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ming-yu-hao · 3 years

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Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder | Chapter 1

Pairing: fratboy!mingyu x female reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Synopsis: When you transferred to a different university, you and Wonwoo promised that you would make long distance work. But distance proves to be more difficult than you both originally thought.

This Chapter’s Tags: some angst ig, light cheating? (not really lol), mingyu is just flirty, female masturbation, mentions of alcohol and weed

Warning: THIS SERIES IS ABOUT CHEATING. DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE!

A/N: it’s gonna get spicy soon just trust me ;)

Chapters: Next | Masterlist

30 minutes. That's how long you had spent anxiously perched in front of your computer, waiting for the familiar ring of the video call to echo through the speakers. You cycled between scrolling through social media, checking your reflection in the camera, and debating on whether or not to text Wonwoo. You understood that he was busy; it wasn't unusual for either of you to call a few minutes later than you had originally planned. But Wonwoo had never left you hanging for this long without an explanation. Normally, your mind would begin to fixate on the worst case scenario, but Wonwoo had already cancelled on you the past two weeks because he was busy working.

The loud vibration of your phone against your desk drew you out of your thoughts, and you hurriedly picked it up and saw Wonwoo's name glowing across the screen. "Hello?" You answered quickly.

"Hey," Wonwoo's deep voice sounded through the phone. "You're gonna hate me," He chuckled.

"I could never," You replied. You already knew the next words that were going to come out of his mouth.

"I can't FaceTime tonight." He explained. Even though you saw it coming, you couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that weighed heavy on your chest.

Your eyes met with the reflection displayed on the laptop screen. It taunted you, reminding you that Wonwoo's face wouldn't be there to replace it once again. "Well, I would be a lot happier right now if you told me that half an hour ago," You laughed bitterly. Running a hand through your hair, you quietly sighed.

"I know. I'm sorry." Wonwoo apologized. His voice was laced with genuine sorrow; you could clearly picture the frown that lined his lips right now. He added after a moment of silence, "I don't wanna keep doing this to you, so I think we should change our date day. I've been working more Fridays lately."

You nodded despite him not being able to see you and hummed in agreement. "What day then?" You asked.

"I'm not sure yet. I still have to figure out my schedule. Just text me what works for you and I'll let you know soon, okay?" He sighed.

"Oh, okay... yeah." Your lips drew into a tighter line with each word he spoke.

"Okay, I have to get to get back to work right now. I'm sorry again." He continued quickly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The three tones signaled the end of the call, and slowly you pulled the phone away from your ear. Your tired reflection stared back at you. Finally, you shut the computer for the third Friday in a row.

The remainder of the weekend passed and you had barely heard anything from Wonwoo except for the usual good morning and goodnight texts. By the time Wednesday came around, the both of you finally agreed that Saturday could be your new set day for FaceTime dates. You powered through the rest of the week, and on Saturday you excitedly set aside all the work from your classes and waited patiently for Wonwoo to call.

You really missed him. It'd been just over two months now since you last saw him in person, when you moved into your dorm at a university three hours away from the one where you and Wonwoo met. He stayed behind while you transferred to a college with a renowned journalism program. At first, you were hesitant to leave him, but Wonwoo refused to let you give up such a great opportunity just to stay close to him. That was what you loved about him: he wanted to see you be happy and successful.

Situating yourself comfortably on the bed, you pulled up some random Netflix series to entertain yourself while waiting for Wonwoo. You only half paid attention, glancing between the computer screen and your Instagram feed on your phone. Time crawled, and slowly you sunk deeper into the softness of the mattress below.

Cold, small hands shook you awake. You rubbed your eyes and sat up, disoriented. The series you were watching was still playing quietly. Your roommate, Jisoo, stood next to your bed with her arms crossed over her chest. She stared at you with a raised eyebrow. "You're passed out by 7 on a Saturday night?" A teasing smile was displayed across her face as she shut your laptop.

You suddenly realized that it was an hour past the time that Wonwoo had promised to FaceTime you. Your heart sunk in your chest as you thought about how you probably missed his call without an explanation. You picked up your phone, but quickly noticed the notification for a missed phone call from him, followed by a text that said: I'm so sorry, something came up I promise I'll call you tomorrow.

Jisoo surveyed you for a moment; a more serious expression began to cross her features. She sat down at the bottom of your bed. "Did something happen?"

You rolled your eyes and looked down at your hands. "Wonwoo cancelled on me again," You sighed, "But I shouldn't be mad at him for it. It's not his fault he's busy."

Jisoo tsked and patted your leg through the sheets. "Of course you can be upset! How many times has it been now?"

"This entire month. And he always cancels super late."

She scoffed, "See! That's shitty. If this was the first time it wouldn't have been a big deal. But four times?" She stood up quickly and opened up her wardrobe. "If he wants long distance to work, he needs to have better communication."

"Yeah, I guess." You replied. Jisoo held a black top up to her figure, observing herself in the mirror. "Where are you going?" You inquired.

"A party at the SVT frat. You know any of them?" She explained while changing her outfit.

You had heard of the frat before, but you racked your brain for any of their names and couldn't remember one. "I don't think so."

Jisoo faced you again and smiled. "Well, let's go."

You chuckled, "No way."

She pouted. "Come on. You haven't gone out with me I'm so long. You're in college!" Jisoo begged. "Just this once. You'll have fun."

Jisoo had a point. You really had nothing else better to do besides sit around and mope over Wonwoo ditching you. You let out an exhasperated sigh of defeat, "Fine, I'll go."

"Yes! Go get all cute and dressed up." She cheered.

You emerged from your bed and strolled over to your own closet. "Alright, I'll be quick."

You and Jisoo walked into the party hand in hand. Immediately, the stench of weed and sweat overwhelmed you. Loud music vibrated through the walls of the house and clashed with the sounds of people cheering and yelling. An intense game of beer pong captured the attention of most people in the main room, but you could see a separate crowd gathered in the kitchen too.

"Who do you know here again?" You shouted over the music at Jisoo, not seeing a single person you recognized so far.

She leaned closer to you so you could hear. "Choi Seungcheol. I have a chemistry class with him." She scanned the room and suddenly perked up. "Oh, there he is!" She called his name and pulled you along with her towards him.

He stood against the wall with a red cup in his hand, talking with another tall boy. At the call of his name, he looked over at the two of you and smiled brightly. "Jisoo! I'm so happy you made it." He exclaimed while wrapping his arm around her lower back. Seungcheol watched you with kind eyes as you approached him. "And who is this?" He asked Jisoo.

"This is my roommate, Y/N. Y/N, this is Seungcheol." She introduced you both and you smiled and gave a small wave to the two boys.

The other boy flashed you a sweet smile that caused his eyes to form into crescents. "I'm Seokmin. I live here with Cheol." He explained.

All four of you continued to converse casually until Seungcheol pointed to you and Seokmin and said, "Hey, why don't you two go get some drinks? We'll wait here." You swore you saw a gleam of mischief in his eyes, and you quickly glanced at Jisoo to see if she noticed it too, but her expression remained neutral. This was exactly why you strayed away from parties. You wanted to avoid any encounters with flirty, drunk frat boys. But Jisoo, who was basically a mind reader, didn't react, so maybe you were just being overly paranoid.

You nodded and walked over to the kitchen, Seokmin following close behind, and watched as he began to mix some drinks together for the four of you. He let out a frustrated sigh as one of the bottles of liquor reached its end. Seokmin peeked over his shoulder and shouted, "Mingyu! Can you get me the other bottle of vodka?" You perked up at the familiar-sounding name, but couldn't remember where you had heard it before.

A moment later a presence approached you and Seokmin from behind and set the bottle down on the counter. "Now you have to make me one too," The deep voice joked. You turned around and immediately recognized the tall figure.

"Mingyu?" You called out in surprise.

His eyes dragged over and met yours. His face lit up instantly as he recognized you. "Y/N! What are you doing here?" Mingyu laughed.

Seokmin turned around and handed a cup to Mingyu with a raised eyebrow. "You guys know each other?" He questioned.

You grabbed your own cup and took a sip of the bittersweet mixture. "Yeah, we have a digital media class together." You said before smirking at Mingyu. "I didn't think you were the frat boy type."

Mingyu rested his right hand on the counter beside you, almost trapping you in between the wood and his body. "I guess I'm just full of surprises," He replied.

You felt your heart flutter in your chest at his flirty response. This was a whole new side of him that you had never seen before in class. Granted, he was most likely tipsy and maybe even a bit high, but in class he was usually polite and reserved. He cracked jokes with you sometimes, but you never expected him to be so bold. On top of that, he always had his hair styled back neatly. Now, his dark hair fell over his forehead in messy curls. His skin was sheathed in a light layer of sweat, and the muscles in his arms and chest were suddenly more prominent under his white tee in the dim light of the house. You had to admit, he was ridiculously attractive.

"I'm gonna go give this to Cheol and Jisoo," Seokmin interrupted before leaving the kitchen with both cups in his hands.

Silently, you started behind him and Mingyu walked with you. "So what are you doing here?" He asked again as the two of you rounded the corner and entered the living room.

"My roommate was invited and made me go with her," You told him. You continued to sip your drink, basking in the warm feeling that the alcohol left in your chest.

"Makes sense. I didn't expect you to be a party girl." He teased. His arm slowly snaked around your waist and squeezed your hip lightly. Your skin tingled beneath his touch but you didn't give him any physical reaction, opting to just ignore the grip he had on you.

Your jaw dropped in a fake gasp. "You think I'm boring or something?" You narrowed your eyes at him and he chuckled.

"I never said that," He responded with a smirk on his lips.

Seungcheol and Jisoo had migrated from the spot where they previously stood, so you scanned the crowded room for the long haired girl. Finally you noticed her sitting close to Seungcheol on the couch. You could see they were laughing about something and considering Seokmin wasn't hovering near them anymore either, you decided to leave them be.

Mingyu noticed where you were looking and raised his eyebrows at you when you turned back to look at him. "Well, I guess my roommate is busy," You rolled your eyes.

You had forgotten about Mingyu's hand on your waist until he squeezed it again. "Good thing you have me then," He bantered. Your skin flushed; you slightly leaned into his touch. It had been so long since you felt someone else's hands roam across your body. You missed the feeling.

Mingyu slowly pulled your body closer to his until your chest was centimeters away. You gulped and dragged your eyes up to meet his. He stared at you intensely, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek. Your breathing hitched as he ran his thumb over your bottom lip. "You're so pretty," He muttered. It felt like fire had lit up your entire body. Your nerves tingled and your brain felt fuzzy and you hated to admit it but you could feel arousal growing between your legs. Somehow Mingyu pulled you even closer than before and you felt his hard cock brush against your thigh through his jeans. His tongue darted out against his lips and he inched his face towards yours. "Can I kiss you?" He whispered just inches away from you lips.

Guilt imprisoned you as soon as he said those words. They reminded you of where you were, and what you were planning on doing. You closed your eyes and pulled yourself out of his grasp. "I have a boyfriend," You admitted briskly.

Mingyu stared at you in confusion. "What?"

Shame overtook you. Wonwoo had trusted you to remain loyal, and here you were at a frat party, leading on some poor boy from your class.

Mingyu lightly grabbed your wrist. "Hey, I'm sorry. I should've asked-" He started, but you quickly cut him off.

"No, I'm sorry. This is my fault." You apologized and pulled your wrist out of his grasp. You looked at him; he stared at you with a sorrowful gaze. The regret on your face was evident and he knew that he had helped in bringing this guilt upon you.

"I- I have to go do something," You added before turning around and darting towards the door. You didn't bother to turn around or look for Jisoo, you just needed to get out of there as fast as possible. Once you were outside, you inhaled a sharp breath and pulled out your phone to call for an Uber. You waited near the street, sending a text to Jisoo to let her know that you felt sick and went home while you waited.

Eventually the Uber pulled up and you hurriedly sat down and told the driver where to go. You breathed a sigh of relief as they finally pulled away from the frat.

The drive was short, but you spent every one of those few minutes replaying the night's events in your mind. Your flesh still tingled in the places where Mingyu had touched you. Guilt haunted you, but you attempted to lessen that burden by reasoning with yourself. You missed Wonwoo. A lot. You missed hearing his voice and seeing his face and of course feeling his touch against your skin. You hadn't been fucked in over two months now, so it was no wonder that any bit of physical affection would have such a strong effect on you. What mattered is that you stopped it before anything happened. You could live with that, you decided. All you had to do now was just clear up things with Mingyu next week, deal with any awkwardness between you two, and focus on Wonwoo.

When you arrived at your dorm, you quickly changed your clothes, cleansing yourself of the faint smell of weed and the remnants of Mingyu's touch. Not long after, exhaustion began to take over your body. You laid down on the bed, not even bothering to check your phone before closing your eyes and letting sleep overcome you.

You weren't sure what time you fell asleep, but you awoke some time later and glanced at the clock. 11:54 PM. You stretched your arms behind your head and yawned as you scanned the room. Jisoo was still gone. You closed your eyes again and tried to fall back asleep, but your mind began to race.

You could clearly picture Mingyu's lust-filled eyes staring down at you, his hands running over your waist and pulling you towards the heat of his body. The glow of his skin, the messy curls hanging over his forehead, the fullness of his lips as he asked in his husky voice if he could kiss you—the images and sensations swirled around in your thoughts.

In a half asleep daze, you rubbed your thighs together. Friction built between your legs. You groaned quietly as your mind revisited how you felt when Mingyu's hands were on your body. More arousal began to pool in your heat, your underwear clinging to your wetness.

Languidly, you ran your hand down your stomach and toyed with the hem of your underwear before slowly pulling the fabric down your legs. You imagined Mingyu's sharp eyes staring at you from between your thighs as you ran your fingers through your slick folds. Arousal coated your fingers and you began to rub your clit in slow circles. You pretended that Mingyu's thick fingers were the ones teasing your clit, making your legs jolt each time you pressed the right spot.

You moaned quietly and began to grope your own breast. You squeezed and flicked your nipple, causing a quiet gasp to fall from your lips. You pulled your hand away from your clit and slowly pushed two fingers into your dripping heat. "Mmh, Mingyu," You groaned under your breath. You imagined his deep voice saying the dirtiest things to you as he pumped and curled his fingers into your pussy.

You gasped as you hit a particular spot that made you arch your lower back. You continued pumping your fingers at a fast pace until the knot building in your lower stomach snapped. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a sharp whine as an intense feeling of euphoria washed over your body.

Your body relaxed against the sheets as your heart rate began to slow and exhaustion overtook you once again. You sighed contently and wrapped yourself in your blankets, allowing yourself to drift off to sleep.

You promised yourself that you would never do that again.

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astralaffairs · 4 years

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voltaire to versace 02 | thomas jefferson

title: voltaire to versace 02

pairing: professor!thomas jefferson x reader

words: 8.7k

warnings: honestly not much. sex jokes n references, dolley simping for james, broke college student meals

desc: from francis bacon to foucault, descartes to dante, your political philosophy seminar doesn’t promise to be a blowout — and yet, one mysterious stranger and a risqué evening later, your burberry-clad professor gives you the feeling it won’t be quite the snoozefest you’d expected.

tags: @lunariasilver @tinywhim @nyxie75 @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @checkurwindow @katierpblogg — let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

"Dolley, holy shit; please tell me you're already home." Y/N's words were breathless as she hurried across the quad, muttering under her breath into her phone. She'd darted out of her lecture hall the moment they'd been dismissed, having no desire to stick around for the confrontation she knew was inevitable.

"I'm just getting out of class, dear," Dolley responded, but when she continued, her words were teasing. "What sort of trouble did you manage to get yourself into while I was gone?"

"I cannot begin to explain." Y/N let out a huff, glancing over her shoulder and ducking her head as she whispered, "but it's not good."

"Oh, good lord, Y/N; I was joking." She could hear the genuine worry begin to creep into Dolley's voice and couldn't help but wince.

"Yeah, I wish I was, too." She chalked the subsequent rush of static through the line up to Dolley's sigh. "Where are you right now? Can I meet you somewhere?"

"Want to go to dinner?"

"Too broke for that."

"Packaged ramen from the drugstore on the east side of campus?"

"Now you're speaking my language." Y/N grinned, and she could only picture Dolley rolling her eyes from wherever she was. "I'll be there in a few."

"You'd better. I can't wait much longer to hear what sort of nonsense you've been up to."

"You slept with a professor?!"

"Shh, Doll; not so loud," Y/N hissed, pulling her back into the soda aisle and frantically checking for any prurient eavesdroppers. Her voice was low when she added, "It was the guy at the bar last night. I had no idea he was a professor here."

Dolley let out a dry, disbelieving laugh, pinching the bridge of her nose. "This is... a mess."

"You're telling me."

"So, what's the plan going to be?"

When Dolley folded her arms, raising an amused eyebrow (a little too amused, in Y/N's humble opinion), but Y/N furrowed her brow. "What d'you mean, 'what's the plan?'"

"What are you going to do the next time you run into him?" Dolley asked. There was a pause; Y/N hadn't thought that far. "You don't really think you can make it through the semester ignoring this, do you?"

"I... Maybe? I don't know!" Y/N let out a frustrated huff. "That's what I need you to help me figure out. What else are you here for?"

"Oh, you make an excellent point," Dolley sighed. "All I do is pay half the rent and help you get laid at bars downtown."

Y/N scowled. "You helped me get laid by a professor. Just help me."

"Mmh, I don't think I heard a 'please' in there."

"Please, Dolley, my white knight to whom I owe my life," she pleaded, clutching her roommates arm and sighing wistfully. Dolley's lips were pressed into a line, but that didn't stop her smile from showing through. "I would be nothing without you; just please, do me this one final favor."

"Alright, alright," she conceded with a huff, shaking free from Y/N's grip. "Drama queen."

Y/N shrugged shamelessly. "I bring excitement into your life. Don't be ungrateful."

"Whatever you say, dear." The defeat in her words made Y/N grin. "So back to your excitement, then."

"I'm so lost," Y/N groaned, finally emerging from the soda aisle with shoulders slumped in defeat. "If the sex hadn't been so good, I'd probably just pretend it never happened."

Dolley creased her brow. "Was it really that good?"

Y/N turned to her with a serious demeanor, a hand on her shoulder as she looked her in the eye. "Dolley. I am covered in hickeys from my neck to my hips. That man damn near threw my back out. I won't bullshit you; there's no way I'm gonna be able to sit comfortably for—"

"Okay, alright! A 'yes' would've sufficed," Dolley cut her off, pushing past her to the shelf of instant noodles. Y/N looked disproportionately self-satisfied when she followed. "That's about enough details for one evening."

"You asked!"

"But you can't spend the entire semester ignoring him, Y/N," Dolley continued, ignoring her words. "That class is notoriously difficult — the only people I know who didn't frequent his office hours were the ones who got 'C's."

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples as her roommate pushed cup after cup of beef ramen into her basket. "So then shouldn't I just put this whole thing behind me? I can't really start asking him to help me analyze Kant if I open the conversation with, 'hey, good to see you again, you're almost as good at teaching as you are in bed.'"

Dolley laughed at her dry tone. "I don't mean that, of course."

"Then what do you mean?"

"If you never agree to put this all behind you, I think it's going to be on both of your minds for the rest of the semester," she said matter-of-factly, hesitating when the freezer at the side of the room caught her gaze. "Should we pick up pizza rolls, too?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course we should," Y/N scoffed, brushing past her toward the Totino's section. "But if he and I both just ignore it, wouldn't that be an easier way to put it behind us?"

"Oh, grab a bag of the cheeseburger flavor, would you?" Dolley leaned in to look over Y/N's shoulder, ignoring her words altogether, and she glanced back with a raised eyebrow.

"Can you focus for five seconds?" She dropped three bags of pizza rolls — pepperoni flavor — into her basket with a huff. "Anyway, the cheeseburger flavor is disgusting. Get some taste."

"Don't discount the nostalgia of it!"

"Dolley." Y/N fixed her with a pointed look, and she sighed.

"We both know ignoring it is a poor idea, even if it is the easier option." Dolley didn't waste a second in pushing right past Y/N when she stood, grabbing a bag of the cheeseburger pizza rolls (an oxymoron in itself, as Y/N would've told her) before the freezer door could fall shut. "Just talk to him after class one day. Don't make it take more than five minutes."

"I don't even know where I'd start with that. I've dealt with awkward fallout from one-night stands before, but never with a professor." Her footsteps stalled within the last yard of the frozen section. "I've just gotta ignore it and focus on the coursework, Dolley. Wanna get some Ben and Jerry's?"

"Are you trying to distract me with a pint of chocolate fudge brownie?" Dolley asked incredulously, before adding, "Because it's working. Let's get two."

She grinned. "Excellent."

Y/N figured that was the end of it, that two pints of ice cream and an incredibly vague game plan would be enough to satiate her friend for the time being, but after they checked out, trying to figure out how many meals they could extend one pack of ramen to (because, really, if you just add more water, doesn't it make the servings bigger?), Dolley felt the need to return to it as they walked through the sliding glass exit doors, her words holding an air of finality.

"If you really want to insist on not just communicating with the poor man, Y/N, then fine." Y/N raised a quizzical eyebrow, not yet following where Dolley had abruptly turned the trajectory of their conversation. "But after his lecture on Wednesday, when you realize that leaving the subject untouched just makes it more unbearable—" ("'When'?" Y/N muttered dubiously.) "—then I need you to agree to go talk to your professor."

Dolley didn't wait for her response, squinting at the nutrition facts on the ramen labels as her focus drifted elsewhere (sure, it said two servings, but she was fairly sure that only the bourgeoise couldn't have stretched it to three), but Y/N let out a surrendering sigh.

"Wednesday's going to be just fine," she said, realizing but not caring that Dolley was no longer listening. "But if it isn't, I'll talk to him."

- -

Wednesday was not 'just fine.'

Y/N spent the entire class on edge, trying futilely not to let her thoughts drift back to the other night in the bar, then on the street in front of her building, then in the elevator, in her living room, even in the kitchen— but no, she was getting off track. Little did she know, Thomas was having precisely the same issue.

She jotted down his words almost robotically, the meaning of them going into one ear and out the other, more focused on the sound of his voice than on what he was actually saying.

Only once did she manage to focus for long enough to actually process a thought, but when he was fielding questions about the material, Thomas conveniently managed to miss her having raised her hand from where she was seated. She supposed she'd just positioned herself too far back and thought no more of it.

Despite how 'not fine' that day had been, she dismissed it as a fluke, showing up the next Monday with her head on straight, her readings prepared and annotated, and took a seat several rows further forward. Her motivation may have been misplaced, leaning a bit too far toward wanting to impress her professor and not far enough toward a desire to understand the material, but she was familiar enough with the content to feel comfortable giving her input on the questions he posed to the class throughout the lecture.

Again, her efforts bore no fruit. Her notes were better that day, so that was certainly something to count as a plus, but she left feeling put-out by the fact that she hadn't even had a chance to participate. Usually, she wouldn't have been so perturbed by this — sitting through a Socratic seminar playing tetris on her laptop was no unfamiliar experience — but this class accounted for six of the twelve credit hours she still needed for her chosen major. She didn't suppose that it'd be a good look to have the class dragging down her GPA to be the same one she was supposedly most passionate about; generally speaking, that wasn't what graduate schools were looking for.

Besides, she liked the subject, too. Surely that had to count for something?

And that was how she kept pushing off the inevitable conversation with Thomas — sorry, Professor Jefferson — and coming up with increasingly creative excuses as to why her efforts were being so plainly ignored, not only that following Wednesday, too, but also the Monday and Wednesday after. She'd made it through three weeks of classes before she could finally work up the nerve to confront him.

Unfortunately, that task proved to be no easier than her previous one.

Thom— her professor was always the last one into the lecture hall and the first one out, leaving no opportunities for chatter, or in her case, a supposedly inevitable clash she'd already begun arming herself for. She'd nearly caught him in the halls at various times, but he always seemed to have somewhere he urgently needed to be. The same doctrine followed in his office hours; apparently, another student had scheduled a meeting with him three minutes after every single time she arrived, without fail, so could she please just come back another time? Surely, another time would be better for both of them.

That time never came.

It was near the end of the fourth week that she was entirely fed up. They'd moved from Kant to Machiavelli, and so far, The Prince had her ready to tear her hair out. It didn't help that they'd all just finished the book, their first paper of the year on it due the next Monday.

She was far past lying to herself about her motives being purely academic while she continued to privately just want his attention — no, by then, she was hopped up on forty ounces of sugary coffee and just a touch of RedBull, and she hardly had a thesis for her paper. She'd read the same passages time and time again — she likely could've recited them word-for-word by the time she demanded feedback — and any shallow, vain desires for recognition were the furthest thing from her mind. She needed a professor, and she was pissed that Thomas didn't seem to have any interest in acting like one.

It was late Thursday evening when she marched across the green from the library to the building that housed his office in a fury. Yes, it was the last week of January; yes, the entire city was still coated in snow, but no, she could not bring herself to care about the very real possibility of frostbite as she trudged through the snow in sweatpants, slippers, and a tank top. Practicality wasn't her priority. Finishing her paper was.

Thomas's office hours were from 7 to 10 PM every evening, a schedule he stuck to religiously. It was 9:24 when Y/N began tracking snow through the bottom floor of his building, and 9:31 when she finally managed to locate and reach his actual office.

It was reluctant when she finally knocked, struggling to resist the urge to simply bust in and rip him a new one, but to her relief, it was simply met with a 'come in.' That was when she threw the door open in a fit of annoyance.

"You've been avoiding me," she said, eyes narrowed and tone accusatory before he could so much as react to her presence.

"Y/N, I—" His eyes were wide; he seemed to be at a loss for words as his eyes drifted down to her sweatpants and Hello Kitty slippers. He couldn't have convinced her it wasn't a dignified look even if he'd tried. "What are you doin' here?"

"We need to talk." She dropped her bag into one of the chairs in front of his desk, though she chose not to take a seat, instead glaring down at him, arms folded.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and though his head was down, his shadow of a grimace told her everything she needed to know: he'd been dreading this conversation far more than she had. "Look, right now really isn't a great time. I've got—"

"Don't bullshit me, Thomas."

"Professor Jefferson," he corrected her, the words hissed through gritted teeth, and she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"My bad. Don't bullshit me, Professor Jefferson." Y/N scowled as she took another step towards him. "Your office hours don't end until ten. There's no way you have time for a meeting between now and then if you haven't already started one."

He let out a heavy sigh. "Alright. Alright, fine. And I know what you're gonna say, but—"

"Do you really?" she challenged him, head cocked to one side. "Because the fact that you haven't given me one chance to speak to you in almost a month tells me pretty clearly that you don't. Generally, you find out what people have to say by listening to them."

"We can't have this conversation here. You've gotta come find me some other time." The urgency in his voice only served to infuriate her further. What right did he have to be dictating this when he'd tried to stop the conversation altogether?

"Oh, believe me, I've tried," Y/N huffed. "I'm done accommodating. If you wanted to talk about this some other time, I would've been happy to, but we're well past that."

He held her burning gaze warily for another moment, but she didn't let up. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. Say your part. I'm listenin'."

"You've been completely freezing me out. You haven't been answering my questions in classes; you haven't been letting me contribute to discussions; you, most recently, haven't let me talk to you for more than five seconds, hence why I'm here." She launched into an irate monologue without any further encouragement, and to his credit, Thomas at least had the decency to look guilty. "You've been turning me away at your office hours; for fuck's sake, Thomas, you haven't even answered any of my emails!"

"I know, I know," he said, and though she could see the exhaustion written across his face, she didn't let him continue. "But you've gotta understand—"

"I'm not done," she cut him off, and it was then that he raised an affronted brow. "Anyway, I get why you're keeping your distance. Really, I do. And honestly? I can't really blame you for it."

"Well, great, so—"

"But with that said," —she gave Thomas an expectant look as she continued to speak over him, challenging him to try and interrupt— "You've been doing more than keeping your distance. You've been outright ignoring me, and that's where I'm drawing a line in the sand. Refusing to engage with me doesn't help either of us."

She let out a heavy breath when she finally reached the end of her rant, and though he was certainly taken aback, Thomas looked unimpressed.

"May I speak now?" he asked mockingly, and she scowled. "Or are you just gonna keep cuttin' me off?"

"Depends how much bullshit comes out of your mouth."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure." He put his pen back into the cup on the edge of the desk before drawing himself up to the fullest height he could reach in a rolling chair. With how he was looking at her, with how cross his tone was, Y/N may have backed down in another context, but quite frankly, she was beyond having anything to lose. "I understand that you're hurt, Y/N, and for that, 'm honestly sorry, but—"

"I'm not hurt, I'm ticked!"

"Y/N." That time, his hard voice, his barely-contained anger, did make her shrink away, just a bit. "You've gotta realize that what happened is in the past. It was a mistake. I didn't know you were a student here — you even told me you went to school in Chicago."

"I did, for two years."

"Doesn't matter. Moral of the story is that you've gotta leave that in the past. I'm your professor now, and that's a boundary that can't be crossed. We both need to stop dwellin' on it." His saying 'we' rather than 'you' certainly didn't go unnoticed, but Y/N deemed it not worth addressing.

"Great. It's behind us. Can you stop ignoring me now?"

"Come on, Y/N—"

"Seriously? You're gonna argue with that?" She threw her hands up in a huff, beyond exasperated and crossing the line to indignance. "You wanna remind me that you're my professor? Then stop acting like I don't exist. It's that simple, Thomas."

"It's Professor Jefferson. And I'm not tryin' to ignore you," he defended. "But don't you see the position this puts me in? My job's at stake here. This can never happen again!"

"And who said I wanted it to?" she bit back immediately, and for just a moment, Thomas was rendered silent.

"If that's not what you're lookin' for, then what are you here for?" His voice was quiet, his gaze searching, and Y/N sighed.

"Seriously? I haven't made myself clear enough?" She raised an eyebrow, but his blank look told her all she needed to know. The tension in her shoulders dropped; her combative stance went neutral when she reached into her bag, pulling it from the chair in front of his desk. "You're the one who keeps emphasizing that you're my professor — and that's what I need you to be right now."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly lost as she withdrew Machiavelli's The Prince from her bag, beaten up and slathered in colored tabs around the edges. She added in a small voice, "I've been struggling with the reading. I did it all, but there are just a couple passages that... I need help with."

Thomas — no, Professor Jefferson (god, was she ever going to struggle with getting that down) — looked stunned, plain and simple. Y/N had expected all of his assumptions for why she'd shown up there. Two weeks earlier, they may have also been accurate ones, but ultimately, she was still just a student. He'd really had to have had a big head to think he'd take priority over that for any extended period of time.

His eyes were wide. He continued to look toward her, but his gaze was blank, slowly drifting to his desk, until finally, he sighed. "Well, shit. I, uh... I'm really sorry, Y/N. Really." If the growing guilt behind his shock hadn't been clear enough in his demeanor, it was woven tightly into his voice. His stare flickered back up to her, and despite her lingering irritation, the apology in it softened her. "I got so caught up in my own problems that I didn't even consider. I didn't mean to assume that you... y'know."

"Came here to try and get dicked down?" Y/N supplied, voice dry as she watched him expectantly. He cracked a sheepish smile.

"Somethin' like that."

"As though it'd be worth the effort," she snorted. "There are, like, thirty frats on campus, and I have a paper due Monday — in case you'd forgotten. If I wanted to get laid, I'd do it much more efficiently."

"Mm, but would it be as good?" At the clear ego in Thomas's playful stare, Y/N's eyebrows shot toward her hairline.

"Now who's crossing boundaries?"

Despite the skepticism in her voice, Thomas laughed. "'M just kiddin'. Promise."

"Hilarious." Her small, persistent smile undermined her sarcasm, and his gaze was soft.

"Alright, alright, come take a seat. Show me which pages you're strugglin' with."

"Yeah, so it's less full pages and passages than it is key phrases I just can't seem to connect to the rest of the work." Y/N lowered herself into the chair that wasn't already holding her bag as she flipped open her book to her third pink tab, turning it to show him. "Like, here. Chapter 19."

"Mhm."

"I understand what the whole page is getting at, but look at this..."

They sank easily into the text, despite being focused more on one another's voices than on the writing itself. Ten PM had long since come and gone, but as the night stretched on, the pair only continued to pass Y/N's book back and forth, bouncing from passage to passage, idea to idea as though no time had passed at all. Neither of them bothered to check any sort of a clock until Y/N let out a loud, drawn-out yawn. Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"You gettin' tired?" Y/N gave a halfhearted shrug as he finally checked his watch, and his eyes widened. "Shit, it's past eleven. We should get you outta here."

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." Her voice was weary as she lifted herself out of her seat, tucked her book back into her bag. "I've got everything I need for my paper, anyway."

"Glad to hear it." Thomas reached for his coat as she made her way to the door, but she paused when he asked, "You're not thinkin' of walkin' home, are you?"

She glanced back over her shoulder. "What if I am?"

Thomas furrowed his brow. "Tell me that's a joke. That's gotta be a joke." Y/N shrugged, and Thomas groaned lightly. "In that outfit, you freezin' and gettin' abducted are equally likely, you know that?"

"Aw, thanks for letting me know! Now I feel so much safer," she said, plastering on a mocking smile.

"Lemme call you an Uber," he offered, and Y/N quirked a brow.

"Are you that much of a one-trick pony?"

"If makin' sure women get home safe is my only trick, I think it's a pretty good one to have," he said matter-of-factly, and Y/N had to laugh.

"I can appreciate that. An Uber would be great." Y/N pulled her bag up her shoulder as she returned to his door. "I'll see you Monday?"

"Mhm. Your driver's named Amy, and she's drivin' a blue Camry, by the way," Thomas informed her, and Y/N smiled. "G'night, Y/N."

"Night, professor."

From then on, Y/N began frequenting Thomas's office hours, only hesitantly at first. While her motives were genuine, all of them being centered around getting into grad school, she didn't want to become overbearing, especially with the one night, the sixteen stolen hours that still hung over their heads. She stopped by twice the following week, neither time staying long as other students began to trickle in, peeking nervously around the corner toward his office, knocking so quietly at first that neither Thomas not Y/N realized someone was there. She didn't need him any more than her classmates did, so she yielded her time gracefully.

Moreover, she knew that only very little of the time he offered to students wasn't already occupied, and while the reason for that was certainly clear to her, she wasn't sure whether it'd gone over his head. It wasn't until the fourth time she went to meet with him that she found he was every bit as aware as everyone else.

"Hey, Thom—" Y/N cut herself off with a wince. "Professor Jefferson, you around?" she called down the hall to his office, nose still buried in the email from the anthropology department that she'd pulled up on her phone (apparently they were having a bake sale on the east green; Y/N didn't bother to read further and learn why once she saw they'd have caramel brownies). She only glanced up when she didn't receive an answer, instead hearing chatter drift down the hall, and her footsteps slowed as she neared his doorway. Her eyebrows shot up.

Y/N recognized the woman seated — well, hardly still seated, at that point — with her back to her as Lucy Hart, who sat front and center during every single one of their lectures, who was now all but draping herself across Thomas's desk, leaned onto her forearms and with a pen between her teeth.

Though she seemed to find whatever Y/N had just missed to be hilarious, Thomas's amusement was forced, uneasy as he eased his hand away from where hers had fallen to cover it, holding the book open by one of its ends.

"Alright, Miss Hart, we'll see." Whatever the question was, Thomas wasn't about to give her a straight answer, but Lucy seemed to take that as a challenge. Her cleavage finally spilled back into the neckline of her dress when she sat back in her seat, but she traced one finger up Thomas's forearm.

"I guess we will," she replied. She hadn't seemed to have caught on to how wildly uncomfortable she was making him — Y/N could only assume Lucy had decided she'd left him 'flustered.' She reached for his copy of Hobbes's Leviathan, her perfectly manicured fingers brushing over his as she did so. "Now, where were we?"

Ahem.

From the angle they were seated at, neither Thomas nor Lucy had noticed Y/N standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised — when she cleared her throat, though, they both jumped. Their reactions to her presence couldn't have been more disparate. The relief written deep in Thomas's tiny smile was obvious, but Lucy was looking her over with a scowl.

"Hey," Y/N finally said, taking a step forward. "I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"'Course not." It was Professor Jefferson who answered, tone formal and body language neutral, but how quickly he'd answered, overtly cutting off Lucy, told Y/N she wasn't misreading the situation. "What can I do for you, Y/N?"

"Yeah, Y/N," Lucy furthered, eyeing her dubiously. "Why are you here?"

Y/N's gaze flickered between the pair of them, the tension in Thomas's shoulders subtle but clear as he inched his arm further from Lucy's. "Last I checked, Professor Jefferson, we had a meeting scheduled for right about now."

Her smile was genuine despite how Thomas knit his dark brow; she hadn't yet moved past finding the ordeal wildly entertaining. "Do we?"

"I thought so," she added with a shrug, and when her pointed gaze fell to Lucy, who still looked irate sitting in the small tufted chair across from him, Thomas sighed, and Y/N felt confident it'd been a sigh of relief. He seemed to have realized the escape rope she'd thrown into his lionness's den. "Unless I got the time wrong? It could've been tomorrow evening, I—"

"No, no you're in the right," he cut her off a little too adamantly, and though she'd already begun to dig through her phone for the nonexistent calendar event, she looked up with her eyebrows raised. "'S my bad. I took the timing down wrong."

Y/N had to bite down her self-satisfied smile. "Are you sure? Because really, we can reschedule; I'm also available—"

"No. Now's just fine," he assured her, and the indignant look Lucy shot him had the beginnings of a smile creeping past Y/N's innocent mask. "Made a promise, and it'd be only right to keep it, wouldn't it?"

"It is your responsibility to model integrity, professor."

"Then I guess I've gotta make sure I don't give anybody the wrong idea."

Y/N wasn't sure whether the words, 'the wrong idea' were pointed at her or at Lucy, or whether they were even pointed at all, with her simply reading too far into a nonexistent subtext to take them at face value. She didn't dwell much longer.

"Well, thanks for stoppin' by, Miss Hart—" Vindication flashed in Y/N's eyes when she noticed his electing not to use Lucy's first name. "—I hope all this discussion's deepened your understandin' of Hobbes's view on human nature."

"Oh, I've learned quite a bit about human nature," Lucy said as she stood, and Thomas's discomfort hadn't faded. Y/N was struggling to comprehend what about her words possibly justified her tone being so suggestive. "I hope I can come back another night for you to teach me a little more of it, Thom— oh! I mean, Professor Jefferson."

She glanced bashfully at Y/N with her final few words, her sheepish front fooling no one. Y/N wasn't sure to what end, but this was a clear ploy for her jealousy — she'd been around the block once or twice. Y/N genuinely struggled to contain her amusement as Lucy shot him a wink before turning to leave, exaggerating the movements of her hips. The door fell shut behind her.

It wasn't until Lucy's footsteps were out of earshot that Thomas let out a heavy sigh, sinking down in his chair, and Y/N let out the laugh she'd spent the past ten minutes swallowing.

"So, Lucy Hart, huh? That's who you've been spending all your alleged 'office hours' with?" she started, and Thomas's glare was weak.

"C'mon, Y/N."

"Is that why your door's locked half the times I show up here? Today wasn't very subtle, you know."

"Y/N." His voice was hard when he gave her a pointed look, but with how tired he looked, she didn't push it further, just smiled.

"Relax; I'm just kidding." She shrugged off her jacket. "I know that if you were to sleep with a student, it wouldn't be Lucy. Don't worry."

He raised his eyebrows at her audacity, her smug grin, but he couldn't prevent the amusement that showed through to his expression. "Really? You're gonna go there?"

"Go where?" When she knit her brow, plastered on a confused frown, Thomas had to swallow his laugh. "Now, I'm just not sure what you're implying, professor. Do you plan on sleeping with Lucy?

"Hilarious, Y/N." His rolling his eyes left her undeterred. "In all seriousness, though, I think she really believes she is bein' subtle."

"Unfortunately, I'm well aware," Y/N sighed. "I've seen her at a few too many parties to have any illusions about what a painfully tactless flirt she is."

"You're tellin' me."

"Has it been like this all semester?" she asked. Sure, Y/N had seen how shameless Lucy was during lectures, leaving no stone unturned to draw attention to herself, but this seemed a new level of egregious. Yet, Thomas nodded.

"Once a week, every week. Least, when it isn't more than that."

"Sometimes it's more?" Y/N let out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, and Thomas nodded his solemn confirmation. "Jesus. So this is why you look pissed every time she participates in class. I figured you just hated the sound of her voice as much as I do."

"Believe me; I've been startin' to."

"That's so harsh!"

"Aw, c'mon, and you wouldn't?"

Y/N shrugged, pursed her lips, but her eyes glinted with hubris. "Well," she said, "It'd depend on how hot the student was. I mean, in my opinion, if Lucy was me, it just might be a different story."

Thomas couldn't bring himself to look annoyed. "Yeah, yeah. Alright," he said, shaking his head at her words. "You think you're fuckable. I get it."

"Glad we agree." Y/N's lips quirked up into a smug smile, but Thomas raised his eyebrows.

"Hang on, now. That's not quite what I—"

"But if she's really bothering you," Y/N continued, altogether disregarding his protests, and Thomas sighed. "You know you could just, like, talk to Lucy about it, right? You're the one with the power, here."

She couldn't put her finger on exactly why he winced at the latter sentence.

"Guess so, I just... I dunno. 'S really no big deal; I'm just gettin' fed up with all that." He gave a halfhearted shrug that made her raise an eyebrow. "But don't worry 'bout that. Why're you here, if not for the meetin' we've supposedly got scheduled for tonight?"

His tone was light, playful with the question, but Y/N was still stuck on what he'd started with. "Hold on; you can't just deflect that easily."

"Deflect from what?" He furrowed his brow, but Y/N just huffed, walking toward the near side of his desk.

"From whatever you're getting 'fed up with all of,'" she said, and when she eyed him skeptically, his fatigued sigh told her she wasn't imagining things. "Can I sit?"

"Yeah, sure, join me." Thomas beckoning her toward his empty chairs was almost absentminded. "But really, it's nothin'."

"No offense, but I don't know if I believe you." As she sank down into one of his guest's seats, a conflicted look flickered across his gaze, building further on the concern in her words. "What's up? C'mon; talk to me."

He hesitated. "'M serious, Y/N; it's not—"

"Thomas."

He raised an eyebrow, but it took her a moment to notice her own error. "Excuse me?"

"Professor Jefferson, I mean. Of course." Her smile was sheepish, but it just made him chuckle.

"Alright, alright. 'S nothin' serious, anyway, but 'm just gettin' sick of not bein' taken seriously."

Y/N's words were hesitant as she raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean? People take you seriously."

"Mm, but do they?" He sighed as he sat back in his chair. "I'm the youngest professor on campus; half my office hours are taken up by undergrads hittin' on me. It's hard to feel like I'm gettin' a lot of respect when you don't even treat me like a professor."

"Hey, come on, I respect you," she defended, and he shook his head.

"I don't mean you, specifically, Y/N. Just... your whole class. I'm already hardly old enough to be teachin' at a university, but it also kinda sucks to see how many people pretend to care about learnin' just to get my attention," he said, and his voice was soft. His quiet sigh made Y/N frown, especially as his absent gaze wandered through his own office.

"I'm sorry," she said, and he glanced back over to her. "Keep in mind, though, you made the first move on me. Not the other way around."

Despite her having been entirely serious, her words made Thomas laugh — a full-bodied laugh, too, one that couldn't help but make her smile in return. "Thanks for lettin' me know," he said, and though she rolled her eyes at his sarcastic tone, she was glad to see him lightening up. "Sorry to say it, sweetheart, but not everything's about you."

Neither noticed his casual term of endearment. "What a shame," Y/N sighed.

"Mm, I'm sure. I guess I just..." When he trailed off, Y/N raised a brow, and the concerned look in her eyes was what prompted him to continue. "I know I'm smart, 'n all, but it never feels great to feel discounted. Especially bein' new to the faculty."

"I hear that," Y/N said, her tone light but gaze solemn. "For what it's worth, I do come to your office for help because I know you can and want to provide it, not because I have some ulterior motive."

"Glad to hear it." Though his tone almost suggested he may have been being facetious, Y/N could tell that he wasn't making fun. "But on that note, thanks for givin' me an out with the Lucy fiasco. What'd you need, comin' here?"

Y/N's smile was small, all but apologetic as she unzipped her bag after pulling it into her lap. "Right. So, I know this isn't your job, and all..."

When she trailed off, Thomas eyed her suspiciously, especially as her lips only seemed to stretch further into a grin. "What's this about?"

"Is there any chance you'd be willing to read over my paper for my constitutional law seminar?" At the hopeful look she wore as she withdrew her printed essay from her bag, he had to laugh.

"Really? You're not even here for somethin' about my class?"

"Yes or no, professor?" She raised a brow, waving the packet back and forth expectantly.

"And why'd you decide to come see if I'd look through it? What makes you think I'm gonna?"

"You read over my French paper last week!" she pointed out, and Thomas sighed.

"Yeah, 'cause I speak French."

"You speak English, too. And you worked in government." Y/N shrugged, putting the paper down on his desk regardless. "So, please? I'd ask my roommate, but she's studying business, and you must know how that goes."

"You trashin' on business majors?" Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"If I was, would I be wrong?"

Her deadpan stare made him laugh. "Can't argue with that. Give it here."

He held his hand out for the essay, and she gave it to him with a wide grin. "You're the best."

"What else is new?" he asked, and despite how dry his tone was, his eyes were teasing. "You wanna go through it with me now, or should I get it back to you some other time?"

"Any chance we can go over it now?" she asked. "It might sort of be due in two days."

His eyebrows shot up. "Are you tellin' me I'm some kinda last resort?"

"Of course not!" she defended, but she hesitated before continuing, "Just an eleventh-hour supplementary resource who's going to help me get a diploma."

"I'm sure," he said, and the skeptical look he gave made the corners of her lips twitch. "You owe me, y'know that?"

"Really. I should start paying you, one of these days."

"To be fair, you do pay my salary."

"Mm, maybe some students do, but I wouldn't be so sure about that if I were you."

Thomas furrowed his brow, confusion permeating every aspect of his expression as he looked back at her. "What, you 'n Elizabeth Warren linked up in a personal campaign for free college?"

"No, but the president of financial aid and I did." She shrugged. "Honestly, they saved my ass. Sorry I'm not raising your salary, or anything, but I hardly pay to go here."

When he slowly nodded, she could see the small, subtle smile tugging at his lips. "I'll try not to hold it against you. 'M glad you ended up here anyway."

Y/N's grin was exaggerated, a fact she did nothing to conceal. "Aww, professor, I knew you secretly liked having me here."

He rolled his eyes, but his smile mirrored hers. "I meant that I'm glad that money isn't holdin' you back from gettin' a good education."

"I'm sure you did."

Thomas cocked a brow. "D'you want me to read your paper or not?"

At his words, Y/N had to bite back her cocky grin, and she nodded. "Yes, please."

"Then get off your high horse 'n listen." Despite his words, amusement sat heavy in the way he was skeptically eyeing Y/N.

"Of course, professor."

"It's been shockingly chill."

Y/N was sprawled out on the carpet of her living room, a styrofoam cup of ramen in one hand and chopsticks in the other, while Dolley sat curled up at the end of the couch flipping through Netflix on their TV.

"No lingering sexual tension?" Dolley challenged, glancing down to where Y/N was slurping her noodles (she'd asserted that ramen on the couch was too high of a stain risk). Y/N shook her head, and Dolley raised an eyebrow. "Really? No secret desire to end up bent over his desk?"

"Okay, listen, what I want and what I act on are two very different things." She pointed her chopsticks at Dolley accusatorily. "I can have it both ways."

"So you're still looking for another night of fun?" Dolley raised a playful eyebrow, and Y/N only grinned.

"Are you offering?"

"I could be convinced, dear." The wink Dolley sent her made Y/N laugh, broth sloshing down the side of her cup that she didn't hesitate to lick off of the back of her hand.

"Mhm, because my sex appeal is through the roof, I'm sure."

"Alright, I'll confess. I am only joking, after all," Dolley sighed, a wistful look in her eyes as she scrolled through the Netflix TV dramas category. "But only because things with James are going better than I expected."

Y/N's eyes widened; she spun in her spot on the floor. "Dolley, oh my God, spill! You've been holding out on me."

"There's not much for me to spill, really." She shrugged, and the smile she wore was coy. "He and I have just been getting on well. Nothing more to it."

"No. Uh-uh." Y/N shook her head, setting her near-empty instant ramen onto their coffee table. "You're gonna give me more than that. You have to. Clearly something's been happening."

Dolley bit her lip. "So, would we rather watch Stranger Things or The Good Place?"

"Don't you dare change the subject!"

"Alright, alright," she finally sighed, and her gaze was soft when she finally met Y/N's eyes. "So, we've been seeing each other more often. Getting coffee, grabbing lunch between classes. He's even had me read over different drafts of his thesis."

"Aww, he's using you as an editor? How romantic!"

"Make fun all you want, but he trusts me with it. Isn't that worth something?"

"Of course it is, Doll." Y/N smiled, unable to tease Dolley further when she had such a sappy look in her eyes. "But if you've been dating, why am I just finding out?"

She didn't meet Y/N's gaze, fiddling with the cuffs of her sleeves. "We haven't been going on dates, really."

"Oh yeah? This is how you talk about hanging out with everyone else you aren't dating?" The challenge in Y/N's tone made her scoff, roll her eyes, but they both knew she had a point.

"It's nothing official."

"But do you want it to be?" Y/N quirked a brow. Dolley's smile was faint.

"Maybe a little," she said quietly, and Y/N's grin broadened.

"That's adorable. I'm thrilled for you," she said, but there was a heavy pause before she hesitantly added, "but be careful with him."

Dolley furrowed her brow, finally turning toward where Y/N sat. "What d'you mean?"

"You have a habit of quickly getting attached to men who turn out to be terrible for you. Remember Henry?"

"Knox or Clay?"

"Either. You're making my point." Y/N gave her a knowing look, but Dolley didn't seem overly offended. "You're just too quick to give people the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone deserves it."

"But that's what you love about me, dear."

"Don't you turn my undying love and affection for you against me!" Y/N protested, and though she rolled her eyes, Dolley appeared to be entertained. "I adore you for what a sweetheart you are, but it's also what men take advantage of."

"Yes, I know; you've given me this talk before," Dolley sighed. "But really, I think this time might be different. I really like James."

Y/N pursed her lips. "It'd better be. Otherwise he's gonna have hell to pay."

"I'm not too worried."

"I am."

"Would you feel better if I gave you a chance to screen him?" Y/N raised an interested eyebrow at Dolley's words. "Because I invited him to come over Wednesday night for dinner. If you'd like, it'll be a prime time for you to interrogate him."

She sighed. "I dunno, Doll. I don't want to third wheel."

"You live here. You won't be third-wheeling," Dolley pointed out. "And you wouldn't have to stay! You could just pop in, say hello, and either leave or just go wait him out in your room."

A small smile grew across Y/N's lips at her words. "And you'll seriously let me interrogate him?"

"Have at it."

"I'm in."

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: James is coming over in five minutes, so get home whenever

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: unless of course you've decided to grant him your tacit approval

Y/N sent: be home soon 😪

Dolley 🥺💋 sent: see u 😘

"Y/N?"

It was Wednesday evening, around 6 PM. Y/N's political philosophy seminar had just been let out, but she'd really spent most of her focus over the past three hours on figuring out exactly how to determine whether or not James was a piece of shit. Apparently he was bringing takeout to her and Dolley's apartment for all three of them, which she saw to be a point in his favor.

However, as her classmates filed out of the lecture hall, Y/N stood idly, taking hesitant steps forward out of her row as she tried to multitask, neither eager to stop texting Dolley or to trip all the way down the steps to the front of the room. It was Professor Jefferson who knocked her out of the reverie that'd been induced by the promise of James delivering what she imagined to be the best food she'd had in weeks.

She looked up with a brow raised, tucking her phone back into her pocket. "Hey, professor."

"You have a second to talk?"

"Oh, um..." Despite her deep-seated motivation to get home before dinner was cold, she supposed it could wait just a little longer. She nodded. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

She pulled her bag onto her shoulder as she stepped out onto the hall's staircase, maybe three rows up from where Thomas stood at the bottom floor.

He leaned nonchalantly against the first row of desks. "So, the TA I've had since first semester's leavin' in a week or two. He's goin' abroad to South Korea for the fourth quarter, 'n he's decided to resign from bein' my assistant at the end of this week, so that he can make sure he's got everything in order for the next three months."

She frowned. "That's too bad. I'm sorry to hear it." She folded her arms, paused before adding, "So what, you want me to break the news to the class that we aren't getting those papers on the Enlightenment back anytime soon?"

At her quirked brow, her playful smile, Thomas had to give a light laugh. "Mm, I'm hopin' it won't come to that."

"You should probably get to grading instead of keeping me from dinner, then."

"Oh, 'm sorry; how dare I, really?" He responded, a hand over his heart, and she had to bite back her entertained smile at the irony in his indignance.

"Honestly. I can't imagine why I put up with it."

"I'll make it up to you," he said dryly. "But seriously, 'm not just tellin' you that for the sake of small talk. What I'm sayin' is that I have an openin' to find a new TA."

"I see," she said, raising an eyebrow. "And where, pray tell, do I come into all this?"

It wasn't that his train of thought was hard to follow, nor was his implication, but until he said it outright, Y/N had no desire to make any sort of an assumption.

He smiled. "You have any interest in becomin' a TA?"

"Seriously?" She furrowed her brow. "I mean, I appreciate it, but why?"

"First off, your work's consistently at the top of this class," he said matter-of-factly. They both knew she was well aware of this, after the hours in his office she'd spent grilling him on the historical context of every one of Voltaire's assertions and the implications of every early revolution. "You're a good writer, 'n you're more than capable of reviewin' other students' work. You've also already taken most of the other classes I teach, so you're familiar with all the material."

She nodded slowly, folding her arms, and though her expression would've conveyed that she was deep in thought, she couldn't suppress her growing smile. "I see. So it doesn't have anything to do with how attractive or charming I am?"

When she raised a playful eyebrow, he laughed outright. "Whenever your charm can start gradin' thirty ten-page papers a day, I'll start takin' it into account."

"Don't underestimate it."

"Alright, alright, I'll keep it in mind." He shook his head, and his lingering smile made the corners of her lips twitch. "'M serious, though. If you've already got enough on your plate, and you don't wanna take on another commitment, that's cool 'n all, and I can always ask someone else. But would you want the position?"

She pursed her lips, eyed him hesitantly. "Will I need to apply for it?"

"Nah," he said. "By the university's policy, you've gotta send me your resume and transcript, but if you wanna be my TA, you've got it. So?"

When she bit her lip, his eyes flickered down to her mouth so briefly that she almost didn't notice it. "I don't know, Thom—" He raised a brow. "Professor. Is there any chance I can think on it and get back to you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course. I can give you 'til the end of the week, if that's enough time?"

"That'd be great." As she held his gaze, she couldn't help but ponder exactly what she was being asked. She was sure his motives were pure; she couldn't imagine for the life of her Thomas giving her a job with the intent of breaking down professional boundaries so he could sleep with her, but that was where her mind was going regardless. "I'll stop by and let you know on Friday."

"I'm countin' on it." He wore a wide grin that shouldn't have and usually wouldn't have put her on edge. Her mind had fallen down the rabbit hole of fixating on just how much more time she'd be spending with him as his TA — he saw enough of her during his office hours, but she was of two minds with that. On one hand, what would a few more hours change? However, on the other, all she was hearing was that he didn't mind spending a few more hours with her. "I'll see you then?"

When he raised an eyebrow, she finally realized she'd spaced out for a solid minute, and she fixed on a smile, though it was tense. "See you then."

She left without another word.

James proved to be a nice guy when Dolley had him over; he brought burgers and milkshakes for all three of them. However, Y/N knew she'd only find herself on Dolley's bad side however many hours later. As much as he was talking, Y/N didn't retain a single word he shared about himself, despite having promised she'd use the evening to formulate her opinion on him. So much for protecting Dolley.

Instead, Professor Thomas Jefferson occupied every one of her thoughts.

219 notes · View notes

lils-writes-stuff · 4 years

Text

All That Remains

Spencer Reid x reader

summary: it’s the readers first day back on the job and the case has a huge plot twist

warning: normal criminal minds things, angst, sadness, gore, fun stuff

A/N: based on season 8 episode episode 14

“Oh my god, okay I know I’ve seen it before, but the ring is just so beautiful on you,” Penelope gushed as she held Y/N’s that adorned her new engagement ring.

The women of the BAU gathered around her on her first day back to admire the ring. Of course, JJ and Penelope had seen it at least once before, but it was a whole different experience seeing it on her hand.

It had been a total of three weeks since Y/N was discharged from the hospital and she was so excited to get back to work. She couldn’t deal with leave again and since she was fine mentally, all she had to do was wait until she was fine physically.

Spencer tended to her needs every waking moment he was home, much to her detest. He even thought about having her call her mother to stay with her until she was completely healed, but he revoked his idea when she gave him a not-so-loving look. But she was grateful none the less for his love and care for her. She was concerned about him though, sure she was stabbed, but he was the one kidnapped. After Spencer’s psych evaluation, he was deemed fit to go back to work. Y/N was very jealous when he got to go back.

“Thank you,” Y/N blushed as her hand moved to Blake to look at the ring.

“He really did a good job of picking it out,” she declared as she examined the ring.

“Who knew Spence had such good taste?” JJ remarked, making the other women laugh.

Spencer heard the last of the conversation and naturally gave his actual reasoning for his choice. “It actually has nothing to do with taste, I made a decision by averaging all of her jewelry together and using an equation to evaluate which rings--”

JJ coughed making Spencer stop. “Spence, I was joking, you did a great job.”

“Right,” Spencer smiled sheepishly.

“It’s okay, Bubs, I think it was really cool how you chose it,” Y/N reassured the man’s insecurities.

He smiled at the compliment and then turned to Rossi as his voice was heard coming down the steps.

“Okay, okay, I know I saw it at the hospital that day, but you have to let me see it again,” Rossi spoke quickly as he came over to look at the ring again.

Y/N laughed and held out her hand for him to see.

“It’s very you, Y/N,” Rossi commented as he looked at the ring. “Congratulations you two, again.”

“Thanks Rossi,” Spencer smiled at the man gratefully.

“Hey, you know what we should do?” JJ asked, gaining the attention of the rest of them. “We should have an engagement party!”

“Oh my gosh that is a great idea!” Penelope exclaimed, bouncing on her toes happily. “We can have little cupcakes made with rings and all the fun stuff.”

“And I’ll host it,” Rossi said happily, turning to the couple who were just watching the plan being made.

“Oh, Rossi, you don’t have to-”

“No, no, I insist, it’ll be a great time!” Rossi cut Y/N off from her protest.

Y/N turned her head to look at Spencer, wanting his input on the idea. Spencer simply shrugged, muttering a ‘why not’. The both of them knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Okay, sure, that’d be fun,” Y/N agreed with a smile.

“Excellent,” Rossi said with a nod.

“Guys,” Hotch said, nodding to the round table room.

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

“911 what’s your emergency?” The operator’s voice spook.

A pause then an inaudible mutter.

“Hello? What’s your emergency?”

“They’re gone,” The man on the other line responded. “My girls are gone. I need your help.”

“When you say girls, do you mean your daughters?”

“Yes.”

“All right, I need you to stay on the line, sir. Please confirm where you’re calling from.”

“1721 Hillcrest Drive, this can’t be happening.”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Bruce. Bruce Morrison.”

“How old are your daughters, Mr. Morrison?”

“Thirteen and Seventeen.”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“They went to bed around 9:30. No, wait, it was Monday. Sarah has a study group, so it was more like 10:00.”

“Sir, today is Wednesday. You haven’t seen them since Monday?”

“No. No, that can’t be right.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but it is. The police have been alerted, sir, and they’re on their way.”

“That call came in an hour ago,” Hotch said, stopping the recording.

The rest of the team sat in stunned silence as they listened to the message.

“How does a single father lose his teenage daughters for thirty-six hours?” JJ asked in disbelief.

“He doesn’t,” Rossi shook his head.

“His girls are gone,” Blake repeated the phrasing of Bruce on the phone.

“Yeah, that’s strange, he didn’t blame anyone,” Y/N pointed, agreeing with Blake’s silent question.

“And he doesn’t use any buzzwords first responders are trained to hear,” Derek added. “He never says missing, abducted, runaway.”

“Maybe that’s what they did, though. Maybe they ran away,” Penelope perked up. She didn’t like to hear the call, let alone have this happening in the first place, she was hoping for a better outcome then what everyone was thinking.

“There’s no history of that,” Rossi argued sadly.

“The likelihood of a stranger abduction in a neighborhood like this is rare. I’ve counted seven turns from the entrance to their driveway,” Spencer announced as he looked down at the map on the table. “No one just stumbled onto the house.”

“And where’s the mother? Could this be a parental child abduction?” Y/N asked, turning her head from Spencer to Hotch.

“Uh, doubtful,” Hotch sighed. “Exactly one year ago today, he made this call.”

With one click on the remote, another 911 call came up. The call was almost exactly the same as the one they had just listened to. Same phrasing, same tone, just replacing ‘girls’ with ‘wife’.

“She’d also been missing for two days before he contacted authorities, and she’s never been found,” Hotch said, stopping the recording.

“This man is either the victim of a serial offender, or he is one,” Rossi said.

“Please tell me this guy’s in custody?” Derek asked with irritation.

“The Salisbury police are at his home, and they’ve been there since the call came in,” Hotch answered.

“There are hard copies and tablet copies of both case files on the plane,” Penelope announced. “It’s a short flight to the eastern shore. There’ll be more when you land.”

The team gathered up all that they had on the round table and made their way to the plane.

-----------

“Bruce and Judy Morrison were well-liked and active in the community,” Y/N said as she looked over the files they had received on the plane.

Spencer sat down beside her, placing a cup of tea on the table.

She smiled and mouthed a thank you which he replied doing the same thing.

“Yeah, all signs point to them living a quiet life,” JJ agreed as she flipped through her own file.

“He’s a writer and a professor, and it looks like she got into real estate a few years ago,” Derek added as his eyes scanned over a page.

“ ‘02, before the market crashed,” Rossi established as he looked at the date.

“Well, ten years later, Judy had an affair with a co-worker. A Jeff Godwin?” JJ’s voice went off in question as she read the name.

“That was discovered in the investigation, but never made it in the papers,” Blake said, leaning in her chair so she could look at JJ.

“Bruce Morrison was a prime suspect, but they never found any evidence, and the affair wasn’t deemed enough of a motive,” Hotch clarified. “The university’s put him on sabbatical since then.”

“He’s been writing forever, and he’s been teaching since 1985,” JJ added, flipping through the pages of the file. “Transcript says he was grief-stricken and couldn’t handle the pressure.”

“Not many people could,” Rossi bargained. “The odds of this event striking the same family on the same day must be a million to one.”

“Mm, close enough,” Spencer hummed, not arguing with the statistic.

“Judy inherited money from her family, and it’s in a trust fund for the girls,” Blake assessed.

“Oh, jeez, please don’t tell me he got rid of his wife for money,” Y/N shook her head.

“Uh, bank records indicate he hasn’t touched the funds, despite the depleting supplemental income from the university,” Spencer eased the worry.

“Yeah, but it could be a combo platter. Revenge and profit,” Rossi argued.

“His wife cheated, and he retaliated in anger, that might not be a surprise, but that doesn’t explain why he would harm his own children,” Derek added, confusion evident in his voice.

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

“The oldest daughter Sarah had a 4.0 GPA, but she didn’t apply to a single college back east,” Spencer began as he read from the page in the file in his lap. “She got accepted to Stanford early admission. Maybe her father saw going that far away as a form of betrayal.”

“The second one in a year,” Rossi’s voice posed over the phone. “First his wife of twenty-seven years fools around and then probably threatens to end the marriage. A year later, the daughter can’t wait to leave.”

“Abandonment could be the common denominator,” Blake agreed from her seat beside Y/N in the back of the SUV with Derek and Spencer.

“There is another possibility,” Derek interrupted. “Maybe Bruce Morrison didn’t do it. Did the family have any enemies?”

“The only person that could remotely be an enemy would be Jeff Godwin,” Y/N answered, her own mind forming possible theories.

“Mm, looks like he had a pretty solid alibi the night Judy went missing,” JJ’s voice said through the phone. “He was wining and dining with his own wife at a local restaurant.”

“So the only viable suspect back then was the same one we have now,” Blake said.

“All the answers are in that house,” Hotch said as they turned the final corner and came up to the house of the Morrisons.

The front yard was filled with locals as one SUV pulled into the driveway and the other pulled along the side of the street. The doors of the cars echoed shut as they exited the vehicles and walked up to the detective who was waiting for them on the front porch.

“Marty Friedman. Thanks for making the trip,” the detective said as Hotch and Rossi approached him first. “I’ve got search and rescue combing the woods and the Choptank and Wicomico rivers. We’re dredging all the way from here to the Chesapeake. I’m not letting this guy get away with this again.”

“Has he said why he took a day to call?” Y/N posed the question everyone had been wondering. Her hands were stuffed in the pockets of her navy coat from the cool air.

Friedman scoffed. “Claims he doesn’t remember,” he looked back to the window where Bruce was standing, inspecting the new visitors. “He’s been glued to his computer, maybe he needs new material for a novel.”

“We’ll work alongside your team if that’s alright,” Hotch said to Friedman.

“Whatever you need,” he responded with a nod.

The team followed the detective into the house. Y/N looked at Bruce as he eyed down Hotch as they walked into the house.

“Everyone take a room,” Hotch ordered and the team split up and walked amongst the house.

“Looks like Katie stayed in a lot,” Spencer assessed as he and Y/N looked over the young girl’s room. “She has her schedule of when she was gonna try new recipes.”

Spencer flipped through the colorful pages of the book with different recipes and fun sketches.

“She seems like a really sweet girl,” Y/N sighed as she looked through a journal. She then turned to her desk and pointed out some of the things she noticed. “Her charger’s here, but her phone is not.”

“Maybe it’s with her?” Spencer posed.

“Maybe, I’ll have Garcia track it,” Y/N said, pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“It’ll only work if it’s on,” Spencer reminded her.

“It’s worth a try though,” Y/N looked up to Spencer with sad eyes. Of course, her first case back had to do with kids, just her luck.

“If the girls had access to a phone and they were okay, they would have called for help by now,” Spencer said, giving her the same sad eyes she gave him.

Y/N’s thumb stopped typing, she knew he was right, but that guilty feeling in her didn’t want her to.

“Y/N.” Spencer’s hands reached for hers that held her phone. “You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just-” she let out a shaky breath with a groan- “it’s just my luck that my first case back has to do with kids.”

Spencer looked down sadly, knowing the pain she was feeling.

“But it’s okay, it’s just because it’s the first case, ripping off the bandaid, you know? I’ll get back to being able to carpmentalizing it any second.” She shook her hands out after setting down her phone and the journal she was holding.

Spencer gave her the look. The look that said it’s okay to take a second, it’s okay to talk to me, it’s okay to not be ready all just yet.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop being so understanding,” she laughed and pointed her finger at him. “I’m fine, I really am, it’s just gonna take a sec to get into the swing of things again.”

“Okay,” he smiled, reaching for her hand,and pulling her into a loving hug that made her heart melt.

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

Y/N’s eyes scanned over the box in the basement of the Morrison house. Shelf after shelf filled with buckets and old memorabilia of Judy.

“Wow,” Spencer mused as he walked closer to Y/N from his side of the room. “She had a lot of hobbies before she started selling real estate.”

“Yeah, family projects it looks like,” Y/N nodded. She turned to the shelf she had just been looking at boxes being held on it. “Devoted mom.”

On the boxes were dates written under the label ‘quilts’. The dates went all the way back to 1998, the years Sarah Morrison was born.

“You ready, Reid?” Derek’s voice called from up the stairs.

“Yeah,” Spencer echoed back. “You good?” He asked, turning to Y/N.

She nodded and he turned to head up the stairs.

Her eyes scanned over the boxes again, looking at the only one that was labeled with a name. On the box, it read; ‘Quilts, 1999-200, Katie’. Y/N made sure to keep that in mind for anything in the future and turned up the stairs to follow Spencer.

---------

“So what do you think?” Blake asked, turning to Y/N and Rossi, exiting Sarah’s room. The sobs of Bruce echoed down the hall after Hotch told him they had just found the body of Katie in a river. Sarah had still yet to be found.

“He’s sober, so this is raw emotion,” Rossi answered as the three walked down the hallway. “He lost his legs when Hotch told him.”

“The tears could be guilt as much as grief,” Y/N whispered as a reminder.

“Because that’s what we’re supposed to do when given that news,” Blake said as they rounded the corner and filed down the stairs. “I don’t mean to sound so cynical, but the man writes fiction.”

Y/N and Rossi nodded as they came to the last set of stairs. At the bottom stood Hotch and JJ, who had just gotten off the phone with Derek and Spencer who were at the scene.

“Any sign of Sarah?” Y/N asked, hopeful for a good answer.

“Maybe she’s still out there,” JJ said, just as hopeful as Y/N for a good report from the people on the phone.

“Doubtful, unless she’s found shelter,” Rossi acknowledged as they walked the final steps of the stairs. “It’s supposed to be in the twenties tonight.”

“Now that we’ve got Katie’s body, we should run scenarios for what really happened Monday night,” Blake said.

Hotch hung up his phone and looked up to the group around him. “That was the lab. Bruce definitely fired a gun at some point, there’s residue on the sheets and on the boots.”

Y/N sighed, not wanting to hear that news. “We need to get him to the station.”

The five of them turned as they heard the creaking of the floorboards behind them. At the top of the stairs stood Bruce, hearing the whole conversation.

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

“Alright thanks, Spence,” Y/N said, hanging up her phone and turning to Hotch. “That was Reid. He said Katie had skin built up under her nails. They’re on their way back from the M.E. right now.”

“We need to look for defensive wounds on him,” Hotch nodded, leaving the bullpen and entering into the interrogation room.

Y/N walked closer to the one-way window and watched as Hotch entered the room.

“Mr. Morrison, I need to ask you to roll up your sleeves,” Hotch ordered Bruce.

“What?” Bruce asked, turning his head sharply to look at Hotch.

“Please.”

Bruce sighed and rolled up his sleeve on his right arm, revealing small but numerous cuts on his forearm.

“I saw these in the shower this morning when I woke up,” Bruce said sadly, not making eye contact with Hotch. “I have no idea how I got them.”

“Did they happen during the fight?” Hotch asked, referring to the fit a neighbor had told them he heard.

“It wasn’t a fight, it was just parenting,” Bruce tried to explain. “Did the detective tell you about Jeff Godwin? You should talk to him.”

Hotch raised a brow in question at the man.

“He still coaches Sarah’s soccer team, even though it’s ridiculous.”

“Every time I ask you a question, you have this habit of deflecting attention onto someone else,” Hotch remarked, making Bruce become quiet.

Y/N rolled her shoulders, standing up straight as she watched Bruce’s body language, trying to decipher his emotions and behavior. When he stayed unresponsive, Y/N took that as the end of the interview and walked out of the room into the break room.

“Wonder Woman,” Derek greeted the woman as she walked in.

She let out a huff as a greeting back, clearly annoyed with everything that Bruce was saying. “Bruce Morrison wants us to talk to Jeff Godwin.”

“Convenient, since he just walked in,” Spencer said as he walked over to the two by the coffee station.

“Great just what he wanted,” Y/N sighed, moving into the spot next to Derek as he finished making his coffee.

As he moved over for Y/N to make her coffee, he picked up his phone that began to ring.

“Hey, Blake,” Derek answered as he stepped away from the coffee bar.

Y/N poured some creamer into the cup as she listened to Derek on the phone.

“Morgan, we need you to find Jeff Godwin,” Blake’s voice echoed through the phone.

“She isn’t the only one he thinks that,” Y/N sighed, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Uh, he just walked in,” Derek responded, turning to look through the window to Jeff Godwin who was standing in a room to the side of them.

“He did?” Blake mused.

“Says he heard we found Katie, and he’s worried about Sarah,” Derek said, relaying the conversation that Y/N had not heard yet.

“He also texted Sarah the night she went missing and then deleted the text.” Blake’s information made the three’s faces contort in shock and look to Jeff. “It looks like they texted a lot.”

“Really?” Derek said, some anger boiling inside him as he watched Jeff. Without having Blake respond, he hung up the phone and nodded for Y/N to come with him.

“Mr. Godwin,” Y/N greeted as she and Derek entered the room he was in.

“Mr. Godwin, why did you feel it was appropriate to regularly text a seventeen-year-old girl?” Derek asked, getting straight to the point.

“I-I’ve known those girls for a long time-” Jeff shook his head- “Way before anything happened between me and their mother.”

Y/N and Derek’s faces stayed unresponsive, waiting for him to get to the actual intent of why he was texting a teen.

“Look, I coach Sarah.”

“And you didn’t think to request a different team, you know, considering the circumstances?” Y/N asked, her hand not holding her coffee gesturing as she spoke.

“No,” Jeff shrugged. “My daughter plays on that team.”

Once again, Derek and Y/N stayed unresponsive.

“Look, Sarah reached out to me Monday night- God knows she needs a father figure--”

“Maybe the man her mother had an affair with…” Derek began taking a step closer to Jeff.

Y/N took a step also, becoming even with Derek. “Might not be the best person for that,” Y/N finished the statement.

Derek nodded in agreement.

“Look-” Jeff took a step of his own- “I just came in here because I had heard about Katie and I was worried about Sarah. Don’t treat me like a criminal.”

“Sarah deleted texts that the two of you shared,” Y/N said, turning her head to the side. “The same day she disappeared. Now that’s a little suspicious, don’t you agree, Morgan?”

“Mm-hmm,” Derek hummed in response.

“Hey- wait, okay,” Jeff stumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “They’re all here. We agreed to meet in the parking lot of the convenience store on route 113.”

He turned his phone, showing the texts to Y/N and Derek. Derek took the phone from the man’s hand, putting it between the two of them so they could read it.

“Is this a regular thing for you?” Derek asked as he read the texts.

“Well, we’ve met there a couple of times recently, when she was really scared about what was happening with her and her dad,” Jeff responded.

“What was happening?” Y/N asked.

Jeff took in a deep breath, almost like he was afraid to tell them. “Bruce gets...violent when he drinks, and it’s been getting worse.”

Derek and Y/N turned their heads, silently saying for him to elaborate more on the topic.

Jeff let out a breath through his nose. “Sarah had every reason to be terrified. I mean look what happened.”

Derek and Y/N nodded, handing Jeff his phone back and heading out of the room. When they walked out, they were greeted with the whole team now, including Penelope on a video call.

“Is everyone there?” Penelope asked prompting Hotch to nod. “Um, this call came in on Monday.”

Before she continued, Hotch walked over to the door of the conference room and closed it.

“It was made on Katie’s cell, which is still M.I.A., the only 800 number she called was the local abuse hotline. She called there a few times in the last couple of months,” Penelope explained, pressing play on the recording. JJ turned up the TV volume.

“My name is Katie Morrison, I called last week,” Katie’s voice rang through the speaker.

“Yes, Katie, I remember you,” the operator on the other line responded.

“He’s at it again. He’s just going crazy. He’s really drunk.”

“Katie, are you safe?”

“Yes, hold on.”

“Hi, it’s Sarah,” Sarah’s voice came into the call. “We’re okay. I can handle this.”

“Girl’s open the door,” Bruce’s voice yelled next. “Katie, open the door.”

The sound of loud banging was heard next, making Y/N squeezing her eyes shut.

“I said open the door!”

When the recording stopped, Y/N opened her eyes and watched as Hotch asked to have the recording sent to his phone and took Rossi to the interrogation room holding Bruce.

-----------

Y/N watched through the glass as Bruce began to remember the night as the call was played to him. As it ended, he slammed his hand on the table, repeating the same words he said in the call. He looked up to the glass, on his side being a mirror so he was looking at himself.

He walked closer to it, his demeanor changing slightly as he looked at himself.

What surprised everyone behind the glass was what he said next.

“Oh my god, what a pathetic little cry baby.”

The rest of the team that was behind the glass looked at each other in confusion, continuing to listen to the man as he spoke.

“Ugh,” Bruce rubbed his eyes. “I was always right about you, huh?”

He was still talking to himself in the mirror. He then turned around, a smug smirk playing on his face as he looked at Rossi and Hotch.

“So you got old Bruce-y in a cage, huh?”

Rossi and Hotch didn’t respond, still trying to decipher who this was and what was happening.

“You think that’s gonna help?” Bruce walked around the two agents and back over to his chair. “It’s only gonna make him hide longer.”

When he reached the chair, he faced the two men again. “What do you wanna know?”

Rossi and Hotch stayed quiet again, not sure what to do.

When they didn’t give him a response, the man spoke again. “I’m gonna have to tell you ‘cause the baby’s got his pacifier.”

“Where’s Sarah?” Hotch finally asked a question.

“She’s learning a lesson,” the man responded with a shrug.

“What did you do to them?” Hotch asked.

In a mocking tone, the man responded, “What did you do to them?”

Not amused, Hotch and Rossi glared at him.

“I scared them that’s all. They need it,” he sighed.

“Why?”

“Because they’re spoiled, ungrateful little bitches who walk all over him any chance they get,” he responded.

“Wow,” Y/N whispered in amazement at the response.

“What happened to Bruce?” Hotch asked the question everyone had been wondering.

“He’s hiding, of course,” the man responded. “See… when he can’t handle it, I save his ass. Bruce’s problem is...he can’t handle anything.”

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

“So Bruce said Katie baked cookies Monday night,” JJ said, turning away from the board as Rossi and Friedman entered the room. “We found them in the kitchen, so that’s true.”

“And two of Sarah’s friends confirmed she never made it to her study group,” Blake continued, her voice slightly muffled from her cheek being pressed against her hand.

“And that’s because Jeff Godwin was in the parking lot with her from 8:15 to 9:30,” Derek added.

“And the girls called the hotline at 9:58,” Spencer finished the timeline.

“Detective, have your officers found either gun?” Hotch asked as detective Friedman walked up to the board to look at the post-it notes on it.

“No, but we’ve increased the search given where Katie’s body was found,” Friedman replied.

“Okay so, we’ve got residue, but we don’t know which gun or where it is now,” Derek said, his eyes trained on the floor.

“Okay, look,” Y/N said, raising her hands to stop anyone from talking. “Whoever that was in there said he wanted to scare them, not hurt them.”

“Katie was beaten over the head in the middle of nowhere,” Blake reminded her.

“You’re right,” Y/N gestured to her. “The altar could have lost his temper, or it could have been a horrible accident.”

“But getting the girls out of the house was planned. He said he wanted to scare them and had a gun to do it,” Rossi said.

“And then, he drove them somewhere,” Derek continued. “Bruce’s car had the same mud on the driver’s side floor that he had on his boots, but there wasn’t any in the backseat. SO three people drove somewhere, but only he came back.”

“And the DNA coming back from under Katie’s nails will tell us what we already know-- That Bruce Morrison did this. SO can I arrest him now?” Friedman said, antsy to put cuffs on the man he felt was responsible.

“Detective, you have sufficient evidence to make the arrest, but we still don’t have Sarah,” Hotch told him, eyes glaring at the man.

“Give us an hour, and maybe, he’ll tell us where she is,” Y/N said, an idea in her head forming.

“It's your call, but he could still help us,” Hotch said.

Friedman sighed. “Okay. One hour.”

So the team began their work, and they had to work fast.

“There’s no way for us to confirm a D.I.D. diagnosis yet, but we do know he has chronic alcoholism, Which can and has gone hand in hand with it,” Spencer explained to the team that was scattered amongst the conference room. “The interesting thing is his liver and pancreas wouldn’t have survived thirty years of that kind of abuse, so there must have been years where he’s gotten help.”

“He was in a program,” Blake shrugged.

“Eh, it would have to be more than that,” Spencer replied then turned to Y/N who had Penelope on the line. “Garcia, has he ever been on medication to help curb his drinking?”

“All I’ve got is a yearly physical, and that is it,” Penelope replied.

“D.I.D. usually stems from a history of sexual abuse,” Blake said slowly, hoping to give something to Penelope to help her.

“Okay, well, I’ve got nothing like that,” Penelope said. “All I have on Bruce Morrison is that his mother died when he was ten-”

“There’s your abandonment issue,” Rossi remarked.

“And he was raised by a single alcoholic father, and there’s no evidence of any prescriptions.”

“I mean, they look like the perfect family,” Spencer said, opening the file with family photos in it.

“Yeah, but she would have had to know about his drinking before they got married,” Y/N said as she peered over at the photos Spencer was holding. “So maybe, she helped manage him and kept his problem a secret.”

“She could have been the one that got the prescription,” Spencer’s lightbulb went off. “Garcia, can you run her medical history?”

“Yeah, hold on…”

They waited about twenty seconds before her voice was heard again.

“Okay, disulfiram. Am I saying that right? It’s for chronic alcoholism. She had a 90-day supply delivered four times a year for as long as I can tell. And it stopped coming a few months ago.”

“It makes you just feel nauseous if you drink,” Spencer explained the effects of the medicine.

“But she isn’t the one who had the drinking problem, he is. Garcia, who canceled it?” Derek asked the woman on the phone.

“Please hold while I dig.” She hung up the phone.

“Could that be the trigger? He goes after his daughters now that he’s off his meds?” Blake turned to look at Y/N and Spencer when she asked her questions.

Y/N’s eyes panned up to the TV that showed Hotch talking to Bruce. Then to Jeff Godwin in the other room. “That instability could work for us.”

She set her plan into action. Y/N had Derek get Jeff Godwin and bring him into the interrogation room with Bruce in it.

“Hey, I- I didn’t- Hey, look I didn’t agree to this,” Jeff stumbled as he came face to face with Bruce sitting in the interrogation room.

“Well, we’re looking for Sarah, and you’re the last ones to see her alive,” Y/N said, leaning on the metal table.

“Look, like I told you guys earlier, I had nothing to do with this. And Sarah’s afraid of him.” He pointed at Bruce when he spoke of him.

“You wanna tell us about your relationship with Sarah?” Y/N asked, moving her hands in a circular motion as she spoke.

“I don’t have one,” Jeff replied, after a pregnant pause.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh, that’s strange. Why do you text her all the time then?”

At her words, Bruce sat up straighter, jaw clenching as he looked at a frightened Jeff.

“Jeff, come on, it’s not that big of a leap,” Y/N spoke nonchalantly. “Couldn’t have Judy anymore so you thought... Why not? Sarah looks just like her mom.”

Her words angered Bruce just like she thought they would. He pushed himself out of his chair and leaped for Jeff, but Derek intercepted him before he could touch him.

“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch!” Bruce exclaimed as Derek pushed him back.

“Get him out! Get him out now,” Derek commanded the guard in the room to take Jeff out.

Once Derek had calmed Bruce (now his altar) down, he walked out of the room, leaving Y/N there standing on the other side of the table.

“Judy was gonna leave my boy for that scumbag,” the altar said, pointing to the door Jeff had exited.

“What’s your name?” Y/N asked as she watched the altar's body language.

“What’s your name?”

Y/N scoffed at his retort. “I’m Y/N, and you,” she nodded, her arms crossed as she stood tall.

“My name is Johnny, and I need a cigarette, Y/N,” Johnny placed his hands on his hips.

“Well, I might be able to help you out there, even though I don’t condone smoking, but I’m sure you’re stressed.” Y/N began to walk back and forth across the room.

“Oh, I’m not,” Johnny shook his head. “I just want a smoke.”

“Johnny,” Y/N scolded at the lie. “Come on. I know these teenage girls stress you out, no matter what you say.”

Johnny lifted his head up, a smug smirk as he looked at Y/N.

“How do you deal with it?” She continued her questions in hopes they would get him to tell her where Sarah was. “Do you like to, um...go out and shoot something?”

Johnny’s head cocked to the side and he shrugged. “Sometimes, but I don’t get much of a chance to do that.”

Y/N raised her brows in fake surprise. “Oh! I thought you did have a chance recently?”

Johnny chuckled and didn’t respond.

Y/N smirked at his none response and let out her own chuckle. “I think you did.”

Johnny’s head dropped as he continued to laugh.

“Now, you know, I’m just- I’m curious,” she laughed then pointed to the door with her thumb. “Then I’ll go get you a cancerous cigarette.”

Johnny smiled and gestured towards Y/N. “I like you, Y/N.”

Oh, that’ll make Spencer’s blood pressure go up, Y/N thought to herself.

“So…” Y/N trailed off, walking back and forth again as she changed the subject. “You took the girls somewhere to scare them...somewhere quiet, isolated…” She watched his reactions to what she said carefully. “Near the water?”

That got him to respond.

“I didn’t do anything but scare ‘em.”

“Oh, of course not.”

Johnny crossed his arms and came closer to Y/N as she stood in a dominant stance across the room.

“Do you have a place by the river?”

Johnny ignored the question. “Mm, pretty, and smart.”

Y/N gave him daring eyes, demanding an actual answer to her question.

“It’s not my place,” Johnny shook his head. “It’s not anybody’s place anymore.”

Y/N turned her head for him to elaborate more.

“I’ve taken them out there before, but this time…” He leaned forward, closer to Y/N this time (almost in her face) and whispered, “I got their attention.”

Y/N stepped back, nodding her head and nodded towards the guard to open the door.

“How about that cigarette now?”

“Not gonna let you pour cancer into Bruce’s lungs.”

The door closed behind her after she spoke and she could hear the tantrum Johnny was having. When she entered the bullpen, she saw Spencer standing in front of the glass. Arms crossed and lips pursed.

“Bub,” she whispered, gaining his attention. “You good?”

“Mm-hm, yep,” he nodded turning to her. “Just uh, you know, it was a little difficult not jumping through the glass to strangle him when he looked at you.”

Y/N chucked, her head dropping as she took a step closer to him.

“Spence, you and I both know that he wouldn’t have walked out of that room if he got closer to me.”

Spencer laughed as she pushed up on her toes to place a kiss on his cheek. He grabbed her left hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing the spot right beside her ring.

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

That night, in the pouring, freezing rain, JJ and Derek found Sarah in the woods. She had a black eye and some cuts but she was okay.

Y/N had gone to the hospital to talk to Sarah with JJ. Letting her know what she would have to do and it was okay to back out.

Sarah seemed like a genuinely sweet girl and she took a liking to Y/N as she cried. When the three of them entered the precinct, JJ took her into the interrogation room, while Y/N stayed in the bullpen with the rest of the team.

“I have a bad feeling,” Y/N whispered as her stomach turned, something was off.

“What about?” Spencer whispered back.

“I’m not sure yet…”

As Sarah sat down, her two hands clasped together reached across the table for Bruce’s. His cuffed wrists stayed together as he held her hands.

“I’m so sorry,” Bruce said, eyes spilling with tears.

“Dad, you need help,” Sarah said softly.

Bruce let out a breath and nodded.

His eyes went up to the cuts and bruises on Sarah’s face and sucked in a sharp breath. “Did I do that?”

Sarah nodded and let a few more tears slip.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce apologized genuinely again. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N stomach turned again, this time out of sadness. Instinctively, she reached for Spencer’s hand, needing a reassurement, and to know it would all be okay. He grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together for a second, and squeezed it.

“What can I do?” Bruce asked Sarah, pleading agony in his voice.

“They say that if you tell them where mom is, this will all just-”

“But I don’t know. You know I don’t know,” Bruce cut her off.

“She didn’t just disappear, Dad,” Sarah sobbed.

When Bruce didn’t respond, only letting out a breathy sob, Sarah let out another crying accusation.

“Oh God, you killed her too didn’t you?”

“No, no, I didn’t,” Bruce shook his head.

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Sarah sobbed and started pointing to the marking Bruce, or rather Johnny left. “This--this is what you’ve done.”

Bruce just looked at the injuries sadly.

“You have hurt us all for a long time,” Sarah continued, her voice giving out at the end. She stood up from the table and began to exit the room with JJ.

Bruce pleaded with her to not go, but she didn’t listen and just left the room.

----------

Y/N walked with Sarah into her home, the mood of the house much different now compared to earlier in the day. The rain had died down from earlier, but it was still falling on the roof hard enough so it could be heard in the house. Sarah had an FBI jacket wrapped around her and Y/N had her signature navy petticoat tied around her waist.

“You cold?” Y/N asked, noting how Sarah wrapped her arms around herself.

“Yeah, a bit, the thermostats right there,” she pointed to the machine down the hall.

Y/N walked down the hall, turning up the temperature, and looked back to Sarah. “Should warm up soon.”

Sarah stood, staring at the floor as Y/N walked closer to her.

“You think you can sleep?”

“Yeah, I want to shower first,” Sarah pointed up the stairs.

Y/N nodded in surprise. “Okay. Uh… you sure you’ll be okay up there?”

The reason why Y/N asked this was because, after her brother died, she wouldn’t even enter that side of the house for months. So it confused her as to how she would be able to go upstairs and be okay.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Sarah said reassuringly.

Hesitantly, Y/N nodded, her bad gut feeling coming back. “Okay, um, I’m gonna make us some tea, that sound good?”

“That’d be really nice, thanks.” And with that, Sarah made her way up the stairs.

Y/N nodded, letting her reassuring fake smile fall once Sarah was out of sight. Her eyes panned over to the table in the hall that adorned family photos. Behind it was a quilt she assumed their mother made.

The sound of her text messages startled her. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and looked at the text from Spencer.

All good?

“Oh Spencer, you always know when somethings up,” Y/N whispered to herself and replied with ‘not sure’.

About five minutes later, after Y/N had finished with the tea, she made her way to the dining room and set the cups down. Her phone went off again, this time a call.

When she pulled it out of her pocket, Spencer’s name lit up the screen.

“Hey,” she answered, her voice hushed.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked, worry clear in his voice.

Y/N sat down at the head of the table and let out a breath. “I don’t know, I’m not sure, but the feeling is back again. She’s just...too casual and almost cold since we got here.”

“It could be the shock,” Spencer replied.

“Yeah, I know, but she’s composed at the same time,” Y/N said, trying to explain Sarah’s behavior. “She has not mentioned Katie to me even once since we got here. I couldn’t go to the side of the house that my brother stayed in after he died.”

“She does have a point,” JJ’s voice said through the phone. “When my sister died, I couldn’t even walk into my house, let alone past her room.”

“Well, what do you think, Y/N, Sarah pulled it off?” Blake’s voice asked.

“It may be a possibility,” Y/N shrugged.

“It’s a very detailed plan,” Blake commented.

“What, she knew about her father’s condition and took advantage of it?” Spencer asked as his voice rushed as he spoke.

“She set up character witnesses like Jeff Godwin...to back up her fear,” Derek’s voice said, piecing together a theory. “She even got her little sister to make calls to a hotline. She manipulated us from the minute we found her.”

“Her writing suggested no empathy and no real emotional connection to the family,” Blake said, recalling the writing she had read earlier that day.

“Psychopathic tendencies,” Spencer remarked.

“Her wounds are more than superficial, but they could be self-inflicted, right, Y/N?” JJ asked the woman on the phone.

Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Sarah enter the room.

“Baby, I know, I’m sorry I can’t be there for the dinner tonight,” Y/N said, quickly coming up with a cover for why she was on the phone. “But London and Jackson are there until Friday and I promise I will make it up to you when I get back.”

Y/N then turned to look at Sarah, acknowledging her presence. “You okay? I didn’t hear the shower.”

“Yeah, I just wanted my tea,” Sarah pointed to the cup on the table.

“Oh, I was gonna bring it to you, but it should be ready,” Y/N stood up and handed her the cup.

“Yeah, I’m still here,” she said, wanting to let them know she was okay.

“We’ll be right there, stay on the phone,” Spencer said quickly as Y/N assumed he was running out of the precinct.

“Baby, I gotta go,” she said and hung up the phone, watching as Sarah walked away.

When Y/N heard the water running, she walked down to the basement, remembering the tub she saw earlier. She took her flashlight connected to her holster out and walked down the stairs. When she reached the floor she walked straight over to the tubs of quilts, specifically the one with Katie’s name.

She pulled it off the shelf and moved it over to an empty table next to it. As she filed through all the blankets, she came across a real estate binder. When she opened it and flipped through the pages, she heard a gun click behind her.

“Why did you have to come down here?”

Sarah’s voice rang in the quiet of the basement.

Cautiously, Y/N turned around to look at her. In Sarah’s hand was the second gun they had been looking for.

“We’ve been looking for that.”

“It’s an old house, I know the best hiding places,” she shrugged. “But you, what do you think you know?”

“You put everything that went missing with your mother inside this box,” Y/N nodded to the box beside her. “1999.”

“Maybe my dad did it?”

“No,” Y/N spoke before she could even finish. “No, you chose this box because it’s the year Katie was born and everything changed.”

Sarah’s face formed a snarl as Y/N spoke.

“She was your little sister.”

“Katie ruined everything-” she took the last step so now she was level with Y/N- “and my mother let her.”

“Your mother loved you,” Y/N protested.

“Well, she loved Katie more,” Sarah seethed.

Y/N and Sarah stood in silence for a second.

“I should’ve cried for Katie,” Sarah scoffed. “I guess there are some things I just can’t fake.”

Carefully, Y/N’s hand reached for the gun on her belt, something she really didn’t want to have to do.

“You won’t do it,” Sarah said, taking another step closer.

“You need to back up- now.” Y/N’s voice was stern as she commanded the young girl.

“I can say my trauma kicked in,” Sarah explained. “PTSD.”

Her face then formed into fear, “I saw you with the gun, and I didn’t know what else to do!”

Then her face went back to normal.

Truly, Y/N was kinda impressed. “You thought of everything.”

Then, by the grace of whatever is out there, footsteps were heard coming down the stairs.

“Sarah put the gun down,” Derek said softly as he came up behind her.

“No, no, you don’t understand. She has a gun, she was going to hurt me,” Sarah used her plea.

“No, no, Sarah, It’s okay,” Derek reassured her. As he put his gun down, Spencer lifted his up and pointed it at her.

“Listen to me,” Derek said, holstering his gun. “I understand. It’s okay, Sarah. She wasn’t going to hurt you. I know you’ve been through enough. All right? I get it.”

Sarah let out a fake sob as Derek placed his hand on her shoulder. “Sarah, you’re safe now, okay?”

Sarah nodded and turned to Derek. “Okay, thank you.”

As soon as Derek pulled the gun out of Sarah’s hands, Spencer came up from behind her and cuffed her.

“What are you doing?!” She exclaimed as the cuffs came down on her wrists.

“You’re a smart girl, Sarah. Figure it out,” Derek said, taking Sarah out of Spencer's hands and led her up the stairs.

Sarah tried to plead as Derek took her up the stairs.

Y/N turned back to the book she had been looking at, opening to a page that held trophies from Sarah’s mom.

“February fourth, the day Judy went missing,” Y/N said as she read the date above the necklace.

“Trophies,” Spencer said as he got closer to Y/N. “If the detective Friedman had ever found it, she would have pinned it all on Bruce.”

“Damn, it’s almost impressive,” Y/N whispered as she closed the boom and brought it up as evidence.

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

“The guests of honor!” Rossi exclaimed as Y/N and Spencer walked into his home.

The two chuckled and walked closer to Rossi to hug him. Rossi grabbed each of their faces, kissing them both on the cheeks.

“Dave, thank you so much for this,” Y/N said, taking Spencer’s hand as she thanked the man.

“Well, it’s the least I could do,” Rossi smiled, then turned and pointed to the room holding his own personal bar. “And I heard that there’s a special someone here to see you, Y/N.”

Y/N raised a brow in confusion then looked to Spencer, who had a smirk on his face.

“Remember the other day when you had to cover on the phone, and said something about London and Jackson coming to visit,” he beamed at the smile that formed on Y/N’s face as she put the pieces together.

“Shut up!” She laughed and rushed into the room, her best friend standing with her own boyfriend next to Derek, laughing about something. “London!”

When she heard her name, the dark-headed woman turned around and saw Y/N. “Y/N!”

The two met in the middle and hugged tightly, having missed each other so much.

“Oh my god, let me see it,” London said, pulling away from the hug so she could look at Y/N’s ring. “Oh, it’s beautiful.”

“I know,” Y/N sighed as London held her hand still.

“Now I just wonder when Jackson will give me one of those,” London laughed as her boyfriend came up next to her.

“Okay, no need to be hostile,” the green-eyed man said as he wrapped an arm around London’s waist. “Congratulations, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Dr. Avery,” she responded diplomatically.

“And to you too, Dr. Reid,” Jackson said, tipping his wine glass to Spencer as he walked up to the three, grabbing Y/N’s hand.

“Thank you,” Spencer smiled at the man.

The four of them had all hung out before. After another case the team had in Seattle, Spencer and Y/N stayed an extra day to hang out with London and Jackson. Y/N and laughed, making a comment about how she was the only one in the group who wasn’t a doctor.

“So how was your last case?” London asked. She loved to hear about cases and she repeatedly told Y/N that the team was the real life Scooby-Doo gang.

“A plot twist to say the least,” Y/N laughed, not wanting to go into detail. “I’m just glad it’s the weekend, and I’m just keeping my fingers crossed we don’t get called in.”

“I know that feeling,” Jackson agreed with a laugh.

Then, Hotch’s phone ringing was heard from across the room.

“No, not tonight,” Y/N groaned, throwing her head back. “One night, can serial killers just chill out for one night.”

Those who heard her comment laughed, but then Hotch reassured her worries.

“Don’t worry Y/N, that was Jessica, telling me Jack finished his homework.”

“Oh thank goodness.”

The night went on, Rossi had hired a catering service so the dinner was all little finger foods. Due to the cold weather, Rossi had made a dance floor in the bar room. Clearing out the tables that were in the middle of the room and leaving room for everyone to dance.

There was laughter heard all night as everyone danced and sang obnoxiously loud to the 90’s rock. It was a perfect surreal moment that made Y/N so happy. As she danced with Spencer, she pulled herself closer to him and whispered to him.

“I wish every night was like this.”

“It will be,” Spencer whispered back, placing a kiss on the shell of her ear as he spoke. “This is how we’ll spend every night we’re married, dancing, singing, and laughing until we can’t breathe.”

Y/N smiled, turning her head to place her lips on his. This kiss was meant to be a peck, but Spencer held the small of her back closer and let their lips dance together longer.

She giggled as she pulled away from him as Derek yelled “Get a room!” as he danced with a very drunk Penelope.

“I think I like the idea of us dancing till sunrise.”

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mackeydoodledoo · 3 years

Text

The Star Athlete x The Pro-Box Fighter

Pairing: Izzy Garcia x (FemKnight!)Reader

Summary: It follows a girl: Y/N Y/L/N, who currently owns the "Pteradon Champion Zord", along with its DinoSoul Key, who is currently a Professional Box Fighter. The youngest ever to be a pro. What she doesn't know is that she is a direct descendant of the supposed Mythical "DinoSoul" Tribe. [Equivalent to the Ryusoul Tribe]. Her partner, she calls him, "buddy" as she doesn't have a proper name for him. The two of them embark on a journey to figure out who she is, finding an old flame and developing a new crush in the process.

Warnings: Box Fighting, BLOOD, Near-Death

A/N: I know nothing about Professional Box-Fighting, so if the Box-Fighting scenes are inaccurate, I’m sorry. R is 18 and Izzy is most likely between 16-18 if I had to guess Izzy’s age and anything romantic between Izzy and R is consensual.

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

As the next couple of days go by, you and Izzy meet up for both of your daily work outs and for Izzy to practice for her own competitions, she wanted to work with not only her cousin Lily but you as well.

"Hey, where's your cousin?" You ask, "I Thought you told me she was going to be free this morning?"

"I did, I guess it was an emergency" Izzy grimaces at her thought, "I got mad the last time she didn’t show up for my training session."

"Well, things happen," you say, gleefully, "Let's stretch while your coach runs her errands. It's extremely helpful."

You motion for her to begin following your movements to stretch out your muscles for today's workout session.

As you seat yourself next to Amelia, you could feel her leaning over.

"You look good Y/N," Amelia says

"You too Ameils," you say back

As you see Izzy come out for her competition, she looks up and spots her friends, especially you. You give her a thumbs up and a wink, hinting to her that its a "good luck wink".

"What was that?" Amelia asks

"Just.. A good luck wink Ameils," you say, noticing Amelia's change in tone, "Not very sure why you're on edge about it."

Your focus never left Izzy as she preps herself and her javelins for the javelin throw event.

"Now in the first round of the javelin event , we have, Izzy Garcia!" The announcer exclaims

You and the team cheers as she take a javelin. You watch her shake off her nerves and beginning to prep her wrist for the throw. You watch intently as Izzy gets her running start, seeing her use your technique that you taught her your first training session with her. It lands farther than the throws during your training sessions. You and the team applaud for her loudly as others do as well, but not as enthusiastic.

After Izzy's competition, she is given the gold medal in the javelin event. She looks at you whilst you were watching her. She mouths 'thank you' to you. You mouth 'you're welcome' to her back. After the awards ceremony, she hugs her step dad, Javi and then her teammates. Then Lily; for helping her with her afternoon sessions. When she turns to you, her hug was more tighter than the others' hugs.

"Thanks for waking up at 5 am to train me," Izzy smiles

"Always Izzy," You smile, "Always happy to help."

“Izzy Garcia was it?” a voice asks

Izzy turns to the direction of the voice: a well dressed man goes up to her and shakes her hand.

“That was a fine race you ran kid,” He smiles

“Thank you,” Izzy says

“I was also impressed with your race I’d like to offer you a full ride scholarship to Pine Ridge’s Upstate College.” He blurts out

The both of you stand there, in awe that Izzy is getting the recognition for her outstanding athleticism as she deserves.

“Can I have time to think on it?” She asks

“Of course,” He says, “Your deadline is the beginning of your summer vacation.”

He turns on his heel and begins walking away. You turn to her, kind of dumbfounded that she didn’t accept the offer right away.

“Why didn’t you say yes?” Izzy’s dad comes up to her

“I wasn’t sure if I’m ready for it yet.” Izzy says nervously

“Not ready?” He sighs, “You’re more than ready pumpkin. You proved to them you were the best!”

“Mr. Garcia is it?” You call out to him

“That’s right,” He says, “You’re Y/N Y/L/N, Izzy couldn’t stop talking about you.”

He goes to shake your hand and you shake his hand out of respect.

“If you don’t mind me saying,” You start, “It is Izzy’s choice to accept the scholarship or not. However, I think it’s great she’s getting recognition for her athleticism.”

After the competition, Izzy’s dad invited you to a celebration dinner at Izzy’s favorite restaurant. You park your car in the parking lot and get out just as Mr. Garcia comes up to you.

“Izzy’s told us so much about your winning matches whenever she gets the chance to watch them,” Mr. Garcia smiles

“Is that so?” You ask, smiling whilst looking at Izzy, “Well, I’ve also taught Izzy some of my basics to my style of box-fighting and she’s picked it up fast.”

“Izzy’s also told us about how you’ve been coaching her in the mornings too,” he adds, “I appreciate you waking up early to train my daughter.”

“Always happy to help Mr. Garcia,” You smile

Izzy wanted a ride home from you, so you ended up driving around for a little bit.

“Your dad sure seems very enthused about your sports accomplishments,” You sigh

“Yeah, he does not talk about Javi’s accomplishments at all,” Izzy sighs with you

“Javi’s a great musician,” You state, “I’ve seen BuzzBlast videos of him jamming out with different instruments. Color me impressed, I only know three.”

“Wait, you’re also a musician?” Izzy asks, turning to you

“Well, not professionally,” You answer, “Before I went into pro-box fighting, I wanted to be a musician. However, I was also worried I wasn’t going to be able to make a living off of it, so I turned to Boxing instead. I do still play bass guitar and drumset though.”

Izzy doesn’t answer but you could feel her nodding at your slight past facts about you. Once you pull into the Garcia’s driveway, Izzy turns to you again.

“Thanks for the ride Y/N,” Izzy smiles, giving you a quick kiss on your cheek before hopping out of your car

You watch Izzy enter her house just so you know she’s in her home safely, you head back to your own home; thinking about Izzy’s cheek kiss she gave you.

The only thing that was left for the week was your upcoming boxing match. You personally asked Izzy to coach you as you prepare for your own competition. As you throw your signature; 'rapid punch', you felt a strong ache in your upper left arm. You immediately stop and Izzy brings an icepack and places it onto your sore spot on your arm.

"Thanks Izzy," You sigh

"You overworked yourself," Izzy states, "Let's call it a day."

You instantly agreed to it. Izzy threw a towel around your neck to cool you down. You begin unwrapping your left hand wrap but when you went to reach for your right wrap, you drew your arm back.

"Here, let me," Izzy says, kneeling at your side

As you watch her unwrap your hand, you thought back to the first morning training session you had with her, you were in Izzy's place and she was in yours. You didn't realize you let out a small giggle, making Izzy look up at you.

"What?" she asks, smiling

"I'm just thinking about our first morning training session," You smile, "You were barely paying attention to my wrapping tutorial, and now look at you. Maybe I'm the one that needs a lesson or two."

"We'll see after your match," Izzy says, now helping you get dressed

She helps you hoist your sore arm through the arm hole of the shirt. However, once you got it through, you still felt Izzy's hands gently placed along your waist. Hoisting your right arm through its sleeve, you turn to Izzy, facing her. Your arms resting on her waist and hers resting on your arms. You took notice of how Izzy was looking at your lips then back up to your eyes. Your head leans down instinctively as hers meets yours halfway. Her hands slowly move around to the back of your neck as you could feel yourself getting goosebumps just by the movements of her hands and her smiling in the kiss. Not caring about how sweaty you were, you wanted to never let that moment go. It was only ruined by both of your communicators going off. You didn't realize how long the both of your guys' lips were locked together until you almost gasped for air. The two of you smiling at each other before you decided to answer your communicator.

"What's up Zayto?" You ask, answering your communicator

"A sporix beast was spotted near the park," he explains

"We're on our way," You say, looking at Izzy one more time, the moment she looked at you before you kissed her was on your mind. But snapped back into reality as the two of you decided to talk about it another time.

After the sporix beast was defeated, Void Knight managed to get the sporix glob before any of you could reach it. You remember you have to do something ack at your apartment. So Izzy wasn't able to catch you to talk about your guys' kiss before you two left to defeat the monster. And you were kind of relieved. You weren't sure why you kissed Izzy. But, you weren't complaining about it either.

"Hey partner! Welcome back!" he says

"Hey buddy," You smile

"How did your training session go?" he asks

"Good," you say

"That's it?" he asks

You nod, "Well, if you really want to know, I kissed Izzy."

"YOU WHAT?!" He yells, but immediately regrets it as you shush him

"I kissed Izzy," You say, once more

"How did she react?" He asks

"She didn't push me away," you say

"She's so into you!" He teases

"Is she?" You ask

"And you're so into her!" He adds

"Listen here bud," You begin, but not knowing what else to say

"You have to tell her how you feel," He suggests

"How?" You ask him, "I have a match tomorrow and I have a sore arm, on my way home all I could think about was Izzy. I need to focus bud. Okay, I'll ask her to get brunch with me. A thanks for her helping me."

"There you go," he says, "Then after the fact, tell her how you feel!"

"Thanks bud. I'm going to-wait, did you make me food?" you ask, inhaling a delicious scent through your nose

"Yeah! Your favorite!" He says, "Well, now that you mentioned your sore arm, I'll pull out some bath salts and run a hot bath when you're almost done eating."

"Hey bud, actually, get that bath started right now," You say, stretching your arm, "I've heard from Amelia once you should wait 30 minutes to get in water."

"Y/N... It's a bathtub!" He says

"But, I'll still take my bath first!" You say, "Change that, I need a shower. But I can do all that. Just get that bath started bud!"

"On it!" He says as you follow him into the bathroom

Your partner was given to you by your mom on your 5th birthday. Yes, he's able to talk to you. However, little did you know, on your 13th birthday, your mother had driven off of a cliff on a very rainy evening. Trying to get home in time for your birthday. Since then, you've disliked your birthday; a reminder of the day your mom died. However, oddly being raised by a Champion Zord was difficult. But, you and your partner are inseparable. He was like your second family.

After your shower/bath, you reheated your food that your partner made for you. You throw on the news via your phone and watch a recap of your fight from earlier that day.

"How's your arm?" he asks

"A whole lot better," You answer, "Thanks bud."

The next morning you get to the arena early to get in your "cold morning stretch". You'd often do this on match day to relax yourself and to get a feel of the ring. You have a tendency to analyze the ring whenever you get in there. You don't come up with the 'winning strategy'. All of that come up on the fly as you're in the ring, facing your opponent.

"Hey Izzy!" You call her over, watching her run over to you

"Wait! No admittance!" The security guard states, stepping in front of Izzy

"C'mon Mark, she's with me, let her through," you sigh

As Izzy walks past him, you take her into your arms; hugging her. Once you let her out of your arms you look over her shoulder and see the team.

"Hey guys! Glad you could make it!" You say, hugging each of them, "Welcome to The Pine Ridge Arena!"

you enter the ring, stripping off your robe, you look around the crowd, spotting Izzy; giving you a thumbs up. You smile at her but then spot Amelia, who didn't look amused at all. You also give her a smile out of your love for your still having a friendship with her. You look ahead to your opponent for the night; quite larger and more muscular than you already are.

"Y/L/N and Hall," The referee starts, "No head blows not any blow below the waist."

"Got it ref," You reply

"Whatever ref," The opponent growls

The two of you take a couple of steps back from each other, preparing the first round of your match. But, this time, Izzy was watching you in person over seeing it on her Television at home.

"Come on Y/N. You've got this.." Izzy whispers to herself, but hoping her words of encouragement would reach you

The bell rings and you get into your initial stance. Hall immediately throwing out a punch, to which you ducked. You send a punch to her shoulder, making her stumble backward. However, she sweeps your feet and you're knocked onto the ground, wheezing for air. Using your arm strength to push yourself back up you hear the ref's whistle.

"Foul!" he calls

Izzy comes up to you as you wheeze for air.

"Deep breaths Y/N, remember?" Izzy says, gently stroking you arm

You nod, not able to form words, still affected by the sweep you were just under.

"Hey, you got this okay?” Izzy smiles before sitting with your teammates again

You force yourself to stand back up, going into your starting stance for the second round to start. Although you already feel winded and weak, you were still able to dodge Hall's punches and throws. However, she gave you a suckerpunch to your stomach, sending you back onto the ground; Izzy and your teammates watching in pain. As you hit the ground; your chin hitting the ground first, you struggle your way to stand back up.

"1,2,3-" The ref began counting before you picked yourself back up

You took a low blow to your side. However, you managed to get yourself back up, despite the fact you took a low blow. You put your hands up into their initial stance as you pant for oxygen. You could hear Izzy and the rest of the team cheering for you. You took this last one minute break to get your mind together. You really wanted to look at Izzy and watch her encourage you and boost your confidence. But, hearing her was enough for you.

"You got this Y/N!" Izzy finally screams out

When the bell for the third and final round sounded, you took a deep inhale of breath to get more blood flowing in your veins, to your arms. You immediately dodge a punch Hall flung at you, sending out your own right against her shoulder. The punch was enough to send her whole arm to fly back; obviously not enough to break it. That wasn't your goal. Breaking your opponent, let alone accidentally killing them is never your goal. you send another punch to Hall's side as you begin your signature move; keeping it all above the waist. As you sent your final punch to Hall's other shoulder with as much force as you could give out; she falls back.

"1,2,3,4,5!" The ref calls, "Y/N Y/L/N is the winner!"

The whole crowd cheers as paramedics begin taking a look at Hall's injuries. Izzy comes running into the ring as you begin to falter; holding you up as the ref holds your other arm up high into the air. The whole team cheers for you outside of the ring as a medal goes around your neck.

After paramedics had checked you out, you head to the locker room to change into sweats. Each time your even so slightly moved your limbs though, it was hellfire to you.

"Need a hand?" Izzy asks, standing in the doorway to the locker room

"Sure," You sigh

"Your opponent really took that last hit, so they're going to take her to the hospital," Izzy says, helping you get your legs into sweatpants

"I hope she'll be fine," You sigh, "I'd immediately retire from boxing if I ended up killing an opponent."

"Well, so far you haven't," Izzy states, getting your head through a hoodie you packed

Izzy takes your duffle bag and puts it around her, "I'll help you get home."

"Thank you Izzy," You sigh, having your arm sling around her

Her arm coils around your waist and her other hand holding onto the hand that's slung around her shoulders. Everyone applauds you as you emerge from the locker room, with Izzy under your arm. Javi helping you with the other side of your body.

"That was a real match you had there," Gale states

"Oh, hey Gale," You sigh, "Did you come to the match?"

"That I did kiddo," She says, "Hey, I'm going to give you three weeks for everything in your body to recover. But, someone will need to help you out as you recover."

"I'll do it," Izzy jumps the chance

"Alright, done," Gale smiles, "See you in three weeks kid."

"My manager," You explain to Javi and Izzy

Three weeks huh? Well, at least Izzy will be by your side while you recover. But, the downside to that is that you'll miss out on taking on sporix beasts.

"She really took a beating huh?" your partner recaps

Izzy nods, "Well, I also volunteered to keep an eye on her."

"Good," he says, "You know, there was one time she couldn't stop talking about you."

"Bud!" You try to scream but wince in pain

"Is that so?" Izzy asks, smiling at you

You could feel the heat go into your cheeks; flushing a deep pink as you try to look away to avoid eye contact. Izzy breaks eye contact as she ooks at her communicator go off.

"Go," you say, "I'll be fine."

She makes her leave from your apartment, going to catch up with the other rangers

Part 4

#izzy garcia #power rangers #power rangers dino fury #amelia jones #ollie akana #javi garcia #zayto #female reader #power rangers imagine #izzy garcia x reader

18 notes · View notes

kjhmyg · 4 years

Text

rough edges pt. 3 (m)

Pairing: jungkook | (f) reader Genre: college!au, badboy!jk Warnings: mentions of drugs, anxiety, car sex, manhandling Word Count: 14K

1 / 2 / Part 3 / 4 /

Author’s Note: Here’s part 3, which I wasn’t originally going to write but inspiration struck, so consider it as an early christmas present! I really hope you like it, it’s much longer than the first two parts but I love this chapter. Let me know what you think!

The familiar scent of coffee fills the apartment on a quiet Sunday morning. Two empty cups sit neatly on the coffee table, across from each other, along with a plate of toast and some spreads. When Hana emerges from her room, you smile and fill up her cup with the freshly brewed coffee. She greets you a good morning and throws her jacket over the couch before taking a seat at the table. You take turns to set the table for a light breakfast on the weekends and this week, it’s your turn.

Hana quietly spreads some peanut butter on her toast and takes a bite. She waits for you to take a sip of your coffee before asking. “Is Jungkook okay?”

You nod, setting the drink back on the table. “He’s just having some trouble getting along with the guys recently.”

Hana edges closer and lowers her voice, “Fighting over work again?” She asks.

You pout, eyes darting to the door of your room, closed, with a sleeping Jungkook behind it. “I think so. I’ll ask him about it later.”

“I thought you don’t talk about these things?”

“Well yeah. But if I can help it, might as well right?” You say. “He just needs help communicating.”

Hana nods in agreement. Jungkook’s spent the last few nights over at your place. He called you the first night, asking if it was alright to stay over. You hesitated initially, since it’s a shared apartment. When Hana told you it was alright, you gave Jungkook the green light and he shows up fifteen minutes later, looking tired. He settles nicely into bed with you that night, mumbling something about getting into a fight with Hoseok just before he dozes off.

Hoseok texted you the next day, asking if you’ve seen Jungkook to which you replied having him over the night before. He acknowledges it but doesn’t reply when you ask him what happened between them. According to Jimin, it’s not unusual for them to get into a disagreement. “Actually it’s pretty common,” he said, “they spend more time fighting than being friends.” You left it at that, thinking it might blow over soon if it happens often enough.

Hana finishes her breakfast and starts to gather her stuff. She has the morning shift at the cafe. “Hey by the way,” you say, “it doesn’t bother you, does it? Having Jungkook around? ‘Cause if it does I’ll let him know, he’ll understand.”

“No way.” She makes a face as if it offends her for you to even think that way. “It’s totally cool with me. But there is one thing.”

Your heart leaps in your chest until you see her eyes dart to the pair of boots haphazardly thrown in front of the door. You start laughing as she rubs her temples. “Please. Tell him he has to put his shoes nicely on the rack. We have a rack! Right next to the door!”

“I’ll make sure he does next time.” You giggle. “You know what, I’ll get him to do the dishes as punishment.”

“Good idea.” She laughs, putting on her jacket. “Don’t forget, you have a shift today. I’ll see you then.”

“See you.” You wave as she leaves, closing the door behind her.

You head for your room, opening and closing the door gently as you enter. Jungkook’s sprawled on your single bed, face down with his back in full view. You climb onto the bed and it sinks slightly under both your weight. Jungkook takes up a lot of space on your tiny bed, the only kind you could afford, so you’ve been snuggling close to him every night he’s here. Not that you mind at all. It’s quite nice actually, having his warm presence around you.

You tap his shoulder and call out his name. No response. You shake him harder but he barely moves. He’s still breathing evenly. So you climb on to his back, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your hands move up his body to his shoulders and you squeeze hard, calling out his name again.

“Jungkook,” you call, leaning closer, “wake up.”

A low grumbling sound comes from him but he still doesn’t move. You roll off his back and pat his butt as you sit on your knees beside him, “Wake up, stinky!”

He turns his head to the side facing you, one side of his cheek squished against the bed, and you see a small smile tug on his lips. You giggle and lean down to kiss him. Slowly, he starts to stir from his position. He sighs and opens his eyes, still heavy, and looks at you, “What time is it?” He asks, voice low.

“It’s almost nine.”

He whines, trying to get back into a comfortable position but you won’t allow it. “It’s too early.” He says.

“No it’s not. Get up.” You pull on his arm but he’s heavy and all those muscles are put to good use as he pulls you down with him instead. He turns on his side, pulling you close enough to kiss you on the forehead. You only sigh, running your palm over the side of his face, which he leans into.

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.” You say softly.

“You’re cuter though.” He replies.

You remain in his arms for a while until he decides it’s time to get up. After a tiny stretch in the limited space he has, he pushes his upper body off the bed and sits with his legs crossed, rubbing his eyes. You follow, sitting in front of him, knees touching each other.

“What are you doing today?” You ask him and watch as he thinks it over, yawning and scratching his neck before shaking his head.

“Don’t know,” he says mid-yawn, “why?”

“Let’s go back to your place.” You suggest. He gives you a blank stare. “It’s been four days Jungkook. I’m sure Hoseok’s over it by now. What happened, anyway?”

“He was just being annoying again.” Jungkook sighs, avoiding eye contact. You hesitate, not wanting to push him into elaborating. When Taehyung said Jungkook runs every time he’s confronted about something, he wasn’t exaggerating. So far, with how careful you are around him, he hasn’t shown that side of him to you. You only nod in response, not expecting him to continue but he does. A little. “I just…I don’t like it when he picks on me. He’s always trying to meddle in my life.”

You’re quiet for a beat. Getting him to tell you how he feels is tough. Here’s a guy who’s used to keeping it all in; it’ll take a while before it’s normal to him. You hold his hands in yours. “He’s worried about you, Jungkook. He just wants to help you make good choices.”

“I know what I’m doing…” He mutters, brows creasing. For a second you think he might get angry. Then he blinks and it disappears, a pout forming on his lips as he looks down at your hands, “He’s irritating.”

You laugh, dropping your head onto his chest. The perplexed look he gives you sends you into another fit of giggles. You cup his face in your hands and coo at him, “You act all tough on the outside but you’re actually just a baby!”

Jungkook sits quietly, watching you with a blank stare as he waits for you to finish laughing. At the same time, he doesn’t want you to stop because there’s nothing else he’d rather listen to than the sound of your laughter. He continues to watch you fondly.

“Are you done?” He asks when you finally calm yourself, wiping the tears from the side of your eyes.

“Ok, I’m done.” You grin up at him and he can’t help but to lean in for a kiss. Instead of your lips, he’s met with a finger to his lips. “Shower first. Brush your teeth.”

Jungkook sighs, getting on his knees and off the bed, heading for the shower. Just as you let your guard down watching him walk away, he turns back around and jogs towards you, “I forgot this.” He says quickly, grabbing your face and landing his lips on yours. You giggle, falling back onto your bed and slapping him on the shoulder. He pulls away and runs off to the bathroom, happy.

𝄖

“Can’t believe you’re making me do this.” Jungkook grumbles, settling both his helmet and yours on the seat of the motorbike. You hand him his backpack, smiling wide at him as if you were watching your son go off on his first day of school.

When you said to go back to the house, Jungkook imagined it more like getting through the front door without greeting anyone, running up to his room and closing the door behind him. No, not if you had anything to say about it. Say hello to everyone, be nice, especially to Hoseok, apologise and only then can he go up to his room.

“Wait!” You call out when he turns. “Remember to smile.”

He scowls instead and pulls you closer by the waist. “You’re really getting on my nerves today.”

“Oh really?” You put up a front, pretending like the way he speaks with his voice so low doesn’t make your knees weak. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Jungkook leans in so your lips are almost touching and you gulp. He revels in the way your lips part as they anticipate his next move, your tongue darting out to wet them only to be disappointed when he moves away with a scoff. With a smile on his face, Jungkook holds on to your wrist, walking up the lawn and through the front door.

As soon as you enter, you see Jimin and a couple of other members of the fraternity, knocked out on the couch in questionable positions; Jimin himself with half his body on the couch and the rest hanging over the armrest. You don’t say anything and neither does Jungkook. Just a normal Sunday. The sound of a music going off in the kitchen catches your attention. You gesture for Jungkook to move and he does with a sigh.

Taehyung’s eyes light up as you enter the kitchen. “Y/N! You’re here!” He beams, dropping his utensils on the plate and walking over to give you a hug.

“Hi Tae!” You greet with the same amount of enthusiasm. It’s always nice to be around Taehyung, always so positive and optimistic. Makes you feel so warm inside, how he greets you every time.

You look at Jungkook who’s quiet, awkwardly standing next to you while you have your moment with Taehyung. He looks back at you. Taehyung looks back and forth between you and senses the tension. Jungkook rolls his eyes, looking at the ceiling before mustering up the friendliest smile he could and saying, “Hi.”

Taehyung blinks. “Um…hi?” He’s confused but he takes it. “If you guys are hungry, we have eggs and baked beans and-”

“We already ate.” Jungkook replies curtly, and you shove his shoulder. He clears his throat and tries again. “I mean, thank you. That’s very…nice of you.”

“You’re welcome Jungkook.” Taehyung smiles fondly at him, before going in for a hug, pleased with his manners. Jungkook reacts half-heartedly, only accepting it because you’d stop him from stopping Taehyung.

You’re caught up in making sure he’s being nice to Taehyung that you hadn’t realise Hoseok sitting at the table to your right. He quietly slurps the milk leftover from his cereal with a spoon. His earphones are in and eyes trained only to his phone.

“Jungkook.” You whisper, nodding towards Hoseok.

Jungkook bites his lip and looks at you. He knows you’re not going to let him off before speaking to Hoseok. He walks past Taehyung and you, standing next to the table, in front of Hoseok. The older boy, distracted by his presence, darts his eyes away from the phone and to Jungkook. He raises a brow and removes one side of his earpiece. Then he waits. And waits.

“Hi Hoseok.” You interject when Jungkook doesn’t start. Confused, Hoseok turns to look at you, now standing next to Jungkook. He nods and returns your greeting. You look up at Jungkook, sending him a look, one which he rolls his eyes at.

“Hi.” He says blandly.

“Hi,” Hoseok replies, “can I help you?”

“Nope. Enjoy your meal.” Jungkook spits out, turning to walk away but you stop him, pulling on his arm and making him return to his position in front of Hoseok. You smack Jungkook’s arm with the back of your palm, which ended up hurting you more than him.

“Jungkook has something to say.” You say.

“I’m…” Jungkook starts, clearing his throat. He actually seems nervous. But so are you. “I just wanted to apolofkfkmc…” He mumbles the last part in a voice so soft Hoseok cranes his neck to hear better.

“Huh?” Hoseok’s brows crease and he sets his phone down. He’s getting impatient.

“I said.” Jungkook speaks again this time through clenched teeth. “I want to apologise. For the other night.“

Hoseok’s eyes widen at his apology. "O-oh.” He stutters. Suddenly it’s hard to maintain eye contact and he’s looking at anywhere else but Jungkook, nodding as he tries to take in what just came out of his mouth. “In that case I uh…me too. I’m sorry too."

Jungkook only nods, feeling as awkward as Hoseok does. He slips his hands into the pockets of his jacket and walks out of the kitchen, headed towards his room, without another word and without you. You walk back to Taehyung, who went back to eating his breakfast on the kitchen island, observing the entire scene from behind. He’s looking at you appreciatively, like you had just solved a very difficult puzzle for him.

"That’s it?” You whisper to Taehyung, referring to how anti-climax that conversation was.

“Not gonna lie, that’s probably the best that could’ve come out of that situation.” He grins. “Good job, Y/N.”

“Really?” You raise a brow at him. “That wasn’t even much."

"Oh it was. By Jungkook’s standard at least.” He extends his fist out for you to bump.

You shrug and accept the praise. Then you head upstairs to Jungkook’s room where you find him stuffing his dirty laundry into a box or his version of a laundry basket. You close the door behind you as you enter.

“Hey.” You run up to him, hugging him from the back. “That was great! I’m so proud of you."

"It was whatever.” He mutters.

Unwrapping your hands from his waist, he then turns to you, bending down slightly to lift you up. You wrap your legs around his middle and press your forehead to his. “Don’t make me do shit like that again. I hate it.” He says.

You laugh and it makes his blood race. “What? You hate having basic social skills?"

"No just the talking and apologising.” His brows furrow. You find it alarming but cute how he doesn’t realise the things he just mentioned are basic social skills.

“You have to. That’s how friendship works. By maintaining good relationships with people."

"Well I don’t need to do all that."

"Yes you do.”

“Stop it."

The look in his eyes tell you he’s not playing. He really is annoyed with you. Somehow, you’re feeling ballsy today and decide to poke the bear with a stick. You remove yourself from his hold, take a step closer, meeting your face with his and whisper against his lips, "Make me.”

Something flashes in his eyes and your insides tingle with excitement. He pushes you backwards until you feel your back hit against something; a small study table, by the window, covered with blinds. His hands rest on the table on either side of you, trapping you in place between his arms. “So brave, always running that mouth. You do it so well.” He says, hands moving to your hips.

“Do what?” Your voice is barely a whisper, distracted by his lips now on your neck.

Instead of a reply, he takes your hand and brings it to his crotch where you feel his hardening dick over his pants. Then, he’s crashing his lips onto yours, tongue gaining entry so easily, maintaining its dominance over yours. Your hands slide under the band of his sweats and wrap around his dick. He approves with a breathy moan. His own hands slide up your top and starts to undo the buttons of your dress shirt all while thrusting into your hand. Once your shirt comes undone, he pushes up your bra, exposing your breasts. His hands are quick to work on them, groping them roughly and pinching your nipples. You whine as he does, causing you to tighten your grip on his dick, increasing the speed of your movement up and down his length. It doesn’t take him long to get hard and when he can’t take any more of the stimulation, he pushes himself off you, panting hard.

Jungkook moves to his nightstand drawer where he picks up a condom and lube, and walks back to you with determination in his eyes. He places the lube on the table next to where your hand is holding yourself steady.

“Take it all off.” It’s not a request; it’s an instruction. And you follow through, scrambling to remove each material off your body until you’re standing before him, naked. A smirk lands on his face, satisfied but not yet enough. He removes the condom from its packaging and rolls it on his throbbing dick. Then he steps closer to you and nods towards the lube. You feel for the bottle, not wanting to break eye contact and only look away when you squeeze the lubricant on his dick, using your hands to spread it evenly, as an excuse to touch him.

He hisses when your thumb circles the tip and he grabs you by the jaw. “I’d love to see what this pretty mouth can do with my dick inside it but right now, I just can’t wait.” He lets go of your face and gets you to sit on his desk, with your legs spread open.

You gulp, feeling the adrenaline rush through you. You’re so wet, so exposed and so beautiful in Jungkook’s eyes. He moves the tip of his dick along your slit and you let out a soft whine. Then he aligns himself at your entrance and moves slow, watching your expression as he enters, not going in all the way just yet. Your eyes fall shut and mouth open, resisting the urge to buck your hips. When you open them, your eyes dart to the door behind him and suddenly realise that at any given moment, any one of his frat brothers could open the door and see you like this; naked and exposed with a dick inside you. You curse yourself for not locking it earlier.

Jungkook follows your line of sight and turns back to you smiling. Obviously the thought of him excites him and quite frankly, you feel the same. He thrusts into you at a faster pace, but still doesn’t go in all the way. He watches as his dick slides in and back out your pussy and you try your best to hold back moans. You’re pretty sure there are people in the rooms next to this one and you’d rather spare yourself the embarrassment of letting them hear you.

He leans in and kisses you, pressing his forehead to yours, then moves his dick inside you all the way, bottoming out. You moan quietly into an open-mouthed kiss. Just then, a knock on the door almost gives you a heart attack.

“Hey Jungkook.” Someone calls out from the other side. You almost jump off the table.

Jungkook turns to the door and answers them casually, “Yeah?” Then he turns back to you and continues thrusting into you quietly. Your walls clench from the suspense and you see his brows crease, loving how it feels on his dick.

“A package just came for you.” The other guy says. “I accepted it on your behalf, hope you don’t mind. It’s pretty heavy so I left it by the door. Do you want me to bring it up for you?”

You bite your lip when Jungkook moves his hand up to your left breast, playing with the hardened nipple. “Oh no it’s fine. I’ll come get it in a bit. Thanks.”

“No problem. See ya.”

You sigh out in relief when you hear him walking away, footsteps disappearing as he moves down the stairs. Jungkook watches you intently, at how your body releases the tension after the interruption, and hooks his arms under your thighs so he can hold you in place as he fucks into you harder. Moans slip out from you, finding it difficult to hold them in the harder and faster he goes.

He pulls out suddenly and you look at him questioningly for a second before scooting closer to the edge of the desk and pulling him in by the neck for a kiss. Your hands start to roam over his body, trying to get his shirt off. He grabs your wrist instead, stopping you and holding them in place between your bodies.

“Turn around.” He says, against your lips, then releases his hold on you. When you take your time to do so, he flips you around himself, pushing you against the desk once again, with your ass up against his crotch. A hand pushes down on your back, so you’re bending over and you steady yourself with your forearms against the desk. You grind against his dick and he groans in approval.

His hands rub your ass cheeks and it feels almost comforting until he lands a smack on one of them. You gasp in surprise and turn your head to scowl at him but before you can say a word, he slips his dick back inside you. It doesn’t take him long to get back into his rhythm, and by then you’re fully resting atop the desk, nails scraping against the wood every time he pounds into you. The sounds of your mewling muffled with the way your face is pressed up against the desk.

Hovering over you, he goes into a gentle rhythm, pushing away the stray curls from your face so he can see you. Jungkook plants kisses on your shoulder that trails up to the back of your neck. You’re panting heavily yet looking at him tenderly under tired, half-lidded eyes. Warm, sweaty arms snake under your torso and pull you up, back to his chest and dick angled a different way in this position. A strong arm wraps around the front of your shoulders to support you and keep you in place. His other hand, sinks into the flesh of your hip.

He holds you close to whisper in your ear. “See baby, next time when I say stop, you better stop.” You angle your face up to kiss him, biting his lip and sucking on it.

“And if I still don’t, will you promise to fuck me like this every time?”

Riled up by your reply, he makes a sound which resembles a growl and picks up the pace in his hips. Fingers grab on to your hips harder. Your hands come up to his arm around your neck and shoulders, gripping them for support. Skin slapping echoes through his room, any efforts to hide the activity long forgotten. His mind only focused on making you cum on his dick.

“Fuck.” You breathe out, gasping when his hand wraps around your throat.

He senses you’re close when you start whining and eyes fall shut as he watches your expression and he has no intention of slowing down or stopping. When his hand moves to your clit, you shake, resting the side of your face on his. A hand comes to cup the other side of his face. You watch him, fiery eyes, sweaty face. “I’m gonna cum.” You whisper.

With one hand still on your throat and the other rubbing circles on your clit, and the rough pounding of his dick in your pussy, you can barely react, save for the moans that escape you. “Jungkook. I’m gonna cum. Please.”

Your voice brings him over the edge, thrusting into you harder till he feels your body tense up and your walls clench against his dick and he reaches his climax right after, slowing down into a gentle rhythm. Weak, your body goes limp and if it weren’t for his arms holding you back, you would have let yourself crash onto the floor. You steady yourself against the edge of the table when he finally loosens his grip on you. You feel him pull out and you drop against the table.

Jungkook disposes of the condom and returns to you, lifting you off the table and on to his bed. You sigh at the feeling of a comfy mattress on your back. He joins you, pulling you in his arms.

“Thanks a lot. Now I’m gonna be dead tired at work.” You complain, nuzzling against him.

“Should’ve listened.” He sings, rubbing your back.

“Worth it.” You say.

𝄖

The weekend passes by quickly and the dreaded start of a new week comes round again. A never-ending routine that you’ve grown comfortable with, yet sick of. Your entire week is carefully scheduled to allow time for schoolwork and your part-time gig at the cafe alongside classes. It allows you to function on autopilot, knowing your schedule by memory. Before you know it, half the week has gone by and you’re looking forward to the weekend to get those few extra hours of sleep.

In between classes, work and studying, you manage to squeeze in time to spend with your boyfriend. Some weeks though, you’re so swamped having to make time for group projects and meetings that you don’t get to see him at all until the end of the week. This week being one of them. Having spent a lot of time with him last week, especially with him staying over at your place, there’s a certain emptiness in his absence. Come to think of it, he hasn’t replied to your texts from last night but he must still be asleep. You’re glad you managed to help him and Hoseok sort things out even if it was not how you expected it to go.

Checking for notifications on your phone, you feel slightly disappointed that there isn’t any. You sigh, resting your head in your palm, attempting to focus on what the lecturer is saying. Morning classes aren’t your favourite, but you would rather get these lectures over with and have the rest of the day free. The exceptional silence that fills classes at this time doesn’t help you concentrate, instead making it easier to drift away into your thoughts.

Just as you start to think about the different things you’d pick a fight with Jungkook over just to annoy him, your screen lights up with a new notification. Thinking it’s him, you unlock your phone and click to view. But it’s not him, it’s Hoseok.

Hoseok: hey. you free for lunch?

Though it isn’t anything to be concerned over, you do find it odd that he’s asking you out for lunch out of the blue, especially since he’s never done that before. Rather than worried, you’re more curious.

You: I won’t be free till late afternoon. how about dinner instead?

You: Unless it’s urgent?

Hoseok: dinner’s good too.

Hoseok: how about the place across the street from where you work?

Hoseok: you name the time.

You: I can meet you there at 7.

Hoseok: cool. See you then.

Leaving this appointment to the back of your mind, you go about your day as planned. It isn’t until you’re walking out the school compound that you check your phone and open up the text conversation with Jungkook. Delivered but not read. You’re uneasy but it’s not uncommon. Usually, texts don’t get read when he’s off at work. Except, he tells you when he’s going off the grid, so you don’t get worried. You push any negative thoughts away, not wanting to bring them to dinner with Hoseok.

He’s not there yet when you arrive, so you pick the booth next to the window where you can people-watch. At ten past seven he strolls in, sliding into the seat across from you with a smile on his face. “Hey. Thanks for waiting.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, “let’s order. I’m starving.”

While waiting for you orders to arrive, you catch up with Hoseok. You don’t know him particularly well, at least not the way friends know each other. Your knowledge of him is built on what Jungkook tells you; which is limited to “he’s irritating”. Now that you think about it, you’re not even sure if Jungkook knows Hoseok any more than you do. Then again, he’s good at avoiding things he doesn’t like; like confrontations. Hoseok is probably somewhere on that list too.

You sip on iced tea as you listen to him speak about juggling the responsibilities of schoolwork, being captain of the basketball team and the senior in charge at the house. It’s amazing how you would never guess the amount of stress he’s under just from the exterior. But looking at him up close now, you see how exhausted he is from his eyes. Suddenly you feel sorry for him.

The food arrives after some time and you salivate at the sight. You haven’t had a proper meal the whole day; only a sandwich that Hana passed to you while in between meetings. Hoseok’s plate looks especially good; he ordered a breakfast meal with pancakes, eggs, avocado and sausages. It looks like he got double portions of the sausage and eggs too. You swallow and look at your own plate of pasta and suddenly it looks so empty.

You start digging in anyway, caving in to the grumbling of your tummy. “You have a lot on your plate.”

“Hm?” Hoseok hums, bringing a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. “Oh yeah, I eat a lot.”

“Oh no- I,” you laugh, “I meant with all the things you got going on; being captain and schoolwork, keeping an eye on the boys.”

He stops mid-chew and laughs. It’s a pretty and contagious laugh; one you hadn’t expected to come from him. “Sorry. I think I was too excited about the food.” He shakes his head, still thinking about it.

“It’s fine.” You chuckle.

“But yeah. It can be overwhelming sometimes, especially having to deal with the boys. Can’t even blame them. They’re young, they want to have fun. I understand that. But I just can’t sit back and watch when I see them walking down the wrong path, you know?” His voice softens towards the end, and he chews slowly, in a daze even though his eyes are trained on the plate in front of him.

A sudden wave of cloudiness overtakes over the atmosphere at the table. Hoseok continues taking small bites of his food, seemingly in thought. You clear your throat when the silence becomes too much. “So,” you start, “Speaking of which, did you want to talk to me about Jungkook?”

He stares at you, not in surprise but contemplation. You can almost see the wheels turning in his head. After a while he cracks a tiny smile, “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I’ve seen that look on you more than once and it almost always has to do with that boy.” You giggle and he shrugs.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs, losing interest in his food. Leaning back, he sets his utensils on the table and looks at you with a hint of defeat in his eyes. “I didn’t want to drag you into this. It’s not fair to you.”

You set your own fork down and cross your arms on the table, “Hoseok, I can handle it.”

Chuckling, he copies your pose, crossing his arms on the table. “That’s exactly what he says too. Seems like he’s rubbing off on you in more ways than one.”

You flush at that. You can’t even refute because he’s right; Jungkook does say that a lot, even to you and you must have adopted it from him. Picking up your fork to start eating again, you look away from him, “Anyway, back to Jungkook.”

“How is he, by the way?” Hoseok picks up where he left his meal. “Is he still mad at me?”

“Hm?” You tilt your head at him. “What makes you say that?”

“He’s back at your place right? I thought everything was okay after he apologised on Sunday.”

You blink in confusion. As far as you know, Jungkook is back at their place and has been since Sunday. “What are you talking about? He’s not with me. I thought he’s back at the house.”

There’s momentary silence as the two of you exchange glances. “So…we lost Jungkook.”

You slap his hand and he yelps, pulling it away. “Not funny. He’s been texting and calling me normally since the weekend. Didn’t say anything about work. Hasn’t replied me today though.”

“After leaving with you that evening, he never came back.” Hoseok shrugs. “Thought he got comfortable at your place.”

Where could he have gone without letting anyone know? It’s not impossible that he left for work but you decide it’s highly unlikely, considering how he still managed to text and call you the last few days, plus he would’ve let you know if it was work. Hoseok doesn’t look surprised and you don’t bring it up to him because it may very well be nothing, and you wouldn’t want Hoseok to be up in Jungkook’s business any more than he already is. “He probably went to work.” You brush it off.

The boy across from you nods, not thinking much of it. “Does he talk to you about it? About work?” You shake your head no. “But you know about it, right? Taehyung told you?"

You think it over. All Taehyung told you was that they found stuff in his room that wasn’t supposed to be there. What he actually does, you still have no clue about. "Just a little. I don’t know much to say that I know. I’m trying to ease my way into asking jungkook about it. I don’t want to come on too strong. You know him, he doesn’t like that."

"Yeah, I get it.” He takes a sip of his drink, a large chocolate milkshake. “He mixes with bad company, to put it simply. He’s very attached to them. I don’t want to tell you everything in detail because I think I owe it that much to him to let him tell you his story.”

You nod, your food forgotten over the curiosity that overtakes you. Hoseok continues, “I didn’t have a problem with it, at first. He was skipping classes and getting grades just enough to get by in classes, but honestly, that’s quite common. We were on his case a lot because he had to keep his grades up if he wanted to stay on the team. He improved, just a little but it was enough. But then it only got worse from there and he was actually off the team for a while. This was just before you guys were a thing.

“I was angry. We needed him and he just didn’t give a shit. I went up to his room that night to speak with him, thinking maybe we could sort it out, make some kind of deal. That’s when I found it; the drugs. I was livid, to say the least. I didn’t know this was the kind of stuff he was getting involved in. And just imagine if a school rep drops by for a spot check and finds those things lying around…he could get expelled. We could ALL get expelled. Of course, things didn’t turn out so well when I confronted him about it.”

“He took off?” You ask, knowing that much from Taehyung. Hoseok nods.

“Only for a couple of days. It’s not like he has anywhere else to go. We just pretended like nothing happened after that. He continued to skip classes and stuff, but well you know that, you started hanging out not long after.”

It’s interesting how so much was going on and yet all you and every other student on campus saw was this perfect, attractive group of boys. Hoseok looks slightly relieved after all that; he’s been trying to keep you out of it for so long that he didn’t realise how much energy it took doing that.

“I have a question; why were you trying so hard to keep all of this a secret from me?”

He smiles at his drink. “Because I can tell he likes you a lot. Back at the library, when we first met, and you said all he needs is a push in the right direction, I knew you could be a good influence on him. Not everyone wants to get involved with the things he does and I didn’t want to scare you off or put you in any kind of danger.”

“Well. I’m still here.” You smile, noting the dimples that form on his face. “And you’ve got to give him some credit, he’s really put in a lot of effort to do well in class.”

“I know, which is what I said that night we had a fight. I told him how happy I was that he’s not giving up on school. We got him back on the team too because of that.” Then he scratches his head and grimaces, looking guilty, “I also realised he hadn’t been going to work a lot so I told him how glad I was about that too. Which it what set him off…”

“Yeah, touchy subject.” You hum, thinking about what he said. He’s right, Jungkook was with you the entire of last week. And the week before that, he only left for work on one night before coming back. The frequency which he leaves for work is a lot less compared to before, although you didn’t really notice too much until Hoseok mentioned it, probably because you don’t keep tabs on it unlike him. As long as you know he’s alright, you’re good. “So, I suppose you’re here to ask me to help you?”

“I have a friend,” he sighs. “Initially, I asked him for a favour, to look out for Jungkook. So he kept eyes on Jungkook at places where he hangs out with his group. He’d found out about the drugs much earlier but didn’t tell me about it.”

“Why? And how?” You ask. “I assume they’re doing this on the down low?”

“He’s a detective, he does undercover work. What I didn’t know was, he now has ties with the authorities. And I may have made a mistake in asking him to keep tabs on Jungkook because now that there are drugs involved, it’s turning into a full-blown investigation.”

“What?!” You look at him, horrified. “What does that mean? They’re getting arrested Then what? Jungkook’s going to jail?!”

“You can’t tell anyone about this. This is just between you and me. I’m serious.” Hoseok is wary of others’ stares and hushes you. Thankfully, it’s not so crowded and the only other customers are individuals randomly seated and a group of girls sitting on the other side of the room, giggling to themselves. “He won’t go to jail if he co-operates. At least, that’s what I had in mind, to get him to work with my friend and-”

“You want him to work with your friend, this detective?” You shake your head unbelievably. “To betray his friends, are you kidding me? He would never do that!”

“I know he wouldn’t. So plan B is to get him to leave his group. That’s where I was hoping you’d come in.”

“Are you crazy?! He won’t listen to me.”

“Look, think it over. He trusts you and loves you; it might be different coming from you.” Hoseok pleads.

Your head spins at the overwhelming amount of information being thrown at you. An undercover investigation, Jungkook involvement in a group that could land him in serious trouble. And Hoseok is asking you to help turn that around.

“Wait wait wait.” You hold your hands up in front of you. “Didn’t you say he’s been going to work less? Doesn’t that mean he might not be involved anyway?”

“That’s true. We wouldn’t know unless he tells us. But think about it, he’s been gone almost the whole week and neither one of us knows where he is. Remember that day you brought him home? He got a large package in the mail, it wasn’t even delivered by the postman. It was from some random guy who dropped it off and asked for Jungkook. ”

“Okay…” You rest your head in the palm of your hands, feeling heavy. “I need to think about this.”

You hear him sigh but he tells you it’s alright. Suddenly all of this feels so wrong; meeting Hoseok, talking about Jungkook behind his back. You bolt up from your seat, startling the boy in front of you; he looks at you in surprise, mid-chew.

“I have to go.” You say curtly, taking out your wallet in a hurry. You start breathing heavily and sweating as you fumble for change. Then, you don’t notice when he gets up, but Hoseok’s hands grab hold of your arms and you gasp, looking up at him standing in front of you.

“Y/N, breathe. Everything will be okay.”

“Will it?”

He doesn’t reply, but pulls you into a hug which you accept. It makes you feel slightly better. After paying for the meal, he sends you home in a cab, both of you quiet throughout the ride. He apologises as you reach the apartment, and you shake your head, telling him it’s alright and that you’ll think about it. He only nods in response and watches as you enter the building before asking the driver to head to his destination.

You spend the rest of the night in a daze, trying to wrap your head around whatever Hoseok told you over dinner. Before bed, you check your phone one last time; no new notifications.

𝄖

“That sounds horrible,” Hana gasps, “I don’t know how you’re so calm.”

“Calm?” You shake your head. “I was anything but calm that night. Shouldn’t have said I could handle it because obviously I can’t!”

“You don’t have to, you know that right?” She slips her hand into yours, interlocking your fingers. It’s a small gesture but it makes you smile. You’re thankful for Hana’s presence in your life especially during times like this. She’s quiet most of the time but she always knows what to do or say to make you feel better. Reminds you of home; and if there’s one person you know you can trust it’s her. You tell her everything, despite Hoseok telling you to keep it to yourself. “You can just tell Hoseok you don’t want to get involved. Then again, now that you know about the whole investigation thing, I’m not sure what you’re gonna do about Jungkook. This is so complicated.”

“Tell me about it.” You sigh.

The walk to school seems so short this morning; you spent most of it spilling everything to Hana after keeping it to yourself the whole weekend. You haven’t decided what you’re going to do next and it was killing you not having anyone to talk about it with. Since your meeting with Hoseok, the rest of the week has passed and Jungkook hasn’t replied even over the weekend. Not even an update. You can’t wait for him to get back so you can ignore him.

Hana watches the way you stare worriedly at the ground as you walk and wraps her arm around you for a hug. You smile, returning the hug and resting your head on her shoulder as you walk.

Reaching the steps of school makes you feel slightly better; now you have a distraction from thinking about Jungkook. When you reach your locker, your phone buzzes and you take it out from your pocket.

“Ugh.” you scoff, shoving it back inside. Hana gives you a questioning look. “It’s Jungkook.”

“And?” She raises a brow. “Don’t act like you haven’t been sulking all night because he hasn’t replied to you.”

“Shut up I wasn’t sulking.” You mutter, still refusing to take a second look at your phone. Hana’s quiet until you look at her and there’s a knowing smile on her face. “What? I’ll deal with Jungkook later.”

“Why wait?” She laughs, closing her locker and nodding to your right.

You turn to the direction she motions toward and there’s Jungkook, making his way down the hall over to you with a smile on his face as if nothing happened the past week. Hana says her goodbye and takes off for class, walking past Jungkook and giving him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder as she goes; he looks confused but brushes it off.

You sigh when you see him nearing from your peripheral vision. “Good morning.” He says. He frowns when you don’t reply or look at him, busy going through your schedule and arranging the books in your locker. “Hey.” He says again, this time touching your lower back.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You feign ignorance, hand on your chest. “Were you talking to me? Gosh, I never would’ve guessed since you went ghost on me.”

“Don’t be like that.” He sighs, looking guilty. “I’m sorry.”

“Where have you been?” You voice comes out serious and it attracts stares from others in the hallway. Jeon Jungkook getting nagged at by his girlfriend is sure to gain interest among the crowd. He gestures for you to be quiet and you scowl at him. He thinks it’s cute.

“Listen, I’m sorry-” He starts but you cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Class is starting in a few minutes and I don’t want to be late.” You say.

He places his hands on your waist, pressing his forehead to yours. You flush at the way his hands wrap so nicely around your waist, pressing against your muffin top. “Okay, but don’t be mad, please?” He says.

“We’ll talk later. You better get to class too.” You push away, closing your locker and walking past him. You breathe out in relief when you’re out of his sight, praising yourself for being able to maintain a poker face throughout all of that and not going weak in the knees from his scent.

By lunch time, your phone is flooded with messages from Jungkook, mostly telling you how much he misses you and is sorry. Petty is what you’re going to be for the rest of the day, hopefully. When classes end early afternoon and you’re back at your locker, storing away the books you won’t need over the weekend when familiar arms snake around your waist and Jungkook’s face pops up on your side.

“You’re so cute when you’re ignoring me.” He says, kissing you on the cheek. Trying to maintain your front is hard when even the simplest things he says make you smile, which you try so hard to fight, even if he was just saying it to get you to crack. “Can we talk?”

You shake your head and shut your locker close, swinging your bag strap over your shoulder and trying to get away from him. Jungkook doesn’t give up of course. His long fingers wrap around your wrist, holding you back. Chuckling when you try to tug yourself free, he uses his strength to pull you close. You think he’s going to kiss you, but he just observes you instead; the frown on your face, your furrowed brows and the way you look at him, annoyed.

WIthout a word, his releases his grip and interlocks your fingers instead. You don’t even realise that you do the same. Hands in each other’s, he pulls you in the opposite direction you were heading in and you follow only because he’s got your hand in his, not because you want to or anything.

Up two flights of stairs, you reach the floor where the science labs are. He was dragging you along at first but now you’re walking next to him. “Where are we going?” You ask, finally speaking, annoyance in the tone of your voice, and he only smiles in response.

The first few classrooms are taken, you notice, as you walk past classes having ongoing practical sessions. The last room, at the end of the hallway is where you stop in front of. He unlocks the door with a set of keys he’s not supposed to have, and gestures for you to enter while he holds the door open. You save the questions for when you’re inside.

You drop your bag on a stool and look around; beakers, test tubes, chemicals by the side of the room. Just normal stuff you’d find in a lab. “What are we doing here?” You ask him.

Jungkook steps forward, hands on your hips, pushing you till your back is against the long desk. Your mind flashes back to last Sunday, in his room, and you go weak in the knees when he kiss you. “I wanted to apologise.” He says when he pulls away, tucking a curl behind your ear. “Thought we could have some alone time.”

“So you think, I’m just gonna give in to you after ignoring me for days?”

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I got caught up with work. And no, I think you’re gonna let me fuck you because I’m irresistable.” He grins, and you scowl. The nerve of this boy.

“You suck, I’m out.” You say, reaching for your bag but he stops you, laughing.

“I’m just kidding.” He chuckles, trapping you between his arms. You pout, not looking him in the eye. “Okay, how about this, I’ll close my eyes and you can let out your anger on me. Punch me, anything.”

“Jungkook, I’m not going to punch you.”

“No just do it, you’ll feel better. I do it all the time.” Before you can express some concern about that confession, he’s already stepping back and standing with his arms stretched out to the sides, eyes closed. “I’m waiting.”

The punches he waits for doesn’t come, but instead he feels you wrap yourself around him, hands around his waist and head pressed up against his chest. You really were set on giving him the silent treatment for the next few days. But having him here, just makes everything Hoseok told you all the more real and urgent. Momentary silence follows and then, his own arms are around you. He tilts his head down to look at your face, to making sure you’re alright.

“I hate you, you know that?” You say, against him. He chuckles and you feel the vibrations from his chest, a comforting hand rubbing on your back. You’re serious when you lift your head to look at him, greeted with a smiling Jungkook looking down at you with sparkling eyes. “We need to talk.”

“Something wrong?” His tone changes into one of worry.

He lifts you up and sets you down on the desk, making himself comfortable in between your legs. An internal debate goes on in your mind as you figure out if you should tell him everything. Your biggest worry is how he’d react to it. Realistically, knowing Jungkook, he’d blow up at Hoseok and probably take off for good, leaving everything behind, maybe even you, for the sake of this group of his. Part of you would like to believe that maybe after finding out what kind of trouble he’d get into, he’ll start removing himself from the situation, for his own sake. But of course, there’s a higher chance of the former happening. You figure it’s best to stick to your original plan, which is to go slow, figure out how to help him from there. So for now, Hoseok’s secret remains secret. But, you’ve got to start somewhere.

“I…” he raises a brow when you pause, wondering what’s bothering you this much. “I know you didn’t go back home after Sunday.”

He drops eye contact for a moment, “Hoseok?” This time you see the familiar hint of irritation in his eyes.

You gulp and lie through your teeth. “No, I found out when I ran into the guys on campus and they asked me if I knew where you’d gone.”

“You sure?” He’s calm on the exterior but you don’t really know what’s going through his mind. He’s asking you if you’re sure, as if he knows something. It’s unsettling but you can’t take it back now.

Choosing to reply with a simple nod, you direct the questions back to him. “Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere.” He replies quickly. His body language tells you he’s upset, but trying not to show it too much. He’s taken a step back from his place between your legs and supports himself by leaning against the desk with his hands. “Work.”

“Really?” It doesn’t feel so good being on the other end of the questions either, especially when you’re lying yourself. His jaw clenches slightly and he drops eye contact to your shoulders, nodding. “Okay.”

You pull him in by his jacket, then wrap your arms around him, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “I know you hate hearing this but I’m going to say it anyway; I worry about you. It’s alright if there are things you can’t tell me. But I want you to know that I care about you and sometimes being in the dark about certain parts of you makes me feel helpless. We don’t have to talk about it now. I’ll be here for you when you’re ready.”

As the tension subsides with your words, his body relaxes beneath you and relief washes over you when his own arms hold you close, removing the space in between. You stay in that position in silence, Jungkook’s head resting on your shoulder. With a deep breath, he lets out a sigh and carries you down from the table.

There’s no sign of irritation which you can see from his expression. In fact, he looks apprehensive. Your hands come up to his face, running your thumb over his cheeks before pulling him in for a chaste kiss. He holds on to your wrists and leans his forehead against yours, noses rubbing against each other. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“I know.” You sigh.

The buzzing of a phone interrupts you. It’s his; he reaches into his pocket and swipes to answer a call. He doesn’t say much, just acknowledges whatever the other person is saying. You can’t help but stare because he’s unbelievably hot doing even the simplest of things. Looking off to the side as he speaks gives you a good view of his jawline and the veins of his hands on the phone. Without realising, your hands are running down from his shoulders down to his chest, feeling the muscles under his shirt. This black jacket he’s always wearing, it looks good but right now, it’s keeping you from being able to run your hands over his arms.

You come back to your senses when he clears his throat, removing your hands and keeping them to yourself. “Sorry I um, I have basketball practice.”

“Oh.” You try to hide the disappointment, thinking you could have him for yourself today. “Yeah, you should go. Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble again.”

“Again?” You watch the confusion grow on his face and curse yourself inwardly. Of course, you were referring to when he got kicked off the team for underperforming in school. But he doesn’t know that you know.

He waits for your reply and you’re trying not to stutter your response. “Yeah like, you know…with Hoseok and everything. He’ll nag at you even more if you don’t show up.”

“Right.” He’s looking at you curiously, but doesn’t probe any further.

You don’t give him the chance to either, quickly reaching for your bag and gesturing at him to move. He follows behind as you head for the door and turns off the light behind you. After locking up, you walk hand in hand towards the gym hall. It’s quiet between you and you can’t pretend you don’t sense the tension. But the fact that he’s still walking next to you, holding your hand makes you feel slightly better. Stealing glances from the corner of your eye, you realise he’s in deep thought from the way he looks into the distance. Even so, he’s aware of his surroundings, pulling you closer to him when you enter the hallways full of other students just dismissed from their classes.

You decide to walk with him to the gym hall and leave after, and you walk inside with him, noticing Hoseok and Jimin already warming up along with other members of the team. You stand by the door to say goodbye to Jungkook. Jimin waves, making Hoseok turn to see you. He nods and smiles your way. You nod back. Yet again, Jungkook looks at you questioningly; you’re not close with Hoseok, so he can’t imagine why you just exchanged nods as if you are.

“Okay, I’ll head home first.” You say in a hurry. “You should go and get changed.”

He nods and reaches out for a hug. You give him a kiss on the cheek before pulling away and heading out the door. Jungkook turns in the direction of Hoseok, observing the older boy for a while and then thinks about you, before shaking his head and walking off to the direction of the locker room.

Practice goes by slowly for Jungkook. He makes way too many mistakes and gets yelled at by the coach, who tells him to get it together and ends up getting sent to the bench. Maybe he’s overthinking it but he doesn’t like the way you and Hoseok exchanged glances earlier. With a stare so sharp it could cut someone, Jungkook watches him closely while he’s in a practice game. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Hoseok, who glances in his direction every now and then, checking to see if he’s still watching.

“What’s with the frown?” Jimin joins him, switching out with another player and taking a seat next to Jungkook, way too close for his liking.“You look like you’re ready to chew each and every one of us and spit us back out.”

He looks at Jimin and frowns. Their arms touch and he’s disgusted by the stickiness and the older boy’s lack of personal space, especially while they’re covered in sweat. He uses the towel hanging from his neck to wipe his arm and scoots away from Jimin. But the older boy is persistent and he loves being annoying to Jungkook. He’s probably the only one out of the boys which you know that isn’t wary of Jungkook.

He shuts his eyes in exasperation when Jimin swings an arm over his shoulder. “Aw what’s wrong? Got into a fight with Y/N? Weren’t you just holding hands and kissing just a while ago?”

“Will you shut up?” Jungkook mutters, not looking at him. Jimin smiles, knowing he successfully got to him.

“So it is about her.” He giggles, “You like her a lot huh?”

Jungkook’s silent but he’s embarrassed. If he wasn’t all red from practice runs, he’d be flushing from that comment. It makes him feel so vulnerable; he doesn’t like feeling that way, especially not in front of the guys. It’s different with you, though he still has a long way to go. Jimin relaxes in his seat, downing some water from his bottle, watching the members practice. They watch as Hoseok receives the ball and makes a jump shot. The team claps as the shot makes it through.

“Hoseok’s gotten so much better.” Jimin says to himself.

“Did you see the way he looked at Y/N earlier?” Jungkook speaks before he can think. Jimin looks at him with an expression he can’t read. He turns back to Hoseok and thinks over Junkook’s question. He wasn’t paying attention to Hoseok when you and Jungkook walked in, so he doesn’t know what Jungkook’s concern is directed at.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. Something’s different between them but I don’t know what exactly.” Jungkook leans over, elbows on his thighs, eyes still locked on to Hoseok. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor distracts him from the silence on Jimin’s part. Meanwhile, Jimin is confused; Jungkook couldn’t possibly mean that there’s something brewing between Hoseok and you. He can’t say he knows you very well, but you don’t seem like the kind of person to do that. He does know Hoseok though, and he can confirm that Hoseok would never do anything if he knows it would hurt any of you.

“You think there’s something going on between them?” Jimin asks and Jungkook shrugs. “That’s crazy.”

“Is it?” Jungkook directs the question back to him and the look he gives Jimin tells him that he’s serious. He quickly realises that this is the reason why Jungkook has been so out of it the whole afternoon.

“Hey look,” Jimin sighs, “I don’t think there’s any merit to what you’re saying if the only thing you’re basing this on is how they were looking at each other. Maybe Hobi dropped by the cafe where she works at for a coffee and they spent some time talking. Maybe…she asked him some stuff about you cause she wanted to buy you a present.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“My point is,” Jimin stresses, “don’t jump to conclusions. Ask y/n. I’m sure she’ll appreciate that more.” Jungkook only sighs in response but Jimin knows he isn’t convinced. “Anyway, seems like y/n is as whipped for you as you are for her. I mean come on, think about all the cute things she does with you. Holds your hand in the hallway, swinging, gives you kisses on the cheek- oh? is that a smile?”

Jimin’s laughter echoes through the hall and so does the sound of the coach blowing his whistle, signaling the end of practice. Following the rest of the team the two boys head for the locker room to wash up, all the while Jimin continues to tease Jungkook, eliciting an embarrassed smile from the younger one.

He persists, even as Jungkook ignores him, although it’s hard to as Jimin is constantly in his face. Jimin takes out his phone and starts recording, zooming in on Jungkook where you can see the slightest smile as Jimin continues to pick on him and his affection for you.

In bed, surrounded by notes is when you receive the texts from Jimin. You had been wondering about Jungkook at that time, if he was done with practice and if you should call him. You thought about what happened earlier and facepalm yourself at how silly you were. So careless with your words, you almost let Hoseok’s cat out the bag. If Jungkook wasn’t suspicious before, you definitely made him suspicious. Just then your phone buzzes; a text from Jimin and from the pop-up notifications, he’s sent you a video. Another one comes in as you open the chat.

Jimin: I think he has a crush on you

Jimin: IMG_0493.mov

Jimin: IMG_0495.mov

Hoping it isn’t anything weird, you download the clips and as it finishes downloading, you notice the familiar blurry silhouette of someone. As soon as you play the first video, Jimin’s contagious giggling fill your ears and if you weren’t already smiling because of that, in the video, Jungkook has his back turned to Jimin but the older boy runs up to his side and captures the tiny smile on Jungkook’s face as he mentioned your name. You turn into a giggling schoolgirl, rolling onto your back and listening to Jimin’s incessant teasing and watching Jungkook’s adorable reaction to it. You click on the next one as it ends.

In this one, Jungkook tries to create a barrier using the door of his locker but Jimin pulls it all the way back, and Jungkook gives him a stare. Unfazed as usual, Jimin asks him, “So is it true that you’re whipped for y/n?” Jungkook tries to grab for him but Jimin dodges, quick on his feet. “Hey, anything you wanna say to her?” Jimin giggles again, struggling to keep his phone steady. The next thing you see is Jungkook lifting his shirt off his body, all flushed and sweaty. He throws the dirty fabric into his locker and manages to grab Jimin as the older boy steps forward for a closer shot and the video ends with the palm of his hand covering the camera.

Replying Jimin with only a smiling blushing emoji, you watch the videos again, smiling to yourself. You’re embarrassed to think about how many times you’ve rewatched the second video especially. Gosh, you miss him and want to feel his arms around you. You send Jimin a thank you and open up the chat with Jungkook. He’s online and it’s silly but your heart skips. You send him a heart emoji and go offline, waiting.

A few seconds passes and he replies. You’re way too excited, rolling back onto your front and opening up the text.

Jungkook: let’s go for a drive

Jungkook: i’ll pick you up at 730

You jump when you read the text, sitting up on your knees. Does this mean he’s not upset about earlier? You hope so. The clock says 6PM. He must still be on his way back home. More than enough time for him to drive home, clean up, then come get you. Just enough time for you to get ready. And what you mean by that is to take a hot shower, scrubbing yourself squeaky clean.

By the time he reaches, you’re already sitting on the couch, ready to hop out that door. Hana stifles her laughter, watching how jittery you are. You blame it on Jimin. How are you supposed to react seeing your boyfriend act all adorable like that? On the other hand, you’re thankful. You thought it would be at least a day or two until the tension from earlier subsides. But looks like you won’t have to wait that long. You also realise how nervous you are. Even so, being nervous didn’t stop you from choosing to wear only a sweater that covers up to mid-thigh, and panties.

𝄖

Jungkook’s car isn’t the best place to have car sex. Still, it’s more luxurious than the type of cars normal students can afford, which means it’s more spacious and gives you some extra space to manoeuvre. Though, it still doesn’t save you from getting cramps. One of the pros is that you don’t have to hide your moans, not having to worry about housemates hearing you.

It’s late on a Monday night and you’re here, on Jungkook’s lap, with nothing on but your underwear, making out with him in the car. His hands are all over you, moving from your breasts to your waist and down to your ass. Leftover food from takeout you had for supper is left on the passenger’s seat, only partially eaten before you both decide it’s time for dessert.

A sudden clap of thunder followed by a deep rumbling sound is what tears you apart with a gasp. You both laugh, surprised by how loud that was. You notice it’s starting to rain. Then he’s leaning back against his seat, eyes focused on you, your body. Your breath shakes when his fingers brush against your chest, gently tracing the area around your nipple. “Beautiful.” He whispers and you heat up inside.

“You know I heard a rumour floating around,” you run your hands down his chest, over his shirt, “that you have a crush on me."

He snorts, letting his head fall back on the head rest. "Ahh…Jimin…” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. “Didn’t think he’d actually send those videos to you."

"So is it true? You like me?” You chuckle and he pulls you closer by the waist, you chest pressing against his.

“Maybe.” He grins and even under horrible lighting he looks so good. “Do you like me?"

"Maybe.” You mock his earlier tone and he smirks.

Jungkook thinks about what Jimin said earlier. The thought is still there at the back of his mind, about you and Hoseok. He wonders if this is a right time to bring it up. Just thinking about it makes him worry. He doesn’t mean to let his insecurities get the better of him. But he can’t help it. “You’re not going to leave me for someone else are you?” He speaks softly and you think he’s joking at first so you laugh. But when he stays quiet, you realise he’s serious.

The way his eyes sparkle and how he bites his lips tell you he’s concerned. “Why would you say that?"

"Just wondering."

"No, I’m not going to leave you.” You cup his face in your hands. “Where did this idea come from?"

Jungkook is silent for a beat before he speaks. "The way you and Hoseok looked at each other earlier.”

“Oh my god.” You mutter, running your hand down your face. “Jungkook, we were just acknowledging each other. Jimin waved too.”

“It’s different. Hoseok doesn’t get close to people easily.” He says. “And he wasn’t so friendly with you before. So why the change?"

"There’s no change. He was just saying hi.” You sigh. It’s not a lie, but not the whole truth. Whatever change Jungkook noticed is not entirely in his head either. There is a change; Hoseok and you know something that no one else knows. With how you were acting earlier, it makes sense for Jungkook to notice something’s different. But you leaving him for Hoseok is definitely not that something. “Please try not to think the worst of him, Jungkook."

"Why are you defending him?” His brows crease.

Your jaw drops, “I’m not defending him. I was just saying that he’s not as bad as-"

"There you go again.” He scoffs. “You know what? I think, he likes you. And because you’re with me, he just has to have you for himself. It’s a trap y/n. Unless…you already like him too?”

“You’re being ridiculous.” You say. “And just because you hate him doesn’t mean I have to. I can be friends with whoever I want. Doesn’t mean I’m interested in them.”

“And what if he’s interested in you?”

“He’s not but so what if he is?” You huff. “I can’t have anyone like me anymore?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes and it makes you seethe. “You’re just encouraging him. He’s gonna take you away from me and I’m not gonna just sit around and watch! I don’t want you to hang out with him anymore.”

“Do you hear yourself? You sound like a fucking idiot!”

Loud claps of thunder and heavy rain pours as if in sync with you. You’re breathing hard now and you can’t tell if the blood rushing down south is out of anger or the way he’s staring at you. With the cold of the weather and the air-conditioning not doing much to help you, your nipples go hard and he notices.

You crash your lips onto his and he wastes no time in reciprocating your advance. Warm hands slide up your front and pinch your hardened nipples. You moan into the kiss and his tongue fights for dominance against yours. His shirt crumples under your fists; you lift the material up and pull it over his head, sighing when you see his bare front. Then your eyes drop to the tent formed around his crotch; you’re glad he wore sweats out tonight. You hook your fingers behind the band and pull down the material as he lifts his bottom up, allowing it to fall down to his ankles.

The makeout session had probably already riled him up, and your fight just added up to it. He’s hard and ready, but he doesn’t resist when you start pumping him with both hands, groaning as you go along. When he finally stops you, his fingers find their way to your front, touching you over your panties. He rubs circles on your clit and once he feels you through the fabric, he pushes it aside and runs his fingers along your slit instead.

When he slips his fingers inside, you gasp, lifting yourself up slightly. It doesn’t take much to get you where he needs you to be; already a soaking mess all over his fingers. He pulls his fingers out and holds you steady with one arm as he reaches over to get a condom from the dashboard. Taking advantage of this position, you admire his side profile, then move in to leave a trail of kisses on his jaw.

Quickly, he rolls the condom over his cock and you line yourself over the tip, using the headboard to steady yourself. How thankful you are that this car of his is spacious enough to let you do this. Although usually, when you do have car sex with him, it at the back seat. Unfortunately, there’s no time to move right now.

This time, Jungkook lets you set the pace. You’re going slow at first; it feels so good when you can feel every inch of him inside you. He supports you with his hands on your sides. Watching you ride him, while your hands touch parts of your body is mesmerising, your fucked out face, unhidden moans. He closes his eyes to focus on the feel of you on his dick instead, watching you for too long might make him lose control.

“Look at me,” you whisper, hand stroking the side of his face and he opens his eyes again.

He grins under sleepy eyes, a look so cute yet heavenly. “I might not last if I do.”

“That’s okay.” You chuckle.

Smiles slowly disappear as you both near your high. Your hands snake around the back of his head, and his arms around your waist as you continue to ride him. He kisses you and it’s a different kind of kiss; an aching and passionate kind. The rain, your moans, the way your body moves, mixed with the tension from before, makes it feel almost too good.

"Faster.” He whispers against your lips.

The aching of your thighs intensify as you do, grabbing onto the back of his seat for more support. Jungkook’s hand travels down your back and a slap lands on your ass. You moan loudly, not holding back. His thighs contract beneath you as he’s close. “I’m coming baby.” He slurs, feeling the buildup in his core.

With the help of his fingers on your clit, You come just as he does. You ride out the orgasm fully, and he complains before you come to a stop, just resting against him. It’s quiet, save for the sounds of rain patter on the car. It’s cold but you’re sweating. Getting up from your position feels like too much trouble, you stay there for a while. You turn towards him, met by the skin of his neck. And you take in a breath, smelling the scent of Jungkook.

His hand comes up to stroke your back. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” When you don’t reply, he figures he should say something more. “I overreacted. I just don’t like seeing Hoseok and you as friends."

Finally, you lift yourself up and face him. You’re serious but you speak gently, "I’m not going to stop being friends with him. Because there’s no reason to. There’s nothing going on between us."

"Okay.” He nods but you see the slight hesitancy in his eyes. But he fakes a smile after, “Hey if you start falling for him, let me know in advance yeah?” A nervous chuckle follows. Your heart hurts at the way he’s so insecure that he thinks hanging out with Hoseok might make you change your mind about him.

You don’t laugh and his slowly dies down, eyes downcast. He starts to motion for you to get off him, and you lift yourself up slowly, whining when he removes himself from you. He looks around for a place to dispose of the condom and settles for the cup of soda which you were drinking from earlier. To let him put his pants back on, you shift back to the passenger seat and pull on your hoodie, which was tossed over the dashboard, back on.

You lean against your seat, facing him, watching as he puts his shirt back on. As he turns to you with a smile when he sees you watching, you crawl back into his lap. “Oh, round two? Should’ve told me that before I put my shirt on.” He starts to peel it back off but you stop him, laughing.

You open your arms and hold him in a hug. “I’m not going to leave you. I promise.”

He sighs, wrapping his arms tighter around you. He says very softly, you barely hear it over the sound of rain, “I’m scared of losing you…”

“Oh baby.” You say, bringing your face to his and giving him a kiss. “You won’t.”

Your faces are so close, and he watches you intently, contemplating. A smile graces your features, one which he adores so much. He feels it’s only right to tell you, “I love you.”

You’re taken aback, biting your lip as you process what he says. Did he really say it or were you just imagining it? The way his entire face lights up as he smiles shyly makes your heart full. And you don’t think twice before replying.

“I love you too.”

Even if it’s only been less than a year since you met him. Your relationship isn’t perfect and there’s still a long way to go. But It feels right, and in this moment you truly believe him when he says it. And you meant it too.

The moment is cut short when his phone rings and both your heads turn to the device. He grabs it from a compartment on the center console and stares at the screen before looking up at you. “You should get that.” You say, moving back to your seat. If it weren’t raining heavily, you know he would’ve stepped outside to take the call.

You use this time to clean up; your hair, and other areas that needed to be wiped down. You’re not particularly interested in the calls he gets, but your ears perk up when he mentions something about the car.

“What?” Jungkook mutters, careful not to raise his voice. “I can’t. I need the car. At least for tonight. I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”

No chance of you being able to hear what the other side is saying thanks to the rain. But he sneaks a glance at you and smiles when he realises you’re watching. You smile back, then pretend to busy yourself on your phone. They go back and forth for a while, but Jungkook doesn’t get frustrated. Instead, he ends up complying.

“No I-” He sighs. “Fine. I’ll send you a location. Meet me there and take the car back yourself.”

He hangs up the call right after and turns to you, looking apologetic. “Sorry.” He says, shaking his head. “I have to send the car back ASAP. I’ll send you home first. We’ll have to leave now if I wanna make it on time.”

“I’m not in a rush.” You smile. “I can go with you.”

“What? You can’t.” His eyes grow wide in alarm.

“Why?”

“You just can’t.” He says curtly, then turns back to the front, putting on his seatbelt and adjusting his seat to get ready to drive.

“Okay…” You reply ever so softly and put on your own seatbelt. He grips the steering wheel with both hands and closes his eyes, and lets out a breath. Slowly, he turns to you again, but doesn’t look you in the eye.

“It’s work.” He says quietly. “This car, they let me have it sometimes. For work of course, but I use it for personal use too. I’m supposed to send it back later this week but something came up and they need it.”

“Oh.” You reply. You were not expecting him to explain, and was ready to be dropped off at home like he said. It’s not a surprise that Jungkook doesn’t own this car, you already figured as much since the first time he picked you up in it. You don’t know why he’s telling you all this, but you’re hopeful, that this is him trying to be more open. “I see. Well, you don’t have to bring me along if your don’t want to. I just thought it’d be much easier and you wouldn’t have to rush.”

He thinks about it, then starts the engine. There’s hesitation in his eyes, but you realise when you hit the main road that he’s not going in the direction of your place. You’re surprised and excited at the same time. This is the closest you’ve ever been to anything relating to his work.

It’s half an hour later when you reach the front of a nice apartment complex in the nicer part of this city. Mostly high flyers and businessmen occupy this area. You wonder if this is where you usually spend his time when he’s away. “You work around here? This is a nice place.” You say casually.

“No, not really.” He says as he parks the car along the side of the road. “This is just where I wanted to drop the car off.”

“Oh.” You’re slightly disappointed, but trying not to show it.

Jungkook scans the passers-by outside, not many considering how late it is on a Monday night, until he sees a familiar face walking over and gets ready to exit the car. As he unbuckled his seatbelt and you do the same, he holds you by the wrist and you turn to look at him. “Try not to say anything, if it’s not necessary. Don’t tell him your name even, if possible.”

You nod. He brings the trash along and exits the car, disposing it in a nearby trash can. Then, he stands by the side of the car, motioning for you to stand behind him. You hear footsteps approaching and then Jungkook’s greeting someone with a half-hug. You wait quietly, like Jungkook told you to do.

“You know you’re not supposed to use this car for non-work related things.” The guy says. Jungkook’s blocking you from being able to see him, his back turned to you, but from the reflection on the car, you see that it’s a guy shorter than Jungkook, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jungkook says. This is new to you, Jungkook sounds friendly with this guy, not at all like how he speaks to the guys back home, his own team members. You can’t help yourself and poke your head out slightly from behind Jungkook’s arm.

“Yeah right.” The other guy chuckles. He notices you and squints. “Who’s that?

Jungkook freezes, then turns his body so he’s not blocking you anymore. “Um. She’s a friend. We just went out for supper.”

“Friend, huh?” The guy smiles, eyes scanning you from head to toe. It sends shivers down your spine. He is cute though. “And you were trying to hide her from me? Good things must be shared you know.”

Jungkook’s arm goes around your waist and his fingers are pressing hard on your side, whether he realises it or not. You’re quiet. Just like Jungkook asked you to be. But the look the other guy is giving you tells you you won’t be for long.

He steps forward and holds out his hand to you, “I’m Suga.”

#jungkook fic #jungkook #networkbangtan #kwritersworldnet #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts fic #jungkook scenarios #rainworks #myfic #this is the longest fic i've written i think!!#send me asks and let me know what you think!#i dont bite i promise

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purple-baby-d · 4 years

Text

a good man.

Choi Seunghyun (T.O.P. — BIGBANG) x female reader.

Genre: I don’t know, it’s kinda angst, but also fluff and then it gets kinda smut... I’m a mess but whatevs.

Word count: 2,994.

Content: rich!top, gambler!gdragon, heartbroken!reader, college friends, descriptions of domestic violence, top being a hella interesting and caring man, vanilla sex (love making), unprotected sex, just the fluffy smut I needed to write as soon as zyanya told me she needed a good top reading material.

Brief: as you finally run away from your years-long toxic relationship, your best friend is right there to pick you up, and some feelings might bloom all over again once you let your hearts speak.

Dedicated to @theravengoddess 💜

"Do whatever you want, but leave me out of it!", you yelled, shutting the door closed as you left the apartment you and your troubled ex-boyfriend lived in, rain falling over your shoulders and your luggage as you cried silently. Where did it all go wrong?, you asked yourself, trying to understand why Jiyong, your former couple, had fallen into the darkest roads, and it was his short-tempered mood and up-to-the-clouds ego that led you both to self-destruction, and you knew it was over a long time ago.

But still, you somehow wanted to blame yourself for it.

Running down the roads of that small neighborhood you lived in, you sobbed to yourself, wanting to get as far as possible from that misery you left at your apartment. The buildings slowly started looking nicer as you kept running, ending up on one of the nicest neighborhoods of your city. As you walked in front of a nice restaurant, you bumped into a tall man, who sadly you recognized as your best friend, Seunghyun.

"Y/N? Princess, you're soaked!" he told you, giving you his old, rusty leather jacket to protect you from the cold night you ran into. "Why are you crying? What happened?", he kept asking, concerned by the tears that kept streaming down your face, not really knowing what to do anymore. "Come on, tell me something, please".

You just laid your head in his hands, reuniting every last strength of yours to tell him about the worst night of your mid-length life. Jiyong had bursted into your lovenest, the one you've shared for years now, looking desperately for money to pay his debts. You walked out of your workspace after hearing his whole rendezvous, the scandal making the neighbors concerned as things kept crashing on the floor, breaking into little, tiny pieces of glass as he then repaired on you. He shook your shoulders, asking you where you'd left the money you were saving for your years-planned dream vacations with him. You knew exactly what happened: he was gambling again, even when he told you he would stop after losing his dream car to it.

You told him to stop looking, that he wouldn't find it and he was definitely not using it, but you knew you were up to no good when rage got the best of him, combined with the drinks he was having back at that illegal casino he loved. He pushed you to the floor and kicked you out of the way once you tried to stop him. Still in pain, you got up and grabbed the bags you'd packed weeks prior in case of emergency, the money he was desperately looking for safe in one of them. You left your old phone at the apartment, along with everything he could locate you with. And although he deserved it, you still cried thinking about the years of your life you wasted on him, hoping he could change somehow.

Hoping he could become the good man your mother always said you deserved.

"God... I'd kick his ass, but that would lead him to know where you are", Seunghyun sighed, looking at you as his thumb stroke your cheek, weeping your tears off. "Don't cry, princess, you're breaking me slowly", he begged you, holding you close without caring about getting his expensive designer clothes wet or damaged. In that moment, he cared solely about you, about how you were dealing with finally leaving the toxic relationship you've kept yourself in for the last few years, at some point even thinking of marrying the guy who had just hurt you phisically and emotionally. "Come on, you can stay with me for as long as you please", he offered you, looking down at you with a smile. "Are you hungry? Wanna grab some food before we go?", he asked softly, to which you couldn't say no. Even though you weren't in the mood, you were starving, and the mixture of all the time you spent running combined with the nice smell flooding your nostrills thanks to the restaurants that surrounded you made your mouth water.

He ordered takeout as you waited in his black sports car, the heat was on as he tried to keep you from freezing, his jacket still over your shoulders as you watched him through the window. You met Seunghyun years ago, in college, to be precise. He was a natural hardworker, the best in his classes, the most promising future from our generation, and he stood up to that title. He started his own business, dedicated to funding different medical researches and environmental causes, such as cleaning the oceans or preventing deforestation. That was his happy place, knowing he was doing what he could to help, and he was tremendously well-known amongst the Korean community, earning several awards and rename because of it. Still, he was sweet, kind, polite, humble... everything your mother could wish for in a husband for her daughter.

You still couldn't understand how his only friend in college was a humble girl from a working class family, let alone how he still was single at his thirty-two years of age.

He sighed as he got in the car, touching your forehead gently to check on your body temperature, his concerned expression somehow making you feel safe. "You're still quite cold, but at least you won't get sick", he told you, his deep, raspy voice making you smile with the words it pronounced. "Thank you, Seunghyun", you muttered, making him smile to you in return. He drove down the roads that lead to his apartment as the city lights made the tamished glass of your window look quite artistic, and the raindrops that stuck to it started blurring as he sped up. Some low-fi music playing in the background as he looked ahead, his hands shaking on the steering wheel until he finally turned onto the underground parking lot of the building he lived in. He parked the car and got out of it, taking your luggage out of the car and taking it upstairs as he walked next to you, not letting you move a finger.

You gasped as the elevator led you to his apartment, the penthouse of one of the fanciest buildings around the whole city. Still on the minimalist spectrum, it looked so fancy and elegant, just like its owner. "Mi casa es tu casa, princess", he told you, taking your luggage to one of the rooms. "Get yourself comfortable, you can use the library as your workspace, and I'll settle a room for you. Until then, you can sleep on mine, I sleep on the couch most of the time, anyways". Without letting you hesitate, he left your bags on the laundry room, washing them over since they gained a certain smell because of the rain.

You noticed he wasn't the average bachelor, even though he lived alone, he still managed to keep everything nice and clean. He then grabbed something from his office, handing it to you. "Use this", he told you, handing you a new phone. "It's my old phone, I also have a spare computer in case you need one. It has a new SIM card and my number's saved on it. It's yours". I nodded, taking it in my hands as I sighed. "Thank you", I muttered. He showed me a little grin, a slight chuckle coming out of his throat. "Is it all you know how to say?", he said, making you smile as he kneeled in front of you, caressing your cheek. "Mine is yours too, princess. You won't need anything as long as I'm here".

There was this tiny moment of tension, you felt like he was way too far from you. The way he made you feel suddenly reminded you of the way you felt about him years ago, that slight crush you developed in him that you immediately faded away with the fear of losing your best friend. Your only friend. But the way he looked at you made you sense something else... something new.

His phone rang, and the caller's ID made him clench his teeth at the most opportune moment. "I'll pick this up, you should take a shower. You can use my clothes for now, my sweaters will probably fit you like dresses", he smiled a little for you, and you nodded, doing as he commanded. He got up from his spot in front of you, picking up the call and walking away from you far enough for his voice not to sound as clear as if he talked in front of you, but you still could hear every word. "The fuck do you want, Jiyong?", he growled, the rage burning through his eyes. "I have no fucking idea, she doesn't pick up her phone and that means she wants to run away from you, so stay the fuck away from her!", he yelled at the phone. "I'll pay every single cent of your goddamn debts only if you promise you'll disappear", he snarled again, making you confused. "I'll find her, and when I do, I'll do what I should've done from the very start, what I didn't do because I cherished our friendship". You then entered the shower, letting the water run over your skin and the noise keep you from listening to the conversation Seunghyun kept on the phone. You washed your hair, appreciating how everything was made to your tall friend's fit, having to stretch out your hand to reach the shampoo.

You got out of the shower, wrapping a towel —a very long one— around your chest to cover you up while you looked for something to wear. You grabbed one of his oversized sweaters, the smell of his cologne making you obsessed with it. Just as you expected, it looked like you were wearing a dress, covering up to the middle of your thighs, giving you some sweater paws which you folded while combing your wet hair. You decided not to wear underwear, since you were dressed enough for it not to be obvious. But as you got out, you could tell he was still on his phone.

After one last "get lost", he hung up, sighing as he rested his back on the wall and your curiosity started shooting up like fireworks. He then got back to you, the rage you sensed in his voice not showing in the comforting smile he dedicated you. "Come on, let's have dinner", he invited you, getting two glasses and some chopsticks out of the kitchen, he then sat down with you, sighing as he served a glass of wine to the two of you from the bottle he bought, not knowing if you were in the mood for soju and deciding to go for the safe choice, your favorite wine. He served even portions of food for the two of you, again not letting you move a single finger to help him. It made you upset, but you couldn't deny how touched you were by the way he was treating you. He caressed your cheek and smiled at you. "Be my guest, princess", he told you with a smile.

You bowed politely at him, grabbing your chopsticks and having a bite of the food he'd bought for you, having you moaning in pleasure at the delicious flavors invading your tastebuds. It was so good, and he made you so happy you nearly forgot what you were about to ask him. But once he'd had his last bite, you took a deep breath and looked at him. "Seunghyun, what were you and Jiyong talking about?", you asked, after a soft "eung?" came out of his full mouth when you called his name. He then took a deep breath and a sip of his glass of wine, turning to look at you. "How much did you hear?", he asked you, concerned. "You said you would find me and do what you should've from the start".

He then sighed, his sight going down to the floor. "Princess, do you remember how you met Jiyong?", he asked softly. "I met him at a party in the dorms", you answered. "He was the host of that party, and he told me to invite you because he thought you were pretty", he told you. "Since he was my senior, I respected his order and did what he said, but the truth is I didn't want him to get anywhere near you... because I was falling in love with you".

You looked at him, shocked. Why was he saying those things? How could he ever fall in love with you? That wasn't the line he drew when you met Jiyong, not even before. But then, I got it: Seunghyun found it difficult to express his true feelings with words, if not to express them at all. He was tender and loving, but when it came to expressing his heart, he wasn't that much of an expert. "But I saw you were developing feelings for Jiyong too, so I stepped back and gave you the freedom to do your life however you decided to do it, because I knew you were strong enough to be good by yourself", he explained, breaking your heart in two as he muttered his point of view with nostalgia. "I wanted you to look at me in other way so badly, but I didn't want to force my feelings into you, nor to ruin our friendship. So I made my vows, I would stay away from you and Jiyong hyung, but I would always take care of you, and so I did".

You took his hand in yours, not really knowing what to say. Your feelings were mutual all along, but you were both so scared to lose eachother, you never thought about letting them bloom. How could you make up for the time you've lost? You were all grown up now, the age for joyful childish dates leaving you behind as soon as you started getting bills to pay. But neither of you cared about that, but about the way the other was feeling. So as Seunghyun leaned closer to you, you leaned in as well. "But I always wanted to be a good man for you, princess", he muttered.

Your lips then met, in the softest yet most special way yours had ever been kissed. His lips were soft and tender to yours, and the way they could naturally move with each other made the two of you know it was worth the wait. No matter how long it has been, you deserved this. You deserved eachother. You broke the kiss, looking for air to breathe as you didn't know how to function anymore as for doing such a simple thing. You looked at him, knowing that you wanted more, that the two of you did. He took your hand and pulled you to his lap, his lips meeting yours again as he held your waist tenderly, and your arms wrapped around him as he lifted you up, walking the two of you to his bedroom and laying you down slowly in his bed. The soft feeling of his sheets under your skin making you smile as he leaned down to kiss you again, holding up the weight of his body as he straddled over you. His lips started leaving kisses down your body as he took off his shirt, later on taking off his sweater from you, biting down on his lip as he realized you were naked, but then undressing himself completely so you were even.

You crawled up to his lap, his throbbing erection making direct contact with your dripping core, and you couldn't handle the foreplay much longer, none of you could. So he did it, right there, he guided you until you sat down on his length, taking it completely once you sat down on his lap, his lips connecting to yours as you kept a slow pace the whole while. You kept going up and down, feeling every single inch of his as he groaned, enjoying your tight, wet core more than he could ever express. You've had sex with Jiyong plenty of times before, but having sex with Seunghyun was different for one single reason: it wasn't sex, you were making love.

He kept up to your pace, respecting it as much as he could, and when the two of you reached the edge, you collapsed in his chest as he collapsed in the bed. You laid over the bed again as he got down to your core, eating out all of your arousal and the combination of his climax with yours. He didn't care, he found it so fantastic he actually could give two shits. He wanted you to feel comfortable, and the moans you let out of your mouth let him know you were enjoying it. Once you were clean, he got up and you grabbed his cheeks, kissing him for what felt like forever. But it felt good, it felt right.

It felt like that was where you needed to be.

"I'll make you fall in love with me too, princess", he told you, but you shook your head in denial. "I fell in love with you a long while ago, Choi Seunghyun", you muttered. And with a little smile of his, he covered the two of you with his bed's sheets and held you close to him, taking a deep breath as everything finally felt like it was the right path to follow, the two of you together at last. And as you were about to fall asleep in his loving arms, you muttered one last sentence.

"You're the good man I needed".

It’s short and not so smutty as I’ve been doing them lately, but I hope you like it! :)

#bigbang #bigbang seunghyun #bigbang top #top #choi seunghyun #purple-baby-d txt #theravengoddess

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itisannak · 4 years

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The Dr. Angel Face Q&A Inventory

. Fetish / Heat / Heat Extended / Dr. Angel Face

Hi loves. SInce I have been getting many questions regarding the Dr. Angel Face fic, I decided to put every question in this inventory. The questions have a link for the original asks (in the ones that there is no hyperlink, it is because they were part of the previous question.) I will add questions as they come in the future, so the list is going to be updated in the future.

How old is Dr. (Y/L/N)? Is she older than Calum? She was a child prodigy and graduated early (kinda like Maggie Pierce from Grey’s Anatomy). But she is definitely older than Calum. They met while she was in her final year as a resident and they’ve been together ever since. Now she is an attending, so it means she is in her late 20′s (for Dr. Angel Face, I wrote her to be around 28-29). So, I would say she is older than Calum by 4 or 5 years. But I didn’t focus much on her age, to be honest with you.

What is going on in the alternative part? I will not say much because I don’t want to spoil it, but it involves a storyline regarding Episodes 16x09 &16x10 from Grey’s Anatomy.

Does Calum’s family like Y/N’s family? Does Calum’s family like Y/N and vice versa? The families are not meeting very often, but they do get along pretty well. Remember (Y/N)’s mother calling her towards the end of Heat ? (Y/N)’s parents love that guy, he is funny, charming and overly supportive of their daughter, what is not to love? And Calum’s side of the family nearly worship (Y/N). I will explore more of their relationship on the 4th part of Dr. Angel Face.

Do fans like Y/N? How is the media treating their relationship? Now, the fans and media are divided. Most of the fans love (Y/N), but there are people who are also mad at her for stealing their fav, or accuse her of not paying attention to Calum just because Cal’s and (Y/N)’s love language is not like the other guys’ and their girlfriends. And of course, like I mentioned on Dr. Angel Face there have been instances in which people went to the ER and asked for Calum’s girlfriend. As of the media, Calum and (Y/N), definitely have been very low-key about their relationship. In the beginning, it was easier to hide, but after a while, people started to suspect. So, they decided to stop the chase and come forward about their relationship.

Would Y/N use Calum’s last name after their marriage? I feel like she wouldn’t legally change it. Like professionally, she still keeps her last name (my girl didn’t go to college, medical school, went through internship, residency, fellowship and became this strong ass neuro goddess to change her name, no ma’am.) But, I feel like she would adore being called Ms. Hood or Dr. Hood in her private life. Like her friends would actually start that to tease her but she would actually love it. And Calum would also love to call her Dr. Hood. Like, imagine walking up in the morning and making Calum breakfast, and he goes like, “Oh, thank you Dr. Hood” as she passes him his mug of coffee and he wraps his arms around her waist. Oh my God, I would melt. So, she actually wouldn’t legally change her name, but she would love letting her husband and friends call her by his.

Does Calum’s family have an issue with the age difference? So, the age difference is not that big now. I mean, on the last part I wrote Calum as his current age (maybe a year older than he is now), and I wrote her in her late 20′s. So, they aren’t that many years apart. But when they started dating, it was kinda weird for both their families to see them together, because they couldn’t see what Calum and (Y/N) had in common. Now, pretty much no one cares about it.

Does Y/N visit Calum while he is on tour? She doesn’t visit as often as the other girlfriends, and whenever she visits it is for just a few days (which is an issue in their relationship and I will DEFINITELY write more about it on the alternative chapter)

Do they get in trouble when Calum is visiting her on the hospital? I never really thought about it much, but there were definitely times they were caught, not only while going at it, but at times they were just hanging during (Y/N)’s free time, I guess I could put it like that. Now, there will be a scene or two of calum visiting on Dr. Angel Face part 4, so I will be able to give more details then. But they never really got in serious trouble, since (Y/N) was always exceptional while working

Does Y/N get along with Mali? She has a pretty good relationship with Mali. They don’t see each other very often, because Mali lives in the UK and (Y/N)’s work hours are crazy so it’s not easy for her to leave and visit. But they hang out whenever possible, and since they are so close age-wise, I can easily imagine them being friends.

Since Calum is a vegetarian, would Y/N be a vegetarian too? It is up to you that one, depending on whether it would be something you’d do or not. Keep in mind that the Dr. Angel Face fic is still a reader insert, just like the rest of my stories. In my head, I don’t really think that she would become a vegetarian if she didn’t want to be, just to please Calum. I feel like she would respect his choice and try to support him and join him on eating more plant-based, but she wouldn’t change if she didn’t feel like it was her choice. Also, a general tip for people out there, don’t change aspects of you just to please your partner, if you don’t feel like changing. You will feel trapped and forced to, and you’ll end up miserable.

Would they post about each other on their social media? Calum is always very low-key about his personal life and doesn’t really post frequently, so I think that would be a theme in their relationship too. He wouldn’t really post about (Y/N) on Instagram, but there would be occasions when he couldn’t help himself and post a cute picture of (Y/N) cuddling Duke, or a candid of (Y/N) drinking coffee. Now (Y/N) would be a bit more open on Instagram, she would post pics of him or short videos from their daily life, something that the fans would really appreciate. On Twitter though, whenever he would have his little twitter sprees, he would be bombarded with questions about (Y/N), and he would pick one or two of them to answer them in his significant funny way.

How would their careers effect their relationship? How good is their communication? Do they act as a safe space / comfort buddy for each other? I will touch a lot more on the hit their relationship takes due to their careers, on the alternative part. Basically, the plot for this one will revolve around what would happen if Calum was unable to keep the promise he gave (Y/N) when they first started dating ( “I want to be everything I can be to you.” He assures me; all I can do is stare at his lips, how nicely they move as he talks. “Cal, I told you before I don’t do the dating song and dance, and I told you the reason why. If… If this gets more, are you sure you will be ok with me canceling last minute because of emergency surgery? Are you willing to get into this whole thing?” I ask and he chuckles. “I told you before, I get you. I am willing to do it if you are.” He replies, resting his hand on my cheek. “Are you sure? Between my surgeries and your concerts, the time we will have…” I begin but he places his thumb on my bottom lip. “The time we will have together will be even more precious. I don’t wanna pressure you. If you want me to be just a friend, I understand.” He states, moving to pull his hand away, but my hand wraps around his wrist, keeping it there. “I want you to be everything you can be to me… I really do.” I whisper and his hand slides to the back of my head. “Then I will be everything.” He replies, licking his lips a little.)

Now, on the communication matter, on the main timeline of this AU, both of them make sure to give each other time to calm down (or in most cases, get some sleep to get their heads straight) before talking through their problems. There are a lot of moments when they are silent, to keep from fuming up. Most of the times, when they have a fight, it is because of distance or because they miss each other, so by the time Calum’s back from tour, or (Y/N) is off the service so she is home, the fight is forgotten. On the safety/comfort issue, to be honest, I wanted to include a scene in which (Y/N) had to deal with the death of a patient who was very important to her. I wanted to show how Calum would help her, what his reactions would be to (Y/N) almost breaking down, but the scene didn’t make the cut because I felt like it was too heavy on the course I wanted to take with this story. But definitely, Calum had to deal with (Y/N) being sad, or disappointed, or angry even, about her cases, which caused him to develop a coping mechanism to help her feel a lot better. And (Y/N) had to deal with all the times 5sos got overlooked by the music industry/awards/charts (all tea, all shade, I am looking at you Grammy’s and Billboard) and the way it affected Calum. Or with how frustrated he would get after sessions in which he wouldn’t perform as he wished, or with all the second-guessing and doubt that comes with putting something new out there (albums, tours, singles, you name it). So I can definitely picture them going through something like that, shutting everything out, holding each other close and whispering words of assurance. Or building a fort and watching movies in it, just to get their minds off whatever it is that is bugging them. Or just staying up talking, drinking coffee, helping each other see things through. I feel like (Y/N) and Calum are this couple that talks a lot, about anything that bothers them. I also feel that they would barely ever fight, they would just discuss things out, try to help each other see the other’s point of view.

Does Y/N visit on the studio, concerts, video sets or Friends of Friends events? Actually I am planning a studio visit, and a charity concert where Y/N visits him for the 4th installation of the original time line. It is going to be a long part, the 4th one

They seem to be a very sexual couple? Will there be mentions of experimentation in the upcoming chapters? I would like to explore that on the 4th installment of the main timeline. I feel like this one will be the longest yet since I have so many things I want to include in this story. Maybe I can also include that to the pool party extension. This couple is definitely a fan of public teasing and wearable toys (plugs, cock rings, Lush toys, you name it) I always wanted to show the BDSM experimentation they would be having. I feel like I have written such a healthy relationship for them that the portrayal of a healthy BDSM type of sexual relationship would be a lot fitting. I can tell you for sure there won’t be any depiction of their sexual life on the Alternative chapter I am going to write. I plan for it to be angst and focus on very different things.

How intense is the alternative part going to be? Is Cal going to cheat on Y/N? He is not going to unfaithful, no. And neither is (Y/N). The story will revolve around how hard this relationship is for them. (Y/N) is constantly preoccupied with her job, and Calum is away (on tour, promo, studio sessions). The story is going to be a what-if. What if the love they have for each other is not enough? What if Calum has had enough of (Y/N) putting other people above him? What if (Y/N) is tired of Calum being away? What if it is time for them to let go? The story, in regards to time, is going to occur after Heat. I am thinking about starting the story at 2 years they have been together. It will start with a couple of fights about (Y/N) cutting dates early due to emergency, then Calum spending hours in the studio, which results in them not spending time together. So, before he leaves for a promo tour, they decide it’s better they break up. But… that’s not the end of them, of course.

Who is Y/N the closest to out of the rest of the guys? I think she would be a lot close to Ashton. At first, she wanted to impress him because he is Calum’s best friend, but as they continued talking and hanging out, she would start admiring him, finding him a lot interesting. They share their love for Calum, both of them caring and loving Calum so much they would do anything for his happiness. And they are close, age-wise. I said on an ask before that Y/N is 4 or 5 years older than Calum, so that makes her 2 to 3 years older than Ashton. Ashton would think of her as a superhero (more on that on the Heat pool party extension), always asking her about her cases. Their friendship would be so amazing. I explore more of it on the Heat extension, as well as show Y/N interact with the rest of the gang a lot more on it.

Does any of Calum’s family members or friends have issues with their relationship and vice versa? I don’t see a reason why anyone would have issues with Y/N. She is a doctor, smart, caring, has a great job, loves Calum a lot and makes him very happy. Joy practically adores her; she is devastated when y/n and calum break up on the alternative part. Calum’s father also likes her very much and he knows that his son made the right choice when they started dating. Ashton and Y/N are practically besties, Luke and Michael find her charming and like her a lot with Calum. In the beginning, Sierra, Crystal, and KayKay thought she would be distant but found out she is actually a cool person. Other friends of Calum are totally ok with her. Y/N’s circle thought the match was a bit weird in the beginning, I mean, she is older and she is a doctor and he is a musician, it is not a lot common. But seeing them together leaves no doubt that they belong together. Everyone who matters to Calum and y/n approves of them, and that is all that matters to them.

Have they ever found the age gap to be intimidating? The age gap is barely an age gap. They are 4 years apart, it’s really not a big issue. It’s not like she is 30 and he is 18, they are both in their twenties, him mid-twenty and her lat-twenty. I really don’t see why 4 years would be so intimidating.

Did Y/N move in with Calum or did Calum move in with Y/N? Y/N was having a roommate while she was with Calum, some doctor from the hospital (in Grey’s Anatomy terms, it would be like Arizona living with DeLuca in season 12) so Y/N moved in with Calum before they purchased a house together when they decided their relationship was actually getting serious (that was around their 2nd anniversary)

What about their anniversary/ valentine’s day/ honeymoon? I feel that they would barely ever have the chance to celebrate those things like ‘normal’ people would. I feel like they would send each other flowers for the sake of it, with cute little notes full of inside jokes or spicy stuff (or possibly both) For their honeymoon, I think they would go on it months after their actual wedding. After the wedding, they would spend the weekend at a luxury hotel, And then, months after, when things would get a little chaotic for both of them (on a previous ask I mentioned y/n dealing with loss and calum dealing with disappointment), they would just take the trip. Somewhere warm and nice. I am thinking Fiji islands, then New Zealand, so they could visit Calum’s roots, and of course Australia. just for a few days, to see Calum’s family and wander around a bit. I am thinking that their honeymoon would actually be a month-long one, them just being together, no distractions, just to sink in the “married life” and set their minds straight. And I think that on the milestone anniversaries (e.g 5 years together, one year married), they would just go on little road trips. They would get a little RV and drive somewhere, finding cute little places to camp out.

How did the concept of the Dr. Angel Face fic occur to you? I get inspired by so many things. The Doctor Angel Face au was created kinda by accident. I wrote the first part, Fetish while watching an episode of Grey’s anatomy and I kinda wondered how I could fit my characters into the GA universe. The Fetish part was a request so I wanted to give something unique. I didn’t think I could actually cultivate it into a series. Then I wrote the Heat part. I was actually inspired by a Greek Trap song called Caliente (which was the original title of the story). I wanted the story to revolve around the sexual chemistry of the couple, and I actually didn’t plan on it being a part 2 to the Fetish story. But I started writing and the universe I was creating fit so well with the Fetish story, so I made a couple of changes to fit it in. Then people started liking the Doctor AU and asked for more. So I came up with the Dr. Angel Face part. I wanted it to be this cozy, Christmas story but didn’t want to limit it to just it. So, a follower of mine ( @saphseoul ) suggested a couple of things I should include into it, like their backstory. Their backstory was inspired by a story Ashton told on a soundcheck about the day the met Andy Deluca (basically, Ashton and Calum were in a car accident but they were fine so they sat on the curb and ate chicken tenders and drank milkshakes). I felt like that would be such a great backstory for them. And of course some parts of them are kinda inspired by the episodes of GA, but I try not to copy them. For the Alternative part of the Dr. Angel Face, I was inspired by something that might sound stupid, but it is actually the truth. I was actually inspired by a daydream. Back in December, I was working on the shittiest job I’ve ever worked, so to cope I built the scenario about the alternative (I quit from the job by the way). It is angsty and a bit torturing, to be honest, but like all my stories, it will have a happy ending. But I can get inspired by anything and everything. I have been writing for 6 years now, for the last 3 I have been writing daily, which helps me keep my inspiration flowing.

What can we expect from the future parts?

I can tell you that the alternative part is going to be the angstiest and sweetest part ever. Y/N is kinda a broody brat, always trying to provoke Calum (but honestly she is right, she is getting back to him for what happens at the beginning of the fic). And Calum is kind of a bitch but has a great arc. Even though it is an angst fic, I am not going to ruin my favorite couple, so it will have a soft ending. I don’t remember exactly when I have it scheduled for posting, because I have quite a few stories queued. For the 4th part of Dr. Angel Face, the fic begins right after the wedding in the hospital. I plan on focusing it more on them becoming a family (just the two of them plus Duke for this part), and their honeymoon. Plus, I think that I want the fic to focus more on how (Y/N) deals with Calum’s career ( I have in mind to include a Friends of Friends concert, maybe an award show). I consider cutting this part in half so it won’t be too long, so the second part will be more on their plans of having a baby together, including how realistic this would be, how they would handle the responsibility, plus I want to write something into this fic kinda like the Family Cuddles story I have with Ashton. And I have the prequel of the Dr. Angel Face. This will be their story from their meeting to them moving in together. I will also include some storylines of their lives before they got together. Those are my plans for the story this far. I don’t know if there will be more stories after I am done with those, but I sure hope so.

For some reason, I feel like Dr. (Y/N) and Maggie Pierce would have such a great friendship? Maggie is one of my fav characters (you can’t change my mind, I said what I said) and I think they would be really close. Y/N was also a child prodigy (I mentioned it before and I will write more on it on the Dr. Angel Face Prequel) and I feel they would bond a lot over it. On the Alternative Chapter, I wrote a lot about her relationship with Meredith and now I kinda regret not including Maggie more on it. Y/N is close with Amelia and Meredith so it makes so much sense that she would be with Maggie as well.

Who’s the hardest character to write? I don’t really have trouble writing for characters I guess (probably because I don’t go in-depth with characters). But I guess I will say (Y/N), since I had to look up medical terminology, fit her in an already existing universe (that of Grey’s anatomy).

Who’s the easiest character to write? The easiest character to write was Calum, hands down. Starting this fic I had already built him in my head so he was really written automatically.

Favorite scene you’ve written? It is so difficult to pick just one favorite scene. I guess it is on Part 3 (The Dr. Angel Face chapter), their wedding sequence. I think it captures the essence of their relationship, that they don’t need anything fancy to love each other, they just want to cherish one another on any chance they get. Writing that scene felt like writing the core of the couple, it is a lot more than just a wedding scene.

Hardest part about writing? The hardest part about writing in general is getting the perfect conditions to do so. My house is always noisy and I rarely have a proper workspace, so adjusting to my environment and being able to write unbothered is something I can’t do easily. Also, editing is very hard too. On the Dr. Angel Face fic, specifically, the hardest part was being able to keep a balance between fiction and realism. I don’t want my stories to feel unrealistic so I always strive to write things you would encounter irl (I hope I am successful at it, I am really trying hard)

Easiest part about writing? The easiest part about writing the Dr. Angel Face AU is the interactions between the characters, finding the reasoning behind what they do, and how the others react to their doings. You will see next week when I post the Alternative part that everything my characters do is justified by past actions and their relationships with others.

Omg doctor x cal is like my relationship goals!! So mature and healthy relationship. Because they have such a busy life I can see them enjoying the little moments. Like cuddling the first thing in the morning when they wake before work. Coming home together and making dinner together while listening to music. Like they’re the IT couple That they are. I wanted to write a relationship for Calum that would be drama and stress-free. And I wanted the relationship to have its little flaws but them always dealing with them the adult way. I really love the way that relationship has evolved throughout the fic and I am so excited to write the continuation of it. There are going to be so many little moments like those ones in the following parts (well, not in the alternative one, that one is aaaaangstyyyyy) It makes me so happy to see people love that relationship as much as I do. And I wish everyone finds a relationship like this one. Y’all deserve it

So I read this headcanon that said calum would totally refer to s/o as “the mrs” especially when talking to other ppl about her. I can totally see cal doing that for dr y/n.. talking to the boys, his mom, or in interviews I feel like he wouldn’t do it in interviews because people could misinterpret it as minimizing her and we all know Calum is too smitten with Dr. Angel Face to do that, but with the boys and his family, oh he would do it all the time. And Dr. (Y/N) would adore it, almost as much as she would adore being called Dr. Hood in private (like, not in the hospital, but Calum calling her Dr. Hood while they are being their goofy selves, or Ashton teasing her, oof, she loves it) But I also feel like Calum and Y/N would have a bit of a hard time calling each other “my husband” or “my wife”. Like, picture that: “My boyfriend is coming home tonight” “I thought you are married…” “Right… My HUSBAND is coming home tonight.” or Calum calling (Y/N) his girlfriend by accident and (Y/N) playfully correcting him. “You are starring at me. Stop.” “What? Can’t I just look at my gorgeous girlfriend?” “Honey, we are married. I am not your girlfriend anymore.” “Shit, I still can’t believe you are my wife.” Or Calum introducing (Y/N) to new people. “This is my ex-girlfriend, Dr. (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” “He means I am his wife now.” I can’t choose which one is more cannon, so I will be using all 3 in parts 4 and 5

Rockstar and a doctor dating... what a couple!! Their character development makes them so great and humble ppl. Like typically when ppl make so much money they have to be super flashy and buy crazy expensive Well, Calum gives off that down to earth vibe so, I don’t think he would be with someone who is flashy. Also, Y/N studied medicine and she is a surgeon, meaning she had her fair share of student loans to pay off, which caused her to be more considerate of how to spend money. They truly have a lavish home though and both of them have cars, but they never go above and beyond to flash their wealth. I will describe their house on Dr. Angel Face Prequel and on parts 4 and 5, it is truly a lovely home.

I think they’re house would be amazing. From what I imagine it’d be beautifully decorated.. simplicity and modern. Calum’s album plaques hanging & her doctorate degree hanging/ or her graduation pictures The have a glass case full of awards and degrees and a wall that is covered with album plaques (Y/N convinced him to actually hang them on a wall and display them in their living room instead of having them laying around). The glass display was built by Calum himself, as a little gift for Y.N once they moved in together. She had her awards and her degrees in a box in her old apartment, so Calum felt like giving her a proper place for them, with Y/N insisting his very own awards to accompany them. There are also a lot of framed pictures of them, kinda hang like a timeline; them being kids, teens, adults, Y/N’s graduations and Calum’s significant performances, album releases, overall achievements. And then pictures of them together, from dates, to anniversaries, to trips, then a few pictures they took of each other, or others took of them together (like candids of their cute little moments). And eventually their wedding and family pictures. A little fairytale hanging and showcased on their wall for everyone to see. The house is simple and has a touch of modern as you mentioned, but It is worth saying that they have made it absolutely personal. Every furniture was hand picked from antique stores or from retailers with a unique sense of style, but keeping a simplicity in every room to be able to decompress after a hectic day. The house took months to finish decorating and furnishing, due to the couple wanted every single thing in the house to have character, so they were looking for specific things. Plus, there was a lot of arts and crafts going on in the house; they painted it together, they built furniture together, they assembled things together. They did it while Calum was in a bit of a hiatus after dropping an album (think about the period after Youngblood and before CALM), so it was more of a project for him to keep busy. But Y/N actually enjoyed building a home with him. It was a sign that the relationship she had with Calum would last. I got carried away with this. I can’t wait until I can talk more about their house in the stories. Mostly on the prequel, since it is actually about what happens between them meeting and them getting married. But also on parts 4 and 5, with them changing from being just boyfriend-girlfriend to being a family (not necessarily having kids, but building more on their existing relationship).

I just realized how opposites really attract like dr. Y/n cal. Their lifestyles are so different. She was a child prodigy while he was a dropout. They’re so cute Yes, they are a bit different in that area, but they have quite a lot in common. Both are compassionate, considerate, loving people. They have a great sense of humor and a common code of communication and their moral compasses are matching. Plus, Calum legit is a cultivated person (the way he talks, the way he shows himself in the world, reveal that he is educated even though he is a dropout.) So they are both very smart people. They are very cute indeed and they act as a driving force for each other to become better.

Loved the story (Dr. Angel Face Alternative). Time line confused me a little. It takes place before heat yet the mention of planning for children doesn’t happen until dr. Angel face? It is an alternative, which means that this is a different way their story as a couple could have developed. Any story after Fetish doesn’t happen on the alternative timeline The alternative timeline is: Prequel ——-> Fetish ——> Dr. Angel Face Alternative The original timeline is: Prequel ——> Fetish —–> Heat (+ Extended) —-> Dr. Angel Face —–> Dr. Angel Face Part 4 —–> Dr. Angel Face Part 5

I’ve noticed cal always has a baby girl in your fics is that intentional or random? Btw I loved the au of Dr Angel face seeing them expecting a daughter kinda made me think how it’d be if they were expecting a boy and how C would be around his baby boy. Huh, I never noticed. I guess every time I picture Calum with a baby, it is always a girl ( I love how soft he is for his mom and his sister, so I can’t help but melt at the thought of him with a baby girl). But on the main timeline, I had planned for him to have a boy. It fits the fic well, in my opinion, and since the part I posted yesterday was an alternative, I chose a girl, to highlight how different the alternative part is from the original AU

When do you plan to post the fourth part of Dr Angel Face? have you already written it or do you still need to finish it off? Haven’t written it yet, nor even started it. I am doing the prequel first (totally random pick, blame google for randomizing my requests). I will definitely post it in 2020, maybe for Christmas or the 5sos anniversary. I don’t know yet.

I can’t wait till doctor y/n and cal have a baby. they’d be the cutest parents ever!! They’d be super busy and hectic with their schedule but it would be so great. Calum would be an absolute sweetheart during (y/n)’s pregnancy, taking care of her but letting her do her thing, spoil (y/n) rotten, talking to the baby, visiting (y/n) even more frequently at the hospital to see if she is ok. Oh, he would be the softest dad ever. And then with the baby… he would be so cute and protective. taking care of the newborn to let (y/n) rest, and then when the baby is old enough to go to the hospital daycare, he would visit all the time to spend time with the baby and see the mama. He would take the baby to the studio as well, trying to get the kiddo into music early on. And then when (y/n) would be off service and Calum would be free of obligations, they would just get in the car and drive to the beach, or the woods or a hiking trail and have quality time with their baby.

Idk why but I feel like the baby would be a carbon copy of calum. His mom has some strong genes Their baby would so well loved, especially with being the first grandchild on both sides of the family. Between the band, y/n family, calum family, and y/n friends they would all love the baby there would be even more privacy now they had a baby. All the fans & media would be dying to see a picture of the baby. Both Mali and Calum are the spitting image of Joy and I am so sure the baby will look like her. (Calum’s baby pictures make my heart melt and I can only imagine y/n trying to recreate them, sending them to Calum’s side of the family so they can collectively have their hearts melt at the sight) That child would be spoiled, everyone showering him with gifts, playing with him for hours. He would be cuddled all the time, especially by (y/n) who when she wouldn’t be working she would not leave him on his feet. On the privacy matter, I agree with you 100%. The Hood-(Y/L/N) family is adamant about not exposing the baby to this world at such a young age. The world is dying for a picture but at best they get a look at the back of the baby’s head. Calum would occasionally answer questions about the baby, but always being careful about what he shares and they would barely ever post pictures with the child, even once he is older. (I can picture Calum posting a picture of his son wearing daddy’s merch, custom-made for him. Or (Y/N) posting a pic of the boys playing with Duke or playing soccer together, and the internet would have a collective meltdown. Of course, that would happen when the baby would be older, like 4 or 5 years old.) (Or maybe Calum would share a picture of baby number one holding baby number two, after completely hiding y/n’s second pregnancy from the world -well, friends and family would know but they would hide it from fans and the media)

Omg I just read your ask about dr. Angel face and cal!! I’m in love with dad cal the pregnancy will be so cute. I think cal would be protective because with being a surgeon is a difficult job but he knows she can handle herself so he lets her do her thing. The first time they hear the heartbeat on the ultrasound!! And setting up the nursery when they find time!! There is definitely some struggle for Calum during (Y/N)’s pregnancy. He wants to be protective and he wishes she would book fewer hours of surgery, but at the same time, he knows she wouldn’t do something to hurt herself and their baby. He also knows she is a doctor and that she knows a bit more than him. So he sits a bit back and makes sure she feels ok, takes care of her when she is home. They would both go crazy over the baby’s heartbeat. Calum would be shocked, never having experience with anything like that, plus knowing that’s his kid in there, he would be so emotional. And (Y/N) would also be so enamored by that bub’s heartbeat. I feel like her maternal instinct would only become stronger after that. I can certainly see them looking online for all the furniture (remember, they are trying to keep a low profile), and Calum would invite the boys over to help him. Everyone would just try to show off because everyone wants to be the baby’s godparent (joke’s on them, they already picked Mali for the role). And the walls of the nursery would be covered in paintings because Calum read it is good for the baby’s brain to have visual stimuli early on (one wall would be sea-themed, the other woodland-themed, then a rainforest-themed wall, and an Australian wildlife wall so the baby has an early connection to his root, and the ceiling just has the most amazing universe-themed painting, including constellations, planets, nebulas). Now, depending on their place in the room, the furniture would be of various colors to fit with the theme of the wall behind them. They didn’t want to have a color scheme for the room, they opted for the most colorful room (they both agree that a child’s room shouldn’t be boring, nor monochromatic)

What scene did you first put down? The first scene I ever put down was from Fetish, in which Y/N walks into their home to find that Calum working on some lyrics. I am lucky that I have a very linear way of writing, so whatever scene you see first on my fic, that is the start of it. Now, if we are talking about Dr. Angel Face as in the self-titled chapter, the first scene I came up with and made a plot for was the scene Y/N gets called and is informed that Calum has been hurt and he is in the hospital. That was the main point of the fic for me, since it was a great opportunity to show the characters interact, how protective Y/N is when it comes to Calum, as well as introduce a bit of a backstory of how they came to be.

What’s your favorite line of narration? I have so many favorites. Ooof, it is so hard for me to pick just one line of narration and dialogue. I loved the narration of the Alternative part (the whole story is a masterpiece if you are asking me and totally underrated). I feel like that alternative chapter points out all the things that could be wrong with Calum’s and Y/N’s relationship, but also how they would still make things work between them. I also loved writing their first 2 dates and their first kiss (those scenes are on the prequel, so I can’t wait to share the new part with you)

What’s your favorite line of dialogue? My favorite dialogue has to be their vows. Oh, my heart hurts when I think about it. Especially Calum’s “ Love does exist, and her name is (Y/N). “ I had a meltdown writing it. And Y/N’s “ My sweetest love, if fate wants me to be with anyone, if fate wants me to be anything more than I already am, I know that it’s you, I know that it is to be yours and you to be mine “… I am still not over it. As you might have seen, I do mostly dialogue in my stories. I feel like it is a better way to show the characters’ reactions and get the story moving.

Why’d you pick calum for the story? The story started from a Calum request, so I guess I didn’t really pick him. But, I chose to continue this fic with Calum because he is the most fitting. He is compassionate and down to earth and has a very calming aura, which I felt would go great with y/n and her profession. (But let’s be honest here, I picked him mainly because he is my favorite)

What was the character development process like? I don’t remember ever sitting down and having a plan of how I wanted the characters to develop. I understand how much they have changed from the original concept I had in my head, now that I am writing the prequel and I have to kinda start their relationship and them as individuals from scratch. I think I always let my characters grow through interactions with each other because it really feels more natural than following an arc strictly. If you really think about it, as people we grow and evolve through our interaction with others and through our experiences. And I guess that’s what I do to develop my characters.

As you were talking about doctor y/n... I think baby bumps are so cute!! I imagine it being so adorable. Especially with her work clothes. She would be such a great mom Y/N waddling around in her all-blue scrubs, like a little penguin is honestly heart-melting. She would get such guilt for trying to balance work and being a mom, especially after going back from her maternity leave. And Calum would feel the same too; just 2 months after the baby was born, he would have to leave for tour and he felt like he was missing out and he wasn’t helping y/n much. It would take them a while to realize that when they are doing what they love and they take care of themselves, they are better parents to baby Hood. They are both such great parents, baby Hood is so lucky on that. He is so much loved by everyone; parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles, his parents’ friends. He is a ray of sunshine; according to Calum, he gets it from his mama

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willow-salix · 4 years

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Urghhh, boys...

Day 72 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

After yesterday’s posh day we were all feeling the need to be sloppy and just slob around the house but unfortunately Jeff had other ideas.

“You kids are not going to spend another day laying around the house in your pyjamas, I refuse to allow it. I know that the chance of us getting a call out is remote, but we have to be professional, we can’t let our standards slip...are you listening to me?”

Alan was snoring on my shoulder, Gordon was playing a game on his phone, Virgil was lounging on Scott and John hadn't even looked up from his book. None of us were dressed. The three older boys were wearing nothing but pyjama bottoms, only Alan was wearing a T-shirt with his.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jeff muttered, giving up and walking away, no doubt to call one of his buddies and complain about us. Again.

I reached out a foot and nudged Gordon who was only wearing a pair of swim shorts. “Oi, Squidward, he wants us all to get dressed.” I couldn't talk, I was one of the people still in PJ bottoms (stolen) and a vest top and I had planned on staying that way all day too.

None of them made a move to get up, in fact Virgil stretched out further, draping his legs over his brother’s.

“Come on, guys, let's not annoy him too much today." I nudged Gordon again, I wasn't picking on him specifically, he was just the only one I could reach sandwiched between John and Alan as I was, I'd have to over stretch to reach the other two.

"Stop kicking me! Fine, I'll get dressed, but I'm not making any effort with it," Gordon huffed. "In fact, I'm going to find the oldest, scruffiest things I own and I'm going to wear them all day."

"That's actually a funny idea," Scott laughed, "he'd hate that, but you'd be doing exactly what he asked."

"Wanna do it too?" he asked.

"Maybe. Virg?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I suppose we could join in," Virgil agreed slowly.

"Excellent! John, you in?" Gordon asked.

"John?" Scott called when John, as usual, tuned Gordon out quite effectively.

"Yeah?" John didn't look up. I always admire his ability to just be completely in the zone and ignore everything else.

"Are you in?" Gordon asked him.

"In where? When was I out?"

"These numpties seem to think that the best response to your dad wanting us to get dressed is to wear the oldest, grungiest things they own. They want to know if you want to play too," I explained.

"Oh," he scratched his chin as he paused to think about it. "I guess so."

"What about Alan?" Virgil asked.

I nudged him gently. "Allie?" He didn't stir.

"Alan?" I jiggled my shoulder. Didn't work.

John reached over and flicked his forehead.

"Huh? Wah?" he jerked awake, a thin string of drool stretching from my shoulder to his mouth. He scrubbed at his cheek with one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other looking so disoriented I couldn't help but smile even though I did have a soggy shoulder. John passed us kleenex from under the coffee table.

“Eww, sorry,” Alan groaned, horrified.

“It’s fine, boo,” I assured him as I wiped off my shoulder. I’d had worse and probably not for the last time. “Sorry to wake you after you had such a strenuous night killing zombies, but you need to get dressed.”

“We’re gonna wear the worst clothes we own,” Gordon told him.

“OK,” Alan agreed, not even bothering to ask why they were doing such a thing. That was one thing that always made me laugh about him, he just went along with anything without needing an explanation.

“I guess we’re going to look awful today,” I sighed, following them out the door.

I didn't have a lot to choose from since my staying at the Island had been a gradual thing and I still had my own place, so most of the clothes I had shoehorned into an already pretty full wardrobe consisted of things I’d worn while there for one reason or another, a few bits that I’d obviously packed at some point and left there and things I’d left behind because I’d stolen something of someone elses to wear to go home. There were a few things I’d picked up on shopping trips with Grandma but all my truly hideous old stuff was at home.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I complained to John who had his head buried inside his wardrobe and was digging around at the back.

“You always say that and it’s always a lie,” he answered.

“I mean it this time, this isn't just that there's nothing that I want to wear, I truly don’t have anything to wear, I only had the dress I wore last night because I wore it to Penny’s party and didn't go home. I’ve only got stuff here that I actually like, nothing hideous or old.”

“I beg to differ, that T-shirt you wear to bed is both old and hideous.”

“How dare you attack my muppets shirt, he of the disgusting dressing gown! That shirt happens to be my favorite and it’s vintage.”

He didn’t say anything in defense of his silk monstrosity, continuing to rummage for another minute before he backed out, dragging a box with him.

“What have you found?” I asked, genuinely interested. John wasn't one to keep a lot of things that were no longer useful to him, he had the same sentimental streak as the others but he was more practical with it and everyday items didn't seem to warrant the same loyalty as they did to me. I’m the type that won't throw out a broken pencil because I once wrote a shopping list with it. I’m a just in case type of person, it might be useful one day. If it's not useful straight away, John doesn't want it. Serve a purpose or get out.

“My college things,” he flipped open the lid and I got down on the floor to nose through with him. There were sweatshirts, T-shirts, sweatpants, athletic shorts, tank tops and a few T-shirts with witty slogans on them including “I was taught to think before I act, so if I smack you, rest assured I’ve thought about it and I am confident in my decision”, “I wasn't listening, so I’m going to smile and hope for the best” and “I’m not superman, but I am a communications engineer, so close enough.”

“These are absolute gold!” I laughed, dragging them out. “Why don’t you wear these?”

“They were all gifts,” he shrugged. He selected one at random ( “I may be wrong...but it’s highly unlikely”) and a pair of Harvard sweatpants and pulled them on.

“I’ve still got nothing to wear,” I groused. “Help me!”

He gave me a look that said he’d done all he could already and now I was on my own, there was just no helping some people.

“Why don’t you just ask everyone to donate one item and see what you end up with?” he suggested.

“No, that’s ridic-” I paused. “Actually not a bad idea,” I finished and started drafting a text.

***

Jeff walked into the lounge an hour later and stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes tracking from one to the other and then back again, as if he couldn't quite take it all in to start with.

Scott was wearing an old Air Force hoodie and a pair of sweatpants so old that they were skin tight on him and only reached to just below his knees and the T-shirt he wore underneath was so faded it was almost see through.

Alan had emerged in a very short and tight Batman playsuit he apparently had when he was eight to go to a birthday party.

Gordon had donned an old shirt that said “I kiss dolphins on porpoise” with a very faded, too short and too tight shirt that looked like it might have once had waves and a surfboard on it but now I couldn't be sure, and he’d finished it off with a pair of olympic speedos. It was a look, I’d give him that.

Virgil just looked a mess, a grungy, disgusting mess, not helped by the fact that his standard look this week had been homeless lumberjack. His jeans, which I ‘think’ were once blue, had so many grease stains and paint splatters on them it was hard to tell, they were so stiffly encrusted with grot, especially on the thighs were he had a habit of wiping his hands, they looked like they could stand up on their own. His T-shirt was in a similar state as Scott’s, it had been white but had worn so thin you could see through it and it too was covered in paint splotches and had grease stain hand prints on it. What did that boy do to his damned clothes?

I looked the worst of the bunch. They had come through for me in spectacular fashion. I was wearing a T-shirt of Alan’s that had some computer game logo on it and was ripped half way up one seam, a pair of Hawaiian board shorts from Gordon, an old flannel shirt of Virgil’s (yep, it was dirty too and had little holes in it where he’d been grinding something and sparks had flown everywhere) and for some reason Scott had presented me with a very strangely patterned bandanna he’s picked up in Egypt, which was tied around my head.

“Hey, Dad, we got dressed!” Gordon called out cherrily, waving from his spot on the couch.

“Don’t bother to tell me what is going on, I don’t even want to know,” he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. Without another word he turned around and walked straight back out again.

Poor Jeff, when he told us to be professionals he should have realised that he was asking the impossible.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #isolation island #social isolation #isolation

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cakesunflower · 5 years

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Quiet Hours [College!Luke AU] Ch. 7

Chapter 7

INSTEAD OF FINISHING up her homework like she was meant to, Ophelia was leaning back in her wooden chair, scrolling through every social media she was a part of instead of writing her paper for her women and gender studies class. It wasn’t due until Friday night, and it being only six o’clock on a Wednesday gave her enough of an excuse to procrastinate. She had posted a selfie on her Snapchat, complaining about being bored despite having homework to do before busying herself by scrolling through Twitter.

It wasn’t long until she got a notification from Snapchat, telling her she had a message from Calum. They all had exchanged numbers, Snapchats, and Instagrams after going to the movies together the week before, though this is the one time there’s been any sort of communication between either group through them other than just liking pictures and viewing their Snapchat stories. Ophelia’s brows rose when she read Calum’s message of the guys and I are gonna be chilling later tonight with some wine and food and video games. You girls wanna come?

She blinked at the message before smiling fondly and looking at her friends. “Calum’s inviting us to hang out with him and the boys later. You guys down?”

The three other girls looked up at her before exchanging looks, shrugging and nodding as Laurel grinned, “wine Wednesday with cute boys? Hell yes.”

Ophelia snorted at her friend’s words, responding to Calum that they’d be there and bring a bottle as well. As she put her phone down, she felt a buzz of excitement at the prospect of spending time with Luke once again. Ophelia told herself to relax, reminding herself of the kind of guy Luke was—he wasn’t a bad person, not at all. It was just his continuous, suggestive comments that made Ophelia’s heart jump in her throat and thrilling tingles to arise in her skin. Truthfully, Ophelia couldn’t tell if he was joking or what whenever he made comments about the two of them, and as embarrassed and flustered as she got every time he brought it up, she found herself yearning for something to actually happen. Yet, she wasn’t sure if she actually liked the boy, or if she was merely attracted to him.

College boys were an enigma all on their own.

By the time the girls were done with their homework, it was seven-thirty, so on their way back to their dorm they stopped by the campus deli to eat dinner before going to their apartment to drop off their stuff. Ophelia swiped the unopened bottle of Pink Moscato from their kitchen before knocking on the door to the right of their apartment, being happily greeted by a smiling Ashton.

“Come on in,” he greeted, stepping aside to let the four girls inside. Seated on the couch in the living room opposite of the door were Crystal, Michael and Calum, controllers in both of the boys’ hands as they played a soccer video game on the TV and Xbox that was just a few feet away from the door. Crystal greeted the girls with a smile, but when neither boys’ attention strayed from the TV, Ashton shut the door and called, “hey, dickheads, we’ve got guests. Be social.”

The girls laughed lightly as Michael and Calum finally looked up, pausing the game to greet the girls by standing up and giving each of them a hug. Crystal got the boys to scoot over so at least one of the girls could sit with them, and once Tanya settled on the end, Isabelle and Laurel sat on the two chairs on either side of the couch facing the wooden coffee table.

Ophelia, who was still standing, looked at Ashton and held up the bottle as she quirked a brow, “we drinking?”

The hazel eyed boy grinned, dimples in view as he nodded his head towards the kitchen. “Cups are in the kitchen.”

She followed him into the joint kitchen, catching sight of the other Pinot Noir and Merlot bottles on the counter, as well as the couple of bottles and cans of beer. As Ashton pulled out the red solo cups and Ophelia uncapped her bottle, she saw Luke emerge from the hallway, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black hoodie that read FUCK OFF in an intricate font. The blonde stopped at the end of the hall as he took notice of how the room doubled in people the last time he was in there, brows raising in both confusion and mild surprise.

“Hey, bro,” Ashton greeted as he came to stand next to Ophelia, with plastic cups in either hand. Luke looked over at his friend, giving him that typical sup nod that guys do, before doing a slight double take at the girl standing next to him, eyes ever so slightly widening. “You want wine or beer?”

Luke wandered over, standing on the other side of the counter opposite of Ophelia with his hands splayed out on top of the marble top. He kept his blue eyed gaze on the brunette, answering his friend’s question with, “beer.”

Ashton reached over and handed his friend the can of Corona, which Luke took without straying his stare from Ophelia. The girl, however, dropped her gaze as she got the bottle open and took a cup, pouring some of the pink liquid into it. Requests from the others in the living room sounded as Crystal came by to help, the two girls and Ashton getting the drinks for the other lazy bums.

As Crystal and Ashton walked into the living room to hand Michael, Calum, Laurel and Tanya their drinks, Ophelia stayed back to pour Isabelle’s wine. Unfortunately, Luke stayed put on the other side while lifting the can and chin tilting back as he sipped his beer, gaze still on Ophelia which only caused the girl’s hand to shake as she poured the wine.

He was making her nervous and Luke knew it, smirking into the small rim of the can as he watched the way Ophelia bit her lower lip as she willed her hand to stop shaking like she was having a seizure. Please stop looking at me, she silently begged, her gaze on the liquid she was pouring while swallowing inaudibly.

Luke found it endearingly amusing, and the knowledge of him seemingly having such an effect on Ophelia only served to swell his ego and make his heart do stupid leaps in his chest. When Ophelia finished pouring, she mentally thanked God for the finished act as she picked up the two cups and walked around the counter, ignoring the heat of Luke’s gaze as she handed Isabelle one of the cups before taking a sip of her own. The sweet taste danced on her tongue nicely as she took a big gulp, despite knowing that unlike vodka, she got drunk off of wine surprisingly fast.

Calum had been nice enough to bring out two floor pillows he apparently had in his room, and Ophelia sat down on one in front the coffee table and felt her back go slightly rigid as Luke sat down right to her left. Ophelia silently sipped her wine as Michael and Calum’s game ended as there was a unanimous agreement to find something to watch on Netflix, and from the corner of her eye saw Luke lean against the table with his right knee brought up and left leg folded, arm propped up on his knee as he took sips from his can.

Truthfully, they were all having a nice time; they had decided to watch Stranger Things since Laurel and Isabelle hadn’t seen it it, prompting Michael to choke on his wine before quickly playing the show. The bottles were brought to put on the coffee table for refills, and Ophelia was on her third glass while Luke had changed from beer to his own cup of wine. He was on his second cup, while the warm and fuzzy feeling Ophelia got from drinking wine took its effect rather quickly.

She sank down slightly where she sat on the floor, the nearly empty cup in her hand as the light feeling overcame her. Honestly, Ophelia loved being wine-drunk; it made her feel calm and want to cuddle with anyone willing, whereas any other alcohol got her dizzy and nauseated. After she finished off the drink, she twisted around to put her cup on the coffee table before almost forcefully leaning back with her head lolling to rest on the wooden table instead of keeping her gaze on the television right in front of her. She felt goosebumps rising on her skin, the apartment colder than what the girls keep their own.

“You tired?” came Luke’s quiet, deep voice that startled Ophelia to straighten her head. She turned her head to look at Luke at her left, who was comfortably leaning back on the table with his gaze on her. Even when he sat he was taller, his eyes lowered to lock with hers.

Ophelia smiled a grin that Luke found utterly adorable, peering up at him with green eyes that were ever so slightly glazed over. She was a bit drunk off the wine, both of them knew, so all of her previously existing shyness around Luke was out of the window for the night. “No, just cold,” she answered, legs splayed out in front of her and arms crossed. She was only wearing black leggings and a simple purple V-neck.

“Yeah?” Luke quirked a brow, mindful to keep his voice low since everyone was watching the show. He then sat up slightly, right hand reaching to his upper back to grab his sweatshirt from behind before proceeding to lift it off his head. His blonde curls became even more tousled then they already were as the material came off and he held his sweatshirt out to her with a small smile. “Here.”

She felt her heart thud in her chest at his sweet offer, her smile widening and cheekbones rising at the action. Luke, a bit inhibited as well from the beers and wine he consumed, was extremely tempted to just lightly pinch her cheeks between his pointer finger and thumb. Ophelia took the clothing piece and pulled it on, oblivious to the others sitting behind them and probably watching them as she pulled her hair out from under the sweatshirt and was suddenly intoxicated by the familiar scent of Luke, as well as some nice laundry detergent.

Luke ran both of his hands through his hair to push it back, taking in a breath at the sight of the brunette practically swimming in his sweatshirt. He leaned back against the table and tried to focus his gaze back on the show, but he kept glancing at the girl to his right in his sweatshirt, looking so fucking adorable yet, somehow, unmistakably desirable. The fact that she could appear like both of those things simultaneously was driving Luke’s already tipsy mind slightly more crazy.

It didn’t help that at one point, while they were halfway through the first season of the show, Ophelia’s head began resting against Luke’s upper right arm since his height didn’t make it easy for her to reach his shoulder. As she did so, Luke tensed up at the unexpected contact as the familiar strawberry scent became stronger with Ophelia’s head right there, yet he found himself relaxing almost immediately after. Glancing down at the girl, he saw her watching the show, a content expression on her face, while his eyes then flickered to her lips; pink, pouty lips that he always found himself looking at whenever she came into view.

By the time the group of them finished the first season, it was nearly two in the morning and everyone decided to call it a night. It was Wednesday, after all, and they all had classes in the morning—although, the boys’ had afternoon classes. The girls began standing up, Tanya slightly stumbling because of the alcohol coursing through her system, while Crystal bid them goodnight and followed Michael into his bedroom.

Everyone was getting up to either go into their rooms or apartment, yet Luke and Ophelia remained on the floor. She was still leaning her head against Luke’s arm, swimming in Luke’s sweatshirt and, God, the position was so comfortable, she didn’t want to get up. Conveniently, the rest of the boys had gone back into their rooms after cleaning up the living room and bidding goodbye to the girls, most of whom had left. Isabelle stood in the doorway, quirking a brow down at the still seated people.

“Lia? You coming?” she asked, light amusement dancing in her tone as she kept the door open.

The green eyed girl, for the first time since she laid her head against Luke’s arm, finally lifted it to look at her friend. Luke’s eyebrows furrowed lightly at the loss of contact, his gaze going to Ophelia as she hummed. “Yeah, I guess so,” she said lightly, the warmth still in the pit of her belly from the wine. It felt so nice.

“Or you could stay,” Luke blurted, clamping his mouth shut right as the words slipped past his mouth. Ophelia’s gaze snapped over to him as their eyes locked, with him ignoring the knowing quirk in Isabelle’s eyebrow. Fucking hell, did I just say that? Luke took in the surprised expression Ophelia wore, clearly displaying what he was feeling. Had he really just asked her to stay?

Ophelia didn’t know what that meant. Did he want her to stay just to stay, or did he want to do something? Either way, the airy feeling in her chest and the lack of shyness had her smiling that lazy smile she did whenever wine was involved. “Okay,” she agreed, her tone soft yet loud enough for both Isabelle and Luke to hear.

The black haired girl then took it as her cue to leave, bidding them goodnight that she doubted they heard as the door shut behind her. Now it was just Luke and Ophelia in the living room, on the couch as they stared at each other in silence and wondered where the hell did they go from here, after Luke told her to stay. Truthfully, he didn’t think she would say yes; the words had just slipped past his mouth without the normal filter in his brain, taken down by the alcohol he had consumed. It was the same reason why Ophelia had agreed so easily.

Luke’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, Ophelia’s gaze flickering to it as she thought what it would be like to kiss him there. “D’you. . . You wanna head to bed?”

Her heart lurched in her throat excitedly before she nodded, watching as Luke got to his feet and offered his hand to her. Rolling her lower lip into her mouth, Ophelia took his left hand in her right, feeling the cool metal of his rings against her warm skin as he effortlessly pulled her to her feet, before leading her down the hall to his bedroom after shutting off the living room lights, yet never letting go of her hand. All the while, Ophelia was trying her best to stop the smile on her lips from growing, stemming from both the wine and the fact that she was about to go into Luke’s room for the second time.

Luke asked if she wanted to use the bathroom before going to bed, and she nodded before quickly walking into it across his room, shutting the door behind her and quickly emptying her alcohol heavy bladder. As she washed her hands, Ophelia looked at herself in the mirror, letting out a slow breath. Luke’s sweatshirt was taking up her entire frame, ending a little past her mid-thigh, but it smelled just like him that she was reveling in the scent and the feel of the soft material.

Before leaving the bathroom, she caught sight of the bottle of the mint flavored Listerine, pouting her lips in thought as she wondered if she should use it. Going to bed with wine breath, no matter how good it tasted, wasn’t something she wanted to do. And going to her apartment where her toothbrush is isn’t something she was up for, either, because it meant leaving Luke’s apartment. It’d be awkward if she just came back after brushing her teeth, wouldn’t it?

So with a huff, she poured some of the liquid into her mouth without touching the rim, gargling and rinsing her mouth before drying her face and going back to Luke’s room. The very thought of entering his room thrilled her because even though she doubted anything would happen except them going to sleep, merely sleeping in the same bed as Luke was exciting. Briefly, Ophelia hoped he wouldn’t end up sleeping on the couch—it would just defeat the whole purpose of this.

Entering the familiar bedroom, she offered Luke an easy smile, something she wouldn’t have been able to do if it weren’t for the alcohol still mixed in with her bloodstream, and shut the door behind her. Luke had replaced his sweatpants with a pair of red and blue plaid pajama bottoms, his fingers ringless yet looking just as enticing. Pulling the covers back of his bed, he nodded towards it with a quirked brow and light smirk, “bed time?”

She ignored the pleasant tightness in her stomach as she heard his thick accent, nodding as she toed off her socks since her shoes were somewhere in the living room. Ophelia didn’t mind sleeping in her leggings, though as she neared the bed, she pulled her arms from out of the sleeves of the sweatshirt before pulling the material off altogether.

As she draped it on the chair by Luke’s desk, he questioned, “you’re not gonna get cold?”

Ophelia bit her lower lip, the action lighting a fire in the pit of Luke’s stomach as she walked over with a playful grin. “Why need a sweatshirt to keep me warm when I’ve got you?” she rebuked easily, the words flowing from her mouth so effortlessly that she didn’t have a moment to think about them. Not that she would—inhibited-Ophelia meant shy-Ophelia was nowhere to be seen.

Luke’s mouth dried at her words, inhaling a sharp breath as her grin widened and she crawled onto his bed, getting onto the side against the wall as the boy who was older than her by a mere year stared down at her in mild disbelief. He wasn’t sure if he was stunned that Ophelia had just said that, or because of the fact that she sitting on her bed, ready to go to sleep with him. And by sleep, it was meant to be the most innocent of things, no matter how badly Luke’s own inhibited self wanted to climb right on top of her.

Running his fingers through his curly hair, Luke turned off the light, enveloping the room in darkness save for the light streaming from the window. The streetlamp down below was quite bright, thin streams of light filtering through the blinds since Luke hadn’t gotten around to getting a curtain. Luke got under the covers, however, he didn’t lay down just yet. Ophelia was still sitting up, legs crossed and back against the cold wall as Luke leaned against the frame of the bed, curious as to why she wasn’t laying down.

The streams of the light from outside were laying across her face, green eyes glinting against them and pouty lips standing out. Luke found himself swallowing a newly formed lump in his throat, silently wondering to himself why in the world this girl had such an effect on him. She was just sitting there in pure silence, absolutely no sounds coming from anyone or anything, until Ophelia’s hand reached out and grasped one of the chains around Luke’s neck. He stayed still as her light fingers twirled the pendant between her fingers, the metal cool against her skin, as she leaned forward slightly to examine it.

It was a key, she noticed, and with a giggly smile she inquired, “what does the key unlock?” Before Luke could answer, she let out an excited gasp, eyes widening against the now one stream of light across her eye since she leaned forward. “Oh, my God—is it the key to your heart?”

Luke had to press his lips together to prevent the laugh from bubbling past, which was difficult because all he wanted to do was giggle right alongside the pretty girl. Her question was so sincere and innocent, making Luke’s heart do all kinds of weird shit before he murmured thickly, “yeah, sweetheart, it is.”

His answer brought the smile back on Ophelia’s face and Luke, feeling just as fuzzy in the stomach and chest and maybe head as Ophelia, wanted nothing more than to see her keep smiling forever. He watched as she kept her leaned forward position, left hand in her lap as her fingers of the other played with the key pendant. Ophelia tilted her head to the side, gaze still on the necklace as she mused thoughtfully, “I had a journal once, and I had to use a key to unlock it so I could write. It had all my secrets and thoughts and feelings.”

Luke realized that when Ophelia spoke with any type or amount of alcohol running through her system, she had the tendency of rambling ever so slightly, speaking without pause. He thought it was real fucking adorable. Luke’s head tilted back just a little, hooded-eyed gaze on the brunette as he inquired quietly, “yeah? What kind of thoughts and feelings would you write?”

Ophelia paused in her playing of the pendant ever so slightly, before the alluring smile grew on her pouty lips as she bit her lower one. Luke let out a soft breath at the sight because, holy shit, it was a sight. “Thoughts like. . .” she trailed off, her smile widening as she pressed the tip of her tongue to the roof of her mouth. God knows Ophelia knew how risky her next few words were about to be, but the rational and logical part of her wasn’t really present in the moment, so she couldn’t give a shit. Besides, if she embarrassed herself then, well, she could blame the alcohol. Her hazel eyes flickered up to meet Luke’s blue, the two of them taking that moment to realize how close they were. She was leaning forward and so was Luke, their actions slight yet enough to gradually close their distance. “How stupidly handsome you are,” Ophelia finished, her heart stuttering as she said this despite the somewhat nervous laugh that fell along with her words.

Luke’s own was at the risk of short circuiting as his mind registered her words, full lips parting as Ophelia’s gaze dropped to them. Her skin was warming because of how he was suddenly looking at her, gaze focused on her and only her as Luke shifted ever so slightly where he sat. Both of their hearts had picked up their paces, while both Luke and Ophelia wondered if the other could hear the way their hearts threatened to burst out of their chests. Both of them also knew what could potentially be coming next, which only enlivened them all the more. Luke found himself being unable to breathe; was it getting hot in here?

Honestly, the way his mind and body reacted to Ophelia was unfamiliar. He couldn’t remember the last time a girl made him feel the way Ophelia did.

She opened her mouth and Luke desperately realized she wasn’t done, practically twitching to hear what else she had to say as the anticipation and eagerness built up in him heavily. “And. . .” she began once more, her tongue briefly rolling over her lower lip and Luke practically choked as he suppressed the groan from sounding through his throat. Seriously. The power she had over him was ridiculous. Ophelia’s eyes were on him once more, her head tilting to the side before she finished effortlessly suggestively, “feelings of how badly I want you to kiss me.”

It was like he was finally being given permission for something he’d been craving for, for so long.

Because Ophelia was sitting on top of the covers, Luke’s hands grabbed her thighs and forced her legs to spread to bring her onto his lap, causing her to straddle him in one swift motion. She didn’t even have the chance to gasp at the sudden action when her lips were claimed by Luke’s, eyes immediately shutting at the feel of the soft skin against her own. Ophelia’s stomach was lurching excitedly and Luke’s mind was racing, but both of them found themselves melting into the feel of the other’s lips.

Luke’s fingers dug into the material of her leggings on her thighs, their bodies pressed up against each other’s as Ophelia’s hands reached up to cup his jaw, loving the way his facial hair tickled her palms. Luke’s tongue swiped across her lower lip, causing her to part her lips almost immediately for their tongues to meet in the middle. The kiss wasn’t too fast or too slow, paced just right as Ophelia tasted the wine on his lips and he tasted the minty mouthwash on hers, yet both of them reveling in them.

Her lips were just as soft as Luke had imagined, moving against his own in a way that easily hardened his dick right under Ophelia. She, on the other hand, could feel exactly what was going on, her skin lighting up with a rousing fire as her hands went from Luke’s face to his hair, threading her fingers through the curly locks the way she had wanted to for so long. She pressed herself into him, her chest pressing against his own as Luke’s hands went from her thighs to around her butt, tightening his grip to pull her even closer.

Neither could get enough, wanting to feel as close as they could as Luke softly bit at her lower lip, pulling it towards him as both watched the arousing sight through hooded eyes and heavy breaths. Luke felt his stomach clenching as he released Ophelia’s lip and the way her lips were parted so she could take some breaths, but he wasn’t done. Leaning forward one more, Luke’s lips attached to her jaw, trailing kisses down to where it met her neck before leaving even more down the length of it.

He left a fire in their wake on Ophelia’s skin, both from the kisses and the way his beard scratched at her skin, left hand at the back of his head and hands threading through his curls while her other hand lightly pressed against chest. Ophelia tilted her head back, eyes closed in utmost pleasure as her heart beat wildly in her chest to accompany Luke’s mouth working wonders. She felt him bite lightly at her sweet spot, the area just above where her neck and shoulder met, and her eyes squeezed shut as a shuddering breath expelled from her lungs.

Her body felt hot in the most glorious of ways as Luke bit a little more harshly, eliciting a quiet moan from Ophelia as his tongue soothed the spot he just marked, prompting the Australian to smirk against her skin. It felt just as soft as it looked, just like Luke had imagined.

His welcomed assault on her neck continued, biting and sucking down her neck and the column of her throat, even across her exposed collarbones as a whimper passed her lips when Luke bit down once again. The way he was working his mouth and the sensation left behind by his beard was enough for Ophelia’s grip on his hair to tighten, only making Luke smirk smugly against her skin.

He was aware things couldn’t go further than this, seeing as both of them were kind of drunk, and Luke honestly didn’t want to do anything other than this unless Ophelia was sure without the alcohol in their system. So he reveled in the way her ass felt through her leggings and the softness of her skin as he left her a countless amount of hickeys, coloring her flushed skin all the more. Ophelia tugged on his hair as he bit into her skin for the last time, eliciting a throaty groan from the blonde against her skin.

After that one last mark, Luke lifted his head to reconnect their lips, both of them easily melting into the softness and taste of the other while their erratic hearts ran wild inside of them. But neither of them could focus on anything but the fact that they were finally kissing after weeks of flirty looks and suggestive comments, and that it felt so fucking good.

tags: @crownedbyluke @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @softforcal @mgcvocals @hotmessmichael @meetashthere @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @c-sainthood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @babygirlcashton @calntynes @invisiblexcth @soulmatecashton @calumsmermaid @kchillout @thewackywriter @akacalciumhood @calumculture @ohhmuke @empathycth @flannelpunkcalum @poppedpins @novacanecalum @walkedhomealone @calistheloml @gettingjillywithit @hearts-to-the-sky @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-stan4lyfe @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you @calumthoodsyonce @xhaileyreneex @rosecoloredash @asht0ns-world @cxddlyash @mysteriouslycali @lmao5sosimagines @monsteramongmikey @calteahood @5secondssofssummer @sublimehood @biwriting @findingliam-o @isabella-mae13

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jackbabewang · 5 years

Text

At first sight...

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader Genre: College au, Fluff, That library crush theme Word Count: 2,554

It can be hard to seduce someone in total silence.

Final exams are approaching, so now you are spending a great deal of time in one corner of your room at a clustered study desk, constantly reviewing notes, and grumbling. There are just too many distractions to interrupt you at the dormitory. The residents above are deliberately harassing you by stomping on the floor, classical music blasted from the room next to yours making your unit feel like some strange musical theater of the absurd and then there is your bed. So so inviting. You have enough points going into the exams to pass easily, but the pressure has not lifted because you are keen to scoring the highest possible marks. Well, that is just you being you. To pry yourself away from disturbance, the university’s library seems to be the ideal place for better concentration. And so, your routine begins.

Day 1

Unknowingly excited. Your nerdy self got a seating in a booth that offers the most privacy. Though the library is crowded with students studying frantically, it is still quiet. Your body sinking into the cushioned padding, laptop opened, bookmarks orphaned on tables, highlighters and pens began their labour.

Day 3

Still going strong. Probably. You need some fresh air and a break from your studies. After a couple of hours sitting hunched over books, you are worried that you can even try out for the role of a hunchback. You decide to take a walk outside on the campus park. You miss warmth, the heat of the sun on your skin, needing the light for some kind of photosynthesis.

By the time you return to the library, there sits a paper cup on top of your table with a square note beside it written, ‘Hey little fighter, soon things will be brighter!’ There is no name, no initial that gives away the identity of the alleged person who left it there. A small smiled etches on your lips as you reach for the source of warmth, the tip of your fingers have turned icy cold the second after you walked in. A string of white steam escapes through the small opening, turns into vapour around your nose, kinda dumb of you to take a sip without hesitation. The intense heat burns your upper lip and you wince in reaction. “Fuck!”

Day 5

Your enthusiasm surely died down. Two days away from the first paper, you are feeling the tension in your shoulders, in the air, when you come across topics that you are unsure of. The ink runs out in your flimsy pen, the cheapest in Target, and your writing fades away into almost invincible marks on the paper, until you reluctantly switch for another. Consequently, you are feeling numbness in your head after reading, with pressure in temples. Faintness and migraine give you a ready-made and honest reason to excuse yourself from the books momentarily. A short walk to the water fountain or the upper floor toilet will do.

It seems like deja vu all over again when you come back to the same paper cup but with a different note this time, ‘Wish you luck for whatever you’re struggling with :)’ Kinda creepy… not going to lie. The idea of someone watching you has the hair on your neck prickles. However the ever encouraging words compensate for your terror.

Fifteen minutes prior to closing time, the librarian makes an announcement and requesting patrons to leave. The sun has already set, and the moon is slowly peeking in the darkened sky. That is when you realize you have been staying in for approximately eight hours.

You make your way out immediately, the drink from an anonymous individual in your hand left untouched and disappointingly you have to throw it away.

“Hey!”

Your hand stops in mid air, head turns to the rippling voice. A guy in gold rimmed glasses jogs over. With a closer look, he has a strikingly handsome face and you are left wondering what exactly did you associate with a fine man like him.

“Glad I caught you,” he says, panting slightly. His eyes flitting nervously back and forth between you and the paper cup. “Do you… Do you not like hot drinks? I’ve got you hot chocolate this time since you weren’t drinking the coffee…”

“Oh.” So he is the secret delivery guy.

There is an uneasy silence in the air. He rubs his collarbone and then the back of his neck, looking almost embarrassed. “I guess you don’t.”

“No, no! That’s not it. I just- Don’t get me wrong. I don’t wish to catch myself heart attack cause I had two shots of coffee earlier.” Well, the pounding of your heart should be stopped by now but it does not seem to. Weird. “And this… hot chocolate?” You pause for confirmation and is rewarded with a nod. “Is kinda too sweet to my liking and it’s not such a great idea to get jazzed when I’m wracking my brain.”

He chuckles, mumbling coherently to himself that he has understood girls wrongly. Little did he know, you are no ordinary girl. You are a girl of determination; a girl of the new millennium. Sugary-sweet desserts work no effect, and you do not fawn upon pick up lines and impassioned gestures. You are too, too difficult to please.

“So…” You look everywhere except in his eyes, feeling awkward in the presence of this stranger, a hot stranger to be frank.

“I- I was asking if you wanna have… dinner with me?” Gulping so loudly he can hear himself, enough for you to hear it too, and you can see his Adam’s apple moving rapidly.

“Sorry… I’m going back now, though…” And have yourself a bowl of bland oatmeal with fresh-cut fruits. Now, however, your stomach grumbles on cue, reminding you that you have not been eating since morning.

He chuckles again, a pleasant throaty sound, and humiliation nips your skin like sand fleas. “Let’s go. I believe it can’t wait.”

This is just odd. What has gotten into you to come into agreement with someone you have known for less than an hour. Anyone else will figure you are a pair of couple just by walking together shoulder to shoulder, and if anyone among your circle of friends were to find out, they are definitely going to be nosy about it.

“Hey, I may be strange, but not weird! There’s a difference.” Jaehyun is his name, and he sure has the balls of steel. Let us put it that way. That is cause the guys in your classes are incomparable, they get intimidated by you while he does not even flinch in the face of the wolf (for some reason they gave you the nickname).

As much as you hate to admit it, the more time you spend with him, the more you enjoy his company, his wit, and his willingness to discuss anything—whether it be politics, Ironman versus Captain America, or Joji’s latest track. He is courteous, ambitious, and attractive, and he can dance with the best of them. Most of all, he does not seem to mind your independent ways of thinking.

“Are you going now?” He is probably pushing his luck, since he certainly does not want you to leave just yet, but he has to ask.

“I am.” You can swear you see disappointment flickers in his eyes and if you are not mistaken, his bottom lip sticking out slightly in a pout. But it is gone so fast when, “I can stay for… a bit longer.”

“Great. Follow me.”

Without another word, he turns and stalks up the stairs. On the third floor landing, he stops and looks back to make sure you are still following closely behind. An amused smile emerges as he watches you panting breaths, and a blush blooms like hothouse roses in your cheeks. Past the hall and into the narrow passage, thence leading to what you assume is the back door which he has already broke open with a flexible plastic ruler. Flipping the light switch, turning on the lights, illuminating the space, and you come to realize it is the abandoned classroom where you attended tutorials for Business Communication last semester.

“We could’ve taken the elevator!”

“It won’t be fun then.”

“You mean, it won’t be fun if you don’t have me to laugh at.”

“Besides, nobody saw us. We can’t be seen in here.”

He proceeds to scramble around like he has done it before, maybe not a lot, but a few times at least. He connects his phone to the stereo system and soft, soothing music drifts lazily on the air from hidden speakers. He then joins you at the table, sitting beside you, closer than your very first meeting.

“I didn’t know this was possible until now.”

“Oh, they’re a lot I haven’t shown you yet,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows lasciviously and giving you a cocky grin. You just have to have a pep talk with yourself that if Jaehyun is not hinting something else—you can imagine.

“Do you always bring people here?”

“What do you mean?”

You shrug your shoulders, turning sideways and lean against the chair back with him mirroring your posture. “You know… Girls… Is this how you impress them with your lockpicking skills?”

“Are you, perhaps, a wee bit jealous?”

You scoff at such a ridiculous prospect. In fact, you might get salty if you figure you are just one of the chicks he brought over this place. You are not going to fall for him and his antiques like the stupid bitch they are.

“No. I never bring women here. I don’t bring anyone here. You’re a first.”

Your interested gaze transfers to him. “You don’t?”

He shakes his head.

“But… why?”

“Policy.” He glances at you, sees you frowning and says, “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Yet for long the study session is either neglected or long been buried and forgotten, the mood of the times is a very different one. You continue to talk, and really got to know each other well, not romantically but just as good friends. Suddenly your conversation is broken with the sound of keys jingling, followed by a quick turn of the knob coming from the far side of the corridor.

It is the security guard patrol.

Immediately you scutter about the classroom, switching off all the lights, locking the door while he runs to unplug his phone, making sure to return the place to its original state. You find yourselves under the table and stealing glances out of the small window and the crack beneath the door until it passes.

Though the guard has already left, it does not seem as if Jaehyun has any intention of moving an inch. He is too close—so close you can smell the musk of his cologne, and he smells so damn good. He is too close—so close you can feel the heat of him, and your backside is all but paralyzed from the uncomfortable position. It is dark, but you can still make out the twinkle in his eyes. The tall guy seems fascinated by you, looking you up and down, then openly studying your face.

The thought must have form in both your minds at the same time because your eyes flutter shut as he leans forward, kissing you gently on the lips. A deep, lingering kiss that have you wanting more. This kiss is so soft that it’s like a memory of a kiss, so careful on your lips that it is like someone running his fingers along them. Slowly, gently, the tip of his tongue traces your mouth, outlining your lips with exquisite, excruciating care. A growl of pleasure escapes him when you part your lips in welcoming at the first prod of his tongue. The lemon drop he had before adding flavor to a kiss that is already the sweetest of your life.

One of his hands settle at your waist, the other cups the side of your throat. His thumb slides beneath the neckline of your jacket to stroke the hollow beneath your collarbone. On a soft moan, you plunge into the mindless whirl of your senses and allow yourself to feel. Just feel. For the first time in your life, you finally understand that one kiss can helplessly seduce. And if your heart has not been racing earlier, it now goes into overdrive, hammering against your chest.

Jaehyun knows he should not be kissing you. He has told himself he cannot let it happen so soon. But something about you calls to him. Every rational thought vanishes as he gives in to the sensations rampaging out of control. He holds you close, relishing the feel of your breasts crushed against his chest. Sliding his hand down your back to where your skirt has ridden up, pushing his hand beneath the fabric, gliding it up your thigh. A firm squeeze on the curve of your flesh making you yelp and jolt. The loud collision when you banged your head against the desk above bringing you both to your senses.

“Shit, sorry.” He is breathing hard, his eyes fierce with arousal, his lips red and moist and a little swollen from that hard kiss. You believe yours appear just the same as well.

Deep in the foggy recesses of your mind, Jaehyun has crawled from under the table and turned away with downcast eyes as he seemingly adjusting the sudden tightness in his pants.

What just happened?

“Are you coming out, or not?” He offers his hand, you blink before sliding your shaking one around his.

Talk about awkward. His shirt is a wrinkled mass from your gripping fingers, your hair swept to the side still you can feel his delicate touch on your skin, both your faces flushed a luscious crimson from the passionate moment.

“I- I should get going…” You nervously clear your throat. Actually, you are ashamed of yourself about it all. You have never thought of yourself as needy, thereto committing to the blind decision of having a hookup with an incredibly gorgeous man. God must have sent a guardian angel to knock out your head before it takes on another level.

However all these thoughts are gone when he says, “May I see you again?”

“… Sure.”

“Tomorrow?” Boy, he sure is eager.

“Patience.”

“Right, that’s why I said tomorrow. I want to see you again in another hour. But I’m willing to wait.”

Has he always been this sweet and smooth? His words, eye contact, and all body gestures operate in the fashion of sweet talking and alluring you, to really basically falling for his suave, smooth ways. This has never been you.

Unfortunately, the following days should not be possible because you have to keep your mind active and your sanity intact.

“After finals?”

He lets out a deep guttural groan. On a second thought, he wants to take back his words, he is not willing to wait for a week, let alone a day. He wants to greet you with a kiss on the back of your hand and a bouquet of fresh flowers, he wants to take you out for a proper date at an exclusive cafe, he wants to pay for the meals— The list goes on.

“Right. After finals.”

#nct jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct imagines #nct stories #jaehyun fluff

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hobi-gang · 4 years

Text

community | knj/ot7

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 – an unlikely group of people at a Greendale Community College form an unlikely Spanish study group. One thing Kim Namjoon wants to know about the standoffish girl from Spanish class is; "What's her deal?".

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 – pure crack, humor, community college au, angst if you squint, they’re all 100% stupid

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 – knj x reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 – 9.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 – mentions of aspergers, mentions of past drug abuse, namjoon is a bit of a dick oops, smoking (cigarettes)

𝐚/𝐧 – this is like... a straight up copy of the pilot to the tv show ‘community’, but i desperately wanted to see bts in that hilarious enivornment. i do not own the show ‘community’ nor do i own bts. this is just straight up crack. mcthank you.

"What is 'community college'?" A voice blared through the speakers around the quad, causing many students to pause and look at Dean Bang on his small podium with his microphone at the center of the busy square, the stupidly bright sun shining a light on him and all his khaki and white button-up glory. "Oh, wait, that's... That's the wrong card, let me start over."

After an awkward moment had passed and Dean Bang had properly sorted his notes, he spoke up into the microphone again, "Okay, good morning! Many of you are halfway through your first week here at Greendale Community College and as your dean, I thought I'd share some thoughts of wisdom and inspiration," he smiles then continues, "What is 'community college'? I know most of you have heard that it's loser college for remedial teens."

At the mention of remedial teens, Jeon Jungkook, a young boy with dark brown hair and jock attire, stopped scanning the campus map for his English class and looked around himself to find the source of the voice behind the speakers, tugging on his Letterman jacket nervously.

"They say it's for 20-something dropouts."

____ looked up from her Spanish study book and her eyes fell on the Dean and his pathetically small podium, rolling her eyes at him and feeling somewhat attacked and embarrassed by his accurate but harmful words.

"Or middle-aged divorcees."

Kim Seokjin, a tall and straight-back young man with kind eyes, plump lips, and short brown hair stops reading the pamphlet in his hand given to him by a member of the Chess Club that passed him by, looking around to find who's voice was blaring from the quad speakers. I'm not middle-aged... am I? he asked himself thoughtfully.

"And old people keeping their minds active as they circle the drain of eternity."

Min Yoongi's ears perked up at the mention of that, sitting up on the bench that he was slowly falling asleep on. His light violet hair making him stand out, he pulled his hoodie over his head so only his face was visible through the opening, scowling at the words 'old people', being reminded of how often he gets called a grandpa by his classmates for his somewhat lazy demeanor. I'm not middle-aged... am I? he asked himself thoughtfully.

"That's what you've heard, however," the Dean grins excitedly, "I wish you luck!" He thrusts his arm into the air in a victory pose.

He looks around at the small number of students that had bothered to stay in the quad in front of his small podium, looking at them expectantly before realizing and looking at his cue cards, "Oh, okay. Uh-oh. There's actually more to this speech. Can you all look around your immediate areas," He asks the students awkwardly, "There's a middle card missing, I actually really wanted to finish that properly-"

"I'm actually fully Korean, the son of immigrants. My parents are U.S citizens now, but they're not threats to national security. A lot of people wanna know that because my dad has an angry energy but he's not angry at America, he's just angry at my mom for leaving him. Although she did leave him because he was angry and he was angry because she wasn't. My name's Taehyung by the way."

"Well, Taehyung," Namjoon says wearily, glancing next to him at the younger, slightly shorter boy with ridiculously bright blue hair and a boxy smile following him like an eager puppy around the quad, he shakes his hand, "It was nice to know you and then meet you, in that order," he says to him with raised brows, "Now, about that question that I asked?"

"Oh, it was," Taehyung checks his watch, "11:05 when you asked-"

"Taehyung," Namjoon says abruptly, raising his hand to stop the younger boy from walking beside him, nodding towards the young girl across the quad with her face stuffed in a book. "What's the deal with the hot girl from Spanish class?"

"I only talked to her once when she borrowed a pencil," Taehyung says monotonously which makes Namjoon deflate a bit but he is quickly impressed by what the younger boy says next.

"But her name's ____, she's 23, birthday in September. She has two older sisters and one of them teaches a dance class that I might wanna lookup. Oh, and she thinks she's gonna fail tomorrow's Spanish test so she really needs to focus and she's sorry if that makes her seem cold," Taehyung finishes his gesturing and his confident spewing of words, looking up at the older, pink-haired boy with no indication of emotion.

Namjoon's mouth hangs agape for a moment, "Holy crap, Taehyung," he says in awe, "I see your value now." He pats Taehyung on the shoulder and gives him a meaningful look before he turns to walk into the school, leaving the younger boy behind.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me!" Taehyung shouts to his older classmate as he's walking away, his finger pointed in the air as if for exclamation.

"Kim Namjoon, genius at law!"

"You gotta stop saying that, Lee Hyun... I'm kidding, keep going," Namjoon grins widely, closing the door behind him and stepping forward into his former client's cramped office to shake his hand across his wide, messy desk littered with papers and tools of all sorts.

"So," Hyun leans his arms atop the slew of papers on his desk and tilts his head slightly to look up at his much taller friend, "Tell me. What is my lawyer doing here?"

"Actually, I'm... a student now," Namjoon says with a timid smile, taking a seat on the couch of Hyun's office.

Hyun raises his eyebrows in surprise, "Well, that can't be an inspiring story."

"I'm gonna be honest with you, I'm in a bit of a kerfuffle... The state bar has suspended my license and they found out that my college degree was... less than legitimate." Namjoon confesses with as much confidence as he could muster, finding it difficult to spill the beans to his former client turned friend.

"I thought you had a degree from Columbia?" Hyun questions him, brows knit in confusion.

"Now I have to get one from America," Namjoon chuckles then sighs longingly, "And it can't be an email attachment."

"Well, you've picked a fine school," Hyun smiles, leaning back in his office chair with his arms crossed behind his head.

Namjoon snaps his fingers and agrees, "Yes! And I'm hoping that our friendship will yield certain advantages. You're the psychology professor, y'know, so I could really do with some academic guidance, maybe some moral support and... every answer to every test for every one of the classes that I'm taking this semester," Namjoon pulls a piece of paper from the breast pocket of his sport's jacket. "This is my schedule-" "Okay, Namjoon, just by asking that you are insulting the very integrity of this entire institution," Hyun chastises his friend, abruptly standing up which mildly alarms Namjoon but he is surprised to see Hyun grabbing a cane next to his desk and knocking on the window behind him. Through the open blinds and dirty windows, Namjoon can see the shape of a person that appeared to be urinating on a garbage skip. "Oi! Not a bathroom. Not. A. Bathroom." Hyun shouts out the window and then he scowls when the assailant quickly tucks their business away and runs off.

Namjoon exhaled noisily through his nose, "Hyun, you seemed less into integrity the day I convinced a dozen of your peers that when you made that U-turn on the freeway and tried to order hot wings from the emergency call box that your only real crime was loving America." He said with the hope that Hyun was finally going to turn over for him and help him cheat his way through college.

A moment passed and Hyun sighed, "I'll look into it."

"Thank you," Namjoon immediately took to his feet and reached over his friend's desk to shake his hand one last time. "Hyun, you are a good man." he smiled, going to the door.

Hyun rolled his eyes, "Namjoon, are you familiar with the adage 'cheaters never prosper'?"

The taller of the two scoffed and opened the door, "No, and if I wanted to learn something, I wouldn't have come to community college."

Hyun sighed and gave his friend a concerned look before waving him out of his office.

Namjoon found himself wandering the maze-like corridors of the school and ultimately ended up in the cafeteria. After purchasing a bottle of water and a suspiciously cheap packet of apple slices, Namjoon was lucky to spot a familiar head of soft brown hair. Walking over quietly, he steps closer to the girl from his Spanish class and spoke to her with an expression of surprise, "Oh, hey, Spanish?"

"Don't hit on me, okay?" the brown-haired girl answered with an annoyed tone, too engrossed in her work to even look up at the person speaking to her.

"I... wouldn't dream of it," he saved face, chuckling nervously. "I just wanted to let you know about... my Spanish study group!"

At the mention of a Spanish study group, she finally looked up and couldn't hold back the snicker bubbling inside of her at the prospect of who was standing right in front of her. Though his ego was a little hurt, he put on his charming smile paired with his signature dimples, almost as if he were modeling for her.

"Woah, the guy sitting in the back of class playing on his phone all day has a Spanish study group?" she gasps with faux excitement, raising a brow of suspicion at him. "Can I sign up twice?"

"Ha-ha," he precedes, "I'm taking the class for an easy credit, I'm actually a board-certified Spanish tutor," he says in a matter of factly manner to sound as convincing as possible.

"Can you say that in Spanish?" the brunette girl quickly responded.

Namjoon was stumped for a second but said the first few Spanish sentences that first came to his head. "Duermo tarde español, una hora más, no rasque mi coche," he said as smoothly as possible with a smirk. He didn't know it, but what he actually said was "I sleep late Spanish, one more hour, do not scratch my car," and he was praying that she didn't know either.

The look she was giving him was making him nervous, it was as if she knew he was lying and he was just about to tell her that he was lying until she slammed her book shut and leaned closer to him with wide, desperate eyes. "I really need help with Spanish," she confessed in a low voice.

"Yeah, I was willing to bet," Namjoon chuckled, extending his hand to her as a sign of goodwill. "I'm Namjoon by the way, or... Jefe," he smiled as she took his larger hand in her much smaller one. The comparison alone made his heart just a little bit more tender.

"The, uh, group meets in the library at four."

"I'm ____, and thanks." She smiles up at him, letting go of their handshake. She gathers her things and shoves them into her well-used canvas side bag and she stood up to leave.

"You're gonna be there, right?" he asks her and she just smirks at him one last time before turning her back on him and walking away.

"Un poquito más!" he shouted after her. "That means 'see you there'!"

Nope. It really meant 'a little more', but he could care less as long as she believed that he was right.

Namjoon sat alone at an eight-seater table in one of the library's study rooms, repeating the phrase for 'good afternoon' to himself in solitary, the library's population lowering as the minutes went by.

"Buenos tardes, buenos tardes, buenos tardes..." he repeated under his breath while tapping his pencil against the table, making sure he was right. With such a simple phrase, he couldn't get it wrong otherwise the hot girl from Spanish class would finally figure him out and he just can't let that happen.

"Hey," she enters the study room with a cheeky grin, her heavy bag slapping against her hip as she walked.

"Buenos tardes!" he says to her with pride, immediately straightening his posture and giving himself an internal high-five for getting it right, "Welcome to my Spanish study... uh, group. I've got the whole table."

"You've got the whole room," she adds with raised brows, taking the seat closest to him.

Namjoon digs around in his pocket for a piece of paper and he brings forth a crumpled chess club pamphlet that he remembers getting from the quad earlier that day. He flattens out the paper as best as he can before thrusting it towards her on the table along with his pencil. "Here's the, uh, contact sheet. Just put your number down there," he asks her and she snickers before accepting his pencil and jotting down her number.

Namjoon pretends to look around the room and out the doors to the rest of the library with exasperation, "Man, where's the rest of the group? They must be running late... But you and I can get acquainted in the meantime."

She finishes her jotting and puts the pencil on top of the paper before pushing it back towards Namjoon, "You might have noticed earlier in the cafeteria, I'm not that great at small talk."

"That's actually kinda great, I like big talk. What's your deal?" he smirks, leaning an elbow onto the table and raising his brows at her.

"That's not small talk?" she tilts her head to the side with a tight smile.

"What's your deal and is God dead?" he quickly adds to his previous question to make it fit her requirements.

She inwardly scoffs and lays her hands flat onto the table, "Okay, you wanna know my deal?" she asks him and he nods in response, "My deal is, above all else, honesty."

"Honesty..." Namjoon repeats, biting his cheek nervously.

"Yeah, if you're honest with me, I will like you. If you lie to me, I will never talk to you again. That's my deal."

With it all laid out in front of him, he felt compelled to tell her the truth. Sure, he may have lied to her before but he won't just lie to her now that she had just asked the truth of him so... He'd give her the truth. Well, an incomplete truth. It wasn't entirely lying but it wasn't entirely telling the truth either. It was a gray area, and as much as he liked this girl in front of him, he also liked having a smidge of integrity.

From the first day, he saw her in Spanish class and his attention was mostly on her throughout the entirety of each lesson. He'd look above the screen of his phone to watch her soft brown shoulder-length hair moving against her slender neck, he'd observe how her back was always straight and her shoulders were always pulled back. He also observed her unique and incredible fashion. He liked the bold, solid-colored sweaters and t-shirts and her high-waisted, wide-leg pants paired with stylish shoes of all kinds, all of it just made her hard to ignore, though she always carried the same, tattered canvas bag. Her sense of style clearly indicated that she preferred comfort over the other hundred pleasantries that women's fashion often offered, such as heels and skinny jeans. He liked that about her.

Today, her bright orange shirt and beige high-waisted, wide-leg pants only managed to highlight her feminine features more, making his focus and his breathing stray by just the smallest bit. The smallest. He didn't want to admit just how breathtaking she was, and she tended to take his breath away a lot without even trying and that's what was driving him to do whatever it took to keep her there in that study room with him, within reason of course.

"That's a pretty good deal," he told her honestly, irony aside.

"So," she crossed her arms over her chest, "what's your deal?"

"My deal?" Namjoon repeated, and she nodded in return.

The incomplete truth.

"I..." he looked at her and gulped, "I would, um, I would have to say... Uh, honesty. Because... I, uh, would say anything to get what I want and I-I want you to... To like me," for the first time since he had known her, and that hasn't exactly been a long time, he looked away in embarrassment and didn't look back up at her until she spoke up.

With a reluctant hmph, she says "That was a very honest answer. Okay, I like you now." And that makes his eyes widen in surprise.

"Really? Wow, you're easy," he says with disbelief, his heart slowing down just an ebb.

"Hey, guys!" someone spoke up behind Namjoon, making him turn in his chair to see that familiar head of bright blue.

The young brunette squealed with joy, "Taehyung in the house! Woo, yeah!" waving the blue-haired boy over excitedly.

"Woo!" Namjoon unenthusiastically whoops, brows knit in confusion watching as the boy grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and bringing it over to the table. "Woo! Woo-why?" he laughs confusedly.

Taehyung places his chair in the middle of both of their chairs, seating himself between the brunette girl and Namjoon. "Oh, ____ invited me! Is that cool?" he smiled, looking at the older boy with an oblivious smile.

"I can't think of a single logical reason why not!" Namjoon says through gritted teeth, a faux smile gracing his features. His eyes fall on the sheet of paper on the table, he immediately thrusts it towards the blue-haired boy, urging him to put his information on the paper.

"Cool... Cool, cool, cool," Taehyung murmured to himself as he slowly wrote his number down onto the paper. "This is kind of like Breakfast Club, huh?" Taehyung quips randomly.

"We are in a library," the brunette girl points out, patting Taehyung on the knee. Namjoon spotted that gesture out of the corner of his eye and felt the jealousy growing in his chest. Jealousy aside, he looks at Taehyung's number on the paper and he pulls his phone out, drafting a text to send to the blue-haired boy seated between him and the girl of his dreams.

"Yeah, I'm sure we've all got an issue balled up deep inside us that would make us cry if we talked about it," Taehyung says to his peers nonchalantly, but the worry etched on the brunette girl's features were all too serious.

She places a hand on his forearm and earnestly asks him, "Do you have something balled up inside of you?"

Taehyung looks up to the ceiling as if in thought and he responds, "Well, I do have a little doozy in the chamber if thing's get a little emotional."

Suddenly, Taehyung's phone pings and Namjoon puts his phone away, looking at the blue-haired boy expectantly, watching as the boy brings his phone out from his pocket and his eyebrows are raised in surprise, "Ooh, it's a text message! Let's give this bad boy a read," he says cheerily.

Namjoon panics, realizing that if he reads the text aloud, then the brunette girl sitting across from him would find out that it was him. "Oh, Taehyung," Namjoon says nervously, "I think it might be private."

"I've never gotten one of these before," Taehyung continues, ignoring the older boy's urgencies. Namjoon would've felt a little bit of pity in his chest at the sound of how sad that sentence actually was if it weren't for the fact that he was very close to being exposed.

"Say you have to pee, I need to talk to you." The blue-haired boy reads aloud with a confused tone. "Say you have to pee," he repeats, holding his phone screen towards the brunette girl so she could read it and she looked just as confused as he did. Her confusion quickly turned to suspicion, looking at the two boys sitting next to her.

"That is weird," she commented. "What does that even mean?" Taehyung questions both of them and Namjoon quickly shrugged.

"I don't know man, that sounds strange. Do you even have to pee?" Namjoon asks and Taehyung shakes his head 'no'.

"Hmm," Namjoon murmurs, "I'm stumped, that sounds very creepy."

"That makes two of us," Taehyung concurs with a shrug. In the corner of his eye, Namjoon can see the brunette girl eyeing him and he knows that she knows that it was him.

Namjoon's phone chimes and he looks to make sure that it wasn't Taehyung messaging him back and further making him fall into a pit of mortification. He reads the text that was sent to him and realizes it's Lee Hyun, his former client and now his possible conspirator and hero.

'con-4-s-8-tion on football field now!!! - Hyun"

"What's that?" The brunette girl asks him and he is brought out of his bubble.

"Does it say 'you have to pee'?" Taehyung asks.

"Oh, no, it's just someone with an impossibly bad grasp on abbreviations. I've gotta step out for a bit," he says, getting out of his chair and shoving his phone into his pocket, "I'll be back in like five minutes but, uh, go ahead and start studying verbs... In, uh, Spanish," he concludes, waving to his peers before stepping out of the study room.

Once he's out of ear-shot, the brunette girl smiles and nudges Taehyung on the knee, "What's your read on that guy, Taehyung?"

Taehyung looks at her and tilts his head to the side, appearing as though he were analyzing her.

"You look like my interpretation of God," he says randomly, making her raise a brow in confusion.

"Ethnically ambiguous," he adds, and she forms an 'o' with her mouth and nods at his words.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the school, Namjoon's light jogging has turned into a brisk walk as he finally spots his friend standing at the edge of the school's football field, the football team on the field practicing on a variety of equipment in the heat.

"Suppose I say to you 'it's possible to get those test answers'?" Hyun says aloud once he realizes Namjoon is next to him.

"I would say 'go with that' and 'you could've put that in a text'," Namjoon responds frustratedly. "I'm asking you if you know the difference between right and wrong," Hyun eggs on.

"I discovered at a very early age that if I talk long enough, I can make anything right and wrong. So, either I'm God or truth is relative. In either case, booyah."

"Oh, interesting! It's just that the average person finds it difficult to say 'booyah' to moral relativism."

"Hyun, you don't have to play the shrink to protect your pride. I accept. You're chicken," Namjoon smirks at his friend, expecting a reaction that came faster than he anticipated.

"I'm a professor, you can't talk to me that way!" Hyun huffs loudly.

"A six-year-old girl could talk to you that way!" Namjoon retorts with a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, because that would be adorable!" Hyun thrusts his arms into the air in exclamation.

"No, because you're a five-year-old girl and there's a pecking order!" Namjoon bites back.

"Fine, I'll do it!" Hyun argues back with his hands flapping about.

"Thank you," Namjoon smiles, patting Hyun on the shoulder before walking away and leaving Hyun to stand in the field by himself with a look of shock etched into his face.

Namjoon found himself getting closer to the entrance of the library study room and began reciting his prepared excuse aloud from memory, "You guys aren't going to believe this but the rest of the study group-"

The words were snatched right out of his mouth when he finally came to the doorway and found that all but 2 seats were full. 2 empty seats remaining for him and... for the brunette girl from Spanish class.

"Is here..." Namjoon finishes under his breath, looking at each of the new faces in the room, except they weren't very new. He recognized them from somewhere, he just couldn't pinpoint where.

"Are you the 'board-certified' tutor?" One of the new faces asked, his light violet hair peeking out from beneath his hoodie and both hands tucked into his pocket, a bored expression on his face.

"That means you'll do my homework, right?" A rather young boy with a letterman jacket spoke arrogantly, a cheeky grin on his face and his hand already extending out towards Namjoon, a thin stack of papers gripped between his fingers.

"I'll need to call my babysitter if we're gonna be staying later than 10," Another young man spoke up from the table, his proper attitude shining with his posture and articulate words, his plump lips pulled into a gentle smile.

"What board certifies a tutor?" A rather small and slender boy speaks up from the side of the table, his eyes examining Namjoon beneath his clementine bangs with a speculative gaze, both arms crossed over his chest tightly.

"Aren't you the guy that plays games on their phone in the back of the class?" A giddy boy chirps from the other side of the table, his round cheeks and light brown, gleaming eyes drawing his attention.

Namjoon raised his brows at the group of rather attractive young men gathered at the table. His gaze falls on Taehyung's bright blue head. "Where's ____?"

"Not sure, but I invited more people from Spanish class. Is that cool?" Taehyung says. Ah, so that's where he can recognize them from.

"That's the... coolest," Namjoon manages to squeeze out from between his teeth with as enthusiastic a tone as possible, trying his best to hide his frustration. Taehyung gives the older man a thumbs up and a smile. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Namjoon begins to say, collecting his things that he had left on the table previously, "and I'm gonna bring my jacket, wallet and my keys with me... In case there's a fire."

Namjoon tucks his items in his arms and leaves the study room.

Exiting the library, Namjoon bumped into someone and almost chastised them until he realized who it is.

"Busted," she says with a smirk, making Namjoon's heart pound in his chest. "Uh, listen-"

"Now you know. I'm a smoker," she says shamefully, lifting a lit cigarette into view and putting it back down to her side so the smoke doesn't get in their way.

"Yeah, but... They're filtered so that makes them safe," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, making her smile after she had made quite the admission.

"You ready to get started? Looks like the rest of your group showed up," she asks him, teasing him with a gentle bump of her shoe on his shin.

Namjoon hisses in faux pain and laughs, "Yeah, that's not my group. I think maybe Taehyung took out an ad on Craigslist," he says with uncertainty, "and I was trained never to say this but... I think that group may be untutorable."

"Oh really?" she says in a sing-song fashion, only egging him on.

"So, why don't you and I study verbs over-"

"Dinner?" she says in an attempt to finish his sentence.

"Or, uh, drinks..." he shrugs carelessly.

"I think we should actually prioritize here and study first and then go to dinner," she offers, "And if they really prove to be untutorable, we'll slip out early."

Discarding her finished cigarette butt to the ground and stomping out the heat with her chunky sole, she slipped into the library and the look she gave him before slinking away behind the closing door made Namjoon bite his cheek to contain his excitement. "Oh they'll be untutorable, alright," he says to himself, his minding already running with ideas on how to make or ruin the fastest study session in history.

Namjoon wanders into the study room and finds everyone in their seats, looking up at him with anticipation. He finds himself at the head of the table and he musters up the energy to try and turn this night into a disaster or into the fastest study session anyone has ever seen.

"All right," he begins with a tight smile, "Look at this group, ready to study all night."

"Well, I can stay at least till ten," The proper young man says amongst the quiet murmurs coming from around the table.

"But," Namjoon interjects, "Who studies with strangers, right? My name is Namjoon."

"Namjoon, it's a pleasure. My name is Min Yoongi," the man at the end of the table stands up to reach over the table at an attempt to shake Namjoon's hand, "And yes that is Min as in Min's Mics," Yoongi stops his reach for the handshake, making Namjoon awkwardly slink back into his chair, "The award-winning microphone production company."

"I was just about to ask..." Namjoon bumped his eyebrows up in annoyance.

"I'm also a toastmaster, so perhaps I should do the introductions!" Yoongi insists with a lazy grin.

"Definitely!" Namjoon encourages, already sensing that Yoongi's loose and unbothered energy was bound to mess things up in the room.

Yoongi claps his hands again and immediately gestures to the brunette sitting beside Namjoon, "You already know ____,"

The brunette girl immediately corrects him and Namjoon can't help but snicker at the incredibly fast screw-up.

"Hockey sock," Yoongi points toward the boy sitting to Namjoon's right side.

"It's Hoseok," the brown-haired boy spoke up, pausing his sketching to correct the man at the other end of the table with an amused look.

"Tater tot."

"My name is Taehyung," the blue-haired boy chided.

"Junk food."

The boy sitting beside Yoongi gave him a look of confusion, "I literally just told you my name like four minutes ago, dude, it's Jungkook."

Yoongi then gestures to the orange-haired person on the other side of the table, "That's Prince Jam."

"Jimin," the young boy narrowed his eyes at the self-proclaimed toastmaster.

"And finally, this is Seokjin," Yoongi smiled gently, staring for just a second too long at the man sitting right next to him.

"Is that even close?" Namjoon asks the supposed 'Seokjin', and he receives a timid nod in return, the young man squirming uncomfortably under Yoongi's continued gaze.

"Can you teach us how to say curse words in Spanish?" Hoseok asks, tapping his pencil against the table. "Unfortunately, no," Namjoon answers with a sigh.

"How do I become board-certified? And I actually agree with Jimin, what board certifies a tutor?" Hoseok persists, Jimin agreeing with his questions with a curt nod.

"That's actually a really great question. Next?" Namjoon smiles innocently, turning his attention elsewhere to avoid any more questions about his faux tutoring origins.

"Yeah, well, I'd like to know why I had to find out about this group on accident," Jimin sits up, raising his chin in a show of confidence.

Taehyung's brows are knit in anticipation, "Oh this is getting way more like Breakfast Club now."

"There's breakfast?" Yoongi asks confusedly.

"Okay, um, maybe we should-" the brunette girl began to speak up in an attempt to break the tension.

"You know," Namjoon interrupts her and he receives a glare in return, "I've been a part of a lot of study groups that fell apart because of unresolved tension. Shouldn't we address Jimin's concern? Did we not invite him?"

"Oh, Jimin, honey, it's not behind your back. We just didn't want to-" Seokjin tries to comfort the younger boy sitting next to him but is immediately interrupted. The brunette girl was starting to notice that interrupting each other was becoming a trend, and she didn't like it at all.

"Can we stop with the 'honeys' and the 'sweeties'? Being younger does not make me inferior, if anything, your age indicates that you made bad life decisions!" Jimin responds sharply, almost shaking with equal amounts of nervousness and irritation.

Seokjin inhales quickly and starts shaking his head, making noises of disagreement, as though he were trying to hold back the hurtful words that wanted to slip off his tongue by instinct.

"Seokjin has a reply to that," Namjoon says, making the brunette girl's head snap in his direction, utterly confused as to why he would try to stoke the flames of this argument.

Everyone around the table except for the brunette girl murmurs their agreements, seeing Seokjin narrow his eyes at the smaller, younger boy sitting beside him. "Okay, okay. I'm sure... I've made s-some bad life decisions, I am a single, divorced father of two after all but maybe Jimin's life decisions will be better! But I think he needs to decide whether he wants to be considered a child or an adult because children get pity but not respect, and adults, they get respect! They also get the back of their heads grabbed and their faces pushed through jukeboxes!" Seokjin quickly says at the end of his sentence, his eyes wide, fierce and full of unsubtle rage.

"Why don't we try learning 'jukebox" in Spanish?' The brunette girl speaks up, trying to divert everyone's attention but it doesn't appear to work.

"What are you doing? Are you seriously falling asleep right now?" Seokjin says aloud, everyone's eyes falling upon the purple-haired Yoongi at the end of the table, who is dozing off on the spot.

Jungkook snorts, "Really, grandpa?" he says jokingly to his older classmate, Hoseok unable to hold in his laughter at the teasing going on in front of him.

"Hey. I am a prominent business leader and a highly sought-after dinner guest and I will not be made fun of by some- some teenage boy," Yoongi responds with a sloppy snarl.

"Well, this teenage boy is a quarterback and a prom king," Jungkook retorts, adding a flourish to his argument with a tug of his collar.

Jimin scoffs amusedly, "You're not prom king anymore, Jungkook. This isn't Riverside High."

"How'd you know I went there?" Jungkook asks Jimin with a confused expression.

The orange-haired boy's smile falters from his face but he straightens his back nonetheless, "Because you're still wearing your stupid letter jacket, and more importantly... I sat behind you in Algebra!" Jimin scans Jungkook's face for any sign of realization and he feels a bit better once he sees it flash across Jungkook's features, but his stomach drops with what he hears next.

"Wait, aren't you the guy that got hooked on pills and dropped out? You're little Jammy Jimin," Jungkook laughs, clapping his hands and doubling over.

Jimin gasps, "Oh yeah? And you're a stupid jock who lost his scholarship by dislocating both shoulders in a keg stand!"

"Keg flip! They are very hard to pull off! No-" Jungkook corrects him, then everyone erupts into overlapping arguments. As everyone begins shouting at each other, the brunette girl's face is that of a witness to absolute horror, especially once she sees Namjoon looking at all the drama unfold with an amused look. Suddenly, Taehyung slams his hand down on the table, garnering everyone's attention and effectively shutting them up.

"You know what I got for Christmas? It was a banner year at the Bender family. I got a carton of cigarettes. The old man grabbed me. He said, 'Hey, smoke up, Johnny.'," Taehyung says animatedly, "No, dad! What about you?" he ends with one last shout, leaning back in his chair, the satisfied smile on his face indicating that he had completed his bit.

"Well, that actually was from Breakfast Club," Namjoon points out and everyone finally understands what Taehyung was talking about, their mouths forming 'o's.

"Nobody puts Baby in the corner," Taehyung murmurs again. "Dirty Dancing," Namjoon responds and he receives a smile and an excited 'yeah' from the blue-haired boy in return.

In the midst of everyone looking at each other with confused expressions, Namjooon's phone buzzes once again and sees that someone is trying to call him.

Namjoon answers his phone and is greeted by Hyun talking in a deep, unusually gravelly voice. "It's Professor Lee Hyun, come to the parking lot now."

"What's wrong with your voice?" Namjoon scrunches his nose at the unpleasant sound coming through the receiver. "I'm... disguising it." Namjoon was about to smugly inform his friend that there was no point in trying to disguise his voice if he was going to tell him his name in the first place, but Hyun hung up on him before he had the chance.

Tucking his phone back into his pocket, he announces to the group that he is leaving for a bit, "but while I'm gone, you guys need to hash this stuff out. No stone unturned... Go!" he declares, quickly escaping once more. Before he even laid a step outside the study room, he could already hear the sounds of their bickering - a sign of their very close and very eventual turmoil and his very inevitable date with the hot brunette from Spanish class.

As soon as Namjoon stepped outside the school gates, he spotted Lee Hyun in a comically small blue smart car right in the front of the school. After managing to squeeze his gangly limbs into the passenger seat, he slammed the car door shut and reached out for the large and thick manila folder that was resting in his much smaller friend's hands.

"Every answer to every test in your curriculum this semester," Lee Hyun said proudly. "I knew you could do it, buddy. Thank you," Namjoon sighed thankfully but Hyun was snatching the folder away before he managed to grab a hold of it. "Woah there, cowboy. What do I get out of all this?"

"Uh, the satisfaction of being even?" Namjoon says as if it's the most obvious thing that there was. "Even, fairness, right, wrong, there is no God, booyah, booyah," Hyun listed off in an annoying tone that made Namjoon cringe.

"What do you want from me?" Namjoon asked reluctantly.

"Your Lexus."

"My car? For a semester's worth of answers?" Namjoon scoffed in disbelief.

"Will it be just a semester though, Namjoon? Won't you be taking the easy way out for the next four years? I want payment in advance. I want leather seats with built-in butt warmers," Hyun grinned mischievously.

"What am I supposed to drive?" Namjoon asks through gritted teeth, "You should take this car! It's good for the earth," Hyun smiled at him.

"So is wiping your butt with a leaf but it's not how a man gets around!" Namjoon shouted in frustration. Hyun visibly deflated, shoulders slumped and manila folder waiting patiently for the taking from the palm of his hand. Namjoon eyed the folder in his friend's hand and weighed the options in his head. With a groan, Namjoon snatched the folder out of his hand and hopped out of the impossibly cramped blue smart car as quickly as possible.

____ spots Namjoon weaving through the library entrance and she darts out of the study room to leave the arguing mess of a study group to confront its creator. "It is a disaster in there!"

"Yeah, untutorable. Do you like Thai food? I love Thai food."

"Wait, so... This is a game to you?" the young brunette girl asked with arms crossed over her chest and resting her weight on her right leg. "You put a group of human beings into a state of emotional shambles just for a shot at getting in my pants?"

"Why can't you see that for the compliment that it is?" Namjoon stressed.

"Unbelievable," she sneered, clenching her fists against her chest in anger. Namjoon didn't mean to look at her chest at that time, it was just where her hands were and the sight of them clenching and unclenching somehow made his heart race. It wasn't fear or disbelief, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what the emotion was. As he noticed that her brown eyes were intensely watching him, he quickly averted his gaze and pretended to submit to her to see what she wanted and if he felt like he was bothered enough to keep jumping through these high hoops for her.

"What do you want me to do?" he asks her, tilting his head to look down at her. "Oh, maybe one decent thing you can do is go in there and clean up your mess," she tells him, looking at him expectantly.

Namjoon pursed his lips and looked into the "Okay, if I do that, then dinner... Right?" he questions her with a perked brow.

The young brunette's mouth hung agape in disbelief and she laughed quietly, her eyes unable to leave the sight of the unbelievable man she'd ever seen. As selfish and egotistical as he was, there was an underlying part of her that felt flattered by his drive and want for her. It was a very small part and the group's needs very clearly trumped that.

"Yeah, fine, whatever," she said with a shrug, stepping back into the study room. "As if there's a dinner on earth that can make me forget that you are a shallow douchebag."

Watching her walk away was something he had the pleasure of doing a handful of times already, and each time felt better than the last but this time, he couldn't quite find the appeal when she was very clearly mad at him. "Oh, you are gonna eat those words when you see my new car!" His face falls when he remembers the trade he had just made with the psychology professor just moments ago.

"Alright, everybody!" Namjoon shouted above everyone else, slamming his Spanish textbook onto the table, everyone's attention now on him. "I wanna say something. Everybody, sit down." "You don't have to yell," Seokjin muttered under his breath, situating himself back into his chair, the others following suit.

"You know what makes humans different from other animals?" Namjoon asks rhetorically, but Jungkook immediately answers, "Feet."

"No, no. Come on, beers have feet," Yoongi said smugly but by the look on Seokjin and Jimin's faces, it was clear he was wrong.

Namjoon quickly put them back on topic, "We are the only species on earth that observes 'Shark Week'. Sharks don't even observe 'Shark Week' but we do, for the same reason I can pick up this pencil, tell you it's name is Steve and go like this," Namjoon picks up his pencil from the table and snaps it in half, earning a quiet chorus of gasps and pained groans.

"And part of you dies just a little bit on the inside because people can connect with anything. We can sympathize with pencils, we can forgive a shark and we can give Ben Affleck an Academy Award for screenwriting."

Yoongi cringes at the mention of Ben Affleck and Taehyung agrees with him, everyone at the table nodding their agreements.

"People can find the good in just about anything but themselves. Look at me, it's clear to all of you that I am awesome but I can never admit that because that would make me an ass but what I can do is see what makes Jimin awesome," everyone turns to look at Jimin who is fighting the rush of blood that is desperate to get to his cheeks and the pull of a smile against his lips, "Jimin is driven. We need driven people or the lights go out and the ice-cream melts," Namjoon says.

"And Yoongi. We need guys like Yoongi. This guy has wisdom to offer," Yoongi scrunches his nose. "Is this part of the grandpa joke? Come on-"

"We should listen to him sometime! We wouldn't regret it. And Seokjin," Namjoon gestures to Seokjin with a pointed finger, "Seokjin has earned our respect. Not as a husband, not as a father, but as a man. And don't test him on that because the thing about the jukebox was way too specific to be improvised," Seokjin's eyes widened a little bit at Namjoon's speculation but he gave no indication as to whether he thinks Namjoon had stumbled upon the truth or not.

"And Hoseok, the guy that keeps asking questions. We need intuitive people like that, we need people that keep asking questions otherwise people we will never find the answers, Hoseok is the answer," he points at Hoseok who is giving him a shy smile in return.

"And Jungkook. Who cares if Jungkook thinks he's all that? Maybe he is," Jungkook looked nervous from the moment Namjoon started giving his opinions on each of the group members but a small smile fell on his face after hearing the caring words that the older boy had for him.

"And Taehyung. Taehyung is a shaman. You ask him to pass the salt, he gives you a bowl of soup. Because you know what? Soup is better. Taehyung is better. You are all better than you think you are, you are just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself," Namjoon tells them, his gestures becoming wilder to continue to be engaging as his speech went on.

"Soup?" Yoongi says confusedly.

"Turn to the person next to you," Namjoon tells them. He watches as Jimin turns to Seokjin, Yoongi turns to Jungkook, Taehyung turns to Hoseok, as the young brunette girl turns to him and looks up at him with her wide, gleaming eyes.

"I want you to extend to the person the same compassion that you extend to sharks, pencils and Ben Affleck. I want you to say to that person 'I forgive you'."

He watches Jimin, Seokjin, Taehyung, and Hoseok express their forgiveness to each other, inwardly smiling to himself at the warming sight but his attention is piqued when he sees that Yoongi is being reluctant.

"I forgive you," Jungkook says to his partner earnestly. Yoongi rolls his eyes and calls him a little twerp. "Yoongi," Namjoon urges, "I'd like you to say 'I forgive you'."

Yoongi exhales slowly through his nose, his features tense as he quickly and quietly mumbles out an "I forgive you" to Jungkook who grins in return.

"You've just stopped being a study group, you have become something unstoppable. I hereby pronounce you a community," Namjoon proclaims proudly.

Seokjin awe's, "Oh, that's nice," he shares with a gentle smile, joining the rest of the people on the table in applauding Namjoon for his powerful speech.

"This isn't like Breakfast Club anymore, now it's like Stripes or Meatballs, anything with Bill Murray really," Taehyung adds with a pointed finger. "I agree with Taehyung here, tonight has been very special. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a dinner engagement with ____," Namjoon says, looking down at the brunette girl with a grin and an extended hand.

She looks up to him sweetly before saying, "I lied. Thanks for calming everyone down but since you're not a Spanish tutor, just a lying creep who purposely upset everyone in an attempt to get with me, I'd appreciate it if you left and stopped wasting all of our time."

Namjoon quickly digested his shock and muttered out, "Fine, and I'm happy to report that one of the benefits of being a lying creep is having all the answers to tomorrow's test," he gestures to the thick manila folder on the table in front of him. "And I'm happy to share them with anyone who's time I've wasted more than they've wasted mine," his eyes glance over to the young brunette beside him, noting the way she is glaring at him with, somehow, adorably flared nostrils.

"Uh, Namjoon. If you have all the answers, why the hell did you start this study group?" Yoongi asks with an appropriate amount of confusion.

"I don't have a study group, I made it up," Namjoon stated frankly.

Jimin's brows knit in dejection, a small but noticeable pout becoming more obvious as his bottom lip starts to tremble just by the slightest, "But... What about your speech?"

"I made it up! That's what I do, I make things up and I got paid a lot of money to do it before I came to this school shaped toilet, I was a lawyer."

Everybody moans and groans at the mention of the fact that Namjoon was a lawyer, eyes rolling and noses scrunching.

"I thought you were Bill Murray in any of his films, but you're more like Michael Douglas in any of his films," Taehyung tells Namjoon with the same monotonous tone he'd been using all day, though this time it seemed to be tinged with a bit of disappointment.

"Oh yeah? Well, you have Asperger's." Namjoon says bluntly before gathering his things in his arms and slamming the study room door behind him. The young brunette girl's gaze falls to the vacant spot at the doorway left by his vacuous presence, horrified at his change in attitude. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that this dude was sketchy, from the moment she laid her eyes on him at the back of Spanish class, sitting uninterestedly in each lesson with his phone in his hand paying attention to nobody, not even the teacher which she considered to be quite the feat since the Spanish teacher was... an inconceivable character, to say the least.

What was scary was that she had also doubted that he was telling the truth about his deal with her earlier. Maybe he really is honest. The real difficulty in this was deciding whether that was a good thing or not.

"Did he just say 'ass burger'?" Jungkook snorted, slapping the table.

"It's a serious disorder," Jimin tells Jungkook, "It really is," Seokjin concurs, becoming upset that Jungkook, and now Yoongi, appear to be making fun of the name.

"If it's so serious, why don't they call it 'professional burger'?" Yoongi wheezes, lightly slapping Jungkook on the arm as they quietly laugh with each other.

Taehyung didn't seem to mind one bit. If he did, he didn't show it which helped to settle the brunette girl's worries by a smidge.

Namjoon stepped outside the library building with a huff, exasperated from being in such a draining situation. In the back of his mind, he couldn't believe that he had done what he did to these strangers. Well, they were his classmates and that made it worse, him realizing that he would have to see these people again in the future. Pushing those thoughts to the very darkest depths of his mind, he inhaled the cold air of the outside, staying under the light of the library veranda so he could actually get a good look at those papers that Hyun had given him. At least one good thing came out of this day, or so he thought.

Opening the seal at the top of the large manila, he proceeded to pull out a thick pile of papers, the first of which appeared to be blank. Namjoon's heart began to race as he flipped through the hundreds of papers in his hands to find that they were all blank on both sides except for the last paper which had the word 'booyah' written in all caps in Sharpie.

"Hyun," Namjoon growled under his breath, shoving the papers back into the manila folder angrily and making his way to the professor's office.

There sat Hyun with his feet crossed on top of his desk, leaning back in his office chair and sipping on a glass of brandy when Namjoon slammed his office door open.

"Okay, now before you say anything, I want you to think about the gift you've been given," Hyun hummed happily, raising his glass to Namjoon leaning against his office doorway.

"An excuse to punch a pathetic professor at a community college?" Namjoon tilts his head with a far too serious expression.

Hyun coughs, "Erm, no, not that. An important lesson, my friend. You see, the tools you acquired to survive out there will not help you here at Greendale. What you have here my friend is a second chance at an honest life."

"Give me my keys," Namjoon demands from him, clearly ignoring his friend's pitiful attempt to teach him a lesson about integrity, honesty or what have you.

"W-what? No, I have to keep your car for the lesson- Okay, don't hit me!" Hyun shrieks and tosses the car keys to Namjoon once he begins to storm over to his friend's desk with rage-filled eyes.

Namjoon walks away quickly, desperate to be anywhere but at that school at the moment. "Are we cool!?" Hyun shouts out the door as soon as he's gone, pausing for a moment to wait for a response. When he gets nothing in return, he just shrugs and sips his brandy, "We cool.".

"I like you, Namjoon," Yoongi says to the younger man as he spots him walking briskly past the entrance to the library, "You remind me of myself when I was your age."

Namjoon pauses and sighs, hanging his head low at the prospect of being similar to this older and, from what he's seen so far, a horribly awkward but entitled individual. "I deserve that."

He walks up the stairs to sit next to the older boy, seating himself one step down on the stairs so they were equal in height. "Y'know, I've been called grandpa nine times now? I mean, there are literal grandpas here on campus but even they don't called grandpa. They get called by their first names, like normal grandpas. Sometimes I think I'm doing something wrong."

Namjoon put his hand on Yoongi's shoulder and said to him, "Maybe it's because of the way you act. You fall asleep everywhere, you always ask the most random questions and you scowl at everyone and you say stuff like 'when I was your age' to people that aren't that much younger than you. You've gotta stop doing that, man."

Yoongi sighed, "I've never looked at it that way..."

"Hey guys," Hoseok spoke up, coming up from behind them.

"Oh, hey," Namjoon said to him. "Aren't you guys supposed to be studying right now?"

Jungkook emerged from around the corner and shrugged, "It kinda got boring after you left," he admitted. Following him out of the entrance of the library was the rest of the group, Seokjin, Taehyung, Jimin and the brunette girl.

"Shouldn't you be rolling around on a bed covered in test answers," the brunette girl smirked down at him, her hands holding the strap of her bag.

"I don't have any of the answers," he said with a tight smile, abandoning the manila folder on to the steps below him, "I'm just gonna fail the test."

"If you just study for like an hour, it's not that hard," Hoseok told him, "Yeah," Jungkook agreed. "You seem pretty smart, you have a sports coat," Jungkook told him, gesturing to Namjoon's jacket.

"Well, the funny thing about being smart is that you can get through most of life without ever having to do any work. So, uh, I'm not really... Sure how to do that," Namjoon confessed with solace, hanging his head low.

Behind him, the group began silently gesturing to each other. Jimin mouthed to the brunette girl, "Please? he's so sad." In return, the brunette girl mimed, pointing at Namjoon and then putting a finger in her mouth and pretend-puking. Seokjin expressed saddened shock, clasping his hands together as if he were begging the brunette girl into agreeing with them.

Taehyung looked at the scene with confusion and he spoke up, "What's going on? Can you guys hear me right now? Am I deaf, can you guys hear me talking? Can you guys hear me talking right now?" the group all said "Yes" in response. "Ah, okay, good," Taehyung said, giving them a thumbs up.

"Y'know what? Namjoon, we actually didn't get that far without you so if you wanna come back inside..." the brunette girl said to him.

"Really?" Namjoon asked with an uncertain tone.

"Well, it is your study group." The brunette girl said with a lopsided grin, turning around and stepping back into the library.

"Come on, let's study," Seokjin said to him sweetly, following the brunette girl back into the building. "Sounds good," Yoongi replied, patting Namjoon on the shoulder and going back inside with Hoseok, Jungkook, and Jimin trailing behind him.

"I'm sorry I called you Michael Douglas and I see your value now," Taehyung said to him, stepping past Namjoon and entering the library.

"Well, that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Namjoon said to himself, pushing himself off the steps and walking back into the library to join the unlikely group that he had just created, a group that he somehow feels he will be close with. Sure, they had gotten off to a rocky and deceitful start, but he can tell that some of them are already warming up to each other despite having argued for hours both in and out of his absence. That's gotta say something.

Perhaps it's saying that they really are a community now.

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mirohed · 5 years

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han jisung | better off dead (i’ll be juliet)

{ HAN JISUNG + GENDER NEUTRAL!READER }

zombie apocalypse au, college au, best friends to lovers

fluff, angst

10.5k

playlist / title insp (yes it’s a thg fansong from 8 years ago)

content warning: this work contains the following: copious amounts of swearing, the mention and underage consumption of alcohol, the mention and use of weapons (guns, knives, blunt weaponry), descriptions of violent acts, and character death. read at your own risk.

a/n: happy 100 (technically 107) days to me and jisung 💓💓 special thanks to @tyongu for screening this fic and giving me the motivation i needed to pick this fic back up from its 5 month long hiatus && to @offonoffs for being a fellow member of jisung nation & expressing interest in this fic ,, it means a lot.

reviews are greatly appreciated !

You used to think that zombies weren't a realistic sort of monster—not as real as climate change or capitalism, anyway. They were better suited to being enjoyed from the comfort of your couch as you curled up with a bag of chips on a Friday night.

This, of course, all changes the night you get that fateful emergency alert.

You're at Chan's house when it happens. He's invited you and the rest of campus to his frat house for one of his famed end-of-semester ragers. He spots you not long after you enter, catching you in a one-armed embrace, full cup of beer in hand.

"Hey, glad you could make it! The night's still young, but Felix said he'd set his Switch up for some Smash up later. You should join them if you get the chance." A girl from your communications class (Ryujin?) calls out to him, waving him to join her and a few unfamiliar faces for a game of beer pong. "Sorry, duty calls. If you ever get tired of the beer, you know where to find the good stuff," he says, shooting you some quasi-finger guns and leaving you to fend for yourself.

You slip past a few couples pushing themselves up against the walls on your way to the kegs, and fill a cup of your own. Minho's there, leaned against the refrigerator and taking small sips of his drink. "Surprised you haven't switched to Woojin's vodka yet," you joke.

"Usually, I have no qualms about...sampling, but taking from him's a death wish." Taking another sip, he grimaces. "If that means putting up with the cheap shit all night, I'll take it." You mumbled an "amen," knocking your matching red cups together in a toast. You both regretted the swig you took.

"Yeah, I can't do this." You dump the shitty alcohol in the drain. "You know where Jisung is?"

"No clue."

"Damn. Well, if you manage to find something to sample, give me a call. I'm gonna go find him."

You scour the entire first level of the house, weaving through clouds of marijuana and vaguely cotton-candy scented vape juice. Unfortunately, your best friend is nowhere to be found. You don’t bother trying his phone; if he was drunk (which he probably was), all you’d get in response would be unintelligible cheers as he “gets his party on.” You ask around for a bit, but each new set of directions sounds more ridiculous than the last. (You're still not sure if Yukhei was drunk and fucking with you or being completely serious when he said Jisung wasn't at the party at all. You wouldn’t be surprised either way.)

You call it quits after about a half hour, trudging upstairs and feeling both hungry and a little sorry for yourself. Sure, you had other friends, but the one person you wanted to get wasted with was nowhere to be found.

As you head upstairs, you notice the bathroom door is wide open. A glance to your left is all it takes to see Hyunjin kneeling on the bathroom tile, puking his guts out as Jisung rubs his back in a feeble attempt to provide comfort. You make eye contact with Jisung, and he nods his head in the direction of Chan's room at the end of the hall. "'Lix set the Switch up, but Hyunjin's busy being a lightweight." He shoots Hyunjin a withering look, but Hyunjin's too preoccupied to notice. "Take over for me? He picked Isabelle, and we both know how bad I get my ass kicked when he does," he grumbles, helping Hyunjin stand on both legs. "We'll join you guys in a few."

You're planning your victory against Felix (Jisung probably picked Lucario for the "cool factor," which didn’t mean much when all he did in rounds was button mash and hope for the best) when your phone goes off, loud and insistent. Jisung's goes off less than a second later, with Hyunjin's buzzing on the bathroom counter. Based on the way Felix pokes his head out of the door, phone in hand, you can only assume he got it too.

The official alert glares up at you, a few simple sentences in all capital letters.

EMERGENCY ALERT

ZOMBIE OUTBREAK. THE DISEASE IS CONTAGIOUS. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

You exchange a look with Jisung and Felix, all seeming to share one thought: This is bad. You had heard news of this disease before; highly contagious, with nonspecific symptoms that were often misdiagnosed until it was too late and necrosis set in. Scientists had found out that it was a mutation of a disease that was supposed to have been eradicated a century ago.

Even people that were updated with their vaccinations could catch it; it was transferable via bodily fluids. If someone infected so much as got a drop of saliva or sweat on you, you were at risk. ("Just goes to show you what happens when people don't vaccinate their fuckin' kids," Minho had said, changing the channel to a rerun of Friends.)

Chan shuts the party down, kicking everyone sober enough to walk out and housing the wasted. He urges them all to find shelter and head for safety as he waves them out. "Listen, if you ever need anything, I'm just a call away," he tells you as you return to your dorm.

Seungmin, the frat's designated driver for the night (that’s a lie—it was supposed to be Changbin, but he conveniently “forgot” and left the job to Seungmin), gives you a ride back at Jisung's request. ("I'm not letting you walk back and get infected," he had insisted, arms crossed.)

The first thing you do after getting home is call him. You spend most of the video call packing your bags, just in case, tossing cans and clothes into the biggest bags you can find.

"I'm starting to think those apocalypse planners had the right idea," you say, trying to cram another bottle of water into your bag. "I could use an apocalypse bunker right about now."

Jisung dries his freshly washed hair, draping the towel around his neck. "Maybe we should beg them for shelter."

"Maybe."

“Remember when we had that plan to build our own bunker back in high school? I wish we never threw those plans away.”

“Wasn’t it you that was like ‘we’re never gonna use these, what’s the point?’” you tease, voice dropping an octave to mock Jisung. “I, for one, always thought they were a good idea.”

“But you let me throw them away!” You put down the shirt you’re folding and plug your ears, shouting that you can’t hear him. He calls you a child, but the conversation makes you feel better about what might happen after tonight.

You’ll be fine, you tell yourself as you lie awake that night. This is just in case things go to shit.

Surprise, surprise, it doesn’t even take a full week before things go to shit.

"Get in!" Jisung shouts, driving down the road at a reasonable enough speed for you to keep up with. You don't bother asking why he has a horde of zombies chasing (hobbling, really) after him. Instead, you sprint behind him, tossing your bags into the truck bed before leaping on yourself.

"Where'd you come from?" you ask, panting as he hits the gas and barrels down the road. There are a few bags, full to bursting, in the trunk with you. "The city?"

"Yeah. We're going back." Your head cranes to look at him from the glass window at the back of his hand-me-down pickup truck in surprise. "Felix is out there somewhere, and we're not leaving him behind. Chan took the others, and we're meeting up with them after we pick 'Lix up. I called Chan earlier, so the cell towers should still be up by the time we get there."

"Can't we meet him halfway? No offense, but if we go back, we're gonna fucking die."

There's no compromise. The ride's silent, save the wind whistling in your ears as Jisung drives as fast as he can (it takes him awhile to realize he can go way over the speed limit; what are the cops gonna do, stop him?) Going back might not be a bad idea anyway; he needs more fuel to keep his truck up and running, and you don’t know about him, but you’re not exactly prepared to hunker down for the long term.

It's absolute chaos in the city. Buildings burn in the distance, smoke billowing out into otherwise clear blue skies. Corpses of the undead (who are now, with any luck, actually dead) litter the streets. People have already gone feral, welcomed the lawlessness of the new world with open arms. You turn down familiar streets and see families in a hurry to leave their homes and get out of the city as fast as possible.

"You stay here," Jisung says, parking across the street from the nearest megamart. You can barely make out the action going on outside the store, but you don't think there'll be much left for Jisung to take by the time he gets there. "Call Felix. I'm gonna see what I can take."

You sit on the roof of the truck, Jisung's worn old baseball bat (now outfitted with barbed wire) in hand. Trying not to cut yourself on the sharp edges, you call Felix.

"Hello?"

"Oh, thank god. I was scared the cell towers were already down. Where are you?"

"I made it to the outskirts of the city. There's a house up here. Jisung'll know where it is, we come up here all the time.”

“Alright. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, just a little shaken up, of course,” he laughs. “Didn’t think this was how I’d be spending my time after finals.” You murmur an agreement, and he continues talking. “Don't waste your battery, alright? See you guys soon." He hangs up, and your fingers itch with the urge to text someone, make another call, but Felix was right. It's not like Instagram's up right now; everyone's got bigger things to worry about.

After what feels like an eternity, Jisung comes running with a full backpack and...a suitcase?

"Where's Felix?" he pants, handing you the heavy suitcase and tossing the backpack in the back of the truck.

"He's in a house on the outskirts of the city? He told me you'd know where it was."

"Should've known. We gotta haul ass, though—I might've pissed off, like, a ton of people." Your eyes widen; there is, in fact, a group of angry people headed your way as you take a seat in the truck bed. Jisung floors it before any of them come close, letting them eat his dust.

“Where is this house anyway?” You’re yelling over the wind, but Jisung catches it nonetheless.

“The frat’s been going there for years, I heard. It’s some tradition to get shitfaced there for initiation, so we all had to go and drink whatever Minho gave us. I must’ve blacked out, because I barely remember it. We go up there sometimes, when we need to get away.”

You leave the city and go off-road, running over new grass. There's a house you've never seen before at the top of a small hill, and it's there that you see Felix. He's managed to attract one of the damn things, but he's definitely holding his own against it, landing a few impressive roundhouse kicks on it. He's whacking at it with a metal rod when you drive up the hill, but the zombie catches on and turns it into a game of tug-of-war.

Wrenching the rod away, he returns to kicking at it, staggering the zombie with one good hit to the ribs.

But the zombie seems to have caught on to that too, and it's as you pull up to the house that it grabs onto his leg and sinks his teeth into him. Felix cries out, his skin punctured and blood dripping onto the grass underfoot. He tries to yank his leg back, but can’t seem to summon the strength, his other leg hopping about to maintain balance.

Now that he's injured, the zombie drags Felix closer, clawing at his head before—

You can't watch, and neither can Jisung. There’s a sickening crunch, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

The next thing you see is Jisung running the fucker over. A distant part of you wonders if that's bad for the car, but it doesn't feel like you're there in the moment at all.

It's like you're watching the whole thing from a third-person view. You see yourself leap from the truck bed as soon as Jisung shifts the truck into park. You can almost see the seed of unease, of we're-so-screwed begin to sprout in the pit of your stomach.

You can’t tear your eyes from Felix’s body. He’s lying face down (thankfully), but he’s stained the grass red, his leg twisted at an odd angle. You can make out the scratches along the side of his cheek from here, skin broken and bleeding.

It’s red. It’s all red. Everywhere you look, it’s—

And then you're back in your own body, throwing the car door open to yell at him. "You fuckin' idiot!" you hiss. "Why'd you do that?" Definitely not the right thing to say, but you can't take anything back now.

"What do you think? I killed it before it could kill us." He ventures into the house, purposefully shoving past you with a harsh bump of his shoulder. You follow despite his clipped tone and tense shoulders. Together, you loot the house. Jisung seems to know where everything is, handing you everything from bags of chips stored away to bottles of whiskey. (You're about to ask about the alcohol when he mutters "Molotov." You figure it's not the only use they've got.)

You come upon Felix's pack. It's the backpack he used during the school year, most of the space taken up by his clothes. Jisung shoulders the bag wordlessly before turning to leave. All you can do is follow behind.

You watch the sun set as the busted speakers play some playlist he must have put together. (You admit it'd be a good road trip playlist if not for the fact that you were in the middle of the zombie apocalypse.) His knuckles are white against the wheel, and part of you wants to talk about what happened, but you take one look at his clenched jaw and hold your tongue.

Night falls. The two of you camp out in some crop-bearing fields. He starts a fire and speaks for the first time in hours.

"Do you want to take the first shift or should I?" He's looking right at you, but there's none of the usual light in his eyes.

You think that when Felix died, part of Jisung died with him.

You end up taking the first shift, judging time based on the occasional glance at your phone. You keep an eye and an ear out, watching the fire frame Jisung's sleeping face in subtle orange.

He doesn't want to talk about it, you tell yourself. And who would? You're not exactly eager to bring the topic up yourself. You lean back on your hands as you try to think of anything except what happened to Felix.

Before long, you nudge him awake. He's a little disgruntled, but you bug him until he sits up. "Yeah, yeah. I'm up. Get some rest." You curl up in the sleeping bag (Felix's sleeping bag, but you're still trying not to think about it) and shut your eyes.

The fire crackles lowly. You hear Jisung's bones crack as he stretches. You don't sleep.

When you crack your eyes open after god knows how long, the sky is still dark. "Can't sleep?"

"What do you think?" The corner of his mouth quirks up, just a bit. You swear you hear a faint chuckle. "You know we have to keep going, right? Without..."

"You can just say it, you know. Without Felix. Without our best friend."

"Yeah. Without our best friend." You cast the sleeping bag aside, staring at the flames. He pats the grass next to him, and you crawl over to his side. When he wraps an arm over your shoulder, traces meaningless patterns and letters into your arm, you don't complain. Maybe you even lean into his touch, knowing that it might be you and Jisung versus the world for awhile.

You think you're fine with that.

When the sun rises, you and Jisung make plans to meet up with Chan and the others; there's some safety to be found in numbers, after all. Neither of you mention having to tell them what happened to Felix.

Jisung calls Chan. Then Minho. Then Woojin. Then Seungmin. Then Changbin. Then Jeongin, who's still in his last year of high school, but is an unofficial member of the fraternity regardless. Then, as a last resort, he calls Hyunjin. Nobody picks up. Changbin and Minho's phones don't even ring, instead kicking him straight to voicemail. "Maybe their phones died," you offer.

"Disappointed, but not surprised." He pockets his phone with a huff. "The cell towers are probably down. How's the radio?" You've been playing with the radio while Jisung tried calling his friends, trying to find a signal.

"I'm about to rip out the stupid dial and crush the damn thing under my foot, but other than that I'm good," you snipe, throwing him a look and a fake smile. You turn the dial all the way in one direction, more than a little annoyed at all the static you seem to be catching. To your surprise, you hear broken, unintelligible chatter. You move the radio between you two, chasing after the signal.

"-vivors...proceed to... -ary base...infec... -on entry...supplies will be rationed...gates will close once maximum capacity has been reached." The message cuts out less and less as you fiddle with the radio, and once you wait for the announcement to repeat, the full message plays.

"Attention, all survivors. If possible, we ask that you proceed to the nearest military base or encampment. The military will be on patrol to execute zombies and the infected as well as rescue clean civilians and bring them to the nearest base. All civilians will be checked for infection upon entry and routinely throughout their stay. Supplies will be rationed for as long as possible. Gates will close once maximum capacity has been reached."

You and Jisung exchange a look as the message plays once more. When he breaks into a wide grin, you mirror it with a smile of your own. "We're saved!" he cheers, wrapping you in a big hug and knocking the radio on its side. You relax in his embrace, sighing into it. You don't make any moves to break the hug, and neither does he, even after it stretches on longer than a hug between friends should.

"One problem…” you start, voice muffled as you speak into his shirt, “where's the nearest military base?"

There’s a small hospital up ahead, the white building stark against all the browns and greens you two have been seeing the past few days. “Should we check it out?” Jisung asks, eyes flitting to you. “You never know when we’d need medicine or bandages.”

“No. Before you ask why, I know we’re gonna run into zombies. I can feel it in my bones.” Jisung flattens his lips into a straight line, clearly unhappy with your verdict.

“Your bones don’t know shit.”

“Picture this: first semester of our freshman year of college, right before midterms. You’re barely passing your world history class because you don’t go to lecture. I help you cram for two days straight and tell you I can feel you getting an A in my bones,” you say, clenching your fist to emphasize your point. “When you get your midterm results back, you got an A, not only on the test…”

“...but in the class,” Jisung finishes with a roll of his eyes. “Okay, fair point. But what if you got hurt and I couldn’t save you because I didn’t have the medicine for it?” He’s pulling into the parking lot, but doesn’t shift the truck into park. You can still talk him out of it.

“Then you just let me die? It’s not that deep. Like yeah, it’d suck, but at that point there’d be nothing you could do.”

His voice is so earnest that it forces your eyes to snap to him. “We both know I can’t do that.” There’s something behind his words, an undercurrent carrying a feeling you can’t name. Carding dirty nails through his hair, he gnaws on his bottom lip. “I think I’m gonna risk it. Besides, it’s out in the middle of nowhere. I doubt there’ll be too many zombies. You sure you don’t wanna come with?”

He stares at you, and you groan, giving in. “God, park the truck somewhere more discreet. We both know I’m gonna have to bail your ass out anyway,” you sigh, opening the glove compartment and withdrawing the knife Jisung had nabbed from the frat house’s kitchen. “Might as well come with and save myself the trouble of going in there to find you.”

“That’s the spirit,” he grins, and you feel like you’ve been played.

The inside of the hospital’s dark and completely devoid of that sterile scent you don’t want to admit you liked. Instead, there’s a musty smell that pervades the building, and your nose wrinkles as you take deep breaths in an attempt to get yourself acclimated to it. “Stay close to me,” you tell him. “I don’t want you wandering off.”

“You think I’m gonna get lost? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

He doesn’t respond, instead muttering something under his breath. “Whatever. Let’s see if we can find something.”

You creep along the corridors, breathing as light as possible. The whole hospital seems to be moth-eaten and abandoned, but you’re not sure if you and Jisung are alone or not. The rooms you enter are a mixed bag; you manage to get to the small cafeteria and bag some soon-to-be stale chips as well as several bottles of water, but you don’t get much in the way of medicine.

“Where do they keep all the medicine anyway?” you ask, turning away from the spoiled ice cream in the mini freezer, nose wrinkled. The light bulb goes off in Jisung’s head, and he smacks his face with his hand.

“The pharmacy. They keep the medicine at the pharmacy.” You take a water bottle and make as if you’re going to whack him with it when you hear a noise. Both you and Jisung tense at the clattering of equipment from outside the cafeteria. You two stick your heads out the door, Jisung scanning the left side and you scanning the right. The coast looks clear, so Jisung leads the way out the way you came.

You’re almost home free when you spot a zombie ambling about at the end of the hall, back turned to you. Jisung holds up his palm, signalling for you to stop moving. “Okay, what now?” you ask.

“It’s just one zombie,” he starts. “Give me the knife, I got this.” He hands you the backpack with everything you’ve looted, and you hesitate before giving him the only weapon you two have. He sneaks up on the zombie, getting closer and closer…

And then it rears its ugly head, letting out an ugly gurgling noise that scares the shit out of you. One arm’s in a sling and the other hangs limp; you don’t think broken arm would bother the undead too much. It charges, quicker than either of you were expecting (did zombies that were athletic as humans keep that athleticism?) and almost smothers Jisung, who loses his balance and falls hard on his hands. He manages to roll to the side in time for it to knock its head against the smooth tile floor.

“Change of plans,” he says, zombies dressed in scrubs and hospital gowns alike beginning to come out from the corner of the hall, “we’re leaving!” You help him up, slamming your heel on the neck of the zombie that almost attacked Jisung. There’s a satisfying crunch, and then you two are off, turning corner after corner trying to escape.

You don’t stop running until your feet hit cement instead of tile. You don’t stop moving until you’re both in the truck, trying to catch your breath. “You were right,” his voice is shaky, and you take his hand in yours, squeeze it in an attempt to calm him down. “We shouldn’t have gone.”

Even after his breathing returns to normal, he doesn’t let go of your hand.

You're not sure when things start to change between you and Jisung. Maybe it's when you catch yourself staring at him as he drives, right hand on the wheel and the left resting on the lowered window. (He insisted on keeping the windows down as much as possible; the air conditioning in his truck was busted, “just like the rest of the damn thing.”)

Maybe it's when you stop bothering with arguments over who takes the couch and who takes the bed. You've slept in the same bed before, sure, but that was when you were children. You remember the night it started, not long after the trip to the hospital:

You wake up with fingers already tangled in the sheets, a cold sheen of sweat on your forehead. Every blink of your eyes treats you to the sight that haunted your nightmares: Felix, one of your best friends, with eyes gouged out and flesh hanging from his cheek as he opens his mouth so wide his jaw unhinges. His tongue sits lamely in his bloody mouth as he lets loose an unending wail—

You can’t stay here. You force yourself out of bed and find Jisung still awake, staring down at his hands in the darkness. He seems to hear you coming, because he says, “You too?” before you’re even in the living room proper.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” He feels around for the lantern that was left behind when the former residents evacuated and flicks it on, the warm yellow light a welcome sight. You both take a seat on the couch Jisung had been sleeping on as you try to find the words to describe your nightmare.

“It was Felix. We were at school and I...I saw him from behind, and it’s like we were all alright again. I was calling out to him from across campus, but he couldn’t hear me. Then I turned him around and then…” You shudder, and Jisung’s quick to wrap the blanket he took for himself around you. “He looked like he did after that day we found him. His mouth wouldn’t stop opening. I-” You don’t even notice your hands are shaking until he takes them in his own.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “Take your time.”

“I miss him, Jisung. I miss when the three of us would fuck around and spend all our money on food and video games and have to cram just to pass our classes. I miss having to kick his ass in Smash because you never could. I miss our group calls where we make fun of him for playing Fortnite because it’s not relevant anymore.”

“I know,” he shushes, pulling you into his arms. “I miss him too. He was in my dream, at the very beginning.” He tucks your head under his chin. “It was the night of the party and he told me not to do something stupid because I could lose you. Next thing I knew, we were at the hospital and it was you facing those zombies and not me. They,” he swallows heavily, “they got you. All I did was stand there. And then I was all alone.” You stay silent, twisting the ends of his hair between your fingers.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss college.”

“You and me both.” Before long, you switch the lantern off, breathing becoming steady. Your eyes get heavier and heavier until you let yourself fall into a deep sleep.

Sleeping by his side wills away most of the nightmares. You get the best rest you've gotten since the night it all started, so good that after that night, you rarely sleep apart.

(You ignore the twinge of...something in your heart when you wake up first. There's something about his sleeping face that makes him look at peace, something about the way his arms snake around you as soon as you lie down next to him, that makes you feel something you think you shouldn't be feeling.)

"Do you think we'll make it?" he asks one night. You're both sitting cross-legged in the back of his truck, taking inventory. He picked up a map from one of the houses you've been squatting in on the way; you're halfway to the base. "Survive, I mean. Not just long enough to get to the fort, but...you know. In general." You glance up from the knife in your hands, humming.

"I hope so. Besides," you start, dragging the knife along the sharpening stone, "we've made it through everything so far, haven't we?"

"Yeah," he says, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit, "we have." The stars wink down at you as you work under the light of the moon and a small lantern. With any luck, things will get better once you've reached the safety of the base.

You open and close the drawers of the house you and Jisung have stopped at to gather supplies, trying to find something to take with you. The house hasn't been ransacked yet (or at least, you don't think so; the locks were in place and everything looked tidy before you broke in), but the owners sure did a good job of clearing the place out. No canned goods, no bottles of water, nothing except for some office supplies and a worrying amount of rubber duckies in the bathroom.

The lights are all off, and you're pretty sure that the house's supply of running water ran out a long time ago. The midsummer heat makes your clothes stick to your skin just as uncomfortably as the duct tape you and Jisung have taken to wearing along your arms and legs. After what happened at the hospital, Jisung didn’t want to take any risks, no matter how much you both sweat under the adhesive.

You're poring over the drawers in the bathroom when your eyes get drawn to a small box in the corner of your vision. It's a little beat up, but the saccharine pink and white box grins up at you all the same. You're not quite sure what use Hello Kitty bandaids would serve—they're not even that big, really, the most they could do is patch up a paper cut—but you do know they'd make Jisung smile.

And if you're being honest, you've come to miss that smile. It's been hard to come by recently.

Nobody breathes a word about the change in dynamic. There's no angsty "what are we" talk that threatens both your friendship and your budding relationship. It's just you and Jisung, the same as it's always been.

You get used to resting your head on his lap, to having his hand interlaced with yours as he drives. You throw away the excuse of sleeping together “to get rid of the nightmares” (though that’s still a very compelling reason). The word boyfriend is always on the tip of your tongue, but at this point, labels like that don’t mean much.

You learn to enjoy the little things, the way the blues and blacks of night fade into pinks and purples with streaks of pale orange to greet the world each morning. You learn to enjoy the little things, like the weight of Jisung’s head on your shoulder as you run your thumb down the side of his hand. It’s humbling, you think, how the sun rises and sets, how the world keeps spinning despite it all. No matter how much has changed, some things stay the same.

”You ever realize how insignificant we are?” you ask one morning, eyes focused on the sky above. “Life goes on, with or without us.”

”Yeah,” he shifts to look up at you from his place in the crook of your neck, “but you know what?” You hum as the birds begin chirping, signifying the start of the day, eyes closed as you bask in the morning glow. “I don’t think I could ever feel too insignificant when I’m with you.”

You scoot away, causing Jisung to start whining. “We’re in the middle of the zombie apocalypse and you’re flirting with me?” you scoff, incredulous.

“And you’re surprised?” He’s got this cheeky smile on his stupid face that you swear makes the world, your world, a better place. You lean in, pressing your lips to his for just a second. With your eyes closed, it feels like you’re a normal couple watching the sun rise on a normal world. It feels like nothing is wrong, and you’re right where you’re meant to be.

You’re digging through your backpack to find the beat up paperback you were planning to finish reading and use as fuel for the occasional fires you and Jisung would light when camping out when a set of Polaroids fall out of your bag. You’d crammed them in there long before the thought of a zombie apocalypse ever crossed your mind. There’s one that catches your eye from the night you celebrated your joint graduation with Jisung. (Seungmin and Hyunjin went to different high schools, and Felix was still in Australia at this point; you’d meet all of them on the day of orientation.)

It was the largest party you’ve ever been to, with your families and your friends taking up all the parking in the neighborhood. Avoiding awkward conversation with aunties and uncles was your specialty, and you spent much of the night dodging questions like “So what are you planning to major in?” and “Are you dating that Jisung kid?”

There were drinks in the cooler that you were expressly told not to touch (not like that stopped you both from sneaking out two beers and chugging them in your room, away from prying eyes), music playing from the Bluetooth speaker you’d never used, and laughter everywhere you looked.

“Can’t believe we’re adults now,” you said, one arm dangling off the side of your bed. “Feels like I only met you yesterday.” You set the bottle down on your carpet, eyes focused on your ceiling fan as it did its rotations.

“I’m glad we’re going to the same college,” he confessed, setting his bottle on your nightstand before you barked at him to put it on the carpet lest the condensation damage the wood. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Jisung’s parents had brought out a cake, the icing congratulating you two on graduating from high school. All eyes were on you as you held the knife just above the cake, and you felt weightless as the blade divvied up the dessert.

“Wait, I wanna do it too,” Jisung whispered, bumping shoulders with you.

“What? No, this is my house.”

“Well, my parents were the ones who bought the cake!”

You try to think of a retort, but when none comes, you hand him the knife. “Here. Don’t mess it up.”

“I never mess up,” he said as you took the biggest chunk of cake for yourself. You watched him cut the cake into what were initially equal portions, but grew less and less balanced as the cake went on.

“See,” you told him once the cake was all gone, “what’d I tell you?” You take a dollop of the cake’s whipped cream and planted it on his nose. “You never listen, Han Jisung.”

It’s then that a flash went off, stunning you both. Yeji grinned as she handed you the developing Polaroid. “Save it for the wedding,” she joked. (It makes you sad to know that although you stayed relatively close in high school, you lost touch in college. You smile when you see each other on campus, but it’s not the same.)

“What are you looking at?” Jisung asks, pulling you back to the present. You stare down at the image, the almost child-like smiles on your faces. It feels like a lifetime ago, when things were easier and the unknown was something you thought you were ready for.

“Remember our grad party?” He takes one look at the picture and you swear you see the lines of stress on his forehead fade away as he laughs at the face he’s making in the photograph.

“God, I miss those days.”

"There it is." The base stands tall, barbed wire promising shelter from the uncertainty of whether you'd spend the day forced to fight for your life or not. You drum your fingers on your thighs as you approach the entrance, chest full to bursting with anticipation. You're half listening to Jisung's stupid hour-long playlist, half relieved that you managed to find a base so close.

He stops at the gate, waiting for a guard to emerge and check you two for signs of infection. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it tight. This is it, the gesture says, we're gonna be okay.

You wait.

You wait some more.

Your hands get sweaty.

"Is anyone there? You'd think for a military base, they'd have someone come out by now." Jisung turns the volume of the car speakers all the way down. He's met with the noises of his truck's engine...and an incessant scratching at the gate.

Exchanging a look, you hop out of the car and try to peek through the slits of the covered chain-link fence. Your first mistake is getting too close; they all seem to catch your scent and greet you with a chorus of grunts and groans as the horde focuses their attention on you.

Your second mistake is looking too closely at who's behind the fence. You make eye contact with the husk of a man, a glazed look in his eyes and skin broken along one side of his face from where he’s been clawing at it. He's dressed in all black, and when you take a second glance (you really shouldn't have), you realize he looks like someone you know. You're almost certain that if he smiled, you'd see dimples. You're almost certain that if you could see his hair—torn out in clumps, his scalp bloody—it would be curly since he wouldn't have access to a straightener in the middle of nowhere.

"Chan?" you whisper. There's no response, but a taller figure pushes into him, forcing his way to the front. When his mouth opens, all you can see are swollen, bloody gums and blackening teeth from weeks of neglect. Despite that, you know exactly who this is. You've tag-teamed toilet duty with Jisung at enough parties to know what Hyunjin's neck and back look like as he lurches forward, trying to ram the gate. "Oh shit." Felix and Jisung did say that Chan took the rest of the boys somewhere, didn't they?

That conversation feels like a lifetime ago, when the term "zombie apocalypse" was just the name of an overdone genre. It was better suited to being viewed from the comfort of your couch on a Friday night and Han Jisung by your side to complain about the shitty effects and act like he wouldn't need to sleep over because he'd get too scared to drive home.

You creep back to the truck, taking slow steps backward to avoid alerting the horde more than you already have. Releasing a heavy breath when you slip into the passenger seat, you try not to think about what you saw. Jisung looks at you expectantly, and you can't bring yourself to break his heart even more. He's already lost his best friend; you don't have the heart to tell him that the rest of his friends, his found family, are most likely locked behind that gate as well.

"You okay? What'd you find?"

"Just some zombies, nothing important. Let's go."

The first time you kill a zombie with a gun, it doesn't end well.

Sure, the deed is done and the zombie's dead (like really, fully dead), but it's what comes after that sucks.

You’re on a supply run, a hunting rifle you jacked from an abandoned house in your hands. You guess the house must not have been as abandoned as you thought, since there are two zombies in front of you and Jisung. You've come to notice that zombies get slobbery. The sight of decomposing flesh slick with saliva isn't very appealing, and that's not including the stench of it all.

No matter which way you slice it, eau de zombie just isn't for you.

You don't have much experience when it comes to firing a gun. (Or any experience, really.) But you figure it's an aim-and-shoot sort of situation, right? You've seen Felix play video games before, and he's always made it seem simple. So you line the barrel of the gun up with their heads and pull the trigger. One. Two. Three.

The shots echo, and for a moment, you feel on top of the world as the first zombie falls backwards, blood oozing from the bullet's exit hole.

But in that moment, you also realize that recoil is a bitch when you're not prepared, and the second shot misses the other one entirely, the gun skewed too far to the left. You stumble back into the kitchen island, but Jisung's quick enough on his feet to decapitate the remaining zombie without much trouble.

"Hey, you know what I remembered?" he asks, wiping zombie blood from his brow.

"What?"

"Guns make noise."

"Yeah, no—shit." With those gunshots, you gave away your location to any unfriendly forces, human or not.

"You don't think zombies have working ears, do you?" You hit the kitchen with renewed vigor, gathering some essentials—a few knives, some canned goods left behind—and set the rifle down.

"I don't wanna find out. And even if they don't, other humans sure as hell do." He turns the house upside down looking for more bullets. If there is a higher power out there, you guess they must be looking out for you, because the former owners of the house left their safe unlocked. You decide to relieve them of their two pistols and every bit of ammunition you can get your hands on.

Of course, if there is a higher power out there, you guess they must be fucking with you, because minutes after getting back on the road, you hear the roaring of motorcycle engines. They surround Jisung's truck, and their leader stares you both down before yanking his black mask down and rapping two knuckles on the window Jisung forgot to roll down.

"You two should've known better than to wander 'round here," he tuts, running a finger through his hair. "So young, too. Almost makes me feel bad for what I'm about to do." To one of his cronies, he barks, "Mingi! Take what's in the trunk." You don't see this Mingi person, but you feel the truck get weighed down as he leaps on and loots everything worth taking. "Don't take it personally. At the end of the day, it's all about survival. I've got eight mouths to feed, and you've only got two. Only makes sense that we should, ah...relieve you of some of that weight you’re carrying."

Jisung's fuming, fists clenched in his lap, but you know he sees the guns slung along their backs and holstered at their hips and stays silent. The pistols you two picked up are in the glove compartment, and the ammo's strategically buried underneath a pile of clothes at your feet. It's okay, you try to tell him, meeting his eyes. We prepared for this.

One of the leader's other cohorts pulls his own black mask down and whispers into the leader's ear. When he's given permission to speak, the young man looks straight at Jisung and asks, "Are you Han Jisung?"

"Who's asking?" Jisung shoots you a look, but you can only shrug in response.

"There was a group of guys looking for their friend. Their description matched your face, but I guess it doesn't matter now. They went to the base a couple miles south." The young man nods in the direction of the base you were at only a couple days before. "Probably more undead than alive at this point."

"What...do you mean by that?"

"He means," their leader snaps, "that the military base down south got infected. Don't know when. But it was a group of seven, led by some guy named Chad or Chan or something. We tried to get 'em to join, but they were deadset on finding shelter.” He snorts. “Their funeral."

Mingi's finished taking your things, so the leader and the younger man (you catch his name when the leader calls out to him—Wooyoung?) pull on their masks and take off, leaving you and Jisung in the middle of the road. He's silent again, driving down the vast expanse of nothingness with only his playlist to serve as background noise.

"Where to now?" you try, eyes searching his face to gauge his reaction.

"Did you know?" It's a whisper you almost don't hear over the wind in your ears.

"Did I know what?"

"Did you know that they were..." He doesn't finish his sentence. The way your mouth clamps shut, gaze falling to your lap, tells him everything he needs to know.

His grip tightens on the wheel, and you jolt forward when he comes to an abrupt halt, throwing open the door and walking off, slamming it behind him. "Jisung?" You follow him out, but he whirls around to face you, face scrunched as he crooks a finger in your direction.

"You lied to me!"

"Look-"

"I fucking trusted you! You were the only person I had left! I saw my best friend get murdered with my own two fucking eyes!” He’s blinking back tears as he shouts at you. “I've spent god knows how long hoping that the rest of my friends were alive, and the fact that you saw them on that base...the fact that you fucking lied to me..." He takes a deep breath, eyes screwed shut. It’s silent for a long time. His shoulders loosen, hands falling flat, but when he opens his eyes, you feel a chill run down your spine. He's built a concrete wall between you two, locking you out with four simple words: "You're on your own."

"Jisung, what-"

"You heard me." The sentence is curt. He's wiped away years of friendship and whatever romance you might've had all in one fell swoop. (But maybe you did that yourself when you lied to him.) "You're on your own." He enunciates each syllable as clearly as possible, lacing them with as much venom as possible. You wither under his gaze.

He tosses one of the pistols at your feet. No extra ammo; you only get what's already loaded. He drives off without you, and you're left with nothing but the bag you packed that first night, a pistol, and the clothes on your back.

So yeah, the first time you kill a zombie with a gun, it doesn't end well.

You learn how to get by alone, rationing what's left in your bag and clinging to the shadows to avoid a fight. You learn to ignore the rumble in your stomach in favor of focusing on other things, like the distant noise of motorcycles. (You hold your breath when you hear them, pray they don't come close. They’ve taken enough from you already.)

It's lonely. You and Jisung might not have always agreed on everything, but the weight of solitude, real solitude, drags you down like a ball and chain fastened to your ankles, making each step forward unbearable. Some nights, you see his truck parked in the distance, in the garage of old houses or partially masked by foliage. You want to approach him, beg for forgiveness, beg for what you had back.

Instead you tiptoe past, giving the vehicle a wide berth.

You spend some mornings thumbing through the rest of the Polaroids you have. Most of them (unsurprisingly) are of you and Jisung. There’s one of him posing in front of the most expensive cheesecake shop in town (he’d been drooling at the window displays for weeks), one of you facing the ocean, back turned to the camera (you begged him to go for spring break), and one Hyunjin took of you two playing beer pong at one of the frat’s many parties (you were never quite sure why drunk Jisung had better aim than sober Jisung; you ended up losing these matches).

You don’t know why you do it. You know that taking a trip down memory lane is the single worst thing to be doing, but you do it anyway. Maybe you’re lonely. Maybe you miss Jisung.

Maybe you miss yourself.

The next time you see Jisung, you're in a convenience store infested with zombies. You weren't planning to enter, having heard the tell-tale noises of confrontation, but you caught a glimpse of who was doing the fighting and couldn't walk away.

Jisung's backed up against a corner, trying to beat away the zombies surrounding him with a hatchet. (Keyword being trying: he's just one guy against five disgusting bags of meat trying to kill him.) You see blood all over him, dripping onto the floor, and decide to intervene. He should be grateful when you bash their heads in with his barbed baseball bat, left discarded across the store, but—

"I had that under control."

"Jisung, I-"

"Save it." He wipes the blade of the hatchet on the ragged pants of one of the creatures that attacked him. "Thanks. And keep the bat. You look like you need it."

"Jisung, just listen to me."

"What could you possibly have to say to me? The damage has been done."

"I was trying to protect you!" He rolls his eyes, and you're worried he'll walk away, but his feet stay planted. "How was I supposed to tell you that all your friends got infected, huh? How do you tell someone that? Hell, I wasn't even sure if it was them!" He refuses to meet your gaze, refuses to respond. "Dammit, Jisung..." You screw your eyes shut, but there’s not even a hint of reaction from him.

“You know what, if you’re not gonna listen to me, then fine. I’ll go.” Swivelling on the balls of your feet, you make to walk away, to return to solitude. You don’t look back.

“Wait!” There’s a desperate tone to it that almost makes you want to cave, almost makes you want to return to what life was before you reached the base. You barely manage to keep your head forward, even as you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

"I'm sorry.” His voice comes out soft, something above a whisper but far below his normal speaking voice. “I thought about it after I kicked you out, and you were right. I wouldn't have told me either. Guess I was too stubborn to admit I was wrong," he chuckles. "If you don't forgive me, I get that. You can take some of my food, and we can part ways again, but for what it's worth...I missed you."

You sigh, looking out the cracked store window. "Look, I'm sorry too. It was a tough choice, but I should've been honest with you." It's kinda gross to be trying to make amends here, what with one foot stepping in zombie excrement and all, but your head hangs low in apology anyway.

Your head snaps up when you hear him sniffle, and his eyes are struggling to hold back tears. When you open your arms, he's quick to wrap his arms around you and crumple into your embrace, voice muttering broken apologies. "I'm so sorry," he mumbles. "I missed you so much." You two stand there and let the moment drag out, let Jisung dampen your shirt for what feels like hours.

There might not be much hope left in the tumultuous reality you've found yourselves in, but as long as you're together, you think you stand a chance at weathering the storm.

"Shit," Jisung hisses that night, wiping blood off his arms with a damp cloth. He should've taped himself up before going on a supply run, but he'd been running out of tape; that was the reason he risked entering the infested store at all. The bite marks on either side of his forearm run red and raw, and Jisung fixes his gaze to the popcorn ceiling to avoid throwing up then and there.

A glance is all it takes for him to gag, and he washes the cloth off, red water spiraling into the sink. He caps the water bottle he used and takes a good look at himself in the mirror.

There's blood across the right side of his face. (He's not sure if it's his or not.) There are deep lines in his forehead from months of stress, dark circles underneath his eyes. He figures he should've gotten more sleep while he still could, remembers all the times you bugged him about going to bed early.

He never listened.

He never listens.

If you were with him, he wouldn't have gone in alone, wouldn't have gotten surrounded, wouldn't have gotten bit. Maybe he wouldn't have even gone in at all. Lord knows you've always been his impulse control.

That's it, then. I've got a day or so left then... He wraps the clean(ish) cloth around the bite and resists the urge to squeeze until he bleeds out on the bathroom floor. There's only one thing left to do.

You're in the middle of shaking the dust off the former tenants’ couch cushions when you notice Jisung emerge from the bathroom. "I did some digging around, and I think these'll fit you." He catches the clothes you toss him wordlessly. "You good?"

"I need you to do me a favor."

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Kill me."

Okay. Well. You were expecting something more along the lines of "check if the truck is locked" or "kiss me."

"Wh-" The word gets lodged in your throat when he lifts his hand to show you the bite. His whole forearm's red at this point, blood trickling from it despite the sopping red cloth in his hand. He tries for a lighthearted grin.

(It doesn't work. Jisung's never been a good liar.)

"Please. I want to die on my own terms." To himself, he mutters, "You always deserved better, anyway. All I ever did was get angry and leave you behind." He's focused on the way the blood runs down his arm and fingers before falling down, down, down. The hardwood floor takes it like a champ, he thinks.

It's really kinda funny how he can think things like that when he knows he has to die, and he has the audacity to laugh. Maybe he’s only laughing because he’s losing a lot of blood.

You cup his face with both hands, the couch cushion tossed to the side, and he hesitates before leaning in. "How- how do you get to decide what I deserve? Decide what I want?" your voice breaks, vision blurred from tears. "You're all I want." Your foreheads touch as you sob, tears mingling with Jisung's blood as they hit the floor. "This isn't fair! I just got you back and- and-" The cry that rips itself from your throat is guttural, a bubbling noise produced from the back of your throat. This time it's Jisung who lets you cry into him, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

"You're so fucking stupid! I hate you!" you scream, nails digging into his shoulders. You may as well be telling the world where you are, but your mind doesn't bother registering it. Before you know it, you're slipping, legs unable to keep you up. You're so tired. It's been a long, arduous few months. "I hate you so much!"

But you don't mean it. You never could.

You weep at his feet, clutching at his jeans in an effort to pull yourself up. "I hate you..."

Maybe it's the look on his face when you pull away to gulp down air like your life depends on it; broken, beaten. Maybe it's the crushing hopelessness that hits you; when Jisung's gone, so are you. Hellish as this world may be, Jisung's the only thing that makes you feel like your last moments might not be so bad. He's your home, your tiny shred of sunshine and hope.

When he tugs you back to eye level, you smash your lips onto his, hand on the back of his head. He responds immediately, mouth moving against yours, hand tugging at your waist (closer, closer, closer).

But then his brain catches up to his body. "Wait," he turns so you're leaving wet kisses along his jaw, down his neck, "wait, this- this isn't right." He steps back, eyes wide as he puts distance between you. "Now you're-"

"Infected." You think back to the news coverage of the disease. All it took was a drop of saliva for someone to be at risk. You wring your hands, tear your eyes from his forearm (his veins bulge as if they're fit to burst). "I guess I just realized, you know?" A nervous chuckle escapes your lips. "Who else...who else is gonna..." Your voice breaks again, eyes brimming with tears. "Who else is gonna put up with you in the afterlife?"

He's in front of you again in a heartbeat, wiping your tears. With a scoff, he says, "God, what would I do without you?"

You bandage him up properly after that, spend the night talking until you're asleep, head rested on his chest. It's comforting, he thinks. He wishes he could have held you like this back when your only concerns were your uptight Calculus professor and the stress of finals.

"Better late than never, I guess," he whispers, breaking the silence. Your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, your cheek smashed against his chest as you sleep. "Though I guess we might've been a little too late, huh?"

The sun rises, golden light in your face forcing you to blink your eyes awake. Jisung stirs at your movement, his good hand tightening around you as he tries to stay asleep.

"Wake up." You press a kiss to his knuckles. "We don't have much time."

His voice comes out deep and gravelly, speaking for the first time in a few hours. "I know. Just five more minutes like this, I promise. Five more minutes..." And he's asleep again, mouth open in a little "o." You curl into him, listening for his heartbeat; weak, but still there. He’s still alive and so are you.

You think five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

"Ready?" you ask. The pistol shakes in your hands; you might not be the best shot, but you can't afford to miss now. You try to will your nerves into complacency. (It doesn't work.)

"Wait!" he says, eyes wide. His veins are clearly visible along the infected arm, snaking up his shoulder and kissing his collarbone. You raise an eyebrow, and he gives you a stupid, million-watt grin. "I love you. Even, uh, even if I am pointing a gun at you." He waves the other pistol a bit to prove his point. "I just wanted you to know before we, you know. Blow each other's brains out."

"Hey." You catch his attention, match his smile for the last time. "I love you too. Just thought you should know before I blow your brains out." He laughs, and it's a real, genuine laugh blooming from his stomach; it’s a loud, hearty sound and makes your heart feel so full that you can't help but laugh with him, laugh at the fact that you're about to shoot the boy you love, laugh at everything that landed you here.

Then the laughter calms down. The wind itself holds its breath, refusing to let even a slight breeze slip through. "On three. Ready?" Jisung nods, starting the count.

"One."

(It's sad you two will never get to see the end of it all, or if there's an end to begin with. Who knows, maybe there are enough true leaders left in the world to make something out of nothing. You hope that this world learns to heal from its wounds, no matter what. But in the end, you guess it doesn't matter. The sun will rise and set regardless.

“No matter how things change…”

“...some things stay the same.” With those words, you and Jisung taped up the cardboard box labeled “TIME CAPSULE” in black Sharpie. “Man, I hope future us doesn’t hate past us too much for this,” Jisung said, managing to find a space for the large box in his closet. “It’s gonna be a long four years.” Right below the time capsule label read “OPEN AFTER GRADUATING FROM COLLEGE.”

You’d nodded, hiding the box from view by moving Jisung’s clothes in front of it. “There we go. Now we won’t be tempted to open it.” The rest of the day was spent getting ice cream way too close to dinner to be healthy and trying to find out what the other wrote in their letter to their future self.

You don’t know why you’re remembering the makeshift time capsule you two spent half a day filling, but knowing that you’ll never get to open it makes your toes curl with an unpleasant sadness.)

"Two."

(In a way, you think you're almost grateful for what happened. Despite how twisted and fucked up it all was, you doubt you and Jisung would have ever found each other, truly found each other, without it. In your final moments, you think back to a conversation you had with him the week of the announcement.

"You know what I realized?" he had asked, making himself comfortable on your bed.

"What?"

"Parallel lines stay so close to each other, but they never meet. That's so sad."

"Jisung, are you crying over lines?"

"You know what else I realized?" he asked again, wiping tears from his eyes. "All the other pairs of lines meet once and then drift apart forever."

You ended up comforting him, leaving your homework behind. "Promise me we'll be like parallel lines. Promise me we won't start drifting." His eyes were shiny with tears as he held his pinky out to you, your pinkies interlaced in eternal promise.

Staring down the barrel of the pistol in Jisung's hands, you start to think that this is the part where you start drifting.)

"Three!"

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