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boldlyanxious · 3 years

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None the Wiser 10

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I took a bit of a break from this one after doing so much all at once. Also had to decide what way to go. I didn't plan ahead for her to run out so now I'm winging it a bit.

Marinette had left the Eiffel Tower that night with Cassie's number. At first she thought the girl was trying to make a joke when she suggested telling her parents that she had been running around as a magical hero for 2 years. But Cassie gave a well-reasoned argument for why she should reveal herself. Much of it was the ways that it strained their relationship and caused her to need to lie all the time. But beyond that there was the added burden on being the guardian with not only no additional support but having lost heroes as they had been revealed.

Marinette didn't run home and tell her parents right away. She took a few days to mull it over. She knew that the guardian had wanted secrecy above all but she wasn't sure how prudent that was. He had only become a guardian because he made a major mistake as a child that he couldn't fix. His secrecy had only protected him but didn't solve any problems. When faced with the same problem that had never been fixed his solution was to run and hide again while leaving Paris vulnerable. It had been her and Chat Noir who had fixed his mistake even if she had eventually made a mistake that cost him the guardianship. She has solved the issue even if things were still tough.

Perhaps the additional support of her parents would be a good thing. She should probably discuss it with Chat Noir first. She had been avoiding discussing any of it with him or Damian. She sent them both messages that she did not want them to bring it up until she had time to process. Damian took it pretty well but Adrien seemed to keep trying to catch her eye to get her to talk, but then she had known Adrien longer and he also found out about her secret biological family so the situations were quite a bit different. She pulled out her phone to text him.

---

Marinette brought pastries to the park, including a double cheesy bread for Plagg and macarons for Tikki. The box lid was pushed back down over the kwamis so Marinette and Adrien could talk. He offered her fruit infused water before they wandered away from the photo shoot set that he had just left. He used a wipe to remove the makeup and ran his hands through his hair causing it to be adorably fluffy.

Marinette wasn't sure how to start. She avoided Adrien's soft eyes filled with concern and understanding. She picked the flaky bits off her croissant instead and looked up when he waved at some others across the park. She recognized the girls from school but she didn't really know them. Hopefully they wouldn't talk about seeing her in the park with Adrien. She hadn't told Alya because Lila had been nearby and she didn't want to make a big deal of it because Alya had noticed that they were acting a bit weird around each other.

"Do you know them?" Marinette asked.

"We share some classes. Just found out today that I'm partnered with the one in purple for the big history project. Hopefully that will work out okay "

"I was partnered with Nathaniel. It's nice to have someone I already know is reliable. He might be quiet for presenting but I don't know if I could handle the stress of an unreliable project partner."

"Because of all the other stress from things you couldn't or haven't shared?" he asked quietly.

"Um-yeah. Actually that is mostly what I wanted to talk about today. I'm going to tell my parents about everything."

"Isn't it all supposed to all be a secret?"

"According to Tikki, the level of secrecy has depended on the guardian handing out miraculi."

"So you think we should tell people now that you are guardian?"

"But necessarily. Mostly I think that it's important that people don't know. But we aren't adults who control our own lives and schedules. Sometimes we need extra support out allowances."

"I don't think I could tell my father. Even if he would see me, I think he would find a way to prevent me sneaking out if he knew."

"That is probably true. But my parents are the opposite. Having to lie and sneak around behind their back has been harmful to all of us. They have been a lot more worried recently anytime I'm not where they expected."

"Is this because of what Superboy said about you being Robin's sister?"

"I--"

She faltered and looked down instead of continuing. Adrien reached out and picked up her hand saying her name softly.

"Marinette, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. But sometimes it helps to talk even if it's hard to say."

"No, I think it will help you to know. It's just all been so confusing. Do you remember the man from the hotel?"

"Yeah. From Alya's party."

"I met him that night when I went to change during the party. The next day he wanted to have breakfast with me." She bit her lip before spitting out the next words all at once. "Because he is my biological father."

"You said he made your parents nervous. Did he treat your mom badly and that is why they never told you?"

"Actually, they never knew until then."

"How--"

"My parents had help from a fertility clinic. I didn't know until I took a DNA test after we did blood typing in biology class because mine wasn't right." She looked down again. "They aren't worried that he will hurt me. They are worried that he will take me away."

"Cases like that from donors or whatever are really hard to fight though."

Except he is rich. Like really rich. Bruce Wayne rich."

The words just sat there for a moment as Adrien considered them. She could see him working it out and could tell the exact moment he knew when he looked back at her with shock in his eyes.

"Bruce Wayne is your biological father?" He breathed out hard. "The Bruce Wayne."

"That reaction is a lot of why I've not told many people. I didn't even know who he was until the fashion show. I was so worried about everything else that I never considered asking more about him. He was just Bruce."

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her close for a moment. Marinette leaned against him less nervous than she felt before but still with the weight of talking to her parents.

"I agree you should tell your parents. It will help them to know. It will probably just give them other things to worry about." He smiled down at her. "Lucky for them that we always save the day, My Lady."

She looked up at him with the use of his hero's affectionate nickname for her. He was definitely looking at her how Chat Noir tended to look at Ladybug. She tensed a bit, not sure how to manage his possible feelings now that he knew she was Ladybug and not just Marinette. But he said nothing more. He leaned over and kissed her head gently and told her goodbye with a final squeeze to her shoulders.

---

Her parents just stared at her after she blurted out her secret identity without preamble. They were stunned into silence and waited for her to crack a smile before they reacted. They looked at each other and then both started talking about their feelings about her revelation. If they didn't calm down Marinette predicted she would have a headache soon. She decided it was best to wait it out rather than try defending herself.

As she expected it was mostly disbelief and shock at the dangers she had faced but there was an underlying message of pride. They kept on for a few minutes while Marinette waited for them to get it out of their system. She could tell it was ending when they both held her close and they ceased the onslaught of incredulous concern. They all went quiet for a minute until Marinette asked their thoughts once they had been able to process for a few minutes.

"Did you guys have any questions?"

"Why did you tell us? Actually why didn't you tell us before?" her dad asked.

"Well things have changed recently and it makes it all so much different."

"Your leader. He was trapped by Hawkmoth and named you guardian. What does that mean?" her mom asked.

"It means I'm but responsible for all of the miraculi in Paris. The previous guardian had moved on and had no memory of any of the miraculous or having met me."

"I don't know whether to be more upset that you kept it secret all this time or that we didn't notice." Sabine said.

"I wanted to tell you. I really hate lying."

"We know you do Sweetheart. That's part of what makes this hard to see. We didn't expect it from you," her dad said.

"I always worried that you would find out I'm missing and think something bad had happened. Especially after Bruce showed up. You were so worried at first."

"We are still worried a little. But so far he seems to just want an opportunity to love you." Sabine said. "We can't fault him for that."

Marinette agreed. Although it was a very strange situation, he genuinely seemed to want to be a part of her life without making himself a nuisance. She even thought he might he holding back a desire to buy her everything she ever wanted. He had left town again and she could only hope Damian would keep his silence, but he would be returning as soon as his schedule allowed.

They continued talking about all the ways these two major revelations had affected their lives while they made dinner and ate. It was all a huge weight off Marinette and she was happy it had been suggested. She really did believe that it was the best thing for her and the best way to protect her parents, even if it meant they would have to watch their reactions. Her dad might have been thinking about that because as she was heading up to her room he stopped her one last time.

"Does this mean you are in love with Chat Noir but he rejected you without knowing you were Ladybug?"

Tags

#maribat #bio!dad bruce wayne month 2020 #bio dad bruce #boldlyanxious

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

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Callisto (Part Six - Rescue Site)

This fic seems to be taking forever, but I hope it isn’t reading that way. I had so much fun over the weekend and I still have some fun ahead of me writing one of the core scenes I had planned. I hope you are enjoying reading this.

As always, many thanks to the amazing @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 @janetm74 and @vegetacide as well for all the read throughs and support. Wonderful science officer @onereyofstarlight this bit has one of the places we talked about extensively and wouldn’t exist without your help :D

Again, thank you to all the wonderful peeps who have been reading along and commenting despite the once a week posting schedule. You help keep my enthusiasm alive and you have no idea how much I appreciate every word of encouragement ::hugs you all::

Have a Tracy boy or two on the job :D

-o-o-o-

Scott rolled his shoulders and tried to stretch out the tension that was slowly giving him a headache.

At least now they were moving. This rescue felt like it was taking forever.

Hell, it was the same with most space recues, if even more with this one. The distances involved just went on and on and no matter how fast the Thunderbird, it was slow.

It rankled Scott just a little. The fact that the environment could not be influenced by his impatience.

And Dad…

He shunted the thought aside. Perhaps that was why he scorned the time needed. It gave him far too much time to think.

The tunnel stretched out before him as it had for some time now. The life signs were nearly seven hundred kilometres away from Callisto Base. Usually, this was not a problem. There wasn’t a Thunderbird that couldn’t cover that distance in a short period of time. Even Four could do it at velocities no other underwater craft had ever managed.

But this location was at least two kilometres underground, and while the molepod was always an option, Virgil had vetoed it with the option of travelling via dragonfly through the tunnels. Scott had to agree. They needed far more information before barrelling into an unknown situation, not to mention the difficulties of deploying the molepod in these conditions.

But by this point he was almost ready to jump out and blast a hole in the damned moon to get where they needed to go.

Time. So much damned time.

Too much to think.

His hands shifted on the Dragonfly’s controls spinning her into a dive as the tunnel dipped suddenly. The brilliance of the pod’s forward lights lit up the never-ending cave as clear as daylight.

It sparkled back at him in sharp, stabbing needle-like reflections off the walls that did nothing to improve his headache. He had already set his helmet to shade to protect himself. It was ridiculous to be needing sunglasses this far underground.

Behind him, Virgil was following him at a short distance in Dragonfly Two, his lights just bright enough to light up the red of Scott’s pod.

For some irrational reason Scott wanted his pod to be blue.

The blue of the sky he was currently missing.

He sighed.

Again, too much time to think.

“Another five hundred metres.” Alan’s voice from behind him was the reassurance it always was. Why he felt comforted when his littlest brother was nearby and within reach was something he did not want to examine too much.

A twist of his wrists as the tunnel backed around on itself in a hairpin of a turn and he had to dodge another nest of those weird deformed ice stalactite formations sticking out into their path. “What are we looking at?”

“Looks like another cavern. A big one.”

They had flown through several of those enormous caverns on the way out here already. They acted like junctions, some having multiple tunnels converging on them, every single one a home for more ice formations and that damned reflective rock. It had taken John to get them out of the last one. This place was a damned maze.

Virgil had fortunately come prepared, as always. He was leaving a trail of comms-support beacons behind them as a clear path to return to Callisto Base.

Scott fought the urge to duck as the tunnel suddenly shrunk by several metres and took another swerving turn. Scott spun the pod over one-eighty degrees on her longitudinal axis as her wings nearly scraped the ceiling.

Righting them finally, he couldn’t help but check his monitor to make sure Virgil took the turn safely.

He almost smiled as the green pod behind them flipped in a manoeuvre that no doubt had Gordon yelping in the back seat. He couldn’t help but be proud for just a self-indulgent moment.

But his attention was torn away as his pod suddenly shot into a large open space and the light reflecting off the walls suddenly blinded him.

Alan’s gasp behind him only echoed his own.

Their forward lights were being shot at them in blinding brilliance off the ceiling of the new cave.

That brightness only increased as Virgil’s pod spun into a hover beside them.

Oh god.

Whatever had been in the walls of the tunnels was obviously concentrated here.

He redirected the lamps away from the ceiling only to have the brilliance follow them all the way down the closest wall until he was able to turn the pod towards the most distant wall.

Crystal.

There was crystal everywhere.

The cave walls were covered in spikes of the stuff as it they were inside a giant geode. He had to acknowledge that it was stunningly amazing when it wasn’t ripping his eyeballs out.

But that wasn’t what took his breath away.

As their lamps lowered, they caught the edges of something else.

He turned the lights down towards the floor only to discover he couldn’t see it.

Because it was covered in water.

Fluid, liquid water, the dragonflies causing the faintest of ripples to dance across its surface.

A lake.

Scott’s jaw dropped as he tipped the pod to peer down into the dark water only to have more crystal attempt to stab him in the eye from the depths.

“What the hell?”

Water wasn’t supposed to be able to exist in this environment. He poked at his scanners. Atmospheric levels were the same, ever so thin, providing little to no air pressure or heat to keep the water in this state.

“John? What am I seeing?”

Thunderbird Five did not answer immediately, but the data transmission rate on comms doubled as his space brother reached his fingers into the cave through the pod’s sensors.

“Impossible.”

“That was my thought. Virgil?”

“It’s beautiful.”

Scott’s lips thinned. “Scientific explanation? Gordon?”

“You got me here, bro. But I’m more concerned about those lifesigns.”

Scott frowned and double checked his readout. The two dots registered, glowing strongly at him.

From under the water.

-o-o-o-

Virgil frowned as Scott spun his dragonfly around and returned to the entrance of the cavern. His forward lights lit up only what could be considered a beach where the original tunnel swooped in and connected with the crystal cave. At the base there was only a few scattered crystal formations and Virgil watched as his brother expertly put down without touching a single one.

“Are we going to take a look at the lake?”

Typical. Nearby water body and his fish brother wanted in it.

But Virgil needed more reconnaissance.

And if he was honest with himself, there was just a dash of sightseeing involved. Not much, because of the urgency of the mission, but enough curiosity to send him off on a scout around the cavern.

Crystals that had to be the length of an arm or a leg stuck out from the walls in haphazard directions. Most reflected back clear, but in streaks, as if seeping up a localised mineral, there were ribbons of colour in places – reds, greys, golds, pinks. His scanners spat back that it was simply quartz, silicon dioxide, but he had never seen a formation like this.

Which was understandable as this was an alien landscape with vastly different environs to those of Earth. The artist in him was literally stunned, while the scientist valiantly fought for a reason.

He swooped around the edges of the cavern, his lamps lighting up brilliance as he went. The cave proved to be roughly circular, approximately four hundred metres in diameter and about a hundred metres high. He came across two more tunnels leading off it, but all were as dry as the one they had used to enter the cave. Towards the centre, but not quite, the ceiling arched down and what appeared to be a stalactite met a stalagmite to form a column of swirling crystal that looked like something straight out of an art glass exhibition. The ribbons of colour were here too, but this time mostly in a rose pink and a startling blue.

Virgil didn’t have words.

The light playing among the crystals just touched every artistic sense he had and froze them solid.

But there was a mission and those two glowing red dots glared at him from beneath the surface of the lake.

He ran scans of the water. For it was water, mostly, though, certainly not any he would want to drink.

For one thing it was salty, a definite brine solution with a number of minerals including silica in concentrations that defied as much logic as the water’s existence did in the first place.

The difficulty was that the lifesigns weren’t clear. They were in the water, but resolution faded at a very shallow depth and there was a lot of deep depth in places.

“John, can you get any more resolution on these scans? I can’t pinpoint the lifesigns.”

There was a muttered curse on comms that had Virgil arching an eyebrow. “No, I’m sorry, Virgil. Interference is particularly strong in that cavern. We’re working on it, but I don’t have any great hopes.”

“What about a probe? Would that improve the signal?” Virgil blinked as his headache suddenly flared. Ow. Damn. The controls in front of him blurred a moment. Shit!

But then everything righted itself, just leaving an echo of the pain in his head as the headache droned on as it had before.

Maybe his painkillers were wearing off. A glance at the time proved that was far from the case.

He dreaded to think what that would have felt like without them.

“Virg?”

“What?!” Okay, so he was abrupt, but he was busy.

“Hey, hey, calm down. You didn’t answer John. Just checking on you.”

“Virgil, you there?” John’s voice dripped concern.

Shit.

“Sorry. Just got a headache. Need some sleep.”

“I feel you, bro. Want me to pilot?”

“No. No. I’m fine.” He swallowed bile and mentally shook himself. “John, you were saying?”

He could feel Gordon’s eyes on the back of his neck.

“Probe deployed. Target is Burr Crater, which you are directly under at the moment.”

Virgil’s display reported the probe entering Callisto’s atmosphere. He hoped it would give them enough information to act.

Time was ticking.

He spun the pod around and tried to ignore the rainbow of light that was his forward lamps. The flicker, while beautiful, was doing nothing good for his headache at all.

“You sure you’re okay, Virg?”

He pressed his lips together and considered ignoring the question from Gordon. But he knew if he did, his brother would only worry more.

It was a Tracy trait.

“Let’s just get this mission done. We have people who need saving.”

Gordon’s grunt wasn’t a happy one and the chances of Scott being called in on his headache were increasing by the moment.

“I’m fine, Gordon.” He cut the conversation off by dropping the pod rapidly towards the beach where Scott had climbed out and was walking to the water’s edge. Another spin mid-air and Virgil lowered into a rather delicate landing, keeping the pod’s feet away from the crystal formations sticking out of the rock.

Virgil swallowed again before climbing out of the pod. His boots hit solid but glittering rock, damp in the darkness.

Scott and Alan were standing at the water’s edge staring out at the spectacle that the pod lights lit up.

Gordon clambered out behind Virgil and together they both walked over to stand beside their brothers.

“This is so cool!” Alan was obviously excited.

He said it on external comms and the sound travelled across the cavern only to bounce back in so many perfect ‘ool’s Virgil’s eyes widened.

On the spur of that, as the ‘ool’s slowly faded away, he activated his own external comm and sung a single pure C note.

It came back at him from so many different directions it was like a chorus.

“Oh, wow.”

‘Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow…’ It went on, the faint atmosphere sporting just enough density to carry the sound waves.

“That is something, isn’t it?” Scott’s voice was quiet. “The dragonflies made one hell of a racket. We’re going to have to be careful. Wouldn’t want to set up a harmonic that could bring the roof down on us.”

Virgil was still processing. The thought of playing his piano in this cave was just mind boggling.

“Dad says the Base scientists are having some kind of scientific fit over this place.” A grunt. “I’m more concerned about those two lifesigns.” He paused. “John, any luck with the probe?”

“Unfortunately, no. The interference is just too thick. I can read the water, but very little in it or below it. I’ll keep trying.”

Scott sighed. “Keep us updated. Looks like this will have to be more hands on.” He turned to Gordon. “We need Thunderbird Four.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Alan Tracy #callisto

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tom-riddle-haunts-me · 3 years

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Finally, the Reader has a little more space ✨

Hope you enjoy,

Abigail 🐍

Warnings: swearing.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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Not As Planned

Tom Riddle x Reader

The infamous Dark Lord begins to orchestrate his oh so dreaded return, but while trying to achieve a new, critical pawn's loyalty to him and his cause, things go not as planned.

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4 - Absence

Getting her next day's lessons ready did no use to Y/n. The extra classes provided by her Family during the summer break still vividly played in her mind, and they had covered most of the year's schedule, reason why she had found herself sighing, interest killed by the reading on the potion they were to brew the day after.

Y/n had kept on reading though, just to make sure the words her grandfather had so gently engraved in her head a few months prior were still bleeding in her skull.

Well, they were.

But that was okay, it was perfect, actually.

An Addams could not afford the liberty to start a school year unprepared.

They had to be the best.

She had to be the best.

You had to be the best.

Not only that, you had to be the best of the best.

Hence why in the current time you were answering questions like there was no tomorrow. You'd always end up being almost the only one to participate in the lesson, professors had nothing against it (I mean, maybe Professor McGonagall did, but you still managed to get most of her questions) and your classmates gladly let you take control of the situation.

Well, almost everyone, actually.

There still was him.

Lazarus thatfuckingbitch Malfoy.

He just had to be an asshole and find every single possible way to get on your nerves, sometimes it felt like he simply enjoyed giving you a hard time. Did he want to die that badly? Weren't the Malfoys just cowards naturally inclined to submit to the strongest bidder?

<Yes, Mr Malfoy?>

To hell with him.

You would have liked to say you had no idea why he was looking at you like that while giving the right answer to Professor Sprout, head of the Hufflepuff House and your Herbology teacher, but you actually knew too well that kind of staring.

He was challenging you.

He was looking for a weak spot, a grain of uncertainty, maybe even fear for a possible defeat.

He had no idea who he was trying to mess with.

You smiled, as if encouraging his little, pathetic show, and apparently he gladly reciprocated the gesture with as much fake kindness as yours.

Professor Sprout had granted the students the permission to swear only during that particular class. She had looked kind of excited while explaining them the plant they were to study that day was a very dangerous one, and honestly, after having the said study's subject in front of you, you had understood why. The greenhouse back at your home was actually guarded by Venomous Tentaculas, hence why you were particularly fond of those "little" monsters.

But now all you could hear were screams from Hufflepuffs and muffled snickering coming from your fellow Slytherins, all you could see a very panicked teacher trying to keep her cool and an unidentified student (probably a Slytherin) being tossed around by a green, spiky, excited vine.

High pitched voices kept bouncing loudly in your skull, picking at your brain like little annoying bites, the chaos was driving you out of your mind.

You had always preferred silence.

In a matter of seconds, everything was quiet once again. As if someone had casted a Full Body-Bind Curse on the entire class, the students were now frozen in their steps, some still gaping, others with their eyes shut so tight they threatened to pop into their skull.

Even the teacher was standing still, shock draining the color out of her gentle face.

Malfoy, though, stood there, unmoved, as motionless as a statue, but finally with something you were dying to see hide behind his placid eyes.

Defeat.

<Oh, oh Merlin! G great job Miss Addams, brilliant thinking! Ten, no, twenty points to Slytherin!>

At this point in time, while the trembling Slytherin boy was being accompanied to the Hospital Wing by Professor Sprout, a receded vine lied lifeless in front of the tall, young man you just morally slapped right across his stupid face.

You won.

And everyone knew.

________________________________

<Yeah, hahahaha, stupid Malfoy! He has no idea what he got himself into! Right Y/n?>

<You're so talented, bloody hell! I couldn't cast a spell that fast for my own life!>

There they were.

<Out.>

Your silky voice rang in the almost empty Slytherin Common Room, making the little group that had gathered around you vanish like smoke in air.

Flies.

Maybe that was the reason why the Malfoy brat intrigued you to that extent.

He was a challenge, not an easy bet.

The dark-haired Slytherin had stormed out the Greenhouse like a hurricane a couple of hours ago and you hadn't heard from him since then. Next class was canceled due to the teacher's "personal reasons", so the Slytherin and Ravenclaw students were left to themselves with a lot of free time. The clever ones retreated to the Library, to catch up whit the massive amount of work the professors had kindly drowned you all with, the stupid ones were out, bathing in the little sun October was blessing Hogwarts' grounds with. So, moral of the story, you were bored to death. Having reviewed today's lessons yesterday and Malfoy nowhere to be seen, you were left with nothing to do but read. Again. The same books you had already finished at home.

Ugh.

You shut the book close and sighed. It wouldn't work.

As soon as you stood up, you heard other students coming down from their dormitories, so you quickly turned to the Common Room's exit and made your way into the school's busy corridors. You had always been the silent type, the solitary one, and from a certain point of view, you had to. From a young age, your family had taught you to mistrust every person you were to get to know in your life, but honestly speaking it didn't bother you keeping a distance from others. Once alone, you could let your mind wander and go to a different place, far away from Hogwarts, from what you called home. You'd always wondered if a place like that was real, if somewhere in the world you would ever have the chance to allow yourself to relax a little bit, let your guard down and maybe laugh genuinely to the twins stupid pranks.

Speaking of the devil.

<I'm always thinking about you, guys. What do you have for me today?>

As always, they each grabbed you by one of your arms and gently dragged you in a quiet place, unnoticed by curious eyes.

Fred started, as excited as always.

<They'll probably end up protecting something that the participants will have to retrieve. Wicked, right?>

George finished, with a big grin on his face.

There was something special about them, you just couldn't let the thought of the two happy behavior out of your mind. You could say that interacting with them was your secret, little guilty pleasure, but no one had to know, right?

Their laughs and silliness were just contagious.

As the twins answered in unison, you shook your head smiling. A tiny, minuscule but luckily restrained part of yourself wanted to keep the money, just a little more, just to talk to them for a bit, but your Addams self immediately handed the brothers their two galleons with the simplest and most polite smile you had. Next thing you know they're hugging you before sprinting away full speed, as if scared you'd curse them, but giggling cheerfully, as their usual, jolly selves.

What a strange duo.

Your favorite one, though.

Carried by your feet, you headed to the Black Lake without a second thought. Knowing the path by heart meant you had to pay no attention to wherever you were going, therefore you could focus on the newly acquired information. Dragons, mh? Interesting.

Who in the Wizarding World had the magnificent idea of letting seventeen years old students deal with freaking dragons?

Guess your father was right about the Ministry being just an overrated, overly-powerful and overly-paid coven of incompetent clowns.

"What a huge waste of time"

The voice in your head sounded uninterested and almost soulless in your ears, a most accurate reflection of what was repeatedly going on in that beautiful mind of yours. Words echoed undefined in your brain, racing around like brooms gone mad. Nonetheless, they melted in a clear whisper, almost comforting your craved loneliness.

E/c eyes quickly glanced around, immediately spotting the still missing presence of the pale brat, now outstandingly deafening in an eerie, heavy way. Not once you had graced someone witch such attention, and even if in that case it was justified and most certainly not a good thing, it unnerved your usually calm self finding your mind wondering where the heck he was or what the bloody hell he was doing.

Was it something you could do better? Was it a place you knew better?

Whatever was going on between you two, though, did have a name.

It was a game.

The prize? Power.

<No, you tell her!>

First years. Sometimes you forgot you were a prefect, and moments like that made sure to rimind you of your duties. Your thoughts faded into an impending headache and you could do nothing but discreetly massage your temple with one hand, while patiently waiting for the three kids to take some courage and grow the guts to call you.

After ten more, long minutes of arguing, finally the little blonde girl in the middle stepped forward and grabbed you by your robe.

You gently swirled around, letting your uniform slide in a delicate way out of the little creature's hand.

<Yes, my dear?>

<I, uh->

<Yes, he did! We have Potions next, Snape will eat us alive!>

You could almost laugh at the expression the little slytherin girl had on her cute bronze face. Her amber eyes were trying to strangle the two boys with way too explicit effort, and her perfectly tamed hair bounced on her warm cheeks whenever she shook her head from side to side, disappointed in her friends' childish behavior.

Ah, younglings.

Your eyes followed her thin hand, which was now pointing to the stairs.

Not wasting any more time, you turned on your heels and reached the first floor in less than it should have taken. When Peeves locked eyes with you, his ever present grin contorted into pure horror, and in a moment of overwhelming panic he sprinted forward, even faster than usual. You had to follow the poltergeist to the second floor, chasing him through the corridors like a wolf after his bleeding prey.

He knew far too well that if you were to raise your voice, he would've been doomed.

<PEEVES.>

Well, shit.

<Books? Peeves doesn't know wh- >

Oh, how you despised his stupid voice.

You straightened yourself and placed your hands behind your back. Taking a frighteningly stern aura, you rose your chin high, as if silently judging the being in front of you and already sentencing your prey's imminent end.

Memories from the girl's first year flashed before the ghost's disembodied eyes and fear took over him, leading his jester self to drop the books to the ground and fly away as fast as his lifeless body could.

The three text books moved from the cold stone floor and neatly stacked themselves under your eyes' will, just to float up middle air and reach your arms, where they gently let their weight go and settled down.

While turning around, your brain managed to register someone's silhouette slide into the girl's bathroom and given your position, you were morally obligated to check, after all classes were just about to start.

And you would've fulfilled your role, if it weren't for the figure now standing in front of you, a black cloak blocking your vision.

<Addams.>

If it was possible, the corridors fell even more silent, and the man a few feet away from you, right beside the bathroom entrance, brought back to your mind the main reason you were spacing out in the middle of the hall. You locked eyes with the teacher for a never ending minute, a wordless exchange that ended up in the two of you parting your ways in complete silence.

___________________________________

After returning the books to the now little bundles of joy, you got back to your journey towards the Black Lake, brain still stuck in the second floor's corridor, on the semblance of a person entering the girls bathrooms.

First of all, Professor Snape had seemed to not notice anyone in there. He was standing right in front of the door but not once he looked that way, so whoever entered didn't want to be seen.

Addams shouldn't put their nose into others businesses.

But that definitely smelled like something suspicious.

Very suspicious.

Especially because the glimpse of a shadow you had taken was the one of a guy.

You had finally reached the lake without even realizing it. Sitting under what you had adopted as your own tree, you mindlessly took you Charms text book out of your robes. Your eyes, though, were full of the scene that kept on tormenting your restless mind and millions of questions started blossoming in your head. You began to make assumptions and plans to solve the question as soon as possible, to let your brain go of the itching sensation the odd coincidence had layed on it. Your eyes lost focus, and as the world around you melted into blurred colors, you fell in your little world, only to be suddenly brought back by a familiar, wheezy voice, almost an inaudible hiss.

Your hand automatically shut the book it was holding closed, your mind now empty and focused only on the voice's source.

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

@simp027

@reneuv

#harry potter #hogwarts #hogwarts x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #voldemort #fanfic #reader insert

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vintagegoddess12 · 4 years

Text

Migraine Moments

Part 1

Relationship: Sarah Paulson x Reader

A/N: This is a fic no one asked for. Yes, I wrote this while I’m having a migraine. Yes, this isvmulti-part. This was supposed to be a one-shot but as I was writing, the longer it got that I have to divide it into parts. If you have some requests for a fic/imagines/headcanons, just hit me up!

It was a sunny afternoon at the Los Angeles International Airport when Sarah Paulson's flight touched down. The busy terminal is filled with people yet the paparazzi stuck out like a sore thumb with their high definition cameras and recorders in the full view, ready to pounce when some celebrities arrived. She took one of her luggage from the conveyor belt before her personal assistant insisted that they take care of it.

She remained standing near the belt, waiting for the signal that it's good to go outside. Another full week of press junkets and hotel room service waiting for her.

"You eventually have to take it off," she hears from a distant conversation, not fully paying attention. "I will," the voiced that replied sounded familiar so she turned around to see who it was. [y/n]. Now, Sarah understands fashion. The sparkly, big dresses and the glam of it all but the one thing she'll never get is how a pair of jeans, plain black shirt, and shades can make you look so stunning. Stunning enough to make her hold breath. She quickly brushed the thought when she noticed you have spotted her. A small smile formed on your lips and approached her, planting a kiss on both her cheeks. "When did you land?" You asked your movie co-star. "Just a few minutes before you," she replied. "You look amazing." You gave her a flirtatious smile before replying, "all for you, darling." Sarah felt a blush form in her cheeks. This is how it's always been between the two of you. Flirty banters and witty repartee. She knows it's all in the name of having a good time but that doesn't stop the butterflies in her stomach or the tingle she feels in certain places sometimes.

"Okay," the road manager took both of your attention. "There is press waiting outside, probably some fans. You just have to give them a quick snapshot then we'll be heading for the hotel." Your eyes remained fixed on the floor all throughout the orientation, which your co-star did not fail to notice. The bright lights of LAX are not helping with your migraine. It started when you were on the plane, minutes before the take-off from New York. Your manager insisted that you push through the interviews today but the pain behind your eyes is telling you otherwise. So here you are, spacing out in the middle of LAX with a sea of reporters. To be honest, the only thing that's grounding you is the distinct sweet smell of your friend Sarah. "...save all statements for the first round of interviews later," the road manager tapped your shoulder to make sure you were listening. You simply gave them a thumbs up. --- "OH MY GOD SARAH!" Several of the fans screamed the moment her silhouette reached their line of sight. Not soon after, you can hear the flashing of cameras. "[Y/N], look here!" The photographers bellowed. "Here!" "Smile here, ladies." "Give us a smile here." You winced behind the shades you're wearing. Everything is just too loud. You continued walking until you heard the blonde actress chuckled behind you. "They really love screaming our names, don't they?" "I love screaming your name," you quipped. Both of you paused for a while, clearly taken aback by your response. "You know? 'Cause I'm a fan," you immediately added. To relieve the tension, you ended the statement with a laugh. You continued walking while internally screaming. If you weren't in literal pain right now, you'll be a lot better at filtering your words. Sarah, however, remained frozen for a split second. The idea of you screaming - moaning - her name danced around her head. These scenarios only come to her in the comfort of her bed, in the middle of the night. She gulped, evidently trying to ignore the heat roaming her body. The LA heat is not helping the agonizing rush of blood to her center. Your road manager instructed to stop in front of the cameras for a quick photograph. Sarah quickly positioned herself on your left, keeping a respectable distance. Her publicist, who was with the crew ahead, immediately pushed the two of you together. "This is better for the camera." She then moved out of the way. Better for camera, my ass. They know about your lingering feelings for the blonde. She was, after all, all you can talk about in when you’re with them. This is just them pushing you to admit it to her. If you can take a guess, they probably have bets about it.

Both of you posed for a good 3 minutes when your ride arrives. You bid goodbye to the fans, who were still ecstatic to see their idols, just before you drove away. --- Upon checking into your hotel, the sweet relief of a bed awaits you. The pain in your head remains throbbing. As you were making your way out of the elevator, your publicist reminds you of your schedule. 7 days of promoting the movie. "Make them love it," the very first of many reminders reached your ears. "Make them love you," you scoffed at the idea but you know this is the norm. "Make them love her." Make love with her. Wait! What? "You got that?" Your publicist reiterated. "Loud and clear," you offered a weak smile. It's hard managing a proper conversation with the pain not going away. You swiped your keycard once you reached your room. 1223. The door opened and you can immediately smell the classic hotel mist - freshly cleaned bed sheets and curtains. You began to relax until you noticed something different - a distinct sweet smell of someone so familiar. You entered the room only to be greeted by a certain blonde. In the room. Where you will be sleeping. "Hey, [y/n]!" You winced at her loud greeting. "Hi!" You turned to your publicist, who already knows what you're about to ask. "The production decided that it would be easier to control the paparazzi if we're guarding only one room," they explained rather rapidly. "We'll leave you, ladies." They then closed the door upon leaving. "Oh!" was all you could say. You looked into the room and saw her expectant smile. How can you feel bad when that's what you'll see in the morning? For a whole week? You turned to her and muster the biggest smile you can, despite the killing headache, and said, "So, it's a sleepover."

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #I'm a sarah paulson simp can you tell #migraine moments #one hotel room trope coming your way #i might use some other tropes here just you wait #is there smut? we'll see #yes definitely #dum dum i write for 3 things #smut #angst #fluff #but i write angst better so pray for my soul that this doesn't get angsty

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inseongsfoxybae · 3 years

Text

It was worth it

Pairing: Boyfriend Youngbin + Female Reader; secret relationship

Genre: Soft Smut, a bit of angst

Warnings: Making out, oral (female receiving), fingering, male masturbation, a couple of curses

Words: +1,4k

Requested: Hi! I could imagine with Youngbin or Taeyang you choose! Where he secretly dates a staff, except SF9 who know about their relationship, sees that his girlfriend is very overwhelmed because of work and decides to give her an oral (smut) so she can relax.

Author’s message: Hi, dear anon. Your request is finally here and it was really fun to write. Hope you like it and send in more requests later. Thank you for your support. Foxy kisses 😘

P.S: As english is not my mother language, it may contain misspelled. Also, sorry for any other mistakes :)

Synopsis: You have been really stressed about work, so your boyfriend Youngbin helps to relax even if only for one night.

After three years as one of SF9’s staff, your life was never so hard as now, since the boys accepted the invitation to join Kingdom. You were always running between meetings and practices, checking their SNS’s, keeping up with all the articles and gossip spread out on the internet.

All of this was making you extremely stressed, and all you could do when you arrived at home late at night was take a hot shower and sink into your bed. You didn’t even have time for your boyfriend, although he was always around you at work.

You were secretly dating Youngbin for some months now and no one but the members knew about your relationship. Both of you struggled at the beginning, scared of doing something wrong or geting caught, but the overwhelming feelings you felt for each other were stronger and you just took that chance to live your romance with no regrets.

But the overwhelming feelings you had now are different, very different, and Youngbin wasn’t the cause of it - well, at least not directly. You were exhausted, your body hurt, you had headaches constantly, you barely had time to eat or sleep properly, and you felt like you could explode any time.

In one night, when the sun was long gone and the moon shone sadly in the sky and all the other staff had already finished their work and left, you found yourself alone in one of the meeting rooms, reading and rereading a ton of articles and checking comments on SNS.

All the work seemed endless and you were about to cry in despair when you heard the door opening and Youngbin’s head poking into the room.

“Hey, baby! Why are you still here?”, Youngbin gave you that sweet eye smile of his, making your heart ache.

“Hey…”, you weakly answered trying to control your tears. “I have to finish this”, you pointed to the laptop in front of you, dozens of tabs open in the browser.

“Wanna company?”, Youngbin asked, closing the door behind him and walking to sit next to you.

“You better go home, Binnie. It’s late and you should be exhausted after all these practices”, you slowly replied, feeling his strong arms wrap around your shoulders.

“So do you, Y/N. You’ve been working so hard these days and you need to rest too”, he whispered softly in your ear, fingers playing with your hair.

“I know, but there’s still so much to do”, you murmured and then you realized you were crying, sobbing, in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay, baby. Everything’s okay. Let it all go”, Youngbin comforted you, drawing slow patterns on your shoulder as you finally broke down on him.

“It’s so hard, Youngbin”, you said when you calmed down a little. “I’m always so tired, my whole body hurts, I don’t know what’s resting anymore and we don’t even have time for ourselves anymore”, you paused and parted to look at him, reaching for his cheeks. “I miss you so much, baby. I miss your kisses, I miss your touches, I miss your body on mine, I miss you making me complete during nights”, you whispered, fighting against the urge to kiss him right there.

“I miss you too, baby… So bad”, Youngbin cupped your face in his large hands and pressed your lips together, slowly at the beginning, but with passion right after, kissing you hungrily and desperately, as if he was trying to remind you of your sweet taste long forgotten.

Youngbin pulled you to his lap and you automatically straddled him, feeling his bulge growing into his pants and against your core. “Youngbin, stop! We can’t do this here”, you suddenly pushed him, breaking your hot kisses.

“Why not? There are only you and me here, babe. Everyone else is already gone”, he quickly said before chasing your lips again. “We can enjoy ourselves tonight”, you murmured into your mouth, his warm tongue effortlessly taking control over you.

“Youngbin, no… That’s not right”, you breathed and your boyfriend immediately stopped, looking at you with concerned but still needing eyes.

“Tell me you don’t want to, Y/N”, he said, trying to hold in his own desire.

“I want to, but I just can’t… I… I still have work to do, Binnie”, you explained, limbs slightly trembling with need.

“Shh… Take a break, huh?”, Youngbin pleaded and you reluctantly nodded. “At least let me take care of you”, he gave you a smirk that ran right to your heat before placing you on the top of the desktop.

You sat there and watched him moving your laptop and a pile of papers away, waiting for any sign of what he was going to do next.

“Open your legs for me, baby”, Youngbin commanded with a lust voice. Your eyes widened at his request, but you were too horny to even think about rejecting his order. You lifted your skirt and spread your legs as much as you can, while Youngbin adjusted his swivel chair to be on the same level as your pussy.

He ran his long fingers over your soaked panties, drawing slow patterns on your clothed clit. “Shit, you’re so wet”, he groaned, pushing the lacy fabric to the side to touch you raw. A gasp escaped from your lips as Youngbin locked his eyes with yours. “Can I taste you, babygirl?”.

“God, yes”, you breathed quickly as he continued his motions on your clit. You let go a loud moan when his hot mouth finally attached to your pussy, licking and sucking your swollen bud as his fingers traced your entrance. “Youngbin”, you moaned his name, one finger curling into your pussy and brushing on your g-spot.

With his free hand, Youngbin managed to pull down his sweatpants and set his hard dick free, palming himself in the same pace of his tongue on your clit, his groans reverberating on your sensitive nerves. Your whole body was in flames, legs loosely hanging on your boyfriend’s shoulders at his point, while he abused your womanhood and touching himself under the table.

A second finger was inserted into your hole, thrusting exactly on your sweet spot, making you see stars under your shut eyelids. Youngbin had barely started, but you were already so close, feeling his fingers and tongue moving easier against you as your legs slightly shook around him, tugging hopelessly in his hair.

You could tell Youngbin was reaching his high as well, his breath ragged into your searing skin. Now, his tongue sucked harshly on your clit, setting a desperate pace as he felt you clenching around his fingers.

“Bin, I’m close”, you whined into the room, body collapsed on the desktop, hips shaking due to pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby”, Youngbin moaned against your nerves when he barely could hold himself anymore, speeding up the pace of his fingers into you. And with a couple of right thrusts, you came undone into his mouth, gladly tasting your waters.

“Fuck”, Youngbin moaned right after, coming all over his stomach and pants, resting his exhausting head on your thigh as he recovered his breath. He looked up at you and gave you a proud smile. “Feeling better?”, he asked, caressing your quivering hips.

“Oh yeah”, you breathed. “I feel so good, so relaxed now”, you replied with a tired smile gracing your face too. “You made a mess of yourself”, you giggled looking at his cum on his shirt.

“It was worth it”, Youngbin grinned, pulling his pants up again, putting back your panties and skirt to their places right away. He got up and took your hands, helping you to sit down. “Let’s finish work for today, okay?”, he softly said, cupping your face.

“Okay”, you agreed, taking his hands in yours. “Binnie, you don’t have anything scheduled in the morning… Wanna spend the rest of the night at my place? So we can relax in my bed”, you suggested, raising your eyebrows.

“Are you serious?”, Youngbin couldn’t believe the blessed words he just heard. When you confirmed, he always jumped in excitement. “Okay… I’ll change my clothes. Meet me at the parking lot in five minutes”, he didn’t wait for your answer, already leaving the room towards the locker room.

You laughed to yourself and organized your things, heading to the parking to wait for him. Youngbin showed up punctually in five minutes, clearly happy to be spending the night with you after a while. And what a beautiful night you shared, with all the pent up passion finally overflowing from your chests and bodies.

You felt wanted, loved, relaxed. And about letting your work behind tonight.... Well, it was really worth it.

#kpop imagines #sf9 writings #sf9 imagines #sf9 scenarios #sf9 smut #sf9 youngbin #anon #request

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jamilelucato · 4 years

Text

together [F. W.] || pt. 3

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!reader

Part 1 || Part 2 || together MASTERLIST

Summary: Professor McGonagall has had enough of yours and Weasley’s pranks. She has an idea of how to stop it, but will it be enough?

A/N: This is the last part, yeah, we’re finally here. Thank you for everyone that like it! And I chose this gif because if you pay close attention, both twins are there dancing but most importantly, Malfoy’s there having the time of his life! So cute!

Words: 7.885

Tag List: @witchything @randomlonelytorment @themusingsofmany @stuckindilemma @samnblack

Sunday was a disaster. Firstly, because you were only able to wake up half past noon and you couldn't shake the feeling that you had lost a great deal of the day. Secondly, because of the constant headache, that wouldn't go away, no matter how much water you drank.

You woke up before than Fred, so it was up to you to wake him up. He seemed peaceful, sleeping like an angel. A bit of his hair was falling over his eyes, and you reached for that part, to take it away. He instantly woke up, although a bit slowly.

"It's me," you said, trying to calm him down. It had helped because he stopped and opened his eyes that sparkled in your direction. "Good morning."

"Good morning, y/N," he got up from the mattress — wearing the same clothes he wore last night. Just like you, he wasn't well to change himself before falling asleep. You sleep in your jeans that, although comfy, weren't your best choice to nap with them.

"Where's everyone?" Fred asked, reaching for his clothes, to get new ones. You did the same, making a self-note to clean your clothes scattered around the bag and the bed.

You looked down at your watch. "Well, probably having lunch at the Hall," he got surprised, so you continued, "Yeah, we kinda lost track of time."

"Kinda?" he giggled.

Both of you almost used all the time available to be apart to shower, because neither of you seemed awake enough to be fast. You met again at the stairs to get to the common room.

"Do I look better?" he asked, running his fingers to his wet hair.

"Definitely," you smiled before blushing, "what about me?"

"Huh..." he tried to say something, but he felt so hungry, he decided to drop it. "Never better," he decided to say, because, after all, it wasn't a lie.

A step inside the common room and all the looks followed you, but nobody said a thing. Fred found your hand and guided you to the Great Hall — like you didn't know how to get there yourself.

The house tables were practically empty already due to the time, but there were some Gryffindors, and some Hufflepuff left — all looking pretty much hangover. You were happy to see you weren't the only one.

Fred saw Lee Jordan sitting at the end of the Gryffindor's table with his twin brother, George, and headed that way.

"Good morning, dear brother. Lost track of time, I presume?" George said, giggling, but he suddenly stopped to look at you. He almost convulsed, and so did Lee, before both started to laugh aloud.

"What?" you asked, impatient, sitting down next to Fred who was already serving you.

"Night was good, huh?" Lee said before laughing again. "Pretty good."

"You mean the party? Well, yeah, I might have had one two many..." you tried to remember the night before. "Do I look that terrible?" you asked Lee and George.

They stared at you and then at Fred, like expecting him to say something, but Fred pretended he wasn't seeing them.

"y/N, huh... Have you noticed what you're wearing?" George suggested, with a tone of uncertainty. He seemed scared of your reaction.

You were whispering 'what' when you looked down at yourself. The jeans were alright, but it wasn't because of them the boys had laughed.

The jumper you had caught in the middle of the mess of clothes scattered wasn't yours, and it was pretty clear since the big letter 'F' embroidered in the middle of it remarked that the owner was, in fact, Fred Weasley.

You felted your cheeks turn red as you turned your head up, back at the boys, who were laughing. Fred ha ducked himself, scared of your punches.

"You saw this and said nothing?" you raised your voice to Fred.

"I was super hungry," he said, bending even more.

"It's your jumper!"

"Well, everybody noticed that," Lee pointed out, still laughing.

You were about to punch Fred's arm but gave up midway. It wasn't worth it, and you probably wouldn't be able to hit him the hard way you wished.

"After I eat, we're going back up for me to change," you warned, not asking for his permission. He swallowed hard and shook his head 'yes'. "Good."

The boys' giggles eventually disappeared, and, as promised, after eating, the first thing Fred did was take you back to his room so you could change for a jumper of yourself. You all spend the rest of the day in the common room, too tired to walk around.

After recovering from Saturday night, the days started passing fast. You and Fred got back to your schedule, trying to behave as well as possible to get Minerva's approvement.

Weeks got by — even a trip to Hogsmeade, in which you, Fred and George, bought a lot of things from Zonzo's since your stock seemed to be reaching its end.

Ron got closer to you and the twins — something about "not being friends with Harry anymore" to which you and the boys thought was non-sense.

Reyna assured you she didn't let you embarrass yourself at Harry's party, so you were pretty tranquil about it. She did, however, start to pull you over Fred, commenting how cute you two were and giggling every time she caught you two holding hands.

At first, even you wanted to giggle when he reached for your hand, but he didn't seem as excited as you, and the whole thing kind of lost its charm. Yeah, it was good — he had warm hands, you were glad to have around as winter got closer —, but it didn't grow. It was just it.

It was stupid to deny you were catching feelings for him. Of course, you were. He was gentle, smart, fun and rather handsome — anyone could fall for that, and apparently, you weren't the only one to do so, as Angelina seemed to talk to you and the twins more and more.

Thus, the smartest for you to do was to hide all those feelings away. Fred only saw you as the prankster girl from Slytherin anyway, more like a new member to his boys' gang, and, to be honest, that was how you were feeling lately. Lee Jordan grew closer to you — although, mostly to ask what Reyna liked — and George asked for your help when he had trouble with some lessons or had a new joke he wanted to check if it was good enough.

The jumper incident never happened again, as you forced Fred to help you clean the scattered clothes that, as you presumed, weren't only yours.

The Triwizard Tournament first task finally arrived, causing the whole school to get excited. It seemed to be the only thing the students could talk. The twins weren't any different, particularly when close to the time the first task would start, they found Charlie — one of their older brothers — amongst the people organizing everything.

"Charlie, what are you doing here?" they asked, hugging their brother.

"I came with the dragons, of course," said the red-haired boy, that much resemble the twins. However, he was a bit shorter than his brothers, and more muscular too. "Is that...?" he asked, looking at you, but Fred interrupted him.

"y/N, yeah."

Charlie offered you his hand, proving to have a firm grip. "Nice meeting you, y/N. Heard a lot about you," he said, taking a glimpse at Fred, "Mom seems to think you are the twins' salvation."

You smiled, blushing. "Well, I'm glad Mrs Weasley sees me that way."

"So, brother, wanna bet on one of the champions?" George asked, sowing a piece of paper where he and Fred were writing people's bet.

"Not, really, George."

"Oh, come on!" George followed his brother around, much to Charlie's dislike, leaving you and Fred behind.

He pointed a space in the crowd, and you both walked to the place, waiting to watch the spectacle that would come.

"Are you sure you're keeping your bet on Harry?" he asked, as you watched Cedric enter the place where a beautiful dragon awaited. "After knowing it's a dragon that awaits him?"

"Well, I have to cheer for someone. And I won't cheer for the foreigners," you said, watching Cedric use transfiguration. "I'm not with Cedric either; he seems short of luck."

Fred giggled, noticing you were right about Cedric.

The champions one by one fought their dragons, and Harry was surprisingly good considering his score tied with Krum's. You had no idea what the judges where looking for, as to give or take points, and you would probably have given a ten to everyone, due to how scary the dragons looked.

Fred noticed your discomfort when the dragons got too close to their champions, and he found that fascinating about you, but that wasn't what he said. He used your fear to provoke you; although you didn't laugh, you weren't angry.

"Come on, let's go!" said George, appearing next to the two of you. "We have to get things for the party."

You looked at Fred like you wanted to say "another party?" but he just shrugged and helped you get up.

Fred, George, Lee and you, all snuck up to the kitchen, to get as more food and beverages as possible. Fred looked at you as he held a pack of bottles with his right hand.

"Stay away from these," he advised.

"Will do, sir," you replied, smiling, holding four big bags of crisps.

You all left the kitchen just in time before the house-elves noticed, and ran to the common room, where Angelina and the other two girls that also played Quidditch were trying to decorate.

Lee left the things he brought over a table and started helping the girls — he had more sense than them at that matter.

George had managed to steal a cake, and he positioned it around the pumpkin juices, trying to make it look cool, but it did not work; the cake just looked misplaced.

When Harry arrived, followed by Hermione and Ron, the room screamed in animation. Lee even let off some Filibuster's Fireworks — that he had stolen from your stock.

The boy seemed to have made amends with Ron, and you were happy for the two of them. You, Fred and Lee walked closer to him, to ask how he was feeling.

"Blimey, that's heavy," said Lee, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on the table, and weighing it in his hands.

The whole room started asking for Harry Potter to open the egg in front of them, much to Hermione dismay. You felt reluctant; generally, when Hermione objected to something, she had a reason to do so.

The egg was hollow, but the most horrible noise filled the room. Fred bellowed for him to close it again and Harry slammed it shut.

"Sounded like a banshee..." opined a boy next to Ron.

Another one disagreed. "It was someone being torture! You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George, frowning. "They don't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded more like Percy singing. Maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry!"

You began to think who was that Percy when you remembered the twins mentioning him as their older annoying brother.

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" offered Fred. Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate, and then she looked at you as if asking for help. You didn't know what to say. Fred grinned. "It's alright," he said. "I haven't done anything to them."

Hermione took a jam tart. "Did you get all this from the kitchen, Fred?"

"Yep," said Fred, grinning at her.

"How do you get in there?" she asked, innocently. You knew she was faking it.

"Easy," said Fred, "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and —" you elbowed him, concerned with the amount of information he offered and suspicious of Hermione. "Why?" he asked, noticing your worries.

"Nothing," said Hermione quickly.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out in a strike now, are you?" asked George, but Hermione stood in silence.

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" Fred said warningly "You'll put them off their cooking!"

She said nothing more, but she looked not pleased with the twins. Fred and George started talking with one of the younger boys — Neville, you remembered his name — and you took the opportunity to chat with her.

"What are you planning, Hermione?"

"Nothing," she said, "seriously."

You noticed she used the word 'seriously' instead of her usual 'I swear' and thought she was, indeed, planning something. But if she didn't want to tell you, you weren't going to push her — it was Ron and Harry's job to take care of her, but you couldn't shake the motherly feeling you had around those kids.

That party was better than the other one, probably because it was less crowded — Reyna, for instance, didn't appear — and you hadn't drunk from the bottle Fred informed you not to.

Some students tried to sing a song for Harry's efforts, but they were terrible at it, and you and Fred couldn't stop laughing at their faces. The party ended early if compared to the other, but you didn't bother. The fun you had was enough — besides, those months around Fred had been the happiest of your life. You used to prank people because their reaction made you want to laugh, and with the joy those new friends brought to your life, you were slowly losing the desire to prank at every moment.

You started to worry, but that didn't consume your thoughts as much since soon you had fallen asleep.

December came quickly, and with it, a lot of homework. You're studying more and more, scared to miss something important. Fred thought you were crazy to start worrying so early, but you said you were not worried — just being prepared.

Snape seemed to be used to you and Fred around, and you bet he even liked the twins around you — they were much, much quieter that way. Flitwick was still over the moon, surprised with his creation, the Binding Charm, lasting for so long as you and Fred were his living examples.

You and twins use to disappear in the middle of the night to cause some trouble around; although you didn't need it anymore, it was nice having that kind of fun, anyway. The boys knew some secret passages you had never heard about, but you were glad they trusted you enough to show you.

Professor McGonagall seemed to know that you and Fred were up to no good, but she couldn't blame you for anything, because you were extra careful to leave no traces behind.

One day, she finished the class quicker because she wanted to inform you of an event that would be happening in Hogwarts — the Yule Ball. She said it would be a night to socialize and have fun, but she specified, looking straight at you and the twins that it did not mean relaxing the standards of behaviour expected.

Because of the ball, everyone seemed to be putting their names on the list to stay in Hogwarts for Christmas, and even though you had no partner yet, you felt compelled to write your name as well. You sent you mom a letter, apologizing for not coming back home to the holiday, but she showed no worries in her reply, saying she was anxious for a picture of you and your Yule Ball date. The idea of someone asking you out made you giggle.

At first, you weren't worried. You thought that asking people out wasn't going to be a thing — only a few would have a date —, but then, it seemed everyone had one but y/N.

You and Fred were sitting on one of the marble benches in the Courtyard. You told Fred you wanted to read the chapter of the transfiguration book Professor McGonagall had assigned in the daylight, but the fact was you wanted to put yourself available out there, in hopes a boy would approach you.

Your fellow Slytherins didn't even look at you; the Ravenclaws didn't even know you existed. Some Hufflepuffs looked at you, seeming to want to come and speak to you, but then they would diverge and talk to another group of girls. The Gryffindors didn't even dare come near.

Fred noticed you weren't reading the book — you were just raising and lowering your eyes every time a boy passed — and he wondered what was happening.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What?" he had caught you by surprise. "Nothing, I'm alright."

"No, something's off — in fact, you have being weird the whole week."

You sighed. There was no point in lying to Fred; you were sharing every space now, so why not share some secrets?

"I.. don't have a date for Yule Ball," you started, diverging from his eyes, scared of his judgement. "I just thought someone would have asked me by now."

When you finally exchanged looks, he seemed offended. "What?" you asked, bothered.

"I thought you were going with me," he said, in a low voice. "That's what I've been telling everyone."

You were shocked. "We are? Going together, I mean," you replied, "I had no idea! You didn't mention it — you didn't ask me out!"

"I thought it was obvious — I mean, we are connected, how would you dance with another boy?" he raised his brows.

You wanted to giggle. "Well, makes sense," you said, smiling embarrassedly.

"Unless... you wanna go with someone else?" he half asked, half suggested.

You shook your hands, denying it. The truth was you were extra happy he was going to take you — you wanted Fred to take you. He was the best date you could dream of, you just couldn't let him know, and that was the hardest part.

He didn't even ask you, because he had no choice in the matter of taking someone else; it was pretty obvious you wouldn't have been his first choice.

"Of course I didn't wish anyone else," you said, and noticing he could interpret it wrong, you continued, "It's just you said nothing, I presumed you were taking someone else."

He laughed dryly. "And who I want to take?"

You shrugged. You had an idea: Angelina. Beautiful, Quidditch player and from the same house as him, Angelina.

You said nothing, though, scared he would disinvite you and rush to invite her.

"Well, with that established, let's go back inside? This sunlight, although bright, is far from hot," said Fred, and he was right; the Courtyard was very cold.

He offered his hand to you, and you took it, gladly. It was the first, after a very long time, that he seemed to do it not because of pure habit. His eyes followed your hands, and he squeezed it a couple of times along the way.

Inside the Gryffindor's common room, Fred messed with his brother about the fact that he was without a date yet.

"And who are you taking?" Ron asked, snapping.

"Well, isn't it obvious dear brother?" he replied, raising your hands that were tied and showing it to his brother. "Who else would I take?"

You looked at Fred, confused. The way he spoke to his brother seemed as if he did want to take you... and if that was true, could that mean that you were going as something more than friends to the Yule Ball?

You started blushing, just because of something you thought, but Hermione noticed and thought you were like that because of Fred's show off.

"Oh, look! She's blushed!"

"I'd be as well if my partner were Fred," smirked Ron.

You tried rolling your eyes but you couldn't, still embarrassed, so you ducked your head. Fred leaned in, and, taking advantage of the fact you couldn't see him, he kissed the top of your hair.

You couldn't believe it; he couldn't have kissed you, could he? Hermione giggled, the same way Reyna did when she caught you and him talking, and that was all you needed of confirmation. Yes, he had kissed the top of your head.

You felt your face going redder and redder, so you pressed it against his chest. "Take me out of here," you requested, and he took you down the stairs, to the Great Hall, where dinner was about to be served.

George was there, and so was Lee, who didn't look so happy.

"Your dear friend Reyna," he said, with a weird tone of voice, "said no to me. She said no to me!"

You smiled, that wasn't news to you, and neither was it to Fred — she had told you guys that a Hufflepuff, one year older than you all, was taking her.

"Sorry to hear, Lee," you said, serving yourself. "What about you, George?"

"Who am I taking, you mean? That's a surprise."

Fred raised his brows.

"You'll have to wait to see," George added.

"What about you?" Lee asked.

"Well, Fred's taking me, of course," you said, proudly, way proudly than you were expecting to sound. You hoped the boys didn't notice.

"Of course," George repeated, in a mocking tone.

The evening was quite alright, as had been all the others. In the next morning, you had a letter from your mom, accompanied by a big red box.

"Thanks, Aurora," you said to your owl, offering her your breakfast, but she didn't even bother and just disappeared.

"Dear y/N, I hope you already have a date! Because I have a surprise! This letter comes with your Christmas present, but do not open it if your date is around! (I presume he is because something tells me that the Weasley boy is the one taking you). I wish to hear everything about it later, do not forget one single detail! Send me pictures. With love, Mom."

Fred was distracted by his food, so you slightly opened the box, just to have a glimpse of what could be inside, and you were shocked by what you found. You closed it fast, with Ginny laughing next to you.

"It's for the Ball?" she asked.

"Yep," you answered, unable to hold in your smile, thinking about how beautiful was you mom's present — and how much it could have cost her.

On Christmas Day, the Weasleys called you and Harry to participate in their snowball fight, and you were having a lot of fun until a ball hit you so hard, you fell.

"Are you ok?" Fred asked, kneeling next to you — his eyes staring at you, desperate for you to say something.

You pressed your hand to your forehead. "Ron just caught me by surprise," you informed, getting up with his help.

He turned to his younger brother. "You are dead, Ronald, ruining the face of my date!"

He started throwing so many balls at Ron's direction that you had to intervene. You took some time to do so, though, because you were distracted with the way he called you: his date, with no hesitation or mocking tone.

At six, you pulled Fred aside. "Look, we got to go— or maybe, use of that thirty minutes free," you said.

"Why?" he asked, glancing at his brothers' fight.

"Why! I need to get properly ready to the Yule Ball, that's why," you said, thinking it should have been obvious.

"Oh, you look just fine as you are!" he said sighing.

"Well, thank you, but that's no excuse," you had blushed a little.

"But we already used fifteen minutes," he pointed out.

"So, you'll have to come with me," you said, and he rolled his eyes.

"Fine, let's go," he said, walking away, forcing you to jog to follow him. "See you later, boys."

You two got to the Gryffindor Tower, and you started casting every beauty spell you had once read about — first on your hair, a nice hairstyle, your hair was not completely loose, but it looked cute enough; secondly, your make-up that insisted in a lot of black and red lips. You took a glimpse at Fred, but he was distracted reading a book about Quidditch over his bed, where you had been sleeping almost the whole school year that had already passed.

You were sitting on the floor, with your right hand up so it could be next to his.

"Fred," you called him. "I need you to change in somewhere else."

"What? Why?"

"Because I need to change," you said, "and I want it to be a surprise."

He took a long look at you, making you blush with the way his eyes explored every single part of your face and hairstyle. "Can't get more surprise than this," he said, making you feel a shiver go through you.

"Come on, please. We have fifteen minutes," you said, after a while in silence, too embarrassed of the way he was making you feel.

He sighed and got out. You ran to your mom's box, finally opening it in peace, to have a look at the dress fully open.

You took the beautiful dress out. With a boat neck that covered just a little bit extra of the shoulders, the green fabric went over until your feet. It had a thigh-split that, as you moved your leg, revealed a red inner cloth. It also had a skinny belt around the waist, in the same colour of the inner fabric. Over the green fabric, if one paid close attention, it would be noticed that it had some red dots around it, that seemed to shine over the light.

You always knew your mom was smart, but you never thought she'd play with the colours of both yours and Fred's house. You smiled at yourself because you wanted her there to thank her.

You took the last glance at yourself, working the last details and wearing perfume.

Fred knocked on the door before opening it, giving you a chance to turn slowly around at his direction. You smiled at him while he just stood, too surprised to say a thing.

"So," you said, playing with the dress, "do you like it?"

"I love it!" he said, rushing over to you. "y/N, you are beautiful, always have been, but tonight, you are just... I'm speechless."

You felt not just your cheeks, but your whole body blush. Fred couldn't say something like that and not mean it, could him? It had to be because, perhaps deep down, he felt something for you as well. Right?

He offered you his arm instead of his hand, and you took it, happily. If the evening proceeded that way, it was about to be the best of your life.

"Shall we?"

You nodded in the affirmative, too nervous to say something. Fred headed with you to the common room, where Harry, Room and a girl were standing.

He winked at Harry as you left through the portrait hole.

"Was the dress your pick?" Fred asked as you waited for the Hall to open.

"No — actually, it was a gift from my mom," you said.

"Very smart of her," he said and added: "The colours and all."

You smiled. "My mom is still a teenager if that's possible. She has a way of thinking like a romantic highschooler. I would never have an idea of combining our colours."

The doors were finally open, and you were shocked when you noticed the girl with Krum — Hermione, in a beautiful blue dress.

The place, splendidly decored, barely looked the same. And fun was the only word you could use to describe the night. Fred made sure you were smiling the whole evening, and he made sure that every song you wanted to dance, he would dance with you.

Having him so close, breathing at your neck, was like Heaven. It couldn't get better than that.

George appeared next to you two in the middle of a dance. "Can I dance with my brother?"

You pretended to get offended, and said, "What about me?"

"Well, you dance with me, of course!" said Lee, taking your hand.

"We need to be close, still," advised Fred, and so your partners obeyed, yours and Fred's hands always touching each other by their backs.

The dance with the boys, especially watching Fred and George turn each other in the middle of the dance floor made you laugh like there was no tomorrow.

You all eventually sat down, to eat something and relax a little. George and Lee seemed ready for the next adventure and left you and Fred behind in a table.

"Well, this is definitely topping the house parties!" you exclaimed, scared of the silence that almost took over.

He giggled. "Should I be insulted since I and my brother are who organized those parties?

"You should," you said, in a mocking tone, laughing right after.

"Wanna get out of here?" he asked, and you supposed your face was all twisted because he added, "Just to breath new air."

"Sure," you agreed, taking his hand to get up. "Ouch! These heels are killing me!"

He looked down at your feet. "Take them off," he suggested.

"I would, but I'd get them dirty going outside," you said, with a sad smile.

"Take them off," he said again, this time bossier as if he was ordering.

You slowly took them off, one by one. "Well, now I don't wanna step outside."

"Who said your feet need to touch the ground?" he asked, with a smirk filled with mischief.

He then, grabbed you by your waist, holding you in his arms.

"Fred!" you bellowed, "Put me down!"

Some stares followed you as he raced outside of the Hall, but Fred didn't seem to care, not with the stares, not with your weight.

"There you go, lady," he said, sitting you at one of the benches at the Courtyard.

"Well, thank you, Fred, but there was no need," you started saying, but stopped, noticing he wasn't interested in that.

You two stared at the night sky, you weren't alone in the yard. Some couples were snuggling around the place, hiding in the shadows. It made you nervous being in a place like that Fred — it made you wonder.

"Fred," only too late you noticed you had said his name out loud.

"Yes?" he looked back at you, his eyes sparkling over the moonlight.

You breathed hard; if you began saying, there was no going back. So, you decided to take the easy way.

"Thank you for the evening. I've never been happier," you said, staring at his eyes with difficulty. "You've proved yourself a good date — although I wouldn't know what a bad one would be like."

He tilted his head, "You've never been in a date before, y/N?"

Your muscles tensed around your closed mouth, as you got embarrassed about the secret you had just told him. You looked at the boy; Fred probably had been to thousand of dates, he was the type to have girls around. But, if that was the case, he was a perfect gentleman to never talk about it, at least, not at your presence and he had been in your presence for a while now.

"Yeah, this has been the first time a guy asked me out, although, you didn't ask me, you just had to take me."

"I had to just take you?" he repeated, "y/N, what do you mean?"

You dodged his eyes. "Well, we have this damn Binding Charm all over us. I wouldn't have been surprised if you had asked McGonagall to separate us, at least for enough time for the Ball," you said, looking back at the moon. However, you weren't so sure of your words, because you thought Minerva wouldn't with you two wanting to be apart.

He giggled, dryly, as if he didn't believe what you were saying — and he didn't. How could you think so little of yourself? How could you doubt he had been wanting to take you to the Ball, to take you on a date, since the first time he had laid eyes on you?

"y/N, I would have asked you to be my date to the Yule Ball with Charm or no Charm," he said, finally, after taking a minute in silence. "The Charm made it easier if you wanna know because I always thought you would never say yes to the poor Gryffindor dumb boy."

You were forced to look back at him, and you couldn't hold in your smile. All this time, he wanted you??

"You are far a Gryffindor dumb boy, and I don't care if you're poor either — I'm far from rich myself," you said. You noticed how close your faces were now.

"Having you as my date," you continued, not moving an inch away, "was the best thing that ever happened to me."

He squeezed his eyes around the corners, holding in a smile.

"Damn, I'll forever be thankful to Minerva for binding us together," you exclaimed, laughing and he joined in.

Fred was the first to stop laughing, as he stared at you, contemplating his view. Soon your laugh died as well, and you both stared at each other as if your lives depended on it.

"Well, then you only leave me one more thing," he said.

"What?" you asked but before he moved, you already knew what was about to come.

His right hand, the free one, reached to your cheek, and brought it even closer, binding no longer just your wrists, but your lips in a breathtaking kiss.

It was calm, you two had all the time in the world, but as it intensified, more urged the kiss started to feel — and you both wanted to be closer and closer.

Your free hand rushed to his soft red hair, where not only he lost his mind to your touch, but you lost your consciousness with the sensation of his hair.

You were so intertwined, at least the maxim you could with his gala clothes and your beautiful dress. It was a good thing it had a tight-split.

You both had to stop for air and that was when Fred's eyes widened. "Run," he whispered.

You thought you couldn't have heard right. "What?"

"Run," he repeated, now louder, already getting up and catching you hand, dragging you around the Courtyard back to inside the castle, entering the Hall.

"What happened?" you asked, gasping for air, as you tried to fix your hair and dress to place.

"McGonagall. In the Courtyard. Looking for us," he said in pauses as he was breathing.

You were shocked. "Oh God, how much did she see?"

"I have no idea," he said.

You two started entering the middle of the place, trying to hide in the middle of the crowd.

"If she thinks this has been happening for a while... she'll think we sleeping together..." you started but couldn't finish, "Oh Merlin, Fred, we're screwed."

He took you to dance floor, in case Minerva showed up, you could pretend it wasn't you in the yard. Perhaps, she would believe it.

"Where were you —" George began asking but stopped after having a better look at his brother. Then, he smirked.

Lee Jordan appeared, smiling widely. "So you two... finally!"

You looked at the boys then back at Fred and saw what they had noticed — Fred's mouth was painted red, the colour of your lipstick, and his hair was a mess since you had pulled it to every direction.

Fred was confused.

Standing on tiptoe, you whispered in his ear, "My lipstick is all over your face and..." you held in a giggle, "your hair isn't helping either."

He got scared, and ran his fingers first to his hair, trying to make it better, but he failed, and then he ran his suit over his mouth, trying to clean the lipstick's mess.

He turned back down at you, "Your lipstick is all over your face as well."

You opened your eyes wide and ran your hand over your mouth, rubbing it over and over. The movement in the sensitive region reminded you of minutes ago, but you shook it off. You were still afraid of Minerva.

Lee Jordan and George's laugh brought you back to the real world.

"Look, we can leave the room to you if you'd like..."

"Oh, shut up, George," you said, but deep down you wanted to giggle. "Have you seen Reyna?"

"She disappeared with her partner practically at the same time as you two," said Lee, "I imagine what could she be doing."

You punched Lee's arm. He let a moan out and smiled, proud.

Fred was looking around the Hall and stopped when he found his target. "Minerva's coming."

That was enough to put you back at your alert state.

"Guys, we were here from the beginning, ok?" said Fred, looking at his brother.

"We never left," you added.

And then, Minerva McGonagall was standing right next to you, analysing you up and down.

"Where were you?" she didn't seem very patient.

"Right here, Professor," you answered.

"Why you have your shoes off?" she asked, looking at your feet.

"Was hard dancin' with them," you replied, hoping she would buy it.

"I feel like you are both lying to me," she said, "Are they lying to me, George?"

The other twin swallowed hard and stared at the Professor.

"I don't think so, Professor, they were dancing with me all night," he answered, for yours and Fred's relieved.

She stared at the four of you non stop before sighing. "I'll believe it, for now," and she left, leaving you and Fred to finally relax and take a deep breath.

The party went on for another two hours. Fred tried to kiss you three times in the middle of the dance floor, but you were too scared to get caught by McGonagall and receive a worse fate than detention.

When you finally went to bed, you and Fred went alone. George and Lee had found girls for themselves to finish the night with and, when arriving in the room, you noticed Kenneth wasn't there either — a shock for both of you.

"Do you think he found someone?" you asked.

Fred shrugged. "Who knows."

You two snogged a lot in the dark of the room, in privacy, with no chance of having McGonagall walking in. Somehow, the kisses only got better and better, and if you weren't so tired of dancing, you wouldn't have ended it.

Fred helped you with the dress but promised not to look when you switch it to you pyjamas. He changed to and you both kissed goodbye.

"Fred?" you called, not a minute after lying in his bed.

He muttered a 'huh' from the mattress on the floor.

"You know, it's a very cold night," you said, "and I don't have enough blankets."

"You want mine?" he asked but didn't seem to happy to have to offer it.

You sighed. Was it that hard to understand?

"No, I was thinking about something with heat within."

"Oh," he said, in a tone filled with mischief. You smiled in the dark.

You rolled to the side of the bed, expecting him to get in the covers.

"Incendio!" you heard he shout and you almost jumped out of bed, scared as Hell.

"WHAT THE FU—" but you noticed you weren't catching fire and his laughs filled the silence of the room.

He finally got in bed with you, still giggling.

"You think it was funny?" you asked angry, rolling back to his side, positioning your head over his chest.

"Very funny," he replied and you pretended to punch him.

"Yeah, yeah, try setting your girlfriend on fire again and you will sleep with snakes, Fred Weasley."

He stopped laughing.

"Girlfriend?" he sounded surprised.

You said nothing, scared of what he was thinking. Perhaps it was too soon for names, perhaps he just wanted a date, not a girlfriend.

"I like it," he said, then, for your amazement.

In the dark, you both smiled at each other.

He helped yourself to find a better position in bed and you were almost sleeping when you heard him whisper:

"y/N, my girlfriend. I love it."

***

The photographs your mom was desperate to get where all taken by George, who seemed to have liked the job. The only thing was you couldn't send you mom all of them, for respect.

With a letter describing the night — you told her you and Fred went as friends, scared she would ask McGonagall to undo the spell if she knew the truth — you sent her two of George's pictures.

The first one was you and Fred at the beginning of the Ball, standing together, smiling for the camera. Well, you smiled — Fred seemed much more focused on you then to look for the camera.

The second one was you and Fred, sitting next to a table, minutes before you took off your shoes and he took you outside. Neither of you knew he was taking pictures, so it looked rather spontaneous, as you both laughed at each other.

The third picture George had taken — the only one you didn't tell your mom about — was you and Fred, cuddling on the bed in the early morning of the day after the Yule Ball.

Minutes after the third picture was taken, you and Fred woke up to see three young faces — George, Lee and Kenneth — hovering over you. You screamed of course, but in the end, everybody was laughing.

In breakfast, nobody seemed too surprised the fact that Fred was your boyfriend.

"He's been talking about it," said Ron, looking disinterested, "for over a month."

You looked back at Fred and he started blushing.

Hermione seemed pleased. "Well, I knew something was going on when neither of you tried to undo McGonagall's spell."

Her comment caught you by surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Did you two tried Finite Incantatem?"

You and Fred exchanged looks. She smiled.

"Did it even cross your mind?"

You giggled, nervously. No, you and Fred didn't even think about undoing the spell on your own and you started to think that the reason was there all along.

"Anyway, we need you guys to keep it a secret, as we will do," Fred continued, "Because we don't want the spell to be undone now."

Lee Jordan smiled. "Sure thing, friend."

"But you know you two will give it away just by the way you look at each other," commented Ron, making you flush.

"Fred has been looking at her like that for a while now, and Professor McGonagall didn't seem to notice," countered Ginny.

Oh, Merlin, has he been so obvious that you were the last one to notice?

*** Pretending was hard. You had waited for so long to have Fred's touch all over your body that acting like you two weren't thing turned out to be more arduous than you imagined.

One thing was for sure: it was way more fun. The nights out, the hiding... — those things turned your relationship into an adventure and that was all you two liked the most.

But Professor McGonagall found out, and oh, Merlin, she was far from happy about it.

She called you two to her office and she said so many things you and Fred were already lost.

"This is not how I planned to end this," she said, "I expected to find better students, who would above it all respect the school."

You and Fred exchanged looks.

"Seems I was wrong."

"Minerva, we did become better students — ask around! Even Professor Snape has nothing to say about Fred any more, and that's saying something," you comment seemed to have got her attention.

"And we respect school! The pranks have stopped, haven't they?" Fred asked.

"Yes, because you two have been snogging around, under my nose!"

She was angry, super angry, but the more she talked, the less irritated she got.

"I'll undo the spell, of course! Can't have you two sleeping together one more day," she shouted, coming next to your wrists and starting the incantation.

You thought about telling her that, with the boys around, you and Fred couldn't do anything in the room — although, you tried. But you thought that would make her only angrier.

"Now that you are apart, I expect your grades to be perfect — I won't take less than that," she said, stepping away, "And you'll get three weeks detention each, and apart from each other, I'll make sure of it myself."

"Ok, Professor," you and Fred sighed. You started getting up to leave but she stopped you.

"Fred, could you let me talk to y/N alone, please?" she asked, and her tone seemed way more sympathetic.

Fred shook his head yes and left. You gulped, what could she possibly wanna tell you that Fred couldn't hear? Oh, Merlin, was she thinking you were pregnant?

With Fred gone, McGonagall's face changed — she was even smiling.

"And so it worked," she said.

You were confused.

"Did you think I didn't know that you two would end up dating?" she asked and laughed alone, "Look at you two, a lot of chemistry if I ever saw something like that!"

"You are not..." you couldn't believe it, "angry?"

"Professor McGonagall is deeply disappointed, is true," she started, "but Minerva and your mom are over the moon!"

You snorted, putting your hand on your forehead. What was despair turned to revolt and a bit of shame.

"My mom did all this?"

"We had a bet, you see," she told you, "When would you two be a thing. And I kinda cheated."

You opened your mouth at Minerva's direction, not believing.

"Your mom is such a sweetheart, she didn't even care", she continued telling.

"I can't believe it," you said, looking down at yourself.

McGonagall's smile was wider.

"But I still don't want you in the Gryffindor's boys dorm, you hear me?" You shook your head yes. "Now, you can go, if you please."

Fred was waiting for outside, but he was confused with your expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, but I just think McGonagall won a bet over us," you said, planning to explain everything to him later.

He was curious but gave in as soon as your lips reached him.

"And now, we're about to win a bet over McGonagall," you concluded, smiling at yourself, leaving with his hand in yours.

The best prankster's bet was still around and there was nothing Minerva could do to stop you and Fred of doing every single thing you could think about. And that was going to be the funniest, happiest and the best year of your lives.

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bloody-bee-tea · 4 years

Text

Like a siren - Xichengclipse 2020 Day 1

@shakespearean-ginger (I still can’t tag you, grrrr)

This belongs to the Sing for me series on AO3 and it follows after Sing me to sleep. This also fills the first prompt for the @xichengclipse, because the White Tiger likes to nap and that’s what Jiang Cheng wants Lan Xichen to do for a change.

Jiang Cheng is enjoying a nice cup of tea, light breeze making the summer heat a little bit more bearable, and the gleeful shrieks of a happy Jin Ling are the perfect background noise for a day like this.

Jin Ling has started to walk just a few days back, and by now he’s already attempting to run, clearly causing Jiang Mingli more than one headache with that, because Jin Ling seems to favour the edge of the piers.

Jiang Cheng’s own heart stopped more than once already, watching Jin Ling toddle too close to the edge for his comfort, but Jiang Mingli was always there, swiftly redirecting Jin Ling to safer ways or outright scooping him up.

Right now, Jiang Mingli is chasing Jin Ling all over the pier, always just a step behind the toddler, but close enough to sweep him away from the edge should the need arise.

Jiang Cheng can’t help the fond smile at seeing his nephew this happy and he relaxes even further into his cushion.

At least until Zhong Shanyuan comes to the pavilion, a stack of letters in his hands and a serious look on his face.

“Do I even want to know?” Jiang Cheng asks with a sigh, but he puts his cup down as he watches Zhong Shanyuan settle down opposite of him.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” Zhong Shanyuan gives back with a small smile and keeps his hand on the stack of papers, even though Jiang Cheng is already reaching out for it.

“Those are not important right now,” Zhong Shanyuan tells him and Jiang Cheng narrows his eyes at him.

“What happened?” Jiang Cheng demands to know, because now he’s curious and worried.

“The delegation from Qinghe is back,” Zhong Shanyuan says and Jiang Cheng immediately shakes his head.

“Do not tell me they managed to piss off Nie Mingjue,” he mutters, because a feud with Qinghe is the last thing Jiang Cheng needs right now.

“They didn’t,” Zhong Shanyuan reassures him immediately. “They barely had time to speak to Sect Leader Nie. He went into qi deviation two days into their visit.”

Jiang Cheng wants to ask if his people managed to piss off Nie Mingjue that badly that it resulted in this, but then it hits him.

It’s been two weeks since then. If the delegation returned without talking to Nie Mingjue, then chances are the deviation went on for a lot longer than it should have.

“Is he alright?” Jiang Cheng asks, and Zhong Shanyuan nods.

“He’s recovering. Sect Leader Lan came in when it was apparent the deviation wouldn’t stop any time soon and he and Jin Guangyao played for Nie Mingjue tirelessly for almost the entire time.”

“That’s good,” Jiang Cheng mutters, though he can’t help the new spark of worry that settles in his gut.

If Lan Xichen spent all his days playing for Nie Mingjue, then he will be in bad shape, too. Jiang Cheng knows that it always hits him hard when Nie Mingjue suffers such an episode, and frankly, Jiang Cheng is surprised that Lan Xichen left him alone at all.

“Lan Qiren was scheduled for a meeting with some smaller Sects, so Lan Xichen had to hurry back,” Zhong Shanyuan tells him, as if he can read his mind. “Word is, Lan Xichen looked worse than Nie Mingjue when he parted.”

Jiang Cheng works his jaw a few times, before he levels Zhong Shanyuan with a look.

“Why are you telling me this?” he wants to know and Zhon Shanyuan gives him a small smile.

“Maybe it’s time you visit the Cloud Recesses,” he suggests. “Sect Leader Lan has always come here. Why not change it up for once?”

Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he’s itching to go see Lan Xichen, to make sure that he’s doing okay after what happened to Nie Mingjue, but then his eyes fall on Jin Ling.

“He’s old enough to travel,” Zhong Shanyuan softly tells him, clearly following his gaze. “It would be good for him to see something different. And we didn’t make the harness for nothing,” he tacks on but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“I do not have an invitation,” he mutters.

“That never stopped Sect Leader Lan,” Zhong Shanyuan gives back without a pause and Jiang Cheng clicks his tongue.

“That’s different. He’s always welcome here. But you need an actual pass for the Cloud Recesses.”

“And you think you’re not always welcome there?” Zhong Shanyuan questions and Jiang Cheng can feel himself flush. “You think Sect Leader Lan didn’t make sure to inform everyone there that you’re welcome? I do remember him inviting you, you know.”

“You don’t know if that’s true,” Jiang Cheng tries but Zhong Shanyuan is clearly unimpressed.

“And you don’t know if it isn’t,” he shoots back. “What’s the worst that could happen? They tell you Sect Leader Lan is indisposed. And even then Jin Ling would still have his first flight.”

Jiang Cheng mulls that over but he knows that Zhong Shanyuan is right. And if he’s being honest with himself, he itches to see Lan Xichen, wants to know if there is anything he can do for him.

So far it’s always been Lan Xichen who helped him, and while Jiang Cheng has learned to accept that, he wants to return the favour, wants to be there for Lan Xichen, too.

“You really want me to go,” Jiang Cheng mutters.

“I think it’s time you visit him in his home, too,” Zhong Shanyuan gives back and Jiang Cheng sighs. “And I think he could use some help right now,” Zhong Shanyuan adds, and Jiang Cheng has already lost, he knows it.

“Fine,” he mumbles. “I’ll fly early tomorrow.”

It gives him enough time to make the trip there and back again in one day, should he be denied entrance, but it also gives him enough time to stop multiple times if Jin Ling does not enjoy flying.

“Good,” Zhong Shanyuan says with a firm nod, and only then does he slide the stack of letters over to Jiang Cheng. “Read them, sort them into piles of ‘can wait’ and ‘let Zhong Shanyuan deal with this’ and then enjoy the rest of your day.”

“You can’t just order me around and give me the day off,” Jiang Cheng huffs. “I am the Sect Leader.”

“And don’t we all know it,” Zhong Shanyuan gives back but he doesn’t budge from his stand.

They stare at each other for a few minutes, but in the end, Jiang Cheng slumps.

“Fine,” he says with an eyeroll and takes the latters. “You win.”

Zhong Shanyuan only gives him a very winning smile, but doesn’t actually say anything, for which Jiang Cheng is thankful.

That night, Jiang Cheng can‘t sleep. He has gotten gradually better at sleeping through the night, but he’s still almost worse at it than Jin Ling.

Once word of Jiang Cheng’s sleeping problems reached Jiang Mingli, he had insisted on taking Jin Ling into his own quarters every second night. The first few nights, Jiang Cheng didn’t sleep at all, too worried that something was wrong with Jin Ling but the more he saw Jiang Mingli interact with Jin Ling, the lesser his fear became.

He knows Jiang Mingli adores Jin Ling and would never let come harm to him.

But that only meant that Jiang Cheng’s own problems and fears managed to take a hold in his dreams and ever since then he hasn’t slept through a whole night.

Until Lan Xichen played for him.

Jiang Cheng refuses to acknowledge that ever since Lan Xichen played for him, Jiang Cheng’s nights have become more peaceful, but a tiny part of Jiang Cheng knows it to be true.

It even goes so far that Jiang Cheng just has to remember the song Lan Xichen first played on Liebing for him, and then the one he hummed after that, and Jiang Cheng gets instantly sleepy.

He would accuse Lan Xichen of using spiritual power on him even though he told him not to, but Jiang Cheng knows Lan Xichen would never do something like that.

But this night, not even the memory of the song helps. Jiang Cheng’s brain keeps working, conjuring images of how exhausted Lan Xichen must be, how shaken after this long qi deviation of his closest friend and Jiang Cheng worries for him.

He thinks he knows Lan Xichen well enough by now to know that he didn’t even rest once during the whole ordeal and he must be beyond exhausted and drained, especially if he played using his spiritual energy this whole time.

That thought turns into Jiang Cheng worrying if him going to the Cloud Recesses really is the best move—what if he just disturbs Lan Xichen in his deserved rest—but then he reminds himself that he was always grateful to see Lan Xichen, no matter how bad he was doing.

He just hopes he can do the same for Lan Xichen.

When Jiang Cheng finally makes it out of his room in the morning to get Jin Ling and some breakfast for them, Zhong Shanyuan gives him a very knowing look. Jiang Cheng silences him with a glare, before he can actually say anything and then Jiang Cheng busies himself with Jin Ling.

It seems like he slept through the night; he doesn’t do that often, but Jiang Cheng hopes that the times he does will get more now.

“He was just fine,” Jiang Mingli reassures Jiang Cheng again and Jiang Cheng nods his head in thanks.

“Do you think he’ll still fit into the harness?” Jiang Cheng asks him, critically eying Jin Ling, even though he can’t remember how small he was when they first fitted it.

“I had it adjusted,” Zhong Shanyuan chimes in and Jiang Cheng has yet again to admit that he is more than capable.

“Thank you,” he tells him honestly, and then quickly strips the harness on, before they settle Jin Ling into it.

It fits him perfectly.

“You really think he will be fine?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask as he smoothes a hand over Jin Ling’s soft baby hair.

“Don’t fly too high or too fast and he should be just fine,” Jiang Mingli says, effectively easing Jiang Cheng’s worries.

“Alright, then,” he says and carefully mounts Sandu, staying low for now to find his balance and until he’s sure that a sudden movement from Jin Ling won’t knock them clean off his sword.

“Fly save,” Zhong Shanyuan tells him with a bow and Jiang Mingli falls into the same position.

“I’m entrusting Lotus Pier to you for the time I’m gone,” Jiang Cheng tells the two, even though everyone knows they are in charge if he’s gone, and they dutifully nod.

“We will keep it save,” Zhong Shanyuan promises and with one last nod Jiang Cheng flies off.

Jin Ling is quite for the first few minutes, looking around with huge eyes, and Jiang Cheng readies himself for a temper tantrum or big crocodile tears, and so he is entirely unprepared for the happy shriek Jin Ling lets out, before he starts to babble and laugh, kicking his little feet and unbalancing Jiang Cheng more than once.

Still, Jiang Cheng can’t help the responding smile on his own face, and he offers Jin Ling his finger when he keeps grabbing for something. Jin Ling latches onto him and then excitedly shakes his little hand whenever he sees something he doesn’t know.

Jiang Cheng takes care not to fly too high or too fast, and that gives Jin Ling the opportunity to see a whole lot of things he doesn’t know from Lotus Pier.

A few times Jiang Cheng even circles things that seem to particularly interest Jin Ling and the boy keeps his happy chatter going all the way until they reach the Cloud Recesses.

Jiang Cheng knows they don’t like it when someone approaches by sword, so he stops to climb off Sandu halfway up the stairs, much to Jin Ling’s dislike it seems, but as soon as Jiang Cheng starts walking he settles down.

They reach the top of the stairs in no time at all, and Jiang Cheng straightens up when the entrance comes into view. Two disciples are guarding it, and they fall into a greeting bow when they see him.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” they say in unison and then rise again. “We didn’t know you were coming.”

“It was a spontaneous decision,” Jiang Cheng tells them. “I would like to see Lan Xichen.”

The disciples exchange a look before they ask him to wait for a little bit.

They huddle together, whispering furiously to each other, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but a few snippets like ‘is exhausted’, ‘not to be disturbed’ and ‘granted access’ reach his ears nonetheless.

“If it’s a bother, I’ll come back another time,” Jiang Cheng finds himself saying when the discussion goes on for longer than he is comfortable with even though now that he is here he wants nothing more than to see Lan Xichen, and that gets him the attention of them again.

“No, it’s fine,” one of the disciples says. “Sect Leader Lan explicitly stated that you were always welcome, so please if you would follow me, I’ll guide you to the hanshi.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng says, as the tension that had seeped into him disperses.

He is guided towards a part of the Cloud Recesses he has never been in before, and he’s almost ashamed to admit that he looks around with eyes as big as Jin Ling’s.

“It’s there,” the disciple suddenly says and points towards a house which is still a little way off, but since it’s the only one in sight, there is really no danger of Jiang Cheng losing his way.

“Thank you,” he says with a nod of his head and then goes on alone.

Jin Ling is babbling again and Jiang Cheng can’t help but to smile at him, as he starts to take him out of the harness.

“You’re going to see your favourite hummer again,” he tells Jin Ling who stares up at him. “That has you all excited, huh?”

Jin Ling lets out a happy shriek, clearly proving Jiang Cheng’s point, and by the time he actually reaches the hanshi, he has Jin Ling perched on his hip, the harness dangling in his hand.

Jiang Cheng knocks at the door, but it’s a long time before he can hear a noise coming from the inside. It’s even longer before Lan Xichen opens the door.

“What is it—oh,” he breathes out and Jiang Cheng notes with a start that Lan Xichen looks like shit.

“You look like shit,” he promptly blurts out, and Jin Ling makes a sound at just that moment, so that it seems like he’s agreeing with Jiang Cheng.

“Is everything alright?” Lan Xichen asks immediately and while he seems ready to keel over at any moment now, he also seems prepared to give Jiang Cheng all the help he could need.

“I’m here for you,” Jiang Cheng says and steps into the hanshi when Lan Xichen moves to the side. “To check up on you,” he adds when Lan Xichen just stares quizzically at him. “I heard about Nie Mingjue.”

“Oh,” Lan Xichen breathes out and his shoulders fall, and he looks like he aged several decades in one go. “He’s doing fine now.”

“And how are you doing?” Jiang Cheng wants to know as he settles Jin Ling down on the floor.

The boy immediately moves to explore the new environment he finds himself in, and Jiang Cheng keeps half an eye on him.

“Me?” Lan Xichen parrots, blinking owlishly at Jiang Cheng who sighs.

“How are you doing?” Jiang Cheng asks again, and this time the meaning of his words seem to have made it to Lan Xichen.

“I’m doing perfectly fine,” Lan Xichen says, and even his voice sounds tired.

“Yeah, I can see that,” Jiang Cheng sarcastically gives back and then shakes his head. “You’re not fine, Xichen,” he says and then bites his tongue when the overly familiar name slips out, but Lan Xichen either doesn’t care or he didn’t notice.

The latter seems more plausible, Jiang Cheng thinks.

“No, really, I’m doing—,” Lan Xichen starts and then trails off, his eyes trained on Jin Ling, who has toddled over to grab Lan Xichen’s robes and who is now staring up at Lan Xichen before he starts to hum again.

“Is he not sleeping well?” Lan Xichen asks, already crouching down as if to pick him up, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes. “Are you not?”

“Xichen, that is not why I’m here,” Jiang Cheng says again, redirecting Jin Ling to another part of the hanshi, with more patience than he actually feels. Jiang Cheng is not sure Lan Xichen won’t actually crumble under Jin Ling’s weight. “I’m here to check up on you. Have you slept in the last two weeks?” Jiang Cheng wants to know.

“I—think so?” Lan Xichen asks and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“That’s something you should definitely know,” he tells Lan Xichen and reaches out to grab his hand. “Sit down.”

“I don’t have Liebing,” Lan Xichen protests and Jiang Cheng frowns at him.

“I told you, I’m not here for that. We have both been sleeping fine,” he says, even though in his case that’s only partially true, but Jiang Cheng is sure that both Jin Ling and he himself slept better in the last two weeks than Lan Xichen did.

“Good, that’s good,” Lan Xichen mutters, as he sits down next to Jiang Cheng.

“How is Nie Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng asks, and worry passes over Lan Xichen’s face.

“Better now, but it’s progressing so quickly,” Lan Xichen breathes out. “A-Yao and I played Clarity for him for almost the whole two weeks, and even now I’m not sure it actually helped. I don’t know what to do,” Lan Xichen admits, and he sounds suspiciously choked up.

“I’m sorry,” Jiang Cheng says, because it’s the only thing he can think of to say. “Do you need anything?”

Lan Xichen blinks at him a few times, before he shakes his head.

“Thank you, but I’m fine.”

“Xichen, you’re tired as hell,” Jiang Cheng gives back.

“I’m so exhausted, I don’t feel tired anymore,” Lan Xichen tells him and Jiang Cheng raises his eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually really worrying,” Jiang Cheng says and feels justified in his worry when Lan Xichen simply blinks at him.

“Come here,” Jiang Cheng finally says when Lan Xichen stays quiet for too long and he pats his thigh.

“What?” Lan Xichen says, clearly not understanding what Jiang Cheng wants from him, and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“Lay down,” Jiang Cheng tells him and pats his thigh again until Lan Xichen finally starts to move. “Let me repay the favour for once,” Jiang Cheng mutters when Lan Xichen rests his head in his lap, and he can’t help himself, he has to pat Lan Xichen’s head. “Let me help.”

“Fine,” Lan Xichen breathes out and closes his eyes.

Jiang Cheng thinks he doesn’t even have to sing, Lan Xichen is clearly tethering on the edge of sleep already, but he will still sing him to sleep.

“I’m warning you now, my voice is not like yours,” Jiang Cheng mumbles, as he continues to move his hand over Lan Xichen’s head whose lips twitch into a slight smile.

“No, it’s much better,” Lan Xichen whispers and then he blinks up at Jiang Cheng. “The first time I heard it, I thought a siren was calling out to me,” he tells him and Jiang Cheng can feel himself flush a bright red.

“Shut up, you’re sleep deprived,” he snaps at Lan Xichen, who doesn’t seem to find offence in his rough tone and instead snuggles further into Jiang Cheng’s lap.

“It’s the truth,” Lan Xichen slurs and then falls silent, much to Jiang Cheng’s relieve.

Instead of fighting with Lan Xichen over this, Jiang Cheng softly starts to sing, first barely audible, still too self-conscious about his voice even though Lan Xichen has heard him sing before, but when Lan Xichen relaxes into his lap, he gets progressively louder.

It’s not long before Jin Ling comes crawling over, a huge yawn signalling that he’s tired as well, and Jiang Cheng watches fondly as Jin Ling wriggles his way into Lan Xichen’s arms.

Lan Xichen makes space for him, though Jiang Cheng doubts it’s a conscious move, because Lan Xichen already seems deeply asleep by the time Jin Ling settles contentedly against Lan Xichen’s chest.

Jiang Cheng can’t help but to smile down at both of them, a warm happy feeling settling in his chest, as he continues to sing softly for the two and he keeps it up even long after they are both snoring.

For once, Jiang Cheng can do something for Lan Xichen and he is happy to sing for him until he wakes up again. He just hopes Lan Xichen can find even a little bit of rest like this.

And so Jiang Cheng sings.

Next part

[Sleep Deprivation Sentence Starters]

{Buy me a kofi}

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #xichengclipse2020 #xicheng #hurt/comfort #singing #family feels #soft #shakespearean-ginger

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soliverse · 3 years

Text

SAY YOU LOVE ME - PART 1

rockstar!taeyong x journalist!reader

genre: angst, suggestive, romance

warnings: alcohol, partying, kissing? (there’s two of ‘em), lots of self deprecation

1 ⭒ 2 ⭒ 3 ⭒ 4 ⭒ 5 ⭒ finale pt 1

Length: 1.5k

It’s just five o’clock in the morning but you’re frantically getting ready for your work. Your schedule is always hectic and you always have to be on your feet. Despite doing this for years now, you still want to punch yourself every time you wake up late and unprepared for the shoot that day. Just yesterday, your thoughts are so occupied by deadlines that you forgot to wear socks. While trying to fix your disheveled hair, you made your way to the kitchen to grab any parcel that you can stuff on your mouth in the shortest amount of time.

To your credit, you always slept late. Not only do you cover some field work, you also write news articles and does a bit of producing on the side. As much as you want to just calm down, you get paid per commission as opposed to the hourly rate that regular employees enjoy on a daily basis. You’re just grateful that you can still afford to pay your bills and still save a bit of money for the future.

When you were finally convinced that you had everything you might need for that day, you noticed that your roommate, Lee Taeyong, came home last night and is passed out snoring on your living room couch.

“Hey, Taeyong-ah!”

You patted his shoulders to wake him up. He just grunted as a response.

“I’m leaving for work. You can sleep on the bed so you’re more comfortable”

There was once again more grunting. He grabbed one of the throw pillows and hid his face from you in an effort to block out sounds coming from you.

“If you’re hungry, there’s food on the fridge. And please don’t forget to feed Felice...”

“Nae, eomma…”

Despite being half-asleep, he still managed you tease you. You can sense him grinning from underneath the pillow. You were about to respond, but you don’t have the time to argue. Your camera guy is blowing up your phone already. You said bye one last time before taking off.

////

A few hours after you left for work, Taeyong was awakened by his stomach violently growling. As much as he wanted to just sleep the day away, his body protested. He’s human after all. He stood up to go to the bathroom to get rid of last night’s clothing, which was some designer ripped jeans, a body fit white tank top, in which he topped off with a leather jacket that you bought him. The band was doing better than what it used to be before. They weren’t some bigtime rockstars, but they were gaining more tractions and the gigs are getting even more frequent. You’ve also told him before, slow progress is still progress. He also freshened up, only wearing his boxers underneath his white bathrobe while he slicked his wet hair up to get it out of his face.

Feeling a little less sleepy, he made his way to the kitchen and grabbed the first thing he saw from the fridge, which was an energy bar. Not a very healthy choice, but he was too tired to eat something filling. He tore a pack open and then grabbed a few more stuff to bring into the living room. Just as he was about to leave, a fluffy a gray figure watched him intently. It’s as if she was glaring at you for forgetting about her existence.

“Ah yes, of course. There’s plenty of food for you too Felicity.” He opened one of the kitchen cabinets to grab Felice a can of cat food. Grabbing his food and Felice’s now full food bowl, he made his way to the living room with little paws following his footsteps.

He rested himself on the couch and turned on the TV. He was met with your smiling face, trying to explain to the viewers the history and the significance of the event you were featuring. He’s always noticed how different you seem to the outside world. You’ve always had this snarky look in you, with the collared blouses, pencil skirts and kitten heels. You always tied your hair neatly in a bun and wore that sickly-sweet smile. It’s as if you’ve completely wiped off your real existence everytime you are on air. But everyone who really knows you also know that that is far from the truth. If only those people who knew you professionally could’ve seen you on the day the two of you met.

////

Taeyong was drinking alone in a bar one night. He looked incredibly distressed and is definitely downing glass after glass of liquor to drown his emotions away. The music boomed and people were active in the dancefloor but he was out of touch. He hasn't had a proper sleep ever since one of his band members quit, stating that they were going nowhere and is just wasting everyone's time. The mere fact that he didn't even need a disguise in a public place speaks volumes to him. He had also gotten himself kicked out from his apartment and is couchsurfing to which place is available, It was a downward spiral and he can’t seem to get himself out of it.

He was downing his nth glass of bitter alcohol when someone softly tilted his head to the side and gave him a slow, sweet kiss.

He was frozen in his seat and didn't manage to react until the girl increased the distance between their faces. She giggled and mouthed "sorry" before leaving him there speechless. His mind went blank for a few seconds before he was able to digest what happened. It got him out of misery for the shortest amount of time so he was adamant that he’s going to find you.

He surveyed the area for a chance to get a second look at the kiss-stealing bandit. It actually didn't take him long to see you with a group of young adults laughing and grabbing paper bills out of their wallets. You were happily collecting all of your bet money until your eyes met Taeyong's. The man just stared at you with his piercing eyes but you were unable to read his expression. He doesn’t look so bad despite his tousled hair and his unkempt clothing. However, you were worried that he’s some type of a weirdo and you’ve picked the wrong guy to do your dare with. Your friends saw your reaction and teased about you being in trouble. The guys reassured you that they have you covered just in case he causes a scene and get you in trouble.

You were ogling at him now, trying to watch out for his next move. He broke the stare between you two and looked the other way. Just when you were about to relax, he downed the drink you gave him in one swift motion, wiped his face with his cuffs, and walked towards your group. The stranger didn't look threatening, but your friends are at the edge of their seats. They are on standby just in case they need shield you and/or negotiate some type of agreement in order to deescalate the situation.

But instead of the expected fits of anger, he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. The crowd went wild. His lips had met yours again, even more passionate than the first one.

////

By the time you were enthusiastically explaining about some more historical facts among other stuff, he found himself smiling at the thought of you.

You really turned his life around that day. After the kiss, the group just went nuts and got to know the lucky guy that gets to “turn” you. Turns out, one of your friends is a music producer that was looking for the next big thing. Discussions were made and ideas were thrown out by the group that evening. He also stopped couchsurfing when you asked him to housesit and petsit for you, which eventually turned to you splitting groceries and bills for maintenance.

Everything just fell into place that night. He was almost convinced that the universe wanted the two of you to meet and be with each other.

Oh, if only you weren’t Y/N and Lee Taeyong.

Just the mere thought of you dating gives him a massive headache. Both of you confirmed that it was a bad idea and you’ll just tear each other apart. You’re both messed up from all your childhood traumas and previous relationships. You’ve seen each other’s faults and how your respective relationships before had failed. You both understood, that was what brought you closer in the first place. Besides, you probably won’t go out with a guy like him. His lifestyle isn’t your scene. You’re meant for formal dinners and academic small talks. You’re capable of doing great things with your talent and enthusiasm. He was just a worthless trash that’s unworthy of your care and charity.

Lying there idly while listening to your voice on the television, he just wishes that the warm feelings that he feels around you will go away soon...

#nct au #nct imagines #nct #nct scenarios #nct taeyong #nct lee taeyong #nct fluff #roommate au #rockstar au #journalist au #nctcreations

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yoonjinkooked · 5 years

Text

On Call | part 1

moodboard by the lovely and amazing @flajka

Pairing: Y/N / Jungkook

Rating: 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers / Rom-Com / Humor / Smut

Warnings for part 1: ranting, mentions of blood and injuries, good ass flirting, lots of good looking doctors, mentions of sex. The explicit stuff is saved for part two.

General warnings: (explicit sex, cursing, more to be added)

Word Count: 5147 +

Summary: After a catastrophic first date, you end up leaving the hospital angry, tired and date-less. Hoping to have a drink or five, you end up in a nearby bar, sitting next to the same doctor who caught your eye earlier.

A/N: I had to split it into two parts. I REALLY did not want to do that but I am absolutely not happy with how I wrote a large chunk of this, so I am writing it all over again. I can’t keep you waiting anymore so I’ll split this one. The smutty stuff comes in the next chapter.

I’m sorry for the long wait, life got in the way. I will have a day off before the weekend so I think I’ll manage to finish it then. To make it more specific - Part 2 by Sunday!

Let me know what you guys think! :)

First dates are horrible.

Even if they’re going well, even if you end up meeting the love of your life, that first date is always going to be horrible, at least just a little bit.

You’ve had shitty first dates and some not so shitty first dates but you’ve never had something that you’d call a traumatic first date. Until today.

Giving Tinder a shot wasn’t something that you really wanted to do. Dating apps were always something you were skeptical about, despite having a good friend who had met his current fiancé over one of said apps. A place for horny people who want easy sex – that’s what those dating apps were for you.

You have refused to install one, until you have become just that – a horny person who wants easy sex. Two glasses of wine and three dick pics later, you have actually managed to find someone who seemed… okay. Good looking, but not loud about it. No dick pics – big bonus. And he actually managed to avoid cheesy pickup lines and just… asked you to meet up for coffee. So, you have decided to give Adam a shot. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? Save from horror movie scenarios, of course.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Well, Adam could turn out to be an idiot who doesn’t watch where he’s walking and he could end up stepping into an open manhole in the middle of the street, grabbing you by the hand as he fell, knocking you on the ground in the process, all while still managing to break his leg.

But what kind of bad luck would you need to have for that to happen?

Apparently, the amount of bad luck you have is sufficient. Adam did indeed fall into a manhole but not before grabbing hold of you while trying to keep himself balanced – you were too surprised to react in any way, so not only did he end up falling but so did you, hitting your head on the pavement and scratching your arm on concrete.

All you can remember clearly are his yells and blood. The rest is a blur, from the point of you calling 911 to you sitting here, in a hospital, waiting to be checked by a doctor.

In the history of bad first dates, this has to be the runner-up, at the very least. All of that before the biggest plot twist of the night – the arrival of Adam’s girlfriend. The girl was worried sick and the moment you saw her throw herself onto a broken Adam, you silently decided to not go into his room after all.

At least the cut on your hand isn’t too bad – it stopped bleeding over the last few minutes and other than a light headache and an immense feeling of embarrassment, you’re doing pretty okay. Well, you’re also annoyed with waiting in a very crowded waiting room – apparently your situation is not serious enough to earn you a room, bed or even a simple chair.

“Taehyung, go check on him,” the voice belongs to a doctor walking past you, obviously giving some instructions. He’s handsome as hell, tall and with dark hair – much better looking than Adam. He probably watches where he’s walking too. “Check back with me when you’re done, okay?”

“Excuse me,” he turns around when you call him, finally deciding to no longer wait in silence. “Can someone tell me where to go or what to do? I have been waiting for more than an hour.”

“What are you here for?” he ask as his eyes go over you quickly, narrowing down on your arm. “Bad fall?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “I hit my head a bit too. I feel okay though.”

“Any pain?” he asks, walking closer to you. Close enough to make you swallow a lump because holy fuck, he is really good looking.

“Just a regular headache kind of pain,” you explain. “And my arm does hurt a bit too.”

“I’ll have a nurse clean that up,” he tells me. “What’s your name?” he asks.

“Y/N,” you force a smile. “Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Okay Y/N, please do what I say. Lift your right arm up,” he instructs and you do as he said. “Put it down. Now please stick your tongue out,” you follow his lead, even though you feel like a bit like an idiot, sticking your tongue out in the middle of a hospital waiting room. “Good. Now please follow my finger – just with your eyes, don’t move your head. Okay?” you follow his finger left to right, gulping yet again as you become aware of very direct eye contact. You repeat a mantra in your head, reminding yourself that it’s literally his job to look at you.

“Just a weak headache you say?”

“Well, if we ignore the growing death wish, yes,” he frowns at your tragic joke, causing you to smile and shake your head. It’s too complicated to explain anyways.

“You seem to be doing just fine, Y/N,” he reassures you. “If you feel any pain, just a regular pain medication should help. If your headache doesn’t leave you by tomorrow night, I’d advise you to come back here for a checkup. But for now, you don’t need a CT. I’ll just have… Jimin!” he calls for someone. And boy oh boy, it’s someone alright - a very good looking, blonde young man in blue scrubs walks towards us. “Jimin, please clean up her wound and see if stitches are needed,” he tells him.

“Sure thing, Dr. Kim,” Jimin smiles at the doctor.

“And Y/N, remember, if you feel anything unusual, come back here. Okay?” Dr. Kim asks.

“Okay,” you nod obediently, knowing damn well you will already be on your way back to the hospital the second you feel anything out of the ordinary.

“Follow me, Miss Y/N,” Jimin instructs you with a smile and you follow him. As you do, you can’t help but wonder if every damn person in this hospital is good looking – both he and Dr. Kim could be supermodels if they really wanted to. Or maybe they aren’t that good looking and you’ve just hit my head a bit too hard.

“MOVE!” you jump up when a yell carries through the hallway. Before you can even react, Jimin is grabbing your intact hand and pulling you to the side. Backed up against the wall, you watch in shock the scene that unfolds before you. A group of people is literally running through the hallway with a stretcher between them. “Move, move, move!” you realize now who is yelling – it’s the doctor who is all but lying on the stretcher. You don’t see much as they pass you – it’s a blur of people, different colored scrubs and blood. What you do see is that a doctor is literally above the patient, who is lying on the stretcher, his hands too bloody for you to see and understand what the hell he is doing. And then they’re gone, taking a turn to the right at the end of the hallway. You can still hear him yelling commands, his voice fainter by the second.

“Holy shit.”

“Yes,” Jimin chuckles. “Just another day at the office,” he starts walking again and not knowing what else to do, you just follow him, avoiding stepping onto the droplets of blood that coat the floor. It looks like that’s also a part of their every day schedule.

“Isn’t that patient more important than I am?” you wonder. “I mean, this is just a scratch. I could probably even clean it up at home, he looks like he needs more help than I do.

“Miss Y/N, there were three nurses around that stretcher,” Jimin smiles back at you. “If I go there, I would do more harm than help. Doctor Jeon and the team can handle it.”

Agreeing with his subtle suggestion that this really is none of your business, you shut up and follow him. Finally, you have a chance to sit down when the two of you end up in a small office, equipped with what one would call basic doctor supplies. You wait as Jimin collects what he needs, before he turns on the light and takes a good look at your injured arm.

“Ouch, that’s not pretty. Did you fall?”

The snort that leaves you causes him to raise his eyebrows in confusion. “You could say that. My date fell into a manhole,” you almost chuckle when I see Jimin’s eyes go wide in surprise. Honestly, you would have laughed hard if Adam didn’t actually get seriously injured. “And nearly dragged me into it with him.”

“That sounds like… a bad date,” he comments.

“Yeah. First date too,” the grimace on Jimin’s face says it all. “We barely even shook hands before he was falling down. I guess I’m gonna go celibate now. Did I mention his girlfriend showed up at the hospital?”

“Ouch,” he comments. Before you could respond, the touch of an alcohol soaked swab makes your hand flinch as Jimin start’s cleaning your injurty. “You are having a rough night.”

“More like a rough year,” you mumble.

“Miss Y/N, you need to look at the bright side,” Jimin smiles at you. It’s easy for him to say – he strikes you as a big ball of fluff and positive. You, on the other hand, are a walking disaster. “After the rain comes the rainbow. Karma has her way of doing things.”

“If you say so.”

Jimin works in silence while you stare at the floor and contemplate your life, deciding to leave the hospital as soon as he is done with fixing you up. A part of you wanted to find Adam and his girl, cause a scene and tell her to get away from him. Hell, if you had more energy, you would have gone with that plan. Now you just want to leave and get yourself a drink. Or five. When Jimin finished with cleaning your arm and applying some cream, you smile and thank him, asking for directions to the nearest bar.

After spending a few minutes wondering whether or not you should call your best friend and ask him to join, you have reached the conclusion that Hoseok’s bright and cheerful personality is not something that you need tonight.

He would chuckle at the story, telling you to look on the bright side, to be glad your leg wasn’t broken and that you got out before you ended up being ‘the other woman’. And while all of that would be absolutely correct, you do not need a ‘cheer up, buddy’ tonight. What you need is a decent amount of time to be alone and gloomy, wallow in self-pity and maybe drown in alcohol. With the day you’ve had, you deserve it – all of it.

“You sure you want another one?” the bartender asks when you point to the almost empty glass of Long Island Iced Tea in front of you – that’s what he served when you asked for a ‘drink that may end up killing you’. “Those things are pretty strong. You’re not driving, are you?” he asks, forcing you to make a mental note to tip him well because he’s actually worried about my well-being, even if I’m not.

“Not driving. And trust me, these are not nearly as effective as I want them to be.”

“Drinking to forget?” he’s asking too many question but he is getting the drink ready, so you take it.

“Hopefully.”

You have deleted Tinder the moment you sat down at the bar. It’s impossible to know when you’ll be ready to try again but one thing is certain - you won’t be trying on some cursed, shitty app. From this point on, you will go through my life without focusing on men and dick. You solemnly swear that you will not look for anything – in fact, you will wait for it to come on its own. And if it doesn’t, well, life goes on. With a job you like and a fairly cool group of friends, even an occasional hobby, you’ll have plenty of things to keep yourself occupied.

But. No. More. Men.

“Evening, doc!” the bartender’s cheerful voice snaps me you of a daze. “The usual?”

“Yep,” the voice next to you speaks up and against better judgment, you turn my head to look at him. As he sits down in the chair next to yours, you realize this is the same doctor that was yelling his way through the hallway earlier. Looking away from him, you decide not to draw attention to yourself. No particular reason why – attention is just the last thing on your mind now.

“Rough day today, doc?”

“No rougher than usual,” he chuckles. You focus on your drink, pushing the lemon around the glass with a straw, kind of pretending that it’s Adam and you are pushing him around. “You seem like you’ve had a worse day, what the heck happened to your arm?” it takes you a second to realize that the doctor is directing the question your way.

“I was dragged to the ground,” you mumble, not bothering to look his way. “Hurt my arm and hit my head.”

“Is your head okay?” he asks and even without looking at him, you know he is asking this as a doctor and not just a guy at the bar – there is literally a change in his tone, which suddenly turned serious.

“One of your colleagues checked it out and unfortunately, my head is okay,” you reply.

“You look way too young to sound so pessimistic,” he chuckles and you turn to him, slightly annoyed with his pestering. The earlier theory you had on how every employee of the hospital across the street is handsome is proven to be true because holy crap, he’s hot. You didn’t get a chance to notice it when he flew past on the stretcher earlier but now, even with the dim lights of the bar you’re at, you can see him much clearer. His face is gorgeous, flawless, with big brown eyes looking at me and a tiny smile on his lips. From what you can see, his physique is equally impressive. He is, simply put, hot as hell.

“I’m also way too sober for this conversation.”

If you had met him yesterday, who knows, maybe it would have ended with an offer to suck him off in the back alley – that’s how hot he is. But today sucks. Therefore, you won’t.

“Seems like you’re going to fix that soon enough,” he chuckles at you, probably because you are downing the drink much faster than one should down such a strong cocktail. “As a doctor, I’m obliged to tell you that you should hold back on your drinks if you’ve suffered a hit to the head.”

“How ‘bout a hit to my pride?” you turn on the stool to look at him, challenging him. It’s evident that he is simply trying to have a conversation. His tone wasn’t condescending either – it was more of a good natured suggestion than a doctor’s advice. Still, it annoyed you, just a little. “That one can hurt just as hard as a hit to the head, can it not?”

“It can,” he nods his head. “But what can possibly be that bad?” he asks.

Do you speak up or keep your mouth shut?

To hell with it. You need to rant, are almost drunk and will never see him again.

“Had a date today,” you pause to take a sip of my drink. “First date. He fell into an open manhole.”

“Wait, is that the dude with the girlfriend?” he asks and you turn to him so fast, you think your neck muscle is strained. “Are you the girl who made a scene?”

“No I didn’t!” you gasp, shocked that he’d even suggest something like that. “I haven’t said a word to him! The girl showed up, I put two and two together, went to get my hand fixed and ended up here.”

“Who fixed your arm?” he asks, frowning in suspicion.

“A very hot blonde guy.”

“Jimin,” he chuckles and I nod my head, remembering the name now. “That explains a lot.”

“That explains what?” you ask, momentarily distracted when you notice the bartender serving the doctor his drink – mineral water. Sure, there’s ice and two slices of lemon in the glass but it is just mineral water. If that’s his regular drink, you don’t even want to know what he drinks when he’s feeling a bit tamer.

“Jimin has a habit of meddling into people’s lives a bit too often,” the doctor chuckles and a lump forms in your throat as you focus on his side profile – clear skin, chiseled jaw, cute nose and messy hair. Even his speech, now a bit slower than earlier, is hot. “He must have put two and two together because from what I’ve heard, he asked the dude where his date was, right in front of the girlfriend,” he tells you.

“Serves him right,” a dark chuckle leaves you as you realize just how thankful you are for the overly meddling nurse who did my work in your stead.

“The chick flipped and caused a ruckus,” the doctor continues. “With the way you’ve been sulking at the bar, I thought it might have been you. Stupid, I know – you even said it was a first date.”

“I’m just glad that’s behind me,” you mumble in response. “Or, will be, when I finish this drink.”

“The guy is a dick,” the bartender suddenly joins in, having obviously listened to your conversation. You can’t blame the guy – you’re sitting right in front of him. “You seem like a decent girl,” he tells you. “Why would you waste time on cheaters when you have nice guys like Doctor Jeon around?” he hits the doctor on the shoulder, hard, beaming down at him.

“You’ve always been a bad wing-man Chris, but I think you might have just outdone yourself.”

“Doctor Jeon isn’t even drinking,” you smile at the bartender. “I’m sure he’s not interested.”

“Doctor Jeon needs to drive home and hopefully get there in one piece,” the doctor laughs. “And please just call me Jungkook – the doctor thing is getting a bit weird,” he adds, obviously ignoring your comment that he isn’t interested. Could it mean that… no, probably not.

“Take a cab, Jungkook,” you tell him, turning around to stare at the shelves full of drinks, expensive and cheap, dark and colorful. Looking directly at him would be a very bad idea. “Life’s too short.”

“Mineral water is just fine,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, I might get called back to the hospital tonight. Probably not, but I never know. I’d rather be able to help someone than drunk.”

“Did you save that guy from today?” you ask, this time risking at all and looking at him, seeing the confusion on his heavenly face. “The one on the stretcher, the guy you were all but sitting on?”

“Ah,” he nods his head in understanding. “He’s in intensive care but most likely will make it through the night. He’s in good hands.”

“Doctor Jeon is a trauma surgeon,” the bartender, Chris as you now know, tells you with a knowing look. “Very big deal in the hospital.”

“Trauma surgeons or Doctor Jeon in particular?” you laugh.

“Chris, I think some glasses want to be polished,” Jungkook’s jaw clenches but you can still see a hint of a smile as he looks at his friend. “Don’t meddle, please. I can flirt just fine on my own.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing?” you laugh. This is becoming… very interesting.

“I’m about to, as soon as I find out your name,” he smirks your way. That one action, that one tiny smirk, made him 10 times more attractive than he was seconds ago.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeats. Okay, it may be too soon to tell but you have an inkling of where this might end up going and at this point, you are ready to pray to god that it ends up going that way. More than once.

“He’s single,” the bartender suddenly pipes up.

“Chris.”

“And the kindest guy I know,” Chris still continues, ignoring Jungkook’s glares.

“Will you stop?”

“No,” you laugh at Jungkook. “No, I like this, he’s telling me all I need to know. Tell me, Chris, how often does he flirt with lonely ladies at the bar?” you ask.

“First time I’ve seen him do it,” Chris replies without blinking. “Beats your guy from earlier today by a mile.”

“That he does,” you agree immediately. Just superficial conversation and one look at Jungkook was enough to reach the same conclusion. Granted, you haven’t really had the chance to properly talk to Adam but his girlfriend did and based from what you’ve heard, she doesn’t like him that much at the moment.

“How about you talk now, Y/N, before Chris here finds my birth certificate,” Jungkook turns to you.

“What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you’re willing to share.”

“I doubt you’d be interested in hearing my life story,” you chuckle. “I’m a real estate agent. I’m tired and not as drunk as I want to be.”

“That’s all you think I need to know?” he laughs, leaning just a tiny bit closer. “Tell me who you are when you’re not angry at some random dick. Tell me about your hobbies, your interests, the things you hate the most, your plans for the future.”

“Are you trying to flirt with me or are you scouting for a would-be wife?” you frown.

“Play your cards right and ask me that question later.”

It’s so fucking endearing – he laughs at himself as he delivers such a cheesy, yet somehow smooth line. He is literally laughing at himself and that makes you chuckle too – he’s not taking himself too seriously and is genuinely funny. Hell, if he plays his cards right, you might just ask him to marry you.

“I hate cucumbers,” is what you decide to tell him. “Tom Cruise too – he’s creepy. I don’t like people who waste my time. I’m a TV show addict, I could live on popcorn and I never wear high heels. Does that satisfy your curiosity?” your eyebrows are raised as you throw the ball over in his field.

“Not even close,” he responds. Judging by the little smirk on his face, he can definitely tell that your interest is peaked in all the right ways. “You’re just making me want to know more, Y/N.”

“Unfair,” you pretend to glare at him. “It’s your turn now – it’s only fair if I know as much as you do.”

“Alright,” he nods his head. “I’m a surgeon, as you already know. I’m… a pretty boring guy if I’m being honest. I work, workout, occasionally meet up with my friends and sleep. I like cucumbers but I can’t stand eggplants. I never really gave Tom Cruise much thought but you do have a point, he is a bit creepy,” Jungkook grimaces and you laugh, glad to hear you’re not the only one with that opinion. “I barely even have a life outside of work.”

You were goofing off at first but by the time he finishes, the humorous tone of the conversation isn’t really there anymore. He’s a doctor, a surgeon at that – it’s not hard for you to imagine just how big of a price his personal life had to pay in order for him to have a career like that. While it’s a shame, in your opinion, it was a decision he was very much aware of – as well as its consequences.

“Seems like maybe I’m not the only one who needs a drink tonight,” you give him a pointed look.

“Nah,” he smiles at you, shaking his head. “I still need to drive. Besides, you’ve had a bad day. This is just a regular day for me. Well, almost regular – I don’t usually talk to a pretty girl by the end of it.”

This time around, you stay silent.

It’s not something you can say and seeing as you do find him attractive it’s not the logical response either. You should smile at him, run fingers through your hair, try to appear as sensual and as flirty as possible – or as much as you can be, with dirty jeans and a big ass scratch on your arm. Doctor Jeon ticks off all the boxes, or at least all that you can think off, with your mind a little bit hazy, thanks to Chris’s mean cocktail. You should play the game and see where it’ll take you.

But you don’t. No, you stay silent and you look at the drink before you, ignoring the pair of eyes you feel on you. Perhaps you have had enough? Perhaps Adam was the last straw, your last chance before giving up completely? Maybe, maybe not. But for whatever reason, you decide to stay silent.

To his credit, Jungkook follows your lead. He doesn’t push you and that makes him look even better in your eyes. He was following your lead, pushing as far as you’d let him. Not all men have that ability, sadly. Jungkook does, he has something you can only describe as a peaceful aura. He strikes you as a laid back, everything is going to be okay, kind of guy. He’s not desperately trying to impress, nor is he trying to pull off a bad boy vibe. Thinking about it now, he seems like the most mature guy you were ever interested in, even in passing, even if you’ve only talked to him for a few minutes.

Now you want to speak up, say something, anything, but your mouth just opens and closes, as you find that as much as you want to, you’re not capable of forming words.

And why would you? Come to think of it, seriously, why would you? You barely even talked. You have had a day from hell, you are tired and there’s not much he could provide you with, other than a distraction. It would do it’s trick, you might get a good night and a few worthy memories but at the end of it all, you would probably never see his face again. At least outside of the emergency room.

Your brain is playing tennis with itself, throwing the ball from one side to another as you debate whether or not something should be done, mentally listing all the pros and cons to each option, asking yourself further questions that simply lead you nowhere. That’s the way overthinking works and you should know, since you do it all the damn time.

His glass hits the bar a bit too hard and you flinch, looking at it from the corner of your eye. It’s empty, the tennis match in your head is slowly coming to an end – no winner. You do nothing, don’t say a word, don’t look at him. You only look at the bartender as he tells Jungkook to keep an eye on the bar as he goes to get more tequila from the back.

“Y/N?” Jungkook asks and the moment your eyes meet, the beat of your heart turns frantic. You wish you could slow it down somehow, or at least ignore it and focus on other things. Nope, none of it could work even if you tried – your heart is going berserk and all you can look at is Jungkook’s face. His eyes really are a one hell of a sight. “I’m going home now,” he tells you, his eyes looking around your face, from your eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again. “I would very much like to take you there with me. You had a horrible day and you deserve something to keep your mind off it. I’d be happy to oblige. It would also be a nice change for me, to not go home alone once,” he adds.

Okay, it’s happening. The ball is on your side now. The problem is, Jungkook’s suggestion sounded more like a ‘let’s go steady’ than ‘do you want to fuck’ and that leaves you uneasy. Not a single thing about this screams one night stand to you, other than the fact that he is very much a stranger.

But you want to. God, do you want to. You want to suck him dry and run your hands through his hair as he fucks you – on a desk, on the floor, up against the wall, in the shower, on the bed – wherever it’s physically possible, really. You can’t remember the last time someone so stupidly handsome was offering you what Jungkook is offering now. Even if he makes it sound way more romantic than it should sound like, the hidden promise is there – you’d get dicked down.

Fuck it, you want it. Even more so, you need it.

“What kind of distraction are you suggesting, exactly?” you ask, praying to everyone and everything that your poker face is as stable as you want it to be.

“I think you know exactly what I’m suggesting, Y/N,” he mumbles, still keeping his eyes directly on you. It’s a little uncomfortable and your first instinct is to look away, to save yourself, but you can’t. With every word he says, he is drawing you in, deeper. “We can play coy, if that’s what you want, but you know very well how this is going to end.”

“And what about my head?” you do play coy, but you also throw in a subtle smirk, to make sure your intentions are clear, even though they are very much different than your words. “Weren’t you worried about me drinking after I’ve hit my head? How could a… distraction be healthy for me?”

“Oh, it could be,” he chuckles. “Healthy, enjoyable and dare I say, addictive. And just to settle your worries – nothing better than doctor supervision over the course of the night.”

You laugh because fuck it, it’s sold and you want him to know that.

“I trust I’ll be in good hands.”

“Oh, you will be,” it sounds both exciting and sinister and it stirs you in all the right ways. “Let’s go,” you are surprised with how quickly he takes out a couple of bills from his back pocket and throws them onto the bar, paying for both of your drinks and then some. He doesn’t wait for Chris to get back – he’s already on his feet and reaching for your hand. “Let’s go – I don’t want to waste more time.”

You let him drag you out of the bar, hoping that his dick is just as good as his game.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #doctor jungkook #jjk #bts jungkook #jungkook fanfics #jungkook scenarios #jeongguk

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sunshobine · 4 years

Text

Yoongi Is Dumb But so Are You

Fluff 3000 words roughly

Author’s Note: Honestly if any of you guys can think of a better title for this hit me up because I do not title shit well.

Excerpt: Apparently, “God” has pale pink hair, pale skin, dark circles suspended under his half-closed eyes, and answers to the name of Yoongi. He partially sits against a wooden prop box, deep in conversation with the other main producers, Hoseok and Namjoon. They debate song lyrics, how it’s going to be difficult to add rap into such a balladic song and to maybe write something about the fleeting nature of butterflies. Yoongi is silent, cross-armed, and you can almost hear the words tossing around in his head, bouncing off to form lyrics.

Taehyung is loud. Jungkook is a meme. Jimin is a little shit. And whoever said that using honey, sprinkles and confetti for a Bangtan photoshoot has obviously never had to deal with three strong male adults who harbour the mentality of eight-year-olds. Your ever-growing headache seems to get worse as the day drags on. Even with a mouthful of sugary excess, Taehyung still manages to yell louder than everybody else, and it’s leaving a ringing sound in your ears. Jimin, the fucker, will not tell you where he hid Namjoon’s Jacket. Right now, you’re trying to get Jungkook to stop sprinkling confetti like ‘salt bae’. You’re tempted to the slap the shit out of him when someone’s voice cuts through.

“Ya, you punks. Quiet down. Stop giving everyone around here a hard time.”

As if God had spoken, a hush falls across the studio. With the power of silence bestowed upon you, like Moses, you part the red sea. Or more accurately, you part Taehyung from five honey bear bottles.

The three forces of chaos simmer down and obediently follow “God's” word. You catch yourself muttering ‘Thank God’, before looking around to find “God” and thank him yourself. Picking up another jacket from the floor, you fold it absentmindedly while scanning the room.

Apparently, “God” has pale pink hair, pale skin, dark circles suspended under his half-closed eyes, and answers to the name of Yoongi. He partially sits against a wooden prop box, deep in conversation with the other main producers, Hoseok and Namjoon. They debate song lyrics, how it’s going to be difficult to add rap into such a balladic song and to maybe write something about the fleeting nature of butterflies. Yoongi is silent, cross-armed, and you can almost hear the words tossing around in his head, bouncing off to form lyrics.

Then, you remember that you have things to do too - Jin needs more glitter in his hair, the lights need adjusting from warm to cool colours and someone is faintly calling for more help in the distance. Yet just as you turn to the direction of the other voice, you feel yourself being watched. Almost immediately you snap your head back to find the pink-haired God with his eyes on you. The words 'thank you’ silently form on your lips. Yoongi responds with firm eye contact and a nod that seems akin to a professional handshake.

The distressed voice calls for you one more time, causing you to turn on your heels and run to save your colleague from misery. What you don’t notice is Yoongi’s lingering gaze following your rush.

“Yoon-ah? What do you think?” Hoseok asks.

Yoongi replies with ease, “I think metaphorical analogies are more of Namjoon’s thing, so I’ll let you take that one.”

“Thought you weren’t listening,” Blurts Namjoon.

“Use your honorifics. I’m still older than the both of you.

The next time Yoongi graces you with a miracle is 4am inside a van going down the highway.

It’s easy to ask the question, 'Do we really, really, really have to leave at 2am in the morning to travel three hours for a photoshoot in the middle of a forest?’, though it’s a good thing Jin, the eldest member of the boyband, asks it. Anyone else would have lost their jobs. But if you consider how the boys used to sleep two hours a night only to spend the rest of the day in the dance studio, then taking a two hour nap in a van ride for a sunrise isn’t much.

It’s a bit of a squeeze, really. Trying to fit the makeup, lights and camera, as well as the boys all into two vans means that there isn’t room for separating respective teams. Which is why you currently find yourself squashed between Yoongi and the window. You’re having a bit of trouble breathing, between the weight of your coworkers, your stuff pounding against you every time the van takes a turn, and Yoongi’s scent…

“Is this late for you?” Yoongi asks.

“Mmh?” You whip your head away from the window.

“Is this really late for you?” he repeats.

“If we take into account that it is technically past midnight and therefore the beginning of the day, I guess I’m early."

Yoongi half chuckles, "In that case, I was up really early at the studio.”

You copy his chuckle. This is easy small talk. It’s unusual for him to engage in small talk, not that he fumbles with his nerves like Jungkook who avoids eye contact with the female gender at all costs. The great Min Yoongi reserves his words, every syllable harbours meaning, every utterance serves a purpose. But you’re too tired to contemplate why he’s sparing his limited energy to talk to you.

Suddenly, a rush of cold air from outside seeps into your shirt through your neck and down your spine, causing you to shiver.

“Cold?” Yoongi asks.

“A bit,” you answer, and he raises an eyebrow, to which you quickly add “With all of the body heat, I’ll be warm again in no time.”

A small, slow smile creeps its way up to Yoongi’s lips and lingers for a moment before it’s interrupted by a yawn. You stifle a giggle at the adorableness of his yawn. It’s so different from the cold attire that his persona wears on stage. He blinks before squinting his eyes to ensure he did not simply imagine the softest little look on your face, the sort of look that makes you feel like you may or may not be melting. You reign yourself in, and you can only hope that the dim light in the van masked your face.

“You should take some rest now while you can, we’ve still got at least an hour and a half before we reach the woods." You say, and the moment breaks. It crumbles at the edges and disasspiates.

"Yeah. I should.”

“Yeah,” you echo, not sure if you’re relieved or disappointed at the dying conversation. You reluctantly turn to the window and watch his reflection huff and pull out his phone…

“Dude, get up, we’re here.”

Groggily, you wake up to see that the van has stopped. You’re warm, blissfully warm and cosy even with your head against the hard surface. You grab your things and attribute the warmth to the collective body heat of 15 people in a van. That is, before you notice the leather jacket draped over your hunched body.

His leather jacket.

He is dumb. This is dumb, leaning against the wall with a cup in each hand during staff lunch, Yoongi thinks. He is acutely aware of how dumb he looks, especially when Taehyung approaches with a couple of pizza slices in his hand.

“Hyung, why are you holding two cups?”

“Because they’re mine.”

“Just drink them like this.” Taehyung mimes two cups of his own and takes an imaginary sip from his left hand and then his right. “Then you’ll have both hands to hold pizza.”

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi realises that perhaps he isn’t the stupidest looking person in the room. “Tae, I don’t understand how that would help.”

Five minutes later, Jimin offers to feed him pizza, pressing cold slices against his jaw. Looking at him, Yoongi decides that drinking coffee on an empty stomach isn’t the worst thing that can happen. And then he wonders.

'Where the ever loving fuck are you?'

On the other side of the building you are tired. And when one is tired, it is easy for many things to seem like a happy coincidence. Especially for jobs in the creative industry, schedules are more of a suggestion - an ideal but not a necessity. Like right now, you are needed to carry a couple of boxes of equipment because you just so happened to be near the truck, which unfortunately turned into a ten-minute workout. So by the time you actually make it to the staff room, half of the pizza is already cradled in your co-worker’s grubby hands, or in Taehyung’s case, inhaled. You make a beeline for whatever’s left in the boxes.

You have half a margarita slice stuck between your teeth when Yoongi, his freshly dyed mint green hair shimmering under the halogen lights, approaches you.

“Your tea,” he says curtly, as he shoves one of the cups into your hands.

A thousand question marks bubble above your head. How did he know this was your drink? When did you order it? Weren’t you away on your unnecessary workout? So many things sit at the tip of your tongue, so much so, that you open your mouth to speak, momentarily forgetting that you already had pizza in your mouth.

Yoongi, the smooth bastard that he is, is already walking away with a slice in his hand, leaving you standing by the boxes with a half-eaten bite of pizza oozing into the carpet. In your non-smoothness, you grab another slice and leave before anyone notices.

You sip at the rim of your cup to find your drink pleasantly warm, instead of scalding. It’s green tea, your favourite. Slowly, a dumb, bright smile spreads across your face, and you don’t even notice that you’re giggling into your cup.

“Ah Hyung, you’ve finished both drinks?” Hoseok pipes in as Yoongi takes a bite.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe you should go to the bathroom before dance practice, Hyung. That’s a lot of liquid."

"I’m not Namjoon, don’t worry."

Yoongi glances back at you, catching your smile. So, he muses, green tea is your favourite drink.

It’s raining and pouring. You’re under the portico of the office, listening to the thunderclouds roar.

Suddenly, there’s the sound of an umbrella opening followed by the sight of its underside hovering above your head.

"You take the bus home, right?"

There is the sight of Min Yoongi with tousled golden white bed head, much like a frazzled halo against his black umbrella. He looks like a grumpy angel. A cute, grumpy angel, who you remember asked you a question.

"Yeah… I take the bus home," you manage to get out.

Yoongi nods, turning his eye to the outpouring haze of grey. Three steps into his walk forward, he realises that the space beside him under the umbrella is unoccupied. Quizzically, he looks back to see you rise and fall on the balls of your feet, looking at the ground.

Maybe he needs to get into the habit of actually saying things, he ponders. Or not. He is a man of action, more the type to let his deeds do the talking, and so he does just that, tilting his head in a wordless motion to join him.

Not a drop of water hits you. You’re expecting a bit of splash, what with the strength of the rain, but you’re not. Instead, the guy who owns the actual umbrella has the top of his shirt soaked two shades down the colour scale.

You state the obvious, “Your clothes are soaked,” automatically grabbing a spare packet of tissues and rigorously patting him.

"My hat’s waterproof.”

“You know, you could have come back to get me.”

“Too lazy to move."

"You moved your arm to cover me.” That sentence was finished with a smirk, almost detached from the tone of the words themselves.

The words are teasing, but the blush on your face says endearment. You both gaze upon each other but alternating, never quite matching up. But you know that you caught him staring with an expression that mirrors your own.

Somewhere between the banter, silence begins to kick in. Not an uncomfortable silence, but the type of silence that heightens every other sense. You’re desperately aware of his elbow brushing against your arm, passing a delightful electricity across your skin even with the tiniest of movements. The tension in the air is thicker than the sheets of rain.

“So Yoongi, when are you gonna ask me out?"

If Yoongi is actually into you, his face certainly did not convey that. His reaction is instantaneous, mouth open in a small upside down semi-circle, his eyes pointed at you. Shock. Shock is the expression on his face. Shit. What started out as a confident request on your part fizzles out like flat coke. As if Yoongi’s face was not clear enough, lightning struck behind him. Even the Universe is saying 'Nah brah, he ain’t into you’.

Yoongi returns to the world of the living, mind racing for the right thing to say when you spot a moving vehicle in the distance.

"Oh shit that’s my bus bye!” You bolt out into the rain, all the way to the bus stop.

Yoongi’s still in shock, dumbfounded by everything that happened. There is a deafening quiet that follows, before he bursts into unrepressed laughter, like dropping a big bag of lemons, the neon yellow rolling off in absurdity and painting the streets bright in its colour. You like him back. All this time he’s been wondering. You actually like him back.

You hear footsteps behind you. You’re too far ahead at this point, skidding past the bus stop sign and onto the bus. The last thing you catch is your name on his lips before the bus doors close, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

“That’s not your bus!”

Yoongi doesn’t see you the next day. Which is alright. What with the intense choreography and the last minute editing sessions with Namjoon, he doesn’t really expect to cross paths with you. Yoongi doesn’t see you the day after that either, which is slightly worrying, but you’re ok, right? That night, Yoongi closes the tab with your Facebook profile on and goes to sleep, determined to find you the next day.

Turns out, finding you is easier than Yoongi imagined. All he had to do was locate the direction of sneezing and there you are, mask across your face and struggling to carry a couple of cardboard boxes. The warmer tones in your skin have gone into hiding and the sparkles that tinted your eyes are replaced with a muted vacancy. Apparently you’re so out of it that you don’t even notice him until he’s right in front of you.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, in the way one might wake a sleeping child.

“Hmmhm?” You reply in an unenthusiastic zombie grumble, before lifting your gaze up to see who was talking.

No no no no no nope. Fuck this shit you’re out. Maybe if you were in a better mental state, not feeling as if someone had swung a flaming axe at the back of your head and left it there; you would have behaved more maturely and said 'Hi’, politely engaged in some small talk and left like a normal person. Instead, you smushed the boxes tightly against your chest, turned on your heels, screamed “Maria, I’ve got the good stuff!” and sprinted in the opposite direction, far, far away from Yoongi. You don’t really know what happened, but you don’t really care, you just want to get the fuck outta there.

This afternoon, instead of going to lunch with the rest of your coworkers, you decide to find a spot to nurse your feverish head and take a nap. You stumble upon a quiet corner under the desk with a grey travel pillow and a jumper. It smells faintly of a comforting kind of musk, lulling you gently to sleep.

When you come to, you see soft golden locks, somewhat like a frazzled halo. A big dumb smile stretches across your sleepy face until you realise, oh shit, it's Yoongi. You scramble to get up and, with a bang, hit your head on the table.

Of course, it wakes up Yoongi. You try moving backwards only to find a wall and realise you’re literally corned. Your next reaction is to interrogate him.

“Why are you-?”

“This is my napping place.” Yoongi interrupts, and it’s only now that you register that you have his leather jacket on your lap, a wet paper towel on your forehead and a packet of cold medicine nearby.

Yoongi looks as if he’s slept on the ground on his side. Something inside you clenches tightly, almost squeezing tears out.

“Why do you keep treating me nicely? I’m sorry but I don’t like get it. Like, you are so nice to me and you buy me green tea and you give me your jacket and… uhh…uhh..”

You sneeze, snot dribbles down your nose and you just wanna curl up and die. Why can’t you just be a squid and excrete a fluid that scares people away? Carefully, Yoongi extracts a tissue from a packet and unfolds it before placing it in your hand. You take it with a thank you and warmth spills from your chest, reaching into your fingertips before a wash of ice smothers any emotions stirred.

“Yes, exactly that. Why do you keep doing that?” You ask, exasperated.

“Doing what?” Yoongi frowned quizzically.

The warmth that you once felt was replaced with a different kind of heat, and all the frustration that had been simmering underneath the surface bubbled and toppled out your lungs spitting and spewing in incoherency.

“Being so fucking nice to me! Like you, you give me your jacket and you, you give me tissues and it’s not like I want you to be horrible but you keep doing all these lovely things to me and, and it makes me believe that you think about me the same way I think about you!”

Yoongi stares at you with a furrowed brow, opening his mouth slightly and shutting it again, tasting the words on his tongue carefully. But he doesn’t get a chance to string them into a sentence.

“Oh wait, are you the kind of person who is just this nice to everyone. Oh my god fuck off. Fuck off! Can you not, like be this nice and kind and you smell great y the way and… fuck. Why the fuck am I in love with an oblivious idiot I’m so fucked.”

You curl into yourself and groan. Yoongi is quietly chuckling, half admiring the adorable fluff that you are.

“The answer to your previous question is yesterday.” Yoongi says, tentatively awaiting your reaction.

Your eyes peek out from under your arms, looking positively like a lost kitten. It takes everything in him not to ruffle your hair and pick you up on his lap but he is a master of self control, so he chooses his words wisely instead.

“You asked me when was I going to ask you out, and the answer is yesterday.” He pauses, gauging your reaction, afraid one wrong letter and you’d disappear, “But I didn’t see you yesterday, or the day before that, so I didn’t get the chance.”

Yesterday, your supervisor sent you home so you spent your day waddled in tissues, watching Netflix and swatting away angels playing violins. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Um, yeah. I was sick so I wasn’t here. Sorry, I’m an idiot,” you manage to garble.

Yoongi tittered, reaching for something behind him. It’s a paper cup. Yoongi passes it slow enough for you to stop him, but you don’t, grazing his fingers when you take it into your hand. You realise it’s a peace offering when his face visibly relaxes from a tension you didn’t know was there.

“Green tea”’ Yoongi states, his cool demeanour morphing into a gummy grin too sweet to taste.

The tea swishes down your throat, awakening the temperate warmth that had once been extinguished, and you find yourself with a beaming smile that mirrors his.

#Yoongi #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #suga #bts fic #bts fluff #yoongi fic #min suga #bts yoongi #.bts suga #bts suga

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Internal Disputes ch.3 (baon)

Summary: Something strange is afoot. Edge isn’t sure what, but he can guess he isn’t going to like it.

Notes: Maybe it’s time to see this situation from Stretch’s POV

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The urge to stay in bed that morning and yank the blanket over his head was just about overwhelming. Not that long ago Stretch would’ve done exactly that and not bothered to face the world until sometime past noon. But the chickens didn't much care if Stretch was having a crisis; they wanted food, food, and maybe a little more food, and it was about that time. If he was getting up to feed them, he may as well stay up.

It was still hard to drag himself upright. His skull was aching and he knew from past experience that his own magic wasn’t about to touch it. Healing magic worked on injuries like skinned knees and broken bones, but some things didn’t respond to it. Like Edge’s migraines, but Stretch didn’t really want to think about that right now.

At least it wasn’t from a hangover, so it’d probably fade out once he got some coffee. Once, he might’ve gotten drunk or stoned in times of existential trauma and he couldn’t lie, it’d been pretty damn tempting; he still had one of the joints that Sans gave him a few weeks back. Fading off to Not Thinking About It used to be his modus operandi.

Not this time; this time he left and gone off to call his therapist directly. He had her emergency line, but never used it and it seemed appropriate somehow that the first time he did was while sitting in the heavy layer of dust in one of the old, empty houses in Old New Home, sobbing like an idiot, and by the time he finally managed to spit out what the problem was, he didn’t need her to tell him that maybe he was kinda being a dick.

He’d had enough therapy by now to know when he was being shitty about the wrong thing, reluctantly learning how to peel back his upset to find the cause underneath it. His brother’s unexpected breakdown messed him up some, he already knew that, hadn’t he already scheduled an extra appointment this week?

Not that he was wrong to be upset about Edge, because fuck that noise. But it didn’t feel like that long ago that he would’ve taken Edge bugging out on their anniversary as a sign that he was finally starting to realize that maybe all the love and affection he lavished on Stretch on a daily basis was a mistake. That he was looking at Stretch and seeing he’d been right the first time because he wasn’t worthy of that love. Not true, but it would’ve taken a week of black depression for Stretch to dig himself out of the mirror funhouse of self-hate.

Much as he hated to admit the therapy thing might actually be helping, now he was able to look at all that love and see the anomaly

(oh he hated that word, hated it)

wasn’t Edge giving him soft kisses and making sure to keep a good supply of lemon bars in the fridge. It was this kind of shit and he could’ve done without the argument to show him the benefits of therapy, but eh, that was always the way his cookies rolled.

At the end of the day, he fucking knew Edge, and this shit wasn’t new. He’d known how important Edge’s work at the Embassy was to him before he’d ever married him, just like he knew Edge wouldn’t have gone if he didn’t believe it was absolutely necessary.

And he damn well knew it didn’t mean Edge didn’t love him. Stretch didn’t doubt that for a hot second.

Okay, maybe for a second. A couple seconds, but no more than that.

Yeah, Edge’d fucked up, but like Stretch didn’t already know Edge would be harder on himself than Stretch ever could be. And he wasn’t gonna be mad at Stretch, too busy blaming himself. Stretch was disappointed, sure, but he’d way overreacted, and now Edge was probably on a plane, feeling shitty and focusing too hard on the job to keep himself from noticing it.

Stretch sighed, rubbing a knuckle between his sockets. His therapist listened to all of his blabber without any more than the occasional sound to let him know she was still there. Let him wind down the looping paths of his thoughts to work through all of it on his own, until he was able to come to the conclusion that she’d probably known from the beginning.

Edge fucked up, Stretch overreacted because he already had a bug up his ass about his brother, and he needed to spend some time thinking about what he was going to do about both those problems.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to be pissed off about the fuckup, thanks, but spilling his nonexistent guts took care of a lot of that. He was ready to settle for ‘really annoyed’ and some serious asskissing after his mama bear was done playing mama for everyone else. After all was said and done, he’d confirmed his appointment for later that week and headed back to the house -the empty house-- for a quick shower before falling into bed where he’d slept for, ugh, almost twelve hours. Bawling for an hour might give him a headache the next day, but at least it was good for insomnia.

He rolled over in the tangle of sheets and blankets to snag his phone from the side table. No new messages, not even from a robo-caller trying to steal his credit card info. Not entirely a surprise; he didn’t know exactly when the diplomat crew left the airport or how long the flight was, and Edge wasn’t one for hounding by text message. He probably waiting for Stretch to reply to the one he’d sent last night.

Stretch pulled it up again, a reluctant smile curving his mouth. He’d bet his dirty comic book collection that Edge had no idea what some of those emoticons meant, considering the half dozen eggplants he’d included with the hearts and flowers. But he put his phone back down without replying. He wanted to actually talk to Edge, not try and parcel everything he was feeling into one little text message and that either needed skype or waiting for him to get home.

Plus, it wasn’t going to hurt Edge to feel guilty a little longer. Overreactions aside, he did ditch out on their anniversary and that? It hurt, okay? It hurt.

Welp, that was about all he had in the realm of putting things off. Stretch finally pushed up to his feet with a groan, joints popping, fuck, he was getting old. A glance at the weather showed that it wasn’t too bad out and he wandered into their closet for clean pants and a shirt, and if he grabbed one from Edge’s side of the closet, it wasn’t like there was anyone around who was going to notice his moment of weakness. It didn’t smell like Edge at all, only laundry detergent, but eh, he was pretty damn good at denial when he wanted to be and this was a pretty minor case.

Downstairs, he got the coffee pot going before heading outside. The ladies were already waiting impatiently at the coop door, loudly voicing their opinion on his betrayal at being ten minutes late.

“yeah, yeah, i get it, i’m a dick,” Stretch opened the door, shuffling his feet to keep from stepping on any chickeny toes. “seems like a trend lately.”

He poured the feed into the trough, watching as the ladies swooped in to gobble it up. It was too easy to zone out watching them, idle thoughts turning circles.

Everything else aside, the real problem at hand was that the Embassy depended on Edge a little too much and had pretty much from the beginning. He’d stepped up to make himself indispensable and yeah, Stretch didn’t need any extra therapy to understand why that was.

But the thing about being indispensable was that it was too easy for that to become the norm. There were plenty of Monsters out there who wanted to work, new interns came in all the time. All they needed was training and if Papyrus and Blue could learn how to be Ambassadors for Humans as quickly as they did, Stretch was pretty sure training up a few more Monsters for security detail couldn’t be that damn hard. For Monsters, their magic was part of them, but not all the skills were. Learning past the innate took time and effort, and if healers had a training program, security needed to set one up for higher skills than simply guard.

Preferably someone other than Red.

What it came down to was that Embassy needed to get to where they didn’t damn well depend on Edge so much. Stretch had first dibs on him, thanks.

Yeah, if that was true, why was he hanging out here alone just before his anniversary?

Okay, no. Stretch shoved that thought out of his head. Yeah, it sucked, a lot, but that wasn’t fair and he damn well knew it. Edge showed him daily in a hundred different ways how much he cared. One fuck up didn’t warrant that much doubt. And maybe Stretch was being a little selfish, but he deserved to be a little selfish with Edge’s time, didn’t he?

He loved Edge, Edge loved him, and he believed that. Well, most of the time and when he didn’t, eh, that was what the damn therapist was for. One missed anniversary didn’t change that.

Stretch wasn’t gonna let it.

Once he’d finished laying out some fresh straw, Stretch left the door open to let the chickens wander in the yard for a while. He followed them out, itching for a cigarette, but he’d smoked his last one the day Blue came by. Until he made a trip into Ebott, it was vape or nothing, and shortcutting to his room for the e-cigarette didn’t appeal.

He wandered around the yard instead, Nugget trying her darndest to stay underfoot and it was good he was light on his feet when he tried. It was then that he caught sight of the withering vines and his soul gave a little lurch.

Edge had planted the grapevines before Stretch ever got so much as a kiss from him, way back in the good old bad days. According to him, this was the first year they’d actually done anything fruitwise, the tiny green globes swelling over the summertime and slowly darkening to purple. Edge spent all summer fussing over them, agonizing over organic fertilizers and netting them against birds. A light frost at the beginning of this week sealed their fate, the last stage of ripening, and Edge mentioned a few days ago he’d be picking them this weekend, his mind already laser-focused on homemade grape juice and jam.

Except he was gone and maybe by the time he got back, the grapes would’ve gone bad, rotting on the vines.

Yeah, no, Stretch might be steamy at his baby, but there was no way in hell he was going to let all that hard work go to waste. Not when there were perfectly good fridges out there ready to hold that grapey-goodness; their own, plus Sans and Papyrus’s and his own brother’s. Plenty of people in New New Home would loan him a little fridge space if he asked, especially for a share of the finished goods.

When Edge got back, Stretch was already planning to hardball him into a few days off and if one of them was spent canning and juicing until they were both as purple as rain, he was okay with that.

First, coffee, then he’d get started.

~~*~~

After a quick detour into the caffeine-nation (heh), Stretch gathered all the bowls he could find, carrying out a mismatched menagerie to the backyard. He set the pile on top of the little table out there, the better to keep the chickens from inspecting them for nefarious purposes, and got to work.

Luckily, grapes were pretty easy to pick. The brown stems broke off easily and he gathered bunch after bunch, filling up his bowl in between stealing the occasional grape for himself. They weren’t like any he’d had from a store, briefly sour, then sweet, and his fingers were purple in no time. Good thing his magic was orange, made for a nice contrast.

He was halfway through his second bowl when he heard a voice from behind.

“Hello, Stretch.”

Stretch closed his sockets and for one brief moment, it was like stepping back in time. Standing out in the chilly air, listening to a familiar voice through a door telling knock knock jokes. No one from this Universe reminded him so much of their counterpart as Asgore did, not Alphys, not Undyne, and with nothing more than his voice.

But this wasn’t the friend he knew, the one he’d promised

(and broken that promise. Over and over and over--)

This wasn’t his stranger through the door, this was Asgore, so much like Underswap’s Queen, and his LV was from fallen Human children. Stretch knew it, knew far too much, and he’d never wanted to be a Judge. He’d hated coming of age into the realization that he could see much deeper into souls than anyone around him, hated making Judgments, hated all of it. He’d been more than happy to let Sans keep the job when they got here, he never Looked anymore, not if he could help it, and here was Asgore, dredging all that up for him in a vomit of memory.

And if he had to guess, the King of Monsters hadn’t stopped by to admire the chickens.

Stretch didn’t look up, only broke off the stem on another bunch of grapes. “hey, asshole.”

He could practically feel the sigh Asgore heaved at that. He was a huge guy and a Boss Monster to boot, he practically had his own gravity field. Maybe someday he’d get his own moon. The gate hinges creaked a little as he opened it, and Stretch distantly made a mental note to let Edge know about it. He liked to have things in good working order.

“I’m aware that you don’t like me,” Asgore said, heavily. Like that ‘I carry the weight of the world’ tone was going to work on Stretch? Yeah, whatever, he’d had years to learn how to get over that, thanks, and the voice might be lower but the tone was the same. He’d heard it plenty; apologizing for bringing him to New Home again, apologizing for asking this of him again, and oh, they knew it was difficult for him, they knew, didn’t they, every time he had to Look, every time he Judged, and this would be the last time, they promised, the very last one, the last soul--

Stretch set a bundle of grapes on top of the rest with deliberate care. “yeah? and here i thought i was being too subtle.”

“I came to apologize.”

“spare me.”

Asgore went on, doggedly, “I didn’t even consider the dates until your brother mentioned it. I’d forgotten it was your anniversary.”

“you ain’t the only one,” Stretch muttered. “leave me alone.”

“I understand how you must feel--”

“you don't,” Stretch snarled, and whipped around, glaring at Asgore, who only looked sad, and how dare he, how fucking dare he. “you don’t know shit about me, don’t you tell me you know how i feel!” Cold wetness registered and Stretch looked down to see a wad of crushed grapes in his hand, juice dripping. He grimaced and let it fall to the ground where the chickens could investigate it and wiped his hand on his pants. “if you’re here to tell me edge asked you to keep an eye on me—

He could visibly see Asgore revising his words. Now that he was facing him, Stretch could see he was wearing the same clothes he always did in New New Home, jeans and a bright, flowered shirt, huge hairy arms poking out of the short sleeves. Furry as he was, the cold probably didn’t bother him much, not until the temps dropped below zero. He just stood there, hands tucked into his pockets and sadness in his eyes and Stretch wanted so very much to hate him.

“I’m not and he didn’t. We both know he’d never do that to you,” Asgore said quietly. “I’m here because I am aware of the promise he made to you and I know your feelings on broken promises. If you need to blame someone, blame me, I forced him to go.”

“aww, ain’t you a honey,” Stretch cooed, sickly-sweet. “thanks for stepping up as this week’s martyr.” He couldn’t look at Asgore anymore, snatched up another empty bowl and started stuffing it with grapes. “he’s a grown monster who can make his own choices and i’m getting pretty damn sick of other people butting in on my marriage.”

“Of course, and I’m sure he would have declined if anyone else could have taken his place. He even suggested as much, but with Undyne’s pregnancy—“

“stop. you stop right there. i know better than to fall for this shit.” Stretch closed his sockets, trying to control his breathing, because Edge hadn’t mentioned that when they were arguing, hadn’t said that he had tried to get someone else and Undyne was pregnant, holy shit, “my turn to ask a question. on a scale of one to ten, how pissed off would edge be if he knew you were here right now?”

He couldn’t be less surprised that Asgore didn’t answer him. “I can’t trust Toriel and Frisk to just anyone.”

“great. you’ll protect your family at the expense of mine.” Again, no answer. It was too much, his tangled emotions hitting a plateau and all the anger building in Stretch collapsed, letting out like a punctured balloon. He could taste tears again, hot and sweet on the back of his tongue, “leave me alone. please.”

That whispery little plea did what all the sarcasm Stretch tossed out didn’t. He heard heavy footsteps, the creak of the gate, and when it closed he sank to the ground, holding his aching skull in his hands while he choked back the tears that were trying to fall.

Fucking fantastic. He felt like all the ground he’d gained talking to his therapist last night was lost, and why hadn’t Edge told him that he’d tried to get someone else. Because Undyne was pregnant? Was that...was…

His soul constricted painfully, his vision blurring. “Hey, Stretch...uh...are you okay?”

He jerked, looking up to see Jeff’s concerned face peering over the gate at him. Wonderful, another witness, just what he wanted.

Stretch sighed aloud. It wasn’t even noon yet and this was promising to be a long fucking day.

~~*~~

TBC

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

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nevergiveupneverrun · 4 years

Text

Bodyguard - Chapter Forty-Nine “Collateral Damage”

Hello everybody, how are you? Here is chapter Forty-Nine of my Story Bodyguard. I hope you will like this chapter.

I’m sorry in advance for the mistakes… English isn’t my first language and I do my best. Here is the link to the previous chapter: Click Here.

I hope you will enjoy this chapter :) 💛

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The drip from the coffee maker mobilizes my concentration.

The second coffee I make in the morning when it’s only 9:30 am.

The fault of an early morning awakening… and a restless and light sleep when I have been awake since 5:30 am and my night is only a few hours.

Yesterday’s events haunted me all night: the new image of Amelia, her behavior and her words that still obsess me.

“I understand that you don’t want me “.

All her injuries summarized in a few words: I know her story, the tricks of her life, the shortcomings she had to endure. And I find myself despite myself being the one who reopens and stirs up her deep pains.

She wanted to hurt herself yesterday. in an extreme process of self-destruction.

And I was there for something, by confronting her again with a rejection…

I almost disgust myself.

But I can’t give her what she expects.

I will not be up to it, I don’t know how to do what she asks. I forgot… and buried everything deep inside.

However, those hours of thinking led me to a resolution: trying to forgive myself. Make her life easier, be attentive but without crossing the red line…

She was fragile and vulnerable.

And paradoxically, having experienced these difficult moments made me stronger: now I knew the pain I was causing her by giving her the illusion of an impossible relationship, I had the will and the strength that I lacked until then.

To silence urges and desires.

To overcome temptation.

Involved in my work, but without mixing genre, dissociating feelings and attachment.

And my resolution takes effect this morning.

I patiently wait for her in the kitchen.

I had known Amelia well for many months spent together and I knew that breakfast was the time of the day that she preferred: she liked taking time, quietly savoring these first moments by reading a few lines, scribbling a song or humming, guitar in hand.

Quite naturally, simple attention had come to my mind: attention that could touch her but also make the apartment more pleasant and less cold.

So I was making her breakfast.

The table was set with a small bouquet of pink peonies that I had ordered to brighten up the kitchen bar.

Coffee was running.

Orange juice, jam, and Nutella are gathered near the plates.

Some crepes that I cooked are waiting warm under a cloche.

Just like a box of cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory and donuts from Top Pot Doughnuts that I had delivered… like after the attack we suffered after her concert.

I hear muffled steps gradually approaching me.

The visual quickly adds to the sound and I discover Amelia, already prepared and dressed for the day.

I scrutinize her face and I am quickly reassured by crossing her eyes: I find the spark and the usual glow in her gaze, and no longer these two distressing pupils that I had observed the day before.

She stops a few meters from the kitchen bar: I notice the path of her gaze which passes from the coffee maker to the flowers, then to the food staged by me.

- Good morning, how are you feeling?

She stays silent for a few seconds, then stares at me intensely.

- I’m fine, the headache is gone. It’s not the best night of my life, but I’m pretty much rested…

- You look better than yesterday, anyway, I say with a smile. You want some coffee?

She nods and I go-ahead to prepare her cup.

When I turned around with her cup in hand, she has strangely not moved, still a reasonable distance from the kitchen bar.

- Settle down… I proposed shyly, surprised by her reserve.

- What does it mean, Owen? She ends up asking while deciding to sit down.

- It’s a breakfast, you know the concept, I think, I answer with a touch of humor.

A facade mood to try to hide my embarrassment in front of her unenthusiastic reaction.

- Flowers, cheesecakes and even crepe you made yourself? She questions by unhooking the plate. You explain the opportunity to me? The reason or all this?

- It’s just breakfast, Amelia.

- Usually, my breakfast is a coffee with some toast… not cheesecakes from the Cheesecake Factory or donuts from Top Pot Doughnut…

- I thought it was a great way to start the day. Yesterday was a bit stressful and it might make you feel better in this new apartment. I know you enjoy this time of day. Come on, enjoy it, please don’t worry, I insisted, handing her a piece of vanilla cheesecake, one of those she prefers.

She takes it with the tips of her fingers and enjoys a bite but keeps her attention on me.

I felt like I was being studied from every angle as if she was trying to better understand the situation through my attitude.

- I don’t understand… she ends up announcing after finishing her cheesecake.

- Sorry?

- Why are you doing this, Owen? What are you looking for with this breakfast?

- I told you… it’s so that you can adapt a little faster to your new home.

- And why do you think it will help me?

- Because I know you like having a big breakfast like that. I thought you would like it.

- That makes me happy… but why you want to make me happy, that’s what I don’t understand…

- If you simply enjoyed it, I answer with a slight smile, destabilized by all the questions she raises me.

- Have you done this in the past?

- Yes, it happens to me regularly to prepare breakfast, I resume laughing slightly.

- Do not pretend to not understand, she continues seriously. I asked you the question as part of your duties: have you often done breakfast for one of your clients? Have you ever bothered to order her favorite flowers? To cook crepes at 8am? To buy donuts with her favorite tastes because it is her guilty pleasure?

- Listen, I just wanted to please you after a difficult day, if you…

- Have you often wanted to please your clients? She asks me cutting me in my sentence.

The video doorbell rings suddenly.

A timely interruption for me: Amelia’s question put me in a delicate situation… what could I answer?

Confess to her that I am disgusted with myself?

That I don’t want her to hate me and that I’m just trying to redeem myself in her eyes?

That I don’t want to see her suffer like yesterday again?

But where her question touches a sensitive point is that my reaction is out of place while I work for her: I should not worry as much about our relationship… let’s say, human.

And she was right: I had never bothered to do all this for a client… the only one, for which I had made so much effort, was for the one who broke my heart.

The one who made me understand the utopia of love.

I leave the kitchen in a hurry, taking full advantage of this loophole.

I immediately recognize Meredith’s face on the videophone screen.

- Good morning, Meredith, I open and unlock our lift for you.

- Good morning and thank you, she answers.

- Who is it?

I turn around at the sound of Amelia’s voice which seems very close to me: she is actually only a few steps from me.

- It’s Meredith.

- There is a problem?

- Uh… I didn’t ask her why she was there so early… I opened her directly…

Caught up in my eagerness to find a distraction from our conversation, I actually didn’t even bother to pin down the reason for her presence so early in the morning.

The doorbell rings and I open immediately, standing in front of the door.

Meredith appears to us with a big smile.

- Good morning Owen, and Hi sweetie, she announces, hugging Amelia.

- Hello Mer, what makes us worth your visit so early in the morning? Hastens to ask Amelia while leading her to the living room.

I follow the two women while staying at a distance while they settle on the sofa.

- Well, I have bad news… and a super-duper mega good news, Meredith answers with a big smile. Which one do you want first?

- Give me the wrong one, that way you comfort me with the other one, replies Amelia.

- Ok, then the bad news concerns your foundation and more specifically the construction of the new welcome house. We didn’t manage to find construction companies partners for the project, in any case, none who see the project agrees to work for the budget of 500,000 dollars that you propose.

I watch Amelia and I see a serious look taking place on her face.

- Bernard let us down on this one?

I don't know who this Bernard is, but I guess he’s the boss of a construction company, that Amelia must know.

- I got him on the phone, he was really sorry, I assure you, but you know the economic climate at the moment… he simply cannot afford to accept to work at this price for a project which will occupy a third of his team for six months.

- How much should be added to make it reasonable in the current context? Questions Amelia directly.

- I know what you are thinking Amelia, and you have nothing to finance it alone…

- I can add 200,000 dollars on the 500,000 starting that I released, persists the singer.

- It won’t be enough… we talk about a lot more… sighs Meredith.

- How much?

- Your project has been estimated to be at least $2 million… and Bernard would be ready to make an effort but below 1.5 million, he cannot commit the future of his business.

- Of course, I understand… responds weakly, Amelia.

I feel the disappointment in her response, but also the sign that she is already thinking about a remedy.

- We must find a patron, support to finalize the funding, she continues, already revived with a strong conviction.

- Exactly, but you have to go fast, says Meredith as a warning. Bernard is ready to hire his teams, but he only leaves us a few days to confirm whether or not we are continuing the project. He has a Seattle City hall adjudication in the balance and given the context, he cannot let such a site slip through his fingers.

- A few days? But I won’t have time in a few days. I need to schedule meetings. That I do a little tour of the different networks that can be activated… I will not find this amount with a single contributor, we will have to convince several.

- Not sure… retorts Meredith mysteriously.

- Can you tell me who would be willing to drop two million dollars for my project in the minute?

I can see a strong and firm look between the two young women, as an exchange without words.

- No, I don’t want to ask him, says Amelia. I will be too indebted to him then, he would benefit in his interest.

- But it’s an effective track that would solve all the problems.

- There must be another solution… insists Amelia.

- Listen, I know the context since yesterday, I already spent a lot of calls, I studied the problem from every angle and I didn’t find any other alternative, believe me… so please, take some time to think about it…

- Ok, I’ll think about it, I promise, concedes Amelia. Well, give me this great news now because I need it.

Meredith smiles and grabs her purse, placed at her feet, to take out a letter.

- Do you know what’s going on in 15 days? A fairly important musical event…

- Yes, the Music Awards… they want me to sing, right? Replies Amelia.

- Actually, they would like you to perform a song and a little more… continues Meredith in a mysterious air.

- Two songs? Asks Amelia in a smile.

- No, remember the purpose of this evening is to award prizes and you are nominated, sweetie… in two categories! Concludes Meredith a little louder, dropping the news directly, unable to keep it to herself anymore.

- What? Am I nominated for an award? Resumes Amelia, stunned by the information.

I cannot help smiling when I see her react in this way but also when I hear this news: with a feeling of pride and satisfaction that settles in me.

- Two prizes! Best female artist and best pop/folk album of the year.

- Wow, I don’t believe it, whispers Amelia.

- I am so happy for you. You deserve it so much, after all this work, finally the consecration of being recognized by the profession.

Meredith then hands Amelia the official letter informing of her appointment.

I approach slowly the two young women to react in my turn to this good news.

- Congratulations Amelia, I’m delighted for you.

She reads the letter then looks up at me, with a slight smile.

- You see, I couldn’t wait to tell you this, and I wanted to tell you visually and not by phone. So in two weeks, direction Los Angeles!

- Thank you, Meredith, Amelia continues taking her manager in her arms for a few moments.

- You’re welcome, but I have nothing to do with it. On the other hand, now that I have done my duty as a messenger, I will have to leave you, my jobs call me. So you keep this little door opener very preciously and you think about what I told you.

- It’s okay, Mer. See you quickly to talk about all this again.

- Good day to you both. Owen, do not bother you, I know how to take it out, concludes Meredith in a wink.

A door slam sounds quickly indicating the actual departure of Meredith from the apartment.

I reposition myself in front of Amelia, in front of the sofa.

Her gaze is lowered on the letter Meredith gave her as if she still didn’t believe it.

- As Meredith said, it’s deserved. I sincerely hope that you will win these awards.

- Don’t tell me that kind of thing, Owen, she suddenly announces, looking up at me and leaving the couch.

She takes a few steps forward: she turns her back on me and I can’t make out her face which would have shed light on her state of mind.

- Which things?

- These remarks where I detect almost a point of pride… how do you want that…

- Please, look at me when you’re speaking, I don’t understand what you’re implying.

She shrugs then turns around and I can see wet eyes facing me.

- How do you want me to stop wanting more? When you talk to me like that? That you give me attention that no man has…

- Excuse me, I said coming closer to her. I didn’t mean to complicate things.

- But you do. I can’t do it, you see. I can’t see you, like just a bodyguard when you act like this morning when you talk to me like you just did. I see you as a man… like a…

She doesn’t finish her sentence: I perceive the emotion and the distress which gin her in front of the situation. And I feel helpless because I don’t see what option to offer her, what solution to put in place.

- In a few days, everything will be less complicated, over time, the memories of… the night we spent will be less vivid.

- I don’t think so… it’s not only that… listen, I’m going through all of this in my head and I’m still at the same dead end… and I see only one solution…

- Ok, tell me, and I promise you that I will follow whatever you ask me.

She looks down for a moment to break our connection then finds my gaze to tell me what she has in mind.

- I put an end to your contract, Owen.

- What?

- Listen, I can’t do it… I can’t do it anymore… so consider that from now on, you’re no longer working for me. You can stay here for another day or two, enough time to stay somewhere else or find a hotel.

- Really? Is that the solution you see? Ask me to leave? And your security in all of this?

I do a series of questions in a breath. Everything is jostling in my head.

- I haven’t had any new threats since we got home. This crazy may have gotten tired… or found another target… and at worst, I will hire someone else.

- If Richard had chosen me, it was because he trusted me to protect you, me and no one else, don’t forget that choice…

- Don’t talk about Richard, please. He made a choice, but I can make mine too…

- Please take the time to think about it, I insisted. I will make all the efforts you want… if something happens to you… I will not be quiet knowing that…

I will blame myself all my life, I continue internally, without expression out loud all my fears and my helplessness upon hearing her decision.

- Owen, it’s not your problem anymore.

- And for the ceremony, how will you do?

- That’s still far away, I’ll notify by then…

- He will necessarily try something at this time, your nominations will be quickly publicized. I’m not used to not finishing my missions, I argued as last resort.

- I always have the choice not to go to this ceremony, she whispers weakly. Respect my decision, please… I can’t split things up like you do and I don’t want to create a situation that will destroy me slowly.

I stare at her intensely while trying to spot a point of doubt or hesitation.

But nothing of the sort, a look touched by emotion but reflection a firm conviction.

- Ok… I dropped in a whisper, like a fighter giving up arms.

- You can go to the record company, I will tell Meredith to pay you for the balance of the contract.

- As you wish, I answer absently.

The situation seems almost unreal to me. And yet…

- You will thank Nathan and Jackson for all their help during these long months, I really appreciated all their efforts and in particular the discovery of this apartment. I hope I can continue to live there, even if you don’t work for me anymore?

- Uh… yes, you can without a problem…

A silence settles down then: a heavy silence while we observe ourselves face to face.

I study her face while realizing that it is potentially the last minutes that I share with her in this way. The last moments when I can draw her like this. And the deepest regrets take bold of me.

My unforgivable error turns out to be fraught with consequences: a real cataclysm… I never imagined that Amelia would come to ask me to leave…

- I have phone calls to make, so…

- Of course, I will… I will pack my things…

- If I am in conversation when you’re done, can you put your keys on the kitchen bar?

Her innocently pronounced request tenses me up, she visibly pushes me toward the exit.

Not a day or two of respite, finally…

- Yes, don’t worry.

She swings from one foot to the other for a few seconds, then speaks weakly.

- Thank you for everything, Owen… without you, I might not be here anymore… and you have been very supportive in recent weeks… I am really grateful for all that you have done and for your constant investment in protecting me… and… I wish you the best for the future.

- Thank you, Amelia… good luck… and…

I don’t know how to continue. I would have so much to say to her: that she be careful, that she has more self-confidence… that I regret so much everything that happened…

But especially that I apologize for being who I am. With his pains, his cracks and his chronic inability to open up to others… and to believe in the idea of loving without suffering.

- Be happy, I end up saying weakly.

She smiles shyly at me.

I await a little feverish contact, a gesture, but she finally exceeds me without touching me but giving me a last intense look and a wonderful smile.

I turn around to follow her with my eyes until I no longer see her as she turns down the hall to reach her room.

More than a vacuum then around me.

I only now notice the beating of my heart: fast and strong in my chest.

But every beat hurts like my heart is cracking…

As if something had been ripped from me.

But no one but me to blame.

I am my own executioner… and probably also her own…

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Thank you for reading. Please don’t cry... Have a great week 💛

#bodyguard #fanfic #greysanatomy #Meredith Grey #amelia shepherd #owen x amelia #amelia x owen #Owen Hunt #omelia #omelia fanfiction #omeliafics

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jinniesxlamp · 4 years

Text

Goodbye, Hello - Chapter 7

LIST OF CHAPTERS –> Masterlist

The week went by agonizingly fast, although it were better days than what you have been dealing with lately. Visiting Myunghwa helped a lot with resolving unecessary thoughts and feelings you had against yourself, remembering what she had taught you to master best—tranquility, almost losing your very own touch of it.

Ever since Myunghwa passed away, the stillness you had within started to slip from your fingers, without notice; your arrogance was starting to surface, impatience, sarcasm and insensitivity towards the people around you. You took the chance to meditate with your remaining days in Jeju, taking the advice from Chairman Byeon, preparing yourself to return as a better person, a better boss and not a dismantled one.

Today was going to be different, you thought to yourself. Your heart raced from the nervousness you felt, anticipating what you had to face since the huge scandal you had caused days prior. All those people you hurt and shamed, not to mention the poor boy you must have traumatized. Not only that....Lee Jooheon, the memory was vague during that drunked night, but you remembered the significant parts of it. Just as you were ready to face the day with a new perspective, a little bit of bad luck always had to squeeze itself in.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, dreading to deal with this early morning misfortune causing a growing traffic jam in the middle of Gangnam. Moving your flat-tired car to the curb made you quadruple think, afraid it might cause another problem, but you delivered anyway. Immediately reaching for your phone, you called for a towing service which arrived sooner than you thought.

It was grueling seeing your watch tick almost five times faster than normal, knowing you had called for a compulsory 9:30 am meeting with the entire production team of Champion Trainee. What felt like three minutes was actually already thirty as the time yielded 9:15 am. Your car was already queued to be fixed, but you still had to wait.

9:15 turned to 9:30, then 10:27, 11:49 then 01:51.

Soojin had called several times for an update, apologizing and explaining to the crew and staff on your behalf regarding the four and a half hour wait. Luckily it was a Saturday, most of the people had no other schedules planned and continued to wait.

Yoongi’s POV

Secretary Soojin with the help of Daehan, one of the producers came in to the meeting room from time to time, apologizing and explaining the situation to everyone regarding the delay. Y/N had something important to attend to, as they were saying. Most people didn’t mind, but I did. I had another schedule at 2:30 for a commercial shoot with the rest of my members in one of the studios upstairs. Manager Hobeom had already called multiple times, asking for updates, wanting to know if I will be able to make it on time which I already knew I wasn’t.

“Mianhae, hyung. We’re still waiting. I don’t think I’ll be done on time.” I took a deep breath, eyeing my watch.

“Kwenchana, we already talked to the director. You need to attend to that meeting. We’ll take care of the situation here. You might have to stay a little bit later though, for the shoot I mean.”

“Kwenchana. Are the members okay? I can probably leave for awhile and come back down here later so we can do the group shoots, in that way they don’t have to stay late with me.”

“We thought about that earlier, but then again it’s too time constricting and a hassle. The whole production crew and your members already said they would wait. Just finish your meeting.”

“Oh. Arasseo” again, I sighed, starting to recognize the displeasure I was beginning to feel regarding all this.

If she had something else she needed to do prior, why schedule the meeting at that time only to delay it for four hours?

Finally she had arrived, again, apologizing for the (unreasonable) delay and started her part of the meeting right away, stealing another two hours of my time. When it had ended, goodbyes and thank yous were said. I saw her call the boy she had tormented last week into a room for a reason I did not have time to waste on.

I hurried upstairs to the commercial shoot, apologizing to the staff, crew and my members for the two hour delay which they shrugged off easy. The shoot began right away, along with my throbbing headache.

Y/N’s POV

At the end of the meeting, I decided to make the first approach in correcting the grave mistakes I have made last week. The boy whom I shamed in front of everyone came to me shaking next to Soojin.

“I’m sorry for how I acted last week. I have no excuse to validate my unprofessional and not to mention unreasonable actions. Joesonghabnida, I hope it’s not too late for your forgiveness.” I bowed, disregarding pride and prejudice as I delivered my apology gently and not passively.

I could sense the look of surprise on the poor boy’s face, unable to compose a reaction right away. But eventually he smiled kindly, relieving the heaviness in my heart.

“Kwenchana, gwangjangnim. Thank you for considering me worthy of your apology. I admire your humility. Thank you”

I am astounded with the weight that encounter took off of me seeing how that young boy walked out of the office in a much more dignified manner. A consoling smile crept across my semi-weary face.

“Geureom, shall we call it a day?” I turned to Soojin whose eyes blinked in heavy confusion.

“Ne?”

Clearing my throat, I gave her an amused smile as I repeated myself.

“I said, let’s go home. It’s the weekend after all. You should be spending time with your husband.”

“A-ah....dae!”

I studied her figure as she bowed to me politely, gently grabbing her hands and held it with mine, rubbing her knuckles with my thumb.

“Jal ji naesseo?” Her eyes softened, disregarding the formality between the both of us.

“Jinjja...Eonnie, I should be the one asking you that. Aigoo”

“Mianhae, Soojinah. Eonnie hasn’t checked on you for awhile”

“Eonnie, I’m doing well. Actually... I think I might even be pregnant” my eyes widened as I pulled back, just enough to see her entirely, biting her lip in excitement

“J-jinjja?!? Omo!!! Ottoke” I panicked, covering my mouth, not wanting to be loud.

“Ya, you need to go home! Get some rest and eat more, aigoo, your shirt is too loose--ottoke--I should buy you vitamins--have you gone to your doctor--is Youngjae taking care of you???”

It was never ending; the storm of emotions, pleasant ones at least, were hard to conceal.

“Dae, dae. Everything is in order and yes, Youngjae has been pampering me more than ever since I told him.”

“Geureom, now it’s time for you to go home. I’ll have the company driver drop you off, no ifs, no buts!”

“Ahhh jamkkanman! Let me just take this upstairs to Director Kang, he needs this by today.”

“What is it?” Reaching out my hand towards her, I asked for the folder she almost didn’t want to give.

“It’s the script you approved for the Innis Free commercial they’re shooting on Monday with Song Hye Kyo.” She continued, allowing me to check the contents of the envelope.

“Arasseo, I’ll take care of it”

“Ani, it’s okay. It’ll only take ten minutes to drop it off.”

“Ani, kwenchana, I haven’t seen Director Kang in awhile. I’d like to say hi, we are good friends after all”

Finally, she gave in, letting go of the duty, permitting me to deliver it to Director Kang personally.

Your two-floor walk wasn’t too bad considering you took the stairs, adding an extra cardio exercise to your day. Plus, your phone ringing three times before you stepped inside the studio room where Director Kang was working. The last phone call ended just in time for you to spot him standing on one corner, his back faced against you. The excitement you felt was indescribable, waiting to see a good friend of yours after almost a year. You could hear his soothing, yet very manly voice as you drew closer. Apparently, he was having a casual conversation with several bodies who were seated in front of him, covered by the equipment.

“Ehem. Annyeonghaseyo, PDnim”

You sounded, folding your lips, waiting for Director Kang to turn.

However, the knot of excitement brewing in your stomach wasn’t meant for him—his body shift revealed the perfect view of three handsome faces, ones which were covered by the speakers and cameras earlier. Their eyes, same as yours, were startled, poignant and unsure.

“Ya!!! Jeongmal, wah. Is this really you, Y/N?”

“A-ah d-dae” you giggled nervously, ungluing your eyes from the sight that had greeted you with memories of the past.

“Wah, jinjja, how long has it been? You’re one of the big fishes now. It’s almost impossible to meet you personally in and outside work”

“You’re overly exaggerating, I came to see you didn’t I? I even brought your script for you” you responded casually, handing him the folder which he took a peek at.

“Did it pass your standards, gwanjangnim?” Director Kang asked teasingly.

“Geureomyo~ you’re a hard one to say no to” you said friskily.

“Ah, before you leave, let me introduce you to a few people. I’m sure you’ll bump heads in this industry soon.”

Again, the attention that was spared for earlier had been redirected, although this time, the air had gotten more natural than dense.

“Yeoreobun, I’d like to introduce you to a good friend of mine, we interned together back in the days, this is Y/N.

—Y/N, I’m almost sure you know who they are but I’d personally like to introduce them to you. 방탄소년단 members, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok”

Namjoon’s POV

We sat quietly, listening to the exchange of words between Director Kang and Y/N. The Y/N who we haven’t heard from or seen in a long time. Hoseok and Jin-hyung kept still, though I could sense the tinge of awkwardness from them. Who is there to blame? This was too much of an unexpected encounter, none of us saw it coming. Minutes later the stilted aura began to subside, right before Director Kang introduced us to each other. The three of us looked at her warmly, like a silent “have you been well” from our end, she did the same. Before we even had the chance to exchange greetings, Director Kang excused himself, attending to one of the staff who needed clarification at the other end of the room.

“Have you been well?” She asked.

“Oh” Hoseok answered, nodding his head as he smiled subtly.

“How long has it been? Three? Four?” Jin-hyung, now making an effort to keep the conversation going approached rather gently, unlike his usual loud greeting. It was a happy one though.

“Five, actually” a weak but tender smile slipped from her lips.

I kept a steady eye on her, her tiny face and flowy dress, the firmness in her tone when she spoke, the way she carried herself. She looked different, but she felt the same. The same Y/N we loved and cared for in the past.

“It’s nice seeing you, Namjoonssi” startled, I shook my head, eyes blinking nervously which I managed to control right away.

“Likewise, Y/N” I muttered back, bowing my head slightly for formality, though unecessary.

“Where have you been all these years?” Hobi asked.

“Just here really. I went back to school since the um— since the incident”

“Ah. I see, I see” Hobi, again, replied while Jin-hyung and myself continued to nod our heads.

Jin-hyung attempted to ask another question which was interrupted out of the blue by a groaning, irritated voice.

“Jin-hyung, did you bring your headache pill?” A moaning Yoongi entered from the corner, rubbing his forehead roughly with his right hand. He didn’t notice Y/N’s presence until he turned his back on us, facing towards her. His face sourer at the sight. No greetings were heard from the both of them. Y/N stood awkwardly, almost looking like she wanted to initiate a wholesome conversation, however Yoongi was the complete opposite—purposely refusing to spare her a glance, looking in all other directions but hers. We waited gruesomely for Jin-hyung to come back with the pill.

“Yeogi” Jin-hyung handed him two pills, passing him a bottle of water with it.

“Kwenchana? How many more do you have to do?” Asked Jin-hyung.

“Seven more.” Yoongi answered dully.

“Seven?! Ya, you don’t look so good. Sit down for awhile”

They were referring to the number of scenes Yoongi still had to finish. A moment of silence occurred as we watched him gulp half a bottle of water, wiping the remnants off his lips.

“If I had started on time, I wouldn’t have to deal with all this.” He spat using his words, putting no effort in hiding his vexation.

“Ya, ya. Hajima, it’ll only worsen your headache.” Jin-hyung tried to ease him, before the situation escalated, attempting to massage Yoongi’s tensed shoulders. However, it didn’t stop him. Of course...when did anything ever when he was mad? A sardonic grunt he let out.

“Ani. I’m not going to have all these people wait for my personal reasons. Isn’t it a mockery for professionals to cause delays so they can attend to other affairs?”

I noticed Y/N’s eyes drooping. It was obviously directed towards her, Yoongi made sure she knew that.

“I—” again, with a disgusting tone, indirectly addressing what he had to say

“—personally can’t stand people who waste my time. Especially when they didn’t deserve it in the first place.” With that said, he left.

It was hard not to catch the frustration drawn across Jin-hyung’s handsome face. Hoseok sighed, head turning left and right.

“Mian, Y/N. He hasn’t been sleeping well these past days” said Jin-hyung, shifting his attention to Y/N who was forcing a smile despite the awkwardness. She waited for Director Kang to return then left.

Sometime after her departure, a well-built man in a black suit hurriedly ran towards where we were, hunched back as he struggled to catch his breath. Upon regaining composure, he introduced himself as Mr. Park Il Sung, head of the security department and right away explained the sudden situation.

“Joesonghabnida, I didn’t mean to startle you. We were told that gwangjangnim was last seen in this studio. Do you, by chance, know where she had gone?”

Director Kang looked at him with dewy-eyes before responding.

“Ah, Y/N? D-dae, she just left a little while ago”

“What’s going on?” before the conversation resumed, Yoongi happened to arrive, perhaps to grab a bottle of water from the food station nearby.

“Gabjagi...wae?” Inquired director Kang towards the security personnel.

“Her vehicle has been hit and run in the parking lot. We wanted to let her know ahead of time.”

Y/N’s POV

“Ani, kwenchana. I sent the company driver elsewhere. Please don’t worry about the matter. I’ll manage to get home safely. Kamsahambnida, Mr. Park” I sighed, trying to relax myself as I ended the three minute call.

I had just been told that my vehicle, which was just returned from the shop after my morning incident, was hit and run at the parking lot. The security personnel had already arranged for it to be investigated and repaired, although they insisted I was brought home by the company driver who I sent to bring Soojin home.

“Grae, this maybe an opportunity for me to experience an old life of mine” I whispered to myself, walking towards the bus stop which I had not been to in years.

The dinner table was unusually quiet tonight with merely the sound of slurped soup and chopstick clanking heard instead of voices. Everyone was just...hungry after a restless day. They were all quick to tidy up. Maknaes were first to leave the kitchen of course, Jungkook and Taehyung going back to their game dens, Jimin watching a movie by the living room. Namjoon had not left the dinning room table, fiddling with his phone with a cup of hot tea sitting in front of him. Hoseok took a seat across him, easing his body from doing the dishes. And of course, Jin taking out an entire case of beer from the fridge. Hence, the drinking began.

“How’s your headache?” Asked Seokjin with a sour face, slumping his third can onto the marble.

“Better that it was” responded Yoongi almost emotionless.

“Geundae..earlier” Hoseok, with his head tilted sideways, apparently had something he wanted to discuss but could not deliver through. But the silence eventually unfolded the topic. They all knew what he was pertaining to.

Yoongi cleared his throat, drawing all eyes on him.

“What?” As always, dodging the subject with his indifference.

“Ya! Hajima. Do you really think we’re that naive? Stop acting like you don’t know, we’ve lived together for years. We know just about every layer of skin you have” snarled the eldest, annoyed at the dumb-play of his dongsaeng.

“Geurotchi! Aigo! How could you be so harsh to her?” Hoseok’s face drew all sorts of expressions all over it as he protested. Namjoon only watched.

Yoongi could neither disagree or agree to how they had reacted, remembering the inhumane things he had said to you earlier. Had he known that a flat tire was the cause of your delay, he would not have said the things he did. Also, overhearing Mr. Park’s conversation with you over the phone regarding your hit-and-ran vehicle did not aid his guilt.

“I believe she deserves an apology, hyung” spoke Namjoon neutrally, remaining considerate to both parties.

At this point, they had already ganged up on him, rubbing his fault directly on his face. Barely giving him a chance to speak.

“Ara, ara—“ responded Min Yoongi in defeat. Clearing his throat, avoiding any eye contact.

“—I’ll apologize when I see her tomorrow” he said quietly.

All of a sudden, he felt three wide-eyed glares cornering him. This was just frustrating.

“You do know you won’t be on the show for a week, right?”

Yoongi eyed Namjoon dumbfounded. No response, whatsoever.

This gave him away. He forgot.

“Tsk, jinjja—” huffed Jin sarcastically, not sure how to react to his oblivion.

“—Ya, Min Yoongi....we’re scheduled for Japan next week”

#bts #bts fanfiction #min yoongi #bts yoongi #suga #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #monsta x jooheon #lee jooheon #monsta x fanfiction #min yoongi fanfiction #bts suga

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chrisbbaegopayo · 6 years

Text

The Universe is magical ❀ Bang Chan

Slice of Life; University AU Chan x you 1868 words

Hungry and tired, she makes her way to the 24-hour convenience store and has her own ‘the universe is magical’ encounter. It’s the small things that matter most.

Sometimes she's not even sure why she picked astrophysics as her major in the first place. The course has taken a nosedive and the materials have gotten harder and harder, with more technical formulas and complicated calculations. On top of that, the existence of the month-long project that had been assigned is causing all sorts of headaches and long nights without sleep. She feels like she could really take a long month-long break away from all the numbers, but reality seems to have other plans for her as she messily writes down the calculations to measure the nearest exoplanet rotation.

Truthfully, her love for astrophysics stems from her love of stargazing, and the desire to pursue the vastness of outer space. She can't imagine it any other way. The lure of the twinkly specs in the sky has her choosing all the hard courses in university, despite her distaste for mathematics, but nevertheless, she manages to stay alive throughout three years of numbers and headaches—she isn't going to fail now.

Back to her project. It's quite appalling. This year, the professors decided to take a different approach, and view things on site instead of through simulations. She tries her best to attend every outdoor session, but sometimes her schedule doesn't permit flexibility. She's had to borrow her classmate's data a few times, and sometimes she loathes her classmate's inability to write legibly.

She can't choose, and she has to make do with what she has.

She does her best to make the best estimate of the calculations and with the provided formulas to calculate distances and speed, she works busily into the night without even realizing it. And much like the other students who don't have the luxury of having a roommate who goes shopping for groceries often, between the three of them, they're absolutely broke and lazy. She's usually the one who has to go on grocery runs.

Not that she has been on one for the past week—she's been living on packs of ramen noodles and soda that her roommate manages to snag in a 4-for-1 sale.

As of yesterday, she has officially run out of food—no noodles, no soda, no snacks, and no candy. She's maybe gotten up to get water once. Once.

When the project is finally done, and she leans back against the swivel chair that her parents bought for her, she realizes that it's 2:50am in the morning. Her body finally catches up to her, and she finally feels the effect of not eating for the past however long it has been. It's been a long day, definitely, but maybe it's time to get some food.

She slowly pushes herself off from her chair and drags herself to the cabinets where the food should be, and the sight that greets her is less than favourable. There is barely anything other than condiments, and dry cheese powder that her roommate stuck in there.

Oh, right, and two pieces of gum. She doesn't even know how someone can buy two pieces of gum.

Her stomach groans once more and she's painfully reminded of how hungry she is. Unfortunately, no shops are open, and the only thing that's open is that 24-hour convenience store she's been avoiding for the past month. It's shady, according to her roommate's friend, and she hasn't gotten to be that desperate yet.

Seems like it would be the best option at the moment, seeing how it's the only option that she has.

It's probably the best thing I have right now, she thought as she slips on her shoes and a light jacket. If they had ramen, she would be the happiest person on earth because she's terribly famished.

She makes her way to the 24-hour convenience store and notes that they had fixed the neon light signs that was previously broken. Perhaps it's not that bad, she thinks, as pushes the door open, and the little bell on top of the door jingles. Luckily for her, she doesn't notice anyone too bothered by her sudden appearance and makes her way to the ramen aisle.

They're like solid gold, sitting on the shelves, just shining like the treasure that they are—she couldn't be any happier. Quickly grabbing a random pack of ramen-in-a-cup, she dashes to the cashier and buys it on the spot. She says her thanks and helps herself to the hot water on the table.

Thank goodness.

Within minutes, she can already smell the flavouring of the ramen she chose, and instantly, her stomach groans in anticipation. Without much patience, she sits at a table and stuffs the noodles into her mouth, not particularly caring about how she looks or what it tastes like.

She needs food now.

But like anything, food requires some time to cool, but she has to learn that the hard way today.

"Ow--!"

It's not particularly pleasurable, and she's almost in tears. Thank goodness she didn't toss her noodles with the pain, otherwise, it will be worse, much worse.

Her yelp of pain seems to have caught the attention of someone sitting a table down, and he passes a cup of water to her.

"Here," he starts, looking rather sympathetic at her, "have some water."

She thanks the guy and takes the water, gulping it down, not caring particularly about hygiene, because honestly, who cares about that when your mouth is in deep pain, not to mention that the ramen is spicy, too, that definitely helps.

And after much painstaking effort salvage whatever taste buds she has left, she returns the cup the stranger, who looks visibly concerned.

"Thanks."

He waves his hand, as a smile appearing on his face. "You need to slow down, you're going to hurt yourself."

She was going to reply with something sarcastic but seeing the hint of concern still apparent, she offers a small but sheepish smile. "It's hard when you haven't eaten for a day."

Whoa, where is the filter today?

But it doesn't seem to faze him too much as the smile he had on previously mirrors hers. "Yeah, I know how that feels."

Wait, what? "No way, seriously?" I thought I was the only one who would forget eating in favour of finishing school work.

"Yeah," he offers as he pokes at his noodles aimlessly, "sometimes life can be demanding."

She almost rolls her eyes at that comment, but the smile remains on her face. "Well, I have school, what's your excuse?"

He shrugs, poking at his noodles some more, "same here." He pauses for a moment, and adds, "music major. You?"

"Astrophysics."

He looks visibly shocked. "Astrophysics?"

"Yeah." She decides she's not sure whether she likes his tone, but then again, it's 3am in the morning, and no one is really in a suitable state to be doing much judging. It's probably just the night mood. "I do space calculations and stuff."

He nods, "I figured that would be the case, it's pretty cool."

She shakes her head a little bit, "I don't know about cool, but it has its ups and downs, for sure."

A moment of silence rings between the two of them before he perks up a little, looking a little more apologetic, although she's not sure why.

"Oh, sorry," he scoots over and offers her a hand, "my name is Bang Chan."

Ah, she thinks, that's why. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that, I'm Y/N." And she gives the hand a firm shake, looking a lot better. It's kind of nice to see someone else who has the predicament as you are, and though that sounds rather nasty on her part, she's kind of glad she's not alone.

He gestures to the seat beside her, "do you mind if I..?"

She shakes her head, "no, not at all, please."

By now, her noodles are cooler, and at a much better temperature for her to eat, and not particularly caring whether there's an audience, she shoves the noodles into her mouth, this time, without all the yelping. It's so good like this, and the spiciness doesn't bother her that much anymore.

"You must have been really hungry, huh?" She hears him talk, and she gulps down the bit she has in her mouth, and nods.

"Yeah," she replies, "I was too busy working on my assignment, it's super terrible. I haven't had time to go shopping because I've been so busy."

He nods in understanding, "yeah, same here."

He thinks for a moment, and adds, "my roommate never has any food because he always eats it all."

She laughs, "what's with this situation about roommates, anyway? My roommate always makes me go get the groceries, terrible."

He shrugs, "I don’t know, maybe it's a thing." Then he laughs. And he's got a great laugh, she thinks. It's kind of charming, now, that she's not as hungry as before. He himself is just charming in general.

It's a silence, but also kind of awkward, especially now with this newfound knowledge and opinion she's formed about him, and she doesn't really know what to say next. But he breaks the silence, and she's not sure whether she's glad or not.

"We got the same ramen flavour." He points to her cup of noodles and his own. "You like this, too?"

I just grabbed it off the shelf, she thinks to herself, but yes, I do like this flavour quite a bit.

"I normally do like spicy foods, but today I just grabbed this off the shelf."

He gives her a sheepish smile, and it's the first time she's noticed his cute dimples. "Me too, what a coincidence."

And it's his jovial laughter that truly captivates her. "Wow, what are the chances?"

He hums, smiles still in toll. "The universe is magical," he seems to be thinking out loud, but he's definitely talking to her. "But you would know all about that, right?"

And her smile brightens. "Hey, I deal with calculations, not third-grade magic tricks."

That seems to set him off in a fit of laughter. "Hey, I happen to like third-grade magic tricks."

She sends him a look. "Of course you do."

"Hey, I do!" He starts, a bit of playful defensiveness lacing his tone, "but anyway, it's 4. I better head back. You should, too."

She nods as she finishes the last of her noodles. "Yeah, you're right."

He stands in his spot, and she's not sure whether he's waiting for her to say something, but she stares on, unsure of her next steps. She's sure she should go home at this point, but…

He only gives her a kind smile, and it's much softer than before, and even in the well-lit store, she's sure she can see him glowing. She thinks that she's looking forward to seeing him again, but it seems like it might be a one-time thing.

She recalls what he said earlier and thinks to herself, he's cute.

And yet, despite all that thinking, it's him who breaks the silence, yet again.

"I guess," he starts, his smile seemingly growing with every word, "maybe I'll see you again one day at 3am in the morning?"

Her face breaks into a smile, mirroring his. "Yeah."

#stray kids #kpop scenarios #bang chan #chan #university au #fanfic

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