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v1olentdelights · 3 years

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She Doesn’t Like Wearing Socks to Bed

George Weasley x Muggleborn!fem!reader & Cedric x Muggleborn!fem!reader & minor Ginny Weasley x Muggleborn!fem!reader Trigger Warnings: It is very sad, um I think just heartbreak Summary: All you wanted was his time. Now all he want’s is you. a/n: This one took a while lol. I want to thank @myalupinblack for beta-ing this fic (is that how you say that?) and for giving amazing feedback! Love you all, I hope you enjoy reading! <3 - It is also loosely based on ‘When I Was Your Man’ by Bruno Mars

You had never planned to fall for the brave fiery headed Gryffindor. No one expected it, but for some reason you and George just worked. Well you did, recently things had gone astray. And it truly wasn’t anyone’s fault. George had become preoccupied with quidditch and planning for his shop with his brother. You were busy with tutoring alongside Cedric Diggory and studying for your exams. The worst part was that you saw it all happening, you watched yourself drift away from him. And you watched him leave you behind.

Spotting the red head down the hall you dashed off wrapping your hand around his waiting for him to finish talking. His hand felt almost limp in yours.

“George, can we talk this evening after supper?” “Um I don’t know if I can. I have quidditch practice and then catch up on homework.” he huffed out digging through his bag. “Well can’t you take off quidditch practice today? I mean you attend every single one and then practice even more.” You knew this would happen, that’s all that happens anymore ‘Oh sorry darling, I’m busy.’ “Darling, I can’t and you know that.” he turned to look at you, you saw the dark circles forming under his eyes. “It is important though.”

“Y/N I said I can’t.” he began walking off. “GEORGE FABIAN WEASLEY!” spinning around to face you, his eyes were wide and his face was a bit red. “Meet me in the library at 7:00pm tonight.”

“Okay, I will see you then.” getting ready to go again. “Repeat it back to me so I know you remember.”

“7:00pm tonight in the library.”

You had eaten dinner thinking of what to say. Should you tell George that you love him but just not like you used to? Do you tell him you can feel the strain between yourselves? Does he feel the strain? “Hey Y/N!” Cedric smiled as he sat down across from you. “Are you alright?” “Yeah, I’m actually about to go on a walk. Would you like to join me?” He smiles even brighter and you can feel your stomach clench. Collecting your things, you and him drop your stuff off in your dormitories before heading out on your walk. With it being the autumn season it began to get dark and cold outside very quickly.

“Here, take my sweater.” Pulling on the sweatshirt you examined how it was well worn. The Hufflepuff patch was tearing off and the inside was slowly wearing away. Yet it still felt like the safest place on earth. George's arms used to feel like that. Simply waving away the thought you trudged on with Cedric.

As it drew closer to 7:00 you steered yourself and Cedric towards the library. You had felt somewhat guilty for enjoying the presence of Cedric. But at the same time did George even care? Trying to shed the sweater quickly Cedric was quick to pull it back up over your shoulders. “Keep it, you know how cold the library gets. Anyways we have tutoring tomorrow and you can return it then, if you want.” pulling you in for a quick hug. As he walks out the door you begin thinking about if he held you just a little bit longer. Sitting there alone with your thoughts was not beneficial, you began to think about all the time you and George would sneak out to the Black Lake and watch the stars. Or the times he would randomly burst into your classroom in 4th year telling the teacher he needed your help with school work; only to drag to a dark corner of the library and shower you with his love.

But then you thought about all the times Cedric randomly took you to Hogsmeade “for a break so your mind power doesn’t deteriorate too much.” When he would sit next to you during the quidditch games he wasn’t playing in. And how during those times he would hold onto your hand or had an arm over your shoulder. You and Cedric had both convinced yourselves that it was simply something friends did, and for a while that was all it was. You let your mind wander for a bit before selecting a book to inevitably get stuck on the same line.

It was 7:30 by now, George was supposed to be here. But he was nowhere in sight, it wasn’t unusual for him to show up late. So you let it slip. Then the time slowly slipped closer to 8 and you were worrying, what if he fell? Or maybe something got a hold of him. In such a place as Hogwarts that wasn’t very uncommon. Then as if he could hear your worried thoughts, there was George Weasley, running towards you. In his quidditch uniform, a sweaty gross mess. “I’m so sorry I am late. I didn’t think-”

“That’s exactly it George. You didn’t think!” you scoffed feeling your heart strings being pulled. “I asked you to do one thing, one simple thing! I asked you to not go to practice and meet me instead! But it seems you cannot even do that! I wanted to talk to you about our relationship, I needed to talk to you and have an actual conversation. Not a simple hello while passing in the hallways! I feel as though I don’t even have a boyfriend anymore George, this is taking a toll on me!” you whisper yelled

George stood there standing dumbfounded as you started crying, what was he supposed to do? It was quidditch season, and he couldn’t just skip practice. Looking over your broken figure, he wanted to hold you in his arms and make it better. But then he saw the emblem on the sweatshirt you were wearing, and a new found anger was incited in him. “Well it looks like you haven’t had any problems finding company.” he says sourly. It takes you a minute to register what he said. Looking down at your sweatshirt you find the famous Hufflepuff badger. “Did you just imply that I was cheating on you?” your voice was calm, almost too calm. It made George take a step back. “I-”

“YOU UTTER, INSUFFERABLE, PIECE OF TRASH GEORGE WEASLEY!!!! You know what SCREW YOU! I WAS GOING TO TRY AND FIX THIS BUT WE ARE OVER, I HOPE IT WAS WORTH IT!!” you all but screamed as you walked out the library door as Madam Pince watched it all go down.

You run off letting your feet carry wherever, you didn’t care as long as it was away from George. Ending up in the courtyard you sat down with you back to one of the benches looking up at the stars. Zipping up your sweatshirt you pulled on the sleeves, while holding yourself together. How could he suggest such a thing, you and Cedric were just friends. You had never been anything more, now does that mean you were denying that you felt butterflies around him sometimes. No, of course you did because he is “pretty boy Diggory” he was in the Triwizard tournaments. But George also had made you feel butterflies, though as the days went on it became less. What had you gotten yourself into? “Y/N? Is that you?” of course, Ginny came running out into the courtyard. “Y/N, what are you doing out here this late? Have- have you been crying?” she asks as she plops down next to you. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” you sniffled scooting closer to her, laying your head on her shoulder. “Well, that’s alright. I’m here if you need me.” she reminds you as she lays her head on yours. “Thanks Gin.”

.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•

Over the next few days you had taken time to recover, noticing how not once had George tried to talk to you. He didn’t even look your way. But then again what were you expecting? He had barely had enough time for you when you two were dating. You also hadn’t spoken to Cedric since that day either. You hadn’t wanted George to see you two together and go spiraling, but why did you care anymore? You and him were no longer together.

So what did it matter that you were now walking over to the Hufflepuff table. So what if you were sneaking up behind Hogwarts “Pretty Boy” to give him a giant hug. Who cared that all of the Weasley family was watching, who cared that now rumors would now be spread.

But George cared, he was trying to figure out how to apologize to you and try to make things right. Then you were walking across the hall, wrapped up in the Hufflepuff sweatshirt you had been wearing that night. You enveloped one of the people he feared would take you away from him. You dragged Cedric along behind you as you left the Great Hall, and with him you took his heart. Molly wouldn’t be happy, Ginny would miss you, who was to indulge Aurther in his various spirals about muggle things? Who would help believe in Fred and himself? You were everything, not just to George but to the whole Weasley family.

.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•

It was as if the world hated him. Now that you didn’t want to see him, he saw you everywhere. What made it worse was that every time he saw you, you were either with Ginny or Cedric. Just because you and him broke up didn’t mean you couldn’t hang out with Ginny anymore. But he still loved you, and he knew he screwed up. The problem was now winning you back.

You were sitting in the courtyard while quietly reading and listening to music on your iPod. It was a Saturday meaning no classes, some students had gone to Hogsmeade while others stayed behind. George saw you on his way out, now deciding to instead stay behind and try to reason with you. Though it seems you had caught someone else’s eye as well, right as George worked up the confidence to walk over Cedric did as well. Taking a step back into the corridor he watched as you looked up seeing him. A smile lit up your face. The same smile that had once been reserved for him. You were on your feet slipping your headphones out and running towards Cedric. Within seconds you had jumped on him, wrapping your legs around his torso and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Had he missed something?

Hearing the sound of footsteps behind him saw Luna walking with one of the oddest sweatshirts he had ever seen.

“Luna?” He quickly cleared his throat once he heard how shaky it was.

“Yes George?” She smiled politely, while he looked between you and Cedric who looked to be talking seriously, and Luna.

“Um, are Cedric and Y/N a couple? I mean not that I care, but are they?” The end of his sentence was very timid.

“I believe so, yes. Are you headed to Hogsmeade as well? I can accompany you if you’d like.”

“I think I am just gonna head back to my room. Thank you for the offer though.”

“Of course.” she smiled while skipping off. Looking back he saw you and Cedric sitting down on the bench, pressed close together.

.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•°☆°•.☆.•

You and George had rebuilt your relationship to friendship, but nothing more. You were happy with Cedric, moving into a little cottage together after Hogwarts. George turned down every date in hopes that one day Cedric would do something wrong, or that you would realize you wanted to be with him and not “pretty boy Diggory”. You and Cedric were happy as you were, so much so that Cedric had decided to propose.

Grabbing the mail from the post box, George threw it on the table to be sorted later. Though something shiny caught his eye.

Please join us for the wedding celebration of Y/F/N Y/L/N and Cedric Diggory

He swore his heart stopped, his breath caught, he had read it over and over again. You were gone and there was really no getting you back anymore. The wedding was in 3 weeks as you and Cedric hadn’t wanted to wait any longer.

The day before the wedding George had written a letter and sent it, by evening it had reached your small little cottage. Cedric had been locking up the front door when an owl flew by, picking up the dropped letter he began to read.

Cedric,

I wanted to congratulate you and Y/N on the engagement, though I will not be attending. I ask that you don’t tell Y/N about this letter, but simply keep this between us. I know I don’t deserve it, but knowing Y/N this would ruin her. I wanted to let you know a few things before you get married.

Y/N’s favorite song is Magic Works by The Weird Sisters, though she’ll deny it every time you ask. She loves dancing to it in a very abstract manner, not caring one bit who’s watching. She loves it when you rub the back of her hand with your thumb. She’ll never ask but she almost always wants to be around you, so maybe when you are able just sit with her. Sometimes she feels lonely but she won’t tell you, but she does this thing with her face where she looks all upset. When you and her get into a fight, don’t say somethin you don’t mean. When it rains, pull her outside to jump in puddles, it makes her feel young again.

If you ever have a garden, let her help take care of it. She has always wanted a garden, and a cat. If you let her, she will take you on adventures you had never dreamed of. Yet they are better than anything. I hope you understand that if she trusts you, then you are special. She doesn’t like wearing socks to bed, the sound of fireworks, or writing in pencil. She loves random hugs, the sound of a lawn mower, the whistle of a kettle, the way a cat's fur feels against her hand. She loves the way it smells after it rains, and loves the sound the rain makes when it hits the roof.

Just, don’t forget the simple things mean the most. She is simply unique and lovely in every way. Don’t make her regret choosing you.

- George Weasley

“Cedric darling, are you alright. You’ve been out here a bit.” You asked, sauntering out into the dining room while looking for him.

“Hm, oh I’m alright. Sorry I just spaced out.” He tucks the letter into his back pocket. Before coming over and wrapping you in a hug dragging you off to your room. “Let’s head to bed now. It's our last night before we are married! We should be in bed.” he winks at you before slipping the letter into the top drawer of his dresser.

Taglist: @el-imaskingforyourlefthand @aspensworlds @hufflepuffneville2 @wolfstar_lb @

#george weasley imagine #george wealsey angst #george weasley #george weasley headcanon #george weasley fic #harry potter imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #muggleborn reader #grace writes

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ey8508 · 3 years

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Rumors and Secrets: Victor | 李泽言

Note:

R&S for this card (CG above)

Chapter SPOILERS up to Season 2: Chapter 18-21 (read at your own risk)

Contains 5 chapters

Translation isn’t 100% accurate (or include grammar errors)

Every part for LZ’s dialogue would be in “this setting”

Do not repost to any other site (reblog is fine)

Chapter 1 Page 1 It's no exaggeration to say that the name "Li Zeyan" has run through my entire high school era. This "evil fate" probably starts with a 31-point Chinese test paper. I'm Gao Qishan, only 17 years old at that time, but there are so many things that usually interest me. Games, animations, and football are nothing compared than reading a book in a room. But hey, it's a pity that my dad doesn't think so. "I only scored 31 points in the Chinese test, and I'm still here with a hippie smile!" In the study, the old man blew his beard, looking disappointed, "How can my son be so useless!" Page 2 "Your son is very capable. I was the MVP of the basketball game last night!" "Your PPP is useless! You are in the second year of high school, not the second grade of elementary school! You have a 31-point score and you have a face to play basketball? You don't have any shame or a competitive spirit. Do you not want to go to college anymore?!" . I was about to reply impatiently, the old man took out a magazine from somewhere, poked his hand at the cover and yelled at me: "Look at the person. He founded the company at the age of 20. In just two years, he has been on the "Business Rising Stars" cover interview! Look at yourself again, someone who is almost 17 years old and does not have the realization of it, do you want to be in the worst generation in the future, ah?!" Page 3 I'm not happy to hear this: "What's so great about starting a company? Your son, I will start a company in minutes!” "I'm almost out of school, and I started my own company? Oh, I'm going to be better!" The old man raised his head, and the thick magazine almost hit my handsome face. "Learn from others, and don't give me daydreaming here!" Page 4 I grabbed this "Business Rising Stars" with enthusiasm. A decent young man in a suit was looking ahead through the photo. On the cover was a striking headline: "Li Zeyan, an astounding leader in Lianyu City.” "This title is exaggerated!" Even if I was taught by Lao Gao, I was inexplicably better compared with this Li Zeyan, and I just threw the magazine under the sofa. Who wants to learn from him? Just looking at it is a tarnish to my ability! Page 5 But somehow, at night I tossed and turned and I couldn't fall asleep! The more I closed my eyes, the more uncomfortable I was, what did Li Zeyan do. When I turned over for the 100th time, I suddenly sat up. It was a task by old Gao to read the magazine anyway, so I decided to retrieve the magazine and just take a look. After sneaking into the study room, it took me a long time to find the magazine in the innermost part of the sofa. Page 6 "... Although Li Zeyan is only 22 years old, he is already the president of Huarui, an emerging medium-sized company in Lianyu City. Starting from scratch, he started from a small office to now has hundreds of people. Every step he walks is particularly solid and decisive. Li Zeyan’s way of business is beyond ordinary. He is like a lion, born with a King's aura." All these compliments just for this, isn't it just descriptions of someone starting their own company? I just haven't paid much attention to reading. Just relying on my ingenuity, and getting a high score on the tests, it is absolutely nothing when it comes to starting a company. Hmph, just you wait. Chapter 2 Page 1 The university in City A is not only one of the top five in the province, but also the top five in the country. It is a university that I, Gao Qishan was admitted to dignifiedly! How about that, I said I'm absolutely fine. In a blink of an eye, the freshman year has passed. In the past two years, I have also paid a little attention to Huarui. The development has been okay, it has not closed down, and the scale has doubled. It's just normal development. Is it worth the old Gao's praise from time to time? Every time he flipped through a financial magazine and sighed, "You are so young, so good", it sounds a bit too much. Page 2 As the saying goes, "Seeing is believing", I think this sentence is right. Taking advantage of the summer vacation, I decided to apply for Huarui's summer internship to see in person how the company is, just not to waste my talents and financial knowledge. Soon I entered the building, but how can the interviewer in the middle feel a bit familiar, the more I look at it, the more I recognize... Wait, isn't it exactly Li Zeyan?! What's happening, is Huarui going bankrupt? Why is the president personally do the interviewing for the summer interns? Page 3 "Manager Chen has something to do, I happen to be free." Probably my shock expression was too obvious. Li Zeyan flipped through the information at hand and looked up at me blankly. "Gao Qishan? First, briefly introduce yourself." I don't know what's going on. I was so startled by Li Zeyan that I couldn't help but straighten up. After swallowing my throat, I mobilized all my attention, took a deep breath and said, "Hello, my name is Gao Qishan, and I am a freshman in the Department of Economics and Management of the University of City A..." Page 4 After introducing himself, Li Zeyan asked a few more related professional questions. This kind of small question is nothing to me. It seems that Huarui’s interview is nothing more than that. He occasionally knocked his fingers on the table subconsciously, and asked with a deep gaze: "Why do you want to come to Huarui for an internship?" The continuous response made me more and more relaxed. I changed my sitting position and quickly thought about how to deal with this new question. Judging from previous information, Li Zeyan is a person who likes to win at everything. He should appreciate the kind of answers that seem extraordinarily confident, right? Page 5 After carefully thinking about this, I straightened my back and raised my chin and said: Although Huarui is quite a new company, it has grown at an amazing speed, and the achievements it has made so far are obvious to all in the industry. And although I am a freshman student, I think I have a very strong learning ability. In this regard, I have a lot of similarities with Huarui. Therefore, I think Huarui is very suitable for me and will definitely make me grow faster. Of course, I can definitely give back the same freshness and vitality for Huarui. With a confident smile, I finished my speech and waited quietly for Li Zeyan's nod. But to my surprise, a few seconds later I was greeted by a frown from Li Zeyan. Page 6 "It seems that you have confidence in yourself. To be a man and to do things really requires self-confidence, but everything must be controlled." Li Zeyan stared at me and said in a hurry, "Only by maintaining reflection and introspection can we truly make progress." I understood his words, and my face flushed. A few days later, I really received a notice from HR (Human Resources) and I didn't get hired. Page 7 Although I had a foreseeable result from Li Zeyan's remarks, when I really received a reply and recalled the interview scene, I was still very angry. After my sophomore year, I went back to the final exams and tried to fight for the first place. I'll make sure that my ambitions are not just mere words. I have written down the "new hatred and old hatred" on my notes. I will definitely use the shortest time to create my own territory, leaving Huarui far behind! Chapter 3 Page 1 Today is the first day of my "Yuanshan Group" moving to a new building. Morning light came in from the spacious floor-to-ceiling windows, and I stood by the desk, proudly holding on to the brand-new office chair. In the next semester of the junior year, I used the dividends I participated in the project as the start-up capital, and I didn't need a penny higher than the old one, so my "distant mountain" just rose from the ground. Isn’t it just 20-year-old to start a company from scratch? What's the difficulty? When I founded Yuanshan, I was exactly 21, and the rounding is almost the same as Li Zeyan. Because of this, my old man, Lao Gao stopped training me long ago, and I guess he must have praised me secretly. Page 2 In just a few years, Yuanshan has grown from a small company of eight people to a scale that now occupies a seven-story high-end office building, and the suffix has also changed from "company" to the word "group". To be honest, my founder is very satisfied with Yuanshan's growth. Although there is still a certain distance from Huarui, after all, they are also developing along the way, but it doesn't matter, I am still young, and sooner or later I can catch up. It didn't take long before the opportunity to "catch up" came. Page 3 I was originally interested in the land to the north of Lianyu City. When I heard that Huarui was also planning to bid on that land, I became more interested. The Lianyu Municipal Government intends to develop the somewhat hindered northern side. At present, construction has begun to build a crossing bridge and a shopping mall, and this piece of land is nearby. "It is more than enough to build a six-star resort with 18,000 square meters and the supporting facilities can be added. Maybe Huarui made the same idea." I have paid attention to the recent developments of Huarui and have invested in four resort hotels one after another. The senior management of the company also agreed that the land is worthwhile, and if it can be won within the highest valuation of 89 million yuan, it should make a profit without losing it. Page 4 A month later, I came to the auction site with confidence. Sitting in front of me at ten o'clock is Li Zeyan, the president of Huarui in a suit and leather shoes. After a few years of absence, I can finally compete with him. On the stage, the auctioneer gave an impassioned introduction to the land, and then said in a melodious tone: "The starting price is 35 million, and the auction will begin now!" As soon as the voice fell, several companies immediately raised their signs. But my opponent is Huarui. It is still early, so I have to wait for Huarui to make a move. Page 5 When the bidding became increasingly fierce, Li Zeyan finally raised his placard for the first time: "60 million." The opponent finally appeared, and I immediately raised the number plate: "61 million." As if he was just encountering an ordinary bidder, Li Zeyan never answered with words, but raised his placard again: "70 million." I continued to chase: "71 million!" Side to the front, Li Zeyan seemed to raise his eyebrows slightly. After a few seconds, he raised the number plate again, and said: "80 million." Page 6 "81 million!" As if finally realizing my bite, Li Zeyan glanced at me slightly sideways, then he raised the number plate, the noise was low and clear: "90 million." This figure has already exceeded the company's highest valuation, and the assistant quietly tugged on my sleeve, beckoning me to forget it. But if I really give up on this, I still feel no sigh of relief in my heart. The auctioneer has already shouted in front: "90 million twice." Page 7 "100 million!" My voice came out, at the last moment. Of course, Li Zeyan finally gave me a straight look. I watched his hand nervously, and saw that the number plate was never raised again, and the auctioneer had already shouted excitedly: "One hundred million! Yuanshan Group has come out of one hundred million! One hundred million once! Three hundred million!, make a deal!" Page 8 Finally got it! Such a valuable piece of land I believe it will be a great help to Yuanshan, and it’s just around the corner to get rid of Huarui. I didn't even consider the cost of 100 million yuan. I just felt that my body was comfortable and exuberant, and the bright prospects were beckoning me. When Li Zeyan passed by me, my triumphant pride couldn't stop. "Thanks to Mr. Li for the bidding this time." Page 9 Li Zeyan put his suit jacket on one hand, and passed by me. I thought he would argue with me back, but Li Zeyan just raised his eyebrows uninterested, and then strode away without looking back. Okay, as the winner of the auction, I allow the loser to occasionally gaffe. Just when I was gearing up to do a big job, the Finance Department urgently sent a bad report. Due to my "passionate bidding", Yuanshan's capital chain suddenly had a problem. Chapter 4 Page 1 I urgently convened a high-level meeting, and after several discussions, the best solution at present turned out to be to invest in Huarui! Personally speaking, I have a hundred reluctances in my heart. Not long before the auction, I took the initiative to bow to Hua Rui. Didn't that slap me in the face severely. However, the cruel reality lies in front of us. Yuanshan is not only my own person, but also the collective effort of hundreds of employees. To let Yuanshan survive this crisis steadily, I can only and must "take the initiative to surrender" to Huarui. Forget it, "vote" just "vote"! Although it was a mistake in my decision-making this time, Yuanshan's development prospects are so good that Li Zeyan should never not invest as long as his eyes are correct. Page 2 However, the negotiation process is still more difficult than I expected. It is not that Huarui has no intention to invest, but almost all the conditions listed are on the lowest line of the distant mountains. "If I remember correctly, the creditworthiness of Huarui's previous investment in the gaze lock company is not very high." I fought hard against the low pressure, and Yuanshan's creditworthiness has always been in the top four in the industry. "...with Yuanshan's creditworthiness Huarui's right to speak will definitely be improved. I think Mr. Li can think about it again." Page 3 "Do you think you are still eligible to negotiate terms with me?" Li Zeyan straightened his mouth, exuding deterrence, "...Huarui Investment in Yuanshan is not for charity, and has no obligation to pay for your suicidal behavior." He raised his hand and glanced at his watch, with a hint of impatience on his face: "Think carefully about it yourself." The long negotiation was finally over. Although Yuanshan and Huarui finally reached a cooperation intention, the whole process failed me. I thought I was about to be on the same line of competition with Li Zeyan, but I was beaten back to the former "interviewer" again. Page 4 By the area downstairs in Huarui, I was smoking a stuffy cigarette, and suddenly there was a faint sound of footsteps behind me. It turned out to be Li Zeyan. Although he was still expressionless, the murderous aura and arrogance from the negotiations seemed to have diminished. Li Zeyan steadily walked to my side: "Gao Qishan, I remember you once came to interview for a summer internship." I didn't expect Li Zeyan to take the initiative to speak. I was surprised. He said: "Several years have passed, and it seems that self-confidence is increasing." If it wasn't for my lose, I stood up slightly: “Although I made a mistake this time, as far as the strength of Yuanshan is concerned, I have the capital to be confident." Page 5 "Yuanshan's strength is indeed pretty good, but don't rush to eat the cakes that you can't eat for the time being. Being high is far from a long-term plan for enterprise development." Li Zeyan said lightly, and took out a card from his pocket and handed it to me, "There will be a practical business forum in Lianyu City next week. You can come and listen when you have time." A practical business forum? What do you mean, is he mocking me for being too pragmatic? The inexplicable enthusiasm and self-esteem suddenly appeared, and I blurted out: "Mr. Li, even if Yuanshan is really not as good as Huarui now, there is no need to humiliate people like this, right?" Page 6 Li Zeyan frowned: "What are you talking about?" He paused, his eyes sinking, "I thought you would be an opponent you could look forward to, but I didn't expect the vision to be just like that." Without additional explanation, Li Zeyan turned and walked away after speaking. I was stunned, looking at Li Zeyan's steadily leaving behind, I couldn't help but relive the conversation just now in my mind. Could it be that Li Zeyan meant that because he regarded me as a potential opponent and hoped that this opponent could become stronger and more competitive, did he propose to let me participate in the business forum? Page 7 That's right, it seems that only such an explanation can make sense! Thinking of this, I couldn't help blowing a whistle. After all, it was an "imaginary enemy" and pursuit of goals since the age of 17, which can be affirmed and recognized by Li Zeyan. It is simply an easter egg that comes with the negotiation, and it is worthy of the old man to praise me ten times. I was being silly and happy. Suddenly my fingers hurt, I have forgotten about my cigarette that was about to burn my fingers! Chapter 5 Page 1 With Huarui's capital injection, Yuanshan passed the crisis steadily. After more than half a year, the foundation of the resort has gradually taken shape. Just when everything seemed to be going in a good direction, early this morning, the news of "the crash of the president of Huarui" directly bombed all major platforms. Reminiscent of the so-called "homicide list" that was suddenly leaked on the internet a few days ago, I inexplicably feel that these two things may have some connection. Who on earth wants Huarui to sink in the water? Wait a minute, which company announced the list. Could it be that their person in charge is secretly playing tricks? Page 2 Before I could find anything out of my investigation, within a few days, the news of "Which company claims that Huarui has maliciously acquired a large number of pharmaceutical companies" once again detonated all platforms! "Deliberately monopolizing the pharmaceutical market will inevitably cause the price of medicines to rise, which is obvious." "Just for profit, this behavior is very bad!" "Even Huarui's own workers and can't stand it, which shows how terrible Li Zeyan's actions are!" Page 3 Opinions on the Internet are divergent, and public grievances are boiling, and they all accuse Huarui. But I don’t believe it. Although I have only met Li Zeyan several times in person, for so many years, because I have always regarded him as an opponent and target, I have studied Huarui and Li Zeyan’s behavior more than anyone else. The nonsense on the Internet, I don't believe a word! I browsed the web quickly, staring at the almost identical title and searched viciously. Page 4 "Huarui’s reputation plummeted, Li Zeyan fell into a situation where everyone was clamoring and angry, and the heads of the company was clearly cut off from him." In the video, the host's voice kept ringing into my ears. All the signs made me firmer in my previous thoughts: It must be looking at which company is crossing the river to demolish the bridge! I immediately called the assistant to the inside line: "How much do you hire me for a large number of naval forces? How many can you hire? How many! That's right, I have to spare no effort to clarify for Huarui, and by the way, I will focus on the company. Going right now!" I know that this "bad strategy" and only a small help but I haven't beaten Li Zeyan righteously, how could Huarui have an accident in such a situation! What I want is not the taste of winning without a fight. Page 5 Probably because of anger, I couldn't help but send a message to Li Zeyan: The outside world said that Huarui's energy is exhausted. You will not be reduced to the point where you still need to borrow money from me, right?" This message was sent, and I did not expect Li Zeyan to reply to me. However, when it was almost midnight, I suddenly received an email from Huarui. ‘Huarui has always been a responsible company, and will do what it says without fear of any storms. Now everything is running normally, you don't need to worry about it.’ Signer: Li Zeyan. Page 6 Looking at this email, I couldn't help but smile in the middle of the night. Also, Huarui has always been fighting steadily, and Li Zeyan has never fought unprepared battles. Maybe he is playing a big move. Otherwise, how can I say that he is my respectable and close opponent! As for my secret match with Li Zeyan. Give me another three or four years to see who wins and who loses.

#rumors and secrets Victor #mr love queens choice #mr love queens choice victor #love and producer #love and producer li zeyan #mr love victor

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honeymoonjin · 4 years

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, sub!jungkook, dom!reader, pegging, anal play, rimming, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, jk being a good good boy, dom!namjoon, sub!reader, bath sex, ageplay/DDlg, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names, spanking, creampie, aftercare in both cases

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and jk’s ass

DAY EIGHTEEN

All things considered; you were rather lucky to be sharing a room with Yoongi when you wake up that morning.

The second consciousness returns to you, it brings a feeling of nausea so abrupt that you’re careening off the bed and rushing to bed over the toilet without a second’s thought, body running on survival mode.

You’re not sure what wakes Yoongi - the sudden absence of pressure and heat against him, or the sound of you throwing up all the food and alcohol you’d consumed last night – but it takes mere moments before you feel him gently caressing your trembling body, lifting your tangled hair back off your face.

“Just let it out,” he coos softly as you bend over miserably, the sour taste on your tongue making your stomach turn again, “you’ll feel better after, I promise. That’s it.”

The moment you finally have nothing left to empty out, you collapse sideways onto the cool bathroom tile, hand curling over your stomach. Yoongi gets up to flush the toilet and gets out a spare toothbrush from under his sink, pressing it into your hand already prepped with toothpaste. “I’m sorry,” you mumble lowly, nose running slightly as you sniffle. “I think I drank too much. That green apple soju fucking sucks, too.”

The doctor has the good graces to smile at your attempt of lightening the mood, but it’s strained, waiting for you to begin brushing the acrid leftovers from your mouth before speaking. “You’d better have a light breakfast, okay? Some toast and maybe a cup of herbal tea to settle your stomach. Can you stand? I’ll get you some fresh clothes from your room while you take a shower here.”

Your heart warms at his endearing bedside manner. “I’ll be fine, Yoongi.”

“It’s non-negotiable, I’m afraid,” Yoongi says with a mock sigh. “Come on; you can wash your hair, too. Feeling nice and clean will help.”

Sniffing one last time, you give him an agreeing nod and hunker up on your knees, before standing. God, but why do you still feel so nauseous? That fucking soju. Yoongi must see the discomfort on your face, because he gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Not to worry, I’m sure I have something here you can take which will make you feel better. You aren’t the first person to not handle their liquor in the villa.”

You give him a questioning frown, your throat feeling raw as you clear it lightly. “What do you mean? Everyone seemed okay yesterday.”

“Hoseok texted me,” Yoongi answers with a shrug. “I didn’t see it ‘til after you fell asleep, but apparently poor Tae was curled up with a hot water bottle last night feeling rather sorry for himself. I think he got a little trigger-happy on his Sprite and soju mixers.”

Your brows furrow in concern, your own condition forgotten. “Is he alright?” You mentally kick yourself for not being more attentive to him. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel excluded now that he was voted out.

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Hoseokie and Jimin apparently actually spent the night in the bunk room with him, because both refused to leave. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.”

“Holy shit,” you muse. “If you weren’t so busy filling me like a cream puff maybe we could’ve witnessed that.”

Yoongi’s mouth gapes at your jibe, and you let out a hiccupping giggle when he rushes you, jabbing at your sides. “You little shit! That’s how you repay me after yesterday?”

You chuckle, feeling significantly more cheerful than when you woke up. “I gotta keep you humble, Doctor Min.”

His shoulders jump with a fond huff. “You’re impossible,” he gives in with a begrudging smile. “Now go; shower! I’ll be back.”

By the time you’re downstairs, enjoying some lightly buttered toast and an aromatic peachy-tasting tea - laughing with Taehyung who has slunk downstairs like a viscous goop, slumped on the table sucking on a vitamin table - any concerns or worries about your brief vomiting spell have entirely left your mind.

Jungkook is antsy.

He cycles madly between intense eye-contact and complete avoidance of your existence, looking for all intents and purposes like a deer in headlights. You imagine it’s because he wants to do his prompt today, and you certainly could dispel the awkward tension by just asking him if he wants to go upstairs or texting him to dig a little, but where would the fun in that be? You much prefer cuddling with Taehyung and a chunky blanket, pretending to watch The Voice of Korea while you really watch Jungkook squirm instead.

Taehyung sighs wistfully as a contestant finishes with a belted high note, all four judges slamming down their buttons and giving the cameras big reactions once they turn and catch a glimpse of the singer. “I wish I could be on the show,” the masseuse says with another slow sigh.

You grin, poking him in the cheek with a single finger. “Is our puppy a good singer, huh? Do you reckon you’d win?”

“What?” Taehyung asks distractedly, his eyes locked to the screen. “No, I wanna sit in those big chairs and spin around. It’d be so fun.”

Your surprised laugh makes Jungkook jump in his seat, even as he sits on the opposite couch to the two of you and glares intensely at the pages of a comic book he’d stolen from someone, spending far too long on one page to actually be reading it.

Hoseok, who sits completely silently next to Jungkook - extremely strange for the normally bubbly man - is even more suspicious. Every few seconds, he shoves his phone under Jungkook’s nose, before pulling it away and typing furiously.

You had no doubt in your mind that he was giving the youngest contestant salacious tips, instructions, or both, judging by the way Jungkook’s cheeks get hotter with every message.

A lazy day after the drunken entertainment from the day before, the four of you had chosen to collapse onto the couch and stay there, flicking between channels as you idly enjoyed each other’s company. Namjoon had texted the groupchat and put a note on his door warning people that he was studying for an exam for a summer course he’d signed up for. This was the first you’d heard of said course, but his messages had contained several exclamation points, so you knew it was serious.

Jimin was also making the most of his privacy. The only glimpse you’d seen of him at all today was while you and Taehyung were cleaning your dishes. He’d rushed down in a fluffy white bathrobe, covering his face with his sleeve, bemoaning the drinking that had done serious damage to his clear skin. When he dropped his sleeve to bundle some ice into a paper towel, it looked fine to you, albeit pinker in the cheeks and forehead than his bare face had been before, but he swore the two of you to silence and determined he was going to lock himself into his room until he no longer looked like “an evil stepmother.”

Jin and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, though most of the house were almost certain they’d become something akin to fuckbuddies considering how often they disappeared together, and how rampant and shameless their sexual tension was whenever they cooked together for the rest of you.

It had taken a while for Taehyung to bounce back from his hangover, Hoseok fussing over him like a child as Tae clung to you for some tactile comfort. Spending a day by yourself hadn’t really been an option when you’d been cuddling with him for hours, but you were far happier spending some quality time with the masseuse.

It takes no more than three new contestants on the TV show to have their moment in front of the judges for Jungkook to break. Hoseok’s given up on the phone messages, instead whispering directly Jungkook’s ear as the boy clutches the open comic book in front of his lap so hard his knuckles go white.

Laughing at the flustered camboy, Hoseok loses all tact and stops damping his voice, his natural level loud enough that you can make it out over the garishly aggressive appliance store advertisement on the TV. “Come on, Kookie, it’ll be great!” he insists, Jungkook cringing at the volume. “Switching things up will help your chances for fan favourite too, and surely you’ve done-”

Jungkook stands up abruptly, comic book still propped up in front of his crotch as his cheeks and neck go bright red. “If you like pegging so much, why don’t you do it, then?” he blurts with a cry, before the realisation of what he said aloud hits him. Choking on air, he just about trips back onto the couch in his haste to leave, stomping upstairs like a wronged teenager.

Everyone goes silent, a cheery female voice announcing that Subway’s quality is higher than ever being the only sound in the room. Mouth open, you blink over to Hoseok. “Should I… go check on him?”

“Uh- Yeah, maybe,” he admits, a slight pained look of guilt flickering across his face before he brightens up. “But it’s dangerous; you should take a strap with you.”

You pause halfway through standing up, Taehyung letting go of you and curling deeper into the pile of blankets. “Have you no shame, Hoseok? You humiliated the poor kid!”

Hoseok grins broadly. “He only reacted that much because he liked the idea,” he protests, before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “And what about you, princess? Do you like the idea?”

You swallow, straightening up fully. “I haven’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” you offer up slowly. “I’m not- I’m not opposed.” But even as you say that, you begin to picture it. Jungkook on all fours in front of you, or perhaps spread out on his back, brows furrowed in pleasure, clingy and whiny. Though it was certainly new ground to you, most things were these days, and you’ve started craving fresh experiences, feeling more alive and excited about sex than you’ve ever really felt before.

A lightly huffed laugh leaves Hoseok’s lips. “I’d say you’re a little more than ambivalent, judging by that look on your face. Go upstairs now, princess; Jungkook’s ass needs you.”

You scoff, patting Taehyung’s cheek goodbye before leaving the way the maknae left earlier. Upstairs, Jungkook’s door is open the slightest sliver. A shy invitation.

You knock anyway, calling out his name. When his sullen voice invites you in, you slip inside and shut the door behind you. With his head hanging, shoulders slumped, poor Jungkook looks miserable. “Oh, Gukkie, baby, you’re okay,” you soothe, rushing to his side.

Folding his hands cutely over his crotch, he keeps his head down, but nuzzles against your stomach when you pull him into an embrace, running your hands through the long, heavy black locks of his hair. “‘M sorry,” he murmurs, lifting a single hand to ball his fist in the fabric of your shirt.

Your heart warms at the little action even as it aches for his sadness. “What are you sorry for? You don’t have to be sorry.”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you can just about hear the pout. “Embarrassed,” he explains shortly. “You probably think it’s gross.”

“Of course I don’t,” you deny in a soft yet firm voice, still stroking his hair. “Baby, if you want me to do it for you, I will.”

He looks up suddenly, chin propped up on your stomach. “Really?” he asks in hope, eyes glittering like entire galaxies.

You shrug. “I mean, I haven’t used a strap-on before, so it probably won’t be very good, but I wanna try if it’s something that would make you happy, you know?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts sweetly, before he lets out a dejected breath. “I don’t know,” he says with a sigh, letting his head drop off you again. “I still feel really embarrassed. Hobi-hyung was te-teasing me so much.”

You wince at the way his voice hitches and wobbles, like he’s on the verge of tears. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you coo. “I think he was just trying to encourage you. But if he made you uncomfortable, I can go down there right now and-”

As you start to shift away, a hand shoots out and latches onto your wrist, snagging you in place. “No,” Jungkook interrupts quickly, before turning sullen again, lifting up his head so that you can just barely see his eyes, gleaming with unshed tears. “Can you just stay with me?”

Reaching forward to cup his cheek and bring his gaze up, you send him your warmest smile. “I’ll stay,” you promise, “want me to help cheer you up? I don’t like seeing my Gukkie so sad.”

His bottom lip quivers as he nods, fingers tightening around your wrist, tugging you back to his side. “Yes, please,” he asks politely, voice still so hesitant as his gaze drops like he’s too shy to meet yours, face pressing into your palm. “Want you to make me feel better.”

Your breath hitches when his eyes dart up, just for a second, and reveal a glimmer that isn’t tears so much as mischief. You realise quickly that perhaps Jungkook is pulling on your heartstrings intentionally, luring you in just like he did the day after the fight, when everyone in the house bent over backwards to give him what he wanted. But you aren’t mad; truth be told, every second that passes, you grow more excited about what’s to come. “Of course I will,” you reply warmly. “Can I give you a kiss, baby?”

One thing you aren’t prepared for as you carefully straddle his lap and press your lips against his is just how differently he kisses when he’s in this submissive frame of mind. You’d associated Jungkook with hunger, fierce passion and need. This Jungkook was needy, but in a very different way. Lips parted, he tilts his chin and lets you take over, his fingers curling tightly in the fabric of your shirt, his long hair tickling against your cheeks.

And unlike the more dominant Jungkook that would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe, the camboy now seems impatient, hips shifting under you and whines leaving his throat as he breaks apart, lips swollen. “Will you fuck me, Y/n? I need you.”

Sucking in a breath, you’re nodding before you’ve even really processed his words. “How do I, uh, what should I-”

“The stuff’s in my nightstand drawer,” Jungkook offers up in explanation. The young man bites his lip, looking positively delectable. In a starch-white t-shirt that simultaneously swamps his figure but exposes his delicate collarbones with the v-neck, and his long locks tucked behind his ears, no imagination is required to see how easily he fits into this subby persona. Even as he’s physically much larger than you, and there’s no hiding his thick thighs and broad shoulders, his expression and posture alone convey plenty. “But, um… Could you- could you help prepare me first? I can if you’re uncomfortable, you know. No pressure.”

“I can,” you assure quickly, standing up when he wriggles meaningfully beneath you. “I mean, I want to. Is it, you know…?” You trail off, watching Jungkook scoot himself back so that his feet don’t quite touch the floor. He tilts his head in confusion. “Clean?” you hiss softly, cheeks flaming.

Jungkook freezes, eyes wide and mouth parted in a small o. “I- Yeah, it’s, uh, clean, I-”

“Sorry,” you grimace, “that totally ruined the mood, didn’t it? I’m new to this.”

“You don’t have to, honestly,” Jungkook says with a small voice, fiddling with the loose threads in the rips of his jeans. “I can do it.”

You’re really fucking this up, huh? “No, no, I want to, it’s fine!”

“I swear, I won’t be offended if it weirds you out-”

Without a pause to think, your lips are moving. “Pants off, Gukkie, I’m going to finger you,” you announce in a firm voice, chin jutting forward in your determination.

You hadn’t even intended to use it as power play, more so just insisting what you were okay with, but his reaction is undeniable. Jungkook visibly melts at your command, eyelids fluttering for a moment and shoulders going lax. Even his socked feet turn inwards, the complete posture of submission. The image of it sends heat through you, and you feel alive with it.

“Th-thank you,” Jungkook stutters, chest hitching. “How do you want me?”

Even though you don’t know the least about fingering or prepping, you’re quickly growing addicted to the way he responds to your authority, so you make a split second decision. “All fours, baby. And clothes off for me.”

Jungkook bites down a whine - how you wish he wouldn’t muffle himself - but obeys quickly, stripping all the way down to his socks, toeing them off hastily before getting on his knees. Clearly a position he’s used to, the camboy wastes no time in presenting himself, upper torso flat against the bed and back arched up to expose himself. With a cheek pressed against the mattress to look back at you, his hair slips over and covers his face.

Before he has the chance to huff, you reach forward and tuck it back behind his ear, tapping your finger once on his nose to make him scrunch it, a toothy grin on his face. “Y/n!” he protests with a hiccupy giggle.

“What?” you ask innocently. “I’m just trying to help out, baby. Can I ask you a favour?”

Jungkook’s grinning so widely that his eyes crinkle. “You’re the dom, Y/n, you don’t need to ask favours, you know?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right,” you muse. It’s so easy to forget that the control is yours, especially when you’re a bit out of your depth. Resolving yourself to be more authoritative, you clear your throat and school your expression. “Mouth open, Gukkie.”

Following your command so quickly that there’s an audible sound, Jungkook braces himself up a little with his forearms so that he can face you better with his jaw wide open and tongue lolled out on his bottom lip.

When you place your first two fingers of your dominant hand on that pretty pink tongue, you don’t even have to command him to suck before he’s wrapping his lips around them and hollowing his cheeks, blinking up at you for approval.

You try and use the past couple weeks of dirty talk from the guys to inspire you when talking to Jungkook, using your other hand to comb the hair back from his face again. “That’s it, baby,” you croon, “nice and wet; soak them for me. What a good boy.”

Keening under your praise, still bent over on his knees, Jungkook swirls his tongue and salivates over your digits diligently. It feels strange; the hot wet cavern, the muscle covering every inch of your skin. Your stomach flips in arousal when you begin to tug your fingers out and he pulls off them with a pop, drool on his chin and pupils blown wide.

“Alright, Gukkie, stay there,” you indicate, holding your spit-slicked fingers aloft as you get on the bed behind him. Cock dangling hard between his legs, he’s hunkered down, heels pressed against his upper thighs. You could easily reach him from here, but there’s something rising within you, an urge to play with him a little rougher.

He jumps and lets out a surprised cry when you rain down your other palm on his asscheek in a swift spank, head falling back to the mattress.

“Did I say you could lie down? Ass up, Gukkie,” you spit sharply, satisfaction curling around your ribs as he lifts his hips without delay, back arching beautifully to present himself once again. A roughly hand-shaped pink flush on his otherwise unblemished skin makes you bite your lip. “Colour?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment, fingers fisting the sheets. You fear the worst for a second, but it seems like it just took him a second to comprehend you, because just as soon as the worry rises, he lets out a cute gasp of realisation and spreads his knees further. “Green, so green.”

“Good boy,” you praise, relief clear in your voice. “A single hair out of position without my permission and there’ll be more where that came from.” Though you secretly admit spanking the responsive boy feels good in some odd way, you’d feel a lot better knowing when he’d intentionally stepped out of line, and so giving him a specific avenue assuages some of your potential guilt over the impact play. He seems to understand too, nodding his head sweetly and visibly flexing this thighs to keep steady.

This isn’t usually an angle you’re used to seeing on a guy, but as you gently circle the tight muscle of his rim, you marvel at how Jungkook still makes it look good. Entirely free of hair, ass, thighs and back thick and sculpted, it’s clear the visual is an important thing, especially in his line of work.

You can feel his body go slightly stiff when he holds his breath, but the slightest pressure makes him tremble, his eyes loosely shut as he focuses on pure sensation. Wary of the spit drying off your fingers too soon, you swiftly but smoothly slide your first finger all the way inside of him. There’s resistance up until the first knuckle as he clenches, but once you reach a certain point it’s like his body is letting you in. So tight that you can feel his walls flex, it’s an odd sensation to get used to, but you know from experience that the first intrusion feels odd to receive, too, and that only building up stimulation helps get past it.

For that reason, you don’t pause much before you begin fucking your one finger into him, using your other hand to grasp the flesh of his ass and part him. “Doing so well, baby,” you compliment when Jungkook lets out a guttural, drawn-out whine. Minutely, you feel his hips rock, seeking stimulation in the right place. You know he’s probably aching for his prostate to be touched, but you haven’t the slightest clue on where to find it.

Instead, your next best option is external. Once you draw your first finger out and start to stretch his rim on two, you reach around and under him, hand wrapping around his cock.

Startled, Jungkook goes iron-tight around your two fingers and cries out. You freeze, worried you’ve done something wrong, but he rocks himself back, burying your fingers deeper inside him.

Even in your uncertainty on how to proceed, you know one thing: he’s actively chosen to move out of place.

This time when you drop his length and come back up to spank him, he moans, face going lax and dopey. “Fu-fuck, please,” he breathes, “I’m sorry, I need more.”

“You need more?” you ask, soothing a palm over the reddened skin. “I didn’t realise you were in any position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungkook swallows heavily. “Please give me more, I can take it, please.”

“That’s more like it,” you state proudly, before cringing at how cheesy the words sound to your own ears. Although taking control is fun, you don’t feel as at ease with a filthy tongue like you were used to the others being. Jungkook however, unable to see your reaction, just makes a needy noise in his throat, hotly anticipating your next move.

As you start to move your fingers again, however, they don’t glide like they did before. Unlike a proper lubricant, his saliva has evaporated away, and the dry friction certainly can’t be pleasant.

He’d said the supplies were in his nightstand, but that’s well out of your arm span, so, thinking quickly and not wanting Jungkook to feel uncomfortable, you pull your fingers out gingerly, bend down and spit directly onto his winking hole, some of it disappearing inside as the rest runs down to his balls.

Since he insisted he could take it, you hook three fingers inside him, his hole stretching around you as he groans. There’s so much pressure on your fingers as you plunge inside, the friction aided by your saliva, and you can feel the way he tries to relax himself, clenching periodically.

As much as the spit helped, you become paranoid that it’ll dry out again as you stretch him on your fingers. Still too far from the lube, the thought occurs to you that you could keep him wetter if you just used your mouth.

The thought isn’t entirely unappealing to you. Sure, he doesn’t have the same nerves that make you feel so good when someone goes down on you, but you’re sure he’d enjoy it, and you’re reassured that he’d cleaned himself.

The second your tongue traces his rim, pressing between the tight ring and your knuckles, Jungkook gasps, before letting out a moan so high and keening that you practically salivate.

With your free hand inching around to grip his thigh and steady yourself, you press your chin between his ass cheeks and lap at him, fingers speeding up now that they’re better lubricated.

His hips won’t stay still, but you can’t blame him. From the constant trail of cries and whimpers, there’s no doubt Jungkook is extremely sensitive. Slowly, the thought of stretching him out for a purpose leaves your mind, and you begin to take your time with him, enjoying the feeling and sound of him falling apart from your touch.

You could get used to this; the meaty thighs trembling, the heaving breaths, the moans of your name on his tongue. At one point, your middle finger grazes a slightly protruding spot inside him, a different texture to the rest of his walls. The second it does, he jumps like he’s been electrocuted. Aha.

“Oh, fuck, feels s-so good, please do that again, fuck,” Jungkook babbles hopelessly. Your grip on his thigh quickly morphs from steadying yourself to holding him steady, as he jerks with every repeated stroke of your finger against his prostate.

Unable to respond verbally, you stiffen your tongue and push it deeper inside him as your fingers speed up, all corkscrewing directly towards that sensitive spot.

So noisy that he buries his own face in the blankets, rocking back desperately onto your face and fingers, Jungkook’s pleading and praises are garbled, one long stream of need until he finally lets out one loud, sharp cry and paints the mattress white.

Lifting yourself up to watch him cum, you speed up your fingers to ride him through it, devouring the sight of his red, untouched cock twitching and shooting ropes of cum as his whole body shudders with it.

There’s the undeniable warmth of pride in your chest at watching him cum so beautifully, at hearing and seeing the pleasure you’ve given him. You’d give anything to make him cum at your hands over and over, and in the back of your mind you marvel at how so many things the guys did to you when they dommed you make sense now.

Slowly, he comes back down from his high, chest heaving rhythmically as he catches his breath, going slack. You guide him to roll over onto his back, avoiding the puddle of quickly-cooling cum, and sit beside him brushing back the hair that clings to his sweaty face.

A dopey smile puffing up his cheeks, and eyes hazy, he blinks up at you. “That was so good,” he breathes.

Keeping your voice sweet, you raise a brow. “Do you think we’re done just because you came, Gukkie? I don’t think so.”

His smile falters, eyes regaining some of their clarity. “I- Oh, you didn’t- Do you want me to...?” he trails off, eyes falling down to between your legs, still fully clothed.

Though you’d love for him to make you cum - truth be told, your nerves feel like they’re working doubletime right now, and you know it wouldn’t take much - you shake your head, standing up off the bed. Jungkook whines and sits up slightly as you pull away, but freezes once you begin to undress in front of him.

Unbuttoning your shirt, you feel his eyes follow your movements hungrily. “I never even gave you permission to cum, baby,” you point out. “I also didn’t ask you not to, so I won’t punish you. But you did ask for me to fuck you and make you feel better.” The fabric of your shirt falling to the floor, you leave your bra on and slip off your pants instead. “So I don’t care how sensitive you are or how many times you cum, I’m going to fuck you until you feel so good you cry. Is that understood?”

Where such vulgarity came from you don’t know, but it triggers the right reaction, Jungkook going limp against the bed, grabby hands flexing at the sheets as he nods as quick as he can, one drifting dangerously close to his still half-hard cock. “Please, I wan’ it. Yes.”

“Wait patiently, then,” you command in a cutting tone, discarding your underwear without ceremony, “and no touching.”

He lets out a quiet huff, leg kicking out and hand slipping under his back to stop temptation. You would laugh at the bratty display - or perhaps even punish him for the attitude - but you’re too focused on stepping into the black harness of the strap-on you got from Jungkook’s nightstand, working out how to tighten the straps and sit it right.

It takes you a moment to get right, but it’s surprisingly comfortable once you get it into place - which probably is the point. Though it’s odd feeling weight extending from your pelvis, the dildo is supported by a leather belt-like strap that runs around your waist. Right on the outer line of each hip, adjacent straps run down, under the curve of your ass and connect to the central one that sits between your legs like panties, albeit narrow and stiffer than fabric.

You’d seen ones with a second dildo facing inwards to go inside the wearer as they fucked someone else, but this didn’t have one, so instead your only stimulation was the slight heat when the leather would drag against your swollen clit. Happy to forgo your own pleasure for the sake of pleasuring Jungkook, you reach in the nightstand drawer again to pull out the lube.

Unlike Hoseok’s travel-sized bottle, the base of the drawer is littered with sample size packets of multiple brands. Mixed in with foil condom packets, you spy oil-based lubes, water-based ones, some scented, self-heating, even one that claims to be strawberry flavoured. Reaching for a basic water-based one, you rip it open and use it to slick up the dildo.

Jungkook watches you raptly, hips wiggling against the bed either in impatience or the effort it takes not to touch himself. Hyper-aware of the appendage that dangles in front of you, and how slippery your hands currently are, you imagine hunkering on the bed without using your hands probably isn’t a very sexy look, so instead you stand to the side of the mattress and instruct him to come to you.

He does so with obvious enthusiasm and anticipation. The earlier haze of his orgasm dissipating, his eyes are alert and his lips are stretched in an unconscious grin. Splayed out on his back, legs dangling on either side of your hips, Jungkook looks so content to hand over his dominance to you that your heart swells slightly at the sentiment of it.

Clearly Jungkook isn’t feeling as soft as you. On the contrary, his cock looks so hard it must be physically hurting him, the tip weeping precum onto his belly as he arches his back to entice you. “Please, Y/n,” he whines, hitching a foot up onto the edge of the mattress to bare himself more fully. “Gukkie needs it.”

Though it’s more your own hesitation rather than any desire to make him beg for it, you can’t deny that the sweet entreating voice is music to your ears and core, and pushing aside all worries you find yourself guiding his opposite leg up with a slippery hand, before lining your synthetic cock against Jungkook’s rim.

Immediately, before you even enter him, he keens, and although you can’t literally feel him rocking back towards it, you watch it catch on the muscle and begin to slip inside, and the resistance can be felt as a pressure against your pelvis where the base of the dildo is fastened.

“De-deeper,” Jungkook makes out with a gasp, his fingers reaching up to clutch at your wrist, and you push past the resistance to drive the dildo inside him, slowly but smoothly. His breath hitches, back lifting off the bed as his body tries to process the intrusion, and instinctively - a word you wouldn’t typically associate with domming - you grip onto his waist to hold him still.

Though your palms and fingers are still slick with lube, you manage to keep them steady on his skin by slightly digging your nails in. Jungkook’s mouth parts in a gulped moan, and you feel the pressure in front of your crotch suddenly increase as he stiffens.

“Green?” you check in quickly, so quick to fear the worst.

Jungkook is even quicker to dispel your worries. “Green, fuck, harder, please,” he babbles, shifting as much as he can under you to spread his legs wider in invitation.

You let out a breath of relief but pair it with a snapped thrust to mask it as exertion. Jungkook lets out a cry of pleasure that sounds more like a hiccup, his body rocking on the bed with the force of it.

It’s hard to tell how intense or rough your thrusts are when all you have is his response and the feeling of the leather base pressing against you to go off, so once you start to fuck him in earnest, you’re sure to pay close attention to him.

Not that you’d otherwise be apathetic by any means. Whether his beautiful reactions are a skill learnt from camming or he began camming because of his reactions, you don’t know, but you think watching him like this could never get old.

His hair’s splayed back on the pale grey duvet like a dark halo, red hot streaks highlighting just how long the strands have gotten. His eyes, when he manages to open them, glitter like constellations and plead like puppy eyes. Though he has the bone definition of a god, gravity works against the strong lines and puffs up his cheeks instead, making him look small and sweet.

With lips so pretty and swollen, he pouts and whines and pleads, teeth poking out to nibble at the pinked flesh when the dildo hits his prostate and he muffles a whine.

It takes a surprisingly little amount of time to find a rhythm. Though you’re certainly inexperienced in the art of fucking someone else, it’s really a very natural motion to make your hips rock up against him. Albeit tiring, you find yourself able to pick up the pace until he’s writhing under your hands, his own nails scratching at the meat of his thighs with the restraint it takes not to touch himself.

Taking mercy on the poor thing, you lift one knee up on the bed to give yourself sufficient momentum to drop one of your hands from pinning him down and wrap it instead around his cock, doing your best to time your strokes together.

Jungkook lets out a low keen and goes stiff, back in a violent arch. “Fu-uck,” he cries, and his face would almost look scrunched up in pain if you didn’t know better, the poor camboy overwhelmed by finally being touched there.

“Does that feel good, Gukkie? Am I fucking you good?”

He nods hastily, bottom lip trembling as your thrusts don’t let up for a second. “Suh-so good to Gukkie,” he confirms in a wobbly voice, “please fuck Gukkie harder!”

Quickly tiring, you don’t know if you even can, but you engage your core like it’s a workout and speed up your hips, the insistent rub of the leather over your pussy lips and clit actually beginning to tighten a coil of pleasure low in your belly.

“Yes,” Jungkook wails when he feels the dildo spearing him quicker and quicker. You use your thumb to press at his slit, dripping precum in obscene amounts as he sobs and bucks between your hand and your fake cock.

Once his thighs start to tremble violently and he can’t seem to take in a full breath, you know he’s close. Steeling yourself for the final lap, you ignore the rub of the leather and the pressure of the dildo base against your pelvis, and focus fully on Jungkook and bringing him to a second powerful orgasm.

“Are you close, baby? I wanna see you cum again,” you request, punctuating it with a squeeze of his cock to make him cry out.

Such a polite boy, he composes himself enough to answer. “Baby’s so close,” he whines. “Gukkie can cum?”

You smile fondly even with gritted teeth from exertion, glad his eyes are scrunched shut with pleasure so he can’t see you melt for him. “Gukkie can cum, baby.”

You make good on your promise for him to feel so good he cries when he reaches that high shortly after receiving permission. Tears spilling over his cheeks, his moan comes out strangled but stuttered and airy at the same time, almost like he’s giggling at the feeling that overcomes him. Barely anything comes out of his cock, already milked from the first orgasm, but his body is wracked with sensation and his lips are stretched in a dopey grin, struggling to catch his breath.

If you were a meaner - or fitter - dom perhaps you’d fuck him past the point of oversensitivity, but as it is, you quite happily come to a stop buried deep inside him, lazily stroking his cock as it softens until he hisses at the contact.

Using the duvet to wipe away the last of the lube and cum off your hands, you lean forward and cup this cheeks to brush the tears away and press a kiss to the button of his nose.

He shivers happily, lashes fluttering, and lets out a hum. “Thank you for taking care of Gukkie,” he whispers, before wincing slightly and correcting- “taking care of me. Sorry, I tend to do that when I’m-”

“You don’t have to explain,” you reply easily, kissing each of his cheeks in turn, tasting the salt of his tears as he giggles again at the tickling feeling. “Did you enjoy it, baby?”

Jungkook lets out a breathless chuckle, chest still heaving. “Fuck, like you wouldn’t believe,” he jibes, throwing a hand over his eyes and heated cheeks when you pull away. “But really; thank you.”

You slip the dildo out of him carefully, hearing him make a low noise in his throat as his hole flutters, empty. Rubbing his thigh comfortingly with one hand - if you knew one thing from being on the show, it was that you needed to shower Jungkook in aftercare now - you unfasten the strap-on carefully with your other. “You don’t have to thank me. I had fun too.”

The crook of his elbow lifts just slightly to expose the glint of his eyes, disbelieving. “You did?”

You beam warmly. “Definitely. You’re so fun to play with, Gukkie,” you praise, “plus, I feel like getting a new perspective has been really enlightening, you know?”

“Ah,” he muses, “entertaining and educational. I’m glad my ass served you well.”

A surprised laugh bubbles out of your throat; the quip a clear sign that Jungkook is returning from that hazy, contented plane of subspace you’ve grown used to. “Better put that on your CV.”

Jungkook sits up, affronted. Two fat drops of cum run down his stomach, quickly drying out once they spread over his skin. “My ass has been listed on my CV as a skill for years, Y/n, I’m not an amateur.”

“Oh, a professional ass man,” you tease, sighing at the release of pressure once the strap-on harness falls off your hips and to the ground, leaving your lower half bare. “Is that why you got on the show, huh?”

The camboy pouts. “I got on for many reasons,” he insists, “I’m very qualified, you know.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you return immediately, and pause. “Fuck. We were meant to be bantering but I’ve just been complimenting you, haven’t I?”

He nods like it was intentional. “Yet another one of my skills.”

“You’re impossible,” you sigh, but even when he convinces you to join him in the shower, the conversation between you flows without a hitch, and your fondness for the boy only grows.

In retrospect, you probably could’ve worked out Namjoon’s prompt based on how he treats you that dinner.

Subtlety isn’t his strong suit, but you’re so hungry from earlier that you barely notice the signs. It’s not uncommon for the guys to pile food on your plate, but Namjoon’s repeated insistence of feeding you directly perhaps should’ve been the first flag.

The way he fills your glass of water for you, ruffles your hair, continuously calls you little… Yeah, you blame Yoongi’s delicious fish cutlet and rice meal for not paying enough attention.

Luckily for you - or perhaps for him - an opening appears when you’re cleaning up the table with Taehyung and accidentally fumble a small dish of dipping sauce all over your hands and front.

Immediately, Namjoon as at your side, taking the ceramics out of your hand and tsking gently. “Oh, love, that’s no good,” he coos in a low timbre, “you’ve gotten yourself all dirty.”

You could just offer to go rinse your hands off in the sink and change shirts, but you’re wired up from fucking Jungkook without your own release - the camboy was so chipper at dinner that everyone had surely cottoned on - and so a better idea comes to mind. “It’s running down my sleeve,” you offer with a faux pout, “I’ll probably need a shower to get it all off. Care to join me?”

Namjoon’s brows lift as he surreptitiously ensures no one else is in earshot. With a hand on the small of your back, he leans in and presses his lips against your ear. “How about Daddy gives you a bath, baby girl?”

You suck in a breath, nerves alighting. Oh. You can work with this. Straightening up, you latch onto his shirt sleeve near the cuff and soften your eyes. “Only if you take one with me,” you bargain, “I’m only little, Daddy.”

He pulls back quickly, and were it not for the hot flares of lust in his eyes, it would almost seem like he’d been shocked. “Go to your bedroom then, love,” he instructs, “and no running on the stairs.”

Of course you aren’t really an impulsive child but, as it is, his command is actually difficult to follow. The urge to clamber up them as fast as you can, knowing you’re finally going to get fucked good, is hard to suppress.

You manage, however, and soon enough Namjoon’s in the bathroom with you, filling the tub. As you wait, toes wiggling against the cool tile in excitement, he unbuttons his cuff and rolls up the sleeve.

“Okay, clothes off, kitten,” he instructs, hunkering over the edge of the tub to dip a hand in up to the forearm, checking the temperature and stirring up the water, “it’s just about ready.”

You obey, tossing your clothes in a growing pile in the corner. Though it’s no bubble bath, he has drizzled some body wash in to give it a comforting scent, floral and sleepy like ylang ylang. When he pulls his arm out, there’s a ring of suds, and spots of water have already gotten onto his shirt. “You’ve gotta hop in too, Daddy,” you point out, smirking when Namjoon visibly falters at the title.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he confirms, shucking off his shirt and pants, “get in first, kitten, it’s all ready.”

The water is divine, a blooming heat that seeps down to your bones, warming you to the core. You immediately see your skin start to pinken, but the water isn’t unbearably hot, and it’s a pleasant flush.

The heat below contrasts with the cool air on your upper back and shoulders, causing you to shiver, but before you can complain you feel the water level rise, Namjoon’s arms wrapping around you from behind.

As you let him lean you back against his chest, you feel his hardness, but neither of you feel the need to comment on it. This is a porn show, and you’re going to fuck soon, sure, but for now there’s nothing better than a hot bath.

“Give me your hand, let’s clean this sticky sauce up, huh?” It isn’t until Namjoon begins to soap up a loofah and delicately scrub away at the black trails of dipping sauce that have run down your arms that you realise just how fantastic this prompt is. If you played your cards right, Namjoon would take care of you and pamper you all evening, fuck you silly, and then presumably put you to bed like a good Daddy. Holding your hands out obediently, you’re quite content to oblige.

“Sit up, kitten,” the academic commands softly with a press to your shoulder. Once the skin of your arms is unmarred again, Namjoon dips the loofah in the chest-level water, pulls it out dripping suds and water, and laves it over your back, making you sigh at the warmth. “Feels nice, hm?”

Your lips stretch in a lazy smile as you recall asking that very question yourself just earlier today. As much as you had fun domming Jungkook, and wouldn’t be averse to switching things up - quite literally - again, there’s no denying that your soul really sings when you’re the one being taken care of, played with, and pleasured. “Really nice, Daddy.”

The loofah gets dipped again, this time sliding over your chest and stomach. Letting your eyes slip shut at the relaxing treatment, Namjoon’s low timbre washes over you just like the aromatic suds of body wash. “I’m glad,” he coos, “I like taking care of you. You’re too little to do it all yourself, aren’t you? Need Daddy’s help?”

“Too little,” you parrot sleepily, “need Daddy.” With every word, with every touch of his large hands on you, you truly begin to feel little. Curling your toes against the base of the tub, you make a low noise in your throat and lean back against his chest again, head lolling back over his shoulder. “Will you give me a kiss, Daddy?”

He smiles at your entreating plea and wide eyes, eyes like crescent moons as he dips his head and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “All better now?” he checks as he sits the sopping loofah on the side of the bath.

You bite your lip and shake your head. “I’m not all clean yet, Daddy.”

“You aren’t?” he asks with mock surprise, dimple deepening and brows lifting. “Well, that’s no good, is my kitten still dirty somewhere?”

With a single decisive nod, you grab his hand and lead it down until the tips of his fingers brush your folds. “Daddy didn’t clean here, ‘s still dirty.”

You let out a blissful sigh when he cups you, middle finger curling up to barely dip inside you. Namjoon grins. “In here?” Rather than wait for your answer, he smoothly pushes it deeper, massaging at your inner walls. “Alright, kitten, just close your eyes and let Daddy finish cleaning you up.”

A smile graces your lips as your eyes flutter shut again, head comfy in the crook of his neck and shoulder. You could get used to this.

He doesn’t tease you, but nor does he fingerfuck you with intensity or vigor. It’s methodical and diligent, like he really is cleaning you out. One finger quickly becomes two, and his other arm winds around your waist on the other side to roll your sensitive clit, making you moan softly.

Raring to go from unfulfilled pleasure that morning, your nerves go into overdrive, a building wave growing quickly in your belly. When Namjoon adds a third finger, crooking them inside you thoroughly to stroke your g-spot, it takes less than a minute for you to fall apart, thighs clenching tight around his hands.

He works you through it, only stopping when you whimper from oversensitivity, but that doesn’t stop you from whimpering unhappily again when he pulls his fingers out and you’re left empty.

“You’re all clean now, kitten,” Namjoon states, running his palms over your inner thighs to relax them. “Time to get out.”

You sit up suddenly with a pout. “But Daddy!”

Narrowing his brows, you don’t miss the slight twitch of Namjoon’s lips at your sudden outburst. “No buts,” he reproaches, “I don’t want you pruning up.”

You huff, scowling when he deftly tugs out the plug and the water level steadily sinks. “You haven’t even fucked me yet, Da-mmf!”

Namjoon sends you a cutting glare, his strong hand cupped over your mouth. “I should wash your mouth out with soap for using that language, little one,” he warns, “now out of the bath.”

You whine behind his hand, but once he drops it you obey and scramble out of the quickly-draining tub. Your body feels heavier without the buoyancy of water, and you’re dripping onto the bathmat like a drowned rat, but Namjoon pays it no mind, getting out himself with powerful thighs and a heavy cock dangling between them, passing you a towel wordlessly.

You dry yourself off, pout never leaving your face. He’s really just gonna stay hard like that and not fuck you? “Daddy…”

“One more protest and I’m taking you over my knee,” Namjoon says with a sharp tone. “I thought my kitten was better behaved than this.”

You open and close your mouth, unsure how you can get what you want without using vulgar words. Then again, perhaps making him punish you would rile him up enough to fuck you, and you certainly weren’t against some spanking. Sucking a breath in to establish some resolve, you stomp your foot on the bathmat. “You’re so mean, Daddy!”

Namjoon gapes at you, the way you’re bundled in a towel from your chin to your knees, scowling at him. “You want it, don’t you?” he mutters quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Relaxing for a moment, he slips easily back into that position of authority. “That’s it,” he spits, taking you firmly by the wrist and leading you - still naked himself - into your bedroom, “I gave you plenty of warnings but you still won’t listen.”

You squeak as he rips the towel from you and tugs you onto his lap on the edge of the bed. Adjusting you so that your crotch is right above his aching erection, his legs are so long that your toes barely brush on the carpet, all your balance resting on him. This had been the roughest he’d ever been with you, or at least the most domineering, and your mind whirls with how much he’s coming into his element with this prompt.

He gives you no warning before he’s laying his hands on your ass, small pats to warm up the skin before a sudden, stinging strike laces your nerves. You cry out, wriggling in his grip, but he uses one broad hand to link your wrists together in the small of your back, your face pressed onto the mattress as you’re held up fully by him.

He’s carefully merciless, spanking you hard enough that it burns, tears pricking your eyes and lip swollen from when you bite it, but whenever your cries of pain and pleasure turn too much to genuine discomfort, you notice he gives you an extra second of reprieve and swaps out to lighter hits.

“Apologise to Daddy,” he commands gruffly as you sob beneath him, swatting you without pause.

You sniff and swallow before you can compose yourself enough to reply in a wobbly cry, knees buckling and trembling. “Suh-sorry, Daddy, I’m so sorry, I learnt my lesson, ple-ease!”

You could cry when you feel his hand land on you one last time, soft and soothing the stinging flesh. Namjoon shifts, and then you feel light kisses being pressed all the way from your reddened ass up your spine, making you shiver. “Thank you, kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, and gently sits you up, lying you on the mattress.

You hiss when you feel the fabric scratch at your skin, but it’s cool and soothing if you stay still, so you take deep breaths and feel your heart slowly return to normal, Namjoon running his fingers over your now-dry body.

Blinking up at him with what you hope are sweet puppy-dog eyes, you call his name softly to bring his attention to your face. “Are you really not gonna, you know…?”

He grins fondly at your attempt to evade the word fuck, silver hair flopping over his brow as he leans over you. “You took your punishment so well kitten, I think you deserve a reward, hm? Some special time with Daddy?”

You light up, sucking on your lower lip as you spread your legs to bare yourself shamelessly, hooking one foot around his waist so he’s between them. “Extra special time with Daddy,” you insist in a small voice, lip curling now that you’re finally going to get what you want.

With a light laugh, Namjoon centres himself so that he’s facing you head-on, your legs comfortably resting aside his hips. Stroking himself a few times, he taps his hard length against your already-swollen pussy lips. “Relax for me, kitten,” he guides, and you keen as you feel him begin to push inside you.

You try to stop yourself from clenching around him, but it’s been a while since you’ve fucked him, and as usual the biggest cock in the house takes getting used to. “So big, Daddy,” you breathe with a groan, brows pinched together at the stretch.

“You can take it, kitten, you’re doing so well for me,” Namjoon promises, holding you steady and open with a hand hooking your knee up high by his chest.

By the time he’s bottomed out, hips flush against your still-stinging ass, you feel so deliciously full that you can’t breathe. You lay back, eyes scrunched, and focus entirely on the feeling of his girth stretching you open.

“Feels good?” Namjoon checks in, and you nod, wriggling your hips against him to indicate he can move. “Hold on tight, then.”

Even though it’s barely been a day since you were last fucked, it feels like so much longer, and having Namjoon fill you up over and over is so satisfying on a deep level, that you don’t bother muffling your moans, letting yourself clutch at his arms and enjoy the ride.

While Namjoon certainly isn’t the most lithe or experienced member, his cock is a force of nature in and of itself, and this time, with the heat of desperation and the excitement of your altered dynamic getting to him, he fucks you without holding back.

If he’s like this on his third time, you think, he’ll be a beast before the show ends, but then the head of his cock strikes right against your g-spot, and the thought shatters as a cry is ripped from your throat.

“Oh! Daddy, yes, right there!”

He obliges you by adjusting his hips so that every stroke rubs against you just right, and your mind melts, colours and sounds and sensation blurring together in one full note of all-encompassing pleasure.

You cum without warning, not expecting it yourself, and Namjoon curses lowly in his throat as you clench around him. The orgasm is powerful enough to leave you shuddering hopelessly on the bed before going fully slack, drained.

Warm, fuzzy tingles settle in your fingers and toes and chest in the aftermath as Namjoon fucks you through it, not taking long himself to spill inside you. He drops your leg to the side and leans in, pressing slightly ticklish kisses to your neck and collarbone, hands on either side of your chest to keep his weight off you.

“So good to me,” he breathes out lowly, nuzzling your chin up to give him a better angle to sweetly kiss you on the lips, languid and unhurried as he slowly comes down from his own high.

This time when he pulls out of you and you’re left empty again, you don’t complain, too thoroughly fucked to do anything but let out a contented sigh. Namjoon cleans you up, apologising when oversensitivity makes you twitch at the slightest contact, and then washes up himself.

Just as you feel your mind lifting out of that mental space of feeling little, sitting up a bit on his bed and trying to work out if you’d be able to make it to your dresser to put on some pyjamas, Namjoon returns and does it for you, helping you slip into a baggy t-shirt that you like to use as a nightie.

“Are you going to stay?” you ask softly as he lowers the hem over your head, arms slotting through the holes.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon counters with an edge of hesitation, scratching lightly at his opposite arm, still naked.

You nod, patting the bed beside you. “If you don’t mind.”

Namjoon gathers his clothes and slips them on, not really appropriate for sleeping. Once he sees your look of confusion, he tilts his head towards your bedroom door. “I’m just going to duck out for some comfier clothes for sleeping, are you going to be alright for a moment?”

By the time he’s come back, you’ve already quickly brushed your teeth - hobbling to and from your bathroom like a newborn deer - and slipped under the covers, getting comfortable. Namjoon returns in grey striped pyjama pants and a white shirt, but he has something in his hands.

“You might think it’s silly,” he offers by way of explanation, the mattress springs squeaking as he gets on beside you, “but I like reading before bed, and I thought maybe you’d find it calming.”

With a dubious smile, you look at the book in his hands. It has the clean edges of a cared-for book, with the creases in the spine of a well-read one. On the cover, golden embossed stars and swooping font read The Little Prince. “You want me to read it?”

Namjoon returns your smile, warm and dimpled. “I want to read to you.”

The two of you cuddle together without words, one of his arms wrapped around your back as you lean on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Propping the small novel up on his stomach, he peers over your head to read.

“Once when I was six years old,” he begins, “I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.” He pauses, tapping you twice on the crown of your head to indicate you should look. “In the book it said…”

As he recites the novel aloud, you feel more than hear his voice, a low rumble in your ear like a rushing river or a slow-moving thunderstorm. It’s soothing, lulling you into sleep. His voice wraps around every word like a hug, enunciating each syllable with such care and colour and love, and always pausing when there were photos, even when your eyes slip shut and you begin to drift off.

Slowly, everything fades away. All sound is reduced to that regular heartbeat and warm rumble; all sensations are narrowed down to just the heat of his skin where it meets yours, his fingers lazily swirling patterns on your scalp. All thoughts simplify, the last six words in your brain, I could get used to this, before they wink out to nothing at all, and you sleep.

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Paging Healer Malfoy // Chapter Three - How To Save A Life (D.M.)

A/N: CHAPTER THREE! This is a loaded chapter. We see a lot of Draco’s centre as a Healer through this; we see just how his job affects him. So there’s a lot in this. This, so far, is my favourite chapter and I know I say that about everything I write, but I am so ridiculously happy with how this has turned out. So please, if you read, like/reblog/comment - let me know what you think whether it’s just a keyboard smash or a whole essay, I eat that stuff for breakfast, dinner, tea.

Summary: A promise Draco made to himself when he first became a Healer is broken - smashed to pieces in front of him, and he doesn't think he can fix it.

Warnings: angst, death, grief, a large time skip - looking at months, arguments, feelings, crying.

Word count: 4.3k

Prologue// Chapter One// Chapter Two

January gets off to an interesting start. It always does when Draco works the New Year’s shift; drunk witches and wizards entering the emergency room with alcohol poisoning or injuries they have no recollection of getting. (Y/N) had covered Christmas Day so he could spend it with his family, as per demanded by Narcissa, but he had covered Boxing Day and New Year’s to repay for that favour. He doesn’t mind it either; he would rather be working than sitting in his empty flat with nothing but his insomnia to keep him company.

Draco has always liked January; the idea of new beginnings sits with him, offering him the opportunity to start again from scratch and build himself up.

His New Year’s Resolution for this year is for him to finally be honest with (Y/N) about his feelings.

-------

January always brings with it the coldest weather despite the knowledge that spring is just around the corner. It brings with it red noses, warm scarves, and dragon’s breath.

He stands with Vera at the admit desk; going through their latest stock intake and what they would need to order more of if the flu season should continue well into February.

“Is that my favourite Healer?” A feminine voice sings out from behind them.

Draco spins around; a smile already crossing his face, “Violet! What are you doing here? Is isn’t a dialysis day?”

She shakes her head; holding up the pager she has carried with her since she was nineteen years of age, “I was sitting down to breakfast and this went off.”

Draco’s eyes grow wide, “It went off?”

Violet nods rapidly, “It went off, so I pushed my breakfast away, grabbed my suitcase and rang Jonathan from the tube.”

Draco claps his hands together in delight, “That’s great news. Did they say you were to get prepped down here?”

She nods, “A Dean Thomas rang me as I was on my way here. Told me to get the initial tests done here and then he’ll come fetch me when the kidney has arrived.”

Draco makes his way around the desk; holding out a hand for her to shake, “I’m so happy for you, Violet.”

“Thank you, Draco.”

He leads Violet into an empty exam room; making sure that there would be no-one to bother her as she waits for the green light to be taken upstairs.

“How are you feeling?” Draco asks quietly; calculating Violet’s blood pressure.

Violet releases a long sigh of relief, “Happy. Scared. Relieved. Nervous.”

Draco laughs, “That’s a lot for one person to be feeling.”

She smiles; eyes shining with unshed tears, “We’ve just been waiting for so long.”

And she has. Draco had treated her all those years ago when she was rushed in by her then-boyfriend Jonathan. Violet had been feeling ill for over a month; it had started with shortness of breath, and then she started losing weight but retaining water in her ankles and feet leaving them swollen as well as complaining about blood in her urine.

Having had enough, Jonathan rushed her to St. Mungo’s where Draco saw her and diagnosed her with kidney failure. She hadn’t even known she had kidney disease; feeling well enough to continue her active lifestyle and her work as a teacher.

From there, Draco had placed her on the transplant list – desperate for a match for a nineteen year old who still had her whole life to live. She hadn’t been out of Hogwarts a year; still very much a Ravenclaw through and through. After that, Draco had her assigned to dialysis which was where he saw her so often that a friendship struck up between him, her and Jonathan.

Draco finishes his examination of Violet; sending off samples of her blood to the lab to be checked for anything he hadn’t picked up. He smiles down at her, “I think you’re getting a new kidney today.”

The smile that breaks out across Violet’s face is blinding; pure happiness personified as if the very sun was sitting in this very exam room.

“Have you told Jonathan?”

Violet nods; her curls bouncing with the movement of her head, “He’s on his way. I think he’s more excited than I am.”

Draco laughs, “I can believe it. Alright, I’ll let you get settled whilst I go ring surgery and see how long it’s going to take.”

Violet smiles, and Draco briefly wonders whether her cheeks already hurt from the happiness shown on her face. “I’ll be back to see you soon,” He says as goodbye; heading straight for the nearest phone to pester Dean Thomas.

(Y/N) joins him at the admit desk a short while after Draco has left Violet.

“Will Dean be coming down to get her himself?,” A pause, “Thank you, Shirley,” Draco answers, putting down the phone.

“I see Violet is finally getting her transplant.”

Draco smiles; eyes flashing towards Violet in exam room four, “She’s been on the waiting list for over three years.”

“You’re happy for her?”

“I was the one to diagnose the kidney failure. She has been through numerous false alarms; the false hope of getting a kidney to find out its been donated elsewhere. I have sat with her through her dialysis when her fiancée couldn’t make it because of work. Yes, you could say I am happy for her.”

“You seem to have struck up quite a friendship,” She comments lightly; reading over an old chart.

Draco rolls his eyes, “It’s hard not when I see her so often and I’m her primary physician.”

(Y/N) sighs; not missing the undercurrent of warning in Draco’s tone, “Well I wish her all the best.”

---------

Dean Thomas had trained with Draco, but rather than continuing in the emergency room, Dean had chosen to go into surgery. He had done well for himself; he had quickly risen through the ranks on the surgical floor, having a knack for putting people back together again.

Arriving in the emergency room, Dean greets Draco with a large smile and a handshake, “It’s been too long, Malfoy. When are you next coming out with the lads?”

Draco laughs, “When Weasley can admit he can’t handle his firewhisky.”

“So never then?”

Both men laugh. Thinking back to the same night where Ron had gotten so drunk on the stuff that he performed his and Hermione’s song outside their window at nearing three in the morning. Other than disturbing the nightlife of urban London, Ron had woken up a very sleep-deprived Hermione.

Dean shakes his head; still chuckling, “How’s our patient?”

Draco smiles, “Brilliant. The perfect candidate; all her tests came back with no signs of trouble.”

Dean rubs his hands together, “That’s what I like to hear. Where is she?”

“Exam room four. I’ll take you there now.”

In the time that Draco has made his phone calls and seen other patients, Violet’s fiancée, Jonathan has arrived with a bouquet of pale pink roses, it seems. He stands upon the entrance of Dean and Draco but does not let his hand leave Violet’s. He smiles at both of them, “Draco, Healer Thomas – this is it, huh?”

Dean nods; smiling, “This is it,” He looks towards Violet, “How are we feeling? Are you ready?”

Violet nods once; firm, decided, “I’m ready.”

-----

Dean helps the porters move Violet to the surgical floor; Jonathan following with his bouquet of pale pink roses, whispering words of luck quietly. It’s a touching sight to see; the love they feel for each other written so clearly over their faces.

Draco knows (Y/N) joins him to watch them take Violet up; it’s hard to ignore her presence, the usual scent of lilies and citrus wafting over him, sending his heart racing.

“She’ll be okay, Draco,” (Y/N) murmurs; her eyes on the couple waiting to get into the lift.

Draco nods; turning to face (Y/N), “I know she will.”

(Y/N) reaches out to poke his cheek, “Then look like you believe it.”

Draco catches her finger with his hand; holding onto it for a minute, “I do believe it.”

Something passes over (Y/N)’s face that Draco can’t define; he drops her finger, clearing his throat at the strange atmosphere that has settled over them. “How busy are you today?” He asks, in the hopes of dispelling the awkward fog between them.

(Y/N) shakes her head as if coming out of a trance, “Not overly. Four patients so far and a capable trainee not demanding my attention every minute. Why do you ask?”

Draco shrugs, “Wanted to see if you would be free for lunch in an hour or two.”

(Y/N) smiles, “I’ll make time for you, Draco.”

Draco places a hand on his heart, “Then I should be so grateful as to buy the lunch.”

(Y/N) grins wickedly, “If you’re paying then I’m definitely making time.”

Draco gasps and (Y/N) starts to laugh in earnest; covering her mouth as she snorts. She shakes her head, laughing fit subsiding, “Let me know when you’re free and we’ll grab some food.”

He smiles at her, “Sounds like a plan.”

(Y/N) touches his shoulder, her fingers lingering, before leaving; needing to see patients and catch up on charts as well as keeping an eye on her trainee. A simple touch and it sends Draco’s heart rate through the roof; such a gentle touch but one that felt like it held so much promise. It had lingered slightly, and Draco wondered whether that was how lovers touched each other when saying goodbye. Either way, he so desperately wanted to know. He thinks back to his New Year’s Resolution; beginning to think that just maybe it’s time to tell the truth.

Draco shakes his head at the plan starting to form in his head; of questions and answers, of dimly lit restaurants and kisses against front doors. With a yearning filled sigh, he goes in search of a trainee, needing a distraction from his wandering mind.

Jude Prewett had proved herself highly independent within her first week of working in the emergency room; having hailed from a long line of Healers, she understood the role she played, but also lived with a huge weight on her shoulders in trying to fill shoes that had been worn so many times before.

Draco finds her with a patient; gathering their history before asking any further questions for their visiting St. Mungo’s today.

She startles slightly at his presence in the room, but soon settles quickly. “What do we have, Healer Prewett?”

“Jonah Ashford, 67 years old. He complains of shortness of breath upon initial examination.”

Draco nods; happy so far, “What have you gathered from his history?”

Jude raises an eyebrow, but nevertheless, continues, “Mr. Ashford has a history of asthma along with brief spells of dizziness that come on suddenly. These spells tend to last fifteen minutes each time and come and go when they please.”

Draco leans against the wall; happy to let Jude continue, “What are you thinking first?”

“He isn’t having an asthma attack though he does need a refill of his medication which I will give him a prescription for. I am concerned about the dizziness and how often it comes on.”

Draco looks towards the patient, “When was your last dizzy spell, Mr. Ashford?”

Mr. Ashford frowns; thinking back, “Last night.”

Draco nods, “Are you getting enough to eat and drink?”

Mr. Ashford looks down, “I try, but I find it hard to remember. My wife, Lacey, used to cook and clean. I lost her last year, and it’s been hard to find a routine when everything reminds me of her.”

Both Draco and Jude nod understandingly; both sad at Mr. Ashford’s story though it’s something they see often. Widows who simply desire company; who can no longer sit in their empty houses and watch time tick by.

“Have you got this?” Draco asks Jude. She nods; eyebrows furrowed as if to say she had this before he interrupted.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ashford,” Draco hears Jude say, “I won’t be a moment.”

Draco pauses outside the exam room; letting Jude catch-up to him. “Healer Malfoy?” She asks.

“Yes, Jude?”

“Is it just me you’re checking in on?” Jude asks; concern lacing her voice.

Draco shakes his head with a smile, “I check in on everyone. I’m checking on Healer Shannon after this. Don’t worry, Jude. You’re doing well.”

Jude relaxes and smiles; relief now evident in her tone, “Alright. Thanks, Healer Malfoy.”

Draco laughs, “It’s fine, Jude. Go,” He nods towards Mr. Ashford, “Continue with your patient.”

Making his rounds of the floor, Draco is relieved to see that the trainees are more than content to work with supervision from their assigned attendings. No complaints from either parties which makes Draco’s life a little easier when it comes to the reviews in just a couple of weeks.

He starts to collect patients to keep his mind off ringing the surgical floor immediately. He rings once, and they update him – Violet has just gone in, it looks to be going to fine, and then he makes himself wait to ring again.

“Draco,” Her voice sings; pulling him from his daydreaming as he sits at the admit desk.

He checks his watch, then checks the clock hung on the wall, “Is it that time already?”

(Y/N) nods; a large smile on her face, “And I do believe you said you would pay.”

He pats his pocket, checking for his wallet, “I do believe I said that. Come on then, let’s go eat.”

She hooks her arm through his. Draco has to resist the urge to pull her in further; to kiss her senseless. “I’m fancying chips, what about you?” She asks; ripping him from his yearning.

He shrugs, “I’ll have to have a look when we get there.”

She frowns, “Are you still worried?”

Draco shakes his head, “No. I’m not,” Then he smiles, “But I am hungry, so hurry your butt up, will you?”

(Y/N) snorts but fastens her pace, nonetheless.

--------

After the third time, Draco rang the surgical floor, they refused to accept any calls from him. Instead, ghosting his calls in order to annoy him further. Draco hadn’t worried; not through lunch with (Y/N) and not as he continues to see patients.

Draco can’t help but continue to glance at the clock; it has been well over the allotted time to complete a kidney transplant. Worry now settles deep within Draco’s gut, but he tries to remain positive as he flits about the emergency room; taking on as many cases as possible in order to keep the worry at bay.

It’s when he sees Dean get off the lift that Draco has any idea what’s happened. Dean looks tired and beaten down; as if all the fight has left him through the last few hours. With a nod of his head, Dean gestures to an empty exam room for Draco to join him in.

Taking a deep breath, Draco steels himself for what he’s about to hear. He knew Dean’s tactics from training and from seeing him work on the surgical floor; he would never let anyone else deliver the news of a patient to friends and family.

From the expression on Dean’s face, it doesn’t look to be good news, “Draco, I’m sorry.”

Draco nods; sadness settling like a boulder in his gut, “What happened?”

Dean looks reluctant to say, but he sighs and replies, “Cardiac arrest two hours in. We tried for half an hour to bring her back.”

All his life, Draco had seen signs that witches and wizards were not immortal – he had survived a devastating war; he worked in a profession where death stalked the halls like a hunter finding its prey. And yet, he had hope for Violet. He had hope that the transplant would be a success and she would go on to live a long and healthier life with her fiancée.

In the span of a single surgery; the hope had been crushed by the skeletal hands of the reaper that wanders the halls of the hospital, collecting souls.

Dean claps Draco on the shoulder in what is supposed to be an offer of comfort, but it does little to quash the growing sense of loss Draco feels.

“If you need anything,” Dean starts in kindness before giving up and saying, “I knew you two had a friendship.”

Draco nods silently; watching Dean had for the stairs. Throughout his career, Draco had never let himself get close to a patient. Sure, there were those who he saw regularly. The frequent flyers, the pain potion seekers, Mrs Larkin – a widow who needed company more than she needed medical treatment. However, Violet came in so frequently for dialysis that it felt almost inevitable they would end up on friendly terms.

Draco rubs a hand down his face; feeling almost devastated at this loss of such a young life.

Needing to be alone – if only for a moment – Draco enters the break room, taking calming breaths. He feels ridiculous; letting a patient’s death affect him this much when he had been at the deathbed for so many – young, old, infant.

He’s so caught up in his emotions, he doesn’t hear the door open. Draco startles slightly at the sound of her voice calling his name.

“I heard what happened,” She murmurs comfortingly – her hand outstretched as if to offer support.

Draco clears his throat; dislodging the lump that has taken root there, “Yes. It’s a sad loss.”

“Are you okay though? I know that you two were close.”

Draco looks down to the chart in his hands; a patient still needing to be seen. He smiles humourlessly, “It’s always sad to lose a patient, no matter how long you’ve been doing this.”

(Y/N) frowns, “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it.”

Draco throws his arms wide; emotions bubbling to the surface, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She throws her hands up in surrender. Her voice is laced with frustration as she answers, “Fine. Keep it bottled up.”

(Y/N) slams the door as she leaves the break room; making her anger known. Draco, for a brief moment, loses his temper, sending his fist into the door of his locker. It does a little to curb the wave of grief submerging him, but the wave doesn’t ebb. Draco rests his head against the cool, gunmetal grey door of his locker, taking in deep breaths.

He gives himself a minute.

One minute. That’s all he gets to feel it all; to let the loss consume him. To feel the guilt and the sadness.

The minute passes and Draco stands straight. He pushes his hair back from his face and straightens his lab coat.

Clearing his throat, Draco leaves the break room, needing to continue working.

-------

It’s hard to miss the pitying look from the nurses as Draco continues to work; as if the entire floor has decided to walk on eggshells around him.

He continues to work because he needs to; he has no grounds to leave work – it wasn’t a family member he had lost; it was a patient. That was how he was rationalising it in his head. It was just that Violet had been his patient for three years; seeing her so frequently.

Draco shakes his head; ridding himself of the dark thoughts that threaten to break through.

He continues to work because that’s who he is. Through Draco’s adolescence, he found himself being defined by what others thought of him and his family. He was bending to a self-fulfilling prophecy that he didn’t want thrust upon him.

Through his first week as a trainee Healer, Draco found himself redefining every aspect of himself. He did not have to present the hard, touch exterior that his family and fellow students expected of him at Hogwarts. Rather, Draco found himself to be someone who could be soft; who could laugh and joke with the best of them. He found himself to be someone who wanted to help people in their time of need; in their most vulnerable state when all they need is someone to trust and someone to listen.

As he takes on more and more patients, it’s because he needs to work. He has to work through this; he doesn’t often show how death affects him so, but on some level, he had known Violet. He just didn’t expect her death so soon.

Focusing intently on the charts in his hand, Draco blinks away the tears threatening to fall. With a deep breath and a fake smile, he enters exam room two, ready to meet another patient.

--------

Violet’s fiancée, Jonathan, approaches him a few hours after her death. His face is tear stained and puffy as he clears his throat to gain Draco’s attention from a conversation with Nurse Janice.

“Jonathan,” Draco greets, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jonathan nods wordlessly; blinking fast to get ready of the already building tears. He clears his throat again, “I just,” He takes a deep breath, “I just came down to thank you.”

“For what?” Draco asks; confused.

Jonathan lets his tears fall, saying, “For sitting with her when the dialysis was draining her, and for helping her laugh. For keeping her company when I couldn’t be there because of work.”

A lump forms in Draco’s throat, “That isn’t something you have to thank me for.”

Jonathan shrugs, “Regardless, thank you.” He turns to walk away but he pauses at the last minute, “Would you come to the memorial? I know it’s a lot to ask, but I think it would mean to a lot to her family if they met you.”

Draco nods; not even second-guessing his answer, “Of course. Let me know the details and I’ll get it off work.”

Jonathan nods; his face puffier than before from the freshly fallen tears. He holds his hand up in a wave before leaving St. Mungo’s.

-----

How Draco makes his way home is beyond him. He works the rest of his shift in a stupor; the all too familiar heaviness of grief settling over him for which he feels foolish and ridiculous.

He doesn’t feel the rain that soaks him through to the bone. He doesn’t remember entering his flat; doesn’t remember shedding his coat, letting his bag fall to the floor. Sitting on the couch, Draco submits to the grief. He submits to overwhelming sense of loss battering his walls; demanding to be felt.

On the inside, Draco is a storm; raging, raging, raging.

On the outside, he’s as calm as anything, staring at the mantle piece as he lets himself finally feel.

---------

Draco’s building was one of the many converted mills in London; brown bricked and grand, it stood proudly on its street, wearing its history like a badge of honour. His flat is on the fifth floor; one of the largest in the building – a gift from his parents after completing his training with high honours. He had lived there ever since, and (Y/N) had visited often over the years of their friendship.

(Y/N) knocks three times, calling his name with each one before she tries the door.

Entering his flat, (Y/N) always takes a moment to admire the pictures that line the wall. Admiring the beauty of Draco’s mother, and almost flinching at the imposing figure his father presents.

This time, however, she marches straight past them, calling Draco’s name for him not to reply. She only knew to come over here when he hadn’t met her to catch the tube together like they usually did when their shifts coincided. The words she flung at him earlier, she hadn’t meant. They had settled in her bones with an uncomfortable feeling; leaving a sour taste in her mouth. Truthfully, she had been worried about Draco since the news of Violet’s death had made its way to her ears; the gossip chain of the emergency room never one to falter.

She finds Draco on his couch; still wearing the clothes he left work in. Dropping her bag and shrugging off her coat, (Y/N) takes a seat next to Draco on the couch. He barely registers her presence; barely even blinking at the change of weight. She tries not to let it hurt her, but it does. Seeing him like this… it was something she hadn’t ever seen before.

Draco always presented himself as collected. The most dishevelled he ever got was whenever he worked nights and for most of the week, he would sport stubble. However, that was always gone by the time he came back onto day.

This was something new, though. His grief wasn’t anything she had encountered, and though they spoke often and told each other they cared for one another, they had never truly spoken about the feelings between them.

She coaxes his head onto her shoulder, and it’s there that Draco lets the first of his tears fall and the first of his sobs escape his chest.

He has seen death. He’s courted it for years – through the war, through his job. He has had patients die om him and had mourned each of their deaths, but he had never felt loss this keenly before. He felt scrubbed raw from the inside out.

He doesn’t know how long he cries for; he doesn’t know how long she holds him for but somewhere in between in it all, he manages to choke out his thanks which she hurriedly hushes. Her response being to hold onto him tighter.

Time passes, and his sobs start to slow, but they do not let go of the other, needing their anchors more than anything in this moment. In the pain of it all, Draco finds solace in sleep.

**********

Paging Healer Malfoy taglist: @sycathorn-slush @obsessedwithrandomthings @kpopgirlbtssvt @kalimagik @brycelahelalover @fallinallinmendes @mischi3f-manag3d @remmysrecs @willowbleedsonpaper @nao-cchi @haphazardhufflepuff @soundsquid27 @mytreec @maydillydally @chaoticgirl04 @pregnant-piggy @rhyxn @acciotwinz @birdie-writes @reaganwonders @chanelwonders @izzytheninja @ravenclawbitch426 @ohissandhalasta @missmulti @nebulablakemurphy @pointlesscoconut @cherrylita @harpersmariano @slytherinlovesgryffindor

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @reaganwonders @sophia-gwendolyn

***if your username is in bold, I was unable to tag you.

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writethehousedown · 4 years

Text

Slow hands (Crystal x Gigi) - a-tresia

“I’ve thought of a way to help you study,” Gigi says.

A/N: First time to join a challenge of course I’m a day late. But hey, I made it to makeup week! Here’s med student Crystal for you to enjoy. Also, there’s a lot of anatomical terms in here so if you find that it’s wrong… well, I’m happy that you studied (because I surely can’t remember anymore!) 💖

Gigi enters Crystal’s apartment as quietly as she could. She knows Crystal is busy studying and she doesn’t want to disturb her and make her regret giving her a key to her apartment.

It’s early on a Friday evening and she just wanted to quickly check in on her girlfriend before heading out with her friends. Gigi passes the threshold into the living room to see Crystal on the floor, back against the couch, legs outstretched under the coffee table, chunky black turtleneck over her chin, curly hair up in a very messy attempt on a bun on the top of her head, flashcards scattered all over, pencil behind her right ear, pink highlighter smear on her left cheek, eyebrows creased, fussing and almost crying over her annoying tangled earphones.

On a different day, this sight would have made Gigi laugh but she knows that it’s a stressful time for Crystal so she tries to be supportive. Crystal’s obviously in the middle of a mental breakdown in the middle of exam season.

Crystal doesn’t seem to notice she has company until Gigi sits on the floor beside her and takes the tangled wire off her hands without a word, just a comforting smile.

“Thank you,” Crystal whispers, rubbing at her very tired eyes as she rests her head on Gigi’s shoulder and tucks herself into her side, relaxing for the first time that day.

Untangling the earphones and setting it on the table, Gigi leans in to plant a kiss on the top of Crystal’s head. “Don’t stress the small stuff.”

“Honestly, I’m just over it,” she sighs. “Obviously, I don’t know shit. My whole brain right now is just soup.”

Gigi looks over the illustrations laid out on the table; she doesn’t understand it one bit. “I think you need a break,” she suggests.

Crystal groans. “I know I do, but I don’t deserve one.” Gigi raises a brow at her, doubting the fact that Crystal actually believes she doesn’t deserve a break from studying. “Gee, I seriously can’t. Nothing is sticking and I need all of this,” she wildly gestures to her flashcards, “memorized and inside my brain like yesterday.”

“Do you want me to stay and keep you company?” Gigi offers instead. “I can fix you dinner or run you a bath?”

It’s a tempting offer and Crystal wants to say yes. But she doesn’t want to be the boring one who makes her girlfriend stay in on a Friday night when she could be out having fun with her friends. “Thank you, it’s sweet of you to offer but I’m a grown-ass woman who doesn’t need mothering,” she says with a pout.

“Doesn’t need mothering?” Gigi asks incredulously as she looks under the coffee table. “Baby, I can see five Fruit by the Foot paper under here. And a half-eaten cinnamon sugar Pop-Tart.”

“There’s probably more junk scattered around the apartment.” Crystal laughs, slightly embarrassed at her trash eating habits, and secretly hoping Gigi doesn’t find the two packs of Most Stuf Oreos she demolished today. And she’s supposed to be the almost-doctor here.

Gigi just playfully rolls her eyes at Crystal. “Okay, tell me how I can help you study.”

“There’s no way. This is all me,” Crystal sighs. She thinks there’s really nothing Gigi can do at this point to help her remember all these things when her brain feels like an overflowing pot of boiling water. “You look great. Where’s Gigi going?” she asks trying to get Gigi off her back about taking a break, waving her hand over Gigi’s very put-together appearance – ginger hair down in loose waves, makeup as immaculate as ever, a loose white faux fur jacket over a black bike short bodysuit, teeny tiny waist accentuated by a wide white belt, all tied together by chunky gold jewelry (which confuses Crystal a little bit because Gigi rarely ever accessorizes like this).

“Thank you,” she smiles. “Gigi’s checking out that new place near Jaida’s apartment with the girls if she manages to get her girlfriend to take it easy.”

Crystal laughs. “I don’t like talking about Gigi like she’s not here.”

She tells Crystal of the mundane things that happened to her at school today. About the way she felt so excited when she found the little doodle of a cat Crystal left inside one of her planners. About how Nicky managed to convince her and Jaida to go out tonight even though no one was in the mood to dress up and get drunk. About her phone call with her mom about possibly inviting Crystal home for Thanksgiving break. She lets Crystal know it’s no pressure at all. But knowing Crystal, it’s already causing her some anxiety.

She tells her about how she wishes Crystal would come out with her but she totally understands she has to study. She wants to tell her to spend more time with her but doesn’t know how that won’t make her appear like the most selfish person in the whole entire world when Crystal is actually working towards her dream of becoming a doctor. Gigi holds back on the whining and the invitation to go out seeing it’s hard to convince Crystal to take a break, much so to convince her to come and party.

Crystal promises her all of Sunday to make it up to her. She promises brunch and dinner. And three snacks. Maybe four. She promises a walk in the park and a movie (at home, on the couch, because she also promises to make out).

Gigi eventually convinces Crystal to take a break and a shower while she’s at it. She manages to order dinner and tidy the mess Crystal leaves behind — wrappers and crumbs on the floor, a multitude of colorful open markers and pens that surprisingly haven’t stained her immaculate carpet, used socks (four pairs, what the hell?) under the couch. Gigi knows that the post-it notes with illegible scribbles and notepad paper with diagrams that make no sense to her are off-limits, so she leaves them where she finds them.

She’s rid herself of her jacket and is cozy on the couch when Crystal emerges from the bathroom in a fluffy robe. Gigi’s face breaks into a wide smile at how comfortable Crystal looks as she reaches out and makes grabby hands at Crystal who quickly settles herself straddling Gigi’s lap.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Gigi chuckles and leans in to plant a small kiss on Crystal’s cheek.

Crystal plays with the strap of Gigi’s tank top. “Where’d your jacket go?”

“I wanted cuddles.”

“I do, too,” she says wrapping her arms around Gigi, quickly enveloping her in the scent of green tea that always seems to linger on Crystal’s skin even hours after a shower.

“Don’t you need to study?” Gigi playfully reminds her.

Crystal groans and holds onto Gigi tighter. “Cuddles first.”

She feels Gigi hold the back of her head, scraping her fingers through her scalp and still damp hair and she feels herself relax further.

“Can I kiss you?” Crystal whispers.

“You never have to ask,” Gigi says, leaning back to look at Crystal.

Crystal smiles sheepishly. “I don’t want to ruin your makeup, it’s so perfect.”

“It’s just makeup, Crys,” she says with a dismissive wave. “Now, how about that kiss?”

Crystal leans in, slips her hand up to cradle Gigi’s face, and fits their lips together. They move their mouths against each other, soft and warm, feeling like they’re both yielding exactly to the shape that would make them a perfect fit.

She opens her mouth to let Gigi lick into her mouth. Crystal moans quietly when their tongues meet, tasting the remnants of the ginger beer Gigi had before coming over. She knows Gigi’s lipstick is smearing across their faces but if Gigi doesn’t care, she doesn’t care either. Not when this kiss is too good to cut short.

But Gigi has other ideas.

“I’ve thought of a way to help you study,” Gigi says, pulling back from the heated kiss.

Crystal rests her forehead against Gigi’s, slightly out of breath. “I’m on a break.”

“No, no. You’ll want this, I promise.”

“No offense, Gee, but I don’t see how you can help. It’s not like you’ve studied this.” Yes, Gigi’s still in school. But she’s not pre-med. She’s not even close to the sciences. So Crystal cannot, for the life of her, figure out how Gigi is so confident she could help. Crystal leans in to catch Gigi’s lips in another kiss instead but she moves away.

“Crystal.”

“What?”

“You’re studying the hand,” she says stating the obvious. The colorful flashcards are staring at them.

“I know, and?” She tries to kiss Gigi again. But she’s denied. Again.

“I have hands.”

Crystal furrows her brows in confusion. On any other day, she’d quickly catch on to what Gigi is trying to say but with all the things she had to put in her brain today, her processing has definitely slowed down to a Pentium.

“I know, and?”

Gigi raises a brow. “I know what to do with my hands.”

Understanding dawns on Crystal slowly and the confusion on her face is replaced by a look Gigi is all too familiar with. “How is that going to help me memorize though?” she pouts.

Gigi squeezes Crystal’s cheeks together with one hand while the other tries to untie her robe. “Because you, my love, have pornographic memory.”

“No, I don’t,” Crystal snorts. That’s a lie and they both know it. Not to be a horndog but Crystal remembers anything and everything related to sex. That’s just how her brain works. And Gigi is smart to use it to her advantage.

“Crystal,” Gigi pulls down Crystal’s bralette to expose her breasts, “are you seriously going to argue with me right now at this very moment?” Crystal shakes her head. “Okay, good.” Gigi pulls Crystal down for a kiss. She holds up her right hand to Crystal’s face when she pulls away. “My hand.”

“Your hand, yes.”

“When I do this,” Gigi cups both of Crystal’s breasts in her hands, “what muscles am I using?”

“I like this game.”

“It’s not a game, Crys. I’m helping you study.”

“Okay, fine. The, uh, the distal and proximal interphalangeal joints are slightly flexed so, uh, flexor digitorum superficialis and profundus.”

Gigi pinches Crystal’s nipple between her thumb and forefinger. “How about now?”

Crystal feels herself melt, delicious warmth spreading to every single part of her body, turning her into a useless puddle with just that. Thanks to the oversensitivity of her nipples.

“The thumb interphalangeal joint is extended by extensor pollicis longus, abductor pollicis brevis, and adductor pollicis. The index,” Crystal moans when Gigi rolls her nipple between her fingers, “the index finger distal interphalangeal joint is also extended by the extensor indicis, the lumbricals, and both the dorsal and palmar interossei.”

Gigi honest to goodness doesn’t know what in the world Crystal is saying. She might as well be talking to her in a foreign language. But it seems like there isn’t a need for her to be stressed about it; she knows the material well enough. Leave it to Crystal to overthink.

“If this is how you’re going to help me study, I can’t wait ‘til I reach the pelvis and perineum,” Crystal breathes out as Gigi latches onto the nipple she isn’t pinching and sucks gently.

“Told you you’d like it,” she says, pulling Crystal down for another kiss. They stay like this for a while, kissing and breathing each other in. When the need for air becomes too much, Gigi moves to take Crystal’s nipple back into her mouth, licking and tugging it between her teeth. Crystal holds onto Gigi’s head closer to her chest as she arches her back, throwing her head back in pleasure and grinding down on Gigi’s thigh.

Gigi takes this as a sign to go further. She runs her hands up Crystal’s thighs before reaching in between to move her panties to the side. “Nice,” she says spreading the wetness around with her fingers. She pushes two fingers into Crystal. “What muscles am I using now?” she asks as she slowly pumps in and out, gently reminding Crystal that what they’re doing is actually studying.

“Th-those two fingers, uh, extensor digitorum,” she says, grinding down harder onto Gigi’s palm that’s barely resting on her clit. “But the other ones are, uh, are the lumbricals and flexor digiti minimi.”

Gigi scissors her fingers inside Crystal, feeling her become wetter and more pliant. “And now?”

Crystal moans at the stretch. “Palmar and dorsal interossei.”

“Good girl.” She lets Crystal fuck herself on her fingers, watching her face contort with pleasure, before curling her fingers upward. Crystal makes a noise, a sound she’s sure she’s never made in her entire life. It’s strangled and deep and guttural. “How about now?” she asks to distract Crystal from her building orgasm.

“Fuuuuck!” she moans. “Are we still studying?” Crystal’s a little bit frustrated. The student side of her brain has already closed up shop. All she wants now is to focus entirely on reaching an orgasm.

“We can stop,” Gigi chuckles, making a move to slip her fingers out of Crystal.

But Crystal’s reflexes have never been so fast in her life. She grabs a hold of Gigi’s wrist before she can fully take her fingers out. “No, no, let’s not do that,” she whines.

She grabs the back of Crystal’s neck with her free hand, pulling her in to connect their lips. “Okay, no need to beg,” Gigi says against her lips. She lets Crystal ride her fingers more before she curls her fingers upward and asks again, “What muscles am I using now?”

“Huh?”

“What’s the answer?”

“Answer to what?”

“My question, Crystal.”

Crystal slows down her movement to catch her breath. “F-flex-flexor digitorum superficialis and, and flexor digitorum profundus. But they’re more flexed now than they were a while ago when you were fondling my tits.”

“Mm, okay,” Gigi chuckles as Crystal speeds up again. “One last, I promise. Then you can come.” Crystal nods, eyes glazed. Gigi brushes her thumb back and forth over her now very sensitive clit. “How about now?”

“Feels good, Gee,” Crystal takes a breath between her teeth.

“I know but you still have to answer my question,” she says in a way like a mother would admonish her child.

She takes a moment to shift her focus back to the question at hand. “Th-the thenar muscles. Adductor poll-. No. Abductor pollicis brevis, flexor p-pollicis brevis, a-and op-opponens pollicis.”

“You did so well,” Gigi coos.

Crystal is so wet now that Gigi manages to slip in two more fingers. She pushes back on them before moving up and pushing down again. And again. And again. Eager and excited to go over the edge.

“Need to come,” Crystal practically pleads.

“No one’s stopping you.”

She lets Crystal use her fingers the way she wants and takes in the sight of her’s lips parted and eyes squeezed shut. Gigi feels Crystal tightening around her fingers, moving closer and closer towards her climax. She drapes her arms over Gigi’s shoulder and drops her head on to the crook of Gigi’s neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses up her neck to her jaw.

“So close,” she says.

Her body is beginning to tremble, a sure sign of her impending orgasm. Gigi angles her head to catch Crystal’s mouth in a sloppy kiss as she moves harder and faster against her clit.

Crystal rocks up and down to the movement of Gigi’s hand, eyes closed, lost in her own pleasure. Her face and chest are flushed, she’s panting so hard to catch her breath, her breasts having with every breath. Gigi bends her head to take one of Crystal’s nipples into her mouth and sucks hard. Crystal lets out a strangled moan and Gigi feels her muscles rhythmically clench around her fingers. She slows her movements helping Crystal, who is now slumped against Gigi’s chest, go through and come down from her orgasm.

Gigi wraps her arms around Crystal, holding her close as she regains her breath. Crystal lazily drops kisses against Gigi’s neck, up her jaw until their lips meet in a lazy kiss. Breaking away, Crystal smiles down at Gigi. She regards Gigi’s face, wondering how she ever brought that look of awe and wonder to her face. “Did I pass?” she asks, still basking in the afterglow of a great orgasm.

Gigi laughs. “I have no fucking idea. But I have a feeling I just got an A-plus in Girlfriend 101.”

#rpdr fanfiction #crygi #crystal methyd #gigi goode #slow hands #atresia #med school au #smut #back to school 2020 #day 7: memorize #submission

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atinytokki · 3 years

Text

The Windy Road

viii. Alone

As rare as the occasion was, Mingi wasn’t surprised when Mother agreed to let him drop out of school. It was yet another costly expense to their family, and he was working on the water now. For the foreseeable future, that was his life.

Mingi knew it was the responsible thing to do, but still watched sadly from his window as Bosung and Dahye walked together into town without him.

He hadn’t spent much time with Bosung lately, aside from the hour or two they spent last week kicking a ball around while he explained that he and Dahye were together now. Noticing the way Bosung looked at her still, Mingi could only hope he remembered their conversation and took it to heart.

Work was lighter as autumn deepened into orange and gold, but the highlights of Mingi’s day remained the moments he spent with Hongjoong before he hurried back to Jangwon to complete whatever tasks had been set for him.

One day in fall, Hongjoong was at the beach early and stayed late when their fishing work had been finished, passing their catches off to Mingi’s father to be sold in the market but hanging around to help stock them as well this time.

“Don’t you have more chores to do at home?” Mingi asked as he checked the time on the grand clock in the main square, hesitant but hoping Hongjoong would answer “no” and spend the evening with him.

“Actually, today I don’t,” Hongjoong smiled back, dropping off the last basket at the fish stall and glancing around the market. “I have some extra money to spend, and I thought I might do it here. Would you like to join me?”

“Of course!” Mingi bubbled with excitement and waved goodbye to his father. It was the most interesting thing to happen to him in the past two months.

“But why have you been given a day off?” He asked after they’d wandered the stalls for a few minutes in comfortable silence. “Usually your family keeps you as busy as possible.”

“I have my ways of getting around that,” Hongjoong explained with a nonchalant shrug. “And I’ve struck a deal that they have to give me a day off on my birthday.”

Mingi stopped in his tracks and gasped. “Today’s your sixteenth birthday?”

Again, Hongjoong nodded without looking up from the fabrics he was inspecting and Mingi punched him in the arm, offended.

“Hey! I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other!”

Hongjoong scoffed and rubbed the spot where he’d been hit. “I wasn’t keeping it secret! You just never asked and birthdays aren’t a fuss for me anyway.”

“Not a fuss?” Mingi repeated, furrowing his brow. “But isn’t sixteen an important one?”

“Is it?” Hongjoong asked distractedly, counting out some coins and handing them to the shop owner. “I know I still can’t inherit anything or leave the Hall yet. That’s what matters most in a birthday to me.”

“Well, in any case you should have told me years ago,” Mingi sighed, taking a coat Hongjoong handed him. “I could celebrate with you! It would be better than anything your awful relatives could come up with.”

“Alright,” Hongjoong laughed, conceding while they moved on to another stall. “But in that case, we ought to celebrate yours as well. I haven’t exactly been very present, have I?”

“Well that’s not your fault,” Mingi reminded him quickly as Hongjoong added a few more items to the pile was holding. “But if we both make an effort, then I suppose we’re even.”

Hongjoong chuckled at him and took his purchases off Mingi’s hands, handing him the dinner he had just bought instead. “It’s a deal then. Why don’t we go to our spot on the beach and eat some of this food? That’s the best birthday gift I can think of.”

They had such a nice, peaceful time feasting on sweet cakes and watching the clouds pass overhead that Mingi was surprised when Hongjoong told him a few weeks later that he was leaving.

“Just for a couple months!” He reassured him as he rowed them both back to shore after the day’s work. “See, winter isn’t great for fishing here anyway, so you can handle the catches on your own until numbers pick up again in spring. I didn’t want to leave you like this, but it’s an excellent opportunity and somehow I managed to get my relatives to approve, so...”

“It’s alright I understand,” Mingi tried not to sigh, though his voice was strained with disappointment. “Who are you travelling with exactly?”

“It’s just a small enterprise,” Hongjoong answered smoothly. “You wouldn’t know them. And I’ll be back before you even notice I was gone.”

In a way, he was right.

Mingi and his father had become confident in fishing, no longer dependent on Hongjoong’s expertise, and the winter was slow and quiet.

Father was equally subdued, and Mingi spent much of his time with him, from work in the morning to evenings by the fire when Mother was out.

Although he wanted badly to confide in Dahye about his suspicions with respect to what his mother did at night, he knew it could be disastrous to even voice such a thought out loud, even up at the top of the lighthouse far from any other listening ears where Dahye read quietly and Mingi kept her company.

“But the princess had never heard of such a place,” Dahye read theatrically, her voice sweet but engaging, while Mingi watched the waves outside in their rhythmic movements. “She had never been beyond the forest, and never at night, not when all the monstrous creatures in the shrouded thicket emerged and went about their secret business.”

“Dahye?” Mingi interrupted quietly, resting his head in her lap and looking up at her innocently. “What do you think is past the eastern islands?”

“Well, I don’t know!” She laughed indignantly, dropping her shawl on his face and watching him peek out from underneath it expectantly. “Can we get past the dark forest first?”

Mingi sighed and sat up again. “No, I really mean it. Do you think there are more schools of fish out there? Do you think if we sailed far enough, we could catch delicacies and sell them at a price so high we’d never have to go out again?”

“I’m not sure,” Dahye softened and chewed her lip thoughtfully. “It sounds dangerous to me. There must be a reason no one has gone there.”

“Unless someone has gone,” Mingi hypothesised, looking out the window again. “And they just never returned.”

“Gone where?” Another voice broke in and Dahye and Mingi both jumped when they noticed Bosung’s head poking up through the hole in the floor where the long winding staircase reached the top of the lighthouse.

He climbed the rest of the way up while they laughed nervously and made himself at home, pulling books out of his school bag without noticing the glances the couple were giving each other. “Studying up here, Dahye?”

“Did Dongmin let you in?” Mingi interjected before Dahye could answer. Perhaps he should have specified to the lighthouse keeper that they were trying to have a romantic afternoon alone.

“Yes, I usually come here to study in the warmer months when it gets too stuffy at home,” Bosung answered with his face unreadable. Mingi narrowed his eyes in suspicion. That was exactly why he and Dahye had chosen the spot— the ocean winds were quite strong up there this time of year and it was likely to be devoid of any intruding friends. “But last week I was at Jangwon Hall, that’s probably why we missed each other.”

The gloating tone to his voice distracted Mingi from the fact that Bosung was apparently aware when he and Dahye were out together and he couldn’t help but ask, “Jangwon? Why were you there?”

Everyone knew it was the largest and most important estate in Panhang’s vicinity and to be invited was not only an honour but an opportunity to show off, as Bosung was wont to do.

“They needed some roof tiles repaired,” he answered simply before leaning over into Dahye’s space to catch a glimpse of what she was reading.

She jumped and snapped her book shut before he could say anything else.

“I-If you’d like to study in peace, Mingi and I can—”

“Oh, no need!” Bosung swept in with a charming smile. “We can all work together!”

Mingi wasn’t about to leave the two alone, even if he didn’t have mid-year exams to worry about, so he watched them solve problems and analyse texts with a pang of jealousy inside until Bosung looked up and handed him a paper.

“You know, I do have extra practice sheets. There’s no reason you can’t learn too, as long as we don’t tell anyone.”

It was a gesture that touched Mingi unexpectedly, and he reached out and combed over the questions with his eyes, gauging how far he’d fallen behind before realising this was doable and easing into the familiar atmosphere of steady progress.

He had missed Bosung.

They used to play every day and their easygoing friendship had fizzled out over, what? Some pettiness and envy?

Maybe he should give him a chance. After all, Dahye wasn’t going anywhere.

It became a pattern for the rest of the season.

Mingi and Dahye would spend time together, cherishing the moments when it was just the two of them, and when Bosung inevitably arrived, the trio got down to business, teaching Mingi the concepts that were new to him and practicing together. It even came with an additional bonus of the latest gossip from Jangwon when Bosung managed to be invited back several times.

True to his word, Hongjoong arrived one night at the beginning of spring.

Mingi noticed the ship, only a distant speck on the horizon, while he was up in Dongmin’s lighthouse and ran down all two hundred steps to meet him where the rowboat pulled up farther down the beach.

The excitement that expressed itself in jumping and waving his arms was slowly subdued as he noticed the look on his friend’s face, illuminated only by the lanterns in the boat.

It wasn’t the joy of returning, it was confusion... confusion at Mingi’s presence.

Hongjoong turned to face the other two men in the boat and said something to them.

Mingi didn’t recognise the pair, but he could see they had guns and their ship was nowhere in the vicinity.

Had they rowed all this way just to avoid being seen?

All he could do was wait patiently as they came up as far as they dared, before Hongjoong shouldered his bag and dove into the waves, finally wading out to meet Mingi with a forced smile.

“What’s going on?” Mingi asked, taking a step back as Hongjoong went in for a hug.

Realising he was still very much soaked, Hongjoong wrapped his arms around himself and answered with a nervous laugh, “I’m back! I didn’t expect you to be here on the beach though, it’s quite late...”

Looking past at him at the two men still watching from the boat, Mingi frowned. They gave him a bad feeling, but he wasn’t sure how to ask upfront about who they were. One of them even had a nose ring.

“I thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other,” he said quietly and Hongjoong looked up from his shivering in shock.

“Secrets? What are you trying to—”

“Those men there,” Mingi hissed, jerking his head in their direction but trying to be subtle so they wouldn’t notice. “They have weapons! What are you doing with them? They look dangerous.”

“Mingi, they’re friends,” Hongjoong defended firmly. “You want to know why I can go on the water again after what happened? It’s because Yonghwan helped give me the confidence.”

Yonghwan.

Mingi wondered if that was the one with the nose ring or the taller, scowling one.

As Hongjoong’s words sunk in, Mingi felt guilty again. He’d been so distracted that Hongjoong had needed a complete stranger to step in and help him recover his love of sailing again. No wonder he had seemed like a different person when Mingi knocked him down on that beach last summer by accident.

Noticing Mingi’s sullen gloom, Hongjoong shouldered his bag and waved goodbye to the men in the boat, taking Mingi by the shoulders and nudging him in the direction of home where the glow of Panhang was emanating into the night, voice decidedly softer.

“What are you doing out this late anyway?”

“I was... well, I’ve been studying,” Mingi admitted, hoping Hongjoong could sympathise. After all, he’d been forced not to attend school after his parents died. “Bosung smuggles me books and practice sheets.”

“So I’m not the only one keeping secrets then,” Hongjoong hummed knowingly, and from the smirk on his face Mingi knew he was in trouble.

“Oh, please don’t tell my father, he wouldn’t understand,” Mingi pleaded as his hands came up to cover his blushing cheeks, red with embarrassment. “I know I said I’d drop out of school, but this information is useful to know if I decide I don’t want to be a fisherman for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Hongjoong offered assertively as they reached the top of the bluff. “Swear to secrecy about the men I was travelling with now and I won’t speak a word about your academic endeavours.”

Mingi exhaled in relief before straightening to give Hongjoong a professional handshake. He highly doubted Hongjoong would rat him out either way, but having no right to judge, it was probably better that they both forget the whole thing.

His return reminded Mingi how much they had both changed. Spring was blossoming into fullness and the four of them were slowly blossoming into adulthood. Dahye was more beautiful every day, and Bosung rivalled all the other boys at school visually (at least that was what he claimed). Finally Mingi was growing into his long legs, and even though Hongjoong still hadn’t passed his height, there was a soft beauty in his sharp features.

Hongjoong was like a jagged puzzle piece, one that used to fit in to the Panhang framework, but stood out on his own now instead, and even though Mingi ended the year surrounded by the most friends he’d ever had, those friends rarely interacted with each other.

On one of those midsummer days the following year, as Mingi’s seventeenth birthday was approaching, when there was no studying to do and the weather was lovely at the lighthouse, Mingi questioned his jealousy yet again.

He and Dahye were finishing up their reading uninterrupted, and Hongjoong arrived to walk Mingi to the docks where their fishing boat waited. He always liked doing things like that— accompanying Mingi places, almost like he was keeping an eye out for him— though he refused to let Mingi walk him to Jangwon Hall when he offered in return.

In his hand was a bright peony and he handed it off to Dahye straightforwardly with no word of explanation.

“Oh, how pretty!” Dahye cooed with one of her shy smiles as she tucked it into her hair. “Where did you get it?”

“I don’t actually know,” Hongjoong shrugged. “I suspect it’s from one of the maids, but someone keeps leaving them in my room.”

At Mingi’s sour look, he laughed. “Sorry, should I have given it to you to give to her?”

Before Mingi could answer, the wind suddenly caught Dahye’s hair and the flower went blowing out and up to the top of the lighthouse.

All three of them raced to the window and craned their necks up to see where it had gone.

From the flash of pink they could see stuck in that cramped room where the light rotated, it was clinging to the outside rail where it looked seconds from blowing away.

“Oh no!” Dahye exclaimed, clearly disappointed, and again before Mingi could even open his mouth, Hongjoong was climbing up the rail to fetch the thing.

“Be careful!” He yelled up, and Hongjoong simply laughed, easily vaulting the rail and snatching the stem of the peony before it floated farther away, into the sea two hundred steps below.

So Bosung showed off his skill and Hongjoong showed off his recklessness.

Looking like he climbed next to the clouds every day, he returned the flower to its rightful owner and walked Mingi to the docks without further incident. Rather than drag it out, Mingi kept his comments to himself.

Hongjoong knew very well the relationship between Dahye and Mingi. He wouldn’t interfere with it.

So far, the two of them had kept all their promises to each other. They celebrated each other’s birthdays, they didn’t report on each other’s activities, and they didn’t mention each other’s sensitive topics.

It was only a bit more complicated than it had been as children.

“Mingi, what are you staring at?” Hongjoong’s voice came from their modest fishing boat. “There are nets to load!”

Mingi snapped out of his daze and got to work. An unfamiliar ship was on the horizon again, and any time a boat Mingi didn’t recognise came to the docks, he wondered if it was Minseok, returning with money and an apology.

It had been two years since his sudden departure, and they’d still heard nothing.

As they headed out to sea, Mingi searched for his spyglass. It was a beat up little trinket his father had bought in town, but it worked well enough to see the name on the strange ship.

The Stardust.

The longer Mingi looked, the stronger he was hit with the feeling he had seen it before.

“What is it?” Hongjoong sighed, turning and glancing in the direction Mingi’s glass was pointed to see for himself.

He froze at the sight of it, and that was when Mingi realised.

It was the ship Hongjoong had left and returned on a year ago. The suspicious one he refused to talk about and convinced Mingi to keep secret.

“Let’s turn north!” Hongjoong suddenly said as he snapped back around and took the tiller.

“What? Why?” Mingi spluttered, getting up to protest and quickly dodging the boom as it swung at him. “Don’t we usually curve south first? It’s early yet.”

“Trust me on this!” Hongjoong grunted from the effort of turning the boat around completely and didn’t even bother Mingi to trim the sails, doing it himself in a flurry of panic.

Mingi didn’t argue. He had an idea what was going on.

That night he knocked on Bosung’s door and asked him for books.

“You want to know about piracy?” The other boy scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance. “I don’t exactly have references on hand. Is it urgent?”

“Yes,” Mingi snapped. “I need to identify a ship.”

Relenting, Bosung walked with him to the schoolhouse and snuck in through the window, returning with an assortment and holding up a candle for him as Mingi skimmed through pages right there on the lawn.

A drawing caught his eye from a page about active pirates. An “Eden” whose wanted poster reminded Mingi of the frowning face he had seen that night Hongjoong returned.

But he had only seen him once, and only the half of his face lit by the lantern he was holding...

A line below claimed his real name was Kim Yonghwan and he was captain of the Stardust, and Mingi was sure of it.

“It’s him.”

“Who?” Bosung asked quietly, and Mingi looked up in surprise, having forgotten he was there.

“This pirate is lurking around Panhang,” Mingi explained, pointing to the picture before running his hands through his hair. “Hongjoong knows him.”

Bosung said nothing but took the book back and glanced at it before looking back up at Mingi with an unreadable expression. “This was all you needed?”

Mingi nodded and sat there while Bosung returned the materials. He said nothing as they left the schoolhouse, and said nothing as they walked home.

“You think Hongjoong is in league with this criminal?” Bosung finally piped up as they reached his front door, voice only mildly amused and not horrified like Mingi was deep inside.

“What? No!” Mingi defended quickly. No one was supposed to know, he wasn’t even supposed to know. He had made a promise. “No, of course not. It’s all just a misunderstanding.”

Mingi was uncharacteristically quiet at work the next day and it went completely unnoticed, probably due to how tired Hongjoong looked.

Mingi didn’t know how he did it. The number of responsibilities he had at Jangwon hadn’t changed since being hired to help the Song’s fishing business, and on top of both of those things he was secretly apprenticed to a pirate.

It was only a matter of time before someone found out.

But as he discovered shockingly only a week later, it was already too late. The word was out.

For a third time, he ran into Hongjoong. He was on the beach at night once again, but this time Hongjoong caught himself without falling over.

“What did you do?” Hongjoong spat, shoving Mingi away when he tried to steady him. “You’re the only one who ever saw, I know it was you!”

“Saw what?” Mingi demanded, confused why he was so angry at him, but in the back of his mind he knew what had happened.

“My family called in the Navy, they know Eden is here,” Hongjoong yelled back, but his voice was thick with tears. In the low light, Mingi could barely see the betrayal on his face, but he knew it was there. He could hear it.

“I didn’t know Bosung would tell your family...”

“Why did you trust him?” Hongjoong whispered brokenly. “He’s not your friend, he hates you for taking Dahye from him.”

Mingi opened his mouth and closed it again in shock.

It made sense now. All along it had been a front. Bosung didn’t care about him, he’d only been using him to spend time with Dahye.

And like an idiot, he had fallen for it. Why couldn’t he have just opened his eyes?

“I think this is goodbye,” Hongjoong finally told him, suppressing the shaking of his voice and turning to look out at the ocean.

That ship was there again— the Stardust. Probably to pick him up and sail away, never to return.

Reality began to sink in. He would never see Hongjoong again.

“Hongjoong, I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen,” he cried, hands covering his mouth to muffle the threatening sobs. “Please, just give me a second chance...”

Clearly Hongjoong’s life on the water meant too much to him. Now was the single opportunity he had to leave that abusive household once and for all.

“I belong out there, with them,” Hongjoong confessed, and his voice was raw and honest. “There’s no more use in kidding myself.”

Mingi reached for him, but he was already moving away.

A boat had come out to meet him, and they rowed with such haste Mingi knew there were no words he could say that would bring Hongjoong back to him.

He had broken his promise, and now Hongjoong was running for his life.

Mingi turned away when the pirates looked at him again. He couldn’t let them see his guilty face. Pirates didn’t sob like he was, bent over in the sand with his hands tangled in his hair and hot tears trailing down his face.

But as he looked up at Hongjoong’s face one last time, he noticed the shimmer in his eyes. He was crying too.

Dry and devoid of life, Mingi returned home when the ship was long gone.

He sat in the chair facing the window as if waiting there would bring Hongjoong back. As if it had brought Minseok back.

Father asked what he was doing there the next morning and why Hongjoong hadn’t appeared for work and Mingi answered with the lie he had already prepared.

“He was kidnapped by pirates.”

No one in Panhang could fathom why, and Mingi would never tell them. The esteemed Admiral Kim had already gone after the Stardust at the Kim family’s call and there were only two outcomes; either Hongjoong was “rescued” while his pirate friends were killed and he resented Mingi for the rest of his life, or the Stardust escaped to somewhere safe and Mingi never saw Hongjoong again.

Dahye knew nothing but seemed to understand nonetheless. She gave Mingi space to simply exist, the way he had when Minseok had left, and chalked it up to the kidnapping of his best friend.

Mingi wouldn’t make the mistake of opening his mouth again.

He stayed away from Bosung, but it didn’t matter in the end. As he walked through the market that weekend, there were whispers.

Women were closing their shutters as he approached, and all the men at their stalls threw him dirty looks.

Just like that day two years ago, Mother waited for him in her chair with bad news.

“Mingi, I don’t know what you’ve heard in town today, but I just want you to know...”

“I already do,” he whispered back, taking her hand and squeezing it. “I know where you go at night. You don’t have to apologise to me.”

But this time he hadn’t told anyone, even accidentally. He held his mother while she cried that this time it was her own actions that would ruin them and considered his shortlist of enemies.

It was Bosung’s final blow, and he delivered it with a smile on his face.

“Maybe her clients should have kept their mouths shut.”

“Why are you doing this?” Mingi growled back, clenching his hand to keep from punching his former friend in the face. “You think Dahye will come running to you just because of my mother’s occupation?”

“Oh I don’t just think so,” Bosung bragged yet again, that smile so annoyingly sure. “I know so.”

And he was right.

Dahye was there on his doorstep before he could even search her out, her parents standing behind her with an iron grip on her shoulder, listening in as she shakily announced it was over.

“My family will not permit me to have contact with you,” she explained, eyes filling with tears that stubbornly refused to fall. “It would be seen as disgraceful, given your mother’s... actions.”

She was trying so hard to be strong, to reassure Mingi she still cared for him, but before she could say another word, her parents were steering her away, back to that house next door where she could only gaze back at him longingly and watch him reach out a useless hand.

He tried to remember the positive, that Dahye would be free to choose for herself as an adult in a few years’ time, that they only needed to be patient until she could defy her parents’ commands.

But Bosung was ready to make his move, and he had managed to completely isolate Mingi from all his friends in just a few short days, getting away untouched. Mingi would not underestimate him.

His seventeenth birthday was the loneliest yet. He left a paper crane with the words “I miss you” written on it outside Dahye’s door but knew not to expect an answer.

Her window was bolted shut and he never saw her anymore.

It was like every good thing he had gained in the past few years was snatched from him all at once.

He rowed to the fishing grounds alone, he wandered through the market alone, he gazed out his bedroom window alone.

And one day Father came home with news of a third outcome Mingi had never considered.

The Stardust had been sunk in the south seas by a naval ambush.

No survivors.

“But they went out there to bring Hongjoong back,” Mingi argued, tempted to laugh hysterically at the injustice of it all. “Why would they sink the ship? They were supposed to bring him back...”

Did the universe hate him? Had he done something to warrant blow after blow? Could he fall further than he already had?

They were supposed to bring him back.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened,” Father said softly, handing over the bulletin.

There were precious few details enclosed and it wasn’t good enough for Mingi. It was his one last happy ending; that Hongjoong would return and maybe forgive him. Maybe then he would have a future that wasn’t cold and angry and alone.

Mingi curled up on his bed and watched the wind billow in the curtains.

There was nothing inside but a sinking feeling that for the foreseeable future, this was his life, and there was nothing for him to do but wait.

...

A/N: I have nothing to say for myself lol... Thanks so much for reading this monster! Please reblog, comment, and all that to show me if you liked it and keep an eye out because I’m already working on something! Ttyl <3

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haikyooot · 4 years

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Ch 10: How Does a Volleyball Fly?

Life’s A Hoot Ch 10

Bokuto x Reader fic

Masterlist

A month flies by quickly with the turn of a page. You have been finding a much more comfortable rhythm, forming health connections at work, keeping a clear boundary for your personal time, and also making space for catching up with friends. So far, you’ve met up with Yukie a couple more times, Kaori as well, and a couple of other high school and university friends who are still in Tokyo. During this time, you have also been keeping your word and staying in touch with Bokuto, despite the busy schedules. At first, the two of you would have very short conversations, unsure of what to talk about. It took some more “getting to know each other” again. Gradually, the calls became a bit longer, and a little bit more dynamic. You learned more about Bokuto’s teammates. You knew their names from that player guidebook you had. But hearing stories about them from Bokuto gives you a lot more insight. There’s Hinata, of course, whom Bokuto calls “his first student”. Miya Atsumu, the twin of the onigiri maker. Sakusa, who Bokuto says is snarky, but actually a big softie. And the other half of the starting line Bokuto dubs “the adults of the team”. You have also watched his matches sometimes, alone or with Akaashi.

Remember Bokuto’s unintentional inspiration to you regarding his team’s charity work with a local school? Well, you have been on a hunt to seek out a story focused on volleyball education, something inspirational for the little ones. It’s been a while since you brought the idea up to Assistant Director Matsuda, but since the proposal, you haven’t actually found the story. With other work piling, you haven’t found the time either to look. Since working closely with Matsuda, she has guided and mentored you through many challenges. You are eager to show her the different, true side of you that has been dormant.

“Y/n,” Matsuda calls. “Can you take care of these drafts? The Osaka office is short-staffed and this is needed asap. As you know, the end-of-season rush is starting soon.”

“Of course. Also, the other proofs are sent back to the authors for review.” you take the stack of papers from her.

“Great. And you have the meeting with the Volleyball Association rep set right?”

“Yep, meeting Kuroo today for lunch.”

“Urgh, I’m so lucky to have you.”

The deadline for the special issue is approaching fast. Not just that, but the other standard Literature department projects like novels, light novels, and nonfiction works are all lining up for publication before the end of the year. People are going to begin holiday shopping soon, so these new works and holiday prints need to happen quickly and be sent to the bookstores. The whole company is revving its engines. Is Bokuto really busy these days too? Back in high school, this would be close to exam season, so you would probably be helping him cram (while juggling your own work). Rather than just one dead week, the entirety of volleyball season is probably incredibly busy. Just months of back to back matches and touring around.

As you sort and categorize the stack of papers, gauging what you are dealing with, one particular piece catches your eye. How Does A Volleyball Fly? You check the author, Samson Foster, and do a quick background check.

“Woah,” you whisper to the screen. Foster is the current coach of the MSBY Black Jackals. But he also wrote this children’s story that’s currently sitting on your table.

How does a volleyball fly? Does it sprout wings like a bird? Or have rockets like a spaceship? Does the wind carry it far away? Maybe ride on waves of daydream?

Some days it plops like a rock. Other days it floats away. Don’t be scared, the ball is your friend. Get to know your friend first. Greet it, don’t be shy, and shake hands.

You become so engrossed in this tale and begin to read it in more detail. Foster tells the story of a child learning to play volleyball and falling in love with seeing the ball soaring through the air. Volleyball is ultimately a game where as long as you keep the ball up after all. You know you have found the story and bring the manuscript to Matsuda’s office to share. Enthusiasm and passion spilling from your lips. At the end of your proposal, this work gets slotted for high priority. Matsuda will handle the remaining business logistics to secure rights and complete negotiations. An illustrator will be contracted. How Does a Volleyball Fly? will debut as both a picture book independently and appear within the Sports Special Issue. And it’s just barely lunchtime with the ex-Nekoma captain.

“Y/n, such pleasure seeing you again. Since that Sendai match, over a month now?” Kuroo extends his hands for a handshake.

You firmly return the greeting, “likewise Kuroo, thank you for working with us on this project.”

You are meeting with Kuroo from the Sports Promotion Division of the Japanese Volleyball Association. It only makes sense to include any relevant advertisements and sponsors from them in the issue as well. There will be a few pages of spreads for them to post brand information, sponsors, coupons, information on local volleyball clubs, and of the like. You two have just finished reviewing the proof samplings and now, towards the end of lunch, more small-talk start happening.

“I don’t mean to offend, but you look quite different from last time,” Kuroo observes in between a few bites of food. “Much fresher and livelier. Seems like Bokuto-ism is the real deal.”

“Pardon? Bokuto?”

“Ah, I know more about you than you do about me. That’s for sure, math magician.”

You blink. Kuroo delights at your confusion.

“In our third year, we were at a training camp. Bokuto taught a chibi, now current teammate Hinata, how to do a feint. I believe he introduced it as something that ‘upsets the balance of stillness and motion’. Ring a bell, Bokuto’s tutor?”

Now it does. That’s what you use to bait Bokuto into studying calculus. You smile. So he not only remembered, but it sounds like he used it to bait someone else. That Kuroo also remembers, must have meant it made an impression.

“You should talk to him sometimes,” Kuroos says, sipping his tea. “I feel like he gets lonely.”

Bokuto? Lonely? “Even with his teammates? He tells me they are really close.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Well, teammates in pro-leagues are also like coworkers right? How would you like hanging out with your coworkers 24/7, even if they are close friends?”

Kuroo is making a valid point. It’s not like a high-school team where it’s still fundamentally interest-based. “I see what you mean. Bokuto is lucky to have a friend looking out for him like you then, Kuroo.”

Kuroo laughs loudly, “He’s very lucky indeed. Ah, I’m just interested in seeing how far his luck runs.”

“I’ll give you some advice.” He pauses for a bit and gives a devious grin. “You know in volleyball, if you’re too focused on the ball and trying to score, you forget your surroundings. You might want to pay attention to the people next to you.”

You smile and shake your head at Kuroo’s riddles. “Kuroo, I know why even Akaashi calls you ‘Pain-in-the-ass Kuroo-san’. How do you sound like both an old geezer and the Cheshire Cat at the same time?”

“Literature student, right? And a math magician. Shouldn’t be hard for you. Don’t think too much.”

“Alright. Wonderful meeting you Kuroo. Thanks again.”

“Likewise, y/n. Always a pleasure.”

How does a volleyball fly?

First observe, then learn, and finally execute.

It’s a Sunday morning in November and you’re strolling after a light jog. You remember how Bokuto would always drag you out for impromptu sprints and you kind of miss it. Recently, you’ve been going outdoors a lot more. Today, your walk brings you to Icho Namiki Avenue, the Gingko Avenue. The leaves of the trees lining this road have turned a beautiful golden yellow. The best time to visit here would be right now, during the heart of autumn. Many people are here admiring the trees with family and friends. You take a photo of the gold tunnel and send it over to Bokuto, “ How’s autumn in Osaka?”.

A moment later, your phone buzzes. Bokuto Koutarou is requesting a video call . You smile and accept. And you are greeted with an unflattering, bottom-up view of Bokuto’s face, nostrils flaring right into the camera. You snicker at the sight.

“Hey.”

“Hey Y/N!” Bokuto greets enthusiastically into the phone and readjusts the camera. “I saw the ginkgo trees, the leaves are SOOO pretty! You doing well?”

“Yea, they are! And yup, today is a good day.” You breathe out, excited to have some company during your walk. The leaves are truly beautiful golden. Looking at Bokuto’s face on the screen, you notice that his eyes are golden too. Slightly different shades, but also vibrant.

This thought traps you for a moment, until your feet trip over an uneven part of the pavement and your phone drops. A somewhat awkward toss back into reality.

“AH! Y/N! YOU OKAY?!” You hear Bokuto yelling at his mic. Some murmurs can also be heard, no doubt from people around him thinking the man is crazy. You pick your phone and dust the dirt off. Walking might be a hazard, you think as you find a bench to sit. “Sorry! Just dropped my phone!”

Bokuto is taking a break today too, having just finished a run in Mino Park. A small respite, really, before the team will be traveling to Hiroshima for the next set of matches. Bokuto stretches his arm out so you can see more of the scenery behind him and rotates the phone slowly. Large swaths of maple trees.

“See this? The ones you see are golden, but the leaves here are a fiery red.”

“They’re gorgeous! And it’s all in a forest too, I’m just seeing one street.”

Bokuto brings the phone closer to his face. “Bet you haven’t been here before.” You shake your head and Bokuto’s face lights up a bit. “Let me tell you more! I learned so much today.”

You see Bokuto hold a fried object to the camera. “What’s that?” You ask, watching Bokuto take a bite.

“Maple leaf tempura. They only have it during autumn, red maple leaves dipped in batter.” Huh, that’s completely new. You have only ever heard of tempura with shrimp, crab, or other vegetables. But maple leaf?

“Oh! And I also passed by Ryuanji Temple.” Bokuto continues on.

“Wait, isn’t Ryoanji Temple in Kyoto?” You ask, confused. Your confusion grows even more when Bokuto starts laughing more, his eyes squeezed shut from amusement.

“Hey hey hey! There’s stuff I know about that you don’t!” He says proudly.

“Of course there’s stuff I don’t know.” You press on impatiently. “Come on Bokuto, am I getting things mixed up?”

Bokuto stops his laughter to explain. “You’re thinking about the one with the rock garden. I’ve been there too when I had a match in Kyoto. This is one within Mino Park. It was built by some guy who was training under the waterfall...I read about it earlier... but I forgot his name, sorry.” Bokuto might not remember the small details from those tourist info plaques, but from his descriptions, it’s clear that he’s been to many places already. Walked and traveled all over Japan while chasing his volleyball.

“You haven’t seen the Mino Fall!” Bokuto exclaims suddenly.

You are about to answer “nope”, but the screen with Bokuto’s face suddenly starts to shake.

“Wait a minute y/n! Let me go show you! I’ll run there right away. You really have to see it in real life. It’s so much better than photos.”

You’re baffled at Bokuto’s impromptu sprint towards the waterfall. All you can see are blurry views from the camera shake, the sounds of his footsteps and the occasional, “Sorry! Excuse me! Coming through!”. You don’t notice a smile making its way on your face.

“Slow down Bokuto, be careful.” You chide, thinking of how you tripped earlier.

“Don’t worry, we’re here.” He switches his camera view and raises his arm up. “There’s a lot of people now. When I got here this morning, it was just me, and another grandpa. Do you see it? Isn’t it pretty? Look at the trees here too!”

Bokuto pans the phone around and through your small phone screen and low resolution, you catch glimpses. The large stream of water falling gracefully, merging into the pond below. Red maple trees flanking the centerpiece on both sides. You hear the sound of rushing water and the chatter of people also enjoying the view.

“Do you see it y/n? Isn’t it great in real life?” Bokuto asks gleefully.

“Yes it is Bokuto” You smile, humoring him.

A kid pulls on Bokuto’s jacket. “Hey mister, you’re still showing a moving photo basically. And the screen quality sucks, so your friend is probably better off looking at a photo.”

Little smartypants. Little, salty, smartypants. You hear the mother swatting the child’s jacket, “that’s rude. Apologize to this older brother.”

“Ah that’s fine.” Bokuto scratches the back of his head. “Kid’s probably right y/n. You’re still just seeing bad quality footage.”

“It’s okay Bokuto!” You quickly respond. “I can hear the sounds of the waterfall and you’re here too, so it feels very real!”

“Really?” Bokuto’s smile beams again. You nod. “If you ever come to Osaka, I’ll show you this place in person for reals.”

How does a volleyball fly?

Steadily, Quickly, Surely

“Okay!”

It doesn’t take long for another month to pass by, and it’s already the depths of December. The special issue is finally released, complete with all the components planned. Udai’s chapter. Athlete interviews, Bokuto’s included. How Does a Volleyball Fly? The contents from the Volleyball Association. And many more other pieces of hard work from the whole team. Despite this year being an especially busy time of year, everything is going according to plan. And you cannot wait to welcome the new year.

A co-worker knocks on your desk, “hey y/n, Assistant Director asked me to call you to her office.”

“Thank you, I’ll be there right away.” You finish saving your current work, grab a notepad and pen, then head off. You knock on Matsuda’s door briefly and wait for her to call you in.

“Come in, and sit,” she says while continuing typing on her computer. “I don’t have much time, so I’ll get straight to the point.”

Matsuda finishes the task at hand and turns over to you. “As you know the Osaka office is short-staffed. Two of the editors are taking their maternity leaves, and it’s unknown when or if they’ll actually return to position. I’m considering transferring you there to fill in, permanently.”

“I thought you said you saw me as a threat and that you keep your enemies close.”

“My, my. Ever the petty one, can’t believe you would still remember that. I did say that, but I’m not so mean as to keep a good opportunity from a mentee.”

You look up at her.

“I’m proud of your work, y/n. You should be too. Your change and impact are not unnoticed by the crowd here. I think you’ll flourish in the Osaka office as well. Of course, they’ll give you a hefty boost to your salary too. Thoughts?”

“I…” You are stunned by this news, and rake your brain for a careful answer. “Thank you for this consideration...I-”

She stops you from talking. “It’s not an easy decision I know, uprooting right when you finally made progress here. And it isn’t always about the money. Your salary is going up even if you stay anyways. I’ll give you a week, but I’ll need an answer soon.”

How does a volleyball fly?

With bravery, practice, and faith.

Endnotes:

I see others with series opening tag lists. So I suppose if you want to follow the updates more closely, feel free to send an ask and I’ll tag you ^ ^

• Oh wow, will Reader take this opportunity or pass on it? Hm…. •Just as it’s a beautiful autumn for Reader and Bokuto, at the time of posting, it’s the start of autumn for us too. Are the trees in your area changing colors? Or perhaps in the other hemisphere, it’s approaching summer? •Icho Namiki means “a row of ginkgo trees”. It’s a famous street lined on both sides by ginkgo trees, so it’s super popular during autumn. •Mino Park (also Minoo and Minoh) is the closest, natural forested park, to Osaka. •Here’s some info on the Mino Park Ryuanji Temple(瀧安寺) . It was pretty badly damaged in a typhoon Sept 2018 though, so technically Bokuto wouldn’t have been able to see much. And the one Reader is thinking about in Kyoto, Ryoanji (龍安寺) is very famous and is a UNESCO site.

Masterlist

#liah

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winryofresembool · 3 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 22

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Leo Valdez can be sweet when he wants to.

A/N: Sorry for the long break! The holidays were a rather busy time for me so it did good to take some time off from writing. But now I'm back for my weekly updates (at least I hope I am)! And not just with any chapter but a long-ish chapter full of Caleo fluff :) I really hope you guys enjoy! Please let me know what you think because I 100% mean it when I say I love reading your comments!!

Words: 3200+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

Once Calypso had made up with Leo and Annabeth, she had new issues to deal with. When she paid her rent for the month, she noticed that she only had enough money for one more month’s rent, not even including the other living costs such as food, other daily necessities and school supplies. She had pushed back the job hunting earlier partially because the friendship issues had made her feel too low to care about that kind of thing, partially because she had no idea what she could do, only having a high school level education and no special skills. She had only ever worked at her father’s company and that was not something she wanted to advertise in her applications. But now she was in a situation that unless she wanted to return to the very place she wanted to stay away from, she had to come up with something.

Annabeth and Piper had seen some of the clothes and other items she had sewed and made with her own hands and encouraged her to sell them but Calypso herself wasn’t entirely convinced they were good enough to be sold. She was also a decent enough artist but with a class full of artists just as good (some even better) than her, what would make her stand out in the public? Her people skills weren’t amazing either so she doubted that she would make a good retail worker. But she knew she would probably have to come out of her comfort zone in this case, so if anyone was willing to hire her, she’d accept it.

She was startled when she suddenly heard a familiar voice from the other room: “Sunshine, I’mma head out to buy some groceries and stuff for a new project. You need anything?”

In some other situation, Calypso would have been thankful for the offer, but she was still feeling like a nervous wreck because of her earlier discovery. That’s why the words escaped her before she could stop herself: “Huh? No, I don’t think so? And I can still buy my own groceries, thank you very much.”

“Sorry, I just thought I’d ask… I didn’t mean to…” Leo seemed a bit baffled by her outburst. He was already about to head out when Calypso came out of her room and stopped him.

“No, I’m sorry.” She sighed, looking regretful. “I was just on the edge because I just noticed my financial situation isn’t exactly the best… But that is something I need to figure out on my own, I don’t want charity.”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna buy you a car or anything,” Leo tried to crack a joke. “Just thought that if you’re running out of milk or something, I could have saved you the trouble… Since I’m going there anyway…”

“Oh… no, I don’t think I need anything,” she said, this time a lot softer. “But thank you for asking.”

“No prob, Sunshine,” Leo replied, looking relieved now that he knew she wasn’t actually angry at him. “But hey, if you do need help with, like, searching for a job, or something, I’m your man.”

Calypso tried to keep her face neutral even though she had a feeling her cheeks were probably red. “I’ll… keep that in my mind.”

“Well, see you soon,” Leo said after the two just kept staring at each other for a while. He seemed to be sizing her, possibly still a bit thrown off by her weird reaction before he put his coat on (Calypso noticed it was the same shade of red as a lot of his shirts seemed to be. And it was also rather snugly fit, definitely not a bad sight, she thought before she had time to stop herself) and took his bags, leaving her alone.

“See you,” she said quietly when the door was already closed.

Once sure that Leo was far enough and not coming back, Calypso leaned her back against the wall of her room, sliding down into a sitting position on the floor. Throwing her head back, she groaned at herself. She had thought that the small falling out they had had because of the Percy incident might have affected her feelings towards Leo, but it seemed to become clearer and clearer every day that wasn’t the case. Even if she had admitted to Hazel and Annabeth that those feelings were not quite flatmate like, it was a whole different thing to really come to terms with that fact. She was falling quite hard.

The more she thought about it, the more she freaked out. Her relationships before one faithful day during her teenage years had failed badly (and that was over 5 years ago anyway) and the online dating she had done afterwards… Well, now that Calypso thought about it, only the conversation with Percy had seemed to be going somewhere. All the people she had cared about had left her and never come back. That, along with the fact that she had spent a lot of time alone in the past, had left her scared of relationships and ruined her self esteem, making her think that she simply wasn’t good enough. If Leo left too… she wasn’t sure how she’d handle that. Not to even mention, her dad was still probably looking for her and getting Leo mixed into that would be very dangerous for him. No matter what Annabeth said about wanting to help.

Biting her lip, she decided there was only one option. No matter what she felt, she should try to treat Leo just like any of her friends and conceal her true feelings. Having Leo in her life just as a flatmate was way better than not having him in it at all. When she remembered her friends’ hints that perhaps Leo himself wasn’t as indifferent to her as he probably should be, she suddenly felt like crying. In different circumstances… maybe they could be happy together, go on dates, hold hands… Now she would inevitably have to let him go when someone else would realize that Leo was a great person worth dating.

Calypso didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, and she also hadn’t noticed that there were tears running down her cheeks. She didn’t snap out of her daze until she heard the front door clunking again, this time indicating that Leo had already returned.

“Please just ignore me…” Calypso ranted in her head, but no luck. She heard steps from outside her room, stopping right in front of it. Swiping her wet cheeks quickly into her hands, she stood up from the floor just in time for Leo to knock on her door. Calypso didn’t really want to open it when she was in that emotional state but she knew that not answering would raise even more questions. Her messy looks she could always try to shrug off as a ‘bad day’, she decided.

“Yeah?” she asked weakly, opening the door to reveal her flatmate with that stupid trademark grin of his on his face. He seemed pretty happy about something he had or was about to do. The late autumn wind had made his curly hair even messier than usual and his cheeks were red from the cold weather and the exercise but his eyes were sparkling excitedly, like he couldn’t wait to show her something. He started: “I went to the hardware store and…” He quickly stopped when he noticed Calypso’s expression and puffy eyes. His happiness immediately melted away. “Hey, what’s wrong? Have you been crying?”

“It’s been a rough day,” Calypso sighed, looking down. “Don’t worry, I was just being overwhelmed by the loads of uni work before the exam season. And like I told you before, I need a job… But… it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Alright, if you’re sure…” Leo narrowed his eyes slightly, probably sensing that she wasn’t telling him the entire truth. “But yeah, I was gonna give you something. Hope it cheers you up a bit. He handed her a tiny packet of what seemed like flower seeds but before Calypso had time to read the text on it, he started explaining.

“So, I was gonna tell you that I went to the hardware store to buy me some supplies, and you know how they sell all kinds of seeds there as well? Well, I just happened to notice these while waiting for my turn to pay for my stuff and I just randomly decided to buy them.”

“But… why?” Calypso asked, finally looking at Leo directly.

“Um…” He started rubbing the back of his neck. “Remember when Festus jumped on your desk and broke it? There was a plant on it too… and I never replaced it. When I saw those,” he nodded towards the packet Calypso was holding, “I remembered that the plant looked like that… At least I think it did… I’m no good with that kind of stuff… But I know you care about your plants… so I thought it’d be only fair if I got you those. I know it’s not gonna be the exact same one you had, but…”

Leo didn’t manage to finish his sentence because Calypso couldn’t contain her feelings anymore. She closed the space between them and hugged him even tighter than the time they had had a game night with Jason and Piper. No one had gotten anything for her in years, and even if the seed bags didn’t cost much, it was the thought that mattered way more to her. She had never expected him to remember such a detail from several months ago when they hadn’t even been friends, but apparently he did.

“Uh, Cal, some air would be nice,” Leo said jokingly when it started seeming she didn’t even want to let him go. He didn’t attempt to break the hug, though, instead gently stroking her back. “Wow, Sunshine,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, “You’d think I bought you a house based on your reaction.”

Calypso raised her head from his shoulder, giving him a half hearted glare as she broke the hug.

“I’m not allowed to be thankful for a gift? You don’t know… You don’t understand…”

“Understand what?” Leo raised his eyebrows.

Calypso took a deep breath before answering. “I haven’t gotten gifts from anyone since I turned 16. And even then it was just… uh, never mind. The point is that I’m not used to such nice gestures… And I didn’t think you’d remember… It was my favorite plant. So excuse me if I’m feeling a bit emotional because your gift was more thoughtful than you probably realized.”

“OK, sorry,” Leo apologized quickly. “If you’re not used to nice gestures, I’m not used to displays of affection so I got a bit surprised, that’s all… Well, either way, I’m glad I got you something you care about.”

Calypso’s expression softened again. “Yeah. Thank you. I’m sure they will look pretty.”

Suddenly Calypso realized she was feeling a little dizzy, not sure if from the crying or from the smell of the mechanic oil she had just smelled on Leo’s shirt as she had hugged him. Sitting down on her bed, she leaned her face into her hands.

“Um, are you really OK?” Leo asked. “I know it’s not any of my business, but… if I can help you somehow, let me know.”

After a while, Calypso looked up from her hands, having half expected Leo to leave already. “If you happen to know anyone who’d be willing to hire an inexperienced, uneducated young woman, sure, be my guest,” she muttered.

“Hey.” Leo sat down next to Calypso on her bed, nudging her arm slightly. “Where’s the Calypso who has told me to fight my fear? I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who’d be willing to hire you if they knew how talented you are.”

“Wait… what?” Calypso wasn’t sure if she had heard right. Even if they had been friendly towards each other for a while now, she didn’t remember Leo complimenting her like that before. “Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s true!” Leo exclaimed, his eyes gleaming fiercely the same way Calypso had seen a couple of times earlier. “You are a talented person and even I can see that. You can draw and paint – I bet you’d do way better blueprints for machines than I do. To be honest, I’d probably hire you to do that if I could. You create a lot of things with your own hands – like that one dress you wore the other day, right? Like, OK, I wear overalls all the time so you can take my opinion with a grain of salt, but I thought it looked neat.”

“But…”

“But there are other things as well,” Leo continued persistently. “You know a lot and you’re always working on something – if not something university related, you take care of your plants or bake or something like that – and I think under that hard cover of yours you’re actually a super caring person. I dunno, those are things that at least I value. But maybe I’m the weird one here.” He rolled his eyes as if everything he had just said had been very obvious.

“Leo…” Calypso just stared at him with wide eyes, not finding the right words. She hadn’t been emotionally prepared for Leo showering her with compliments. If her cheeks had felt warm earlier, they were definitely burning now, and her eyes felt weird too… like she was going to cry again. “I…”

“Shhh. Crying doesn’t suit you, Sunshine. Luckily Uncle Leo is good at bad jokes that make the ladies laugh. How about this: What do you give to a sick lemon? Or… why didn't the astronaut come home to his wife?”

“Leonidas,” Calypso repeated but this time she did it with an annoyed groan. That was apparently what Leo had wished, though, because he grinned at her in return.

“Alright, I won’t finish that one!” he raised his hands up. “But it did work because there’s still some spice left in you. That’s what I wanted to see.”

“You’re the only person I know who can literally go from 100 to 0 when trying to cheer someone up,” Calypso said, but her mouth twitched. “But thanks. As much as I hate to admit it, I think it might have worked. For your information,” she added unexpectedly, “you give lemon aid to a sick lemon and the astronaut needed his space.”

“I think my job here is done,” Leo said approvingly, taking one step closer to her. Calypso had seen his brown eyes sparkling when he was happy and burning when he was mad but now she thought they seemed soft and warm, unlike she had seen before. And her heart skipped a beat when she registered that the reason for the warmth might have been… she herself. He looked at her right in the eyes and brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear before his fingers moved to her face. He brushed some of the wetness off with his thumb and for one, short second Calypso thought that he also wanted to do something else… touch her jaw, her lips… But that moment ended fast when he cleared his throat and pulled his hand away. One, tiny part of Calypso’s brain yelled: “no!” while the rational part tried to be relieved.

“Um… You had something there…” Leo tried to brush his previous actions off. “Anyway. Like I said I have no doubt someone wouldn’t hire you. But now that I think of it, I remember hearing from my moms that one of their friends is looking for a holiday helper at her flower shop that is quite near Waystation. The holidays are always a busy time there and the owner’s daughter, who has usually been the one helping, has moved away, so they could really use an extra hand.”

“A flower shop?” Calypso asked, hope starting to flicker in her eyes. “Do you think they may have a lot of applicants?”

“Who knows.” Leo shrugged. “I think it might be a pretty popular place… but you can’t win if you don’t try, huh?”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Calypso agreed. “Do you know how I can contact the place?”

“Hold on for a moment. I can call Emmie and ask,” Leo said and left Calypso alone in her room, baffled by what had just happened but also a bit hopeful. Maybe at least something would turn out right even if her social life would probably continue to be a mess.

A few minutes later Leo returned with a piece of paper in his hands and a satisfied expression on his face. It told Calypso that he had managed to get the number.

“Here you go, Sunshine! Hope you’ll still remember me and how I helped you when you become rich and famous.” He winked.

“I know I’ve told you this before but you really are a weirdo,” Calypso shot back but took the piece of paper gratefully. She excused herself to make a phone call and managed to get a hold of the owner of the flower shop who suggested a meeting for the next day. After finishing the phone call, Calypso searched for Leo who had withdrawn into the living room to watch a movie.

“So… I’m going to have an interview with the owner tomorrow,” she told him. “Keep your thumbs up that it will go fine. I’m kind of nervous, to be honest.”

“I’d keep even my big toes up if needed but I think you’re gonna do great,” Leo noted. “For reals. Have some faith.”

“Easier said than done,” Calypso sighed. “You probably understand.”

“I… yeah,” Leo admitted, thinking about one moment only about a week earlier when he had felt like nothing would work out. “But for what it’s worth, there are people who do support you.”

“You too?” Calypso asked carefully even though she was a bit scared of his answer.

“Yeah, me included.” Leo nodded.

“Listen, Leo… Thanks… for everything you’ve done for me today. Not just the seeds and the phone number, the emotional support too. It really helped.”

She surprised even herself by leaning closer to Leo and giving him a quick peck on his cheek. He went completely speechless and just rubbed the spot on his cheek Calypso had kissed absentmindedly as Calypso waited for him to say something.

“Uhh… you… you’re welcome?” he finally stuttered when Calypso had already started thinking she had crossed some line with the cheek kiss and they were back on square one.

“I should probably go back to do some research…” she said. “I’ve had a hard time focusing on anything lately but I’m feeling better now so hopefully I will manage to make some progress with some assignments. Have fun with your movie!” She attempted to sound cheerful even though the two sides of her brain were having an intense battle in that moment. One said: ‘why don’t you just stay with him? The assignment can wait!” while the other side wanted to run from that situation before Calypso did something she would regret.

“Alright… Thanks. And good luck with that!” Leo said. Calypso was convinced that she just imagined it but to her he had seemed just a bit disappointed that she hadn’t joined him. When she was back in her room, she exhaled sharply. So much for that ‘being just friends’. She would really have to start working harder on that before someone got hurt.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

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