallucinations about things I tried not to think about, the things I tried to burry in the farthest corners of my mind. I had to distract myself, to think about anything that would keep me awake. The problem was, there was nothing to distract me.

Pling!

My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text. I grasped it quickly, greedy for a distraction, but I paused upon seeing the number displayed upon the screen. It was that number I had texted the Merry Christmas message to. Whoever it was had texted me back. I unlocked my phone and peered at the mystery person's message.

Received: 11:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

The message read. I smiled a little, surprised that anyone would care to return my quiet Christmas wish. The screen of my phone lit up with another message.

Received: 11:19 PM

Who are you?

The question was a simple one. Though tone can often be difficult to infer over written text, the question seemed to bear no hostility, only innocent curiosity. I thought for a bit about what to say, the answer was not as simple as the question had implied.

***

Located quite literally one thousand miles away from Copper Harbor, was the small, out-of-the-way town of Lebanon, Kansas. Now, in the outskirts Lebanon there was a hill. The hill was modestly sized and carpeted with thick grass painted with a layer of frost. Although it was a rather pleasant sight for some stray hiker to find, the hill was really quite unremarkable. That is, if you ignored the hulking steel door built into the side of it that looked like the entrance to a post-apocalyptic hobbit hole. See, built under that hill there was a bunker. It looked like any ordinary bunker if one can ever describe a bunker as ordinary. But inside this ordinary looking bunker, sat something rather extraordinary and his name was Jack.

Jack Kline was quite happy where he was. Sitting with his legs crossed on a chair beside the bunker's fireplace, Jack held Sam's beloved lap-top between his knees. Sam let him borrow it on the nights he couldn't sleep. Those nights were many. Sleepless nights were one of the many side effects of being half-angel, but he didn't really mind. Jack wasn't overly fond of sleep, not like Sam or Dean who adored the few hours they got. Jack would much rather be awake because if he was asleep then he couldn't observe. He liked to observe. He loved learning. He loved taking in anything and everything going on around him, soaking it all up like a sponge with legs. He especially loved to soak up a story. Epic ones with heroes that defeat powerful villains. Jack loved stories.

So, no; Jack Kline was not overly fond of sleep. No, Jack preferred to just sit quietly and watch those epic stories as they played out in front of him on the screen of Sam's lap-top.

Currently, he was watching Star Wars: The Clone Wars. The computer had said he would like it, and the computer had been right. He had just finished season 2 and had begun on season 3. Some small voice in the back of his mind told him he should slow down and draw the series out a little longer, but Jack just couldn't find the will to do so. This story was just too good to stop. Jack shoved a hand full of popcorn in his mouth as he pressed the play button on the next episode. He had managed to sneak several bags of popcorn from the kitchen and into the secret stash in his room a few nights earlier. It was perfect, except popcorn needed to be popped and popping the kernels without attracting notice was a bit of a challenge. But he found that if he popped them during the day, when everyone was clamoring about and busy with whatever, the noise from the popping kernels wouldn't peak any suspicion. The only downside to his strategy was that it left him with cold popcorn. Though this too could be remedied via his angel powers, if he was careful about it, he could warm up the popcorn undetected.

Now, don't get the impression that Jack was being starved, or held in this bunker against his will, or something awful like that. As was mentioned before, Jack was very happy there. The Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and the angel Castiel, lived there with him and took care of him. They were his family and Jack loved them. The only reason he had a secret stash at all was because Sam was the only one in the bunker who cared about the importance of having a somewhat healthy diet. Whereas Dean let the boy eat pretty much anything he wanted and Cas- well in Cas's mind food was food and that's all there was to it. But Sam didn't like it when he caught Jack eating what he referred to as 'junk food'.

Somehow, Sam always caught him.

"That stuff’ll rot your teeth, Jack!" He'd sigh, as he'd flip on the kitchen light and catch Jack eating cereal sometime around midnight. Then he'd look at Jack with a disappointed look on his face until Jack threw the cereal away and went back to bed. Jack hated it when Sam looked at him like that, he just couldn't bear to let the Winchesters down.

But Jack loved to eat. Eating was enjoyable as it brought with it something new every time. Yet more things to absorb and to experience. Although the younger Winchester disapproved of the more sugary foods; Jack liked those a whole lot more than the salads Sam tried to get him to eat. Jack didn't like the salads or 'Rabbit Food' as Dean called it. No, Jack liked popcorn a quite a bit more.

He smiled as he brought another handful into his mouth. Yes, Jack Kline quite enjoyed eating.

Plip! Ploop!

Jack's head swiveled away from the screen to stare at the phone laying face-up on the arm rest of the chair in which he sat. The screen was alight with a text message. He picked up the phone and unlocked it. The message read:

Received: 10:52 PM

Merry Christmas, stranger. I hope yours is as bright as new fallen snow. Stay warm.

That was all. Jack was quite confused; he didn't know that number. Who had sent the text? What should he do? Should he say something back?

Curiosity and caution struggled in a match tug-of-war in his head. He wanted to know who the message had come from. He wanted to know why that person had sent it. He also wanted to know why he had a strange feeling that whoever had sent the message was horribly sad. But would the Winchesters be mad at him if he answered? Sam and Dean had given him the phone just a few days earlier.

"For emergencies," Sam had said as he laid the device in Jack's hand before resuming his packing. Jack had stared at it, rather confused as to its purpose. Castiel had been off somewhere doing something and Sam and Dean had been leaving for a hunt, leaving him alone which Dean was completely and utterly against.

"Only for emergencies," Dean had stressed, jabbing his finger in Jack's general direction as he inspected various articles of clothing before tossing them into a duffle bag. "That means don't text or call unless someone is breaking in or you're dying!"

Sam shot his older brother a warning look. Dean ignored it and pulled a pair of socks out of his dresser, sniffing them briefly before making a face and chucking them to the other side of the room. Jack looked back down at the small black rectangle in his palm.

"Okay so, only text or call in case there's an emergency. Got it." Jack clinched the thin black box between his thumb and forefinger, carefully lifting it up as if it might explode in his face. "But, one question, if something happens like-like you said, like somebody breaking in or me dying, how-how would I do that?" He asked, looking back at the two brothers. They both froze their hasty packing and pivoted to stare at him, their eyebrows raised with disbelieving question.

"What?" Dean asked the young Nephilim. Jack shrank away a little, not wanting to upset the older Winchester.

"How do I text or call you? I don't know how to do that," Jack had timidly replied. Dean just shook his head and returned to over-stuffing the duffle. Sam, however, was much more understanding.

"That's right, you-you don't, do you?" Sam asked, realizing his mistake. Jack turned his attention to the younger of the brothers, shaking his head in an answer to Sam's question.

"Unbelievable," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes. Sam shot him another glare which Dean merely shrugged off.

"Well, come on then, I'll teach you," Sam had said. Jack watched as Sam set the contacts and explained how everything worked. He showed Jack how to send a text, how to dial and answer a call, and all the other things Jack would need to know. Jack just watched him and took note of every little thing. Watching and replicating was how Jack learned best.

"Now, if I don't answer my phone, you call Dean. But if he doesn't pick up, I want you to call me again, if I still don't answer a second time, I want you to call this number right here. That's Jody Mills, she's a friend of ours and she'll help you, alright? You get all that?" Sam finished explaining and looked for Jack to confirm his understanding. Jack nodded.

"I got it!" He said, enthusiastically. Sam gave the young boy a nervous smile.

"You do? Can you repeat it back to me?" Sam asked Jack the question the same way Sam and Dean's father had always asked them.

"If something happens, call you, and if you don't answer, call Dean. If Dean doesn't answer then I call you again, but if you still don't pick up, then call Jody Mills." Jack repeated all of Sam's instructions perfectly, grinning proudly at the younger Winchester when he finished. Sam laughed a little, but nerves twinged his voice.

"Good, yeah. Okay," Sam paused, thinking things over, "You know what, Jack? If neither of us answer your call and it's really that urgent, don't bother calling me a second time. Just call Jody right away if you can't get through to either of us. Alright?"

"Alright!" Jack nodded, grinning. Sam nodded back, stiffly.

"Alright." He seemed like he wanted to say something else but didn't know how to say it.

"You two done in there, Sammy?! We gotta go!" Dean called, walking in from another room. Sam stood and looked at his brother.

"Uh, yeah. I think we're good," He took a few steps towards the stairs that lead up to the door before pausing and turning back to Jack, "We're good, right? You're gonna be okay here by yourself?" Sam asked again. Jack grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

"I'll be fine. You don't have to worry."

Sam nodded and smiled with so much nervousness it almost hurt to watch.

"Okay, good. It's good. We're good," He said, nodding and trying to reassure himself more than anyone else. Dean raised an eyebrow at his overly anxious little brother, tugging his old leather jacket on over his shoulders, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he directed his remarks at Jack.

"Hey, kid. Whatever you do, don't do anything stupid," He'd said, half glaring, "We'll be back in a few days." Then they'd left.

Now, Jack glanced back down at the phone in his hands, remembering Dean's warning about not doing anything stupid. But his curiosity regarding the sender of the message was overwhelming. It couldn't hurt to text this person back, right? Was that what Dean had meant by his warning? Did this count as something stupid? What was the worst that could happen? Deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he texted back.

Sent: 10:18 PM

Merry Christmas to you as well!

Jack wrote.

Sent: 10:19 PM

Who are you?

No sooner had asked his question, he began to worry that he might have sounded rude. He waited with anticipation for the mystery person to reply. He didn't have to wait long.

Received: 10:20 PM

It doesn't matter, you don't know me.

I'm just someone wanting to give you a warm holiday wish.

Jack frowned. Again, he got the distinct feeling that the person on the other side of this conversation was deeply saddened by something. He desperately wanted to know what. So, he did the thing he did best. He asked and waited to see what would happen.

***

Received: 11:21 PM

If you don't know me, why do you care?

I don't mean to be rude. I'm just curious.

Why do this?

I read the person's question once, then twice, then three times and I realized that I didn't have an answer. Why did I care? Why was I texting some random person a Christmas wish? For all I knew, this person may not even observe the holiday. I had so many of my own things to worry about I was nearly drowning in them. I didn't know this person. I had nothing to do with them. So, why did I care about their holiday season? Why was I doing this?

I told myself it was just a random act of kindness. But deep down I knew what the reason was, and even if I didn't want to think about it, I felt it in my heart. I was doing this for the same reason I did everything. So, I took a few moments and came up with a reply.

Sent: 11:25 PM

I'm doing this because I believe that no one should ever have to be alone,

especially during the holidays.

I sent my reply and remembered to keep on shivering. I could hardly feel the cold anymore, I had gone almost completely numb. But I knew if I didn't keep moving, I would surely freeze in place and be unable to move until spring came. I vaguely wondered how cold it was. I remembered having heard on someone's car radio that this was supposed to be the coldest winter Michigan had experienced in the last decade. Though winter had only just begun, it was already cold enough for the district council to be suggesting face coverings to prevent citizens from getting frostbite and losing their nose.

I sneezed. I had no such face covering. Hell! I didn't even have a jacket! Let alone a coat or anything mildly warm. All I had was my oversized green cardigan, my black Star Wars t-shirt and my black jeans. That was it. Yet here I sat, outside a bakery in well below freezing temperatures, shivering myself into next decade.

I could go to a shelter. At least there I wouldn't have to endure the bitter biting of the wind as it gushed with double its normal force through these tight, abandoned alleyways. But if I went to a shelter then there was no chance of leaving undetected, I reminded myself. No, it was better to stay here, cold and alone, than to risk human contact.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another pling from my phone. Another message from that unknown contact.

Received: 11: 27

Are you alone?

Again, the question was simple. And although the mere thought hurt like a knife twisting in a fresh wound, I looked around at the dark, trash littered alleyway I sat in, watching the scattered rags of paper flutter and tumble in the winter gales, and I looked at the brutally beautiful puddles of speckled ice gathering along my body and melting on my skin, and I examined the bleak night sky, choked starless by the drifting dreary clouds; and the utterly silent stillness of the sleeping city revealed the harsh reality of my answer.

No one was here.

Nobody cared.

Not even the stars would keep me company. Because the stars never cared who I was.

So, with no reason to keep the truth hidden. I answered the question honestly.

Sent: 11: 29 PM

Yes.

Sent: 11: 30 PM

I am alone.

I was completely and utterly alone.

***

Received: 10: 30 PM

I am alone.

Once again Jack got the distinct impression that these words carried a heavy burden. It made him frown. What could he do to help a person he didn't even know? He wanted to ask this person if they had any friends, but something about those words told him the answer. When this person had said they were alone, Jack got the feeling they weren't just talking about the current moment. But maybe that's what this person needed. Maybe they needed a friend.

Sent: 10: 32 PM

Well, I'll be your friend and talk to you. There, now you're not alone anymore!

Jack smiled as he sent the text. The reply didn't take long.

Received: 10: 33 PM

Thank you.

You don't have waste your time on me but thank you.

It didn't take any special powers to read in between the lines this time, anyone could see the sadness in those words. Though Jack wasn't sure if it was his powers causing that strange feeling or if he was just imagining things.

Sent: 10:34 PM

I don't mind. Really!

Besides, I don't have anyone to talk to either.

Received: 10: 35 PM

Well, in that case, we can be lonely together!

Jack grinned. He'd made himself a friend. He couldn't wait to get to know them.

***

Received: 11: 36 PM

Since we're friends now, what's your name?

I smiled down at my new mystery friend's message. There was something about the words that made them seem innocent and earnest. It couldn't hurt to give my name, right? It’s not like he could find me. After all, I'm supposed to be dead.

Sent: 11: 37 PM

My name is Martina.

I sent my name and waited for the response. It came quickly.

Received: 11: 38 PM

I like your name Martina!

It's very pretty.

I flinched as I read the text. Something about seeing my name written in the text brought me back to a conversation with a different person a long time ago. It was a painful memory, and I didn't want to see it anymore. I didn't want another reminder of the still bleeding wounds in my heart. I remembered why I didn't let anyone call me that name anymore.

Sent: 11: 39 PM

Thank you.

But I would prefer you call me Marty.

I didn't want to be so sensitive to things like this, but I just couldn't help it.

Received: 11: 40 PM

Alright! I like Marty too.

It's a fun name.

I smiled; grateful they didn't ask why it was so important that they called me by a nickname.

Sent: 11: 41 PM

Thanks for understanding.

So, what's your name?

Received: 11: 42 PM

My name is Jack!

I grinned to myself. I'd made me a friend. I just couldn't wait to get to know him.

Sent: 11: 43 PM

Heya, Jack!

It’s nice to meet you!

I think this is the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

Received: 11: 44 PM

I agree, Marty. We are going to be great friends!

Sent: 11: 45 PM

So, what's your favorite movie?

And just like that, we talked until the sun came up. And suddenly, for the first time in quite a while, I wasn't completely alone.

***

"Hey, uh, Jack? We're back!"

Sam's voice drifted in from just outside Jack's bedroom door. Jack was surprised. He hadn't heard the brothers come in which, for him, was quite peculiar.

The door creaked open and Jack hastily attempted to pretend like he hadn't been using the phone.

He failed.

Miserably.

The device slipped from his hand and he fumbled to catch it before it smashed against the grey, polished concrete floor. He let out a sigh of relief as he snatched it just in time.

Sam peered around the door, checking in on Jack, who was now hanging halfway off his bed and clutching the phone. Scrambling to sit upright, Jack gave Sam a half-panicked smile.

"Hi Sam!" He waved a greeting, shoving his phone behind his back. Sam raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression and stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. He folded his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"Hey Jack," Sam seemed a little distracted, "Have you seen Cas?" He asked. Jack shook his head vigorously.

"He's not back yet," He answered. Sam nodded and started to leave before stopping and turning back. Only now seeming to notice Jack's odd behavior. Sam gestured at the phone hidden behind the boys back,

"So, what were you doing in here just now?" Jack's eyes flew wide as quarters and his gaze shifted rapidly around the room, focusing on anywhere but Sam. His mind was working overtime trying to find a viable excuse.

"Uhhhh...Nothing!" Jack tried; his brain had gone blank. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure about that?" Sam leaned forward a little, narrowing his eyes. Jack leaned back to match; his face scrunched up with the guilt he was trying very hard to hide. Everyone in the bunker knew how terrible Jack was at lying. He might be able to pass a few simple fibs by a stranger, but his family saw through him like he was made of glass. He couldn't deceive them. But that didn't stop him from trying, however.

"Yes..." Jack said slowly, his eyebrows pulling together in a rather sad attempt at looking sincere.

"Jack, what were you doing?" Sam asked more sternly. Jack looked at his feet and didn't answer. His shoulders moved up and down in a shrug.

"Do I have to go get Dean?" Sam pressed. Now Jack's head shot up. He stretched his hands out in a pleading gesture.

"No, no! Don't tell Dean!" Jack begged. Sam's expression shifted into one of concern.

"If you tell me, I won't tell Dean." Sam agreed, moving to sit on the bed beside Jack who shifted to give him some space. Sam waited patiently for the young Nephilim to speak. Jack kept his head down and rubbed his hands together nervously as he tried to think of how he should explain himself.

"Well, last night I was watching Netflix when I got this text from somebody wishing me a merry Christmas-" He started.

"Someone we know?" Sam asked, interrupting. Jack shook his head and continued.

"I asked them why they would do that, and they said it was because they thought that nobody should be alone this time of year. So, I asked if they were alone and they said, yes ─" Jack looked the younger Winchester in the eyes ─

"I don't know why but I just got this- this feeling, and they sounded just so sad, and now we're friends! But Dean said not to do anything stupid, and now I'm worried that I did! Are you mad?" Jack finished, worry coloring his features. Sam blinked. Once again astounded by the size of the half-angel's heart, he shook his head.

"No, Jack. I'm not mad," He said, softly.

"Really?"

"Really. I think you did a good thing. Everyone needs a friend." Sam patted Jack's shoulder and smiled. Jack looked down, grinning to himself as pride filled his chest.

Sam waited a moment before getting up from the bed. Stretching his back out and groaning a bit as he stood. It had been almost 48 hours since he last slept, and he was more than ready for a long nap. His hand rested on the doorknob and he paused a moment before turning back around.

"Hey, uh, Jack. Just one more thing. Do you by chance know this person's name?" Sam asked. Jack looked up briefly before looking back at the floor again, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up to stain his cheeks.

"It's, uh, it's Marty," He replied. Sam nodded and moved to leave again but he stopped. His eyebrows pulled down with confusion before he turned back.

"And uh, is that a boy's name or a girl's name? Do you know?" Jack turned his head a bit to the side and picked at a thread in his jeans.

"Does it matter?" He questioned back. Truthfully, it didn't. Sam wouldn't make Jack stop if he didn't want to. But to say that the boy's current evasive behavior didn't pique his interest, would be a lie. Though, the kid’s flushed cheeks told him quite a bit about the answer.

"It doesn't matter," Sam said, shrugging, "I'm just curious is all." The tall man watched the boy's reaction. Jack nodded and shifted as if uncomfortable.

"Marty's a girl." He answered, trying to force his voice into sounding nonchalant. And failing.

"Okay, cool." Sam nodded, turning around again, and reaching for the handle. Jack's head whipped around.

"Wait, Sam!"

Sam looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"Don't. Tell. Dean!" Jack stressed. Urgency was evident in his voice. Sam huffed a laugh.

"Okay, Jack." With that, Sam pulled open the door and walked out letting the heavy steel swing shut behind him. Behind the door, Jack sighed with relief. He'd dodged a bullet with that one.

Walking a ways down the hall, Sam got to Dean's room where his older brother was now unpacking. The younger brother leaned on the door frame and expelled the laughter he'd been holding on to since Jack’s room. Dean turned around, holding a pistol and a pair of weeks old and hopelessly blood caked socks in his hands, he faced Sam with a questioning look.

"What's got you so giggly all of a sudden?" The older of the brother's asked.

Dean glanced at the pair of socks in his hand. He grimaced at the stench and held them further away from his face, trying not to breathe. It didn't work. The socks odor was so pungent, Dean could smell them through his mouth. There was no hope of washing them. Nope, those things would have to be burned. Though, taking another whiff of them, Dean wasn't sure that even incinerating the socks would do him much good now. The stomach-turning stink would be branded into his memory forever. Sam straightened up, shaking his head of shoulder length hair.

"It's just something Jack said." Sam smiled and laughed again before taking notice of the unholy stench wafting off the socks. He coughed. "Dude, those stink. Bad!"

"Yeah, it's a sad day, Sammy." Dean nodded solemnly. Sam covered his nose.

"Why?"

"These were my second luckiest pair of socks."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, they're not anymore," Sam pointed out. Now, they were just rancid.

"I think we should give em' a Viking funeral, something to honor their service. I mean, I remember one time when I wore these things for two weeks straight!" Dean reminisced, grinning. Sam looked mildly disturbed.

"That's, uh... nice... But, uh, is there somewhere we could put them before the funeral? Because they, uh, they reek." Sam was trying hard not to gag and couldn't understand how Dean could be holding them and remain unaffected. Dean smirked.

"You wanna go put em' somewhere?" He asked, waving the socks into Sam's face. Sam leaned away.

"Ah! God! No! Put those things somewhere! Please!" He choked out. Dean just grinned and moved to the other side of the room. Grabbing a cardboard box from off the shelf, he shoved the socks in there and sealed the lid. The stench quickly began to dissipate.

"Better?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"We're gonna have to burn that box too."

"Yup." Sam still felt a little sick but at least the socks were gone.

"So, what was it Jack said that you thought was so funny?" The older brother asked.

"Oh, uh, nothing. It was nothing," Sam said. But laughter began to creep up on him again. Dean rolled his eyes and went back to pulling more dirty clothing from the duffle bag.

"Are ya gonna stand there or are ya gonna spill?" Dean pushed. Sam sobered up again.

"Well, I'm not supposed to tell you," He said.

Dean shook his head, mildly annoyed. He knew Sam was going to tell him whatever juicy information he had gotten, just like he always did when he got that sly look on his face. Sam could be a bit of a schoolgirl that way. Except, of course, when it came to the important things, the things Dean was supposed to know. Those things Sam always kept to himself.

"Well, Sammy, if you ain’t gonna spill─" he used the gun in his hand to gesture from Sam to the duffle bag─ "get workin'."

The younger Winchester moved to the bag and started unpacking, grinning his face off all the while. Dean knew his little brother was waiting for him to ask about the thing with Jack again, so he said nothing. He just waited for Sam to look over to him eagerly, which is exactly what Sam did.

"So get this!" Sam started.

'Here it comes.' Dean predicted internally. Sam kept starring.

'Yatzee.' Dean thought. He knew Sam like the back of his hand. Actually, he probably knew his brother better than that.

"Apparently, Jack got a text from some random person last night wishing him merry Christmas. And, well, you know Jack! So he─" Dean stopped his brother mid-sentence.

"What's her name?" He interrupted. Sam looked confused.

"I didn't say anything about a girl," Sam trailed off. Dean sighed and shook his head.

"Geez, Sammy! If you love drama so much, you should go be an actor. You ain't foolin' anybody. We both know where this is goin' so just cut to the chase!" Dean sighed, opening a trunk and tossing in the gun he'd been holding along with several knives. His small outburst had startled his younger brother, but Dean didn't really care. Sam wasn't the only one who hadn't slept in 48 hours. Sleep was calling and Dean wanted nothing more than to answer. Sam frowned.

"Marty. The girl's name is Marty," Sam stated, sounding rather put out that Dean had guessed at his not-so-cleaver ploy. The older if the pair turned to the younger with a perplexed expression.

"Wait, wait. Marty?" He clarified. Amused disbelief written all over his features.

"Marty," Sam confirmed.

"Marty?"

"Yeah. Marty."

"Like the zebra in Madagascar, Marty?" Dean asked, grinning. Sam nodded.

"Yeah, like that. But remember, you didn't hear anything from me!" He answered, smiling as well. Dean laughed as he turned his attention back to the mess of clothing and weapons surrounding him on the floor.

"Yeah, whatever, drama queen." Dean rolled his eyes and kept working. The room was silent for a moment before the older Winchester burst out laughing again. He couldn't help himself; he found the subject hilarious.

"Ah, man. Marty! Now there's a name!" He exclaimed as he started folding the few clean clothing items laying in the pile. "What? Did her parents just take one look at her and say: 'Look at our beautiful baby! Let's name her Marty!'" Dean scoffed.

Sam snorted and shook his head at his older brother's bad joke. Then he leaned his head back and yawned.

"Man, I think we need some sleep," Sam sighed. Dean smirked.

"Is it your bedtime already?" He taunted, expecting a playful retort. But this time, Sam didn't argue. He just nodded.

"Yeah, I think it is." Though worried about his little brother, Dean held his playful smirk in place perfectly, just like he had been doing for so many years.

"Well, you go ahead and hit the sack. I'll finish up here." He said, easily. Even though he was just as tired and Sam was, he would finish out like always. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, o'course. There's not much left anyway." That was a lie and they both knew it, but Sam took the offer of sleep while it was on the table.

"Thanks, Dean."

"You're welcome, Sammy."

Sam patted his older brother on the arm as he stood and left the room. Traveling down the corridor he got to his bedroom and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, Dean mouthed the strange name of Jack's mystery girl and chuckled about it to himself. Sitting on the floor in his room as he continued folding the rest of the clean clothes, cleaning out all the weapons and putting everything back in its place. The chore took him two more hours to complete but when it was done, he stretched himself out and laid back on his bed.

"Marty. Now, that's hilarious." Dean snickered to himself as he drifted off to sleep.

~I might hate myself tomorrow.

But I'm on my way tonight.

Let's be lonely together.

A little less lonely together~

Lyrics from: Lonely Together by Jasmine Thompson

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