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sugarsugarmoon · 3 years

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Hallway Run-In

Summary: Your friend Jimin gets a new roommate, and you can’t help yourself from looking at him. neighbors to lovers!au. college!au.

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Rating: Mature

Genre: smut and fluff

Warnings: vague mention of recreational alcohol use, protected sex

a/n: This is for the Secret Admirers collab with @heartsforbtsnet. I wrote this for @honeyj00ns, the beautiful magical butterfly. I hope you like it! It’s not edited or anything...oopsie!

WC: 3260

You are in a hurry as you are leaving your apartment, throwing your bag over your shoulder with a wild swing before you grab your latte off the counter. You’d taken the time to go down to the cafe downstairs this morning, and you are now slightly regretting it because you didn’t factor in enough time to get ready and get off to class.

You fling open the door, fumble with your keys before finding the right one to lock the door. You whirl around to power walk down the hall when you are met with a solid wall of human.

“Oh fuck!” you exclaim as the warm liquid from your cup splashes into your face and down your blouse.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you hear a deep voice say.

You aren’t looking up at the figure because you’re just staring down at your now soiled blouse. You didn’t factor in enough time to get a latte, let alone to change your entire outfit. You sigh heavily.

“Shit, shit. I’m sorry,” the voice says again.

You look up, mostly angry at yourself. “Just watch where you’re going,” you snap.

“Oh...yeah...okay.”

There’s a defiance in his voice, like he knows as well as you do that it was no less than half your fault, if not more so. You take in the figure in front of you, and your jaw immediately drops. It’s no wonder that it felt like you were walking into a wall. He stands at about six feet tall, his shirt straining over his pectoral muscles and his biceps. His honey skin is nearly flawless, and his eyes seem like they could look directly into your mind and see your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I’m just in a hurry.”

You pick up your keys off the floor and unlock your door. As you are slipping into it, you hear, “I was Namjoon” from behind you.

You change quickly into a clean t-shirt and run out the door. Once you sneak into the back of the lecture and plop down into a seat, you have a moment to reflect on the interaction you had with the man in the hallway. You feel the embarrassment starting to fill you again.

You hadn’t ever seen that man around the apartment building before, and you weren’t sure if he was just visiting or if he lived there. You hoped he was just visiting since you spilled coffee on him then snapped at him like it was his fault. You finally force yourself to focus on the lecture, but your mind keeps wandering to his perfect skin and the faint appearance of the dimples in his cheeks. You shake your head and start to write notes about the chemical compounds that the professor has put on the board. You curse yourself slightly for taking the Introductory course this far into your studies, but you needed a lab science to graduate.

After your classes are over for the day, you hurry home, the heels of your booties clacking on the sidewalk with each step. You secretly love the sound because it makes you feel powerful. You know that soon the biting wind will start to swirl around, knocking the leaves from the trees. Currently though, the sun is shining, illuminating the reds and yellows with spots of green still in the branches.

Back in the lobby of your building, you see your next door neighbor, Jimin, at the mailboxes, struggling to get his key out of the keyhole in the small metal door. He grunts slightly. You’ve always thought that Jimin was painfully attractive, like a fairy or an angel that you didn’t have permission to look at. It almost hurt your eyes. You decide to grab your mail and talk to him.

“Hey Jimin, do you need help?” you ask, as you faking casualness and sliding your key into the lock.

He sighs and turns, and upon seeing your face, he smiles. “Oh hi, yn! No...I think I can get it.”

You giggle at the small grunt that comes out of his chest. You slide the envelopes out of your box and lock it back up. Jimin continues to struggle, and you decide that you can’t just leave him like that, with the key stuck in the lock.

“May I?” you ask

He steps aside and sighs. You close the box because he’d been fighting with it while the door was open. You wiggle the key slightly, then you hear the click of the tumblr. The door locks, and you can’t help but smile. You slide the key out with a gentle jiggle. You hand it over to Jimin with the smile still spread across your face.

“Of course,” he sighs again. “I had a new key made because I gave my new roommate the original, and the new key is just sticking so badly.”

“New roommate?”

“Oh yeah! You should come meet him sometime!”

The two of you walk to your apartment after making dinner plans for the following day. Jimin insists that you don’t have to bring anything but yourself, but you know that you’re going to bring a bottle of wine with you. You’d never arrive empty-handed to a dinner party.

The following evening, you knock on Jimin’s door just after 6:00. The beautiful man opens the door, and he looks so happy that you’re there. You can’t help but smile when you’re around Jimin because his cheeriness is contagious. He throws his arms around you, and the two of you have a slightly lingering hug. You inhale deeply, smelling his cologne, then realize what you’re doing and quickly release him.

“yn, this is my new roommate, Namjoon,” Jimin says, stepping aside.

Upon hearing the name, you feel a lightheadedness come upon you. Your brain replies the “I was Namjoon” that you heard yesterday as you’d disappeared into your apartment. You try to keep your composure as you walk over to shake his hand.

“Oh! Hi, it’s you!” he exclaims as he takes your hand. “Hi, I’m Namjoon.”

You stare for a moment before your mouth catches up. “yn,” you blurt out, “is me.”

He laughs slightly, and you want to slap your forehead from the incredible awkwardness that is pouring out of you in this moment. Usually you carry yourself with confidence, trying not to let too many people see how awkward and dorky you actually are. But something about Namjoon just makes it impossible to hide.

Jimin had ordered dinner for the three of you, saying that neither him nor Namjoon are very good cooks. It makes you laugh because you would have been fine cooking for the three of you, but Jimin had insisted on providing dinner. You eat the pasta while the three of you chat and laugh. Once you loosen up a bit, you’re a little less awkward with Namjoon. You realize that you’re leaning closer to Namjoon and try to correct, but it just keeps happening.

A few times you think to yourself “is he flirting with me?” but you decide that he’s just a friendly, charismatic guy.

After dinner, you feel happy, full, but also light from the wine. You hug Jimin goodbye, and, when you turn to Namjoon, he’s holding his arms out to invite you in. You embrace him too. It feels right and comfortable. It’s much different being intentionally pressed against his firm chest than when you ran into it the day before. It feels like you fit perfectly in his embrace. Finally, you pull away, heat burning in your cheeks.

That night in the shower, you can’t keep the image of him out of your head. He held you in intellectual conversation about life and philosophy while also looking like a god. You wonder if Jimin is part of a club for unearthly hot men where he met his roommate.

You lie in bed, trying to keep your hands from exploring your skin to the image of him pressed against you. Finally, you give in and let your brain wander, feeling the heat wash over you. Your skin feels delicate and sensitive as you imagine the muscular figure on top of you, touching every inch of you. The pressure within you releases to the image of his face. Afterward, you feel a little embarrassed and tell yourself that you can’t do that again. He’s your nextdoor neighbor for goodness sake.

The next few weeks fly by with classes being in full swing, requiring most of your time to complete the work. You feel like you spend all of your time either in class or on your computer doing homework. You hardly even have time to get groceries, just living off of take out and the odds and ends in your fridge.

The leaves fall from the trees, and the air becomes crisp and sharp. You love this time of year because it means that Halloween and Christmas. For Halloween, you go to a party with some friends, and you see Namjoon and Jimin there with more of their unreal-looking friends. He’s dressed as a detective, with the trench coat and everything. You try to keep your mind from picturing what’s underneath the tight fitting white button up that he’s wearing with a skinny black tie.

Your friends catch you staring at him and tease you relentlessly for the rest of the night. You try to keep your back to him, so you don’t get caught looking again.

One night in November, you are lying in bed scrolling on your phone when you keep hearing what sounds like tapping at your. You check, but you don’t see anything. As soon as you climb back into bed, it starts again. You try not to think about it, but it keeps getting to you. Everytime you look, it stops. Then you go back to bed and it starts again. It gets into your head enough, that you start to panic slightly. You figure that you can go ask Jimin to just come hang out with you for a little while or something until you feel more comfortable. He’s done it before, and you know he’d do it again.

When you knock on the door, Namjoon pulls it open. He smiles at you immediately when he sees you. He looks as gorgeous as ever, with his glasses settled halfway down his nose and his hair swept back off of his forehead.

“Hi, yn!” he exclaims, and you are surprised by the enthusiasm.

“Hi, Namjoon. Is, uh, is Jimin here?” you ask, looking behind him into the apartment.

“No, he’s out tonight. A date. What’s up?”

“Oh. Okay. Nevermind.” You feel your shoulders fall slightly as you turn to walk away.

“Wait, yn, what’s up? You seem upset.”

“There’s just this sound I keep hearing. Sometimes Jimin will come sit in my apartment with me when I’m scared, since I live alone.” You shrug and try to turn away again.

“Well...I can come hang out with you. I’m just working on some stuff on my computer,” he says, an ingenuous quality to his voice that makes you feel comforted just upon hearing it.

“Oh! Well, yeah. If you wouldn’t mind just hanging out with me, that would be great.”

He agrees, disappearing for a moment into his room, then reappearing with a backpack slung over one shoulder. “Lead the way.”

You lead him into your apartment that is dimly lit with string lights in the living room. You realize that this is the first time that he’s probably ever seen the inside of your place. You tend to feel vulnerable when you let people into your home, so you don’t invite too many people that aren’t your close friends over.

You like to keep the lighting in your place soft, so you mostly use lamps and string lights. Your bedroom is a pink, pastel haven that people think is funny because you tend to dress in neutral colors, especially in the winter. You don’t think that Namjoon will be able to see your bedroom at any point. It’s not like you’re going to be inviting him in. But you still can’t help but think about the dirty clothes strewn across the floor.

You gesture for him to take any spot he wants on the couch, and he plops down.

“I like it in here. It’s so soft,” he says, turning to you with his dimples showing.

“Oh, thanks. I’m just kinda of a soft person, I guess.”

Your breath catches in your chest slightly, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your lips when you hear it. You are just a big softy, but you don’t always show it. It feels nice to let Namjoon in a little bit.

You take your spot on the couch next to him, leaving some space between the two of you. You grab your phone and start scrolling again. He pulls his computer from his backpack, and the gentle tapping of his keyboard feels like music. You jump when you hear the tap outside again. You turn and look at Namjoon. He places his hand on top of yours, so you know that your eyes must give away how terrified that you are.

“Let me go check,” he says.

He gets up from the couch and goes to the living room window. You hear him hmmm-ing to himself as he looks out there, then you hear a sound of understanding.

“I think I found our culprit!” he announces to you and waves you over.

You cross the room to the window and lean out next to Namjoon. He has the flashlight of his phone shining down on a small bird’s nest attached precariously to the side of the building. There is a bird inside that was probably just tapping on the wall just below your bedroom window. You sigh in relief then start to laugh. You retreat back into your apartment, and Namjoon stands up fully next to you. You can feel the heat from his body with how close you’re standing.

He pulls the window shut and laughs with you. “See, nothing to worry about except a bird who didn’t get the memo to migrate.”

The two of you don’t move, just giggling and standing near each other. You look up at his face, and you realize how much his smile makes your heart sing. You feel a twinge between your legs and try to ignore it. Namjoon looks down at you, and soon he isn’t laughing anymore. The two of you just stand there staring at each other for a few moments, until he slides his hand around your neck, pulling you toward him. His plush lips find yours, and you wrap both of your arms around his neck, pull yourself even closer. Your chest presses against his.

Your mouths move together, then he slips his tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth gingerly. You gasp at the bolt of arousal that shoots through your body. He pulls back from you, his eyes searching your face.

“Crap. I’m sorry, yn. That was impulsive. You’re just so gorgeous when you laugh,” he says, eyes cast just behind you, not making eye contact.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you whisper as you move upward to his lips again.

The hesitation in his mouth dissipates, and he wraps his hands around your waste, gently rubbing the fabric of your shirt with his thumbs. You press yourself against him, letting your fingers lace into his hair, tugging at it slightly. You push your tongue into his mouth this time, and your tongues dance together, exploring.

He slides his hand up inside your shirt, the soft skin of his palms exploring your back and sides. You moan slightly as your hair stands up on end from the contact. You pull a couple of soft pulls on his hair again, and he presses his groin against you. You can feel the bulge through his pants, and you can’t help the arousal that is now coursing through your body.

You pull away from him and ask hesitantly, “Would you want to...uh...go to the bedroom?”

He presses a soft kiss to your lips and nods. You lead him by the hand into your dimly lit bedroom, kick aside your discarded outfit from earlier. The two of you make your way to the bed. You push him down onto his back, and you straddle his hips. Your lips start to explore each other again, and you press your core against the hardness in his sweatpants. He grabs your shirt and tugs it over your head, so you do the same to him, eager to see what the bare muscles of his chest look like. You are not disappointed at the taut skin that covers the bulges on his chest and arms. You admire it for a moment before you return to kissing.

Things move quickly from there. All of your clothes are off, exploring how each part of your naked skin feels against his. and you feel like you don’t care if it’s too much too fast. He’s so attractive, he’s hard, and he’s kissing you. That’s all you could ask for. You lean over to the drawer in your bedside table and pull out a condom.

You hold it up and ask, “Do you want to?”

Once again, he smiles at you and nods.

You slide down between his legs, holding the tip of the condom and rolling it down to the shaft. You look up at him and smile a sly little grin before you lean over him and spit on his hard cock. You rub the spit in, making the whole thing slick, then repeat the same motion. He throws his head back as you stroke his cock. You do this a few more times before you crawl back up on top of him, positioning your entrance above his erection.

You slide down slowly, letting yourself take the time to adjust. Once you’re accustomed to the sensation and the stretch, you start to roll your hips, sliding up and down his length. You moan as his cock hits the most sensitive places inside you. You ride him until you can feel his cock twitching inside you.

“yn, I’m gonna…” he starts, his hands reaching up and grabbing your hips firmly.

His hips buck up against you, and you feel his cock twitch as he holds you down on his cock. You roll your hips in a small circle once he lets go, watching his abs tighten and relax as you do it. He falls back, panting slightly, and you giggle. You dismount from him. As he starts to soften, he slips the condom off and ties it.

“Where should I…?” he asks.

You take it from him and put it in the trash can. You smile and snuggle into his chest.

“yn, next time, I promise to make you cum a bunch before I do since I didn’t get you there this time,” he says as his thumb rubs gentle little patterns on your cheek.

“Oh, so there will be a next time?” you ask, grinning up at him.

“I certainly hope so,” he says nervously. “I really like you, and that was a lot of fun.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” you say as you wrap your legs around his, getting comfortably snuggled in against his naked frame.

“So much,” he whispers as his lips press against your forehead.

#secretadmirers21 #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #btswritersguild #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #rm x reader #rm smut #bts fanfic #bts smut

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joheunsaram · 3 years

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To Make A Power Couple - 5.5 (knj)

Chapter 5.5: “No. We had our first makeup.”

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- Namjoon and Y/N talk about their relationship.

word count- 2.5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- none! just extreme fluff

a.n- This didn’t fit well in the next chapter but I wanted to end the angst in the last chapter on a better note. Let me know what you think.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

Namjoon awoke earlier than the sun the next day, his head heavy and his eyes sore, evidence of last night’s vulnerability etched into his features. Unlike most times you weren’t tangled up in his arms, instead he saw you on the other side of the bed, curled up in a fetal position, one hand between your knees while the other rested under your cheek, making your mouth pout. He frowned at how your eyebrows seemed to be furrowed in your sleep, making you look distressed.

Sighing, he rose up, walking to the other side of the bed to his luggage and digging around for painkillers for his headache. Before he walked to the fridge to grab water, he pulled the comforter higher over you, lightly caressing your cheek, his eyes trailing the necklace around your neck, the pendant resting on the sheets next to your hand.

He sat on the couch, pulling your laptop on the coffee table towards him and turning it on to be greeted by the proposal you were supposed to be working on yesterday. The document seemed to be littered with little comments, and he felt anger flare within his chest as he read them. He knew he was snooping, and he should just minimize the window and go on Netflix as he was initially planning, but he couldn’t help it.

Y/N, are you an idiot?! This is not possible! That is not how this company works

Please fix this. We know you are better than this rubbish.

Let’s discuss this when you get back from showing off in Detroit… this is nonsense.

The comments were too casual and berating to be from your staff and he could only assume they were from your board members. You never talked much about your relationship with the board other than the occasional complaint about wanting to buy them out to have full control, but Namjoon never expected this amount of disrespect from them. As he looked at your sleeping form across the room, he felt a bubble of guilt rise within him. Now that the haze of jealousy and self-hate he was in last night had disappeared, he couldn’t help but realize how mean he had been in his comments to you. If you were dealing with all of this from your board, you didn’t need to be dealing with it from him too. He wondered why you never shared this with him, as he rubbed his face and leaned his head back over the couch. He had seen you become frighteningly more stressed and tired over the last month but he always stopped himself from asking questions, thinking he was projecting his own troubles on to you. In hindsight, he should have known better. Over the past month, Harry had texted him twice to ask if you were doing alright, and even at drinks on Friday, Siwon had pulled him aside to remind him to make sure you relax this weekend. He should’ve known better.

He felt a pang in his heart as he thought about your relationship. It had started with a promise of honesty, of never hiding yourselves from each other, but somehow the distance and the stress had made you both recede into yourselves. Unlike Namjoon, you were the kind of person who never seemed to wear her emotions on her sleeve, and he wondered if you felt similarly to how he had been feeling these past months with your work too. Were you also caging yourself in, afraid to share your stress with him?

“Joonie…?” You groggily traced your hand on his side of the bed to find it cold and suddenly last night came back to you and you feared for the worst. You had thought you had resolved your fight. Sure you hadn’t talked about it fully yet but feeling the emptiness made your heart stop. Was he gone? Shooting up, all traces of sleep were gone as you searched the room for him, eyes still puffy from sleep calling his name again, louder this time.

“What’s wrong? I’m right here, babe.” He walked over and you relaxed watching him climb into bed, his back against the headboard as he kissed your forehead, while you moved to sit cross legged between his long legs in front of him.

“Sorry.” He felt you shake slightly as he smoothed your hair to comfort you. You looked up at him, your palm coming to rest against his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Thank you for last night.” He gazed at you, hoping to convey his true gratitude, his hand wrapping arounds yours in your lap. People had always left him alone when he was in that headspace, and he was amazed that you had not only confronted him but managed to pull him out of it. “I’m sorry you had to see me that way.”

“Don’t apologize.” You looked at him sternly before a blush crept on your cheeks and you averted your gaze to your joined hands. Now that he was in a better place, you felt your guilt from last night coming back. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I made it hard for you to believe that I love you.”

“It’s not that… I think I just had a fucked up idea of how girlfriends show love.” He smiled awkwardly, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “I just got insecure about you not being jealous or territorial… I don’t know. It’s pretty dumb” He chuckled humorlessly.

“Oh… I was jealous.” You looked at him with wide eyes as he looked at you with shock. He was sure you were trying to placate him but he wanted to hear your reasoning. “I… I rationalize my feelings. I don’t go off the first thing, you know?” You shrugged sheepishly as you continued. “I feel a thing and then I go ‘hmm wrong reaction, let’s fix that’ so yeah of course I was jealous, are you kidding me? But then I thought it wasn’t an adult response to feel like that so I pretended till I was okay with it.”

Namjoon couldn’t help but laugh at that. He spent two days feeling like he was defected for being jealous of random men, even Yoongi. Of course you had more restraint over your emotions than him. He was in awe of you and he felt like a complete idiot. He leaned forward to pull you closer, arms around your waist to pull him to his chest and kissed you once, before you pushed him off.

“Hey! Stop laughing at me! I’m being vulnerable here!” You pouted, moving your arms around his neck. You knew he wasn’t laughing at you and you were glad he took your confession so well. To be completely honest, you had always felt your trait of rationalizing your feelings was your worst - it created a rift between you and other people who often deemed you as cold and heartless. It pained you that this same trait had made Namjoon so insecure.

Namjoon to his credit, stopped laughing immediately, instead looking at you with a fond smile. “I’m sorry baby. I’m laughing at myself - at how much of an idiot I am.” He once again kissed you, his lips moulding to yours, moving languidly. “I can’t believe that was my barometer for your love. Shit, I’m a fucking idiot.” He giggled, his lips a few centimeters away from yours.

“You’re not an idiot, Joonie.” You frowned a little, cupping his face as you looked into his deep brown eyes. He poked lightly at the corner of your mouth, hoping to remove the frown, looking at you seriously before speaking.

“I hope you know, you don’t have to filter yourself for me, Y/N. You can tell me if you feel jealous or stressed or sad or angry or whatever. I won’t ever judge you.” You felt lighter hearing his words, even though you knew that by now your feelings filter was pretty much an automatic response, it felt nice to hear that you didn’t need to be as careful around him.

Seeing your smile, Namjoon kissed you again, moving your backwards till you laid down under him. His kisses were relaxed, slow, as if he had all the time in the world, and it made your heart blossom. However, you knew that you still needed to talk about his feelings from last night. It wasn’t like you to let things stew, and so before things could get more heated you suggested going to the roof to watch the sunrise. Namjoon finally agreed after a few more lingering kisses, both of you changing into your hoodies and sweats before walking up to the rooftop.

You both laughed when you reached the top of the stairs at the obscenely large no entry sign that was much more evident now that you weren’t in a wild haze of emotions. Choosing to pointedly ignore it once again, you open the door to walk to the edge of the railing. It seemed that the rain last night had cleared the air, the cool morning breeze feeling fresher as you looked over downtown Detroit, the first rays of sunlight breaking over the shiny skyscrapers.

After a few minutes of enjoying the view, you turned to your boyfriend, intertwining your fingers. He had a small smile on his face as he looked over the city, his other hand under his chin, elbow resting on the railing. The first few rays of sunlight reflected off his face, making him look almost ethereal. “Joon, can I ask you something?” Still looking at the view, he hummed in approval. “Why didn’t you tell me you collapsed last week?”

“Probably the same reason you didn’t tell me how hard your board was hounding you for this proposal.” He looked at you pointedly, squeezing your hand, as you let out a sigh.

The cat was out of the bag for the both of you. It felt odd to talk about your stresses after so long, and therein lies the problem. The two of you started this long distance with promises of keeping each other updated but started rethinking that as soon as the stress piled on. Neither of you wanted to burden each other with your stress, but the more you both talked about it you realized the two of you had just been disrespecting each other, assuming the other couldn’t handle your reality and taking away their autonomy to make that decision. You both talked in hushed whispers as if discussing a shameful secret. Well, you guess it was pretty shameful the way you had been hiding in the bathroom at work to avoid talking to people, or that your one glass of whiskey after work had turned to four.

Namjoon assured you he wanted to share your burden and he wanted to share his with you too. He told you about his own shame - of trolling the internet for self-esteem destroying messages - chuckling at your proclamation that you would report every single message till they didn’t exist. It felt nice to finally tell someone, tell you, about his tortuous midnight habit. He also shared his stress about interviews, the anxiety that comes with having to translate for everyone and making sure he does the good job at representing not only his band but his country internationally.

“Okay this cannot happen again. We can’t fuck our communication up this bad every time we do long distance!” you exclaimed after almost two hours of you catching each other up on your less than ideal month. Namjoon was now sitting on the floor, back against the railing as you sat between his legs, your back on his chest and his chin resting on your shoulder. You squeezed his hand in yours. “We need to strategize how to be better!” You turned sideways as Namjoon burst out laughing.

“Damn you really are a CEO. You want to strategize our relationship?” Namjoon had calmed down enough to look at you incredulously.

“Joonie! I’m just trying to make sure we don’t fight again. I didn’t like it.” Namjoon sees your face fall at that as you look to the ground, a little sigh escaping, before he lifts your chin to look at you. You looked at him sadly. “We really had our first fight, huh?”

“No. We had our first makeup” He looks at you with conviction, eye contact not wavering in the least before he kisses you softly on the lips, watching a small smile evaporating your frown. “Okay let’s do it. What’s your strategy, boss?”

And so the two of you came up with three rules to foolproof the rest of your long distance. One, you switched your calls from goodnight to good morning calls, when both of you had enough mental semblance to stitch a proper sentence together (and so you could scold each other if you ended up pulling unnecessary all-nighters). Two, you would never assume the other person was not mentally ready to hear about your stress but would instead ask if they were okay with listening to you. You were to never assume you were a burden on the other person, because you both wanted to support each other. And lastly, your safewords were no longer for the bedroom, instead you both decided to use the colour system on your fights or heavier conversations, giving each other the opportunity to call yellow or red on a topic you weren’t ready to discuss. You didn’t know if this strategy was the best, but you would never know unless you tried it out.

With the sun getting higher and your stomachs growling for sustenance you decided to stand up, looking at the view one last time before venturing downstairs. The city was alive, cars moving around, people rushing to their Sunday plans. It was beautiful. You leaned back, closing your eyes as you took in the sun. “Ah! Healing rooftops!”

“You know, I don’t get the ‘healing power of rooftops’ thing you have.” Namjoon looked at your blissed out face as he put his arm around you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he looked at the view, thinking of last night. “All I see are empty offices. Doesn’t it feel lonely?”

“Nah, Joonie. You’re looking at it wrong. For every empty office that means that that person is home safe with their loved ones. Isn’t that the opposite of lonely?” He was taken aback by your positive spin on the situation. He smiled at you warmly as his arms tightened around you. He loved that even though you always said you were cold and people called you Ice Queen, all he ever saw was a soft-hearted optimist. He kissed your cheek as you giggled.

“I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you too, Joonie.”

————

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#namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #rm x reader #rm fluff #namjoon smut #rm smut #rm angst #houseofddaeng #thebtswritersclub #thetruthuntoldnet #btsnoonanet #purplearmynet #ficswithluv #namjoon series #namjoon fanfic #bts idol au

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yannasunflower · 3 years

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dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #kuroo x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #zombie!au #haikyuu zombie!au #this is purely self indulgent #kuroo x you #kuroo angst #my writing #yanna speaks #text #fanfiction

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oikawaplssteponme · 3 years

Text

DRIVE

pairing: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: swearing, vandalism/graffiti, a little suggestive, Iwaizumi calls you ‘babe’ , law enforcement present

genre: Skater! AU, fluff, action (?)

word count: 2,087 words

synopsis: In an attempt to frame your rival school, you, your boyfriend, and his friends, end up coming face to face with some unwanted guests. A little quick thinking and some fast skateboards should hopefully do the trick...that and a stolen car.

a/n: i got this idea and i just went with it hehe. i had a lot of fun writing it so i hope you all enjoy. no thoughts just seijoh four ;) reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

•

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD Y/N TURN THIS FUCKING CAR AROUND-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

six hours earlier

“What do you guys want for dinner?”

“You-”

“Hajime…”

“Get a room you two.”

You sighed and crossed your arms. You looked at your boyfriend sitting on the couch with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Let’s get udon. That sounds so good,” suggested Makki.

“I had udon yesterday,” explained Oikawa, “I don’t want that again.”

“That’s not my problem. Y/N, I’ll order,” said Makki. You nodded.

“Udon sounds good to me.”

You moved to sit back down next to Iwaizumi and he instantly wrapped his arm around you. You moved to rest your legs on his lap.

“I thought we said we were going out tonight,” huffed Mattsun. You chuckled.

“Don’t worry we are. We can’t go out on an empty stomach though.”

“Did you get the spray paint Oikawa?” asked Iwa. Oikawa perked up.

“Uh I thought you were getting it…”

The rest of you groaned.

“No you were supposed to get it idiot!” sighed Hajime. You gave Iwa a nudge.

“It’s fine, we’ll just get it before we go,” you insisted.

“Oikawa, your udon privileges have been revoked for this,” said Makki.

“I DIDN’T EVEN WANT UDON-“

“Well you certainly aren’t getting now. The rest of us will split your bowl.”

“HOW IS THAT FAIR-”

“Makki when will it be here?” You asked.

“About twenty minutes.”

“Okay so after the food gets here and we eat, we’ll head over to that supply store and grab the paint. How does that sound?” You explained. The boys nodded. Iwaizumi placed his hand under your chin, having you look at him.

“Sounds perfect babe.”

Iwaizumi placed a subtle kiss onto your lips, keeping a smirk on his face.

“Like I said, get a room.”

All your dinners arrived right on time and you all devoured them. You ended up giving Oikawa his bowl, though you did steal a noodle here and there.

The five of you threw away all your trash before packing up your things. You left the basement and went outside, each of you grabbing your skateboards.

“Ready to go?” You asked. The boys nodded.

“Last one at the store is paying for the paint-” laughed Mattsun before hopping on his board and skating away as fast as possible.

“Shit-”

The rest of you followed, pushing with all your might to not be last. The supply store was only a few minutes away, prompting your little race. You stood in second place behind Mattsun, followed by Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Makki.

“Sorry babe-” Iwaizumi rode past you, leaving you next to Oikawa.

“Damn it.”

You lowered your stance on your board, hoping to pick up some extra speed that you desperately craved. You were tied with Makki and Oikawa, each of you inching for the lead.

“I won’t hesitate to push you right off your boards,” you laughed. Oikawa smirked.

“Yeah right-”

“No way I’m paying-”

You continued to push on the ground, gaining distance between the boys and catching up to Hajime and Issei. The wind blew in your face, awakening all your senses. You could see the store approaching, giving you an adrenaline rush.

You caught up to Mattsun and Iwa.

“Fancy seeing you guys here,” you smirked.

“You haven’t won yet Y/N-” said Mattsun. He was first at the store, followed by Ayou, then Iwaizumi, Makki and Oikawa. He lost by just a second.

“I guess it all worked out, since you were supposed to buy the paint anyway,” you joked as you caught your breath. Oikawa huffed.

“Whatever. Wait here.” Toru kicked up his board, adjusted the beanie on his head and went inside. Iwaizumi moved to stand behind you, slinging his arms around your waist.

“You’re sure we aren’t gonna get caught?” he asked. You sighed.

“Have a little faith in me babe. My plan is full proof.”

“And if we do get caught, we can blame you,” smiled Makki. You hit his arm.

“We aren’t gonna get caught. I’m smarter than that.”

“Got it!” You looked up to see Oikawa holding up the bag of goods.

“Four cans of purple, white, black, and grey spray paint.”

You smirked.

“Perfect.”

The five of you hopped back onto your boards and rode until you reached Aoba Johsai High School. You quietly and carefully made your way to the gym.

“Never thought I would be back here…” sighed Mattsun.

“Hopefully this is the last time we are back here,” you whispered. It had been a few weeks since graduation. Never did you think you’d be back to spray paint your own former high school.

Oikawa pulled out the cans of paint, setting them each on the ground.

“Ladies first,” he smiled. You picked up the purple paint, took the cap off and began to draw a large circle on the gym doors.

“That's an oval,” teased Makki. You groaned.

“You idiots can do it then.”

You filled in the circle with the purple paint before turning it over to Oikawa, Makki, and Mattsun. They began to draw an outline of an eagle and the letters spelling out ‘Shiratorizawa’.

“God what I would do to see the look on their faces when they see this,” said Iwaizumi. You chuckled.

“Told you my plan was full proof.”

“PAINT THE WALL NOT ME DAMN IT-”

“Oikawa shut up-”

“Makki shut up-”

“Now you listen here-”

As the boys continued to whisper-yell at each other, Iwaizumi took your hand and began to lead you around the corner of the gym.

“Iwa-”

“Don’t worry, they can handle being alone for a bit,” he smirked. Iwa had you leaned up against the side of the building, his arm just above your head looking down at you. The way he stared at you made your heart pound.

“You know you’re really cute when you’re determined,” he said.

“I know what I want,” you whispered. Iwaizumi bent his head down, touching his nose against yours. Your breath grew heavier and hotter as it mixed with his.

“I know what I want too.”

Iwaizumi didn’t waste another second to crash his lips against yours. There was something about the way that Iwaizumi kissed you that made your knees go weak. You pulled him closer to you, grabbing the collar of his shirt. Iwaizumi’s hands rested comfortably on your hips before slowly moving them onto your ass. The clashing of teeth and tongue was intoxicating. You could barely get enough.

“U-Uh guys…”

You ignored the voice, keeping your focus on your boyfriend's lips.

“GUYS!”

Iwaizumi pulled away from the kiss, annoyed.

“WHAT?”

“W-We’ve got company…”

You and Iwaizumi looked at each other, feeling your hearts drop to the floor. You slowly walked back to the gym doors. Makki, Oikawa, and Mattsun were frozen in their spots. They had the hoods of their sweatshirts on and their beanies lowered. You and Iwaizumi soon heard two pairs of footsteps walking towards you.

“Alright kids, just stay where you are,” said one of the police officers. You looked around to your friends. You bent down and picked up your skateboards.

“Hey now you listen to me, it’s gonna be easier for the both of us if you just do what we say. So drop the skateboards.”

You were shaking in your shoes, trying to figure a way out. You could see the two police cars in the background, parked in the school lot. The lights were still on and it looked like one of the officers had forgotten to shut their door. You soon were struck with an insane idea.

“Put your hands up. You’re trespassing on school property, not to mention the vandalism you just did,” said the second cop. You set your skateboard back down, your friends looking at you as if you were crazy.

“Y/N what the fuck are you doing-“

“HEY NO TALKING!”

You placed your skateboard on the ground, slowly putting your foot on top.

“Police. Car.”

“What-”

“Police car. Now!”

You jumped onto your board, skating past the officers even before they had a clue what you were doing. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsun followed you to the car.

“HEY GET BACK HERE!”

The officers chased after you, but weren’t fast enough. You made it to the car, your whole body shaking and your mind going a mile a minute.

“GET IN!” you shouted.

You hopped into the driver's seat of the car with the open door, keys still in the ignition.

“Idiots,” you mumbled to yourself. Iwaizumi got in the front seat with you as the rest piled in the back.

“FUCKING DRIVE Y/N!” order Oikawa. You removed the parking brake before stepping on the gas. You could hear the yelling of the officers behind you, but they soon faded as you speed away.

“I know you did not just steal a police car!” shouted Iwaizumi.

“Well would you rather be riding in the back of one with cuffs!?” You groaned. Your hands were shaky on the wheel, palms covered in nervous sweat. You didn’t even bother to check the speed you were going, running through every red light you came across.

“We’re fucked,” cried Makki.

“Y/N take us back to the damn school,” ordered Iwa. You looked at him with widened eyes.

“Are you crazy? Hell no!”

“If we turn ourselves we won’t get into as much trouble-”

“Keep driving Y/N, I’m not getting arrested!” butted in Mattsun. You looked in your rear-view mirror, only to see the second police car after you.

“FUCKING HELL-” You stepped on the gas even more, reaching close to 80 miles per hour.

“WE’VE GOTTA LOSE THEM!” shouted Oikawa.

“DON'T YOU THINK I KNOW THAT! SORRY THAT THIS IS MY FIRST CAR CHASE DAMN IT!”

You made a wide turn onto a backroad, flipping the switch of lights on top of the car off. The second car still trailed behind.

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD Y/N TURN THIS FUCKING CAR AROUND-”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Your adrenaline continued to rush as you drove. You searched and scanned your surrounds for any way out, or somewhere to hide.

“Y/N turn there!” Makki pointed to a fork in the road that lead to the woods. You jerked the steering wheel to the left, driving right into the woods entrance. You parked the car and turned off the engine.

“Everyone quiet!” You ordered. You looked behind you, waiting to see the other car. You watched as it drove past, entering the left side of the fork. You all let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re fucking crazy Y/N…” panted Iwaizumi. You chuckled.

“Well obviously.”

The five of you skated your way back to Oikawa’s basement, leaving the car where it was. Once you arrived, you all crashed onto the floor.

“I can’t believe that happened…” huffed Mattsun.

“I can’t believe we didn’t get caught…” you said.

“We did get caught dumbass! We almost died!” remarked Oikawa. You playfully hit his arm.

“We didn’t get caught. Just...interrupted.”

“Iwaizumi your girlfriend is insane,” sighed Makki. Iwaizumi chuckled.

“Hell yeah she is.” Iwaizumi pulled you towards him, having you rest your head on his arm.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he whispered. You smiled.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I yelled at you too.” You moved your hand to run through his hair.

“How about next time though, we do some legal for our activity of the night?” he suggested. You chuckled.

“Admit it, that was pretty fun.”

“Yup, you’re insane.”

“Wait, did you finish the painting?” You sat up and looked at the three boys. They looked at each other, smiling.

“Don’t worry, we finished it.”

The following morning you all found yourselves seated in Oikawa’s basement. You were curled up on the couch next to Iwaizumi. Your phone buzzed.

“Who is it?” he asked. You raised a brow.

“A call from Kindaichi.” You answered the call, placing him on speaker.

“What’s up first year?”

“DID YOU HEAR? SOMEONE VANDALIZED THE GYM!”

The five at you looked at each other.

“No way… do you know who?”

“Those jerks from Shiratorizawa! They left graffiti and everything! They even stole a police car and it was found this morning. Apparently the police are on their way to Shiratorizawa right now.”

You tried your best not to laugh, keeping your cool on the phone. Iwaizumi kissed your cheek, before high-fiving his friends. You turned back to the phone call.

“That’s crazy…”

•

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful ]

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter one: ICN --> LAX

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 6.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings: criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, highly improbable condom placement, unrealistic use of available sex space, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna who’s smut is even better than her art

*************************

One day it works out too well, then the next day I’m completely screwed (I still) Who should I live as today, Kim Namjoon or RM? 25, I still don’t know how to live well So, today as well, we just go -- Airplane, Pt. 2 BTS

**************************

Jungkook Jeon is basically your Carmen Sandiego.

You stare down at the photocopy of the state of California driver’s license in your hand, into the face of the brash little fucker you’ve been chasing across the globe for the better part of a year.

He looks barely old enough to drive.

Of course, this picture was taken years ago when he was a sophomore at Stanford. Back before he dropped out of school despite being in the top of his class. Back before he broke the law by taking six million dollars of someone else’s money, then broke his parents’ hearts by disappearing without a trace.

You should already have him in custody — and If he were like any of the other greedy assholes you usually chase, he would be. But instead, Jungkook Jeon has managed to deflect and dodge and avoid you at every turn for months.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

One time, you’d been so certain about cornering him in Argentina that you’d boarded a plane with a pair of thick-necked US Marshals and flown south. You’d had to head back to the States empty-handed and sunburnt and pissed.

The real kicker was when you’d gotten home and opened a one-line email – encrypted to hell and back – with a picture of your FBI Academy graduation headshot attached.

you’re so hot i almost want to get caught. almost.

That had hurt.

So you’d had to lick your wounds, bide your time and wait for a man who apparently didn’t make mistakes to make a mistake. And for a while, he didn’t.

Until he did.

**************************************

Agent Kim Namjoon is definitely not the pencil pusher you imagined him to be during your many phone calls and other interactions.

No, the man who meets you and your team at Incheon International Airport is what the kids these days call a snack. He is tall and broad and wears a pair of dark thick-rimmed glasses that should make him look like a giant nerd but somehow don’t.

Very, very cute.

“Welcome to Korea,” he says with an easy smile. You smile back, then clear your throat and remind yourself you’re not here to flirt with your contact with Korea’s National Intelligence Service.

Seriously.

Agent Kim’s English is immaculate – this you already knew since you’ve exchanged more than a few calls in recent weeks. He’s got his own team ready for briefing at his headquarters. After a quick drive, you’re all in one room going over the plan.

His guys have tracked Jeon to a high-end restaurant in Seoul where he’s been working for a few months. They already have a rough sketch of the area. You’re going to block off every exit, cover every angle, and make sure there’s no way he’s getting out of that restaurant without coming through one of you.

This should go off without a hitch – but then you remember Argentina and frown.

“He’s there. My guys are ready to go,” Agent Kim says, after taking a quick call on his cell phone.

It’s decided, then.

You load into black vans and take off for the west end of the city. Agent Kim drives and you have the chance to look out the window at the streets. It’s a beautiful place, you think. Agent Kim seems to read your mind.

“You should come back sometime,” he says. “When you’re not here on business.”

Sigh. You’re going to have to flirt with this man, aren’t you?

“I would like that. Maybe you could show me around some time,” you reply.

His eyes stay on the road – his hands locked at 10 and 2 – but you see the ghost of a smile pass over his lips. You smile to yourself and look back out the window.

Minutes later you’re parked outside an industrial-looking brick building. Gleaming glass-and-stone condos and perfectly manicured greenscaping confirm you are in a high-dollar neighborhood. It’s a Saturday night in a ritzy part of Seoul and you’re probably about to ruin someone’s date night.

Or maybe rescue it, depending on the date.

You stare out at the restaurant and imagine Jungkook Jeon inside, going about his life without realizing you’re here to throw a wrench into all his plans. You get a little thrill when you imagine the look on his face when he realizes the gig is up. Victory is so close you can taste it.

Agent Kim gets a call from his point man, everyone is in place.

Showtime.

******************************

“Is that consommé? It looks like consommé. What do you think, Agent Kim?”

Jungkook Jeon looks shaken for a moment when you step in front of the table where’s he’s just laid out a picture-perfect pair of starters. His guests, a nicely-dressed older couple, also look shaken as they glance nervously between you, Agent Kim, and their now permanently off-duty server.

He straightens to his full height.

The youthful roundness of the face you’ve stared at so long in that driver’s license picture is gone. You have no idea what this guy’s been eating for the past few years, but in place of that baby-faced kid is a man, tall and broad and muscular. Tattoos you can’t make out run across his hands, up his arms, and disappear into the white dress shirt he has rolled to the elbows. His hair is on the long side, pulled back, giving you an unobstructed view of what can only be described as a perfect face. Serious, literal perfection.

Good grief.

Somehow the little shit recovers from his shock in an instant. He smirks, despite his clear disadvantage.

“I gotta say, you look even better in person.”

Oh yeah? So do you.

You ignore his opening line.

“It’s time to come home, Mr. Jeon. Pay the piper and all that.”

He has the nerve to roll his eyes and your hand itches with the desire to punch him in his stupid fucking perfect face.

“Teamed up with some Korean suits, huh?” He gives Agent Kim the once-over and apparently finds him lacking.

“Mr. Jeon,” you feign a scandalized tone. “Just how do you think I was raised? It would be downright rude to barge into a sovereign country without an invitation. Besides, Agent Kim here has been an absolute pleasure.”

You could hear a pin drop inside this restaurant right now. Every knife and fork and glass has come to rest on the fine white linen on these tables. The guests are frozen in place, taking in the strange scene.

Dinner and a show tonight, guys.

Jungkook doesn’t move an inch. You’d half expected him to just walk up, accept his cuffs and get this show on the road. But no, apparently he’s in a talking mood.

“Tell me how you found me.”

You sigh. You’re not a pair of girlfriends catching up over coffee. You open your mouth to say just that, but Agent Kim speaks up.

“We had a source come through with some very specific information on you.”

“Oh, I think Agent Kim is being far too kind,” you counter. “What he means to say is that your Korean sucks. You see, Mr. Jeon, you may look like them,” you gesture at the restaurant full of guests, “but you sound like us. Let’s just say you stick out like a sore thumb here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement at the jab.

“I hated Korean school, you know.”

“It shows.”

He laughs.

Agent Kim clears his throat as if to remind you both that you’re not alone.

“Well this isn’t a social call, and I’m sure all these fine people would love to get back to their meals. So why don’t we finish this chat on the way back to the United States, Mr. Jeon?” you say, getting back to the task at hand.

Agent Kim signals his guys and they swoop in to put him in cuffs. He doesn’t resist, just holds out his hands and shoots you his most flirtatious smile.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Agent.”

On your way out the door, you glance over at the consommé and hope it’s supposed to be served cold.

**********************************

“What is a man who stole six million dollars doing waiting tables at a restaurant?” you muse out loud.

Jungkook Jeon is in the backseat of Agent Kim’s black SUV, looking out the window.

“I had to have some kind of story, right? Besides, I kind of liked it.”

“You didn’t get to spend the money,” you say.

“Not really,” he admits. “It’s much easier to fantasize about blowing millions of dollars than it is to actually do it.”

“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Jeon. What a shame.”

He leans forward in the backseat, hands cuffed in front of him.

“You know what would really be a shame, Agent? If I don’t get the chance to fuck you before you lock me up.”

A muscle twitches in Agent Kim’s jaw.

“Watch your mouth,” he warns, glaring into the rearview mirror. You immediately decide you like him a little stern. It’s pretty hot.

“Mr. Jeon, you and your dick will be free to do whatever you’d both like in about twenty years. That’s how this whole grand larceny and evasion thing works,” you say, ignoring the sensation that spreads across the back of your neck at his crass words.

He whistles.

“I’m really going to waste my best-looking years in prison.”

No kidding.

“Oh, don’t be too disappointed,” you say sweetly. “I hear there are a few advantages to having such a pretty face behind bars.”

You hear the clink of his cuffs and look into your rearview just in time to see him give you the finger.

*********************************

The government can be so cheap sometimes.

You’d have loved to pull right up to the tarmac at Incheon International, walk right onto a chartered plane like the Feds do in the movies. But alas, private flights are definitely not in the budget.

Instead, you have to settle for regular seats on a Korean Air flight. You’d been in touch with the airline ahead of time and they’d offered you and your team privacy in the back rows of the plane – complete with a curtain separator. You really couldn’t blame them for not wanting passengers to be greeted by a handcuffed man and his gun-toting babysitters.

Smart move all around.

Seating arrangements are decided, you and Jungkook on one side of the aisle, your two Marshals on the other. They’re both smart men, highly-skilled and boring as hell. You’d already had to suffer through their small talk on the fourteen-hour long flight here, and you’d be damned if you had to do it again on the way back.

“Are you going to let me have a drink?” Jungkook asks, as soon as you’re settled into your seats.

“Of course,” you reply, scrolling through a few emails on your phone. “What’s your favorite kind of juice?”

He snorts.

“It’s gonna be a long flight unless you play nice,” he warns.

“Mr. Jeon,” you sigh. “Shut up.”

He shakes his handcuffs.

“You could at least take these off,” he grumbles. “Not like I can walk off of a moving plane.”

“Nope,” you reply, affecting your best bored tone. You grab a magazine out of the seatback and pretend to leaf through it.

“So you want me to sit here – no phone, no headphones, no nothing – for fourteen hours?”

“Better to practice that ‘bored out of your mind’ routine sooner rather than later. I’m sure it’s gonna come in handy.”

You don’t look his way, but you can feel the glare he’s fixed on you and you have to fight the urge to smile.

******************************

The flight attendant who rolls a giant drink cart into your quiet section of this plane looks like a doll. Porcelain skin, huge eyes and the whitest smile you have ever seen.

Jungkook straightens in his seat immediately. He’s been pouting for the last hour but now he sees this dazzling young woman and his game face is back on.

“Hello,” he says, flashing her a smile.

Then he stops — seems to remember his audience — and resumes the exchange in Korean. You stare at him as he makes eyes at the flight attendant, working her with the confidence of a man who is not wearing handcuffs right now.

She blushes deeply at something he says before turning back to her cart to pour a Jack and Coke.

“Are you serious, Jeon?”

He smiles.

“You don’t hate me, right? Like, obviously I’ve pissed you off, but you don’t hate me. Because only a person who hated me would stop me from having a drink on my way to federal prison.”

You open your mouth to protest, but instead decide that he’s right. He’s a thief – not a killer for pete’s sake.

A super-hot, ridiculously charming, complete asshole of a thief who is definitely not getting under your skin by flirting with the flight attendant right now.

The porcelain doll turns back and hands him his cocktail and Jungkook winks at her. This man just accepted his drink with his hands in fucking handcuffs and this woman is blushing at him like he just asked for her number in a nightclub.

“Are you done?” you hiss.

“With what?” he asks innocently, cuffs clinking as he lifts the drink to his mouth.

“Eye-fucking the flight attendant.”

He feigns shock. “Are you – are you…jealous?”

You scoff and turn your attention back to your magazine.

He leans close.

“Don’t be jealous,” he says, blowing whiskey-scented breath into your ear. “I wanted you first. I’m only flirting with her because you’re really mean to me.”

He leans back and takes another sip of his drink.

There is something about this mischievous boy-man with the chiseled body and the smart mouth. He certainly has a charm. You’re certain he’s been able to use that charm to get out of more than a few sticky situations over the years.

“I wasn’t kidding you know,” he says. “About wanting to fuck you.”

He shakes the ice in his glass to show off that he’s already drained it and gives you another one of those self-assured smiles that’s really starting to piss you off. You drop your gaze back to your magazine.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you state simply, pretending to have a deep interest in some blurb about face masks.

“No? Are you sure about that?”

“You are mind-bogglingly arrogant for a man who is headed to prison for the next two decades,” you reply dryly.

“Probably headed to prison,” he corrects. “Innocent until proven guilty, due process and all that. Unless things have changed? I realize it’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

You snort.

“Okay fine, you’re right. I’m headed to prison for the next twenty years which is why it’s imperative that you fuck me now. Immediately. Anything else would be,” he gives a dramatic shake of his head, “Inhumane.”

This time you can’t help but laugh and one of the Marshals across the aisle gives you a disapproving look, like he’s been forced to chaperone a pair of giggling teenagers.

You clear your throat and look back down at your magazine, force the smile off your face.

“Argentina,” you say. “How did you get out of there before I got to you?”.

The flight attendant returns with another drink and another smile for him.

“You want something, I want something,” he says, taking a long sip. “Maybe we could work something out?”

“I’m not going to fuck you for information, Jeon. All of that will soon come out in the wash,” you sigh.

“Then fuck me for charity. For good will. Fuck me because it’s the least you can do since you’re blowing up my entire life right now.”

You roll your eyes.

“You blew up your life, you idiot. You’re the one who intercepted a wire transfer and stole six million bucks. You’ve already been fucked. You fucked yourself.”

He smiles wistfully for a moment.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

*******************************

You stop him at three drinks.

His eyes have taken on a soft quality and his entire energy is a bit more relaxed with some booze in his system. It’s hard, it’s really hard to ignore how hot this man is without even trying.

But when he tries? Then it’s damned near impossible.

You check your watch. You still have seven hours to go on this flight.

“Luck,” he says, suddenly.

“Excuse me?” you say, looking up from your magazine.

“You wanted to know how I got out of Argentina in time. I was gonna make up some fancy story about how I’d figured out you were on to me and beat the clock to get away but the truth is, I was just lucky. I’d already been there too long and I was getting restless. I was ready to go.”

Hmm. So the booze has made him talkative.

“Your landlord said we’d missed you by one day,” you counter.

“Yup,” he laughs, closing his eyes momentarily as if reliving the thrill of the chase. “I used to have a lot of luck, actually. Before I ran into you.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

“Fair enough,” you say and the two of you share a laugh. You open a bag of pretzels and offer him one. He begrudgingly accepts.

“Why did you take the money?”

He chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“Because I wanted to know if I could. I didn’t think I was gonna pull it off, but again, it was my luck. Once I figured out how to do it, I just did.”

“How remarkably stupid,” you breathe, a smile on your face. He smiles, too.

“Yeah, well. I said I was lucky, not smart.”

“Oh, but you are smart, Mr. Jeon, and don’t think you’ve convinced me otherwise. Your transcript from Stanford tells a very interesting story. What did your parents say when you dropped out at the top of your class and went to work at a gas station?”

The sarcastic back-and-forth screeches to a halt. For the first time, you see darkness pass over his face.

“Don’t ask me about my parents,” he says curtly. “I’ll tell you whatever else you want to know, but that shit is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and this time you mean it.

He shifts to his side, away from you, and looks out the window.

You sit quiet, thinking for a minute – but after a while you both fall asleep.

********************************************

You wake to Jungkook nudging you.

“Get up,” he says urgently. “I have to piss.”

You groan, trying to clear the fog from your brain and glance at your watch. Still four more hours to go on this flight.

“Like now,” he says, bouncing one leg to ward off the sensation.

You get up, stretch out, and wait for him to stand but then realize he’s waiting for you to help him since it’s an awkward fit in the seats with his handcuffs. Instead of making a snarky comment, you just offer your hand and a slight smile.

Very unlike you.

“Thanks,” he says, straightening out, stretching his legs. One of the Marshals raises an eyebrow at you.

“He has to use the bathroom,” you say, stilling the man with a raised hand when he makes to stand. “It’s alright, I need to stretch, too. I’ll walk him down there.”

The Marshal looks skeptically from Jungkook to you and back.

“It’s fine, Agent,” you say, a little annoyed. “It’s not like he can go anywhere, right?”

“Right,” Jungkook says, still bouncing that leg.

The Marshal gives you a look that makes clear he doesn’t approve, but he’s not going to stop you.

You walk behind Jungkook as he makes his way past the curtain, down the aisle and towards the bathroom. It’s a half-empty flight, and you’re glad for it when you see people staring at his handcuffs. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed on his behalf when you hear them whispering in Korean. At least you don’t know what they’re saying.

The firm set of Jungkook’s mouth makes you think he wishes that were the case for him, too.

“Just uh, give me a minute,” he says, when you reach the bathroom.

It turns out to be a lot longer than a minute.

You’re half tempted to bang on the door and demand to know why he’s taking so long. Maybe the Marshal was right to be suspicious of Jungkook. Maybe he figured out a way off this plane through the toilet.

You’re bouncing your own leg impatiently when he finally reappears.

“What took you so long?” you ask, annoyed.

“You ever try to take your pants and underwear off while handcuffed?” he asks. “You know what — never mind, don’t answer that. You’ll start giving me ideas.”

Ah. He’s back, then.

Part of you is a little relieved to hear his smart-ass mouth again. You feel a hell of a lot less guilty around this version of him.

“Listen, I did a little recon and it’s a tight fit, but there’s definitely enough room for us to fuck,” he says, face comically serious. “And we’re running out of time for you to pull the trigger, so what’s it going to be?”

“Ugh. You’re foul,” you say, pulling a face.

“But you kind of like it,” he shoots back.

He’s right, though. You kind of do.

***********************

Clearly you’ve lost your mind.

Pheromones have short-circuited all the portions of your brain that control logic, reason, and risk. That’s the only plausible explanation for why you are slumped into your seat right now, legs pressed together tight, imagining fucking Jungkook Jeon in an airplane bathroom.

Sympathy and curiosity and more than a little horniness are making for a strange mix. You reason to yourself — as if you are actually entertaining this madness — that he’s not a convicted felon, just an accused one. There’s gotta be a loophole in the FBI handbook somewhere.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Jungkook asks, leaning close — a smile playing over his lips.

“Shut up.”

“You are,” he whispers in a scandalized tone. “I mean with these on, I’m not going to be able to do my best work, obviously, but I’ve done more with less. Unless you want to take them off,” he says, rolling his wrists in the handcuffs.

“I already told you, I’m not taking those off,” you say sharply.

“Alright, alright. Keep it kinky. I can roll with that.”

”Shut up, Jeon.”

He gestures across his mouth like he’s zipping it shut and throwing away the key and you fight the urge to laugh.

“If I decided to fuck you, and I’m not saying I would,” you hiss, “I would have to stuff a sock into that smart mouth of yours just to not have to hear it.”

He laughs and his face looks so young and relaxed it takes your breath away a little.

“Make it your underwear and we have a deal,” he winks.

You pick up another magazine and get back to actively trying to ignore him and that annoying pulse between your legs.

*************************

Two hours left to Los Angeles.

You glance over at your guard dogs, who’ve both knocked out after a snack. One has a newspaper draped fully over his face, grandpa style.

You should have ordered a drink. You should have ordered six. That way, if you’re ever called to the carpet about the decision you’re about to make, you can blame it on alcohol-induced psychosis. Because the Marshals are asleep and you feel bad for Jungkook Jeon and he’s so hot you can barely think straight at this point. You take a deep breath and make a decision.

Fuck it.

You stand quietly, motioning to Jungkook with a finger over your lips. For a moment, his brows knit together in confusion but that look passes almost as quickly as it came. Then his entire face breaks out into a wide grin.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Shut up,” you whisper back, through gritted teeth.

You hold out your hand to help him to stand and when he grips it, he rubs his the pad of his thumb across your wrist. You try to ignore the sizzle of arousal he manages to drum up with that brief touch.

Quietly, you both walk past the curtain, past sleeping passengers and back to the clean but cramped bathroom where you are about to do the dumbest shit you have ever done.

You glance around at the passengers nearby and notice only one older man, eyes wide on the two of you. You shoot an excuse-me-sir-this-is-official-government-business look at him before following Jungkook into the tiny space.

You lock the door and turn to face him.

“Glad you finally came around,” he says, immediately backing you into the door. His mouth goes right for your neck and he pushes his entire body into yours in this tiny space. He is large and warm and he smells way better than he should after working a restaurant shift, being arrested, and then being jammed into a plane seat for hours.

His lips work up the column of your throat and his hands, still secured in front of him, push uselessly into the front of your lightweight wool dress. Shame, really, that you couldn’t take him out of these. You’d love to feel those hands right about now.

“I wasn’t kidding about keeping your mouth shut,” you manage to say, breathless at the feel of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The vibration of his laughter tickles the shell of your ear.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he says. “I just need to get my face under this dress.”

Your brain stutters for a moment, hung up on the mental image. He drops to his knees in front of you, lifts his hands to try and push up the front of the almost-too-tight garment but his handcuffs make it impossible. You graciously help him out, hiking the hem up your thighs. You’re about to work your underwear down, but he’s impatient, burying his face directly into the wet satin and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he groans, nosing the aching nub between your thighs. You’re glad he can’t see the way your mouth drops open when he licks out at the damp material, teasing you with the barest hint of friction.

“Help me out here,” he moans, and you do just that, sliding your panties down as best you can with the amount of space you’ve got.

At this angle, you can only get them down to your knees, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. He pushes his entire face into you, lips and teeth and tongue driving into you, working you with a fervor that makes your knees start to wobble. You grab a handful of his hair to steady yourself but it’s no use. Absently, you realize the tremors running up and down your body are rattling the door.

“Nice to know that mouth is good for more than just trash talk,” you tease on deep exhale. He laughs.

“Maybe some day you’ll get the chance to enjoy the full-service experience.”

“Probably not, Jeon,” you moan. “This is just a one-time favor, got it?”

All the blood in your brain has taken a dive into parts lower south and you marvel at how quickly your impending orgasm is coming on. But then, you’ve basically had about ten hours of foreplay up to this point, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

That damned door keeps rattling and you just know the little old man on the other side is probably staring it down. You’re not sure what it says about you that you think that’s kind of hilarious.

Your body jolts when Jungkook wraps his lips around your clit and sucks so hard you see stars. “You’re the one about to come on my face in an airplane bathroom,” he groans, licking obscenely between words. “So who’s doling out favors right now?”

Well, that does it.

The second he brings his lips and tongue back to your clit, you fall apart, gripping his hair so hard you’re certain it has to hurt. You pour all your energy into not screaming as your orgasm steamrolls you, and whatever energy you have left goes into trying to stay upright. Jungkook stays face-first in your heat, lapping up your release until the last tremors shake you and that goddamned door.

“Shit,” your voice is shaky, chest heaving when you finally make a sound.

“You are very, very fucking hot,” Jungkook says, breathless from where he sits on the floor. “Way too hot to be a Fed.”

You laugh.

“Well you are definitely too hot to be a criminal, but here we are, huh?”

Your eyes slide down to his glinting handcuffs, but they aren’t what’s catching your attention. Instead, your gaze heads right to the giant bulge straining against the front of his jeans. Turnabout is fair play, and you’re suddenly very eager to return the favor.

You help him stand and immediately seal your mouth to his, tasting yourself on his lips. Your fingers fumble past his restraints, underneath to where you can feel the button of his jeans and you undo it as fast as you can. He stops kissing you long enough to groan into your mouth when your hands slip into his boxers and your fingers wrap around his cock. He is hot and thick and hard in your hand. You squeeze around him, enjoying the way his hips jerk in response.

“Don’t tease,” he whines. “I’m gonna have to fantasize about this blowjob for the next twenty years.”

“I’d better make it memorable then,” you say, sinking down to your knees in the cramped space. You shove his jeans off his hips and look up at him as you gently push his boxers down and over his straining cock. His body is rock hard, lean muscle and defined lines running from his shapely legs up to his cuffed wrists and underneath that white shirt you’d love to peel off but can’t.

His head falls back the second your lips touch his swollen head. You tease it for a moment with a few quick licks, but decide this is really not the time to be dragging this out. The strangled “fuck” he whispers when you take him down fully is the sweetest and dirtiest thing you’ve heard in a while.

You manage to catch his gaze for a moment as you maintain a steady rhythm on his cock with your hands. His eyes are glassy with drinks and arousal, and you nearly have to slip a hand between your legs when his tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips.

He lifts and drops his handcuffs a couple of times before growling his frustration at not being able to put his fingers in your hair. You feel a faint throb of sympathy for him for a moment before reminding yourself that you literally have your mouth around his cock so frankly, things could be a lot worse for him than they are right now.

“You gotta stop,” he says, after a few minutes of the slow, wet torture. You release him with a soft pop and a confused expression.

“It’s your last blowjob for twenty years, Jeon. You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I have to fuck you. Please let me fuck you. It’s all I can think about,” he whines.

“You can’t,” you say firmly. “No condoms.”

He blows out a heavy breath like he’s thinking for a moment and there you are, on your knees in this tiny bathroom, confused as to what your next step should be.

“Look around,” he says suddenly.

“What?”

“Look – people fuck in airplane bathrooms all the time, right? It’s a thing. Maybe someone out there pulled some hero shit and is looking out for the next person.”

“This bathroom,” you say skeptically, “is the size of a goddamned shoebox, Jeon. You think we’re going to magically scrounge up a condom?”

“Just look,” he implores through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” you huff, leaning over to pop the cabinet under the sink open. You put one searching hand inside and pull out three sanitary pads that look like they were packaged in the 1970s.

He groans, frustrated.

“Hang on,” you say, jamming your hand back inside. Your fingertips brush up against something smooth and you fish it out, eyes wide with utter disbelief.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

You hold the condom packet up for him to inspect.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, cock jerking at the sight of it, like it knows he’s just hit the jackpot.

He laughs so hard for a moment you fear this entire encounter has gone entirely off track.

“My luck is back,” he declares triumphantly, finally. “Now, please hurry up and get on my dick.”

You’re shaking your head in disbelief the entire time you’re ripping the packet open, rolling it down Jungkook’s impossibly still-hard cock. He’s breathing hard, body tense with anticipation when you slide your heels off to take your underwear off completely.

“The heels,” he groans, watching as you slip your panties over your ankles. “Can you — you know…keep ‘em on?”

“Ugh, you are such a pervert,” you scold, slipping your feet back into the shoes and leaning back to line him up with your entrance. He surges forward and you moan at the stretch as he fills you entirely in one thrust.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, already rolling his hips frantically against you. “Shit, that’s incredible.”

And truthfully, it is. The ledge of the sink is biting into your ass with every thrust and you’re having to do most of the work given his handcuff situation but you really don’t even care because he still feels amazing like this.

He mouths uselessly at the wool covering your breasts because there’s no way to get to them. You nearly admonish him because he’ll leave crude wet spots on the fine material, but you decide against it.

“Oh, I bet you have amazing tits,” he groans, hips maintaining a steady rhythm. “Giving me something to look forward to for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, Jeon. And there won’t be a this time if you don’t hurry up already,” you shoot back.

He laughs, a little breathless from exertion. “I’m close, I promise. Fuck, you feel so good.”

You squeeze tighter around him, push harder back against him, angle your hips a bit more to ensure he’s going to the hilt with every thrust. The guttural sound he makes in response sends a shiver up your back.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps after a moment, mouth covering yours as his hips begin to stutter at the first ebbs of his release. Your ass is numb from the sink ledge at this point, legs tired from supporting your weight and his.

“So come then,” you tease, biting gently on the sensitive skin at his pulse point. He groans from deep inside his chest as he lets go – hips jerking as he pumps himself through it.

“Shit,” he groans, leaning on you with his full weight.

“You are crushing me Jeon,” you complain, pushing at his chest with both hands. He chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that. Balance is a little off at the moment.”

You open your mouth to shoot another sarcastic comment his way, but there is something about the way he is looking at you right now that stops you short.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable with the tiny glimpse into whatever that was.

“Well, as much as I’d love to ruminate on how good this was,” you say, shifting your dress back down and making a beeline for your underwear, “We’ve been in here an insane amount of time already. There’s probably a line outside the door.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little too quiet for your liking.

So you put yourself back together and help put him back together, too.

And strangely, when you open the door to leave there is no line. But that little old man is still watching, a look of astonishment on his face as you both walk past.

***********************************

“Listen, are you sitting down right now?”

You frown at the phone display in your office because any conversation that starts with an opening line like that is headed south.

“Uh…yeah. Why?”

“Hang on, I’m coming to your office.”

Seconds later, Agent Novak bursts through the door.

“So you haven’t seen it,” he says, rushing up to your desk.

“Seen what, Novak? Spit it out,” you say, frustrated already.

“Check your email,” he says, arms crossed over his chest. He looks fit to burst with some kind of excitement and your chest already feels a little tight at whatever it is he’s dying to show you.

You click into your email to find an urgent bulletin that you’d missed because you were working on a stack of papers on your desk, not your computer. The subject line makes your heart hammer.

URGENT MEMO: Fugitive Search, Jungkook Jeon

ATTACHED VIDEO FILE

“The guy just walked out of a federal courthouse like he was on an afternoon stroll. Had on a suit and everything,” Novak says, a note of awe in his voice. “Check out the video.”

Your mouth is already hanging open before you even click on the attached CCTV footage. A camera inside the courthouse shows Jungkook Jeon walk out of a bathroom in the front lobby, dressed like an attorney, not a defendant. His long hair is cut into a more professional style, his suit covers his tattoos and he looks entirely in place.

Novak is right – he walks so casually past the guards and other visitors that no one even thinks to stop him.

“Word is, court was on a lunch break and it looks like he had everything ready to go. Walked into a waiting Uber and vanished like smoke.”

You haven’t said a word since Novak walked in with this bombshell.

You just watch the CCTV footage over and over again in a loop, willing your brain to accept what your eyes can see clear as day.

This motherfucker.

Guess his luck really is back.

***************************

#jungkooksmut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x read #btssmut #bts fanfic #bts fic

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joheun-saram · 4 years

Text

To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 5.5

Chapter 5.5: “No. We had our first makeup.”

previous | masterlist | next

Summary- Namjoon and Y/N talk about their relationship.

word count- 2.5k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- none! just extreme fluff

a.n- This didn’t fit well in the next chapter but I wanted to end the angst in the last chapter on a better note. Let me know what you think.

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

gif is not mine! :)

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

Y/N, are you an idiot?! This is not possible! That is not how this company works

Please fix this. We know you are better than this rubbish.

Let’s discuss this when you get back from showing off in Detroit… this is nonsense.

“Sorry.” He felt you shake slightly as he smoothed your hair to comfort you. You looked up at him, your palm coming to rest against his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Probably the same reason you didn’t tell me how hard your board was hounding you for this proposal.” He looked at you pointedly, squeezing your hand, as you let out a sigh.

“Damn you really are a CEO. You want to strategize our relationship?” Namjoon had calmed down enough to look at you incredulously.

“I love you, pretty girl.”

“I love you too, Joonie.”

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

previous | masterlist | next

#namjoon fic #namjoon fluff #bts rm scenario #rm x reader #namjoon x reader #bts namjoon #bts fic #bts scenarios

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ghostly-cabbage · 3 years

Text

Frigid (Chapter 4)

Genre: Horror, Angst, Enemies to Friends

Chapter Rating: M (Language, Mild Violence)

Word Count: 7,699

AO3 FFN

<<Previous | Next>>

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shit, shit, shit. Of course this would happen; a ghost attack two days in a row. Danny's luck was continually getting worse. Maybe someone cursed him. He should ask Sam about that.

She'd probably know.

The soft soles of his sneakers smacked against the linoleum floor as he ran. The halls were deserted, thank God. The likelihood of the alarm being pulled was reduced by at least a little bit.

First thing's first: he had to get the thermos from his locker. He transformed as he ran, the cold passing over him. He felt lighter, leaning forward into flight and zipping through the halls. He put on the brakes as he reached his locker, pushing an intangible hand through the metal to retrieve the thermos.

Energy buzzed through him, filling his ears with its dull roar. It was like adrenaline, pulsing through him, ectoplasm bursting to life to supply his core with power.

It was a familiar feeling—a sensation that used to leave him shaky and weak in the knees but now, he felt it sharpen his mind—power roiling underneath his skin, begging to be released.

Which ghost was crashing the party this time?

"I am the Box Ghost!" Echoed down the hall from around the corner.

Danny's shoulders slumped, and his head lolled back. Seriously? The Box Ghost? He heaved a sigh. Whatever; at least it'd be over quick.

Hopefully.

He flew down the hall and rounded the corner, coming face to face with the self proclaimed "Ruler of Boxes" and "all Square Shaped Containers".

"Why not make this easier on both of us and just surrender for once?"

"I will not do that! Never will the might of the Box Ghost quiver before a simple teenager!" He shook his fist like he was in some cheesy play.

Danny had to focus on not crushing the thermos in his hand like an empty soda can. At this point he had to wonder if the Box Ghost just did this because he was board. Ha, get it? Like cardboard? Bored?

...Nah, that needed more work. He was running out of puns for Boxy at this point. It'd been two years for fuck's sakes.

"Fine. The hard way then. Let's at least move to a more appropriate arena." Danny sprang to action. He flipped forward, bringing his heel down on top of Boxy's head. The force of the kick slammed the ghost straight down through the floor with a cry of surprise. Luckily he'd gone intangible so there wasn't a gaping hole in the floor of the hallway.

Danny wasn't some weak fourteen year old anymore, and if the Box Ghost thought he was going to hold back, he was grossly mistaken. He was having a shitty day, and ghost fights were always the perfect way to blow off steam.

Danny went intangible and followed Boxy down through the floor and into the basement of the school.

The Box Ghost was lying dazed in a small crater of broken concrete as Danny bared down on him. He somersaulted, aiming to slam feet first in the center of his foe. The Box Ghost yelped and went intangible just in time to avoid getting smashed further into the cement foundation. It shook the ground and sent cracks spider webbing several feet from the point of impact.

Boxy rolled away, and Danny had to dislodge his foot from the ground, floating above the rubble. He clipped the thermos to his waist, and pushed energy into the palm of his hand. An ecto-blast hissed and illuminated the dark underbelly of the school in green. The ecto-blast felt like a caged animal in his hand, a nocked arrow quivering against its string in anticipation of being shot.

The Box Ghost scrambled into a floating position himself, and flung an arm in front of him.

"Fear the wrath of… A—Ama… The Amazon?" Following his gesture, a wave of glowing Amazon boxes flew towards Danny. He kept a firm hold on the wild energy, focusing it to a single point and letting it go as a laser rather than a single blast. The beam sliced through the boxes like butter. Danny went intangible as the remnants of the boxes and their contents scattered past and through him, carried on by the inertia.

Whoever took care of the school supply budget probably wouldn't be too happy about that. Whoops.

The Box Ghost grunted with effort and sent more levitating boxes hurling at Danny.

Danny lifted his hand, palm flat. Instead of forcing the energy outward like a projectile he guided it to take shape in the air. A shield spread out in front of him, a wide, flat disk of swirling caustic green. The boxes slammed up against it with no hope of weakening its integrity. Danny rolled his eyes.

He was getting detention for this?

Boxy moved again, trying to come in from the right side with more boxes.

Danny abandoned the shield, dropping to the ground and ducking. The side swipe of cardboard whipped above his head but left him untouched. He shot into the air, rocketing towards his most annoying enemy.

Boxy tried to reel back, get out of range, but Danny was too fast. He caught the side of the other ghost's face in a right hook. The power behind it sent the ghost sailing to the left and into a giant fuse box on the wall. It had already been dim in the basement, but the damage to the electrical box plunged them into total darkness. And with it probably the whole school.

Dammit.

The only light came from the cold glow of their bodies. Danny watched the Box Ghost peel himself off the wall. He glared at Danny with fire in his eyes and with a scream he flung himself back into the fight.

It was like fighting a human. Seriously; Dash hit harder. And Valerie harder than that. Then again, with her suit Danny didn't think it really counted, calling her power equal to a human's.

Danny dodged blow after blow, slipping past the ghosts wide swings and clumsy blasts. He was hardly breaking a sweat. He'd fought the Box Ghost since he was fourteen, at this point he could do it in his sleep.

Boxy let out a frustrated cry and tackled Danny, gloved hands gripping him by the shoulders with a vice like grip. The two of them tumbled backwards, flipping end over end in the air a few times. Anger flared in the pit of Danny's stomach.

"Get the hell off me!" Danny tensed his lower body, coiling up and then snapping like a taut rubber band. He kicked the Box Ghost with a force that would have shattered ribs if ghosts had any. He followed it up with a blast that caught Boxy in the shoulder and sent him spinning away.

"I will not be defeated again by you, Phantom. I'll have your respect and then all of Amity Park's." Boxy sent box after box hurdling at Danny.

It felt like some sort of mini-game, blasting the glowing boxes out of the dark air one after the other. They exploded in flashes of green, cardboard pieces littering the ground, smouldering with red embers.

"Why don't you pick fights with someone more on your level." Boxy was floating closer to the ground, unsteady, and Danny could tell he was spent. He floated down towards him, clenching his hand into a fist and extinguished the burning ecto-energy.

"I'm not in the mood for this anymore. You're pissing me off." The temperature of the air plunged, and his words fogged from his mouth. "Go back to the Ghost Zone, Box. Before I make you." His words were rigid with the threat. He loomed over the Box Ghost, the blue glow of ice building in his hand.

The other ghost held his gaze at first, before it faltered and flashed with fear. Boxy knew he was no match for him, he could see it in the Box Ghost's eyes. As delusional as he was, or pretended to be, he knew.

The Box Ghost turned and fled, holding his wounded shoulder as he shot through the ceiling.

The threat was gone. The space fell silent, but Danny remained rigid, his arms stiff at his sides. His breath clouded the air in front of him in short shallow puffs. The blackness of the room vibrated like white noise around him.

He still felt like a coiled spring, a trap ready to slam shut. He had to go back, he knew he did. Face the screeching music that was his fucked up life.

Was this really it for him? To get detention, to fail classes, to always be in danger? To be pushed around, called a loser by people who barely even fucking knew him? Risking his life for people who didn't give a shit? People that spit in his face the next day? Was he destined to be alone? To never be enough? To be something he couldn't change? Something his parents would never fucking love?

Emotion swelled in his throat, constricting his breathing. He was shaking but not from the cold. He couldn't hold it in anymore. He screamed and fired a blast of ice with everything he had at the nearest wall.

The impact rattled the room and felt like it shattered the air itself. There was the harsh sound of creaking metal at different points all across the room.

He dropped to the ground, his hands coming up to fist in his hair, chest heaving. He stared at nothing, listened to nothing. If time stopped he wouldn't have known it. All he knew was that his chest ached and his head was pounding.

He still had energy. So much sometimes he felt like there was an ocean inside him, sloshing and raging. When he first got his powers, he had gotten worn out in ghost form so easily.

But the numbers and his parents' ghost equipment didn't lie. The more he fought, the more he grew, the stronger he got.

He hated it. What if one day he woke up to find he'd destroyed everyone and everything he ever cared about? Even after everything he'd done, everything Clockwork had done, was Dan still his future?

The sound of the basement door creaking open made Danny freeze. Reality snapped back into place as the rays of a flashlight caught him in its beam. He must have looked like a deer in the headlights, wide eyes snapping up to the person coming down the stairs.

"P—Phantom? That you?" Danny knew that voice. It was Rob, Casper's custodian. He was probably here to check the breaker box. He was a sweet old guy who sang to his dead wife when he thought no one was in the halls. She followed him around, a meek and quiet spirit, hardly visible and with no obsession other than standing next to the love of her life.

Danny winced, glancing around at the sorry state of the place. This wasn't the first disaster he'd left for the poor guy to try and clean up and it wouldn't be the last. He never seemed to hold a grudge though. Especially after the time Danny stopped Bertrand from eating him alive.

Danny held a hand up to shield his eyes from the flashlight. "Yeah. Sorry," he croaked. He floated back up into the air a few feet.

"What— what the devil happened in here, sonny?" He moved the flashlight from the huge crater in the floor, to the cardboard strewn ground, and the huge pile of ice on the opposite wall. But it didn't stop there; Danny watched as Rob's flashlight illuminated pipes all over the room covered in a thick layer of frost, some of which looked like they'd burst at the seams, the water that gushed out having frozen. They looked like some sort of cave feature or icicles formed in freezing rain.

"Ghost," was all Danny could muster.

Rob frowned and wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. "An' why's everything frozen? Feels damn near twenty below in here."

Danny smiled weakly at that. It probably was.

He didn't answer, just drifted up through the ceiling, his tail following after him in a gentle streak.

The halls were dark, but not empty. He turned invisible as he emerged and glanced at a clock. It was around the time sixth period let out. He'd been down there longer than he thought.

He sighed, making a girl start and look around.

He bobbed towards the chem room, hoping to snag his stuff without Mrs. Merriweather seeing one Danny Fenton, who was probably in a heap of trouble. He poked his head into the classroom. It was mostly cleared out, a few stragglers still cleaning up their lab equipment. The class wasn't as dark as the halls were, the huge windows letting in daylight.

Mrs. Merriweather was sitting at her desk, organizing papers with a pinched look on her face. He stuck close to the wall as he slunk towards his seat, third table from the front. His stuff was still exactly the way he'd left it.

He reached for his book, turning it invisible as soon as his fingers brushed its surface. Danny tucked it into the corner of his arm, and went for his binder next. He lifted it, strangling back a swear as it sent his pencil rolling off the table. He lunged for it, but missed. It clattered and bounced against the hard floor. He cringed as everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to look.

Nice one. He'd been like this for how long now and he couldn't even manage to pick up three things unnoticed? Idiot.

Mrs. Merriweather stood up from her desk and walked over, brows furrowed behind her coke-bottle glasses. He made himself intangible, floating backwards and holding his breath. Merriweather stooped down to pick up the pencil, examining it, and then looking down at the now empty table. He pleaded silently that she would just shrug and think nothing of it like a shitty video game character AI.

The other students had already gone back to their own business, eager to get out of class. Merriweather lingered, a hand going out to touch the place his stuff had been piled.

Shit.

She looked up and around the room, her eyes sliding harmlessly over his invisible form, none the wiser. She glanced towards the door and then back to the pencil in her hand. She snorted, clenching the pencil in her fist and went back to her desk, her heels clicking on the floor.

He let out the breath he'd been holding, wiping away cold sweat from his forehead. That was way too close. He really needed to get his shit together.

Danny glided towards the white board, sinking through the wall into the next classroom. He kept going straight, headed for the nearest bathroom. At this point he knew exactly where every bathroom and supply closet was in the school from any direction and through any wall. He probably knew more about the inner workings of the place than the people who'd built it.

The restroom was pitch black, no outside windows or skylight to let light seep in. He floated near the ceiling, listening for any sign that someone else was still in there. There was only the distant clamour from outside.

Satisfied the coast was clear, he touched down softly in a stall, and let the warmth of his human side surge inside him. He closed his eyes against the blinding light of his transformation. Slowly the sensations of being human came back to him, the heaviness of gravity pulling on his limbs. The general ache of having a physical form.

He swayed on his feet, slumping against the stall wall for support as tiredness hit him like a train. It was all catching up to him: the exhaustion, the hunger, the sharp pain pushing at the back of his eyes. He should have eaten more at lunch

His ghost half didn't suffer much from lack of sleep or food. He had his core and the surplus of ectoplasm and didn't have to feel how heavy and shaky his body was. How fragile. How weak.

Danny stayed like that for a few seconds, mentally preparing himself to leave, for people to see him.

When he'd built up the nerve, he walked out. Like always, he went to his locker. Sam and Tuck were waiting there for him.

"Box Ghost?" Sam asked, amusement coloring her voice. But when she looked at him closer, her face fell. Worry was a familiar look on her. "Are you okay, Danny? What happened?"

"Yeah, you look like shit dude."

"Gee, thanks." Danny stood in front of his locker and dropped his forehead against its cool metal surface with a thunk. He hadn't been ready to come out after all. Weirdly, he wished he was back down in the basement, where it was cold and quiet and he wasn't under anyone's scrutiny.

"It was just the Box Ghost though, right? He's all the scanner picked up. Well, other than you, obviously," Tucker said.

Danny didn't answer right away. Instead he closed his eyes, focusing only on the place where his head pressed against his locker. He took a deep breath. Tried to get his mind to stop whirling. He just had to push through it like he always did.

A hand on his shoulder, rubbing up and down slowly, reassuringly. He turned his head and opened an eye to see Sam looking at him. Her eyes were troubled and a frown tugged at the corners of her bold purple lips.

"Did the power outage have anything to do with the fight?" Sam asked.

"It's fine guys. Promise. Just Boxy. We played the game, I kicked his ass, he went home with his tail tucked between his legs." He shrugged and leaned away from his locker. He started spinning the padlock. Sam removed her hand.

Danny put the thermos on his shelf and forced a laugh. "Yeah, uh… Kinda punched Boxy into the breaker box. Like, really really hard. The thing is probably so fucked."

"Dude, nice! Hopefully they'll release us early because of—"

"There you are, Fenton."

It wasn't Dash, but Danny still stiffened. He turned to see Wesley Weston storming up to them. Even in the dim emergency lights, he'd know that stupid redhead anywhere.

"What the fuck, dude? Where the hell were you?"

Danny grimaced. Great, just what he needed. Another person on his case. "Uh, the bathroom?" Playing dumb was the easiest, most effective option. Sam and Tucker turned towards Wesley, a barrier of sorts between them.

"For like twenty minutes? Yeah, right, like I'd believe that." He glanced at Sam and Tuck, before his gaze landed back on Danny, eyes like flint. "I'm onto you," Wesley spat. For a second those words made his heart skip. "You ditched class just so you didn't have to do the stupid lab, didn't you?"

Oh thank God.

Danny said nothing, looking off to the side before looking back at Wesley. He was going for nervous, sheepish even, as if he'd been caught. It seemed to work. Wesley growled in frustration.

"Unbelievable. What's even the fucking point of skipping? Not like you can use the shit anyway, I'm the one that has to do everything." Wesley adjusted his grip on his books to rub his temples. "Listen, okay? I'm not thrilled to be stuck as your lab partner either. But unlike you, I'm not an asshole and I wouldn't just fuck off and leave you high and dry. So don't do it to me, got it? Great." Before any of them could say anything, Wesley Weston turned and walked off.

They all stared after him.

"Holy shit, what the hell's his problem?" Sam asked.

"No clue, but that dude's definitely got some major issues, man," Tucker said.

Danny shook his head. He didn't have the energy to deal with this. "Come on, let's get to class. I wanna go home."

***

They ended up getting released forty minutes early. The breaker box was beyond simple repair, which meant the whole building was without power until tomorrow at least. There was also the burst pipes. Danny told himself he shouldn't feel guilty, but he did anyway.

He got home and made his way up to his room, dropping his bag to the floor by his desk with a thud. He stood in the middle of the room, staring at his bag. His head was static. Without thinking, he pulled out his desk chair and rifled in his bag, pulling out whatever the fuck homework he grabbed first.

Ugh.

Algebra.

Whatever.

All he needed to do was put the pencil to the page. Just that. The first thing. Write his goddamn name. He knew that one, right? His eyes skipped down the page to the first question. The black text stood out boldly from the bleach white computer paper it was printed on. The numbers and letters swam in front of his eyes as he tried to make heads or tails of what the hell it wanted him to do. The longer he looked the harder it was to keep his mind on homework.

He wondered if the Box Ghost had listened and gone home. He hoped so, he had enough to worry about with the new ghost he'd failed to track down yesterday. With any luck she'd gone back too. It reminded him that he still had to empty that big cat ghost from the thermos back into the Ghost Zone. It wasn't anywhere near full capacity, but it was risky to carry around a ghost or keep one in his locker for extended periods. His eyes fell to the gleaming metal cylinder poking out from his bag. He would do it now, but his parents were down in the lab, probably working on their newest paper on the ghost threat level. He really didn't want to have to face the fifth degree for where, how and why he'd caught a ghost.

He stared back down at his homework. The same question stared back, taunting him. He scribbled down the equation, hoping it'd click if it was in his own handwriting. He gazed at the mix of rigid and heavy left-slanted variables of the expression in his writing. He still had no clue what to do next. That was fucking pointless.

He groaned in frustration, resting his elbows on his desk and holding his head in his hands.

Why did math have to be so fucking hard?

Ugh, fuck it. He'd just cheat off Sam's homework tomorrow.

Like always.

He leaned back in his chair, hanging his head back to look up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers stuck to his ceiling. A smile worked it's way to his face as he looked at them. The memory of the first stars to decorate his ceiling came to mind.

He was six and his Dad helped put them up. His parents knew how much he loved space, and even if it wasn't ghosts, they wanted to nurture his love for science. His Dad had hoisted him up on his shoulders, giant hands around Danny's ankles to keep him steady as he slapped the stars up with reckless abandon. He remembered bouncing around on his bed in anticipation of turning the lights off to see them glow.

He fell asleep under the stars for the first time that night.

These weren't the same stars. The original ones lost their glow after the years, pale green outlines that stopped sticking and fell down one by one in the middle of the night.

For his fourteenth birthday, Jazz bought him another pack. He hadn't put them up right away, lost under a pile of gifts, and forgotten in the bustle of summer fun and then starting high school a few months later.

Then he had his accident. Everything was different then. If he didn't have time to put them up before, he definitely didn't after he took on the role of Protector of Amity Park.

It wasn't until Danny was laid up in bed after defeating Pariah Dark, and Jazz took it upon herself to tidy up his room that she found them stuffed into one of his desk drawers. She hid them from him and excused herself to do some studying.

A few days later she returned, excited as could be with a gift in her hands. She dropped it onto his lap, and dismissed him when he tried to object to deserving a gift. He tore the wrapping paper off an clearly recycled shoe box. Upon lifting the lid he saw the bright glowing green stars. The light wasn't that of cheap glow in the dark plastic. It was radiant and bright, it almost looked like… He looked up at her, confused and delighted.

Jazz jumped at the chance to explain. She told him how she'd recruited the help of Sam and Tucker and a bit of their parents' technology to fabricate new glow-in-the-dark stars. Special ones, made especially to activate in the presence of ecto-energy. She excitedly reported that because they were powered by the nearest source of ectoplasmic energy, aka him, they would always glow, never fade.

Jazz would totally lie when asked and claim that he had started to cry, but what did she know? He was just squinting because they were bright. Crying? Not him.

Danny had been going crazy with nothing to do. He grinned, and tried to push himself up, wincing from the pain and dizzy from the effort. Jazz had put a hand on his shoulder and told him to tell her where to put them, and she would do it.

A few minutes later Jazz was standing on his desk chair, holding a star between her fingers, moving a few inches left to where he pointed.

He had his constellation map unfolded on his lap. She was placing the final star of Leo. With the help of his sister and under his direction, his ceiling and walls became a map of the stars. They only had room for his favorites though, Virgo was by his closet, Orion above his bed, Ursa Major by his door and Aries next to Leo adjacent to his desk. Jazz snagged three from the box and said it was about time Sam, Tucker and her had a fool-proof way to tell if he was sneaking into their rooms. Bed-ridden as he was at the time, there was little he could do but let it go. It would be harder to prank his friends sure, but it made him feel better. His friends had a "ghost sense" of their own in the form of a little star stuck to the wall in their rooms.

The memory felt warm in his chest as he stared up at the faintly glowing stars. He spun his chair in circles, stopping only when he felt dizzy. The stars glowed far brighter when he was Phantom or he used his powers, but all it took was a little practice and he learned how to brighten and dim them however much he wanted.

The buzzing of his phone inside his pocket pulled him from his thoughts. At first, he thought it was just a message in the groupchat—Tucker sharing a meme or something. But it kept going; a call, then. Danny reached into his pocket and pulled it out. The screen was lit up with an in-coming call from "Know-it-All". Danny smiled. Think of the Devil and she shall appear. He accepted the call, putting it up to his ear.

"Sup, Harvard."

"Danny!" Her voice was warm and full of life. She sounded happy. "I wanted to call and see how my baby brother was doing."

Danny snorted. "Oh you know, same ol', same ol'." He got up and closed his bedroom door. The line was quiet for a second.

"You sound tired, Danny. Have you been sleeping? Before I left, we had a talk specifically about the detriments to health caused by a lack of sleep."

Danny plopped back into his desk chair and gave it a spin. "Jeez, Jazz. Chill out, I know."

"Knowing and doing are two different things, Danny."

He couldn't fault her for caring. It was nice. In an annoying sister way. Still, discomfort prickled over his skin whenever people worried about him. He was fine.

"What about you? All settled into the big college life?"

Her voice went up an octave, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Oh, God, Danny. It's everything I hoped for and more! The library is huge and there's so much information and so many clubs! Believe it or not, there's actually a ghost and paranormal science club."

"Did you join it?"

"You kidding? You're talking to the new vice president, mister."

Danny chuckled. "Coulda guessed. How's your roommate? She hasn't tried to kill you yet, has she?" Danny pushed on the floor to continue the chair's turning.

"Why, pray tell, dear brother, would she want to kill me?"

"I don't know, prolly 'cause you're like the most annoying person ever." Over the past two years Jazz and him had really "grown and moved past the hurt feelings". That's how she phrased it, anyway.

"Meeean! Come on, I'm not that bad."

"Okay, agree to disagree. Have you psychoanalyzed her yet?"

"Danny!" She chided. "I can't believe you!" She was silent for a second. "Of course I have. Abandonment issues and most likely an anxiety disorder."

Danny's laugh came easy this time. Same old Jazz. He hoped she never changed.

"Damn, sounds serious, have you recommended that she get help yet?"

Jazz giggled. "I do have some tact, you know. I'm going to wait until we've known each other at least a month for that."

"Totally, don't wanna scare her off too soon."

"Exactly!"

The line dipped down into a staticky silence. Jazz cleared her throat.

"What about you? Any new friends added to your trio to take my place?"

"Psh, now you really do sound crazy."

"Danny, I mean it! Having a support network is really important, and don't get me wrong Sam and Tucker are great, but they can only do so much."

"Like anyone in that place would ever be seen with me in broad daylight unless they have to."

Jazz sighed. It was her "disappointed"/"you have to grow up someday" sigh.

Danny pushed a hand through his hair. "Listen, if it makes you feel any better I have made a new mortal enemy. So I'm feeling pretty good about that, a lot of potential there."

"Danny, why on earth would that make me feel better?"

"I dunno, because I'm gaining life experience? Well, half-life experience. Heh."

"I just don't know what to do with you." Danny could hear the smile in her voice. "So, how'd you make this new enemy?"

Danny groaned. He dropped his leg and caught the ground with his foot, the residual momentum of the chair tugging at him in protest. He stood and took the two steps to his bed. Danny let himself fall onto the mattress. His sheets smelled like fabric softener, and a mix of warm smells that he could only describe as "sleep".

"We're lab partners in chemistry. He's some jock B-lister guy and he hates me."

"Why do you say that?"

"Oh, I don't know, could be the fact that he marched up and called me an asshole right to my face today, or that from day one he saw how everyone else treated me and decided to jump on the bandwagon."

Jazz made a small sympathetic sound. "Oh, Danny, I'm sorry."

Danny pressed his face into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. The last thing he wanted was pity. Especially from Jazz. He was fine. Really, this was no different to any other year.

"It's fine," he mumbled, lifting his head from his pillow. "It's not like I suddenly care what people think. Guy's just a dick."

Before Jazz answered, the sound of someone talking to her filtered through. Danny couldn't quite make out what was being said.

"No, it's fine. I'll walk with you," Jazz said, her voice muffled. Her voice returned: "My roommate just got back, I've gotta go, but we're not done talking about this, alright?"

They absolutely were.

"Yeah, Jazz. Have fun going wherever you're going."

"We're walking down to get dinner. Which, speaking of! Make sure to eat dinner, okay? I love you."

"Ew."

"Danny."

"Uuuughhh. Okay, fine, I… I love you too."

She laughed, the line beeped, and then she was gone. It left an empty space in the room, in the house. Danny was no stranger to cold, it was part of him. But the past month had been a different kind of numbing ice. The sight of her door left sitting ajar at the end of the hall, knowing there was nothing but a dark lifeless room concealed within. It was an echo, a ghost in it's own right. An unyielding wall and even he had no way through. He thought he'd be glad to get her out of his hair. He didn't expect the jagged and torn space she'd left behind.

Danny wasn't used to missing anyone but himself.

He pushed out a breath, and rubbed the heels of his palms into his eyelids. He didn't want to think about it.

Danny left his phone on his bed, and went down to see what Mom was making for dinner.

***

Danny stared up at the ceiling. The ecto-stars, as Sam called them, shed a constant soft green from their places in a sea of black above him. Ghosts loved three AM, for whatever reason it was always the time they liked to attack. Then again, there wasn't really a sense of time in the Ghost Zone, so it made sense that attacks happened at any time.

But tonight was quiet. There had been no chill up his spine, no ghost sense to pull him from the emptiness of sleep. So he was just staring, trying his best to not think about what happened at school. If Sam and Tucker would have been around maybe he wouldn't have lost it like that... Or maybe he would have and he'd have had to deal with the worry saturating their expressions, the fear on the edges of their words. Fear that they couldn't help him, couldn't save him. They would have made him come home, called Jazz and told her about what happened.

His sister doubling as his therapist was a conflict of interest, but he didn't dare tell her he felt that way. She was just trying to help, to be useful. They all were.

Tossing and turning, fighting his covers, flipping his pillow around to the cool side—nothing helped. He checked the time. 3:29.

Great.

Frustration ate away at him as the minutes pressed on, unforgiving and slow. It was torture, listening to his own sluggish heart beat. He was sweating, the back of his pajama shirt stuck to his damp skin. His room didn't feel as cold as it normally did.

He laid there until he felt like punching something. That's when he flung his covers aside with a growl. He forced himself up and trudged over to his door, leaving his room. He closed his door behind him, figuring he'd just phase back in whenever he'd decided to give sleeping another shot.

He meandered to the bathroom, rubbing a hand over his face. The door creaked gently as he pushed it open. He didn't flip on the light. The ambient brightness from the night light down the hall was more than enough. Another perk to being half-ghost: extraordinary night vision.

The water hissed as he turned it on and he cupped his hands underneath the cold stream. He splashed the water into his face, the sensation jarring him from his frustration and demanding his full attention. The water overflowed from his hands and ran in trails down the backs of his hands, following the downward slope of his forearms and dripping off his elbows.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. Rivulets of water dripped off his eyebrows and ran down over his flushed cheeks like tears. His hair stuck out at odd angles—a mess from not bothering to dry it before he went to bed. He raked his fingers through it, trying to get it to sit normally and not hang in his eyes. His bangs stuck to his forehead and against his temples, whether it was slick with water or sweat at this point he didn't know.

He leaned forward against the sink, examining the dark bags underneath his eyes. He looked about how he felt.

Shitty. Real shitty.

He yanked a fluffy hand towel down from the hook and pressed it to his face, dabbing off the water. He dried his hands next, then started to wipe his forearms. He dragged the towel over the skin of his right arm and moved to do the same to his left before he froze mid-way. His eyes were fixed to the usually covered skin of his forearm.

He could see them, he realized belatedly.

The wandering forked scars that snaked up his arm.

He set the towel down slowly and reached over to run his fingertips over them, entranced. The raised, ugly skin detailed the exact path the electricity had taken as it tore through his body. A single second in time tattooed permanently on his skin. The scars were lighter— a bit less visible in his human form as opposed to when he was Phantom. But still there nonetheless.

His breath stuck in his throat. The air was sticky. His stomach clenched and a wave of dizziness crashed through him. The room spun at the edges of his peripheral vision and he felt like he was being shoved through the Fenton Ghost Catcher. Like he was overshadowing himself, and as he pulled away he was forgetting what it was to occupy a body.

A pervasive numbness took up the space he'd previously been a part of. There was a soft pillowy comfort in the disconnect. He blinked down owlishly at his arm, like it wasn't his and he didn't recognize it. His hand moved and he traced the scar, up and down, faintly aware of the memories banging at the back of his consciousness like someone trapped under ice. It was muffled and distorted, the sound of someone screaming and a dryness in his throat.

Seeing them— the scars— It… It…

A deafening crack filled his head and his vision with white. The pain seared through him, consuming every nerve in its path. His heart seized in his chest, held hostage to the electricity overriding the signals of his brain. It was tearing him apart—It was hurting him—killing him, killing him, killing him.

Danny stumbled back, his back slamming into the wall and snapping him back into the present moment. His chest was heaving, his throat tight. His hands trembled and his eyes darted down. He half expected to see the cold steel of the lab's floor underneath his feet and feel Sam's hands slip through his vaporous form.

His heart beat so hard it hurt. With every pound it felt like needles were being pushed through his skin from the inside out. It ached, raw and unable to ignore. Zings of faint electricity zipped up his arm and across his chest.

Danny's knees shook and he slid down the wall. He choked back something that felt like a sob and he kicked the bathroom door closed before pulling his knees up to his chest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Why the fuck did he do that? He knew better than to look, to linger on anything that—

Fuck.

He felt hot, like he was burning up on the inside. Shaking, he tried to reach for his core, to offer a path for the energy to flow. He wanted it to be cold, it had to be cold. The cold felt nice, the cold was safe. Cold didn't burn or thrash, it was slow and steady and everything the electricity wasn't.

He tried to coax the cold forward, convince the space around him to change with nothing more than his own will. It hurt, it felt like dragging himself through broken glass trying to get the phantom pains to fade into cool relief.

He huddled against the wall, twisting his fingers into the fabric of his sweatpants. His eyes stung and the breath in his throat stuttered painfully on every inhale.

The worst part of it was he had no one to blame but himself.

People at school assumed his switch to hoodies and long sleeve shirts was because Sam had finally gotten to him and turned him goth. The truth was: he hid his scars the way any other kid did.

He waited until the pain felt dull and distant and the air felt sharp. He tipped his head back, tired eyes roaming across the bathroom before landing on the frosted over mirror.

Two breakdowns in one day, huh? Not his personal record by any means, but it had been several months since he'd had one... So. That had to count for something, right?

Slowly, carefully, he started to reign back the cold in the room. When he stopped shaking, he pulled himself to his feet, a hand against the wall for support in case his knees buckled. He didn't wanna be in the bathroom anymore, it felt too small and confined. Danny had figured out one too many times in the Fenton thermos had a tendency to cause claustrophobia.

He opened the door and shuffled out into the hall, the cuffs of his sweatpants whispering across the carpet. His thoughts carried him past his room. Maybe a snack would help, or going for a quick flight around town.

He was debating it, when another idea murmured from the back of his mind. He started down the stairs, floating over a few of the steps that he knew creaked. The house was silent, his parents asleep. He walked through the dark living room, then the kitchen, bare feet padding over the cold tile.

He found himself at the top of the stairs, staring down into the dark basement. It was funny, basements were supposed to be scary. It was like his parents heard that and had to one up everyone else. "Oh, you have a basement where the light flickers and rusty nails poke up from the floorboards? Creepy! We have a portal to the literal dimension of the dead and ghosts crawl out about every twelve hours!" Hollywood would have a field day with their family if they heard about Amity Park.

Danny walked down the stairs, the metal cool and familiar. The lab was dark, the control terminal against the wall the only light.

The portal was closed.

He stood in the center of the lab, looking at the imposing octagonal outline in the dark. Even after so long, it still inspired wonder in some deep part of him. It made him feel like a kid.

He walked up to the control terminal, pressing his thumb into the biometric security pad. With a whirr the security system accepted his input and with a heavy mechanical sound the portal doors slid open.

Green light flooded into the lab, bathing every surface in its shifting toxicity. Danny took a few steps back, taking in the portal and its marbled surface. He looked at it like he was indulging, doing something he shouldn't.

The spike of ecto-energy in the room was almost palpable. He could feel it buzzing against his skin, floating in the air like static electricity.

Carefully, Danny lowered himself to the floor and sat down. He sat and basked in the light of the portal, the hum, the lurching and swirling.

Visiting a gravesite was a sacred thing, it was someone's place of eternal rest.

But ghosts proved that not everyone was at rest. Danny certainly wasn't, but that was pretty evident, he was still technically living after all.

Whenever he felt… disconnected like earlier, he liked to come down and visit the portal. It helped remind him exactly who he was. What he was.

It was like a tether, a point of reference. It was grounding for Danny; as much a reminder he was alive as he was dead.

The portal killed him... but it also brought him back.

The Phantom part of him saved his life. He wondered if that's why his obsession was what it was; saving others because he wouldn't wish the experience of death on anyone. It was both his obsession and his responsibility. He was the reason the portal worked, and he'd be damned if anyone else paid with their life for his mistake.

Sam still blamed herself. How could she not? He could see it in her eyes when she looked at him, the guilt squirming in their depths.

But he didn't blame her, and he figured as long as it stayed that way, eventually Sam would forgive herself.

If anything, he blamed himself for being curious, for being the son of the Fentons, for every time someone got hurt on his watch.

Danny watched the mirage of the portal, finding shapes in the swirls like a child looking at clouds.

He did it until his eyelids grew heavy, and he felt the tension in his shoulders slowly bleeding away.

Too lazy to walk, he floated up through the ceiling and into his bedroom. The stars brightened at his proximity, before dimming again when he stopped using his powers. He crawled back into bed and shut his eyes. Sleep came to him gently, pulling him down, and down and down...

#danny phantom fanfiction #Danny phantom #wesley weston #Sam Manson #tucker foley #phanfic #frigid chapter 4 #my writing #frigid #Danny fenton

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jeon-googi · 4 years

Text

Wildest Dreams

— pairing: Changkyun (I.M) x Reader

— genre: Slice of Life, Romance, College au, implied Badboy!Changkyun

— words: 2.6k

— rating: SFW

— warnings: none~

— notes: I had started this right after I saw Monsta X in Dallas last year and I finally got around to finishing it! To be honest this is one of my favorite fics I’ve done so I hope you all like it!

No one ever told you college would be this hard. The end of the semester was close and yet teachers were piling on the work as if you weren’t leaving. Stretching your arms in front of you with a satisfied groan, you started to pack up the abundance of journals and pens scattered across the desk. Your schedule carefully written out day by day, reminding you of that on this particular day was your tutoring session. A groan escaped your lips at the idea of even having to stay in this hell an hour longer, but the money from the tutoring helped out a lot and you were in no position to decline such easy money.

Slinging the backpack over your shoulder you walked swiftly to the study rooms located near the university's library. Loud muffling could be heard from within the room and your eyes couldn't roll farther back into your head as you realized who exactly was here to study. Placing a hand on the door you slid it open with ease, yelps of fright echoing around the room.

Now, you were never one to judge someone by looks, but these boys in particular you knew for a fact weren’t in the right mental state to discuss trigonometry. Seven boys surrounded the table, all donning dark leather jackets and ripped jeans. Silver earrings gleamed in the fluorescent lights while black painted nails tapped loudly on the wooden table.

“Ah well if it isn’t our favorite tutor!” The one on the farthest end of the table grinned, leaning on his folded arms.

“Minhyuk I’m your only tutor.” You responded back lightly, closing the door and placing your backpack on the table. While removing the notes for the lesson that day, Minhyuk gave you a grin as he started to examine the study plan you layed out.

“Y/N what's on the schedule today?” The one with black fluffy hair asked.

“Stats, as per your guys’ request Hyungwon.” You replied back.

It had become a pattern before you even realized it. Randomly, this group of young men started to join your study groups, always requesting tough material that would take at least a few hours a week to go over. From their looks, you assumed most of this was a hail mary to pass the semester, but upon closer examination, none of them actually needed the help. Shownu, Wonho, and Hyungwon excelled in science as well as mathematics. Kihyun, Minhyuk, and Jooheon excelled in arts and history. Then there was Changkyun. He was shyer than the others, often lost in his own thoughts. He had the habit of tapping his pen against the table when he didn’t understand a problem or running a hand aggressively through his hair.

‘Maybe he was too shy to ask for help on his own.’ You used to think, realizing Changkyun was the only one to bring you back his aced tests or go over his notes for a test. This particular group of men were not ones people would typically enjoy the company of. They were loud and wild, often speeding down the halls to their motorcycles outside. When you first saw them in the room you felt nervous to say the least, afraid perhaps they would just want quiz answers rather than help. To your surprise, they absorbed everyone one of your lessons well, and even became good friends of yours.

“Congrats on getting the top score in your class Changkyun! I'm so proud of you.” You announced earnestly, starting the room off with the sound of applause. The other boys whooped and hollered and Changkyun smiled in his accomplishments, leaning back in his chair.

“Couldn’t have done it without your help Y/N.” He smiled honestly. You shook your head with a smile, “You put in the effort.”

If you hadn’t stuck your head back into your notes for the day, you wouldn't have missed the red hue painted across Changkyuns cheeks, or how the boys closest to him gave him teasing looks. The lesson went on for another couple hours. Your handwriting scrawled across the white board as you checked in with the boys while reviewing their notes. Kihyun gave a wide yawn as he stretched back into his chair.

“Y/N, I think we can call it a day today.” He suggested, earning a few nods of agreement from the others. You smiled and gave him a nod.

“Yeah, you guys did really well today honestly. You probably won’t even need tutoring for the rest of the semester at this rate.” You laughed as you handed them each a few extra packets of examples. One by one all the boys thanked you for the session and made their way out of the room, already you could hear their screams echoing through the halls. Slinging your heavy bag over your shoulder, you trudged your way out of the study rooms, surprised to find it was already dark outside.

‘Okay cool were good. It’s fine. The last bus should be here any minute.” You tapped your foot waiting outside the university's bus station. Waiting. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. Until finally you figured it was safe to assume there was in fact no bus coming for you.

“Damn...” You huffed dropping your bag to the ground rummaging through the multitudes of notes to find your phone which is also now in fact, your dead cell phone. While cursing your luck, you hadn’t even heard the sound of footsteps approaching behind you. Nor did you hear the person clear their throat behind you, but you did in fact scream when you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder.

“Shit!” Whirling around quickly, ready to fend off whatever creep was standing there, you caught a glimpse of a familiar pair of ripped jeans and leather jacket.

“Changkyun jesus christ how long have you been standing there!?” You wheezed out, clutching your bag to your chest for dear life.Changkyun scratched his head.

“Five minutes probably. You didn't answer even when I spoke to you.” Cheeks flushed in embarrassment you looked away, “Well I was having a bit of a mental breakdown so excuse me for not noticing sooner.”

Changkyun chuckled, his fingers thrumming on something behind his back.

“So did you need something or...?” You asked slowly, still unsure why he was just standing here in the dark parking lot after school.

“Oh um..here.” He quickly pushed a large hard object into your arms. A black helmet stared back at you. Changkyuns iconic helmet to be exact.

“Oh um cool...and this is for?”

“I’m gonna give you a ride. Home. I’m gonna give you a ride home. On my bike. To your home.”

You raised a brow at him as you turned the helmet in your hands.

“What's in it for you then Changkyun? I don’t do cheat sheets besides you've been doing so good-”

“ I want to.”

Your hands stopped roaming on the helmet as you shyly glanced up at him.

He wanted to give you a ride home?

Your school's quiet bad boy? Was any of this even real? I mean, was that even safe and besides how are you gonna explain to your parents that you rode home on the back of a guys motorcycle.

“Ah it's really fine Changkyun please you don’t have to.” You smiled politely back and you tried to push the helmet back into his hands. He shook his head, stepping back with his arms crossed.

“I can’t just leave a girl out here in the dark. Especially since its you.” He added, turning towards his sleek black and red bike parked a few spaces away.

What else was there for you to do? Wait here forever? Sighing, you followed behind him as you approached the bike. Like second nature, Changkyun slung a leg over the bike and started it up, the loud engine causing you to flinch a bit.

“It’s not as scary as it looks, just sit here.” He patted the back of the bike. Nodding you swallowed the fear and put the helmet on quickly. Your body felt rigid and uncomfortable as you sat on the seat, your hands fiddling as you weren't sure where to put them. Like, should you just hold on to him? Was that weird to assume?

Changkyun looked back at you having the inner debate and with a smirk, he used one hand to grab onto your wrist placing it firmly around his torso.

“I don’t want you to fall off.” He offered as a simple explanation, before picking up his feet and starting to drive off. The sudden lurch of the back caused you to crash into his back with a gasp, and before you knew it, you were flying down the main road away from campus. Your arms instinctively tightened around his stomach, and at the same time you had to try your hardest not to think about the close proximity of the both of you.

It wasn’t as if you were completely oblivious to Changkyun’s looks and charms. You just always saw him as one of your students after school. Besides, you were certain that he didn’t view you as someone who would fit his lifestyle like this.

The night sky was illuminated with stars and the flashing lamp posts streaked past the both of you as you finally had the courage to look around. The wind blowing through your hair and the cool crisp air filling your senses was calming in a way, your heart pounding with adrenaline. The scene was perfect, just the two of you so close but you knew eventually it wouldn't be you on the back of the bike anymore. Summer was soon and you were certain the friendship you had with all the guys would disappear. Your heart ached as the scene laid before you seemed to unravel. Giving Changkyun a tap on the shoulder, you pointed at the nearest street, and mere moments later you found yourself outside of your house.

Slipping off the bike and removing his helmet, you let out a shaky breath.

“Was it that scary?” He smiled, turning towards you. You shook your head with a smile, “Actually it was a lot of fun. Thanks again Changkyun, you really didn't have to do this”

Changkyun waved his hand, “I already told you Y/N I wanted to.” The air stilled between the both of you, the tension in the air a little more noticeable that before. Mustering up whatever courage you had you decided to speak before the moment was lost.

“Changkyun I-”

“Y/N we-”

You both stopped and stared at each other before laughing, your hand covering your face in embarrassment.

“You go first, please.” He politely motioned, looking at you expectantly. Collecting yourself you looked up at him. For the first time, you found yourself really noticing those details in someone that makes them unique. Maybe you had stared a little too intensely because Changkyun let out a small cough and looked down.

“Or you could stare at me for the rest of the night that's fine.” He let out with a shaky breath. Breaking yourself from the trance you flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry Changkyun, it's just… I guess we haven't really ever had time alone like this before. You're a really nice person. Really smart too, honestly I don’t know why you come to my tutoring sessions.” You admitted all in one breath.

Changkyun jerked a little at your confession, his hand raised quickly covering his face.

“You really haven’t noticed?” He mumbled softly, his eyes flitting over your face.

You frowned looking at him in confusion.

“Noticed what?”

Changkyun let out a chuckle as he ran a hand through his black hair, before standing up straight.

“We’ve been in the same class for four years. You never really noticed me, despite the fact I’m friends with the loudest most obnoxious guys on campus.” He let out a shaky breath before continuing.“You were always so focused in your work, I couldn't find the heart to distract you from that. So we decided to go to your tutoring hours. If it wasn’t for that you probably would've never thought to talk to me, huh?”

Your eyes widened at hearing his confession, your arms tightening around his helmet.

“The guys came with me so it wasn’t as awkward and to be honest, you really grew on them. I was so happy to finally have been able to have the chance to… you know actually get to know you. In between your lectures and such.”

He nervously rocked on his feet, looking around for anything that wasn't your cute face staring up at him.

“I mean I never really needed the tutoring. To be honest I feel bad for wasting your time, but even if it was just for a little bit-” he paused, straightening his shoulders back and looking directly in your eyes determinedly

“Even if it was just for a little bit, I got to believe someone like you could possibly fall for someone like me.”

If you imagined how this night in particular would have gone, never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined you’d be confessed to, and certainly not by Changkyun. The cold air made your cheeks flush even more as you stood staring up at him, your heart pounding loudly within your chest. The confession hung in the air between you two. You weren't sure how to respond honestly. He liked you. Changkyun liked you.

“Changkyun I-”

“And I understand if you don’t feel the same way. I just wanted to let you know. I understand though, this was all really weird, I’ll just leave-”

Somehow, in the midst of his rambling and in the midst of your internal debate, you had gently lifted yourself onto the top of your toes and placed one quick kiss to Changkyuns lips. His face slowly turned red as he stared down at you.

“Y/n…” he whispered.

“I like you too Changkyun.”

Changkyuns hands trembled as he brought them up to your face ever so gently, softly cupping your cheeks as his thumbs stroked gently patterns on them. His eye searched yours as he leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. You didn’t even flinch as you dropped his helmet onto the ground, bringing your arms up and around his neck, pulling your body into his. The cool night air didn’t seem to have an effect on either of you, as you both slowly pulled back, resting your foreheads against one another.

“So I take it we're going to hang out outside of my tutoring times right?” You teased, causing him to scoff and hang his head.

“Please you love that quality time together.”

For a few more minutes into the evening, you and Changkyun stood holding each other, swaying back and forth, prolonging the eventual parting between you two. Slowly you let go of one another as you started walking to your home.

“Goodnight Changkyun.” You smiled, waving back to him as you drew closer to your door.

“Goodnight Y/n.” He said back, waiting until you were safe inside.

Making sure you weren’t coming back out, Changkyun grinned as he fist pumped into the air, letting out a whoop of happiness. Grabbing his helmet from off the ground, he hopped back on his bike. Little did he know, from the blinds of your room, you smiled goofily, watching the boy you liked speed away, your heart full of nothing but love.

#monsta x #monsta x fanfic #im x reader #changkyun x reader #changkyun imagines #changkyun imagine #im imagine #changkyun fanfic #monsta x imagine

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gwoongi · 4 years

Text

(abandoned) i don’t want it at all

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: sugar baby au, sugar-babies-scamming-the-same-daddy-au rating: mature themes words: 2.3k warnings: sugar babies a/n: i would have liked 2 finish this one and maybe i will one day but for now here is the incomplete first draft that makes me laugh still

His dorm for first year had been a prison-cell-box with a broken window and bunk beds, the stale smell of farts from his roommate who insisted on top-bunk and made his evenings and early mornings absolute hell- but hey, he’s getting a fancy degree at the end, so it’s worth it, right? Jeongguk’s not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

(1)

Jeongguk was broke.

It was his own fault - that’s the price you pay for enrolling in University, studying something he probably doesn’t actually need but loves. It’s all fine and dandy studying Music until he realises that famous musicians don’t become famous because they got a degree. Ask any musician how they made it big and they’ll reply with good luck and hard work, not some fancy degree that means nothing unless you’ve got the talent to be successful. Well shit, now it’s in perspective, Jeongguk’s spending all this money on a degree that’s probably not going to make a difference when the time comes.

Now he has a part-time job at a random pizza takeaway that makes no money because Dominoes opened up across the street a few weeks ago, and he’s barely making enough to buy him more than two packets of instant noodles at a time. His dorm for first year had been a prison-cell-box with a broken window and bunk beds, the stale smell of farts from his roommate who insisted on top-bunk and made his evenings and early mornings absolute hell- but hey, he’s getting a fancy degree at the end, so it’s worth it, right? Jeongguk’s not sure if it’s worth it anymore.

This evening, the library is fairly quiet. Across the stacks are small candles inside black lanterns, a Harry Potter-esque vibe filling the room as the clock rolls into ten. Jeongguk loves when the school year ends, because for the past week, it’s only been the sad and broke music kids doing exams, meaning the library is virtually empty now that everybody else has finished up. Jeongguk’s last exam was yesterday. Huffing out a sigh that turns one of the only other heads in the library in his direction, he stretches his arms up over his head and arches his head backwards.

“Where’re you going over summer?”

Yoongi is another sad and broke music student, a third-going-fourth year who met Jeongguk in the music society during Jeongguk’s first weekend at University. Leaning his chair back on two legs, he throws a paper ball into the air and catches it, not even looking at Jeongguk as he talks to him.

Jeongguk shrugs in reply, tapping his nails against his laptop. “Dunno. Home, I guess.”

“Any plans?” Yoongi asks. “Wanna go to Lollapalooza?”

“Can’t afford it,” Jeongguk sighs, as Yoongi forces out a, “me neither” in between a chortled laugh. “And I don’t know. Probably going to have to get another job.”

“Good,” replies Yoongi, yawning loudly. “You can’t keep working at that shithole. I’m your only friend, and even I go to Dominoes instead of where you work.” As an afterthought, he looks at Jeongguk with a small frown, “sorry.”

Shaking his head in reply, Jeongguk slumps in his chair and sighs once again. Yoongi’s just suddenly put it all into perspective for him; Yoongi’s his only friend, he works a job that barely puts a meal onto his plate, and it’s not going to get any easier.

The ball in Yoongi’s hand begins to bounce again and Jeongguk glances over at the student librarian, who buries her head into the crook of her elbow and sleeps her way through her night-shift. It’s only Jeongguk, Yoongi and four others in the library right now; none of them are reading, none of them are doing anything particularly productive. Two students are tucked into an alcove pouring wine quite openly into small glasses with a board of chess unfolded out on the table, the others on computers, wishing the night away. Jeongguk just doesn’t want to go back to his dorm, to where his roommate and his loaded to the brim stomach of Chinese food and unhealthy diets is waiting for him.

“You planning on staying here all night again?” questions Yoongi. He probs his feet up onto the partitioner under the table, accidentally kicking Jeongguk’s ankle in the process. “Sorry,” he adds.

“Yep,” Jeongguk replies, popping the ‘p’. “I’d literally rather sleep on the boys changing room floors than go back to my dorm.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That’s disgusting, don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m being deadass,” Jeongguk insists, his eyes blown wide. “Want to swap dorms for the night? Ten dollars and you’ll be dry heaving in the hallway before midnight.”

“I’ll pass. Either way, you know my apartment is always open for you,” Yoongi reminds him. “You’ve got a key. Come by once you’ve finished whatever it is you’re doing. My wifi’s out.”

Another sigh. Jeongguk’s not defeated his boredom yet, the twitch in his fingers to do something still there. If he goes to Yoongi’s apartment now, he’ll just annoy him with the need to do something energetic, and Jeongguk knows best that Yoongi values his quiet time on an evening.

“Okay. Well, I’ll stay here for a little bit, and come by when I’m done,” Jeongguk says, stifling a yawn that would otherwise expose the fact that he’s absolutely knackered. “I won’t make a sound.”

“You will, you always do, I just pretend not to notice because I love you.” Yoongi says I love you with a disgusted face, sticking his tongue out with a fake gag that Jeongguk knows just proves how much he cares. Yoongi’s good like that, the more subtle type of loving older brother that Jeongguk’s been deprived of all his life. “Don’t stay out too late.”

“Won’t.”

Yoongi picks himself up and irons the aches out of his shoulders. “Cool. Stay safe and smart, Guk.”

“I can’t do both,” he sighs sadly, and Yoongi collects his bag and affectionately throws the paper ball at Jeongguk’s head. It bounces off and lands near one of the bookshelves. Neither picks it up, and Yoongi leaves the library. It dawns on Jeongguk three minutes after Yoongi leaves him that he’s actually really fucking lonely. Add that to the big long list of things Jeongguk is this year: friendless, broke, sad and lonely. God, he needs a hobby.

He also needs money. Very badly. After opening his phone and banking app and realising that he’s so close to slipping into the red, Jeongguk refrains from spending what he has left on something fried and takeaway and opens Google. One click, a few types: How to make money fast. Google will know what to do.

Jeongguk scrolls. Take online surveys and get paid NOW! No. Review apps and earn money! Not enough phone memory to download an app to review it, he scrolls down. Lonely AND Horny? Get yourself a Sugar Daddy TODAY! Oh? He’s listening.

The blog that opens up as he clicks the link is somebody’s personal blog, the title in a gross and thick font that Jeongguk almost can’t read. They talk a while about why you shouldn’t become a sugar-baby, but Jeongguk remembers that one time Tana Mongeau did a storytime on how she had a Daddy and got a lot of money, and Jeongguk’s got assets. He’s smart, has abs on a good day, and his dick isn’t half bad looking. That’s what Yooa had said to him, anyway. Finally, there’s a hyperlink to Seeking Arrangements, and Jeongguk feels kind of overwhelmed.

At least once in their lives, everybody’s thought about being a Sugar Baby. Jeongguk definitely has, all the damn time when he’s sitting around at work doing nothing because they’re about as busy as one can expect for a pizza place with two stars and a rival Dominoes parallel from the front. He’s even read about experiences, where people meet their daddies or mommies on the streets or through apps- and there was even that one crazy story about somebody’s Principal becoming their sugar Daddy, or something, he can’t quite remember. Regardless, Jeongguk’s entertained this thought before.

He looks down at himself. If he really tried his best, he could be kind of good at it. Without sounding conceited, Jeongguk’s good looking. What lets him down at school is the fact that he always dresses lazily and ignores people, rejects requests to go out and then complains to Yoongi about not having friends who hang out with him. All he needs is to fix his appearance, upload his best photographs, and he could secure the bag quite easily.

Jeongguk fills in the boxes and makes an account. petkoo is what he decides to name himself, and he picks his best selfie off Instagram as an icon. He leans back, as if a look from far away will change the way it looks. It’ll do. Luckily for him, he’s into men and women, and it just so happens that American men are both the dumbest and easiest to please. Suddenly, he’s excited, his leg bouncing under the table until he hits his knee and stops. The student librarian raises her head quickly, afraid that a member of staff’s come in to supervise. They haven’t, and so she drops her head again. Ten fifty three, ish. Jeongguk blinks sleepily.

All that’s left to do is get his account verified, and life will be forever changed.

(He hopes).

(2)

Yoongi’s apartment is off campus, about fifteen minutes away if he’s walking. It’s small, but significantly bigger than Jeongguk’s dorm on campus, and decorated with whites and creams, big and open windows letting in golden light, when the time’s right. It’s the type of apartment you saw online, on Tumblr posts or in movies, looking like a perfect backdrop - sometimes, Jeongguk can’t believe that Yoongi lives here, and wakes up every morning to the view of the city below his window, power lines like train tracks connecting houses, dangling fairy-lights on the trelacing of his across-the-street-neighbour’s rooftop.

That being said, Jeongguk technically lives here, too. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s actually stepped foot in his dorm at the same time as his roommate; he only goes in there to collect things one at a time. Today, for example, he had dropped by to empty out his small and pathetic wardrobe and put it inside one suitcase, wheeling it right up to Yoongi’s front door with a bright smile that Yoongi couldn’t say no to. His couch in the living room was Jeongguk’s comfortable bed when it wasn’t cold and when it was, Yoongi would huff and offer an invite into his bed, because he loves Jeongguk like he’s his baby brother, and it would suck if he died from pneumonia, or something. He said that to Jeongguk once. Jeongguk smiled for ten minutes afterwards.

Harry Potter plays on TV, the fourth movie because it’s Jeongguk’s favourite and Yoongi’s a sick man who can’t say no. It’s around five, and Jeongguk’s literally been holed up in Yoongi’s apartment the entire day. The most sunlight that he got was when he walked out of Yoongi’s house to take the trash out, and even then, the bin was in the shadows and the sun never touched his skin once. He can see the sunlight through the window, which technically counts. Yoongi cringes and takes away a plate from the coffee table.

“You’re allowed to stay at my place, as long as you clean up after yourself,” he says with a huff. His nose upturns with a scrunch, “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“By choice!” Jeongguk adds, pulling a thread out from his sock. “They’re too much hard work.”

“You’re just fucking lazy,” Yoongi points out. He dumps the plate in the sink and comes back to Jeongguk. “You know that, don’t you?”

There’s a silence. Then a sigh, “Yeah.”

Jeongguk loves staying at Yoongi’s place, especially when Yoongi is feeling particularly soft and lets Jeongguk do whatever he wants, given he’s not going to get Yoongi a noise complaint in the morning. The movie continues to play undisturbed, the sight of Beauxbatons’ carriage swooping over towards the runway leaving Jeongguk with an open-mouthed smile on his face and Yoongi folds his arms, burying himself further into the sofa. On the coffee table, Yoongi’s laid out some snacks, both his phone and Jeongguk’s laying down flat because it’s supposed to keep Jeongguk distraction free, even though he’s the type of friend to never be on his phone around his friends unless he absolutely needs to be.

Another huff is in Yoongi’s mouth, begging to be huffed out. Over on the coffee table, Jeongguk’s phone lights up with his lock screen of Sansa Stark blurred out by a notification, the ringer on loud. Attention is pulled from Dumbledore to the light, Jeongguk’s brows lifting with interest but his eyes immediately back on the TV.

“Yoongi,” he calls out, and Yoongi glances over, “can you see who it’s from?” Could be his Mom, it could be important.

The huff is released. “Come into my house and boss me around…” Yoongi mutters under his breath and reaches for Jeongguk’s phone, pressing the home button to read the notification. He’s silent for a long moment, and Jeongguk’s so enthralled in the movie that he doesn’t notice, not until Yoongi looks at Jeongguk with a confused and funny look, his top lip curled to his nostrils as he blurts: “Why the hell are Seeking Arrangements telling you you’re profile’s ready?”

Jeongguk looks away so fast from the television that Yoongi’s almost frightened. His eyes are wide and twinkling, “They’ve finished it?”

“What the fuck.”

“Gimme!” Jeongguk splutters, his hand diving towards his phone urgently. “Bro...it’s been like, five days.”

Yoongi is bewildered. “Why do you have an account? What-why-when…?”

“I don’t know, I need money and I thought it would be funny,” Jeongguk shrugs. His thumb moves quickly across his phone screen. “I can’t believe they’re done. I’m gonna be rich, Yoongi.”

“Do you know how sketchy half the people on that site are?” Yoongi questions. “Plus they’re all old and perverted men.”

“Rich men.”

“Rich, old and perverted,” Yoongi nods. “Guk, I know I said you needed another job...but this doesn’t qualify. I’d rather you flip paper thin pizzas.”

#me posting all my abandoned wips for attention and something to do #bts #bangtan #jungkook #jeongguk #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #sugar baby au #bts imagine #bts scenario #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jjk #gwoongi #abandoned

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shannygoatgruff · 4 years

Photo

Talk to Me

Stay Safe, Stay Home Writing Challenge: (Prompt #16 – Call me if you need anything)

Genre: Romance

Pairing: Modern Ivar x OC

Fandom: Vikings

Warning: Language/mild angst

Rating: M

Summary: Can an online relationship work in the real world? Ivar and Cash are about to find out.

A/N: So this is my first challenge. What was supposed to be a one-shot has turned into a mini-series. I’m having so much fun writing it. I haven't written in about 10 years - my muses all went away when Dave Batista left WWE. Then one day, Alex Høgh Andersen showed up and all of my muses came back! I’m so happy!

Please, note if you notice grammatical errors in the dialogues between characters, it’s because I write how people speak. Any other errors may just be because I was careless...

Also, I’m writing the Lothbroks as Europeans speaking English. In my head, when they are together they are speaking Norweigan but when they speak English, it’s with their Vikings’ show accents.

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

What the fuck am I doing? No seriously, what the fuck was she doing?

Cash didn’t do things like this. Ever. She had literally seen every episode of MTV’s Catfish and 90 Day Fiance (the original show, Abroad, and After the 90 Days). She was responsible, respectable, intelligent, reasonably attractive and she had just landed a job where she actually got to use her degree. This side of 25 was looking up for her. She wasn’t desperate, was she?

She was going to feel so stupid when everyone rubbed it in her face that this “Ivar” guy didn’t really exist, or turned out to be something totally other than what he claimed. Although she had only told a handful of people about her trip, they had all filled her head with so much more angst that she almost canceled the trip four times in the last month. Her mom was convinced that Cash was going to be kidnapped and sold into an Eastern European sex trafficking ring. While her best friend just knew that Ivar was going to turn out to be a sadistic 65-year-old ex-KGB operative who hated Americans and only wanted to torture her like in that movie Hostel. Even her younger brother tried to email Nev & Max to see if MTV could do an episode of Catfish Abroad and put her on blast for all of his friends to see.

Cash let out a nervous breath as she looked around the Austrian Airlines terminal. Her flight to Vienna was due to start boarding in a little more than an hour and there were still a lot of empty seats.

She fidgeted in her chair trying to fish her phone out of her jacket pocket. What she needed was mood music – Billie Eilish, although played in heavy rotation lately, wasn’t cutting it. She needed mood music - something angrier... more upbeat. Remi Ma or Joyner Lucas? Why not both? She made a quick playlist, put it on shuffle, and bobbed her head to the music.

No sooner did she feel herself getting lost in the beat, did the music stop and the phone ring. With a slight eye roll, Cash answered the phone pleasantly, “Hey Ma.”

“Hey, honey. How you doing?” Barbara Heath spoke to her daughter in a voice reserved for someone that might have just suffered a loss or been seriously injured, “You okay?”

“Yeah, Ma. I’m fine.”

“You know, it’s not too late to come home, Shay.” Cash cringed at her mother’s nickname for her. All of her life, she had tried to get people to call her Cash, but her parents were still hell-bent on calling her Shay. “No one would blame you. I didn’t tell anyone you were going on your little excursion except your Aunt Margaret and Gigi. You know they don’t think this is a good idea, either. And you know your Daddy is still upset that you decided to go.”

“Ma, don’t.” She slouched in her seat and looked up at the airport ceiling. “When I finished grad school, I told you guys I wanted to travel more. Everyone was fine with it then. Now all of a sudden everyone is against me going…”

“We’re aren’t!” Barbara walked across the kitchen with her glass of wine and took a seat at the kitchen counter. She didn’t want to start another fight with her daughter, but she needed to Cash to understand how dangerous this could be. “I just don’t understand about this going across the world to meet some boy. There are plenty of those here.”

Oh my, God. “For the last time, I’m going to Vienna because I haven’t been back to Austria since undergrad. While I’m there I’m going to meet up with one of my friends, Ma.”

“Yeah, a friend you met on the internet.”

“Really? I’m about to get on a plane and I won’t see you for weeks, and you want to do this now? How about saying ‘Have a nice trip’ or ‘I’m proud of you for being so adventurous’ or something like that?” She tried not to raise her voice, but she could tell her frustration at her mother mixed with her own nerves about the situation was coming through on the phone.

Barbara sighed in defeat. “You got that stubbornness from your Daddy.” She was relieved when she heard her daughter chuckle. “You know, I’m proud of you. And I want you to have so much fun! This is going to be the best trip of your life. I just want you to be careful and know that I will worry about you. Let me know when you land, and when you get to your hotel, and when you meet this Ivar-boy.” She was going to make a point to stop babying her as soon as she came back from Europe. “Just know that I love you. Call me if you need anything. Me and your Daddy will be on the first flight to come get you and bring you…”

“I love you, too Mommy. I’ll call you when I land.”

When Cash hit the button to end the call, she noticed a WhatsApp notification on her phone. She hadn’t even heard the phone chime. She felt the smile slide across her face as she opened the app.

Ivar was the only person who ever contacted her on WhatsApp.

_______________________________________________________________

“Ahh, Ivar, you will be fine.” Ivar cut his blue eyes over to his brother driving the car. “You will have fun. You’ll see.”

He folded his arms over his chest, like a child, and returned his gaze out of the passenger’s window. “I am not a child, Bubbe. I do not a chaperone.” He really hated being the youngest. His brothers always acted like he was completely incapable of doing anything on his own.

“I know, brother.” Ubbe let out a soft chuckle and connected eyes with Hvitserk in the backseat through the rearview mirror, “Serk is not coming to chaperone. He is coming with you, to help you.”

“I do not need help, either.” Ivar was sick of this fight. He had been having it with his brothers for about a month now. He was perfectly capable of traveling by himself, without Hvitserk’s assistance. “And why Serk? He is the least responsible of us all.”

Hvitserk nodded in agreement from the backseat and smiled good-naturedly. He really didn’t give a shit what Ivar wanted to do. All he knew was Bjorn was footing the bill for his trip to Austria with Ivar and he wasn’t about to turn down a free vacation. Women, liquor, food, and a hotel suite...all he had to do was carry Ivar’s bags and help him through the airport? It sounded like a sweet deal to him.

Ubbe shook his brother’s shoulder, “C’mon, Ivy. I would come with you if I could. I have to work.” He peeked over at his brother’s face, noting his anger looked something more akin to nerves. “Besides, Serk will give you much more freedom than I would. Who knows, you might really like this girl when you meet her.”

“It is not like that.” Ivar said quietly, looking out of the window. He wanted to talk to Ubbe about Cash for some time now, but Ubbe was always so busy with work. Besides, he and Torvi had just had a baby. He clearly had more important things to think about than his little brother and his lack of experience with women. But, Ubbe was the kindest and most level headed person he knew. What he wouldn’t give for some of his big brother’s advice right now. “We are just friends.” Even if that’s not what he wanted, he was sure that’s all they would end up being.

“But there may come a time when you are not just friends.” Ubbe tried to hide his smirk as he noticed the blush start to creep up Ivar’s neck and settle on his earlobes. “What will you do then, hmm?”

“He will fuck her!” Hvitserk clapped Ivar on the shoulders and laughed.

How far ways was this damn airport? If Ivar didn’t get out of this car soon, he was going to grab the steering wheel and drive them off of a cliff. “Please don’t leave me with him.” He never asked his brothers for anything, but he made this plea to Ubbe with such sincerity. “I am going to kill him.”

After Ubbe pulled the car into the parking space, he killed the engine and asked Hvitserk to get the bags while he talked to Ivar for a moment. “So…you have told her?” He waited for Ivar to turn around and look at him before he lowered his eyes to Ivar’s legs. He sighed in disappointment when Ivar refused to meet his eyes. “Ivar.”

“I never thought we would actually meet.” It was never really his intention to lie, but it really wasn’t a conversation he was sure how to start. Did he start by saying, ‘Hi I’m Ivar. I’m a Taurus and I’m physically challenged?’ “Then I started to like her and could not tell her. I did not want to stop talking to her. So, I came off like Bjorn.”

“Like an ass?”

Ivar shrugged. “A little. She is American. She likes that confident, arrogant type.” Shaking his head at the mess he had gotten himself into, he threw his hands up in frustration. “Ahh, it does not matter now. We will meet and have fun as friends and that will be all.”

“But that is not all. You like this girl and it sounds like she likes you. You need to tell her before you see her.” Gripping his little brother by the back of the neck, Ubbe pulled gave him a brotherly hug. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about Ivar Ragarsson. Any woman would be proud to have you.” Kissing him on the top of his head, he grumbled when Ivar pushed him away and got out of the car.

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#ssshchallenge #writing challenge #ivar lothbrok #shannygoat #vikings fanfic #vikings fic #ivar the boneless #modern ivar #aha #alex høgh andersen #alex andersen #Alex hoegh #fanfic #waiting4inspiration #talk to me fic

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winterisakillerwrites · 4 years

Text

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Ten

Chapter: 10/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: M

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

CHAPTER TEN

A sinking sense of dread churned in her stomach as she stood, staring at Tom as he jostled himself from foot to foot in the hallway. ‘We need to talk.’ The words echoed in her mind. Good things rarely followed such a declaration; that was something Rosemary knew with a sick certainty. After several minutes staring in stunned apprehension, Rosemary gathered herself enough to nod silently at Tom and stood aside to allow him to enter the flat. He silently slid past her and into the small entrance way and she, in turn, silently closed the door behind him, trying desperately to gather hold of her fraying nerves.

Tom took several long paces around the living room before turning to face Rosemary, his breathing even though the tension was rolling off of him in waves. She couldn’t force herself to meet his gaze, though she could feel his penetrating her. Whatever he had come to tell her, and her gut told her that with the way he was acting it couldn’t be good, he seemed to be both hesitant and determined to do so. And, equally, she knew with a stunning clarity that she absolutely did not want to hear it.

“Rosie.” She jerked her head up at the sound of her name on his lips. She knew she must look a sight; her eyes reddened, face drawn and anxious. God, what he must think of her. “Don’t…It’s not…” He paused, breathing deeply and ran a hand shakily through his hair. “Can we sit?”

She nodded mutely and settled herself on the edge of the couch, back straight and shoulders tense. Her eyes following him as he settled himself on the opposite end. He stretched his long legs out before him, rubbing his hands absently on the tops of his thighs.

“First off,” he started again, clasping his hands together in his lap. “I wanted to apologize for earlier.” He must have caught the look of confusion that had spread across her face because he quickly raced to add, “For snapping at you like I did. That was completely and utterly uncalled for and horribly cruel of me,” he paused again, drawing a hand quickly through his hair. “It had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with you.”

Drawing a deep breath, Rosemary nodded. It took her several moments to gather her thoughts enough to answer. “You were a right arse, Tom.” Her tone was matter of fact and she carried on without meeting his eyes. “I get that you were quite obviously upset but that doesn’t give you the right to take that out on me.” She paused enough to raise her head so that she was looking him directly in the eyes as she spoke. “That being said, I shouldn’t have stormed off like I did either. That was incredibly childish and I’m sorry for it.”

Tom shook his head at her in confusion. “You have every right to be angry with me, Rosie. Every bloody right. And to have left. Christ, my mother would have rightly boxed my ears had she heard me speaking to you like I did.” He paused, wringing his hands together in his lap. “That’s beside the point. I just…I wanted to say I’m sorry and I wanted to explain what happened.”

“I know about the pictures, Tom,” Rosemary interjected. The look of fear and weariness that crossed his face struck her. She wanted to reach out and grasp his hands, offering whatever comfort she could. With a fortitude she hadn’t known she possessed, she curbed that impulse; she wasn’t completely sure how it would be received and rejection from him now, she feared, would very likely crush her. “I didn’t go looking for them,” she added hastily. “They were on my browser’s home page and I…What happened, Tom? I mean…How? You guys don’t talk…At all…and now you’ve been photographed…”

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Tom implored, cutting her off. Rosemary felt her heart sink at his words. Tom’s face paled at her expression and he plowed on, “I mean…I don’t even know how…We ran into each other purely by chance and we started talking and she…” His eyes were wide and pleading at her to understand what he couldn’t seem to articulate.

Rosemary’s jaw clenched, “She saw fit to lay in on you.” Anger flushed her face. Dammit Jules, why can’t you just leave well enough alone? You bloody promised!

He shook his head. “No…Well, yes she did. But it was nothing less than what I deserved. Rosie, I hurt you and badly. I did things I am very much ashamed of and that I know I cannot ever take back.” He smiled softly at her, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Jules is your friend, she cares about you. She has every right to frankly hate the sight of me,” he chuckled ruthlessly. “All she did was tell me what I needed to hear even if I didn’t want to hear it. I needed to be fully aware of just how badly I fucked up. Because I don’t want to do that again.”

“Tom…” Her tone was full of the uncertainty she was sure painted her face.

He shook his head, holding up a hand to halt her words. “No, please. Let me say this before I go and lose what little nerve I have left.” Rosemary nodded silently and waited for him to continue. “I messed up with you, Rosie, and badly at that. It’s something I will always, always regret.” His blue eyes were locked on hers, intense and pleading silently for her understanding. “For whatever reason I have you back in my life and I still cannot fathom why. But I don’t want to risk losing you again. I love you and I don’t want to mess this up. After you left today I took a very long, hard look at what’s happened and in turn what I want to happen.” He paused, letting out a soft, ruthless chuckle. “My life is a mess at the best of times. So much of it is not honestly in my control and it’s taken me a very long time to come to terms with that. To find ways to work around it and try to be myself and keep the things that matter as safe as much as I possibly can. I’m not trying to complain, I know just how fortunate I am to be able to do something that I love and make a living from it. But it’s hard sometimes, to remember that. To accept it. I’ve made so many mistakes and I’ve tried to do my best and to learn from them. To make myself better because of them. I hurt you, Rosie, and I’ve kept doing so. I don’t want to. It’s the absolute last thing I want. But I keep doing it.” He paused again, looking down at his clasped hands. “So many times I’ve wondered if walking away for good would be the best thing to do, for both our sakes. If I left, I would stop constantly hurting you. You could let go and maybe be at peace with what’s happened between us. But I can’t do it. I don’t want to. I don’t know what’s happening now, with us, but I know that I can’t just walk away. Not again.”

She stared at him, not knowing what to say. What to think. “Tom, I …”

He shook his head. Rosemary paused, looking at him in confusion and uncertainty. “I know it’s a lot I’ve just unloaded on you. And I’m sorry for doing so. I truly didn’t mean it.” His eyes widened as Rosemary stiffened. “No. No. No. That’s not what I’m saying. I meant what I said to you. Every word of it, but I didn’t mean to simply throw it at you like I did.” He smiled softly at her. “I do love you, Rosie. I’m absolute shit at it, but I do.”

Rosemary returned his smile with a hesitant one of her own. She cleared her throat and tried to find the right words. She needed the right words. “Tom, you mean so much to me. You have to know that,” she began, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. She squeezed it gently, absently rubbing her thumb along its back. “You are so very dear to me. You always have been. But I don’t know if I’m ready for more than simply being your friend. I honesty can’t be sure if I ever will be.” She looked at him, her hazel eyes pleading with him to understand. To hear what she needed him to understand. “I don’t know what I want. Not now. But I know that I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you. But I need to know if you’re going to be able to accept that. Can you be okay with just being my friend? Truly okay with it? If I’m never ready for anything but that?”

His expression was unreadable and Rosemary felt her heart clench painfully in her chest. She had known that he very well may not be okay with only that. He’d made his desires clear. He wanted her. Loved her. She believed he meant it. For now. But what about in six months? Nine months? A year? Could she take that chance with him? Risk her heart again? She didn’t know. And that uncertainty might very well have cost her ever being able to know for sure.

After several long and agonizing minutes Tom spoke. “I understand that you’re not sure of me. And with our history I cannot blame you one bit. And I accept that you don’t know if you can trust me. If I’ll make all of these promises only to turn around and break them. I understand and I accept it.” He paused, offering Rosemary a soft smile and taking her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “And I can give you time to figure out what you want; whether it’s me or…not. I will be alright with whatever you decide.” He squeezed her hands again. “I told you that I can’t just walk away from this, from you, and I meant it.” He pushed himself to his feet and after a short debate with himself, leaned over and kissed her gently on the crown of her head. “Take all the time you need, Rosie. I’ll be here regardless of what you decide.”

She heard his soft footfalls on the carpeted floor and the open and close of her front door. Rosemary let go a shuddering breath. The ball was soundly in her court and she hadn’t the first idea what to do.

—

The shop was quiet that afternoon; A few wandering patrons here and there, but for the most part nothing and no one. It eased Rosemary’s guilt at pulling Jules off the floor and secluding both herself and her friend in the office she would always think of as hers. The past week had been hectic for both locations and she, Jules, and Hanna had been running themselves near ragged. Being able to sit and relax seemed a wonderful luxury and Rosemary was loath to give it up.

Jules had made them both coffees courtesy of the new coffee maker she’d recently acquired for the shop. It wasn’t overly fancy but produced a fair brew and that, in the end, was all that mattered. Coffee doctored to her liking, Rosemary had taken over the chair behind the desk, earning her a pointed look from Jules. She’d smiled sweetly and continued to drink her coffee.

They hadn’t had a chance to properly catch up since their luncheon. They’d exchanged a handful of texts but hadn’t honestly had a chance to really sit and talk. And, she mused, there certainly was a very great deal to talk about. “So,” Rosemary started, looking at Jules from over her mug.

Jules cocked an eyebrow. “So…I’m pretty confident that you didn’t overtake my office just for the coffee and pleasure of my company…”

Rosemary nodded and placed her mug onto the desk. “It used to be my office,” She joked, crossing her arms at her chest. “But, no. Not particularly. But the coffee is quite good,” she added in afterthought. She fiddled with the handle of the coffee mug in front of her as she tried to form the questions in her head into something coherent. “Those pictures,” she began again, looking up at Jules.

They had mentioned the pictures in passing, a text from Jules sent the evening they’d been posted ‘I’m pretty sure you’ve seen those pictures by now. They’re ridiculous and completely off base. I didn’t seek him out, please don’t be too cross with me.’ She’d responded that she knew that and she wasn’t cross and the matter had been left at that.

But there had been much more she’d wanted to talk about and to do so in text seemed inefficient and impersonal. She’d wanted to hear Jules’ side of the story, wanting to make sure for herself that what Tom had told her was the truth. That it had all been mere happenstance; that she hadn’t sought him out specifically. And this particular afternoon had been the first in which she could guarantee enough time for an actual conversation. Rosemary felt foolish, dragging everything up again, especially now that the dust was beginning to settle. But she needed to talk to her friend.

“Rose, honey…”

“I know it’s all bullshit, Jules,” she cut in. God, she was making a right mess of this. “Honestly, I do. I know you and I know him. And neither of you are that callous. I’m not mad at you…I just…I’m trying to understand why it happened. Tom said he just ran into you in the park and things dissolved from there.” She looked at Jules in earnest, hoping that she understood what she was trying to say.

“I didn’t go there hoping to run into him, Rose. I had lunch with Nick that day. We were close enough to the park that afterwards I wanted to enjoy the sun for a bit. I saw a cute dog and I couldn’t resist saying hello. Didn’t realize that said dog’s owner was…Anyway, we exchanged words, I told him something he honestly needed to hear and that was that. Had I known there were photographers about…”

Rosemary nodded, “I know Jules. I’m sorry…I just…Things aren’t exactly settled between Tom and myself. We both have made some horrifically stupid decisions and we’re trying to work out where that leaves us. I know you care, and I’m glad of it. I just…I don’t want to feel like things are happening because he feels guilty.” She paused and shook her head. “No, wait that is not what I meant. I told you that I want to be able to fight my own battles and make my own choices and you unloading all of that onto Tom feels like you didn’t hear me or simply didn’t care what I wished.” Jules opened her mouth to protest. “I know you didn’t mean it like that. I honestly cannot say I’m surprised that things imploded the way they did between you two. It was a long time coming.”

“He was an unmitigated arse to you, Rose, and he needed to see that. I don’t like him and I doubt I ever really will, but if he’s going to be back in your life I wanted to make damn sure he knows what that means and that he’s not going to run off again and leave you floundering. I know you want to do this on your own, and you have every right to do so, but he needed to understand that you have people in your corner; people that witnessed the aftermath of his actions the last time. You care about him, Rose. And because of that sometimes I’m honestly afraid you hold back because you’re so scared he’ll bolt if he knew what you felt or what you thought.”

Rosemary let out a sigh of frustration. “What I do or not do is on my own head, not on yours. I need you to understand that. You are the closest thing I have to a sister but I need you to not meddle in things. If it’s going to fall to pieces, it will do so on its own. You don’t need to help it along.” She paused and took a deep breath, calming herself. “I didn’t come here to fight with you. Honestly, I didn’t. I just need to know you won’t do it again. Just let it be, Jules. Please.”

Silence passed between them and Jules nodded. “I can’t guarantee I will always be able to hold my tongue when it comes to him, but I can promise to do my utmost best to respect your choices.” She smiled at Rosemary. “Are we okay?”

Rosemary nodded, “I think so. I want us to be.” She reached to pick up her mug once more, taking another sip of her coffee. It had cooled considerably but not enough to call it a waste. Cold coffee when it was not intended to be such was vile; almost as vile as a cold cup of tea. She shuddered at the thought.

“You alright?” Jules asked with the rise of an eyebrow.

Rosemary laughed and nodded. “Yes, sorry. My mind went wandering down a dark path…Cold tea…” She shuddered again and Jules burst out into a fit of giggles.

“My god, that is horrid. How could you even think such a thing?”

And with that she knew they would be alright. They soon finished their respective coffees and Jules grabbed both mugs and set to making more. Rosemary took her now steaming mug gratefully and cautiously took a sip. She placed the mug onto the desktop and brought her attention back to Jules. “So, how did Nick take the photos? I completely forgot to ask.”

Jules looked bug-eyed for a second before laughing into her coffee. “Really fucking well, actually.” She paused, taking a sip. “So he says ‘So you’re seeing Tom Hiddleston behind my back, huh? Well good for you’ and just goes right back to reading his book. Bless the man. He didn’t even blink an eye.” She shook her head and rested the cup on her thigh, letting out a contented sigh. “That man is bloody ridiculous and I love him for it.”

Rosemary snorted quietly into her own mug. It was funny, she had to admit. The way Nick took this in stride made her admire the man all the more. Jules and Nick were quite the pair; they’d been together for ages and seemed completely content in who and what they were. She envied that. Envied the way they trusted one another implicitly. She wanted that for herself, wanted it desperately. But having it simply didn’t seem likely.

Without her biding Tom’s face flashed in her mind. If she was truly being honest with herself she could admit she wanted that with him. But wanting that didn’t mean it could happen. But still, she thought as she took another sip of her coffee, it’s a wonderful dream.

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom & Rosie #Love & Great Buildings

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winterisakiller · 5 years

Text

Love & Great Buildings - Chapter Fifteen

Chapter: 15/19

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Three years have passed and a chance encounter brings Tom and Rosie together again. Can time make any difference or are they doomed to repeat their mistakes.

Rating: T

Author’s Notes/Warnings: This is part nine of Last Minutes and Lost Evenings. Many thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for listening to me ramble incessantly about this story and being a sounding board when I needed it. You are a lifesaver, even if your stories break my heart.

This story and its preceding one-shots can be also be found on AO3 under the username winterisakiller (sparkinside)

Tag List: @tinchentitri @noplacelikehome77 @theheartofpenelope

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Exhausted, Tom stumbled into the darkened room and let himself drop carelessly onto the large, unmade bed. He turned, burying his face into the rumpled pillows and groaned. God, he was tired. It had been a whirlwind of a day and all he wanted to do now was sleep for at least a year. More if at all possible. He’d been at this for nearly a week now; running interview to interview, answering the same handful of questions asked in slightly differing ways. Though the excitement of the first few stops on this, admittedly, chaotic promotional tour had slowly but surely began to fade, he was still excited to talk about the film. It had been a grueling shoot, long hours and frequent reshoots, but he was extremely proud of what he and his co-stars had created and could not wait to see the reaction it would receive.

He rolled over onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes. He had the next seven hours completely free; a wonderful yet daunting prospect. He should sleep, god he wanted to sleep, but something told him that no matter how badly he wanted it, sleep would be more than a bit elusive. His mind though choked with exhaustion wouldn’t seem to keep quiet. It kept replaying; the feel of her lips on his, her soft yet firm body pressed against his, the feel of her silky hair between his fingers, the way her breath hitched as he pulled her closer to him. Every detail flashed through his mind, bright and clear.

An involuntary shiver ran through him. It was both heaven and hell. They hadn’t talked properly since that night and it was eating him alive. Far too often he found himself checking his phone during any spare moment, hoping for a call or at least a text. Something, anything; but as it stood it had been over a week and nothing. He could call her, open that line of communication himself and he had been sorely tempted to, but with this he knew that if there was a move to be made, it should be on Rosemary’s part. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, push her into anything; not again. He’d learned that lesson far too well. If they were going to try for something more it would be on her insistence or not at all. It was a gamble, that he was well aware. And it was his heart on the line, but Tom knew that if he pushed there was a very real chance he could lose her completely. And that, that was not an option. So he would wait and he would hope. He let out a sigh, closing his eyes once again and praying sleep would claim him, if only for a little while.

Several hours later he was brought crashing back into consciousness by a blaring noise. Heart pounding in his chest, it took him several moments to realize that the horrifically loud sound was in fact his phone. He laughed despite himself, shaking his head as he pushed off of the bed and stumbled through the darkness towards the dresser where he had emptied the contents of his pockets upon entering the room. His phone sat, face down on the dresser. Flipping it over revealed a waiting text message. From Luke. He groaned aloud before tapping the screen and opening the message.

‘Interview tomorrow moved up from 0900 to 0830. You’ll be paired with Donna. Car will be by at 0745. Coffee will be waiting J’

Tom typed back a short thank you in response as he walked slowly back to the bed, tossing his phone onto the rumpled bedclothes. A quick glance at his watch told him it was that time of the night which was both stupidly late and stupidly early. He dropped his head into his hands and let out a low groan. He was very much awake now and at the moment any real chance of falling back asleep seemed utterly hopeless. He let his weight fall back onto the bed. His head was still foggy with sleep and the disappointment he’d felt at seeing Luke’s name and not Rosemary’s was difficult to ignore or dismiss.

With a groan he pushed himself upright once again and fumbled at the bedside table for the television remote. He’d never been one for television but at this point any distraction would do. After three disappointing turns around the available channels he finally settled on a cooking show, some competition that looked far more intense than any cooking program ought to be. He couldn’t say what was happening on the show but the noise was distraction enough.

Tom blinked rapidly as his phone chimed again and he groped blindly on the bed for it. Hitting the side button to unlock the screen, he stared at the waiting message. ‘Car’s here.’ He blinked in confusion before glancing at the top of the screen for the time. 0745. “What?” He breathed in disbelief. That couldn’t possibly be right. He rubbed his eyes and checked the screen again. Fuck, it was right. He must have dozed back off. Thank god he’d heard his phone.

Cursing, Tom glanced down at his attire, rumbled from wear and sleep. Shit. Shit. Double shit. He didn’t have time for a shower but he had to change. Scrambling off the bed and onto his feet and tore through the outfits he’d hung in the closet. Taking the first one his fingers touched, Tom wasted little time stripping and redressing, not caring if the suit trousers and button up shirt matched perfectly with the shoes he’d slammed his feet into. Grey goes with everything, he told himself. He managed to wash his face and brush his hair and teeth and make it down to the waiting car by five after. He smiled briefly at the driver, apologizing profusely for his tardiness and slammed the door shut.

Traffic was mercifully light and they pulled into the studio lot with fifteen minutes to spare. Luke stood at the side entrance with an intern from the television studio. His blue suit was impeccable as always, but the tie around his neck had been loosened; a sure fire sign that Luke was more than a little on edge. Tom climbed out of the car and waved off the driver before jogging up to the two waiting men. His publicist shook his head and chuckled. “Cutting it rather close there, Hiddleston.”

“But I made it, Windsor,” Tom shot back. The small group made their way inside the building and through a hallway towards the elevators. He found himself tapping his foot to the beat of the song playing from the tinny speakers. A pop hit from sometime in the last decade; one that he recognized but couldn’t name. Once on the studio floor, Tom was rushed through hair and make-up and at twenty-five after he found himself sitting in front of a blue screen with Donna Jacobs waiting for their interviewer to arrive.

Donna was incredibly bubbly for the early hour; more so than he’d seen her in quite some time. She was talking jovially about something that Tom, admittedly, had not been paying an ounce of attention to. She paused halfway through her story to ask him a question and he’d, much to his chagrin, had to ask her to repeat herself. Donna had laughed and repeated her question with good grace. It still hadn’t made any sense and he found himself staring blankly at her, feeling like a complete tit. Guilt coursed through him; he really hadn’t been paying Donna any mind at all as she spoke. It was exceedingly rude of him and not at all like him.

He liked Donna; she had been a blast to talk with on long shoots, full of humor and a fair bit of biting sass. She was smart as a whip and hardworking, playing opposite her had been a delight. They’d gotten along well and it had been wonderful to catch up with her during the promotional work. She deserved his full attention, but between his exhaustion and worry he couldn’t seem to give it.

“Jesus, Tom,” she laughed, nudging him affectionately with her shoulder. “You aren’t listening to a word I’ve been saying are you?”

He shrugged, a sheepish smile spreading across his tired face. “Sorry. I’ve had an off night.”

Donna laughed in earnest. “You? Off? Never.”

Tom opened his mouth to retort but was cut short by the arrival of the woman conducting this particular round of interviews, “Cara Thomas,” she stated, hand held out for both to shake. She was a relatively tall, thin woman with dark brown hair and bright, lively blue eyes. Her skirt suit was a charcoal grey and well-tailored. She smiled brightly at them both before settling herself into the remaining chair. Cara made pleasant small talk with the two actors while the camera crew finished setting and checking their equipment; asking them how they found the city and if they’d had any chance to get out to see the sights. Donna fizzed with excitement as she talked with Cara about a small museum she’d found not too far from her hotel Tom nodded and smiled along. After the all clear was given, they settled in their respective seats as Cara began her introductions.

“Hello, I’m Cara Thomas and this morning I’m sitting here with the stars of the new dramatic thriller, The School of Mist, Tom Hiddleston and Donna Jacobs. Welcome both of you.”

“Thank you for having us, its lovely to be here,” Tom answered with warm smile.

Donna smiled and nodded, “Yes, thanks so much.”

Cara leaned forward, question cards resting on her lap. “So what can you tell us about this new film? What drew each of you to it?”

Tom and Donna took turns discussing what they could of the film’s plot; a story centering on Tom’s character, Mark, a recent widower with a young son who discovers through a frightening twist of events that his late wife, Claire, was not all she seemed. He spoke of how he’d been drawn to the emotional journey the story took Mark on. How he’d been on the edge of his seat when reading the script and was absolutely thrilled when the part had been offered to him. Donna spoke of her character, Helen, who was a colleague of Mark’s who unwittingly became tangled in the dangerous web weaving around Claire’s past and how she’d pestered her agent for weeks to get her an audition.

“Helen’s a smart, no nonsense woman who is thrown for a loop, along with Tom’s character, Mark, and finds herself caught up in something so much bigger than she is. I loved her from the moment the script crossed my path, I wanted to get in her head and solve the puzzle she found herself caught up in. Plus,” she added with a good natured laugh and nudge of her elbow, “working alongside this goof was a definite perk.”

Tom touched his hand to his heart in a reflexive gesture and smiled, whispering as an aside, “She was an absolute nightmare.” He broke off with a quick laugh and continued, “But in all seriousness, Donna is a delight to work with. She is an absolute gem to play off of and a fantastic foil for my character’s confused floundering.”

He rambled on in his usual fashion and, despite it being far from the first time he talked about the film and his character, he enjoyed being able to share his thoughts and experiences. This film had been a frustrating but rewarding endeavor and he was thrilled to finally be able to share it.

The rest of the day passed in very much the same manner; a fair deal of laughter and stories mixed amongst the same standard questions as the next round of interviewers paraded through. He fought against the impulse to check his phone at every conceivable break point, but it was a very near thing. Donna had quickly caught onto his twitchiness and after chuckling to herself over it called him out. “You are practically vibrating where you sit, what in the world is going on?”

He scrubbed his face with his hand and groaned softly. “It’s a long story…” he started, laughing to himself. That sounded the worst sort of cliché, but he honestly wasn’t sure how else to put it. Not without making him sound like he was possibly going out of his mind. Maybe I am, he thought with a sigh.

Donna cocked an eyebrow, “It’s always a long story.” She patted the chair beside her. “Now sit and spill. We’ve got another twenty minutes before they spring us for the day and I’m all ears.”

Tom lowered himself onto the proffered chair and took a deep breath. “Just…worrying over something I have little control over.”

“That’s a non-answer if I’ve ever heard one.” She shot him a knowing look. “So the way I see it, Hiddleston, you’re about as tense as I’ve ever seen you. I’m surprised you’ve not popped a lens with how often you’ve taken off your damned glasses to clean them. And let’s not get started on the wrinkled mess you’ve made of your shirt. Hell, looking at you is giving me an ulcer. So what’s got you tied up in knots? Girl trouble?” She paused, smiling, and when he didn’t respond continued on. “Boy trouble?” She waggled her eyebrows at him and he cracked a small smile.

He sighed, “It’s…complicated.”

Donna snorted. “Complicated, huh? Which if my male to English translation is up to scratch means you did something stupid and you are currently awaiting forgiveness.”

Tom laughed despite himself. “Yes and no.” He paused, pulling of his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger. “There is…someone. We aren’t together but we used to be…I made a series of exceeding poor choices during the time and things…It didn’t end well. We reconnected a few months back and are friends…Or trying to be.” He knew he was rambling and couldn’t for the life of him stop. It was risky, opening up like this. That was something he knew all too well. But he trusted Donna. She wasn’t the sort to run straight out and share any and everything she heard. He didn’t think she would change now. But still…“Things have been complicated. We…There is something there still, I think…I hope…I don’t know. But before I left we…Lines were crossed and she…She asked for time and it’s been well over a week now and I’ve heard nothing. I want to give her that. I know I need to give her that. I’ve pushed before…And it’s never ended well. But I…I want to know where we stand, I want to know if this hope I’ve got is all in vain or if, just maybe, there is a chance.”

Beside him Donna was uncharacteristically quiet and it unnerved him far more than he wanted to admit. Cautiously, he raised his head and turned to face her. She smiled warmly at him and let her hand fall briefly on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Well that is not the most…hopeful thing I’ve heard.”

He felt his heart plummet at her words. At someone else’s voice echoing what his mind had been none too gently shouting at him for days now. “Oh.”

“…But it’s not the least either,” she continued. “You’re doing the right thing, trying to be patient and letting her go at her own pace. Listening to her is ridiculously important and honestly will go a long way to making things right.” She squeezed his shoulder again. “But sometimes people need to be pushed, even if it’s just to get them to open up. So be patient but don’t be passive. If you wait too long for her to figure out what she wants and don’t try to at least talk with her, you might find one day it’s just a tad too late.”

Tom nodded silently, letting her words sink in. She had a point, of course she did. Donna was nothing short of uncanny with her insight. She was young, yes, but by no means did that mean she wasn’t observant or insightful. She’d seen a lot and wasn’t afraid to call things as they were. It was one of the many things he’d sincerely liked about her.

“Mr. Hiddleston? Ms. Jacobs? Your cars are here.” Tom looked up to see an intern standing in the doorway, clipboard in hand. The same young man from that morning, if he wasn’t mistaken. Josh. Nodding at him, Tom stood and grabbed his coat. He turned and waited for Donna to grab her things before both followed Josh down to the lobby and their waiting vehicles. He bid Donna good night and climbed into his waiting car, grateful to have made it through another day. Only a week and a half more of this and he would be home.

Once settled in the car, Tom leaned back into the seat, enjoying the softness of the smooth leather, and closed his eyes. For someone who spent the day mainly sitting and talking, he was ridiculously exhausted. Not really sleeping the night before really didn’t do you any favors, his mind retorted. Maybe sleep won’t prove so elusive tonight. He sighed, hoping that would be the case. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, the car was pulling to a stop.

He’d blinked in confusion as he heard a voice call. “Mr. Hiddleston, we’ve arrived.”

Tom shook his head in a vain effort to rouse himself enough to climb out of the car and make his way to his room. The lobby was relatively empty, a blessed gift, only a scattered handful of people milling about the sparsely decorated open room. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to interact with fans, he enjoyed talking with people and hearing their stories, he just wasn’t sure he had he energy for it. Not then. And the last thing he wanted was to be short with anyone; the fallout from such a thing would not be worth it in any way, shape, or form. He made his way quickly to the elevators and then up to the twentieth floor and his room.

Once again, he emptied his pockets on the wooden surface of the dresser. His next stop was the bathroom where he made quick work of stripping down and jumped into the shower. He set the water as hot as he could stand it, wincing at the heat before allowing himself to simply relax. He relished in the warmth of the water, lingering under the spray far longer than he normally would after making sure his body and hair were clean. He could feel the tension of the day slowly start to fall away. He finally managed to drag himself out of the shower nearly twenty minutes later, clean of body and renewed of spirit.

Towel around his waist, Tom wandered back into the main room and fumbled through his suitcase for a clean pair of pajama bottoms; a blue checked pair that he’d long since lost the matching top for. He finished drying himself and pulled them on, stumbling from one foot to the other to keep his balance. He rubbed his hair vigorously with the towel before tossing it back into the bathroom, he really should hang it up to dry but couldn’t seem to find it in himself to do so.

The beep of his phone caught his attention as he lumbered his way back to the bed. He stopped and flipped it over, turning on the screen. A text from Luke greeted him, a quick reminder that his flight was scheduled to depart at noon the following day and that a car was arranged to pick him up at nine. Tom typed a quick thank you and dropped both himself and his phone onto the bed.

As he lay on the bed, his mind replayed the conversation with Donna over and over again. He was doing the right thing in waiting, wasn’t he? It was what Rosemary had asked for and it had only been a week, he could wait; she was worth it…But still there was a niggling part in the back of his brain that would not keep quiet. He groaned, rubbing his face with his hand.

“Fuck it,” he hissed rolling over onto his side and grabbing his phone. A few quick swipes of his finger pulled up the dial screen of his phone and with a practiced ease he dialed in her number hesitating only moments before hitting send.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Shit, what time was it there? He wracked his brain trying to do the math in his head. God, it was probably stupidly late there. A groan escaped his lips. Maybe he should just hang up and try later. Shit, he didn’t know.

“Tom?” Rosemary’s voice cut through his panicking. It took him several seconds to realize what was going on.

He felt his heart leap into his throat. He took a quick, calming breath before responding. “Rosie, hi…Am I interrupting anything? I didn’t even think about the time difference. God, what time is it there?”

She laughed and the sound warmed him. “It’s fine. I was just getting ready to get dinner,” Rosemary paused and he heard a soft shuffling in the background. “It’s going on eight here.”

“Oh, good.” He laughed softly, feeling his heart start to slow in his chest. Dear lord, he was an absolute mess. “I was terrified it was like two in the morning or some other horrendously late hour and you’d be dead asleep and cursing me out for waking you.” She laughed at this and it was a truly beautiful sound. He paused a moment before asking, “How have you been?”

There was a slight hesitation in her voice as she answered and it sent tiny alarm bells blaring in his mind. “I’ve…I’ve been alright…Busy…But I’m glad you called. I’ve been meaning to but with one thing and another…” her voice trailed off.

“I know a thing or two about busy, Rosie,” he chuckled. “It’s completely fine. I’m just…It’s really nice to hear your voice,” he confessed, knowing he was likely pushing the tenuous boundary between them but needing to say it nonetheless.

“It’s nice to hear yours too,” Rosemary answered, her voice soft. “How has the tour been going? Where are you now, anyway?”

Tom had opened his mouth to reply when a male voice echoed in the background. “Rose, they’ve managed to find us a table. Come on before they give it away.” Confusion flooded through him. She was at dinner with a man; another man, his mind hissed unhelpfully. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Stop it, he told himself, trying to quell the unease roiling inside him. Don’t jump to conclusions. She has plenty of male friends that she has every right to go to dinner with. Don’t you dare let yourself freak out over this.

A muffled sound came over the line and through it he heard Rosemary yell, “Go in, Adam. I’ll be right there.”

Adam? He felt the blood freeze in his veins. Surely not.

“Tom? Tom, I’m so, so sorry but I have to dash. Thank you for calling…” her voice trailed off for a moment before hesitantly coming back. “You’re home late next week, right?”

Startled by her question he nodded in response before shaking his head and answering verbally. “Yes. Late Friday afternoon if all goes according to plan.”

“Good. Good. Listen, after you get back can we meet up…I…There’s something I want to talk with you about.” Her voice was hesitant, uncertain, and he felt his heart drop in his chest.

“Oh…Alright. I’ll call you after I’ve settled and we can maybe meet up for a coffee.” He tried to keep his voice even and light, which was quite the feat considering he felt as though he were going to be violently ill.

“That sounds like a plan…I’ll see you soon,” she whispered and the line went dead.

Tom sat motionless on the bed, staring blankly at the phone still in his hand. He felt as if all the air had been knocked forcefully from his lungs as her words echoed in his head. ‘There’s something I want to talk with you about.’ He took a shuddering breath feeling as though sleep would be the very last thing he would get that night.

Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x ofc #Tom and Rosie #Love & Great Buildings

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nicolewrites · 5 years

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heartstrings - v

the monster has been defeated, its 12:30am and this is done. love you guys.

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

Rating: T Genre: Romance Characters: [Vax’ildan and Keyleth] [Percival de Rolo and Vex’ahlia] Words: 6,230

Kiki @keylethashari has tagged you in a tweet: New Q&A up and we’re talking music! creds to @vexmachina @vaxmachina @burtreynoldsesq @thelumineers and others!! // CR1 Vaxleth+Perc’ahlia YouTuber/Musician/Celebrity AU

AO3

“Oh, this one’s easy, it’s obviously that new Spiderman movie coming out,” Pike answered cheerfully.

Grog pumped his fist and held his hand out for a high-five as he stopped miming. Pike leaned forward and slapped it, the two of them grinning widely. Vex groaned from her seat next to Vax and slumped into Percy’s side.

“How are we losing this?” she demanded.

Keyleth laughed. “Because, as well as you and Vax know the rest of us, it’s still nothing compared to the undeniable team of Grog and Pike.”

Scanlan made an offended sound. “How dare you, Keyleth, I am obviously carrying this team on my back.

Percy snorted. “Sure, Scanlan, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Vax snickered. Keyleth reached up to tap his knee before she pushed herself up from the floor. Vax was sharing the couch with Percy and Vex while Keyleth had been sitting on the floor between Vax’s legs. Grog moved from standing at the mantle to sitting next to the armchair that Scanlan was sitting in. Pike had perched herself on the arm of Scanlan’s chair with her legs draped over his lap.

No one had dared to comment on their positioning, even after Scanlan’s hands found placements with one on her foot and one on the back of her calf. Vax had just winked at Pike and she’d scowled at him in return. It really wasn’t his business and if something was going on between Pike and Scanlan, they needed to sort it out themselves. He had learned that easily enough with Keyleth and his own tumultuous relationship.

Keyleth pulled a slip of paper from the bowl on the fireplace and unfolded it. Her eyes skimmed its contents and she frowned.

“Vax in bed,” Vex drawled.

Vax elbowed his sister sharply in response and Keyleth flushed. Percy gave a low chuckle and Grog didn’t even try to conceal his bark of laughter. Keyleth made eye contact with Vax and he just shrugged. His sister was a shit, that’s all there was to that.

Keyleth steeled herself and pointed at Percy before launching into a one-woman charade of some kind of battle. Percy and Vex both watched, confused, and Vax looked between his maybe-girlfriend and at Percy. She had made a point of pointing at him so it had to be important. Finally, it clicked in his brain.

“The Battle for Glintshore!” he cried. Keyleth beamed and dropped the scrap of paper to the floor.

“Yes!” she cheered, rushing over to Vax. Without a second thought, she leaned down and pecked him on the lips.

Percy smacked himself in the forehead. “That’s my movie. I definitely should have gotten than one.”

Keyleth shrugged. “Vax got it, so at least we got the point.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Percy argued.

Vax was working on the latest video for the channel when his phone buzzed. He answered it without looking at the caller ID, pressing it between his cheek and his shoulder as he saved his changes.

“Vax’ildan speaking,” he greeted quickly.

“Vax, my man!” Scanlan’s cheerful voice sounded in response. “I have a question and an opportunity for you and your darling sister.”

Vax shifted, sliding the phone into his hand as he raised an eyebrow. “An opportunity?”

“So I’ve got this show slot at an outdoor festival this summer and I have the glorious option of finding myself an opening act.”

“Scanlan, is this your way of asking Vex and I to open for you?”

“It absolutely is!” Scanlan replied cheerfully. “So, what do you think?”

Vax scratched the back of his head as he spun his chair towards the office door. “I need to talk to Vex and probably Zahra and Cassandra as well, but you can send us the details?”

“Good enough!” Scanlan said. Just before the call ended, Vax heard Scanlan address someone in the background: “I told you that it wouldn’t be an automatic no!”

The line went dead and Vax rolled his eyes. He stood up from his chair and wandered into the living room. Vex was seated on the couch with her self-dubbed “lyric book” cradled in her lap as she tapped a pencil against her chin. Vax approached her, but she heard him coming and snapped the book shut before looking up at him, arching a brow.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

Vax shook his head and plopped onto the couch next to her. “How would you feel about opening for Scanlan at a show this summer?”

She twisted towards him, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Official show?”

“Some festival slot he has, yeah,” Vax confirmed.

Vex bit her lip, looking thoughtful. “I mean, it sounds like a cool opportunity, so it depends what Zahra and Cassandra say, right?”

Vax shrugged. “If we want to do it, they won’t say know, you know that.”

Vex nodded. She placed her hand on his arm and gave him a more serious look. “And you, would you be okay with this? We haven’t really had a public show since the Emon Centre.”

Vax laid his hand atop his sister’s and squeezed, trying to display his willingness. “Vex, I’m good.”

She frowned, not quite believing him, but nodded, consenting. “Fine, if you get the approval from Cassandra and Zahra, I’m on board.”

Vax kissed her cheek and stood, already pulling out his phone to call their publicist. “Sounds great, Stubby.”

Vex rolled her eyes. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

Just before Vax could dial Zahra’s number, Vex snapped for his attention. He glanced back at her.

“I’m out with Percy tonight and won’t be home till tomorrow afternoon sometime, so just don’t set any meetings for the morning.”

He nodded and let the phone ring. “Will do.”

“And why, pray tell, are we watching one of Percy’s movies?” Vax asked.

Across the room, fiddling with the TV settings, Keyleth turned to look back at him. She smiled. “Because when we were playing that game the other night, we got it as an option and I’ve kind of been wanting to watch it since then.”

Vax just shrugged in response. “Sure, I guess.”

Keyleth rolled her eyes. “Are you being weird about it because of Vex?”

Vax laughed. “Vex can do what, or who, she likes, I’d just rather be out exploring the city with you.”

Keyleth’s smile softened and she crossed the room to where he was sitting. She slid onto the couch next to him and pressed a kiss to his jaw as she tucked herself against him. Her hand tentatively rested against his stomach as she pulled away, her gaze searching his. “This is okay?”

He kissed her. “Kiki, I’m not going to break.”

She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. “Sue me for being careful, why don’t you?”

Vax kissed the top of her head. “I could never. That would mean raising an argument with you which I would inevitably lose because who would ever side with a scamp like me over this beautiful creature.”

Keyleth’s cheeks flushed and Vax relished in the fact that it was because of him. Even several months into their mostly unlabelled relationship, every time he looked at her it was like the whole world paused for a moment. She was angelic and fascinating and apparently she liked him, so Vax thanked the gods every day.

Keyleth hummed gently. “So I know we said that we were going to watch the movie tonight and I know that fans have ruined our last three dates, but do you want to go get drinks instead?”

Vax chuckled lightly. “And end up at my place instead of yours because Vex is out tonight? Absolutely.”

Keyleth giggled.

Several hours and several drinks later, Vax and Keyleth were walking arm-in-arm back towards Vex and Vax’s apartment from the Raven’s Rook.

“You’re sure Vex isn’t home, right?” Keyleth asked for the third time.

Vax laughed and pulled them to a stop. He slid his arms around her waist and carefully kissed the worried expression on her face. “Kiki, relax, she’s out.”

Keyleth kissed him again a little more firmly and he smiles against her lips. Her fingers sifted through his hair and he pulled her face to his as he cupped her cheeks. They pulled away after a long moment, both flushed lightly. Keyleth looked at him through her eyelashes and Vax had to restrain himself from kissing her again.

“Okay?” he asked quietly.

Keyleth’s nose crinkled as she smiled. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” She kissed him and Vax pressed his lips to hers more firmly until she broke back with a gasp.

She stepped out of his space, but curled her hand into his and tugged him back down the street towards his apartment. He followed her, as always, and they walked the darkened streets of LA together until they reached the building.

Vax opened the main door and swept her through the lobby and into the elevator. His lips found hers almost before the doors closed and by the time the doors dinged open on the correct floor, Keyleth’s hands were pressed against the skin of his stomach under his shirt. With a heightening sense of urgency, they made for the apartment and Vax fumbled with his keys.

The scent of alcohol hit him as soon as he opened the door and his blood ran cold, his vision clarifying. Keyleth noticed his spine go rigid and she brushed a hand against it carefully.

“Vax?” she asked quietly.

Vax exhaled long and slow. He shoved into the apartment fully, ignoring Keyleth and stepped into the living room.

The first thing he saw was a half-empty bottle of tequila on the coffee table. He didn’t own tequila and Vex didn’t have alcohol. He stepped into the room further and stepped around the couch.

Vex’ahlia was sprawled on the carpet, a bottle of whiskey clutched in her hand. She was wearing the same clothes she had been wearing when she went to see Percy earlier, but now her hair and makeup were messy and she looked thoroughly smashed.

Her gaze drifted drunkenly up to Vax and she smiled brilliantly. “Brother! Oh, I’m having such a great time!”

Pain shot through Vax so intensely that he nearly cried. “Vex,” he breathed, “what are you doing?”

“Oh darling, I’m just having a little fun!” She sat up and looked over her shoulder at him with what was probably supposed to be a coy expression.

Vax knelt behind her. “Vex,” he repeated, sadness shaking his voice, “what,” he emphasized, “are you doing?”

It took a moment, but her expression crumpled and she dropped the bottle she was holding. It thudded harmlessly against the carpet and Vex curled in on herself. Vax didn’t hesitate, he just pulled her into his arms.

“Vex’ahlia, what happened?”

She trembled against him, drunk and crying, for several long moments before she mustered the strength to speak to him.

“I was with Percy,” she began slowly, and Vax stiffened. Vex flinched and gripped his arm tightly. “No, he didn’t do anything wrong,” she corrected quickly and firmly. “He was being wonderful, but all I could hear was Saundor telling me that it was for the fame and that I didn’t deserve him and that I was going to break him just like he broke me.” Vex quivered. “I just wanted his voice to go away.”

Vax clutched Vex closer to his shoulder and pressed a firm kiss to the top of her head. She cried into him and he held her.

A floorboard creaked and Vax’s heart sunk. He had forgotten about Keyleth. She stood in the entranceway to the living room, holding the wall as she observed the twins quietly. Their eyes locked and Keyleth’s lips twisted into a saddened smile.

“C’mon, Vex, let’s get you to bed.” Vax tugged his sister up before scooping her into his arms and walking out the other end of the living room cradling her like a child.

He carried her all the way to her room and placed her in her bed before helping her lie down and tucking her in. He kissed her forehead and tears pricked at his eyes. He leaned away.

“Go to sleep now, Stubby.”

She grabbed his wrist with unexpected coordination and her eyes looked exhausted and sad. “Vax, you’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Never, Stubby,” he said quietly. He tugged his wrist away and shut the light off in her room. He shut the door behind himself and exhaled slowly.

He walked slowly back to the living room to find Keyleth and both bottles of liquor missing. He heard water running and followed the sound into the kitchen. Keyleth was in the middle of emptying the tequila bottle down the sink and the whiskey bottle sat empty beside it.

She turned when he approached and paused in her task. “I figured you probably didn’t want these around so I just thought I would-“

He cut her off by hugging her, burying his face in her neck. She froze, but curled her arms around him as soon as she regained her bearings.

Vax pulled back slightly, keeping Keyleth close. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Keyleth brushed a lock of dark hair away from his face as she searched his eyes. “Of course,” she said gently.

Vax exhaled and tightened his grip on her. “Vex has had an alcohol problem for a while and it got worse when we started gaining momentum. I just found out pretty recently that it’s her horrible ex’s fault because he was still messaging her, goading and encouraging her self hate. I blocked him for her and she had just gotten herself clean and dry.” He broke off and shook his head.

Keyleth’s fingers grazed along his jaw and he looked into her sympathetic, warm green eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. Her hand settled against his cheek. “I should go.”

Vax tightened his grip further on her, holding her waist in place. “Please, don’t,” he begged. “I don’t want to be alone after this.”

He saw Keyleth strain with the idea before she leaned him and kissed him. She turned away briefly and dumped the rest of the tequila down the drain. She laced her fingers through his.

“Come on,” she beckoned, “let’s just get some sleep.”

Vax woke up with his face pressed into Keyleth’s neck, her red hair half-smothering his face. She was still asleep, her chest rising beneath his arms with deep, even breaths. Vax carefully retracted his arms and rolled off of her, landed soundlessly on the floor of his room. He had shed his shirt last night, but otherwise was wearing a pair of loose pants. He grabbed a sweatshirt from his floor and pulled it on.

He paused at the door of his room, breathing out slowly to calm himself. He had no idea what kind of mess he was going to be dealing with, but Vex would need him. There was no doubt about that. He just wasn’t sure how much longer he could be her only source of help to beat away her darkness. He stole one last look at Keyleth’s peaceful form and exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t sure he could deal with Vex’s darknesses and the versions of his own which would occasionally rear their heads when he least wanted them to. He took a last calming breath and slipped out of his room into the hallway.

At first, he thought he had woken up before Vex, but then he realized the kitchen light was on when he had definitely turned it off the night before. He steeled himself and headed towards it. He stepped into the kitchen and immediately saw Vex sitting, hunched, on a bar stool, an untouched glass of water in front of her.

“Vex’ahlia?” he called out quietly.

Her head snapped towards him and he was able to see her face. Her smudged make-up had been removed and her hair hung loose around her face, leaving her looking younger and more vulnerable than he had seen her in a long time. Her eyes were red and almost sunken looking. It was a desolate, broken look he had not seen since London and he hated it.

Without another word, Vax crossed the kitchen towards her and held out his arms. Vex slid off the stool and wound her arms around his midsection, pressing her face against his chest. She shook briefly and he ran a hand through her hair, trying to be soothing. After a long, quiet moment, she pulled away and looked into his face.

“Where’s Keyleth?” she asked quietly.

“Sleeping,” Vax replied quickly. “If you want to have this discussion without her here, we can go into the office and I’ll just leave her a note.”

She shook her head. Her expression was shameful. “No, I brought this upon myself. It’s okay.”

Vax brushed her hair back. “We should talk about it.”

Vex shrugged and retracted her arms, winding them around her stomach self-consciously. “Did I not say enough last night?”

Vax frowned. “Vex, how long have you been feeling like this?”

She pursed her lips. “The night of the album release, when we were performing, I could have sworn he was there. I haven’t been able to get him out of my head since.”

The shattered, ghostly expression she had worn after their performance flashed in his mind and Vax cursed himself for not pursuing it earlier.

“Vex,” he murmured.

She glared at him. “You are not allowed to be mad at yourself. You’d finally sorted your shit out with Keyleth and whatever the hell was going on with you, so I didn’t put my issues on you too. I wanted you to treasure your happiness.” She glanced bitterly at the empty liquor bottles. “I never intended for this to happen again.”

“We’re partners, Vex,” he argued. “You shouldn’t have had to tell me anything.”

Vex let out a long sigh, her arms dropping to her sides. “Vax, I love you. I was trying to protect you from my demons because yours are enough.”

For a moment, Vax saw Vex holding him on the bathroom floor in a circle of broken glass in their London apartment. His hands and back had been bloody from where he had tried to cut away the Clasp’s symbol. He didn’t have a response for her immediately.

Vex took a deep breath in. “I think I need to see someone.”

Vax felt surprise write itself across his face. Vex, his strongly independent sister, was admitting that she needed help. She reached out to take his hand, squeezing it in hers. Vax squeezed back and looked back at her face.

“I think you need to as well,” she added quietly. “We had fucked up lives, Vax’ildan, and I think we need to do something about it.”

Vax leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. He let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when this happened. I think,” he paused, gathering what strength he had left, “you’re right.”

Vex closed her eyes and squeezed his hand again. Vax let himself do the same, breathing slowly for a moment. His sister–his twin and closest companion–was alright and she was dealing with things poorly and she needed help, but it didn’t take much for his brain to conjure the image of the raven wing tattoo that sprawled across his upper back over where the Clasp’s symbol had been. London was gone, behind them, and LA was in front of them, but some demons never left them.

“I want to tell Percy,” Vex said suddenly and Vax’s eyes shot open. She took a steadying breath and continued, “I ran out on him last night with almost no explanation and I love him. I want him to know.”

Vax nodded slowly. He recalled the way Keyleth’s fingers had wandered along his tattoo when they had first slept together. He hadn’t told her that part of his past, but every time he thought about it, he wanted to. “I understand,” he replied quietly, and he did.

Vex stepped back, dropping his hand and nodded slowly to herself. She looked again at the bottles by the sink. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she said softly.

Vax smiled weakly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“You said that already.”

“It’s worth repeating.”

Percy had shown up twenty minutes after Vex texted him, looking dishevelled and stressed. Vax had watched him gather Vex into his arms as the two of them sunk to sit in the middle of the floor in the kitchen. He slipped out then, headed back to his room.

As silently as he had left, he re-entered, but this time the movement caused Keyleth to stir and she mumbled something unintelligible before her eyes fluttered open. Vax paused awkwardly by the door, unsure what to do, as Keyleth awoke. She rolled onto her side and pushed herself up, blinking as she took in the room. Concern filled her face as she saw him standing at the door.

“Vax?”

He moved and sat on the edge of the bed. Keyleth slid over so they were side by side.

“Vax,” she repeated more insistently, reaching to brush some of his hair aside. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded slowly, letting the feeling of Keyleth’s fingers in his hair soothe him. “We talked. Percy’s here now. I think,” he breathed out slowly, “I think she’s going to get help.”

Keyleth let her head fall to his shoulder. “That’s good.”

Silence hung between them for a moment before Vax shifted so that he could look her in the eyes.

He let the courage that his sister displayed fill him as he braced himself. “Kiki, with everything I told you about London, it wasn’t everything. I need to tell you something else.”

He slipped his shirt off and twisted so she could see the tattoo. Her hand instantly wandered up to graze it gently, but she said nothing. He reached awkwardly to find her wrist and guide it towards the darkest part of the raven wings.

He told her everything and she cried and he cried and they held each other. The world didn’t end and their relationship wasn’t ruined and maybe, he realized, the weight the memories left on him felt a little bit lighter now.

Four days after everything exploded, Vex started seeing a therapist. They kept it quiet and she took an Uber both there and back so no one would catch sight of it and thankfully, social media was quiet about it.

To his surprise, the therapist had been recommended by Percy. According to Vex, when she had shared her demons, Percy had shared his own share of shadows from his time in England. Vax had later joked they should start the “England-Gave-Me-Life-Trauma” club. Vex had punched him, but she had cracked a smile.

Vax himself had looked into seeing someone and had made an appointment for the next week with someone that Keyleth had some vague community connection to.

Keyleth, for her part, had been supportive and accepting of everything Vax had told her and he was infinitely grateful for her support. It hadn’t changed anything between them and it had honestly helped Vax feel closer to Keyleth. And, surprisingly, he had even caught Vex and Keyleth hanging out with just the two of them and they’d even had a girls night with Pike recently.

Nothing changed within their friend group and nothing changed between Vex and Vax. Gilmore, Kima, and Allura had all been happy to hear about the twins both seeking professional opinions and Zahra and Cassandra had pledged to keep any such visits out of the media and didn’t question why they were necessary.

Things were getting better. Vex felt happier, Vax felt lighter, and despite the emotional connection they shared with their music, they were still writing and singing and the quality had only gone up if anything. The next step was to put together a list of songs they would perform when they opened for Scanlan in a few weeks.

It was the middle of the night when Vax heard an insistent knocking on his bedroom door. He rolled onto his side and glared at it. When it didn’t stop after a moment, he stood and made his way over to the door. He opened it and was met with Vex, also in pyjamas, but she was holding his guitar. She thrust it into his hand as soon as the door was fully open and Vax nearly dropped it.

“I have an idea,” she said simply before turning and walking back down the hallway towards the office.

Vax groaned and leaned his head against the doorway. “Vex’ahlia, what the fuck!” he yelled after her.

She just looked over her shoulder and grinned. “Come on, brother dearest, we have a song to write.”

Vax groaned again, but relented, following Vex into the office. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her lyric book open on the ground in front of her and a pencil tucked behind her ear. She looked up when he entered and she gestured for him to sit next to her. He sat down and looked at the book.

The title was blank but his initial skim over the lyrics she had written left him surprised. The words were open and affectionate and passionate and wholly different from a lot of the other things that Vex had written in the past.

“You’ve written things for Keyleth, haven’t you?” she asked suddenly.

Vax blinked. He had written guitar parts and little broken bits of lyrics for Keyleth, but he’d never sat down and written a whole song for her before. Performing covers for her was different too because he was using someone else’s lyrics.

“I haven’t,” he admitted.

Vex nodded. “Well this is for Percy already, so let’s make it for both of them. I want to perform it at Scanlan’s show.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You? Displaying public affection in front of fans?”

She elbowed him. “Shut up.”

Vax shifted his guitar into his lap and played a short progression he’d been working on for Keyleth while humming a tentative melody. Vex flipped her book back open and made a few notes, nodding as Vax played, and recording the chords as he swung between them.

There wasn’t a lot of sleep to be had that night, but at least they did end up finishing the song.

Vax had his guitar slung over his back as he wandered around backstage. Vex was talking with Percy, Grog, and Keyleth in the main part of the backstage area, but Vax had wandered off to look for Scanlan since he had a question for him. He had ended up towards the dressing rooms and he had heard a snippet of Scanlan’s voice.

He opened the nearest door and peeked inside. Instantly, Vax froze and didn’t dare fully enter the room because in the small room, clearly having not noticed him, were his good friends Scanlan Shorthalt and Pike Trickfoot. Pike’s arms were linked around Scanlan’s neck and their foreheads were pressed together in a very intimate moment that Vax did not feel like interrupting. He shut the door silently and backed away, but he couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face.

Pike had said they were just friends, but just friends didn’t hold each other like that, especially in private.

Vax made his way back to the others and slung one arm over Keyleth’s shoulders and one over Vex’s as he arrived. Keyleth jolted, but Vex didn’t even react, just continuing with whatever she had been saying. The topic of discussion quickly faded and interest turned back to Vax’s quick reassurance.

“So where’s Scanlan?” Grog asked.

Vax smirked. “He’s otherwise occupied, so I decided to let him be.”

“Occupied?” Keyleth echoed, confused.

Vex’s brows shot up as she connected the dots. “So that’s a thing, alright.”

Percy glanced between the two twins, confused. “Care to fill the rest of the class in, dear?”

Vex laughed. “You see, darling, when two people love each other very much,” she began and Vax pinched her arm.

“Not that kind of occupied, but it was intimate enough that I didn’t want to scare the shit out of them,” he explained.

Keyleth grinned. “No way, really?”

Vax nodded. “Thank god for that by the way, it’s been needing to happen for a while.”

Grog frowned and crossed his massive arms. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

Percy finally seemed to connect the dots as his mouth formed a small ‘o’. He turned towards Grog. “Vax walked in on Pike and Scanlan having a moment.”

Grog shrugged. “That’s weird? I dunno they’ve been kissing and stuff for, like, a couple of months now.”

Vax nearly choked on air. “Wait they have?” Grog shrugged. “And you managed to keep that a secret from the rest of the group?”

Grog shifted. “I mean, I didn’t know it was a secret or anything. Thought you guys already knew.”

Vex chuckled. “No, big guy, we definitely did not, but now we do so all is good.”

For a moment the group was silent before Percy shook his head.

“Several months and Scanlan didn’t scream it from the rooftops. The world must really be ending.”

Vex and Vax were holding hands backstage. All they had to do was walk out from the wings and they’d be on stage in front of the largest live audience that they’d ever played in front of. They knew their songs by heart and it was a big enough festival they could trust nothing would go wrong with the music, but there was an irrational fear gripping Vax’s chest.

Vex seemed to be nervous too which was off-putting since she was the one who was always calm. Her hand was clammy where he clutched it in his own and her lips were pressed together like she was stressed which she quite visibly was.

“It’s going to be fine,” Vax said aloud, only partly for Vex’s benefit.

Vex inhaled sharply. “It’s just a song, there’s no way that they’re going to know we’re bearing our hearts completely for them and everything is going to be fine,” she said sternly.

Vax laughed and dropped Vex’s hand to pull her into a quick hug. “I love you, Stubby, and there’s no one I would have rather done this with.”

“I love you too, Vax,” she replied. Vex turned towards the stage and her confident smile finally slid into place. “Now, let’s go kick some ass out there.”

She strode forwards, into sight of the crowd and Vax heard the cheers. He quickly followed, the guitar strap anchored around his neck. The lights of the festival weren’t too overwhelming, but it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The crowd was cheering as he and Vex made their way to the front and centre of the stage. Their backing group from Whitestone records took their places in the background, leaving the duo of Vox Machina as the centre of attention.

Most of these people were here to watch Scanlan perform, but according to Zahra, there had been a great deal of social media buzz when it was announced that Vox Machina would be opening for them.

“Good afternoon, Los Angeles!” Vex called out, leaning towards the crowd, microphone in hand. Vax stepped to his place behind his mic and held a hand up in greeting. The crowd cheered loudly in response to Vex’s greeting and she had to wait a moment for them to settle down. “We’re Vox Machina and we’re here to play some music for you guys, so let’s not waste any time!”

Vax strummed the opening to the song and they led right into their first song of the set, a folk-arranged cover of Jason Mraz’s I’m Yours. As they played the song, Vax felt his gaze drawn to the roped-off VIP section at the front of the crowd where he saw all of his friends including Keyleth, in her radiant glory, singing along and cheering him on. The remaining bundle of nerves in his stomach loosened and disappeared and he threw himself into the music.

Several songs later, it was time for them to play their last song. Originally, they were going to play a variation of Thinking Out Loud, since that had been the first song on their channel. Instead, they were now preparing to play the song that he and Vex had written in the middle of the night for Percy and for Keyleth.

Vax played the one chord introduction and let Vex take the lead.

“I see stars in your eyes and taste the sun on your lips,” she sang smoothly. Vax moved chords seamlessly.

Vex started the next line and he came in too, adding a harmony to it. “I’ll wait for you, darling,”

Vex let her voice drop away as Vax took over. “The future is bright, oh with you I see the light.”

“I’ll wait for you, darling,”

Vax strummed into the chorus and they let the beautiful harmonies they had first been known for speak volumes as they sang together. “To the gods, I scream Hallelujah, for they have created something perfect and given me you. For the first time I know, darling,” the lyrics paused naturally and Vax let his eyes drift back to Keyleth.

She was watching with wide green eyes that were so full of passion and surprise and something else that he couldn’t quite put a name on. She was radiant and he loved her and he wrote a song for her and he was singing to the world, but it was all just for her.

“To the pain I have felt, for the struggles I grew through, I say thank you. Oh darling, for the first time I know, love is true. And oh god do I know, I’ll wait for you.”

The song continued with a series of beautifully woven lyrical lines and guitar fills that had taken an entire night to craft, but it was worth it. All of Vex’s little hints to hers and Percy’s relationship poked like nails, while Vax’s gently adoration of Keyleth flowed through the melody, but of all the songs they had written together, it was by far Vax’s favourite and the venue was perfect.

The song came to a close with one final, beautiful harmony that they let drift into nothing. The crowd roared and Vex threw her arms around Vax, hugged him tightly. He hugged her back just as fiercely before they took their bows and headed offstage, letting the crew move into setting up for Scanlan, the main attraction.

When they descended back behind the stage, all of their friends were waiting. Pike and Grog were both grinning like crazy and Percy pulled Vex into a deep kiss as soon as they were backstage. Grog whistled and Pike laughed loudly. Vax looked past them all to Keyleth.

She shifted her weight and looked at him. He stepped up to her side. All the emotion he had bared on the stage seemed to catch up to him as he felt suddenly nervous.

“Kiki?” he asked carefully.

She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it for a moment before turning the screen towards him. Vax blinked in surprise as he realized she was showing him a Tweet.

Angela @soundmachinequeen • 5 min ago

WOW can we just say that Vox Machina are absolutely the BEST at love songs… like if someone wrote that for me I would probably just die instantly, but in a GOOD WAY cuz WOW #VoxMachinaLive #TheatreInThePark @vexmachina @vaxmachina

Vax blinked. “Is that a good thing?” he asked.

Keyleth shoved her phone back into her purse and took a deep breath. “Did you write that for me?”

“Yes,” he replied honestly. “Vex did it for Percy and I did it for you.”

Keyleth leaned forwards and cupped his face in her hands, kissing him firmly. She pulled back after a moment. “It was beautiful, thank you, Vax.”

He kissed her again. “It was nothing, compared to you.”

“I love you,” she said suddenly.

Vax blinked in surprise. He leaned back a little and noticed that their friends had all filed away, giving them a semblance of privacy in a bustling backstage area. “Kiki, you don’t have to,” he started, but she held up a hand.

“I have for some time, I was just scared. I couldn’t lose you and I couldn’t be the one to mess this up, but god, Vax, I love you. I understand what you meant before because I love you so much that it hurts,” she said. The words rushed out of her like a dam had broken and it ignited something in Vax.

He stepped forward again and pulled Keyleth’s face to his. He kissed her firmly for a considerable time before he finally broke the kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers and just smiled. Her hand slid to land over top of his racing heart and her fingers tapped a gentle pattern against his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you,” she replied.

The weight pressing against his stomach lifted and he felt free.

A note from me:

This story has been an absolute journey. It began way back in April as a couple of loose AU notes in my phone for a Vaxleth/Perc’ahlia one-shot. Finally, in the summer, I decided to just write the one-shot. One hundred words turned into a thousand and a thousand turned into ten thousand much more quickly than I had expected.

From my initial notes, I had written ten thousand words and created what felt like a universe that was alive. And ten thousand words wasn’t going to do it justice, so I went back to the drawing board and revamped it, creating the multi-chaptered structure that the fic would come to be.

At first, I was sure it would be two parts. Halfway through the second part, it was going to be three parts for sure. But, when I finished the second part, I had enough notes for two more chapters. Four was good, it was perfect. And then I only got through half my notes for the fourth part and I didn’t want to rush the ending. So five it was.

And five it stayed.

The update gap between part four and five can be attributed to two things: me finally buying a Switch, and me moving back across the country for school and needing to readjust. Still, I cranked this part out and I’m happy. The story feels as complete as it should.

This fic has been happy and fluffy and deliriously fun while also darker and has touched on themes I have personally been well acquainted with. Particularly, in this part, I laid out Vax’s plot with the Clasp and only mentioned Percy’s backstory because I felt that’s how they best fit in this fic.

So I hope I managed to tug on your heartstrings (pun INTENDED) with this story and I hope you’ll keep an eye out for the in-universe (DEFINITELY ONESHOT THIS TIME I PROMISE) companion that puts our two favourite little people together + more Grog.

Thanks for all the support and love, Nicole

PS - this part was only supposed to be like 3K words, but we’ve seen how that has played out in the past

1 note · View note

dearlazerbunny · 5 years

Text

Once Upon A December

Pairings: Kylo x Reader

Genre/Rating: Anastasia!AU

Words: 3800

Summary: Requested by anon, who wanted a Kylo Anastasia AU to go along with my Poe one. Not as long as the other, but I hope you enjoy anyways!

As a fist flies towards your face, you dodge and roll to the right, back on your feet before your opponent has time to blink. You aim a wicked kick to the back of his knees, crumpling him to the ground, and you’re on top of him in an instant, pinning down his arms so he can’t land another hit. Unfortunately, he’s strong enough to flip himself over, even with you on his back, slamming you onto the floor.

You wince, but wearily get back up, knowing he won’t let up until he’s beaten or you’re unconscious. When he comes at you again, you decide to take the defensive, blocking his moves with bruised forearms and the occasional duck and cover. Goddamn he’s fast. But nobody’s perfect- and even Master Ren has weaknesses, few as they may be. Your body is screaming at you to end this sparring match, and fast, so you duck under his arm and snag the lightsaber hanging from his belt and activate it. Red sparks whine into existence as you wave it into a defensive position, effectively blocking him from yourself.

You both pause, breathing hard. Then Ren leans down and taps the mat twice, your signal for tapping out. Internally sighing with relief, you shut the saber off and practically collapse onto the floor, back to the mat, lying in a lovely pool of your own sweat.

“Cheater.” With a flick of his fingers, his lightsaber flies into his hands, and he returns it to his place. “This was hand to hand only.”

“‘Use whatever advantages you might get,’” you quote, not looking up from your resting place. “Or have you forgotten your own golden rule?”

He walks over to you and stands in your line of sight. Two inches closer and you’d practically be looking up his robes. “Not everyone is going to have a lightsaber for you to steal.”

You scoff. “You’re just mad that you had to tap out.”

For a second, he’s quiet, and you think he’ll get angry. But instead, a smile breaks out across his lips, and he offers you a hand. You take it gratefully, slowly rolling onto your feet. “Touché. Go get cleaned up; I’ll see you here same time tomorrow.”

“Ugh.” You work your hair out of its messy ponytail, then wrap it back into a bun on top of your head. “Don’t you have someone your own size to beat up on?”

Ren rolls his eyes. This is a common retort for you, and even though you say it jokingly, part of you does wonder why he chose an apprentice a third his size. “I’ve told you before, you-”

“-have potential, yadda yadda, I know, I know.” You roll your neck and it audibly cracks, making you wince. “Potential to be a sack of ground meat by the time you’re done with me.”

He chuckles and points to the door. “Out. You’ve done plenty for today.”

You obey, a small smile on your face as you aim your battered body for your quarters. A good spar may be something to be proud of, but the thing you love most is making Master Ren laugh.

Not that you’d ever admit it.

…

That night, you’re expecting to sleep like a rock, but instead you toss and turn, restless. You can’t get comfortable, and your dreams are proving to be ruthless. Flashes of smoke and fire couples with the shrill sounds of screams floating in the air. You run and run down corridors crumbling all around you, but you can never seem to escape. That’s the most common nightmare. But you do occasionally have good ones. A blurry face looking down on you from above, singing softly. The intangible feeling of a hug from someone who loved you. Through it all, snatches of a melody too far away to hear properly, but haunts you all the same.

You wonder where they came from. The dreams. Were they real, at one point? Is the lullaby meant for you as a child? Did where you came from burn to ash? Per usual, you have no concrete answers. Whenever you managed to work up the courage to broach the topic with Ren, he always changed the subject or harshly shut you down. Whoever you were, whatever there was before Starkiller, doesn’t matter. This is your calling in life. To fight by Ren’s side, in the name of the First Order.

Not that you really have a problem with this. Despite being your master, you would also call Ren a friend. Not only that, your only friend. You’d defend him with your life, and from the way he’s warmed up to you since your first day meeting, you’re inclined to think he’d do the same. At first, he was always cold, and harsh. Demanding perfection constantly, with little needed to set him off on one of his tirades. But as you got to know him, the less of him you feared. You realized that despite his reputation, he’s quite… human. And you made it your mission to pull that human part to the surface any chance you got.

Thinking of it makes you smile. You remember the first time you made him laugh, and how sweet that sound was. When he came back from a mission bruised and bloodied, and instead of going to medical he knocked on your door and asked you for help instead. When you caught fever and in between unconsciousness, you could see him sitting by your bedside, keeping watch.

Yes, Kylo Ren is a friend. And if you want more than that… well. That’s a road best not travelled down.

Finally, you stand and wrap a coat around your shoulders, intending to take a walk around Base to clear your head. After wandering for the better part of an hour, you end up in one of your favorite spots: the surface of the planet, beneath the base of a pine tree so large it’s jokingly used as target practice by trainee pilots. You settle down into the snow, head against the rough bark, and breathe in the cold air so sharp if feels like it will leave ice crystallizing in your lungs. You like it though. The cold banishes the dreams from whence they came.

You don’t even notice when you start humming that elusive lullaby. It sticks in your head for hours on end, just solid enough to make you wonder about its origins. Who you learned it from. Who sang it to you. It goes nicely with the snowflakes whipping around in the air, so you let the song be, mingling in the night with the stars and the moon.

“Y/N!” At the sound of Kylo’s voice, you’re immediately on alert. He emerges from the trees, cape whipping in the wind like some dramatic super villain. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

You shrug. He never understood your fondness for the cold. “Thinking.”

“About?” He sits beside you with a crunch, and you almost make a jab about him messing up his cape, but you decide to let it lie.

You let a breath hiss into the air. “Where I came from.”

Kylo doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Y/N, you know that-”

“No, that’s the thing, Ren! I don’t know! I don’t know anything!” You rarely lose your temper- that’s Ren’s job- but the lullaby is enough to drive you mad. “You won’t tell me jack shit except that I was drafted in the war to be your apprentice. But-” your voice cracks. “There has to be more than that. There has to be- family. A home planet. Something.” You turn to look at him, hoping all the emotion in your voice isn’t showing on your face. “You’d tell me if you knew something. Right?”

His face is neutral, his eyes scanning yours like he’s looking for something. “Have I ever lied to you?” It’s more a statement than a question, but all the same it makes you deflate into a shiver.

“No.” He hasn’t. Why would he?

…

As Kylo looks at you, he can see tears beginning to form in your eyes, even though you’d never admit it. Damn. This is really weighing on you. Sure, you’ve asked a few times over the years about where you were from, but never this seriously. And he never knew it got to you this much.

Are you not happy here? Would you rather be out somewhere in the galaxy with the family you never knew? Without him?

The thought makes his heart clench. There, sitting side by side with you beneath the trees, cold wind smarting his face, he can’t deny it- losing you would destroy him. He’s grown fond of you, ever since that first day you came out of your shell and decided to snark back at him. That was when he knew you were a fighter. With some coaching, you could be good enough to fight by his side.

And you are, now. But if you’re not happy…

Kylo gets up, brushing snow off his clothes. “I’ll see what I can do.”

…

The next day, Kylo strides into Hux’s office, not caring if he’s busy or has another meeting. With one look at the officer sitting across from Hux’s desk, he scampers out, leaving him and the General alone.

“I need to know about Y/N.”

Hux raises an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“Where did you find her?”

Surprisingly, Hux doesn’t bite back, just sits down at his desk and begins rifling through files on his digipad. “Ah. Y/N Y/L/N.” She was captured when the First Order overtook Rusija. Apparently she’s the daughter of the former monarch there, and was brought on board Starkiller by mistake. She was slated for execution when you took an interest in her.” He looks up at Kylo. “Does that answer your question?”

Kylo knows about Rusija. The operation commenced before his time, and he’s suddenly furiously glad. “What happened to the family?”

Hux smiles. “Executed, of course.” His face turns suspicious. “Why are you asking? Does she suspect something?”

Kylo shakes his head. “No. She knows nothing. I was just… curious.”

Hux nods. “Good. She was dosed with experimental amnesiac drugs once you decided to keep her; I’m glad to see they’re doing their job.”

Oh, stars. Without warning, Kylo stalks out of the room. They drugged her to forget her past? All because he wanted to train her? He shakes his head. But if he hadn’t picked her up, she’d be dead just like the rest of her family. So this was for the best… right?

…

That night there’s a bang outside Kylo’s door. Angrily, he stalks over to it, throwing it open ready to shout at anyone who dares to interrupt him this late at night-

But stops short, when he sees you on the ground, looking confused and rubbing your forehead.

“Y/N?” Kylo crouches down. “Are you okay?”

“I think so?” You laugh a little, hoping it will cover up your embarrassment. “I think I- I think I ran into the door,” you mumble, trying to piece together what happened.

“You ran into the door,” Kylo says dryly.

“Sleepwalking,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. “I do it occasionally. I must’ve somehow been aiming for your quarters and-” you stop, gesturing to the welt on your forehead.

Kylo’s eyebrows draw together. Sleepwalking? “Do you need medical?”

“Oh, stars, no, I’ll just-” you try to stand, but wobble on your feet, clutching your head.

“Okay, no, you’re coming with me.” Kylo grabs your elbow and leads you inside his room, setting you on the bed. “I’m getting a washcloth for that bump.”

When you don’t respond, he leaves for the bathroom to wet a cloth for your forehead. When he gets back you’ve laid onto his pillows, eyes closed. “So that was stupid of me,” you say.

“I don’t think you can exactly control sleepwalking.” He drapes the cloth over your forehead and you press it onto the wound gratefully. “Were you… dreaming about anything in particular?”

You sigh. “Fire, screaming, not being able to escape. The usual nightmare fuel.”

“I’m sorry.”

You snort. “It’s not like it’s your fault.” You seem to curl inward on yourself, making you even smaller than you normally are. “Could I… could I stay here tonight?” You murmur. “I don’t really want to be alone.”

You want to stay here? With him? “I- yes.” He nods. “I can sleep on the floor.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t have to do that, Ren. Seriously, you’ve seen me in much more compromising positions.”

His cheeks flame at your insinuation. “You better not kick in your sleep,” he grumbles, trying to cover up the sudden flare of warmth in his chest.

Another eye roll and a smile as you grab a pillow for yourself and settle down with it on the opposite side of the bed. Kylo carefully lays down on his side, concentrating very hard on not touching you. He falls asleep to your even breathing, faster than he ever does when he’s alone.

He wakes before you in the morning- he’s a much earlier riser than you- and when he opens his eyes he’s shocked to find you curled into his side, your head on his chest. The two of you must have shifted in the night. At first he’s going to wake you, but then… you’re sleeping so peacefully. And after last night, you probably need it. So instead, he slowly works an arm around you shoulders and pulls you in a hair closer, closing his eyes once again.

…

“Get dressed.” A few days later, Kylo comes into your room unannounced while you’re stretching out sore limbs. “We leave in five.”

“Where?” No answer. So you shrug and put on traveling clothes, pack a few necessities, and meet him at his TIE. You strap yourself in expertly; you’re used to being his copilot. As he fiddles with the controls. You can’t help but notice there isn’t a squadron going with you for backup. Must not be a mission then. Then why go off base. “Uh, Ren? Mind telling me where we’re going without assistance?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

That’s all you get? Well, fine, then. Two can play at that game. You cross your arms and sit back, pouting the entire flight to…wherever. As he nears a planet frosted over in ice, you glance down at your clothes. “Not sure I’m prepared for snow, Ren.”

He fishes around and pulls out a black, fur lined coat, then tosses it at you, barely missing your face. You take it with a huff, but gratefully. As you land, officers are there to greet you, saluting as you disembark and taking the reins of Ren’s TIE to look it over for inspection. You look around. Pine trees covered in icicles, a brisk wind blowing from the north… it’s nice, although other people might think you’re crazy for saying so.

“This is Rusija,” Ren says without looking at you, and you nod. You’ve heard of it.

“It’s pretty.”

He doesn’t respond as he begins marching off to who knows where, and you follow, more than a little annoyed he won’t tell you where you’re going. It’s a long walk through a fairly massive metropolis, all bustling with First Order business. But as you reach the outskirts, the buildings become shacks, the bustle becomes silent streets. It’s a quiet, run down town, with nothing of much importance. You can’t imagine why he’s brought you here, unless you’re here to run down a fugitive they’ve caught wind of.

The few people who are on the streets look at Ren fearfully, but he ignores them, walking right up to a house at the end of the lane and knocking on the door. An old woman answers, a Shaw wrapped around her shoulders. “May I help you?” She seems terrified, but knows enough to stay polite.

“I’d like to speak with you, if you please.” You reel back a little. Ren saying please? Nevertheless, the two of you are invited into the small hut, which a roaring fire is keeping warm. There are chairs, but the two of you stand- Ren out of propriety, yourself out of confusion.

When the old lady has settled back down into her own chair, Ren begins bluntly. “I know who you are,” he says, and though you have no idea what he’s talking about, the lady seems to know exactly what he’s saying. She looks frightened, but also… regal, in a way. Like she will accept her fate.

“Very well. Do what you wish to me.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not here to turn you in. I’ve… I’ve brought you someone.” He stands aside, and you realize the person he’;s talking about is you. You shake your head at him, wondering what he’s getting at, but he gives you a look that says ‘be patient’.

The lady stands, and walks towards you slowly. You stand your ground, not afraid of such a frail woman. But as she gets closer, she seems more and more sure of herself, even going so far as to brush a piece of hair away from your face before you can recoil.

“It can’t be…” she whispers, apparently in disbelief.

You raise an eyebrow. “Someone mind explaining what exactly is going on here?” You ask the two of them. Both are silent.

“Anastasia,” the woman murmurs, and for some reason that name sets off all sorts of alarm bells in your head.

A shiver rolls down your spine, but you try to ignore it. “Sorry, no, my name is Y/N. I don’t know who Anastasia is, but-”

“Where did you find her?” The woman cuts you off, directing the question at Ren.

“The First Order picked her up during the takeover,” he says. “She was dosed with… with amnesiac drugs. She doesn’t remember a thing.”

“I was what now?” You practically shriek, taking a few steps back. “Picked up when?”

Ren looks at you. “When Rusija was taken over by the First Order, the royal family of the planet was decimated. Two people slipped through the cracks. The matriarch of the family,” he nods to the woman still staring at you, “and a granddaughter.”

“And you’re saying that granddaughter is me,” you say in disbelief. Unbelievable. What sort of joke is this?

“Anastasia, my dear,” the woman steps forward, wringing her hands. “I know you must not remember me. But I am your grandmother.” There are tears in her eyes. “Oh, my dear, I never thought I’d see you again. We thought we’d lost you…”

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Ren says in a rough voice, then steps outside the hut, shutting the door behind him.

‘I- wait! Ren!” You follow him out the door, letting it bang behind you. “What the hell are you doing?”

He stares at you as though the answer is obvious. “Giving you what you wanted. This,” he gestures around, “is where you came from. That woman used to be the crown queen of Rusija. She’s your family.”

His words hit you in the chest, hard, and you feel like you’re about to fall over. “My family,” you repeat, the word unfamiliar on your tongue.

He nods. “I thought you wanted to know.”

“I- I thought I did too.” You look around at unfamiliar surroundings. “But this planet- that woman- are strangers to me. Starkiller is my home.” You glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “You’re my home. You were right, it doesn’t matter where I came from. It matters what I’ve become.”

He looks at you for a long while, his eyes blank. Then he slowly nods, and gestures back the way you came. “Let’s go home, then.”

…

You did tell the woman goodbye, and give her a hug at least. You aren’t cruel. And she seemed to understand how lost you were in that strange new world. Back amongst Starkiller, with its winding corridors and sparring matches with Ren, you feel more like yourself then you ever had.

One such sparring session is taking place late at night, with the both of you working out pent up frustration from the day before. He’s hitting a little harder than usual, but you’re punching right back, not giving him an inch. Eventually, the both of you tap the mat at the same time. A draw.

Hands behind your head, you try to get some air in your lungs as Ren leans against the wall, breathing hard. You look at him. You’ve been practicing the last few weeks, on what to say, but that doesn’t make it much easier.

“Hey.” He looks at you. “I wanted to say… thank you. For taking me to Rusija.” You falter, but forge ahead. “You… didn’t have to do that. But you did. For me. And…” you try not to blush. “It means a lot to me.”

He shrugs. “It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing!” You walk over, standing right in front of him. “If I had wanted to stay with that woman, on that planet, would you have let me?”

He tilts his head, considering you. Then nods. “Yes.”

“That’s… stars, Kylo, I can’t even tell you how selfless that is.” A small smile appears on his face. You frown. “What?”

“You called me Kylo.”

“I-” your heart beats to a stop. “Did I? Sorry, Ren, I just-”

“No,” he cuts you off. “It’s okay.”

“Oh.” You look at him. “Well, good.”

“Good.”

The two of you look at each other, neither sure what to say or do next. Then, ever so slowly, you raise up on your toes and give him a soft kiss on the cheek, lingering for a second before pulling away. “Seriously. Thank you,” you whisper.

Another beat. And then you’re both leaning in, meeting in the middle for a heated kiss. His hands immediately wrap around you, resting on your lower back, pulling you into him, and yours run through his hair like you’ve dreamed about doing so many times before. Teeth collide, noses bump- as kisses go, it’s hardly flawless- but the pull in your stomach makes it feel like the most heady thing in the world.

When you pull away, trying to catch your breath, he’s staring at you wide eyed, like he can’t believe that just happened. You put a hand to his cheek. “I never would have left you, you know,” you say softly, and the smile on his face could rival the sun as he goes in to kiss you again.

#star wars #Star Wars fanfic #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren #requests #star wars request

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oddsnendsfanfics · 4 years

Text

Holding On for Dear Life

Genre: Fan Fiction (Vikings) Pairing: Hvitserk/OFC Warnings: Medical, Illness, Sexual Content Rating: M Length: Multi Chapter Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Okay, this is something that I have been wanting to write for a long time, but never got to it. It’s not exactly polished a I would like right now, but wanted to posted the first part to see how it went over. Keep in mind, I am doing my best to go about Emmer and her illness as correct as possible, but a good portion of her is actually personal. I mean sure I can bog us all down with medical by the book, but personally I like my own life experience better.

thank you @flowers-in-your-hayr for the header

Catch Up Here

Hospitals, yuck!

Hvitserk wasn't a fan, then again was anyone?

Ironic that they would be there on the anniversary of them meeting, in this very hospital. Waiting for his best friend – sometimes girlfriend, Hvitserk had sat quietly watching a news programme on mute with captions scrolling across the screen. After what felt like ages, Emmer emerged, slightly sore and exhausted asking Hvitserk if he could take her home.

Cozy in her apartment, Emmer yawned and insisted that Hvitserk was fine to leave her. She'd been through this before, it was nothing new. Bed rest, only fluids, and pain meds only when the label dictated. Although Hvitserk admired her trying to ship him off, he knew better. The last time he listened to Emmer, she had gone and ordered a large pizza and proceeded to eat half of it. Landing her back in the bathroom sicker than when she'd gone to the hospital.

This time, he refused to leave.

“Hvits, I'm fine.” Emmer rubbed her eyes, yawning from the cocktail of medications that she'd received at the hospital.

“Nope, you're not getting rid of me.” Hvitserk shook his head, fluffing the pillow on her couch. He had zero intentions of moving, besides he was too tired to drive again. It didn't matter that his apartment was only a block away.

Hands on her hips, head cocked, Emmer scowled. “I'm not Ivar.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Hvitserk smirked laying down on her couch and yawning.

His baby brother was a far worse patient than Emmer ever thought of being. Although their diseases were nothing alike, they'd both had their fair share of surgery and hospital visits. It was during one of Ivar's stay overs that Hvitserk had wandered the halls of the ward, bumping into the frail girl with the IV pole. Emmer had recovered, gained strength, and a Hvitserk all in a few short months.

“Hvits,” Emmer whined.

“Bed, Emmy. The doctor said you should be on bed rest until tomorrow. You know the drill. If you need me, I won't be far. But I need some sleep, first.” Closing his eyes, Hvitserk took a deep breath, snuggling into the blanket that he'd pulled down from the back of the couch.

Ignoring her would eventually work, growing bored of sitting in the kitchen alone, Emmer would go to bed. If this were under any other circumstance, Hvitserk would have gone to bed with her. Knowing that she'd been in so much pain a few short hours ago, he didn't want to crowd her. Giving her space to wrap her head around the night's events.

Emmer was unfazed and not at all bothered by what had happened, but spending hours in the ER with a blocked stoma took a lot out of a person. Ulcerative Colitis was a cruel mistress, not only causing severe abdominal pains and cramping, but leaving one swollen joints, ulcers in various places, and fatigue. One time Emmer had told Hvitserk on top of that, it was literally the shittiest disease ever. Pun and no pun intended. Tonight's trip had been courtesy of something causing a block in Emmer's small intestine. Unable to pass, sending blinding pain shooting through her abdomen.

She'd called Hvitserk around the third hour of vomiting, asking for him to come over and keep her company. Arriving to find Emmer in the bathroom on the floor soaked in sweat, complaining that she was dizzy Hvitserk grabbed her emergency bag and escorted her to the car.

“Damn peas,” Emmer mumbled leaning against Hvitserk on the way to the car. She'd known better than to eat them, but she couldn't resist. They were there in all their green glory taunting her.

Home and somewhat comfortable in her bed, Emmer laid looking through her phone. Hvitserk on the other side of the door, stretched out and sleeping on the couch. Outside in the morning sun, the birds sang and the city slowly came to life. Oblivious to what some people were going through.

Each person lived their own life on their own path. Emmer had always believed that, even more so now. Her path had taken a turn, sick for months on end without reason or cause. Doctor's office after Doctor's office. Specialist after Specialist. Disease had nearly ruined her life. Easily, she could have allowed it, but why?

So she'd had some surgeries, a ruptured bowel, no large intestine, and had a bag on her side which was now her new bowel. It wasn't the end of the world and certainly wasn't the end of her life. Emmer enjoyed the freedom it had given her, now she was able to go places and not worry about whether or not she would be left in tears, over not being able to find a public restroom.

Meeting Hvitserk days after her first surgery had been another weird little blessing. He was quirky, sweet, and his own kind of funny. Not to mention he was a pretty good boyfriend. He was patient and gentle, even sticking around to be the supportive best friend when they weren't dating.

Rolling on her right side with a slight wince, Emmer rubbed her tummy above the spot where her bag resided.

“Really Eir?” She rolled her eyes at the grumbling stoma. “Now you're talking?”

Whatever. She shook her head, closing her eyes. Hvitserk would be in shortly, she was sure of it. His love for her plush bed would eventually take over, once he realized the couch was a tad to short.

Stretched out on the couch, his feet resting on the arm rest at the end, Hvitserk was surprisingly comfortable. Although he wished Emmer's couch was about seven inches longer. It was plush, comfortable, and like a cloud, until his ankles began to go numb. Curling his legs up, Hvitserk shifted over onto his side trying to stop his feet from tingling. Picking his head up, when he heard the bedroom door open.

No matter how hard she tried, Emmer wasn't exactly stealthy. The bottom door hinge and the floor board right outside of her door gave her away. Hvitserk pushing himself to sit up, scratching the back of his head, he looked like he'd been the one in the ER all night, in pain.

“Hey Hvits,” Emmer raised her hands over her head, stretching her shoulders, then dropping them. “What's for breakfast?”

“Why are you out of bed?” Hvitserk scowled with concern.

“Because I'm not tired? The day awaits us, Hvits.” She'd slept for three hours, it was almost 10AM. Time to be awake and out doing something.

“Your day is going to be spent in bed, binge watching cheesy sitcoms, while drinking tea, and eating broth.” Hvitserk smiled wide at her. “I'll even join you, once I clean up a bit.”

“You don't have to clean my apartment.” Emmer rolled her eyes at him. “I can do it.”

“I know, but I want to help. Besides, if I stay here it's an excuse not to go home. Ubbe had a new lady friend over, I should at least give her time to get out.” He shrugged. His older brother really needed to pick one of his rotating women and settle.

“He still on the rebound?” Emmer dropped onto the couch beside Hvitserk. Leaning over onto his shoulder, glancing up at him.

“Yep,” Hvitserk nodded. “Margrethe really fucked with his head. We have a talent for picking bat shit crazy women, you know. I think it's genetic or some shit.”

“Your mom isn't bat shit crazy.” Emmer countered. “She's just angry that your dad kept fucking around on her.”

“Understandable, although what did she expect? He did meet her, while he was married.” Rubbing his face, Hvitserk sighed. His family would never be up for any sort of Family of the Year awards.

“Your dad still seeing Yidu?”

“Nope, she grew some common sense and left.” Rolling his eyes, Hvitserk scoffed. “Did you know she's the same age as Bjorn?”

“I had a feeling she wasn't your dad's age.” Emmer shrugged. “Every family has their bullshit, what can I say?”

“There is family drama and then there is the Lothbroks. But, enough about my parents. How do you feel, now?” Leaning his head on top of Emmer's; Hvitserk nuzzled his nose into her hair. “And for the record, you're not bat shit crazy.”

“Thank you, I think.” Emmer laughed. “And I'm still a little sore, but feeling better. Really, I'm hungry. Can we eat?”

“Sure, but you're not getting anything solid.”

“Well, ice cream isn't solid. Oh! Let's go get ice cream.”

“Or, you can stay here, in bed while I go get some ice cream and bring it back. What kind do you want? Chocolate?” Hvitserk slowly lifted his head from Emmer's. “I can also bring back some coffee. Iced latte with almond milk and one shot of caramel syrup?”

“Yes! Yes that sounds amazing!”

“Alright, I will go get previsions. You stay in bed and rest. I shouldn't be long. Promise me, you won't try to do anything until I am back?”

“Well, I may shower.” Emmer shrugged, pretending to smell herself. “I stink like hospital, you know how much I hate that.”

“Fair enough, but nothing else. I will do the housework, when I get back. Okay, Em? I don't want you to get hurt or over strain yourself.”

Rolling her eyes, Emmer nodded. “Okay, fine, I will behave. Now go, I want my latte and ice cream.”

“Bossy Britches,” Hvitserk mumbled, grabbing his phone, keys, and wallet.

“Damn right I am!” Emmer called after him, gently tossing a pillow from the couch at his back.

Turning to blow her a kiss, Hvitserk laughed, closing the door behind him. A click indicated that he'd used his key to lock the door, saving Emmer from having to get up and walk twenty feet to the door. Hvitserk was always that way, making sure she was taken care of and he did anything to make her life easier.

Sometimes, it was annoying. Others, it was welcomed. Especially on days when Emmer had no energy. Some days she could barely make it out of bed, those were the days when Hvitserk's overbearing need to cater to her were welcomed the most. He was good at knowing when she needed him to take over, but not so good when knowing he had to back off.

Emmer adored him, but had no problems telling him when to lay off or go away.

In a family of six children, Hvitserk was number 4.

Since an early age, he had been the caretaker. Right after his older, half, sister Gyda. He was constantly taking care of his younger brother Sigurd while his mother focused on his baby brother, Ivar. Gyda kept her brothers from killing one another, while Hvitserk kept Sigurd from somehow killing himself. A task and a half to take on as a five year old. If they wanted Ivar to see his 10th birthday, it was a small price. Twenty years later...

Hvitserk had the ice cream in the car, thankful that the coffee shop wasn't overly busy. Along with their drinks he had gone ahead and ordered brown sugar oatmeal for Emmer and a bacon sandwich for himself. Food in hand, he tapped his foot lightly to the music that softly played through the shop. Lost in his thoughts and tiredness, he jumped when his phone rang.

“Hel-”

“Where are you?” Ivar huffed over the phone.

“I'm getting breakfast and heading back to Emmer's.” Hvitserk smiled his apology to the barista as he accepted the iced latte and the flat white. “Why?”

“You were supposed to drive me to that appointment, this morning. I tried calling you.” Ivar grumbled. Hvitserk didn't have to see Ivar's face to know it was twisted in a scowl. “I had to get an uber.”

“Sorry, fuck. Shit.” He hissed. “Ivar, look I'm sorry. Em had to go to the emergency room. She wasn't well and I had to stay with her.”

“So getting laid, because you played the hero, is more important than family?”

“No, Emmer had an emergency. Listen, I'm sorry. I am. Where are you now? I can come get you, before I go back to Em's.”

“Gyda came to get me. Unlike some people, she cares.”

“I care, Ivar.” Hvitserk defended himself. His younger brother was so dramatic. It came with being the baby. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Fuck you.”

Hvitserk sighed, the line went dead with a beep. Whatever. Ivar would get over it. Eventually.

It wasn't like Hvitserk intentionally forgot about his brother. Had Emmer not needed him, he would have drove Ivar as promised. Ivar was more than capable of getting places on his own, he simply refused. Unlocking the car, Hvitserk groaned and shook his head. Ivar was petulant, but still his brother.

Whatever, he could worry about that later. Right now, Hvitserk had to deliver ice cream and an iced latte, before Emmer sent out a search party or put a bounty on his head.

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